“Thank you,” Jonathan said with a smile, setting the glass aside before sitting on the floor in front of Edward, keeping enough space between them that the other man didn’t feel crowded in. He listened to the older man’s words, putting them aside for later review, not wanting to question Edward again and made things worse.
An old, old memory surfaced, of a time before his Great Grandmother had made it her utter mission to destroy him, and Jonathan gave the idea a thought, before reciting quietly, keeping his voice as soft and soothing as he could make it, “A pocketful of marbles, and a dress full of tears. Poor little Rachel fell down the stairs,”
Okay, so it wasn’t the nursery rhymes his Grandmother had taught him, he couldn’t actually remember those anymore, having gotten torn and twisted in his mind, but it probably didn’t matter.
“ When she hit the bottom, she cracked her little head. Poor little Rachel, cold and dead.”
The words Jonathan spoke were phrased in such a way that is sounded like a riddle to him, and his mind fixated on trying to solve the puzzle. Staring off into space ahead of him, he thought and he thought of what Jonathan might be referring to. “Cracked her head...” he muttered. “What’s the answer? Wait, don’t tell me! I’ll get it...” Whatever motivation Jonathan had in telling the rhyme, it had the effect of distracting Eddie’s thought process so he no longer was focusing on his panic attack. “Marbles... a pocketful of marbles. Lost her marbles? Falling down the stairs?”
Jonathan blinked, mouth falling open. He had never actually watched someone try to solve a nursery rhyme before, and the process was fascinating. Then again, watching anything Edward turned his mind to seemed to be fascinating these days. “Would you like the rest of the rhy...riddle?” he asked, smiling again before speaking. “Now Rachel cannot speak, and Rachel cannot stir, and Rachel cannot see the angel looking down at her. Rachel's angel guardian, with pretty wings and hair, where were you when little Rachel fell down the stairs?"
Jonathan leaned in slightly, listening to Eddie’s breathing as he recited, measuring it for calmness rather than flights of panic.
“What a morbid thing,” Eddie blurted out, sounding more like himself again, though weak. “That’s not a riddle,” he deduced. The anxiety had faded, and the drugs were taking its effect. The sudden surge of emotions and then its disappearance had been exhausting. He closed his eyes and tilted to one side, actually leaning upon Jonathan’s shoulder. “You didn’t make that up, did you?”
Jonathan laughed out loud as Edward spoke, giving him a grin. “I am a morbid creature,” he countered. His smile softened as Edward leaned on him, the urge to pet his hair filling Jonathan who forced it away. “I did, but it was years ago,” he said softly, breath stirring Edward’s hair as he looked down at him. A thought occurred to him and Jonathan froze, realization flooding him.
He wasn’t just attracted to Edward Nigma...he was developing a crush.
“Oh come on,” he muttered under his breath, massaging his face. It was bad enough when he went off and fell for Harley, now he had to go and open his heart up to someone else who would only give him heartache in their refusal.
“I’m tired,” Eddie simply said, raising his head and looking around, unable to remember how exactly he got into Jonathan’s bedroom. “I think I want to lie down.”
Sluggishly, he rose to his feet and wobbled, needing to brace himself between the wall and Jonathan, placing a hand upon the other man’s shoulder. He then yawned wide. “You’re going to need to get your things out of storage. All those tubes and bunsen burners and petri dishes.” Letting go of Jonathan, he put his hand upon his forehead and turned to leave the room, heading for his own bedroom.