Eddie stops going to The Creature's shows. He doesn't care about them or their stupid band or their stupid music or their stupid front man that doesn't care about him in return.
Steve notices. Of course he notices. He feels awful. Eddie had been enthousiastic, possibly their number one fan. Most of all, Eddie always smiles all pretty when Steve sings into the mic...
So, one day Steve makes up his mind. He goes to the bar, makes sure nobody sees him, and he waits outside.
He waits for nearly an hour and a half in front of the stupid bar Eddie plays at, mask pulled tight over his face. He's not wearing the crown, because it'd felt stupid to put that on now.
He feels nothing like a king. He doesn't even feel like the front man. He just feels like a mortal.
Eddie walks out and stops in his tracks as he sees Steve.
"What are you doing here?" Eddie replies. His voice is sharp. Steve doesn't blame him.
"Can't come inside. With the mask and all."
Eddie walks closer to him, crossing his arms and looking out into the empty night so he doesn't have to stare at the man that hadn't bothered to keep his promise. "What, you can't take it off? Are you that ugly?"
"Uh," Steve laughs. "Yeah. Maybe. I don't know."
Eddie looks at him. Finally, looks at him. "You want to hear my shit?" He asks. "Really hear it?"
Steve nods. Eddie's eyes are intense. Steve wants to keep looking into them forever, he wants to pick his brain about music and life. He thinks he could listen to whatever Eddie wants to ramble about. "Yeah," he croaks.
"We rehearse Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. 10PM. Last house on Cherry Lane."
And Eddie doesn't get the chance to say anything more, because one of his band members appears and pulls him along to their van.
At least he'll know where to find him now.