Chapter Text
Home has always been a weird concept for him, but maybe whatever he feels in places like this is close enough.
Places he’s been going to for longer than he can remember. Places he started going to when he was too young for them but no one really paid that much attention and he was tall for his age anyway.
The scent of smoke and cheap beer, the warmth of so many bodies packed into a room, a sea of leather and denim and most importantly the music.
Oh the music.
The fucking music.
The way it seems to get into his nerves, his blood, his bones.
It’s been fucking forever.
And he’s fucking missed this.
Here he just exists. He’s no one. But he’s also everyone.
And…
Wait.
No he’s too short.
He shakes his head as he tries to get himself back into that state where he just exists but…
Right height, wrong backpatch.
The music, the music you’re here for the music.
And he tries, tries to let himself get lost in it all, let all the little shivers run through him.
But he keeps getting thrown out of it.
Keeps seeing facets of him out of the corner of his eye. Like that confetti or whatever it is they shove into a kaleidoscope.
But then he supposes long haired blonde guys are a dime a dozen in a place like this.
But also it’s the only dive around here.
But also expecting him to be here is wishful thinking, right? Right?
Get it together Munson.
He sighs and
Wait… wait…
That…
Everything adds up, his back is to him but… everything adds up.
Eddie swallows.
Part of him wants to run to him, part of him wants to run from him.
But he’s stuck with his feet on the (sticky) floor.
Deer in the headlights.
There’s a sour knot in his stomach he’s pretty sure isn’t from the cheap beer as his brain repeats a chorus of
itshimitshimitshimitshim
He should go over.
But he shouldn’t go over.
I mean not like they really were anything right? It was just a couple of times. Sides he’s probably moved on? Just saw him as a bit of fun, maybe he was just.. Playing it out and wasn’t really…
He’s turned around.
Shit.
He’s looking at him
Shit.
He’s smiling.
SHIT!
Ok he’s moving through the crowd now,
(with a few awkward ‘sorrys!’ in the mix that despite everything make him want to smile)
He could run still.
Turn tail, run out into the night.
Just as the clock strikes midnight.
Although there’s no glass slippers, cute little mice, fairy godmothers or pumpkins turned into carriages, and probably no Prince Charmings.
But he doesn’t.
He’s still there deer in the headlights, feet seemingly stuck to the (sticky) floor.
Just Eddie the Coward.
And now he’s right in front of him, and of fucking course the smoky light in the club is just right to illuminate those blonde waves to make him look like a denim clad angel that stepped right out of a Frank Frazetta painting.
You can say hello, just say hello that’s easy enough right?
“Oh my god!”
He doesn’t get the chance to say hello, instead he gives an undignified wheeze that he hopes is drowned out by the music as he’s hugged. Hard.
He swallows, manages to keep things together enough as he knows if he thinks too hard about when the last time someone fucking hugged him he’d be in pieces and tries to think more about what the fuck does he do with his arms as he’s increasingly aware of them being stuck up awkwardly like a dinosaur in a Harry Hausen film.
Elio pulls back, “It’s… good to see you,” He swallows, hands still on his shoulders, “Where the hell have you been?”
“It’s… a long story,” Eddie grins as he says it but he feels his heart, his stomach and several other organs end up around his feet, “A really fucking long story,” His fingers twitch to stroke his cheek or twine an angelic lock of hair around his finger, just do something to let him really confirm that he’s not imagining, hallucinating or whateverthefuckining one Elio D’Angelo.
“C’mon let me get you a beer,” Elio grins and tosses his head towards the bar.
“Sounds good,” Eddie manages without his voice cracking and he blames the dampness on the smoke.