#djats

Daisy is your best friend. You love her so so much, she’s practically your sister. It’s only natural that when she got the chance to tour with The Six, she convinced them to let you open on the tour. You’re grateful, of course you are, except for one very major issue. An issue that struts around with his annoyingly good-looking hair and bass guitar like he owns the place. An issue by the name of Eddie Roundtree.

He’s had a problem with you since the first time you met the band, and god knows why. He seems to like Daisy just fine, and it’s not like you made much of a scene when you met the band. Daisy had invited you to listen in on them recording and you got along with everyone fine, even suggesting little riffs Graham could do and talking with Karen about chord progressions. 

When you tried to suggest something for the bassline, however, Eddie just immediately brushed you off, as if your opinion wasn’t even worth him hearing you out a bit. An opinion that, much to Eddie’s chagrin, ended up on the final recording for “You Were Gone,” as you had suggested it to Billy later on and he gave his little seal of approval. Eddie was incredibly pissed about this and snubbed you for a week like a petulant child, which solidified your mutual hatred for him. 

He’s cocky and full of himself and annoying, and you’ve never been good at hiding how you feel about people. Whenever you’re hanging out with Warren or Graham and Eddie is tagging along, you make it clear and known how much you don’t like him. Rolling Stone magazine, however, is too stupid to see the difference between hatred and sexual tension. Within a month, gossip columns and mag articles about your alleged trysts started popping up everywhere. Flattering themselves, they said that the outward hatred was just a way to throw writers off your scent to keep your little romance a secret, but how could you expect a writer to ever be that dumb?

Unsure of what to do with tour starting so soon, you asked both Teddy and Rod. Teddy said to do whatever “felt right,” whatever the hell that meant, and Rod said to go with it. It’ll get more eyes on the band and on the tour, get more people involved in your music as well. No one ever likes an opener, but if that opener has special ties to the band, it’ll get more people buying your records. It’s just marketing. Marketing that makes you want to rip your skin off every time you have to hold Eddie’s hand in public.

To cope with your unfortunate circumstance, you’ve decided to take a page out of your best friend’s book and lose yourself in parties and drugs. A bump of coke—or two, or three—courses through your system as you celebrate the first show of the “AURORA” tour. Music is playing, drinks and joints are getting passed around, and you’re giggling at everything, even if it’s not funny. 

Eddie watches you from the corner with Graham and Warren, a frown etched onto his face. Nothing new, because he’s always frowning. He’s watching you more attentively than he’d care to admit, his lips pressing together every time you get another drink or light up another joint. It’s not his job to make sure you’re okay, yet he can’t help but to pay attention to you just in case you need his help. 

“I think she might need a hand getting back to the hotel,” Warren says. 

“So? She can ask Karen or Daisy for help,” Eddie scoffs in reply. 

“Aw, come on loverboy,” Graham joins in, giving Eddie an encouraging pat on the back. “Go on and help your girlfriend.”

With dual effort, Graham and Warren manage to shove Eddie off in your direction as he flips them off. He places a hand on your shoulder when he approaches you to get your attention, causing you to whirl around to face him. 

“Yeah?” you ask with a slight frown. 

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” he says gently, like how he’d talk to a child. 

You blink a few times, the drugs in your system making your mind a bit fuzzy. Has Eddie always been this cute? Or nice? Cute, maybe; you did think he was pretty attractive when you first met him, before realizing how much of a dick he is. But nice? You don’t think he’s ever been nice to you unless it was him faking it for the sake of the press. 

“No more?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“No more,” he repeats with a nod. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You let him guide you out and into a cab, a bit disoriented and still not quite sure what was happening. You’ve never realized how good he smells, like apples and cinnamon and cigarettes. Sort of like home. You’re leaned against him for the whole drive back to the hotel, arms wrapped around one of his like a koala hugging onto a branch. 

Eddie takes you back to his room, as he highly doubts you even know where the key to yours is, sitting you down on the bed firmly.

“Why are we here?” you ask as he hands you a bottle of water to drink. 

“To sleep,” he says. “And to make sure you don’t wake up and feel like death tomorrow. Unless you’ve forgotten, we’ve got a show.”

“Oh,” you say, then smile. “You’re nice.”

He doesn’t give a verbal answer, just humming as he tries to find clothes that you could sleep in comfortably. He ultimately hands you a soft sweatshirt that’ll be long enough that you won’t have to wear bottoms to be decent. 

“And cute,” you continue. “Have you always been this cute?” you ask, voicing your earlier thoughts out loud.

Eddie’s cheeks redden a bit at that, not helped when you start undressing right in front of him to pull the sweatshirt on. Attempting to be a gentleman, he turns around until you’ve finished changing, but the image of you in just a bra and panties is still burned into his mind. 

You continue rambling about how sweet he is for taking care of you and how his sweater smells really good and how he smells really good, causing him to just about lose his mind. “Are we sharing the bed?” you ask. “Are you a cuddler? You don’t seem like one. But I think you’d be nice to cuddle with.”

He gives a dry laugh, rubbing his eyes a bit. “Clearly you’re wasted if you’re talking about cuddling me,” he states. You’ve got coke, weed, and who knows what kinds of pills lacing your bloodstream right now. Of course you don’t mean anything you’re saying, despite the little pang in his heart that wishes for it to be real. You’re drunk and high and everything in between, you’ll be more coherent in the morning. “You should just sleep. We can… we can cuddle if you want,” he cedes with a sigh.

When you clamber into his arms, he tries not to enjoy it too much. It’s not real. None of it is. It never has been and it never will be. He just needs to keep reminding himself of that.

By the next morning, things get weird. You try to thank Eddie for making sure you didn’t end up in a ditch but you just get brushed off and essentially kicked out from his room. You try approaching him before the show, calling out “Eddie?”

He jumps a bit, like a skittish cat, turning to you with a “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say with a smile. 

“Thank me?”

“Yeah. For last night. If you want I could get you your sweater back tonight—”

“No,” he says quickly. “You can keep it. It’s fine.”

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, your smile quickly dissolving into a frown.

“Nothing’s gotten into me,” he says. “You should go, you’re on soon.”

You give him an odd look, squinting at him but ultimately dropping it, leaving for the wings of the stage. His attitude doesn’t improve at all throughout the night, and you have no idea why he’s so much more standoffish than usual, even trying to ask Graham and Warren about it after the show at another little afterparty, this time with less drugs.

“Come on, you guys are best friends,” you say. “Surely he’s told you what’s been bothering him. I mean, I know he doesn’t like me, can’t say I like him all that much either, but we’re usually civil with each other. He’s been treating me like I did a hit and run on his grandmother.”

Graham just shrugs. “All I know is that he took you back to the hotel last night. Hasn’t told me anything.”

“Did the two of you have sex or something?” Warren interjects.

You make a face, swatting at his arm. “Ew, that’s so gross. You’re so gross, Warren.”

“I had to ask,” he says.

You huff, rubbing at your temples a bit. “I think I’m just going to call it a night. Talk to him for me? Figure out why he’s so weird?”

“We’ll try. Scouts honor,” Graham says.

Upon your return back to the hotel, you happen to run into Eddie in quite a literal sense. Just as you’re exiting the elevator, he’s trying to get in, causing the two of you to bump into each other.

“You good?” you ask, noticing his slightly disheveled state. His eyes are a bit unfocused and bleary, his hair is messy and sticking up in odd places, his usual frown is practically a scowl now. 

“I’m fine. Room key won’t work, I’m going to ask for a new one,” he says.

“You’re in no state to talk to people, much less strangers,” you say, grabbing his wrist and gently tugging him along. “Come on, I’ll take you back to my room.”

Eddie mumbles something you can’t make out but follows you anyway, his movements slow and sluggish. 

“What’d you take?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“Quaaludes? Benzos? Smoke too much?” you ask.

“No, no, just… beer,” he says.

“Just beer did this?”

“And a benzo. Or two. Daisy gave them to me,” he says.

“You realize Daisy’s the one person you should never take pills from?”

“Aren’t you her best friend?”

“Yeah, that’s why I know that,” you huff, reaching the door to your room and unlocking it. Inside there’s gauzy fabric all over the lighting fixtures to diffuse the light, fairy lights are strung up across the curtain rods and the headboard of the bed, and a bouquet of flowers sits on the nightstand. 

“What’s with all the decor?” Eddie asks as you sit him on the bed. “You realize we’re only here for a few days.”

“Makes it feel more like home,” you explain with a shrug, going to change into comfier clothing. “I never liked traveling much, I get homesick way too easily.”

“Yeah. I get that,” he says. “I miss Pittsburgh sometimes. A lot of the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Things were… easier there, I guess. No band, no stress.”

“Why have you been so weird today?” you ask, sitting down next to him.

“You really don’t remember what happened last night?” he asks with a bit of a rueful laugh.

“I remember you taking me back to the hotel and giving me your sweater. Then we just… fell asleep, right?” you say. You frown, then remembering what Warren had asked earlier. “Did we have sex?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “What, no, of course not,” he says. “But you were being all… flirt and clingy. It was… weird.”

“Weird,” you repeat. “Eddie, you realize I don’t actually hate you, right?”

“You don’t?”

“Hey, you were rude to me first,” you say. “You know, I even considered asking you out when I first saw you. But then you started talking and I thought ‘wow, what an asshole,’ and decided against it.”

Eddie winces, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess it just… irked me that you were waltzing in and just changing everything. I mean, Billy never listens to me when I suggest stuff but you barely said a thing and my whole part was changed in ‘You Were Gone.’”

“Still not an excuse for how you treated me,” you say. 

“Guess you’re right,” he concedes. A beat of silence pauses, then “You really were going to ask me out?”

“Yeah, thought you were cute,” you admit.

“And now?”

“Now I think you’re a dick.”

“Come on, I said sorry,” he huffs.

You give a wry smile. “Then I suppose… would you like to go out for lunch tomorrow?”

He smiles, bumping his shoulder against yours. “I’d love to.”

a/n: unedited bc i’ve just been so sleepy lately idk why