(In a far off future that Eddie has seen, he's married to some overwhelming woman who looks and acts just like his mother. A woman he doesn't love, a woman he can scarcely stand up to and who makes his hypochondria so much worse by keeping it in his bed, close to his psyche. In that far off future, he's miserable and alone in ways that he had never known were possible. That future that had sat so wrong on his shoulders months ago, that he hadn't been able to understand fully because back then, he hadn't been honest with who he was.
It's almost as bad as his horrid grave, forgotten and abandoned by so-called friends. Bled out and vacantly staring at the walls of the home of their childhood tormentor.
That future left no room for boys who would smile at Eddie in a way that Ben would smile at Beverly. In that future, there was no love that had ever been burned for him nor love he had ever set alight himself.
This is the very first time in his entire life that Eddie has pressed open that part of himself and let some light inside. The first time that he chose to make this a Good Thing and not just something disgusting and awful. Kissing Will wasn't sinful. Nothing that felt so light and warm could ever be wrong, and it hit him in the gut.
It wasn't a thought that would stay forever. No. But it was the makings of an idea that would eventually, in his distant future, settle itself over his shoulders and make itself at home there if he had the chance to grow into this boy who would let himself love who he wanted. If he let himself be loved in return by the people he desperately wanted to love him.
Will grabs his hands and there's this violent sort of pull inside of Eddie. A rightness fills him up and he didn't feel a lick of awkwardness or wrong-doing. His face broke out into one of the most honest smiles he has ever given, and he neatly slides their fingers together.
Home is where you go to die. Home is where you couldn't tell the difference between your mother's arms around your neck from the chain around your ankle.
Was it so?
Because right then, Eddie thought maybe he had always been wrong. Home was the inviting space between Will's fingers and the warmth flourishing over his face. Home was where he felt safest tucked up against Jake's chest after a particularly bad nightmare, or where Clara's fingers slid through his hair to neaten it out. Home didn't need to be his grave. It could be...Everything. His entire chest felt shaky with emotion, and he could feel his eyes start to water and then all at once, shamefully, he could feel the tears spill over. But he was still smiling, beaming even, and he drops his head forward against Will's shoulder, just letting himself exist for once without some looming shape of guilt hanging over him.)
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It's almost as bad as his horrid grave, forgotten and abandoned by so-called friends. Bled out and vacantly staring at the walls of the home of their childhood tormentor.
That future left no room for boys who would smile at Eddie in a way that Ben would smile at Beverly. In that future, there was no love that had ever been burned for him nor love he had ever set alight himself.
This is the very first time in his entire life that Eddie has pressed open that part of himself and let some light inside. The first time that he chose to make this a Good Thing and not just something disgusting and awful. Kissing Will wasn't sinful. Nothing that felt so light and warm could ever be wrong, and it hit him in the gut.
It wasn't a thought that would stay forever. No. But it was the makings of an idea that would eventually, in his distant future, settle itself over his shoulders and make itself at home there if he had the chance to grow into this boy who would let himself love who he wanted. If he let himself be loved in return by the people he desperately wanted to love him.
Will grabs his hands and there's this violent sort of pull inside of Eddie. A rightness fills him up and he didn't feel a lick of awkwardness or wrong-doing. His face broke out into one of the most honest smiles he has ever given, and he neatly slides their fingers together.
Home is where you go to die. Home is where you couldn't tell the difference between your mother's arms around your neck from the chain around your ankle.
Was it so?
Because right then, Eddie thought maybe he had always been wrong. Home was the inviting space between Will's fingers and the warmth flourishing over his face. Home was where he felt safest tucked up against Jake's chest after a particularly bad nightmare, or where Clara's fingers slid through his hair to neaten it out. Home didn't need to be his grave. It could be...Everything. His entire chest felt shaky with emotion, and he could feel his eyes start to water and then all at once, shamefully, he could feel the tears spill over. But he was still smiling, beaming even, and he drops his head forward against Will's shoulder, just letting himself exist for once without some looming shape of guilt hanging over him.)