We'll burn the sky | part fifteen
Warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol, drug abuse and addiction, loss of a parent, mentions of cheating, past trauma, angst, fluff
Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!Fem!reader
Summary: Your Christmas ends up being better than you thought it would.
Word count: 12k+
Author's note: Big thank you to my besties, @littledemondani @mysticmunson & @corrodedcorpses you always help me so much with your amazing ideas, thank you<3
Series masterlist
-
Before Eddie, you have never cried as much as you did in the past few weeks, in fact, you don’t remember when you cried the last time before you met him. You always considered yourself emotionally stable and strong, maybe it was wishful thinking or maybe it was the actual truth, maybe the emotional stability only lasted for a while or maybe it was never there and you just pretended that you were something that you were not.
You tried to stay strong for yourself. You tried to keep the tears from falling but you couldn’t.
So much has happened. Every time you thought that it couldn’t get worse, it got so much worse.
The moment you laid your eyes on that article, you knew your peace was over. The life you knew was over. Everyone knows what happened to your dad and now everyone thinks that you are just the same.
A wreck.
A drug addict, an alcoholic, a careless girl who ends up tangled in the sheets with just about anyone.
Whoever said those horrible things about you?
“It’s alright, darling,” Wayne says as he rubs your back, letting you cry in his arms, “let it all out, I’m here.”
You sniffle, trying not to sob, it’s humiliating enough to be seen like this, you hate crying in front of other people.
You hear the passing cars, the bell over the door in the gas station, the whirring sound of the vending machine next to the telephone booth and Wayne’s soothing voice.
His embrace is just as comforting as Eddie’s, he hugs you in a similar way he does. His arms are wrapped around you protectively and he holds you for as long as you need him to.
Your tears keep falling as you cry.
As though the pain of losing your dad was not bad enough, you have been hit by more and more. Now you begin to understand what he had felt like.
Your shoulders are shaking and your tears are staining his jacket, if he notices, he doesn’t seem to mind.
Once your sniffles quiet down and your tears fall less, you slowly pull away from his embrace. Wiping your tears, you look down at the black stains on your hand. You must look like a racoon right now.
Your bottom lip is quivering, though you are not sure whether it’s from the cold or the sob that tries to crawl up inside of you. You blink, trying to keep the tears away that are burning in the back of your eyes. You raise your head slowly, looking at his jacket that is stained with tears and mascara stains.
“I-I’m sorry, I ruined your jacket,” you mumble.
Wayne places his hand on your shoulder, eying you with concern in his eyes.
“It’s not ruined, it’s alright,” he says with a sad smile, “do you want to talk about what happened?” He asks, “you don’t have to but I’m here if you need someone to listen,” he adds.
You feel guilty and bad. Not wanting to be a burden, you go to shake your head but instead you look down at the magazine. Your chest feels burdened by pain.
Wayne follows your gaze, he looks down at the magazine. You hand it over to him, he glances at you one more time before he takes it from your hand. His brows are furrowed as he looks down, it takes him a moment to comprehend the words on the article before his eyes widen and a shocked look takes over his face.
You dig your nails into your palms and cross your arms over your chest, looking away, you bite your lip as you feel yourself shivering. The cold wind bites your skin harshly and by the look of the darkened sky, you can tell that the weather is about to get worse.
“Jesus christ,” Wayne mumbles.
“I-It’s uh… it’s the truth,” you say, no longer feeling the need to lie, “what they say about him.”
He looks at you with sorrow and sadness in his eyes. There is pain behind your eyes, he had seen it the first time he met you but there is so much more than that now, there is heartbreak and fear.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says, not knowing how to comfort you. Wayne was never very talkative, he cannot comfort you with words but by the look on your face, he can tell that your mind is somewhere else anyways, you don’t need words, you need to feel comfort.
This day is horrible enough for you already but it had gotten so much more awful.
“I-I didn’t want anyone to know,” you whisper, “they weren’t supposed to remember him like this.”
“Hey, people loved him, they still will,” he says softly.
You try to give him a smile but you can only imagine how miserable it looks.
The wind picks up and the snowflakes hit your cold skin harshly.
“I-I should go,” you mumble, feeling guilty for burdening him this way.
“You think I’ll let you stay at the motel by yourself today?”
“It’s okay, really.”
“No, no one should spend Christmas by themselves, least of all you, kid. Come on, you can stay with us, Eddie will be happy to see you.”
You shake your head, digging your hands into the pockets of your jacket, “I don’t want to intrude.” Eddie didn’t invite you, he doesn’t want you around.
“Nonsense,” he sighs, waving his hand, “been meaning to ask if you want to spend Christmas with us, now come on.”
You can’t say no to him, not when he insists for you to spend the day with them. Wayne leads you to his truck and as you settle in the passenger seat and take the magazine back, your tears begin to fall again when you look at the picture of your dad.
Wayne doesn’t hesitate to hand you the clean napkins that he grabbed too many of when he and Eddie got burgers this week before his shift. You thank him as you reach for one, wiping away the tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” He asks in confusion.
“I’m a mess.”
He chuckles sadly, the look in his eyes is one of empathy. He pats your back, “aren’t we all a bit of a mess?”
A breathy chuckle falls from your lips, you nod in agreement.
“Can you stop by the motel?” You ask after a few minutes of silence, “I got something for Eddie.”
“Of course.”
-
“Henry Creel?”
“Yeah.”
“Dude, that guy is like.. scary,” Gareth mumbles.
“Yeah well, according to her, Henry is the nicest guy ever,” Eddie mumbles in annoyance as he leans back on the soft couch in Gareth’s basement, the one they have started practicing in before they moved it to the garage when Corroded Coffin became more serious.
“She has an interesting taste in men,” Gareth says, “first we got you, a nerdy rockstar, then we got Steve, the rich, handsome babysitter and then we got Creel, scary, creepy Creel.”
“He is not her type, dude!” Eddie says as he straightens up, rolling his eyes at his friend, “they were just talking.”
The thought of you flirting with another man, being into someone other than him and well, Steve, makes him feel more jealous than before.
“Yeah, I have no doubt that they were flirting, that guy might be a creep but I heard that he is very charming with the ladies.”
Eddie scrunches his face up, “what?”
“Do you remember Rose?”
“The girl you had a crush on?”
“Yeah–”
“The one you threw up on, at your graduation party?”
Gareth rolls his eyes but he snorts, “yeah, that one.”
Eddie barks out a laugh, burying his face in his hand as he thinks back to that night.
“You threw up all over her ugly shoes–”
“Dude, shut up! I’m trying to tell you a story,” he exclaims as he throws one of the pillows at him. Eddie dodges it, laughing.
“Alright, alright, keep going.”
Gareth nods, “Rose has a sister named Daisy–”
“Rose has a sister named Daisy? Who calls both of their kids after flowers?” Eddie asks in confusion.
Gareth glares at him for interrupting him yet again. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender, shutting his mouth, he leans back again, “continue.”
“Thanks,” Gareth sighs, shaking his head, “well, Daisy and Henry had a fling, apparently he’s super charming and sweet, but that’s probably an act,” he shrugs, “oh and she said she has a big dick.”
Eddie raises his brows in surprise, “so he charms the ladies with his big dick?”
“Yeah, kinda like Harrington. Only he is a princess compared to Creel, that guy is still a creep.”
Eddie snorts at that.
“Well, he didn’t charm my girl,” Eddie mumbles.
“Oh, your girl?” Gareth nods with a teasing look in his eyes.
“Yeah.”
You are his girl, no matter what.
When he found you with Henry last night, he felt sick with worry, especially when he saw the state you were in. No matter how much alcohol you have had before, he had never seen you like that. Your pupils were widened and you looked like a mess, your dizziness only added to his worry.
For a moment he feared that he had put something in your drink but you sobered up a little when he brought you back to the motel.
Gareth opens his mouth to speak but gets interrupted when the door is slammed open and someone rushes down the stairs, both men straighten up when they meet Jeff’s shocked expression.
“Have you seen this?” He asks in panic.
Eddie gets up, a frown making it’s way on his face.
“Wren called me, she was crying on the phone because she couldn’t reach her, I went to check up on her but she wasn’t there.”
Eddie furrows his brows as he stares at his friend in confusion, “Jeff, w-what are you talking about?”
Jeff says your name and hands Eddie the magazine that he was holding.
“Y/n?” He mumbles as he feels an instant worry washing over him. Eddie looks down, his eyes fall on the cover of the magazine. His breath hitches in his throat and his brown eyes widen with shock. Immediately, he flips to the page, finding pictures of you and your parents on both sides.
“What the..” His words get caught in his throat and a sick feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.
An insider claiming, “She is destructive when she’s drunk or high, sleeping with whoever comes her way and snorting whatever comes up in her hands. It’s not surprising, given she’s the one who found her father dead on the ground with heroin in his arm, only time will tell if she breaks the curse.”
“What the fuck,” Gareth mumbles as he comes up beside Eddie to read the article.
Eddie feels like throwing up, his face is so pale, Jeff worries that he might just faint.
“That’s bullshit!” Gareth mutters, “she doesn’t do that!”
“Yeah well, an insider made all that shit up for whatever reason,” Jeff mumbles.
Yeah, Eddie knows that you are not like that, that you don’t do any of those things but what about the part with your dad? What about him? Is that the truth? Is that why you reacted the way you did when Chrissy claimed that he uses drugs? Is that why you were so scared and worried? Because you feared to lose him the way you lost your dad?
“Oh god,” Eddie whispers, holding his hand over his heart, he finds it racing. He is worried about you.
“I gotta see her,” he says.
Both Gareth and Jeff can see the fear in his eyes, the worry and the sickness on his face.
“She’s not at the motel.”
“M-Maybe she’s with Steve,” Eddie mumbles and for the first time, he actually hopes that you are with him.
“Gareth! There’s someone on the phone for you!” His mother yells from upstairs.
“Alright mom!”
Eddie watches his friend picking up the receiver of the phone he always kept in the basement. He stares at him, watching him talk to whoever it is on the line, he only watches his lips move, no sound reaches him.
Jeff steps closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, he asks him if he is okay. Eddie only nods, without registering his words.
“Eddie,” Gareth calls for him, holding the receiver out to him, “it’s Sam, he wants to talk to you.”
Nodding, he walks over to Gareth and grabs the receiver. Greeting the man with a shaky voice.
“Please tell me that you know where she is. I’ve been trying to reach her phone at the motel all morning but she is not picking up.”
Eddie knows that Sam cares about you, taking on the father role of your dad after he had passed. His voice is filled with worry.
“I-I don’t know where she is, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I saw her last night.”
“Did you see the article?”
“Yes, is it true?” Eddie asks anxiously, “the things they said about her dad?”
“Yes.” Sam answers in his hesitation.
Eddie takes in a sharp breath, closing his eyes, he puts his hand on his forehead. His heart breaks for you. You loved your dad, finding him like this must have been a nightmare, he can only imagine what you have felt like.
“I have to find her–”
“Is she using again?”
Eddie’s whole body tenses up, he opens his eyes, staring at his reflection in the small mirror on the wall, all color fades from his face, his heart drops to his stomach.
Is she using again?
Is she using again?
“W-What?” He manages to croak out.
“Is she using drugs again?”
“What do you mean?” Eddie asks with his wavering voice. “S-She’s not, she’s not using anything, Sam. We’re together all the time, she barely even drinks. W-what do you mean again?”
Sam hesitates, he sighs. Eddie knows that he won’t get any answers but once again, he is sick with worry.
“Do me a favor, find her please and tell her to give me a call.”
The line gone’s dead and Eddie continues to stare at himself in the mirror. Confused and shocked, he keeps holding the receiver even after Sam hung up the phone. He needs to find you. He needs to know what Sam meant by that.
Slamming the receiver in it’s place, he picks up his jacket and puts it on hastily and reaches for the magazine again.
“I’m gonna call you later,” he mumbles before he rushes up the stairs and out of the house, determined to find you.
His heart is racing, it’s filled with fear. Eddie hasn’t felt this anxious in a long time and it only gets worse when he can’t find you anywhere.
Everything begins to make sense when Eddie remembers how worried Sam was before you left for tour.
'Kid reminds me too much of her dad.'
Now he understands it, his worry. Your reactions whenever it came to the topic of drugs.
-
It feels weird to be back at the trailer, memories of the night with Eddie and Steve flood your mind but you quickly push the thoughts away, not wanting to think of that right now.
You sit by the small table, a blanket around your shoulder to warm you up from the cold. Your hands are wrapped around the warm mug that Wayne handed you earlier. The radio is on, some Christmas song is playing. You look out the window, watching the snow fall harder than before. The dark clouds make everything appear like it’s early in the evening, a few lights around the trailer are on.
Wayne made sure that you are alright, he showed you to the bathroom so you could freshen up after you cried off all the mascara. He offered to make you lunch but you settled for coffee, not feeling very hungry. The hangover was long forgotten, the magazine is what’s making you feel sick, right now.
“Is this what a snowstorm looks like?” You ask, breaking the silence between you.
Wayne looks up from the newspaper, glancing at you before he looks out the window, “no, you’ll see an actual snowstorm later. There was a blizzard warning, we’ll probably be snowed in till monday again, it happened last year too.”
“I should probably go then,” you say, not wanting to intrude and stay here for longer than necessary. You don’t want to make him or Eddie uncomfortable.
Wayne gives you a disapproving look, shaking his head.
“You’re crazy if you think I’ll let you out there right now.”
“But–”
“You won’t have any food there and I’m pretty sure the heaters will stop working at that shitty motel.”
“I’m not sure if Eddie wants me here,” you mumble.
Wayne looks dumbstruck at your words, he takes his reading glasses off, placing them on the table, he leans back in his chair and stares at you, curiosity swimming in his eyes.
Before he can ask you the question he has been meaning to ask, the door is slammed open and a scared looking Eddie rushes in. His eyes are glassy, his brows are knitted together, his shaky voice calls out to his uncle. He closes the door behind him, having yet to notice you sitting there.
You and Wayne turn to look at him, both staring at him with raised brows.
“Wayne, I need to– she’s gone and I don’t know, I–” his words get caught in his throat and his eyes widen when he finally sees you. A mix of emotions takes hold of him. Relief, sadness and anger?
He whispers your name, tears blurring his vision.
You place the mug on the table, letting the blanket fall to the chair as you rise to your feet. An instant wave of comfort and calmness wash over you when you lock eyes with him.
Eddie rushes towards you, not bothering to take his snowy boots or jacket off first. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around you and pull you into his arms. Almost all the tension disappears the moment he feels your warm body in his. He closes his eyes and hugs you tightly.
Tears swim in your eyes the moment you feel yourself relaxing into his arms.
You feel safe and protected.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m so so sorry.”
He hears your quiet sniffle and his heart breaks. If he could take your pain, he would.
“I’m here.”
And that’s all that matters to you. Eddie. He is all that matters to you.
Wayne watches the two of you. A moment so bittersweet it makes his heart ache. Had this been a happy moment, he could smile but knowing how much pain you are both in, fills him with pain too.
Eddie holds you for a moment, giving you the reassurance that you need, telling you that he is here for you, no matter what.
“I need to talk to you,” he says. Kicking his shoes and jacket off, he leads you into his room, closing the door behind him, he almost forgets what he wanted to ask you in the first place when he sees you in his room for the first time.
Your eyes are puffy, red rimmed and glassy. You look small and vulnerable. It hurts him to see you like this. He can tell that your mind is running wild and by the way you are looking at him with uncertainty and fear in your beautiful eyes, he already knows that you think you are not welcome here.
You wrap your arms around yourself, your hands are shaky and you dig your nails into your waist as you look up at him like a child that is about to get scolded. Gone is the wild girl that he had gotten to know, the fearless and confident young woman that seemed unreachable. All he sees is a heartbroken girl that wanted nothing but to be loved.
God, how could he ever hurt you?
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. I’m gonna leave, you don’t–”
“Sweetheart,” Eddie frowns. He steps in front of you, cupping your cheeks, he tucks your hair behind your ear, he caresses your cheek softly.
“Shut up,” he whispers, “I spent the past two hours searching for you. What makes you think that I don’t want you here?”
You shrug.
“I want you here, I wanted you to spend Christmas with us, I wanted to ask you last night but you disappeared and then, well you know.”
“You want me here?” You ask softly.
“Yeah, of course.”
“You saw it?” You ask with a voice so small, it’s almost unrecognizable.
He nods.
“I was looking for you everywhere, you had me worried sick, sweetheart,” he whispers.
He went to Steve first, worrying him too when he found out about the magazine and you missing. He makes a mental note to give him a call later. He called Robin and then Nancy from the telephone booth at the gas station. He stopped by the hideout and at lovers lake, you were nowhere. For a moment he feared that you had gone to Henry Creel for something, he knows that he sells weed and other things.
The last place he expected to find you was his trailer but he is so relieved.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, “about your dad, about this whole thing.”
Your bottom lip quivers and he can tell that you are trying not to cry.
“I-It’s okay.”
“No it’s not, it’s not okay. It’s fucked up, that’s what it is. I’m gonna kill the asshole that wrote this–”
“Eddie,” you sigh.
“You gotta call Sam, he is worried about you.”
Oh.
Fear crosses your eyes and it makes his heart drop again. He knows why.
“I-I’m not using drugs, Eddie,” you whisper, shaking your head, “I’m not doing what they said about me.”
“I know you’re not doing any of that.”
You are not using drugs, you are not sleeping around, you are not destructive. He knows all of that. But he doesn’t know about your past, he wants to know but not yet, you are not in the right state of mind to answer the questions that have been running through his mind.
He pulls you into his arms again, closing his eyes and breathing in your scent.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so worried about you.”
It eases the pain a little and softens your heart.
“I’ll be okay.” It’s a lie, you both know it. You are not prepared for what is about to come when you go back on tour next week but you try not to think about it now.
“B-But what they said about him, it’s true.”
The pain in your voice, the shakiness and the tears that continue to fall break his heart. You have been through too much.
“I found him the way they said I did, I found him, Eddie.”
He closes his eyes, he hugs you tighter. He can imagine how helpless and scared you must have felt that night.
“I-It was too late, he was gone and I couldn’t.. I couldn’t help him.”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, blinking away his own tears.
He can feel your body growing weaker as you cry harder, he pulls you along with him as he walks backwards, sitting down on his bed, he pulls you on his lap, you bury your face in the crook of his neck and let him hold you.
“I’m always here for you, you know that right?” He whispers into your hair after a while.
You nod against him.
“No matter what, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” you whisper, leaning your chin against his chest, you look up at him, admiring the way his curls are still so pretty, even after being out in this weather, “same goes for you.”
He smiles and squeezes your arms. “I know, you’re an angel,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, he caresses your cheek, “let me take care of you, please.” It’s all he wants, all he ever wanted. He wants to be there for you, he wants to be the one who gets to hold you, who gets to take care of you.
His heart ached in his chest when he saw you drunk and so careless last night, the way you talked about yourself made him both sad and angry. You gave him a small glimpse of what is going on in your mind, it was only a small one and yet, it showed him how much pain you are hiding, how much distaste you have for yourself and he doesn’t even know why. You are the most perfect being in his eyes.
Your heart flutters at his words, the look in his eyes is so soft.
“Please,” he repeats.
His care, his pleading eyes, his soft touch as he begs you to let him take care of you brings back the tears in your eyes. You are scared and he can see it so clear. You are scared to let him back in only to lose him again.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
You blink, trying to keep yourself together before you will break down again.
“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere without you.”
He can see your walls crumbling, the ones you have built up around you to shield yourself from him are slowly falling.
“I’m with you, no matter what.”
You whisper his name so brokenly, it almost makes him crumble.
“I won’t ever leave you.”
You left people who hurt you before, they did nothing to stop you, they didn’t beg you to stay, they didn’t try to fix whatever they had broken, they let you go like you had meant nothing to them.
People have left you, almost everyone that came into your life did and while it hurt, you accepted it, it just wasn’t meant to be but you can’t imagine a life without him.
You need him.
You need him to stay.
You don’t want to see him walking away.
You are scared to see it happening and yet, you find yourself breaking down and looking up at him with pleading eyes.
“Please,” you whisper as you grip his shirt tightly in your hand, “I need you.”
His heart melts and his eyes soften, he only pulls you closer until your chest is pressed against his.
“Please don’t ever leave me, Eddie.”
He doesn’t know whether to cry or to smile knowing that you still want him. But you are so scared, so afraid of watching him walk away from you. In that moment, he realizes why you didn’t want to give him a second chance, why you wanted him to stay away from you, why you wanted the distance so bad. You are scared of losing him in the end, you are scared of a life without him, you are scared that you won’t survive the heartbreak a second time and it breaks his heart.
He cups your cheeks tighter, looking into your eyes intently.
“I will never leave you, sweetheart.”
You let him hold you for a while. You listen to his heartbeat, melting into his touch. He rubs your back and kisses the top of your head.
You don’t know how many minutes pass in silence but you appreciate it, him and all of this. You feel safe, only in his arms.
“Can you distract me, today?” You ask, “please?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” he says.
“Didn’t you say you like baking?”
“Yeah, why?”
You look up at him, finding him staring at you already.
“We should make chocolate cake,” he smiles.
“You can bake?” You ask.
He shakes his head, chuckling, “nope but you can.”
“Oh so you just wanna stand there and look pretty while I bake the cake?”
“Exactly,” he says, squeezing your waist, his eyes flash with excitement knowing that you will spend the whole weekend with him. “I hope you don’t mind being stuck with me this weekend ‘cause there’s no way, I’m letting you go.”
You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.
“I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”
He scoffs, glaring softly, “never, sweetheart. If I could, I’d keep you with me all the time, I’d handcuff you to me,” he jokes.
Raising your eyebrows, you look behind him, only now noticing the handcuffs on the wall. Your eyes widen and you can’t help but grow curious.
“With those?” You ask, pointing behind him.
He turns around to look at the wall, a smirk appearing on his face as he looks back at you, “sure but they are kind of uncomfortable.”
“How do you know?”
“I got arrested once.”
You snort. He rolls his eyes playfully but he can’t help but smile.
“By El’s dad?”
“Yeah, Hopper.”
Your eyes widen, “oh, I’d love to get arrested by him, he’s a hot dilf.”
He frowns, furrowing his brows, “really?” He mumbles.
“Yup,” you say, “wait, why did you get arrested though?”
“I got caught stealing socks.”
You can’t even help but giggle. Eddie raises his brows at you, lips tugging into a smile. Your giggle makes his heart flutter, he is happy to hear it, especially today.
“Socks?”
“Yeah, I didn’t have enough money and I really wanted some new socks,” he explains dramatically.
You shake your head at him, “well, now you can buy endless socks, Eddie,” you say as you get off his lap. You look around the room you haven’t been in before. You eye the Corroded Coffin poster, it was their first ever design. The writing is still black and red, the way it was back then but the background is a faded black now.
His room here is not much different from his room in LA, the only difference there is, is the mess in this one and the many posters he must have collected over the years, as a teen. A shirt is thrown over the speakers on his dresser, you pick it up, turning around to give him a pointed look, “you’re so messy,” you mumble, not paying much attention to the soft look in his eyes as he watches you.
“Hellfire club,” you read, “oh, it’s the nerd club you told me about!”
Eddie groans, clutching his chest dramatically, “nerd club? You wound me, darling.”
Shaking your head, you snort at him.
“You should wear it, since you’re a nerd too,” Eddie smiles.
“Excuse me? Since when am I a nerd?” You scoff.
“Since you told me that you played DnD with your cousin before,” he grins. He takes his jacket off, throwing it on his bed before he walks towards you. He leans against the dresser and crosses his arms over his chest, watching you with a smile on his face.
You ignore him, distracted by the polaroid pictures on his dresser, your eyes light up, “oh my god, is that you as a kid?”
He only recently found these old pictures again. He kept them in a box, far away from where he could see it but as he was cleaning his room and throwing some stuff out, he found the old shoebox again and couldn’t help himself but go through all these pictures that held so many memories, happy and sad ones.
“Yeah,” he smiles sadly.
“Can I?” You ask.
He nods.
You reach for one, a smile tugs at your lips as you eye the picture. He was no older than five in this picture, his curls were wild back then already, brown eyes shining with his happiness as he looked up at the pretty woman who resembled him, his mom.
Eddie never talked much about her, he only ever mentioned her death but not much else. You never pushed him to talk and he was very thankful for that. You understand him, you never talked much about your dad either, you both struggled to.
“You were so cute,” you whisper as you trace the picture with your finger, “and she was so beautiful.”
“She was,” Eddie smiles as he stares at the picture of his mother before his eyes move back to you. The sad smile and the soft look in your eyes tugs at his heart. He wishes that he could introduce you to his mom, you would have liked her.
“She would’ve loved you,” he says with a sad look in his eyes.
You turn to look at him, tears burn in the back of his eyes and you find something else other than sorrow and empathy in his eyes, understanding. You both lost a parent, one that you have loved with all your hearts, you were both left with the awful parent, the one that never cared for or loved you.
Eddie understands you and you understand him.
“My dad would’ve loved you too,” you whisper.
He smiles at your words, he would have loved to meet him.
You look back down, looking at the picture one more time before you place it back on the dresser, “you look just like her.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I’m glad I do, I would’ve hated myself if I looked anything like my dad.”
“Oh, I should hate myself then cause I’ve been told that I look like my mother,” you say with a frown on your face that tells Eddie how upset you are with that woman.
You do look like your mother, Eddie has seen the pictures of her and your dad from when they were still married.
“No,” he mumbles, “don’t hate yourself, sweetheart. You have no reason to do so.”
You don’t react to his words, you don’t look at him, for a moment, there is a distant expression on your face. You blink, smile turning upside down. You are deep in thought about something, something that surely has to do with your mother.
You nod to yourself before you turn away. Exploring the rest of Eddie’s room without saying much. The mention of your parents must have brought you back to the magazine. Eddie doesn’t push you to talk, he knows when you need a moment to yourself and right now, it’s one of those moments.
He promises himself to make this day as good for you as possible. Wanting to give you better memories for this day, he knows that Christmas will always remind you of your dad, of this horrible night that happened years ago but he is determined to give you something special for this day.
By the time you walk back into the living room, Wayne had lit up the Christmas lights that he and Eddie had hung up yesterday morning, ‘we haven’t used these lights in years, Eddie wanted to hang them up for you.’ Wayne had said when you complimented the decorations. Your heart softened, Eddie had already planned to ask you to spend Christmas with him and Wayne.
You had to call Sam and Steve and your very hysterical best friend, Wren. It took some time calming both her and Sam down after they had read the article, both of them feared the worst.
It warms your heart to know that there’s people who care about you but it isn't easy to convince them that you are okay when you’re actually really not okay.
You and Eddie baked the cake, well, you baked the cake, Eddie just sat back and watched you with a fond smile on his face. He even turned on some Christmas music which was surprising to both you and Wayne.
‘Gotta bring in the real Christmas spirit.’ He joked.
He only came to help when it was time to decorate the cake, eyes lighting up like the one’s of a happy child when you stepped aside and let him finish the cake.
“Wanna try the frosting?” You ask as you hold the bowl with the leftover vanilla frosting.
"Yes, please."
Using the small spoon, you scoop some of the frosting on it before you bring it up to his lips, smiling at him as he tastes it.
“Oh shit, that’s good,” he moans.
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” he hums before he sticks his finger into the bowl, getting more of the frosting.
“You have a spoon!” You exclaim.
“Tastes better like this,” he chuckles, tapping your nose with the frosting on his finger.
“Eddie,” you whine.
His eyes flash with amusement as you roll your eyes at him, you raise your hand to wipe away the frosting but he beats you to it, licking it off his finger after wiping it off.
“I’m just gonna put a shit ton of sprinkles on the cake,” he grins at you as he reaches for the small container of sprinkles.
Placing the bowl on the table, you watch him. His curls frame his face perfectly, falling down to his shoulders, you notice how much it grew since the summer. Taking the scrunchie out of your hair, you step behind him and gather his hair, putting in a low bun.
“What’re you doing?”
You can hear the smile in his voice.
“Styling your hair,” you murmur, smiling when he sighs in content.
Neither of you notice that Wayne has been taking pictures of you two the whole time you have been in the kitchen. The older man watching his nephew with a fond smile on his face as he looks at you with a shine in his eyes that he hasn’t seen in years.
After what happened this morning, you didn’t expect this day to go so well. You were prepared for another bad Christmas, an even worse one this year due to the article but Eddie and Wayne were able to distract you from it all.
You were able to forget about the article and your mom, even if just for a moment.
You watched a Christmas movie, well, a Christmas horror movie since Eddie insisted on it. You watched both parts of silent night deadly night. Despite the wish for more space, you ended up snuggled against him, he had his arm wrapped around you and it was almost impossible not to fall asleep.
Eddie adored every second, he got to spend with you like this.
He was happy, for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace because you are willing to give him another chance, no longer running away from him or giving him the cold shoulder, which he admittedly deserves after the things he had done to you.
After dinner and dessert, it was time for presents and you were staring at Eddie excitedly, already knowing what he ‘got’ for Wayne. He planned this a long time ago, what started off with a wish, finally became reality.
A number 1 hit, touring across the country and throwing concerts almost every night, finally gave him the chance to afford something he never thought he would.
No more food stamps, no more sleepless nights and worrying about bills they couldn’t afford to pay. Those days are over. Eddie can finally give his uncle a life he deserves.
You lean your elbows on the table, cupping your cheeks, you raise your brows at Eddie, who gives you an exciting smile.
“Alright, you’ll get the first present of the night, Wayne,” Eddie starts, unable to fight the smile off his face, “I wanted to take you somewhere but uh, the weather said no,” he chuckles as he gestures to the heavy snow that is falling outside.
Wayne furrows his brows, tilting his head, “what do you mean, son?”
“Uh,” Eddie mumbles, suddenly feeling nervous, he scratches the back of his neck, reaching for the small box, he slides it over to his uncle, “here.”
Wayne raises his hand slowly, taking the box, he gives Eddie a look, a knowing and nervous one.
“Open it,” Eddie says.
The older man mutters something under his breath, giving his nephew another look before he focuses on the present, removing the wrapping paper, he furrows his brows at the small box, he opens it slowly, almost too slowly, as though he is nervous. When his eyes fall on the key, his eyes widen and he stares at it for a long moment before he raises his head to look at Eddie.
“Ed, what..” He trails off, staring at his nephew with a shocked look in his eyes, “tell me, you didn’t.”
“I did,” Eddie smiles proudly, “I promised you, didn’t I?”
A long time ago, Eddie promised his uncle that he would buy him a house someday, he promised him a better life.
Wayne huffs in disbelief, he blinks rapidly. He brings his hand up to his jaw as he looks down at the key.
“It’s nothing big but it’s a house, not a trailer,” Eddie says, his eyes soften as he looks at his uncle, knowing that he is trying not to cry, “it’s a good area, Wayne. Cornwallis street to be exact and you’re minutes away from Lake Jordan.”
“Eddie,” the older man sighs, “you didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did. You gave me everything, Wayne. You didn’t have to but you did, I owe you so much.”
Eddie couldn’t be more thankful, Wayne gave him things that his dad couldn’t give him. He raised him well, taught him things that he needed for his life, he gave him money whenever he needed it knowing that he would struggle at the end of the month but he didn’t care, he needed to know that his nephew was taken care of, that he had enough clothes, a full stomach, even if that meant that he went to sleep hungry.
You look between them, your heart swells in your chest when you stare at Eddie. You grew up with money, you never had days when you had to worry about being kicked out of the house because your parents couldn’t afford the rent, you never went to sleep hungry, you had endless of toys and clothes. You never had to worry about the things that Eddie and Wayne had to worry about. You can only imagine how exciting and relieving it must be for Eddie to be able to give this to his uncle.
“You don’t owe me anything, son.”
Eddie shakes his head at his words, smiling at Wayne.
“You literally still sleep on the fold out bed instead of taking the damn room for yourself.”
“It’s your room, Eddie.”
“Yeah well, you will finally have your own room, old man,” Eddie grins, patting his uncle on the shoulder, “it’s all I ever wanted, get you an actual house, you deserve better than this,” he says, gesturing to the trailer.
“S’not that bad, Ed,” he frowns, “it’s home.”
He is right, this is a home, not just a house or a place, this is home. Even to you it feels like that.
“Well, you’ll get a new home, a better one.”
Wayne shakes his head, still in shock about the present his nephew got him.
“C’mere.” He gets up as Eddie does too, embracing each other in a hug, you look at them fondly.
“Thank you,” Wayne says as he pats his nephew’s back, “you’re a good kid, Ed. You’re too good.”
“You’re a good uncle, the best,” Eddie grins as he pulls back from the hug, “I can’t wait to show you the house.”
After the initial shock, you gave Wayne your present. He looked just as surprised as he did before, not expecting you to give him anything.
“It’s not much but it’s a little something,” you chuckle as you watch him open the envelope.
“A little something?” He scoffs as he takes out the tickets.
“Eddie told me that you had never been to Los Angeles so uh, I thought that you could come visit him when we’re back home. You can pick the date yourself,” you say, pointing to the tickets, “and, a little birdie told me that you’re not working on New Years Eve so I booked you a hotel room so you can come see us play in Chicago.”
You don’t see the look of surprise and love in Eddie’s eyes. To see you get along with his uncle makes him feel so grateful and happy. You and Wayne mean everything to him, to know that you like him so much means a lot to him.
Wayne shakes his head with a smile on his face, “you’re spoiling me,” he says to the both of you, “you really didn’t have to, darling but thank you so much.”
He gives you a warm hug and thanks you with a grateful smile on his face.
“I got you something too, it doesn’t beat your presents but it’s a little something.”
Your eyes widen and you stare at the man in surprise as you sit back down, “oh no, you didn’t have to, getting to spend Christmas with you two is the best present.”
Eddie’s eyes soften and Wayne chuckles, shaking his head, he smiles at you as he hands you a present wrapped in red and white paper. Both men see the excited look in your eyes, it makes them both smile harder.
You unwrap your present, a giggle falling from your lips when you see the mug. It’s a light pink one with strawberries all over it, “that’s so cute!” You exclaim as you stare at it as though it’s the best present you had ever gotten, it makes both of them chuckle.
“I love that so much, thank you!”
“You’re welcome, kid,” he smiles, “but there’s something else.”
Furrowing your brows, you look down, noticing another small present inside the mug. You can feel that it’s a necklace but as you unwrap it and your eyes fall on the black and purple guitar pick, you look up at the man, “that wasn’t meant for Eddie, was it?” You chuckle.
He grins at you, shaking his head, “that goes with a present, he got for you.”
Your lip twitches and you turn to look at Eddie with a curious smile.
He looks excited and giddy. Jumping up from the chair, he walks away, rushing into his bedroom. You hear him shuffling around in his room, a few curse words echoing through the room when something tumbles to the ground , making both you and Wayne chuckle.
He comes back, a large smile on his face as he holds something behind his back.
“Alright rockstar, this is for you,” he grins, handing you the very badly wrapped present, it almost makes you laugh. You don’t have to guess what it is, it is obvious.
“I-Is that a–”
“Unwrap it, sweetheart.”
He hands you the present, his fingers brush against yours, your eyes lock for a moment.
Eddie watches in anticipation, he sits back down, bouncing his knee as he stares at you with wide and exciting eyes. Your eyes grow bigger when you finally lay your eyes on the guitar you have practically fallen in love with when you had laid eyes on it all these months ago.
“Eddie,” you gasp, unable to tear your eyes away from the beautiful electric guitar, you admire it, tracing the smooth wood with your fingertips. It’s black, adorned with dark purple color on the sides, “she’s pretty.”
“How? It’s the one I saw in New York,” you mumble as you look up at Eddie.
He shrugs, smiling at you, “I saw you staring at it every time we walked past that store,” he explains, “I got it when you went out to eat with Jeff and Gareth.”
Your gaze softens, a warm feeling settles in your chest and your stomach. Your heart flutters. He got it for you all these months back?
“How did I not see it, I’ve never seen you carry two guitar cases?”
“I shipped it to Hawkins, I knew you’d spend Christmas with us,” he shrugs.
“Eddie,” you whisper, “I-I love it, thank you.”
You place the guitar down, getting up, you step towards him, he opens his arms for you right away, pulling you into a hug.
He closes his eyes, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I got more for you but you’ll get it later,” he whispers.
“Thank you so much,” you whisper. Your voice is thick with emotions, Eddie knows that you are on the verge of tears. You kiss his cheek, thanking him once again before you take the attention away from you, practically shoving your present for him in his arms so you don’t start crying for all the love you are getting tonight.
You got him a new shoulder strap for his guitar, adorned with bats that match his tattoos. New rings and a matching necklace that he excitedly puts on, right away. Hanging the strap over his shoulder, “I'm so excited to go back on tour,” he grins as he looks down at the guitar strap.
“Thank you so much, sweetheart.”
He plants a big kiss on your cheek, unaware of the big smile on his uncle’s face as he looks between the two of you.
Wayne gifted Eddie a bunch of movies, a new bandana that Eddie had put around his wrist right away and a book he had wished for.
You couldn’t be more thankful for both men, your day wouldn’t have turned out as well as it did if it wasn’t for them.
-
You retreat to Eddie’s room after a few more drinks and a hot shower. Wearing one of his shirts and his boxers, you sit on the bed, flipping through the pages of the magazine you promised to throw away, you couldn’t help it.
You stare at the pictures of your dad, the smile on his face that you haven’t seen in so long makes your heart hurt, you miss him so much. All that is left of him is his music, his pictures, his guitar that you kept and a letter you have yet to open.
You take it with you, everywhere you go, you take the letter with you, hoping that you will finally find the courage to open it, to read it and get answers to why he did it but you are too afraid of the truth.
The letter is tucked away in your suitcase at the lone motel.
Your eyes fall on the pictures of your mother, your painfully beautiful mother. If only her personality was just as beautiful. She has always been awful to you, cold and distant to you and your dad.
But you didn’t expect her to be this cold.
“Are you ready to sleep in the comfiest bed– hey, you shouldn’t read that again.”
You look up, your vision is blurred, you didn’t even notice the tears that have welled up in your eyes.
Eddie’s eyes soften and he sighs, whispering your name.
“I– yeah, you’re right,” you mumble, closing the magazine, you throw it to the ground and wipe away the tears, “I just wanted to see my dad.”
It hurts him to know how much you are suffering.
“But I’m okay,” you say as you pull the blanket higher, leaning back against the comfy pillows, you give him a small smile.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, opting to give you a smile that doesn’t even reach your eyes. He joins you on his bed, the smell of his aftershave and shampoo hitting your senses. He gets under the blanket, scooting a little closer to you but making sure to give you space. The shirt you are wearing is one of his favorites, you smell like him, having used his body wash and shampoo, it makes his heart flutter.
You are here, in his room, in his bed, with him.
“You look cute.”
“Thanks,” you chuckle.
He winks at you, turning his back to you, he reaches for something under his bed.
You notice that something has changed about him and it isn’t just the hair that got longer, his shoulders got broader, arms more muscular than before.
“Do you work out?” You blurt out.
“Huh?”
He looks at you in amusement, holding a box in his hands.
“Y-You have muscles.”
Eddie chuckles, “are you checking me out?”
Your eye roll makes him laugh even more.
The truth is, yes, he started working out. He found that it is a good outlet for his anger. A year ago, he would have drowned his emotions in alcohol and weed but he doesn’t want to do that anymore, he wants to be better than that, he wants to be better than his father.
“Here, this is for you.”
A box filled with things that you have wanted but never gotten was the last thing that you expected. Just like with the guitar, there’s things that you have never even spoken about. Eddie was there when you stared at that one necklace, he was there when you walked past that one store that sold polaroid cameras, he paid attention to the things you eyed for a little too long, he saw the glint in your eyes and without having to ask, he knew that you wanted them.
He collected them over the months, preparing for Christmas. It filled him with excitement, every time you were busy, he went back to the stores you have passed to buy the things you wanted.
He smiles as he watches you, his heart flutters in his chest when you put the necklace around your neck with an excited smile on your lips.
You don’t know what to say, uttering a small ‘thank you’. A smile is all that he needs but you scoot closer to him, kissing his cheek before you lay your head on his shoulder.
“Thank you for everything, I-I think this might have been my favorite Christmas.”
His eyes flash with surprise and his heart tugs in his chest. He puts his arm around you, looking down at you with a fond smile on his face, “really?”
“Yeah.”
You drown out the horrible things that happened this morning, the horrible things that are yet to come thanks to whoever sold the story about your dad. You focus on Eddie, on the things he did for you, on the things he said to you, last night.
‘We can start over, okay?’
You want it so bad. You want to start over. Go back to the beginning.
“Can we start over?”
“What?”
You look up at him with big eyes, hope for the future deep in your eyes.
“You said we can start over, so.. can we?”
“Sweetheart,” he whispers, smiling at your words. It looks as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, eyes shining with happiness, “of course we can.”
“Good.”
“Very good.”
His deep voice and the seriousness in his eyes makes you chuckle.
“Back to the beginning?”
“Yes, back to the beginning.”
“You wanna leave everything behind?” He asks.
You know what he means by that.
“Yes but we gotta be honest to each other from now on, you have to be honest with me and I have to be honest with you too.”
He nods, agreeing with your words but a curious look flickers in his eyes.
“You’re always honest.”
You shift uncomfortably, looking down, you place the lit back on the box and place it on the nightstand.
“Not always. There’s something I didn’t tell you.”
Right.
Eddie knows what you are talking about. A knowing look flashes in his eyes, one that you fail to notice.
“I want us to be honest with each other, no more secrets,” you say.
“Yeah,” he whispers.
You finally notice the look in his eyes, it reminds you of the one you had seen when he stormed into the trailer earlier.
“What’s wrong?”
He takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand, he looks into your eyes.
“Sam asked me something.”
By the look on your face and the quiet ‘oh’ that falls from your lips, he already knows that you know what it is about, he waits for a moment, making sure that you aren’t uncomfortable.
“He uh– he asked if you are using drugs again.”
Your lips part and a nervous expression crosses your face, you blink, shame filling your eyes.
“Eddie.”
Tears brim your eyes.
“Did you?”
You can’t read his eyes, not right now. You can’t tell if he is angry or if he’s worried or disgusted by you because you were so quick to get mad at him for believing Chrissy when you have done these things yourself.
You nod and close your eyes.
To say that he is shocked is an understatement, on top of that he is worried. You have been around drugs for months, hell, you are around them right now. Eddie still has his secret stash in his room.
His heart is pounding in his chest, he is scared.
“You don’t have to talk about it–”
“No, it’s okay, Eddie.”
“Are you sure?” He asks.
You nod, “yeah,” you whisper.
“When?”
“2 years ago,” you admit, “i-it was only a few times, I didn’t have an addiction or anything, j-just.. did it a few times and then Sam caught me.”
“Jesus,” he sighs, “what did you take?”
“Just cocaine, some pills, I don’t know what they were.”
“Just cocaine,” he scoffs as anger flashes in his eyes, “that could have ruined you, y/n.”
“I know, that’s why I stopped,” you whisper, not feeling affected by his anger, you know he is just worried.
“Why did you take it in the first place?”
“I-I needed to feel something.”
You felt numb and needed something that would lift you up. You weren’t one to drown yourself in alcohol, parties and one night stands every weekend. You drowned yourself in work, you spent your free time writing songs and helping Sam out, that’s how you met the one who got you into drugs in the first place but Sam didn’t need to know that.
You can imagine what goes on inside his mind as you look into his eyes, ‘how could you be so careless?’, ‘how could you do the one thing that killed your dad?’
Truth be told, you wanted to know what it felt like, what it made him feel like.
While your dad tried to numb the pain, you tried to make the numbness fade away but it only helped for a little while. Back then it wasn’t difficult to stop, you didn’t get attached, it was easy to stop.
“I only did it a few times and then I stopped, I never had a problem, Eddie.”
He believes you, the truth is in your eyes but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. You were so desperate to feel something, you were willing to risk your life. The thought makes him feel sick, ‘what if you thought about it when he hurt you?’, ‘what if you got close to taking them again after what happened between you two?’, ‘what if you took some last night?’
“Eddie, I haven’t touched them ever since, haven’t even thought about it. Not on tour, not at any parties, never.”
“I believe you,” he whispers, feeling guilty for making you feel like you have to explain yourself to him when you are clearly suffering.
You swallow nervously, it’s something you have never talked about to anyone. Not even your friends, they knew certain things but not everything.
“But how did you get into them, the drugs?”
He looks for the hesitation in your eyes but there isn’t any, there is only a nervous look on your face. You are scared of what he will think.
You take a deep breath, leaning back again, you reach for the small pillow and bring it up to your chest.
“When I was working with Sam, I met this guy. He uh, he was– is a singer, had his own band too. He was nice, he was good to me and he was older than me. I liked that, it made me feel safe. I worked on some song texts with him and we started spending a lot of time together. He took me to places, I went to his concerts and the stupid after parties, we would get high together or drunk but when it was just the two of us, we did other things.”
Eddie frowns at your words, he can’t even contain the jealousy that is clear on his face.
“I took drugs, not all the time but I did, I’m not proud of it. I wanted to know what it felt like. My friends were pissed at me and so was Sam when he found out.”
“How did your friends find out?”
You grow flustered at his question, avoiding his eyes, you look down at your hands as you think back that night.
“Do you remember Frankie?” You ask.
He furrows his brows, “uh yeah, the crazy redhead?” He asks, making you chuckle.
“Yeah, her,” you smile, “I dragged her and the others to a party at his house. We uh, he took me to his room,” you pause, not knowing how much you should actually tell him, the look in his eyes is unreadable, “I didn’t want to take drugs at a party my friends were at but he had a way of convincing me to do stuff I didn’t want to do and when I was snorting that crap, Frankie walked in and caught me.”
His eyes flash with anger at your words, to know that someone else could have such an effect on you worries him.
“She got hysterical, basically dragged me out of the room and cursed him out when he laughed at her. She told the others and they were pissed.”
“How’d you stop?”
You shrug, “I knew that I would end up like my dad a-and I didn’t want that. I also didn’t want to lose my friends. It wasn’t an issue for me to stop, really. I only did it out of curiosity and because he convinced me.”
“I’m glad you stopped and I’m proud of you.” He says, squeezing your hand.
He feels relieved to know that you weren’t addicted and hung up on the drugs but it still worries him, you have been through so much, he knows how easy it is to fall back into old habits.
He can’t help but grow hatred for the man he doesn’t even know. A part of him feels curious though.
“Thank you,” you smile.
“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend before..”
“I didn’t, he wasn’t my boyfriend.”
“What was he then?”
You shrug, blinking.
“Well, I– we never made anything official, he treated me like I was his but I-I didn’t want that. I broke the whole thing off after a while. I knew that we’d never work out as a couple, he would drag me back into all that shit and I didn’t want to get attached to someone like that or even fall in love.”
“Oh.”
You can tell that there’s a million other questions running through his mind but there is mostly relief in his eyes.
You are both quiet for a moment until you decide that it’s time to move on to another question.
“Why did you never tell me about Chrissy?” You ask, “I know we’ve talked about this before but I wanna have an actual answer.”
Eddie raises his brows, taking a deep breath, he looks into your eyes.
“Like even when we were just friends, why didn’t you tell me about her?” You add.
“To be honest, I didn’t think it was worth bringing her up, I– yes, she was my girlfriend but I didn’t think that I was her boyfriend anymore, the relationship was over.”
“But that’s so dumb, Eddie. You were still with her,” you mumble.
“I know,” he sighs, “but things with her were weird. She made me promise that things between us wouldn’t change but when I left Hawkins and came to California, she basically broke off contact, she never called and deep down I knew that she was with Jason. It hurt, I didn’t get why she was with me when she wanted someone else. She hurt me so many times before, she lied to me, she cheated on me. I was a mess back then but I got used to it, to the lies and the things she did,” he pauses, scoffing at his old self, “I should have left her but every time I tried to leave, she would get inside my head, tell me that no one else would want me and it fucking scared me, y/n. I didn’t want to be alone but I didn’t want to be with her any longer either, I-I was conflicted.”
“But you left Hawkins, by yourself. You were alone.” You say, shaking your head as you stare at him in confusion.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “she brought up kids and marriage and that thought made me sick, I didn’t want that. I panicked and I just wanted to run away. I should’ve broken up with her first but I was still too attached to her and I knew I needed to break that emotional connection before leaving her because I knew that she would always reel me back in otherwise. I spent months hating myself for not being able to do what I should’ve done a long time ago, I didn’t think much of her, she was on my mind less and less and then you came along and everything changed. You made me feel good, you made me feel happy in a way she never did, you healed me. You showed me what it’s like to be cared for, what it’s like to be genuinely liked. You didn’t want me for something, you just wanted me.”
Your eyes are wide, soft and filled with empathy.
You had every reason to be angry at him, to have all these trust issues, anyone would think the thoughts that you had when you just found out about her.
But you understand him now, you believe him.
“I never realized what genuine reciprocated affection was like until it was too late.”
His brown eyes are filled with sadness as he thinks back to the night in Cincinnati.
“You made me so fucking happy, sweetheart and I– I ruined it.”
You shake your head, scooting closer, you take both of his hands in yours.
“We’ll start over, right?”
His glassy eyes flash with hope and he nods, whispering a small ‘yes’.
“I’m sorry about what happened with her, that she hurt you like that. She didn’t deserve you,” you frown as you think of the pain he had gone through in that relationship.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, “I uh, I realized that I never loved her like I thought I had.” Not like I love you.
“Really?”
He nods.
“Do you remember the night at the beach?”
“Of course I remember the night at the beach, Eddie.”
“You described love to me, how it’s supposed to feel with the right person, how it’s supposed to feel with your soulmate,” he whispers, hands running down your arms, he slowly takes your hands in his, “that’s how it feels with you, I would do anything for you and with you, you are my person. I never felt that way about her or with her.”
You feel the same way about him and he knows it.
“And how long have you really felt this way about me?” you ask, a softened gaze in your eyes.
“From the start,” he whispers, squeezing your hand, “it confused me at first, I have never felt this way about anyone else before, I didn’t know what it was at first. And then we talked about love and relationships and that night I realized that I never loved her, I admired her but I never loved her.”
“You are my person too, Eddie. You called me your best friend last night,” you smile, “I feel the same way.”
“Yeah? I’m your best friend, sweetheart?”
You nod.
“What about the mean girl group from LA?”
You gasp, “mean girl group? My friends are not mean,” you chuckle.
“They all glared at me.”
“They’re protective,” you shrug.
“Well after the last guy you’ve been with, I get it.”
You snort at his words, “he’s kinda famous you know?”
“I’m famous.”
“Yes you are,” you nod.
“Alright, what did you think of me when you first saw me?” He asks, curiously.
“Oh my god,” you chuckle as you think back to the night at the bar your friends had dragged you to. Corroded Coffin had a gig and it was the first time you had ever seen them play. Eddie was the one that caught your eye, of course. He wore a tank top, a black bandana around his head, black leather pants, his cheeks were flushed and god, he looked good.
“I was impressed by your guitar skills and your voice,” you admit, “I loved your style and you just looked so good.”
He smirks in satisfaction.
“Thanks sweetheart.”
“You’re welcome,” you snort.
Looking around the room, you think of a question. You look down at yourself and at his bed, an amused expression appearing on your face when you turn back to him.
“When’s the last time you pissed the bed? Steve warned me about your mattress.”
“What!” He yells in a whisper, a mortified look crossing his face as his cheeks flush red, “no way! I have not– okay 16 when I got wasted but that’s besides the point.”
You burst into laughter, closing your eyes, you throw your head back, “oh my god.”
“That’s not funny– okay, you know what, it is funny,” he laughs, “but look at you!” He exclaims, turning away from you, he opens his nightstand, pulling out a magazine that wrote about Corroded Coffin, featuring the backstories of each band member.
He shows you the pictures he ripped out of the magazine, which he totally plans on keeping.
“Look at that little ray of sunshine,” he grins, holding out the pictures of you as a kid, “look at how cute you were with your pigtails and your pink dresses, you used to be so sweet, what happened to that little girly girl?” He teases you with a smug look on his face.
You groan in annoyance, “the girly girl grew out of the dresses her mom picked out for her.”
You grow flustered, trying to snatch the picture out of his hand but he pulls it back, “uh uh, I’m keeping this, look at this cute little baby.”
“Eddie!”
He chuckles at you, brown eyes shining with amusement, “you were so adorable, I know that kindergarten me would have asked you to marry me if we knew each other back then.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, “suddenly, I’m tired. Good night.”
“Ouch, did my kindergarten self just get rejected?” He asks dramatically.
“Shut up,” you snort.
You can hear him shuffling around, putting the pictures back in the drawer. You would be lying to yourself if you said that it didn’t make your heart flutter, it’s cute that he kept the pictures of you.
He turns off the light and gets comfortable behind you. You don’t bother closing your eyes or actually trying to fall asleep, knowing that he will speak up again.
But he stays quiet for a while, a deep sigh interrupts the silence though.
“Eddie?” You whisper.
“Yes?”
“What do you wanna know?”
“How do you know that I wanna know something?”
You snort.
“I can feel it.”
“How?”
“It’s a girl’s thing.”
“Ah,” he says quietly.
Another minute or so passes before he lets out another sigh.
“Do you still want Henry to give you nipple piercings?”
You almost burst into giggles, out of all the questions he could have asked, this is the one that has been on his mind all along?
“Yeah,” you shrug, already imagining the frown appearing on his face. And just as you had suspected, he scoffs at your words and turns away.
“Did you just turn your back on me?”
“Yup.”
You turn towards him and scoot closer, staring at him in the darkness. You wrap your arm around his waist and hug him from behind.
Eddie’s heart skips a beat, excitement rushes through him and he melts into you.
“What happened to space?” He mumbles into the blanket.
You ignore his question.
“What’s wrong grumpy?”
“Grumpy?”
“Yeah, you’re a grumpy old man,” you whisper.
He gasps, turning around to face you, “old? I’m two years older than you.”
“Exactly, you’re like a dinosaur.”
He scoffs at your words, rolling his eyes playfully.
“Are you saying you are into grumpy old men?”
“Yeah, I was always into older grumpy washed up rockstars who are into younger women.”
Eddie can tell that you are trying to act playful and fine the way you always do, even today but the sadness still lingers in the back of your voice.
“Well, then you are my hot trophy wife,” he blurts out.
Your eyes widen and his do too when he realizes what he just said.
Wife?!
“If anything you’d be my trophy husband–”
“Well yeah, you’re gonna be my wife someday–”
You both speak at the same time.
“What?!”
The looks on both of your face’s are comical, both flustered and in shock.
“Well..” You start, “I always wanted a house husband,” you joke.
He scoots closer to you, close enough so the tip of his nose brushes against yours.
“Oh, I’m gonna be a dad too?” He smiles.
“Probably when we’re both drunk, I tend to make questionable decisions when I am.”
He chuckles at your words, “alright well, let's do it. We can have that american dream and all that shit, we’ll have that fucking white picket fence– I’m totally drawing some sick bats on it though.”
You giggle, eyes growing heavy as you get sleepy.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he smiles, “we’ll call our kid Arwen, she’s gonna be a little badass like her mom.”
Your smile falls a little, a bittersweet feeling settles deep within your heart as you feel yourself longing for something you might not ever get. A future with him, this future with him. He doesn’t actually want that, he told you so.
But you do.
The stupid white picket fence. You never wanted it, you wanted this life, the band, the tours, the concerts and yet here you are falling in love with the thought of a family with him.
“Sweetheart?”
“Yes?”
“Is it okay if I touch you? I wanna hold you.”
Tears well up in your eyes, your heart melts in your chest.
You wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his chest. He smiles at your action, placing his hands on the small of your back, he pulls you on top of him, kissing the top of your head, “thank you,” he whispers.
You close your eyes, begging for sleep to take over so you can stop thinking of something that will never happen.
Eddie has a dreamy smile on his face as he thinks of it though. Something he never wanted with her, he wants with you. He wants to build a life with you. He wants marriage and kids, a family.
He looks down at you with adoration in his eyes.
He swears to himself that he will do anything to make you happy, to keep you safe and protect you.
He will give you the world if you ask him to.
-
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bathed in moonlight
wc: ~3.3k
pairing: johnny joestar x fem!reader
warnings: nudity, nonsexual intimacy (bathing together), fem!reader pretending to be a man for the steel ball run
Your life is simple. Quiet. You work on your family’s farm, the only child to two loving parents. You take on a lot, both emotionally and physically, familial burdens becoming your own to bear as soon as you could help on the property.
The burden gets heavier the winter before the Steel Ball Run. Your back bows and threatens to crack and splinter when your mother falls ill and the responsibility of both mother and daughter comes to rest on your shoulders. You tend to the animals when you can, clean the house, cook the food. All the while, your aunt and uncle who have come to stay in the wake of your mother’s illness to care for her and assist you and your father, talk in hushed tones, blaming you for your family’s misfortune. You’re not doing enough. Well, maybe if they had a son or more money things would be different.
Your father can only tell them off so many times before their words start to seep through your skin, covering your bones in a dark, cloudy haze. You take on more responsibility, eager to prove yourself. To do something.
Months later, a newspaper you find in the corner store changes everything. A horse race with a generous cash prize is set to be held in September — The Steel Ball Run. Your father taught you to ride when you were just a kid. Hours of your youth spent in the warm summer sun working with your horse before your mother rang the dinner bell. You know it won’t be easy, but you know you have to try, even if your family won’t approve.
You spend the next few weeks hoarding supplies, stuffing them into closets and hiding them in the stables, chipping away at all of the things you’ll need, and on the night you plan to leave you press a kiss to your parents’ cheeks, and go to bed, heart turning to lead in your chest.
That night, when the moon is high, and the house has fallen silent, you pull your father’s clothes from beneath your bed — an old pair of pants with a rip in the knee, a loose button up shirt, and an old cowboy hat — and tiptoe down the rickety wooden stairs, careful to avoid the creaky boards along the way, and disappear into the night.
As you ride, the wind whipping in your hair, and the moon casting shadows over the landscape, you assume a new identity, one of a man on the hunt for a new beginning. You’re sure you won’t be the only one, and you’ll be able to slip right through the cracks. And though you’re leaving your home behind, everything you’ve known growing more minuscule with each beat of your horse’s hooves, you feel hopeful — like a grand adventure is waiting just beyond the horizon.
The moment you meet Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli is the moment your life becomes infinitely more complicated. They’re nice, friendly despite Gyro’s initial intention to kill you for so much as looking at him. But hey, all budding friendships have their hiccups, right? You travel with them and find safety in their numbers, though getting wrapped up in their scheme to find the parts of a mysterious corpse wasn’t exactly high on your to-do list.
The only times you ever hesitate, the only times you ever find your voice losing the confident vibrato of the man you’re masquerading as is when it’s time to bathe. At inns, tucked neatly along the streets at each checkpoint, it’s easy. Harmless. You can sneak away and conceal your true form behind closed doors and shower curtains. But with the sky overhead and a babbling brook acting as your only chance at freshening up, your fingers wring the soft fabric of your bandana.
You weave intricate excuses, using a different one each time, hoping, praying the boys don’t catch on.
“Oh, I was going to eat first.”
“Someone needs to collect the firewood.”
“I’m just not used to bathing around other people yet.”
And the first few times it works, Gyro doesn’t think a thing of it, looking at Johnny as he dunks his head beneath the water, and raising his shoulders to shrug. “Eh, some guys just have their things, ya know?”
Johnny nods reluctantly, but feels there’s something else going on. Something you’re not telling them. He knows you’re not an enemy stand user, you’re not out to get them or kill them in their sleep. He’s certain you would’ve done it by now if that was your true intention, but there’s something else.
He ends up discovering your secret entirely by accident.
Sure he’s suspicious of what you’re hiding, and sure he wants to get to the bottom of it, but he’s not a creep. Honest. He didn’t mean to walk in on you just as you were pulling your night shirt down over your head, curves and smooth skin on display. As his entire face burns, he’s at least thankful all he saw was your back.
You whip around at the sound of his strangled gasp, and your face ignites. At the same time, you both frantically mumble, “Oh my god.”
You’re speaking over each other as you race to kick your door shut, pulling Johnny into your room with a harsh tug.
“‘M really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in! Yer door was open and I just thought-”
“How much did you see? How long have you been here? Do not tell Gyro or I will-”
Words and questions rush from your mouths like waterfalls, only stopping when you finally huff, running a weary hand through your hair. “It’s fine,” you start, only to repeat yourself when Johnny opens his mouth. “It’s fine. Just please, Johnny. Don’t tell Gyro.”
The desperate plea in your voice pulls the strings of his heart taut, and he’d do anything you ask if it meant he’d never have to hear that broken, aching sound again. His brows crease, and his face softens. “I won’t.” And as the clock behind you ticks to fill the silence, he adds, “I promise.”
In the days that follow, you hold your breath, waiting for the pin to drop, for the dynamics to finally shift. But that shift never comes. Johnny keeps your secret to himself, treating you just as he always did. Gratitude blooms in your chest, and you find yourself smiling whenever Johnny does, fixing him with a honeyed expression, like you’re seeing him in a new light.
You sit nearly shoulder to shoulder by campfire light, you eat meals at the same time, and when Gyro isn’t babbling away, the two of you make quiet conversation to fill the silence. It’s nice, feeling like you can finally ease the ache in your shoulders. The burden has shifted, if only just slightly, and you’re grateful to Johnny for taking on some of its weight.
“Wanna set up here?” Johnny asks, bringing Slow Dancer to a stop at a quiet clearing. The grassy patch is a ways off the path, concealed by trees and dotted with flowers. You hear the dull babbling of a river just down the hill. An oasis. “I think we should rest sooner than later now that the sun is starting to set.”
The ache in your back shoots up your spin and you roll your shoulders. “Yes please. I don’t think I have anything else in me.”
You all dismount and begin spreading out, setting up tents and crafting a little circle of rocks for a small fire. And as you chuck your bag to the ground, Gyro approaches you with a proposition.
“I’m gonna bathe now, I’ll make dinner once I get out if you find the firewood.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
He ruffles your hair, before shooting Johnny a look. “You comin’?”
Johnny's gaze flickers between you and Gyro for a moment, pensive, before he replies, “I’ll take a dip later, wanna rest for a minute.”
Gyro holds up his hands and sets a towel over his shoulder. “Suit yourself.”
“Do ya need help with the wood?”
“No, I think I got it, Johnny. Thank you.”
By the time you come back, bundles of sticks in your hands, Gyro’s already setting up a pot to boil water, wet hair clinging to the back of his night shirt. When you drop the pile, he grins at you appreciatively. “Thanks.”
With Gyro’s attention elsewhere, you and Johnny sneak off down the hill, excited to have your own time in the river.
You perch your things on a rock before hesitantly locking eyes with Johnny. He knows your secret, and with the sun setting, he probably won’t be able to make much out anyway. Yet you feel bare, vulnerable even now, fully clothed.
As if sensing your trepidation, Johnny pulls his hat off. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go first.”
You turn your back and let Johnny strip and get in, and once he gives you the all clear, you fiddle with one of the buttons on your shirt. “Just-... Just don’t look.”
You slowly unbutton your shirt, and Johnny shuts his eyes, the cool water of the river already kneading the ache from his joints. “I won’t.”
“I don’t want a repeat of last time.” A flutter, and a soft thud follow. Johnny figures you must have lost your shirt and your hat. He doesn’t dare peek.
“It was an accident.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.”
The smile that forms on Johnny’s face is lazy, teasing. “Alright, alright.”
Johnny hears you hiss. “Shit, it’s cold.” You dip into the water until only from your shoulders up remains above its surface. “You can open up.”
He almost wishes he hadn’t opened them at all. You have a bar of soap in hand, your hair clinging to the back of your neck with water. His eyes trace along the smooth curve of your neck, watching as the delicate lines kiss your collarbones and shoulders. The setting sun catches the water droplets that cling to your skin, bathing you in tiny flecks of pink and orange. Your body glitters like a jewel as you rinse away the grime and sweat from a long day of traveling. You’re so beautiful Johnny fears he may never be the same.
In that moment, he understands artists and their muses. He understands why someone would painstakingly mix colors and stare, memorizing features and curves and lines. He understands how love inspires art.
And he wants to die when you smile, this tiny sheepish thing that Johnny thinks stops his heart in his chest. You duck beneath the water’s surface until it reaches your chin. “My eyes are up here, ya know.”
Pushing a hand in his direction, you send a gentle spray of water barreling towards his face, and it's then that Johnny decides he needs to get his mind out of the gutter; shifting focus to start washing his hair.
With his back to you, you can admire the strong muscles you find there. His pretty blond waves are darkened by water and slicked back away from his forehead. They brush along his shoulders and bring your attention to the pale skin of his shoulders, inhabited by tiny freckles, constellations trapped right on his skin. You wonder if you’ll ever get close enough to connect the dots, to find patterns in the speckled curves of his shoulders. You want to give names to those tiny stars, to kiss them.
“What-“ Johnny looks like a deer in headlights as he emerges from the water, fresh from dunking his head to wash away the shampoo. “What’re you looking at?”
The shimmer of the water, deep blue tones mixing with the same oranges and pinks that paint your skin, catch the light blue of his eyes, and you feel like you could drown in them. Johnny in the light of that setting sun, eyes sparkling, hair shimmering like precious, golden threads, is a sight you wish to burn into your memory, to covet.
Now it’s your turn to feel caught red handed, vulnerability prickling your bare skin. You speak without thinking. “You’re so…” You struggle to identify the right word, and when you can’t conjure one, you hope that what you do find will be enough to articulate what you’re thinking. “You’re so pretty, Johnny.”
And despite the silence that follows, and the awkward tension that hangs, thick and heavy, in the air, Johnny can’t bring himself to refute you. If he didn’t know you better, he’d wave a hand, tell you you’re full of shit or that you’re just trying to butter him up, but he does know better; and it’s that exact thought that sends his heart racing back to life. It’s a compliment he’ll only accept from you — an angel amongst men. And Johnny’s certain that angels can’t lie.
You watch as his wet cheeks flush, eyes downcast as you catch the tiniest ghost of a smile on his lips. His response is quiet, bashful, and it makes you want to hide your smile beneath the surface of the water. “Thanks.”
Any walls that remained between you have been reduced to rubble, and as the moon begins to peek over the trees, you feel comfortable, more relaxed now that the daylight has made way for night. You fall into murmured conversation and the warm hues of the sun morph into the silver beams of the moon, floating together with your skin feeling refreshed and bodies feeling slack. Your hand brushes over Johnny’s beneath the cool surface of the river.
When the conversation lulls, Johnny worries his lip between his teeth, his brows furrowing.
“What?” You ask, tilting your head and squinting at him in the moonlight. “What is it?”
Johnny looks at you for a long moment. He’s nervous. He runs through a list of things he could say, but even now, with your hand in his and your shoulder brushing against his own, he can’t form the words in his throat.
You’re so pretty it hurts. My heart is hammering against my ribs so fiercely, I’m afraid it’ll burst right out of my chest. If you keep touching me, looking at me like that, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself anymore. You’ve ignited a fire in my belly that I’ll never be able to extinguish.
He opens his mouth to respond, but is cut off by rapidly approaching footsteps.
Johnny hisses. “It’s Gyro.”
You have to act, and you have to act now. Either you arouse suspicion and stay put, jeopardizing your precious secret, or you hide - somewhere, somehow, and leave Johnny to fill in the gaps. Deciding on the latter, you scramble up to the bank of the river and practically throw yourself behind a bush, praying you’re out of sight of both Johnny and Gyro. You don’t think you can stomach the blow to your ego being caught naked, and now covered in mud (again), would deal.
“Hey, you need help getting out?” Gyro asks when he approaches the edge of the water. “You’ve been down here awhile.
It’s only then that Johnny notices the way his fingertips have started to prune. “Oh, no.” He rushes to answer, “‘m fine. Just got lost thinkin’ about stuff.”
Gyro’s only half listening, gaze fixated on a pile of clothes amongst the rocks. Your clothes. Johnny’s chest tightens.
“What’s this doing here?” Pressing further, Gyro asks if you finally manned up and joined Johnny to bathe. Johnny catches sight of your soaps, sitting just out of eye-line on a rock behind some thickets, and some of the tension eases from his shoulders — less to explain away.
“Oh, he came down and… went around the bend that way,” Johnny nods his head towards the left. “Wanted some privacy, I think.”
You’re shivering from your spot in the bush, branches poking your ribs and leaves getting trapped in your hair. So much for getting cleaned up.
“You’re a shit liar, Johnny.”
It’s almost like a horror novel, the way your body stills, the way your breath catches in your throat. Shit shit shit. Your heart races, and you worry that somehow Gyro will hear it.
“Wha-”
“You don’t have to play coy with me Johnny, I can see it plain as day.”
Johnny has never wanted to curl up and die so badly in his life. Gyro had figured out your secret all on his own, and is content to rub it in Johnny’s face. Torture him with it.
“You finally told him you like him… I gotta hand it to you, I never thought you’d have it in you.”
Johnny stands corrected.
“What’re you-? Gyro that’s not-” Johnny can't even form a coherent sentence under Gyro’s smug gaze, and knowing you’re sitting behind that bush, listening to this shit only serves to add fire to the warmth pooling in his cheeks, boiling up to the tips of his ears.
You have to bring a hand up to cover your mouth.
Gyro clicks his tongue with a wag of his finger, head shaking and ruffling his dirty blond hair. “You don’t have to explain it to me. Trust me, I get it. Our lil riding partner’s pretty easy on the eyes. If you ever need some time alone, I can make myself scarce, ya know? Collect some firewood, maybe hunt a little or something. However long you need.”
Johnny can hear the smirk in Gyro’s tone more than see it in the dark of the evening. He struggles to collect himself. “It’s not like that.”
“Mm,” Gyro hums, “sure it’s not.” He raises his voice a little, ensuring that you both can hear what comes next, “In any case, food’s done whenever you two lovebirds are ready to eat.”
Johnny’s face burns as he watches Gyro disappear back to camp and out of sight, and just as he brings his gaze back towards the smooth surface of the water, you’re climbing back in. He catches an unfiltered glimpse at your curves, the expanse of your legs, the plush of your hips. His eyes squeeze shut and he feels like he’s suffering from acute heat stroke. Johnny knows the visage of your body, sinking into the water, bathed in moonlight that clings to your skin like a silver gown, will haunt his dreams until the end of time. Aphrodite has been plucked from her throne amongst the Gods and dropped right in the lap of some disgraced jockey from Kentucky.
He can’t possibly face you now can he? He’s not prepared to meet a goddess.
“I-” You look up at Johnny through your lashes, water clinging to them from your journey back into the river. You seem almost bashful, shy. Johnny’s heart skips a beat.
“He’s an idiot.” Is all Johnny can bring himself to tell you.
You giggle, and Johnny thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “He is.”
A quiet moment passes before you’re back where you started, hand closing over his own as you settle before him, backlit by the full light of the moon. “I meant what I said earlier.”
With the way you carefully examine the slope of his nose, the way your gaze flickers from his eyes to his lips and back again with a look Johnny can only describe as reverence, the man has no choice. He believes you, just as he had before. He captures your cheek in his palm, as if doing so will stop you from returning to the heavens, disappearing before his eyes.
Johnny brings you closer, lips ghosting over yours. “I know.”
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