Working on a post with the premise that grunge rocker Eddie Munson and boyband superstar Steve Harrington are presenting an award together at the 1993 VMAs. It's taking forever to write, though, so here's a little teaser:
Steve keeps his focus on the band in front of him, but Eddie very much does not, eyes on Steve long before he speaks.
“Bet it kills you, being here. Knowing you’ll never have another hit.”
“C’mon, Munson, lay off,” Steve takes a few steps to the side, putting distance between them. The Stone Temple Pilots are still doing their speech, the words filtering through his ears like water.
“Nah, c’mon, you’ve had to realize it by now. One hit album, one song and you're already washed up.”
His jaw clenches, but he refuses to take the bait. He’s not arguing with Munson here, now. None of it matters, anyway.
“You wrote that song, sold out immediately,” Eddie whispers. “And look where it got you.”
“Fuck you,” Steve snarls, unable to take this without comment.
The band are waving their Moon Man statuettes at the crowd, obviously ready to head backstage.
Steve moves to join the winners, but a hand lands, hard, on his shoulder, doesn’t budge when he tries to wrench free. “Don’t worry, buddy,” Eddie says. A leering smile stretching his face. “I’m sure you’ll write something just as good soon.”
Something inside him snaps, years of boiling resentment and heartache crash to the surface in the space of the time it takes Scott Weiland to turn from the podium.
“I’m sure I will too. Shitty songs like that are a dime a dozen,” he hisses.
Munson startles back, eyes going wide, like he honestly hadn’t expected Steve to react.
Satisfied and only a little heartsore, Steve moves to join the band as they near the curtains.
He gets maybe three steps before something slams into his back and he goes flying to the floor, no time to catch himself. The sound from the audience is cacophonous until he smashes to the stage floor, breath crushed out of his lungs. Everything gets fuzzy then—the voices and yelling, the hands on him, manhandling him onto his back.
A weight settles around his chest, the heaviness of a body, of Eddie Munson with his knees bracketing Steve’s ribcage. Angry fists grab at the lapels of his suit jacket, jerking him to a half-upright position, to where he can see Eddie’s face—contorted with fury, brown eyes liquid with hurt.
“You’re a piece of shit, Harrington. You hear me? A cowardly, opportunistic, douche bag. But don’t you ever, ever act like that song didn’t mean anything.”
Security is there then, a large man with an intimidating mustache bodily picking Eddie up off of Steve. Someone else helps him up; his manager, Robin, running from the wings to his side.
For the rest of the night--through all the chaos and reporters demanding to know why Eddie Munson attacked Steve Harrington on stage--all he can think of is those eyes, so wide and so dark and so filled with heartbreak still, after all this time.
...To be continued...
Edit: Full post is up!
141 notes
·
View notes
Sebastian catches you dancing with Ominis (based on an AI audio from @/sirensorrows on TikTok)
Hello everyone! I’m Nova 🥰 I finally decided to join tumblr to support some of my favorite artists and enjoy more content.
You can find me on Twitter (cn0va_25) and TikTok (n0va_625)!
11 notes
·
View notes