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7:10 AM. The soft glow of sunlight began to filter through the slats of the blinds, casting warm, golden rays across the room and enveloping Tom in a comforting embrace. He stirred slightly, feeling the pleasant heat on his skin. His limbs were entwined with Edd’s in a lazy art of intimacy; Tom's head rested gently against Edd’s soft, warm stomach, rising and falling rhythmically with each of Edd's breaths. One of Edd’s arms draped protectively across Tom’s back, creating a cocoon of warmth. Tom’s fist was tightly clenched in the fabric of Edd’s smeghead t-shirt, the familiar texture grounding him.
As he lay there, basking in the tranquility, Tom found a fleeting sense of peace, savoring the simplicity of just being together. However, his serene thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, drawing his focus away from their blissful connection. The warmth of the sunlight and the soothing presence of Edd now felt overshadowed by a growing tension, a reminder that sometimes, even in moments of closeness, unease lurked just beneath the surface. Tom shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to lessen pressure, but instead of the desired response from his body, he ended up groaning as stars shot brightly through his ribs. What the fuck? He thought to himself, his sleep-addled brain struggling to grapple with the gravity of the situation. He turned again, and this time the motion dragged a broken cry out of the brit, salty tears dripping down his cheeks at the sensation. Ugh.
His boyfriend shifted beneath him, voice low with sleep, a hand reaching up to comb through his hair.
“Tom, love, ‘re you okay?” he murmured, his fingertips lightly tracing patterns beneath Tom’s shirt, a gesture meant to soothe. Tom struggled to find the words, weariness weighing heavily on his mind, but he didn’t need to speak. Edd figured it out first, his breath catching in his throat as warm fingers brushed against the edge of Tom’s binder, full of concern.
“Oh, Tom.. you slept in your binder again, didn’t you?”
Tom scowled. This time it wasn’t even intentional, not an act of avoiding dysphoria but rather one of accidental negligence.
He hated having Edd worried more than anything, hated how the larger boy would fuss over him with a strength that may only be rivaled by a mother. Of course, it was all with love, but it was something Tom may never get used to.
Rustling could be heard as he nodded, accompanied by a small hum. He wasn’t used to sounding this small, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He was loved.
“Baby, you know you can have one of my shirts if it’s really bothering you, I’m-”
“I didn’t mean to, Edd. I promise. It was a mistake this time.”
Edd smiled down at Tom, and he felt a deep warmth blossoming within him. He always felt lucky when Edd looked at him like that—a mix of love and admiration—as if each day was another chance to share their lives, and another day he was so very lucky to do so.
“Well, mister, you still need to take it off. Gonna bind yourself to death, you are.”
Tom groaned. He felt as if he was always getting the same talk, no matter if it was Edd, Matt, or Tord. Not that he actually hated it, really, it was good to be loved. To be watched out for.
Tom hoisted himself up from warm sheets, dragging his shirt over his head with his binder not far in tow. Edd cocked his head at this, eyebrows raising.
“Don’t look at me like that, freak. It’s not like-”
“Oh, am I not allowed to admire my boyfriend? Well, I’m sorry for the offense-”
Tom chuckled, slipping his t-shirt back over his head. Some dumb obscure band tee, from a band he probably felt superior to others for liking. Being that kind of stuck-up was cute on him, Edd thought.
“Admire? Really? Because it seemed to me like you were being a pervert, Eddward.”
Edd sat up, laughs bubbling out of his chest just like the bubbles in his favorite soda pop. He looked down at Tom, a grin spread wide across his face.
“Oh, yeah? That’s really where you wanna go? You wanna fight?” Edd laughed, brandishing a pillow.
Tom squealed, ducking for cover as the pillow made contact with his forehead. He fell to the bed with a soft ‘oof’. It was a little less than a second before he had regained his balance, though, scrabbling for some sort of leverage against Edd.
When he’d found it, his face mirrored Edd’s– but he grinned not for joy, no, he smiled for mischief. He knew what he was going to do. Without warning, he tackled the larger man, fists tangling in chesnut locks as he peppered kisses across his face.
Edd couldn’t stop himself from laughing, his palms pressing against Tom in an attempt to push the brit away– and in that, flip their position. Edd was larger than Tom. Tom knew this well, and maybe a part of him was hoping Edd’d overpower him, not that he liked that or anything. He didn’t have very long to think about this before his wishes were given to him. He’d been wrestled onto his back, Edd looking down at him with a look that was far too soft. The position drew a gasp out of him, his head turning to the side in an attempt to hide the blush that decorated his face.
In his deepest fantasies, Edd would turn his face to the side, tell him to keep his eyes up. However, Edd wasn’t the commanding type. He was respectful. He let Tom stay like this, embarrassed, as he spoke. Willing Tom to look at him anytime he wished.
“Yknow, Tom, you’re so pretty.”
What the hell was he on about? Was this some sort of attempt to seduce him? What was he getting at?
“Oh my god, Edd–”
“No, really. I mean it. I never really get to tell you how handsome you are, never get to admire you like this. You look straight out of a painting, I mean it. You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever met, Tom.”
With how Edd was talking to him, it wasn’t hard for Tom to understand the last few months anymore. His recovery, nights he usually spent drunk out of his mind now spent sprawled across the couch, watching some dumb show with Edd. To him, getting drunk stopped having the same effect as it used to. That wasn’t to say anybody could save you from addiction, but to say that they could sometimes be a tool. In this case, Edd had been beyond helpful.
“God, I’m so glad I’m with you, Tom. So glad you’re getting better. You look happier. Did you know you look happier now? You smile more.”
Tom let his mind drift as words spilled from Edd’s lips, jumbled and warm. Praise for who he was becoming, who he was, everything Edd liked or had liked about him. It occurred to Tom that Edd made him feel things no person ever could, and then that he never wanted any other person to do the same. As Edd spoke, Tom noticed the way he licked his lips nervously; it was a constant habit of his. The Brit’s lips glistened, and it began to dawn on him that he wanted to kiss Edd again. He really wanted to kiss Edd again. Tom wasn’t the type to ask for a kiss, nor was he the kind of guy who would steal one without asking. Because of this, he just sat there, staring up at Edd, wishing for something he had no idea how to communicate without turning into an absolute wreck.
“Why’re you looking at me like that, Tom?”
Tom’s heart practically beat out of his chest. Two hands went up to cover his face as he flushed, black nails just barely concealing–
Edd brought his hands to Tom’s, gently pulling them away from his face. Oh. That really wasn’t what Tom was expecting.
Edd was flushed, too, and if this were any other situation, Tom would’ve taken the opportunity to tease him for it. Unfortunately for him, he found himself stuttering over every single word he tried to pronounce, if he could get any out at all. When had everything gotten like this? He was so screwed.
“Tom, I- it’s okay. What do you want?” Edd whispered, his voice trembling. A dopey half-smile decorated his face, nervous and willing. How could anyone not be in love with him?
Tom’s fists clenched where they rested on Edd’s shirt as he forced himself to speak. He wasn’t nervous. Just because he was gay didn’t mean he had to fit into the stereotype, and he was thinking about it too fucking much.
“I just– I wanted to kiss you, idiot. You were sitting there talking about how much you loved me, and I was just thinking shit, he looks really cute right now, but then I couldn’t do it without asking, and I couldn’t find the words to ask you. It’s stupid, really.”
“That’s not stupid. Well, maybe a little gay, but not stupid.” Edd teased, his eyes lighting up at Tom’s admission.
“As if you’re not dating a boy. You’re a proper fag, I’d say.”
“You’re doing the same thing and– WHY ARE YOU TALKING LIKE THAT?”
“Oh, my Matt impression? It’s delightful, isn't it? Splendid.”
“Indubitably.”
“Oh my god, Edd. Be quiet, you–”
Tom let out a soft yelp as Edd shifted them into a more comfortable position, kissing him like there was no shortage of time. Like this morning could last their entire lives. The kiss was gross, sloppy, and terrible. He kissed like a puppy. When Edd finally pulled back, not only did a string of saliva connect them, but spit was dripping down both of their chins. How did he even manage that?
“Oh my god, Edd. You really need to learn how to kiss.”
“What, are you saying I’m not a good kisser? This is hatred. You hate me.”
“Well… I don’t hate you. But maybe you’re not the best kisser–”
“Well, EXCUSE YOU, I kiss with ENTHUSIASM. Sorry, I’m not thinking with my–”
“EDD, OH MY GOD.”
“No offense if that’s what you do, Tom.”
Tom contemplated it, trying to suppress a grin. His face was beginning to ache.
“I do NOT–”
Edd giggled, leaning back onto his palms.
“So, ten more minutes?”
Tom hummed an affirmation. He wasn’t at all tired, but he couldn’t deny wanting to stay in bed a bit longer.
“Mm.. yeah. Ten more minutes. Then can we go out to breakfast? My favorite place, perhaps.”
“Of course. As long as you’re paying.”
“You dick! I am not–”
“Aw… don’t be mad at me, baby, you know I was joking.”
“Shut the fuck up, you prick.”
Edd kissed him again, warm and gross and somehow just right. Arms slung over his shoulders, gratefully as he smiled against Edd’s lips, only pulling back when he felt that dizzy lack of air starting to fill his lungs.
He was, unfortunately, the best thing to ever happen to Tom.