A Fangirl of Many Colours

Even after years of owning your own coffee shop, the one thing you never quite got used to were the early morning hours. You often scheduled yourself for opening shifts, to give your staff breaks and to make sure you were there for the opening of the coffee shop and then later, the bookstore. Two birds, one stone, you supposed. You opened up like usual, your two employees for that morning joining at their appropriate times. Around 7 a.m., things really started to pick up, so you took orders with one of the other girls. When the rush died down, you stayed at the register and let her go on her break. The man who approached you next in line had wild brown curls only managed by the loose bun he had them tied up in, and he wore a worn black leather jacket, ripped black jeans that might have fit him properly in the past, but fell loosely on his figure now, and a concert tee from a show you’d gone to in Indie a few years back. 

“Hi!” You chirped, “what can I get for you?” 

He looked at you, almost spooked, before shaking it off and looking back at the menu, clearly new here. 

“Can I, uh - just get a…” he squinted as if he wasn’t reading it right, “paladin’s brew?”

“You read that right,” you promised with a soft giggle. “Yes, absolutely. Name?” 

He hesitated a moment, mouth opening and closing like he was nervous to tell you. Before he could, you put the pieces together: hair, metal band tee, leather jacket. “Eddie! You’re Eddie! Right?” His eyes widened, once again spooked. 

“Um… yeah. I’m - Eddie, yeah,” he looked around as if to check if anyone else had overheard, but the place was pretty empty for the moment. You couldn’t know it, but he was freaked out that maybe his reputation had continued to spread even in his absence. “Eddie the-”

“The DM, right? We have mutual friends. They speak so highly of you, seriously!” 

He was taken aback by the way you spoke to him and about him, and was suddenly very curious.  “You’re the girl Gareth told me about, uh…” he snapped his fingers as he tried to remember your name, and got it right on his first try. “Hard to forget,” he added. That made you smile, and you pointed at the pastry display.

“Pick something, please,” you insisted with a smile, and he hesitated before choosing one of the stuffed cookies. “This one’s on the house. As a welcome home gift. Did you wanna pick out a book, too? I don’t imagine you got to read any recent releases.” 

He started to protest the kindness, not wanting to cause a fuss, but you stood firm. 

“Are you sure your boss is cool with you doing this for me?” He worried. 

“I assure you, the boss would want you to choose a book for yourself,” you promised, a tad amused, and he eventually gave in, sheepish. You finished up his coffee and bagged his now-warmed cookie, and walked around the counter to walk him into the bookstore, unlocking the door that connected the two shops. 

He looked around when he walked in, entranced by the decor and sheer amount of books. He hadn’t seen something like this in almost five years. He hadn’t even told his friends he’d gotten out this morning, having wanted a moment to himself before everyone undoubtedly would make a big deal of him being home. After the constant vigilance of a prison, the idea of being alone was something that attracted him very much, so when you closed the door to the bookstore behind you both, he looked at you, puzzled. 

“Not open to the public yet,” you shrugged with a smile, “but you’re welcome to browse all you want. I’ll be right here.” 

You grabbed a book from behind the register and took a seat on a plush couch, opening up your book to read while he got to take in the place himself. You let him wander away through the shelves, occasionally looking up at him curiously. He was prettier than you’d imagined. Your friends didn’t have very many photos of him, and the ones they did were from high school. Sure, you’d imagined he’d still be pretty, but not nearly this pretty. He caught you watching him at one point, and flashed you a sheepish but grateful kind of smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back before burying your nose in your book again to hide the shame of being caught staring.It took him about fifteen minutes of perusing before he peeked out at you from behind a shelf. “Shit, am I keeping you from your job?” He asked, concerned, and you just shook your head.

“Nah, take your time. I have all the time in the world. Trust me. There’s so much to look through, please don’t rush. Find a good book, or a couple.” Your nose scrunched a little when you smiled at him, and he noticed, and it made him smile. 

He nodded, and went back to his search. It was another twenty minutes before he came back over quietly, holding two books. “I can’t choose between these two. Choose for me?” 

He showed you his options, and you pursed your lips as you considered, “I think you should take both.”

“But-”

“I insist,” you smiled at him, grabbing a cloth tote back from the register area, and opening it for him. “Take ‘em both. Don’t worry about it.” 

The way he looked at you made it all worth it. He put the books into the bag gingerly and took it, holding it close like it was something precious. His cookie was eaten and his coffee cup empty, so you extended a hand for his trash. “And a refill for the road?”

“No, I can’t put you out like that,” he shook his head. “I really can’t.” 

You bumped his hip with yours gently, “consider it a welcome home. Just don’t make it a habit of having to come home from prison, yeah?” You tried to make a joke, and for a moment feared it fell awfully flat, but then you heard his warm laughter, and that made you smile really big.

“I- yeah. Okay, I can agree to those terms,” his eyes crinkled with his smile, and you led him back into the cafe before refilling his coffee and sliding it across the counter. “Thank you,” he told you simply. “For everything. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you at the next movie night I’m told we apparently have,” he gave a face that showed he had no idea what the current hangout habits were. You just giggled and waved.

“Yeah, Eddie. I’ll see you there. Come by anytime.”

…….........................................

It didn’t take that long for you to see Eddie again. In fact, instead of waiting to see him when you saw your friends, you barely had to wait at all. Two days later, he showed up in the morning, for another cup of coffee. He looked sleepier this time, still in his leather jacket, ripped jeans, and a band t-shirt, though this time it was a band you’d heard of but weren’t super familiar with. When he saw you, he smiled, eyes lighting up a bit, with the warmth of recognition gleaming in them. “Hi. I couldn’t stop thinking about that coffee, so… I’m back,” he told you, and you couldn’t help your beaming smile back.

“So are you getting the same as last time? Or do you wanna try something new?” 

He chewed on his lip as he considered it, and let out a hum. “I think… um… maybe something new. Five years of repetition is enough,” he nodded decisively, and it made you smile. 

“Something new. Well, if you liked the Paladin brew, I think you’ll really like the Salty Bard. It uses the same base espresso, but it’s got a salted caramel twist to it,” you told him, already getting everything ready to make him his drink. 

He agreed with an intrigued look, and you prepared his drink while trying to make conversation - who he’d seen so far, how his return to real life was treating him. You learned that he’d only really seen his band and Dustin, but that he figured they’d want to throw him some kind of homecoming soon. You kept quiet, but you had heard rumors of a homecoming dinner party yourself, when Dustin had stopped by the day prior to borrow a book you’d promised him.

When he had his drink in hand, you also handed Eddie a new pastry to try. You’d allowed him to pay for his coffee, so he started to pull out his wallet and you refused. You had something of a silent battle of wills staring contest, but you did ultimately win, and he sipped gratefully at his coffee while snacking on the muffin top you’d given him. You were going to take your break to chat with him, but as the foot traffic in the shop increased, so did his discomfort, until he excused himself to go about his day. You noticed, but didn’t comment. 

Eddie’s visits became something regular. Two weeks into his being home, you’d seen him every other day, almost like clockwork. It was like he knew when the shop was slow, because he only ever appeared when it wasn’t busy. Until the one Saturday he arrived, looking disheveled. He had on his usual leather jacket, faded blue jeans, and a black band hoodie, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket. You quickly hopped behind the register to take his order before the group of teens waiting in line, but thankfully they were too distracted chatting with one another to really notice. 

Eddie’s curls were falling out of his bun, but he made no move to fix the hairdo, just sighing when he got to the register. He’d tried all of the coffee options, so he was starting to make his way through the teas now. “Surprise me?” He requested softly, and you couldn’t help but smile and comply. 

“You look frazzled,” you said, not unkindly, as you tried to make conversation while making his drink. 

He let out an amused huff and sighed. “That obvious?” 

“You’re here when there are people around, for one,” you point out with a smile, “and your bun is coming loose. I’m no detective, but I can sense a change in pattern when I see one.” He stuffed a dollar in the tip jar, and nodded silently. You didn’t push, just waiting as you prepared his drink. It was a beat before he finally spoke up.

“I have a job interview later, bartending at a place nearby. The only place willing to interview me. And I’m trying not to lose my shit about it. Cause I can only couch surf for so long, you know?” He pulled his hair tie out and ran a hand through his messy curls, before pulling them up again, neater this time. “People aren’t exactly lining up to hire a convict.” 

Your heart tugged at the insinuation that he was somehow less than, and you pursed your lips. “Why don’t you interview here? We’re hiring openers.” 

He looked back up at you curiously, like you were suggesting something entirely insane. “You sure the boss would want me around paying customers? Half this town still thinks I’m some kinda drug dealing cult leader. Is that who your boss wants making coffees and taking orders?”

“A reformed drug dealing cult leader, that’s how you sell it,” you teased, to which he cracked a smile. “Besides, I promise, the powers that be here? They don’t care about your reputation or what people think of you. If you’re interested in interviewing… just let me know. We can schedule something.” You slid his drink to him and he raised it in quiet thanks.

“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’ll definitely think about it. Thank you,” he offered you a soft sort of smile, before heading out the door.

Eddie’s on his side, his arm still in place beneath your head. You’re laying on your stomach, one hand holding Eddie’s arm, the other tucked beneath a pillow. Your head is turned away from him, but he can feel your breath puffing steadily against his skin, telling him you’re still asleep.

Overnight, the blankets have shifted, now a mess pushed down to your waist, tangled in Eddie’s legs. Similarly, your (his) band tee has ridden up your back, leaving a stripe of skin above the waistband of your shorts exposed.

There, Eddie learns something new about you. A birthmark, almost the shape of a heart, if he squints, sits on the skin of your lower back. Eddie’s free hand seeks it before he can really think, his thumb tracing the outline of it.

His touch is gentle, but it’s what wakes you, your legs stretching before relaxing again, your hand squeezing his arm once before lifting your head, turning to face him, and laying it back onto the pillow.

“Sorry,” you say, eyes still a little heavy, voice quiet. “Your arm must be numb.”

Eddie shakes his head, moves his arm to prop his head on his hand. He shrugs, “Worth it.”

You look at him, his hair a mess, half of it in a low bun, half of it falling in strands around his face. His eyes are bright, his gaze soft. Prettiest you’ve ever seen him, you think.

Then, you realize that you probably don’t look nearly as pretty having just woken up.

“Not fair,” you mumble. “How do you look so good right now?”

“Aw, sweetheart. You’re beautiful.”

You huff a small, bashful laugh. Eddie’s your first boyfriend, and he’s better than you could have ever imagined. He’s kind, unfailingly patient with your inexperience, he makes you laugh, and he’s never made you uncomfortable.

His thumb traces your birthmark again, “I didn’t know you had this.”

You turn your cheek into the pillow, “Since I was born. ‘S why it’s called a birthmark, actually.”

“Oh, is it? Never would have guessed.”

“Besides, you probably have at least three tattoos I haven’t seen yet, so.”

“Only two, actually,” he says.

Then he’s sitting up, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your shoulder, and lastly one right over your birthmark before tugging your top back down, not wanting you to get cold.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

Eddie shrugs it off. “Aw, don’t worry about it.”

“Next night I have off, we’ll do it up right.”

“Sure.” Eddie gives him a little half-smile and a salute before heading out the door.

Morning at school passes by rather eventfully, and Eddie almost forgets what day it is, until he sits down for lunch.

And listen, he’s not expecting anything – his friends are well aware of how apathetic he is towards his birthday, and he’d prefer no one make a big deal of it anyway, but for no one to say anything about it at all, he can’t help but feel...disappointed.

Jeff and Grant carry on as usual, complaining about their shared math class. Gareth yawns. Dustin and Mike discuss their upcoming campaign. Even you don’t mention what day it is. You just chat away to him about the movie you’re seeing this weekend.

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, willing himself not to be upset, but he’s slightly crestfallen.

“Helloooo?” You wave a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Eddie.”

His head snaps back up, and he blushes slightly. “Sorry, I’m listening.”

Your eyes widen with concern, and he tries not to focus on the way your eyelashes bat when you blink at him like that. “It’s like you’re not even here today. Everything okay?”

He coughs into his fist. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Your face brightens. “Do you wanna hang out today? You can show me that new record you were telling me about. Only, um, I have to finish up my chemistry project, so it’s gonna be like an extra half-hour or so before we can leave school.”

Eddie perks up a bit at that. Spending time with you will be a nice birthday gift, even if you don’t realize that’s what you’re giving him. “Sure.”

The rest of the day drags on. Eddie focuses on shoving his hurt feelings down, chagrined that he should even need to do so in the first, but assuaged slightly by the comforting prospect of an evening spent with you.

When school ends, he waits politely while you put the finishing touches on your project. It looks fine to him, he’s not sure why you keep fussing with it. But as he’s in his third senior year, he supposes he’s not one to judge.

“Okay,” you finally sigh, rising from your chair. “I’m gonna stow this in my locker and then we can go, alright?”

He flashes you a thumbs up. “Whenever you’re ready, boss.”

You keep up a steady stream of chatter all the way to Forest Hills, amusing Eddie. When he helps you hop out of the van, he tells you hesitantly, “Hey, thanks for hanging out with me today. I’m kind of…” he trails off. “I just need it, I guess.”

Is there a hint of mischief in your smile? “Of course. Why, is something up?”

Eddie turns the door handle, pushing into the trailer, “Oh, no, I just –”

“Surprise!”

Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin at the chorus that greets him, further backed by noisemakers and incoherent hollering. Wayne, the Hellfire guys, a smattering of other characters from Eddie’s life – even Rick came out, holy shit – are crowded in the Munsons’ tiny living area, grinning and wearing party hats.

It takes Eddie a second to process what this is. There are streamers hung to and fro, balloons drifting towards the ceiling, a handmade banner strung up on the shelves holding Wayne’s beloved mugs -

HAPPY BIRTHDAY EDDIE

He starts laughing, touched, shell-shocked, embarrassed but thoroughly pleased. He feels a squeeze on his upper arm.

“Happy birthday.” You kiss his cheek. “Did we fool you?”

“You got me.”

Wayne’s eyes gleam impishly. “Hope you weren’t too upset today, Ed. But if you were, just know this wasn’t my idea.”

Eddie turns to you, and raises an eyebrow.

You laugh shamelessly. “Guilty.”

Someone drops the needle on a Dio record, keeping the volume low, the music a hum in the background. Eddie’s friends move in on him with birthday wishes, giving one-armed hugs and pats on the back, and the conversation grows louder as everyone starts talking over one another.

“You looked so sad at lunch today, Eddie, did you really think we forgot about you?”

“We ordered pizza, and got one of those cakes with the nasty frosting you love –”

“And there’s a few presents over here –”

“And booze!”

Eddie gets lost in a sea of arms, but he twists his head so he can look back at you and wink.

Sleepy Confessions

One-Shot Request: “Sleepy Confessions”

It’s way too late to still be awake.

But sleep won’t come, not even close. You’re curled on the Munsons’ lumpy old couch, a blanket twisted around your legs and your arm tucked under your head, staring up at the water-stained ceiling like it’s got answers. Spoiler: it doesn’t. Neither does the ticking clock over the kitchen doorway or the occasional rumble of a semi barreling down the road outside.

Wayne’s on another night shift, and the whole trailer feels like it’s exhaling without him here. Too still. Too quiet. Except your brain.

It’s racing.

Eddie. That’s the problem. That’s always the problem.

You replay dinner in your head- how he offered you the last slice of pizza without blinking, how he flicked his straw wrapper at you, and then laughed so hard he nearly snorted soda. The way his eyes had lingered on you a little too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe he wanted you to see. You don’t even know anymore.

And God, the way he said your name earlier… soft, like it meant something. Like you meant something.

You drag the blanket over your face and groan into it. None of this is helping.

You toss the blanket aside with a sigh that’s more frustration than fatigue. Every part of you is buzzing- limbs heavy with sleeplessness, but your brain? Fully caffeinated on a potent cocktail of What ifs and Just kiss him already.

You mutter it under your breath before you’ve fully decided:

 “Screw it.”

The floor is cold under your bare feet. Your oversized hoodie barely covers your thighs as you pad down the narrow hallway. The trailer creaks under your weight, groaning softly like it’s in on your secret. You wince at every little sound, half expecting to wake a grumpy Wayne from the ether- but he’s gone. Night shift. It’s just you and Eddie. Like always.

Eddie’s door is cracked open, just a sliver, but it glows with soft amber from the string lights looped haphazardly around his wall. You catch a flicker of lava lamp motion- swirling, slow. There’s music playing faintly from the cassette deck, something dreamy and distant. Maybe Floyd. Maybe Sabbath on a softer night.

You hover there for a moment. Two. You think about turning back.

But then you remember the way he smiled at you tonight. Like he wanted to say something but bit it back.

So you knock.

Well. More like you nudge the door with your knuckles. It creaks open a little wider, betraying you.

He doesn’t stir.

You step inside.

His room smells like cedar, cheap cologne, and the faint remnants of weed. It’s stupidly comforting. His curls are a mess on the pillow, one bare arm tossed over his head like he’s auditioning for a Renaissance painting. He’s breathing slowly. Peaceful.

You almost feel bad.

Almost.

You inch closer, every step a minor rebellion.

“Eddie,” you whisper.

No response.

You swallow, nerves finally catching up to your heart. God, what are you doing?

You linger beside his bed like you don’t belong there- but also like you’ve never belonged anywhere else. His room is a cluttered mess of band posters, worn tapes stacked in milk crates, and that familiar scent- Eddie. Something about him always smells like smoke and the woods in fall. Like trouble and comfort in equal parts.

He shifts under the blanket, mumbling into his pillow. You reach out, fingers trembling, and brush the slope of his shoulder. “W-wake up,” you whisper, like you’re afraid the moment will break if you speak too loudly.

He groans softly, long and dramatic, like a grumpy teenager, a gravelly rasp that rumbles low in his throat. His brow scrunches before he pries open one eye.

“Mmmm… what do you want…”

Your heart seizes. But you’re already here. Standing in the warm glow of his room, barefoot and shaking.

You bite your lip.

You could still back out. You could say you just wanted a glass of water. Or ask him what that weird noise outside was.

But none of those lies would fix the way your chest feels like it’s going to cave in.

“I… umm…”

He rolls, sluggish and bleary-eyed, one arm flopping across his chest. His curls are a halo of chaos, face still slack with sleep, but one eye peeks open- barely. “You could’ve chosen someone else to wake up and bother, ya know?” he mumbles, rubbing his cheek into the pillow. “Just tell me what-”

“I love you.”

The words hit the air like a dropped glass. Sharp. Sudden. Irretrievable.

Silence.

And then… He freezes. Not in that awkward, I’m-about-to-reject-you way. No, he freezes like a man hit by lightning.

There’s a moment of silence.

The kind that stretches thin and golden, heartbeats suspended in time.

Eddie blinks once. Twice.

Then he shoves himself up on one elbow, sheets falling off his bare chest, curls in his eyes. He looks at you, like really looks at you. Like the world just flipped upside down, and he’s trying to figure out which star you fell from.

“…I love you too,” he says. Voice low, hoarse with sleep but sure, like he’s never meant anything more.

Then, with a lazy smirk curling his lips: “Now get in my bed right fucking now.”

You blink back at him, stunned.

“Wait- what?”

He throws the blanket open with one hand and reaches out with the other, fingers brushing yours. “C’mon, sweetheart. You wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me that, and you think I’m letting you walk outta here without at least one solid cuddle? Get in here.”

Your feet move before your brain can catch up. Your oversized hoodie rustles as you slip into the warm cocoon of his sheets. He pulls you in without hesitation- no dramatic speech, no overthinking- just wraps you up like you’ve always belonged there.

His arms settle around you, one draped heavy over your waist, the other sliding up your back like instinct. Like muscle memory. Like he’s been dreaming about this exact moment for weeks.

Your forehead finds his. His nose bumps yours. Neither of you says anything for a while.

It’s just quiet breathing and the hum of his lava lamp, casting gentle waves of red and orange across the room. Your fingers tangle with his beneath the covers- warm and twitchy, and when your pinkies loop, he gives the tiniest squeeze.

“About damn time,” he murmurs. Voice like gravel and honey. “Thought I was gonna have to write a ballad about you or something just to get it outta my system.”

You smile into the dark, your hand brushing the soft spot at the base of his neck. “You still gonna bother me in my dreams now that I’m in your arms?”

He chuckles- a sleepy, rough sound that vibrates through his chest. “Sweetheart, if you’re in my arms, I hope I bother you in your dreams.”

A moment passes. “Hell, I hope I wreck ‘em good.”

You laugh, and he pulls you closer, tucking your head under his chin like he’s shielding treasure.

Then, quieter- like it’s just for you and the night to hear:

“You better be here when I wake up. Or I swear on my entire Dio collection, I will come drag you back.”

You grin. “Promise.”

His thumb strokes along your spine once… twice…

Then it stills.

Eddie Munson falls asleep with a smile on his lips and the one he loves in his bed.

And for the first time all night, your mind finally shuts up.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @meankenna

Truth or Dare

One-Shot Request: “Truth or Dare”

The door clicked shut behind your last friend, and the quiet that followed felt heavier than it should’ve. You stood there a moment longer, eyes lingering on the chipped wood, half expecting someone to knock and say they forgot their keys or jacket or whatever. But no one did. Just you and Eddie now.

He sighed, a soft huff through his nose, and started gathering empty soda cans from the coffee table. “Well,” he muttered, “that was... chaotic.”

You snorted, stepping over a pair of discarded sneakers to scoop up the half-full popcorn bowl. “You invited Gareth. Chaos was a guarantee.”

“Point taken,” Eddie said with a grin, one of those small, lopsided ones that made your stomach flutter like it was trying to break dance.

You followed him into the tiny kitchen, where the overhead light buzzed once before steadying. It was dim enough that the warm flicker of the lava lamp in the corner cast long, drowsy shadows across the room. He bent to shove a pizza box into the trash and knocked into the counter, swearing under his breath. You elbowed him lightly on the way to the sink, laughing.

“Graceful,” you teased. “Very rockstar of you.”

“Shut up,” he said, flushed, but there was no bite behind it.

When the last of the mess was cleared and the couch was freed from its cluttered chaos, Eddie headed toward his record player, flipping through sleeves until he found what he was looking for. “Too late for anything loud,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. He slid out a vinyl and placed it carefully- Zeppelin, soft and moody, the kind of track that lingered in your chest.

You sank back onto the couch, tucking your feet up beneath you. The cushions were still warm from earlier, and the leftover scent of weed, popcorn, and Eddie’s cologne clung to the air. He moved around the trailer like he wasn’t sure what to do with his limbs- restless, jittery, like his skin didn’t quite fit right. You watched him with a tilted head, narrowing your eyes.

Something was off.

Not in a bad way… just in that weird, twitchy, “I’m thinking too loud and trying to look cool” sort of way Eddie got when he didn’t want to talk about what was actually on his mind.

You bit your lip. You could call him out on it. Could cross your arms and demand to know what was rattling that brain of his so hard. But where’s the fun in that?

Your lips curled into a slow, mischievous smile.

“Truth or dare?” you said, casually, like it hadn’t just shifted the entire air in the room.

Eddie froze mid-step like you’d lobbed a grenade instead of a question. His eyes snapped to yours, and for a second, he looked like a deer caught in the glow of your very specific, very pointed headlights.

He blinked. “You’re gonna kill me with these random games of yours, one of these days.”

You grinned, lazy and feline as you flopped back onto the couch, one arm draped over the cushion, the other reaching for the nearby throw blanket to pull over your legs. “Then die with honor, Munson. Choose.”

He groaned, dragging a hand through his curls. “Truth.”

You turned to face him fully now, propping your head up on your hand, the blanket slipping slightly to reveal your bare shoulder. His gaze flicked to it and immediately snapped away.

You tilted your head, voice syrupy-sweet. “Do you want to kiss me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was electric. Buzzing like an amp wire.

Eddie coughed- on what, exactly, you weren’t sure, but the sound came out strangled. He made a weird little choked noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, and rubbed the back of his neck so hard you thought he might give himself friction burn.

“W-what?” he stammered. “That’s- That’s not a real question. You can’t just…” He gave a breathless laugh, his eyes darting everywhere but to your face. “I mean- who even- what kind of… That’s illegal, sweetheart. I’m calling the cops.”

You arched a brow, smirking. “I don’t see any sirens.”

“I pick dare,” he said suddenly, practically shouting it like a buzzer on a game show.

Your smirk widened. “Oh, do you now?”

He looked like he instantly regretted it, but you didn’t give him a second to backpedal. You leaned in slowly, arms folded on your knees, letting him see the sparkle in your eyes- the wicked curve of your lips, but underneath all of it, there was a softness. A risk.

You weren’t joking anymore. Not completely.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

His breath hitched.

You felt the air leave his lungs in a short, startled burst, and his whole body went still. Rigid. His knee bounced once, then stopped, like even it was waiting for his next move.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Swallowed.

“Never have I ever,” he said, voice high and cracking like a teenage boy discovering boobs for the first time.

You blinked, looking at him with exasperation. “That’s not the game!”

“It is now,” he blurted, practically scrambling backwards on the couch like you’d brandished a weapon instead of a dare. His arm knocked into a throw pillow, which he promptly hid behind like it was a shield. “New rules. Emergency override. This round’s sponsored by panic and terrible ideas!”

You laughed, loud and delighted, the sound bubbling up and bursting out before you could stop it. “You wish you could get out of this that easy, Munson.”

“I’m invoking my Fifth Amendment rights.”

“You’re in my court now, counselor.”

He buried his face in the pillow. “I hate this game.”

You were grinning so hard your cheeks hurt, but beneath it was that same buzz- the ache of unspoken things straining against the surface.

And you weren’t letting him off the hook this time.

You leaned in again, not enough to touch, just enough to press the moment harder. “You know,” you said, voice quieter now, rougher around the edges, “for someone so bold onstage, you’re kind of a coward.”

Eddie flinched like the words hit something soft inside him. He finally looked at you- really looked, and something in his face shifted. Like a mask slipping. Like a door he’d kept locked swinging open with a rusty, reluctant creak.

He looked shattered. Not in the usual flustered, dramatic way- this was quiet. Vulnerable.

“I’m not… I’m not trying to be,” he said, the words spilling out like they’d been waiting behind his teeth for years. “It’s just- I’m not scared of kissing you, okay? I’m scared of what happens after.”

You tilted your head, heart already doing Olympic-level gymnastics. “After what?”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes bouncing between yours and the floor. “After you figure out I’m not actually all that brave. Or cool. Or whatever version of me you’ve built up in your head.” He breathed out a humorless laugh. “I mean, you’re… you, and I’m-”

“-Eddie,” you cut in, your tone soft but firm, “you’re you. That’s kind of the point.”

“But what if I screw it up?” he said, more earnest now, like his mouth was moving faster than his fear could stop it. “What if I kiss you and things change and I lose you and- god, I’d never forgive myself.”

There it was. Raw and unfiltered.

You leaned back, folding your arms, trying to keep your own voice steady. “I don’t want what we have,” you said slowly, “if it means pretending I don’t want to kiss you every time you smile at me, Eddie.”

His eyes widened. His mouth parted. Whatever breath he’d been holding escaped in one sharp exhale.

Then- just like that… he moved.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t planned.

It was desperate.

He surged forward, dropping the stupid pillow between you, his hand cupping the side of your face with this careful kind of reverence, like you were something fragile and burning hot at the same time. And then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was everything. A year’s worth of restraint unraveling in a single breath. His mouth was warm, soft, trembling against yours, but there was urgency there, too. A hunger he’d tried so hard to keep buried, now spilling through every brush of lips, every shaky exhale.

Your hands found his shoulders, his hair- anything to ground yourself because the room was spinning, or maybe that was just you.

And still, he kissed you.

Like he’d finally found the courage. Like he wasn’t afraid anymore.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless. His forehead rested against yours, curls brushing your skin, and his thumb traced a shaky path along your cheekbone.

“So…” you murmured, your voice teasing and a little wobbly with adrenaline. “Still scared of losing me?”

His lips curved, just a little. “Only if I stop getting to do this.”

He kissed you again. Slower this time, deeper. Less panic, more promise.

This wasn’t an ending.

This was the beginning of everything.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin

There's a sense of ease about Eddie that's hard to come by. Part of you wonders how you'd gone so long without it. It feels like you've known each other for a lifetime.

Dim lamplight illuminates his bedroom as you crawl into his bed. The mattress creaks softly beneath your weight, and the sheets rustle as you settle beneath them. He lets you take the spot near the wall, while he takes the outside. Everything smells like him, earthen with the faintest undertone of something sweet.

Just as he's reaching over to the nightstand to switch off the lamp, you place a hand between his shoulder blades that makes him peek back at you.

"Hmm?" His eyes are soft as they take you in.

When you don't say anything, he gives you his full attention, turning to face you while propped on a forearm. Then he sees it. The beginnings of a smile. The amusement kindled just beneath the surface.

"You forgot my goodnight kiss."

Eddie sighs like the news grieves him.

"Already gave you about fifty. How many more do you need?" Even as he's saying this, he's leaning in to close the gap.

His lips are soft and sweet against your own. Warmth settles in your stomach.

"Satisfied?" he asks.

You nod your head in confirmation, then Eddie finally cuts the lights.

In the darkness, all sounds seem magnified. The muffled voices outside in the distance. Car wheels against gravel. Even your own breaths as your bodies truly begin to wind down. You can feel each other's heat, the weight of your proximity. It's new, and exciting, and grounding all at the same time.

For two people who always seemed to have a lot to say when it came to talking to each other, a comfortable silence settles in the space between you. It isn't long before Eddie's hand settles on your hip. It prompts you to roll over and face the wall so that you're turned away from him.

He presses in closer, his chest against your back. "This okay?" he asks.

"No," you joke at first. Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. "It's perfect," you eventually say.

A shiver tumbles down your spine at the plush feeling of his lips meeting the nape of your neck in a gentle kiss. "An extra one for the road," he explains in a murmur.

You laugh not only because of the feathery brush of his lips, but because you still can't believe this is your life. Eddie starts laughing too, and you end up getting swept into a spell of amusement that makes itself hard to shake.

"Shhh," you manage to complain through your laughter, nudging his foot beneath the covers.

"You shush," he counters, giving your side a playful pinch.

Eventually, you do settle. And it's perfect. You've never felt so warm, safe, or loved.

Eddie yawns, then whispers, "Night, angel."

"Night, Eddie."

“Wait, your first kiss was with a guy?” Steve asked Robin as he set down the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Robin groaned in embarrassment, “I mean technically speaking, yes. Granted I was in fifth grade, and I threw up after it happened.”

“Oh my god, you threw up?” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Listen, as funny as it would be to think that simply kissing a guy would make me physically ill, we were at the county fair, and we had just gotten off the tilt-a-whirl.

“I think kissing a guy made you physically ill just a little bit, Buckly.” Eddie grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw a piece at Robin.

She picked up the piece of popcorn and threw it right back at him, “I consider my first real kiss to be with this girl Heather who was in my freshman biology class.”

You weren’t entirely sure who started the conversation about first kisses, but that’s what the group had been discussing for almost the past thirty minutes. It wasn’t exactly how you thought movie night was going to go.

You were not looking forward to sharing your first kiss experience. It sucked.

You had gone on a date with a guy, and before you parted ways, he had closed his eyes and began leaning in. You hadn’t expected it, but you let it happen, with a slight giddy feeling in your chest. It felt like the shortest kiss in the world, but somehow also the longest in the most awkward way possible. When you pulled back, you had to school your features as to not show your disappointment. You could have been kissing a brick wall, and it would have felt the same. Not that you were expecting it to be a passionate kiss that made you swoon, but you thought you would at least feel something. You had liked the guy enough. But it was just…blah. You blamed the fairy tales you had read as a child for giving you unrealistic expectations.

The others wouldn’t make fun of you, you knew that, but you still didn’t want to share. They all had good stories, and in Robin’s case she at least had what she called a first “real” kiss. You weren’t so lucky. That had been your first and only kiss, and you were beginning to feel that you may never get to have another one.

“What about you?” Steve elbowed you gently once he sat down next to you on the couch.

“Mine was fine.” You knew this wouldn’t satisfy them, but you didn’t want to share any other details.

“Oh, come on,” Robin leaned over to grab a couple of Twizzlers that Steve had put on the coffee table earlier along with some other candy, “you gotta give us more than that!”

“Nothing more to tell.” You hoped they would sense your tone and move on.

“There’s gotta be more to it than that,” Steve argued, “who was it with?”

You rolled your eyes, “Just some guy, can we just watch the movie?”

“Please.” Eddie muttered under his breath to make sure nobody could hear the jealousy in his voice.

Steve leaned his head on your shoulder and gave an overdramatic pout, “Has someone not actually had their first kiss yet?”

“Hey, if you haven’t had a first kiss yet, that’s okay. You don’t have to make something up.” Robin said in a comforting tone.

You rolled your eye again, “I’m not making something up, I just don’t want to talk about it. So can we please drop this and watch the movie.”

“Sure.” Steve pressed his lips into an awkward, thin smile.

You curled up onto the couch, grabbing a blanket and throwing it around yourself while Steve and Robin began arguing over which movie you all should watch first.

-

After the movie, Eddie took you home.

It was a quiet drive. Well, not completely quiet, Eddie of course had the stereo blasting, but usually when Eddie was taking you home from movie night, the two of you talked the entire time questioning your friends’ taste in movies.

When he pulled up to your apartment building you didn’t get out right away. Eddie put the van in park and turned off the stereo.

“What’s wrong?”

You let out a huff and crossed your arms over your chest, “Eddie, please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s just me! You can talk to me about anything.”

You remained silent, but still didn’t leave the van.

“Was your first kiss weird or something?”

“Eddie—”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a weird first kiss. Heck, mine was nothing to write home about. Granted, I don’t think anyone would write home about their first kiss, that would be kind of strange.”

You chuckled, Eddie always had a knack for defusing a situation with humor, “It sucked, that’s all.”

Eddie gave a sympathetic smile, “That stinks, I’m sorry, but a lot of people’s first kiss sucks. I mean Robin kind of had a similar story.”

“Yeah, but Robin had another kiss that she views as her first real kiss.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Oh, so you’ve only ever had one—”

“Yes! I’ve only been kissed once and it sucked, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I will never get a do over!”

Eddie went quiet for a moment, choosing his next words wisely as to not make you uncomfortable, “If you wanted…I could kiss you.”

You could have given yourself whiplash with how fast your head turned to face Eddie, “What?”

“Nothing! It was a stupid idea. Pretend I didn’t say anything.” Eddie attempted to backtrack.

You watched as he gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with you. You took the moment to allow your gaze to fall to his lips; you would be lying if you said you’d never thought about kissing Eddie before, and more than once at that.

Eddie’s hand clenched into a fist, and he pressed it against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut tight, “I’m sorry. That was weird. I just…I-I thought maybe you would be more comfortable if you were with someone you knew, you know less pressure or whatever? It’s not like I want to kiss you…shit, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I would love to kiss you. I mean I’ve thought about it before. Shit! What I mean is—”

“Do it.”

Eddie almost didn’t hear you, but he finally turned to face you, “Wait, what?”

“Kiss me.” You inched closer to him.

Eddie could feel his ears turning red, “Ar-are you sure?”

The nod you gave him was urgent, “Yes.”

Eddie tried as best he could to relax, taking a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He reached his hand out to take hold of your waist, hesitating for only a second. He had never been more thankful that the front seats of the van were connected. He scooted closer to you, moving his other hand to the back of your neck.

He gave you a slightly awkward smile, one that you found rather endearing, then leaned in and placed his lips on yours.

This kiss instantly felt different than your first. The moment your lips touched you felt a spark, where you weren’t sure, but a spark went through you, your heart skipped a beat, and you felt as if you had become magnetized to Eddie. It was soft, yet firm. Easy, yet passionate.

This.

This was how you had envisioned it. This was what a first kiss was supposed to feel like, at least how you had always wanted it to feel.

Eddie pulled away, you were surprised that he seemed out of breath considering this kiss only lasted a couple seconds, “How, um, h-how was that?”

You wacthed his gaze drop down to your lips. There was a want in his eyes that filled you with butterflies. You answered by ceasing him by his jacket, pulling him back in for another kiss.

The two of you were tangled up in one another for what felt like ages, though neither of you wanted it to end.

But all good things must come to an end eventually, the ending of this one coming from Eddie accidentally bumping the car horn with his elbow, startling both of you. You both busted out laughing, though Eddie didn’t let you pull away too far. He brought his forehead to rest against yours while your collective laughter died down.

“So, was this just a one time thing, or…”

You smiled and gave Eddie a quick peck on the lips, “I would like it to be more than a one time thing.”

The dopiest grin spread across Eddie’s face, “Cool.”

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

He shook his head, “Nope. None at all.”

“Would you wanna go out? We could grab dinner and go to the drive-in.”

“The drive-in?” Eddie’s eyebrow shot up to hide under his bangs, “Sweetheart, we don’t have to go to the drive-in to kiss more.”

You shoved him playfully, “That’s not why I suggested the drive-in. I saw in the paper they’re doing a classic horror movie double feature.”

“Okay, that actually sounds awesome.”

“Then it’s a date,” you grabbed his jacket again, slowly pulling him back toward you, which he more than happily allowed, kissing him again, “see you tomorrow.”

He stood abruptly from the couch, pacing, his frustration radiating off him in waves.

I stared at him, stunned. “I don’t have a perfect life, Eddie. You know that. So don’t throw that in my face.” I took a step forward, but he backed away, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “You can trust me. I just want to help. You’re my best friend—I’m not going to look at you any differently.”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “You treat me just like everyone else in this town. Like I’m some lost cause. Like I need saving.”

His words stung, but not as much as the distance he was forcing between us.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my voice. “What did you just say to me?” My heart pounded as I stepped closer. “I would never treat you like they do. I know what you’ve been through, and I just want to help you. Not because I pity you—”

“Then why?” he snapped, eyes blazing. “Because you think a freak like me always needs fixing?”

I inhaled sharply, dropping my gaze for a second. He was hurt. And I hated that I couldn’t find the right words to make him understand.

“Eddie, no. It’s not that at all.” My voice softened, pleading. “We’ve been friends for fifteen years, and not once have you let me in. You sit there and listen to me rant about my problems, but the second I try to ask about yours, you shut down. I just—I want to know what you’re feeling. I want to be there for you.”

I turned abruptly, pushing past him toward his bedroom. My hands trembled as I grabbed my bag. This spring break was supposed to be ours—movies, late-night drives, stupid inside jokes. Now, I couldn’t even stay in the same room as him.

His voice was raw when he finally spoke. “Why do you care, Y/N?” He took a step toward me. “Nobody has ever cared this much about me.”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned to face him, my throat tightening. “I’m not ‘nobody,’ Eddie. I know you better than you know yourself. And I care because I love you.”

His breath hitched.

“I love you so incredibly much,” I whispered. “And I’m angry because you don’t see how much you matter. You’re not some burden. You’re not a freak. You’re a human being, Eddie. And I just… I want you to let me in.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Eddie stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling unevenly. I had said it—I had finally said it. And now, all I could do was wait.

I expected him to scoff, to deflect, to laugh it off like he always did when things got too real. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at me like he was trying to piece together something that didn’t make sense.

“You love me?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, Eddie. I do.”

He let out a breath, running both hands through his hair before gripping the back of his neck. He was spiraling, and I could see it—see the way he fought against everything I had just said, see the years of doubt and self-hatred warring inside him.

“You don’t mean that,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You think you do, but you don’t. You love the idea of fixing me. You love the challenge of trying to make me feel normal. But I’m not normal, Y/N. And you deserve—”

“Stop.” My voice was firm as I stepped toward him. “Don’t you dare tell me what I feel. And don’t you dare tell me what I deserve.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move away this time.

“You think I see you as some broken thing that needs fixing?” I demanded. “God, Eddie, that’s the last thing I want. I love you for who you are, not who you think you have to be. I love the way you ramble about music, the way you laugh so hard you snort, the way you act like you don’t care about anything but secretly care about everything—”

“Y/N—”

“No, listen to me!” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. “You keep acting like you’re this outsider, like no one in the world could ever possibly love you, but I do. And I’m right here.”

His breathing was uneven now, his eyes glossy, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for me but couldn’t make himself do it.

“So if you want to keep shutting me out, fine. If you want to pretend that no one in this world gives a damn about you, go ahead. But don’t lie to yourself and say that I don’t care. Because I do.”

For the first time since the argument started, he looked completely, utterly lost. Like he didn’t know whether to run or pull me into him. Like he had been waiting his whole life to hear those words but didn’t know what to do with them now that they were real.

I exhaled sharply and grabbed my bag. “I need air,” I muttered, pushing past him.

But before I could reach the door, his hand wrapped around my wrist.

I turned, surprised, and his grip tightened—not rough, not forceful, just there. A silent plea.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Don’t go.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “Give me one good reason to stay.”

He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling against my skin. Then, finally—finally—he whispered

“Because I love you too.”

For a moment, I thought I had imagined it.

The words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain, as if saying them out loud made them real in a way he hadn’t fully accepted yet. His grip on my wrist tightened, just enough to keep me from slipping away, and his eyes—wide, nervous, vulnerable—searched mine like he was waiting for me to tell him he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

I could barely breathe.

“Say it again,” I whispered.

Eddie swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His hand was still wrapped around my wrist, his fingers twitching slightly. “I love you,” he murmured, softer this time. “I don’t know how to say it the right way, I don’t know if I even deserve to say it, but I do. I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you for so long it scares the hell out of me.”

My heart clenched, and before I could stop myself, I reached for him, my hands finding the sides of his face. He froze, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to let himself have this, but I wasn’t going to let him run from it. Not this time.

“Eddie,” I said, my thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. “You deserve love. You deserve this.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before he opened them again, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world keeping him grounded.

“I don’t know how to be good at this,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to let myself have something like this without screwing it up.”

I smiled sadly, my fingers trailing down to his jaw. “Then we figure it out together.”

Something in him broke then—not in a bad way, but in a way that made his whole body sag with relief, like he had been holding himself together for so long that finally letting go felt like freedom.

Without another word, he pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me like he was afraid I’d disappear. I melted against him, burying my face in his shoulder as his hands fisted the back of my shirt.

For the first time in years, Eddie Munson wasn’t running.

And neither was I.

YALL PLS REQUEST I LITERALLY WRITE FOR ANYONE JUST PLS GIVE ME IDEAS

Eddie, meanwhile, had been stuck working at the auto shop since he'd graduated. Wayne had sat him down and insisted he needed to find real work, lest he get arrested for his extracurricular activities. The conversation, of course, had been prompted by Wayne finding a stash of pills his nephew had hidden (and then forgotten) in the bread box. He hadn't been happy, and had told Eddie he would not be going down for 'having them damn pills in my home.' Eddie had been a little embarrassed, but agreed to get a real job- so he'd chosen the shop. Luckily for him, it was in a perfect spot. It was on the street Chrissy Cunningham passed every morning on her drive to school, and every afternoon on her drive home. In the spring through the fall, she even walked most days - which gave Eddie the chance to say hello. He always tried to be as grease-free as he could, but some stains really just stuck, and he had a habit of wiping his face after changing the oil in his customers' cars... it didn't go well for him in the looks department. 

What Chrissy thought of it, no one was the wiser. None of Eddie's friends really interacted with her. Half the kids were still off to college, Dustin being the furthest and at an Ivy League, so no one could spy or find information. Sure, El was still around, choosing to go to the local college with Max, but they definitely didn't speak to Chrissy. Mike, Will, and Lucas had their own college woes. And Steve and Robin... well, they'd gotten through community college too, eventually, but they stayed within their comfort zone. They didn't make new friends, and they certainly didn't hang out with the likes of Chrissy Cunningham. Nancy and Jonathan had done what they'd always said they'd do - they took the settlement money from the government and went to NYU together, staying in New York City to work at the Times, as journalist and photographer, respectively.

All of these things meant that Eddie was on his own. Except, of course, for his best friend. One of the craziest things about community college to him was that he met people from other towns. Imagine his shock when he met a girl there from a small town not 45 minutes away from Hawkins, studying music history for fun. He was a lover of music, sure, but he was taking the class for the sake of his liberal arts degree. This girl? She was finishing her Bachelor's at the local university and taking courses for fun at the local college. He'd found her fascinating, to say the least. It helped that she was, like him, a little different from the rest. They had similar (though not quite identical) music tastes, and fashion that made their conservative towns uncomfortable. It sparked an instant bond. He'd invited this girl out to Hawkins once, and they'd never looked back. They'd become inseparable. She'd moved out to Hawkins, somehow a nicer town than her own, especially as its commerce grew, and helped Eddie out of his slump. When Wayne had given him that talk, it was Eddie's new best friend who'd helped him nail the interview at the auto shop. It was she who helped him find his new apartment (conveniently a 5 minute walk away from her own), and it was she who listened as he gushed about good ol' Chrissy Cunningham.

So here you were, once again seated at the register at your job, listening to Eddie go on about Chrissy's outfit that day on her walk home from teaching at the school. Did it bother you? Absolutely not. There was no reason for it to bother you. He was just a friend. Your best friend. But... then why did your stomach sink whenever he brought her up? Why did your chest feel tight? Why did it feel hard to smile when he laughed about how cute she was when she'd dropped her purse, or whatever book she was carrying? Why did you-

The ringing of the bell above the door pulled you out of your spiral, if for but a moment. You looked up, never more grateful in your life than to see the likes of Steve Harrington, who'd been introduced to you early on in your friendship with Eddie. He was a good friend of yours now, and often came to visit you at work, as with the others who’d stayed behind, when they had the time. Often, he wanted to talk about the latest gossip to someone who wasn't Robin (after all, he couldn't very well tell Robin half of the things he experienced, because she was usually there to experience it with him). He gave Eddie a good, friendly slap on the back as he approached the counter, leaning his forearms on the counter and leaning forward to greet you. Eddie made a face, annoyed at having been interrupted, but not annoyed enough to voice it.

"Hiya, Stevie," you greeted him with a smile, eyes communicating your relief at his arrival.

"Hey!” He responded brightly, but your relief was short-lived, as Steve took this opportunity to smile suspiciously sweetly at you, "so, any chance you want to take my shift later?"

Your eyes narrowed at him, "so that's why you're here? To ask for a favor? Even though you still owe me for the last shift I covered?" He had the decency to look at least a little apologetic about that, and nodded.

"I swear I'll pay you back for both. But... remember that girl who's been coming in every week to see me? I ran into her today while getting lunch, and she actually agreed to a date tonight. I swear, I'll more than make it up to you if you just please help me out today. I'll beg, do you want me to beg?"

You put your hands up in surrender, "woah, okay. No need to tarnish your dignity like that. I'm good, I'll stay. It's not like I have plans anyway, so one of us might as well get a date. God knows we could both use the romantic luck," you rest your chin on your hand with a huff, and he thanks you about seven times before running back out, leaving just you and Eddie once again (and, well, the three customers browsing the aisles of the store).

"So..." Eddie started, trying to keep the conversation from awkwardness. "No luck on the dating front, then?"

You couldn't help but to shoot him a dirty look, before you rolled your eyes and sighed. "No. There's no- anyone in this damn town. No one interested, and no one interesting. Maybe I need to expand my horizons and take a road trip out to Indie," you huffed. Eddie shrugged, turning to lean his back on the counter as he continued chatting with you, picking at his nails all the while.

"I think I might ask Chrissy to go out tomorrow night. Think she'll say yes?" For some reason, the fact that your misery led to him talking about his hopeful date sparked anger in you, but you didn't let it show. Did you think Chrissy would go out with him? Maybe. She was so sweet, you didn't think she had any reason to say no. She'd give him a shot, at least. But that was the trouble, wasn't it? If she gave him a shot, she'd see how wonderful he was. And then, maybe, you'd lose him for good. Was that something you were cool with? It wasn't like you were together. It wasn't like he'd ever looked at you the way he looks at her. It wasn't like you were in love with him... was it? 

That realization had you smacking your forehead lightly against the countertop behind the register, and Eddie turned around to look at you with a puzzled expression. "You good over there?"

You just managed a frustrated groan and the excuse, "just commiserating that everyone else has successful romantic lives and I'm stuck behind this register. Of course she'll say yes, she's too sweet to reject you, and you're awesome. Anyone who doesn't see my best friend's potential as a boyfriend is stupid and also rude." You finally looked up at him with what you hoped was a convincing smile. He couldn't help his own grin at that, feeling proud.

"It's totally settled, then. I'm going to ask her. What do you think she'll say to going to the new diner that opened up where Benny's old place was?" He asked, and you had to plaster on that fake smile again.

"Eddie, as long as you're there, she'll have a great time. Trust me." At least, it was true for you. If Eddie was present, you knew you’d have a great time. At least, most of the time. When he gushed about Chrissy, you had… less of a good time. But your compliment seemed to work, because he lit up like a christmas tree. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he gave you a beaming sort of smile, leaning over the counter to kiss your cheek. “I think I’m gonna go see if I can catch her on her lunch break. I’ll call you if it goes well!” He turned tail and ran, clearly excited. Luckily, he was gone so fast that he missed the way you deflated entirely. 

You were happy for him, and would continue to be if he managed to date Chrissy. But it didn’t change that you’d be jealous of her. A relationship - especially with Eddie - was time-consuming and all-encompassing. He would spend his free time with her, and you’d be left behind. It was natural, after all. What girl would want her boyfriend hanging out with another girl one on one? The thoughts plagued you, until a customer called into the shop asking about whether a certain book was in stock or not. After that, your day managed to go by a little quicker. 

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you were reading a book behind the counter and heard the bell ring as someone entered the store. Eddie slammed his hands down on the counter with a big grin, “guess what?” You peered up at him over your book and your heart sank, but you kept your expression clear for him.

“Hm… you’re a huge nerd?” You joked, and he made a face in response. 

“She said yes! She’s actually going on a date with me!” His eyes were bright and excited. “She said she’s cool with diner food, so… tomorrow night, I’ve got a hot date with Chrissy Cunningham. Will you help me choose what to wear?” And he just looked so hopeful, that you couldn’t possibly say no to him. So you agreed, and he sat around with you until the end of your shift. 

You wound up going back to his place that night, to help him in his search for an outfit. He even threw it in the wash so that he could smell good for his date. That night when you went to bed, you couldn’t help but to stare up at the ceiling and seethe for a few minutes, before letting sleep overtake you. Your dreams were the same as they always were - some shenanigans you got into with Eddie. Only tonight they held a different meaning, and when you woke up you were forced to reconcile with the information that was news even to you:

You were in love with your best friend. 

You went into your shift early that morning, stopping for coffee at your favorite place before starting your day at the store. You were able to distract yourself then, as Saturdays were particularly busy days for book-buyers. You hadn’t thought about your revelation since you’d had it. You had refused to acknowledge it, in fact. Eddie was your best friend. And he was going on a date with Chrissy Cunningham tonight. There was absolutely no point in thinking any more about potential feelings that may or may not exist. So you spent the day working, and maybe pouting. A couple of your friends stopped by to say hi throughout the day, but noticed your demeanor and ended up just letting you mope. 

Before his date, Eddie stopped by your job - and God, did it hurt. He looked so handsome. His curls were freshly washed and styled, his leather jacket hanging off of him like it was made for him, and his freshly washed jeans making him look more cleaned up than ever. When he opened up his jacket, he was proud to show off the button-up you’d helped him choose. ‘Dressy enough to be on a date, dressed down enough for jeans’ was what you’d told him. And his usual worn combat boots looked - almost good as new. When you asked about those, he was proud to say he’d spent his morning cleaning them with carpet cleaner and a toothbrush. Your heart ached that he’d never put that much effort in for you, not in that way. 

Before he could leave, you approached him to fix his collar and a stray curl, making sure he looked his absolute best. You refused to meet his eyes for your own sanity, and if he noticed, he didn’t comment. He just let you work your magic, and when you finally stepped back, you gave him your most convincing smile, and wished him well. “Call me if you need anything at all. I’ll be home tonight, and tomorrow morning. I want to hear all about it,” lie. “She’s going to have a great time, not a doubt in my mind,” truth. “I’ll be rooting for you,” lie. “You’re gonna do great,” truth.

He smiled proudly, and thanked you before giving you a big hug. The smell of his good cologne (only brought out for funerals and weddings) threw you for a loop, and nearly strangled you, but you managed to squeeze him back. When he ran out with a quick “love ya!” you just fell back into your seat behind the counter for the last hour of your shift. 

If you had any idea what was going on in Eddie’s head…

He’d only stopped by because he figured he should share in this exciting moment with his best friend. But something about your excitement had him feeling a little odd about the whole thing. And then you’d come up to him to help him straighten his shirt and fix his hair and you just wouldn’t look at him. He couldn’t understand why, but honestly, he was too focused on the fact that you were wearing your favorite perfume that day. He could tell you’d washed your hair that morning, too, because he caught a whiff of the shampoo you so loved. So when you didn’t look up and meet his eyes, he had to push down a weird feeling of disappointment. But he’d hugged you goodbye and you’d wished him luck, and that was that. 

Or so he’d thought. He showed up to Chrissy’s to pick her up, a cute little townhouse near the center of town, and did all the gentlemanly things he was supposed to do. He’d brought her a small bouquet of daisies, and walked her to the car and opened her door for her - it was all pretty textbook. She smiled and laughed during the drive, and it had Eddie feeling like he was already on the right track with this girl. 

Things did take a turn, though, when they actually got to talking after they’d ordered their meals. Because it would seem that Chrissy knew him better than he ever imagined she would. 

“Can I ask you a question?” She’d asked him, hands folded in front of her as she leaned close in curiosity. 

“Shoot,” he’d leaned back against the back of his seat, smiling. 

“I know you mentioned yesterday that you’ve had a crush on me for years, and I found that so sweet of you, Eddie, but… aren’t you in love with - well… you know…” She didn’t say your name, but only because it felt a little major to bring up your name if he hadn’t considered it. But he blinked at her, puzzled, and she realized she had no choice. So she finished her question with your name, which made Eddie’s eyes go comically large. 

“Sorry, what?” Was all he managed. His eyebrows slowly rose to his hairline, when she gave him a shy smile. 

“Eddie… you hear yourself when you talk about her, don’t you?” She asked, a soft giggle in her voice. “I’m flattered, I am. And I think you’re really amazing, and would love to date you. But only if I thought you actually liked me. I’m not accusing you of lying, I just don’t think you realize just how you sound.”

Eddie was not a man often brought to speechlessness, but Chrissy’s question stopped him dead in his tracks. You? That wasn’t possible. You were his best friend. Comfortably listed in the “friends” category in his brain… or were you? Chrissy, sweet Chrissy, pointed behind him to the entrance, and said “oh, I guess her shift must have ended! She’s here now with someone!”

The speed at which Eddie whipped around to look was nearly breakneck. When he saw you were, in fact, not there, he turned back to Chrissy with a blush and an embarrassed look in his eye. She just gave him that warm smile and sweet giggle, “I’m sorry, Eddie. But that’s not something someone does for just a best friend. Have you ever thought about that?”

He took a moment to rewind and think about his conversation on the drive here. Admittedly, he’d told Chrissy a lot of stories about you. He started by telling her all about how he would gush to you about his crush on her, but then devolved into just telling her about the times you’d hung out, and the fun things you’d done together. When she’d mentioned a restaurant or fun activity, he’d talk about a time you’d discussed the same with him. So, okay, maybe he talked about you a lot. And sure, he had thought about how much he preferred your perfume over Chrissy’s when he’d picked her up at her place, but that didn’t mean anything, did it?

And then he thought about how he’d felt so off when you hadn’t met his eyes when fixing his date night outfit. He’d never voice that one out loud to Chrissy, but he’d wanted you to look up at him and smile, and see how handsome he looked. He’d tried hard. The more he thought about it, the bigger hole he felt he dug himself. 

He blinked at her and groaned, burying his face in his hands in shame. “Shit. I think I’m in love with my best friend.” 

Chrissy, to her credit, took it so sweetly. She giggled and just encouraged him, telling him he should tell you and get it out in the open. Eddie, however, was so afraid. Afraid he would be wrong about the whole thing and you wouldn’t be interested in him in return. It didn’t matter, in the end, because his date (and now friend) was rather persuasive, and convinced him to do it as soon as he saw you next. And before he knew it, he was paying for their date, and driving her home. He liked being friends with Chrissy, he realized, and didn’t exactly desire any more than that. He’d always wanted her to like him, and now he knew she did - in a more important way than romance. She liked him for who he was, and wanted him to be happy. She wanted to be his friend. 

As soon as he dropped her off, she gave him a warning look and told him not to stray from his plan. It would work, and you’d be together in no time. He just thanked her and got back into his truck, driving home. His autopilot must have broken, however, because next thing he knew, he was pulling into the parking lot at your apartment. He sat there and stared at your door, the automatic light coming on and making his heart race. When he looked up, he saw the lights in your apartment were still on, signalling that you hadn’t quite gone to bed just yet. With his last hope of an excuse entirely extinguished, he got out of his car and stood at your front door for a few moments. Luckily, since you lived on the second floor, he got a minute to breathe before you saw him lingering at the door and freaked out about a stranger. So he took a chance, breathed, and did his special knock. 

You had been wallowing in self-pity all night, watching your favorite romcoms and snacking on your favorite chips and dip combo. Anything to try and forget about the realization that you were in love with Eddie. It was the worst possible timing, really. After all, he’d been hopelessly single for so long. You had to realize the day he wanted to ask his longtime crush on a date? You spent a long while beating yourself up about that, but eventually accepted your fate and tried to think about literally anything else. Hence, movies and snacks. You’d even tried to pick up a book at one point, but you realized that even that had a romantic plot, and ended up throwing it onto your bed and returning to the movies. At least romantic comedies had comedy. You’d even cried during one of your all-time favorites, which was infuriating - you could hear Eddie’s teasing voice in your head about how crying over a dumb boy was so not metal. If only he knew. So naturally, when his signature knock came from your front door, you were puzzled. 

You descended the stairs to the front door with your brows drawn together in confusion, opening the door in your pjs - soft pajama pants and a hellfire t-shirt you’d stolen from Eddie years prior. He was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared at the apartment number next to your door. “Uh… hi? Shouldn’t you be on your date right now?” You asked, but opened the door further for him to enter. He shrugged and toed his boots off before heading up the stairs, leaving you to lock up behind him and follow - more confused than ever. “Eddie, is everything okay?”

He fell onto your couch and pulled the bowl of chips onto his lap, putting a chip in his mouth just to avoid answering the question. But you were too stubborn, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips. “Edward. What the hell?” He finally looked up at you with his big brown eyes at that, and had the decency to look a little shy. 

“‘M not in love with Chris,” he mumbled with his mouth full. You didn’t quite understand (or, you thought you didn’t) so you made a face at him, and he waited until his mouth was no longer full to repeat “I’m not in love with Chris. She’s- great. But I’m not in love with her.”

Your self-pity melted away for a moment at his ridiculousness, “Eddie, you’ve been on one date. You’re not necessarily going to fall in love over burgers, dude.” You looked at him like he was only slightly insane, which he appreciated. 

“Yeah, no, I know that,” he tugged at a strand of his hair. “I know that. I just… I am in love, y’know? Just- not with Chrissy.” And if that doesn’t confuse you even further. Your chest tightens for a moment, but he’s not making any sense, and you really just need him to stop being so cryptic. 

“Honestly, Ed, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?” You sat next to him, facing him with your legs criss-cross. He refused to turn and face you, just setting the bowl of chips on the coffee table and staring down at his lap, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. You stared at him expectantly for a moment, and when he stayed quiet, you lightly punched his arm. “Speak, nerd.”

“Hey,” he finally pouted at you, rubbing his arm as if you’d punched him much harder. “I dunno! Chrissy had some enlightening shit to tell me. Apparently she knows me better than I thought she did. Actually, better than I know me. Which was super weird, by the way. I didn’t like feeling so exposed. But uh… She just opened my eyes. Turns out, I’ve been in love with someone for, like, a stupid long time.” When he stopped there, you almost punched him again, for leaving you on such a cliffhanger. He put his hands up in defense when he noticed. “Hey! Okay! I’m talking!”

He took a deep breath, “so, you won’t totally hate me for this, will you?” He felt he had to ask, and you made another face at him. 

“I mean, depends on who you’re in love with. If you have really bad taste, then yeah. I might,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. He gave you his most unimpressed stare and rolled his eyes, before tugging at his hair again, a nervous habit you found annoyingly cute. 

“Uh- well. You, actually,” he said simply, with a nervous, almost self-deprecating chuckle. You blinked at him for a moment. 

“I’m sorry, me? Me what?” You asked, the possibility simply not computing in your mind. 

“You. I’m in love with you. Apparently been in love with you for awhile. Just didn’t notice because my head was too far up my own ass,” he said, finally meeting your eyes again, this time looking more sincere than he had in awhile. But you were skeptical, and afraid of having your feelings hurt. 

“Eddie, where is this coming from? You’ve always had feelings for Chrissy. It was like, a fact, at this point. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Eddie Munson has a crush on Chrissy Cunningham. You don’t like me, you never have. Not- like that,” you told him, a little insecure. He didn’t really seem to have an answer except to lean over and kiss your cheek, his own cheeks bright red. Your eyes went wide and you stared at him for a moment, fighting your own thoughts. You stared at each other, equally wide-eyed, until you finally blurted out “I’m in love with you too. And it’s so weird because I never knew I felt this way until yesterday, and I finally understood why it irked me so much when you wouldn’t shut up about Chrissy.”