Eddsworld - Deep Blue Sea

Why Do You Feel So Down? - Chapter nine

// touch those toes like you mean it \\

EDD POV

I meant to text him. I really, really did, but as I let my mind unravel into the messenger, I found I couldn't press send. I debated whether I should call him, set up a time to meet, or "run into him by chance". He, of course, hadn't said anything, either. Maybe he was sitting in the same rickety boat as I was, or was doing so literally, chatting up his boyfriend and letting the line get swept under.

It was an entire three weeks before I heard from him again.

I was pushing through the almost endless rush hour, cooking things at a furious rate, sweating bullets, when my phone pinged in my apron pocket. I broke my focus for a moment, letting my left hand clumsily handle the frying pan over the flames, and moving my right to my pocket. I fumbled with the phone, my oily fingers incapable of unlocking it with fingerprint. In my new focus, my left hand slipped, sending it sailing into the side of the pan.

I yelled profanities, dropped the pan on the floor, and spilled the crisp, buttery, garlic across the floor. It made a painfully loud series of clanks as it fell, and landed just inches from my feet.

My index finger was a bright shade of red from where it had gotten burned, and induced a lovely white-hot pain that crept down the layers of my skin. Tears swelled in my eyes as a knee-jerk reaction kicked in, and my right hand gripped my phone with white knuckles. I glanced at the screen, wondering what could've warranted this course of events, only to be greeted by a text from Tord.

hey. text me when you get this.

How anticlimactic.

Tom came busting through the kitchen's door, and I shoved my phone back in my pocket, turning to face him as I did so.

He rushed over to me, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, feeling absolutely not fine, and taking flickering glances down at my fried finger. Tom's eyes followed mine, and the second he connected the dots, he delivered an overplayed gasp.

He took my hand in his own, and roughly examined the burn. He turned my finger over, twisted it, touched it gently, and, finally, gave it a kiss.

That half-smile lit up his face.

"You're blushing," He said, that grin only growing more prominent as the seconds rolled by.

"Am not," I turned my face away from him, my hands warming his.

"Are too," He said, and leaned into me, taking my cheek in his hand, turning my head a tad, and kissing my gently.

-

Tord wanted to meet for lunch, but unfortunately, my schedule was hell. Forever. Fuck it, though, right?

"Tom," I mumbled through sleepy words, "I'm dying."

"I can see that," He commented, sitting up in bed, and eyeing me down.

"Thanks," I replied, resting my arm over my eyes.

Tom rested his head on my chest, cozying up next to me, "I guess I'll just have to go to work. Alone. And without a boyfriend."

"Tragic."

Tom sighed dramatically, and sat back up. He turned, pecked my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "Go put some bandages on your hand. You look like Freddy Krueger."

I blew him a raspberry, and he giggled in return. I could feel his weight leave the bed, and once I was sure he was gone, I checked my phone. One new message.

ok. be there at 2. i'll explain everything;;

I unlocked it, and responded,

you'd better

-

The meeting was, essentially, important, I'd like to think. Tord tried saying he broke up with him, but somehow it seemed faked, so I pried; turned out he just said he wanted to be friends. I could at least keep that in mind.

As we left Sweet Suppers, Eduardo glared at us on the way out, and Mark tried to trip us. We didn't fall for it, though. Tord commented on the bandage on my hand, and I told him it was his fault entirely. He didn't seem so interested in that as he was in how poorly it was wrapped up, and suggested he should do it instead. I denied, but he took my hand anyway, inspecting it from all angles.

We were so caught up in this, neither of us even noticed Tom staring at us from across the street.