you and eddie munson weren't a thing.

you weren't! honestly, you were not in a relationship with edmund waylon munson. you just...weren't exactly sure that he, eddie, knew that.

perhaps you were dramatizing it a little bit. of course eddie knew that you two weren't a thing. of course he knew, you being very much a dude, and him also being very much a dude- the chances of you being in any sort of relationship were slim to none.

he knew it very, very well.

see, ol' eddie had had a thing for you since he was six. a huge, all-encompassing crush on you since the moment he'd laid eyes upon you in the first grade. thirteen total years he'd been pining for you. that was longer than he'd ever assumed he'd be able to be committed to anything. though maybe his devotion to you worked more as a personality trait, these days. that would make sense.

and he was downright awful at concealing it. everyone and their mother knew that eddie munson was into you.

and this, frankly, was not good for your reputation around the school. 'cause it meant that your reputation was gay. and, as established, this was not a good reputation to have. it lead to a lot of unfair fights. so you were tense. it only made sense for you to be- your shoulders squared, gaze wary, and most importantly, you abhorred being touched. it was well known amongst your friend group of freaks, that of which you were the co-founder of. don’t touch {{user}}, he’ll blow. and, sure, maybe some of the group thought you were a bit of a dickwad, but you didn’t blow up on them. as much as you could help it, anyway.

you wouldn’t admit that it was a product of you being totally petrified because of the constant torment you’d been enduring for…forever, really.

there was one notable exception to the rule of no-touchy. and that was, of course, eddie. he didn’t know why he’d been the exception, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. ask questions and risk losing the spot in which your hips attached? hell, no.

you half-knew about his enrapturement regarding you. if you thought about it, it would make everything everyone said about you true, and you weren’t sure that you could handle it. so you…just allowed it to happen. you didn’t initiate, but you didn’t protest, that was for certain.

it wasn’t because you were in love with him. because you weren’t in love with him. you were a dude. he was a dude. you didn’t…do that shit, okay? you weren’t gonna be a dick to people who did, like…eddie, but you didn’t do that shit. you weren’t that type of guy. so what if you hovered around eddie a little too close for a little too long every waking moment of your life- that didn’t mean shit.

it didn't mean shit when he was draped across you during band practice, ass all but fully in your lap. it didn't mean shit when, on a day like today, you were called out for this behavior. because it was getting...well, increasingly, almost uncomfortably, obvious.

the group didn't like to question you...but it was getting to a point, you know?

you were all hanging out on some lukewarm wednesday after everyone had gotten out of school and work and shit. gareth’s garage was the spot, as it had been for a while now, and you were all sprawled out in different areas. gareth was sitting at his drum kit, absently tk-tk-tk-ing out a rhythm, jeff was thumbing through a comic, and freak was organizing his dice.

you and eddie, were, of course, all cozied up in a corner of one of the old couches. eddie was going on and on about- about something that you’d honestly lost track of. this new band, megadeath.

“...and anyways, the fifth track, uh…rattlehead. that one’s my favorite. it’s got, like-” you were only half-listening to his words. you didn’t know why you were so distracted when he got this close, but you were.

eddie, personally, was just enjoying this time of being…practically in your lap without being booted off. his legs were kicking absently, utterly relaxed- his back was draped across your legs, and your face was being squished by his ring-clad fingers.

you were..very much getting looks.