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sunnylune · 20 hours

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jealous!chrissy maybe? 🥺🤲

She couldn't even be mad, that was the worst part.

She and Eddie had been seeing each other for the past couple of months. Which in and of itself was a surprise – she never expected to stumble (literally and figuratively) into his arms two entire years after leaving Hawkins, her mother, and Jason all in the dust.

She'd left Eddie, too, of course, but that was less of a shock to him than it had been anyone else in her life. Specifically because Eddie was the reason she found the courage to leave in the first place.

"Nah, kid," he'd laughed when she'd asked him to go with her. Two hours before graduation and fourteen hours before she was packing up her car and disappearing into the night. "You don't need a dead weight around your neck, alright? And I'm not ready to go just yet. Got some stuff to take care of here. But let me know where you end up, okay? I'll come find you when I can."

She'd written him a postcard once she was settled, her tiny studio apartment in Philadelphia dingy and dated but wholly hers as nothing else ever had been.

He hadn't written back. So Chrissy did everything in her power to forget her closest-confidant-slash-best-friend and secret-love-of-her-life.

(Which, of course, everything was buying a lot of house plants and adopting a cat and going out on a number of first dates that never went further, but, hey, it was working. Sort of. Not really.)

And then, nearly two years to the date, it was early June and Chrissy was perusing produce at the farmer's market when an errant dog had gotten a little too excited and had knocked into her, making her drop the watermelon she'd been weighing and nearly toppling her completely.

Or, she would've been toppled. Had two strong, sure arms not caught her around her elbows, hefting her back upright with a, "Holy shit, you alright?"

She knew that voice, of course. But it had still taken all of her willpower to turn around and verify what had her heart singing brand new melodies.

Eddie appeared just as shocked to see her as she was to see him. Like he wasn't in the place where he knew she'd started growing roots. Like he hadn't blown her entire life off-kilter by becoming real after haunting her for so many months.

After buying a different watermelon (the guy who sold them was so kind and didn't make her pay for the first), they walked through the market, then out, wandering down the sidewalk and just... talking.

He'd only been in town a couple weeks.

He and the rest of Corroded Coffin had just moved, the four of them splitting a two-bedroom apartment in downtown and playing shitty dive bars as often as they could. ("I even got myself a real job, Cunningham! Fully legal, signed documentation of employment to prove it!"

"Wow! They let you do that these days? Who would've guessed!"

"Alright, slugger, don't come for the jaw just yet. It's my money-maker, and I'm still trying to make it big.")

They made their way back to her apartment, and, well. Old feelings vaulted up in record time, once they were in a private space (minus the cat, but Chrissy was pretty sure Pierogi liked Eddie more than she liked Chrissy anyway). They tumbled into Chrissy's bed and stayed there for the rest of the day, only getting up to replenish energy and call Eddie's friends to let them know he'd be out for the night.

That had been two months ago, and it was, inarguably and entirely, the best fifty-seven days Chrissy had ever had. She'd almost forgotten she could laugh so hard, that she could truly be herself around him, as she hadn't been in what felt like ages. Even her new Philly friends didn't really know her, not the way Eddie did.

They'd never put labels on anything, though. Despite being half desperate and entirely in love with him, Chrissy had quietly suggested taking things slow. Relearning each other. Figuring out how they worked, even though she knew how well they fit together. Like two incomplete stained glass portraits that just needed to be glued together to make sense. They'd been molded and shaped specifically to become one.

So. No. She couldn't be mad that she'd finally, finally gotten a night off from the diner and the bookstore to see Eddie play, only to find him practically swarmed with women as soon as their set wrapped.

(There were, like, three, but that felt like a swarm.)

And the worst part was that she wasn't mad, not really. She was just...

She was heartbroken.

She hadn't told him she was coming. Had rubbed her hands together and laughed manically about it, actually, like some old cartoon villain, because Eddie, despite how rough his exterior seemed to be, went positively gooey for surprises. Like when she'd preordered the South of Heaven album by Slayer to be set aside at the record shop for him, showing up at his apartment as he was getting ready to hopefully fight his way into his own copy. Or when she'd gotten him a bouquet of chrysanthemums when one of the producers at the recording studio agreed to listen to Corroded Coffin's demo.

("Chrysanthemums? Like Chrissy? Chrissy flowers?" She'd laughed at his antics, then blushed when he said, "They're almost as pretty as you, I guess.")

Chrissy had never asked Eddie to be exclusive. And the one girl, oh gosh, she was so pretty, and she had her fingertips on Eddie's forearm like she knew exactly the intricacies of his body. She was tracing the shape of his tattoo, her ruby red lips saying something that made Eddie laugh. Brunette and well-endowed, she looked like she actually belonged at one of these shows, where Chrissy appeared entirely out of place with her floral dress and her unremarkable chest and the chrysanthemum tucked behind her ear. A precocious child wandering through throngs of adults.

God. God. This hurt far more than she could ever possibly admit. And another girl, with beautiful skin and beautiful hair and beautiful everything was trying to get Eddie's attention, and he was turning toward her, and laughing, and they all blurred together just as Eddie caught her eye.

Just as her eyes filled with tears.

Maybe he shouted her name as she turned and rushed from the bar. But maybe that was just her imagination.

All she wanted to do was curl up at home with Pierogi and cry. Or scream. Or maybe some combination of both. Something white hot and furious was pulsing in her chest, spreading through her veins with every quickened pump of her heart as she marched the six blocks toward the bus stop.

When she nearly tripped over nothing but her blurred vision, Chrissy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to compose herself.

She should go back. Turn around, slam her way back into that bar with her nails drawn and screech at those women for infringing upon her territory. For talking to Eddie like they knew him when they couldn't possibly. Not really. Not the way she did. Eddie had literally just told her the other day that she knew him better than anyone, and Chrissy was so goddamned proud of that. She would maul anyone who dared to get too close, because he was hers just a fully as she was his and––

Oh, God, she was insane.

For some reason, that just made more tears culminate in her eyes, and Chrissy tilted her head back, desperately trying to avoid ruining her makeup as she struggled to pull all of the pieces of herself back together.

"Chrissy!"

Jesus. She was even hearing things.

(Eddie would laugh at her. Tell her she needed to check into an asylum. "Bet there's still empty rooms at Pennhurst just waiting for you, sweetness.")

"Chrissy, wait!"

Oh. No. Wait. That was real.

Turning around, she was met with Eddie's half-rumpled and winded form, his eyes wide and dancing over her like she was physically hurt, instead of just emotionally.

"Jesus, baby. I've been trying to get your attention for, like, four blocks!" He shook his head, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "How do you walk so fast? You're so small!"

Oh, he couldn't do that. He couldn't make her laugh right now. She refused.

"What do you want, Eddie?" she asked, her voice as detached as she could make it before it hitched on a sob. She cleared her throat, wrapping her arms around her midsection to avoid reaching for him.

"You–– What?" Eddie blinked, staring at her like she'd suddenly sprouted two heads and a third arm. When she didn't reply, he took a deep breath, looking at her like she was a puzzle he didn't realize was missing pieces. Pieces he'd stowed away in his pockets by accident. "I-I just... I mean, okay, first of all, what are you doing here? And then, follow-up, why, uh, why did you run away like that? And..." He leaned toward her, trying to catch her eye as she looked away. "Shit, sweetness, are you–– Wait, are you crying?"

Letting out an incredulous laugh, Chrissy just shrugged. Pulling her arms closer to her body and digging the toe of her sneaker into the cracked pavement of the sidewalk.

"Chrissy," Eddie pleaded, chancing a step toward her. She couldn't even bring herself to turn away, and Eddie took that as permission to gently, carefully cradle her elbows in his hands. "Baby, please. Talk to me. What's going on? I'm, like, more confused than I ever was in O'Donnell's chemistry class right now."

God damn him for making her want to laugh.

"I just," she started, huffing when her throat caught yet again. "I just wanted to surprise you. I-I was gonna... I was gonna meet you at the stage, but there were so many people, and you finished the set and then there were those girls and you were laughing and I––"

Her voice broke, the weight of her words sticking in her throat and choking her confession. Because how could she be this upset? He wasn't even hers, they were just... They were just two people who were sleeping together, and yeah, okay, so maybe she was in love with him, and maybe she was hoping he'd let her wear his last name someday, but she also knew how crazy that was, because they weren't even together.

They weren't even together.

"Oh," Eddie breathed, his voice betraying the smile on his lips that had her eyes angrily snapping toward his. "Oh, was my girl jealous?"

Chrissy's breath caught.

His girl?

"I-I..." He'd stolen her voice completely. Ripped the strangling fingers straight from her esophagus and swallowed them for himself.

"Baby," he crooned, one of his hands abandoning her elbow so he could cup her cheek, drawing her face up until she could look nowhere that wasn't his eyes. They were warm; molten, like caramel slowly churning on a stovetop. "Chrissy. You think I give a fuck about those other girls?"

"U-Um..."

"Jeez, sweetness. What, did you think I was cheating or something?" He scoffed like the notion was too ludicrous to consider.

"W-We," she started. Swallowed. Shook her head and screwed her eyes shut. "We never, um. Discussed being, y'know. Exclusive. So I just..."

Eddie paused, the thumb that had been gently stroking her cheek stilling. He cleared his throat, then took a slow breath, then cleared his throat again.

"A-Are you... I mean, have you, like, been with anyone else, or––"

"No!" she interrupted immediately, beseeching eyes catching his furrowed gaze. "No, Eddie, it's only you, it's only ever been you, I just didn't want to, like, assume, and I know I said we were taking things slow, so I wasn't sure, and those girls were so pretty, and you kept laughing, and it was like, I couldn't even be mad because we'd never discussed it!" The sentences all bled together, a plug pulled on her voice box that kept the words spilling, spilling, spilling in heavy honesties between them. Until, at last, they broke, cracking against the asphalt beneath her feet and crumbling to dust. Eroding it away until she was falling through the earth, terrified he wouldn't be there to catch her.

For a long moment, Eddie just looked at her. His eyes scouring her face like his only purpose in life was to memorize it. Memorize this moment, where she vomited up a well of insecurities for him to parse through as he saw fit.

"It's only ever been me?"

Oh. Oh no. Had she said that?

"Um..."

Blinking rapidly, Eddie's other hand came up, carefully cradling her cheeks in both of his large, warm palms as he stared intently down at her. His lips were pursed, imploring gaze burrowing beneath her flesh and bone like he was desperately trying to read the declaration of her soul beneath.

"You gotta tell me right now if that means what I think it means," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Right now, Cunningham."

God. God.

"God, Eddie, since–– Since day one, I swear. Since high school, it's just been you. How can there possibly be anyone else when it's just––"

Her voice was cut off, this time not by the weight of her own words or by the spilling of his truths.

No, this time, it was by his lips. By a kiss that stole everything from her body, inhaling it into his lungs and locking it beneath his flesh like he knew it would be safest there, tucked away and hidden under blood and bone marrow.

"Me, too," he rasped, the words hitching on a little chuckle. "Christ, Chrissy, how could I possibly look at anyone else? I just see you. I've only seen you for years."

And she–– Oh, God, she tasted that reality with his next kiss. With the way her arms wrapped around his neck, and his fell to her waist and pulled her close. Like any inch of distance between them was impossible to reconcile.

Like they could be fused at the flesh, if not at the soul.

"It's just you," he repeated when they both finally found the strength to come up for air. Pressing his lips to her cheek, her nose, and her forehead as he spoke. "It's just you."

It's just you.

#hellcheer #eddissy #chrissy x eddie

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