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On average, Edgar eats twice a day. He blinks 12,890 times a day. He holds conversation with Luca at least 10 times a day, and less to others. He gets called to matches almost every other day. He looks at Luca at least 200 times a day, and stays by his side all day.
He tells Luca to straighten his back once everyday. He tells Luca to not drag his feet 3 times every day. He tells him he loves him 0.285 times a day.
There's something to the kind of person Edgar is. Akin to a cat, really only affectionate in bursts, and even then, they aren't very grand expressions of it.
His favorite of it was when the two of them laid in bed, Edgar’s head tucked under his arm, against his waist. He lays on his back, a leg kicked up. Not asleep, but quiet. They just lay there. He wonders what he thinks about.
Luca thinks about numbers. Edgar takes 30 minutes to prepare himself each morning. He takes a 10 minute shower. He brushes his hair through 30 times. Wears the same kind of white dress shirt, the same suspenders, and the same 2 mismatched shoes. Wears a red bow, and looks at his face at all angles for any imperfection. There is none. And yet, he still finds one. Luca never knows what he's talking about.
“Edgar.”
“Balsa.” The sun is setting, and the last of its light seeps through the cracks in the window curtain. It's pink and orange. That’s what Edgar would care about.
“What are you thinking, Eddie?”
He pauses to think, before he speaks. “The freckle under your eye,” He speaks slowly, and softly. His words are always gentle, but they carry no emotion. It's cold, and blunt, like he's delivering information. “It's a nice placement. It's as if someone painted your face. Gave it a small, extra touch.”
“So,” Luca shifts his body inwards towards the other man, who isn't pleased by it. “You think I'm handsome?”
“If my heart wills.” He jokes. “Of course.”
“How handsome?”
“I'll change my mind if you keep annoying me.” He huffs, sitting up to fix their positions to something more comfortable. “I think about your face almost every hour. I like to paint it in my head.”
“You'll say anything but ‘I love you’.”
Edgar pauses. His face looks down at Luca’s, but not at him. His gaze is lost.
“Really?” He murmurs. “Just three words?” His voice is still soft.
“Sometimes I wonder.”
Edgar laughs. His face twists up into something of confusion, and humor. “I wouldn't give anyone else the time of day.” The laugh softens into a slight smile, something not seen often. “You are something special. Let me give you something a little more special than ‘I Love you.’”
Edgar’s head hits the pillow, and his smile disappears. His eyes fixate onto Luca’s, something that is seen often. And everything returns to how it was.
Edgar gets after Luca every day for not taking care of himself. Edgar listens to Luca talk every day. Edgar offers his time to Luca every day. Edgar says I Love You, every hour, every minute or second they are together.