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꩜
Bdubs hadn’t realized he was doing it. He never did—he just moved on instinct until he felt better, until he felt he could stop. Sometimes that didn’t happen, even. Sometimes he just kept doing it for hours, or until someone actually pointed it out.
This had been one of those times. He’d tried not to. Promised himself not to start until later at night. Tried to stay occupied until he could retreat back to the safety of him and Etho’s section of the world, their space where nobody could pester him about it and he could move however he wanted.
But naturally, he forgot about that promise pretty quickly.
“Can you stop that?” Joel’s eyes were narrowed, not hostile but full of frustration in the way that screamed bothered.
“Stop what?” Bdubs’ voice came out smaller than he would’ve liked. A tight dread found its way into his chest, recognizing pretty quickly where this conversation was going.
“That,” Joel repeated, gesturing vaguely.
Bdubs’ eyes landed on his own hands, a pin of shame pricking through him when he noticed the way his fingers had seemingly moved on their own, pointing out where he’d just been flicking at air.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Sorry. Yeah. Stopped.”
“Thanks.” Joel’s tone gave away nothing that could’ve been interpreted as anger or resentment. But still, Bdubs couldn’t help feeling like he was mad at him.
He folded his hands neatly in his lap, keeping his gaze low on the waving grass as Joel went back to the crafting table he’d been working at, the faint clinking of blocks the only sound beside the distant howl of wind and shifting leaves.
He really, really didn’t want to bother anyone. But sitting still like that, all neat and polite, made something in him itch. He needed to move. Needed to talk. To do anything besides sitting there silently while Joel did whatever it was he was doing. Probably something important.
Bdubs couldn’t keep himself from kicking his legs off that log he’d perched on, the heels of his boots thumping lightly against the wood, still damp from morning rain.
Thump.
Joel added an iron ingot to the mix of items sprawled haphazardly. He twisted to the left to try and grab something, and, in turn, sent at least five things scattering across the carefully procured lawn.
Thump.
He then made a sound that could only be categorized as an exasperated groan, pulling out a folded-up page from his pocket that unfolded to the size of a small map. His eyes scanned the small writings, narrowing as the sun tried to blind him.
Thump.
Suddenly, Joel slammed his hands down on the crafting table, a sharp breath escaping him before he swiveled his head toward Bdubs.
“I said stop,” he snapped, before taking a moment to lower his tone. “Bdubs, I really need you to stop.”
“I wasn’t even doing anything this time,” Bdubs argued, hating the way his voice cracked on its desperate edge. He scoffed indignantly before standing abruptly, hands curled tight as he walked briskly past. “Fine.”
“What—Bdubs, come on.” Joel sighed. “I wasn’t telling you to leave.”
Bdubs didn’t stop to listen, an unreasonable feeling of anger rising in his chest no matter how much he tried to push it down. He shouldn’t have been mad at Joel, but he was anyway. He hadn’t even been making that much noise. Why did Joel care if he messed around or not? It shouldn’t have concerned him at all.
Instead of heading straight home, he rounded a sharp corner, instinctively towards Etho’s base. Maybe his boyfriend would be around, help him find a way to get his mind off all this.
But unfortunately, he wasn’t. He was convinced he’d checked every little corner of The Complex, and yet, no Etho. Eventually, he collapsed onto a bench he’d watched Etho build with a defeated sigh. He watched a sheep scurry by—probably escaped from Etho’s pen—and buried his face in his hands.
It was always like this; people getting mad at him for the way he moved, the sounds he made, it felt like people got annoyed by his very existence sometimes. It wasn’t something he could control, really. That uncomfortable restlessness would develop, spreading through every inch of him until it felt like pins and needles everywhere, and he just needed to get rid of them and it didn’t matter how as long as it would just stop—
He forced himself to put his hands down against the cold metal, canceling their attempt at rubbing together like they craved warmth. This was stupid. He was an adult, for god’s sake. He didn’t need to play with his drawstrings, or bounce on his heels, or rock forward.
He didn’t.
A sharp, quick rustle of bushes caught his attention, head snapping towards the clearing of trees that had become some sort of makeshift path. And sure enough, it was his Etho, stumbling through the thick foliage with an admirable indignity.
His hair was tousled and windswept from work, the mask slipping farther down his nose than how he usually preferred. When his tired eyes found Bdubs, his expression lit up with affection.
“Hi, sweetheart.” Etho ruffled Bdubs’ curls. Something about his tone was restrained—not the usual flowery greeting he got even after Etho’s eight-hour workdays. “Whaddya doing here?”
“We finished up quicker than expected.” It wasn’t technically a lie—just a half-truth. Etho did not need to know about the tantrum he’d had, ending in him abandoning the task halfway through. Joel had probably already gotten it done by now (assuming he finally remembered the recipe for activator rails).
“I caught Joel on his way out,” Etho said slowly. casually. like he didn't know full well why he'd brought it up.
Bdubs froze.
Of course Etho had.
Joel must’ve said something. Or maybe Etho had just taken one look at him and figured it out—he had an annoying habit of doing that.
“He talked a bit.”
“Oh,” Bdubs said weakly. “Did he?”
Etho leaned his hip against the bench beside him instead of sitting right away, watching him with that quiet, patient look Bdubs had never quite figured out how to handle.
“Mmhm.”
Silence stretched between them.
Bdubs focused very hard on the sheep again. It had found something fascinating about a patch of grass and was chewing it with intense dedication.
“He didn’t say anything bad,” Etho added after a moment. “Just that you left kinda fast.”
“I didn’t storm off,” Bdubs muttered.
“I didn’t say you did.”
Bdubs picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. His fingers kept wanting to move faster than that—tap, rub, flick—but he forced them still.
Etho noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“…You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Another pause.
Bdubs hated pauses.
They made the itch worse.
Etho kneeled in the grass, resting his head in his arms on the bench and looking up at Bdubs with that infuriating patience.
“Joel said you were making noise,” he said carefully. “And he asked you to stop.”
Bdubs’ jaw tightened. “Wasn’t even that loud.”
“I know.”
“And I did stop.”
“I know.”
Bdubs glanced sideways at him, frowning. “You’re not even gonna argue?”
Etho huffed a quiet laugh. “Doesn’t seem like you’re in the mood for that.”
“Well, I’m not!”
“Yeah. I gathered.”
The sheep wandered closer, apparently deciding they were more interesting than the grass. Bdubs watched it for a second before dropping his gaze again.
“…I just forgot,” he admitted finally. “I told myself I wouldn’t start doing stuff like that until later.”
Etho tilted his head.
“Stuff like what?”
Bdubs hesitated.
He didn’t really know how to explain it. It wasn’t something he usually had to explain—most people just called him annoying and moved on.
But Etho was waiting.
Patient as ever.
“Just… moving,” Bdubs said vaguely. “Making sounds. Doing dumb little things.”
His hands twitched again, fingers rubbing together before he could stop them.
He quickly shoved them under his thighs.
“It’s stupid.”
Etho’s expression softened.
“Bdubs.”
“What?”
“That’s not stupid.”
Bdubs shrugged, shoulders creeping up toward his ears.
“It bothers people.”
“Sometimes,” Etho said. “Yeah.”
Bdubs’ stomach sank.
“But,” Etho continued, nudging his shoulder lightly, “that doesn’t mean it’s bad.”
Bdubs squinted at him.
“That makes zero sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“How?”
Etho leaned back on his hands, glancing up at the sky like he was trying to piece together the right words.
“You ever notice how Scar hums when he’s building?”
“…Yeah.”
“Or how Tango talks to himself when he’s thinking?”
Bdubs scoffed. “That man narrates his entire life.”
“Exactly.” Etho tipped his head toward him again. “People do things to help their brains work.”
Bdubs stared at the dirt. “…Mine just happens to be annoying.”
Etho immediately reached over and flicked his forehead.
“Hey.”
“Ow!”
“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that.”
Despite himself, Bdubs felt a tiny smile tug at his mouth.
But the itch was still there.
Still buzzing under his skin.
Etho noticed the way his knee had started bouncing again.
“You trying not to do it?” he asked.
Bdubs stopped instantly.
“…Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because Joel said to stop. People say to stop.”
Etho hummed.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t ever do it.”
“Kinda feels like it.”
Another quiet moment passed.
Then Etho stood.
“C’mon.”
Bdubs blinked. “Where are we going?”
“Supply run,” Etho said simply, offering a hand. “You, me, and Scar were gonna go anyway.”
Bdubs hesitated. “…I’ll mess it up.”
“Nah.” Etho tugged him up onto his feet. “We’ll figure something out.”
꩜
Bdubs tried.
He’d rehearsed the instructions in his head over and over until the words felt garbled and nonsensical. And he’d been succeeding. He was practically glowing by the time Scar and Etho were halfway through their task.
He hadn’t annoyed anyone. He hadn’t bumped into anything. He was doing great, in his very professional opinion.
“What now?” Etho asked Scar, squinting over the list Scar had prepared, probably mentally decoding the hieroglyphics Scar had scribbled down. “You got the copper, right?”
“Yup,” Scar said proudly. “I even remembered to wax it this time.”
“Proud of you.” He brought the page up to his eyes like a grandparent. “Does that say—Scar, what the hell.”
“That’s spruce, duh.” Scar read over Etho’s shoulder, an exasperated edge in his tone. “It can’t be that hard to tell.”
“It really is.” Etho tucked the paper safely in his jacket pocket and reached for one of the twin axes resting against a tree stump. “Wood, then coal. Right?”
Scar took his own axe. You could tell it was his because of the chips in the handle from all the times he’d dropped it or been accosted by mobs. “Yep! You two don’t have to come mining. I just think it would be safer, considering how often I have… incidents.”
Etho patted his shoulder sarcastically, looking at him wryly. “Yeah. Don’t worry. We know.”
Bdubs leaned back on his hands and watched a bee flutter past. The best part of having a boyfriend wasn’t the affection or mutual understanding they shared. No. It was the fact that he practically never had to do any actual physical labor.
The grass brushed his arms, planted firmly to the ground. He hadn’t annoyed anyone in approximately three hours. That was probably a record.
The itch was still there.
But he had ignored it this long.
“Oh, right.” Etho fished something from his (other) pocket and tossed it over to Bdubs. “Hang on to that for me, will you? I feel like I’ll set myself on fire if I keep it on me.”
Bdubs caught it without so much as a thought. It was two little things, actually—a flint and steel.
“Okay.” He watched as the two started chopping wood that would probably all go to the community fund for Grian, who still, despite all this time, refused to finish the back of his builds.
Giving Bdubs the flint and steel was a poor idea on Etho’s end.
Bdubs turned it over in his hands, thumb brushing over the ridged metal. It was heavier than it looked. Solid. Real.
He clicked it open.
Chk.
His eyes lit up.
Oh.
Oh, that was—
He did it again.
Chk.
Something in his chest loosened. Just a little.
The sound was sharp but satisfying, like snapping a twig clean in half. Like the exact right note in a song. His fingers adjusted their grip instinctively, finding the angle that made the cleanest sound.
Chk. Chk.
The itch quieted.
Not gone. Never gone. But quieter.
He glanced up.
Etho and Scar were busy—backs turned, focused on chopping wood, talking about something that sounded like it might devolve into an argument about roof shapes. He had time.
Just one more.
Chk.
A spark jumped.
Bdubs blinked.
“…Huh.”
He tilted it slightly.
Chk.
Another spark—this one catching.
The grass at his feet flickered to life in a tiny, eager flame.
Bdubs froze.
“Oh.”
The fire crackled.
It wasn’t big. It wasn’t bad. It was just—
Fire.
“…Oh no.”
“Dude.”
Scar’s voice cut through the air immediately.
Bdubs’ head snapped up like he’d been caught committing a crime (which—okay, technically—)
Scar was staring at him, axe lowered, expression somewhere between disbelief and of course this happened.
“Did you just—” Scar gestured vaguely. “—set the ground on fire?”
“I didn’t mean to!” Bdubs said quickly, scrambling backward as if distancing himself from the evidence would help. “It just—it made a sound and then—I—I—”
“Bdubs.”
Etho’s voice was calm. Of course it was calm.
Bdubs looked at him, already bracing for it.
Disappointment. Frustration. That careful tone people used when they were trying not to snap.
Instead, Etho just sighed lightly and jerked his head toward the nearby river.
“It’s fine,” he said. “We’ve got water.”
Scar was already moving, grabbing a bucket and dousing the small flame with practiced efficiency. The fire hissed out instantly, leaving behind a sad little patch of scorched grass.
Silence.
Bdubs stared at it.
“…I messed up.”
“No, you didn’t,” Etho said.
“I did,” Bdubs insisted, shoulders curling inward. “You gave me one job and I—I couldn’t even just hold it, I had to—” He made a vague, frustrated motion with his hands. “—do something with it.”
Scar glanced between them, then back at the ground. “…To be fair,” he said, “that is kind of what flint and steel is for.”
Bdubs didn’t laugh.
Etho noticed.
“Hey,” Etho said quietly.
Bdubs shook his head, staring down at his hands again. They were still holding the flint and steel. His grip tightened around it.
“I was doing good,” he muttered. “I didn’t do anything all afternoon. I was being normal.”
Scar winced slightly at that wording but didn’t interrupt.
“And then I just—ruined it.” Bdubs swallowed. “Again.”
There it was.
That awful, buzzing feeling crawling back under his skin—worse now, because he’d tried so hard to ignore it. His fingers twitched, desperate to do something, but now it felt… wrong. Like proof of the problem.
He forced them still.
Etho stepped closer.
“Bdubs,” he said, softer this time.
“I’m fine,” Bdubs said immediately.
“You’re not.”
“I said I’m—”
“You’re holding it like it insulted you.”
Bdubs blinked.
“…What?”
Etho nodded toward his hands.
Bdubs looked down.
Oh.
He was gripping the flint and steel like he wanted to crush it into dust.
Slowly, he loosened his hold.
“…Sorry,” he muttered.
Etho didn’t respond to that. Instead, he crouched slightly, tilting his head to catch Bdubs’ gaze.
“You liked the sound, didn’t you?”
Bdubs hesitated.
“…Yeah.”
“Yeah,” Etho echoed, like that confirmed something important.
Scar, now finished with fire duty, leaned on his axe and chimed in, “It is a pretty satisfying sound. Very… clicky.”
Bdubs huffed weakly. “Yeah. Clicky.”
Etho held out his hand.“Lemme see it for a sec.”
Bdubs passed it over, a little reluctant.
Etho turned it in his fingers, testing the weight.
Chk.
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. I get it.”
Then he closed it and tucked it safely away in his pocket.
“Hey—” Bdubs started, then stopped himself.
Etho noticed that too.
“I’m not taking it away forever,” he said. “Just… maybe not the best choice for right now, yeah?”
“…Yeah,” Bdubs admitted quietly.
The itch flared again.
Worse now.
His hands curled into his sleeves.
Etho’s gaze flicked down—tracking the movement, the tension, the restraint.
“C’mere,” he said.
Bdubs stepped closer automatically.
Etho reached out—not grabbing, just guiding—and nudged Bdubs’ hands free from where they were hidden.
“Don’t do that,” Etho murmured.
“…Do what?”
“Hide like it’s something bad.”
Bdubs’ throat tightened. “It is bad, I just—”
Etho flicked his forehead again.
“Hey.”
“Ow—!”
“Wrong answer.”
Scar snorted quietly in the background.
Bdubs rubbed his forehead, glaring half-heartedly. “…You’re so annoying.”
“Mmhm.”
Etho gently tapped Bdubs’ fingers with his own.
They twitched in response.
He didn’t stop them this time.
“Go on,” Etho said.
Bdubs froze. “…What?”
“You’re practically vibrating out of your skin,” Etho said. “Just—do your thing.”
“I’ll mess something up.”
“Then we’ll fix it again.”
“It’s annoying.”
“Sometimes,” Etho said. “So is Scar.”
“Hey!” Scar protested.
Etho didn’t even look at him. “Point stands.”
Bdubs let out a weak, shaky breath.
His fingers moved.
Just a little at first—rubbing together, testing.
Nothing exploded.
No one snapped at him.
So he did it again.
A little faster.
The buzzing eased. Not gone—but manageable.
“…There,” Etho said quietly. “Better?”
Bdubs nodded, small. “…Yeah.”
Scar smiled, easy and bright. “Look at that. No fires this time.”
“…Yet,” Bdubs mumbled.
Etho huffed a quiet laugh.
“C’mon,” he said, straightening. “Let’s finish up before Scar finds another way to almost die.”
“I heard that!”
“You were meant to.”
Bdubs followed them, hands still moving—small, but free.
The itch wasn’t gone.
But it wasn’t unbearable anymore.
And that had to be enough.
For now.
꩜
Etho’s place had always been warm. Under all the cyberpunk and machinery, it was familiar. Safe.
Etho watched from the doorway as Bdubs collapsed onto his couch like a wet cat. Bdubs gave him a flat look when he wouldn’t come join him.
“Hurry up,” Bdubs ordered.
“Alright, alright.” Etho came over and settled beside him. He didn’t flinch when Bdubs rested against him, too used to it by now.
Bdubs sighed, the day starting to weigh on him. The sun was setting, casting a cozy orange glow through the tall windows. His hands moved up without thinking, twisting his hoodie strings around and around absently.
“So,” Etho said slowly. “Today was… a lot.”
Bdubs shifted, his chin on Etho’s shoulder, so he could glance up.
“...Mm.”
Etho shifted slightly so Bdubs wouldn’t have to crane his neck as much, one hand coming up to idly trace slow circles against his arm—grounding, steady, there.
“Hey,” Etho said softly. “Nothing bad happened this time.”
Bdubs made a small noise, somewhere between agreement and protest. His fingers kept twisting the hoodie strings, tighter now, like he was trying to wring the day out of them.
“But,” Etho continued gently, “something could’ve.”
There it was.
Bdubs stilled for half a second before the motion came back, sharper. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”
“I’m not saying that to freak you out,” Etho added quickly. “Just,” he exhaled through his nose, searching for the right words, “fire’s kinda… not forgiving.”
Bdubs huffed weakly. “Yeah. Not exactly known for its patience.”
“Mmhm.”
Silence settled again, softer this time. Not the bad kind. Not the itchy kind.
“…I didn’t mean to,” Bdubs said after a moment, quieter now. “I just liked the sound. And then it,” he made a vague flicking motion with his fingers, “did the thing.”
“I know you didn’t mean to,” Etho said immediately.
Bdubs’ shoulders slumped. “Still did it.”
Etho tilted his head, resting it lightly against Bdubs’. “Doing something on accident isn’t the same as doing something wrong on purpose.”
“Feels the same after,” Bdubs mumbled.
“…Yeah,” Etho admitted. “Sometimes it does.”
Bdubs swallowed, blinking hard at nothing in particular. His hands slowed, then sped up again like he couldn’t decide what they were supposed to be doing.
“I keep messing up,” he said. “Like—either I don’t do anything and I feel like I’m gonna crawl out of my skin, or I do something and it annoys people or breaks something or—” he cut himself off with a frustrated groan, pressing his forehead into Etho’s shoulder. “There’s no winning.”
Etho didn’t answer right away. Just let him talk. Let him get it out.
Then, quieter, “What if we’re just playing the wrong game?”
Bdubs pulled back slightly, squinting at him. “…What does that even mean?”
“It means,” Etho said, nudging his knee with his own, “maybe the goal isn’t ‘don’t do anything.’”
“…Feels like it is.”
“Yeah, well,” Etho huffed, “Joel’s not exactly the authority on how your brain works.”
Bdubs snorted a little despite himself.
Etho smiled faintly at the sound, then reached down and gently caught Bdubs’ hands—not stopping them, just slowing them enough to get his attention.
“What if we just… find better options?” he said.
Bdubs frowned. “Better than fire?”
“Preferably less flammable, yeah.”
A tiny laugh slipped out of Bdubs before he could stop it.
Etho squeezed his fingers lightly. “You liked the click, right? The feeling, the sound—something about it scratched the itch.”
“…Yeah.”
“Okay. So we find something that does that,” Etho said simply. “Without the whole ‘accidental arson’ side effect.”
Bdubs hesitated. “…That’s a thing?”
“Has to be.”
“You sound very confident for someone who absolutely just made that up.”
“I’m choosing to believe in solutions,” Etho said, deadpan.
Bdubs rolled his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders had eased—just a little.
“…What if it doesn’t work?” he asked after a second. “What if it’s still annoying?”
Etho shrugged one shoulder. “Then it’s annoying.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“It does, actually,” Etho said. “Because annoying isn’t the end of the world.”
Bdubs looked at him skeptically.
Etho flicked his forehead again.
“Ow—!”
“Scar is annoying,” Etho said. “And we keep him around.”
Bdubs snorted. “Barely.”
“My point,” Etho continued, “is that people being a little bothered sometimes doesn’t mean you have to make yourself miserable all the time.”
Bdubs went quiet at that.
“…You weren’t bothered?” he asked, softer now.
Etho blinked. “By you?”
“…Yeah.”
Etho’s expression softened immediately. “No.”
“Not even a little?”
“Bdubs,” Etho said, gently exasperated, “you set one patch of grass on fire. I’ve seen worse from you before breakfast.”
“…That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” Etho said. “It’s supposed to be accurate.”
Bdubs huffed, but he leaned back into him again, easier this time.
“…You’re not mad?” he tried again.
“No.”
“…At all?”
“Nope.”
Bdubs was quiet for a long moment, like he was waiting for the catch.
“…Okay,” he said finally, small but a little steadier.
Etho pressed a quick kiss into his hair. “Okay.”
The room settled into a comfortable quiet after that, the soft hum of machinery filling the space. Bdubs’ hands kept moving, slower now—twisting, tapping, rubbing—but not hidden. Not forced still.
After a minute, Etho spoke again, more lightly this time.
“I’ll figure something out,” he said.
Bdubs tilted his head. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Gimme a day.”
“…You’re gonna invent something, aren’t you.”
“Probably.”
“That’s either really sweet or really concerning.”
“Why not both?”
Bdubs smiled—small, but real this time—and nudged him with his shoulder.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
Etho bumped him back. “Anytime.”
And for the first time all day, the buzzing under Bdubs’ skin didn’t feel like something he had to fight.
Just… something they’d figure out.
꩜
“I told you not to look.”
“I’m not!”
“Turn around, then.”
Bdubs huffed and spun to face the other way, legs swinging off the side of the chest he’d insisted on perching on. Of course Etho would’ve noticed him peeking. That man never missed anything.
“Okay,” Etho said, finally. “You can look.”
Bdubs blinked. The harsh lighting left little spots behind his eyelids. When he looked back, Etho was holding out something in his hands.
“What is that?” Etho motioned for Bdubs to cup his hands the same way he was. When he did, he let the little thing slip into Bdubs’ palms.
“Come on, you can figure it out.” Etho crossed his arms and stepped back, watching Bdubs with a little glint in his eyes Bdubs could only define as affection.
“It’s a snake?” Bdubs narrowed his eyes at the little thing. Two big, beady eyes were engraved at the end, made of something like glass. “What does it—”
Chk.
Bdubs froze.
Oh.
When it moved; it clicked.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t sharp.
It just was.
“You…” Bdubs looked up at Etho. “where did you find this?”
“I made it,” Etho said through narrowed eyes. Bdubs could tell he was smiling even with the mask. “Thought you’d like something like this.”
Bdubs was moving on instinct, twisting and turning the little thing around, half trying to see if it would break and half hoping it wouldn’t. He paused when he realized the itch was gone.
Not suppressed. Not quiet. Just gone.
Bdubs’ heart twisted.
“So?” Etho prompted. “Is it—do you like it?” When Bdubs’ reply didn’t come after a few seconds, he added, “Bdubs? Do you not like it?”
“No, no—” Bdubs’ words came out quick, like he was forcing them. “I-I like it.”
Etho kneeled in front of the counter, though due to their height difference, he didn’t lose that many inches. “What’s wrong, B?”
“It’s—It’s nothing.” Bdubs put the snake aside to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. He sniffed. “I do like it. I like it a lot.”
Etho’s eyes softened at the sniffle in his tone. He took both of Bdubs’ hands in his, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs. “Hey. what’s goin’ on?”
Bdubs looked up, the edges of his vision blurring from the tears he was trying (failing) to blink away. “Nobody ever tries to understand.”
Etho’s concerned expression shifted to one of more quiet realization. He stood, and without another word, settled himself on the chest next to Bdubs. Bdubs didn’t register the arm around his shoulders until he was being pulled close, but he wasn’t complaining. He held onto the front of Etho’s jacket, who now had both arms around him, and let out a tiny whimper.
“I’m sorry,” Bdubs said automatically. “I don’t—it’s dumb.”
“No,” Etho said immediately. “It’s not dumb. Tell me.” he carded a hand through Bdubs’ hair absently, “what’s up, B?”
“Most people just get mad at me.” Bdubs had wanted to say it all for so long, but now he was struggling for words. “Nobody’s ever listened to me.”
Etho hummed. “Really?”
Bdubs shook his head weakly. “Everyone always tells me to stop. I try to tell them, but nobody really listens.”
Bdubs felt Etho nod to himself.
“I tried to stop. I would really try. But it was too hard. I just—I just needed to move. Everybody acts like there’s something wrong with me.”
“Ah,” Etho murmured. “But there isn’t, is there? You know that?”
“...Yeah.”
Even Bdubs could tell he didn’t sound convinced.
“Some people might think that.” Etho guided Bdubs’ face, gently, so they could make eye contact. “But I don’t think so. I think that you do it because it makes you feel better, and helps you think. And if it helps, nobody deserves to hassle you about it.”
“But it annoys people,” Bdubs mumbled, voice slightly muffled from the way Etho’s hands were placed on his cheeks. “I don’t want to be annoying.”
“You won’t be,” Etho assured him, wiping away a drying tear. “And if people get mad? They can go to hell.”
Bdubs, despite himself, laughed, a strange warmth spreading across his chest. Etho really didn’t mind.
Etho kissed him then—soft, and full of something deep. Bdubs returned it with just as much fervor, and they only broke apart to gasp for air.
Etho began giggling softly at Bdubs’ face of pure adoration. Bdubs couldn’t stop himself from returning it, especially when he felt lighter than he had in weeks. When they finally quieted down, he sighed, Etho’s hands still resting on his face.
“I love you, Etho.” His voice was nearly silent, just a fleeting breath, for nobody to hear but them.
Etho looked at him, eyes painted with pure infatuation, as he murmured:
“I love you too, B.”