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Summary
“Wait,” Steve frowns, “woah- hang on. What are you asking here?”
Eddie swallows. “I’m asking… I’m asking for your words, man.”
“You want my-”
“Your help. Your lyrics. Your lines- I mean fuck, Harrington- you’re wasting this shit here. It’s a goldmine. This notebook alone- and again,” Eddie grimaces, “I’m like, really sorry for snooping- but-”
“You want to turn that into songs?”
Eddie nods.
Steve’s mouth hangs agape. Eddie can see a little of his tongue like that, pink and wet, and he looks away quickly.
“What? No. No fuckin’ way.”
---
linchpin
/ˈlɪn(t)ʃpɪn/
(noun)
1. a person or thing vital to an enterprise or system, often overlookededdie needs a lyricist. steve needs an outlet. everything goes well when the need is reciprocated, right?