eddiesbabe95 - Tumblr blog

eddiesbabe95 · 1 year

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really know him

part i

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,190

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of eddie's childhood/parents, cops, feelings and fluff

a/n: okay, hi. look who remembered how to write for eddie!! i know, right? it's totally wild. so this is gonna be another multi-part series. i think this first one is pretty sweet. it's been nice to write some eddie for a while. i hope you guys enjoy this!! the title is a play on something dustin says to wayne in season four. also tagging @rogueharrington and @zaypay because the former is a little goon and way too good to me and the latter i know wanted some eddie and is also much to sweet to me. happy reading!! <3333

————

The screen door slams so hard that the frame rattles and the metal screeches, and you’re not even sure it shut properly. But you don’t really care.

You don’t care at all.

You practically run to the picnic table closest to your trailer, stepping onto the bench to raise yourself up and sit on the tabletop.

It rained today. It’s ended just recently enough that the trees are still dripping with it, the leaves shaking water off with each breeze that comes by, the wood table damp under where you sit.

You’re sure it’s wetting the denim of your jeans, turning the light wash of them a darker shade. But you don’t care. You don’t care about any of this. It feels so minor when you ache like this.

The feeling stretches and splays throughout your chest, crawling up your throat and producing a sob that you release into the night air.

You lean your head back and let the tears come. They spill into your hair, across the tops of your ears; they trickle down the side of your neck. They don’t seem to want to stop. They’re the kind of tears that just keep going and going. You just have to let it out. You can’t possibly hold them in because they won’t allow it.

You feel your eyes get puffy, feel your lashes sticking to your skin. You feel like a wreck.

It’s then that he sees you.

Eddie lights a cigarette, pulling his wrist the rest of the way through the jacket he’d grabbed on the way out. It’s the time of day where he walks around outside the trailer, smoking, breathing, looking for bugs or half listening to whatever show neighbors are watching with the volume loud enough that the whole trailer park can hear it.

He sees your silhouette across the sandy road, your figure cast in the orange light from the old street lamp that’s just come on, the shady area tricking it into thinking it’s fully night already.

Eddie sits down on the couch. He can’t help but look you over. No one else is usually out around now, except for that couple that sits on the old playground. They’ve lived here longer than Eddie has been alive, Wayne once told him. Everyone else is too busy having dinner or vacuuming or doing whatever the fuck it is that people do.

You drop your face into your hands, fingers becoming wet with tears.

Eddie catches the motion, the tremble in your shoulders and the way you’re folding in on yourself. It’s like you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible. Like maybe you’re trying to disappear.

Eddie thinks you obviously want to be alone. It’s probably why you’re out here in the first place. He knows that when he’s upset and he wanders off somewhere that that’s what he wants too.

But he also knows how much he’s wished to be seen or comforted before. And the idea of leaving you there, shuddering and lost, is killing him.

So he stands.

The combination of dirt and gravel crunches under Eddie’s boots, making his approach a lot less quiet than he’d originally been shooting for. But it's not like subtlety has ever been his strong suit anyways.

You hear it, the sound. You try and wipe your face dry, though it’s to no avail. It’s as if a buildup of every suppressed emotion is releasing itself all at once, and there’s nothing you can do about it until it’s over. Until you allow yourself to let it go.

Still, you try and fix yourself because you can see someone walking up out of the corner of your eye. No one ever sees you cry. There’s no reason for them to.

Eddie steps up onto the bench just as you had, settling close enough to you on the tabletop that the chain on his jeans touches your thigh. It’s cold, especially with the way your jeans are wet now, but his body is warm next to yours. There’s a part of you that wants to lean into that warmth, to lean into him.

Eddie takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds it out to you. When you turn to face him he raises his eyebrows, a sweet look on his face. Want a hit? He’s asking.

You shake your head. No thank you.

Eddie takes one more long drag and then he’s snuffing the cigarette out. If you don’t want any, he doesn’t want to bother you with it either.

“You okay?” he asks you.

You shrug.

Eddie looks at you, curls slipping from over his shoulder to dangle on one side of his face, a stark difference in color between that of his hair and cheek. At first you don’t look back, but then you do. You have to, knowing he’s got his eyes on you. You turn your head, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, eyes swollen and tears shiny against your cheeks and down your neck, making your skin look tacky. You’re fussing with the edge of your sleeve.

Eddie thinks you look young.

“How come you came over here?” you ask, looking at his boots, which remain unlaced, like he hadn’t even thought to tie them at all. “It’s not like we’re friends or something.”

The boy snorts. “We worked together on that one project in Ms. O’Donnell’s,” he points out. “Before you up and left.”

That gets the grin out of you he was hoping it would. “You mean when I graduated?”

“Yeah.” He knocks his knee against yours, fiddling with the chain clasped around his wrist. “And,” Eddie continues, “we live across from each other.” He gestures to either of your trailers and you follow the movement of his finger. The nail is painted black, though thoroughly chipped. The kind of chipping you get when it’s been so long since you’ve done your nails that you can’t even remember painting them at all. “Doesn’t that make us like, at least, acquaintances?”

You bring your hands up to your face, wiping at the tears there before getting at the ones spread throughout your hairline. “I suppose so,” you say.

You wipe your hands across the denim covering your legs and then shake them out. You look up. Eddie notices you doing this and looks up with you.

The moon is round and bright. “Is it full tonight?” he asks.

“Tomorrow,” you say. Your calendar had told you so, a little circle under the date. “Though you never answered my question.”

Eddie’s head lowers towards yours, and he’s thinking. What question? Oh. That one, yeah.

“You looked upset. I thought maybe it would be nice for you to not be alone.”

You look at him again, and his big brown eyes stare back at you. They’re shiny under the light from the street lamp, his eyelashes unfairly long and kissing at the corners. There are shadows under his eyes, but they only make him look prettier.

You think about the fact that he didn’t have to do that. Come and sit with you. It’s just the fact that he did. That he’s not prying. That he simply did not want you to be alone.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

His face splits into a sweet grin. He raises his hands, gesturing with them in a sweeping motion.

“Anytime,” he says. “I’m right there, you know. If you ever need to yell or something. As long as you’re not too busy with college for an old high school acquaintance.”

You roll your eyes at him but it’s completely void of malice. You glance back up again, and when you do, you gasp a little.

“What?” Eddie’s voice sounds slightly panicked.

You lift your hand, pointing. “Look,” you tell him. “The bats are out.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief that there isn’t something wrong. But you’re right. There are at least three bats circling around the entrance to the trailer park.

One of them squeaks and you do too, though yours is out of excitement rather than whatever the reason is that bats chirp–he doesn’t know. It makes Eddie laugh.

“You like bats?”

"I do," you say, your eyes never leaving the sky. It's been a long time since you saw them, never really being out at the right time. You hope they find something good to eat.

"Me too," Eddie says.

You look away, just for a moment, remembering. "Haven't you got some on your arm?"

The boy laughs, slow and warm. "Yeah, I drew one up for my back, but I haven't saved up enough to get it done yet."

Your eyes light up, a flicker of curiosity, and Eddie thinks his heart skips a beat. "What part of your back?" you ask him.

"Lower," he says, pointing to where the bats are swooping down into the trees. You both watch them together.

"You want a tramp stamp?"

Eddie tosses his head back and cackles. It’s a beautiful, joyous sound. "I suppose I do."

“Nothing wrong with a tramp stamp, Eddie,” you say through a laugh.

He smiles at you then, and it’s boyish. He looks young. Happy. And you can’t believe he’s looking at you that way.

You turn your face back to the sky and close your eyes. Your nose stings and the tears start spilling out again.

Eddie looks at you and realizes you’re crying. He puts his hand on your knee on instinct. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

You shake your head, using one hand to wipe at your face, the other settling atop his hand. His eyes dart briefly to observe your touching hands but his focus is back on you just as quickly.

“It’s nothing,” you say. “Just having a rough night and you’re being really kind to me and I guess I’m just overwhelmed.”

You move your hand, but Eddie grabs hold of it gently.

“Look at me.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to make fun of you,” he says, and you believe him, though really looking at him and his big brown eyes is enough to wash a surge of sadness over you.

Eddie uses his thumb to wipe the fresh tears from under your lashes, grazing the tip of your now stuffy nose with his knuckle. You wrinkle it and he grins.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

“Not really, no.”

Eddie nods. “That’s cool.” He smiles again, and pushes a chunk of hair behind his ear, which only makes you curious about something else.

You sniffle. “Why don’t you have your ears pierced?”

“You’re looking at me and that’s what you’re worried about?”

You rub your nose rather aggressively. “Yeah, actually. It seems very off-brand of you to not have at least one of them pierced. And I know you’re not afraid of needles.”

You don’t have to gesture to his tattoos. And that is true about the needles, but don’t be fooled. Eddie does not like getting shots. He loathes it, matter of fact.

“Nope. Definitely not. I guess I just never got around to it. But it’s not like I have something against piercings.”

You rub your denim clad knees. “I’m glad to hear it.”

The both of you are quiet for a little while. It’s a comfortable silence, one that you feel safe in with him there. Because of him. You let your eyes wander around the trailer park as if you’ve never been here before. As if you hadn’t skinned your palms and banged up your knees or gotten a sunburn here as a child. As if you hadn’t grown and watched the trailers deteriorate as time went on.

You look across the street at Eddie’s trailer, and suddenly you remember.

You must’ve been, what, twelve? When the cops showed up, escorting a little boy the same age as you, informing a man who never really wanted children that the boy belonged to him now. There were a lot of people there that day. A social worker, maybe? A whole lot of people all trying to figure out what to do with another kid whose parents had bailed.

Eddie’s father was arrested under charges of so many things you weren't really sure what they all were. He’d been running from the law for a very long time. And then one day he wasn’t running anymore.

Eddie’s mother was still there after his dad wasn’t. She tried to raise Eddie, but she couldn’t do it on her own. She’d had him young, and never really gotten the hang of it, even if she tried. How hard she tried though, that can be debated on.

After a while she turned to drugs to cope, and then when the money ran out, when the lights were off and the house cold, she ran off.

Eddie was alone, with nothing but a note and his uncle’s phone number. His mother had told herself that Eddie was a smart boy, that he’d figure it out. She got by on telling herself that her brother would take good care of her son.

And he had. He still does. Wayne was and is a better father than Eddie’s biological dad had ever been. And even if it wasn’t what he’d planned, what he’d wanted, Eddie was Wayne’s boy. He always would be.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Eddie’s voice breaks you out of your stupor.

You shake your head.

“Thank you for sitting out here with me tonight, Eddie.”

He does his best to hide the pout he feels emerging. He doesn’t want you to go back inside, and that’s the sort of sentence that usually precedes a goodbye. He wants to talk to you. He wants to figure out who you are.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’ll sit with you any time you want. And you can always sit with me too, if you feel like it.”

You grin. Eddie thinks it’s so pretty, your smile. Shy, sure, but so, so pretty.

“You’re positive?”

“Absolutely.”

You go to stand, but Eddie beats you to it, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. He offers you his hand. “M’lady.”

His hand is surprisingly warm, and you’re quite sure the callouses you can feel will be imprinted in your brain for the rest of your life.

“Can I walk you home?” Eddie asks.

You laugh, kicking at a particularly large tree root that the rain has exposed, washing away the thin layer of dirt covering it.

“Well I don’t know, Eddie, the twenty feet to my trailer is an awful long trek. Wouldn’t want you to have to go through all of that.”

He shakes his head at you, bangs moving over his eyebrows. “You’re right. Could be dangerous. Which is why I need to go with you to ensure you get inside safely. Maybe you should even hold my hand.”

“Smooth.”

He holds out his hand. “Right?”

You take it, and he squeezes once, hard enough to make you giggle.

Eddie walks you to your trailer, and rests his chin against the worn out porch railing while you walk up the stairs.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, M’lady.”

————

It’s been a few days. Everything the rain touched dried out again.

Eddie’s outside. He won’t mind if you go and see him, right?

You can always sit with me too, if you feel like it.

You do feel like it.

Your front steps creak as you bound down them, looking both ways before you cross the road—if it can even be called that—as if the trailer park has ever been traffic heavy. Habit or whatever.

Eddie watches you make your way towards him, tugging on the flannel you’re wearing to try and keep it close to your sides, away from the wind.

“Hey,” Eddie says. He’s got that stupid ass grin on his face.

“Hi.” You stop before even stepping up onto the concrete slab that is his porch. “Thought I’d come and visit you. Hope that’s okay.”

“Told you it was.” He chuckles. It makes your face warm.

Eddie is slumped on the old couch they have set out there. His legs are spread wide, one splayed out and the other pulled closer to the cushion. He reaches his arms up over his head, stretching and yawning. His shirt rides up with the movement, exposing a sliver of the bottom of his stomach, the soft doughy skin there, the trail of dark hair leading both upwards and downwards.

“Wanna come sit?” He asks, lowering his arms. He pretends like he didn’t see you looking at him in that way, even though he most definitely did. If he thinks about it too hard he’ll blush.

Rather than answer, you step up and settle on the other end of the couch, your back to the arm. You pull your legs up and sit with them criss-crossed.

“What are you up to?” you ask.

He snorts. “Procrastinating. I’m supposed to be doing homework. You know, so I can do that graduating thing you did. I also have a campaign to finish, but here we are.”

You grin at him, and he reaches over, thumb tapping your knee before he rests his hand on the couch next to you. “If it helps,” you start, “I also have homework I’m supposed to be doing.”

“We’re so good at this.”

“Aren’t we?”

Eddie is quiet for a minute. He looks around outside, noting that the sun is slipping away. “You come to look for bats again?”

“No. I just wanted to see you. But I’ll gladly look for them.”

“To see me? How kind. You know just how to flatter a man.” He presses a hand to his chest dramatically and you roll your eyes.

The door that they use as their front one opens, and Wayne walks out. He looks over at you both.

“I’m headin’ out, Ed.” He smiles at you. “What’re you both up to? No good from the looks of it.”

“Lookin’ for bats,” Eddie tells him. Wayne gives the boy a knowing look, but he won’t mention it. If something’s going on, Eddie will spill eventually. That’s how it’s always worked. Eddie the motormouth and whatnot.

Wayne turns his face to the sky, hand raising to shield his eyes from that last little chunk of sun still hanging around, even though the moon has already started to climb up. “Watch that back tree line,” he instructs. “It’s where I always seem ‘em.”

“Will do,” you say, grinning.

Wayne opens his car door, throwing himself inside. “Behave!” he calls.

Eddie gives him a two finger salute and watches as his uncle drives off, turning and then Eddie can’t see him anymore.

“Us?” Eddie starts. “Behave? Why on earth would we do a thing like that?”

You toss your head back and laugh. Eddie thinks you look so pretty tonight. The sun is almost gone for the evening, the clouds turning this pretty pink, this deep orange. The clouds are a thick gray.

He wants to scoot closer to you on the couch. Maybe one day soon he will.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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eddiesbabe95 · 1 year

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This is the best thing I’ve ever read and if you haven’t read it, GO READ IT YA IDIOT 😭😭😭🙌🏻🤍

I am absolutely blown away by the response to this series! Thank you all so much to everyone who has liked, reblogged, and commented to say that I made you cry lol. I promise this will have a happy ending. thanks so much for sticking through this with me.

part 1 part 2 part 3

---

wondering where I am, lost without you

part 4

Every way Eddie looked at it, he was in the wrong.

Eddie knew some things about himself. He knew that he could be a little self-centered sometimes. He was passionate and ambitious and he could get tunnel vision sometimes. He could sometimes put his own needs before others. He also knew that he could get nasty when these things were brought to his attention, because he really did love his people and he wanted to believe he was a good friend, a good nephew, a good boyfriend. He wanted to believe he was a good person and when he realized he'd hurt someone he had a tendency to lash out, to try to reframe it so that he wasn't the bad guy. Again, the self-centeredness.

Being back in the house he'd bought for himself and Steve last year with the earnings from the band's first album was... depressing. And not just because Steve wasn't here with him.

The house looked like a showroom, the same as the day they'd toured it with the realtor. It was as if Steve hadn't settled in, hadn't made it into a home. Like he wasn't comfortable here. Like he was staying in a stranger's house or a hotel room, like it wasn't his.

Eddie remembered the day they came to look at the house. It was beautiful and grand, the kind of house he'd always dreamed of having someday, as a kid in the trailer park, watching his uncle break his back at the factory just to put food on their little pull-out cracked linoleum dining table. A house with heating and cooling and all the room they could ever need for hosting holidays and a huge kitchen for Steve to cook in, a pool for all their friends. A home for their family. He'd been so proud that he could give this to Steve, that he hadn't cared that Steve hadn't been as enthused about it. Steve had wanted an apartment, a nicer one than the one they'd had, but he'd said they didn't need all this space and grandeur. Eddie suspected it reminded Steve of the cold, empty house he'd grown up in.

It wasn't meant to be empty. Eddie hadn't meant it to be empty. They had friends. A large network of found family. Only...

Robin had an apartment in Riverside, Nancy lived in the city, and Argyle, Jon, and Will had a bungalow in Long Beach. But other than that... everyone else was at least a day's drive away. Dustin was on the east coast. Everyone was busy with their own careers, their own families, Dustin, Mike, El, and Lucas were all at college. Steve's support group was scattered and busy. Steve was busy, too. He was a full-time student and still worked part-time at a convenience store, even though Eddie had told him he didn't need to do that anymore.

And Eddie hadn't been here. Steve had been alone in this big, cold, empty house.

They'd talked about what the tour would mean for them before Eddie had left on the road. They'd known it would be hard to be apart for so long. But Eddie had promised to call, to facetime, to keep Steve updated, to fly home when he could. Eddie was chasing his dreams, and Steve understood that. Steve had started school. They were both chasing dreams. But they were meant to do it together.

Somewhere along the way Eddie's manager had become more demanding. The band hardly ever got to rest, every day it was interviews or performing or fan encounters or writing or recording, and it was especially taxing on Eddie as the face of the band. He'd let himself be sucked into it, had put his career before himself and before Steve. Eddie had always wanted to be famous, had wanted to play his music for the world, wanted the attention and the money and celebrity. He'd wanted to be known and admired and yes, to share his passion for his music.

But since he met Steve, he'd always known he wanted Steve there with him, every step of the way. Wanted to spoil Steve, give him everything he deserved.

And Eddie had given everything to Steve that he thought he deserved, but not what Steve needed. He'd been selfish. He'd lost sight of what was important to him. He wanted the music career, he wanted the fame, but he needed Steve. He'd give everything up to have Steve back, to make him happy. Give him what he needed.

It had been a week since the fight with Steve and he still hadn't responded to any of his attempts to reach out. Eddie had wanted to drive to Robin's house, to make Steve listen to him, make him talk to him, but Robin had advised against it. Told him to give Steve time to think.

Eddie was afraid that if he gave Steve too much time to think, he'd realize he was better off without him.

Eddie had been fielding calls from his agent and manager trying to schedule him for interviews and recording all week, talking about shows. He'd turned them all down. He'd been working nonstop for six months. He deserved some time off. More importantly, he didn't think he could muster the energy to work when he knew how Steve was hurting, knew how he'd been the one to hurt him. He had to make this right first. Steve had to come first.

Eddie, swaddled in his nest of misery on the bed, dug out his phone and pulled up his convo with Steve (Stevie with little hearts and a crown), and scrolled back through their messages. Eddie never deleted conversations, so he could scroll all the way back through the year if he wanted to.

There were the messages he'd sent this week, unanswered.

steve, please

please talk to me

stevie, please pick up

im so sorry

imsry pleees stvie pick up pllase

plese pick up i need to taaalk to yo

pick up steve please jst talk to me

As he scrolled back, he saw a gradual change. The unanswered messages moved from the right side of the screen to the left.

Steve had stopped responding to him altogether this past week, but in the past month since his birthday party, his responses had been sporadic and short. Eddie could now see that Steve hadn't texted him first at all this past month. Eddie wondered if Steve had been trying to see something there, refusing to text Eddie first to see how often Eddie would reach out to him first. He was ashamed to see that there were days in between their correspondences, and most of them were surface level stuff.

The months before that were characterized by Steve sending him goodmorning and goodnight messages, asking how his day was, if he'd eaten, how the interview went, telling him he saw the interview on TV, pictures of his meals, pictures of himself doing homework, I miss yous, just Steve reaching out to him over and over again and Eddie responding sporadically, telling him how busy he was, and with promises to call at certain times. He'd broken way too many of those promises.

He got back to messages from when the tour started and they were filled with their usual chatter. Selfies, pictures of where they were, messages of how much Eddie missed Steve, how proud Steve was of Eddie. In the beginning they had texted every day. He remembered that they had called nearly every day, facetimed a couple nights a week.

He came back to the conversation from their first night apart. Eddie had been in a bunk on the tour bus. He remembered listening to Jeff's snores in the bunk below as he tapped away on his phone with Steve.

Steve: i miss you already eds

Eddie: i miss you too baby. so nervous 4 the first show tmr

Steve: ur gonna be amazing. uve bn working for this for years. ur there bcause ur amazing and you deserve this. Im so proud of you

Eddie: thanks baby. im proud of you too. im so happy i could help you go back to school you deserve it

Steve: dont 4get me when ur famous ;)

Eddie: lol never baby. how could i 4get dat azz

Steve: ur so dumb. i love you

Eddie: love you too sweetheart. goodnight

Eddie was crying again. He dropped his phone and buried his face into the pillow that still smelled like Steve's shampoo and let himself sob for a long time. He didn't know how he'd let this happen. How he'd lost sight of the person he'd been before the band had exploded into success. How he'd lost sight of the most important person in the world to him, the man who'd supported his dreams, who'd loved him through everything, loved him when he was just a face in the crowd, one of hundreds trying to make it big. Steve had always believed in him, and he'd given Eddie the courage to keep going, to believe in himself, to keep trying.

He wished Steve had told him how he was feeling. Eddie should have noticed how far away from him he was drifting, should have kept his promises, should have said no to his manager when he was being spread too thin, should have made time for Steve. He knew this. But he wished Steve had talked to him before it had gone so far.

But he knew his boyfriend, knew that he hated to admit anything was wrong. He was the type to weather the storm quietly, take the hurt and bottle it up, and make the most of what he had. Eddie knew this came from being raised by two emotionally distant and critical parents. Steve was used to putting on a brave face, gritting his teeth and baring it. Eddie had become good at reading him over the years, good at getting him to talk when he started to withdraw. But Eddie hadn't been here this time to do that.

He had to find a way to be there for Steve now.

After he'd stopped crying and gathered his resolve, Eddie opened his phone again and dialed Steve. Instead of going straight to voicemail, it actually rang a few times and Eddie got his hopes up that maybe Steve would pick up.

He didn't.

Eddie left a message. "Steve, I-" he cleared his aching throat "-I know I hurt you. I shouldn't have said what I said. I didn't mean any of it. I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry for how I've hurt you these past few months. You're-" His eyes ached with tears and he swallowed them down. He couldn't break down again on Steve's voicemail. It wasn't fair on Steve. Steve was the one hurting. "You're the most important part of my life. I want to apologize to you in person. You don't have to forgive me. You just... you deserve to hear it. I don't know if you're listening to these messages. Please just... maybe text me back to let me know you got this one. And take your time. Let me know if and when you're ready to talk. Please. I love you. Always."

He hung up and let a few tears roll into his hairline, soaking the pillow underneath his head.

A few minutes later, his phone dinged. It was Steve. Eddie's heart raced as he opened the message.

Steve: you can come to rob's tmr night at 7 n we'll talk

Eddie let out a sob, this one relieved. "Oh, Stevie," he whispered through a tentative smile. His fingers trembled as he responded.

Eddie: thank you, i'll be there at 7

Then,

Eddie: do you want me to bring ur face cream? buck 4got it

Steve typed for a while, stopped, started typing again. A few minutes passed before his message finally came through.

Steve: yea, thank you

Eddie frowned, wondering what Steve had typed out before he changed his mind and sent this instead. Then he got out of bed and went to shower for the first time in days, a sense of hope blossoming in him.

___

alot of people have expressed how mad they are at eddie and i agree, he's been pretty shitty. i hope i haven't made him unsympathetic though. he's flawed, and we even see that it canon (I'm thinking of when he refused to move the D&D campaign for Lucas's championship game which was pretty shitty) but i fully believe that given the chance he would have recognized how he hurt his friend and made it right. he's a good person, and he made a mistake.

thanks so much for reading! I hope i didn't forget anyone in the tags. (a few of you it isn't letting me tag you?? idk if that's something in your settings? idk, i tried, I'm so sorry! you're still in my tag list so you're down there but it's not linking)

Also, feel free to message me or ask or anon me, rant at me about it, comment on it, I LOVE hearing your thoughts, seriously i eat it up. Someone reblogged with a long add-on rant about it and I loved it so much, thank you!

@grimmfitzz @bitchysunflower @duckyreads @afewproblems @epiclazershark @zerokrox-blog @theysherobinbuckley @ineffablecolors @a-lovely-craziness @elliegrey2803

@cherixxx69 @grtwdsmwhr @persnicketysquares123 @redfreckledwolf @artiststarme @stonyisforlovers @koyislosinghismind @stevesbipanic @over7joyed @exhibit-no-restraint @starsvs @vampireinthesun @minjintea

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eddiesbabe95 · 1 year

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The Soulmates: Part Four

A/n: Tag list is now full. There is A LOT of drama in this one and it was really sad to write. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS. I promise things will get better in the story we just gotta get through the drama first.

Series Masterlist

Summary: Eddie Munson never thought he would be one of the lucky ones. Him being the only one in his family to be given a soulmate mark was a miracle. What happens when his soulmate is not the one he wanted? Will he be able to give up his dream girl to be with the one he’s meant to be with? Or will he just have to learn to ignore the other half of his soul?

Warnings: Angst, Bullying, Physical Assault, Descriptions of an attack, Cussing, Blood, Descriptions of injury, Cuts, Mention of kidnapping. Please do not read this if any of these bother you. Also, if I missed any warnings, please let me know. 18+ Only for all of my posts, MINORS DNI.

Word Count: 2.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem reader

The folded up piece of paper landed on your desk with skilled precision.

You sat in your first period class, dutifully ignoring the charged electric presence of Eddie Munson behind you. He wasn’t making it easy.

You considered making a big show of getting up and throwing the note away, but curiosity ate at you instead. You didn’t take Eddie Munson as the type to pass notes in class.

Carefully you unfolded it to reveal the messy scrawl that was his handwriting.

Do you understand anything she’s talking about?

No, it wasn’t an apology or an explanation for why he had been so hot and cold when he came over to work on the project last night. Everything was fine until you touched each other. You hadn’t understood the feeling either. The complete need to be closer to him at that moment. Eddie had a girlfriend, and you knew it was inappropriate. Your body had just been reacting to a meaningless crush on the guy that was in your room.

A crush. After he left you had continuously replayed the moment your hands had met in your mind. Instead of sleep, you thought of every glance and every feeling.

You had awoken with the understanding that this was just a crush.

You doubted he would apologize anyways, but if he did bring it up then you could hopefully pass it off as a sudden buildup of static electricity from your socks on the carpet resulting in an electric shock. Very common. Happens to everyone. Definitely doesn’t mean anything.

But, you knew those butterflies that assaulted your insides weren’t as meaningless as you wished that would be.

Guilt gnawed on your stomach. Chrissy and Eddie were in love. You knew you couldn’t compare to her in the slightest. You felt dirty and gross for wishing that you could though. What kind of person were you turning into?

You quickly scribbled back: Yes, because I’ve actually been paying attention instead of passing notes, before folding up the note and sneakily holding it behind you. His fingertips brushed yours as he grasped the note, sending that familiar feeling of warmth up your arm.

As soon as he had the note in his hand you quickly snatched your own hand away, rubbing it like it had been burned.

A hum of disapproval could be heard from behind you as he read the note. Hoping that would be enough to keep him from bothering you again, you turned your attention back to the droning teacher.

The note skittered back across your desk and you dropped your head in annoyance. He was really pushing it today.

Well, looks like you’re also passing notes now too. Not so perfect now are you? Followed by a drawing of a smiley face with devil horns and a stuck out tongue.

You let out a quiet laugh and slowly shook your head.

Before you could write your snappy response in the form of a poorly drawn middle finger, you heard your name said from the front of the class.

“Is there something you’d like to add to my lecture?” Your teacher asked in an annoyed tone.

“No ma’am,” you said quietly before she turned back to write on the board.

Not trying to get in trouble you slid the note into the back of your folder. He would be okay without a response for now.

You found a new note in your locker after lunch.

You froze when you saw it flutter and land by your feet. Thankful that Robin wasn’t there to read over your shoulder, you opened it.

Meet me at the picnic table in the woods behind the football field after the last period. -E

Anticipation spiked your bloodstream as you slyly glanced over to where Eddie and Chrissy stood in the hallway to your left. She had her arms wrapped around his waist, smiling sweetly up at him.

The anticipation was replaced by dread.

This was wrong. Eddie has a girlfriend. You shouldn't be excited that a guy with a girlfriend wanted to meet with you, presumably alone.

You felt stupid. He obviously loved Chrissy. Maybe this was just a friendly hang out. Maybe you shouldn’t meet him at all.

Besides, you barely knew him. The feelings you had made no sense.

These thoughts followed you for the rest of the day. You suddenly found yourself in your last period class, chewing on the end of your pencil. Your final decision didn’t come until the last bell rang.

You would meet Eddie. If he tried anything then you would do the right thing and remind him he had a girlfriend and you were not that type of girl. He needed to leave you out of whatever his relationship with Chrissy was.

Proud of your plan, you gathered your things and made your way to the hidden location in the trees.

As you approached, you second guessed your decision to not tell Robin about your meeting. You hadn’t realized how far away this picnic table actually was from the school. Not that you thought Eddie would ever hurt you. He seemed like the type to wear the scary metal tough guy persona like a shield, but in reality he was the type of guy to pass you notes in class with stupid little smiley faces on them.

The woods were eerily quiet as you walked down the makeshift pathway to the table. Even the birds stopped chirping as you silently moved through the trees.

Reaching the table, you looked around. Alone. Maybe he realized this was stupid and decided not to meet you. The thought simultaneously ached and gave you relief at the same time.

You sighed as you set your backpack down on the bench. You needed to relax but all the lectures about safety that you had gotten from your dad growing up were replaying in your head in a loop. He would be so pissed if he knew what you were doing right now.

The picnic table had been painted green at some point. The paint had been chipped and peeled off by the elements. Lewd writings and carvings were etched into the wood. You stopped looking when you saw the ‘C+E’ surrounded by a poorly carved heart.

The snap of a twig startled you as you glanced around the trees, hoping it was just a squirrel.

“I’m so glad you came.”

You froze, heart now taking residence in your throat. Something was wrong. The voice was wrong. It wasn’t Eddie in the woods with you.

You whipped around to face Chrissy Cunningham.

She stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her hair held high in a ponytail. A wide smile that didn’t reach her eyes was stretched on her shiny glossed lips.

“Chrissy? What are you doing?” Her presence left you so unsettled that you couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice. An ominous feeling poured over you. This didn’t seem like a friendly visit.

“What am I doing? Why were you meeting my boyfriend?” She looked at you in disgust.

“It’s not like that.” You weren’t lying. You had a plan. You were going to do the right thing. No matter how much you wanted the opposite, you were going to turn down Eddie if he tried anything.

You were a good person.

“It’s not like that?” Chrissy took a step towards you, causing you to step backwards away from her. “You’re telling me you don’t like Eddie? Then why meet him?”

The way she was looking at you scared you. The unhinged look in her eyes. She scared you.

Unable to form a response, you just shook your head instead.

“No? You’re not making this very fun. I’m just gonna go ahead and say it then. Eddie wants you to stay away from him,” She said with a fake pout on her face. She was mocking you like this was some kind of joke.

“What?” You croaked out in disbelief. But he had just been passing notes to you in class. He was the one that pulled you into the hallway to apologize about how he had treated you. He had been the one to joke around with you in your room. That feeling when you touch…

You had misunderstood everything. That mistake was about to cost you.

“He asked me to make sure you stay away and I’m going to make sure that happens. He thinks you're creepy. He’s noticed the way you look at him in the hallway and at lunch. It’s really pathetic actually. Can’t get your own boyfriend so you go after mine.” You hadn’t realized that you were backing away from Chrissy until you felt your back press up against the scratchy bark of the tree behind you.

“Okay,” you stuttered out quickly. “I’ll stay away from him. I promise.” Nodding your head and holding out your hands to somehow prove you were serious about what you were saying.

You stepped away from the tree. Trying to show Chrissy that you weren’t afraid of her. You reached for your backpack still sitting on the bench when movement from the corner of your eye caused you to freeze in place.

About five of Chrissy’s friends from the cheer squad stepped out from behind the surrounding trees. Three guys from the basketball team made their presence known too. Smirks on their faces like they couldn’t wait for the show. They hung back with their arms crossed, making it known that they were there to watch whatever was about to happen.

Faces that shared classes with you and passed you by in the hallway were now circling you. Pinning you to your spot with their menacing body language. All of them looked to their blonde ring leader for the signal on what to do next.

“You say you’re going to leave him alone but I don’t think you mean that.” She made another step closer and her friends moved with her. Your back found that familiar spot on the tree again.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to fight your way out of this. You truly didn’t want to fight Chrissy. It was you against all of them. But you weren’t going down without at least trying.

The first punch came from Chrissy. It landed hard against your cheek. The distinct taste of blood landed on your tongue from where you bit your cheek.

You took a second to rub your stinging cheek before you swung back. Anticipating your move, Chrissy took a step back away quickly but not quick enough. Your nails made contact with the flesh of her cheek, leaving three angry scratches on her face.

An angry screech erupted from her as she grabbed her face, swiping at the blood.

She looked at her friends and nodded before they all descended on you.

You tried to fight back but the next blow knocked you back, head hitting the hard tree behind you before you landed on the ground.

They didn’t stop and they didn’t give you time to get back up. They weren’t here to fight fair.

Each girl took a turn punching and kicking. Throwing insults as they released their punishment on you.

You heard snickering and thrown words of encouragement from the guys who watched like they had front row seats to the match of the century.

The last girl was pushed towards you to take her turn. You sat beside her in your second period. Her name was Taylor. You let her borrow your pencil. She complimented your skirt one time.

She stood hesitantly in front of you. She looked like she wanted to cry as she looked at you laying pathetically on the dirty ground. You had curled around yourself in a feeble attempt of protection.

You had given up. There was no fight left in you to give.

“Do it so we can get the hell out of here!” One of the guys barked. She jumped at the tone of his voice.

Another girl walked up and pushed Taylor towards you again, saying something in her ear that you couldn’t hear.

Here you were, broken on the ground, and you were worried about the scared girl in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed to you. Completely silent in order to not alert the others around you.

She balled up her fist and threw the last punch.

You don’t know how long you laid there after they left. They laughed at you as they walked away, making sure to dump the contents of your backpack on the ground before they left.

The sun was still shining when you finally peeled yourself off the ground enough to sit up. Your left side ached with each breath. Your face felt swollen and hot when you blinked. No matter how many times you swallowed, the taste of blood remained.

You crawled slowly to your backpack. Using both hands you scooped up your belongings and threw them back in before zipping it up.

Your legs ached and your head throbbed as you stood up on wobbly legs. You would’ve landed on the ground again if it wasn’t for the bench catching your fall.

One slow, unsteady step at a time, you started your journey home.

Eddie leaned against his van slowly taking drags off a cigarette to calm his nerves.

His hands shook and a feeling of unease settled into his gut. Something was wrong, he just couldn’t tell what. All he knew was that he had the feeling of impending doom.

It wasn’t unusual for Chrissy to take her time getting to the van after school. Usually, she would run into a friend or two and get carried away gossiping about whatever. That’s what was taking her so long, right?

Then his mind traveled to you. He didn’t get to talk to you anymore after sending you that note in the first period. He was going to send another but after the teacher had called you out he decided not to risk getting either of you detention. He wasn’t going to lie, he liked the way you laughed at his shitty little drawing.

He flicked the cigarette to the ground and shook his head in frustration. No. He couldn’t think of you like that. Especially not while he has this awful feeling in his gut and his girlfriend is nowhere to be seen.

Eddie pushed away from the van, deciding to go on a one man search and rescue team for Chrissy. Maybe once he laid eyes on her this feeling would go away.

The second he walked around the back of his van, he spotted Chrissy and her friends walking from the football field. He narrowed his eyes when he noticed Jason following behind Chrissy, right on her heels like a lost puppy.

As she approached, three bloody marks on her cheek came into view.

Eddie rushed forward and grabbed Chrissy’s chin to get a better look. “Chrissy, what the hell happened?”

Some of Chrissy’s friends shot Eddie dirty looks before they walked away. Jason hovered behind, glaring at Eddie before he also made his exit.

“I fell and scratched my face against some rocks on the ground. It looks worse than it actually is.” She smiled, soaking in the attention he was giving her.

“Shit, okay. Let’s get you home so I can get it cleaned for you,” he said as he carefully wrapped an arm around her to lead her to the van.

After getting her settled in her seat, Eddie still couldn’t shake the awful feeling. Chrissy was safe and in front of him. So why did he still feel like something awful was happening?

The world is fuzzy. Has it always been this fuzzy?

You don’t know how you made it out of the woods.

Eyes trained on your feet, you pushed yourself to take one step at a time. Forcing yourself to keep your mind off the pain.

Tires squealed nearby causing you to jump and shield your ears with your dirt covered hands.

“Hey?! Holy shit, are you okay?” A man’s voice cut through the air. The sound of sneakers against pavement rushed towards you causing you to flinch.

“Oh my god. What happened?!” This time a girl's voice was speaking.

Rain drops splashed on your face. Your eyes burned and your cheeks ached as you tried to wipe away the wetness. A frustrated noise escaped your throat. Why were the raindrops attacking your face?

“Don’t cry. We’re gonna make sure you’re okay,” the man spoke again, much closer than the first time. “Help me get her in the back seat!”

Warm arms guided you into a car and helped you lie down on the seat.

A giggle escaped from your throat at the thought of your luck. If you were being kidnapped then that seemed to be right on brand for how your day was going. It honestly wouldn’t surprise you at this point.

You felt like you would be sick from dizziness as the car jolted forward quickly.

“It’s okay. We’re gonna get you help,” the girl said from next to you. You didn’t remember her climbing in beside you but her presence was welcomed.

Heavy sleepiness took over your eyes and it became a battle to keep them open. The man said something again but you couldn’t hear him this time.

The world faded slowly to black.

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A/N: If you would like to be removed from the tag list please let me know. Also, let me know what you thought of this chapter (; Thanks for reading!

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eddiesbabe95 · 1 year

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The taglist is disappearing every time I try to post so I’ll just do it here.

Disjointed is up.

@b-irock @trashmouth-richie @hellkaisersangel @churchmuffins @chickpeadumpsterfire @bebe0701 @sidthedollface2 @hauntingbastille @hellfiredarling @idkidknemore @manda-panda-monium @tlclick73 @livasaurasrex @2clones-1kamino @audhd-dragonaut @angelina16torres-blog @callofcunthulu @jo-harrington @a-time-for-wolvess @katanaflower @chickennug90 @lesservillain @letmeadoreyoux @theanxietyqueen17 @young-anxiety @brittanyyydamnit @screaming-blue-bagel @texasblues @trixyvixx @alyisdead @whenshelanded @munsonzzgf @eddiesbabe95 @big-ope-vibes @mrsdollardog @awkotaco24 @all-4-eddie @eddiesguitarskills @figmentofquinn @whoahoney @thruheavenandhighwater @eddiemunsonspantschain @beep-beep-sherlock

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eddiesbabe95 · 1 year

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Disjointed: Twenty-Seven

Summary: Eddie faces his demons

Word count: 8.4k

What to expect: Violence, PTSD, Mentions of child abuse

A/N: this took like 800 tries and 2 hours to post because the drafts is being an asshole! Let me know what you think! Didn’t wanna keep y’all hanging for too long.

In order to stand to his feet, Eddie yanked himself out of you, muttering a quick “Sorry!” when you hissed at the sudden loss of him.

There was undoubtedly a person riffling around the kitchen, no more than four feet outside the bedroom door. Eddie quickly threw on some clothes, and you copied him, not bothering with a bra or underwear.

You missed the hole of your pant leg a few times, too scared and trembling to focus on the task at hand. Though you knew the answer, you still had to ask. “Do you think it’s Wayne?” you whispered quietly.

Eddie shook his head as he buttoned his jeans. “No,” he breathed. “Wayne would never just come in without knocking.”

With your clothes finally on, you stood behind Eddie and clutched his forearm harshly. As if he just realized you were out of bed, he frowned at you. “What are you doing? You’re not going out there with me. You stay in here.”

“What if it’s a burglar? What if they have a gun?” you muttered sharply. “Do we have a gun?”

Eddie shook his head no. “Wayne took the shotties when he left.”

The sound of glass clinking together was a tell-tale sign that the intruder was scavenging through the fridge. The thought occurred to you that maybe it was one of the freshmen, but the idea flew out of your mind when the sound of the intruder slamming the door shut made you jump a mile high.

“Maybe we should just let them take what they want,” you suggested frantically. “They’ll go away when they’re done and we don’t have to know who it is.”

“We don’t have anything worth stealing,” he replied. “Our TV isn’t even in color.” Eddie tried to pry your hands off of him and take them into his own, but you refused to let him go.

“Y/N,” he hissed. “You have to let go. I’m going to see who it is. If I start yelling, you jump out of the window and run to Max’s house, okay?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No. I’m going with you.”

“No! We don’t know who’s out there. Or how many. Please, just listen—“

“No!” you snapped. “I’m going with you!” You scanned the room for something you could use as a weapon. There wasn’t much unless Eddie was willing to sacrifice one his guitars in order to crack a skull or two. Your eyes fell to the auxiliary cord for his amp and you quickly scrambled to grab it and held it like a tripwire in your hand.

“The hell are you gonna do with that?” he questioned with nothing but confusion written on his face. “Whip them with it?”

You glanced at the cord in your hand and then back at Eddie. “Garrote. You don’t need much to strangle someone.”

Eddie’s furrowed brows suddenly shot up so high on his forehead that they disappeared behind his bangs. “Jesus Christ, I suppose you don’t.” Eddie pulled the pocket knife he carried around with him from the back of his jeans and flicked it open. It hardly qualified as a knife—a three inch blade too dull to pierce the tape on a cardboard box. When you first saw him playing with it, you asked Eddie why he had that rinky-dink piece of crap to begin with, he said it was a gift from Wayne on his twelfth birthday that once displayed a snow dog on the handle that had now since chipped away.

Eyes as large as dinner plates, Eddie gazed at you. “Ready?” he asked uneasily.

You weren’t. Not at all. Who or whatever was on the other side of that door was a trespasser. They broke in, disregarded the clear physical boundary that prevented their entry and had the gall to peek into your fridge. Violating law and privacy was of no consequence to them, and that made you wonder what else they were capable of.

But you nodded anyway, wanting to chase away whoever the hell was in your house. Unless, you hoped, it was one of Eddie’s friends that was just desperate for a place to stay. Then they’d get a very harsh scolding and some roast that was surely still warm on the stove.

Eddie turned the handle of the brass knob slowly, pulling the door open ever so slightly to peek through the crack undetected.

His face contorted into a confused grimace. “What the fuck?” Eddie breathed, suddenly swinging the door open all the way and lowering his pocket knife.

You grabbed his wrist and held onto it tightly while you interrogated him. “Who is it? What is it? Can you see them?” You whispered frantically.

If he heard you, Eddie made no acknowledgement of it. He walked out of the bedroom and took a few steps down the short hall with you sticking to him like a feasting leech until he came face to face with the invader. You peered around his shoulder to see who was sitting at the tiny two person table attached to the wall of the kitchen.

The man was wearing a faded brown fishing hat that covered his face as he bowed his head over the plate before him, hosting what looked like the roast you made Eddie for dinner. He had the wedding album opened on the other side of his plate, pointing to the picture of you and Eddie showing off your rings at the courthouse.

“Isn’t that nice?” the man cooed. When he looked up to give Eddie a grin, your stomach dropped to the floor.

He might have been a handsome man once, with the dimple denting his scruffy left cheek. The other side was maimed with a deep, angry scar tracing from the corner of his lip to his cheekbone, making it seem like he had a permanent smirk that looked all too familiar. The color of his dark eyes matched Eddie’s, but the shape was all wrong. He had Eddie’s chin and head shape, but his thin lips and upturned nose wasn’t right, and there certainly wasn’t any softness present across the man’s face.

Even so, there was no doubt in your mind that this was Wyatt Munson.

A burning fury started to bubble in your chest. The man who used his son as an accomplice for his crimes, who left him to bleed in the dirt alone and take the fall for him, the bastard who consistently rang the house for weeks until Wayne left, was sitting at your kitchen table like he was at Sunday brunch.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie blurted.

Wyatt clutched his hand over his heart with an exaggerated pout. It was unnerving to see the mannerisms you loved about Eddie show up on a man you wished the earth would swallow whole.

“Is that how you treat your ol’ man, Skip?” He stood to his feet and walked over to Eddie to pull him into a tight embrace. The twin lightning bolts and number 88 tattooed on the back of his hands made you nauseous. He patted Eddie’s back heartily and whispered about how much he missed his son, commented on how he wasn’t sure which one was the bride in the wedding photos since Eddie’s hair made him look like a woman, and how he was so happy to be back.

Eddie, on the other hand, looked petrified. His muscles beneath your arms were trembling, and though Wyatt wasn’t as tall as Eddie, you could see your husband fold in on himself as he pulled away from his dad.

Face blanched, eyes still wide in shock, and his once puffy lips pressed into a firm line, Eddie never appeared smaller as he lowered his head to avoid Wyatt’s piercing gaze.

You could see it clear as day Eddie was slipping back into a place that you couldn’t pull him out of as long as his father was near. All of his accomplishments, pride, love, mirth, and everything that made Eddie who he was started to fizzle out as his shoulders slumped and chest deflated.

Hearing horror stories about him should have clued you in on how enraged you would be if you ever laid eyes on him, but seeing Wyatt Munson in the flesh and watch him revert Eddie back into a terrified ten year old pushed you to a whole new level of livid.

With a vicious glare, you snapped at the outsider. “You broke into my fucking house!”

Whatever Wyatt Munson thought you were gonna say, clearly that was not it. He veered back a bit and scoffed. “Well I’ll be! Nice way to treat your new father-in-law!”

“Wayne is my father-in-law,” you spat venomously. “You are an intruder that needs to leave!” You looked at Eddie for backup, hoping he would jump in and make it clear to his unfortunate relation that he was not welcome. However, Eddie only flickered his eyes back and forth between the two opponents and remained silent.

“Okay, okay. Let’s take a step back.” Wyatt held his hands up in mock surrender and put on his best mask of sincerity. “I apologize,” he said sadly. “It was rude of me to come in uninvited, that I’ll admit. But you sounded a little busy when I was out there knocking.” His mouth twisted into a sick grin, showing numerous gaps where teeth should be, and the ones you could see hadn’t had a date with a toothbrush in decades. “It’s a little chilly out there. Didn’t think my boy would take too kindly to finding his ol’ man froze over on the steps cause he took too long to get off. ”

Your blood was boiling. This conniving son of a bitch was really trying to pull a fast one. Not only did he break in, help himself to food that didn’t belong to him, put his nazi-loving hands on your prized possessions, now he was trying to gain sympathy by blaming both you and the weather for his intrusion.

“You’re lying,” you replied hotly. “We would have heard you if you knocked.”

Wyatt’s pout twitched into a sneer before he caught himself. “Well, if that’s what you’d like to believe, I can’t stop you.” He turned his attention back to Eddie. “Mind if I finish my meal—“

“Our meal the you stole,” you seethed.

Wyatt ignored you. “—got some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Get the hell out of my house!” you screamed, moving out from behind Eddie and stepping towards the fork-tongued devil.

Finally showing signs of life, Eddie grabbed your elbow and pulled you back behind him. You huffed at him, ready to tell him to make Wyatt leave, but Eddie stared you down with a gaze laced in so much fear it killed the reply on your tongue. With two quick ticks of his head, he was silently telling you to stop.

You didn't want to let it go. You didn’t want to allow this asshole to sit at your table—the table you shared with Eddie and Wayne. He didn’t belong here, and neither did whatever trouble came along with him. You hoped Eddie could interpret all of this from the murderous look your eyes surely displayed, but it wasn’t easy to tell if he understood you.

Wyatt grinned devilishly at the mute conversation happening before him. “The spicy ones are always a lot of fun once you train them right. Looks like you got your work cut out for you, Skip.”

Anger flashed across Eddie’s face at his father’s words, but it was replaced by anxiousness when he realized who was speaking. You, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to turn the auxiliary cord in your hand into a necktie.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked feebly.

Wyatt extended his hand towards the empty chair s an invitation for Eddie to sit, as if it were his chair to offer up in the first place. He settled back in front of his plate and pointed his index finger at you. “Get your man something to eat. And I’ll have another beer, too.”

You scoffed at his nerve, making no effort to hide your disgust at being talked to in such a way. On a normal evening, yes, you would have made Eddie a plate and gave him something to drink—though probably not beer—without being asked. While some women like Nancy may have found the practice humiliating and prehistoric, you really didn’t mind. You did it because you enjoyed taking care of him, not because it was your ‘job as a wife’. Besides, Eddie usually made your pate too and you traded at the table. It was just something you did for each other.

But to be commanded to do so by a man who likely couldn’t even spell beer was insulting enough, and for him to do it under your own roof? You wanted nothing more than to take the heavy ceramic lid of your pot and beat his face with it.

The only thing that saved Wyatt Munson’s skull from being bashed in was the pleading look in Eddie’s glassy eyes. Seeing him so pitiful was only adding to your anger, and you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t let you get this guy out of here, but you complied with his silent request anyway.

Muttering a slew of curses under your breath, you made your displeasure known by making as much noise as possible. Bagning the cabinets closed, slamming the wet hunks of beef onto the patterned plate not at all caring that the juice was splattering everywhere, flinging the door of the fridge open hard enough to crack against the counter behind it, and kicking it closed again.

With a nauseating sticky sweet smile that probably looked more like an expression of pain directed at the vessel of evil across from you, you placed the cans of beer in front of each of them and put Eddie’s plate before him as if it were some delicate treasure.

“See? Just need a little training s’all,” Wyatt said smugly.

It took every bit of strength in you to keep your mouth shut, having to physically bite your lip. You stood behind Eddie’s chair in order to be close to the phone. Wyatt seemed proud of himself for soliciting such a reaction from you judging by the glint in his eyes, but he quickly adjusted his mask to put on the next scene of his performance.

Brow furrowed, Wyatt cleared his throat and began. “Times have been real hard since I came back to town. Had a little run in with the pigs in county.” He paused to shove tender slivers of roast into his mouth using only his hands like an animal. “I tried calling for some help—see if Wayne could spring me or put some money on my books, but I think someone was intercepting my phone calls.”

“What?” Eddie questioned. “Why would you think that?”

Wyatt’s hardened stare bore into you with nothing but contempt. Though the sudden glimpse into his true nature made the hair on your arms stand up, you hoped your glare was equally frightful.

Wyatt slipped back into character, looking like a wounded puppy left in the rain. “No one answered the phone for weeks. I called every morning hoping I could talk to you, but I only got an answer once.” Pretending to be unsure, Wyatt sighed heavily. “I think it may have been you, darlin’. You told me I’d have my phone privileges taken away if I called again.”

Eddie turned around in his chair, his brow furrowed and mouth agape. “Y/N?”

You knew exactly what Wyatt was trying to do. “You’re forgetting the part where I asked you what your name was and you refused to answer. And you never asked for Eddie. By the way, you owe me a dollar for that phone call.”

Eddie looked back at his dad, giving you the opportunity to slide a few steps back to get closer to the phone.

“What’d they slap you with?” Eddie asked.

Wyatt shrugged. “They thought I was stripping copper off the side of some buildings. Tried to connect me to some armed robberies too. I told them I only came back to see you for my birthday. I hadn’t been in town on the days they were trying to peg me for. But you know how it is. They see ‘Munson’ and blame everything under the sun on us.”

You rolled your eyes at his evasion of the truth. “Really? Decided to come visit out of the blue after being gone for over ten years?”

Wyatt’s patience was wavering. You could see it in the way his eye twitched. “You a lawyer or somethin?”

“No,” you spat.

“Hmm,” Wyatt nodded, pretending to stroke his stubbled chin in thought. “Feels like I’m on trial for something, darlin’, and to be honest, I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist—“

“Dad!” Eddie said loudly. His sudden outburst earned him a menacing glare from his father, reminding Eddie of his place. In a much quieter voice, eddie once again asked, “What are you doing here?”

Wyatt rubbed his nose with the back of his tattooed hand and sat up straighter in his seat. “I need to stay here.” He answered simply. “I need to stay here for a while to recuperate some funds. Lay low from the laws. Then I’ll be on my way.”

Unable to believe what you were hearing, you fumed. “Excuse me?” You shrieked. “Do you actually believe we would let you stay here? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m his father and he owes me!” Wyatt shouted back, the pretense of innocence evaporated with the last of his patience.

Eddie jumped a mile high at the sudden boom of his dad’s voice, and you saw him recoil in his seat when Wyatt stood up and leaned over the table to tower over his son.

“You owe me,” he growled. “I kept you with me instead of sending you to that boys’ home when your momma died. I coulda left you on the steps of St. Mary’s and lived my life. Folk in there woulda tore your lily white ass up. But I saved you from that.”

A jolt of panic shot down your arms at the familiarity of his statement. Your mother often used the same line to intimidate you into being quiet about her husband’s slap happy tendencies towards you. She’d leave very little to the imagination when recalling her own horror stories about being a ward of the state, rolling through foster families and girls’ homes like a tumbleweed. Her reasoning was that Martin’s temper didn’t hold a candle to what would happen to you in those places if you let slip what was going on at home.

By the way Eddie sunk further and further down into his chair to cower away from his father, it seemed Wyatt used a similar technique while Eddie was in his care. “I know,” he croaked. “I know you did.”

Wyatt seemed soothed by Eddie’s submission. He sat back down and wiped his greasy fingers on his pants. “Made you my Skipper, didn’t I? My little buddy. Took you everywhere with me. Taught you how to drive, how to fix cars, how to survive. Even gave you some of your own money.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, staring at his untouched food. “I remember.”

Triumphantly, the eldest Munson in the room smiled and slapped his hand against the tabletop, making both of you jump. Somehow his genuine smile was much more frightening than his sneer. “Knew you’d pull through your ol’ man. Always was a good kid, Skip.”

Eddie did nothing. Said nothing. He didn’t correct his father or tell him to go to hell. Instead, he hung his head and tore at the skin around his fingernails, not at all caring that blood started to leak from the newly forged wounds.

Clearly Eddie was too deep in his own head to wake up from this nightmare and set things straight. With a final inhale to keep your nerves in check, you waited for your moment.

Relishing his victory, the middle aged man began to launch into stories about the old days in order to keep his talons in Eddie. “Remember that time I took you to Holiday World? Rode that damn seahorse thing till the kid working it kicked you off. Then I took you to get some Denny’s and you swore you were hungry enough to eat a full meal. Begged and begged to not make you eat the kid’s meal cause you wanted to impress my girl. Tried to make her think you was some big man.” Wyatt stuffed more food into his mouth and didn’t bother to pause long enough to finish chewing before speaking again. “Got you what you wanted and sho’nuff, halfway through the meal you started whining and cryin’. ‘I’m full, Dad. Can’t eat no more.’” He barked out a sinister laugh, sending chills of disgust through your body. “Told you you better eat all of it or I’d leave your ass there just like I did at the store. You almost made it. Had only the eggs left ‘fore you puked all over the floor.” He laughed harder at the memory, showing the few stained teeth he had left in all their rotted glory.

Your heart fell to pieces for Eddie. He was obviously ten or younger when that occurred. Probably with short hair, lanky limbs, shiny brown eyes taking up half of his face. How anyone could humiliate a child, much less their own, was impossible to grasp. Threatening to leave him behind if he didn’t comply? Something that seemed to be a repeating theme with Wyatt. Forcing him to eat to the point of sickness? It wasn’t the lighthearted tea-time story Wyatt considered it to be. It was cruel and disgusting. Eddie didn’t deserve any of it, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve to be held hostage to his father’s malice in his own home.

When Wyatt drummed his dirty fingers happily against the top of his beer can, you moved slowly to avoid drawing attention to yourself. Heart in your throat and fingers trembling, you reached for the phone. Hand poised tightly on the receiver, you waited until he tipped his head back for a sip to make your move.

Unfortunately, the loud beep of the buttons alerted the other two Munson’s that you were dialing out.

Wyatt slammed down his beer sending a splash through the air as it crashed against the table. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

You held the receiver to your ear for the operator. “9-1-1, please state the nature of your emergency,” the feminine voice recited.

With a trembling voice, you answered breathlessly. “2121 Holland road unit eleven—“

Wyatt jumped to his feet with such a force that he knocked the chair backwards.

“—A break in! There’s a man in my home that won’t leave! He’s threatened us—“

It only took him four steps before you were in arm’s reach. You let out a blood curdling scream into the phone in hopes that the police or neighbors would make it over faster. Wyatt slammed his fingers onto the hook, making the line go dead.

Eddie being nicknamed the ‘Son of Satan’ suddenly wasn't far from the truth.

With brown eyes bulging and scarred mouth twisted in an almost animalistic snarl, Wyatt drew his hand back to strike, but suddenly stumbled when Eddie wrapped the crook of his elbow round Wyatt’s neck and flung him into the table.

It was then that things started to blur from the adrenaline slowing your comprehension. One second you were preparing for a crack across the cheek, and the next Eddie was forcefully shoving you into the tiny bathroom and slamming the door.

Realizing you were no longer able to see him, you quickly wrenched it back open to go back out there, but Eddie grabbed the knob from the other side, only allowing a silver of his face visible.

Only then did you see Eddie lose his composure completely. Wild eyes, face burning as hot as the sun, and the vein in his forehead pounding like a hammer, He screamed in your face in a voice so harsh that it made your whole body freeze.

“DON’T FUCKING MOVE!”

With that, he pulled the door closed hard enough to crack the cheap sheetrock adjacent to the frame.

Blood pulsed in icy shockwaves through your body as you heard Wyatt’s bone chilling cackle boom through the trailer, pulling you from your stupor.

Despite Eddie’s instruction, you opened it anyway just enough to peek your head out to see what was going on. You wouldn’t dare interfere unless things looked bad enough for Eddie to try and at least save him from being choked out. While Eddie was taller than his father, Wyatt was certainly stockier and far more dangerous—seemingly unbothered to hurt his own son.

—-

Until he started school, Eddie thought his life was relatively normal. It wasn’t until he heard about other kids’ home lives did he realize he was deficient.

They had whole rooms to themselves, while Eddie was either couch or floor bound in the living room of wherever they were staying, thinking only adults were allowed to sleep on beds. Zach Baker didn’t hide food in his underwear for later because his mom would made him food whenever he wanted, and he thought Eddie was disgusting for sticking half of his cheese Sandwich into his crotch after lunch. Eddie asked him what he did to hide his food so his dad wouldn’t eat it all, but he only called Eddie names. Mary Meyers had a tantrum when Eddie took her glitter pen. It was baby blue with silver sparkles inside the gel, and he liked it. Dad always said to take what he wanted and make sure no one could take it back. When Mary reached for it, he bit her hand as hard as he could. He didn’t understand why he was sent home for three days, or why his dad whacked him with the buckle side of his belt until dad told him it was because he didn’t want to keep after him. He took Eddie to the steps of St. Mary’s Home for Boys and posed his hand to knock. Eddie screamed, cried, begged, pleaded—he didn’t want to be left there, especially not after dad told him what they do to little boys like him.

When he didn’t listen, dad would kick his ass and drop him off somewhere for a few hours. Once it was a whole day. Sometimes at a store, sometimes at a gas station he just held up so he’d be scared the laws would get him, sometimes close enough to St. Mary’s just to get the point across.

It wasn’t all bad Eddie did what he was told. If dad said he wasn’t going to school that day because he wanted Eddie to be a lookout instead, that’s what was done. He didn’t blink when his dad tossed him over fences of backyards that didn’t belong to him, or hoist him into windows of the unsuspecting homeowners. It was fun, and a lot of times Eddie got to keep at least one thing he liked from each house. He learned how to take things apart and put them back together again. What other eight year old could say they knew how to drive? He thought being told he was grown for his age was a good thing, and all these things dad let him do made him special.

Then he came to live with Wayne, and he thought it was the worst thing to ever happen to him in his whole life. Wayne tried to tell him what to do, when to eat, what time to go to sleep, what he could or couldn’t watch on TV. He made Eddie eat with a fork, throw away his stash of food, and he got madder than hell when Eddie took a sip out of his beer bottle. Eddie had to brush his teeth twice a day even though it hurt and made his mouth bleed, and he was forced to bathe with soap every night. He hated it. All of it. And what he hated most was when Wayne told him to ‘just be a kid.’

It got better, though. Eddie started to realize he was getting food every day, that he had a bed to sleep on, and Wayne made sure he had clothes for every day of the week instead of leaving him in the same outfit for three days at a time. He was behind in school since he didn’t go a lot of the time when he was with his dad, and he was beyond embarrassed when it was discovered everyone else could do pretty much everything he couldn’t. But Wayne helped there, too, along with his teacher Mrs. Knight. He’d get rewarded with candy, trips to the dollar store so he could buy things he liked if he got a good grade on a test, and one very special day at Holiday World when he passed fifth grade and officially made it to middle school.

Seeing Wyatt Munson’s face again erased everything he had ever experienced since after 1976. All sounds were muffled as if he were underwater, growing more and more distant as his father uprooted memories that Eddie had long since buried. Suddenly the night he got his leg stitched up was only yesterday, and the bite to Mary Meyer’s hand was just the day before that.

Until he heard your shrill scream ring through the trailer. Then he realized where he was, when he was, and that his father was no longer sitting across from him.

When it came to fight or flight, Eddie was almost always in favor of flight—both in his tabletop game and in life. He’d been smacked around before and did not take kindly to the opportunity ever presenting itself again, whether it made him look like a coward or not. Already being called loser, freak, ugly, and demonic, adding pussy or chicken shit really didn’t make much difference on the long list of unfavorable names.

But when he turned to see his dad’s open palm pulled back, flight wasn’t even considered to be an option.

He should have known you would have tried to follow him back out, but he needed you to understand that he’d rather have his bones rearranged than to lose another woman to the hands of his father. One blow in the wrong place…

As soon as he turned from the door, Wyatt swung but missed when Eddie ducked. Unfortunately that seemed to have been the plan since as soon as Eddie pulled back to dodge, he was struck hard in the stomach, knocking the wind right out of him.

Wyatt cackled wildly at the sight of his son doubled over. “Look like a bitch, fight like a bitch, fall like a bitch! You forget all I taught you, Skip?” He struck Eddie across the face with the back of his hand. “Put your hands up! C’mon now, block!”

Gasping for air and trying to center himself from the blow to both his stomach and face, Eddie straightened up enough to block the right hook headed his way, but failed to protect himself from the left.

“Pathetic,” Wyatt spat as he watched Eddie blink his way back to reality. “Shoulda known Wayne’s pussy ass wouldn’t’ve taught you a goddamn—“

Eddie wished he had his rings on for this. The jab that landed against Wyatt’s mouth would have likely knocked loose some of the last few teeth if he did.

Wyat stumbled back against the stove and pressed his fingertips to his busted lip. Upon seeing blood, he wiped and nodded slowly. “I’m impressed,” he mocked. “But now I’m not gonna take it easy on you.”

One of the life lessons instilled into Eddie at an early age by his fathers was to fight dirty. Not everyone abided by the unwritten rules of a fair fight, and it wasn’t ever clear on who did. With that in mind, be the one to win by any means necessary. So Eddie felt no guilt in reading for the plate on the table and shattering it against the side of Wyatt’s head.

He didn’t stumble or throw his hands up to cradle the pain. Instead, the oldest Munson grabbed the younger by the hair and pulled it back enough to land a few hits in before Eddie let the grip on his hair hold him up just enough to kick his dad in the leg that never really healed right after he was stabbed there.

He yelped in agony and released his son, who then took the opportunity to land a couple of his own punches to wherever he could reach—stomach, chest, nose, forehead, ear, center of the throat—until Wyatt staggered and tumbled to the ground.

Eddie had seen it before—the possum trick—and he wasn’t going to fall for it. He kicked Wyatt in the gut until he rolled onto his back. Hurting and gasping for air, Wyatt put up very little struggle when Eddie sat on the man’s chest with his knees pinning down his dad’s arms. Grabbing his father’s jaw with one hand, he reached into the back of his pants to retrieve his pocket knife.

Eddie’s heart was hammering so loud within his chest he could hear very little else—not Wyatt’s pathetic whines of protest, the gurgling of him choking on the blood pooling in the back of this throat, or the sound of Eddie’s own ragged breathing. He had him. He had him right here to do what he wanted with him. The man who took away his mother, who took his childhood, who beat him, starved him, scarred both his body and mind, who broke into the only place he felt was his true home and tried to lay hands on his wife…

“Wayne told you what would happen if you came back here,” Eddie seethed through gritted teeth. He flipped the dull knife open and slipped it past Wyatt’s lips, the blade digging into the flesh at the corner of his mouth.”But he’s not here to finish it. So I’ll have to.”

Wyatt narrowed his hateful eyes, silently challenging him to do it. Eddie pressed the blade down harder until he felt it start to separate the tissue of the man’s cheek. With the knife being so dull, he would have to resort to sawing motions instead. But before he could execute the technique, a voice broke his focus.

“Eddie,” you said softly.

He didn’t want to hear you. This was his chance to get back at his old man for all he’d done. Eddie tried to ignore you and readjusted his grip as Wyatt tried to thrash loose.

“Eddie,” you repeated louder. “Look at me.”

He didn’t want to do that either. So instead he glared down at the man trapped beneath his knees.

Wyatt Munson had aged quite rapidly, likely due to a lifetime of meth, crime, and hard time. The skin around his blackening eyes was saggy and wrinkled. His eyebrows were flecked with more gray than brown, just like the thinning hair on his head. More teeth had been lost since the last time Eddie saw him, and the flesh of his face was gaunt.

He was an old man. An old man that could still pack a punch, but aged nonetheless. Soon enough he wouldn’t even be able to chew his own food.

Eddie’s grasp tightened around the man’s face. “You have two choices,” he warned dangerously. “I finish this Glasgow smile and hand you over to the cops, adding breaking, entering, assault, and battery to the time you’d get for probation violation. Or you crawl out that window over there and I never see you again. YOU HEAR ME, OLD MAN?!” Eddie shouted, shaking Wyatt’s face roughly. “NEVER AGAIN.”

Eddie wasn’t sure what the outcome would be the longer the man took to answer. But after Eddie dug the knife deeper, a choice was made. Through his crushed lips, Wyatt repeated, “Never,” as best he could.

Eddie quickly pulled the knife out of his dad’s mouth, noticing that a bleeding knick was left behind. He could live with that more than he could a three inch slice.

Blue and red lights danced across the walls of the trailer as the sound of wailing sirens grew louder.

“They’re coming,” you announced from the hall.

Begrudgingly, Eddie stumbled to his feet and let Wyatt get up.

With faulty coordination, Wyatt sprinted to the other side of the home. He opened the window in the living room, likely the same one he jimmied open to break in to begin with, and pushed his leg out of the sill.

He paused halfway out and gave Eddie a lopsided smile. “Proud of you, Edward,” he said, before dropping out of the window completely.

Disgust—That’s all that Eddie could feel deep within his bones at his father’s final words. But at least they were that: final.

——

When you tried to stop Eddie from slicing Wyatt’s face open, you hadn’t exactly meant for him to let the asshole go completely. As soon as Eddie proposed the options, you wanted to ask him what the fuck, but getting him to get the knife out of Wyatt’s mouth was more important at that moment.

It still wasn’t the time to bring it up as you threaded the needle through the gash above his eyebrow while he held a frozen sirloin against his other one.

His face started to swell immediately, so much so that his left eye was completely closed and a terrible shape of purple. At first you thought his nose was broken, but after further palpating you determined it wasn’t—only bleeding rather profusely. The pouty lips you loved so much had seen better days, where they weren’t busted open. His knuckles were just as marred—inflamed with split skin and bruising.

The two policemen didn’t seem to care much about what was going on, remarking that they’d like hot coffee since the thermos they brought with them had chilled since they’d been there. When you pointed out that you were busy patching up your husband that had been assaulted by the intruder, the older one scoffed.

The biggest mistake you made was telling them Wyatt’s identity. Though you didn’t start with his name, by the description you gave the idiots had enough to put the pieces together.

“So a family dispute? Not a break in,” the younger cop droned.

You scowled at him. “A man who doesn’t live in this house—“

“—Trailer,” the older one corrected.

You were ready to pull Eddie’s knife on them yourself at the comment. Nevertheless, you continued. “—crawled through the window, then threatened and attacked us! It doesn’t matter if he’s family—in the loosest sense possible, might I add—he had no permission or right to be here! And definitely not to beat the shit out of anyone!”

The older cop sighed as he scribbled on his notepad, clearly bored and agitated. “Okay. We’ll put out a BOLO on him. If he’s found he’ll be put away for a while since he’s out on bond anyway.”

His tone only further infuriated you. “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t gonna do a damn thing about this?” you sneered, accidentally jabbing Eddie a little too hard with the needle.

The older cop clicked his pen closed and cleared his throat. “Ma’am, we’ll do everything we can to find him and bring him to Justice,” he recited flatly. He headed towards the front door with his junior filling close behind. He turned and pointed at the shattered plate and the food that once set atop it scattered across the floor. “Shouldn’t let that sit there. Don’t want ants,” and with that he left.

You stared incredulously at the closed door for a moment before going off into a tizzy about why the hell they’d think you’d just leave food on the floor like that for an extended period of time as if you weren’t sewing Eddie’s face back together, their disinterest for what had to be the scariest moments of your life, and a long list of profanities.

When he was mostly doctored up, you kneeled down and got started on cleaning the floor. The big chunks were easy enough to discard, but the floor would need to be wiped down to clean up the specks of blood and remnants of the beef roast that neither of you got to taste.

With the pathetic excuse for policemen gone, the house was eerily quiet as you wiped the floor down with cleaner. Eddie hadn’t said a word since Wyatt departed, once again retreating into himself. The occasional creak of the roof caused by the wind startled you every time it happened. You instantly thought that bastard was lurking around somewhere, waiting to come back for a rematch or worse.

The once comfy, isolated bubble exclusively for you and Eddie had now been violated. Where you rested your head at the end of the day, relaxed, bathed, slept, and relished in the love that radiated through the very walls was no longer impregnable. Fear, hate, and violence tarnished this place now, and the loss of sacred comfort and ease within your own home brought you to tears.

Eddie called your name softly with an unspoken question.

Throwing the soapy rag onto the faux hardwood with a squelching plop, you gripped the counter in order to pull yourself to stand. “I don’t wanna stay here tonight,” you wept. “I can’t.”

Lowering the makeshift ice pack of frozen meet, Eddie muttered an agreement and went into the room to pack. You wanted to tell him to forget it—forget everything and just get away from here, but the words couldn’t make it past your lips as you tried to calm yourself down.

Eddie didn’t protest when you took the keys to your car, nor did he attempt to make an excuse for him to drive like he normally did.

You didn’t take a second to glance back at what was once your safe haven before backing out and exiting the trailer park.

You weren’t sure where you were going in the dark of night. Wayne didn’t have enough room for the three of you and you didn’t want to lay all of this on him the second he finished a long graveyard shift. The two motels in town were too dirty (if the accounts of bedbug infestations were to be believed) or no longer open for the night. You and Eddie needed somewhere safe, familiar, and free of anything that could further fuel the anxiety coursing through you. Only one place came to mind, and just like the rest of the trip, Eddie made no acknowledgement of the world around him when the destination came into view.

You could see movement through the glass pane on the center of the door and the blue glow of the TV, the norm for a Saturday night in the Harrington home. You knocked louder than you intended to but couldn’t find the room to care as the icy wind burned your skin.

Steve poked his head from around the corner of the foyer and came to the entrance. Clearly confused, Steve started to ramble. “What are you guys—Jesus CHRIST!” he exclaimed once he took in Eddie’s appearance. He stepped closer to Eddie and tried to assess the damage by what little light the porch provided. “What the hell happened to you?!”

Not wanting to go through the story again and not entirely sure Eddie wanted it known who exactly was the perpetrator, you kept it brief. “Home invasion. Can we stay here tonight?”

Steve looked like he wanted to ask a million more questions as his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but he seemed to realize you asked him a question and turned to you instead. “Y-yeah, of course. My parents are back, though. So you guys will need to stay in the guest room this time.”

He moved out of the way and ushered you both in. Once Eddie’s condition was fully visible, Steve started to look nauseous.

“Are you okay? I mean—obviously you’re not okay but Jesus!” he exclaimed.

Eddie stood silently, staring blankly at nothing while Steve ogled him like a marble statue.

Even though you were certain dinner was the farthest thing from Eddie’s mind, it didn’t stop his belly from announcing its desire for food with a loud rumble.

“I just made a smoothie,” Steve announced. “Strawberry banana. Do you guys want some? I mean, you can have whatever you want but I don’t think you’ll be up for chewing any time soon.” He didn’t wait for you to answer before heading toward the kitchen.

The thought of consuming a thing left the bitter taste of ash in your mouth. You looked at Eddie for a second opinion, but he didn’t do anything but blink the only eye able to do so.

You took his hand in yours, careful to not brush against any wounds, and led him toward the kitchen. “Should probably eat something,” you mumbled more to yourself than him, not at all expecting a reply back.

Steve whipped together two more smoothies complete with bendy straws and set them on the glass table, taking his own seat across from you.

Drinking an icy smoothie while it was below freezing outside didn’t sound appealing, but your stomach gnawed in desperation for nourishment as you drank the pink liquid anyway. Surprisingly, Eddie didn’t silently refuse like you thought he would. Instead, he slurped it fast enough to give himself a brain freeze more than once.

Steve clearly was eager for an explanation as he sucked down his own semi frozen treat, but did not vocalize his curiosity. Instead, he waited until after you and Eddie slowly made your way through the smoothies before speaking again.

“You guys can shower, eat, come watch Bad News Bears with me, whatever you want, okay?” he offered kindly.

You thanked him for everything when he took the empty glasses away and once again led Eddie by the hand up the familiar staircase.

The guest room was comfortably warm with a neatly made bed and an oak dresser. You put the overnight bag on top of the dresser and removed your winter gear before claiming a side of the bed.

Eddie slowly did the same. Stripped down to his boxers as fast as Yurtle the Turtle probably would. It gave you time to look over his chest to make sure there wasn’t any sign of his ribs being reinjured. He looked mostly fine, save for his face and hands, and mimicked your position—on his back with his shoulder pressing against yours.

You couldn’t pinpoint what you were feeling right now. Terrified now that you could take a step back and analyze that your home was so easily invaded, shocked that you had the balls to mouth off to a known lunatic without even thinking of what could have happened to you, frightened over how Eddie could have gotten hurt more than he already was, furious that he let Wyatt slither away to go destroy someone else’s life, and guilty for making the call that set everything off in the first place.

Eddie’s sudden speech made you jump as he pulled you from your thoughts. “Are you scared of me?” he croaked.

You sighed and shook your head before realizing he probably couldn’t see you in the dark. “Never.”

He cleared his throat and gulped loudly. “Then can you—I don’t know—can you—“

You didn’t let him finish before rolling on to your side to wrap yourself around him—Legs tangled between his, arms clutching his toro with all the strength you had. “I’d kiss you but I don’t know where I can without hurting you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, quickly followed by “Ow! Wait—okay—no it’s not,” when you gently pressed your lips against the lesser bruised part of his cheek.

“That’s what I thought,” you replied before nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck.

It wasn’t very late at night, maybe half past nine or so, but it felt as if you lived three days in the span of a few hours. Your body was screaming for sleep, but your mind was a hornet’s nest full of worry and anger.

When you felt a cold splat of water oh the side of your nose, your first thought was maybe the roof was leaking. Until you realized it wasn’t raining, and your nose was tucked away carefully into Eddie’s warm neck. You waited for a few minutes for it to happen again, and when it hit the exact same spot, you figured out what it was.

You didn’t think it possible for your heart to crumble anymore than it already had until you realized the sudden droplets were tears leaking from the corner of Eddie’s eye and felt a new pang of despair within your chest.

Clinging to him tighter and lightly kissing the skin of his neck to avoid hurting him again, you loudly reminded him that you loved him.

“I love you, too,” you whispered.

If either of you got any sleep that night, it was impossible to tell.

————————————————————

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