#pov ur down bad for the dweeb

[daily-momokarun]

DAY SEVEN ✩‧₊˚

me personally, their height difference makes me insane

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

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Chapter XXIII: I Just Might Give My Heart

a/n: thank u for ur patience as i overcome the dreaded plague to continue writing this godforsaken fic. The first leg is officially OVER. so much has happened, and so much time has passed between chapters i could barely recap what’s gone on. thank you for sticking it out with me, we’re almost at the end now. kinda. who knows what that means when it’s me talking, i clearly can’t keep my word on anything.

tags/cw: angst per us, fluff, eddie x gn!afab!reader, pining, tears, idiots in love, soulmates, blah blah blah we love a happy chapter! swearing, bff!steve, bff!robin, these two can’t do shit on their own apparently. use of y/n but you know that by now.

—-

August 1990

Eddie’s POV

He slams the third bottle down on the counter, over which Steve is leaning, a disappointed glare directed at Eddie. “It’s been a month. Go fix it. Or don’t, but you gotta quit doing whatever this is.” Eddie doesn’t answer, only rolls his eyes as he wordlessly beckons for another beer.

“There’s nothing to fix, Steve. It’s over. For real this time, I swear.”

“And that’s what you want?”

Of course it’s not. He’s never wanted this, to watch as if from outside his body as he breaks your heart, leaving you alone and sobbing as he drunkenly drives away from everything you’d built together. But that’s what he’d chosen to do. He chose the life of a washed up rockstar over being with the one person he could trust with his life. Now he’s stuck obeying his label, his rabid fans, letting them drain his energy from his skin while you’re out there, gluing yourself back together when he should be the one picking up the pieces. He fucked up, bad, and there’s no way he’ll ever earn that second chance with you now. All he can do is drink to numb that pain, to maybe forget that realization that you’re gone. That he’ll never get to call you his again.

___

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

”Casanova!” Eddie rolls his eyes at the sound of Robin’s voice, “Wait up, dweeb!” She jogs to catch up to where he loads the trailer with his amps, pretending fruitlessly that he is deaf, ignoring her calls completely. She refuses to play along, though, still yapping into his already ringing ears. “Listen. I know we haven’t been, like, on the best terms. I’m sure you can understand why. But we’re all gonna go to the beach tonight. Hit the arcades, grab some food. I hope you come- ah,” She bites her lip, trying not to snicker at her choice of words. “I hope you decide to hang. Both of you.”

Eddie nods curtly, lips pressed tightly together. He can barely look at her, your best friend, that he pretty much made an unwilling third party only hours ago.

“I’ll do my best.”

She rolls her eyes, making no effort to hide her annoyance. “C’mon! It’ll be fun! It’ll be like we’re back-“

”Back what, Robin? Back in Hawkins?” He doesn’t mean to spit so much venom with his response, but in his defense, she of all people should be able to understand his reluctance.

“No, stupid. Back to normal. Being friends, no worries about fame, that shit. No need to be a dick about it.” Her lighthearted tone carries a slight edge, slicing Eddie with her words. “I’m sure Y/n would appreciate a semblance of normal.”

He rolls his eyes again, irritated at her use of you to convince him, knowing it will work. He will bend at every whim for you. Every time he blinks, he gets a flash of this morning. The sweat on your skin, your whimpers in his ear.

“Dingus!” Robin snaps him back to the present. “Good god, could you be any more pathetic?”

Luckily, he is saved from answering that question. “Munson!” Jeff calls from the steps of the bus. “Cmon, man! Those waves aren’t gonna surf themselves!”

—

Your POV

“Were you, um-“ Steve hesitates, evading your eyes as he saunters forward, head hanging like a shy child.

“Steve,” You start, prepared to ramble a pathetic excuse for why you can’t talk about it.

“Never mind, never mind. Just, y’know,”

“Yeah,” you scoff, shoving yourself into the booth as the driver pulls away from another hotel parking lot. “You worry, I get it.” You pick at your nails, the skin around your cuticles fraying like an old sweater.

“Only because you keep giving me reasons to.” There’s a softness in his scolding, the ghost of a smirk on his sweet face. Poor, sweet Steve. Your best friend, after everything. And you’ve been sending him into cardiac arrest these last six weeks. “I’m sorry, I know you want your privacy from everything. You can trust me. I have no reason to share any of it with the label. I just wanna make sure you’re both alright.”

You nod, shaking your head frantically, trying to shake away the panic. “I told him I love him. I also might have told him about playing Lolla, but I don’t really remember.” You wince, awaiting his reaction, but it doesn’t come. He blinks, face blank, like you’ve only just told him about a book you’ve read. “I give you permission to freak out now.”

He does the last thing you expect from him. Steve bursts into laughter. It’s a bark, a sudden crack in the sound barrier that startles you before you mirror his sounds. Quickly, though, Steve takes a breath to compose himself, ridding the giggles from his belly more quietly, as not to draw attention from the other, crankier passengers. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just,” He looks for his words on the table before him. “It’s about fuckin’ time, y’know?” His laughter takes over again, and you wipe a tear from your own giggle fit away as you catch your breath. Your cheeks are flushed, heart erratic as you gossip with your friend. That’s all he is right now. Not your manager, not your babysitter. He’s just Steve, and you’re so excited to divulge everything with him.

“How’d it go down? If you wanna tell me, obviously you don’t have t-“

“Of course I want to tell you, dummy. You just have to promise you don’t tell Robin. I don’t care that she knows, but she can’t know I told you all about it before her.” Steve nods in agreement, and you’re off to the races. You tell him how you’d knocked on his door the night before, drunk off your ass. You’d only wanted to tell him about Lollapalooza, you swear. You recall the way he’d looked at you, like he was drinking in your presence, as if you’d been a blessing then, and you let out the one thing you’d wanted to hold onto, at least for a while. You feel yourself blush as you recount the morning after, the way you’d given yourself to Eddie entirely, the relief you’d felt during, and the deep seated worry you feel now. You tell Steve everything, after keeping him in the dark for so long. All the while, he listens as the bus jostles you around, his hand a comforting one in your own. When you finish, you’re breathless, like you’ve just relived the whole thing. Steve only blinks, seemingly digesting it all before he can form a thought.

Finally though, he speaks. “And you expect me not to let any of this slip to Robin?”

You send a half assed slap to his shoulder. “Just for the day, until I get the energy to tell her.” The both of you descend into laughter again.

—

The sun is at its highest point in the sky when you reach the beach. You have no idea what town, what state you’ve all landed in, but the sand is hot and soft under your toes, and the water is a crisp blue to match the cloudless sky. You slide your sunglasses down your nose, and make your way to the dunes.

Behind you, the guys lug the coolers and umbrellas while you and your friends take care of the towels and beach chairs. Eddie is somewhere in the back of your rather large crowd, a boombox on his shoulder. You’re able to find a spot to hold your party further down the beach, and the crew begins to set up the spot like they do the stages every night, in sync with each other without speaking a word. Once they’ve snapped out of laser focus, you spread out your towel near one of the umbrellas, straight across from where Eddie has plopped down his beach chair. You use your sunglasses to your advantage, shamelessly checking out the sight before you. Eddie’s gotten slightly tanner as the summer’s gone on, his shoulders dusted with freckles that remind you of stars, ones you’ve spent hours tracing imaginary constellations on. He shines with sweat in the heavy sun, his shorts riding up on his sticky lotion legs. He’s tied his hair back in a bun to keep it off his neck, and he’s wearing sunglasses that surely must be an homage to Ozzy. Ink litters his arms and torso, pretty pictures you want to ask him about, want to trace with your tongue and lips and teeth.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” His voice shatters your inspection, your face blistering and not because of the weather. You compose quickly, though, remembering your camera stuffed inside your tote bag.

“Sure thing!” You chirp, holding the viewfinder to your face. “Say cheese!”

Eddie flips off the camera, a wry smile on his face and you can’t help laughing. “Aw, that wasn’t very nice!”

“I have an image to uphold, doll.” The nickname brings a silence to your group, a quick one, barely noticeable to anyone else. But you sense it. The beat of confusion no ones sure they can ask about.

Gareth comes to the rescue. “Uh, anyone down to surf? Waves look pretty good!”

—

Eddie’s POV

“So,” Jeff paddles his board up to Eddie’s, where he’s straddled as the current bobs him around. “How was your night?” The teasing is palpable.

Eddie speaks through gritted teeth, biting back the biggest smile. “Word travels fast around here, huh?”

“Only when the word is that you two finally got together again!” This time it’s Gareth who speaks, causing Eddie to throw his head back and groan. “Hey, man, we’re happy for ya! Can’t blame us for being excited when we’ve watched you mope about them for a month.” Jeff snorts at the drummer’s comment, and Eddie sends a frustrated splash towards him.

“I hate you both.” He mumbles, absolutely defeated.

“Cmon, man. Give us something!” Gareth is pleading now, pathetically. “At least tell us how it happened!”

Eddie has no choice but to relent. He recounts a summary of the past day and a half, leaving out some minor details to spare his own dignity. By the time he’s finished, his bandmates gawk at him, mouths agape and eyes wide.

“Wait,” Jeff finally says, “So you guys still aren’t together?!” Gareth groans, long and loud, before dramatically falling back on his board, into the water. “You’re a moron!” He exclaims when he comes to the surface, hurling water at Eddie.

“Thanks, man.” Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re happy for you, really, but-“ He stops himself, choosing his next words carefully. “I don't think we can watch this happen again, I know I can’t.” His tone is suddenly somber, gentle. “You either have to commit, or you have to let them go. I’m begging you not to put them— or you— through that again.”

Eddie is caught off guard by his buddy’s sensitivity. Gareth and Jeff aren’t touchy-feely, not the way Steve is, not the way you are. They’re usually rather stoic.

“I didn’t intend to go through it the first time.” He’s chosen defensiveness, ready to board up the door to his feelings for the sake of keeping the peace.

“No one intends to go through that, obviously. But, Ed, seriously. Think about it. You’re working the program, you’re doing really well too. Don’t let this be a reason you throw it all away. If you love them, if you really, really mean it this time, fine. But if I have to watch you break their heart again, I’m leaving the band.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Gareth shakes his head. “Don’t try to find out.”

They stare each other down, both convinced they have all the answers, until Jeff breaks the tension. “That’s the one! That’s the best one all day!” And he’s off, paddling towards the growing waves and leaving his friends to stir.

—

It’s almost sunset when they leave the ocean, retreating to the rest of the group still bathing in the golden hue of the sun. Everyone’s there, talking and drinking, laughing and singing along to Celine Dion’s If You Asked Me To. He snickers at the sight, his mismatched group of friends, people he’d never have expected to ever have a bond with, enjoying their well earned rest. Finally, his eyes land on you. Immersed in your book, a well loved copy of Play It As It Lays, you sit stretched out in your beach chair, skin shiny with sweat and sunscreen, a red bathing suit leaving nothing to the imagination. Your feet are buried beneath the soft sand, and Eddie can see that you’re wiggling your toes. Your sunglasses sit on the bridge of your nose, perched like reading glasses as your eyes scan the page.

He feels a presence next to him before he can see it. “You really shouldn’t stare at people like that. It’s creepy.” Robin has planted herself next to him, speaking low enough so you can’t hear her.

“I wasn’t-“ There’s no point. He’d be lying, anyway. “Ugh, whatever.”

She snorts, returning to her less stealthy self. “Uh huh, exactly. Anyway, what’s your plan, Romeo?”

“My plan?”

She nods. “For your month off. Where in the world will Eddie Munson go next?” He can’t answer, and Robin definitely feels him tense at her question. “Me and Lilith are going to Vermont, I think. They have uh, great syrup there I’ve heard.” She’s steamrolling herself, and it brings the beginning of a smile to Eddie’s face. “You ever been? To Vermont?”

Eddie shrugs. “Can’t say I have.”

“Me either. Me… either.” She looks down at her hands, letting the silence fester until it’s unbearable.

“I might go back home.” He says it quietly, not yet sure if the word fits in his mouth anymore. Home.

“Where’s home?”

At that, he glances up at you. You’ve put your book aside to lounge further, the chair further back, legs outstretched in front of you as your eyes flutter closed. Right there. “Well, not home I guess. To Wayne’s. Spend some time with the old man.”

Robin nods, lips slightly pursed as if she’s questioning his response. She can see right through him.

Luckily, though, he’s saved from explaining anything further. “Who’s up for some arcade games? Boardwalk’s only a ten minute walk from here!” Sylvie shakes their bag of quarters, an attempt at enticing the tired group into physical activity.

It seems to rouse you from your catnap. “I’m in. You, me,” you’re pointing at Eddie. “Air hockey. Loser buys the ice cream.”

“What are we, in high school?” Robin snorts, but her eyes widen when she realizes what she’s said. “I am so sorry.”

You giggle, and Eddie feels his cheeks burn. “No, Buckley, it’s cool, you can play Eddie when he LOSES.” You launch yourself from the beach chair and offer your hands out, one crossed over the other. “You on?”

Eddie and Robin each take one of your hands to shake. It’s a deal.

—

Your POV

The boardwalk was once filled with life, you can see that, but has since been discarded like a candy wrapper. Several bulbs on the overhead signs are out, making it spell out A C A D rather than ARCADE. Despite its exterior, the place is bustling with activity. Unsupervised children and bored teens on vacation bounce from machine to machine, yelling to be heard over the cartoonish sounds of claw machines. Further in, you spot the air hockey table in a corner, unoccupied.

“You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?” You tease, nudging his side with your elbow before taking a spot at one end of the table.

”I think you mean kissed, L/n.” Eddie winks, slotting a quarter into the machine, triggering the bright lights to flash, the canned sound of the game announcer.

You scoff. “Whatever.” You hand the puck to Robin, who’s standing far too still between the two of you, as if she’s decided to referee. Robin drops the puck in the middle, and it starts slowly gliding off to the side while you and Eddie swing your discs wildly. You gain the upper hand, whacking the puck at Eddie’s goal, missing by inches. You groan when it hits the side, now fully in Eddie’s court. He chuckles, swinging hard to send the puck flying toward you, straight into the thin slot. GOAL! The fuzzy speakers blare with exclamation. You take the puck out, placing it in front of you, waiting for Eddie to stop taunting you.

”C’mon, you have to admit that was pretty sick!” Eddie whines, trying to get a rise out of you.

”Are you done?”

”Oh, not even close, sweetheart.”

You bite back a smile, the tips of your ears burning, and hit the puck on a zigzag, gleefully watching as Eddie’s eyes try to keep up. It goes back and forth for a while before you tie it up, hurling trash talk at each other with no malice. A small crowd has even gathered around the table to watch, and you’re not sure if it’s because they’re fans of yours and Eddie’s, or just really invested in the competition.

Finally, you send the puck flying into the opposite goal one more time, winning the game. You celebrate with a cheer, and jokingly chest bump Robin who rolls her eyes when you clench your tit in your hand, cackling.

—

Eddie’s POV

“I’d like a mint chocolate chip shake, extra thick.” You wink, making sure to swing your hips as you walk away from the table with Steve. You’re barely out of earshot when Robin starts flapping her gums. “What the fuck was that?!”

“What was what?”

She flails, gesturing wildly to Eddie, the direction you’ve walked in, the air hockey table. “All that- that flirting. You think I’m stupid?”

Eddie only scoffs, whacking the puck towards her. This game has far less enthusiasm to it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on! You attracted a crowd with how obnoxious you two were being! What happened this morning?”

Eddie stops the puck under his handle. “That’s none of your business!”

“Please, I can get those gory details from Y/n. I’m talking about the important part, the conversation.”

“There wasn’t a conversation! Just having some fun.”

It’s Robin’s turn to freeze, straightening her posture as if it would convince Eddie to take her seriously. “Don’t you dare start this shit again. You need to get your act together. Today. I swear to God if you break their heart again—“

“Robin, what the fuck are you—“

“Let me finish. Please, for the love of all that is holy, unholy, whatever, talk to them. For real. Before we leave. Or I’ll beat your ass myself. They love you so, so much it’s borderline unhealthy. I can’t watch them fall to pieces again because you can’t grow the balls to tell them what you want.”

“Shouldn’t they also be getting this lecture?”

“No! Because they’re letting you set the pace, asshole! You owe it to them, they shouldn’t have to guess what you want. I promise, if you’re honest, they’ll be more than willing to listen to you. Please, Eddie.” Her eyes are soft, and he melts at her pleas.

“Okay. I will.”

“You better.”

“I promise!”

—

Your POV

“So… what the fuck was that?” Steve inserts a quarter into the skeeball machine, the balls clacking together as they roll down.

“What?” You feign ignorance, rolling a ball down the lane. 20 points. You were never great at skeeball. “Do not play stupid with me, L/n! That man loves you.”

“That doesn’t mean he wants more than what we have.” The humor is gone from your tone, and you can feel your throat catch ever so slightly.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Steve, that love isn’t the only factor in a relationship. There are so many things we’re still missing. The trust, the balance. All that stupid bullshit we can’t seem to figure out.” Steve doesn’t respond, he only watches as you half heartedly toss another ball down the lane. “I don’t know if we’d work together anymore. After everything,” You pause, looking for the right words. Of course you want to try, you’d give it all up to try again. He claims he would, too. But there’s a huge, unspecified roadblock preventing both of you from taking that leap. Like a blocked artery, a wedge that won’t budge no matter how hard you both push.

“You’re a chicken shit.” Steve finally deadpans, causing you to whip around to look at him. There’s no hint of joking in his tone, not the tiniest glimmer of it in his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a goddamn coward! You both are! Constantly making excuses for not even attempting the real thing. You’ll kiss, hold hands, even sleep together before admitting a goddamn thing to yourselves. I can’t believe neither of you have collapsed from exhaustion.” He rolls a ball, sinking it into the top left hole of the lane. Show off

“Maybe it’s not enough. But what’s stopping you from doing what is? From having that uncomfortable discussion?”

You bite your lip, knowing exactly the thing stopping both of you from having that conversation. Steve’s right, you’re fucking cowards. You’re afraid of fucking it up again, of watching him leave, of losing him the same way you did the first time. You have to wonder if it’s worth it, having bits and pieces of him to avoid losing the whole thing.

Steve checks his watch and huffs. “Well, you better figure it out soon, we leave for the airport in an hour.”

—

Eddie’s POV

“Mint chocolate chip, extra thick.” Eddie hands you the styrofoam cup as he sits next to you on the bench, green ice cream already stuck in the straw.

“Did you have some?” You hold the cup out, straw pointed at him.

“I had to make sure they did it right!”

You snort, taking a sip before resting your head on his shoulder. He rests his own on top of your head, closing his eyes when he hears you sigh through your giggles. As much as he knows how right Robin is, he’d still be okay staying like this forever.

“We should probably talk. Y’know, about this morning.” His voice is low, even though there’s no one around to eavesdrop. You lift your head to look at him, and Eddie swears his heart stops at the sight.

“Probably, yeah.” He nods slowly, praying to whoever will listen that he doesn’t fuck this up.

“I meant it. I wanna make that clear. I love you. I never stopped, I don’t think I ever will.” His voice is even, stern.

“So did I.”

He nods. “I know. But-“

“It’s not enough.” You nod, and he feels his heart stutter and crack before you can let him finish. He knew this was coming.

You shake your head, your short hair swinging as you do. “No. It’s not. That doesn’t mean it can’t be the beginning of something, though?” Your voice raises at the end, like you’re asking him the question. He has to stop himself from jumping from his seat. There’s hope in what you’ve said, even if it’s barely a spark. “If you want to try, I guess. If you want to see where it goes.”

Eddie can’t stop himself, he sets his own milkshake aside to cup your warm face in his cold hands, steadying your head. “I will do whatever it takes to try this again, sweetheart. You are still the best thing that’s ever happened to me, the only person I could ever ask for. If you’re willing, if you’re able to try again, to trust that I won’t let you down again, then who am I to refuse that second chance? Who would I be to give that up a second time? I know I should’ve said something sooner, I know I’ve been awful during this whole thing…” He trails off as your smile widens under his palms, and your eyes grow wet with what he hopes are happy tears. “I couldn’t ask for anything more, Y/n. I know I don’t deserve it-“

You shake your head again, despite his grip. “Stop it. Stop saying you don’t deserve another chance, Eddie. I wouldn’t be willing to try again if you hadn’t shown me you’ve changed. I never stopped loving you, I was waiting for the day we could try this again. More than anything, you are all I’ve wanted. Please, be kinder to yourself.” You say it all through squished cheeks, and he feels them warm under his hands. “I didn’t want to ask, because I couldn’t tell if that’s what you wanted. You’re a huge rockstar now, with plenty of bullshit to deal with. This is gonna be hard, I need to know it’ll be a priority.”

“You are my only priority. You are the only thing that matters to me this much. It took me years being a fucking moron to figure that out, but I got there.” His heart is practically breaking his ribcage with how hard it’s pounding. He can barely believe you’re willing to try again, willing to give such a broken man a second chance at true love. It all feels way too good to be true, but he can’t be bothered enough to shut it down. There will be no other shoe this time.

“In that case, Munson, would you do me the honor of being my love again? Strings attached?”

He doesn’t hesitate, even though he’s fucking terrified. “I never stopped.” He moves his hands back to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he moves closer to you. Your hands mirror his, holding his face in them as his eyes begin to water. Your smile grows as his tears fall, both of you laughing through them like deranged children.

“Then kiss me like you mean it.” And he does, tugging you forward until his lips meet yours, tears commingling as you wrap your arms around his neck, and his move to wrap around your waist. “I love you”s are mumbled between kisses, never fully letting go of each other regardless of how uncomfortable the bench has become.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.”

—

next chapter

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