Work Text:
“yoots?”
eddie's voice is gruffer than he remembers it being. maybe he's been smoking more, maybe–
“yuta.”
oh right, he should probably say something.
“yeah?” it's quieter than he wanted, croaks in the middle of it.
“baby, you called me.” eddie laughs just a bit, maybe at him, he can't really tell. yuta hope's not.
“yeah…” yuta shifts his gaze away from the floor, peers out a window instead. the fading sunlight hurts his eyes, making them burn a little.
“you wanna tell me what's up?” eddie's very good at getting to the point. he knows what every conversation is about before yuta even gets to the point. maybe he should hang up. “you alright, kid?”
“yeah, just…” yuta doesn't really know. he thought he was, when he called, but he doesn't really remember why he called. maybe it was about flight stuff, that's important. eddie knows how to deal with that better than yuta.
he could maybe go to eddie instead of collision. that would be nice. he hasn't gone out to see him in a bit, since his surgery. he's missed eddie, he's so warm and–
“yuta.” eddie's voice makes him blink slightly, has him look away from the window and rub at his eyes.
“yeah, yes, i'm here.” he falls back against the bed, the pillows are still warm. he'd only sat up to call eddie. the ceiling is weirdly textured, he should– “did you need something?”
“do i–? yuta, babe, you called me.” eddie grumbles, sort of sounds fed up. with him? yuta should go back to sleep, he's so tired– “sweetheart, why did you call? have you eaten today, have a shower at all?”
it's very nice of eddie to think of him like that, for him to care enough to ask. yuta sighs slowly, filled with something distracting.
“i had a green bar earlier, i think,” was it earlier? maybe it was this morning. he doesn’t really remember. “i had, uh– one of those smoothies claudio– i had a smoothie, also…”
his head hurts, pounds a little behind his eyes. he wonders what claudio is doing right now. training maybe? getting food? maybe he's with–
“i…i showered yesterday, when i visited bryan in the, uh… yeah.” he did, he remembers showering and getting ready for his visit. remembers seeing bryan in the hospital bed. covered in a lot of wires and starched sheets. fading marks around his neck.
he doesn’t remember getting there or going home, but he remembers holding bryans hand and talking with him. brie was there, she was nice about it all.
“– good, babe.” oh, eddie's talking again. “but you gotta get more food in your system or else you can't be my yoots like you always are. proud of you for showering, though, babe."
“yeah.” he wishes eddie was just there with him, it would be easier to do this if he was. if there was anyone there with him.
“you on collision this week?” eddie sounds normal. like it won't be a full week from everything. maybe that's how other people see it, just another week.
“yeah.” yuta stares at the ceiling but the shapes aren't there anymore. “can i send you my flight stuff so i know it's right?”
“‘course you can, sweetness.” yuta loves when eddies calls him that, he normally loves when eddie calls him that.
it should make him blush. it should have his voice stutter and his face get all hot when eddie starts calling him sweetness or babe or doll. but it just sort of feels like words.
he sends the info with eddie still on the phone, who checks it for him and tells him when he needs to leave for the airport friday to make it there. he listens to eddie read out his gate number and departure times and where his hotel is and who's his contact for the night while at the show.
eddie tells him to wear something nice, he wants to see some of his new gear he got. yuta doesn't mention that it all has the club name on it. that he only has his club boots because his other pair is getting fixed.
yuta doesn't mention that he doesn't want to wrestle or be on tv, cause eddie sounds so happy to be able to see him. he sounds like he's missed being at tapings and shows and ppv's. yuta doesn't mention that he's dreading getting on the plane because the last time he was at a show or a taping or a ppv, they did that to bryan and what if they do that to him.
“yuta.”
it's eddie’s perfectly fine voice over the phone. he's gravely and horse and he sounds so much like himself that if yuta closed his eyes he'd think eddie was there with him.
“still here…” yuta's there but he's not present. he knows he isn't, doesn't know how to fix it.
“i need you to do me a favor.” and yuta would blush again and ask eddie what he wants and how he can help. maybe even ask if it's for mox– or tease eddie about how he's not going to kill claudio for–
but he just hums and picks at the frayed edges of his pillowcase and waits.
“you're gonna have your match and you're gonna win,” he says it like a prophecy, like his word is law. “and then you're gonna get on a plane and you're gonna fly to see me.”
yuta could do that, he's done it before. has done it a lot. eddie says it like they've already agreed on it. like it was a plan that yuta forgot. maybe he did. he doesn't remember.
but it sounds nice, seeing eddie. seeing eddie after a win. it sounds really nice.
“...i can do that.” yuta closes his eyes. tries to open them to blink back up at the ceiling and bring the shapes back, but that doesn't happen. “will you…?”
“yeah, sweetness,” eddie laughs. yuta loves eddie's laugh. “ill take care of your flight. text you the gate and flight number and everything, don't gotta worry about it.”
yuta sighs into the phone, feels like this conversation has wiped him out and they haven't talked about anything.
“you sleep for a bit, rest up.” all yuta has been doing is resting. he's tired of it. “eat something again. i don't care if it's another green bar thing, just send me what it is so i know you did.”
and it's so eddie to tell him that. to not care what it is, just cares that it happens. that yuta is at least attempting to take care of himself.
yuta thinks if he could remember to do that he would. if he could just remember.
he doesn't remember saying bye to eddie and he doesn't remember falling asleep. but when he wakes up, it's sufficiently dark outside and his stomach hurts.
his text to eddie is:
green bar and a smoothie for dinner
which is immediately followed by:
goodnight, love you <3
—
collision feels like a dream. it's not bad, it's not a nightmare. but he doesn't understand a lot of it.
he's walking around in a generic aew hoodie and people keep looking at him weird and he has to scramble to catch the driver before they pull away because he left his boots in the well of the seats and he needs those.
the match is fine. he forgot to tape his wrists. he gets smacked around a bit. his opponent talks about bryan and he snaps. doesn't remember the rest. just knows the ref looked scared when it ended, all backed into a corner by him with his hands up. yuta didn’t know he actually won until his hand was raised.
yuta almost leaves without his belt. he doesn't want to carry it around. the club is saying really weird things to him and he doesn't understand why.
they say they've been waiting for him to call them, but he hasn't heard a word from any of them. his last text from claudio was a few hours before all out and the last from mox was from weeks ago, maybe months.
he doesn't even have pac or marina’s numbers.
he feels hollow trudging to the airport. eddie told him to come see him, so he will. but he spends a lot of the time waiting around and huddled in his hoodie, staring out the dark windows of the airport and the plane. he doesn't sleep, instead plants his headphones over his ears and blasts music until they land.
one of the flight attendants has to tap his shoulder and tell him he needs to get off the plane. he didn’t realize it was empty.
the ride to eddie’s apartment is just as weird as the flight. eddie ordered him an uber for when he landed and it’s there when yuta trudges out of the airport. he would have walked there, even if it would take him till sunrise to do it, yuta would. cause then he would have the chance to come down.
the adrenaline isn’t in his body anymore, but the flighty, twitchy thing he turned into after the match is. having a camera follow him into a corner of the stadium and watch him spew about bryan and the club and his family got him more present, more on, but it also had him looking over his shoulder the entire time he was at the show.
feels like there’s something waiting for him that he never wants to meet.
eddie’s apartment is the same, it’s bathed in moonlight from the windows and there are pieces of his life everywhere. replica belts or the actual thing, mementos from matches or pictures of his favorite wrestlers from japan. some sports things.
the only thing that's different is that eddie is sprawled on his couch, asleep and snoring. the tv’s on mute, but still playing whatever was on tnt after collision, he must have fallen asleep while watching.
yuta stands in the entryway for longer than he should, watching the way the tv moves shapes across eddie’s body and face. the way his leg is still wrapped in a temp-cast, how it sticks out awkwardly across the sofa because he clearly wasn’t planning on sleeping there.
it’s easy to leave his bags by the stairs and walk over to him. easy to turn off the tv and put a hand on eddie’s shoulder to wake him up. he does it deftly, tired and strung out and just wanting to sleep again.
eddie grumbles before shifting, blinks his eyes like they burn and looks around. his eyes don’t light up when they land on him, but he grunts and swings an arm out to wrap around yuta’s waist and pull him in. yuta goes willingly. there’s not much else to do with his body feeling hollowed out and stuffed full again.
eddie tucks his hand up the back of yuta’s hoodie and it’s warm. it’s firm, the first solid thing yuta has felt in almost a week. another hand comes up and clutches his neck, tugs him down so eddie can kiss his head and hum as he rubs behind yuta’s ear. it feels good, to be touched so normal.
“hm, you didn’t let me be all gentleman like,” eddie’s voice sounds like it’s been submerged in water, all garbled and far away. the hand on his neck pulls off one ear of his headphones. yuta forgot he was wearing those. “i woulda opened the door for ya.”
“i still have your key,” yuta’s been keeping it safe since he was given it. the past few days, it’s been one of the few things he can keep track of. “...you were sleeping anyway.”
there’s a fleeting thought that he should feel bad about waking eddie up, but that wall looming doom from the uber ride chases the thought away before yuta can grab onto it. eddie’s hand on his waist helps with that too.
without the tv on, the only light is from the window across the room and the dim kitchen light behind eddie. the dual casts make eddie two toned and backlit when yuta can look at him again. he’s all scruffy, hair grown out and beard allowed to run amuck. normal yuta would reach to touch it, at least get the tips of his fingers in the hair at the base of eddie’s skull while they talk. this yuta just stares at his chin, at the tight curls of gray and brown and jet black. maybe he’ll ask to touch it later. maybe in the morning.
“did you eat?” eddie’s full face appears to him again, eye’s still sleepy but assessing, lips starting behind the wooley mustache eddie’s growing. it’s very late. yuta wants to sleep now.
but eddie asked a question and that normally means yuta has to answer. he thinks about it. there was some water after his match. those bags of pretzels the flight attendant handed out that yuta picked at once he got in the uber. he doesn’t even remember if there was catering at the show.
“had some… plane snacks,” he plays with the zipper on his hoodie, the tinkling of the metal something to focus on. when it’s not enough, he pulls his headphones all the way off. the weight of them around his neck feels so heavy. “water mostly…”
it’s not the right answer apparently. eddie frowns up at him, squeezes his hip. yuta wants to say it’s fine. that he’s fine. he’ll eat in the morning– or in a few hours when the sun rises. but he just gets lost in eddie’s beard again.
and then eddie starts to stand. he’s slow and tired from his match, but yuta helps him anyway. holding out a hand and grabbing the forearm crutch that's been propped up against the arm of the couch. handing it over without a word. eddie keeps a hold on him, whether for stability or just cause it’s the first time they’ve seen each other in weeks, and heads towards the kitchen.
the light makes his eyes burn and his head pound, so yuta keeps his head down. stops by the island and leans against the counter even though there’s a stool three feet away. being in eddie’s presence is the only good thing yuta has had in a while. he wants to keep it that way.
“have at least half,” there’s a bottle of something sweet smelling under his nose. yuta takes it without question and sips at it. it’s the type of smoothies he likes. “and this.” half a sandwich is deposited by his hand, too.
eddie remembered what smoothies he liked. the protein ones from the brand the club uses. eddie has a pack of them in his fridge, they only come in packs. that’s so nice of him. and he saved him something from the deli. yuta’s stomach growls and he can’t tell if it’s from hunger or something else. fear of carbs maybe.
“thank you…” yuta takes another sip of the shake, the pomegranate coating his tongue before he swallows. he can feel it sink down his throat and settle at the very bottom of his stomach. it’s somehow not an unnerving feeling. “can i have them while we lay down?”
there’s no more energy left. he used it all up for his match and handling the airport and talking to the driver. he just wants to sleep. maybe have eddie hold him.
eddie hums, almost a grunt with how unused his voice is. he takes a step closer to yuta and squeezes his neck again, leaning into the forearm crutch and off his leg completely.
“smoothie, yes. sandwich, no.” and then yuta is being left in the kitchen. that spot on his neck cold and tingly, the plastic from his headphones making him itchy, and the moon the only light in the room. eddie slides past him like he’s not even injured, maybe a little wobbly, and goes to yuta’s bag. hawls it over his shoulder and heads down the hallway, muttering, “ain’t getting crumbs in by bed. what an ask!…”
it does make yuta smile a little, a real one. he thinks it stays long enough for him to sit down and have another sip of the smoothie. it’s gone when he reaches for the food. he hopes it comes again.
he eats while eddie does what he needs. yuta can hear him do some of his routine. wash his face, brush his teeth. there’s the new sound of the clacking crutch, but it fades into the natural noise of eddie and new york and the loud crunch of lettuce in his mouth. bouncing off his teeth and echoing through his skull.
he’s done and gets up before he can think about it. then double backs for the smoothie and to throw away his trash. eddie doesn’t like him to leave a mess. remembering where the trashcan is takes more than a minute, yuta stands staring at the room like the can will light up like dora before seeing it by the fridge and throws the wrapper there.
all the lights are off except for the master bedroom. lamplight and the overhead bathroom fixture illuminate the space. eddie’s put his bag at the end of the bed. he’s already taken out his toiletries, an ask yuta doesn't really get until there's a snap and eddie is in the doorway of the bathroom waving him over.
they brush their teeth in silence and eddie makes yuta stand there so he can wipe a cloth all over his face and neck and shoulders. it's got a bit of soap on it and isn't very wet, but eddie deems him clean. yuta’s glad he's not made to shower. the ache in his knees is worse than his head.
“come're.” eddie sits on the edge of the bed and pulls yuta between his legs. his temporary cast is more like a boot, all black and fancy with pump up cushions instead of foam. yuta stares at it while eddie unzips his hoodie and shucks it off his shoulders, his bare skin suddenly cold. “what'd you want?”
yuta kinda just wants him, eddie. he doesn't even think he wants a blanket, just eddie against him.
“can i have… your shirt?” a big ask, maybe. feels like one even as eddie pulls it right off and then immediately over yuta's head. yuta has missed his smell.
“you're robbin’ me, kid.” yuta lifts his arms and puts them through the sleeves, the fabric hitting his elbows is so soft against his chest. “absolutely swindling me.”
yuta huffs a laugh through his nose, a small one that stops as soon as it comes. eddies let his chest hair grow, too. he normally at least trims it, like his beard. but now it's thick and good and yuta can't stop from reaching out to touch it this time. it's soft and dense and a few coils wrap around his fingers. that makes him smile again.
“thanks,” it's probably for the shirt, but yuta wants it to be for the flight and the food and the care eddie has given him. “...i'm tired.”
eddie rids him of his sweats, leaving his boxers and throws all his clothes in his bag on the bed. yuta stays where he is and only moves when the bag is handed to him. he holds it for a second before just bending to place it on the floor next to the bed, a mere two feet from where it was.
“yoots, if i trip on that, you're not gettin’ my shirt again.” yuta moves it to the end of the bed, on the trunk eddie keeps extra blankets and sheets in. “good boy.”
it's like liquid fire down his spine, somehow freezing before dripping heat into his arms and legs.
yuta looks back at eddie, mouth a little open. eddie’s got a soft smile on his lips, eyes tired and as ready for bed as yuta feels. yuta only starts moving again when eddie waves him forward. only realizes that he’s in front of eddie when there’s a hand on his face and a plastic covered knee knocking into his.
“i ever tell you how lucky i am that you’re mine?” and it’s not something yuta was expecting, something more errnest that eddie ever lets himself get outside of a bed. not something yuta has heard from someone like eddie in a long time. he can’t remember when the last time mox or claudio or bryan– he can’t remember.
“...’m tired.” his brain isn’t working hard enough to have a real answer for that, pulled too taunt by messages that don’t exist on his phone to ever snap back to where he needs to be. he knows it’s not what you say, inappropriate or rude maybe, but he is tired. “that’s nice of you.”
the way eddie smiles at him in so full of pity, yuta can feel it in the way the hand on his cheek slides down to the side of his neck, how eddie’s fingertips press into the back of his neck and stay there for a minute. yuta can’t remember the last time he was able to stand looking someone in the eyes. hasn’t been able to hold someone elses gaze since maybe the hospital, and that was brie. but brie is alwasy nice to him. eddie is to.
eddie doesn’t say anything else. just tugs on the sleeve of his shirt, the collar slipping on yuta’s shoulder, and scooting back to get into the bed. yuta helps him up, raises his leg and situates the little pillow that holds up his ankle and places the comforter so gently over eddie’s body. he worries the fabric between his fingers and squeezes his eyes shut before moving around the bed and lifting his side of the covers.
eddie’s hands are on him before yuta can get fully comfortable, pulling him closer and petting back his hair and running a few fingers through his beard. yuta sighs, eyes closed again, and presses his face into eddie’s side. he thinks he could stay there forever. the outside world doesn’t exist when he’s in eddie’s bed.
it never did before.
he replays his match in his head, swipes of his forearm and the weight of a body slamming into his, while eddie shifts to turn off the lamp. he knows the room goes dark even if he can’t see it. he can feel it in his chest.
“you’re staying till you need to be on tv again.” like it’s true, like yuta has already had this conversation with eddie and it’s just a reminder. yuta breathes in eddie’s bodywash and the smell of cigarettes on him and the plain scent of skin, presses his forehead right under eddie’s armpit.
“yeah.” eddie slips a hand under the collar of his shirt, right at the base of his neck. his hand moves until his palm settles just under the middle of yuta’s shoulderblades and presses his body to his. the nail of his thumb scratches at yuta’s skin like a nervous tic, if yuta could remember what nervous tic’s on eddie felt like. “yeah, okay.”
“and i’m takin’ you to the store tomorrow,” yuta doesn’t so much hear him speak as he does feel him. his voice vibrating through his ribs and straight into yuta’s skull. it drowns out the wall of nothing and the images of bryan on the mat that never seem to leave. bryan in the hospital, bryan with a bag over his head. bryan with bruises on his neck. “you’re gonna help me carry shit. and then i’m gonna make you real food, none of that smoothie crap they been feedin’ you.”
yuta doesn’t bring up the fact that eddie has a case in his fridge, or that yuta left the smoothie he was drinking in the bathroom, or that eddie says that every time he sees yuta have one. or that yuta can’t bring himself to throw out the case in his own fridge cause it’s the only thing of claudio’s that’s left in his apartment.
“yeah… okay.” yuta smooths his finger and thum over the waistband of eddie’s shorts over his hip, feels the smooth plastic fibers and tries to shut out anything that isn’t eddie. “thanks.”
yuta doesn’t remember if eddie says anything back. maybe he says ‘your welcome’ the way he does sometimes or maybe he laughs and squeezes him tighter. or maybe he just stays quiet and lets yuta turn off.
he doesn’t remember if he’s able to hold the conversation, like that in the dark. or if he drops dead right there and isn’t made to answer anything else. lying in eddie’s bed, under sheets that have never been his own, against a body he hasn’t felt in months, he’s able to be something else than what the club made him.
he’s eddie’s.
he doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he seems to not be remembering much these days.