No, I ain't got the power anymore
Chapter Summary: While Waylon and Eddie begin to see one another more frequently, some of their closest friends get suspicious about the nature of these disappearances.
Author's Note: Remember when I told you I would update in a thousand years? I lied. I can't help it, my ideas flow so well. I have to get them out or they torment me.
In this chapter, there is a mention of Chris Walker. Remember, all the guys are good here, but Jeremy Blaire is a universal idiot apparently.
The song today is Quicksand by David Bowie, my favorite artist, and Mrs. Alma Park's also (?)
This is dedicated to all the sweet people that made my weekend with the amount of fan arts and things that came out about Eddie. Did you all hear the audio Valentine special Red Barrels released with the voice of Eddie Gluskin? It was the best xD
Pica, you're an awesome friend I can share my madness with, this is for you 3 with love
Things progressed much easier than Eddie would have thought. During the week, Eddie and Waylon would date occasionally. They had gone to the movies, out to dinner, and even spent some time together at Eddie's house. Thankfully, Frank was busy that week fixing things with his band as the date of their comeback special approached. The band had finally agreed to create a new album. As a result of their decision, Eddie obtained a week of tranquility, free from the presence of all of his friends.
Not that he wanted to hide Waylon from his friends. Quite the opposite: Eddie wanted to say it openly, when they were all present, after things were a little more formal between him and Waylon. He was not sure how to categorize their current relationship. He preferred to be patient and allow the relationship to progress naturally.
Meanwhile, Waylon had not mentioned anything to Mile—or anyone else. He had no idea how to broach the subject. It still sounded absurd to admit aloud that he was dating Eddie Gluskin. Both parties wanted to be sure about their status before initiating any discussion with their respective friends. They had only gone out on a few dates. It was still unclear exactly what kind of relationship was developing.
Waylon became increasingly comfortable with the idea of going out with Eddie. At first, Waylon was unconvinced of Eddie's sincerity and was surprised each time he came by to pick him up from his home or the supermarket.
Eddie always put his best foot forward on their dates, being chivalrous and attentive at all times. He waited for Waylon to feel more relaxed and comfortable around him. What Eddie did not realize is that his mannerisms were actually having the complete opposite effect.
"You don't have to act so formal, Eddie. People are going to think you're my father," said Waylon as Eddie walked him to the car after his work shift one day. He smiled patiently as he buckled his seatbelt, at Eddie's insistence. "Imagine the kind of explanation I would have to give if they see me making out with my dad…"
Waylon's comments never failed to elicit a surprised and offended expression from Eddie. He found it so endearing that he could not stop himself from brushing his lips gently against Eddie's. Waylon made no effort to hide the enjoyment he got out of teasing Eddie.
Sex was always a part of their interactions. Waylon preferred to demonstrate his affections towards Eddie physically. Eddie regretted that he was not able to harness his baser desires. All of his intentions flew out the window once they were both turned on. Eddie believed that as the "responsible adult" he should be the one to set limits, but his attempts just made Waylon laugh in his face.
"Relax, we're not doing anything wrong," said Waylon, snuggling comfortably against Eddie's broad chest. Eddie could not deny how much he enjoyed Waylon's warm body against his own. There was really no greater feeling than snuggling together after an orgasm.
A couple more weeks passed, and they continued to date. They had decided not to go out as much, agreeing to see one another during the weekend and some evenings during the week. It took some work to get their respective schedules to line up. Waylon worked early in the afternoon, but sometimes he would also do odd-jobs for neighbors, such as mowing lawns and painting to earn extra money.
Eddie's schedule was flexible, since most of his sewing creations were handled through order forms. He only needed to go into the shop for measurements, fittings, and to arrange the sample pieces on the shelves. Although his store was open, there were still many details to hammer out before it felt officially complete.
It was Waylon's day off. In the mornings, he liked to eat breakfast in front of the small TV on the kitchen counter while chatting with his mother as she finished getting ready for work. She worked in a small vegetarian restaurant downtown, along with her best friend, Dana.
Waylon always admired his mother's carefree attitude. She was very confident, but also had a tendency to get distracted. She was constantly planning different activities with her friend. Age did not stop either of the women. Waylon did not realize that his busy, distracted mother was also acutely aware of every small change in her son. Waylon's mood and wellbeing were always a top priority for Alma.
"It's a girl," she said that morning as she left her room, staring at Waylon. "Hmm…no, it's not a girl…it's a boy! You've been dating someone for the past two weeks, right?" She wore a huge smile on her face that caused Waylon to choke on his breakfast.
"Where do you get this stuff?" asked Waylon, nervously. He tried to distract himself by pushing his fork around on the plate. His mother was not fooled.
"I knew it! I knew I was right. You're dating someone—is he handsome? You've been going out more often, using the cologne I bought you for your birthday…Don't think I can't see what's going on, Way." His mother's smile widened as she walked up and ruffled Waylon's hair.
"It's not a big deal. Mom, seriously. Don't make too much of this…"
"Like I wouldn't take it seriously! You haven't been out with anyone in a long time. Even your face has changed…I just hope they're a good person, Waylon. It's important also to use protection, you never know what someone has been exposed to…"
"Mom! What did I say? Don't tell me things like that…" Alma Park was the only person on Earth that could embarrass Waylon. She was always open to questions, and happy to give detailed accounts from her youth.
In a drawer on her bedside table, Alma kept a picture of herself with Waylon on her shoulders, holding up a poster at a large rally. She was an environmentalist in her youth, always fighting for Mother Earth and protesting against various wars and political problems. She had never given up her fighting spirit—in fact it was what Waylon admired the most about her. He had inherited his own free spirit and way of thinking from seeing the world through his mother's eyes.
"So? You think I can't tell these things, Waylon. You're going out more often, getting more phone calls. I still remember how before I had you…"
"Please. I don't want to hear it," said Waylon. Alma had never been one to hide details about her life from her son. She preferred to keep an open dialog. She was happy to discuss any topic—no matter how strange or uncomfortable.
They had talked about recreational drug use and the political and social aspects of sexuality. She knew and accepted that Waylon had a preference for men, though he occasionally "slipped" with a girl.
"I haven't heard about you dating anyone since…what was his name? Jeremy, I think? I never liked him—I hope this new guy is friendlier…and cuter. Remember when you tried dating Lisa?"
"Yeah, Mom, I remember when that happened…" muttered Waylon. When he had first met Lisa, she had immediately made it clear she had intentions of being more than friends.
Unfortunately for Lisa, Waylon had never been interested in a romantic relationship with a woman, though he had inclinations at times. Lisa respected his choice to stay casual, allowing him to set the limits to their relationship. They both managed to become good friends, even though their romantic relationship never progressed.
"I hope you didn't let her down too hard…"
"Don't worry, Mom. I cleared up everything. I'm pretty sure she likes someone else now," said Waylon. It was strange how after they broke up, Lisa seemed determined to set Waylon up with a new partner. She was not the only one in their group of friends concerned with Waylon's dating habits. Stella, Miles, and even his own mother were worried about Waylon's continued refusal to seek out any kind of lasting relationship.
"I'd like to meet this new man, of course. Would it be too much of a bother to bring him to the house at some point? I was wondering why my son was behaving so strangely these past weeks. I mean, just look," Alma said, sweeping her hand around the room which was much cleaner than usual. Waylon's tendency to clean when he was nervous had unexpected consequences around their home. He smiled as he took his mother's hand.
"I will bring him, okay? But don't make a big deal out of it. Nothing is really official yet. Now, Dana's going to be irritated if you are late to meet her…"
Meanwhile, Eddie frowned, staring at the mouth of Frank Manera as he devoured a piece of toast with jam and cream cheese. Eddie had planned to start his morning with a quiet breakfast. He had not expected to be interrupted by Frank. He was always showing up uninvited.
"What do you say, Ed?" asked Frank, his mouth and beard full of crumbs, several dropping onto the table as he spoke.
"I told you, finish chewing before you speak. It is unpleasant. Learn some manners," said Eddie, holding his own cup of coffee and sneering at Frank's poor table etiquette.
"We haven't seen you much these past weeks. You don't want to come to rehearsals…Chris and Billy are worried. They think you've finally wised up and decided to stop being my friend. I told them that was ridiculous, you love me too much," said Frank, sucking jam from his fingers and smiling as he pushed his sunglasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were hiding something…"
Eddie's eyes darted to the opposite direction of Frank, attempting to keep his face from betraying his thoughts. If Frank found out, everyone would know. The man was anything but discreet.
"Stop spouting nonsense," said Eddie. "The only thing that happened is that I have more orders and work than before, so I require more time for fabric shopping and taking commissions. It is nothing unusual. You should all be happy that my business is doing so well."
"We are happy for you, Eddie boy! But we still want to see you. Come on! Leave a night for us, next Saturday. It's our first concert since the reunion. I mean, it's only going to be at Trager's club but still, it's something. At least people will know that we're back. Come on, what do you say? Maybe you could get lucky again, like the last time you were there," said Frank, his grin widening as he adjusted his glasses again. Eddie rolled his eyes.
"This weekend?" asked Eddie.
"Yeah. No, wait, it's next weekend…I think. It is definitely a Saturday, but probably next week. Just leave it open. I don't take no for an answer, Gluskin," said Frank. Eddie looked thoughtful for a moment.
He did not have any concrete plans with Waylon past the current week, and those were all afternoon outings, and then Saturday night. They planned to spend the night at home, possibly watching a movie. Eddie just needed a way to get rid of Frank that day, so he nodded slightly at his friend.
"Alright, alright…I'll go. But you had better not abandon me there again…"
Waylon changed and headed toward Miles' house. He felt bad that he had not seen his friend as much. He knew Miles was pining day and night over his crush and probably had not even noticed. Miles was trying to join the same association where Chris Walker worked as a volunteer—an organization devoted to the rescue and care of abandoned animals. Miles insisted on joining, despite his own criminal record of some vandalize he was accused of during a protest years earlier. Miles was quickly approaching stalker status.
Waylon barely touched the knob before the door opened. There was Miles, phone in hand, staring at him with a confused expression.
"Are you going out with Eddie Gluskin?" asked Miles. Oh shit. How in the world had that question even come up? Waylon momentarily imagined a gossip magazine with a headline about the last blowjob he gave Eddie on the front page.
"Wha…why would you ask that out of nowhere?" asked Waylon.
"Your mom asked me if I knew the guy who stopped by your house just a second ago. Are you guys dating? Why didn't you tell me?!"
"Because nothing is official yet," snapped Waylon, "now, can I come in?" Waylon pushed Miles slightly as he walked straight into the house and toward Miles' room. Miles was hot on his heels, typing impossibly fast on his phone.
"Stop! Don't say anything. I'll introduce him soon…" said Waylon.
"Now you try to say it's nothing serious. I'm offended you kept this from me, Park. I thought our friendship was special?"
"Shut up," said Waylon. He sat down next to Miles on his bed. Waylon leaned back on his elbows as Miles typed away on his phone before finally setting it aside.
"Okay if it's nothing serious yet, why are you already introducing him to Mrs. P?"
"Because she asked to meet him. You know I don't like bringing people to our house, having them judge our home and lifestyle—not that I'm ashamed of it. I'll probably wait a few weeks before I introduce him anyways…"
"Are you waiting until it's official? You want to be his boyfriend?" asked Miles. Waylon had not considered what kind of relationship he wanted with Eddie Gluskin. Spending time together felt good, and he found him amusing and very attractive. He also liked his hobbies and personality—even the way he was so proper and polite in public and private. Waylon smiled involuntarily at the thought.
"I don't know. Really, I don't know which way this is going. I just know that I'm having a lot of fun. I like it. I think I like him," said Waylon. Miles was shocked, but it was a good kind of shock. It was unusual for his friend to openly admit to his feelings for another person. Miles thought it was great news.
Despite not knowing much about Gluskin, Miles knew from others that he was a good man, rumored to be responsible and boring. A man who would be able to treat Waylon with the respect he deserved. It was a great change from Waylon's usual toxic relationships.
"You should give yourself a chance, a real chance, with Eddie…" said Miles.
"And so should you, with Chris," said Waylon.
"Those are different things," said Miles. It was completely illogical the way Miles argued that he could not approach Chris. He'd been working on getting close to the guy for so long. He was obvious about it and most people in the scene had noticed.
It was a long time ago, during a concert. Miles had been in a bad place due to several problems at home. It was common for him to fight with his mom, but that night, things had gotten particularly harsh—so much that he considered leaving home that week. He had no real place to go, knowing Waylon could barely afford to keep food in the house with what little he earned at the supermarket. Miles felt he had no way to escape, and no way to change his situation. He felt hopeless.
Going to the concert had been a big mistake. The music did not help lift his bad mood. If anything, it aggravated the migraine he had felt constantly over the past few days. He decided to take a break from the noise. He needed to clear his ears, and his head. He sought refuge in a hallway where he could hide from the crowd.
He had closed his eyes, recognizing the feeling of tears welling under his eyelids. It had been such a long time since he had cried. Many in his lifestyle saw any outward emotional reaction as a sign of weakness. Miles had always been jealous of Waylon's doting mother. His own parents had never really cared for him.
Miles' mother was more concerned with her career as a reporter than being a mother. She spent most of her time away from home, always absent from any activities or achievements in Miles' life. His father was an accountant in a boring office working long, tiring days, and coming home only to watch TV and sleep. He was never interested in discussing anything with his son.
His father resented his mother's success in her career. He took out his own professional frustration by trashing Miles' mother's career. He would emphasize the futility of working for such a large television network, and accuse her of being corrupt and lacking any accuracy in her investigative information. The week in question, the tension had finally caused the two workaholics to collide and explode. His mother screamed for Miles to get out. He did not need to be told twice.
His disparaging thoughts were interrupted when he heard approaching footsteps. Miles looked at the newcomer. He was the drummer of the band that had played first that evening. He was a large man, stocky, but not in any way unpleasant. Miles had been fascinated by the way he played, striking the drums with strength and speed. Miles could not follow his hands—they were a blur. Miles had commented that he seemed more drum-machine than man.
There was a large scar on the drummer's face, spreading over his nose and forehead, reaching almost to the top of his lips creating a strange sort of "X" on his face. Miles noticed a couple of military dog tags dangling around his neck and assumed that he was maybe a former military officer. He looked young to be former military. Miles wondered if he had been discharged recently.
The drummer's face in the hallway was much different than the severe concentration he had shown on stage. He seemed friendly, relaxed. He smiled at Miles, which left him feeling confused.
"Are you okay?" The drummer asked in a calm voice, taking a seat on the floor in the hallway next to Miles. He had no idea why this man was taking an interest, and forced himself to relax before he could answer.
"Yeah, no big deal. Some problems at home. Nothing important," said Miles.
"If it makes you feel bad, then it is important, don't ya think?" asked the drummer, producing a white handkerchief from his pocket and offering it to Miles. Miles scrubbed violently at his eyes, desperate to erase any evidence that he had been crying.
"Hey, you'll hurt your eyes using it that way, here," he said, pulling Miles' hands away from his face and reclaiming the handkerchief. He then proceeded to dab gently at Miles' face with soft, tender strokes. The cloth was soft, and it smelled good. What the hell was going on? Why did Miles find this man's hands so warm and comforting?
"It's no big deal. It's good to let off steam. I cried this morning…when my mom showed me my father's old military uniform. It's good—it's healthy. I think everyone should do it," he said.
"I think it makes you look weak. It's not good for others to see that," said Miles, automatically. He took the handkerchief back and wiped his eyes with less intensity than before, chasing the new tears that began to run down his cheeks.
"I don't believe that. I think it makes you strong. Being in touch with how you really feel. I think it's a good thing to learn how to show emotions, even at the risk of a little embarrassment. I mean, would you laugh at me, if you saw me crying out there?" he asked. Miles thought he would never dream of laughing at someone like that man. Not only because he was intimidating, but because he was also gentle. Until that night, Miles had not known the two could be combined.
"Why are you being nice to me? You don't know me."
"Why are you sad? Everyone needs someone to talk to when you're feeling down, and someone to laugh with when things are going great. You probably think I'm awkward…Well, I am awkward…and I'm nosy," said the drummer. Miles did not know how to react to that. Somehow, it did not seem intrusive at all. He was friendly, open, and his presence made Miles feel good. Just being near the drummer seemed to help his mood. He made Miles' feelings seem important—and Miles never felt important. "So do you want to talk about what happened?"
"Well…I…" Miles started, but he was unsure how to respond. The drummer seemed so interested in what he had to say. His attention was completely focused on Miles' face. He met his eyes easily with a relaxed and serene expression. He exuded a calm that transferred to Miles. It was very strange. "It's not…it's nothing. It was just a stupid fight at home. Just something my mom said. It's not really that bad…"
"In that case, you should talk to her about how you feel. Maybe she can still make it better peacefully, without arguing. What do you say?" asked the drummer. Miles was quiet, staring down at the ground. He could feel his troubles fading, replaced with an intense desire to know more about the strange new man.
"My name is Miles…Miles Upshur."
"Chris Walker, pleasure to meet you. If you ever need to talk or get something off your chest, feel free to find me. Anytime. I won't even ask questions or say anything at all if you need. That's a promise. Does that sound alright?"
"Sounds good," said Miles, giving a nervous smile. Chris smiled back, and Miles was not sure he had ever seen anything so beautiful. Straight rows of white teeth suited his face and made him look even more cordial and friendly. Miles stomach seemed to flip in that moment. Miles never forgot that meeting. He had kept the handkerchief jealousy guarded since then, despite the disapproval of his friends.
Since then, Miles had developed an infatuation with Chris Walker. He started attending all of the amateur concerts in the area, no matter how trashy the venue, with the intention of encountering Chris again. Chris was big, gentle, and kind to everyone he met. The fact that he was able to be considered one of Frank Manera's best friends attested to his tolerance for all people. Frank had the kind of personality that rubbed many people the wrong way, but Chris seemed genuinely happy to be part of a band with his best friends.
Miles could not tell Chris how he felt. He was too sure such a declaration would be met with rejection, and the fear of that happening kept him from approaching. He was paralyzed with fear anytime he was near Chris, which only made him more afraid that Chris would think he was a weirdo or something. Waylon stressed time and time again that Chris Walker was not the kind of person to judge someone like that. He often repeated that Miles had much to gain, and nothing to lose, by simply talking to the man. Miles remained stubborn in his refusal.
"You're saying I should give Eddie a chance. Well, you should talk. When the hell are you going to tell Chris about how you feel?" asked Waylon, bringing Miles out of his memories and back to the present.
"Don't change the subject! What I'm saying is give this relationship the opportunity to grow into something real—something healthy. You need…"
"Why does everything think putting a label on a relationship magically fixes things?" asked Waylon. Miles only smiled and shrugged his shoulders. They were both stubborn—it was part of what made them such great friends. Miles was dead set on the idea that he could never approach Chris Walker directly and his illogical fear kept him from ever trying.
Waylon, on the other hand, had given up on the idea of a real relationship long ago. It was partially due to the abuse and other problems he had experienced with his old relationships. It had grown so bad he refused to even discuss relationships with anyone. The arrival of a man who could change Waylon's mind about that was a miracle, in Miles' opinion.
"Well. I promise not to be so pessimistic and refuse to give the relationship a chance, as long as you promise that you are going to really work on talking to Chris someday, and telling him how you feel," said Waylon.
"…I'll think about it, okay. I just need time…"
The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Waylon hung out with Miles, eating pizza and looking at stupid things on the Internet. Eddie managed to get rid of Frank and devoted his afternoon to organizing his outstanding customer orders, making a list of different materials he needed to purchase, and checking on his store.
Waylon had to leave to get ready to go to Eddie's house. Usually, Eddie insisted on picking him up, paying for most of their dates, and dropping him back off at his house. The gentlemanly behavior made Waylon feel like a girl more than anything else. Sometimes he insisted on being able to walk himself.
He made up a reason to leave Miles' house, earning a series of derisive comments and hissing laughter. He told Waylon to check the drawer on his way out because he had some hypoallergenic condoms for him to use. Waylon merely glared before they both laughed together.
Eddie prepared his home for the date, always feeling like it wasn't perfect. There were only a few unimportant things out of place, but in Eddie's eyes, it was completely unacceptable. Everything needed to be perfect for Waylon's visit. He was not sure why he felt that way. It was not like it would be Waylon's first visit to his home, but that day felt different somehow. It was exactly one month that they had been dating.
Although they had not agreed to anything formal, the anniversary of their first date still held meaning. Eddie knew from the beginning how interested he was in Waylon, but he could not freely admit how much he truly liked it, or how good it felt to grow their relationship. The more he got to know Waylon, the more interested he became. He was intrigued by Waylon's rebellious lifestyle and strange view on different issues. He even had grown more accustomed to Waylon's tendency to tease him at every opportunity. Eddie wanted to know more and more about him.
The doorbell rang and Eddie rushed to answer it. There stood Waylon. He always looked cute—his clothes, his smile, everything. Eddie could not resist the immediate need to get close to him. He placed his hand on Waylon's waist and pulled him close, leaning in for a long, lingering kiss. Waylon responded by sliding his arms around Eddie's neck, hugging him. He smiled as he was growing more accustomed to Eddie's affectionate way of greeting him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Gluskin."
"Don't call me that," mumbled Eddie in between leaving a trail of kisses along Waylon's neck, keeping their bodies pressed close. "You brought luggage?"
"Yeah, if you can let go for a minute I could explain," said Waylon, grinning. Eddie reluctantly released Waylon who removed his backpack and sat it near Eddie's couch.
"I brought some things I wanted to show you, but they're fragile," said Waylon. Eddie's face was a mixture of surprise and confusion, which only made Waylon laugh. "No, you old pervert, it's not what you're thinking. They're some records that belonged to my mom. I have to be extra careful. She would kill me if she found out anything had happened to them. There were some songs I wanted you to hear, after we finish watching the movie…"
"Do you know which movie you would like to watch, darling?"
"Oh, are we really going to watch a movie?" asked Waylon. His grin only widened when he met Eddie's disapproving stare. The two prepared for their quiet afternoon together.
Eddie relented and agreed to order a pizza, even though he disapproved of Waylon's unhealthy eating habits. Waylon paid little attention to nutrition. Waylon never had trouble convincing Eddie to agree to his plans. He had no qualms about resorting to whatever means necessary, and he knew all of Eddie's weaknesses.
The pair quickly finished their pizza while sitting on the couch. Eddie leaned slightly sideways and Waylon curled up on his chest, watching the TV. A pair of empty plates and glasses lay on the table beside the half-empty box of pizza.
Although the movie was interesting, Waylon had trouble concentrating. He had too much running through his mind. He felt unable to understand everything happening in his life at that time. It had been a long time since he had felt so comfortable being next to another person, and even better because it was Eddie.
Waylon felt safe and comfortable with Eddie, but he reminded himself everyday how completely different they were. No matter how secure their relationship seemed, Waylon was convinced it was temporary, like all of his previous relationships—like everything in his life, really.
He stared at Eddie as they sat together watching TV. He could feel his hands against his back, comforting without being invasive. He wore a dress shirt that looked untidy after they had been laying together for awhile—a couple buttons were undone and his tie loosened above his neck. A few strands of his always neat hair had escaped and fell into his face which was relaxed, maybe even a little sleepy. Eddie looked casually formal, if that was a thing, and it looked very attractive on him. Waylon was not sure Eddie could dress casually if he tried. Eddie always looked too formal for any occasion. Though instead of turning Waylon off, it had the exact opposite effect. It had gotten to the point where he wondered if he wasn't developing some kind of fetish. Waylon did not want it to change.
Waylon finally allowed his head to rest on Eddie's broad chest, sighing. He stared, trying to memorize every feature and detail. What if Eddie changed his mind about their relationship? By now he must have realized that Waylon could not provide stability in a relationship. He was young, stupid, and irresponsible, while Eddie was moving towards true adulthood.
Surely, Eddie must have other concerns on his minds. Financial things. Grown-up problems Waylon could not even imagine. Maybe Eddie was looking for a wife, children, and white picket fence. Waylon had no place in that kind of lifestyle. The gloomy thoughts caused his posture to change as he shifted uncomfortably. He imagined Eddie in different domestic scenarios—none involving himself.
"Is something the matter, Waylon?" asked Eddie. He gazed down at Waylon's distressed expression and reached out to gently stroke his hair in slow, tender movements. Eddie always had a way of making it difficult for Waylon to speak freely.
"Eh, it's nothing. I was just thinking…"
"What are you thinking about, darling?" asked Eddie. His low, even voice always had a way of relaxing Waylon. Waylon sighed and shifted his body until he was able to look up at Eddie. A large hand smoothed over his face as their eyes met. Eddie's attention was completely focused on Waylon in that moment.
"Eddie…Do you think this will last?" asked Waylon, keeping his voice low in order to hide the anxiety emanating from him in that moment. Eddie's attention was completely focused on Waylon. He tucked Waylon's body close against his own, until they were lying face to face.
"I want this to last," was the answer, after a short reflective period. Eddie pressed his lips to Waylon's for a brief moment, smiling gently as they separated. "Do you want this to last, Waylon?"
"I want to meet your friends, and learn about your life," said Waylon, slowly stroking circles into Eddie's broad chest, then giving a half-smile, "…you know, I would really like to hear the story about how you became friends with Frank Manera. I find it incredible that you two are close friends." Eddie seemed baffled by the unexpected comment. He did not consider the story of their meeting to be anything special.
"It's nothing extraordinary. Frank and I were classmates in school. We were in the same class, and he always had these strange quirks. He was eccentric even then. The teacher would scold him all the time because he never kept quiet," said Eddie, smiling at the memory. School had been a good experience for Eddie, and he enjoyed recalling those memories. Waylon liked hearing stories of Eddie's life, and watching Eddie's face light up as he spoke.
"I bet you were the teacher's pet. You have all the earmarks of being a real tattle-tale, goody-two-shoes…"
"I'm offended, darling," said Eddie, as he began to detail all the interactions and stories about Frank and him growing up. Billy Hope and Chris Walker had attended the same school, and the entire group became friends shortly after Frank and Eddie. They had grown up together, forging a tight bond of friendship. The type of close childhood friendships that are rarely found. Waylon was reminded of his own friendship with Miles as he listened.
"Once, we were going through some trash bin, and I put on some gloves I found in a drawer in my mother's room. I was approximately thirteen years old when this happened. Frank said it was ridiculous, but I refused to go anywhere near a trash bin with my bare hands in case they got dirty. But it turns out, the gloves were the worst possible idea," said Eddie. He shook his head, laughing to himself at the memory. Waylon had already guessed the direction the story would take.
"My hands began to feel strange after a while—very itchy when wearing the gloves. I took them off, and it felt like my skin was burning. Red spots appeared, and kept spreading all the way up my forearm. I have never seen Frank so scared. We both ran to find my mother in the kitchen…"
"Your mother was probably panicked," said Waylon.
"She had worked hard to rid the home of all latex to avoid an allergic reaction, but she had forgotten about the gloves. I remember Frank started yelling that I was dying," said Eddie, having to pause as a chuckle bubbled forth he could not hold back any longer. His laughter was contagious, causing Waylon to join in.
"I find it hard to imagine Frank Manera worried about anything. At least it wasn't so bad. Can you imagine if you discovered your allergy while using a condom. You could have lost your dick!"
"It's not funny, don't laugh," said Eddie, unable to keep up a stern tone as he started laughing.
"You two seem to have been through alot together. Ever been on like, a double date?" asked Waylon.
"Well, not exactly. You see, there was this girl that Frank was crazy about, and…" Eddie cutoff in the middle of his sentence and a long pause followed. Waylon's eyes never left Eddie's face, but his hand had dropped down to Eddie's crotch and was rubbing slowly through the fabric. A small smirk appeared on Waylon's face.
"What happened then, Eddie? Did you go out with the girl he liked or something?"
"Waylon…" Eddie exhaled the name in one stuttering breath as the hand on his groin mapped out his growing arousal, the pressure increasing but the pace remaining slow and steady.
"You both dated her maybe? Or did you have a double date with one of her friends?"
"Yes," Eddie finally managed. "I went out with her friend…hmm…Claire…"
"Did you kiss her, Eddie? Did you put your tongue in her mouth?" asked Waylon. His hand on Eddie's crotch became more insistent. He gripped Eddie's length through his pants, feeling it harden under his touch. Waylon leaned in and began to pepper small kisses along Eddie's chin and jaw, relishing the delightful sounds and reactions the simple action could induce. "Did you slip a hand down her shirt?"
"Where are you going with this, darling?" asked Eddie. Despite his attempts to remain calm, Waylon's touch was affecting him immensely. Even though Waylon was younger and smaller than Eddie, Waylon had no trouble manipulating him. It was far too easy to get Eddie hot and bothered.
"I want you to get an erection whenever you think about these memories," said Waylon, trying to speak in a seductive voice, but failing. He soon dissolved into laughter and removed his hand. Eddie did not know how to react. He began to stand up, fixing his hair and smoothing out his shirt.
"It's not funny…"
"Of course it is! It's really too easy. You're too easy, Eddie. Then you try to claim you're not an old pervert," said Waylon.
"I'm not that old," protested Eddie. Waylon stood up and kissed Eddie's frowning lips. Eddie tried to remain calm and keep from overreacting to Waylon's prodding. He looked anywhere but at Waylon, avoiding his watchful eyes. It was difficult with Waylon practically hanging from his neck. Waylon would end up killing him one of these days.
"Don't get mad, darling," said Waylon, grinning. "Do you want me to show you what I brought from my house? It's something really nice." Waylon moved quickly and dug through his backpack. He convinced Eddie to turn off the television and move a coffee table out of the room to clear an area on the floor. They sat on the carpet, facing one another.
Waylon carried a couple of old records and a machine that resembled an old walkman only larger and bulkier. He delicately placed the machine on the ground and hooked up a pair of headphones. He leaned forward, holding them out toward Eddie.
"Okay. Don't think about anything while you listen to this. I want you to relax, feel the music, hear the words. Concentrate on nothing except the song," said Waylon, moving the appliance to sit beside Eddie. He carefully placed the headphones over Eddie's ears and switched on the record. The music began.
I'm closer to the Golden Dawn
Immersed in Crowley's uniform
Of imagery
I'm living in a silent film
Portraying Himmler's sacred realm
Of dream reality
The music flowed, slow and smooth. Eddie could pick out the sound of a guitar, maintaining a steady pace during the first stanzas. Waylon placed both hands on Eddie's chest and pushed gently. Eddie slowly reclined until he was lying on the floor, and closed his eyes.
I'm frightened by the total goal
Drawing to the ragged hole
And I ain't got the power anymore
No, I ain't got the power anymore
Eddie concentrated on the last part of the song and could not keep his thoughts from wandering. He was accustomed to having power and control, at all times, in every aspect of his life. But things had changed. He felt exposed and vulnerable, but also fascinated and excited. Waylon probably felt the same way, having never had a relationship like theirs. Before, Eddie would have objected to most of the things he and Waylon had done together, but in that moment everything seemed clear.
I'm the twisted name
on Garbo's eyes
Living proof of
Churchill's lies,
I'm destiny
I'm torn between the light and dark
Where others see their targets,
divine symmetry
Should I kiss the viper's fang?
Or herald loud the death of Man
I'm sinking in the quicksand of my thought
And I ain't got the power anymore
Eddie felt an extra weight on his hips. He opened his eyes and watched Waylon settle his body on top of him. Waylon was running his hands all over Eddie's chest, and his eyes were different than before. His face was an enigma. Waylon's eyes were serious, but there was a type of melancholy in their depths. Eddie could not fathom what could be going through Waylon Park's mind in that moment.
Don't believe in yourself,
don't deceive with belief
Knowledge comes with death's release
Waylon ended up with his body completely on top of Eddie's as he leaned down to nuzzle his face against Eddie's neck. His lips began trailing slow kisses along his neck. Eddie ran his hands up and down Waylon's back, down his sides, and down to grasp his ass. The headphones were dislodged during the movements, and Waylon set them on the floor out of the way. As they separated for breath, Waylon gazed down into Eddie's clear blue eyes that he hated and despised. Eyes that haunted his dreams.
Waylon loathed having to admit his feelings for Eddie, but it was something that could not be helped. Eddie meant a lot to Waylon. No one had ever looked at him the way Eddie did. No one had ever treated him so kindly. Despite all of Waylon's faults, despite his checkered past, despite his lack of education, despite his poor economic situation, and despite all the ways that they were different from each other. How could something like this exist in the real world?
"Do you think this will last?" Waylon asked again, the song was still ringing in the background from the headphones. Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Waylon, trapping him against his body, refusing to let go. Never wanting to let go.
"Yes. I think this will last. You want to know why?" asked Eddie.
"Why do you think that, Eddie?"
"Because I like you—very much," said Eddie before his lips began kissing all over Waylon's face. His hand reached up to thread through Waylon's blond locks. Waylon was who he wanted. The person he craved.
Defining a relationship was never easy, and Eddie feared he would get carried away with the situation. But he wanted to get carried away with Waylon. He wanted to enjoy their time together, learn more things about him, and explore things he would never imagine experiencing before. Eddie knew that he was no longer in control of the situation, and most likely never would be again. He still wanted it.
"I want to lose control with you, even if you call me old, or try to make me feel ashamed. I want to laugh with you, and I want you to confide in me about your day. I want to text you 'good morning' and also 'good night.' I want you to be irritated with my outdated mannerisms. I want to know all about the things you love, the things you hate…Really, I just want you beside me."
"And what would we be then, Eddie?" Waylon asked, keeping his eyes hidden behind lowered lashes. The mixture of feelings in the pit of his stomach was something he had never experienced before. He did not lift his eyes, hiding his face. Eddie kissed Waylon's hair soft, causing him to smile at the gesture.
"I want you to be my boyfriend. That is what I want," said Eddie. The words seemed to echo in Waylon's disbelieving ears. This man actually enjoyed his company that much? Everything seemed surreal.
Waylon lifted his head, pressing his face close to Eddie's. Eddie could feel his breath hitting his face, enjoying how perfectly their bodies fit together.
"You want me beside you, Eddie? Even when I'm rebellious, stupid, insecure…even if I'm total crap at relationships…"
"Do not say such ugly things, darling. Do not tear yourself down," Eddie said, one of his hands coming up to gently cup Waylon's face, pushing aside one of his unruly locks in the process.
Eddie knew he would always cherish the expression on Waylon's face during that moment. Even if Waylon left him sometime in the future, Eddie would never forget. Waylon was not the only one experiencing uncertainty at that time.
"I am boring. Very boring. I think I would not have ever met you if it were not for Frank's insistence, although I would never admit that to him. I can not understand why you would agree to go out with me or how you could let me get involved in your life. Sometimes I think you only stay with me out of pity…"
"Don't be stupid, Eddie," Waylon blurted out, putting his finger over Eddie's mouth to keep him from talking. He leveled a look of pure annoyance at Eddie, effectively silencing him.
"So, I guess we are just a couple of people, stupid in love, huh?"
"So it seems, darling," said Eddie. Waylon sighed. He did not know anything about having a serious relationship. How hard could it be? Eddie looked at him expectantly. He took Waylon's hand and rubbed his fingers gently, staring into his eyes. There was no resistance that time.
"Then I guess I'm going to be your boyfriend, and we can see where this thing goes in the future" said Waylon.
"Sounds reasonable," said Eddie, grabbing Waylon by the hip and quickly moving him until his body was beneath him. He initiated a slow kiss and Waylon managed to throw his arms around Eddie's neck. Waylon closed his eyes and got lost in the warmth and feel of Eddie's body on top of him.
Ultimately, they both lost control in that moment.
Notes: This makes me happy that everyone is happy xD. I have no idea where I get all these ideas really. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do :3
Translator's Notes: Still plugging along in between other projects! This story is so cute!
