Work Text:
Clearing his throat, Eddy jabbed the sharp corner of the plastic dollar store case into the breast bone of Double Dee’s sunken sternum.
“What is -”
“What’s it look like?”
Edd examined the familiar receptacle, flipping the flimsy item in his hands. Through the clear cover he could see the Sharpie scrawl of his friend’s handwriting directly on the mirrored surface of the compact disc: “Eddy’s Summer Jams” in all capital letters at the top, the songs numbered and written in concentric circles filled the remaining space.
Meanwhile, try as he might to maintain a cool, casual demeanor, Eddy disguised his nerves by shoving his hands deep into his oversized pockets. His gaze locked onto the Peach Creek High ceiling with the same apathy as reruns of Gilligan’s Island but his heart was thumping at a frenetic pace. That concentration was broken, however, by a snivel.
“Oh Eddy…”
Double Dee’s lower lip quivered. The CD case creaked as his grip tightened.
“Jeez. Don’t -”
The shorter teen winced, second-hand embarrassment creeping up his spine. Not that Edd’s sudden emotional outbursts were a new thing, just that Eddy never quite figured out the right way to respond.
“Why I- Should I have known we we were exchanging gifts I’d have -”
Eddy threw an arm over Edd’s shoulders. His amused chuckle reverberated through the physical contact in a way that only Eddy could ground Edd.
“Gifts? Cool your jets. It’s just a playlist.”
True, the item itself was quite simple. But Double Dee could discern the generous and meticulous care put into it. Coming from Eddy, it meant a whole lot. Composing himself, the more outwardly sentimental of the two clutched the case tight over his heart with a smile.
“Regardless, I’ll cherish the thoughtful curation you’ve no doubtably given it.”
The teens’ eyes met. Eddy smiled too because, yeah, maybe he had spent a few extra hours scouring various studio recordings, remasters, and live album renditions for several of the songs. And maybe, just maybe, this was the second CD he’d burned because he’d rushed the first one, leaving sloppy smudges in the Sharpie before it had completely dried. This was worth getting right.
“Don’t sweat it, Jonny. That rash will clear up in no time. Over and out!” A distinctly recognizable voice echoed down the hall.
The gangly teen waved, turned, and sluggishly made his way down the hallway in their direction. Wide pant legs swished and vestigial suspenders jingled with each step.
“Boy am I glad to see you guys. Jonny was just showing me -” Ed paused, his heavy-lidded eyes landing on Double Dee’s occupied hands. He blinked, then frowned, the muscles in his face firing in slow motion. It was clear from both his countenance and stench that he’d just come from toking up the janitor's closet.
“Secret Santa already?”
Eddy detached from the half embrace. “It’s June,” he huffed before slamming his back into the lockers.
“Likely story,” Ed chuckled. “Then whatcha got there?”
It was an odd, new feeling - getting bashful with Ed - nascent much like the more emotional and intimate turn two-thirds of their trio had taken in the past year. Never-the-less the two slightly-more-than-friends felt their cheeks blaze at the question. Eddy glanced up at Edd who stared down at the burned CD, watching bony fingers moving timidly over his work. His heart skipped as the reality hit that Double Dee was actually going to listen to the thing.
Edd swallowed and offered a sheepish grin. “A melodic memento from Eddy, is all.”
“It’s nothin’,” Eddy downplayed with a shrug.
“Do I get one too?” asked Ed. If Eddy didn’t know better it sure sounded like Ed was teasing him.
He scoffed. “What are ya- No. I’m stuck with ya all summer, remember?”
A wave of solemnity washed over Ed’s entire demeanor at the reminder of Double Dee’s upcoming departure and now his utter lack of Eddy-crafted playlist to fill the void.
“One is a number divided by two.”
“Sure is, Nilsson,” sighed Eddy, crossing his arms. He lifted a knee, planting a foot against the painted metal. A steely clang followed as the chunky hardware store wallet chain slid off the thigh of his jean shorts.
In the minor lul, a pang of guilt hit Edd. Had he really had an option in the matter? Vision unfocused, he raked his raw thumb nail over the ribbed side of the CD case. Meanwhile, Ed had fully engaged his favorite weapons: a pair of big brown bovine puppy-dog eyes.
“No CD for Ed?”
“Go screw!” Eddy’s voice cracked from pitching it up.
A pathetic pout contorted the sallow face of Eddy’s eldest friend. Beside him, Double Dee rolled his eyes - holding back a knowing chuckle behind a wavering grin. The teen in the beany tisked, a brow seemingly raising beneath the knit fabric that obscured them.
“A suspicious amount of protest for what you’ve insisted is merely a frivolous, inconsequential collection of songs. Surely it would be no trouble at all to orchestrate such a banal arrangement again. Isn’t that so, Eddy?”
Between the guilt tripping and the chiding, Eddy was just about fed up. He locked stubborn stares with Double Dee, not broken even by Ed practically perching himself on Edd’s shoulders and knodding with enthusiastic agreement.
“You little…” with a snarl, the fleshy back of Eddy’s head thunked against the metal lockers with a solid thud. “Whatever. Someone’s gotta make sure you two have good taste.”
Through his reflection, Edd watched as a blur of verdant roadside overgrowth passed. It had been a quiet ride so far with the exception of a riveting public radio segment about elderly drivers playing at a polite volume. It would be another hour before they reached the destination of the month-long pre-college STEM program for high schoolers he would be starting tomorrow.
An unfortunate ramification of stubborn motion sickness was the inability to busy himself reading. When Edd was younger, mother and father would engage him in word games and educational songs to distract him from the nausea. It seemed everyone in the car had aged out of this sort of activity. Silence wasn’t anything new.
For this reason, Edd had amassed a fairly robust CD collection of audiobooks and a spattering of instrumental albums. Leafing through the case, rapidly passing through the compendium of discs for several works of classical fiction and nonfiction alike, Edd sought out his most recent addition.
Eddy’s Summer Jams.
A cursory scan of the song titles only made apparent Edd’s pop culture illiteracy. Could artists with such names as Beenie Man prove promising? There was only one way to find out. Slipping the foam earpieces into place, the head strap clicked in succession until the fit was just right.
Click. The inner workings lifted the CD player lid open. Snap. In went Eddy’s playlist. As it spun, the handwritten script blurred through the viewport on top.
For all the time Edd knew his friend, and all the times spent listening to vintage records in his bachelor’s den of a bedroom, he could anticipate what the opening song might sound like. Bombastic brass? Thrumming bass? Uptempo disco rhythms?
However, what Double Dee heard instead was something more gentle. Unrushed steady drums accompanied by staccato, dare-say timid, bass strumming in time. Then, an enchanting voice joined. If this was all an unexpected choice, it was the lyrics that soon had Eddward frozen in disbelief in the back seat of father’s compact sedan. Edd had always known music was an outlet of self expression for Eddy, but he was still left giddily unprepared for this. In an instant, the flustered teen yanked his shirt collar up to obscure the violent blush and massive smile that had taken over his face.