Chapter 19
Eddward Vincent woke up all 9:47 AM in a strange room wearing nothing but a bowtie.
"Morning, babe," said Kevin from beside the bed, and Edd jumped so hard that the bedsprings creaked.
The redhead waited for the genius to catch his breath and sit up before handing him a bowl of yogurt topped with blueberries and granola.
Surprised, but not at all displeased, Eddward took the spoon held out to him and leaned upward for a kiss on the lips.
The pair spent the morning talking about anything and everything, from teachers and classes to scams and absurd childhood memories. The urge to bathe eventually became too much for Double Dee to ignore, and when he climbed into the shower, Kevin followed, sitting with his back against the glass door and listening as Edd recalled a dozen different things from early middle school the jock had forgotten.
"It's always a privilege to witness Rolf's homeland traditions. The one with the wool and the maple syrup, though … I just can't see any purpose behind it."
"Mmmhmm." The older boy tossed the scrub brush he'd been fiddling with, catching it by the handle effortlessly. "He's pretty cool, though."
The guttural sound of the pipes ceased and Kevin listened to Edd wringing water out of his hair.
"Kevin?"
"Huh?"
"Towel, please."
Kevin yanked the towel from the rack beside him, not looking at the genius as he stood and handed it through the opening in the sliding glass door.
"Kevin?"
The redhead glanced at Double Dee's face. The younger male was beaming at him, his brilliantly blue eyes framed by tendrils of thick, damp hair. In an instant, soft, wet lips were against his, and in another they were gone. The jock was blinking, startled and dazed, when the shower door snapped shut once more.
While watching the neurotic boy get dressed, meticulously smoothing the wrinkles from his oversized shirt, Kevin remembered something.
"Hey, Edd."
"Yes, Kevin?"
"I wanna show you something."
"If it's something you've shown me already, I may have to ask you to refrain. I'm starting to suspect that I have a comminuted fracture in one of my vertebrae…"
"Oh my God. Not that." The brilliant one gave a wry smile when Kevin rolled his eyes. "Lemmie go get it. Meet me in the living room when you're done in here."
"Oh - what if someone sees us?"
"I'll close the curtains; it'll be fine. Hidin' out in the basement when we've got the whole house to ourselves is stupid. Hey."
The redhead caught Eddward's wrist as he reached for his hat on the counter. He blinked, startled.
"Yes, Kevin?"
"Leave your beanie off, okay? You look good without it. Seriously."
Double Dee opened his mouth to reply, but the athlete released his arm and exited the bathroom before he could.
There were two cans of lemon-lime soda on the coffee table, one boasting bendy-straw, the other with one laid on the coaster beside it. "Wasn't sure you wanted one," the jock uttered, and Edd smiled brightly, opening his can and adding the straw. He replaced his pop on the table, greatly amused by the matching pair. He seated himself next to the redhead and glanced around the spacious, dimly-lit room. Kevin had, indeed, pulled the drapes closed.
"This was my dad's book. He wasn't much of a poetry buff, so he gave it to Mom when they got married. I think Nazz flipped through it once, but other than that, it's just been sitting on the bookshelf."
He handed the book to the younger boy, who accepted it gingerly. It was fragile with age, its lettering dulled with a thin layer of dust. Classic Poetry, the heavy cover read. "How marvelous! A compilation, I assume?"
"Wanna borrow it?" Before Eddward could burst with excitement, Kevin covered the gap in his teeth with a shushing finger. "One condition, dorky."
"Yes?" The blue-eyed boy was nearly fidgeting. "By all means, what is it?"
The redhead withdrew his finger, scooting until he was pressed against the genius's side. "Read me somethin' out of it first."
"Certainly!" He ran his fingers over the book a final time before opening it. Kevin heard him inhale deeply when a wave of sweet, pulpy book-smell rose to greet them, and as the genius carefully turned the pages, he leaned into the jock's warmth. Blue eyes scanned the blotchy print carefully, and he finally found something suitable, setting the book on his lap. "Phillis Wheatley … if my research is correct, she was kidnapped into slavery as a child and brought to America. The couple who owned her was amazed by her interest in the English language, so they taught her to speak and write in it. She supposedly mastered the language incredibly quickly, and her appetite for knowledge was voracious. They campaigned tirelessly to have her work published despite the scorn of their peers. She was one of the first black authors to be recognized for her intellect in America. One of the first female authors, in fact."
"Dang." Edd glanced up at the jock, eyes wide with excitement. "So? Read me some of her stuff!"
The ravenette spent a few moments flipping through the author's work before smoothing the pages down and clearing his throat. On Imagination, read the title, and below it, the text was organized into uniform stanzas.
"Thy various works, imperial queen, we see,
How bright their forms! how deck'd with pomp by thee!
Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand,
And all attest how potent is thine hand.
From Helicon's refulgent heights attend,
Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend:
To tell her glories with a faithful tongue,
Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song.
Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies,
Till some lov'd objects strikes her wand'ring eyes,
Whose silken fetters all the senses bind,
And soft captivity involves the mind.
"Imagination! who can sing thy force?
Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?
Soaring though air to find the bright abode,
Th'empyreal palace of the thund'ring God,
We on thy pinions can surpass the wind,
And leave the rolling universe behind;
From star to star the mental optics rove,
Measure the skies, and range the realms above.
There in one view we grasp the mighty whole,
Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul.
"Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes
The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise;
The frozen deeps may break their iron bands,
And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands.
Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign,
And with her flow'ry riches deck the plain;
Sylvanus may diffuse his honours round,
And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd;
Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose,
And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose.
"Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain,
O thou the leader of the mental train:
In full perfection all thy works are wrought,
And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought.
Before thy throne the subject-passions bow,
Of subject-passions sov'reign ruler Thou,
At thy command joy rushes on the heart,
And through the glowing veins the spirits dart.
Fancy might now her silken pinions try
To rise from earth, and sweep th' expanse on high;
From Tithon's bed now might Aurora rise,
Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies,
While a pure stream of light o'erflows the skies.
The monarch of the day I might behold,
And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold,
But I reluctant leave the pleasing views,
Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse;
Winter austere forbids me to aspire,
And northern tempests damp the rising fire;
They chill the tides of Fancy's flowing sea,
Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay."
The genius was silent for a long moment. He turned his brilliant blue gaze up to the older male, his face so close that the redhead could smell his breath. "What do you think?"
"Pretty impressive."
"You really enjoyed it?"
Nodding, Kevin grinned. "She sounds smarter than pretty much everybody I know."
"Yes! And the idea of 'fancy' and 'flora,' as well as the seasons, being entities is a fascinating characterization. Imagination is so powerful to her that it's comparable to the very time of year when new life is created."
Kevin let the bendy-straw fall from his mouth, nodding. "The muses - that's mythology shit, isn't it?"
"Yes," the ravenette replied eagerly. "The poem references both Greek and Roman mythology. Helicon is the mountain in Greek mythology where the muses lived. Sylvanus and Tithon are Roman."
"So she knew, like, everything."
"Comparatively speaking? Yes." The jock eyed him suspiciously, unsure if he'd just been insulted or not. He watched Edd's gaze flick across the weathered pages with a fond smile, basking in the quiet comfort of the brilliant male's slim frame pressed against his.
"I'm gonna get another soda. Need one?"
"Oh!" Edd shifted reluctantly out of the way as the redhead got to his feet. "Thank you, but I haven't even started mine."
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, the jock responded with a deafening burp. "I sure did," he drawled. Eddward feigned an offended look. He watched the redhead saunter into the kitchen before setting the book aside, deciding to follow.
Kevin was staring at the family-sized eight-cheese lasagna his mother had left for him when feather-light fingertips came down on either side of his ribcage. "GOD DAMN JESUS FUCKING CHRIST," he declared. Double Dee fell back with a howl of laughter.
"Apologies - I had no idea someone so physically robust would - pfff - have such a violent reaction to-"
The genius was cut off by the jock's solid body colliding full-force into him and the hard plane of the cupboards at his back. The shock of the impact dissipated quickly and gave way to the sensation of Kevin's fingers jabbing furiously into his armpits. Letting out an indignant yelp, he gripped the redhead's arms. "Kevin. Stop stop STOP ahahaha stop! Kevin! Stmmph-"
Kevin halted the ravenette's protests with his mouth, only ceasing his assault on the brilliant one's sensitive skin when he was granted access past his soft lips. Gentle hands roamed over muscular arms to cling to Kevin's shoulders, and Kevin groaned softly, pressing Eddward harder into the cabinets as their tongues met.
Both were far too distracted to notice the flash of brilliant teal hair disappearing from the kitchen window.
Could it be? It - it isn't! Is it? A PLOT?!
And it only took twenty chapters and half a dozen gratuitous love scenes!
I actually learned who Phillis Wheatley was from Glenn Beck. He was ranting about how few of the amazing blacks from early America are taught about in schools today, and I Googled her to see what she'd done. She was named after the slave ship she was put on after being kidnapped as a little girl, and was an absolute genius.
Thank you so much for your support and enthusiasm once again. I'm so lucky to have such cool people to entertain and correspond with!
:3