Work Text:
It had been about one week, by Tom's count. But he was never much for keeping track of the time.
Even when he did ask, he usually asked Matt, who was- predictably, in hindsight- usually wrong. He should really stop asking him.
Regardless. If Tom was correct, it has been roughly one week. One week since a whole bunch of stuff happened, par for the course, but pointedly- one week since Edd stopped.
And, no, that wasn't an incomplete sentence by accident. He had stopped everything, by all counts. He had completely shut down.
And Tom could no longer deny that it was freaking him the hell out.
For example, he hadn't come to breakfast even once. For an entire week. And they all typically ate together. Tom couldn't remember when it started being that way. In fact, in reflection, it may just have been Edd's own influence. And that was... Before, yes, but there was no reason it couldn't carry over to now.
That was the first sign something was up.
Matt even tried cooking some bacon, with vague hopes that the smell would lure him out. Y'know, like those cartoons with a pie on the windowsill. That exercise quickly turned into Tom extinguishing a fire, which also should have lured him out, arguably more so- but nothing.
He'd poke his head out, occasionally. Just for necessities, it would seem. Grab something to keep his body alive, use the shower, and then right back to his room.
That was the second sign. And, for Edd? Two was so much more than enough.
Tom, ever the closed off, uncaring observer, was pretending not to notice. Matt, who usually doesn't notice things, shouldn't have noticed this, either. But they both had. And they were both getting annoyingly worried.
It was impossible not to notice, if the man was being realistic. There was something in the air, nowadays. One might be tempted to describe it as stillness, but it wasn't as if the home had calmed in Edd's absence. It had just become empty.
All this to say? Tom was going to check on him. Something he had decided a long time ago was wildly out of character. At least the character he likes to be. He had decided, equally as long ago, that he didn't really care.
The walk to Edd's room was disturbingly drawn out. The house itself was never very big. Tom should know, he complained more than he should about it. But for once, he wished it were smaller. Because the hallway, now, was daunting. Ceilings that stretched higher than he could see, carpet that he could swear must have concrete for all the good it was doing, quieting his anxious steps.
He nearly breathed a sigh of relief just arriving at his door. And that was, by a measure, the easiest part.
"Edd?" He voiced, almost hesitantly, knocking on his door a few times. Nothing.
He should have been used to the quiet by now. He's had seven days to adjust, which was well over the time he usually needed to adjust to insane things. Zombie outbreak? Sure, whatever. He'll suspend his disbelief. Hidden fish society in their bathroom? Neat.
But, Edd was quiet. For all the time Tom spent wishing for some silence, he shouldn't have been so unsettled. He might even have assumed he'd be pleased.
And yet, he found himself opening Edd's door. The hinges creaked from disuse, and the doorknob was unnaturally cold beneath his fingers. Or maybe his hands were just more aware than normal.
A long, unrelenting strip of light poured from the crack in the door, harshly landing against the darkness of his room. The contrast was literal night and day. It was like a void, dark as pitch. As if Tom could reach his hand out to the light, or lack thereof, and feel its smooth velvety texture.
Tom bit his cheek, looking around the contents of the room. There was a lump of blankets on the bed, Edd presumably buried in it- and many more piles of assorted junk on the floor. He nudged a sweater aside with his foot.
The owner of the room, predictably, had yet to reply.
"Edd?" He whispered, again, willing to give it a second shot. To give it more.
And Edd did respond, or nearly that. He looked up, to where Tom had taken to leaning against his door frame, bleariness hanging onto his eyes. His hair was sufficiently mussed, the blankets he had buried himself in far from being properly tucked.
And he said nothing. Tom hesitated to think of that as 'usual.'
Tom sighed, softly shutting the door behind him, noting the way Edd seemed to wince at the light. He padded over, slowly, against the obstructed floor- sitting down with a huff. The bed leaned when he sat, balanced now with the extra weight.
He very clearly wasn't going to talk, that much had become clear. But he also wasn't taking care of himself. That much was clearer. So Tom wasn't going to leave.
From his place, before- in the doorway- it had been unnoticeable. But now that he was closer, it had become quite evident- the smallest tremble. In Edd's skin, bone, body. Tom couldn't help but wonder, distantly, if Edd had even noticed. If he had observed the time passing at all.
Tom took it upon himself to keep him up to date. If he wasn't going to come out and watch TV, somebody was going to need to tell him what was going on with his favorite brands. What if they take the bacon out of cola? Oh, intrigue! Go on! You have me on the edge of my seat!
(They won't. Tom doesn't know why they ever started making that, but somebody has yet to stop buying it.)
Admittedly, he could care less about the happenings in the world. Edd, in this state, probably cares an even dismally smaller amount. But the silence had grown unbearable for Tom, he needed something to say. He'd wanted a quiet, somewhat akin to this, for so long. So badly. But never this way.
So he sat there. Next to Edd, in his hopeless room, just talking. About literally anything that came to mind, even the most nonsensical of scenarios. Just babbling on about nonsense, an endless stream of haphazard words his brain supplied to him.
Edd had yet to make any sign he was listening. Not a comment, not a laugh, not even eye contact. But Tom still had the feeling his words were getting through, for some reason. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Edd had that special kind of attention. It's not like he hung on every word, in fact, you'd have to repeat yourself more often than you'd like. But there's just this quiet sense, whenever you have him listening, something Tom may have described as warmth if he wasn't so reluctant. Afraid, maybe, is a better word. Though he'd deny that too.
Eventually, hours passed. And Tom figured he'd said all he could think to say. There's only so long you can stand a one sided talk before it becomes heartbreaking.
"Well, it's been fun." He concluded, his usually acerbic voice laced with a thin weariness.
Did he want to go? No. And that was odd enough, for him. But he wasn't getting anywhere like this. He'll try again, maybe tomorrow. But for now, he's tried his best. And yielded nothing. That's how these things tend to go.
He shuffled to stand up, the springs of the mattress whining as he did, but he was stopped.
On his way up, his arm was grasped firmly. There were crescent shaped indents burning into his skin where the nails were prying in.
Tom looked back, over his shoulder. In any other situation, an 'Ow, what the hell?' Would have been resting on his tongue. But this was movement. An indicator that his presence had been acknowledged. An indicator of some thought going on behind that motionless body.
"...Edd?" He tried, a final time, only to suck air through his teeth when Edd replied by shaking much, much harder.
Not only that, but his eyes were nearly glazed over. They were zombie-esque, and Tom had seen enough in his life to comfortably compare the two with confidence.
There was something they weren't supposed to bring up. Since last week. It was just a rule. Nobody had officially made it one, but nobody needed to. It was just obvious. Matt had taken to pretending it had just never happened.
...But, Tom had a suspicion. And the words were already on their way out of his mouth before he could even consider their consequences.
"Is this about him?"
And the shaking went into full on sobs.
Tom wasted no time with sitting back onto the bed, making a thin sound of surprise when Edd latched on, in a hug. Tom patted back, awkwardly, figuring the comfort was needed. He wasn't too experienced in the area, so he doubted it was his best work, but it was a start.
They stayed like that for some time. Longer than they spent talking, he figured. Of course, it wasn't a true measure of the time- but he could have sworn the teary minutes were all of the motionless hours doubled ten times over.
Eventually, the sobs quieted.
But Edd made no move to let go. Tom didn't either.
Typically, in movies, this would be about the time for character A to ask character B if they 'wanna talk about it.' But Tom always found that question a bit ridiculous. Of course they don't. Who ever does? Nobody has the words, anyways.
So he just hugged a little tighter.
Luckily, Edd started for him. His voice was distant, and vaguely stringy, creaking and wavering- like a cord stretched as far as it can go before it finally snapped. Or like a loose thread in an old sweater, coming apart at the seams, like the littlest tug could send the whole thing falling apart.
"Don't." Was all he managed to get out.
"Don't what?" Tom carefully replied, his head tilting a degree in some cautious curiosity. The gesture was none too dissimilar to that of a cat- observant and analytical before all else.
"Go."
And so he didn't.
They sat like that, occasionally hiccuping, one rubbing circles on the other's back, processing. Understanding, or at least trying quite hard to. Edd occasionally piped in with a question. Tom always made sure to think thoroughly about the right thing to say.
"Am I a good friend?"
"You are." It was unnaturally natural for him to confess. He spends too much time being bitter for this to come that easy.
"Do I push people away?"
"You won't let them get too far."
"Was I a good friend?"
Tom figured he left the 'to him' unsaid for a reason. He held him a little closer.
"A better friend than he deserved."
It was agonizingly silent for a moment. Not as if they had stopped talking, but so had the entire world. The birds ceased to chirp, the heater ceased to hum, all ambient noise fell quiet. For a minute that was far, far longer.
Too long, if you asked Tom. Not long enough, if you dared to ask Edd- but nobody did.
"Then why'd he leave?"
Tom just hugged tighter.
He made it no big secret, his distaste for the man. And Matt, well, they seemed to be friendly, at least on a surface level. But Matt is.. Himself. He seemed generally unaffected. I suppose that's usual enough.
When all is said and done, Tom supposed Edd was the only one missing him that much. Hurting so badly. For no good reason, for no good person. And for once, to his despair, Tom had no quip. Just a silence that could have answered itself in the world's worst echo.
"You shouldn't let something too far to touch.. Get so close to unravelling you." Tom murmured, unable to provide a clear motive for the departure. Only able to ask himself more questions. Questions in the face of questions, forever, nobody getting an answer and everyone getting unhappy. A real 'lose lose' system.
Apparently, his senseless ramblings struck some sort of cord, because Edd actually laughed. It was a breathy sort of laugh- more of an exhale than anything- but it was a start.
Edd kept his gaze fixed downwards, seemingly unable to look Tom in the eyes (or, lack thereof,) at the moment. Another silence passed. But this one was much more comfortable. Not nearly long enough, if you asked either of them.
"Are you.. I mean, I'm good to you. Right? But I was good to him." Edd muttered, incoherently, seeming to try to piece something together.
"You aren't, um.. going to leave?"
Now it was Tom's turn to laugh. Perhaps inappropriately, considering the circumstances, but he simply had to. It was closer to a snicker, in nature, high and squeaky.
"Sorry, sorry, I just.." Tom attempted, after calming himself down.
"Edd, where would I go? My home is with.. with you guys."
The admission didn't come so naturally. But he was very lucky he made it, when a few seconds later, he found himself once again being crushed as the strength of the hug increased tenfold. Tom wheezed, the air being pushed out of his lungs, grinning despite this- in a manner someone else might describe as affectionate. Or, at least, something akin to it.
"Gosh, I'm sorry." Edd hushed, in between hesitant laughter, but he didn't let up on the strength. "Please don't go."
"Where would I go?" Tom echoed, as if to hammer that idea down with repetition.
"No, I mean.. right now. Tonight, at least, don't go anywhere."
"..Okay." Tom relented, if you can even call it that. He hardly hesitated.
Why not? Maybe he'll delude himself in the following weeks into thinking he's only doing it 'cause Edd is in such a rough spot. That he'd never have done it a month ago. Maybe, that he didn't even really care all that much. Yes, he very well could tell himself those things, and many more.
But that won't quite make them true. He knows that as well as anyone.
Tom stayed by his side that night. Edd laid down, got some proper rest, and Tom sat at the end of the bed. Providing silent company. Just being there, present. Quiet or not, he hasn't gone anywhere.
He watched, occasionally, the rising and falling of the other's breaths. He readjusted the covers.
He did many things he promised to lie to himself about later.
He fell asleep himself, eventually, head resting on the back of the wall.
Neither of them cared to figure out how he ended up on a pillow by morning, dozing away under covers he never put over his shoulders, breathing steadily next to his roommate.
Well, okay, they both had their suspicions. But nobody really had to act on them, right?
…Right.