Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.
Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity
Warnings: modern au, old money! Targaryens, Smut (18+ mdni!), fluff, angst, summer romance, every chapter will have individual warnings<3
Author’s note: welcome to the first actual series that I’m sharing!! I really really wanted to start a summer romance series for Aemy and this thought and idea came up so suddenly and here we areeee. This is just a sunshine fic with a tinge of heartbreak and possible future angst, but all in all it’s a happy story because Aemond deserves some happiness! Reblogs & comments are most appreciated and I deeply hope you like this as much as I do while writing it<3💕
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Updates: every Saturday and if I finish a chapter faster than expected, you’ll get it sooner<3333
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summary: Dracarys is the next big thing, and you have followed the band to the top. But tensions rise as the band grows into fame. Will you make it out in one piece, or are you destined to go down in flames?
rating: mature/explicit/18+
tropes: ex-boyfriends brother, enemies to lovers, he fell first
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Main Story
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Oneshots
The Christmas Party Prequel
Daylight (Aegon's Happy Ending)
Summary: months have passed since the finals with no sign of Aemond, making you wonder if anything has changed | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings below the cut~
Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist
Warnings: p in v sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), degradation, praise, *a finger in the bum*, butt play, ass eating, orgasm denial, creampie, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping
A/N: *don't get emosh, don't get emosh, don't get emosh* I can't believe it's really REALLY the end! I've had this idea for the Epilogue for AGES and can't wait for you all to read the last instalment of our figure skating couple <3 would die for them and hope you enjoy!
"Good, but bend your knees!" You shout to El who's still got her hands outstretched haphazardly, wobbling on the ice as others whizz past her, knocking her off balance.
She throws a middle finger.
Charming.
You laugh as she pushes off to do another lap, reaching down between your legs for the bag and pulling your phone out for any new texts.
Nothing, you sigh.
El makes you jump, bumping into the ledge, "Will you stop being a simp and checking your phone every two seconds? He's going to text you!"
You click your phone off, "I know. I'm just so impatientttt…" you whine, exaggerating your frustration.
El rolls her eyes, "He'll get in, bud"
"Ew, don't call me that"
"Besides, if he gets rejected, he could always be your new manager, pal" she grins.
"You're so fucking gross, you know that?"
She shrugs, a grin that spells victory, "that'd be kinda hot to be fair. Going everywhere with you to competitions, organising your hotel rooms, fucking you over his des-"
"El! For fucks sake" you whisper-shout, heat rising to your cheeks.
A few other skaters on the ice turn their heads in judgment, making your face burn with embarrassment.
"Gods, so uptight" El jokes, a mischievous grin on her face.
To tell the truth. You missed Aemond. In all aspects.
You hadn't had sex since being in Dorne. And you hadn't seen him since the hospital.
Even though you texted most days, after months of seeing him everyday, it was quite the shock to the system.
It felt like there was a hole, conveniently Aemond-shaped, that was deepening the longer you two were separated.
"Oof!"
You both look up, to see Floris on the ice, wobbling her way back onto her feet, grimacing, "I'm ok!" She reassures, pushing off to skate slowly.
You nod in Floris' direction, "Is she okay skating?"
"Yeah, the physiotherapist said it'd be good to get her doing things like this again" El replies, looking over her shoulder at her sister.
She turns back to you, "Your manager doesn't hang around here anymore. Not since Floris has started coming back".
You resist the urge to frown.
Coward.
“Got you”, El smirks mischievously, "will you tell me what happened one day?"
It was something you’d thought about for some time. To tell her, or not? Floris certainly didn’t know the deeper details, but you knew she would have had suspicions.
Aemond was obviously unbothered if such information circulated, having put a very large proverbial wall between him and Otto the moment he was discharged from hospital. And yet, it still wouldn’t feel right, airing out all the Targaryen dirty laundry like that.
Even if he said it was okay.
But maybe, on a deeper level, Floris and El at least, deserved the truth.
"One day" you promise.
The cold winter chill nips at your bones, even through the layers of thermal clothing you've got piled on, the thick socks, boots and an overcoat, it still feels positively freezing.
“Who are you texting, missy?” you tease, bumping El on the shoulder, shoving your hands into your thick coat pockets.
She flushes, from the weather or the embarrassment you are unsure, but she puts her phone away quickly, “Nobody, you nosy cow”
King's Landing Winter Wonderland, Christmas Market and trinket shops, though it's far too early for any of that, it gets the people into the spirit. Stalls line the market square with several of them selling holiday related items as well as food, with an ice rink circling the entirety of the perimeter.
The air smells of mulled wine, cooked meats and the laughter of families and couples alike. With their warm breath creating clouds of white with each exhale.
El has you excitedly tucked into her arm, telling you all about her newest boyfriend, who for all intents and purposes is both hot and a keeper.
Ah, so that’s who she was talking to.
"He's already talking about us moving in together! Before the end of the year" She says excitedly, but her face falls, "but…I don't want to leave you in the lurch paying the rent by yourself".
You scoff, "I won't take you away from good dick because of fucking rent" you smirk, "if you want to, go for it".
She arches her eyebrows in uncertainty, "You sure?"
You pat her gloved hand with yours, "very", you smile, "as long as he doesn't steal you away from me, I want the lowdown".
"Oh you'll get that alright", she laughs.
Having poked your heads into a few stalls, and several sips of mulled wine later, you smirk as El is glued to her phone. Again.
"That your man?" You ask.
She quickly puts it away, biting her lip, "Yup" she replies, "wanna go skating?"
You roll your eyes, "It's not like it's my fucking job, El. Sick of it".
"Oh come on! I won't have to use the kids stabilisers anymore!"
She gives you her wide, puppy-like eyes.
Ones you know you can't refuse.
"Fine" you sigh.
She is far too excited to say that literally a few hours before she was struggling to use her two flippers to stay upright on the rink. Nevermind going backwards.
It’s quite entertaining to see her drag you by the hand excitedly to the ticket gate.
“One ticket for skating, please! Size 5!” she beams at the receptionist, who looks like he’d rather be dead right now.
You furrow your brows, “One? Did you want to go on by yourself and I watch or-”
“Nope! Just you” she grins.
“Me? El, what in seven hells are you on abou-”
She shoves the skates into your hands and practically pushes you past the gate, waving you off, “no questions!”
You don’t even really have time to cuss her out/question the situation, it feels like your brain is in overdrive.
There, either hand leaning against the entrance to the ice rink, where the public are zipping around slowly, laughing, pink in the face, hand in hand, is Aemond. The familiar ribbons of platinum hair that have fallen from the hair tie, now slightly waved from the moisture in the air, sways with the breeze at his shoulders.
He has that slack smirk on his face, his tall broad form leaning on one side, ankles crossed with the low quality skates on, tapping the tip onto the ice.
Even in a heavy looking coat, his hair messily done up and pink cheeks from where the cold had been hitting them, he still looks every bit as handsome as you remembered him.
It makes your heart sigh to see him smile at you with that glimmer in his eye. Blinking slowly and admiringly at you.
"Hey, Princess", he greets warmly.
You almost drop the skates in your hands, the cold wisps of wind making you realise now that your eyes are all wet.
You're sure his name slips out before you crash into his arms, flinging yours around his neck.
He smells just like he used to.
And all those good memories just flood back at once, making that wetness behind your eyes form actual teardrops that line your cheeks.
You feel him laugh a little, one of his big hands on your back, "missed me then?", he prods in a smooth tone.
Fuck. His voice.
You didn't realise you'd missed hearing it so much.
When you pull away, to properly look at his face, he's still smiling, in that classic 'Aemond' way.
You're so engrossed with just looking at him, you nearly flinch when you feel his thumb wipe your under eye softly, wiping the moisture away.
His gaze softens, "don't cry. I don't look that bad, do I?"
Giving a watery laugh, you shake your head, "Just missed you".
His hand is still around your waist, inadvertently pulling you close to him so your hands hover over his chest, "Now, now, don't get all soft on me".
Your cheeks hurt from smiling.
"How?.."
Aemond gestures with his head, "El organised it".
"But…she's-"
"With her new boyfriend, don't worry. It's just us, princess" Aemond smiles, picking up the skates you'd dropped.
"For old time's sake?" He smiles.
And all you can do is blush and smile up at him like a little lovesick teenager.
It feels utterly strange to get back on the ice with Aemond again, even if it is a public one in the middle of a Christmas market. Even more so that he's not flinging you around in all sorts of twists and jumps.
But it feels nice.
Hand in gloved hand, you glide about together, catching up.
Alicent, you learn, has gotten back in touch with her long time friend. Aemond furrows his brows when he recollects that usually she's on facetime with a glass of Dornish Red in one hand and creasing up in front of her iPad at something her friend has said.
Aegon. Well, he's Aegon. Aemond's words, not yours. But he's working on getting a teaching qualification so that he can coach skating instead. It's nice that he was able to find something to use his skills for. Other than womanising.
"Had minor surgery on my nerves…they think it'll do the trick for some years, hopefully forever" he says as you weave on either foot.
"Well that's good" you smile, "does it feel better?"
He nods, "Oh and Hel has a new partner".
You look over quickly, one eyebrow poised, "And? Was I right?"
Smirking, Aemond has to resist the urge to roll his eye, "Yes, you were right".
"Yes! I knew it! I knew she was bi!"
You flush when some families around you look over when you shout it a bit too loud.
Oops.
Aemond tugs you to his side by your waist, humming in a kind of quiet laugh. A comfortable silence descends, just enjoying one another's company.
"I got in", he says suddenly. Stealing your attention again as your feet synchronise in short glides.
"Got in?"
"KLU".
"KLU? Oh my god-" you surge up, his face between your hands, but he doesn't complain, and kiss him fiercely, "Congratulations, Aemond. Oh my gosh, that's-"
You beam with pride.
And you can tell he genuinely loves it, by the way he blushes slightly.
"And" he goes on, his face close to yours, smirking at the confused look on your face.
"And?..."
He licks his lips before he speaks.
"I got a place" he adds, "and was wondering…if you…"
He trails off. And your face settles into realisation. Your heart hammering in your chest, like the engine of an old train.
He shrugs, clearing his throat, “You know, because we basically spent all our time together during the championships…”
You swallow thickly, "Really?..." it comes out weaker than you intended.
He nods, “It’s just out of town, not far from here really” he gestures in the vague direction with his head, the hand that’s resting at your waist dropping somewhat.
Blinking the emotion from your eyes, you swat his chest playfully, “Alright, Mr Moneybags”
He doesn’t laugh, like you expect him to, but he does smile at least. At this point, you seem to have come to a stop, your skates nestled between his to keep you both stable.
His darkened gaze just looks at your face. Studies it.
Like he’s opened a book and is reading through the pages.
When he looks at you like that, you can’t help but feel a flutter deep in your chest. It feels like he is drawing on you softly, like a thousand little butterflies have landed on your face, and are slowly opening and closing their wings.
You shudder when his warm, ungloved thumb brushes against your cheek.
“What?...” you smile at him affectionately.
He hums, a cloud escaping his lips as he speaks, “I’ve missed you”.
All you feel is the ledge of the ice rink press against your lower back and yours and Aemond’s noses brushing against one another as he presses his warm, comforting lips to yours.
He takes his time, moving languidly against your lips with a soft, wet beat, his tongue parting your lips as if he had been waiting all this time to taste you properly.
He tastes just as you remember.
A hint of cigarettes that he’s tried to hide with spearmint.
When you break away, you can’t ignore the warm feeling that blooms in your gut. In all the time you’d spent apart, you forgot how his lips felt on yours, how his hands felt on you, and how his mere presence around you made arousal creep up your thighs.
Gods, it’s been so long.
A blush creeps up your neck to your face, and Aemond smirks.
“Stop that”
Your lower lip catches between your teeth before you reply, “What?”
He leans against the ledge, caging you in with his own body.
“Blushing”
His voice lowers.
“Otherwise I’ll give you something to blush about”
The tension was thick as you and Aemond trudged through the Christmas Market after vacating the ice rink. You tried to lighten it by doing idle things like looking at the homemade ornaments on one stand, to sharing a cup of mulled wine between you, feeling the way the liquid warmed your insides.
That warmth was nothing compared to the way Aemond looked at you.
It reminded you of all those months ago, at the hotel, before the dynamic of your relationship changed. The way he used to stare at you from across the room, in what you wrongly thought at the time was out of disinterest and detest.
How wrong you were.
Shooting off a quick text to El, who you were sure was already back at the flat anyway, enjoying all the ‘assets’ of her new boyfriend, you walk hand in hand with Aemond back to his apartment.
He was very intent on showing you his new place. And your insides fluttered in anticipation, heat crawling up your neck.
His apartment was nice. Not that you expected any less. It was several floors high, showing a good view of King’s Landing and the bright, illuminated Christmas Market in the square below. Even from here, through the tall and wide windows of the living room, you could see the couples zipping around the ice rink, as you both were just a few moments before.
It had that ‘new apartment’ smell, but whenever you brushed past a coat of his or a blanket, it smelled like him. The walls were bare, but you were sure that Aemond would decorate when he was properly settled.
“Is Vhagar going to be coming here?” you ask, cupping the warm mug of tea in your hands as Aemond gives it to you.
“Maybe. She’s quite settled at Mum’s though so…I don’t want to make her anxious”.
You nod, “It’s a nice place”
“Will look even better when you’re here” he smirks, bending down to huff himself onto the sofa, “I’m sure you have better ideas than I do on interior design”.
You simply watch him for a moment, the warmth of his apartment making your previously cold hands feel prickly. Your fingers tap against the ceramic, the sound of Aemond’s playlist rumbling quietly from a speaker in a different room.
Placing the mug on the coffee table, Aemond exhales as your legs rest either side of his torso, moving to sit atop him with your hands stealing beneath his shirt, watching as his pink lips part for breath.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, princess” he murmurs against your lips as he leans up, his large hands squeezing your ass, moulding the flesh to his grip and eliciting a low gasp from your lips.
"Who says it's a game?" You whisper back, teasing him by brushing your lips against his, moving your hips on him and smiling when you feel him harden instantly.
" - fuck - "
You know he hates it, just hates it, when you smirk at how pent up and desperate he gets. But you just can't help it. Not only is it all too easy, it's just too fucking tempting too.
How easily such a large, overbearing and domineering man, can be subdued to a mewling, near-begging mess just by the soft movement of your hips.
"Baby, please -"
Reaching down between your bodies, Aemond outright moans when you palm his erection through his jeans, sitting against his thigh quite obviously. You tease your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing through the denim, seeing the way Aemond almost knits his brows together in barely-contained pleasure.
And any time he tries to reach up, to kiss you properly, you pull back, allowing him to chase you.
"Oh, fuck you-"
You yelp in surprise as Aemond lifts you, keeping your legs around his waist as he pushes his bedroom door open and dropping you onto his mattress. And before you even have a moment to sit up on your elbows, he's on you, kneeing your legs apart and caging you to the bed with his body.
"Can't fucking wait any longer - need you, baby-"
Fuck, even the way he says that has arousal pooling between your legs, the desire to push your thighs together strong, but weakened with Aemond's body keeping them apart.
He's so fast and rough, the way he unbuttons your jeans and pulls the denim down your legs, taking your underwear with it, that you feel for a moment he may have torn something.
He practically fucking growls when he he looks between you, his thumb teasing your clit, finally able to look upon you the way he's wanted to for months.
"Already soaked for me, aren't you?" He coos lowly, teasing your bud in sure, confident circles, before swatting your heat firmly with a wet smack, "such a good fucking slut for me".
You mewl, pressing your lips together, a flush enveloping your face at his words. It's been so long since you were intimate with him, it will take a few moments to get used to it again and fall into that rhythm.
That, and you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the realisation you've not shaved your legs, genuinely not having expected to see him today.
It doesn't seem like Aemond cares.
With a fist over the collar of his shirt, he pulls it over his head, showing his lean and well-muscled torso lit with a warm amber glow from the bedside lamp.
You jolt in surprise as his fingers pull you by your thighs further down the bed, a gasp flying past your lips as his tongue and teeth nip and kiss at the inside of them. The sensation bordering on pain and pleasure at the same time.
"You don't know how long I've waited to taste your sweet pussy, princess"
You have an idea, by the way Aemond mouths at the crease between your thigh and hip. But you don't say it out loud. The anticipation of his mouth so, so close without touching you where you need him most is agonising.
" - fuck - Aemond -"
Your back nearly arches off the bed as he flattens his tongue against your warmth, swirling around your clit first before diving into your folds to feast on you, his fingers digging into your flesh for leverage. The feeling of his grip into your flesh burns pleasantly as he tugs you towards him, your lips parting with hurried pants tumbling out.
Your legs tremble as his low moan vibrates through your core, electricity creeping up your spine as he laps at you with vigour, his sharp nose nudging at your clit as he moves side to side to eventually fuck you with his tongue.
For a split second, you worry if he can actually breathe.
But as your embarrassingly quick orgasm starts barrelling towards you without warning, it somehow gets pushed to the back of your mind, you reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, chanting his name as if it’s all you can say as he groans against your cunt.
His hands hold you down by your thighs, tugging you back to his mouth in soft micro-movements as you shake against him, head thrown back against the pillows with your breath hot in your chest, unable to catch it well enough to form any other sound than moaning unabashedly.
Aemond outright moans as you cum against his tongue, the lewd sound of him licking up everything that comes out makes a heat creep up your neck. But you can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Not when he makes you feel like this.
You can feel the moisture on his face when he takes mercy, drawing his lips away to kiss and nip at the inside of your thighs again, giving one firm bite before he pulls away with a smirk on his face, no doubt happy at the mark he’s left behind.
Your eyes feel heavy as you lift your gaze to him, now perched on his knees as he pops the buttons of his jeans off, the veins on the back of his hand straining, making you feel somewhat lightheaded.
“ - can’t wait to fuck you again - you don’t know how long I’ve wanted be buried inside that pretty little pussy -”
You lick your lips as your mouth goes dry. He always manages to do that. Somehow turn you into a limp, mewling mess in no time at all.
Something you have in common, clearly.
With your heart beating erratically, body throbbing in the afterglow of your orgasm, that feeling is enhanced still when Aemond tugs at his length needily, his shoulders rising and falling with the desire to just stuff himself inside you as deep as he will go.
You can only watch in awe as his fingers wrap around himself, the tip ruddy and desperate, with arousal coating it with every slow and calculated fist. His stomach muscles clench and unclench uncontrollably, his chest muscles moving steadily with each deep breath.
It feels exciting, how utterly small you feel when he leans over you, once again grasping your legs to spread them before him. His long, thick fingers tease your slick folds, before he guides the fat head of his cock to your centre, watching with parted lips at the way your eyebrows furrow in both relief and pleasure as he stretches you around him slowly.
“ - ohfuck - ”, he moans lowly, sinking himself slowly into your warmth and basking in the closeness it offers, “ - fuck, baby, so tight for me -”
Being with him like this again is like sinking into a warm bath, with the rolls of steam batting at your face. And his words are so soft, they’re like dozens of little snowflakes settling on your face in a flurry. All cold and numb, and yet warm and fuzzy at the same time.
It’s completely instinctual, the way you turn your head, slightly embarrassed as Aemond holds either of your legs apart, his pelvis smacking against yours as he eases himself into a steady rhythm.
“ -aw, don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me -” he mocks, his eye glimmering with mischief as he looks down at you, “-where’s the needy, little slut I used to know, hm? -”
You gasp as Aemond pushes both hands down, pressing both of your legs towards your shoulders, bending at the knee so that he can kneel higher, using the new position with gravity to fuck down into you faster and rougher.
The new position has you pretzeled before him, completely unable to do anything but throw your head back against the pillows and turn bright red at the wanton, breathy moans that slip out.
“ -Aemond -”
“ - what’s wrong, baby? -” he coos, “ -is this too much for you? Hm? I know you’re more flexible than this -”
Fuck.
Each rough push of his length into you from this angle has the curved head of his cock brush against your sweet spot with devastating precision. With every thrust, the air seems to expel forcefully from your lungs, not helped in part by the fact that Aemond has your legs pressed hard against your ribs.
All you’re able to see through bleary eyes is the way he smirks down at you with his hair stuck to his tacky face, his chest heaving with hurried breath, and every now and then, his neck muscles straining as he tips his head back and groans loudly as you inadvertently squeeze his length when he bullies the end of you.
The air is charged, hot and humid. And you barely register the fact that music is still playing in another room, and that the curtains are pulled back. Though there’s no chance of anyone being able to see you both from how high his apartment is, it still makes your insides tighten that it’s happening so unabashedly with the city right below you.
His hand drifts down your thigh, watching as you squirm beneath him as he presses hard on your stomach, your eyes closing tightly at the feeling of him closing you around his length as it pistons roughly into you. He smiles slightly, almost as if he can feel how deep he reaches inside you.
“ -Oh fuck, baby - can fucking feel you gripping me -” he moans helplessly, leaning over, the sweat on his forehead slightly illuminated by the warm lamp’s light, “-does my girl like being a dirty little slut?”
You barely even register he’s speaking, everything sounding utterly muffled and just too much all at once. His low voice only serves to make that coil wind tighter in your gut, reacting to the way he never lets up his pace once.
You jolt slightly when he taps your cheek twice, a little rougher than you’d anticipated.
“ -I’m fucking talking to you -” he growls, moving his hand from your stomach up to bunch the shirt in his fist, exposing your pebbled nipples to the warmth of the room.
You nod helplessly, “Yes - yes -”
It’s all mindless babbling, and Aemond knows it as he grins, his eye flitting down to watch the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you.
“ -please, Aemond -”
“ -please what, hm? You want to cum, is that it? But you’re too fucked stupid to say it?”
As much as you hate to admit it, his words send a bolt of humiliation through you that does nothing but excite you, your core throbbing around his length with every calculated word he says.
"Aw, poor thing -" he jeers, "- I'm going to have fun with you-"
Wait what?
This isn't said 'fun'?
Oh shit.
Before that familiar coil can wind itself any tighter, Aemond pulls back, grunting as he manhandles your hips to turn you over and his palm cracking against your backside, smirking in victory at the mewl it gets out of you.
The skin there blooms with warmth, more so as Aemond’s tantalisingly hot skin presses against it once more, your lips parting in what can only described as a relieved moan as he slides into you again, his cockhead hitting the spongey end, filling you utterly.
"-Aemo-"
Smack.
"Not my fucking name, Princess. C'mon, you can do it" he purred, pressing his hand against your back, pushing against your spine and forcing your face against the sheets.
A choked moan almost slips out, with him tugging your hips up to him in such a curved position, his cockhead bullies your sweet spot, dragging his length along your sensitive walls, propelling you to an overwhelming orgasm.
"Go on - beg me for it or I won't let you cum-"
The idea of him denying you yet again when you were so close last time just seems utterly unbearable. So despite the humiliation rocking through your core with each harsh smack of his hips, despite the overwhelming heat of the room and most of all, despite your pride.
You do.
"Please - daddy - need it-"
If you could see him, you'd hate it.
Because he grins. Ear to fucking ear like he's wanted to hear it for months.
"Aren't you gonna beg me for permission to touch yourself?"
You suck in a breath, squealing muffled against the sheets as he gives another hard thrust. Clearly, despite appearances, on the verge himself.
"-can I - can I touch myself - please, daddy -"
"-fuck- baby, touch that little clit for me, yeah? - want to feel you cum-"
His voice is strained, pushing you with each thrust further and further against the sheets, your arms near giving out with the weight of him on you. With difficulty, your hand snakes between you and the mattress that constantly dips with how rough Aemond is being, and finds your bud, running the slickness that has collected over it, tying up your pleasure into two feelings.
Aemond’s lips part, staggered breaths the only thing coming out, as he feels your walls flutter around him, looking down at the way your bodies meet with a soft smack every time. You feel so warm and tight, gods he’s wanted to cum since since you started touching him through his jeans.
But now, pulling you by your hips to spear you onto his cock, he’s so so close.
Just wants to feel you first.
“-baby, you’re doing so well for me-” he breathes quickly, his gaze flitting briefly from where he’s pistoning in and out of you, to your sweat slick face, pressed against the sheets, biting your lips harshly as you pleasure yourself in tandem with Aemond’s movements.
As his hand slid down past your hips, his thumb tracing the bottom of your spine, you suck in a harsh breath when he softly grazes over your puckered hole, still fucking shallowly as if to tease you and him into teetering on the edge of a climax.
You're barely able to see behind you, pressed so hard into the sheets, but he looks good fucking you. His chest shines with perspiration, the chain dangling around his neck teasingly, and his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching with restraint.
And then you see him smile.
"-oh? We've never done this before have we, princess?-"
Oh shit.
After all the exertion of your passion so far, your slick has easily made its way onto your thighs, so Aemond doesn't have to move much to drag some of it on his thumb and circle your hole with light, delicate motions, moistening the area.
Humiliation creeps up onto your face, eyes slipping shut. No guy before has ever really tried to do this. So this is uncharted territory. But despite the brief embarrassment, you have to admit that the feeling of Aemond ever so slightly pressing his thumb against you as he continues to thrust brutally into your cunt just feels new in the most amazing way.
His other hand still grabs the flesh of your ass, tugging you back to his cock in a frantic rhythm. The mewls coming out your mouth now sounding so unlike your own.
Aemond knows by the way your hips move up to meet his touch that you like it, but are too embarrassed to say.
"-how about it, hm? - you want me in both your pretty little fuckholes? -"
"-yes - yes, please daddy, I-"
Making sure his thumb is slick enough, your puckered hole also, he slides in slowly, using the palm of his hand to grasp whatever of your ass cheeks as he can.
You almost hear his choked moan.
"-fuck-, you're so tight here, princess - you gonna let me fuck it one day, hm? - you'd be so fucking good here-"
The batting of his cock against your upper walls has you very nearly sobbing outwardly, combined with the feeling of him in such a new place, pressing in, you'd forgotten you'd stopped pleasuring yourself. Completely embroiled in this feeling.
He chuckles darkly, crooking the digit ever so slightly, leaning over to press against your back "-you'd fucking let me as well, wouldn't you? -"
The curling of his other fingers on the flesh of your backside has him smiling at the sounds it emits from you.
“-did I say stop, hm? Keep touching yourself - cum for me-”
You know that as soon as you do it’s all over.
His voice, combined with all three feelings at once, tugging at that pleasurable spot inside you that has white, hot pleasure soaring through your bloodstream, has a long, choked moan filling the space between you. And you’re surprised to hear that the same sound slips past Aemond’s lips as well, the air of his breath batting against your neck as he tries to bury himself as deep inside you as he possibly can.
You’re trying to suck in breath without really realising it, the earth-shattering orgasm making your body go all rigid for a moment before you relax against the sheets, with the pleasant weight of him above you.
Everything feels warm. His bedroom right now feeling like a large blanket has enveloped you both. It seems a weird thing to think in the moment, with Aemond’s half naked body hunched over you, his cock twitching and pulsing, whimpering as he is still emptying himself inside of you and feeling the aftershocks through your fleshy walls.
All his micro-movements seem overly-sensitive. And when Aemond exhales, lifting himself off your back, lifting your lids to open your eyes feels like the most difficult thing you’ve ever done.
“-sorry-” he whispers cautiously as he pulls his softening cock from you, immediately feeling the warm rush of cum coating your inner thighs.
Warmth blossoms once again to your cheeks as he stays still, and you think he must be staring at the way he leaks from you, sighing in a sort of perverted admiration.
You don’t even have time to open your mouth before his thumb slips out your other hole, only to jolt in shock once it’s immediately replaced by his tongue. All those dulled out endorphins that were dissipating into your limbs feel like they all gather back, and you squeeze your thighs together, fisting the bedsheets so tightly they could’ve torn.
Both of his hands seem to find their home on each asscheek, spreading them so he can easily swirl his talented wet, muscle around your hole, fucking moaning as he does it. All your nerves ring semi-uncomfortably, overstimulation nipping at the edges of the pleasure.
“-fuck, Aemond, no no, please-” you plead, emitting a weary, exhausted laugh when he chuckles and pulls away, landing one softened smack against the flesh.
“-Mm- another time-”
Lethargy pulls at your body as you lay on your front, blinking slowly as you feel the mattress rise, pressing your lips together as Aemond disappears into the en-suite, tucking himself back into his jeans.
A moment later, he comes back with a warm washcloth, offering to clean you up. But you simply smile, pushing yourself to sit up, “I’m good”, you smile, with a flushed face, feeling slightly bashful after what you’d just done together.
One long shower together later, you lay in his bed, looking out at the city beneath, the cascade of brightly coloured lights littering the dark space between buildings. Aemond’s shirt easily reaches to your thighs, with nothing beneath, not having anticipated staying over anywhere today.
Aemond sighs calmly, his chin on the top of your head, pressed against your back, with one of his hands running through the tresses of your hair, every now and then stroking at your scalp, which has your eyes slipping shut at the pleasant feeling.
“Well, princess? Do you like it?” he asks, his voice all soft and tired.
You meet his lilac gaze, tilting your head slightly in question.
“The apartment”.
“It’s perfect”, you smile, reaching up his cheek and running the back of your fingers over it, the scar tissue feeling slightly different in texture over your skin, “you sure you want me to move in?”
He blinks slowly, a smile rising to his lips, his hand coming to yours and pressing a soft, tender kiss to your wrist. And though not directly sexual, it makes your belly do little backflips, feeling so intimate and captivating that warmth floods your skin through his lips.
“Of course, princess. I can't do this without you”.
Rhaella is 10 years old at the start of the story and Aemond is a year younger than her at 9.
125 AC
They say the weather was beautiful the day her mother was buried. Her cousin, Gerold had told her stories of her mother. Rhea Royce had dark curly hair and deep brown eyes.
"Why do I not look like her?" She had asked
"You take after your father. The blood of the dragon." Gerold had said one night at supper.
Her father. A man she had never met. Supposedly he had been at her birth and once she had come into the world healthy and screaming, he mounted his dragon and flown off.
Not even a year later she had attended her mother's funeral. According to Gerold, the wet nurse had held her as she slept peacefully while her mother was buried.
Now, 10 years later here she sat dreaming of a life she could've had.
"Rhaella?"
Her eyes met the Maester Edric's. His wrinkled hand pointed to the map of Westeros.
"What is the sigil of House Greyjoy?" He asked
"A yellow cracken." She sighed.
They had been at it for hours. Maester Edric had been torturing her by pointing to the map and having her name the great houses and their sigils. Rhaella wanted to rip her silver hair from her head out of boredom.
"It is a golden cracken, my lady." He says
"Isn't that the same thing?" She said
He shot her a look of disapproval.
"You will need to know these things to rule Runestone one day. Your cousin cannot preside forever. You are your mother's heir." Edric reminds her
"I have been hearing those words for my entire life." She groaned
"It is an important responsibility." He said
Silence followed as he pointed to the next house on the map.
"House Lannister. A golden lion." She rattled off
"Good. What are the words of House Lannister?" He asked
"What is my father doing? The last you spoke of him you said he had remarried to Lady Laena." She asked, ignoring his question about the stupid Lannisters.
"Daemon is living in Pentos with Lady Laena and their daughters." Edric says "According to the latest reports your half-sister Baela's dragon, Moondancer, is growing quickly and their bond with each other is strong."
Rhaella nodded and kept her silence. She wished she had a dragon. Her father had never chosen an egg for her cradle and she had never even left Runestone to try to claim one. A dragon would make it so easy to escape these boring lessons she sat through daily.
"Might we take a break? I wish to have supper." She asked
"Of course. I hear tonight's duck stew will be wonderful. Gerold has caught it himself." Maester Edric smiled as he gathered up his things.
Rhaella helped him to the door of her chambers. She worried about the old man's health sometimes. It seemed that every day he grew slower and slower. Edric was the closest thing she had to a father figure. Sure, her cousin could've passed but he was busy ruling Runestone until she came of age.
"Lady Rhaella, Maester Edric." A maid was blocking the door frame when she pulled the door open. "A raven has arrived for you, My Lady."
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
King's Landing had a certain charm she had never experienced before. Sure, it stunk, terribly...but the bustle and the noise was something Rhaella was captivated by.
"Remember to curtsey," Edric whispered in her ear as they stood before the Iron Throne.
Behind them the large doors were opened and King Viserys approached them. A large smile was on his face as he gestured for them to stop their bowing.
"How was the journey. Not too rough?" He asked
"Not at all, my King. This is my first time away from Runestone so I enjoyed the road." She admitted, rattling off what Edric had told her to say to the King.
"That is good. I hope both of you will settle in well here." King Viserys said
"I am sure we will, your grace." Edric replied "If I might ask, I was wondering what you wanted to see Lady Rhaella about? Your letter was rather cryptic."
"I simply wished to meet my niece. I had heard that you were becoming a wonderful young lady and wanted to meet you at last. Every Targaryen needs to know their family." He said
"You honor me, your grace." She smiled, filled with glee at the thought of a family, a real one.
"Uncle." He smiled "Now, you will be shown to your rooms but tonight we are having a family dinner. I want you to be familiar with where you come from."
Rhaella could hardly believe what was happening. The moment the handmaiden had shut her door, she had collapsed on the bed. It felt like her dreams were coming true. She was finally out of Runestone and finally able to meet people she was truly related to.
An odd sound brought her out of her fantasy as she glanced at the door. It sounded like the sound of skin being slapped. Hushed whispers filled her ears as she pressed her ear to the door.
"I want to enter first!"
"I got here first, Jace! You can enter after me."
"No!"
"I'm older than both of you, so I get the honor of opening the door."
"Opening the door isn't an honor, Aegon."
Rhaella presumed the king's eldest son was the Aegon on the other side of the door. She wasn't sure who this Jace was but he seemed upset that he couldn't open her door.
"You're a twat." a voice said from the other side
With that declaration from whoever it was, she pulled on the handle herself to reveal the mysterious voices.
"I'm going to tell Mother that you didn't let me enter first!" A brown-haired boy says to another boy who looks like him.
"She won't care!" He argued back
"And I thought you'd be ugly. Looks like you take after our uncle." The tallest, Aegon, she presumed spoke.
"Are you Lady Rhaella? Our mother told us you were here. You're our Uncle Daemon's daughter!" A dark-haired boy greeted
A sharp pang of anxiety ran through her as she looked at the four boys in front of her. Two dark-haired ones and two with hair like hers. She had never interacted with another person her age and now it seemed like there were four of them in front of her. Well, maybe three. The tallest seemed a bit older.
"I thought women from the Vale would look like sheep." Aegon's taunting voice fell on her ears yet she couldn't bring herself to tell him he looked like sheep himself with that curly hair of his.
"You shouldn't say things like that." One of the dark-haired boys scolded
"Are you going to stop me?" Aegon asked, mocking the younger boy.
"You are frightening her." One voice cut Aegon and the dark-haired boy off,
Rhaella's eyes met the other silver-haired boy who was at her door. He was much smaller than Aegon, of course, she presumed he was just younger than him.
"Thank you." She smiled "You are all quite...loud. I am afraid I am not used to conversing with people our age."
"I am Lucerys." The shortest one who looked like he might have been no more than seven said. "This is Jacaerys. He's my brother and it was his idea to meet you before dinner tonight."
"Hello." She greeted. Upon hearing their names she remembered who these dark-haired boys were. Jacaerys and Lucerys were sons of her future queen, Princess Rhaenerya.
"I'm Aegon." The tallest said, confirming her hunch. He gestured lazily to the last boy "Aemond."
"You should ignore him. He's very odd." Jacaerys said glancing at Aegon.
She smiled at Aemond who seemed to be the quietest out of all of them.
"I'll see you at dinner, sheep girl." Aegon said before sauntering off
"It is from all the wine he drinks, Jace." Lucerys says
"Yes, well, too much wine will do that to a person." She smiles, trying to say something these boys will find interesting
Lucerys giggled and whispered something into Jacaery's ear. The older boy nodded and whispered something back.
"Do you want to come to the Dragon Pit with us? I am training with my dragon Vermax today.
"I do not have a dragon to train with, I should just remain here." She said sadly
"Aemond doesn't have one either! The two of you can just watch us." Lucerys says
Rhaella glanced at Aemond who avoided her eyes. It was surprising to her that a Prince did not have a dragon of his own.
"Will I get to see the dragon eat something?" She asked hopefully
The Dragon Pit was more monstrous than she had ever imagined. Her neck ached as she stared at the huge building.
"We're falling behind." Aemond's voice filled her ears
He had fell into step with her after Jacaerys and Lucerys had decided they had to race each other to the pit. The winner was to claim the other's dessert tonight at dinner.
"Right, sorry." She said as he led her toward where the others were
Aemond had been mostly silent during their travel here. The carriage ride had been filled with Jacaerys and Lucerys chattering about all sorts of different things. Mainly talk of how their mother was six moons pregnant and how they both desired a baby brother.
Rhaella had tried to follow the conversation but their talking was a bit overwhelming and hard to follow. She had taken to watching Aemond who seemed fixed on staring at his shoes.
"Dracarys Vermax!" Jacaerys shouts to the green dragon in front of them.
Rhaella feels her face heat up as the dragon spits fire at the sheep in front of him. Her heart speeds up as her mind races with the ideas of claiming a dragon for herself. She was envious of the young dark-haired princes who had eggs that hatched for them.
"It is boring after you see it a thousand times." Aemond says from her right
"I do not think I could ever become bored of that." She smiles
"Without a dragon of your own, watching others train their own becomes depressing." He sighs
❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
Princess Rhaenerya's screams were echoing through the castle. Edric had told Rhaella that laboring to bring a child into this world could take days sometimes. Rhaella found herself wishing that the screaming would cease. Could they not give the princess something for the pain she was experiencing? Surely as heir to the throne she was entitled to that.
"I thought you said you were going to listen if I read."
"I am listening. Keep going." Rhaella glares
Aemond shot her a look but kept reading about Visenya and her conquest of Drone.
"What do you think childbirth is like?" She asked her companion
A loud yell from Rhaenerya's chamber echoed down the halls and into her room.
"Painful," Aemond said not looking up from the book
Rhaella elbowed him in the side.
"Ow!" He yelped "Why did you do that?"
"Because I can tell it's painful! She's been screaming for hours."
"Well, you asked me what I thought!" Aemond said
"I hope I never have children. I don't want to experience the pain the Princess is enduring." She declared
"Aren't you the heir to Runestone?" Aemond asked
Rhaella looked at him like he was an idiot. He knew she was so why was he asking.
"Being an heir means you have to have children." He pointed out
Stupid Aemond and his observations.
"Nobody asked you." She scoffs
Viserys was tired. He had spent the better part of the day at a long small council meeting. His back was hurting and the sores that had taken over his body were driving him mad. Yet, instead of resting like he had planned his wife was pacing in front of him, she was beginning to make him dizzy.
"Might you sit down?" He sighed
"Did you not hear a word I just said?" Alicent asked
"I heard you. You worry yourself for nothing." He said
"They will not remain children forever. Separating them now will be easier than later." She said
"Why? Aemond finally has someone to be friends with. I have heard that they spend hours together reading." Viserys says
"I am trying to prevent improper events from occurring. You allow them to sit in her room with the doors closed for hours, alone. Aemond is..." Alicent trails off
"Aemond is not like Aegon. He will not hurt Rhaella." Viserys assures
"And if you're wrong?" Alicent asks
"I am not wrong," Viserys says
"If something were to happen and Daemon received word-"
"Daemon does not care for her. I have written to him many times about her and how wonderful she is and his only response was that she is the product of a drunken mistake." He stops his wife rambling
"What if he changes his mind one day. I do not think he even wants her to be interacting with our sons let alone reading with one for hours." Alicent says
"You worry over nothing. Even if Daemon changes his mind, they are nothing but children who are friends."
The pig was a cruel joke.
Aemond could feel hot tears on his waterline as he stumbled back towards his room. He wished ill on his little nephews and big brother. He is already aware he is dragonless, why must they remind him of it in such a crude manner?
"Aemond? Is that you? My needlework lessons ended early and I brought a book about..."
He feels his face heat up when Rhaella turns around from her place at his desk to lay eyes on him. She wasn't even supposed to be in his room for another two hours.
"What happened?" She asked
"Nothing." He shrugged her off
"You are dirty and crying, that is not nothing." She pointed out
He cursed her out mentally for being able to see his tears. When did her eyes get that good?
"Was it Aegon? Or Jace and Luke? Or all of them?" She questioned
"All of them." He sighed lying down on his bed
"I will go-"
"Go and do what? Yell at them? They don't care about our opinions. We're boring to them. Dragonless Targaryens are nothing to them." He proclaims
"We are not nothing." She said jumping onto the bed and lying down next to him
Aemond let out a soft grunt at her declaration her words were falling on deaf ears.
"One day we're both going to get dragons and then we will race across the skies," Rhaella says
"I will win." He declares
"No, you won't! My dragon will be far quicker than yours." She gasps
"Yeah, it'll probably be ugly like you too then." Aemond laughs
Rhaella lets out an offended gasp and a pillow lands roughly on his face.
"Ugly? You must be talking about yourself!" She laughs as he pushes his hair from his face.
"You have not looked in the mirror lately, Rhaella." Aemond jested as his hands tightened around the pillow as he sat up to be eye level with her.
Perhaps she was going to say something witty back to him but was met with the soft fabric of the pillow as Aemond laughed.
Heleana watched quietly as her brother and cousin hit each other with the many pillows that adorn the bed. She had been sent to collect her cousin after she had snuck away from their needlework lessons yet she couldn't bring herself to intrude. Aemonds laughter and smile was something she rarely saw and it had her frozen in place.
"One day my dragon will race yours under the sun." Rhaella declares.
"And I will be the victor." Aemond cuts her off
And then Heleana's mouth is opening and her words are whispers in the shadows of her brother and cousin's joy and plans for the future.
"They will race under colors of green and black. The sky will be thick with blood."
This is my first HOTD fic so let me know how you liked it!
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✶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?✶
NSFW — angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use
It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rig’s steering wheel for decades.
No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Year’s Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.
“Eddie?” Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldn’t hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasn’t he? He was innocent. Even if they hadn’t caught the other guy yet. “You okay if I go?”
Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.
Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. “If you’re sure.. And, uh, I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethin’ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookin’ oil trick doesn’t work, don’t you worry about it.”
Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadn’t gone outside in days to know.
After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, “I’ll see ya after work,” and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadn’t sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.
The phone rang.
He wasn’t going to answer—he hadn’t since December unless under obligation—but in case it was Wayne, he did.
“Hello?” The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. “Hello?” he repeated.
“Eddie?” A beat. “I guess I’ll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Brad’s party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,” they said, definitely a young woman’s voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.
He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. “Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?”
Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarah—or whoever—was bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.
“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”
————
In the beginning…
It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.
It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddie’s irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit father’s jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.
Following the Munson name.
————
In the beginning…
It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.
The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. “—So, uh, with the money from workin’ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. And—And I’ll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Y’know, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethin’. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so we’ll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, y’know, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.” His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. “And with your job, you have health insurance, don’t you? That’ll.. That’ll really help us out,” he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. “There’s a position open at an auto shop in town that I’m gonna apply for, but I don’t think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but it’s decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..” Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didn’t forget anything important—
That’s when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.
Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared bored—he wished she appeared bored—but in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.
Continuing, he said, “I can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, and—”
“Eddie,” she stated. He winced.
There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, “Are people still bothering you about me?” he asked, so meek and defeated.
Her words were a merciless killing, “Does it matter?” He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the table’s edge, concentrating on the crumb. “And don’t bother buying anything.”
“Why not?” he faltered. “I’m not gonna be some deadbeat who doesn’t provide, okay? I’m good on my word.”
“You know why.”
The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.
“You don’t want to try?” His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. “We’re having a baby together, and you don’t want to try and work something out between us?” There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.
Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.
Maybe he was being naive, but he thought she’d come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..
“I’m not interested,” she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.
“I thought you said you liked me,” he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, “at the party.”
The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.
That was the final straw.
She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. “I’m not interested,” she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, “in raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.”
Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.
“You’re just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know you’re too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasn’t fucking worth it.” She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. “I almost missed my finals because I couldn’t stop puking.”
Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.
The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone who’s having your kid wants to be with you.
Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..
Embarrassment, failure, freak..
Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.
Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Can’t pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then they’d leave too..
“Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. One, two—she took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.
Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him “I’m giving her up for adoption.”
Eddie froze.
Her.
Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.
Her.
He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.
The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. “That’s my daughter, and you will not—”
“C’mon, Ed—”
“No,” he cut her off. He didn’t give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, “That’s my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.”
“Be serious,” she spat back. “You don’t have the means to take care of a baby. I’m doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.”
Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. “I don’t care what you think is best,” he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. “That baby.. She’s mine.” He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. “She’s mine, and I want her.”
There wasn’t much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warning—”You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,”—was as heeded as the candle’s flame.
He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes he’d need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..
Already, he couldn’t afford diapers.
Already, he failed.
Already, he was worthless.
Already, he was alone.
Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.
——Now——
Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.
His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.
“Ed?” You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.
The emotion in Eddie’s eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.
“Is Adrie okay?” you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.
Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. “She’s fine.”
Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didn’t know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.
Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasn’t the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, “Okay,” and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if you’d missed a cue, and should’ve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.
You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.
He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. “Here.”
Here wasn’t much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, “I’m dropping you off first.”
“What? No,” you blurted, “I’m going with you to pick her up. She’s just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.” Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.
Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacket’s collar, and shift the lamp’s glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.
“I wanna go,” you assured gently.
However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.
He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palm—turning it with too much force—and he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. “Sorry tonight ended this way.” The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.
The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.
Eddie’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly taller—like the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldn’t imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.
His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, “Car door’s open, I’ll lock up behind you.”
And you were pushed.
Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloud’s assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didn’t care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddie’s vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.
The engine roared to life. Heat wouldn’t come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.
Soft music played from the radio station.
Riders on the Storm.
Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.
Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.
But Eddie’s face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. “C’mon..”
The wipers couldn’t keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. “Fucking—damnit,” he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.
You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.
Now was not the time to bother him.
In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.
For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the wind’s will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.
He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.
The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.
Someone who wore a business suit to the preschool’s Thanksgiving play lived here.
Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didn’t ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.
He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.
Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.
Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The man’s glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.
Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.
Lightning revealed his weary frown.
At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.
Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robin’s honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appear—green skies and all—but most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldn’t actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.
Murky water flooded to Eddie’s ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.
“Daddy!” The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. “Daddy!” Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasn’t for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, “Daddy!” He didn’t shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.
It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brain’s ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddie’s face, a surprising few inches from yours.
The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.
Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrie’s meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didn’t matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didn’t dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldn’t remember being turned off.
Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.
This was why he didn’t want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughter’s behavior as ‘No big deal.’ This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. This—coming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expression—was why he never let anyone near his heart.
Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.
At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.
Eddie’s anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.
The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. “Adrie,” he warned in a low tone.
She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.
The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrie’s meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldn’t you?
You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. “Adrie, look!” you tamped down your children’s television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, “I’m here. Miss Mouse is—!” Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldn’t peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. “Adrie?” you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you weren’t prepared for.
Miss Mouse couldn’t always save the day.
Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasn’t the type to say I told you so, he wasn’t mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.
Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.
Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louder—Adrie cried louder. Eddie’s lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, something—instinctual.
“Pull over!” you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. “Ju-Just—just—” You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. “The gas station! Under the roof-thing.”
When it wasn’t clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crow’s feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.
Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.
His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. “Look, I’m sorry she—Wait, where’re you—?” The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. “Wait! Please don’t—”
Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasn’t parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.
“Giving up already?” he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.
As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.
Never good enough for anyone to stay.
Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.
“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. “It’s okay, sweet baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.
In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrie’s carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didn’t care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. “It’s okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Let’s get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.” Shhh. “Let me see your face, so I can clean you up.” Shhh.
“M–M-Mizz Mou—se,” Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.
“Mhm, I’m here.” Shhh. “Miss Mouse is here.”
—Oh.
“Baby..” So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.
He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.
The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.
His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughter’s face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.
“S’okay, Adrie,” you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. “I’ve got you,” you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.
Outside the car, the gas station’s tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. “Look at me,” you guided, sweeping the hoodie’s cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. “We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.”
Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.
“Nothing bad can happen when we’re here, okay?” Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, “We’ve got you. You’re safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here. Right, sweet bean?” You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”
With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neck—cotton, yarn, and canvas—her big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddie’s chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.
Across the Universe.
Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrie’s curls. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.
His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case he’d come to regret the decision, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.
Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.
Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetime’s worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When he’d drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.
“Sorry, no one’s ever just.. done that for me before.” He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.
Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. “Remember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?” you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. “I want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.”
An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasn’t much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrie’s head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding her—same as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman aired—and you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, “That’s okay.”
And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrie’s cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddie’s fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.
Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.
Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parent—taking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coveralls—you could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.
You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.
Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, “You’re good with kids.”
“I know how to entertain kids,” you corrected him. “I don’t know how to do any of the hard shit you do.”
The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. “You do a good job,” he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.
Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. You’d expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.
You bumped your knee into his. “Talk to me.”
Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes weren’t wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasn’t a concrete ultimatum if he didn’t, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.
He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.
Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.
And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, “Did you ever want kids?”
Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weather—and yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contexts—different meanings other than sitting in the back of his car—something domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; that’s what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.
But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.
“Are you ready for this conversation?” you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. “Having kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.” The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, “With how I dated and moved around, I didn’t think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. It’s just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Or—you know—really fucking scary. They’d always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,” you broke off in a squirm. “And then you don’t even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.”
Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. “Y-Yeah,” he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, “it is straight up terrifying.”
You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrie’s shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. “It seems easier when they’re older, though,” you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. “Like it’s not as bad when they can actually communicate why they’re crying, or tell you what’s bothering them.”
“Not necessarily easier, just different,” he clarified. “It’s less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and she’s smiling so big when she’s telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down you’re just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.”
Wilt tinted your faint, “Oh..”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. “S’part of life.”
Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrie’s, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.
Eddie took an anticipatory breath.
The radio garbled advertisements for the station’s sponsors.
“Still wouldn’t trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.” Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. “The moment I found out Adrie’s mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing—y’know?” He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. “Kept my head down, stayed focused, didn’t bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didn’t wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, I’d go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I had—guitars, ‘nd shit—bought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.” Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. “Still wasn’t good enough.”
A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.
Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, “In the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldn’t go to work. Didn’t have anyone to call to watch her for me, y’know, didn’t.. didn’t have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasn’t eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldn’t pay for a single canister of Similac. I didn’t have fucking anything. Or know anything.”
His shame was only beginning to unravel.
“There were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..” He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. “I-I didn’t go. I didn’t want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.” With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. “I didn’t want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.”
“Eddie, that’s not true—” you stepped in.
Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.
“It is true,” his volume fluctuated in jumps. “She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t fucking eat and keep it down.” Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldn’t wipe away quick enough. “Nothing worked. Couldn’t get her to latch onto a bottle, and, and—I didn’t know, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldn’t take it room temp, so if it was too hot she’d just scream at me until it wasn’t, and I–I just—I was having these breakdowns, I don’t know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harrington’s, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.” The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all.
Frantic breaths which wouldn’t catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. “I never wanted to be with Adrie’s mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didn’t know what he was doing, it-it-it.” In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.
Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didn’t dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friend’s held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, “Baby, no,” to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughter’s head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddie’s eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.
“I am a fucking failure,” he seeped out his regret. “C-Couldn’t give her what she needed. I still can’t. Still can’t give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellin’ her I can’t get her something when she asks for it—and the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enough—” There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.
“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. “Listen to me.” No please, but no lack of kindness, either. “You are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? You’re not any of those things.” You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.
In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. “Daddy?” One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.
She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the droplet’s surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, “Why’s Daddy crying?”
Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, “Daddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? It’ll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?” Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasn’t important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.
“I love you, Daddy,” Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. “I love you.”
“You’re a good man,” you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, “You’re a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. You’re the best dad I’ve ever met. No one else compares.”
He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.
“I’m here.” Shh. “I’m here.” You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. “We’re here for you. We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.” Sweet with conviction, “It’s okay, handsome, I’ve got you.”
Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by You’re a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, “I love you, too.” Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.
Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.
“I’m so glad to have met you,” you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. “I actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.”
“Yeah?” he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.
Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. “I see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, you’re doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesn’t matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. She’s so lucky to have you.”
Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrie’s blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. “I wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,” she pronounced. “You can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?” Deal, he nodded.
Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, “You deserve to see yourself how we see you.”
Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he tried—“Thank you, baby,”—though the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.
“That hurt,” Adrie complained.
“Ow,” you agreed.
“Sorry,” he said in non-apology.
At a change in tone, you fawned, “But that was a nice hug.”
Adrie rated it, “An 8 out of 10.”
Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrie’s ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddie’s chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldn’t recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.
Those weren’t bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.
“Are you feeling better?”
Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddie’s eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. “Yeah,” he answered Adrie in fondness, “I’m feeling better now.” Not forever. He wasn’t cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.
Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. “We’re a sardine family.” Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrie’s knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. “Yeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.”
They blinked at you. You blinked back.
“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,” Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. “But I like the image,” he amended.
“I like sardines,” Adrie chimed. She didn’t know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.
The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indiana’s finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen face—nevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.
“Should get you home before the storm gets worse,” he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lil’ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father he’d have you back on time.
Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, “Yeah, should get home before it gets worse.”
He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.
The night was really fucking long.
Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they weren’t being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasn’t anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckley’s, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasn’t the last.
“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.
A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. “And make you do this run all by yourself? C’mon, sweet stuff. I’m a gentleman.”
Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.
“Is it okay if, uh,” you began, “Is it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?” Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.
Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.
“I think she’s asleep anyway.” His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. “But,” he softened, “yeah, we can kiss in front of her.”
The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactions—and now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.
Working man arms defined your waist.
Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.
He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, “Could kiss you all day, baby.” Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.
“Could’ve kissed me since the day we met,” you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. “I’m serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you could’ve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.”
His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. “Excuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.”
“Then why not at DND when everyone left?”
“Because, sweetheart,“ his cadence loved those two words most of all, “I knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.”
“Or, what about when—”
Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.
You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robin’s door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.
“I’m sorry for how all this turned out.” Eddie’s sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. “Baby, you didn’t even get anything,” and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you he’d even brought it up.
Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. “Our date was perfect. We needed this.” The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. “I don’t regret how our night turned out.”
Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, “I don’t regret it, either.”
“Well, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and you’re stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.”
“Shit.” Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.
Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Or—today?”
“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. “Please be safe, Eddie.”
“I will, I will. Kay?” Urgency swept him from kiss to kiss—needy, and intense, treating them as the last. “I adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.”
Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. “—dore you too, handsome,” you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.
“Jesus Christ, woman.”
Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robin’s room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.
Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didn’t bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.
Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasn’t one before.
——Then——
In the beginning…
Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.
Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.
“Can I live with you?”
Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, “Of course, son,” and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.
The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.
Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.
Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knew—he knew—if he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.
His uncle never took his room back.
Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motel’s carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasn’t coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.
He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasn’t there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.
Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. “I, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doin’ some readin’ while you were gone.” He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. “Learned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I s’pose.. Some lean more religious than others,” he grumbled. “But, uhm..”
The expectant pause in his uncle’s speech drew Eddie’s awareness.
“Can I hold her?” Wayne asked.
“Yeah.” He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. “You can hold her.”
Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrie’s head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.
Self-loathing boiled under Eddie’s skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrie’s neck strength, and how it wasn’t so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.
But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the book’s titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.
Speaking in his gruff smoker’s voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, “I read in that yellow book there that babies shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ‘nd all. Should I put her in the crib?”
As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.
“I’ve gotta do her night routine again, so I’ll be up for a bit.”
“Yep.” A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.
Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didn’t take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didn’t take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.
Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didn’t feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, “I’m so sorry you’re mine.” An apology uttered on a wet hiccup—borderline unintelligible—but after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, “Daddy’s gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddy’s gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.” The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.
Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.
He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared he’d never be able to stop, and move on.
——Now——
Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.
“You were kissing Miss Mouse,” she accused and questioned.
“I was,” he confirmed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means, ah,” he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, “It means we’ll be seeing more of each other. She’ll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.”
Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, “Does that mean she’s my–”
Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.
Eddie’s fingers slipped over the volume dial by accident—totally by accident—as he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.
—Mom.
No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night he’d had.
“Whoops,” he pretended, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you—but, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer park—a scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.
He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.
And when nature’s nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.
It was unfathomably dark in his living room.
Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)
"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.
In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillow—
But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.
"Daddy?" she checked.
The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.
He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"
"I wish Miss Mouse was here."
Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itself—and then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too much—he struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.
I love how Miss Mouse and Eddie are figuring things out together. The way they form this sweet lil family makes my heart burst.
Eddie's immediate reaction being to brace himself for rejection was devastating, and I breathed an audible sigh of relief when he saw that she wasn't going anywhere.
Adrie rating the hug was a solid 10/10 for me, honestly. And her question at the end? I mean, aren't we all thinking it?
Hello, Small Town friends! Today's Extra is Maggie's lemon strawberry cake, the one Dot and Eddie bake together for Mother's Day in Chapter 14 - Missing You. This recipe comes in the form of cards that Maggie wrote and passed on to her daughter, and they include vanilla sponge, strawberry jam (with homemade pectin!), lemon glaze and the whipped cream Eddie was so fond of drawing lewd shapes into. Let me know if you decide to try any of these out!
See y'all on Friday, June 2nd for Chapter 15! The song that corresponds to the title has been added to the playlist, it's a fun one this time. Come talk to me, my DMs are always open! <3
Master List - Blue-Jean Baby (An Eddie Munson Story +18)
+18 Minor DNI
New Chapter will be uploaded: TBD
Tags thus far:
Chapter 1 - Crazy on You - Eddie's Version
Chapter 2 - Eddie's Girlfriend, Daisy Buckley
Chapter 3 - Last Night of Peace
Chapter 4 - The Girls
Chapter 5 - Invasion of Privacy
Chapter 6 - Corroded Coffin
Chapter 7 - Doll Haus
Chapter 8 - Spring Breakers
Chapter 9 - No. 1 Fan
Chapter 10 - National Enquirer
~Characters and Summation of Volumes 1 & 2 of "1986" below~
Main Characters:
Eddie Munson
Daisy Buckley
Minor Characters:
Corroded Coffin
Gareth
Jeff
June
Beth (Best Friend)
Doll Haus
Franny
Maggie
Kat
Final Girl
Rory
"Guest" Appearances by: Steve Harrington, Juliette (RHHS vol. 1-3), Vickie, Robin, and (Fic) Billy (An original character I created using Billy's likeness).
Spoilers for Red Hot Hawkins Summer Vol. 1-2; and 1986 Parts 1-2 below:
In case you missed it; Volume 1:
Daisy and Eddie met the summer after senior year. She was visiting her cousin in Hawkins, Robin Buckley, with her two friends Juliette and Beth. All of the girls had summer jobs. Daisy worked at Family Video, just like she did in Minnesota. She met Eddie and they hit it off right away. They bonded over their love of music and songwriting.
The first night they met they hooked up. Things got a little messy from there. Insecurity and jealousy quickly pushed them apart. They made amends and started to build their relationship. Eddie graduated from high school and the two of them had a beautiful summer together. Daisy's best friend Beth was going to UCLA in the fall on a basketball scholarship. Daisy was planning on attending the University of Minnesota.
After meeting Daisy, something shifted in Eddie. He decided to take the leap and travel with Jeff and Gareth to California to try to make a name for themselves out there. Daisy was upset that he would be so far away; but, didn't lead on to that, making sure that he knew that she would support him fully. She would not leave him.
Though Daisy was excited about college. Her parents were not allowing her to have the freedom that she wanted; pressuring her to live at home versus the dorms. Her older sister also attended the University of Minnesota, and she would frequently hear about her parents dropping in unannounced. Though she had a great relationship with her parents she didn't want that to be the case for her. She wanted some independence. At the end of volume one she decided to take the leap as well and attend UCLA with Beth. The two of them planned on living in the dorms together.
In case you missed it; Volume 2:
Daisy and Beth traveled out to California for college. Daisy tried out, and made the UCLA dance team. Corroded Coffin was doing really well, playing at bars on the Sunset Strip. They caught the eye of Whiplash Management, and got signed shortly after.
On a girls weekend Eddie broke it off with Daisy in a fit of jealousy. They worked things through with the condition that he would work on himself. And, that if it happened again, they were done. Almost immediately, Eddie fell back into the cycle. Daisy broke up with him. It was a toxic situation, leaving the two of them broken.
Daisy was too embarrassed to tell her parents that she and Eddie had broken up for fear of judgment, when they came out for parents weekend. She also didn't want to make the weekend all about her heartbreak. Daisy's mom called Eddie to see if he was going to come to lunch with them, and he agreed, to save Daisy the embarrassment; putting together the fact that she kept their breakup to herself.
Eddie showed up to lunch, surprising everyone but her parents. Daisy pulled him aside to talk. She was thankful that he was there, going along with her little lie. Eddie thought that she would even be open to the prospect of talking again. Daisy saw a California number on Eddie's hand, sealing their fate, telling Eddie to leave her alone; and that he was free to pursue whoever he wanted.
After a few weeks, Robin let Daisy know that Eddie had saved her a ticket to his first big concert if she was interested. Daisy agreed. The concert was hard; seeing him for the first time. He also wrote a song about her; devastatingly sad, using her words from their breakup.
When the concert was done Daisy left right away. Eddie caught up with her in the hallway. Though it was unsaid, the both of them clearly wanted nothing more to be back together. Daisy left, meeting up with Beth at a local bar. That night, Beth had gotten some bad news about her moms health, leading her to spin out. She left the bar with a boy, leaving Daisy behind.
Daisy didn't have any cash, only a few quarters; using those to call Eddie. Her and Eddie went on a drive, Eddie broke down apologizing to her profusely. He let her know that the California number was June's; his new bass guitarist's number. At the time, he didn't feel he had the right to explain himself. He had already made too many excuses for his behavior. The two of them got back together that night.
There was a test of growth. Eddie and Daisy attended the concert for the headliner of Eddie's summer tour, Final Girl. A girl group was there as well, Doll Haus. Doll Haus was already going on tour with Final Girl that summer. Rory, the lead singer shamelessly flirted with Daisy in front of Eddie. Eddie had a lot to lose if he lashed out; a spot on the tour, her. Though upset, he let it go, realizing how unimportant the whole situation was considering the only person Daisy was showing interest in was him. They went home together and had a lovely night.
Eddie and Daisy went to Minnesota for Christmas. It was there that Eddie got to hear Daisy play the piano for the first time. He knew that she was a beautiful singer but she had no clue the depths of her talent. On New Year's Eve, Eddie asked Daisy to go on a summer tour with him; he also let her know that June, Jeff, Gareth, and the management team wanted to hear her sing. The possibility of joining Corroded Coffin was now in the cards.
Summary: Steve's there, in LA, and something's terribly wrong. Instead of being the adults that you are, you decide it's more fun to pretend to be twenty-one again, but... Eddie's not as amused.
CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, angst, brief mentions of substance abuse and addiction, lots of drinking, and then also vomiting
Author’s note: So, Steve be going Through It™ and then in turn, so will we be, and then in turn, so will Eddie be. It's domino day, baby!
Wordcount: 5.3K
(find all other parts of this story here)
You flicked the light switch that made lights flicker on, one after the other, until the whole garage was filled with fluorescent light.
“Wow,”
“Yeah,”
You looked at Steve to see his awestruck face as his eyes scanned the room. The room and the sixteen - sixteen - pinball machines it held, all lined up, side to side. Some a little smaller than most of the others, but all with screaming bright colors, and square on all on high chrome legs.
“This is... this is insane?”
“Yeah,”
“It's like an actual arcade, but just.... just pinball machines... is he starting a museum?" Steve stepped closer to one of them and touched a few buttons, and before you could answer, he followed up with, "Do they work?”
“They do, but we don’t keep them plugged in.” Because if you did, you’d blow fuses left right and centre, probably.
Steve let his eyes glide across the room, all the way around, until they landed back on you. With a brazen quirk of his eyebrows, he said all he needed to say.
Cut to five minutes later, with two machines plugged in, bells and whistles and sound effects filling the room, the two of you stood next to each other, each with flickering pinball machine lights reflected in your eyes.
You both held onto the lever of the machine you were stood behind and made eye contact as Steve counted down, letting go at the same time, shooting the machines into action. You did this for no reason other than that it made you feel like you were playing against each other, which was not how pinball worked, but was fun anyway.
It was nice to hear Steve laugh, to spend time together where you were just fooling around. Playing arcade games like you were still in high school and the arcade was the only place you could think of going on a boring Sunday afternoon.
The machines took actual quarters to work, so you played each other on the Revenge From Mars machine and the Monster Bash one until there were no quarters left. Neither of you had gotten even slightly close to getting onto the leaderboards, never mind the top score.
"Do you not have the key to open the little money boxes?" Steve asked, not done playing yet when you ran out of coins.
"Eddie does, but lord knows where he keeps it..."
You had to physically stop Steve from going to find your housekeeper to ask her if she had quarters. Had to remind him he was nearly thirty years old, which made him laugh with his head thrown back, showing off his back molars as he did.
Good.
That felt good, making Steve laugh like that.
Stepping back into the kitchen, you thought what else you and Steve could get up to on his first day, of apparently many, in LA with you.
Eddie would be a few hours, and you'd already gone for a swim that morning, so you felt that for now, pool was out of the question. You remembered how Steve did really like lounging around the pool just as much as anyone else did, so you kept it in the back of your mind could you not think of anything else.
Steve was probably just happy to be out of Hawkins for a second, and you were desperate to know why, but he'd said he didn't want to talk about it. Not yet, anyway.
Maybe later, over dinner with Eddie, you'd get him to talk all his feelings out.
Then you noticed the keys to Eddie’s car on the side.
Had he not left about forty-five minutes ago?
Or was he back already?
Ah, but wait. Yours were missing.
It only took you a second to puzzle together Eddie’s intentions, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You grabbed Eddie's keys, turned back to Steve with a mischievous glint in your eyes and asked,
“Wanna go for a ride?”
You were about to give Steve something that Eddie had given to you when you’d just moved into your new house together.
Eddie had done this, mostly to prove to himself that you weren’t kidding when you said moving to LA with him wasn’t a burden, wasn’t something you were going to hold against him one day.
He’d taken you out in his new convertible Ford Mustang – nothing too fancy, just something he thought looked cool, and if he was honest, he’d always kind of wanted a soft-top. The van was cool and all, but this? This was cooler.
That day had been so gorgeous; the sun had been out, traffic wasn’t so bad, you both smelled of sticky sunscreen, the radio had played all the right songs, and Eddie had just... driven around with you for two hours. Had shown you around a little bit, pretended like he wasn’t getting lost with every turn he took, but instead turned up the radio more and found songs the two of you could sing along to.
With the wind in your hair and the sun on your face, you’d not been able to stop smiling, even whilst singing. And at a red light, Eddie had reached to turn the volume down a little, because he didn’t want to seem like a huge douchebag, but you’d grabbed hold of his hand before he could and just raised your voice more as you sang along to Sheryl Crow’s If It Makes You Happy, making Eddie yell, “It is that bad, it’s so bad, stop it, it’s the worst!” and you didn’t care how many people looked as you fought Eddie’s arms and screamed in utter glee until the traffic lights turned green.
You’d driven along the coastline for a bit and had looked at Eddie, hair flying everywhere, but eyes hidden safely behind sunglasses, and he looked so content, so relaxed that it made you shout, “I love you!” at him, just because you needed to say it.
What followed was you undoing your seatbelt and pulling a hair tie from around your wrist as you climbed up onto your knees. It made Eddie have a near heart attack, screeching for you to sit back down, but you didn’t listen and quite liked the protective grip on your thigh that followed as you saw Eddie white knuckle the steering wheel with his other hand. He slowed down a little as you reached to tie his hair up for him, and the wind had really worked against you, had made you wipe hair back from across his face several times, only adding to the hilarity, and quite frankly the danger of the situation.
With his hair in a messy bun, up higher than he’d normally have it, you sealed your work with a kiss before you moved to sit back down again.
“You’re insane, you know that?” Eddie grinned at you, and all you could do was smile.
“Excuse me! My girl’s insane!” he then yelled at the top of his lungs into the salty air of the most perfect afternoon you thought you’d ever had with him.
This is happiness, you’d thought to yourself then, and wanted to give some of that to Steve. Less romantic, but still, driving along LA in a convertible, sun on your face and wind in your hair? You were convinced it would do Steve some good.
And you were right! But it only worked for maybe... five miles.
The sun was out, the music was good. You were driving and you knew your way around, so you felt comfortable to crank the music up, just to coax Steve into singing along just as loudly as you had done that one time.
But as you sang, and you peeked over at Steve, you saw him stare at you. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, but you could tell he was looking. If he’d been smiling, you probably would’ve made a jab at him, but there was something gloomy about him. Your eyes flicked between the road up ahead and Steve a couple of times, your smile making way for a confused frown and when Steve’s face didn’t change, you decided to pull over.
You stopped underneath an overpass – out of the direct sunlight, away from onlookers and shielded enough by the loud noise from cars passing up above. By no means were you in a private space, but it felt private enough.
“Steve,” you started, staring down at the steering wheel in front of you, but Steve was already groaning, wincing, so annoyed with himself.
“No, it’s okay, come on, let’s keep driving,” and Steve reached for the ignition, wanting to turn the key and bring the car roaring back to life. But you blocked his hand with yours.
“Steve, please talk to me,”
For a moment Steve hovered, then sighed deeply and slumped into his seat more. He opened his mouth, and a little of his voice escaped him, but he wasn’t talking. Instead, after another short moment of silence, Steve turned away from you completely and slowly moved to get out of the car.
Had he rushed, had there been fumbling and scrambling, you would’ve gotten out on your side of the car just as fast. But Steve moved in slow motion, carefully lifting himself from the seat, stepping out and closing the door behind him. No slam. Just the click of the lock latching before he turned around and leaned against it, arms crossed, head bent down.
“What’s been going on? Why are you here?” you tried, but Steve just moved some loose sand around below his shoes before he looked out to his left, slowly pushed himself off of the car and started walking.
He did it all so calmly, and so collectedly, it felt a little scary.
“Steve?” you pushed up out of your seat to watch him over the windshield.
Steve walked a few slow steps, and then turned his head a little to shout over his shoulder, “How do you climb up this?” as he pointed up to the overpass, and that’s when you shot into action.
What did he mean how can you climb up that? To hurl himself off? What the fuck was wrong with him?
You scrambled out of the car and ran up, but just before you reached him, Steve turned and you saw a small smile.
It made you stop and lean both stretched arms on your knees a second before lurching forward,
"Not funny, asshole,"
You'd planned to go in for a hug, but you went in for a punch to his arm instead.
"You can't joke about shit like that,"
You'd gone through enough shit with Eddie that immediately turned all self-deprecating jokes about ending your own life almost felt like personal attacks.
"I'm sorry," Steve said, his smile quickly wavering as both his hands found the back of his head. He stared off into the distance for a second, and with his whole torso free of arms down the side, you fought the urge to squeeze his ribcage with both your arms.
It felt like Steve needed kindness, your soft sweet friendship, right now.
"I just..." Steve started, voice barely audible over the passing cars up above you. "I thought I could create it."
Your brow furrowed, unsure of what he meant.
"I was convinced actually, that when you just... if you just put your mind to something, you can make things happen, make them work, you know?"
You didn't know. Not really, but you gave a tiny nod anyway, just to encourage.
"Well," Steve let his arms fall to his sides and an uncomfortable laugh escaped him. "Learned the hard way that I was wrong."
"Steve," you pushed your sunglasses up into your hair so Steve could see your eyes. You weren't great at expressing thoughts through words, but hoped that your concerned expression bared all.
"No, Jesus, stop it, this isn't your fault,"
You didn't think it was.
Why did Steve think that your mind had gone there? Was your worry easily mistaken for guilt?
"It's not like you and Eddie did anything on purpose, I can't... please don't blame yourself,"
You weren't.
What the fuck was Steve on about?
"Steve, what happened?"
Steve shrugged dismissively.
"Nothing really... I think that's actually a huge part of the problem,"
"No, I mean," you squeezed your eyes shut a second and gave your head a quick shake. "What happened? How did you–"
"Let's not," Steve stopped you, voice suddenly heavier, leaving no room for you to continue.
Steve didn't want to get into it too much, apparently. Not now. Not with loud cars zooming past beside you and up above you. But he'd made a joke about hurting himself over how bad he was feeling and he'd said he was planning on staying at least a full month...
You weren't just going to get into the car to get on your merry way and pretend this little interaction hadn't happened.
"You got married," you pointed out, eyebrows raised high upon your forehead, and it made Steve groan and turn away.
Good.
A little distance was going to make this easier.
"I'll be real honest here, because I think I've kept quiet, too quiet, throughout all of it, but, what the fuck?" you gestured with wild arms.
Time to get all of it out.
Give your friend some tough love.
Steve stood still, hands on hips, eyes back looking into the distance, but you saw his jaw clench. He anticipated exactly what you were about to say.
"We leave, and then you find–"
"Yeah, exactly!" Steve suddenly snapped, voice loud and threatening.
"You left, and what was I..." he stopped himself before he said the wrong thing because he didn't want to verbalize anything hurtful. He knew that that would help precisely no one, so he huffed air through his nose instead and rubbed a frustrated hand across his face. Let his anger seep out that way, which felt much safer than saying what was actually on his mind.
You made eye-contact, and for a second, you just frowned at each other.
"No, you know what? Never mind, you wouldn't understand anyway," Steve shook his head a little before he started a quick pace back to the car.
That hit you right in the heart.
"Steve!!" you called out to the back of him, offended beyond your own comprehension.
"I wouldn't understand?" you practically shrieked, bending slightly at the hip as you did.
"Me?! Have you forgotten what the past, oh, I don't know, ten years of my life have been like?"
You had cried full rivers that had turned into full oceans over Eddie leaving you, over Eddie coming back home for a millisecond, taking from you and Steve what he needed, and then fucking off again.
And yes, it was better now. Had been better. But the past two years didn't magically erase the eight that came before that.
"You were there," you stepped closer as Steve leaned both hands on top of the passenger's door, head hanging low.
"You were there for all of it, don't say that–"
"Yeah, no, you're right. I was there. But where were you?"
Oh shit.
"No," you whined, and it slipped out of your mouth in the most pathetic little voice you thought your vocal cords could produce. You sounded like a whiny teenager who just got sent up to her room when her friends were waiting for her outside the door. It made you click your knees in and out of over stretching, and your vision blurred quickly. "No, no, no,"
That couldn't be the thing that Steve was upset about.
You were a good friend.
You worried about Steve a lot.
You called him all the time, until it all kind of slowed down - from both sides.
Thinking of Steve feeling all alone and left out, abandoned by his two best friends who beyond anything else at least would always have each other made your insides churn. Made your ears ring and your eyes sting as your throat closed up.
This couldn't be the reason why Steve was all messed up right now.
You couldn't have done to someone else what had been done to you for so long. What you didn't wish upon your worst enemy. Let alone Steve.
"No," Steve stated matter of factly, agreeing with you but his tone much softer when he saw you slowly fall apart in front of him.
"No," you said once more, almost pleadingly, needing Steve to confirm he was lying.
It made Steve sigh, sort of already regretting what he'd said, because it wasn't even the true crux of the problem, was it, really?
"No, come here," Steve stepped back towards you and guided your arms from where you'd planted them on the sides of your head to wrap around his waist as he pulled you in for a hug.
Your bottom lip trembled, and you knew that if you tried to stop it, you'd let an actual sob slip out, so you let it.
And then, you just stood like that for a second.
"I just miss you, that's all," Steve said after a while with his cheek pressed against the top of your head. It had made your sunglasses slide off and fall down the back of you.
"I miss you," you wailed, much louder and more dramatic than Steve had expected, and it made him chuckle a little.
"I miss you all the time, there's nothing to do around here," you sniffed, knowing full well that your complaints might fall onto deaf ears with Steve.
You lived in LA with a rockstar for a boyfriend. A sober one! Your life was all glitz and glam but make it healthy as far as was anyone was concerned.
"Hmh," was all Steve had to say to that, and yeah, that felt fair.
"Ugh, I need a drink," you then said as you pulled back and the comment made Steve wince a little. You didn't pay it any mind.
"Come on, let's go," you wiped the bottom of your nose with the back of your palm and made your way back into the driver's seat of Eddie's Ford.
"Go where?" Steve asked, picking up your sunglasses before following you.
"I don't know, we'll find a place."
And find a place you did.
LA had plenty of seedy bars with midday opening hours where from the inside, you couldn't even tell what time of day it was outside.
For a second Steve wondered if this was smart, but if he was honest, a drink sounded lovely, and neither of you had drinking problems, had you?
With two sensible small glasses of beer, you cheersed.
"To LA," Steve said, and it made you scrunch up your eyebrows at him. "To Hawkins," you replied, and Steve groaned in response.
"No, to us," you followed, wanting to wipe the pained expression of your friend's face. "To us having fun," you cheersed again, and Steve repeated, "Having fun!" before he took a sip.
The sip turned into a chug and before you knew it, Steve got the next order in.
You got drunk, and you got drunk fast.
It took about half an hour for the two of you to be requesting songs to be played, and for bar staff to reluctantly comply.
When Bill Medley's voice came over the speakers, Steve let his throat make an excited noise right into his beer glass before he got up from his barstool.
"Come on, we can do this," Steve said, clapping his hands together and finding a good spot to stand, rolling his neck in anticipation of what was to come before his hands beckoned you.
"I swear to God, Harrington, if you drop me," you threatened, a few steps away from him, ready to run towards him at full speed.
"No one puts baby in the corner," Steve said, giving his best Patrick Swayze impression, and then added, "Or lets her fall onto the floor face first,"
"You guys know CPR?" you called over to the bartender, but didn't wait for an answer.
You sprinted, but chickened out right as Steve grabbed you by the waist. You squealed, and Steve pretended you weighed three times the amount you did, grunting as he tried to lift you before you wormed your way out of his grip.
You tried two more times, but never jumped and just crashed into Steve each time. You were loud, clearly past the point of just being a little tipsy, and you were having fun.
The world became fuzzy and warm. Friendly, nice and lovely. Steve was in LA with you! And there were things wrong, but weren't there always things wrong? Things to be ignored, to be pushed to the back of your mind until you'd have the time and strength and willpower to confront them?
The day slowly crawled into the early evening which slowly slipped into you ordering whatever snacks and bar food they had available for you.
But getting food into your system only lead to more drinks under the false pretence that alcohol affected you less when you'd eaten.
You'd said, "One more," to each other about seven times. "Just one more." "Just a little one, just this one."
"To fun!" you slurred and cheersed over more drinks, over shots, over tropical cocktails because Steve really wanted a fruity drink with a little umbrella and a straw.
"To fun!" Steve replied, seconds before missing his seat after reaching for it wrong and clattering to the floor. A mess of limbs and laughter.
Steve laughed and laughed, until suddenly, he wasn't laughing anymore.
His face dropped and he pressed both heels of his palms firmly into his eyes, still on the floor, and it took you a second too long to realize that joy had left him.
"This is awful," Steve muttered, and you went, "Get off the floor!" before reaching for him with both your hands, pulling on an arm which didn't help at all. But you pulled until Steve sat up and then you pulled more until Steve got back up onto his feet.
"It's not normal that I'm having more fun now, right here, in this dump, no offense," Steve held a hand up to where he thought a bartender would be, apologising to nobody, just empty space. "Than I think I've ever had in my marriage,"
It still felt so weird to you that Steve had a marriage now. You weren't exactly sure why - everyone around you was either already married or getting married, especially everyone from back home. But still. Felt odd.
"Well," you started, hoping to keep the mood light. "I am a lot of fun,"
Steve blinked at you.
"Yeah,"
A silence fell, and it lasted too long. Made you realise you were absolutely plastered in the middle of the day in downtown LA, obviously unable to drive home still. Made you look around at the sad regulars that occupied sad corners. Made you see the judgmental faces of the bar staff that kind of stayed away from the two of you a little.
Steve had had the same train of thought.
"We probably should get going,"
"I can't drive,"
"Should we call a cab?"
And you could afford a cab, you easily could, but you scoffed at Steve's suggestion.
"That's going to cost a fortune,"
You were going to have to call someone to come get you.
And fuck. Eddie had hired gardeners, cleaners, housekeepers, personal chefs, personal trainers, stylists and... more, Eddie had hired more people to do things that he didn't want you to ever have to worry about ever again.
But never a driver.
Never a chauffeur to rescue you from situations like this one.
Not that this had ever happened before, or had been anticipated would ever happen by either one of you, but shit, would it have been convenient if he had.
You spotted the phone on the wall behind the bar, and stared at it for a moment.
What were you going to tell him?
"I'll call," Steve said, taking a daunting task right out of your hands. "I know the number off by heart."
And, ugh.
No.
That alone made you want to cry and pinch Steve's cheeks until his marriage was fixed. Made you want to curl him up into a soft fluffy blanket until he looked like a little baby that got left out on your doorstep. Made you want to pull him onto your lap to sing soft lullabies to him until the crease between his eyebrows disappeared and the corners of his mouth no longer turned downwards.
Little Stevie who knew your phone number off the top of his head.
Even though you'd barely kept in touch the last few weeks - months, if you really counted.
Still.
Steve always took care of you. He'd done it throughout all the years you'd been friends, and he was doing it still, right now, drunk, in an area of LA he'd never been to before,
"What's wrong?" Steve asked, receiver pressed to his ear, waiting for Eddie to pick up on the other end.
"Nothing," you said, quickly wiping away dumb intoxicated tears. "Just love you a lot."
Steve blinked and you saw his face soften for a second, a little heartfelt smile snuck its way onto his face before it completely fell.
Eddie answered.
"Munson, hey,"
Steve explained that you'd gone for a drive and that he had dragged you into a bar - a lie - and that he'd insisted on doing shots - another lie - and that now it was his fault that you were no longer fit to drive - the last lie.
He also added that he hurt his elbow, but then immediately said that it wasn't that bad, laughing loudly, exclaiming he was going to be just fine. It reminded you that Steve was also drunk.
The rest of that night, you wished the full prior 24 hours had never even happened to begin with.
Eddie picked you up in your car, face cold and stern, and you felt awful. So guilty. And you tried to sober yourself up, but you stumbled and fell over your own feet as you climbed onto the backseat.
Then it got worse when you vomited all over yourself, and Eddie didn't even look at you in the rear-view mirror.
And then it got worse when you arrived home and Eddie got right out of the car and into the house without trying to help you out, not giving you a second glance before disappearing inside.
And then it got even worse when you noticed Steve was sort of forced to sober up fast and you could tell he felt awkward having to help you out of vomit-covered clothing items and into a bathroom.
You were well aware you were a terrible human being.
Stupid idiot of an awful girlfriend. Bad friend. Just, overall a terrible person, you reasoned.
Acceptance of your appalling behaviour coursed through your veins when you threw up a little more in the shower. This was just who you were now, and Eddie hated you, and yeah, he fucking should, had he seen you?!
When you'd shut off the water, you heard a knock on the door, and you expected your boyfriend, your Eddie, to be on the other side of it. To talk, or even to yell at you. But it was Steve, asking if you were okay, and then he followed it up with the most hurtful thing you'd heard in months. Maybe even years.
"Um, so... Eddie asked me to make sure you get some rest, but um, in one of the guest rooms, for tonight..."
You saw your reflection in the steamed up mirror and hated the person that you saw.
What a bitch.
Fuck her, man.
Couldn't even fucking shower right, look at all that smeared make-up under her eyes.
Ugly bitch.
"He said he's got an early wake-up call tomorrow, so, that's why,"
That wasn't fucking why, and you knew it.
"Yea, okay," you croaked. "Thanks."
For a second it was quiet, and you thought about how you absolutely deserved to sleep in a cold bed all by yourself tonight, just to sit with your guilt. Just to feel bad.
But then you heard Steve say your name. He was still outside the door.
"Yea?"
"Do you want to... I don't know, watch a movie?"
And you knew it meant, do you want to not be alone right now? which just made the lump in your throat hurt more.
"Yea, sure," you said, voice high pitched and pathetic because you really were a whiny little bitch of a girl, weren't you?
"Can I come in?"
With a towel covering all your bits, you opened the door and you let Steve hug you. Let Steve clean your face with a wash cloth and hot water from the sink. Let Steve give you a folded pile of soft clothes, no doubt given to him by Eddie, and let Steve give you some privacy whilst you got dressed.
You let Steve guide you to your own living room, where you let Steve sit you down and let Steve cover you in one of the throw blankets.
You let Steve choose a film. Let him force you to drink a tall glass of water. Let him sit beside you, enough room to not make it weird, but close enough to not feel shut out.
You watched the movie together for a little while, but both had your minds not with it. Stared at the screen, but paid no attention to it at all.
You asked Steve if he was okay, and he said he felt awful, said he wasn't looking forward to talking to Eddie in the morning, but also said that having fun with you tonight was the best thing that had happened to him in months.
Steve explained he probably talked to his wife too much about you, and then when Robin came over, the two of them would talk about you together until it drove her nuts.
You let Steve talk until eyes grew heavy.
You let Steve talk until your blinks became slower.
You let Steve talk until you just listened to him with your eyes closed.
Then, you let Steve turn the volume down when he noticed you'd started falling asleep.
And then you let Steve shift to sit a little closer. Let him share your blanket with you. Let him brush some of your wet hair from your face to behind your ears.
You let Steve get comfortable, and let him make you feel comforted.
And he was warm. And soft.
You let Steve tell you, "Tomorrow it'll be better," in a soft whisper, followed by "I promise." and then you let drowsy sleep seep in until it filled up everything of you, all the way up to the brim, and you could pretend you were snuggled up to Eddie, upstairs in your bed.
Tomorrow wouldn't be better. It would arguably actually be much worse.
"Mmhm,"
But you let Steve make you believe it just for long enough until you drifted off completely into a nicer space, where LA was just fun, and you weren't the current biggest disappointment in Eddie's life.
Hey, I’m Bug 🤘🏼 just a hippie chick with an embarrassing crush on Eddie Munson.
I write blurbs about our favorite Stranger Things boys. Nothing super long; just little imagines & drabbles to make the world a little brighter for y’all.
I write fluff, smut, and angst. I do not feel comfortable writing about: incest (stepdad/stepbro included), non-consensual acts, or minors. You can request anything else, even other (adult) Stranger Things characters, and I’ll do my best.
Header & icon from @hxllfired💚
**IMPORTANT UPDATE**
All smut requests must be sent off-anon and you must have your age in your bio.
I will not accept smut requests from anons, blogs with no age, or anyone under the age of 18. If you do not want your URL associated with your request, let me know and I will post your request as part of a text post and exclude your name.
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i’m gwen / gwendolyn / [insert term of endearment here]!!
i’m twenty, a lesbian, and i use she/they pronouns <3
my writings are sometimes 18+ but this blog is 18+ all the time!
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୨ most recent work ୧
THE CLEAN UP ✿ PART TWO: THE SET UP
school janitor!eddie munson x school nurse!reader
30 Days of Insecurities Masterlist - coming April 1st
Summary: Eddie didn’t mean to read it. It just so happened that you went to the bathroom right when he found it. The two of you spent the entire afternoon looking through your old memory box, laughing at your baby photos, reading old diaries, and talking Eddie through special moments of your life. So, when he so happened to pick up an envelope, thinking it was just another little note to your future self as you had so many of, it surprised him when it started off with “dear my future partner—this is a list of my biggest insecurities,” skimming down it, his eyes widening as it counted all the way down to 30. You must’ve forgotten about it, but now that he’s seen it—he won’t. Slipping it into his jacket pocket, he now reminisces about the two of yours relationship, and plans to make sure that you know he loves everything about you.
Pairing (s): Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader & GN!Reader/AFAB!Reader — I will specify depending on the fic.
Warnings: Each chapter will have its own set of warnings!!! — these may include; tooth rotting fluff, angst, smut, use or no use of ‘y/n’, severe insecure!reader-hence the title, mentions of mental illness, mentions of food, mentions of certain body parts, and more that will come with each chapter. All of them will be angst with happy endings as this is about self-love and acceptance of everyone. Some chapters may have more than one blurb/fic in a specific region within it that I hope will make everyone feel welcomed into this series.
Requests for this are open — request an insecurity that you’d like me to write about (sfw or nsfw)
A/N: The first chapter will be posted on April 1st-my birthday-and will last all the way until May 1st. All chapters will be linked here and if you want to be added to the taglist let me know in the comments. I really hope you’ll enjoy this series! It’s my first big one!
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: You’ve always wanted to leave Hawkins. Eddie Munson approaches you with a deal and when it’s done, you’ll be able to leave. You’ll leave… right?
Content Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, there's just a lot of sadness in this one
Notes: i sincerely apologize for taking so long with this one; life has just been kicking my ass recently. but i found solace in writing this even if it's sad. trust me that all will be resolved and all will be revealed and there will be an ending you guys will like <3 thanks for reading!
chapter seventeen: boys don't cry
you get ready to leave hawkins for good.
You didn’t make it half a mile. Several pairs of headlights passed you but only one car slowed and pulled to a stop. You heard your name called from the driver’s seat, the voice familiar and full of sympathy. You kept your gaze ahead as you walked forward. Your motions were nearly robotic with how devoid of emotion they were. It wasn’t until you passed the car entirely that the driver got out and shouted your name again.
“What do you want, Steve?” you called back, finally turning on your heel to face him. You could only see his faint figure through his headlights shining directly in your eyes. He was standing behind his ajar door with one elbow propped on top of it.
“To drive you home,” he answered. You sighed angrily before stepping to the side, out of the glare of his headlights, so you could see him properly. His hair was mussed as though he’d been running his hands through it. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were shiny as though he’d shed a few tears himself. Maybe he felt guilty for helping to ruin his friend’s relationship, you thought cynically. Whether that friend was you or Eddie wasn’t clear.
“I like walking,” you said with a shrug.
“You shouldn’t be alone right now. Believe me.” Vestiges of his own pain seeped into his voice in the last two words. You remembered hearing about how his relationship with Nancy Wheeler had gone south; maybe he understood more about your pain than you thought he did. “Will you get in the car please?”
You heaved another sigh as your momentary anger was snuffed out, leaving you with the sadness you were previously carrying. Your shoulders sagged and you walked over to clamber into Steve’s car. Music was playing softly as you closed the door, buckled your seatbelt, and folded your hands in your lap.
Steve put the car in drive and started in the direction of your duplex. For a moment, there was no sound other than the soft crooning of a slow Whitney song. You wondered if you were going to make it out of the car without speaking at all but Steve quickly dashed those hopes.
“I’m sorry,” he quietly said. You scoffed derisively, rolling your eyes and looking back down at your hands.
“For which part exactly? For helping hide it from me or for being the only one to own up to it?” you snarked. Your bottom lip had begun to quiver again so you bit down on it to keep the tears at bay.
“I’m sorry that you’re in pain. The other stuff too but… mostly that.” You nodded a few times, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat. After blinking away your tears, you chanced a glance over at Steve. He was staring resolutely at the road ahead although his own expression was crumpled and sad.
“Why did you even say anything? Isn’t ignorance bliss?” you asked thickly.
“Do you seriously believe that?” he replied immediately. His hands tightened on the wheel, clenching once before loosening. You shook your head after a beat. He inhaled deeply, seemingly considering his words, and spoke. “No one deserves to be lied to like that. I wasn’t going to say anything because I figured you would talk to Eddie but then Gareth asked out Romy and she said yes and then… It kind of spiraled.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked quietly, your voice wavering. You hated how broken you sounded, how you were pleading for something to make sense in the midst of all this. Steve ran a hand through his hair as he pulled to a stop at a red light. The crimson light washed over you both, drenching you in the color.
“I wanted you both to be happy.” You turned away from Steve to stare out the passenger window, your tears blurring the dark landscape. Breathe, you reminded yourself. One shaky inhale, one shaky exhale. Don’t lose it.
“I wish I never met him,” you said. Your voice cracked pathetically as you said it. You didn’t want Steve to bear the brunt of your despair but you couldn’t hold it in any longer. “It… it feels like I’m being torn in half, you know?”
“I know,” Steve replied. You could hear it in his voice. He understood your razor-sharp pain perfectly. “You really love him, don’t you?”
You couldn’t say it out loud. You couldn’t even nod. If you admitted it to yourself, you’d lose the scraps of composure you had left. You simply sat there and let the tears slowly trickle down your cheeks.
The light turned green, Steve drove on, and the two of you sat in a deep, understanding silence for the rest of the drive.
---
You let yourself fully sob when you were in the safety of your own home. It was no longer born of only anger and heartbreak but of self-pity. As much as you hated Eddie, you hated yourself in equal measure. You had gotten in deep. Too deep. You had fallen for a long, long while and here was the floor.
You wanted to lay down right by the front door and not have to deal with the memories emanating out of every piece of your home. Eddie was everywhere. In your kitchen, passing through your living room, helping put together your drum set, watching you yank open your patio door. He was holding your hand as you walked up the stairs and laughing as you entered your bedroom.
How much of you was gone now? It seemed like there were fragments of you spread across Hawkins, left behind unknowingly, never to come back.
There was always going to be a part of you in the Hellfire room, tangled up with Eddie, reliving that first kiss over and over again. There was always going to be a part of you in his passenger seat, headbanging along to the music. A part of you with him in your bed. A part of you at Lover’s Lake with him. At the diner, at The Hideout, at your workplace. All those little bits of yourself you were never going to get back.
How long until you felt whole again?
Your bedroom was dark. You kept it that way as you mechanically moved about, going through the motions of your life. You dressed in your own clothes, leaving Eddie’s shirt on your vanity. You climbed into your bed, covering yourself with your blanket, curling your knees up towards your chest.
You wanted to go back and scream at him. You wanted to swallow your pride and apologize. You wanted him to feel your pain. You wanted to kiss him, just one last time.
You yearned for so many different things that all you could do was lay still as your heart went about rending itself to shreds. The last time you cried like this, Eddie was there to hold you. You wrapped your arms around your torso in a poor imitation of him.
Eventually, after a long while, you’d drift off to sleep. It would be an uneasy one and you’d wake with a stuffy nose and sore eyes but you would at least have gotten through the night. Before that though, you had to sit there with your sadness, feeling empty, hollow, and so very alone.
---
It surprised you how quickly you were able to secure an apartment in Seattle. You’d pulled the phonebook and newspaper ads out of your trash and found a listing almost immediately. As if it had been waiting for the events of the past four days to unfold. All it took was calling the apartment complex and you were due to sign the lease in a week.
You were folding your last drawer of clothes and placing the articles into a box. Eddie’s shirt was still on your vanity. You hadn’t touched it except to fold it so it didn’t wrinkle. Despite you wearing it to your last show at The Hideout, it still carried the scent of his laundry detergent. Your gaze lingered on it as you finished folding your only pair of ripped black jeans.
“Metal’s gotta start somewhere, baby,” Eddie had joked when he brandished two kitchen knives in one hand and your jeans in the other. The two of you had sat on the floor of his trailer, hacking away at the fabric until there were adequate holes in the knees. You liked the way they looked but you didn’t know when you’d be able to wear them again without being reminded of that night.
You heaved a heavy sigh as you placed the jeans into the box. You stood from where you’d been sitting on the floor and began to scan the room for where you’d put the packing tape. It was somewhere around here…
Ring, ring, ring…
Your heart jumped at the sudden noise of your phone ringing. After one last quick look around your room, you hurried downstairs to grab it. It was on its last ring when you snatched it up and held the receiver to your ear.
“Hello?”
“How goes the packing?” Romy asked nonchalantly. You let out an indifferent noise and shrugged, leaning your hip against the kitchen countertop.
“It’s going. You don’t realize how much stuff you have until you have to put it all in boxes, I guess,” you said, trying for a joking tone and failing miserably. This was only the second time you and Romy had spoken since that night at The Hideout.
The first time you saw her afterwards, you’d only seen her long enough after one of your shifts to tell her that you had found an apartment. She congratulated you. You thanked her. Neither of you talked about what happened. But you couldn’t dance around it forever, especially when a tense silence fell between you two over the line.
“Have you talked to Eddie?” Just his name shot a pang of sharp pain through your chest. You muttered a quiet ‘no’ before asking if she’d spoken to Gareth. “I did. Honestly, the kid did a pretty good job of explaining and apologizing.”
“‘The kid?’” you echoed. You knew that meant that she was no longer considering him as a romantic partner. For the time being, at least. Romy huffed a humorless chuckle. You could imagine her standing in her family’s kitchen, perched on the counter, fiddling with the phone cord much like you were doing. “What did he say?”
“He said that guys are dumb. I agreed. I told him that was a fucking idiotic move. He said that he knew it wasn’t cool but, and I quote, ‘Love makes people fucking idiots.’” You raised your eyebrows in shock, a high-pitched giggle escaping you.
“He told you he loves you?” you asked incredulously.
“Kind of, I guess. But I gave him a look and he turned all red like he does and he didn’t say anything else on that topic. He just said that he hopes you don’t actually hate Eddie. He didn’t want to get you guys into this mess and end up with both of you all heartbroken and sobbing.”
“I’m not sobbing,” you mumbled as the conversation turned back to you. Your gaze fell towards your sink without actually seeing it, your thoughts churning in your head. Romy ignored your protest and continued.
“Gareth said that he never would’ve asked Eddie for help if he wasn’t already into you. Apparently, your witty banter and the whole ‘I couldn’t care less about you’ thing really did it for him.”
“It doesn’t matter if he liked me to begin with. Neither of them should’ve lied to us.” There was a pause, the line crackling slightly with the silence. Romy inhaled like she was going to say something, sighed, and then spoke.
“Remember when Gareth said that love makes people fucking idiots? That doesn’t just apply to him and Eddie,” she said, her tone careful and quiet. You thumped your fist on the counter idly as you parsed through your next words. Romy had always been the more forgiving of you two. You wondered how she did it so easily. You wondered what it was inside you that made your knee-jerk reaction anger instead of compassion.
“How can you just forgive and forget?” you asked softly, your voice beginning to thicken.
“I’m forgiving. I’m not forgetting. But either way, if I don’t forgive them, the anger and the pain just eats all of us from the inside out. I’d rather not have that happen. I care about them and you too much.”
You fell silent, sniffing a few times as you tried to prevent more tears from spilling over. Romy’s words rang true for both her and you. You didn’t want to keep being angry. You didn’t want to keep pushing your friends away. You wanted to accept the love you were being given. You just didn’t know where to start.
“I’m not telling you what to do, by any means. I just think that you should talk to Eddie one more time before you leave. Tie up those loose ends and say goodbye, at least. Don’t carry that pain with you.”
You didn’t respond. Romy seemed to expect this. She murmured a quiet goodbye before hanging up. In a daze, you walked back up the stairs and into your bedroom.
It seemed so large and empty. Your posters and pictures had been taken down. Your drawers sat empty. Your bed was perfectly made. Your vanity was cleared of makeup and your knickknacks.
You sat down on the edge of your bed and thought back on what loose ends there were. You hadn’t told Eddie you were leaving. He deserved to know that. He also had told you he had a surprise for you. You were unsure if you wanted to know what it was.
Your gaze sharpened into focus and you stared at your wooden vanity. You’d bought the thing secondhand like most of your furniture. It was plain, especially without any of your possessions decorating the surface. There was only a folded black shirt with a faded Metallica logo sitting on top of it.
You could take the shirt back to Eddie. That would give you the chance to say goodbye in person instead of in a letter or over the phone. The thought of it made your gut twist and your heart flutter. You could see him. Just one more time. One last time.
Part 6 to the series Chemistry, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5-- Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
stranger things masterlist | Spotify playlist
summary: thanks to Eddie Munson, Y/N faces the consequences of breaking her parents number one rule: no boys allowed. After a month of no fun, no friends, and no boyfriends, Y/N makes a harrowing realization about just how much she misses the "freak" of Hawkins High
a/n: this chapter was a long time coming so I thank you all so much for waiting patiently. I also meant to end the story at the 6th chapter but my last chapter did mitosis again and this isn't the end (just yet), but for now enjoy this extra long chapter
“Eddie,” Y/N cries out in despair.
“It’s ok sweetheart. I’m right here.” Eddie replies.
He tightens his arm locked around her waist and pulls her body closer to his. He breathes in the scent of her hair. Feels the warmth of her body pressed against his as they lay in his bed.
“I-I need you,” she calls out to him, too afraid to turn over and look him in the eyes.
“It’s ok, I need you too.”
“But I can’t. I-I’ve never needed someone like this before…”
***
When Y/N woke, there was a brief moment of reprieve.
Her swollen eyes struggled to widen amidst the soft sunlight peeking through her blinds. She breathed deeply, barely on the brink of consciousness to relish the last waking moment she would have before remembering the horrors of the past twelve hours.
Soon enough, the look on her mom’s face and the tone of her dad’s voice came flooding back to her. The memories loom accompanied by an intense pounding in her head.
She’s reminded of the tears she had cried throughout the night, but now, there’s only silence.
Numbness overcomes her, and for the rest of the day, Y/N simply floats by, barely interacting with the world around her.
At breakfast, lunch, and dinner, she looks down at her plate and only opens her mouth to take a few bites of whatever is in front of her.
In the calm clear morning air, her parents reinstate her month long punishment with the new addition of having her phone privileges taken away too.
Y/N knows from her sister’s many moments of being grounded that the punishment usually entails promptly coming home from school, with the exception of extracurricular activities, and only leaving the house for family outings. But for the first time, it’s Y/N’s turn to be on house arrest. Forbidden from seeing Eddie and any of her friends.
And if it wasn’t drilled into her head before, the whole, “no fun, no friends, and no boyfriends” thing was permanently embedded in her skull. That and the idea that those are all worthless distractions from the only thing that does matter: doing well in school.
Y/N almost wants to complain. A thread of anger in her shouts that this is all unfair, but a bigger, much louder part of her knows the harsh reality: life isn’t fair. And this is exactly what would happen by doing something as stupid as falling in love in a house that forbids it.
Now, she’ll have to pay the price for her idiotic actions and make sure nothing like this happens again.
Even when she hears a faint tapping on her window later that night, only to discover Eddie climbing up the roof of her house.
Y/N starts hyperventilating and feeling the blood in her veins scream.
“Eddie, what are you doing,” she whisper yells, from the window cracked slightly ajar.
Eddie, with his tongue slightly poking out of his full lips, lost in focus from trying not to fall and quietly make his way to her window, doesn’t hear her.
As he climbs Rapunzel’s tower, a small part of Y/N can’t help but feel her heart soar. On this cool autumn night, here Eddie is, climbing the edge of her parents house in his signature leather jacket he fills out so well and chunky ring clad fingers clutching the railing.
As Eddie nears her windowsill, Y/N stands in front of it like a guard, blocking his attempted entrance.
“Hey sweetheart,” he reaches forward and caresses her cheek with one calloused hand while the other holds him upright, balancing carefully on the rooftop. “You didn’t call. I was starting to get worried.”
“Eddie, you can’t be here right now,” Y/N frantically states before looking over her shoulder. “My parents could hear you. I could get in trouble for this.”
“I know,” He sighs, “But I wanted to see you.”
Eddie smiles at her, not in that million dollar gleam way he always does that she loves so much, but in that bashful heart warming way that makes her stomach do a whole gymnastics routine.
Y/N shakes her head and firmly states, “I don’t care. You need to go home Eddie.”
Eddie frowns, partially at her words and also at the sudden realization that her cheeks have been stained with what were presumably tears.
“Eddie, please.” Y/N shoos him away. The pleading sense of urgency is audible in her voice.
Eddie takes a beat, realizing the events are not unfolding like he imagined they would have.
He knew it might take some convincing. Nothing with Y/N has been easy, but he thought throwing rocks at a girl’s window always worked, at least in the movies it does.
But the frazzled look on her face and the shaky look in her eyes right now say otherwise.
“Eddie, please, I’m serious. You need to go home, right now.”
She looks like she could be on the verge of tears and that alone is enough to make Eddie stop. His heart absolutely broke at the sound of her cries over the phone last night. It would practically kill him to be the one bringing tears to her mesmerizing eyes.
“Ok,” he replies reluctantly before slowly making his descent down the side of the house.
When his muddy Reebok sneakers hit the pavement, he’s left disoriented. Not that the climb had any effect on him, but Y/N’s mood was just so off putting.
He knew she would at least be bummed. He imagined her parents would get mad and maybe even ground her and that’d be enough to have her properly pissed off, but he didn’t expect her to be so… perturbed.
Maybe it should come as no surprise, given how anxious she was before she got home last night. And you’d think after all the things Eddie’s cynical eyes have seen, he would know better than to have hope, but something in him can’t help himself. For once, he wanted his expectation to meet his reality no matter how much he wished he didn’t.
For Y/N, all sense of hope disintegrated the night before. It feels like nothing even matters. Once in a tug of war between her parents wishes and her own, the rope got yanked out of her hands making her fall in the mud.
She couldn’t run away. She couldn’t fight it. All she could do was freeze. Freeze and retreat into a hole of safety and familiarity which was obeying her parents and keeping any hope of something with Eddie tucked away at the back of her bleeding heart.
***
The silence continued the next day at school, where a cloud of doom loomed over her incessantly. Y/N breezed by, narrowly escaping the minimum amount of effort required of her classes and demands of friends or teachers.
Until chemistry class.
As soon as she walked in, Eddie, who normally arrives as the bell rings, was already there waiting for her. He rushed over to her and engulfed her in a warm hug.
“Sweetheart, what happened? Are you okay?”
Y/N pulled away, acutely aware of the odd stares from her classmates. But those were pinpricks compared to the blistering pain of her parents' wrath.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He frowns.
She shrugs his touch away, “Meet me in the woods behind the school during lunch.”
Like clockwork, Eddie finds her sitting on the shoddy wooden bench in the clearing out past the track and field. The sound of his footsteps with leaves crunching under his feet and the chain swinging along his jeans announcing his arrival.
“Hey smarty pants,” he greets, gently teasing. He slides in the spot next to her and wraps a protective arm around her hunched over shoulders. He kisses the top of her head and the proximity of his actions brings the scent of soap and the sort of musky scent she doesn’t know what to call other than just, boy, to her nostrils. It makes her close her eyes and shoulders drop slightly.
“I was worried about you yesterday. Was hoping you might call, sweetheart,” he sweetly says as he cups her cheek.
Y/N turns the other cheek and looks down at her lap. His touch is too tempting. Her body yearns for him, but she can’t. She has to be strong enough to resist.
“My parents took my phone away. I’m not even allowed to use the main phone in the kitchen unless it's for an emergency,” Y/N glumly replies.
“I think a quick call to your local dungeon master counts as an emergency,” he teases.
“Eddie,” She looks up at him sullenly, “It’s not funny.”
Y/N looks down and Eddie frowns.
“Hey, look at me,” he softly instructs, turning her shoulders towards him.
She holds her breath and looks into his warm eyes. They’re so beautiful, she wishes she could just jump into his irises and swim in the warm lagoon of their honey hue.
“We’re gonna figure this out, okay?”
“How? My phone privileges were taken away and I’m grounded for a month. I’m pretty much not allowed to do anything but go to school.”
“Seriously,” he asks, arms tensing at the thought.
“Yeah,” she looks down dejectedly.
“That’s bullshit. Are you kidding me?”
Y/N frowns angrily and huffs. Like she doesn’t already know that.
“Those’re the rules, Eddie” she shrugs glumly. “I have to follow them.”
Eddie exhales through his nostrils. “And what if you don’t?”
Y/N looks at him incredulously, “Eddie are you serious? I got the ass-chewing of a lifetime. I’ve never gotten in trouble like this before. I-I feel horrible for what I did.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.”
“Eddie, what are you talking about?”
“Y/N did nothing wrong. Your parents are just blowing this way outta proportion. Teenage rebellion is good. Healthy even.”
“Look Eddie, just because you can get away with being rebellious doesn’t mean I can.”
Eddie huffs in frustration. “I’m just saying, you need to stand up for yourself. Your parents are only gonna keep controlling you if you let them.”
Y/N opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out.
“And besides, who are your parents to stop you? I mean, think about it. The first time you do something like that, it’ll shock them, but the more you do it, the more they’ll get used to it. Then they’ll have no choice but to face the fact that we want to be together.”
Y/N looks at him in disgust and shakes her head before looking up at him with fear in her eyes, “Eddie, what the hell? I barely made it out of there alive.”
Eddie drops his shoulders he hadn’t realized were tensed up.
“You just don’t understand. It’s never gonna get any better. And even if it did, I… I wouldn’t want my parents to just put up with us dating. I love my parents and I don’t want to disappoint them any more than I already have.”
Eddie looks her square in the eye and throws the curveball of a question, “Y/N are you really disappointing them or are you finally doing what makes you happy?”
Y/N jerks her head back. She doesn’t know why his words cut as sharply as a knife as they do, but it stings nonetheless.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters to me is being with you, the right way. I want my parents to accept us.”
“And what if they don’t?”
Eddie looks into Y/N’s eyes.
“Are you only ever going to do things they approve of?”
Y/N’s teeth clench and her lips purse. She grabs onto the wooden table for stability as she feels tears threatening to spring from her eyes, but she can’t let Eddie see her cry. She can’t.
The question in her mind that has her on the verge of explosion: Is it really so wrong for me to want to date Eddie and have my parent’s approval too?
Eddie’s features soften at the sight of her state of deep tension. He has to remind himself that Y/N isn’t the one he should be mad at, it’s her parents. Even though Y/N is the one freely letting her parents drive the wedge between them even deeper.
A small part of him is envious. He almost admires Y/N’s willingness to obey her parents. And the way she doesn’t hate them for what they’ve done. She hasn’t even thought to continue dating him just to spite them.
And yet, the bigger part of him, full of spite and resentment he has toward his own parents, is angry, both at and for her. He crashed and burned trying to get his own father’s acceptance way back when and doesn’t want her to do the same.
“Look, I’m just… I hate seeing you like this,” he presses a palm to her back and gently rubs. “I know you really care about what your parents have to say, but they’re wrong about us, about you,” he whispers as he brings a hand forward to caress her hair. “Y/N, listen, you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”
Y/N breathes in deeply, “Eddie… You didn’t see the look on their faces. It was like-like I’d taken their hearts and just smashed them into tiny little pieces, right in front of them.”
Eddie wants to say something, but is rendered speechless. He wants to complain about how unfair her parents are being or how ridiculous it all is, but he can see how upset she already is. He doesn’t want to be the one to bring any more tears to her precious eyes.
He wraps his arms around her and whispers in her hair, “I know.”
Y/N leans into his touch but doesn’t wrap her arms around him back.
Eddie takes a deep breath in and slowly pulls away. “So what are we gonna do now?”
Y/N peers up at him, through her curled lashes. Her eyes like falling stars.
“I think we need to call it.”
“W-What?” He chokes.
“I can’t,” Y/N sniffles and shakes her head, “I don’t think I can do this.”
“What?” He sighs and frustratedly runs a hand through his hair, “Is this really what you want?”
Y/N shakes her head, “No, but I–”
“Sweetheart,” Eddie calls out to her, making her heart constrict. Y/N looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Remember what I said to you that night, on the phone?”
Eddie cocks an eyebrow at Y/N awaiting her answer as she reluctantly nods.
“I meant it, okay? Every word. I’ll do whatever it takes for us to be together. To have a shot at finding out whatever this is, it’s the least we deserve, right?”
He moves his head to meet her gaze.
“I want,” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. If Eddie starts crying then Y/N will surely cry too and absolutely none of that can happen.
“I need you in my life, Y/N. And I know you feel the same way too.”
Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat. Hearing Eddie say he needs her in almost the same way she did to him in the dream she’d had that night makes her heart drop to her stomach, but only for a moment.
“Eddie, it doesn’t matter what I feel. And there’s nothing you can do to change the fact that my parents won’t let us be together.”
Eddie takes one good look at her. The creases in her forehead. The tension in her shoulders. The pout on her pretty lips. And the nervous look in her eyes. The kind of look you have when you need to be on guard. Before, it was just her heart she had to guard, but now it’s her spirit too.
“And besides, what’s the end game here?”
“What?” Eddie shakes his head in confusion.
“I mean, even if we did… date, how long could it possibly last?”
Eddie blinks, completely thrown for a loop by her question. “I don’t know, as long as we can keep it going I guess.”
“Eddie, what’ll happen when we graduate? When I go off to college?”
“I-I don’t know. I hadn’t really planned out our relationship Y/N,” Eddie says in a snappier tone than he’d meant. He knows Y/N likes to plan ahead, but even for something like this?
“Maybe they’re doing us a favor. Saving us the trouble.”
Eddie tenses, fighting his lip from quivering at the thought.
“Do you really believe that,” Eddie’s voice cracks and Y/N looks away.
She wishes her father’s words could go away. That they could’ve just gone in one ear and out the other. But they didn’t. They stuck to her. And as much as she’d like to believe in the little dream that anything is possible, she knows it's better, safer to be realistic.
For Eddie, it doesn’t matter if their relationship lasts 10 days or 10 years. And yeah it’ll hurt like hell when it’s over either way, but for her, he’s willing to take that chance. Or so he thought
“So that’s it? We’re not even going to try and see what this could be?” He asks in a steady and calculated voice.
Y/N frowns and looks away. When he puts it like that, she feels ridiculous, idiotic. Like a fool for not even trying. But how could she? How could she be brave enough to stand up to her parents? To stand tall in the face of adversity?
To cower in fear and hide away is what she’s always done. She did it whenever her sister did something rebellious and had to face the ugly consequences.
Y/N thought she could avoid that fate. All she had to do was obey her parents. If she did what she was told her life was easy, familiar, and safe.
“Eddie, I just…”
Y/N can feel her heart being torn down the middle. It’s killing her to let the people she loves down. If it’s not Eddie then it’s her parents. But she can stand to disappoint Eddie. She can’t stand to disappoint her parents anymore than she already has. She never wants to experience that ridicule again.
“For the first time in my life, I felt brave. You made me feel brave. You made me feel alive. And happy. But maybe it was all too much because then…then it all blew up in my face. And now, I’m scared.
I'm scared it’ll happen again. I’m scared that even wanting something like this makes me a bad person. I’m scared that I’ll lose you again because of something I have no control over.
So yeah, I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you want, but it’s the only one I’ve got.”
Eddie’s eyes widen. He’s surprised by her answer. And if she wasn’t giving him the worst news possible, he would be proud of how assertive she’s being. If only she could channel that energy toward her parents.
“I think it would be best if we just acted like none of this ever happened. Now that our chemistry assignment is over and done with, I think we should just go our separate ways.”
And before he even has a chance to say anything, Y/N gets up from the table and runs away in the direction of the school.
Her muscle memory has her making her way to the cafeteria, but as soon as she sees her friends sitting at their usual spot, she freezes in her tracks, almost bumping into someone walking with their lunch tray.
“Watch where you’re going,” they spit at her.
Y/N tenses up and looks back at her friends smiling and laughing. It should make her happy to see her friends so happy, but at this moment, all she can feel is the fragile lines of her heart cracking into broken pieces.
She can’t do it. She thought she could at least handle lunch with them, but not today.
She makes the great escape from the cafeteria till her legs bring her to the safe haven of the school’s library.
She takes a spot towards the back, behind rows and rows of bookshelves by a window with a view of the student parking lot.
She spots a few of the jocks cutting class. For a moment, she almost hopes Eddie might come and find her. But more than anything, she just wants to scream.
***
For the rest of the week, Y/N avoids Eddie like the plague. Much to her chagrin, Eddie’s persistence has resulted in many a chicken scratch written note in her locker.
Y/N please, can we talk? I miss you like crazy. If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting by my van after school today (p.s. I promise I’ll be on time).
You didn’t show up yesterday. I guess you had an after school thing. One of those clubs you’re in that I forgot about. Ever the lovely smarty pants. Anyway, I have to stay after school for Hellfire today. Just so you know, the drama club doors are always open.
I know you won’t talk to me, but I just wanted to say you look really pretty today. Well, you look pretty everyday, but especially today.
I listened to the mixtape you made me. I wish I could tell you in person, but I think I might not hate the Thompson Twins (Don’t tell the Hellfire boys though).
I miss you sweetheart, please don’t shut me out.
Y/N crumbles each of them up and shoves them into her bag, letting them collect at the bottom. It takes every ounce of energy she has not to succumb to Eddie’s poetic ways.
In the meantime, Y/N continues to laser focus on school and avoid her friends.
She stopped eating lunch in the cafeteria and came up with an excuse to get out of any conversation with them in class.
Y/N didn’t want to have to explain what happened or pretend like everything was normal to anyone, so instead she’s choosing to walk the paved path before her alone.
Whenever Y/N comes home, she hides away in her room like a crab hiding in its shell, only coming out at meal times or to leave for school in the morning.
By the end of that long miserable week, Y/N asks her sister to take her to the Radio Shack. She’s been saving up her birthday money for an emergency and this was as much of an emergency as anything.
Normally her sister would object to chauffeuring her around, but even she felt a little bad for Y/N.
Luckily, because her sister would accompany her, Y/N’s parents allowed the little field trip.
A brand new Walkman and a few tapes of her favorite albums might be the only beacon of hope she has for a while, at least until this all passes. If it passes. Unlike the storm that night in the back of Eddie’s van, she fears this torment may never pass.
Eddie feels equally tormented by the whole thing. For one, he never expected to fall for a girl like Y/N. And now that he has, she’s just out of reach. Just his luck.
He knows the universe is just laughing at him like it always does, because for the first time in a long time, he actually had hope. Hope that even he can have a happy ending. But it’s long gone now.
As the days fly by and there’s no sign of change, he realizes this isn’t just a setback anymore. That there really might be nothing he can say or do to change her parents' minds. To change her mind.
And even if by a miracle, they could be together, he can’t help but feel sort of hurt and rejected by Y/N's insistence on avoiding each other and acting like what they had means nothing.
Her act of obedience is not only taking her own happiness away, but his too.
It hurt, but he hated letting it show. So he exchanged his pain for irritability or anger.
He would lash out at the boys from Hellfire Club for the littlest things. He would drive home to the loudest most brash music he owned a cassette too.
At the trailer, he would angrily pluck away at his guitar. And sometimes, on the more difficult days, he would even pick fights with angry drunks at the hideout just to feel something.
When it inevitably didn’t, all he had to do was turn to that lucky little black tackle box to take his pain and anger away. And oh, what a familiar delight that was.
Anything to numb the pain of losing her. And what could have been.
As Eddie began to turn to his vices for comfort, Y/N found comfort in a few bad habits of her own.
Self-imposed isolation in times of turmoil was one. She hardly spoke to anyone at home or school. She couldn’t be seen without her headphones on or the Walkman attached to her hip.
It probably would have killed Eddie to know she couldn’t listen to Prince anymore. If she so much as listened to the first 3 seconds of any track on Purple Rain, she would fall apart.
But, on a hard day, she’ll pop in that one tape, lie in bed with the covers over her, and sob into her pillow as the ballad of Purple Rain flows into her ears like medicine.
The rest of her days include hiding away in her room or the library at school. She makes excuses to get out of hanging out with her friends. She cries at night and sleeps a lot during the weekends.
Another bad habit she turned to was extreme focus. All her newfound time and energy was devoted to the one and only thing in her life she could control: academics.
The self-imposed torture was alarming to many of the people in her life.
During the first week of her punishment, her parents were taken aback at her change of temperament, but figured she was just upset. But the longer it went on, the more worried they got. So did her friends and teachers.
When they all tried checking in on her she gave the same excuse that she was just stressed about college applications, which to a degree was true.
However, she could fool her teachers or her parents, but she couldn’t fool her friends.
Michelle especially knew something was up. Even though Y/N hadn’t told her anything about what happened that weekend with Eddie, Michelle figured it must have something to do with the reason Y/N was acting so weird.
And even though Y/N wanted it to be kept a secret, Michelle told the rest of the girls in their friend group, out of concern.
Just like Y/N thought, they were shocked at first, but she would be surprised to learn just how happy they were for her. Happy that Y/N finally found someone, even if it was a freak like Eddie Munson.
Immediately, they knew they had to talk to Eddie. Michelle was already at the defense, prepared to interrogate Eddie and literally fight him if he had done anything that would hurt Y/N.
Little did they know that what hurt Y/N the most was not being with him at all.
***
After her one month punishment was served, Y/N the zombie still hadn’t left. She continued to shut the world out.
Her parents tried to talk to her, wanting to understand why she was acting this way but she wouldn’t budge. She was giving them what they wanted, right? Anything more would be a death sentence.
And with early decision applications due soon, Y/N was in no place to waste time with friends or family or anything else that would distract her.
She mustered up the energy to craft them to perfection. With near perfect SAT scores and gpa, all that was left was to refine her resume and essays.
It only took many a sleepless night, but by the time she had a decent application together, she put them through an extensive review process.
She reviewed them with her current English teacher and every English teacher she had since she started high school.
She found another school counselor who could review them and even reviewed them with the school librarian.
And just when she thought they might be good enough, she even went to review them with the librarian at the public library in town.
Countless hours of editing, hundreds of pencil shavings, and red pen ink stains later and she was almost there.
Before she knew it, that dreaded November day was upon her. If she wanted her application to arrive by the deadline, she would have to mail them in soon.
One fateful Saturday morning, she sat in her room and rifled through her materials at least ten times to make sure every element of her application was present and accounted for, pristine, and completed to perfection.
She put them in the envelope and sealed it shut. With the packet addressed and ready to go, she left the house and bicycled over to the post office.
She walked through the doors setting off a jingling noise to her ears. She walked over to the counter and handed over the packet to the person working there.
In the blink of an eye, she sent three and a half years worth of work off its merry way to be scrutinized for her aptitude at the University of Chicago.
She had time before she would submit applications to her safety and reach schools. And with an application perfect enough for U Chicago, she knew she could reuse those same materials.
But this was it. All those hours studying, volunteering, and working built up to this moment. And suddenly, the pressure built on herself was free to flow from her shoulders down to her hands into that packet and on their way to Chicago, IL.
As she walks out the door and the bell chimes again, a sudden and intense pang feeling hits her chest.
Like a bomb, this gut level feeling hits her: she has no more control at this point. Between now and the time admission decisions get released, there is nothing she can do.
There is nothing now.
As she reaches the bike stand, she begins to weep and instinctively, her hand flies to cover her mouth.
At first it was a few hot tears quietly slipping their way down her cheeks. But then it became a deep seated cry, starting from her lungs and chest working their way up to her throat then her eyes and finally her head.
It had been weeks of crying, but now it felt explosive. For the first time since that dreadful night, she truly feels lost and alone.
Without a goal to keep her company or give her hope anymore, she’s never felt so small.
As she hops on her bike and cycles past a park, she wanders through a clearing in the woods. She finds access to a stream and hops off her bike to gently kneel before it, watching as the current lazily washes over the rocks. The light breeze in the air swooshes against her hair.
For a moment, she can see her muddled reflection in the water. Her teary eyes blinking rapidly and her cheeks red hot.
Once she was sure no one was around, she let it all out. No holding back. She held her head in her hands as she cried and screamed till her cheeks and lungs burned.
All these years, she’d spent 110% of her effort trying to be perfect for others, to submit to their scrutiny. It took every ounce of energy she had. The weight of it all that's been crushing her down all these years is suddenly gone.
For the first time, the pressure is gone. The need to be perfect, at an all time low.
It doesn’t matter what she does. Whatever is meant to happen will happen. The earth will still spin on its axis at a 23 degree angle. The sun will rise and fall no matter what she does. Or who she is.
At the very least, she’ll want to maintain her gpa to graduate as number 3 in her class, but otherwise… She doesn’t really have to do anything to prove herself anymore.
She can finally breathe.
She lowers her hands and looks at her reflection in the water. She laughs aloud and sighs.
When there were no tears left to cry, she regains her breath, dusts herself off and cycles back home.
***
Y/N feels a shift in her spirit. Like she's a new person, well, sort of. She’s no longer the girl that grinds herself to shreds to achieve her goals, well not until the next goal presents itself. But for now, she can relax. She can surrender to life.
What sort of person will she become with this newfound freedom? She doesn’t quite know.
When she gets home, she ignores the sounds of her parents and sister and goes upstairs. She locks herself in her room and searches through her closet. She takes out the dusty old half-used sketchbook. She sits at her desk, puts on her headphones, and starts her Walkman.
She takes out a perfectly sharpened, long, yellow, number two pencil. She lets the pencil hit the paper and it flies.
She draws and draws and draws for the rest of the day.
Without even thinking, she just draws whatever her hand feels like drawing. She fills pages and pages of the sketchbook. She never stops to eat or drink or even use the bathroom. She has years worth of drawing she needs to let out.
She draws pictures of Hawkins, her friends, memories of Chicago, her favorite album covers, her room the way it is now, her room the way she wished it had been decorated, her favorite movie posters, outfits she’s seen other people wear that she thought looked cool, people from school, landscapes of school, college applications, the stress of maintaining a perfect gpa, herself when she graduates, and Eddie.
She draws so many pictures of Eddie. Eddie in the library, Eddie at the diner, Eddie in his van, Eddie at the lake, Eddie and his beautiful long hair, Eddie’s lovely hands adorned with chunky rings, Eddie's tattoos, the new tattoos she had drawn on him that day, Eddie in a Hellfire shirt, Eddie in his Metallica crop top, Eddie in that jacket he wears like a uniform, Eddie with the chain on the jeans hung loose on his hips, Eddie with a bandana hanging out of his back pocket, Eddie in his room, Eddie playing guitar for her, Eddie teaching her how to play guitar.
Eddie Munson, the first boy to ever steal her heart.
It all comes out of her so fiercely. It takes over her like a spell. She was in the zone. She didn’t realize the magnitude of the force of her drawing till she woke up the next day still seated at her desk. Light seeping through the slits of the curtains. She turns to the side and sees a plate of what must have been dinner off to the side of the desk.
What? Who brought her that? When did they come in? Was Y/N already asleep? Surely they wouldn’t have left it if she was asleep. How did she not notice them?
She looks back at the clock on her wall that reads 12:36.
Y/N’s never woken up this late. What happened yesterday?
She looks down at the sketchbook opened at a page with a drawing of the Grease movie poster reimagined with her and Eddie smudged at different places.
Her desk is littered with pencil shavings, eraser filings, and broken or shorter pencils.
She flips through the pages filled with at least dozens of new drawings. Some are messy and crude while others are bright and beautiful.
She closes the sketchbook and holds it to her chest. She smiles and starts crying. She’s confused by the tears despite feeling relieved and realizes they’re tears of joy.
After all these years, she’s still got it. More than ever before, drawing has brought her so much joy. Joy she almost forgot even existed.
She takes a deep breath in satisfaction. This alone is enough to keep her happy. Even if she never makes a penny on her drawings, she’ll continue to do them. She doesn’t care what kind of job she has, as long as it can afford her to live comfortably and have time for this. Drawing. It’s what makes her happy. It’s what feeds her soul. It’s what makes her spirit soar.
She loves it so much, she just wishes she could share it with someone. But who? Her parents never cared for her talent. Her friends might think it’s cool the first few drawings but after that? Who knows.
Someone knocks on her door and slowly opens it. And for some reason, Y/N’s mind instantly runs to Eddie.
But it’s her sister who peeks through the crack in the door before sighing in relief and opening it all the way.
“Phew, you’re awake. And conscious.”
“What happened?”
“You stomped home and shut yourself in your room which is what you usually do now, but whenever we called you for lunch and dinner you didn’t answer so we checked in on you to see a drawing demon possessed you.”
Y/N looks around her desk.
“Are mom and dad mad?”
“Nah. They were weirded out at first but then they were just glad you weren’t crying or sleeping.”
“Oh,” Y/N replies, not sure if her parents' reaction is a good thing or a bad thing.
“Is everything okay? You’ve been acting really weird.”
Y/N glares at her sister. So much for the, now short lived, joy of drawing.
“It’s nothing.” Her sister would never understand.
“Is it because mom and dad won’t let you date? Just do it in secret. They won’t know the difference.”
“That was me trying to date him in secret,” Y/N offhandedly admits to herself. “Guess I’m no good at it.”
“It sucks, but you’ll get over it and then next thing you’ll know, you’ll have moved on to the next guy.”
Y/N shakes her head. “I don’t want to move into the next guy. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. You of all people should know that it’s not about which boy I date, but about not getting to date period.”
“You get better about hiding the more you do it.” Her sister shrugs.
“I don’t want to have to hide or lie about it. I hate doing that. I always feel horrible after.”
What Y/N wants is for her parents to be cool with her dating like her other friends' parents are. Y/N doesn’t want to feel like a bad daughter for falling in love.
Before her sister can respond, her mom calls out from downstairs.
“Is Y/N awake?”
“Yes,” her sister yells out.
“Come down, lunch is getting cold.”
Y/N’s sister raises her eyebrows before turning around and heading down stairs.
Y/N sullenly follows suit, trudging down the stairs. As she walks into the kitchen, she sees her family sitting at the table. Her mom's eyes light up when she sees Y/N.
Y/N begrudgingly takes a seat.
“Good afternoon sleeping beauty,” her mom teasingly greets. The words make Y/N cringe, but she musters a half smile.
“How are you feeling?”
Y/N shoves a fork into her food, “Fine”.
Y/N’s mom pointedly looks at her dad.
“We’re going to go to the grocery store after this, want to come? We can get your favorite cereal,” her mom excitedly offers.
What is Y/N, five years old?
“No thanks, I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? You’ve been up in your room an awful lot. Maybe it’ll do you good to go outside. Get some fresh air.”
Y/N shakes her head, “What’s the point? It’s not like I’m allowed to do anything fun right?”
“Drop the attitude Y/N,” her dad scolds.
“Y/N, you can’t be mad forever. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to have fun after high school.”
For a moment, Y/N thought she was in the clear. She thought things would get better again. But it turns out drawing was just the bandaid on a bullet wound.
The next day at school, Y/N’s mood slightly improves, only if she’s scribbling in her sketchbook.
Eddie notices her pulling it out in class and he could just cry. He’s so proud of her for getting into drawing again. He wishes he could say something to her or ask to see one of her drawings, but he knows there’s a line that’d be crossed if he did.
Later that day, Michelle and the rest of Y/N’s friends decide to finally talk to Eddie.
“You’re Eddie Munson, right?” Michelle asks as she approaches Eddie at his table at lunch.
“Who’s asking,” Eddie defensively replies.
“I’m Michelle, a friend of Y/N’s,” Michelle says and Eddie’s eyes soften. “We need to talk.”
Michelle leads him over to their lunch table where Y/N is undoubtedly gone again.
As Eddie sits down, the other girls stare at him, some confusingly, others surprisingly.
“What’s going on with Y/N. Is she okay?”
Michelle looks at him cautiously, “We could ask you the same thing Munson?”
“What are you talking about?” Eddie asks in confusion.
“We know something’s wrong with Y/N and we know you have something to do with it.”
“Uh, I’d say it’s more her parents fault than anything.”
The girls look at each other confused. Eddie furrows his own eyebrows in confusion.
“What do you mean?” Michelle asks.
“I mean, I know I’m kind of at fault for not being careful enough, but I just didn’t think her parents were going to find out, you know.”
“Y/N’s parents found out about you?!”
“Yeah,” Eddie responds looking at them curiously, “Did she not tell you?”
“Y/N hasn’t said a word to us since that weekend,” Michelle says. “Any idea why that is?”
“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “ I mean, I know why she’s avoiding me, but I don’t know why she would avoid you guys. She was grounded for a while and her parents wouldn’t let her go out or use the phone, but I’m pretty sure she could still talk to you at school.”
The girls look at each other in shock.
“Eddie, what exactly happened between you and Y/N that weekend,” Michelle asks. And Eddie tells the girls everything.
He tells them about how it all started with a simple chemistry assignment. That they’d seen each other practically every day after school. How she wanted to see him again, even though she was afraid of being caught. How much they’d grown to like each other, especially after that day at the lake.
But when he brought her home only thirty minutes past curfew, her parents absolutely flipped out. Her mom was outside waiting for her and saw Eddie. He had no idea what happened after that.
But when she’d called him later that night, she was crying. She’d sounded so heartbroken. And the following Monday at school, she called it off. And he hasn’t heard from her since.
“We need to go find Y/N right now,” Michelle declares as she stands up.
“And do what Michelle, interrogate her? It’s obvious she wants to be left alone.”
“She’s been left alone long enough. She needs us. All of us,” Michelle adds, looking pointedly at Eddie.
“And you, why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you do anything? You left her to deal with all that alone?” Michelle asks Eddie.
Eddie stands up and scowls, “Listen princess, you don’t know a thing about me, okay?”
Michelle and the other girls look at him with wide eyes and slack jaws.
“And I didn’t… I didn’t leave her to deal with it alone. I wanted to deal with it together, but she wouldn’t let me. She kept… pushing me away,” he mutters the last words through gritted teeth. He looks up at her, and she sees the pain and torment in his eyes.
Michelle looks at him with pity. She doesn’t know Eddie well, but it comes as a shock to see his tough guy persona facade crackling right in front of her very eyes.
She sits back down and takes a deep breath. Eddie sits down with her.
“Guys, what are we going to do?”
“Michelle’s right, maybe we should go talk to her, see what’s going on. Let her know we’re here for her.” One girl says.
“I don’t think it should be all of us though. I think she might get freaked out. You said she didn’t even want us to know right?” Another girl adds and Michelle nods.
“Maybe you should talk to her, Michelle. I think if it’s just you, she might be willing to open up.”
The lines in her forehead crease and she contemplates. “I don’t even know where to find her. I’ve seen her hide out in the library a few times and even then she always avoids me.”
“If she’s not there, she might be in the woods just past the school,” Eddie suggests.
“I think she has honor society meetings on Wednesdays too,” one girl adds.
“That’s today,” Michelle exclaims. “Okay, I know just what to do.”
“Wait,” Eddie juts his hand out.
“What?” Michelle asks.
Eddie’s eyebrows furrow and straighten. He blinks and opens his mouth, “I…”
The girls all look at him as he searches his brain for the right words to say.
“If you see Y/N, could you tell her that… I would let the whole world know I love Prince if it meant we could be together.”
***
For the rest of the school day, Michelle is lost in thought, planning out just what she’ll say to Y/N. A small part of her is worried the plan won’t work, but a bigger more determined part knows it will.
She knows Y/N tends to retreat inward when times get tough. That she hates letting it show when she has a moment of weakness, but that was usually over a bad test grade or minor problem she was having with someone in honor society. It’s never gotten this bad before.
Michelle waits for Y/N outside the honor society meeting room, nervously checking her watch. To her luck, Y/N is one of the last few to leave the room.
When Y/N walks out of the room, she doesn’t notice Michelle at first. Michelle stands straight and calls Y/N’s name. Y/N stops, like a deer frozen in headlights.
Michelle walks up to her and nervously smiles, “Hey.”
“Hi,” Y/N squeaks.
“Can we talk?” Michelle asks. Y/N looks at her nervously. “I was thinking we could go for a drive? I can give you a ride home too, so you don’t have to walk in the cold.”
Now that is an offer Y/N can’t refuse. But she still blinks nervously. “Ok.”
The two walk to the front of the school. “How was honor society today?”
“It was alright. We’re getting ready for winter formal.”
“Exciting, yes,” Y/N laughs, “Stressful? Should be, but I just don’t have it in me to care anymore.”
“What?” Michelle asks in amused surprise. “Y/N, not caring about something school related? Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
Y/N weakly laughs. “It’s exhausting to care so much”
“Yeah, I hear that one” Michelle says as they get into her car.
They continue to make small talk as Michelle pulls into the parking lot of the public park by their houses. It’s the park they used to go to all the time as kids.
Michelle parks the car and looks over at Y/N.
“Hey girl, is everything okay? You’ve been really distant. The girls and I are starting to get worried about you.”
“Oh, haha, that?” Y/N laughs nervously, “sorry about that. I was just really caught up in college application season, you know? I just wanted to put all my time and effort into having the perfect application for U Chicago and didn’t want anything to distract me from it.”
Michelle sees through Y/N instantly. She knows there’s some truth in her explanation, but it’s not enough to explain the emotional distance too. But before she fully interrogates her, she decides to ease her way in.
“So how do you feel about your application? Have you submitted it yet?”
“Yeah, I submitted it over the weekend. I, um, I feel pretty good about it. I know I did the best I could. Just sort of worried it still won’t be…”
“Good enough?”
Y/N presses her lips together and nods.
“Y/N if U Chicago can’t see what a superstar you are, it is their loss, you hear me?”
Y/N smiles meekly, letting out a breathy laugh.
“Seriously. They’d be so lucky to have you as a student. You’re the smartest, most hardworking and talented person I know.”
“Thanks Michelle,” Y/N softly smiles. “It’s all just really nerve-wracking.”
“I know, but we all believe in you. You need to believe in yourself too, okay?”
“Yeah, I’m… trying,” Y/N smiles weakly.
Michelle looks down at the sketchbook in Y/N’s lap and smiles up at her.
“You’re drawing again?”
Y/N’s eyes widen, “Oh, um, yeah.”
“That’s awesome!” Michelle compliments, looking Y/N sincerely in the eye.
Y/N smiles shyly and looks away, “Yeah, um, now that I don’t have to worry about college applications that much anymore, I have more time for, um, this.”
“That’s really great. I’m happy you’re drawing again. I know how much you missed it.”
Y/N winces and smiles. “Yeah.”
Michelle leans over and peeks at the pages between Y/N’s fingers “Can I see one?”
Y/N’s head shoots up and her eyes grow to the size of golf balls. She clutches the sketchbook to her chest and tenses her shoulders.
Michelle nervously laughs and leans back, “I mean, if you ever wanted to, I’d love to see what you’ve drawn.”
Y/N loosens her grip and looks down. In a dream world, no one would ever bear witness to her creations. To live inside her mind this way would be too invasive. But at the same time, what’s the use of creating something if it isn’t meant to be shared with the world. As scary as the world is, her best friend might be a good start.
She opens the book slowly and flips through the pages to find one she knows Michelle will like.
It’s a picture of all the girls together at Starcourt mall. The day they went to see Footloose together. She even drew the movie poster in the corner.
She puts the book on display for Michelle and shs grabs the ends.
“Y/N,” Michelle squeaks, eyes widened in awe. “I love it.”
“Portraits and faces aren’t really my forte, but it’s a bit easier to draw things from memory.”
“No, no it’s perfect. The girls would love it too.”
Y/N frowns and Michelle tenses. “I mean, if you ever wanted to show them.”
Y/N presses her lips together.
“Y/N, I miss you Y/N. We all do. Why don’t you come sit with us at lunch anymore?”
Y/N opens her mouth to reply but nothing comes out.
“Did we do something to upset you?” Michelle asks cautiously.
“No, no,” Y/N shakes her head. “I’m just… I’ve just been busy, is all.”
“Y/N,” Michelle scolds.
“I-I am.” Y/N shrugs.
Michelle takes a deep breath in, “I know you’ve been busy with college applications and everything, butThis… This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain member of the Hellfire Club, would it?”
Y/N eyes nearly pop out of her head as every muscle in her body tenses. “What?” She mutters between gritted teeth.
“I noticed you started avoiding us after that weekend you said you were going out with him. Did something happen?”
“Um, no, no. Nothing happened,” Y/N says nervously.
Michelle cocks an eyebrow, “Y/N, did Eddie do anything to… hurt you?”
“What?! No! No… Quite the opposite actually.”
“Oh, so what happened?”
“What happened?”
“Yeah, what happened with you and Eddie that weekend?”
“Um, it was… I just realized he wasn’t the right guy for me,” Y/N replies as she looks down and fidgets with the corners of her sketchbook.
Michelle glares at Y/N. Y/N peers up at Michelle.
“What?” Y/N asks innocently.
“Why are you lying?”
“I-I’m no—“
“Bullshit Y/N. I know what happened. Eddie told us everything.”
Y/N gasps, “You talked to Eddie?”
Michelle nods.
Y/N grows teary eyed imagining Eddie tell her friends about the moments they shared together in his trailer, at the diner, at the lake, in the back of his van.
“He told you… Everything?”
Michelle grabs Y/N’s hand and squeezes, “Everything.”
Y/N wiggles her hand out of Michelle’s grasp and brings both to cover her face. She hangs her head in her hands and starts sobbing.
“Y/N,” Michelle says endearingly. She wraps her arms around her and hugs her tightly. Y/N leans into her touch and continues to sob. Her teardrops run down her cheeks as her palms squish them flat.
“I know, I know. It’s okay,” Michelle comfortingly hums as she strokes Y/N’s hair.
She’s never seen Y/N like this before. She knows Y/N hates crying in front of others, so it must be something bad enough to make her act like this.
When some of her sobs soften, Michelle says, “Y/N I’m sorry things didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, but you were so brave for putting yourself out there. It took a lot of courage.”
Y/N sniffles and sobs even harder. “It was so hard. It hurts so much.”
“I know, I know. It took a lot of guts. I’m proud of you for even trying.”
Y/N sheds a few more tears before moving her hands away and looking at Michelle.
“Really?”
Michelle smiles at Y/N’s puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks.
“Of course! I know how you are. And I know how your parents are. For someone who hardly ever listens to their heart, I’m glad you did this time. I know it must’ve been scary, but not a lot of people have the courage to follow their heart and do what makes you happy, especially when no one else understands.”
Y/N raises her eyebrows. Michelle places a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “You deserve to be happy Y/N, even if it’s the school freak causing it ”
Y/N looks away and laughs. She mutters, “it doesn’t feel that way. My parents made sure of that.”
“Have you tried talking to them?”
Y/N glares at Michelle, “Not since the night it happened. They made it pretty clear they won’t budge on their stance.”
“Things are different now, right? Maybe that night they were just caught up in the heat of the moment. Maybe it’d be different if you tried talking to them now.”
“And what would I say? Hey mom, dad, can I please have a boyfriend? Pretty, please? All my friends have one.”
“No,” Michelle rolls her eyes and chuckles, “I’m just saying, let your parents know where you’re coming from. You’re a great daughter. They have every reason to trust you. And they should trust they raised a responsible girl.”
“Michelle,” Y/N shakes her head. “There’s no way I can do that. My parents aren’t like the parents you see on tv or in movies. I can’t just negotiate things with them. What they say is law and I have to abide by that if I want to make it out of there alive.”
Michelle frowns, “What if we were there with you?”
“Huh,” Y/N wipes her cheek.
“What if the girls and I were there with you while you talked to your parents? For moral support. And evidence of how great of a person you are to support your case.”
Y/N rolls her eyes, “you still have 4 years till you go to law school Miche, you don’t need to practice your lawyer skills on me.”
Michelle rolls her eyes and smiles. “It’s not like that, I’m simply exercising my human right to support my friends. So what if the scales of justice propel my life?”
Y/N laughs. “Thanks, but, in all honesty, I don’t think it’d be worth it. We’d all be wasting our time. My parents tell my sister and I time and time again that they’re not one of our friends. I doubt they’d care what you all have to say.”
Michelle searches Y/N’s eyes. She won’t take no for an answer. If not this way, then she'll find another, but she has to know. “If you knew there was a chance they might listen to what you have to say, and that you could convince them, would you want that?”
“What do you mean?”
“For arguments sake, let’s just say you could somehow convince your parents to let you date Eddie and actually change their minds about the whole thing.”
“Okay?”
“Would you want that to happen? To be able to change their minds?”
Without hesitation Y/N says, “Of course.”
Michelle grabs her hand and pauses for a moment before asking, “Do you miss Eddie?”
Y/N peers up at Michelle before looking down at her lap, brows furrowed. “I’m trying really hard not to.”
“I think he is too.”
“What,” Y/N eagerly looks at Michelle.
“Yeah. That boy has a real soft spot for you.”
Y/N scrunches her nose, “I don’t know about that.”
“He wanted me to tell you he really did love Purple Rain. Wouldn’t have pegged him for a Prince fan, personally.”
Y/N sniffles and laughs, “I guess that’s kind of my doing. We don’t really like the same music, but Prince became the one thing we could agree on.”
Michelle smiles at her.
“He learned to play a few songs for me too. It was really sweet,” Y/N sighs happily before her features turn down again. “Anytime I listen to his music, I think of Eddie and it makes me really sad.”
Michelle sighs. Y/N, who’s always been so strong, has never looked more weak and defeated.
Y/N might have lost hope, but Michelle hasn’t. She knows they can find a way to make things right. But for now, she doesn’t exactly know what that way is.
***
For the rest of the week, Y/N carries on like usual. She starts making brief appearances at lunch, but she usually comes up with some excuse to leave early.
When Y/N’s gone, Michelle tells the girls what happened when she talked to Y/N. “I don’t know how we’re going to do it, but we are going to make sure Y/N’s parents let her date Eddie.”
“How exactly are we going to do that?” One girl asks.
“I don’t know,” Michelle slumps in her seat. “I really think they’d hear Y/N out if one of us was there too. Especially if all of us are there. She needs our moral support and there’s strength in numbers.”
“Wouldn’t her parents just think we’re ambushing them?” Another girl asks.
“Maybe,” Michelle contemplates, “But maybe it wouldn’t be a complete ambush if Y/N didn’t know.”
“What?”Another girl asks. “Wouldn’t that be worse to just walk up to their door like, surprise! Now will you please give us ten minutes to convince you why our best friend should have a boyfriend?”
“Not exactly. But I think if we showed up and really talked to them, we could find common ground saying how we’ve been concerned about Y/N from the way she’s been acting and wanted to check on her. We heard what’s happened with Eddie and wanted to let you know how great of a guy he is for her.” Michelle explains.
“Shouldn’t Eddie be here for this conversation then?” One girl asks.
“I don’t know, should he?” Another chimes in.
“Yeah, he probably should. I mean, we are trying to get them back together right?”
“Yeah, let me go get him,” Michelle says. She walks over to Eddie’s table and summons him back to theirs.
“Here’s the deal Eddie, I talked to Y/N and she’s doing a lot better, but she’s still really broken up by this whole situation. So, I propose we all go to her house and talk to her parents to see if we can convince them to let you two date.”
“What? Are you out of your mind?” Eddie scowls. “No way. It’s a miracle I left her house in one piece that night.”
“Eddie, don’t tell me you’re scared of Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N?”
“I’m not… scared. I just know what I’m up against. I know her parents don’t like me and don’t want us to be together.”
“Well, I can’t guarantee they’ll like you any more after this, but if you want to date their daughter, they’ll at least need to respect you.”
Eddie sneers. In what world could any of this possibly work?
“And we’ll be right there with you. They like us, so you’ll get like ten points by association.”
Eddie shakes his head. He can at least pretend to entertain the thought that talking to her parents could work. “Okay, so what do I have to do?”
“You need to come with us, be presentable and on your best behavior, and help us convince Y/N’s parents to let her date you.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “What? You want me to grovel to her parents? No way.”
“Eddie c’mon.”
“No, not happening. Why should I be the one to kiss their asses? Why should I have to change myself for their approval? I swore to myself I’d never do that shit again.”
“Eddie, we’re not asking you to change yourself. It’s obvious Y/N likes you just the way you are. We’re not messing with that. We just need to show her parents… your good side.”
“My good side?”
“Yeah. Show them what a gentleman you are. That you’re gonna take care of their daughter and treat her with respect. That you’ll be a good influence on her.”
Eddie scowls in disgust. “What else? Do you want me in a monkey suit too? Cut my hair to a suitable non-Beatle length?”
“Eddie, work with us, okay? We’re on the same team.”
Eddie sighs and runs a hand through his hair.
“Look, let’s try a little role play. I’ll be her parents and you just answer as yourself.”
“Not the kind of role play I’d willingly get into but okay.”
“Eddie.”
“I was talking about D&D,” Eddie snickers.
Michelle rolls her eyes, “Okay, Eddie, is it. What are your intentions with our daughter?”
“To corrupt her. Stray her away from the path of God. Convert her into a super senior freak like me,” he answers confidently and smiles crazily with his tongue hanging out.
Michelle smacks his arm, “Eddie, I know you think you’re being funny right now, but this is serious. Do you want to be with Y/N yes or no?”
Eddie sighs and looks away, muttering, “Yes.”
“Okay, let’s try this again. Eddie, what are your intentions with our daughter?”
Eddie closes his eyes and breathes in. He opens them and looks straight into Michelle’s eyes. “I want to date your daughter. I know she isn’t normally allowed, but I care about her a lot and want to have an honest conversation about why I should.”
“Ooh,” the girls all coo.
Michelle raises her brows and nods, “Okay, that’s a start.”
“Ugh,” Eddie sneers. “I feel like I’m in court, pleading my case.”
“In a way, you are Munson. Her parents are the judge and we’re all witnesses. But lucky for you, I’m your attorney.”
“What?” Eddie asks with disdain.
“I want to be a lawyer when I’m older. I’ve been able to argue my way out of pretty much anything since I was 5.”
“Where were you the night we got caught?” Eddie rolls his eyes.
Michelle shakes her head. “Okay, let’s try another one. Eddie, our darling Y/N is a stellar student on the way to becoming a freshman at the University of Chicago. How are you doing in school? What are your plans after graduation?”
Eddie begins sweating, throat growing dry. “I don’t know what to say.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know the answer to that question isn’t something they want to hear.”
“Here we’ll workshop it. Just give me the real answer and we’ll work on the wording together.”
“Um, this is my third senior year and I don’t even know if I’ll graduate so I haven’t even thought that far enough?”
“Yikes, okay—“
Eddie rubs a palm over his face, “See! This is stupid there’s no way they’re gonna say yes to this,” Eddie comments as he points to his face.
“Eddie, get a grip, okay,” Michelle orders as she grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “It’s really starting to piss me off how hopeless you and Y/N are being about this.”
Eddie scoffs, “I hate this. I never care what anyone thinks about me. But for Y/N… for some reason, I do. It was enough of a miracle for her to like me. And I normally wouldn’t care what her parents think either, but it means enough to her for me to.”
Michelle looks at him understandingly.
“And her parents… I barely met her mom so not enough to get a real impression. But from what Y/N’s told me… I’m terrified. I mean, you've met her parents right? How are you not afraid of them?”
“Well for one, I know how to kiss ass to get what I want. But two, I’m not really afraid of anyone. If someone doesn’t like me that’s their problem. And if they make it my problem, I know I can just change their minds. It’s really not that hard. Just takes a little work.”
“For you, maybe,” Eddie spits.
“That’s what I keep trying to tell you Eddie. I’m here to help you and Y/N. We only have a fighting chance if we all combine our strengths together.”
Eddie humphs knowing Michelle is right.
“So what should I say?”
“Well, you can admit that academics aren’t your strong suit in the way Y/N’s are. It sounds nice and it’s the truth. Then just tell them what other things you’re good at.”
“Um, so I could just say… Can you repeat the question?”
“Sure. What are you like in school Eddie? Any big plans after graduation?”
“Um, school is… okay… but not exactly where I shine. I leave that all to Y/N,” Eddie laughs nervously.
“That’s good,” one girl encourages.
“She’s right, that was good,” Michelle says. “Go on.”
“I, um, play guitar. I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember. I used to play for the school band, but stopped so I could form my own band. We, um, have a gig at a small venue just outside town every Tuesday.”
“That’s good. What about life after graduation?”
“Um, as for after graduation. I… won’t be going to college. I plan to start working. I used to, um… help my dad work on cars when I was younger. I still do it sometimes with my Uncle so I think I’ll probably try to become a mechanic.”
The girls look at him and contemplate his answer.
Eddie nervously looks across their faces, “How was that? Was that… good?”
Michelle looks off into space, “Yeah, I’m just trying to think if there’s anything they might find an issue with but no I think that answer was good.”
Eddie nods.
“And just so you know, humility goes a long way with them. Having confidence is good, but if you get cocky with them they’re gonna hate it. The nervous ums and stuff will help.”
Eddie quirks his eyebrow. “Remind me to hire you when you pass the bar.”
Michelle mocks salutes, “Will do Munson.”
“So, what else do you think they’ll ask?”
“Well they’ll probably just try to get to know you. Know what their daughter is getting into. They might ask you about your interests and hobbies or your family and friends.”
Eddie sharply inhales.
“Listen, you don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to, but give them enough. They’ll want to know what Y/N’s getting herself into and trust that she’ll be okay.”
“No pressure right?” Eddie uncomfortably jokes.
“Eddie, the most important question you’ll need to answer is: why should we let you date our daughter?”
Eddie gulps. His forehead creases as he tries to find the right words.
“Because… I really like her. And… she’s a great girl.” Eddie winces and shrugs
Michelle furrows her eyebrows and leans forward, “Eddie, dig deep. Is that really all you’ve got?”
“No, I'm just… I don’t know what to say, man. I’m not good with words.”
“Well you better find them. This is your only shot at getting Y/N back and I’d hate to see you blow it.”
Eddie scowls at Michelle. She’s annoying, but she’s right. What other choice does he have? If he can’t change Y/N’s mind, maybe he can change her parent’s minds.
Will they be reasonable people? Who the hell knows. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t even try.
“Fine, let me try again,” He sys through partially gritted teeth.
Michelle gives him a small encouraging smile. She takes a beat and repeats the question, “So Eddie, why should we let you date our daughter?”
Eddie takes a deep breath in. He furrows his eyebrows in concentration.
“Well Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N,” he cringes at the formality, “Dating Y/N is an honor I’m not quite sure I even deserve. Believe me, I don’t take it for granted one second that a beautiful girl like her, as smart as she is, even likes someone like me. Does Y/N deserve a guy like me? Probably not. She deserves the damn world. And I’ll do everything I can to give it to her.”
The girls all widen their eyes and say their “aw’s”
Eddie flinches, “And, um, I promise to take care of her. To respect her. To listen to her. To support her. Whatever she needs, I want to give that to her and more.”
Michelle nods, “That’s it.”
***
The next day drones on as usual, till Y/N stays after school for tutoring. After her session with a boy on the basketball team is over, she clears up her desk and packs her things in her bag.
“Good work Travis, I’ll see you next week,” she waves him off as he leaves his desk and exits the classroom.
She exits the classroom soon after and makes her way down the empty hall. She turns into a different hallway and nears the drama room. She slows down her pace to a stop before the closed door. She takes a deep breath in and edges closer to the small window on the door, only to find an empty room with the light turned odd. She lets a breath out and sullenly walks toward the front of the school.
She opens the doors and tightens her jacket to her chest as a blast of cold air hits her in the face. She grits her teeth, bracing for the cold, and nearly chokes on the scent of cigarette smoke nearby.
As she approaches the parking lot, a cloud of smoke presents the nearby offender, no doubt leaning against the pillar. She cranes her head in an attempt to see who it might be, but the view is blocked.
She shrugs it off and continues to walk, not caring enough to investigate further. She has to get home and out of this wretched cold. November is off to quite a frigid start.
“Y/N?” A voice undoubtedly coming from the smoker calls out to her.
Y/N freezes in her tracks. She should just ignore him and keep walking, but her body won’t let her.
“Y/N,” the voice calls out again and Y/N turn over her heels. She finds Eddie leaning against the pillar, one leg bent, foot pressed against the cinderblock. He drops the cigarette in his hand and lowers his foot to stomp it out. His hair shakes and the chain on his jeans jingle in the process.
Y/N’s throat dries as she nervously watches him, still very frozen in place.
Eddie cautiously walks, no struts, over to her, reeboks stomping against the pavement in the process, and offers her the smallest smile. Even after all this time, just seeing him like this is enough to make her heart skip a beat.
Shut up heart, It’s just Eddie.
“Hey,” Eddie whispers in a raspy voice, peering deep into her eyes.
“Hey,” Y/N squeaks, surprising herself by returning his strong gaze. She hasn’t spoken to Eddie in weeks.
They stare blankly at each other for a moment before Y/N is the first to break the silence. “What are you doing here?”
“Needed to clear my head,” he shrugs casually.
Y/N cocks an eyebrow up, “On school grounds, when last class let out an hour ago?”
Eddie shrugs painfully, “Yeah.”
Y/N gives him an unconvinced look.
“Was supposed to be at Hellfire, but I cut the meeting short.”
“Oh,” Y/N whispers, “What happened?”
Eddie presses his lips together, “The boys were just… their heads weren’t in the game, you know?”
Not really, but she nods as if she does. The tension in his eyebrows and clenched jaw tell her it wouldn’t be such a good idea to poke the bear.
“What about you?” Eddie asks.
“Tutoring,” Y/N meekly responds.
Eddie nods and notices the way Y/N tightens her arms crossed over her chest and the slight shivering of her shoulders.
“You headed home?”
Y/N turns over her shoulder and nods at him.
Eddie reaches back and scratches at the back of his neck. “Could I, uh, give you a ride home? If that’s okay?”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Y/N mumbles.
“C’mon, it’s freezing out. Can’t have my local smart pants getting sick on my watch.”
Y/N slightly snorts at his comment and it brings a grin to Eddie’s face.
“Thanks Eddie, but I-”
“C’mon,” He gently grabs her wrist, “You’re off probation right?”
He winks and she surprisingly finds the humor in a joke about the longest month of her life.
Y/N nods and Eddie tugs, leading her to his van. “Your chariot awaits.”
Y/N complies in a stunned silence. As she climbs into the van, the worn seats feel foreign under her skin. They can’t be the same seats she sat in a little over a month ago.
But much like Hawkins, nothing in this van has changed, only her.
Eddie starts the car and remains stationary to let the vehicle warm up. They sit in a comfortable silence as Eddie tunes the radio to Y/N’s favorite station even though a commercial is on. Y/N refrains from smiling despite the tug she feels at the corner of her mouth.
Once the van has warmed up, Eddie pulls out of the parking lot and off to Y/N’s house. His rough slender fingers curled around the steering wheel.
The two remain in comfortable silence till they reach a stop light and suddenly, Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time comes on.
Both Eddie and Y/N instantly look at each other when the melancholy rhythm fills their ears. Before the first verse is sung, the light turns green and Eddie’s attention is back on the road while Y/N’s is on her lap. She can feel the blood pumping in her veins along the beat of the song
Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you
Caught up in circles
Confusion is nothing new
Flashback, warm nights
Almost left behind
Suitcase of memories
Time after
Sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me, I can't hear
What you've said
Then you say, "go slow"
And I fall behind
The second hand unwinds
But before Cyndi can sing the heartfelt lyrics, “If you're lost you can look and you will find me, time after time,” Y/N lowers the volume to silence.
She looks up at him, “That song is…”
Eddie nervously laughs, “Yeah, ha, I know.”
He awkwardly looks back onto the road before him.
Y/N’s a bit surprised he even knows the song. She guesses no one can escape the heartfelt words of Cyndi Lauper, but they just ring too close to home, in a car ride with Eddie no less.
In a matter of minutes, Eddie is pulling up to Y/N’s house. She’s simultaneously thankful this carride is almost over and disappointed that this is all the time she’ll get with Eddie.
She looks out the window and glances at the red brick home. This time with a noticeable lack of tension in her shoulders or heart rate that would alarm several doctors. This time, she feels nothing.
She turns over and looks at Eddie who is intently observing her reaction. “Everything okay?”
Y/N nods sullenly. Eddie looks at her, waiting to see what she’ll do next.
Y/N looks out the window again and sees a few of the neighborhood children out riding their bikes. She turns back to Eddie and curves her lips upward slightly.
“Thanks for the ride Eddie.”
Eddie looks at her puzzled, but more relieved than anything that she’s not ardently avoiding him.
“No problem,” he nods, “I’ll always have your back.”
Y/N cocks her head to the side before shaking it and unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Goodbye Eddie,” she sweetly says as she opens the door.
“Goodbye sweetheart,” Eddie says. Y/N freezes for a slight second, feeling her heart constrict in her chest. She recovers by climbing out of the vehicle and shoving her bag over her back. She closes the door behind her and smiles at Eddie. He nods and waits for her to enter the home.
She slowly walks to the door. There’s no reason to rush and avoid the risk of being caught. She already has been.
She opens the door to the house and turns over her shoulder to see Eddie wave and drive off.
She steps inside, embracing the welcomed heat.
“Hey honey, how was school?” Her mom calls from the kitchen. For a second, her brain is on red alert, worried that her mom might’ve seen Eddie’s car. But as quickly as the thought enters her head, it leaves. What’s the worst that could happen? She gets grounded again? Her parents put some restraining order on Eddie?
“Hey mom. School was fine,” Y/N neutrally responds.
“Learn anything exciting?”
“Not really,” Y/N responds truthfully before excusing herself to go upstairs and work on some homework before dinner.
At the back of her head, she worried her mom might’ve seen Eddie and was just waiting to bring it up later, but as the evening turned into night, nothing ever happened.
Either she didn’t know or she wasn’t bothered enough to say anything.
***
When Friday night rolled around, Y/N enjoyed the refuge of her own bedroom, as she had for the past several weeks. But this time, she felt more restless than usual.
None of the songs on her tape deck sounded right. None of her drawings were coming out quite right. Even when she went downstairs to rummage through the pantry, none of the snacks appealed to her despite the loud rumbling coming from her stomach.
She trudged back up the stairs and into her room and decided to do something she hadn’t done in a really long time. She closed the door and turned off all the lights. She walked over to the window and opened the curtain. For a second, she almost hoped to find Eddie down below, throwing rocks at her window once again.
She brought her desk chair near the window and sat on it. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She sat in silence like that for a few breaths before opening her eyes and gazing out at the stars above her.
A lot of the streetlights were on, so it was hard to see, but the few she could, she decided to count them.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five Six. Seven.
She closed her eyes and pleaded to the stars, asking for answers as to what she should do.
The ritual began when she was a young girl, praying to God for an A on her test or for her parents to stop fighting. Over the years it turned into harder questions she couldn’t ask anyone else but the stars up above.
Something about starry skies was more comforting to her spirit than any church could ever be. Oftentimes, they had better answers too.
But tonight, there was only silence.
“Please, I need to know,” Y/N pleaded. She rubbed her palms over her face and rested her chin in her hands.
She wished the stars could tell her what to do. She wished they could give her an answer.
Ever since she’d spoken to Michelle and ran into Eddie, Y/N had been feeling conflicted. Once the heat simmered down and she served her sentence, Y/N kept laying low. School and drawing took up a majority of her time and she thought she would be fine with that. But Michelle and Eddie reminded her just how much she’d missed the people in her life.
She knows that Michelle and her other friends will always be in her corner. Sometimes she needs time alone to figure things out, but they’ll always be there when she comes back.
But Eddie… She almost lost him forever. Her car ride with him confirmed just how big that almost was, but she knows they’re on thin ice.
She looks out to the stars, hoping for an answer. They glimmer against the dark night sky, but say little else.
She wants Eddie back in her life, even if she can’t date him which she knows is impossible. But, since her parents don’t seem to be too upset anymore, Y/N’s willing to bet they might tolerate Eddie as a friend.
She knows it might take some begging and pleading, but she knows she’s earned it. And that Eddie would be worth fighting for.
But before she does any of that, maybe it would be a good idea to see Eddie and talk to him first. She knows she could call him up, but this is a conversation that needs to be had in person.
Maybe she could surprise him at the trailer tomorrow. She doesn’t know if it’ll go well, but it’s worth a shot.
***
The next morning Eddie and Y/N’s friends meet up at Michelle’s house.
“Glad you could finally show up,” Michelle greets Eddie as she lets him through the front door. “Even though you smell like an ashtray.”
Eddie huffs as he follows Michelle, “Excuse me for wanting to calm my jangled nerves.”
Michelle leads him to her room where the rest of the girls are hanging out. “Relax Eddie, we have your back. And with a few adjustments, you’ll be ready to go.”
Eddie cocks his eyebrow and looks over at the other girls milling about the room.
“Take a seat,” Michelle gestures toward her bed. Eddie cautiously sits at the edge and looks up at the other girls in confusion.
“Good to know you have a pair of pants without holes in them,” one of the girls quips as another starts working on his hair.
“Is it that hard to believe,” Eddie asks sarcastically.
“Little bit,” she winks and smiles. Eddie nervously chuckles and lets out a small sigh of relief.
“I’m not crazy about the Black Sabbath shirt though,” Michelle complains as one of the girls gently combs through Eddie’s hair.
“This is all I have. Sorry I can’t be Tom Cruise.”
“Well, you don’t need to be Tommy Lee either.”
Eddie scoffs and narrows his eyes, “You insult me.”
“Stop moving,” the girl doing his hair orders. She brings a hand to block his face and sprays water along his locks before combing through and applying a gel.
“And this jacket situation has got to go,” one of the girls comments as she glares at his leather jacket and jean vest.
Eddie rolls his eyes, “Cmon, it’s the only jacket I have. It’s a part of me.”
“Keep still,” The girl doing his hair orders as she scrunches at the damp locks, creating a more defined curl to his tresses.
“Not to worry, you can still be you even without your metal uniform. I bet there’s a jacket my brother left behind that you can borrow.”
“Huh?”
“He’s off at Indiana State, so what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Eddie shrugs as Michelle rummages through the coat closet down the hall.
“At least it covers your tattoos. Y/N’s parents… aren’t the most fond of those,” one of the other girls comments.
Michelle walks over with a maroon cable knit sweater and cream colored carpenter jacket.
“When your hair is done, put these on.”
Eddie reaches out and touches the knit fabric, masking a look of disgust in his face, “I feel like I should be on the cast of Happy Days.”
“Take off your shoes too.”
“What?”
“Take off your shoes.”
“Why?”
“So we can clean them. Muddy Reeboks are very punk rock but that won’t impress Y/N’s parents.”
“Punk? Please, you insult me,” Eddie snarls. “There’s a very big difference between punk and metal.”
“Why don’t you tell that to Y/N’s parents,” one of the girls sarcastically snickers.
“Why don’t you bite me,” Eddie snarls.
“Eddie,” Michelle gasps.
“And you,” Michelle looks pointedly at the girl, “Knock it off.”
“Girls, could I have a moment alone with Eddie,” Michelle pleads.
“Fine, okay,” the girls grumble.
“I’m done with your hair Eddie. I kept it natural, but a little more defined at the curls. They’re gonna love it, and so will Y/N,” the last girl to leave pats Eddie on the shoulder and smiles.
Eddie’s shoulders relax and he smiles back at her as she leaves the room.
Michelle pulls the chair from her desk and sets it in front of Eddie. She takes a seat and tries to look Eddie in the eye despite his avoidant gaze.
“Eddie,” Michelle calls out to him. Eddie looks at her from the corner of his eye. “Look, it’s just us, okay?”
Eddie sighs exasperatedly. “What?”
“Eddie, relax okay. I know you’re nervous but–”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Then what are you Eddie? ‘Cause you’re acting really weird.”
Eddie widens his eyes and furrows his eyebrows. He turns away and reaches to scratch the back of his neck, “I don’t know man. Just feels weird.”
“What feels weird?”
“All of it. Feels like I’m about to take a test or something. I mean, this isn’t me. Changing my hair?”
“Well, your hair doesn’t look that different, just a little neater.”
“Changing my clothes?”
Michelle gazes at the sweater and jacket laid out next to him.
“Changing myself?”
Michelle’s eyes turn down.
“I know, we’re asking a lot of you. But we wouldn’t be asking this if we knew it wouldn’t make Y/N happy… We’re on your side.”
Eddie furrows his eyebrows and nods.
“What’s wrong Eddie?”
Eddie shakes his head, “I mean we’re doing all this, but what’s the point? What if I’m still not good enough for them?”
Or good enough for her.
Michelle sighs and pats his knee. “Eddie, look, I don’t know you that well, but what I do know is that you’re a fighter.”
“Bullshit,” Eddie laughs.
“I’m no fighter. See this guy?” Eddie points to himself. “Textbook runner. When the going gets tough I… always seem to run.”
Michelle takes a cold hard look at him. “What are you running from?”
“What?”
“You said you’re a runner right? So what exactly are you running from?”
Eddie shrugs, “I don’t know.”
“There’s gotta be something.”
Eddie stares at her blankly.
“I mean, do you even want us to do this anymore?”
Eddie nods and looks at her, in a way she can’t decipher.
“So, what is it Eddie?”
Eddie can’t tell her he runs away because he’s scared. He’s afraid to fight because he’s afraid he’ll lose. That the voice of his old man still looms in his head telling him so.
“What have you got to lose?” Michelle asks.
Eddie thinks about it for a moment. He supposes there’s nothing to lose at this point. The worst her parents could say is no, again. That he’d spend another excruciating day without Y/N.
“Look, you gotta promise this stays between us, alright?”
Michelle nods and takes a finger to make a cross motion over her chest. “Cross my heart.”
“You flap your lips about this to anyone and your ass is grass you hear that?”
Michelle stifles a laugh, sensing the seriousness in Eddie’s tone. “Okay.”
“I know what people in this no good town think of me. I know it’s not great. And as much as I hate to admit, it’s a lot harder to let it roll off my back than I’d like.”
Michelle nods in understanding.
“I want Y/N’s parents to… accept me. It’s stupid and ridiculous, but I do. But I don’t want it to come at the cost of conformity.”
“Eddie, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re a surprisingly likable person. In all your dorky metal loving glory.”
Eddie chuckles and rolls his eyes.
“I think that’s why Y/N probably likes you so much. You’re someone who isn’t afraid to be themselves. And I think she is, but you show her how not to be.”
Eddie’s eyes soften at the surprising observation.
“When you’re not so guarded or sarcastic or cocky, you’re not such a bad guy. And I think Y/N’s deserve a chance to see that side of you. They might even surprise you.” Michelle adds.
Eddie thinks about it. He wonders if Y/N’s parents could truly surprise him.
“But besides that, this isn’t all just about you, you know? I mean, I know your ass is on the line, but so is Y/N’s. This is a battle Y/N’s been fighting her parents forever on and she needs our help.”
Eddie purses his lips and furrows his brows.
“So what do you say, hot shot? Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna stand up and fight for your girl?” Michelle roars
Eddie's eyes widen. He feels as though a literal fire has been sparked inside him.
His girl.
He doesn’t want to be a runner. Not anymore. He wants to be a fighter. If not for him, then for his girl.
“Alright. Okay,” Eddie nods.
“That’s not good enough. I need to hear you say it Eddie.”
“I’m gonna fight.”
“You’re gonna what?”
“I’m gonna fight,” Eddie exclaims.
“Who are you gonna fight for Eddie?”
“For Y/N!”
“And?”
“For us!”
“And?”
“And?”
“Who else are you fighting for?”
“Uh, love?”
“No silly,” Michelle pokes harshly at his chest, “You’re fighting for you too.”
