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You’re sitting in your spooky pajamas, which you’re usually clad in all year long. ‘The Shining’ VHS playing on the tv is the only thing that illuminates your face besides the Halloween string lights hanging in the apartment.
You have an affinity with all things gothic, so of course when Halloween rolls around- like now, your apartment looks like Spirit Halloween threw up all over. (But with things bought from thrift stores and junk yards instead of a capitalist business.)
That is- you and Eddie’s apartment.
The two of you kindled your friendship back in high school, both of you similar in a way because you’re both alternative.
But your personalities couldn’t be more different.
You’re a generally shy person, more quiet and reserved as you prefer to observe others rather than contribute.
Whereas Eddie’s the life of the party, you know how sharks have to keep swimming or they’ll die? Eddie’s kinda like that with talking.
As your strange dynamics form you end up adapting to each other. You’re way more outgoing around him than anyone else, and he tends to be softer and quieter around you.
Eventually after graduating you both just ended up moving in together, you guys practically spent every day at each other’s places and it only made sense.
And boy did it work well.
From the decorations to the way you both wire in your day to day lives, you were able to manage and navigate this whole roommate situation pretty easily.
Eddie kept his guitars hung on walls, you kept your shelves of gothic literature and taxidermy animals.
It was a match made in what most people in this town would consider hell.
Tonight is a night like any other- you in your Halloween pajama pants and graphic shirt, watching your favorite horror movie. Today you’re off from work but Eddie-
The sound of keys rustling outside catches the attention of your ears but you don’t bother to look up.
Eddie stumbles in tired and weary, the bags under his eyes more prominent than usual.
“Hey,” you mutter softly, letting him do his little ritual he does when he gets home, slumping onto the couch with theatrics and all.
But none of that happens, he rummages through a brown paper bag and slams something on the table.
A Jack Daniel’s bottle.
You raise an eyebrow, finally looking up at him as ‘The Shining’ now drones in the background cause let’s be honest- you’ve seen the movie about a hundred times.
“Whiskey? Why now?” You inquire with a subtle incredulous tone.
He shrugs, “I dunno- just….long day at work..” he mutters, leaning down to grab the bottle and bring it to the kitchen.
You can hear him rifle through the cabinets and you sigh, taking the time to pause the movie before you join him.
When you reach the kitchen you lean against the counter, crossing your arms with an unamused look on your features.
“You hate whiskey,” you retort.
“Yeah well- I need something to make me hate myself.”
You snort, a smile growing on your lips, “that won’t take much.”
That elicits a subtle yet gentle smirk out of him.
-
After about thirty minutes in like Eddie said- he absolutely hates himself.
”God this is awful,” he mutters, yet proceeding to take another shot.
You snort softly, an amused expression on your features as you take your time on yours. At this point he’ll be way more drunk than you will, and someone’s gotta look after him.
“Told you it wouldn’t take much for you to hate yourself,” you tease, reaching over to tap him on his temple.
“Oh fuck off,” he mumbles, lazily lifting up a middle finger.
He then takes another shot.
-
A while after his head somehow ends up in your lap, and you allow it to happen for totally no reason at all.
Because it’s totally normal for one to comfort and cuddle their friend when drunk.
And it certainly helps that you’ve had every dating allegation thrown at you since high-school.
You both insist you’re ‘platonic soulmates,’ bounded by the universe and destined to end up in each other’s orbits…platonically of course.
You gently card your fingers through his dark brown curls, whisking away every burden and worry from his dead-end job, his stresses and doubts.
Because under the purple and orange string light’s glow, in the compact apartment. You’re each other’s for a brief moment in time.
Suddenly Eddie becomes semi conscious, his eyes half lidded as he stares up at you, hands splayed on his stomach.
“You think I could bite a bat’s head off like Ozzy?”
Okay- maybe not as conscious as you thought.
You snort at the notion, the mental image already filling your head.
“I don’t think you could hurt a fly Eds,” you murmur softly.
That’s the nickname you use either as a term of endearment or if you’re totally teasing him. In this case it’s both.
As “metal” as Eddie is- you both know he’s a huge softie at heart.
Eddie scoffs, his eyes drifting open and closed repeatedly.
“No way- I totally could,” he mutters.
You hum, gently scratching your nails at scalp.
“Sure you could Eds.”
A soft groan emits from his lips, his eyelids growing heavier.
“God I love it when you call me that.”
That’s….new.
“Is that so?” You question hastily, trying not to let your voice change its pitch.
He nods slowly, “mhm- and can I tell you something else? Like a big secret?” He whispers in a low voice, attempting to lift his head up off your lap to get closer but to no avail. His body is way too slump and exhausted so it stays there, you crack a smile.
But his words still ignite some nerves within your heart, you continue to play along.
“Yeah sure Eds- you can tell me.”
He presses a ring clad finger to his lips, almost missing.
“Shh, don’t tell anyone I said this but... you’re my favorite person."
“Am I now?” You ask, your voice cracking this time.
He hums, his eyes fluttering shut this time.
“Totally, you make me feel like- strangely safe, sometimes I think you’re doing some weird voodoo shit honestly.”
He sighs, his head relaxing impossibly more into your lap.
“God I’m so in love with you….”
What?
Scratch that- what the fuck?
Before you can even conjure a noise Eddie’s dead asleep in your lap, as if the past hour just didn’t happen at all.
Maybe it didn’t, maybe this is just all a dream that you’ll wake up from-
Probably wishing it was real.
But no- it isn’t a dream. Your best friend and roommate, who you’ve been trying to keep yourself from falling in love with. Which honestly it’s been a pretty shitty attempt- told you he’s in love with you while drunk.
It’s not even like you can go pace around for a few hours and overthink the conversation like you normally do. No because the big fucking problem is laying right in your lap like some a goddamn puppy.
God you’re so screwed.
-
You don’t even muster up a wink of sleep, still wide eyed and alert as morning slips into the slits of the curtains.
And when the curly haired metalhead stirs awake?
It’s feels like a war is happening, like shoulders are dancing across your heart and firing guns.
He groans softly, rubbing his palms into his eyes harshly.
“What time is it?” He asks hoarsely.
Your eyes drift over to the clock on the wall you’ve probably glanced at a hundred times in the past couple of hours.
“Nine AM,” you mutters, your hands closing and opening into fists tensely at your sides.
He soon registers he’s lying in your lap, but his response is so casually it aches.
He grunts softly as he lifts his head up slowly, his body and mind adjusting to the pounding headache and body ache from the unusual sleeping position and his drinking habits.
He slowly settles himself next to you on the couch, resting his head against the back as he peers over at you.
“Have you been up the whole night?” He asks, his voice tinged with concern.
He probably doesn’t remember what happened- great.
You shrug, moving to twist your body slowly to ease out some muscle tension. You’re gonna be honest- you feel like shit right now, but it was so worth it.
“Yeah- kind of hard to sleep with a metalhead using you as a personal pillow.”
A gentle frown brushes across his features, he crosses his arms, a clear guilty expression on his face.
“I’m-“
A soft tut comes from your lips as you hold up a finger.
“Eds it’s fine, seriously I was probably gonna stay up all night anyway watching horror VHS.”
That earns you a knowing grin from him and a soft chuckle that rings in your ears.
“Of course you were,” he says in that low tone of his.
His morning voice will be the death of you, you’re sure of it.
A beat of silence passes and you swallow, looking down at your lap as you nervously fidget with your hands.
Eddie immediately picks up on the anxious behavior and he sits up straight.
“Hey- you good?”
You sigh, pursing your lips as you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re gonna say.
“Do you remember….what you told me last night?” You ask softly.
He raises an eyebrow, his arms still crossed and his sitting position too casual for this conversation.
“Uh- not particularly, lemme guess- I confessed my undying love for you,” he jokes.
But it’s not a joke, not to you.
And the subtle wince in your face says it all and his playful expression drops, his heart picking up faster than it ever has.
“Holy shit…” he mutters under his breath.
You put your hands out, ready to defend his own feelings.
“It’s fine- people say stupid stuff when they’re drunk all the time that doesn’t mean-“
“I meant it.”
He cuts you off abruptly, the words short and simple, and leaving no room for interpretation.
Your hands freeze mid air from gesturing, they slowly and shakily fall into your lap as your mouth forms into an ‘o’ but barely any sound comes out.
“God I’m such an idiot-“ he mutters under his breath, getting up to collect the glasses from the coffee table and head to the kitchen.
“Wait Eds no-“ you quickly follow after him, finally snapping out of your speechless state.
He waves you off from where he stands in front of the sink, flicking on the tap as he begins to wash the glasses.
“Just- forget what I said.”
You huff, leaning over to turn off the water and plant yourself in front of the sink, blocking it from him.
“Jesus Eds- you’re so difficult Y’know that? You can’t just go and say that and- what? Ask me to forget it? No way.” You say firmly yet gently, not trying to raise your voice or ward him off in any way.
He groan in frustration, throwing the glass he’s currently holding in the sink with more force than necessary.
You don’t flinch.
“Well what do you want me to say huh? That I’m a pathetic idiot who’s been in love with you since high-school? So much so that I even made a fucking mixtape for you with Depeche Mode on it but discarded it because-“
You try to hold it in, you really try, but you can’t help the series of snickers that erupt from you.
He tilts his head to catch your gaze, an incredulous look in those deep brown eyes of his.
“Oh you think this is funny?” He asks sternly, but his tone falls flat in both your ears.
You snort one last time, waving a hand that gestures ‘give me a second.’
“It’s just- you hate Depeche Mode,” you say, stating what’s the obvious between you two.
He shifts on his feet, crossing his arms and shrugging.
“Yeah- I still do, that shit’s mall music.”
Another soft laugh escapes you, your body eventually relaxing a little against the counter as your eyes rove over him.
They travel from his slightly unruly curls, to those brown puppy eyes of his, to his pink lips…
“Come here,” you coax gently, leaving no room for hesitance as you gently tug on the collar of his leather jacket.
Your faces are inches apart and you can smell the whiskey on him from the previous night.
“Can I?…” you ask gently.
He has to swallow the whine at the back of his throat.
“Please,” he says hoarsely.
You waste no time on capturing his lips in a soft kiss.
It takes him a minute but eventually his brain accepts the fact that holy shit this is actually happening.
His hands settle on your waist as your hands smooth over his jacket to hold his shoulders.
He tastes like Jack Daniel’s and weed and a bit of mint for some reason actually.
But most of all his warmth is incredible, the feeling of his leather jacket at your fingertips is a soothing balm for all your previous nerves. His lips are chapped but the heat on them ignite a fire in the pit of your stomach.
When you both pull away it’s a loss like no other, like you’ve both found purpose and a new way to breathe.
“Jesus…” he mutters after what feels like a minute of you both catching your breath.
“Yeah….” Is all you can say in response.
A small smirk forms on his lips, his usual sarcastic and theatrical self back into full gear.
“I’m gonna annoy the shit out of you- I hope you know that.” He says, clearly trying to get a reaction out of you already.
You huff a laugh, your nose brushing against his and you can feel his warm breath fan across your lips.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Because in the glow of the morning sun shining brighter than usual through the windows. You are irrevocably each other’s.
And not platonically at all.
🖤