Dissidence

Hands - Cheddie

Day One Prompt: Hands
Pairing: Eddie and Chris (Cheddie)
POV: Eddie Vedder's

~•~

Thick fingers curl in my hair, the wristbands worn by the beholder tangle and pull at my curls, but the pain is masked by the pleasure of his company. The hands retract, pulling away from a few strands of hair in the process, they fall to the floor beneath our feet. His hands now rest on my shoulders, they ride down my back and stop at the lowest part of my spine. A shiver seizes me at the touch.

"Your hair smells nice," He nuzzles his chin in the crook of my neck, "What shampoo do you use?"

"Does it matter?" I reach behind me and touch his cheek, they're cold like out weather outside.

"No," He murmurs silently before pulling away from me completely, "I was just trying to make small talk."

He walks to the side of me, his arms rest idly by his hips. His fingers glisten with the number of rings he adorns. I wonder if past lovers gave him the jewelry or if he bought them for himself.

"Small talk is stupid," I glare up at him, but his cheeky grin makes my arrogant attitude crumble. His hand suddenly gets hold of mine, my hand fits perfectly in his palm.

He's sweaty, despite how cold it is in here. Maybe he's nervous, maybe that's why his palms are icky and nauseatingly wet. He squeezes my hand, that same teasing, egging grin cemented on his lips. I curse him and his crystal blue eyes, I curse his godly frame and his black curls. No one deserves to be this alluring.

"You're a very angry little man, y'know that?" He ends his sentences with a click of his tongue.

"I get told that a lot, not like I care," I avoid his eyes, though I still stay knitted to his side, "I don't care what anyone says about me."

He quirks a brow at my words, his arm lifts our intertwined hands up to his face. Soft lips press gently against my sunkissed skin, my eyes dart open in shock. We have been... on again, off again, but we never really had... moments like this. He kisses the top side of my hand again, near the knuckles.

"Do you care what I think?"

I purse my lips, letting my fingers slip out of his and my hand drops to my side. I don't know if I'm ready for this, maybe Jeff was right about not coming here. Chris' smile falls flaccid against his features though he knows better than to approach me right now.

"Sometimes," I murmur, "I—"

Before I can even finish my sentence, Chris throws his arms open and wraps them around my frail frame. He squeezes hard, I remain stiff in his arms. I feel his hands pat against my back, his crushing force makes it hard to breathe. Thankfully, he retracts.

"I love you, Eddie." He picks the conversation up, a glisten of hope shimmers through behind those blue eyes. Maybe he can change, maybe I can change. Maybe love will find a way, but I don't let myself be intoxicated by the sense of slim hope. Instead, I just stare at the dark haired man wordlessly.

"Prove it." The words fall off my lips, brutal and tainted with past hate. My hands ball into fists, the palms are now as nauseatingly clammy like his.

"Okay," He smiles again, the corners of his cheek dimple ever slightly, "Give me your hand."

I scowl at his demand, we had just been holding hands for the last fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Why would he still want to hold them? They're moist and sweaty, weirdly warm and dewy. Regardless, I find myself lifting my hand and placing it in his open palm. His other hand comes and places itself on top of my hand, cupping the appendage. Great, make our hands even more sweaty. Fucking gross.

"Eddie," He breathes the words with a huff before placing a gentle kiss against our hands, "I know I've been a shitty boyfriend in the past—"

"Damn right you were—"

"Let me finish," He knits his brow together to scold me but he resumes the gentle posture from before, "I know I treated you shitty, you don't deserve someone like me... but, but I love you."

"Shitty apology," I roll my eyes, "Three times the charm, maybe."

"Okay—" He shakes his head for added effect, pretending to shake the negative thoughts from his head, "I was shitty, the drugs, man, they— they fucked me over and made me lose myself— made me forget about you."

"And?"

"I want you to forgive me, this one last time. I put all the fucking heroin away, I decided to live my life for something more important. I decided to be here... here with you."

God, he's an idiot sometimes. I stare up at him through my eyelashes, I see the nervousness and anxiety portrayed on his pale cheeks. I cave, I shouldn't, but I do. I always do.

"Shitty apology," I snort half-heartedly, "But... But I love you too."

"You forgive me?"

"Sure," Toneless words. I want to believe he's changed, I hope he can. This is his last shot, "I can't stay away from you for long."

Crinkled eyes turn glossy with tears, his arms drop and extend outward to pull me into another hug. Softer than before, his big arms make sure not to squeeze my small body.  He mumbles half-coherent sweet nothings into my ear, as he always does when we make up. I pray to whoever the fuck is watching us that this is the last time we'll break things apart and beg each other for forgiveness. 

His lips come together and kiss my cheek, he sucks in his lip to make that typical kissy noise that irritates the piss out of me. I crumble, even though I hate all this affection he's spewing out. My arms wrap against his figure, I breathe deeply to get his scent. He smells of cheap cologne or maybe that's his deodorant, I can't really tell. 

"Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"I love you, assface."

"Love you too, dickwad."

I swear I can feel our hearts beat together as one. Maybe, just maybe, love will prevail just this once.

~•~

A/N: Very Short and not-so-sweet. Tomorrow will hopefully bring a fluffier one.