#IS THIS SLOWBURN?

[chichayuen]

I'll be there, Always.

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🍰PAIRING: [LADS] Caleb x fem!reader word count: 3.5k 🍓GENRE: Slow-burn, Angst, Hurt/Comfort 🍎SYNOPSIS: A slow-burn of childhood friendship, unspoken longing, and bittersweet of growing up. 🎀TAGS: Unspoken feelings, frustration over mixed signals, unspoken insecurities, drifting away, mutual but unconfessed feelings 💌A/N: I used the 3rd perspective just to make the story more emotionally convincing. This is mainly focused on Y/N... She/her pronouns too! Sorry :( I decided to post this first part since I have already proofread it. Grammars still suck though :( AND CALEB might be OOC, but that's how I imagine him in a situationship haha FIRST FANFIC BTW!! LET'S GOOOOO ALSO!! Listen to Niki's version of "You'll be in my heart" (in loop) as you read this first part. This story was inspired by it!

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The rain kept pouring, hitting against all the windows they had in their home. The rain’s patter was as soft as a wish fading before it was spoken. What wishes could be made though? They’re already living a life filled with contentment. Y/N never wishes to change something. She already has a home, a meal to eat every day, an old woman to look after her… and better, Caleb. It wasn’t that long enough to have him for herself. In some ways, he was always there- like an overworked, lone officer on duty, protecting her as if she were his last safe place.

Soon enough, a deep, rolling growl rumbled from outside, making her whimper softly in fear. There was no way that she could be facing the thunder- she was still just a little girl... Who would stand up bravely before the wrath of the gods?

Those sounds made it seem as if the gods hated her, causing her tears to fall out of her eyes. “Come on, N/n,” Caleb looked at her with worried brows and a small smile. His patience never wavered when it came to her. “You have to face it again.” He turned away slightly, worry flickering in his eyes as he glanced toward the door. He could hear his friends being loud outside on the street, caught in the rain.

Y/N felt her soft cotton sweater tugged by the hem of her sleeve. “I’m here this time, okay? If you want to come with me and play outside, you have to face the thunder,” he encouraged her while focusing back on her, giving her another slightest tug.  “Trust me pip, we may be small… but we are here to conquer the world! Nothing can stop us, remember?”

She was still pouring tears, sobbing as her mouth quivered, letting out soft gasps that should have been words meant for him instead. She could only utter, “The thunder can stop me, Caby… I-I’m still scared.”

Caleb winced internally in response. He hadn’t meant to accidentally trap her in the attic weeks ago while he was out there protecting her… or rather, forgetting to let her out while having his own adventure with his supposed “bullies”. His hands reached out to her chubby and soft reddened cheeks, with traces of tears on them.  “You were brave, Pipsqueak. Even if I found you curled up in the corner, you managed to protect yourself without me.” Caleb then wiped her tears. “You’ll be okay. Caleb trusts you more than himself.”

Then, Y/N embraced him slowly, hooking her arms firmly from below and over his shoulders, pulling him in as if he might disappear. Caleb is slightly taken aback, yet his gaze softens from familiarity. He buried his face into her hair, his hands steady there as well, vowing to the universe to protect her. That’s all he needed to prove his enduring love for her.

From that embrace, he found himself with a determined resolve. He slowly leaned back, his hands slipping to her shoulders as hers fell limply to her sides. “Listen, Pip,” He grinned, showing his missing tooth. “You don’t have to force yourself out there… If you need me beside you, I’ll guarantee to keep you safe.” Caleb took a step back and lifted his hand for her. “But if my pipsqueak needs me now and forever, then… the mighty Caleb chooses to be with her.”  When Y/N placed her palms on top of his, he continued, “After all, I promised to be there for her.”

“And… I won’t go outside this time, well—for now. You don’t want me getting sick from the rain, right?” He said with a chuckle, pulling Y/N alongside him as they went further back into the house, ditching his friends who were still playing outside in the rain.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

The rain had long passed, but Caleb never did. Even after all these years, he was still her protector, her best friend— the same boy who once held her close during thunderstorms, whose hands wiped away her tears, and whose presence made the world feel a little less frightening. Yet, somewhere along the way, he became more aware—more cautious as soon as it was about Y/N. It didn’t feel right to her at least, he was never the type of guy who would isolate himself. Even if he was, she couldn’t figure out the reasons why he would.

In the classroom, his voice blended with the buzz of laughter and casual banter. His placement was 2 columns apart, with two chairs sharing one table at every column for seating arrangement. Y/N glanced at his desk, surrounded by a familiar crowd, who were the same people who sought him out for jokes, favors, and companionship— in short, he was quite well-known.

Y/N sat on her chair, her eyes drawn to him as if he were the only light in the building. He shines so brightly like the sun, making his presence impossible to ignore. It was the same light he carried as a boy, the one that had never dimmed, no matter how much he grew.

She watched the way he leaned against his desk, crossing his arms, flashing a grin that pulled at the corners of her memory. There he was—the boy who once smiled through missing teeth. Funny, isn’t it? Back then, he would grin without a hint of shame, gaps and all, while never caring what anyone thought.

She sighed, propping her cheek against her palm, her eyes narrowing with a deep, aching sense of yearning. How could he be so painfully close, yet so distant when he was with others?

Then, Y/N saw the way he casually brushed his hair back— a small, thoughtless gesture that somehow made her heart tighten. She was used to seeing him loud and carefree with everyone, brimming with confidence, especially with her. But watching him grow shy over something she couldn’t even hear from afar made her feel as though she was missing out on a part of him.

Y/N tucked her hands beneath her desk, clenching them slightly as if she could hold on to the version of him she once knew… the boy who shielded her from everything. But now, whenever his eyes met hers, they were filled with different kinds of worrying ones she couldn’t quite understand. How was it any different from the way he looked at her when they bantered at home? Why did it suddenly feel more hesitant? Was she… someone to be ashamed of?

But she shook the thoughts away with a sigh, all conflicted again. She knew better than to assume so quickly.

“Y/N,”

Zayne’s voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her back to the earth. Thank God for making him her seatmate. Zayne was also her childhood best friend, having to grow up with her and Caleb. Although he appeared later in their lives, he fit in effortlessly. He brought his wit, aloof demeanor, and sharp-minded seriousness into their little trio.

Y/N turned her head toward him, raising a brow in confusion as to why he called her name. “I’m already sensing something,” Zayne muttered with a sigh. “Something you need to address.”

And she knew exactly what he meant.

Zayne had always seen through her; he knew about her longing for Caleb. He had heard it all: the times she missed him, the way she gushed about how cute he looked whenever he bragged about her, and how she wished they could go back—back to the days when they were just kids. Back when Caleb’s attention felt different... much warmer like he was shielding her from the entire world’s coldness.

But now, even when Caleb offered her extra care, it no longer had the same spark. He was still there, but he no longer held her like she was his only princess.

He simply stared at her for a moment before adjusting his glasses. “I heard he’s planning to become a pilot,” he said casually, but the weight of his words hung between them. It was a reminder of the inevitable that soon enough, they would separate and go their own ways.

Y/N always hated the thought of it. She never wanted this to end, never wanted him to leave.

She slowly lifted her head once again, unable to resist stealing another glance at Caleb. And by chance, their eyes met.

For a fleeting moment, her breath caught in her throat. She expected him to smile—to flash her that familiar, easy grin he always saved just for her. The one that felt like home. But this time, he didn’t.

Instead, his gaze faltered, dropping down to his desk. His brows furrowed in some sort of regret while his fingers absently traced the edge of his notebook as if he were suddenly too restless to meet her eyes. The friends chattering near him faded into background noise, yet he paid them little attention.

That stung more than it should have been.

Because in that brief exchange, she felt him slipping away, and she didn’t know how to hold on.

Will he still protect her like he always wanted to?

Y/N turned back to Zayne, her eyes clouded with disappointment and a deep sense of failure. “Zayne…” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly, thick with hurt and longing.

He met her gaze with his expression softening. Without a word, he gave her a reassuring nod as his hand gently patted her head. His small gesture was meant to ease the ache he knew too well.

“We still have time,” he whispered softly. But even if he said it, neither of them was sure if they believed it.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

During lunch, Caleb casually made his way to Zayne and Y/N. After all, they were his original friends. He grew up with them, so it was normal to join them from time to time despite being popular. The surroundings were lively and bustling, filled with laughter and cheerful conversations.

Caleb noticed that one stood out, which was Y/N’s downcast look.

She sat there, unusually quiet, with her eyes staring absently at her lunch.

“So,” Zayne began calmly, his gaze cutting towards Caleb with subtle curiosity.

Y/N, still seated beside Zayne, stiffened slightly when Caleb slid into the empty chair in front of them. She perked up the moment she caught Zayne’s voice and attention—it was her cue. He was lowkey eager to hear her continue the conversation.

Taking the chance, she said, “I almost forgot,” with a soft chuckle, though her voice held a faint strain. She placed her lunch aside, reaching into her bag for her notebook.

Once the notebook was in her hands, she turned to Caleb as her eyes turned slightly hopeful. “Caby, I need some small lectures in this… particular—” she flipped the pages open, revealing a mix of notes from other subjects. “…lesson,” she then finished softly.

Caleb’s curiosity was piqued as he glanced at her with his brow slightly furrowed. Then, Y/N slid her notebook close to him, her fingers pointing at a familiar physics lesson.

“That one? Sure, when we get home,” he replied with a casual shrug, though his face was casual, nothing to offend or doubt her thoughts of him.

Y/N nodded subtly in response, a small smile tugging her lips. “I still remember when you taught me the different units of measurement.” her voice mixed with fondness and her eyes softened with nostalgia as she reminisced about the times he tutored her in middle school, particularly about numbers.

“Yeah, I remember that clearly, Pip,” he replied softly. At first, she thought she had it… until she noticed his little amusement in his tone and reaction.

He shifted his focus back to the pages she had shown him. His eyes skimmed the notes with a distant air, a chance for him to be detached from the moment.

Her chest tightened at his lack of response. She couldn’t help but look at him with her eyes drooping slightly, filled with disappointment. Usually, he would light up with the brightest grin, like a dog receiving its favorite treat. He would also carry on with their memories, eagerly describing his side of the story—or adding little details about their shared adventures.

But this time, he didn’t.

He just didn’t.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

Caleb waited at the gates, leaning against the wall with his eyes fixed on the pavement. His friends had already left, and the lingering silence was beginning to weigh on him. Going home together was a part of their routine… familiar comfort he quietly counted on.

When Zayne and Y/N finally emerged from the main entrance, his posture straightened slightly as the faint flicker of energy returned to his eyes.

But when they drew closer, he didn’t greet them with his usual joyous smile. Instead, he simply watched them approach, his expression calm but distant.

Caleb’s fingers tightened around the strap on his shoulder, while his other hand hung loosely by his side.

The three of them eventually stepped through the gate and turned to face one another.

“See ya,” He casually murmured, raising his hand slightly in farewell to Zayne. The latter simply nodded in return, his expression stoic as ever.

When his eyes shifted to Y/N, Caleb caught the glance they exchanged. The way Zayne’s gaze lingered on her face made him forget to breathe, a dull ache of bitterness pooling inside him. There was no possessiveness in it.

He wasn’t jealous… just envious. Though he wasn’t sure if there was any much of a difference.

Zayne nodded at Y/N once more, and she offered him a soft smile in return. With a casual gesture, he patted her head, his expression giving no effort.

“Cheer up,” Zayne muttered flatly, his tone lacking any real conviction.

She chuckled softly, her eyes brimming with faint warmth before she gently pushed his hand away. “Yeah, yeah…” she teased lightly, though she couldn’t help but find it amusing. His reassurance always meant something, even with a face that didn’t look the slightest bit convincing.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

Y/N kept walking, but her thoughts grew heavier with every step. Doubt and questions clouded her mind, blurring the edges of her resolve. Caleb, however, lags slightly behind, breaking the familiar rhythm of walking side by side. The distance between them, though small, felt unbearably vast.

She couldn’t take it anymore, at least… not without her heart feeling like it might cave in. But still, she kept her head low, unwilling to meet his eyes or face the heavy, humid air that lingered between them.

Did Caleb even realize how much his avoidance weighed on her chest? Why was it painfully quiet now as they walked together?

And when, exactly, had it become this way?

As she walked, Y/N caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye, his hand subtly lifting beside her wrist. It might seem odd and almost out of place for a fleeting moment. Yet, she recognized it for what it was—a fragile attempt to reach out and a quiet plea for her to notice him.

But just as quickly, his hand retreated, and she heard him wince from behind. The faint sound confirmed that she wasn’t imagining or hallucinating it. Without a second thought, she halted, her sudden stop causing Caleb to stiffen in surprise. He came to an abrupt pause, and his eyes snapping up to meet hers.

When their eyes finally locked, his eyes were wide and startled. But hers were weighed down with sadness, worry, confusion, and that small unmistakable trace of longing.

Caleb froze, his breath catching. She had never looked at him that way before. But if he could see into her heart, he’d know that was exactly how he looked at her too.

His brows slowly knit in concern, mirroring the sorrow in her eyes. Even his chest was tightened with yearning, but he forced himself to bury it. Caleb tried to mask it with indifference, but it was painfully too obvious. No matter how he tried,

He couldn’t hide the way he ached for her, too.

He even tried to find reasons why he couldn’t fight the inevitable for her. When he once could so easily as a child where he would stand tall without fear, protecting her from anything with unwavering confidence. But now, he felt so small and unsure, afraid that if he reached for her, he might end up losing her completely in the process.

Y/N sniffled softly and stepped closer, reaching for his calloused hands with both of hers, wrapping around the hand that had longed to reach hers earlier. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment, it was enough. Caleb never realized his avoidance would only deepen their longing and it would make it harder to ignore. But he knew he was still strong enough to hold back, convincing himself that Y/N no longer needed him the way she once did as a child.

With a shaking breath, she slowly lifted his hand to her temple, her brows knitting tighter with the weight of everything she couldn’t say to him. She couldn’t speak now—instead, this gesture was her silent plea, a reminder that she still needed him just as much as before.

That simple action alone made his chest tighten with regret, and before he knew it… he was pulling her in—gently, but with aching desperation. His arms wrapped around her, holding her as if he could shield her from everything. He buried his face into her hair, his breath shuddering as vulnerability clung to him and the fear of loneliness engulfed the both of them.

“Don’t look at me like that, Pipsqueak…” his voice fractured with emotion, barely above a whisper. His arms tightened around her, with him trying to keep her from slipping away.

The ache of unspoken feelings hung between them, it was the kind of longing that seeped into their bones… a familiar pain of loving someone so deeply, yet being too afraid to admit it.

They both knew that they should risk it. They absolutely wanted to. But why does he hold back? He was confident—confident enough to make her his. Yet questions linger within him..

If only he knew what held him back.

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1/3 P2 [SOON trust..] plspls tell me how did I do

[redzombie]

Mensis

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

decided to get started on the fanfiction oh/OH. print design. This one is getting released November 6. Selected chrysanthemums because of their meaning and cus they're pretty

there are

SO MANY FUCKING PETALS

i am going to BED

[bimo8tf]

First meeting between D-16 and Pax in my au.

[tanukicutie]

Another sneak peek of chapter 2 of my first novel, "Three-Course Romance." In this chapter we meet Asher's boss, Lawrence York, and discover that he's a bit of a thorn in Asher's side. They don't along, and later, we discover that a certain someone (obviously it's Levi...) also doesn't get along with Mr. York. Tell me what you think! Have you read the free preview chapters yet? You can always go and find them here if you like.

[sunderwight]

I think that one of the things I like about Liushen is how on Shen Qingqiu's end, that's his relationship with the least amount of baggage, and on Liu Qingge's end, it's got the most.

Shen Qingqiu: good old reliable Liu-shidi!

Liu Qingge: we were enemies for decades, I thought you tried to kill me, you saved my life, now I'm questioning everything I ever thought I knew about you, it's like you're a completely different person, or maybe I just never understood what was really going on, who are we to one another now, I wouldn't dare to dream of kissing you under the moonlight except maybe I would

[retquits]

caldarus x ciro dynamic in a nutshell 🫠👍

[likeatattokiss]

EXCUSE ME?????? EXCUSE THE FUCK OUT OF ME WHAAATTT???

[crypticscarecrow]

Do yall have that fic you just gotta-

yeah

[zorangezest]

I recently read The Fall (but slower) by @smatterbrained and predictably fell in love with soundwave’s scenes…I just had to draw some art for it, here’s a lil scene from the most recent chapter!

[kiashieart]

you find new ways to drive me to madness

[timeskip!diego - ^_^ happy a day late 5/7 godonaru day!]

[oneforblu]

romance as a subplot is SOOOOO GOODDDDD because 98% of the time it's an intense slowburn that develops over several chapters. the story focuses on the plot or character development more but somehow it makes the romance SO MUCH BETTER!!! idk how to explain it it's just so good...like when an author's focus is more on characters and plot it gives you as the reader a deeper connection to the characters which makes the romantic/platonic aspect so much better

[tiarpopdind]

When he gets mad he unintentionally points his wand at her (something he never fixed since their first meeting )

Tris, unfortunately, finds it extremely rude (that's one of the reasons why she disliked him in the beginning)

But let's say she's found a way to work around it :)

[hellostickycollectionpeanutfan]

has anyone talked about the obvious hesitation angel displayed on episode 8, during his "last night" conversation with husk? i'm not grasping at straws here. it's not a stretch. his smile dropped and he started with a hesitant "hey..." like he wanted to get tender. and then his thoughtful demeanour changed and he asked for more drinks. i could swear the guy almost opened up but decided against it at the last second. his inside voice must've said "don't rush things, bite your tongue."

[stevebabey]

pre-steddie (its rly scratching the itch atm), steve harrington being a sad drunk :(, angst with a happy ending, 1.4k

If you asked him how it transpired, Eddie couldn’t tell you — but somehow, there’s a drunk Steve Harrington on the Munson’s couch.

Physically, he’d hazard a guess Steve walked all the way from whatever party he’d been at. Which is a concern in itself—either Steve wandered through the woods or he wandered quite some way, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

The why of why Steve’s here—why he chose to sought out Eddie in particular—is another mystery altogether.

If Eddie had to guess, he’d say somewhere between the commonality of crashing at each other’s place to keep the nightmares at bay and a night of drinking is how Steve ended up here.

It’s nearing midnight the clock tells him, blinking red from the microwave. Steve’s holding a glass of water that he’s sipped from only once.

And he’s sad.

Considering it, Eddie hadn’t thought Steve would be a sad drunk. Especially if you consider the sheer amount of parties he threw as a teenager.

It just doesn’t quite fit into his ever changing picture of Steve Harrington. Like a puzzle piece the wrong shape that doesn’t fit with the rest. Happy drunk? Horny drunk? Those made better sense than this.

But then again, Eddie stopped trying to make sense of Steve a couple months after the Vecna-episode of their lives.

(It’s sort of something he really likes about Steve, that he can’t ever really pin him down — that he’s always surprising Eddie.)

Either way, the fact remains that Steve is drunk and Steve is sad.

Eddie just doesn’t know about what.

“C’mon,” Eddie nudges the glass in Steve’s hand gently, the second time tonight. “Gotta drink up, Stevie, lest you risk the wrath of tomorrow’s hangover.”

Steve’s slumped sideways on the couch, not too drunk to be out of it, but evidently rather physically beat. He’s leaning his head up against the ratty leather of the couch, his eyes closed.

Eddie sits opposite him, enough distance to keep it friendly, but close enough to catch the glass if Steve suddenly decides he doesn’t feel like holding it anymore.

He wants to sit closer, wants to maybe even hold Steve’s hand. Cup his face and murmur sweet nothings until sad drunk Steve is replaced by someone happier.

Eddie swallows the desire down, away.

By all accounts, there’s nothing Steve’s said or done to give away his sadness. Eddie only knows he’s sad from that slight downturn of his mouth — the slight jut of his lip. The world’s most adorable pout if it wasn’t being caused for bad reasons, Eddie thinks.

He knows what it looks like because it’s what Steve looks like when he wakes from a nightmare. When he’s properly distressed, thrust to the verge of tears. Eddie knows the sight well. (And Steve knows his.)

On the couch beside him, Steve makes a little noise in response to the nudge. His eyes crease open.

He looks tired. It’s not the exhaustion that comes with terror, with having sleep chased from you, but… bone-deep tiredness.

Eddie’s lip part, unsure if it’s to urge Steve to drink some water again or just to ask what’s wrong when—

“No one wants it.” Steve says, in the smallest voice. It’s barely a whisper.

Eddie’s brows draw together. The sadness in Steve’s words travel out, pushing an ache into his chest.

“Wants what?”

Steve is silent. He’s not looking at Eddie — he wasn’t before, but now his gaze is downcast, studying the glass in his hands. His finger traces the rim.

“Wants what, Steve?” Eddie tries again.

This time, Steve sighs and it looks like it takes the wind out of him completely. “My…”

There’s a crack in his voice. Steve clears his throat and closes his eyes again, this time scrunched up as if he’s resisting the emotion that tries to take over.

“My stupid love. Keep… keep tryna give it, but no one wants to take it.” He inhales jaggedly, turning an inch and pressing further into the couch, like he’s hiding. His voice is muffled and wrecked. “No one wants it.”

Something splinters in Eddie’s chest, slivers of agony burying beneath his skin. He’s speechless.

How can Steve think that? How can he believe that?

“I do,” Eddie says, before realising what’s he’s saying.

Steve stiffens on the couch, tentatively digging his face out from hiding. His downturned eyes still have that warbling sadness and Eddie just needs to make it better — even if it means throwing his pathetic crush under the bus.

“Eddie-” Steve says, wary and tired all at once, as if he’s saying don’t do this, don’t lie to me.

“I do. It sounds lovely,” Eddie insists, completely truthful. “If you want someone to give it to, I’ll take it. I want it.”

Steve eyes him. Some of that melancholy in him has turned to apprehension. He sniffles a bit and sighs again.

“Not- not like that.” Steve murmurs, eyes falling back to the glass in his hands. He speaks with a lilt of embarrassment, as though he thinks it’s shameful to care this much. “Not as a friend, Eddie.”

A stone grows in Eddie’s throat. It’ll hurt like hell to swallow it, to speak, but Steve has always been worth it.

“I know,” Eddie breathes. He can’t quite keep all his nerves out of the words and they jam up in his mouth for a moment. “Not like that, Steve.”

He desperately wants to grab his own hair, to fiddle with it, release some tension, but he also doesn’t want to break the quiet softness between them.

The fridge hums in the silence. The clock on the microwave blinks back midnight.

Wishing hour? Maybe in some myths and stories. Eddie clings it anyway.

Steve’s hazel eyes are a little wider now. A little more awake. He’s picked his head up, no longer leaning against the couch cushions.

“You…”

Freak. Fag. Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies every awful way this could roll, entirely too late. He tenses up, shoulders curling in, a minuscule motion.

But Steve doesn’t look disgusted, he looks a little in disbelief.

“You… want it?” He asks, that same quiet whisper.

And that does a number of Eddie’s heart—the enormity of Steve’s disbelief that someone would want his love, that the rest of it—the semantics, the fact that boys can’t kiss boys—doesn’t even matter to him.

“Yeah,” Eddie croaks. He nods jerkily, the nerves still there, even with Steve’s easy acceptance. “I do. I’d love to have it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. He’s laid his head back down, his hair scrunched up against the leather, but his eyes are still on Eddie. Not scrutinising, just studying. There’s still that hazy look to them, no doubt the alcohol still in his veins.

“I never… didn’t think…” He’s murmuring more to himself. From the concentration of his gaze, he’s thinking hard. He sniffles again, nose twitching and then frowns, eyes cast to the side, before,

“Okay,” Steve says finally, voice quiet. “If you… if you mean it.”

Then he unfurls his hand, the one that had been tracing the glass, and puts it forward. Between them on the couch.

Eddie eyes it, stomach swooping, pulse thudding, and then does what he does best; throws caution to the wind. Steve might hate him tomorrow but tonight, Eddie won’t hide.

Their fingers slot together easily, two perfect puzzle pieces.

Eddie wonders if him in Steve’s life, him like this with Steve, is one of those things that would work—would make sense. If he wants to make sense with Steve or instead be another surprising thing about him.

(That Steve Harrington might like boys. Might like Eddie.)

Steve is gazing at their joined hands. For the first time since he got to Eddie’s trailer, his lips turn upward, a very small yet happy smile. He gives a very light squeeze with his hand, the lack of strength evidence of his sleepiness. Eddie squeezes back nonetheless.

Then Steve’s eyes are closed and in a few deep breathes, he’s out like a light.

It’s a careful process to extract the glass of water from Steve’s clenched hand, but Eddie manages it. It sits on the edge of the coffee table and when Steve wakes up, mouth dry and in need of water, it will be there.

And so will Eddie.

The burning possibilities of what happens come tomorrow—when Steve’s sober and actually thinking straight (ha)—filter through Eddie’s mind, but he can’t find it in himself.

There’s no regret of he’s done. What he’s said, what’s been revealed.

It’s tomorrow’s problem (or tomorrow’s fantasy come true…?), but til then, Eddie burrows into the couch and readies for a sore neck tomorrow morning.

He should really get up and turn the lamp off, Eddie thinks to himself. Then Steve snuffles in his sleep, uses their intertwined fingers to bring him closer, and he forgets all about it.

[dirtgrubber]

“oh you…”

@morningstarwrites you literally kill me every time you post a chapter