Okay so this has come up in my real life a few times, and I don't really know how to talk about it even now in text so let me try:
Please don't tell someone what diagnosis you think they have based off of their actions when they did not ask for your opinion.
They could have that diagnosis and not want to share it.
They could not have that diagnosis but feel uncomfortable telling you what they do have.
They could just simply not want to be told that based off their actions because it could make them self conscious about those actions.
It's not your place to diagnosis, it's not always comfortable for the other person to ask them.
Yes even if you have the diagnosis you are diagnosing the other person with.
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February 2nd
The water loosens, rough to the touch
and so drops the needle,
scratchy pine.
The geese
velvet, well-cut
against a barrier of sound
clang together like a dinner bell, like
my last pair of squeaky shoes on tile,
necks out.
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hot stuff
@steddiemicrofic prompt: stuff, 483 words rated: t | cw: none | tags: pre-relationship, steve has a crush, he blurts it out while helping eddie pack to move to his new trailer
***
Steve shoves another DnD handbook into one of the boxes scattered around Eddie’s room. “Dude, why do you have so much stuff?”
Across the room, Eddie snorts. “Excuse me for wanting my bedroom to have some personality, Mr. Plaid-Wallpaper.”
Steve rolls his eyes, putting away some sketchbooks next. His eyes catch something else on Eddie’s desk. “This doesn’t match your personality. You hate sports,” Steve bitches, one hand on his hip, the other holding the basketball.
“Oh, that’s not mine.” Eddie smirks. “I stole it from some jocks.”
“You stole- a basketball?”
The smirk turns into a grin. “Assholes thought it’d be funny to hit the freak, so when they did, I grabbed it and ran like hell.”
A startled laugh leaves Steve’s lips when he pictures Eddie fleeing with a basketball in his arms, flipping off the assholes that he stole it from.
Then he frowns.
“I wasn’t one of them, right?” He doesn’t remember it, but he tries not to think about that time too much.
Eddie’s eyes soften. “No, Stevie. You were never a dick to me, we never really crossed paths.”
“I wish we had,” Steve says. It’s not the first time he’s thought about it. Since meeting Eddie, he often wishes it happened sooner.
“You really think we would’ve been friends? The King and the Freak?”
“We’re friends now,” Steve shrugs.
“After a damn apocalypse! Besides, you’re different now. King Steve wouldn’t be caught dead with me. I was a loser.”
Steve sniggers. “Was?”
“Fuck you,” Eddie squawks, throwing some socks at Steve’s head- and missing.
Steve throws them back, hitting him on the forehead. “You’re supposed to be packing those!”
Eddie sticks his tongue out. “What I meant is- I looked like a loser.”
Steve thinks of the photo he packed earlier while helping pack Wayne’s things- the one of Eddie with a buzz cut, drowning in Wayne’s hand-me-downs, no tattoos or rings. So different from the guy in front of him.
“Now though, I look cool,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows.
“Nah, man. Now you look hot,” Steve blurts out.
He panics when Eddie’s jaw drops and he gapes at Steve, but he doesn’t look upset, just shocked- and a little hopeful.
The door opens then and Robin pops her head in, glaring at the empty boxes. “You dinguses aren’t done yet? We finished packing all of Wayne’s mugs and there’s dozens of them! I’m getting Nance!” She huffs and leaves.
Steve grimaces. “We should get to work before Nancy comes. But, um, wanna ditch the girls after and hang out?”
When Eddie shakes his head, Steve backtracks. “Unless you don’t want-”
Eddie shakes his head even harder at that. “Like fuck if I don’t.” He grins. “Get to work, big boy, then you can tell me how hot you find me and we can kiss about it.”
They finish packing everything in record time after that.
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