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You and Eddie have a secret code. You’ve had it since middle school; It started when Eddie just needed to get out of his house for a little bit, and then evolved from that to whenever either of you just had a bad day and needed the other’s support.
You’ve used it only a few times in all the years that you’ve known him. Eddie knows you’re more tolerant than most people- and in a worse way, you tend to bury your feelings even when they’re eating you alive. You suffer in silence, and it scares him to death. But what scares him more is when it gets to be too much for you, and you give him the signal.
His phone vibrates in his pocket during Mr. Laurey’s lecture on Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. Eddie hasn’t been listening, anyways- he’s heard the same lecture twice before, read the book three times. If he didn’t get it the first time, he’s not going to get it the second time. Or the third. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and holds it just below the line of his desk.
‘Can you get me a dog?’
Eddie’s heart starts pounding in his chest the second he reads it. Sure, to anyone else it would sound stupid and probably like you’re asking for an early Christmas present; when he was a kid, he thought he was being smart. He’d heard something about ‘I have to see a man about a dog’ being code for getting booze during prohibition, and he thought it sounded cool and mysterious. It stuck, and now he knows exactly what you’re asking for.
Oh, and there’s one other thing. Eddie’s completely head-over-heels in love with you. So, this takes precedence over everything.
Eddie coughs and raises his hand, not waiting for Mr. Laurey to stop talking and call on him. “Can I use the restroom?”
Mr. Laurey, visibly pissed, bristles and waves Eddie off. Eddie takes that for a yes, and swipes his notebook from the desk before practically running out of the room.
He wouldn’t have gotten anything out of the lecture, anyways.
Eddie’s at your door about forty-five minutes later, after dodging an attendance officer and braving an extremely uncomfortable trip to Circle K. He has an armload of groceries, things he figures will help you- the guy at the cash register had looked at him with one pointedly quirked eyebrow as he scanned Reese’s cups, sour cream pringles, multiple cartons of Haagen-Dazs ice cream, a heat pack, painkillers, and a box of pads. Eddie doesn’t exactly know if what you’re dealing with is of the period variety, or if it’s just been a generally shitty day, but he figured he’d pick them up for you anyways. He just stared blankly back at the cashier, daring him to say anything about it.
After a minute of waiting, and figuring you won’t be answering the door any time soon, Eddie picks up the cushion on your porch chair and picks up the spare key that you keep there, and lets himself in.
The air inside is stale, thick and quiet. He toes the door shut and places the bags on the counter. “Sweetheart?” he calls out into the seemingly empty apartment, but he knows beyond shadow of a doubt that you’re here. He feels it like second nature at this point, years upon years of friendship training him to be able to sense your presence. Like you’re an extension of himself.
It was easier when you were in school with him. But then he got held back, and you got a job, and here you are living in your own place by the lake while he still has to drive himself to school in the morning. It’s not ideal, and sometimes he thinks that you should find someone better, you should move on with someone who’s more available for you than he is.
But then something like this happens, and all that insecurity is blown out the window, because he’ll bleed himself dry for you over and over again just to know you’re okay.
He hears a weak noise from the bedroom, like you’d opened your mouth to call back to him and your voice had cracked into a hiccup. Eddie frowns, immediately shoving the ice cream into your freezer before treading down the hallway. He’s prepared to deal with anything, really; broken bones, broken hearts, general unwellness. Whatever it is, he’s going to make sure he leaves you in a better state than you’re in now, but he just needs to know what it is.
You’re a sad little lump under the covers in the middle of your bed, like an overgrown cat has just burrowed in and decided to take a well-needed nap. The lights are off, the blinds drawn, but a bit of midday sun seeps through the cracks and bathes the room in dreary gray light. Eddie wanders in and sits on the bed beside you, not even really feeling the need to announce himself.
“Baby,” Eddie coos, his hand gently settling on the back of your head. You shudder at the touch, and it makes his heart plummet into his stomach. “What’s going on, hm?”
You sniffle. You’re just embarrassed. Overthinking turned into a panic attack turned into… whatever this is. Wallowing in the after effects, too tired to move, not tired enough to go to sleep. And honestly, you only texted Eddie because you really didn’t want to be alone, and he always makes everything better. Because you love him.
“Bad day.”
Eddie hums. It’s not the answer he’s looking for. “What do you need? What can I do?”
“Hold me?”
“I can do that.” Eddie kicks off his shoes, undoes his belt and takes off his wallet chain. The bed is warm with your body heat, and smells so deeply of you that it makes his head reel just to slide in beside you. You shuffle over, throwing your leg across his waist and laying your head on his chest rather than the pillow. His arms come around you without a second thought.
“Your heart is beating really fast,” you mutter after a second, and Eddie nearly chokes on his breath. He can’t fucking help it- being close to you like this is making him feel sick in the best way, like he’s on a crazy roller coaster.
“I was worried about you,” he says honestly, only lying by omission. His hand pets the side of your head, a gentle, soothing back and forth.
“M’okay,” you tell him. “You’re here, now. That’s all I wanted.”
Eddie gnaws on his lip, staring up at your ceiling and not seeing it. It’s times like these when it’s on the tip of his tongue- he wants to say something that he really, really can’t take back. Then a few keywords snap through his mind in succession (bad day, sad, crying, dog) and he lets the idea die once again. Now isn’t the time for a confession of love, no matter how tangibly he tastes it in his mouth.
“I gotcha some things,” he says instead, and his chest aches. “Didn’t know if… if it was that kind of emergency, but I got some pads. And, like, a little heat pack that looks like a raccoon. You can microwave it. It has beans in it, I think.”
“Beans?”
“Like, dry pinto beans? I dunno, it’s one of the ones that smells like flowers when you heat it.” He pauses. “I also got a shit ton of ice cream. So, you don’t have any room in your fridge. Sorry.”
“I forgive you.” Through the thickness in your voice, he hears a hint of a laugh. “It’s not my period, but thanks. I’m just getting on my own nerves, is all.”
“I get it, baby.” Eddie kisses the crown of your head, and you hum tiredly, contentedly. He says the pet name so easily, like there’s nothing to it. But you’re entirely unaware of how deeply he means it every time he says it. “I’m here for you, whenever you need me. You know that.”
“I know.” You snuggle further against him, breathing in the scent of him. Warm leather and smoke, and cologne with notes of amber that he uses to try and drown out the scent of smoke, even though you find it comforting. You smile. “I love you.”
Eddie tenses, blinking up at the ceiling like it’ll give him the answers to the torment in his mind. His mouth opens and closes, reminiscent of a fish out of water, before he says, “I love you, too,” and he feels like his heart is going to jump out of his chest.
You hold him tighter, and he gives a shaky breath out, assuming that you’ve taken the words at face value. That it isn’t him confessing his undying love to you. Like he’s not going to think about you saying it to him for weeks to come.
And he doesn’t know it, but you do know. You’ve known for a while now, you’re just waiting for Eddie to finally get brave enough to tell you, himself. You press your cheek to his chest, feeling his heart absolutely pound against it, and you close your eyes. You’ll wait as long as it takes.