"He didn't ask his parents."
Robert lifted his chin off of his wife's shoulder long enough to smooth the feathery hair away from her neck, humming into the feel of her soft body nestled against his own. He kissed the pale skin before him lightly. "Hm?"
She let out a little breathy sigh, feet sliding against his rougher legs under the 400-thread count and the moonlight through slatted blinds. "Eddy's little friend. He left them a message." Again he hummed against her shoulder blade, not really sure why any of this mattered but if anything he loved his wife and wasn't too tired to enjoy the vibrations of her voice against his chest. Boys were boys. He himself had informed his parents often enough about what he planned to do before they could say otherwise. "He told me he talked to them... It's just that he's never lied to me before. Why over such a small thing?"
"I'm sure it's nothing." His own voice was gruff and too loud in the softness; he made up for it with an open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck, thumb drawing idle circles against her stomach where it lay. "He probably just wanted to stay."
Another sigh, softer. "They're too strict with him, I think. Teenagers are supposed to go out on weekends, go to movies...Live a little."
"Sneak into closed amusement parks?"
She laughed, turning in his arms to rest her against his neck as he laid back to accommodate her. "Don't go giving Eddy any ideas - he's turning out good and I don't want to mess with that. We were... a unique case. Times have changed."
"Not all that much," he whispered into her hair. They had had Eddy young. Too young, maybe. They were happy though, and he settled into sleep proud of that fact.
He would've loved to wax poetic about how even the morning sun was brighter when waking up in a loving environment, but in reality it was still mostly dark out, and chill attacked all the skin not completely covered with blankets. At best he estimated it to be be about five AM, maybe four-thirty, and through the high-mounted den windows he couldn't tell sky from storm cloud. Both were different and dark, swollen and infected like bruises.
Eddy's legs were a solid presence under him but even they exuded little heat, lost immediately to the cold air around them. Convection, some quiet part of his mind supplied (likely the same part that whispered statistics and corrections during lectures at school).
There wasn't much of a difference between a sleeping Eddy and an awake one. This was save for, of course, that one's eyes were closed. Even now sleeping Eddy was mumbling something to the Nazz's of his dreams, toes twitching against Eddward's elbow. Movement and motion.
What's wrong with me?
Eddward carefully extradited himself from the throw blanket (Eddy's mother was the sweetest lady he had ever met. He'd have to remember to thank her for her hospitality) that had been slipping off his shoulders and stepped over Eddy's strewn legs. He only realized he had been holding his breath once the other teen licked his lips and rolled over, still asleep. Thank god. Eddy was miserable in the mornings.
To be fair, it was probably too early to be considered polite even for a school morning, but Eddward held a strict schedule and was already behind just by being in another's home. Still feeling vaguely disconnected he folded the blanket and set the unused pillow atop it, not sure where Eddy's mother kept them. He padded silently to the kitchen.
The microwave's neon numbers told him it was four forty-three. Coffee sat warm and ready in the coffee pot while the rest of the house stood silent in the early hour. Eddy's mother was an intern at the city hospital, if he remembered correctly (which he was sure he did), and he supposed she would probably be up within the next hour. He didn't want to wake her...
A notepad was affixed to the fridge front by a magnet, and it took only moments to secure a pen from a nearby drawer. He scrawled a quick but efficient thank you note and debated with himself for a moment before doodling a small smiley face beside his name. He smiled to himself as he left the house, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Whatever sleep-fogginess left had dissipated by the time he got back home, and his primary check revealed that a good amount of dust had accumulated on the mantle and the few framed photographs that sat atop it. He hardly glanced at the happy family inside them; part of him wanted to knock them to the ground while another smaller part of his heart wanted to let the dust grow over their faces, still there but forgotten like his parents seem to have forgotten him.
Oh, cease your dramatics.
He dusted just as he should have and ten minutes later, house spotless as though he hadn't lazed about in Eddy's home for longer than needed, ascended the stairs to prepare for school. He showered and changed into clean clothes. His dirty clothes - wrinkled and odorous from sleeping in them - were folded carefully before depositing them on top of the pile already forming in the laundry bin. If he weren't out of Lysol, he would have disinfected them as well.
The pantry was just as barren as the day before, his stomach was disappointed to realize. The fridge boasted little more. As much as he hated to rely on anyone, he was thankful that Mrs. Sullivan had allowed him such generous servings for dinner, as he would surely be starving otherwise. Shutting the fridge door, he frowned at it's clean and efficient metal surface, noticing that this morning he hadn't found a single sticky note.
"Hey, Double-D," Eddy called out to him after second period hours later. "Where were you this morning? I had to sit next to Lumpy and he had tuna for breakfast. Tuna!"
And probably didn't brush his teeth afterwards, either. It was a wonder the boy still had any. "I apologize, Eddy. Mother expects the house to stay clean, so I had to leave early to do my chores. I finished early so I decided to walk to school."
"Your mother should do her own chores," he replied eloquently, already digging his lunch money out of his pockets. Ed came bounding down the hall towards them, backpack still unzipped from his rush to cram everything back into it. Eddward thought he saw a tentacle before it slunk behind a lone sock and a dead flashlight. It was best not to ask.
"Hullo, Double-D! Glad you weren't abducted by aliens!"
Eddy snorted and punched him on the arm, stepping up to the growing lunch line. "I could'a told you that, Lumpy... Ah, shit. Turkey burgers again? Where's the beef?"
A little turkey won't kill you. "Turkey contains anti-cancer properties. It is a very good source of selenium, which is an essential component for thyroid hormone metabolism, antioxidant defense systems, and immune function. Studies suggest that it can bring down cancer incidences, too." He stepped up with his own plate, handing his ID card to the graying lunch lady who was looking rather amused by his facts.
"If I wanted to hear a bunch of useless crap, I'd pay attention in chemistry. We're men here, and real men eat meat."
Turkey is meat, Eddy...
A small cough brought Eddward's attention back to the sympathetic-looking woman. "I'm sorry dear, but it looks like your card's all out. Did you bring any money?"
But... I should still have enough for the rest of the week! "Ah, I'm afraid not. I-I, uh.." Wordlessly he handed the plate over to the lady, who set it beside the register before checking out the next student's purchase.
Eddward made his way over to his two best friends, who had made their way over to their table without noticing his dilemma. Upon sitting down, Ed immediately jumped him.
"Double-D, where's your food? Did the aliens take your organs and make you drink through a squiggly straw?"
Definitely easier not to ask. "No aliens this time, Ed. It seems I've run out of money on my lunch card. I could have sworn I had another couple days worth at least, but I suppose not..." Eddward leaned his chin on his palm and gazed out across the bustling cafeteria, trying not to smell the appealing odors wafting up from the tables around him. Suddenly something small and brown bumped against his elbow. He looked up to find Eddy very pointedly not meeting his eyes. The Hostess cupcake sat beside elbow tauntingly, and he froze for a moment, waiting for Eddy to change his mind.
The boy across the table just huffed, cheeks pinking. "If you're not going to eat it, give it back."
Eddward jolted, scooping the cupcake up between agile fingers as he began to dismantle the packaging. "Ah- thank you, Eddy. Your generosity is appreciated."
"Yeah, whatever..." Eddy's cheeks turned just a little redder. Beside him, Ed stuffed both his own cupcake and about half of his sandwich into his mouth at once.
"Dinner's at six," Eddy informed him as they were stepping off the bus and he, too cold in the sudden rush of wind and chill, was too busy tugging his jacket closer to come up with an adequate excuse. The other teen smirked in his direction before running off towards his own house, backpack bouncing around like it was threatening flight. Eddward frowned after him. If he actually has his schoolbooks in there, I'll be surprised.
Focus, he whispered to himself. Apparently the Sullivan's hadn't been too horribly put-off by his last visit to their home, or (more likely, his mind taunted) they were simply too polite to say so. In that case though, one would think that they would just cease their invitations. Perhaps they found him some strange oddity. He'd played often enough as entertainment for his parents' friends back when he was little and they actually had friends instead of only colleagues; the adults had always stared at him like an orangutan on display. An orangutan with an abacus.
He finished all his housework in record time, taking care to search in all the usual places for the sticky notes, but to no avail. It would seem that his parents hadn't had the opportunity to come home yet - that or the stop had been so brief as to not have the spare time to write him. He hovered outside their room, wondering if maybe he would be able to discern the answer by it's contents. Eventually he headed back to his own room for a change of clothes, deciding that no, he wouldn't.
That would require him having ever entered into there before, after all.
That evening Mr. Sullivan let him into the man's home as willingly as the day before, leading him into the living room with a hearty hand on his back. Eddy was stretched out across the length of the couch, sneakers hanging precariously off of the feet atop the upholstered arm. At first glance he appeared to be watching some sort of sports broadcast with his father, but he was eager enough to hijack the remote and insist that they watch something they all could agree on (or in other words, an excuse for Eddy to change the channel to some violent construction paper cartoon). Eddward would have denied enjoying that sort of thing if Eddy's father hadn't immediately looked just as amused as he had at his game.
Some twenty minutes into said mind-numbing program later, Eddy's mother came in through the entryway, looking surprised to see him tucked in between her boys on the couch.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Eddward-dear. They were supposed to let me know when you got here; the rice is almost done. You like Chinese, I hope?"
Lately he liked anything he could make out of the scraps left in his cupboards. "Yes - thank you very much for having me."
"It's nothing, Hun." She smiled at him, even as she thwacked her oblivious husband and son over the head with the dishtowel in her hands. They blinked up at her like two domesticated dogs. "We like having you. At least someone knows how to complement my cooking."
"It's wonderful, Dear-"
"Great, Mom-"
She laughed, and Eddward smiled back hesitantly, following her and the other two men into the dining room. As he had anticipated, her cooking was just as delicious the second night, and he tried not to make a spectacle of himself as he nearly dropped his chopsticks with every bite. Eddy and his father resorted to stabbing at the meat barbarically. Only Mrs. Sullivan seemed to know how to use them correctly, but she kept that secret to herself.
When time came from him to go, Eddy turned puppy eyes on his mother. She sighed. "You're welcome to stay the night again, Eddward, so long as the two of you don't stay up too late. You must be a good influence - Eddy did all his homework as soon as he got home. I can only guess it's because he hoped I'd let you stay?"
The aforementioned boy chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mom..."
It wasn't like he had anyone waiting for him at home. The house wouldn't be overrun with dust for just one more night... "I'd need to go back to my house for fresh clothing first... and ask for permission," he tacked on after a thought. "As long as you're agreeable, I would not be opposed to another sleepover."
It was decided. As Mrs. Sullivan cleared the table and her male counterpart settled down for more television entertainment, Eddy followed him back to his house like an overgrown guard dog. He was following so close on his heels in fact, that Eddward spun around at the end of the driveway, shooting his taller friend a withering look.
"Must you stand so close, Eddy? It is polite to allow one some amount of personal space... and I doubt it was absolutely necessary for you to accompany me. Do you have any ulterior motives I should know about?"
Eddy's answering smirk wasn't conductive to his response. "Nah, just bored. Why? It's not like you to stay over anywhere, much less two nights in a row. You goin' after my mom or anything, Casanova?"
"O-of course not, Eddy! Your mother's not only twenty years older than me, but married too. Please don't even joke about such things..." He unlocked the front door for Eddy, toeing off his shoes and shutting it behind them silently. The house was silent around them.
Or at least until Eddy broke it.
"Alright," the other teen dictated, "go and grab your clothes and backpack. Are your parents home today, or do you need to call them?"
Eddward froze for a moment in walking up the stairs. He continued towards his room immediately though, hoping Eddy hadn't noticed. "There should be a phone number on the pad beside the fridge. Will you give that a call for me? Most likely it will just go to a voicemail; my parents are rather busy during the work day."
"Sure," the other male called up to him, and from his bedroom Eddward could hear Eddy rummaging around in the kitchen. He swept around his room grabbing an extra pair of jeans and a shirt, stuffing them into his backpack that had been sitting beside his desk. He was just grabbing his toothbrush when Eddy called up once again. "Yo, Double-D! It says that the number's been disconnected."
Is the world spinning, or is that just me? Eddward had to sit down on the top step to find his breath again, out of sight from his friend down below. His parents didn't have cell numbers. Hell, he didn't even have the general number for the company they worked for to be directed to them. If something were to happen to him, how could he possibly get a hold of them now?
And there hadn't been any new sticky notes this morning, either.
Pull yourself together, Eddward. You're made of tougher material than this.
Even with the motivating self-talk, he had to clear his throat twice before he could find the words to reply to his friend. "I'm sorry; that must have been their old office number before they transferred departments. I've been meaning to get their new one. Suppose I just haven't gotten around to it yet... I'll just leave them a note so they will know where I've gone if they come home to find me missing."
He finally descended the stairs, hurt hidden away behind a decidedly neutral expression. It felt wooden even on his own face, but Eddy didn't seem to notice anything amiss. A half empty glass of water sat on the counter top, which he rinsed quickly to stick into the dishwasher. Then he grabbed his back and walked to the front door.
When he reached the door nob he realized that Eddy wasn't following him. Said boy was shooting him a weird look, standing beside the fridge still.
"Uh, your note? In case your parents come home?"
He quickly backtracked, scribbling a quick "staying at Eddy's again, be home tomorrow" across a sticky note and stuck it to the clean fridge surface. Then they both left, the house dark and empty.