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“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Eddie mutters not-so-quietly.
There it is again—the obnoxious, broken blue laundry basket, resting atop one of two machines in his dorm building. Every goddamn day, this basket is here, and clothes are in the machine whether or not it is running. Once he was so fed up with running over to the adjacent building and praying to all that was holy that a singular fucking machine is available as he normally does, he scopped out the stranger’s dripping clothes and tossed the basket to the side.
The image haunts him at this point, especially after long days of consecutive classes. Perhaps he should be more frustrated with the university for not providing an adequate amount of washing equipment—the real problem—but the institution is not something he can go to war with. The blue basket guy, though? That is an obtainable opponent.
Eddie again resolves to pop open the machine and drop the soaking garments into the dreaded, shitty hamper. He does not love the fact that his hands are coming into contact with a stranger’s boxers, but at least they’re definitely clean.
“Uh—what are you doing?” A voice sounds from the doorway.
Eddie jumps, snapping his neck toward the new presence in anticipation to finally catch a glimpse of the blue basket asshole and tell him off. Instead he finds his roommate, Ben, standing in the doorway of the laundry room.
Eddie returns to the task at hand with a huff, “Some dickhead keeps leaving his laundry in the machine. I-I counted one time, dude, it was in there for, like, three hours, just sitting there, wet and probably collecting mold and shit. It’s unsanitary and it’s annoying.”
When he is finished emptying the washer, he kicks it aside and lifts his own, not-broken basket to dump his load in. As he sprinkles the detergent over his clothes, he hears a snigger come from Ben. He furrows his brow, “What?”
“Nothing, it’s just funny. You wanna grab some lunch?”
Eddie checks the time on his clunky watch, seeing that he could and should eat before his night class. He shuts the lid of the machine and turns it on before setting his basket on top. He turns to Ben and nods. “Yeah, I just need to be back in 45-minutes to switch that over.”
“We can make that happen.” Ben assures with a grin, leaning away from the entrance so they can both exit the space.
As they walk down the hallway side-by-side, Eddie fiddles with his watch to set a timer for his laundry. As a result of keeping his gaze completely focused on his wrist accessory, he does not see the other man also not paying attention. His shoulder collides roughly with someone going the opposite way.
Eddie winces at the harsh contact but is immediately distracted by the flutter and thunk of a heavy book falling to the ground.
“Ah, shit, dude, sorry,” the other guy spouts as they both squat down to pick up the dropped textbook. Eddie is quicker, but the other still manages a grasp on the other end, resulting in an awkward exchange that ends with Eddie’s hands empty and chuckles. “Thanks,”
“Sorry about that, I didn’t see you,” Eddie replies as he comes back up to his feet.
The guy he ran into smiles graciously and tucks the book beneath his arm. It’s kind of a goofy smile, but it forces a grin across Eddie’s lips without his consent. He says, “No, you’re fine, I’m the one readin’ and drivin’. I think that’s God’s way of telling me I’m about to fail this quiz no matter what I do.”
Eddie laughs lightly, taking the opportunity to roam the guy’s handsome face. His features are soft aside from the sharp curve of his jawline. The start of stubble graces his cheeks, and boxy glasses rest on his nose, enhancing the largeness of his deep, blue eyes. His attractive features are framed by shaggy, almost-black hair that sweeps across his forehead in waves.
The words tumble from Eddie’s mouth ungracefully, “Oh, I’ve been there, man… Sorry about the, uh, cram traffic jam.”
The other man’s easy smile widens with a cute, dorky chuckle, “Don’t be, maybe you knocked some sense into me. I’m, uh, I’m Richie, by the way.”
“I’m Eddie,” he returns.
“Nice name. Hopefully we cross paths again soon, Eddie—just maybe not literally.” Richie retorts, giving a small wave.
Eddie waves back, “We’ll see if this teaches you to keep your eyes on the road.”
Richie snorts and takes off walking, turning around backwards to throw his gaze down to Eddie when someone passes him. He raises a hand and honks an imaginary horn at their poor, confused peer, “ Beep beep!”
Laughing aloud, Eddie shakes his head and turns back to Ben, who is already giving him a knowing look. His smile falls away, “What?”
“Nothing, nothing. That was just probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Ben says with a shrug.
“Shut up.” Eddie mutters, though his simper has returned, and brought along a rosy tinge to his cheeks.
_
It’s that time of the week again, and Eddie has mentally prepared himself to be annoyed. Laundry seems to somehow go even quicker when he does not have a machine readily available to him at all times; it is the unsurprising, disappointing irony of life.
He turns the corner into the laundry room, holding his breath to exhale a sufficient, angry huff, but it turns into a sigh of relief. There is no basket to be found, and all machines are free. It feels like Christmas.
Eddie trots over to a machine and goes through the motions of loading his clothes. While doing so, he notices a piece of paper taped to the closed machine to his left. He pauses the loading of his clothes and hovers over to examine it.
I’s a note that reads: Whoever keeps putting my wet ass clothes in my basket and taking my machine, your moms a hoe
Blood boiling, Eddie inwardly screams a dozen come-backs to the stupid note. What in the world is this guy expecting? You can’t just bogart one of two machines without consequence.
“Spoiled brat.” Eddie mumbles under his breath as he reaches out to rip the note. He crumbles it up and tosses it into the trashcan before finishing his task. He sets his basket on top of the washing machine and continues muttering about how irritating that note was.
Then it hits him; the note could be the key to finally finding the mystery jackass.
Eddie hustles back over to the bin and fishes out the note. He uses the surface of the washer to smooth it back out, re-enraged after re-reading it. Transferring it into his fist, he stalks out of the laundry room and begins his investigation.
He flutters from dorm-to-dorm, comparing the handwriting from the note to those who had written their names or some kind of inappropriate joke to paste on their front doors. After about five attempts, he realizes how insane it is and calls off the search. It is kind of impossible to compare and contrast accurately anyway.
Despite the abandonment of his mission, he is in no way ready to give up. He will find out who is responsible.
And he will be a bitch to them.
_
As he makes his way down the corridor, a vaguely familiar figure brings a smile to his lips. The tall, dark-haired guy, Richie, he ran into (literally) a few days ago is headed his way, but does not notice until he is much closer. He grins back and raises both his hands in mock submission, “Let me know if you’re gonna barrel into me again.”
Eddie scoffs, “It wasn’t my fault!”
The pair pause, and Richie clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I dunno, it felt pretty deliberate. My bruises just now healed.”
“Right. I definitely couldn’t do much damage if I wanted to. If you haven’t noticed, you’re quite a bit bigger than me.” Eddie challenges, crossing his arms over his chest.
Richie lets a lazy smirk stretch his lips as he rests his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “Oh, I’ve noticed a lot about you, Edward.”
Eddie ignores the flushed feeling in his cheeks the comment causes and scrunches his nose, “Edward? Why are you calling me Edward now, it’s Eddie.”
“Is your full name just Eddie?”
“Well, no, it’s Edward, but—“
“Well, I’m just tryna be formal, since we don’t know each other that well,” Richie shrugs.
“That’s stupid logic, you don’t have to know me to call me by my preferred name. In fact, it’s a little rude if you ask me.” Eddie fires back, hoping he did not come off as too snippy; however, by the pleased expression across Richie’s face, he can tell he is enjoying it.
Richie shakes his head, “Au contraire mon frère. I definitely think we have to get to know each other better.”
Eddie’s heart flutters at the insinuation. He bites a lip and shrugs, “I don’t know, you seem like a weirdo to me now. Going around harassing people with the full version of their name that they hate.”
“Well I can’t come up with a cute nickname for ya without at least taking you out for a cup of coffee if you’re free tomorrow afternoon,” he returns, causing more of those adolescent flutters to attack Eddie’s insides. “That’s just silly, Edward.”
Eddie purses his lips and hums, “I could just say no and never talk to you again.”
“But will you?” Richie wonders, perking his head to the side.
If wasn’t so fucking stupidly adorable, Eddie would have no problem telling the cocky bastard to get lost. But since he is so fucking stupidly adorable and annoyingly charming, he allows his bluff to be called. “Alright. Just because I happen to be free around 1 tomorrow.”
Richie grins brightly. “Perfect. Meet outside the building?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Eddie confirms.
With that, they exchange a giddy, somewhat awkward laugh together and head their separate ways. Before they get too far apart, Richie spins around again and calls out, “I will think long and hard about what to call you. Long and hard . No subliminal message intended.”
Eddie wants to cringe at the terrible dick joke, but he just can’t fight his smile. The rest of the way to his dorm he thinks about tomorrow’s date with Richie fondly. It has been a while since he had gone out with anyone. It feels good to come out of the closet, but that doesn’t mean everyone around you suddenly does the same. Options have always been scarce, and at first he found himself settling pretty hard, but he is definitely not doing that with Richie.
On entering his dorm, he is greeted by the presence of Ben and his girlfriend, Beverly. They both give him a wave and remain curled up together on Ben’s bed, watching some TV show together.
As he takes a seat at his tiny, wooden desk and starts to pop his earbuds in, Bev’s voice conjures his attention, “Hey, Ed, what’s with the weird note on your desk?”
Eddie flicks his eyes between the crinkled piece of paper from the laundry room and growls, “It’s a nice little note I found last week from this asshole who keeps leaving his clothes in the washing machine for hours on end. I take them out and stick them in his basket because it’s fucking obnoxious and he appartently didn’t take it well.”
“Well, now you really need to kick his ass. He called your mom a hoe .” Ben adds with a sarcastic chuckle.
Rolling his eyes, he grumbles, “Whatever, it’s irritating and the note is immature and stupid.”
Bev giggles and nods, “I get it, there was a girl in my building who left her stuff in the washers and dryers all the time my second semester. She stopped when I dropped a pen into her load.”
Ben whistles, cocking an eyebrow at her, “That’s diabolical, babe.”
She shrugs. “Like Eddie said, it’s irritating.”
Eddie’s face lights up at someone finally understanding his annoyance. He hops up and searches his desk for a pen, snatching it up when he finds it. He points the writing utensil at his friend and exclaims, “Bev, you are an evil genius!”
“That’s probably not a good—“
Ben’s warning is cut off with the door shutting behind Eddie. He darts off down the hall and to the laundry room, for the very first time actually hoping the dinky blue basket is taking up space.
Sure enough, it lays upside- down on a machine whose cycle is completed. Typical.
Eddie marches over to the machine and flips the lid up. He grabs a few, sopping articles and instead of placing them into the basket like normal, he tugs open the unoccupied dryer and begins filling it. When he is done, he tosses the pen inside, inserts a couple of quarters, and hits the button.
It feels borderline too mean but, like Bev said; it’s irritating. Maybe he will finally learn his lesson and Eddie will be able to do his laundry in peace.
_
“Hey,” Eddie says after exiting the dorm building and immediately finding Richie lingering by the entrance, smoking a cigarette.
“Ah,” Richie hums during a drag, and quickly releases a cloud of white vapor, “Greetings, Edward.”
Eddie scowls at the continued use of the terrible, full word. “How’s your day, Richard?”
With a smirk, Richie breathes in the last of his cigarette before smothering the bud against the ashtray. “Better now that I get to check you out.”
This guy is too much. Eddie inwardly curses the heat rising to his cheeks and begins wandering down the pavement, Richie close behind. He says, “You’re pretty forward, aren’t you?”
“I guess so. I spent most of my life beating around the bush, and I just kinda realized it’s too short.” He explains as they make their way away from campus through a parking lot, fall leaves crunching beneath their feet with each step.
Richie dresses sort of unconventionally; it is somewhere between an undercover Flordian cop and a dad at a barbeque. But he really makes the loose, floral button down and white t-shirt combination work, especially paired with the fitted blue jeans that accentuate his never-ending legs.
Eddie nods, respecting the point, but making the irresistible jab. “Life is too short. Is that why you’re okay with poisoning yourself with the thousands of different chemicals in cigarettes?”
“Yup,” Richie says, popping the ‘p’. “You should try it, it might help you loosen up a bit.”
Eddie scoffs, “Okay, first of all, I don’t need to loosen up, I’m perfectly calm. And second of all, if I smoked a cigarette I would have a fucking asthma attack and die, so, hard pass.”
Richie barks a laugh, turning toward Eddie with prayer hands, “Ah, yes, you have clearly mastered the art of zen.”
“Fuck you, dude,” Eddie grumbles, grinning despite himself.
“Fuck you, ” Richie fires back with a wink.
The pair continue to bicker playfully until they reach the campus coffee shop and order their drinks. They opt to drink their beverages outside, continuing to roam around the grounds and enjoy the warm autumn breeze. The sun is particularly bright today, making Eddie wish he had grabbed his sunglasses. He feels less upset about being forced to squint when he sees how the blinding rays bring out the gorgeous, lighter shades of blue from the other man’s eyes.
“So, what are you studying?” Richie wonders after a brief bout of silence. Quiet does not seem to be the man’s forte.
“Nursing,” Eddie answers.
“Gotcha. That explains your obsession with my lungs being healthy.” Richie quips.
“I am not obsessed ! I was making a comment about how it’s bad for you. Because it is really bad for you. Like, super deadly. Lung cancer causes the most deaths of any preventable disease in the United States.”
“What causes the most deaths over all?” Richie inquires, peering in his direction as he takes a long sip of coffee.
Eddie eyes the way the action shows off just how sharp the other man’s jawline is. It makes his mouth go dry, but he forces himself to recover and not seem completely obvious. “Heart disease.”
Richie clicks his tongue and raises his eyebrows. “You might wanna watch out for that one, babe. I heard high levels of stress lead to heart disease.”
“And?”
“You definitely seem like a perpetually stressed kinda person,” Richie extrapolates with an easy grin, “in an endearing, very cute way.”
Eddie wants to protest, but he is not exactly wrong. And he does not want to discourage Richie calling him cute in the future. He wets his lips and smiles back, “What’s your major?”
He does not miss the way Richie’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue before he acknowledges the question. “Communications and media. I’ve been told my whole life that my one talent is talking, so I figure, shit. Why not make a career of it?”
With a chuckle, Eddie raises his coffee to his lips and blows a few times before taking a small sip. “I can’t attest to your other talents, but you’re definitely quick with the words.”
“Gracias,” Richie replies with an exaggerated accent. “A few of my buddies from home go here and they got a nickname for said talent. So if you ever hear anyone complaining about Trashmouth , that is your’s truly.”
Eddie snickers, “Very fitting.”
“Yeah, yeah. They’re real nice to me.”
After another tentative sip of the caffeinated drink, Eddie says, “That reminds me - do I have a nickname from you yet? I held up my end, so I think I deserve to not be called the name of a sparkly, metrosexual vampire.”
Richie laughs and points to him, “Hey, you came out way before Twilight. Nonetheless, I did come up with a few ideas. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d think about you.”
The suggestive smirk on Richie’s face makes Eddie’s tongue dry up again. He clears his throat and moves the conversation along, “Alright, lay it on me.”
As if preparing to give an important speech, Richie stops in his tracks and holds up a pointer finger to ask for a moment. He drains a sip of his coffee, and Eddie catches himself staring again. Even when a bizarre gargling sound emits from the other man—only to find that is gargling his hot coffee. Eddie gasps humorously, “Dude, what in the fuck?! You’re going to burn your esophagus!”
Richie chortles as he lowers the cup. “Relax, I just had to lubricate my throat in preparation. These nicknames are about to get me laid.”
Eddie turns his nose up at the lewd remark. “Right. I’m starting to think there are none. Seems like you’re stalling to me.”
With that lazy, goofy smile, he reels in closer, those crystal blue eyes attached to Eddie’s undeserving stare. He begins firing off a list, “Brown Eyes, Short Stack, Cutie Pie, Gorgeous, Freckles, Firecracker, Hot Stuff, Red-Cheek Ed, Angry Baby, Eddie Spaghetti,” he gestures with an open hand, “the last one is my person favorite. I came up with it during dinner.”
Eddie definitely becomes Red-Cheek Ed in the moment, simultaneously flattered and annoyed by the myriad of nicknames. “Wow, notice how I listened to that whole list and I am not automatically overcome with the desire to sleep with you?”
Richie cocks an eyebrow, “You’re grinnin’ and blushin’, though. Absolute win for me, Eddie Spaghetti.”
Eddie sighs. Who the hell does this guy think he is? And why can’t he be ugly? “Is that the one you’re clinging onto?”
“Absolutely. It’s a little bit of what I want and a little bit of what you want. Our first compromise,” he explains, reaching out to experimentally graze Eddie’s bicep with a light rub and pat. “We’re already so cute. I can hear the wedding bells.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Eddie retorts, grateful that they have started walking again and he is not trapped under the enticing probing of Richie’s pretty eyes. The direct contact made him want to reach for his inhaler.
“Good ridiculous or bad ridiculous?”
Eddie furrowed his brow, “What’s good ridiculous?”
“Think Nick Cage.”
“Okay,” Eddie chuckles, “What’s bad ridiculous, then?”
“Kanye.”
Eddie feigns concentration as he looks up and away while sipping at his coffee. Richie bats his eyelashes, waiting for the consensus. “Definitely Nick Cage, then.”
“Hell yes.” Richie cheers.
The stroll a few more laps around the campus, inadvertently dipping into the hours of the evening. Chatting with Richie is just fun and natural and stimulating. He is a non-stop force of slightly annoying, positive energy and jokes ranging anywhere from grandpa to successful comedian levels of hilarity. Eddie hates to take a leap and say he’s already attached to the man, but he is definitely enamored, which is proven when he feels a great swell of disappointment when their date comes to an end.
Eddie walks Richie to his dorm and grants him a smile. “Thanks for today, it was… really nice. We should do it again.”
Richie lets a rare, sincerely pleased smile stretch his lips as he nods, “Definitely. Like, as soon as possible.”
Eddie lingers as Richie goes to retrieve the keys from the front pocket of his jeans. When he pulls his overshirt aside, he unveils a big, blue blotch of ink staining the shit fabric. He huffs, “God damn it, this shirt too?”
Eddie freezes in place, focusing on the spot with saucers for eyes as Richie huffs tragically, “I must’ve left a pen in one of my pockets when I did laundry yesterday. S’weird, though, I don’t even have any blue pens.”
“It’s you? ” Eddie blurts, his surprised expression now narrowing to something more unpleasant. “You’re the machine hogger?!”
Richie pitches his eyebrows together, “I’m what now?”
“Do you use a blue basket?” Eddie demands, arms now crossed over his chest.
“Uh, yeah, how did you—“ Realization hits Richie mid-sentence, and his eyes soon match his date’s size. “Oh, fuck me, are you the guy that keeps taking out my clothes?!”
“Uh, yeah, that’s me, you dickhead!”
Richie sighs, “So your mom’s a hoe.”
Eddie growls, “Well if I don’t move your shit, then I can’t do my own load! And it’s fucking rude and unsanity and annoying!” he rants, tossing his arms up in the air. “I mean, don’t you realize how fucking irritating it is?!”
“Not nearly as irritating as coming in to find your clothes dripping out of your basket!”
“Maybe you should take care of your shit then!” Eddie spouts, taking a stride toward Richie defiantly.
“Maybe you shouldn’t touch other people’s shit!” Richie argues, coming in closer as well.
Eddie’s heart pounds disobediently at the decreasing proximity between them. He refuses to back down from the argument, “You can’t just take up a machine for half of the week and expect nobody to say anything!”
“That’s definitely an exaggeration! Why don’t you just pick a different day to do laundry?”
“I shouldn’t have to, asshole!”
Richie clamps his jaw closed a moment, and a victory bell begins to chime in Eddie’s head (even though he is breathing the same air as Richie, still staring into his eyes). Then, the man opens his mouth, changing the subject abruptly, “Would—Should I not kiss you since you technically hate me, or—?”
“No, definitely should!” Eddie exclaims, tone remaining full of rage instinctively.
“Good!” Richie shoots back in the same voice.
“Fine!”
Soon there is no more distance. Richie places a hand on his cheek as their lips crash against one another’s. Eddie’s entirety is engulfed in flames of desire and lust he has never experienced before. He presses himself against Richie and deepens the kiss desperately.
Their mouths remain connected hungrily and clumsily as Richie somehow manages to get the door to his room open. They leave one another’s presence for a split second—just enough time to slip into the thankfully empty dorm room. Eddie throws his arms around Richie’s neck and coaxes him back down to kiss his lips again.
“Wait,” Richie pants, accusing him with his large-pupils through the smudged, thick lenses of his glasses, “how did you know it was me just from the pen stain on my shirt?”
“Shh,” Eddie says with a nervous chuckle before reattaching their lips, hoping that the pleasure of the amazing kiss is enough to distract him.
It is. But, Eddie makes an inward promise to buy him new clothes.