Work Text:
Another sunrise. The deep maroons that melted into rich oranges and peaks of yellow. Moments of warmth and gold that glowed in the dawn of a new day before fading into the palest and lightest of blues. Mists of grey fog that clouded the streets like ghosts until the sun mercifully put them to rest.
You'd watched too many sunrises recently. Perched by your window, curled up in comfortable layers to fight the chill in the January air, you sat and watched with bleary eyes as a new day began all too soon. It felt like some kind of weird torture to see the world come to life with the sun after hours of oppressive dark and silence. To hear birds begin to chirp, the distant murmur of cars start to kick up, children laughing and talking excitedly as they walked past to reach the bus stop. Feeling entirely unable to do anything else, you watched as the world awoke with a bitter resentment.
By the time you stumbled into the record store that afternoon, you were too bone tired to even hold on to the jealousy of the people around you who slept well. Getting dressed and ready to the bare minimum and inhaling some food was all you could manage before heading to work. You'd been exhausted when you came in to work yesterday too, but another sleepless night between now and then had you an absolute husk of yourself.
"Damn, you look like shit," your coworker, Eddie, said the moment he saw you. There was a grimace on his face and what almost looked like an inch of concern.
"Thanks Munson," you deadpanned back as you threw your bag haphazardly under the counter and stepped up to clock in, "it's nice to see you too."
You and Eddie were friends. Not close by any means, but you worked the afternoon shift together more often than not and spending that much time with someone leads to a certain level of familiarity. Picking up bits and pieces of each other from passing comments and mannerisms, filling silences with stories and conversations about nothing. Friends.
No matter how much he made you laugh and look forward to coming in to work, and no matter how pretty he looked when he had his messy hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck.
"I'm not kidding, are you sure you're feeling alright?" He stepped up next to your right side, ducked his head down with narrowed eyes to get a better look at you. You pushed his face away with a palm on his forehead and focused on trying to read through the notes from the morning shift. You knew for a fact Eddie hadn't read it and was just waiting for you to show up and tell him what to do.
"I'm fine. But have you even done any of this?" It came out with more bite than you meant it too, your patience paper thin. "Seriously, you've been here for 2 hours already and you were just what? Doing nothing?"
When your head quickly turned on him, he flinched back, big, brown eyes wide and slow blinking in surprise. You immediately slumped, bringing your hands up to rub roughly at your face as you sighed in regret and frustration. Attempting to bridge the gap he'd very quickly put between the two of you, you tried to soften. "I'm sorry, forget I said that. Let's just… Get to work. Okay?"
Although still hesitant, looking like he was battling between worry and caution, he agreed. "Yeah, sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say."
Grateful for his cooperation, you went through the list and divided up tasks as normal. Set yourself into the familiar role of work, turned on the autopilot. Eddie didn't put up any fight when you told him what you wanted him to do, even sucking up the complaints he normally gave about certain repetitive tasks. When the two of you broke apart to get started, you noticed him over by the record player that was connected to the store's shitty speaker system. He wordlessly swapped the vinyl that wasn't even finished playing and placed in another – one that was way more your taste than his.
Choosing not to think too much about it, you turned off your brain and started organizing.
The next time Eddie spoke to you was almost two hours later. An extended silence like that was nowhere near the norm, he would spend the entire shift talking without a second thought if you let him and you liked that about him. It made the time pass quickly; he had a nice voice and a certain way of speaking and telling stories that drew you in and made you want more. While the silence today had felt empty, you were grateful for it. You didn't have the energy to try to keep up with his enthusiasm right now.
"Sooooo," Eddie began casually when you both found yourselves behind the counter again, "are you gonna tell me what's wrong? Or are we just going to awkwardly not talk for the rest of the day?"
Taking a deep breath to remain calm, you replied, "Nothing's wrong."
"Oh, so we're lying. That's cool." He hopped up to sit on the counter, the rips in his jeans at the knee widening further as he swung his feet. "As long as we’re doing that, I've been wanting to let you know that I'm actually undercover for the government and we'd like to recruit you to be the next President of Space."
You couldn't stop the amused snort that left you, the small smile that came to your face. Tried to ignore how easy it was for him to make you laugh even when you were downright miserable. "You lost me at working for the government.”
He snapped his fingers in a dramatic swing of his wrist, folding his arms over his chest in an exaggerated pout after. “Knew that anti-establishment vibe I gave off would come back to bite me eventually.” When you didn’t respond again beyond shaking your head at his antics, he seemed to quiet down. “But really, you look like you’re dead on your feet. Got me a little worried, is all.”
Meeting his eyes for the first time, you noted the earnest glow in them. He was genuinely worried about you and you couldn’t help but listen to that nagging voice in your head that told you to make it smaller, ease his mind. “Just haven’t been sleeping well. No big deal,” you shrugged your shoulders, averting eye contact as you blew his concern off.
“When’s the last time you slept?”
He asked so easily, like it wasn’t a question that dug too deep, like it didn’t threaten to make your eyes water. You weren’t used to it – being cared for, someone worrying. Someone noticing. It felt strange, uncomfortable, unsafe.
But when you looked in his eyes again, you felt yourself crumble instantly. You’d always been weak when it came to him and now would prove to be no exception.
“Almost 3 days ago,” you admitted quietly. Tried to keep a strong facade, remain unaffected as his face fell. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw as the muscle there rolled with tension.
“Just can’t fall asleep?” He asked, voice kind and gentle. Non-judgmental. “Or nightmares?”
“Both.”
Looking a bit unsure at continuing to poke, to ask for more, he hesitated before adding, “Is it the quiet?”
When your only response was to press your lips tight together, feeling embarrassed to acknowledge that truth, he began to slowly nod his head. Almost like he was coming to some sort of understanding. “If… If you want to come over to my place after work, I think I can help.”
“Eddie…” Your voice trailed off, trying to fight the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when your mind went straight to the gutter. “If this is some kind of ploy to get in my pants, I’m really not-”
“No!” He interrupted loudly, surprising both himself and you, before he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Nothing like that, no funny business. Scouts honor.” And he held up under your inspection as you studied him, checking for sincerity. In a show of good faith, he used the tip of his finger to draw an ‘X’ over his heart, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile as he did so.
Weak, exhausted, desperate for rest, you had little fight left to give. “You really think it’ll help?” All he did was nod confidently, not offering anything further. Reluctant to accept his help but at the end of your rope, you agreed. After work, you would get in your car and follow him back to his place.
And the rest of the shift proceeded as close to normal as it could. The two of you weaved around each other as you prepared the store for the weekend rush, ordered takeout to eat during your breaks, and ran through the motions of closing up the store as you had 100 times before. When the door was locked behind you, both of you standing outside in the cold night air, you hesitated. And he noticed immediately. “Do you trust me?”
Not expecting the question, you blinked owlishly at him, pulling your jacket in tight as a shiver ran down your spine. “Yeah,” you said honestly, “yeah, I do.”
His keys spun around his fingers, clanking together with themselves and the silver of his rings as it made contact with his palm. A disarming smile directed toward you and he was waving you to follow. “Then come on.”
The drive to his house on the edge of town was longer than you thought it would be. Honestly, you had no idea where he lived before now. He’d mentioned before that he used to live at the trailer park in Forest Hills but hadn’t explained what happened to get here. He pulled into the grass beside the modest house, half hidden in trees, and you parked your car behind his van. “Home sweet home,” he said with a grin as you exited your car, gesturing to the quiet and dark house.
“Do you live here alone?” You asked, falling into step with him as he led you up the small stairs to the porch.
“No, with my Uncle Wayne.” The screen door squeaked loudly as he pulled it open, his too-full keychain making a mess of noise as he unlocked the front door. “We used to live in a trailer on the other side of town, I think I’ve mentioned that before?” When he looked at you for confirmation, you nodded and followed him inside, the screen door slamming shut behind you. “After the earthquakes, our trailer basically didn’t exist. One of many casualties, I guess. I’m just glad neither of us were home when it happened.” He flipped on a warm toned lamp in the living room, giving a bit of light to the space. It was pretty barren – a new looking leather couch, a TV on a homemade stand, a few newspapers and magazines laid out on the glass coffee table. “Somehow we lucked out getting some big government pay out for the damages and bought this little house. Just a living room, kitchen, bathroom, 2 tiny bedrooms. It’s small, but it’s ours.” You paused your study of the room to turn to where Eddie had walked off to and spotted him bent at the waist in front of the open fridge, arms spread wide.
“I like it,” you offered, feeling out of place in his home.
“It’s alright,” he agreed, although it came out in a happy sigh. “Haven’t had much money to decorate since we had to replace pretty much everything we owned… So it’s a bit plain.” His eyes crinkled in a wince as he tilted his head toward you. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got water or soda or some lemonade?”
Taking a few cautious steps toward him, you gave him a grateful smile. “A water would be great, thank you.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart. Coming right up.” And if you hadn’t been so sleep deprived, been so sure you were making things up, you could’ve sworn he blushed a bit as he turned away. You watched as he moved around his kitchen in total ease. As if there wasn’t a borderline stranger in his home. It didn’t seem to bother him at all as he poured himself a glass of lemonade and presented you with some water. You thanked him, taking a small sip as you clutched the chilled glass between your hands. “Let me give you the grand tour,” he said with a slight bow, gesturing for you to continue further into his home.
While he was right about it not being very decorated, there were still signs of life everywhere. A flannel overshirt laid over the back of the couch, a partially filled ashtray on top of a magazine, a pair of work boots kicked off in the corner. There were used towels in the bathroom, a cup with 2 toothbrushes on the sink, a broken up bar of soap on the edge of the tub. Wayne’s door was mostly closed, and you wanted to respect his boundaries, but could just barely see the corner of a hastily made bed, a pair of fluffy slippers on the floor. And you should've expected that out of the whole house, the most personality was definitely in Eddie’s room.
Your attention first caught on a deep maroon electric guitar displayed in the corner, a tiny amp tucked behind it. It looked well loved and cared for. There were pieces of paper stuck to the walls here and there – blank sheets with sketches of what looked like fantasy creatures on them, lined pages torn from a notebook covered in scribbles of writing. A few photos placed up with thumbtacks, a small bookshelf crowded with paperbacks and vinyl records. There was a dresser to make up for the lack of a closet and a record player sat on top, one you recognized as a model you sold in the store. There was a pile of clothes between the dresser and his guitar, a missing sock beside his bed, some sneakers sticking out from under it. The bed was unmade with cream colored sheets that didn’t look dirty, but had definitely been slept on once or twice. It felt warm and cozy and it smelled like Eddie. Since when do you recognize what Eddie smells like?
“It’s not much,” he commented when the silence stretched too long for his comfort, walking around you to kick the discarded sock out of sight. “At least, not compared to my old room. But it’ll be covered in posters and other bullshit again soon.” You nodded numbly, eyes still scanning and consuming what he offered. You didn’t really know what to say, just allowed him to fill the silence to his contentment. Taking a few steps further into the room, you set your glass down on the stool that acted as his bedside table, wiping the cold condensation off on your pants. His eyes tracked the motion and seemed to come to some realization, taking one long legged step over to his dresser and beginning to dig through drawers.
A few moments later he was holding a bundle of black and grey out to you. “What’s this?” You asked, taking it from his hands on instinct.
“Just a tshirt and a pair of sweatpants. Probably wouldn’t have much luck sleeping in your jeans.” You looked down at the fabric in your hands with wide eyes and then back up at him. “You can, uh, go change in the bathroom if you want?”
Feeling confident enough to ask now, you hesitated. “What exactly am I doing here?”
“I’ll explain after you change, okay? It’s nothing weird and I won’t make you do anything you aren’t comfortable doing.” He looked resolute in that fact, absolutely serious in his claim. It helped settle your nerves a bit as you toed off your sneakers by the wall and then turned back toward the bathroom across the hall.
Slowly, meticulously, you took off your own clothes and folded them into a small pile on the counter. You pulled on what Eddie had given you, unable to stop yourself from inhaling the woody and herbal scent of him. Because of how concentrated it was on his clothes, it overwhelmed you, sending your tired brain spinning. Trying to settle yourself, you put the toilet seat down to pee, took your time washing your hands, and then pressed a bit of warm water to your face. By the time you were collecting your clothes and padding back across the hall in your socks, there was soft instrumentals coming from the record player on Eddie’s dresser and he had also changed into something more comfortable; a pair of red and black flannel pants and a grey crewneck that had faded red lettering spelling out ‘Coca-Cola’ on it. He was barefoot, hair still in the same bun as before, bent slightly forward as he thumbed through his bookshelf. As if sensing your arrival, he straightened up and turned toward you, his lips stretching into a toothy smile as he took you in.
“My clothes suit you,” he said, a bit smug and teasing. You rolled your eyes, hoped to god you didn’t blush visibly. As you crossed over to set your clothes over by your shoes, his eyebrows pinched together in concern. “I forgot how cold it is, do you think you’ll be alright? I can pull out another sweatshirt if you need it.”
“I’m fine for now,” you rushed to placate, still feeling plenty warm in the heated walls of the small house. “If I get cold, I’ll let you know.”
His smile returned, this one almost sickly sweet. “Sounds good to me.” He adjusted back toward the bookshelf, eyes scanning rapidly back and forth for a few moments before he grabbed one of the well-worn novels between his fingertips and pulled it out. “So, here’s the plan,” he said, coming back around to sit on the edge of the bed facing where you remained in the doorway. “You’re going to lay down and try to sleep, and I’m gonna sit next to you and read.”
You tilted your head to the side, unable to hide your confusion. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He confirmed, giving his bed a little tap to invite you over.
Still unsure, you crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, some safe space remaining between the two of you. “I don’t understand, how would that help me?”
Restless hands tapped against the paper cover of the novel in his hands, The Sword and the Stone by T.H. White, as he appeared to collect his thoughts. “After the earthquakes,” he began, taking a pause to clear his throat as his voice caught, “I struggled to sleep for a real long time. Nightmares, insomnia, waking up in the middle of the night, the whole thing.” His tone was soft, vulnerable, almost a bit embarrassed as he explained. “I tried alcohol, weed, sex, working out, going for walks, almost everything and nothing helped. After a really rough night, I was just laying on the couch when Wayne came home from work. We didn’t say much, and he just started to cook some food for himself before he went to bed.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, obviously appreciating the memory. “I don’t really know for sure what did it, but something about just listening to him do something, just having someone else around put me right to sleep. And I thought maybe it was a fluke, I’d just passed out from exhaustion and it was a coincidence. But it happened again and again. Whether he was flipping through the newspaper, cooking, reading, whittling at a stick, anything quiet really. As long as he was there, I could get to sleep.”
“So,” he nudged his elbow into your arm, bringing your eyes to meet his, “I’m going to sit here and read next to you and you’re gonna get some sleep.”
It still didn’t make much sense to you, couldn’t get your tired brain to pick up the threads on why that would be so. But you were desperate at this point, just wanting to be able to close your eyes and find some peace. As your fingers curled in the hem of your shirt, his shirt, you softly asked, “You really think it’ll work?”
“I figure it’s worth a shot, sweetheart.”
And then you were nodding, and he was giving you that look to check if you were serious, if you were comfortable, and then he was shifting up on the bed. It was full size, so just barely enough for the two of you to be side by side and not really be touching. He sat up, leaning back against the headboard and motioned for you to lay down next to him. You did so carefully, pulling the heavy quilt and top sheet over you as you settled on your back next to him, hands resting on your stomach and eyes on the ceiling as you tried to ignore your discomfort.
As soon as you stopped moving, he adjusted himself a bit, balancing the book using his knee and one hand, the other arm draping itself over the pillow your head rested on. You held your breath as his fingertips pressed into your hair, immediately moving into soothing circles on your scalp. As much as you wanted to feel weird about the intimate touch, it had you melting into his sheets, your held breath releasing in a shaky exhale.
“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, looking down at you in a way that was just filled with softness. Already fighting the heavy feeling in your eyes, you nodded, drawing the blanket up further around you. He smiled, his thumb stroking across your hairline for a moment before he went back to the gentle circles from before. “Now, try and get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”
And you didn’t know if it was the placebo effect from him telling you it worked for him, the confirmation that he was watching over you, the soft sounds of his deep breathing and the gentle turn of pages, the warmth and smell of him being nearby, or the way he mindlessly drew patterns into your skin, but you were fading fast. “Hey Eddie?” You said in a whisper after a few minutes of peace.
“Yeah sweetheart?” He replied just as softly.
“Thank you.”
He hummed a deep baritone of acknowledgement as your breathing began to slow, to draw deeper. “Sleep well.”
And you did. All the way through the night without a single dream.