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Sometimes, often, Edward got really in his head about something, and moving was a chore, existing was a chore, everything was a chore. He woke up this morning, for instance, and decided he would be much, much better off if he were a worm that didn’t need to do anything particularly important.
Edward tucked in and buried his face into his pillow, his brain moving at a mile a minute, reeling from the sheer act of existing. Puzzles screeched and pawed at him insistently, demanding he drag himself out of bed and feed her. How ridiculous and useless of him, that he couldn’t even manage that.
Someone shifted next to Edward, reminding him someone else was in the bed.
“How much food do you give this demon in the mornin’?” the irritated voice sighed.
Edward hummed. He couldn’t remember, couldn’t pull the number from his roiling brain. The voice sighed again and clicked their tongue against their teeth, calling Puzzles away from Edward and over to their side of the bed.
“You look about eight pounds,” the voice mused. “Third cup then?”
Puzzles wailed like someone was holding her, and Edward turned his head to see Jon holding her by her middle like a particularly distressed slinky. Jon didn’t look particularly awake, which probably explained why he was tormenting the poor cat. He set Puzzles down and slid out of the bed, ambling over to where her was settled and doling out enough for her Highness—which is what he started calling her as she wailed on the counter beside him.
“There we are,” Jon cooed, setting the bowl right in front of Puzzles. He slipped into the kitchen and out of sight. “Eddie, are you stocked on that one coffee you like?” he asked, “The really sweet one.”
“I don’t know,” Edward sighed. He didn’t want to be asked questions right now. It’s not like he’d have any good answers.
Jon paused, and Edward could tell he was being stared at. There was a soft huff, then Jon stepped back into view.
“Oh, we’re at that stage,” he said. “Why don’t you stay right there, and I’ll be back in like, ten minutes, give or take.”
“Sure,” Edward pulled his blankets over his head.
There was a few minutes of rustling, then the thump of Jon adjusting his boots before the door opened and shut with a soft thunk. Then silence, or as close to silence as one could get. Puzzles finished her breakfast and came ambling over to settle in a loaf on Edward’s back.
Edward turned his face back to the pillow and let his mind drag him down into the muck. He wanted to feel numb, so mired by the weight of his own thoughts he couldn’t feel anything. Then, maybe, he could be that worm he woke up wanting to be.
But then the door opened and Jon’s boots clunked against the kitchen floor like an unwelcome reminder of reality. Edward covered his head with his pillow and tried to express his displeasure. If Jon heard the groan he made, he didn’t indicate as much, just continued to be a present distraction as he clattered around the kitchen.
The room fell somewhat silent after a spell, and Jon sat down and set something on the table next to Edward.
“I grabbed you a coffee and when you manage to pull yourself upright, somethin’ sweet,” he announced, sitting beside Edward but not reaching for him.
Edward turned his head up to glare at Jon, then took a deep breath and sat up. Jon tilted his head in question and lifted his hand towards Edward’s head. Edward hummed, and let Jon run his hand through his hair, then settled his hand on his cheek.
“Good mornin’,” Jon whispered softly.
“What’s so good about it?” Edward curled his lip.
“You’re here,” Jon offered. “And the world is better for it.”
Edward sighed and leaned into Jon’s hand. “Why do you do this?” he asked.
“Do what?”
“Treat me like I’m worth anything.”
“Reckon, just by my thinkin’, you’re worth everythin’,” Jon answered, cupping his face in his hands. “I know, right now, you don’t think that, but it’s the truth.”
Edward pulled his lips in and leaned on Jon, hugging him tightly. He took a deep, shaking breath, then another, then a low whine fell out of his mouth. Jon’s arms curled around Edward and set his chin atop his head.
“It’ll be alright,” he promised. “It’ll be alright.”