On the way home.

Chapter 8

Edd's P.O.V

"What are you thinking?" I had asked him while trying not to look at him. Hugging him had really done something to me. Normaly I would despise any human contact but when he looked... so broken it urged me to do something about it. I needed to know what he was thinking. I turned to face him to see him looking at the floor in panic and confusion. He was thinking something, and I really needed to know what.

"I'm serious," I said looking straight at him to gain his full atention to show him that I was serious. He grew in panic as my gaze narrowed on him. I needed him to say something, anything really.

"Eh, uh eck," He choked out looking up at me in cunfusion and despreation. I let out a nervious chuckle. That would have to do for now.

I turned straight towards him and said "Come on pumpkin. If you don't choose an activity, I'll have to." I said looking at him with a face full of curiosity. I wonder what I could do.

"Well, Wh-what do you mean by activity?" He had asked stoping in his tracks.

Shit. What did I mean by activity?

"You don't wanna find out," I say trying to sound devilish but instead failing and sounding like I had no clue. In which case wouldn't prove to be false.

I walked forward into the kitchen to find out what to make for dinner.

As I search through the cupboards I hear Pumpkin enter the kitchen. I could hear the his awkward patting of his unsure feet. He probably assumed the house was booby trapped and I would set off some evil plan at any moment. Like I was some kind of a monster.

I let out a heavy sigh and turn around with a box of uncooked pasta. Clenching the box and staring at the floor I say "I'm not a monster." I had hoped to be quiet enough so he didn't hear. But at the same time I wanted his reaction.

He said nothing.

A minute passed before the heavily silence changed by the quiet footsteps of him walking past me. I looked up to peer at him to find him trying to reach for a pot. As he stood on his tip toes to reach for it I decided he wasn't physically capable of being tall enough to reach it. So I reached out and grabbed it then handed it to him.

Something told me if I didn't say something soon this would turn out to be really awkward.

"So how much pasta do you think would should make for the two of us?" I asked the words not fitting right in my mouth. The 'us' part felt comfortably wrong in my mouth.

"Um... We should cook 3/4 of the box because we haven't had lunch either." He said after a mathematical conclusion.

He filled up the pit of water and set it on the stove awaiting a boil point and I got a smaller pot to cook the sauce.

"Shit" he mumbled as he looked through the cupboards of my home.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

He looks around the cupboard again and sighs. "I think you're out of sauce. And I don't have any money with me to run to the store."

"Do you have any?" I ask.

"Not on me," he says looking at me like I had said something stupid.

"I mean at your household. You live across the street." I say pointing out the kitchen window at his house.

"Oh, yeah..." he says nervously.

"Running over to your house would be faster and cheaper than going to the store." I say suggesting that he run over there to at least check.