satanicpanics: (pic#16334700)
š”ˆš””š””š”¦š”¢ š”š”²š”«š”°š”¬š”« ([personal profile] satanicpanics) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2023-12-20 05:57 am (UTC)

Hey, you don’t know I failed physics.

[ It’s pretty obvious he did, though. You don’t repeat senior year twice without your grades being in the gutter, and Eddie’s grades were so far in the gutter, they were practically the stuff of legends.

He struggled in school. A lot. In fact, there might have been a point where he stopped trying entirely and continued attending out of sheer spite—and love for Hellfire. It was only the looming threat of the dreaded GED exam that had him finally choose to step up his game a bit in that last year. Either way, they can’t all be brainiac computer geniuses like Henderson and Co., and Eddie doesn’t think himself an unintelligent person. He doesn’t think Steve is either, though he has witnessed first hand the way his comments tended to get brushed off back home. Eddie had thought his ā€œVecna is a vampireā€ suggestion had some serious backing to it, even if no one else did.
]

Alright, I failed physics a couple times, but that’s not the point.

[ He rolls his eyes, but it’s all in good humor, and no, he doesn’t confirm if he can make the goat wheel battery work or not, because he’s…mostly sure he’s joking? The idea sits in the back of his mind as a vague and distant possibility, though; something to consider if Wanda’s magic somehow doesn’t do the trick. He really does love the gift that much.

But he makes his hair joke, and the outcome is…a little unexpected. Pulled in a little closer via the headphones, Steve’s hands warm on his—and they stay there. For one second, two seconds—long enough for Eddie to try to say something. A quip or a question, either way, he doesn’t get a chance, because the way his heart thumps in his chest is somehow louder and more uncomfortable than usual and makes it very hard to come up with witty response. Huh..

In the end, a clearing of his throat is his only real acknowledgement of the moment before carrying right along, because why should they ever deem to recognize any of these weird little moments they keep having? It’s nothing, surely. Nothing at all. So he shrugs it off, lets it go, lets his gaze drop back to the walkman and fast-forwards the tape a bit to the next song, feeling like he might cry from the whirring sound alone. It really is the little things you end up missing from home.
]

Alright, so. This is 2 Minutes to Midnight, and, uh…it’s kind of a masterpiece.

[ And maybe it’s not life-changing for the ordinary person, but it is quintessentially Eddie. Guitar-driven, dark yet oddly poignant lyrics, and loud enough that he can still tap his fingers in time to it against his knee despite being nowhere near the headphones.

He’s watching though, searching to be certain Steve doesn’t totally hate it. He thinks he wouldn’t be offended if he disliked it. After all, he’s more than aware that people humor him, either because they’re afraid he’s going to get charged up about it, or just because they want to be nice. But if Steve totally, visibly hated it? Well…it shouldn’t matter to him, but Eddie’s love of music runs bone deep. To him, it’s kind of more than sharing a favorite song with a friend. It’s like sharing a little piece of who you are.
]

What do you think? Feeling like a whole new man yet?

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