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š”ˆš””š””š”¦š”¢ š”š”²š”«š”°š”¬š”« ([personal profile] satanicpanics) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs 2024-11-29 02:13 am (UTC)

[ At the sound of his name, Eddie’s gaze flicks immediately back to Steve’s face, eyes wide with anxiety. He opens his mouth to speak again. To soothe his nerves with a bit of pointless rambling, to drown out the pounding of his heart, to apologize, maybe, for somehow totally misreading this whole thing—

You’re not off base.

Oh.

I literally took you on a date, dude.

Oh.

It’s what Eddie suspected, sure, but it’s entirely different to hear it from Steve’s mouth. Eddie’s racing mind could easily have written it all off as delusional or wishful thinking, but now—Steve’s just made it into something concete and real.

Anyway, right now? I really want to kiss you.

Eddie doesn’t get an opportunity to respond, and that’s probably for the best. His thoughts are sent into a wild flurry, and his voice catches in his throat once more, and it’s not as if he’d be able form any known English words if he tried.

Wait. What? Yes. What? Yes. Goddamn, yes—

He thinks he manages a nod, or at least gives some sign to let Steve know that it’s okay because it is, but Eddie is a live wire. His mind buzzes and his heart races and he nearly jolts away out of sheer panic because this is all happening so fast, and—

They’ve been on the precipice of this for awhile; the better part of a year, at least, both of them too afraid or too stubborn to take the leap. But as the space between them closes, all the pieces fall neatly into place. Eddie’s uncertainty and hesitation dissipate. Because he wants this as well, has wanted this, but the fear of destroying something important and sacred was holding him back. But this? This is just…right. It feels right, and it’s real. It’s not some memory or a technicality brought about by the Singularity, it’s the real deal.

Steve’s hand is warm on the back of his neck, and it’s just enough to still some of Eddie’s restlessness. Not all of it. His hands struggle to follow suit. They curl into the fabric of Steve’s jacket at first, but eventually loosen and drift upward. His fingers skate across his neck and jaw and then slide through his hair, and Eddie thinks that messing up Steve Harrington’s perfect hair may have been at the top of his bucket list this entire time. His heart is fluttering—goddamn fluttering—in his chest, and all of this is a thrill he’s never felt from anything but an incredible song, and he knows that this is one he wants to hear again and again.

(Clarisse is absolutely living for this moment somewhere. Wherever she is, she’s bound to have felt a massive disruption in the force.)

Eventually, unfortunately, he has to pull away. He doesn’t want to. He’d live in this single moment for an entire lifetime if he could, but he needs to breathe, needs to process this for just a moment.
]

Holy shit…

[ He mumbles softly, eyes wide. Then, ever the jester, he clutches his chest and faux-swoons, falling backwards into the grass with a soft thud. He lays there, eyes unblinking and heart still pounding in his chest. They’re his usual theatrics, sure, but tinged with a hint of truth. He might have some worries later, some ā€œwhat-ifā€s and ā€œwhat aboutā€s, but for now, he thinks he could probably die a second death right here and now and he’d be happy. ]

Yeah, you can just leave me here. Nothing is ever gonna top a kiss from Steve goddamn Harrington.

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