look in the mirror (and cry)
Part 7 / 7
Summary: Chrissy survives Vecna’s first attack, just barely.
Season 4 rewrite wherein Chrissy survives and Eddie is a soft worried angel
Author’s note: And that's that!! This one ran away from me and it's like twice as long as every other chapter, so we'll just say it's the final chapter plus epilogue... Thank you for reading!!!!
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~~~~
His mind was empty as he slept. He didn’t dream, didn’t think, all he saw was black.
And then he opens his eyes and all he sees is white. He sees white curtains, and white walls, and white sheets. He hears a monitor that tells him his heart is beating. He smells antiseptic that makes him nauseous, but then he smells something sweet and intoxicating and familiar and he feels better again.
She jumps from her seat beside him, her enthusiasm contagious as he smiles and lets his eyes fall shut again, comfort and ease washing over him.
“Eddie!” she shouts, her voice loud enough to make him jump, but he doesn’t mind. It’s the best thing he thinks he’s ever heard. “Sorry,” she winces. “I just–”
Her hand is soft on his cheek, the skin a happy compromise to the rough itch of his overgrown stubble, but the force by which she connects her lips to his is anything but gentle. She kisses him with eager need, with an intense and desperate insistence that they touch one another right now , and it makes him wonder how long it’s been since she’s touched him and he’s been awake to touch her back.
He lifts one arm, tangling it with her hair and not letting her pull away so easily, and he finds himself grinning against her. “What a wake up call,” he muses with a broad smile, and she laughs tearfully.
“I’m so glad you're awake,” she murmurs against his mouth before kissing him once more. “It’s been torture .”
“To have me so close and still not be able to make out with me?”
She pulls away, looking down at him with a watery smile, and he doesn’t think before brushing away a rogue tear with his thumb. She looks rough, if he has to be honest about it. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a week, and like she’s been cursed twice by the same murderous demon. She looks like she’s been camped out in a hospital chair for who knows how long, waiting for some freak she goes to school with to wake up from the bullet wound her ex-boyfriend gave him.
“Hey,” he muses softly once he can finally get a good look at her. She lets her head fall heavily against his palm and he loves the weight of it. “You okay?”
Her bottom lip sticks out in an adorable pout, her eyes getting sadder and waterier, and she shakes her head. “I was worried,” she says softly as her voice breaks.
“What, about this?” he asks, playfully gesturing towards the spot that would probably be hurting more if he didn’t get the real good drugs. “I’ve made it out of worse than this. I’m scrappy.”
“You could’ve died,” she croaks, sniffling and desperately holding in a forceful sob. Then she shifts slightly, backing away from him so she can push against his right shoulder. “And why didn’t you tell me you’ve had a concussion all this time?”
“Have I?” he asks thoughtfully, nodding slowly. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”
Hopefully he never has to think about Little Angel Eddie or Little Devil Eddie ever again, then.
“You certainly do, Mr. Munson,” he hears from the door, an authoritative looking man with a pot belly and graying hair interrupting his fantasies about nurse-Chrissy.
“This is Dr. Owens, Eddie,” she tells him. “He works for the government. They’ve cleared your name for all the murders and stuff.”
“Well, the lucky return of Vecna’s victims helped with that,” Dr. Owens explains casually, like it’s some quirky, funny fact he just dropped.
“They’re alive?” Eddie asks, wondering how someone who got snapped into pieces in another dimension possibly could have survived.
“After Nancy and everyone defeated Vecna in the Upside Down, they found Fred and Patrick trying to find a way home,” Chrissy explains.
All in one piece, he assumes. How unfair that Chrissy should have to suffer with a very broken arm for the next few months.
“We’ve begun working on your image,” the doctor explains, and Eddie rolls his eyes. “It hasn’t been especially easy– it seems easier to believe that two kids got murdered and then walked back into town a few weeks later– but the town has been given all the facts they can handle, and my people are trying to really drive home the fact that you’re more of a hero than anything. Chrissy too, of course. All of you kids really stepped up, here.”
Eddie knows this, and he doesn’t like how this guy is standing here telling him something he thinks he doesn’t already know. But it doesn’t matter all that much, because the next words out of his mouth make the ass-kissing worth it.
“We’ve funded a project for you and your uncle, too,” he starts. “New housing, without a hole in the ceiling.”
“New trailer?” he asks, and he doesn’t miss the way that Chrissy smiles, leaning forward to rest her head against his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose. All he can do is smile to himself and nuzzle his cheek against the top of her head.
“New house . Modest accommodations; it’s not much bigger than what you're used to, but everything works and there aren’t any portals to another world.”
Well fuck, he thinks to himself. All he’s ever really wanted was to give back to Wayne after everything he’s done for him, after everything he’s given up to raise Eddie as best he can. He always dreamed of making it big and getting Wayne a real house, but he never thought it would actually happen. Turns out, all he had to do was get involved in a conspiracy theory, be accused of murder and kidnapping, and get shot and almost die.
The doctor keeps talking for a while, but he doesn’t want to listen. All he wants to do is lie here with Chrissy’s head on his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose and smelling fruity, her free fingers playing with the collar of his hospital gown. He has no idea how long he’s been unconscious for, even though Owens has probably told him. He doesn’t know how much time they’ve missed together, and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen now that he’s awake. Honestly, he doesn’t even know where they are, other than the weird explanation of them being in some government run hospital.
He sighs happily when Owens leaves, having finally gotten the hint that he was seriously harshing Eddie’s vibe, and carefully lifts a hand to brush some rogue hair out of Chrissy’s eyes. “Hey,” he whispers with a smile that she mirrors when she leans up to look at him.
“Hi,” she whispers back. It’s so adorable that he can’t stop grinning like an idiot even though he’s starting to notice his gunshot wound. What a weird thing to think. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugs. “Like I got shot.”
She kisses his cheek and says, “Well, you’re gonna have a real sexy scar, at least.”
“Chrissy,” he chastises playfully. “I can’t believe you would utter a word as scandalized as sexy .”
“I’ve been corrupted,” she reasons. She sighs, letting her head fall softly onto his shoulder on his uninjured side once more, her cast clumsy between them but nothing they can’t manage. When she does, he shifts a bit, readjusting them so that he can wrap his arm around her shoulders and hold her as well as he can. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“You, too,” he says, thinking back to the image of her floating and refusing to come down before she dropped to the floor like dead weight. Not dead, though. “You scared me.”
“You scared me,” she argues. “That was really dumb, rushing Jason like that.”
“I didn’t want him to shoot you by accident.” At that, she lets her grip on his stupid ugly gown tighten and she nuzzles her nose against his collarbone. “He’s not dead, right?”
“No,” she giggles, then sighs. “He’s fine, he’s just… He’s being kind of an ass.”
“Christine!”
“Stop,” she laughs. “He has! Did you know he tried to get people to hunt you down? He’s crazy!”
Playfully, he pinches her side and says, “You dated crazy, you know.”
“Well,” she shrugs, somehow pushing herself closer to him and pressing her lips against his skin in a way that lights a fire in his belly even though he should probably be more focused on recovery. “Now I'm dating the Freak.”
His heart stops, he thinks. It couldn’t possibly be beating because he couldn’t possibly survive this interaction with Chrissy goddamn Cunningham. But still, he tries to play it cool. “Dating, huh?”
She just hums, totally cool and casual, and says, “Yeah. That okay?”
Barely breathing, he kisses the top of her head and nods against it. “Yeah, Sweetheart. I think that’d be perfect.”
~~~~
“Seventeen.”
“Eddie, be serious.”
“I am! That’s the answer I came up with!”
“But I asked you for the chemical formula of glucose! Come on, this is your last exam ever, and I know you know the answer.”
Well, that’s a good point he supposes, but it doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t really care all that much about the chemical formula of glucose. “Fine,” he groans, moving onto his back slowly to rest his head in her lap and gazing up at her with a twinkle in his eyes. He blinks a few times and smiles up at her flirtatiously before saying, “C₆H₁₂O₆.”
“Very good,” she grins, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, making him blush even though he’s the one who started this whole game. “See? You’re a genius.”
“Yeah, yeah. Flattery can only get you so far, Cunningham.”
“Right,” she snorts.
He can’t help but to play with her fingers, gazing at her perfectly manicured pink nails and smiling at the one she let him paint black, and she smiles more genuinely. “Are you excited?” he asks. “No more clunky plaster that you can use as a weapon in your sleep?”
“Very excited,” she agrees with a soft giggle, the sound of which makes his heart flutter and his stomach flip. “Although, it’ll be sad not to be able to walk around with Eddie Munson original artwork on my arm.”
“I’ll design a tattoo for you,” he suggests casually, making her sigh.
“I have to wait until I move far, far away from my mom before I even think about getting any tattoos.”
He hums, moving carefully off of her and then shifting them so that she’s lying with her back on the couch cushions and he’s on top of her, the grayish hunk of plaster between them no match for how badly he wants to kiss her. She kisses him back, and honestly, he isn’t sure there’s anything better in the entire world. “One day,” he promises against her mouth. “Soon, right? I mean, you’re gonna be able to move into the your apartment in August.”
“The end of August,” she corrects with a pout. “And don’t act like that’s some perfect solution to all my problems.”
He kisses her nose, brushing her hair away from her eyes with his left hand while using his right arm to keep himself up. He’s still sore even after almost two months of recovery, and it’s been kind of annoying to not bounce right back from his injury. Chrissy has had to remind him pretty frequently that he got shot, for goodness sake , and that he’s got to take it easy if he expects to make a full recovery. He finally got the stitches removed a few weeks after they released him from that weird hospital, and he’s slowly but surely getting back to normal.
“Is your mother not the source of most, if not all of your problems?” he asks, his tone light but serious all at once as he ponders her concerns.
“Well, when I move…” she starts slowly, biting her lip anxiously rather than in the cute and sexy way he loves so much.
“Yeah?”
“Then… I mean… you’ll still be here.”
Ah, he thinks. There it is. The very topic they’ve been tiptoeing around for the last two months.
Things between them moved quickly, especially in the beginning. They were together so much for that first week, hiding out at Reefer Rick’s after her near death experience, and then they had a realization that maybe all of the trauma they experienced together could have had an impact on the way they felt. Maybe they moved too fast, especially in deciding that they wanted more with one another. For a brief period, just a few hours, they almost thought that they needed to separate if only to prove to themselves that this is what they really wanted.
But nothing changed. They survived the unsurvivable, they defeated the undefeatable, they healed from things they shouldn’t have been able to, and then their lives went back to normal. But nothing changed the way they felt about one another. Nothing made him stop thinking about her, and nothing could have stopped her from sneaking out and stealing her brother’s bike and going to his trailer in the middle of the night a few hours after they decided that they should cool things off.
These experiences changed them both, and being there for each other did, too. Even though their time together was short lived, and even though their feelings for one another were fueled by the horrors that they went through, it doesn’t make the bond that they have any less meaningful.
But still… She's moving to California for school, and they’ve gotten used to seeing each other every day even though her mother is painfully against their relationship. (Chrissy’s made it perfectly clear that she can’t tell her what to do now that she’s eighteen, much to her mother’s dismay.) Going from that to her moving 2000 miles away isn’t going to be easy.
“I know,” he murmurs, giving her an uneasy smile that she knows she can read through. “But we’ll be alright. And I’ll be able to visit you once I save up enough to drive there.”
“I know, I just–”
“Munson, come on, man! We’re late enough as it is!”
Jeff’s interruption has him reeling, because it seems like Chrissy really wanted to say something, but he’s right. They’re already late enough as it is, and he supposes he can’t exactly spend all night making out on the couch in the back of the Hideout when he’s supposed to be performing.
Being accused of murder and kidnapping and then getting shot and somehow surviving, while also solving a government conspiracy, has been shit for his image at school, but it’s actually done wonders for the band. They actually draw somewhat of a crowd now.
But Chrissy’s always right up front, grinning up at him and cheering for him and believing in him, just like she always has.
“I promise,” he starts, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as he slowly stands up. “We’ll talk afterwards, okay?”
“Okay,” she says with a weak smile, and he kisses her again.
“Promise.”
“I know. Go have fun, Eddie.”
She kind of avoids him after that. Not, like, actually avoiding his presence or anything, but he can tell there’s something on her mind and she never really brings it up. She watches him play with a wide grin on her face, sipping her beer and laughing with Nancy and Robin in a way that makes his heart all warm and fuzzy.
And then after the concert, once he and the guys have loaded up their equipment and he goes to the table to meet her and their friends, she cuddles up to him like she usually does, but it feels different somehow. It’s like she’s closer to him, her grip on his bicep a bit tighter, her head a bit heavier on his shoulder. She still smiles and it still reaches her eyes, but it seems to be mixed with a touch of sadness that pulls at his heartstrings.
He’ll get to the bottom of it, though. He normally does, is normally pretty good at getting her to open up to him even though it’s not something she’s used to doing. Over the last few short months, she’s made a lot of changes to her life, and she’s grown a lot. He beams with pride each time she does something for herself, something that makes her happy. Hell, every time he’s with her, his stomach flips with excitement for her because her presence means she’s rebelled against her hard-ass mother to see him. Still, though, even though she’s changed for the better, he’ll respect her when her walls go up, and he knows she’ll tell him what’s bothering her eventually.
~~~~
Having her cast off is life changing. She’d grown so used to having the bulky, heavy material adhered to her for so long that she feels completely weightless without it. Once the doctor removes it, it’s like she can finally take a breath of fresh air.
Her mother brought a disposable razor, because heaven forbid she wait until she gets home to shave her underarm. It is kind of gross, she has to admit, but seriously, does it really matter that much?
“There we are,” Laura says softly, giving Chrissy a nauseating smile. “Much lighter now, aren’t you? Maybe we can finally get an accurate number on the scale.”
Of course, she’s referring to the dramatic increase in her weight since her injury. She’s assuming that the cast is the sole reason for the extra poundage. She hasn’t realized that there’s also a correlation between that and what she’s been eating, Eddie having turned her on to Spaghettios and the joys of eating an entire meal three times per day.
Her body hasn’t even changed that much, honestly. She’s still petite and thin, she’s just less bony, and she kind of likes it. Screw what Laura Cunningham has to say.
“Maybe, maybe not,” she shrugs noncommittally as the doctor returns to the room to check her mobility. He seems pleased with her progress and how she’s healed, and that alone puts a smile on Chrissy’s face and helps her to not worry too much about her mother’s opinions.
When they get to the car, all bets are off, of course. It’s easier for her mother to berate her, or at least pick her apart, when they’re in the comfort of their own car or home.
“Honestly, Christine,” she starts, disappointed at Chrissy’s plan to study with Eddie after school. She probably didn’t even need to tell her mom that, probably could have just said that she was going to Nancy’s or something, but she’s kind of over the whole lying thing. Why should she be embarrassed about who she’s dating, when he’s one of the only people she’s ever met who makes her feel as good as she’s been feeling? “Do you really need to waste your last few days of school with that… boy? Why wouldn’t you go to the pep rally to support your team?”
“Because I quit the team,” she deadpans. “And I have an exam tomorrow; my last ever.”
“Well, it’s important to surround yourself with your peers, the ones who have a positive influence on you–”
“I am doing that.”
Her mother sighs as she merges onto the highway, and Chrissy extends her arm in front of her happily to stretch. “I mean, your peers who will be in your life long term. Like Janet; isn’t she going to UCLA just like you are? Why would you waste your time with some trailer trash you’ll never see again once you move?”
She’s silent for a moment, anger coursing through her blood like hot lava. She’s angry for a few reasons, mostly because of her mother calling Eddie trailer trash and her stubborn refusal to see him as anything else, even though he doesn’t even live in the trailer anymore. Without going into too much detail, Dr. Owens was very clear about the fact that Eddie had saved Chrissy’s life on more than one occasion. Hell, he took a bullet for her! He almost bled out for her because he was too busy trying to save her to even realize he was hurt. How could her mother just brush that off?
But at the same time, a very small part of her wonders if she’s right. She isn’t really sure where she and Eddie stand, especially after she moves. Once she moves on from Hawkins and makes a life in Pasadena, will she ever see him again? Will they fizzle out after a few months when they realize that long distance doesn’t work for them? Of course, that’s the opposite of what she wants. Honestly, she kind of doesn't want to go at all– she’d be happy enough living out the rest of her days in his tiny new house with him. She’d live out the rest of her days in his dilapidated trailer with him, the one with the hole in the ceiling and the gate to another dimension. But she already committed to UCLA months ago, before she fell in love with Eddie Munson.
And that’s when she realizes… shoot. She’s in love with Eddie Munson.
He’s everything to her. They’ve been through so much together in such a short amount of time and it’s never been anything short of magical between them. She’s in love with him. How can she just leave him?
With that knowledge, and with a determination to be argumentative with her mom, she says, “I'd rather spend all of my time with him than with you. At least he treats me like a human being, like someone he cares about. And whether we see each other after I move doesn’t… it doesn’t change how I feel about him now…”
Sadness seeps into her voice, cutting through the anger with her mother as she considers the distinct possibility that, after she moves away, she might not see Eddie again. She can’t just ask him to move to California, as much as she’d love to. It wouldn’t be fair to him to put him out like that when she knows that money has been tight for him, although the small stipend from Owens’ team for living expenses has helped him and his uncle a lot. Still, though, it’s not like she has a car and can travel back to Hawkins, and it’s not like he can afford to make the drive to see her all that often.
They’ll be fine, though.
~~~~
Graduation was about as painful as he’d expected, horribly boring and far too hot in that stupid cap and gown. But when all was said and done, Chrissy leapt into his arms and kissed him so hard that it was worth it.
~~~~
Their summer passes too quickly, the heat and the long sunny days by the pool and the perfect nights by the fire coming to an end as August rounds to a close. He feels himself getting more and more anxious as the days turn into weeks and the pressure continues to surmount. Chrissy isn’t herself, noticeably sadder as the summer flies by, and he knows it has to be because she’s leaving soon. It just kills him that he can’t say anything to her that would make her feel any better. He doesn’t know anything at this point, about whether he’d be able to visit her frequently, or about the next time they’ll see one another once she moves to the coast.
And he keeps thinking, wishfully, that she’ll be alright, that she’ll see that the two of them will be fine, but things seem to come to a head the second to last night she spends in Hawkins. They were spending the evening with their friends, around the firepit in the Sinclair’s back yard, and she was cheerful and bright, although still sad as ever, as the night went on. But then, when they get into his van with Max to bring her home, she goes silent. Her arms wrap tightly around her middle and her knees lift up so that her heels are on the seat and she just stares out the front window as she holds herself.
She gets out of the van when they pull up to Max’s trailer, hugging her more tightly than he’s ever seen, and he catches both of them wiping their eyes as they whisper their goodbyes. Everyone has promised to keep in touch with her, and she’s promised to return for visits, but still, leaving is hard.
And when she gets back into the van, she wipes at her cheeks again, sniffles in a way that makes him blush because of how adorable she is and then kick himself because of how weird of a thought that is, and she sighs. And she drops her head to the window and hugs herself around her waist again and she sniffles once more.
“Sweetheart,” he starts, the nickname feeling weird leaving his mouth so he clears his throat. “Chrissy?”
“Hmm?”
“Uh… you okay?”
She doesn’t answer. He sees her shrug out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out of the park and drives not too far down the street to his and Wayne's new place. Instead of pushing her, he just parks the van and shuts off the engine, stepping out into the clear summer air and rounding the front of the van to open her door carefully.
She offers him her left hand with a tiny smile, still pleased with the fact that she can actually use it, and he pulls it up to his lips to press them to her knuckles. She stares up at him with those big, sad eyes, glassy and wet with unshed tears, and his heart shatters. Her bottom lip wobbles and she bows her head before dropping it against his chest, right below the golden 86 that rests around his neck.
He sighs as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as he possibly can and pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Baby,” he whispers into the night, and he’s met with her soft whimper. “Come inside.”
She does, and she lets him sit her down on the new-to-him love seat, but her expression remains the same, refusing to shift into anything remotely positive as she stares at her fingers and picks at her cuticles.
The moment he sits down beside her and offers her a glass of water, he tells her, “It’ll be alright, Sweetheart,” and she bursts into tears.
She shakes her head, face in her palms as she sobs, although she doesn’t turn to lean into him like she normally would. “I don’t wanna go,” she cries into her hands. “I can’t do it. I’m just–”
“Of course you can,” he offers tenderly, placing his hand on her back in hopes that it’ll draw her towards him so that he can scoop her into his lap, although she seems hesitant to even get close to him. “Chrissy, you’re the most amazing, brave person I've ever met. You’re gonna kick Pasadena’s ass.”
“But I don't want to!” she wails stubbornly, lifting her reddened face from her hands and holding them in front of her in a gesture that says she thinks this should be perfectly obvious to him. “It’s not fair!”
“What isn’t, baby?”
“That– that I–” Her lip wobbles again and she lets out another sob, and for a brief moment, he wonders if Wayne is home. He should have checked. “That I fell in love with you and now I have to just leave.”
And, well… fuck.
Eddie’s known that he’s been in love with Chrissy Cunningham since he was 14. But to hear her say that? To hear her admit, possibly by accident, that she loves him, too?
He can’t just sit here and let her suffer, let her think that they’ll hardly ever see one another once she leaves in a day and a half.
“Chrissy,” he starts, still shaken by her admission, trying to hide the smile that threatens the corners of his mouth. “Sweetheart… I love you.”
And wouldn’t you know, it just makes her cry harder.
“What if we never see each other again?” she cries, finally falling towards him and letting her head heavily land on his chest, her mascara likely staining his shirt, not that he cares. “I’m gonna leave and then we’re just gonna fizzle out. Everyone says it’s stupid to stay in a long distance relationship, what if they’re right–”
“Chrissy–”
“I can’t stand the thought of never seeing you again–”
“Chrissy,” he interrupts, perhaps a little too harshly as he takes hold of her shoulders and pulls her from his chest so that he can brush her tears from her cheeks and look seriously into her eyes. “I didn't want to tell you this until I was sure, but…”
She shakes her head, starting to cry again and staring down with the most tragic look on her face. “I can’t ask you to visit me; it’s too expensive.”
“I’m not gonna visit, Sweetheart–” She sobs again. “I’m trying to work it out so that I can move out there.”
She cuts herself off, sniffling hard and choking over a sob and looking up into his eyes. “You're… huh?”
He gives her a small, tender smile, cradling her cheek in one of his hands and brushing her hair away from her eyes with the other, unable to stop himself from leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her damp nose. “I really didn’t want to say anything unless I was completely sure, but… Corroded Coffin might be moving up in the world.”
“What do you mean?” she asks weakly, finally leaning against his palm.
“I mean, after everything that happened, we caught a lot of traction from a more… metal-type crowd, especially out west. I mean, lead guitarist gets accused of demonic possession, murder, and kidnapping, then gets shot… it’s pretty metal.” She laughs, very lightly, and it warms him from the inside out. “And now… We’re working on a deal that would possibly take us to LA. Which is, like, a mile or two outside of Pasadena.”
He watches her with curious eyes, taking in her face as she takes in his words, and just when he thinks all might be well, her lip wobbles again and he cringes internally. It’s probably too much, he tells himself. But she throws herself at him, lifting herself into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck as she lets out another sob. “Eddie,” she cries into his skin. But she can’t get any more words out around her crying.
“Sweetheart, please don’t cry. It’ll be alright, I promise. Even if this doesn’t work out, if this deal falls through, we’ll still–”
“It won’t,” she insists through her tears, stubborn as ever. “It won’t fall through. Eddie, you just made my entire life.”
Part of him, a very small part, is worried and almost wishes he hadn’t told her. What if it does fall through, and he’s put this glimmer of hope into her heart only to rip it out? But then, she lies on top of him for so long, crying through her range of emotions and thanking him for even considering moving to California, that he knows this is the right thing to do. And he’ll do anything in his power to make sure it happens.
~~~~
A week after she’s moved away, she still hasn’t heard from him about his deal. She thought for sure that this would work out, that it was written in the stars and that everything would work out between them because they’re meant to be, but now…
Don’t they deserve to be happy, after everything they’ve been through?
She hates to doubt them or the strength of their relationship and how much they love one another. After she had calmed down the night before she had to pack up and go, they reiterated to one another how they felt, admitting that they love each other, and he told her that he’s known it since he was 14. And then she cried again.
She didn’t mean to tell him like that, but she couldn’t help it. The thought of never seeing him again was far too all-consuming, and it made her so crazy and anxious that she couldn’t hold it in anymore.
She’s just put the finishing touches on her small apartment, the one that she shares with another girl her age who’s also starting at UCLA come Monday. It feels odd being here, trying to call this place her home when in reality she just had to leave it. It isn’t the home that she grew up in that she misses, either- it’s Eddie.
Eddie’s her home, and he has been for a few months now. Ever since he rescued her from that curse and dragged her back to reality, she knew she could never regard another person as highly as she does him. Even with the way their town treated him while everything was going on around them, even with the stares and whispers he received once it was all over, she knows that there’s no one in the world as good a person as Eddie Munson.
And even though she loves him more than anything or anyone, and even though she doesn’t want to feel this way, she can’t help the feelings of dread that flood through her whenever she thinks of him. Her fear that this won’t work simply won’t go away.
She’s just wiping away another tear, finding herself doing this far too often, when she hears a knock on the door. Lindsay must have forgotten her key, she thinks. She’s done it a few times since they moved in, and she’s trying not to let it get to her. Can’t she just remember?
The door swings open and she gives Lindsay a look that she hopes conveys how irritated she is by having to do this once again, but then she stills immediately.
Lindsay did forget her key, or else she could have let herself in. But behind her, with his leather jacket and his denim vest with the Dio patch and his perfect, springy curls, stands the one person who could wipe the look of disgust right off her face.
“Hi,” he greets happily from behind her new roommate, and she knows she’s being rude, but she pushes right past Lindsay to throw herself into his arms.
She cries again, like she has been for a week now, only this time it’s for another reason. The fact that he’s here with a beaming smile across his face must mean what she hopes it means, that he got the deal he was hoping for and that he’s moving to LA with his band. That he’s going to make it big, that he’ll be a successful musician just like he’s always wanted, that his dreams are coming true.
And that he’s here. His arms are around her waist, holding her off the ground and against his chest as he spins her happily, laughing with her as she hugs tightly around his neck. “You’re here,” she whimpers into his collarbone.
“I’m here, Sweetheart,” he promises. At some point, Lindsay makes her way inside and they just stay in the hall of her apartment building, not caring that they’re locked out or that any of her neighbors could walk into the hall at any moment and catch them like this. “We signed a two year contract with a recording studio. With the condition that I get to remix Somebody To Love .”
“I love you,” she promises, not even able to respond to his joke, kissing his cheek and then finding his lips with hers, locking him in a kiss that makes her heart stop. “I love you so much.”
“I told you,” he whispers against her mouth, his forehead on hers. “I’m not leaving you again. You’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me.”
She never held it against him, the way that he had to flee that night all those months ago. She never felt animosity towards him for the fact that he had to protect himself when the alternative would have been far, far worse for him. But still, he’s always held it against himself, the guilt of not staying with her when she’d asked him to in a traumatized, painful haze eating away at him little by little. His devotion to her will always make her heart soar, and the fact that he’s made this promise to her and has never once broken it since that night sets her soul on fire.
She loves him. What happened with Vecna will leave a scar on her heart and in her thoughts for the rest of her life, haunting her dreams and leaving a dull ache in her left arm from the trauma of what she shouldn’t have survived. And even though their relationship started on rocky, horrifying grounds, even though their closeness was forged from trauma and terror, she wouldn’t trade her experiences for anything as long as she’s by his side. Because if there’s one thing he’s taught her, it’s that she doesn’t want somebody to love. She just wants him.
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