#why work on 2020 when you can jump ahead lamao

[randomoranges]

bonjour-hi, here is a fic i’ve been working on for the past MONTH. it was never supposed to be the thing for m2 day, but since it took forever to get done, here it is now.

this was supposed to be a one part short thing, but then it grew and grew and grew and now it’s a 2 pat 24 page behemoth. 

the worst is that the og idea was based on ONE LINE OF DIALOGUE. can you find/guess which line of dialogue it was???

anyways. the thing in [] is not the translation of the first part of the title. you can either figure it out or google it!

also this is canon and i hope you all like a giant heap of SOFT with lot’s of FUZZIES. because that is exactly what this is. 

part 2 will be posted later today. 

Keesha Kee Taen [You’ve Changed]

February 2020 

Business had sent Edward out east for a few days and he thought for sure that he’d beat the snowstorm back home, but another weather pattern coming west found him stranded in Montreal. He was offered a voucher for a nearby hotel, but Edward politely declined it and said he’d stay with a friend. Then, to play it safe, he’d booked the last flight out the following day, in case the storm persisted and the first flights would be cancelled – that and the fact that he didn’t want to rush back to the airport so soon.

 Only then did he call Étienne to let him know that he was stranded in the city for a few hours and would it be okay for him to crash over. (And only after Étienne had asked him if he had a place to stay. Afterwards, once Étienne had reassured him that it was more than fine and that he could crash anytime, did he let Calvin know what was happening.)

 The cab ride over had been longer than usual, due to the weather, the never ending snow that fell in thick, fat, flakes, the wind gusts that created squalls and the bumper to bumper traffic, and Edward was bone tired and weary. Between time zones, being stuck in an airplane and then an airport, he was famished, exhausted and he simply wanted to bury his face in a pillow and not resurface for many days.

 Still, when he finally arrived to Étienne’s place, he was relieved at the familiar sight of the door that hadn’t changed and Étienne’s place that had remained the same. He was only a little surprised when his friend threw open the door before he could properly ring the doorbell and then proceeded to launch himself in his arms, nearly toppling them over down the few steps and into the accumulating snow. Luckily, Edward was well versed in this method of greeting and was able to prevent them from such an unfortunate cascade.

 And oh, how he’d missed this lunatic of his.

 (His warmth, his smile, the sound of his laughter, the feel of his arms around him...)

 Étienne had ushered him in, talking a mile a minute, asking question over question, as he helped Edward out of his coat, hat, scarf, mittens, boots, and extra sweater. Étienne took the carryon bag out of Edward’s hands and instead wrapped him up in another tight hug that lasted much longer, now that they were inside and out of the blistering cold. Edward was reminded, and not for the first time, that Étienne gave really exceptional hugs and he only let go when his friend stepped back.

 Edward had asked Étienne, for what felt like the millionth time, if this was okay – if Étienne didn’t have better plans and things to do, but Étienne had assured him that it was fine, that he was more than thrilled to have him over and that anything else he may or may not have planned could wait and was not as exciting as having him over, even if for a few hours. (And leave it to Étienne to put everything aside just for him, like he’d often done in the past, and how was it that he’d never noticed before? He still remembered the times when Étienne had greeted him at the airport, all those years ago, when he’d pick him up and bring him back – when Étienne’s whole face lit up when he saw him walk through the arrivals gate.)

 If Edward’s heart did a funny twist at that, well that was between him and his heart.

 They caught up, Edward finally getting a chance to answer Étienne’s long list of questions as his friend grabbed him by the hand and led him further inside his place, past the living room where Étienne had clearly been lounging in before, if Edward was to judge by the muted television and the pile of blankets on the couch, to the kitchen, where Étienne ordered Edward to sit, while he bustled away to warm up some leftovers for him. Edward tried to protest, to say he didn’t want to trouble him, but his stomach rumbled loudly and Étienne declared that he didn’t want to hear none of it and that it was the least he could do.

 Edward took this opportunity to glance around Étienne’s place and noted a few changes here and there, while Étienne chatted to him across the room as he took dishes out of the refrigerator. The walls had been painted over, were now a nice cream colour, making the room brighter, and look larger. The television set in the living room was new, but despite the new furniture, there were still some elements Edward remembered from his last visit here, such as one particular coffee table and the bookcases in the living room. Edward was surprised to see one of Étienne’s paintings on the wall, considering his friend had always dismissed his own talent, and when he asked, Étienne simply told him that it was temporary, while he looked for something better.

 Étienne returned to the kitchen table shortly afterwards, carrying a myriad of different leftovers to him as he apologised for not having anything else. They sat across from one another, as Edward ate, telling him that it was fine and better than anything he could have gotten at the airport, and continued filling Étienne in on his travels. It was easy conversation and Étienne sat, full attention on him, and Edward remembered just how intense that green-brown gaze could be when it was focused on him. How intelligent and attentive it was and how it didn’t miss a beat or a movement. Étienne had a way of making him feel as though he was the center of his attention and it had taken him a long while to get used to it. He felt important, under that gaze, and just when he thought he was boring his friend with trivial talk of smart cities or the latest development in green energy, Étienne would ask a question, or make a comment proving to him that he was keeping up and Edward’s fears would vanish.

 It had been like this before and Edward was glad it hadn’t changed.

 It was afterwards that Étienne asked him if he wanted to shower and change into something more comfortable. Edward agreed and changed into a borrowed pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, too lazy to rummage through his hastily packed bag what felt like lifetimes ago. If anything, the clothes smelled of Étienne, the shower woke him up some and for once, the slightly overheated apartment felt nice (for now).

 It was finally how he’d found himself tucked away in Étienne’s arms, half-laying on his friend on the same sofa he’d walked by earlier, while Étienne played with his hair or rubbed his back. It was late, he was tired, but Étienne was a welcome reprieve from his harried day and he didn’t want to call it over just yet.

 They’d exchanged kisses, slow and soft, not leading to anything and it had been oh so lovely. It had reminded Edward of those nice times from before, where it had seemed like all Étienne wanted to do in the world was spend time wrapped around him, simply being and enjoying his presence. It had always taken him by surprise and he’d always deflected, writing it off as Étienne being a tactile person who craved contact, until he’d found out that Étienne really did just want to be with him. (And it really was a shame he had spent all those years worrying that he was imagining things and that it was all in his head.) It felt the same now, as they pulled away every now and again from a languid kiss to smile and pick up their conversation from where they left off, before they would start all over again and Edward could spend a lifetime like this, he knew.

 There was no pressure, no need to do anything more than this, to simply be together and know that it was fine and that this is what they wanted. (Edward had asked earlier, to be sure, and Étienne had admitted that this was nice and that there would be time, later, if they wanted to do anything else, unless Edward wanted to, but Edward had assured him that no – this was lovely. And so Étienne had smiled at him, Edward’s breath had caught somewhere in his chest, and instead, he had kissed his friend again, because he could – because it felt right and because there were still times when words failed him and actions could convey what he felt better.)

 The television was still muted and Edward was content, here in Étienne’s arms. It was crazy to him to think that he could have this – that with some strange turn of luck he could have and love both Calvin and Étienne – that somehow or other, they were willing to navigate this arrangement to make it work. If someone would have told him, before, some, fifty or so years ago, that this would happen to him, that he would get to be happy, he would have never believed them. And yet, here he was, in his beloved’s arms, happy and safe (so safe). (Was it weird that Étienne had always been safe for him? That even at his worst – even when they’d been on their binges, trying to quiet the hurt and the anger inside of them – when they’d tried to self-destruct from the inside, Étienne had always been a beacon of light – his safe haven through it all?)

 It was nice – it was nice that they could still have this, that despite everything they said, everything they did (and everything they didn’t say and didn’t do) that they could still have this – still give it a go and work at it, despite everything. Edward supposed it had to be one advantage to their long lives – that they could get second chances to try again – to know that they were on the same page. And even though there were times when he feared that this wouldn’t work out, that he was in it way over his head, he would get a message from Étienne and he would know that it was worth it, that they were in this together, and that they would work at figuring it out together.

 “You know,” Étienne interrupted, sometime later, and it could have been days and months and maybe even years later, for all that Edward cared, but he rose his head a little to look at his friend’s face, wondering what was on his mind, “No one would believe you if you told them all we did was cuddle and kiss on my old couch,” He laughed at that, a small soft thing that rumbled through his chest and that made Edward want to hold him even closer and cherish him for as long as Étienne would let him.

 “You’ve spent far too long cultivating a certain image of yourself for anyone who doesn’t really know you to believe that you’re an actual softy underneath it all,” Edward teased, poking at his chest, and it made Étienne laugh again. Edward smiled to himself, pleased with the outcome, but he stuttered when Étienne took his hand and brought it to his lips to place a soft kiss to it. Étienne didn’t say anything about the blush on his cheeks and instead pulled him back down.

 “It’s okay – I prefer it that way; I’d rather have only those I want know the real me,” Edward knew – and he’d found out the hard way about that. For so long he had doubted. For so long he had wondered. At least he knew now. At least, now, he knew about these complicated sides of Étienne and what they meant (or didn’t mean). At least he was better versed in the persona and the authentic to know where he stood. Even if it had cost them twenty years and almost their friendship as well. Better late than never, and such, he supposed.

 “I missed you,” Étienne said, quiet, almost as if speaking to himself, taking Edward out of his thoughts and the comment did all sorts of funny things to his insides, just like it had before. It still surprised him (and maybe it always would) that Étienne could miss him – that someone like Étienne could want to spend time with – and miss – someone like him. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but it wasn’t how the story normally went. Étienne could have anyone he wanted and yet all he wanted was a quiet evening at home with Edward.

 “At least it’s easier now – we have cell phones and video calls and whatever else; it’s almost as if we’re in the same space,” He held on to Étienne a little tighter, fingers dancing on the hairs of his arm that were exposed from the rolled up sweater sleeve, furrowing his face deeper into Étienne’s soft body. He’d missed him too. A lot. So much. And at first he’d hated how much he’d missed him, when he was convinced Étienne didn’t want anything to do with him. He’d hated how much he’d hurt, believing Étienne had tossed him aside and moved on when it seemed he couldn’t – even when things got better for him. Even when Calvin showed up. (He’d hated it even more then, because he really had no reason to miss Étienne. Calvin was good. Calvin, too, had become safe for him, so why was it that his mind craved the affection of another as well? It had taken him a while to figure out he missed the friendship, a longer one to realise that maybe he still had unsettled feelings as well. It was still overwhelming and exhilarating to believe this was all real and that he could have it. No strings attached. Simple and easy. He was a fucking lucky guy. He missed him a little less now, if only because he could speak with Étienne and see him, but there were still times when he wished the distance wasn’t so big.)

 “Yeah, I guess, but – this is better,” The quiet admission was enough for Edward to disentangle himself ever so – enough to press another kiss to Étienne’s plush lips and to let Étienne pull him down closer, to card a hand through his tousled hair and wrap him even more in his body. To take what he could and savour it, knowing that come tomorrow he would be heading back and the next time they could do this was up in the air.

 They settled back after a few heated kisses, not wanting to get too carried away, comfortable here, enjoying the moment for what it was and Edward resumed his post with his head on Étienne’s chest, listening to the careful beat of his heart as it lulled him.

 Their conversation drifted in and out with no particular direction, one moment reminiscing about an old collective memory, the following sharing about the latest thing that was going on in their respective city, before they would quiet down again. Edward could fall asleep like this; he was already tired and Étienne’s steady hand running up and down his spine only helped ease him further down. He was warm. And comfortable. And he felt loved. There wasn’t much more he needed.

 “I love you,”

 The words broke the cozy silence and for one moment, Edward thought he’d misheard – or imagined the words, so quietly had they been spoken. He raised his head gently and found Étienne looking at him, cheeks pinked and eyes bright. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the words. That had been over the summer, in the middle of the forest with a thundering waterfall and his own ricocheting heart as witnesses. They’d spoken about this afterwards – about their feelings, which was a novel thing they did and it had done them both some good. To finally let everything out once and for all. They’d been honest and had agreed to figure it out and work at it. And they were making strides towards it – big ones at it too, but this love thing was still relatively new (at least out in the open) and even though Étienne was  more open with him about his feelings and such, Edward knew that his friend was still trying to figure out this whole love thing. He knew of Étienne’s past failures with love and the scars it had left on his soul. He knew of Étienne’s fears around it and that he had a complicated relationship with it. At least now, he knew – and at least now, he knew how to better read Étienne and notice Étienne’s own way of letting him know that he loved and appreciated him – that they wanted the same things. (And he wondered, every time, how utterly blind he had been for not realising sooner, but he knew not to dwell too much on it – there had been enough causes and doubt in both of them.)

 He’d heard the words again, sparsed out here and there over phone calls, video sessions and whatnot. He parroted them back whenever Edward said them out loud and Edward cherished each and every utterance of them. Every letter Étienne still sent him now was signed with love and Étienne ended a text conversation with a heart emoji, but so far, he’d never been the first to say the words.

 It wasn’t as if Edward was saying them all the time and every time he did Étienne replied in some variation of his own in kind – letting him know as much as reassuring him that Edward wasn’t imagining things, or in too deep, but this was the first time Étienne told him unprompted.

 This was the first time Étienne said I love you first and Edward wanted to embrace the other man, kiss him silly and cry into the crook of his neck all at the same time.

 Étienne was rewarded with the brightest smile he’d probably ever seen on Edward’s face and he had to look away for a moment, heat in his cheeks, not really regretting what he had just said, but feeling too much from that smile and that look. Edward should always look like that – happy and radiant. (He hoped he could put that look on his face again. He hoped he could put that look on his face for the rest of his unnaturally long never ending life.)

 (And the problem was he did love Edward. A whole damn lot. Too much at times. And he didn’t know what to do with these emotions or how to process them. Sometimes, it felt as though his heart wanted to beat out of his chest. As though even if he shouted it from the rooftops it wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to hold onto to Edward and never let him go, while simultaneously tell anyone and everyone he met that this was the man that had stolen his heart (and would he please take care of it). He loved Edward more than he could handle it and it frightened as much as exhilarated him. (It used to just frighten him – because he was bound to fuck this wonderful thing up – and he had, in some way he had – but now he had a second chance and he wanted to do it right.)

 Edward looked at him as though he was the most precious thing in the world and Étienne wondered, not for the first time, what exactly he had ever done to deserve any of this (and what it was Edward had ever seen in him.) He buried his face in Edward’s shoulder, letting the warmth of his skin settle him and his own words of love calm his nerves. He would never tire of feeling this way, he knew, and he hoped he could have this for a good while longer.

 “I wish you could stay longer,” He managed to say when he trusted his voice wouldn’t betray his emotions. Edward wrangled them about so that they could be facing each other, parenthesis on his couch, and Étienne leaned into Edward’s hand when he brought it up to caress his cheek. He sighed, some tension in his body leaving, as his friend placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

 “I know, but at least we get this – and I’m only a tap away, you know,” He did – know, but this was always so much nicer than the phone calls and the letters, the text messages and the video chats. Here, Edward was tangible and real, he could touch and feel and kiss and hug to his heart’s content. He could read every expression that played on Edward’s face and not wonder if he was stringing him along or taking pity on him. Here, he could ground himself with Edward’s presence and drink in the sight of him, even if only for a few hours. He knew Edward was right – knew he should be thankful for the terrible weather and for this otherwise unplanned visit, but as always, he still wanted more.

 “Promise I’ll come back,” Edward murmured for him and him only. Étienne took Edward’s wrist in his own hand and pulled him ever closer, before he kissed him once more, because he could – because he wanted to – and because he didn’t know when he’d next be able to.

 Eventually, Edward grew even sleepier and after one too many yawns he tried to hide behind his head, Étienne declared that it was late enough and that they should get some rest. Edward tried protesting, but his argument died on his lips when Étienne helped him rise to his feet and led him towards the bedrooms.

 They hadn’t shared a bed since last summer and it seemed they both realised that fact at the same time when Étienne stopped steps away from his bedroom and the guestroom, as if unsure where to proceed, not wanting to push Edward and not wanting to assume either.

 “The sheets in the guestroom are clean, if you want,” He mumbled and Edward recognised that nervous tick of Étienne’s he did with his fingers where he wrapped and twisted them around the fabric of his shirt, foot fidgeting and eyes looking anywhere but at him. Edward thought it was endearing, to some extent, and he reached for Étienne’s hands to steady them, before he bore holes in his shirt and to let him know that he didn’t need to worry, regardless of where it was he wanted to sleep. Even if Étienne wanted to do something and he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t judge his friend and he hoped that with time, Étienne wouldn’t fret about it as much.  

 “We can always share... if you want...” Edward suggested, suddenly feeling a little shy himself. He was fine with giving Étienne space, if that’s what he wanted, but he would much prefer having him close and snuggling up to him. To be able to hold him, kiss him good night and then good morning. Wake up beside him and watch the morning light play across his face. But, maybe he was thinking too far ahead once more and it would be best not to rock the boat, so to speak.

 “No, that’s fine – I mean, yeah we can share, but only if you’re okay with that!” Étienne was quick to reassure him. Edward laughed and took Étienne’s hand before walking into his friend’s room.

 Étienne turned the lights on and Edward took a moment to observe the room. It seemed the entire apartment had been repainted and Étienne’s room had not been an exception. The decor had changed some, but he was somewhat relieved to find some old staples from before, such as some of Étienne’s hockey memorabilia dispersed here and there. Who would have thought that a signed framed photograph of an old Habs great would ever bring him comfort? His friend told him to get comfortable, while he went to change (maybe to buy himself some time and get his nerves under control, who knew) and so Edward slipped under the covers and settled in.

 The bed was still as comfortable and the pillows were as plush as he recalled, even if they were new, and he supposed Étienne had always been a creature of comfort. He sunk in, pulling only some of the covers over him, not needing as many as Étienne did and let out a content sigh.

 Étienne returned shortly afterwards and laughed as he walked into his room. Edward gave him a puzzled look, but Étienne shook his head as joined him in bed, “It’s just that, you took my side,” he told him as he removed his glasses and placed them on the night table.

 Edward gave him a curious look at that, disbelief written all over his face, “What are you talking about? I always slept on this side of your bed before,” He knew it – he would swear by it, but he always had the side by the window and Étienne the one by the door. They had never talked about it, there had been no Official Discussion, but it was the way it had happened and they had kept to those sides for all the times Edward had visited. Even when Étienne had stayed over, Étienne had taken the side Edward didn’t sleep on and once more there had been no talk about it – it had happened naturally and that had been that. But then, Étienne’s cheeks burned and he looked away, almost as if embarrassed. Even though there was only  the bedside lamp turned on, Edward saw the colour rise and then it clicked, “Did you actually switch sides?”

 “Don’t give yourself too much credit! It just happened.” The fact that Étienne was defending the change said enough for Edward and he promised himself to properly tease Étienne when he wasn’t so tired. Still, he thought it was endearing and he did wonder how it had come about. Had it been intentional? Had he simply rolled over to the other side one day and then found it better? (Had he missed him and tried to furrow his face in the pillow hoping to catch the scent of someone who hadn’t slept there in far too long? Not that he was talking from experience...)

 “Softy,” Edward called him, grinning wolfishly at him.

 Étienne took his pillow, hit him with it, before he settled down, and pulled Edward close, “Only for you. So, don’t get any funny ideas.” Edward only mildly protested, but didn’t add anything to it and decided to humour him for now.  It was too late to put up a fight and the warmth of the room was making him sleepy. He made himself comfortable, with Étienne holding him close and felt himself drifting off without even trying. Étienne resumed what he’d been doing earlier and ran his hand up and down Edward’s back, content to have him here. In return, Edward’s weight and warmth soothed him and eventually, so did his even breathing.

 When he’d returned home from his visit to Edmonton, last summer, it had taken him a good while to come to terms with the fact that this was real and that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing. (In truth, it had taken until he had received a text message from Edward to help him realise it. No big fanfare, just a simple message telling him he’d had a lovely time and he was glad they were patching things up. The heart emoji at the end had certainly helped and Étienne had only stared at it with a dopey hopeful smile for about an hour or so.) And yet here he was, months later, Edward sleeping in his arms, and the small yet eternal optimist that somehow or other lived on inside of him dared to dream again.

 He looked down slightly, to Edward’s slack jaw and slowly rising and falling chest and he wanted to wrap Edward tightly in his arms, keep him close to his heart, and never let go. He wanted to stop time, just for a moment, long enough for him to catch his breath and fully realise what it was that was happening to him. It was still hard to wrap his head around it all, especially when he’d come to terms with the fact that Edward had moved on, that their friendship was over and that that chapter of his life was over with. But then, somehow or other, by some miracle, probably, they had reconnected and now he could tell Edward how he felt about it and not go into a minor (major) panic over it.

 He supposed this whole “admitting to being in love” thing had its perks, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that. (He wanted to keep it for himself just a little longer – bask in the way it made him feel and let it soothe him when he couldn’t sleep.) Instead, he let out a content little sigh and marvelled at how things had changed.

 --

part II