Chapter Text
“How big is your attic…?”
“Uh, normal-sized? Why?”
It was not, in fact, normal.
Edd sought you out one fine and sunny morning to help him tidy up the attic, considering that everyone else is out or busy. You’ve liked him for quite a while now, so how could you say no to such an opportune moment? What you didn’t expect was the unconventional contents you’d find in the mess and the sheer mass of them.
You watch as Edd rummages through the piles, seemingly looking for something. He throws items behind him. A few of them being a literal skull, a hamburger, and one of the many photoframes of Matt in a certain angle.
“What are we looking for exactly?”
“I had an old sketchbook I never used. I hid it in the attic for the one day I might use it but then Eduardo and I got powers, we fought, and amidst it all, messed up the attic.”
“What?” You pause. Surely, this must be one elaborate joke he’s setting up. You look up at him to make sure. He looks sincere but ultimately so casual about it like said shenanigans are the norm in their household.
“I know. It’s crazy, right? I mean, why would he drag the attic into it?” Oh, he’s dead serious. You opted to not comment nor reply and instead, simply continued to scavenge alongside him.
An hour has possibly passed and you both have only cleared out one section of the room, yet there’s still no sight of the aforementioned sketchbook. You’re both huddled in the corner, sitting amongst the piles of trinkets and memorabilia in a shared fatigue.
“Wow. We're never finding it.” Edd chokes out a sheepish laugh, slumping. “Sorry for dragging you into this. Seems like I wasted an hour or something in your life.”
Now, this isn't exactly the most appropriate time to be thinking about it, but the sun has descended at a very specific angle that basks him in a warm hue. His cheeks are flushed slightly red and he's got the cutest grin plastered on him right now. It would be criminal if you didn't at least try to cheer him up right now.
“No, definitely not. In fact…” You paw at a random space in piles, pretending to look through them. Edd seems to shuffle closer, hovering and trying to figure out what you're trying to do exactly.
You turn around to face him, holding your empty hand out. “Here, can you hold this?”
He blinks. “There's nothing there.”
“Exactly. I'm offering you a helping hand.”
It's pure silence, before his face twists into genuine amusement. “Pfft.”
“What? No loud ‘Hahaha'? No standing ovation?”
“It was pretty terrible.”
You scoff, feigning offence. “That's a lot coming from you!”
You're about to pull your hand away, but Edd intertwines it with his just in time. You look up immediately with wide eyes as Edd stares back with a soft smile and knowing eyes.
“Don't worry, in jokes, terrible is basically equivalent to perfect. You really know the way into my heart.” Edd snickers, as if that sentence alone didn't make your heart skip beat in milliseconds.
You don't notice how the door to the attic was left slightly ajar, letting the rest of the boys catch a peek of your shared moment before they sneak away.
“Why didn't he ask us for help? We were just out getting gas–” Matt whispers when they're out of earshot.
“Please, he probably wasn't even looking for actual help in the first place.” Tord snorts.
Whether it was luck or suave, strategic planning on Edd's end, the boys couldn't tell, but what they do know is that the sketchbook ‘of utmost importance’ had been long forgotten afterwards, replaced with the comforts of Edd and his presence like it was meant to be.