Chapter 3: The Morning After and the Night Before
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem! reader
Summary: In a world where the first words that soulmates say to each other are displayed like tattoos, what do you do when your particular soulmate's opening line is an unequivocal rejection?
Warnings: a healthy dose of angst (with an eventual happy ending!); enemies to friends to lovers; smut in later chapters (planning this as a slow burn); mentions of past family trauma and personal issues; slightly ludicrous amount of swearing (apparently I am a complete potty mouth!)
A/N: Right my lovelies, here’s the next instalment for you and this one goes heavy on the feelings and the backstories. It’s longer than the previous chapters because I definitely got carried away adding in loads of extra details that kept coming to mind as I was writing. I also tried out a mirroring structure showing how our two idiots are a lot more similar than they realise. Let me know if you think this makes the chapter too plodding or if it works :)
Divider made by @pixynari
Saturday, 10.30am - Eddie
If there was one thing that could be said with absolute certainty about Eddie Munson, it was that he was very much not a morning person. Which is why, when his phone started buzzing next to his head at the ungodly hour of 'way too early' on the morning after a diabolical amount of drinking, his first response was to launch it across the room. Unfortunately for him, this only made the problem worse. The phone continued to buzz persistently, only now it resembled a swarm of angry wasps rattling down the side of his desk where it had landed.
Although Eddie's alcohol-pickled brain tried valiantly to ignore the noise, eventually he had to admit defeat. Flinging himself dramatically out of bed with a loud groan, he snatched up the phone from the floor. “WHAT?!” he spat into the device, unamused by having to be upright whilst nursing a truly epic hangover.
Steve’s tired voice came through the speaker. “Munson, you awake?”
"That I am, Harrington, thanks to your unfortunate inability to take a hint and stop speed-dialling me when I didn't answer the first time. What the fuck, man?"
“Cool your jets, dude. Have a shower and get dressed, I’m coming over and don’t need to be seeing your pasty ass at this time of the day”.
“Why are you coming over? I don’t need…”
“Just get ready. I’ll be there in fifteen. With coffee”.
“Harrington. What the…?” Eddie huffed down the phone as he heard Steve hang up. ‘Better at least bring some decent coffee’, he scoffed as he shuffled over to the bathroom.
The shower did at least help a little with the hangover, allowing him to feel slightly more human than he had beforehand. Once he stepped out of the cubicle, he slung a towel around his hips and headed over to the bathroom counter to grab his toothbrush. Mindlessly scratching at an itch on his chest, his eyes drifted to the bathroom mirror, at which point he promptly dropped the toothbrush. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THAT?!” he yelled at his reflection.
There, on a previously unmarked part of his right pec, sat a new and very unexpected tattoo. The words ‘Message received loud and clear, arsehole’ were inked in spiky black letters, looking as angry as the sentiment they conveyed.
Transfixed by the sight, Eddie gingerly brushed his fingers over the letters, picking up the strange pulse of energy they emitted on the pads of his fingertips. As he did so, the realisation of what he was looking at materialised in his head, making him gasp.
A mark he had very definitely not had when he left the house yesterday, meaning it had appeared at some point whilst he was at the bar. But when? And who did it link back to?
Eddie jumped as he heard a knock at his door. Quickly throwing some clothes on, he wrenched the door open to see Steve waiting with the promised coffee delivery.
"Damn Munson, you look worse than I expected. Bad hangover this morning?"
"Oh Harrington, you have no idea. I really need some help, man".
Steve sighed as he entered the apartment. ”Look Eddie, what you did last night was pretty messed up, but I put it down largely to you being stupidly drunk. So have some coffee and we’ll see if we can think of a way for you to make things right with the girls before things become any more awkward”.
Eddie, who had begun pacing a hole in the living room carpet, looked up and squinted at Steve. "Make things right? What are you talking about?"
“What, you don't remember meeting Jen's friend last night and insulting her so badly that she ran out of the bar?!"
Eddie tilted his head back and sighed. He remembered enough of the previous night's events to understand what Steve was getting at. Hooking up with Chrissy, arguing with Chrissy, drowning his sorrows at the bar and some unpleasantness with a new girl who was presumably the friend of Jen's that Steve was talking about. He'd admittedly been a bit of an ass and he no doubt needed to apologise for that at some point, but right now he had more important things to worry about.
"No man, I remember. And we can totally sort that out but I need your help with something else first".
"Help with what? You need to fix this Eddie. Jen is mad with you, like actually ready to kill you mad. She threatened to come round this morning and, I quote, 'cut that mean bitch tongue out of your nasty mouth' for hurting her bestie. I only managed to talk her out of it with a promise that I would come and talk some sense into you myself".
Eddie nodded impatiently. "Steve please. I get all of that, I do. But this is a bit more important. What the fuck am I supposed to do about this?"
Shrugging off his shirt, he pointed to the soul mark on his chest. Steve was initially confused by his impromptu strip-show. However, once he finally understood what he was being asked to look at, he glanced up at Eddie with wide eyes and cackled.
"Shit dude, did you get yourself a soul mark last night?!"
Eddie groaned, rubbing his face in frustration. "Looks like it, doesn't it Harrington? The question is what the hell do I do about it now?"
Across town, at the same moment that Eddie was discovering his soul mark, you were sat on your couch. You were still in last night’s clothes and make-up, not having removed either once you’d returned home. A cup of now freezing cold tea sat on the coffee table in front of you, untouched since you’d made it several hours ago. You needed to move, to get up and do something, anything other than just sit there, but you couldn’t will your body to move.
When you fled the bar last night, your only concern had been to escape without giving anyone an inkling of how crushed you actually felt. So when sweeping out of the bar and during the cab ride home, you’d remained icily calm. The facade shattered once you’d closed your front door and all of the anger, sadness and humiliation suddenly overwhelmed you. The weight of the disastrous evening left you ugly-crying on the couch for what felt like hours until your head started to ache and your throat became hoarse.
With sleep an impossibility despite how exhausted you felt, you’d remained on the couch once the anger had subsided into a feeling of numbness. You registered your brain telling you to stop being ridiculous and letting some idiot man drag you down so far, but your emotions had yet to catch up and it all still felt too raw. So you remained on the couch, sitting silently and staring at nothing in particular.
Your vigil was eventually shattered by a loud knock at the door. As loathe as you were to answer it, the knocking was hurting your head so you grudgingly pushed yourself up off the couch to answer it. Jen stood on the other side, holding coffee and trying to hide the worry she was feeling on your behalf. Taking in your crumpled appearance, she pulled you into a hug.
“I’m so sorry babe, I had no idea how much of a tool Munson was gonna be last night, I’m going to kill that stupid dick for how he behaved”.
“It’s ok, I just want to forget about it”.
“No, it isn’t fucking ok! He acted like a weapons-grade asshole, how dare he speak to you like that?! I would have gone round there this morning with Steve to slap his stupid smug face but I wanted to see you first and…”
“Stupid, inconsiderate asshole, chatting shit about stuff he knows nothing about. I swear to god I’ll wring his scrawny neck the next time I see him, honestly…”
“JEN, WILL YOU JUST STOP!”
Sinking back onto the couch, you felt yourself start to tremble and your eyes burn as the tears which had dried up a few hours ago made a reappearance. Rushing towards you, Jen pulled you into her chest and wrapped her arms around you.
“Sorry babe, I didn’t mean to go off like that. Talk to me, please”.
Taking a shaky breath, you debated your options: tell Jen everything about the car crash that was last night or keep the mortifying soul mate rejection to yourself. Accepting that she would find out eventually, given her patented best friend divination powers, you opted to share the details yourself.
“Sorry for shouting”, you said hesitantly, offering Jen a watery smile. “It’s just that last night was such a shit show and I have no idea how to get my head around it all”.
“No, you don’t. Not the whole story anyway”.
Jen pulled back at that, her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, the whole story?”
Sighing, you shifted to face her and lifted the hem of your shirt to uncover your hip.
“I got this last night in the bathroom when we arrived at the bar”.
Jen’s eyes widened and she grimaced as she read the words emblazoned on your side. “Fucking hell babe, you got a... really shitty soul mark!”
“Yeah, it's an absolute doozy, a soulmate who has absolutely no interest in me”. With a dry chuckle, you steadied yourself to continue. “Want to know just how far the universe is fucking with me, though? This poetry came courtesy of none other than one Eddie Munson himself as he railed Chrissy Cunningham in the bathroom before our delightful first meeting”.
“WHAT?!” Jen shrieked, your strange behaviour at the bar suddenly making a lot more sense. “Eddie Munson is your soulmate?! No way!”
“Yep”, you continued, popping the ‘p’ with a sardonic smile. “The universe has deigned to give me a soulmate who couldn’t give less of a shit about me if he tried. So tell me Jen, what the hell do I do about it now?”
As the last notes of Metallica's “Battery” sounded out from Gareth Emerson’s garage, he looked up at his bandmates with a grin. “Now that sounded a million times better, guys. Munson, we’ll make a decent guitarist out of you yet!”
“Fuck you, drummer boy!” Eddie replied with a laugh. “Oof, my fingers are cramping, I need a break”.
Setting his beloved guitar down, Eddie stretched his arms and back, stopping only when he heard his phone buzz in his rucksack. He smiled when he saw the message notification from Chrissy and eagerly clicked it open.
‘Hey. You going to the bar later?’
‘Yeah. Meeting Harrington, Buckley and some of the others for a drink’
‘OK. Meet me in the usual place when you get there. We need to talk’
Eddie could feel his good mood deflating as he read each message. He and Chrissy had been fooling around long enough for him to know that ‘we need to talk’ meant bad news.
He just couldn't understand it. He might not be Chrissy's official soulmate, but he made her a damn sight happier than that cheating meathead Carver ever could. But however badly the prick humiliated her, she always went back to him in the end.
Deep down, Eddie knew that Chrissy was his own personal kryptonite. He had been infatuated with her ever since middle school when she had responded to his bad buzz cut and even worse attitude with kindness and a smile. For a brief moment, they had been almost friends. But when she was adopted by the popular crowd in high school, he had sadly accepted the increasing distance she put between them. And when she and Jason had excitedly received their matching soul marks, he'd been absolutely devastated.
He had been as surprised as anyone when she sought him out a few years later, looking to re-establish their earlier connection. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that she essentially just used him as a stand-in whenever Carver inevitably fucked things up again. But he couldn't help being drawn in each time, no matter how much it hurt when she threw him over to return to her privileged suburban existence. All he could hope for was that one day she might see past all of the 'keeping up appearances' bullshit and for once really choose him.
The closing bars of Led Zeppelin’s “Since I’ve Been Loving You” rang through your downtown apartment as you finished getting ready to meet Jen and Steve for your night out.
In the safety of your bedroom, your anxiety was just a low background hum. You knew it would probably worsen later, however. You loved Jen more than anything but agreeing to finally meet her boyfriend’s apparently amazing group of friends had you feeling exposed in all the wrong ways. It had been so long since you'd properly met new people.
You knew why, of course. Other than when you had blessedly found Jen, the last time you had really put yourself out there with new people had been back in London when you met Matt. Ridiculously attractive and wickedly charming, he had swept you off your feet in a matter of months. Before you knew it, you had agreed to ditch your life in the UK and move with him to his home town, New York.
It didn’t last, of course. Once the excitement of a new relationship and a huge move overseas had simmered down, the Matt you lived with in the States turned out to be very different to the Matt who had romanced you in London. He became manipulative and possessive, berating you for not making more of yourself in the city while simultaneously trying to block any attempts you made to do so. While he was never physically violent towards you, the threat that he could be lingered all the way through your relationship. Eventually, the strain of constantly trying to please someone whose boundaries were constantly contradicting themselves took its toll. You became quieter, more withdrawn and scared of everything and everyone.
It was Jen in the end who lifted you out of that particular mess. You’d met her at work before your relationship with Matt imploded and she had become a genuine friend, despite your shyness and Matt’s attempts to isolate you. When he finally grew tired and abandoned you for a newer, shinier plaything, you turned to her in desperation. She helped you back in your feet after the messy break-up and ensured you could firmly put Matt in the past. When a work opportunity arose in Indy, she supported you with making the jump, so much so that in the end you ended up moving together. Your shared time in Indy had been so much fun, you’d almost been able to put the painful memories of New York completely aside.
Almost, but not completely. While you had regained your confidence in so many areas, the one remaining stumbling block was dating. Your love life since Matt had been non-existent, despite Jen’s best efforts to encourage you to put yourself out there again. Deep down, you desperately wanted to find someone to have that romantic connection with, but your experience with Matt had soured that idea. You were terrified of taking that leap again and trusting someone who said they wanted you when the potential for getting your heart broken again was so great. So you closed yourself off in that sense, dreaming secretly of someone who one day might actually see through the walls you’d put up and, regardless, decide to really choose you.
Friday night was very definitely not going Eddie's way. His earlier concern about Chrissy's message was proven right when they met in their usual spot behind the bar. She cared for him deeply, she said, and she wanted to remain friends with him if she could. But she was linked to Jason, for better or for worse, and he had made some serious promises to her about their relationship going forward. It wasn't quite a proposal but it was almost there.
Eddie felt his heart crack as she spoke. Falling back onto some defensive cynicism to avoid showing her how upset he was, he taunted her savagely. The ensuing argument ended with the pair locked in the bar's bathroom, Chrissy pressed up against the door as Eddie pounded into her remorselessly. He tried his best throughout to convince himself that he was merely enjoying one last hate fuck for the road. However, Chrissy's breathy moans and orgasmic declarations of devotion had him once again hoping that this time she might actually mean it.
"...You know what, if my goddamn soulmate walked in here right now, I'd tell them straight: 'I don't give a fuck about you, you're nothing to me!'"
Chrissy stilled against him, suddenly very quiet. "You don't mean that Eddie, shut up".
"I really do, Chris", he replied, spinning her around to face him. "I... I love you, Chrissy, you've got to know that, please..."
"Eddie, STOP". Chrissy's voice was quiet but firm as she shook herself out of his hold. "You can't love me, you're not meant for me. I love Jason and, whatever his faults, we're supposed to be together. This... whatever this is between us, has to end now, I'm sorry".
As her words landed in his gut, Eddie suddenly felt nauseous. Watching her straighten up her clothes and open the cubicle door, he barely registered the strange sharp pain that briefly stung his chest amidst all the heartache and anger currently brewing inside him.
"So what, that's it?", he scoffed.
Chrissy eyed him impassively. "Yes, Eddie. I'm sorry if I made you think this was anything more than a fling, a distraction, but that's all it was". Stepping out of the cubicle, she started checking her hair and make-up in the bathroom mirror.
Eddie hissed, the sick feeling in his stomach only intensifying. "Whatever, good luck with that sorry excuse for a soulmate. I hope you two are perfectly fucking miserable together".
"NO!" Eddie yelled. "Fuck you Christine, and fuck all this bullshit. Go play fairytale lovers with Carver, but don't you dare come crawling back when it goes south again, which we both know it will. I'm fucking done with all this!"
Eddie watched as Chrissy took a deep breath, gathered her things and left the bathroom without another word. They'd argued before but this seemed different, more final. Rubbing his hand over his face, he headed for the door himself. The bar was calling to him, time to drown himself in cheap beer and forget Chrissy Cunningham had ever existed.
Partway through what was turning out to be a spectacularly messy night out, your nerves were starting to fray.
You were sat in the booth with Jen, Steve and the rest of the Hawkins crew. Outwardly, you smiled and laughed and chipped in small comments where appropriate as they became increasingly animated. Inside, however, your stomach churned. The soulmate revelations were very much preying on your mind.
The awkward situation was not helped by the fact that your designated life partner was sat at the other end of the table, sinking drinks and increasingly looking like he wanted to smash the empty glasses over someone's head. At one point, you sneaked a glance in the direction he kept scowling at and immediately understood why. From where he sat, he had a perfect view of Chrissy as she snuggled into Jason's side. The affectionate display felt deliberate and obnoxious, and if you hadn't been so irritated with Eddie you may almost have felt sorry for him.
The sympathy was short lived, however, when he snapped at you about your upbringing. Unafraid to bite back, you felt a twinge of petty satisfaction when you were able to shut him up. Alongside that, however, you also felt an unwelcome feeling of sadness. Here was a guy who the universe said was literally made for you but he was too caught up in chasing another woman to spare you anything other than a sarcastic insult. The situation would be comical if it wasn't so ridiculously pathetic.
Chugging the rest of your drink, you slapped your hand on the table as you got up. "Another round, guys?" you asked, to a chorus of enthusiastic cheers. Heading to the bar, you sighed quietly to yourself. Definitely time to drown your sorrows in more cheap drinks and try to forget that Eddie Munson had ever existed.
By mid-afternoon on Saturday, Eddie was thoroughly done with his weekend. The break-up with Chrissy, the unexpected soulmate encounter and the unpleasant interaction he'd had with you were all taking their toll.
After inspecting the soul mark earlier that morning, he and Steve tried to work out exactly when he received it.
“Like, are you sure you didn’t feel the mark appear?”, Steve questioned. “They usually sting like hell when they show up”.
Eddie shook his head. “I don’t remember, Steve”, he sighed.
“OK, take me through your evening. What did you do when you got to the bar?”
Eddie huffed. “You really want to know? I met up with Chrissy and she told me she was getting back with Carver. We had a stupid argument that ended up getting settled in the bathroom stall…”
“Jesus dude, it’s like you never stopped being a horny teenager. Why are you still chasing after Chrissy? You know she’s never gonna commit to you”.
“Whatever, King Steve, you’re in no position to judge my sex life. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about on that front now. After the bathroom hook-up, Ms Cunningham royally dumped my ass”.
Steve offered his friend a sympathetic glance. “Really? Shit, sorry man, that must have been tough”.
“I mean, it’s not breaking into my top ten life moments, that’s for sure. I was literally standing there with my dick out professing my love for her when she told me this whole thing was just a distraction and… Oh… Wait a minute, wait a fucking minute!”
Steve looked on in alarm as Eddie jumped up and started shaking his head and mumbling. “Eddie, what the hell…?”
“I just remembered something, man! When she told me that she was ending things, I got this weird burning feeling in my chest. I didn’t pay it any attention at the time as we were arguing, but it must have been the stupid soul mark appearing!”
Steve looked puzzled. “I mean, it could be. But that would mean your soulmate was in the bathroom at the same time as you were going at it with Chrissy and that you spoke to them. Did you not notice anyone there? And what the hell did you say to get that reaction?”
Eddie shook his head as if he was trying to shake the answer out of his brain. After a moment, he closed his eyes and groaned.
Looking up at Steve, Eddie grimaced. “I may have gotten a little carried away with my declaration of undying love for Chrissy and…”
Eddie winced like it physically pained him. “I may have said something about hypothetically telling my hypothetical soulmate that I didn’t give a hypothetical fuck about them”.
Steve whistled. “Damn Munson, that’s amazing work. You make a grand gesture with Chrissy and a completely unsuspecting bystander who’s had the bad luck to be cosmically matched with you is now branded with that beautiful rejection”.
“And then for an encore, you try to drink yourself into a coma and take some completely unnecessary pot shots at Jen’s best friend as well”.
“I know, Steve. You don’t have to highlight every single detail”.
Steve shook his head. “Honestly, Eddie, you’re a total basket case. Angry friends, missing soulmates, you’re gonna have to bust your ass and then some to sort all this out”.
Eddie slumped down on the couch and put his head in his hands. “Whatever, man. I’ll apologise to Jen’s friend for acting like a dick. But after that, I’m done”.
Steve squinted at him. “What about your soulmate? Don’t you want to find out who it is?”
Eddie sighed. “Honestly? I think they’ve had a lucky escape. I’m not soulmate material, Steve. I’m the shady waste of oxygen who people hook up with temporarily for a good time and then drop when something better comes along. Why would anyone in their right mind want me, especially after I’ve rejected them like a total bastard?”
“C’mon Eds, you can’t say that, just because Chrissy…”
Eddie closed his eyes again and laid his head against the back of the couch. “Nah Steve. Just drop it, please. Whoever my soulmate is, they should run like hell as far away from me as they can. I’m never gonna make them happy, not in the long run, so why waste time with all of this bullshit now? They’re better off finding a nice, normal partner who can do all of that real relationship shit and I’m…”
“I’m better off alone, as usual.”
Saturday afternoon found you curled up on your couch again, but this time freshly showered, fed and snuggled next to your emotional support Jen as you picked over the previous night’s events.
“Soooo”, she began tentatively. “Munson’s really your soulmate, huh?”
“And how are we feeling about that?”
“I mean, I may be questioning the universe’s judgment right about now, that’s for sure”.
Jen squinted at you knowingly. “Really? Don’t get me wrong, he was an unconditional douchebag to you last night and deserves your wrath for that. But all the times I met him before, he really didn’t seem that bad. A bit loud, a lot weird but surprisingly sweet when he wants to be”.
“Whatever, I’m not interested”.
“No? You sure? Don’t think I didn’t notice how you had to reboot your brain when you first saw him, missy. You were totally malfunctioning when you got a look at him”.
You stretched out on the couch and shrugged. “So I thought he was hot, sue me. Doesn’t negate the fact that he has no interest in me and spent the night trying his best to piss me off”.
“Maybe it’s one of those reverse psychology things, you know, like kids pulling each other’s hair in the playground when they like each other”.
“I very much doubt that”.
“You could ask him and find out”.
You shook your head vehemently. “No. No way. I am not going there. No one else needs to know about this stupid mess, Munson included”.
Jen sat up and prodded you harshly. “So you’re going to just not mention it and hope it all goes away? How’s that going to work when you’re seeing him more regularly with the rest of the guys, huh? And don’t even think of saying you won’t be seeing them as I’m not leaving you to fester away in here on your own. The socialising is non-negotiable”.
“I can socialise just fine, Jennifer. Doesn’t mean I need to be complicating stuff with soulmate confessions to someone who, and I’m reiterating this for emphasis, Does. Not. Want. Me”.
“Because he doesn’t know you’re his soulmate, babe! Maybe if you just talk to him, things will…”
You groaned in exasperation. “Jen, stop it. This guy, who you were literally ready to murder a couple of hours ago, is just not into me because I’m not a perky blonde goddess called Chrissy. He doesn’t want me and he certainly doesn’t want a soulmate, he made that very clear yesterday. And even if he did…”
Tilting your head back on the couch, you spoke softly. “Even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t want to be saddled with me. He’s had a lucky escape really”.
“Oh, don’t start with that self-deprecation crap now”.
You closed your eyes as you felt tears start to form. “It’s not self-deprecation Jen, it's being realistic. I’m serious, Eddie Munson does not need to be chasing after my pathetic arse. If he ever gets over Chrissy, he’s better off looking for a nice, normal partner who isn’t completely socially awkward and overburdened with all the emotional baggage. And I’m…”
“I’m better off alone, as usual”.
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