Demons in my head, Angels in my eyes
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cello Player/ Visual Artist! You, Female Reader x Chrissy Cunningham
Content Warning: Mental Illness mentioned and embedded into it. Like Depression, Synaesthesia, and PTSD. Suicide Ideation also heavily referenced.
Words: 2525
Note: This is going to be pretty depressing. I even cried a few times in writing this. So be careful when you read it. You might need a box of tissues with you. Part 2 Coming soon.
Masterlist
Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics
You were more likely to die young according to Chrissy and Eddie through a conversation you accidentally overheard once. It felt like they wanted you to die before you reached the age of twenty-one. You wore a crimson red turtleneck with a cardigan draped over your shoulders. The one which you bought from a thrift store last weekend.
The scarf you put on matched your cardigan, both in colour and in style. You embroidered ‘Life’s a bitch, and then you die.’ Into the back of your cardigan in cursive. You bought it with the intent on adding small embellishments to it. You added three things to it, you haven’t found any buttons you liked to replace the old ones. Which you’re still mentally kicking yourself over.
You walked to your recital, which would happen during the lunch break. You were not looking forward to it either. The quicker this was done, the sooner you wanted to go home early for the day. Eddie and Chrissy spotted you getting ready for it, the bandages on your arms indicating a path of self-destructive tendencies.
Chrissy leaned in closer to Eddie, whispering something into his ear that made him chuckle darkly. You felt your heart sink, knowing that your secret was out. They had seen your battle with mental illness, a silent war you had been fighting since you were six. The whispers grew louder as you took the stage, the cello between your legs.
Your knees trembled as you placed the bow to the strings, the whispers transforming into a cacophony of doubt in your mind. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and let the music take over. The cello sang out a melody that spoke of your soul's deepest turmoil, the notes resonating with the pain you held inside.
The song piece you decided to play was called 'Melancholy Nocturne'. It was one of your favourite pieces. You closed your eyes while you played it, hoping to block them out from your sight and your mind's eye. The music was your only solace, when you were finished, you felt drained but oddly at peace. The sound of applause washed over you, bringing you back to reality. You walked backstage to pack and leave when someone stopped you.
It was Eddie. His face was a mix of concern and curiosity. He looked at your arms, the bandages peeking out from under your sleeves. "Hey, are you okay?" His voice was softer than you had ever heard it. It almost made you believe he genuinely cared. You shrugged it off, "Just a little accident."
He didn't press further, which was surprising. Instead, he leaned against the wall, watching you pack up your cello. "That was intense," he said, referring to your performance. "Where does that come from?" You looked up at him, unsure of how to answer. The music was your escape, a place where your thoughts and feelings could run free without judgement.
"My parents forced me to learn it. I just refuse to unlearn it." You state simply picking up your cello case to leave.
Eddie nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Look, I know we haven't exactly been... friendly. But I've noticed you've been pretty down lately. More than usual." His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the sarcastic tone he usually has.
"I'm depressed. I will never be happy." You bluntly stated. "I have experienced brief moments of bliss and nothing else."
Eddie's expression grew more serious. "You know, talking about it can help. I've seen it with my uncle."
"Munson, your uncle helps because he gives a shit about you. He cares about you, he wants you to do better, that is what he should be doing, family they are supposed to care about you." You corrected him. "My family has a long tract record of addiction, suicide and cancer. My family sucks. My family are all over the place because they're as selfish as they come."
Eddie nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of your words. "But that doesn't mean you can't find happiness elsewhere. Or that you shouldn't try to get better." He offered a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know it's tough, but sometimes you gotta fight through the bad stuff to get to the good."
"I'm broke, my truck is about to die, and I have a shit job I do on the weekend." You countered. "Classmates aren't friends, they're just people you have the same class with. I'm just here because I'm too much of a coward to kill myself." You walked to your truck to put your things into it. You tried starting your truck, which failed three times before it finally roared to life. Your parents left you home alone for the rest of the week. As your father took your mother on 'business trip' or something.
Eddie found out you were alone for the rest of the week by overhearing a conversation between teachers. He heard, "Her parents left for the week, she's all by herself again. Poor girl."
Eddie saw you push your truck to the mechanic to sell it for scap if they said it wasn't worth fixing. Eddie overheard the mechanics tell you that it would cost more than the car was worth to fix. He felt bad for you, so he offered to give you a ride home. You declined. Saying you weren't worth the effort.
The walk home was long and lonely. The grey clouds above mirrored your mood. You felt like a burden to everyone around you, a black hole that sucked the happiness out of any room you entered. You trudged along the sidewalk, your mind racing with dark thoughts.
As you approached your house, you saw Eddie's car parked outside. Your heart sank. He had insisted on giving you a ride, and you had foolishly hoped he'd forgotten about it. You quickened your pace, trying to slip inside before he noticed you. But as you reached the door, he stepped out of the car, blocking your path.
You attempted to go inside your house through the basement which is your bedroom and main living space. It was cluttered with art supplies and band posters. You had painted the walls a deep shade of purple to match the mood of your music. The only source of light was a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting a dim glow over everything.
You walked to your fridge to have your pot brownie and have a nap afterwards. You didn't expect Eddie to follow you inside. You turned around to face him, a mix of annoyance and confusion in your eyes. "What do you want?" You snapped.
Eddie took a step back, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "I just wanted to make sure you got home okay." His eyes swept over the cluttered room, taking in the sight of your personal sanctuary. "This is… intense."
"Just like my internal need to off myself." you muttered mostly to yourself than him as you ate your pot brownie.
Eddie noticed the pot brownie that was almost gone. He frowned, his concern growing. "You know, that's not a healthy way to cope," he said, his voice gentle.
"Who say I was coping?" You snorted as you stored the rest in your fridge and went to brush your teeth before a nap.
Eddie followed you into the bathroom, his eyes widening at the sight of your arms. The bandages were off, revealing a tapestry of scars, some fresh and others faded with time. "You need help," he said firmly. "This isn't just sadness. This is a cry for help."
"This is me coping." You corrected.
Eddie looked at you with a mix of sadness and anger. "No, this is you punishing yourself." He reached out to grab your arm gently, turning it so he could see the full extent of the damage. Which was far more than he assumed. Your wrists sliced up to hell and back, they looked raw and painful. "This isn't living." Some of the more fresher ones were still red and swollen, it looked like you had done it the night before.
You cleaned your arms, when you attempted to bandage them yourself when Eddie decided to take over. He was surprisingly gentle. "You can't keep doing this to yourself." He murmured, his eyes focused on his task. "You're worth so much more than what you give yourself credit for."
You didn't answer, you didn't say anything in response to it, you were tired of hearing it over and over again. You felt like screaming, but you knew it was futile. You knew that Eddie meant well, but his words felt hollow. They always did. You sat down on your bed, the springs creaking under your weight. The mattress had seen better days, much like everything else in the house.
After he was done, you attempted to nap, thought Eddie had other plans. He didn't let you nap. He sat on the edge of your bed, his eyes never leaving your face. "Why don't you come to the party tonight?" He asked, his voice hopeful. "It'll be a good distraction."
"I don't go to parties. I suck the fun out of everything." you told him.
"Well, maybe it's time to change that," Eddie said, his voice firm but not unkind. "You can't just sit here and wallow in your own misery forever."
"I've been getting paid well for it so far." You pointed out that your father gives you an allowance of a hundred dollars every week in addition to your job's wage. You attempted to get ready to eat at the diner for dinner alone as 'treat' for yourself. You got changed into a long sleeved dress to go eat at the diner. She thought it would have looked weird enough for him to leave without her.
You walked out of the bathroom, your arms now bandaged again. Eddie's eyes searched yours for any sign of hope or agreement, but all he found was a deep sadness. You shrugged, "I don't know how to do anything else."
He stood up, his hands resting on his hips. "Look, I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but you've gotta try. For yourself." He paused, then added, "And maybe for the people who care about you."
"The zero out of zero people." You got your wallet to walk to the diner alone.
Eddie sighed, understanding the weight of your words. "Okay, dinner at the diner it is." He followed you out of the house, his boots echoing on the pavement as you walked side by side. The air was cool, a hint of rain in the air. The diner's neon sign flickered in the growing twilight, casting an eerie glow on the empty street.
You paid for his food as well. You didn't take no for an answer. But to Eddie it was more than just food. It was a silent cry for help, a gesture of friendship in a sea of apathy. You sat across from each other in a booth, the smell of greasy food and burnt coffee filling the air. The jukebox played a sad tune that seemed to resonate with the mood.
"Why do you care?" You finally asked, breaking the silence. "You've never talked to me before, except for that one time when you guys talked about how likely it was for me to die young."
Eddie looked down at his plate, pushing his fries around with his fork. "I don't know. Maybe I saw a bit of myself in you." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've had my own battles, you know."
"Take your girlfriend Chrissy to that party. I'll walk home." You quickly finished your food to go home.
Eddie reached out and placed his hand over yours, stopping you from moving. "Hey, don't rush off. I'm not taking you home just yet." His grip was firm but not overpowering.
"I'm certain you don't have to 'take me' anywhere." You replied.
Eddie looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a surprising intensity. "I know it's not my place, but I do care. And I want to help. Maybe the party isn't your scene, but just give it a shot. What do you have to lose?"
"Dignity, sense of self and the fact that people might stab me." You were blunt. "The stabbing part has happened before though."
Eddie looked surprised, "What do you mean?"
"Yeah. I got embarressed at an attempt to go to a party. A chick got upset and stabbed me with a butterknife." you explained.
Eddie's eyes widened in shock. "Jesus, that's messed up."
"It was then. Not so much now. I can safely say that I got stabbed by a butterknife." you snorted eating your pumpkin pie.
You attempted to shoo him off to go with Chrissy to the party while you went to practice your cello.
Eddie nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, no party. But promise me you won't be alone all night. If you need anything, I'll be there." He slid a piece of paper with his number across the table. "Call me, no matter what." Eddie then remembered she would be alone in the house.
You took the paper without looking at it, stuffing it into your pocket. "Fine." You stood up, ready to leave. Heading home alone to an empty house on the hill.
Eddie watched you go, a look of concern etched on his face. He knew you weren't okay, but he also knew pushing too hard wouldn't help. He followed you from a distance, making sure you got home safe. Once he saw you go inside, he drove away, feeling a little helpless.
The house was eerily quiet when you entered. You felt the weight of the silence pressing down on you as you made your way to the basement. You pulled out your cello and began to play, letting the music fill the empty space. As the notes danced in the air, you couldn't help but feel a little less alone.
You were woken up at 4am by your door being thrown open. Your father stumbling into your room with your mother in tow. "Get dressed, we're leaving." He slurred. You looked at the clock, it was 4 AM, you had work at 6 AM. "Where are we going?"
"Back to your mother's hometown. We need to sort some shit out with her inheritance. It's going to be a week or two. Make sure to tell your boss."
"I got things to do here still. Like school." You reminded him.
"You can miss a week of school. You're already a failure anyway." Your mother spat, her voice slurred from too much alcohol.
"Then you can do it yourself. I'll stay here and take care of the house." you stated.
Your father's eyes narrowed. "You can't stay here alone. What if something happens?"
"I've been home alone before." You reminded him.
He sighed heavily, the smell of alcohol filling the room. "Fine. But don't you dare do anything stupid while we're gone."
