047

The light in Eddie’s bedroom is already too bright when you blink your eyes open.

Something feels off. Too warm, too still.

You shift, tangled up in sheets and a very naked Eddie, his arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your neck. He smells like sleep and cigarettes, his bare chest pressing against your back. You almost hum in contentment before your eyes drift to the alarm clock.

7:35 AM.

Your stomach drops.

First period starts in 25 minutes.

"Shit!" You jolt upright, almost knocking Eddie’s arm off you. Dizzy from the sudden movement, your vision blurs for a second, but the panic settles in fast, "Eddie, wake up! We overslept!"

Eddie just groans, barely moving, his face still smushed into the pillow, "Mmh. Five more minutes, babe".

"No, no, we have the test! The test, Eddie! Get up!", you shove at his shoulder, your voice full of pure, unfiltered stress as you scramble out of bed, pulling the sheets off of your bodies.

He grumbles something incoherent, but when your words sink in, his head shoots up, hair a tangled mess, eyes still hazy with sleep, "What?'

"Stand up! We have 20 minutes to get there".

It’s like someone hit him with a jolt of electricity as he finally realizes what's going on. "Ugh, fuck", groans as he scrambles up, "Why the hell didn’t my alarm go off?"

You don’t have time to answer. Both of you are in a frenzy, tripping over the clothes scattered from last night. You barely remember falling asleep, just the way Eddie had pulled you close, bodies sticky and exhausted, legs tangled together as you drifted off in each other's arms. You’re yanking on yesterday’s jeans, hopping on one leg as you shove your foot in, while Eddie is already back in his boxers, wrestling his shirt over his head, hair an absolute wreck.

The next few minutes are pure chaos.

You’re both stumbling around his room, pulling on clothes like your lives depend on it, grabbing your books and school bags. "Oh god, we're gonna be late", you groan, sliding into your boots, "We have to pass this test, Eddie".

He's already in the bathroom, running a hand through his hair, rubbing some deodorant under his arms before throwing it to you, hectically opening his mouth wash and taking a sip. You fumble with the bottle, taking a sip yourself to at least feel a little fresh.

No time to brush your teeth. No time for breakfast. No time for anything.

You barely manage to comb your hands through your hair before you’re both racing out of the trailer, the cool morning air hitting your still-overheated skin. Eddie’s van is parked haphazardly in the driveway, and you yank the passenger door open and hop in. Eddie follows, sliding into the driver’s seat, still half-asleep as he jams the keys into the ignition.

The engine roars to life, and his foot hits the gas like he’s in the goddamn Indy 500. The van lurches forward, and you grab onto the dashboard for dear life. "Jesus, Eddie!"

He grins, eyes sharp now, fully awake, "Relax, sweetheart. I got this".

"You're breaking so many traffic rules", you huff, pressing your back against the seat.

"Pfft. You’re the one who told me to hurry", he shifts gears, cutting a sharp turn that has you grabbing his thigh for balance. He smirks down at your hand, "Careful, babe. Keep that up, and I’ll make us even later".

You roll your eyes but don’t move your hand just yet. You lean over the center console, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, "Good morning, by the way".

Eddie glances at you, that cocky little smile of his softening just a bit, "Morning, baby".

10 minutes later, like an absolute menace, he swings into the school parking lot, slamming on the brakes with the grace of a lunatic. The van jerks to a stop, and you barely have time to process before Eddie’s already throwing the door open. "Go, go, go!", he calls, and you both bolt toward the school entrance, dodging students who are definitely judging your chaotic arrival.

Just as you’re about to reach the classroom, the teacher moves to shut the door. You practically throw yourself inside, breathless, with Eddie right on your heels.

The whole class turns to stare. Eddie, the smug bastard, is grinning as he follows in behind you. You make a beeline for the last two open seats, trying to ignore the stares as you walk past desks. Just as you turn to take your seat, you feel the quick, playful slap to your ass as Eddie passes you by. "Good luck, baby", he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder before plopping into his seat beside you.

Your teacher shoots you both a look but says nothing as she hands out the papers, already launching into instructions for the test.

You barely hear her, too focused on catching your breath. Eddie settles in beside you, tapping his pencil on his desk. You risk a glance at him, pulling out your pen as well.

Two nights of studying. Late nights with books open in front of you, both exhausted, bribing each other to keep going with kisses and whispered promises of what would come after the test, what would happen if you pass it. Cramming between his band rehearsal, his DnD campaign, your own work, hell, even skipping your own band practice to avoid Lauren. You inhale, steeling yourself as the test paper lands on your desk. Eddie nudges your knee. You look up, meeting his warm, mischievous gaze. You got this, his eyes seems to say.

Then, he winks at you.

And you can't help but smirk and blush lightly, before finally flipping your test.

Let’s do this.

You grip your pen tighter, staring at the next question in front of you like it personally wronged you. The test's been going okay, you knew some answers, flipped some questions to come back at later, but all in all it's... alright, actually.

"Explain the key differences between Keynesian and classical economic theories, and provide an example of how each might be applied in government policy."

You know this.

You and Eddie went over this at least five times, him sprawled out on his bed while bribing you with kisses every time you repeated the correct answer.

But now?

Your brain is full of nothing.

Just a static, panicked blur.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair, rubbing at your temples.

Around you, the classroom is quiet, except for the occasional scribbling of pens against paper. A few students, the real smart ones, are already getting up to hand in their tests, looking disgustingly confident as they stroll past.

You steal a glance at Eddie. He’s hunched over his test, his messy curls falling in his face, pencil gripped in his hand so tightly you’re sure it's going to snap. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, jaw clenched, his other hand tapping anxiously against his thigh. You can feel his frustration radiating off him. As if he senses you looking, his eyes flick up to yours.

For a second, he just stares, and then, there it is. That tiny, exhausted but cocky smirk. Like, yeah, this fucking sucks, but at least we’re in it together, sweetheart. Then, under the desk, his foot nudges yours. Just the smallest, softest tap. Something about it calms you down instantly.

You exhale slowly, closing your eyes for a second, and then, it clicks.

Keynesian economics supports government intervention to stabilize the economy during recessions. Classical economics believes in free markets and minimal government interference. Boom. Got it.

Your hand flies across the paper, scribbling out the answer as fast as you can.

Next question.

And the next.

You push through, blocking everything else out.

The pressure, the stress, the ticking clock at the front of the room.

All you focus on is the damn test.

Beside you, Eddie groans under his breath, clearly still struggling. You don’t dare look at him again, afraid you’ll break focus, but you feel him fighting through it.

Time’s running out.

The teacher is pacing now, watching the clock.

Your fingers are cramping, Eddie is grumbling beside you, but somehow, somehow, you both manage to fill out the last answer, just as the teacher calls, "Time's up!"

You drop your pen, exhaling sharply.

Eddie slumps back in his chair, dragging a hand through his hair, looking just as wrecked as you feel.

Then, as the teacher starts collecting the papers, he leans over slightly, voice low and raspy from exhaustion, "You better have passed, baby. I am not doing this shit again."

You smirk, still catching your breath, nudging his foot back under the desk, "You and me both, Munson."

The classroom empties out in a blur of tired groans and hushed conversations, students shuffling toward their next period or sneaking in a break before next class drags them into another hour of suffering.

You and Eddie don’t even need to exchange words. You both know exactly where you’re going.

He's still grumbling under his breath as the two of you step outside, slipping around the back of the school to your usual smoke spot near the brick wall, his long fingers fumbling with the wrapper of a chocolate bar he pulled from the vending machine on the way, sighing as he finally opens it and munching on it with all the enthusiasm of a man twice his age.

You snort, lighting your cigarette, leaning at the brick wall, "Chocolate for breakfast? Very nutritious".

Eddie rolls his eyes, mouth full, "Listen, sweetheart, after the morning we just had, I deserve this".

You hum, exhaling a slow stream of smoke.

He looks at you, still chewing, adding, "And, please. As if you don’t want some".

You lift your chin slightly, feigning disinterest, "I don’t".

He stops mid-bite, raising a single, unimpressed brow, staring at you like he can see the lie seeping out of your pores. You hold his gaze for a second longer before he silently breaks off a piece and hands it to you without a word. You take it, popping it into your mouth, pretending not to notice the way he’s still watching you, completely unamused. "Didn’t know having a girlfriend meant sharing everything", he mutters, taking another bite of his chocolate, "Even my nutritious, well-balanced breakfast".

You just blow him a cheeky kiss, seeing how the corner of his lips twitches as he sighs dramatically and eventually hands you the last bite. "Thanks, baby", you chirp, munching and watching how he stretches with a loud yawn, cigarette dangling from his fingers, his messy curls sticking out in every possible direction.

You smirk, "Jesus, Munson, your hair looks like it lost a fight with a tornado".

He flips you off, "Yeah? Well, your hair looks like..." He pauses, narrowing his eyes as he studies you, "Actually, nah. You look hot. Annoyingly hot".

You grin, "Nice save".

"Always".

And then he steps in, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close as he leans down and finally kisses you properly. Slow, warm, needy. You sigh against his lips, melting into him, letting the taste of chocolate and cigarettes mix between you.When he pulls back, his brown eyes flick over your face, almost like he’s trying to commit it to memory.

"Wha-", you start, smirking softly but he shuts you up with another kiss. It’s soft at first, lazy, like he’s just now remembering he didn’t get a proper one this morning.

"Didn’t even get to appreciate how naked you were this morning", he murmurs against your mouth, thumb stroking the dip of your waist.

You smirk, pulling back just enough to look at him, "Tragic".

"Yeah", he nods solemnly, "Might have to make up for it later".

You roll your eyes, nudging his nose with yours before leaning to your cigarette and taking another puff. "So. How do you think you did on the test?"

Eddie groans dramatically, leaning his head back in his neck, "Nope. We’re not doing that. I am taking five minutes of peaceful, sexy girlfriend time before math ruins my will to live".

You pout at him, letting out a small, exaggerated sigh, "Fine. But only because you look so pitiful".

He grins, taking his last drag and flicking his cigarette away before shifting his weight toward you again. His hands find their way into the back pockets of your jeans, palms warm and shamelessly squeezing your ass. You squeal softly, laughing against his lips as he steals another kiss. "You’re so needy today", you tease, enjoying the way his grip tightens.

"Yeah? And?", he smirks, "I can’t wait to go back to bed with you".

A beat.

"Undressed, of course".

"Of course", you chuckle, swatting his arm before tucking your face against his shoulder. His bruises are nearly gone now, his face looking more like himself again. You brush your thumb along his cheek, tilting his chin slightly so you can get a better look. "Missed your pretty-boy face", you murmur, flicking your cigarette butt away and gently touching his jaw.

Eddie grins crooked, "Off the meds, too. Rib pain’s manageable now. Which means I’m so ready to get absolutely hammered for your birthday this weekend".

You groan, rolling your eyes, "Eddie-"

"Nope", he shakes his head, voice firm but playful, "Not up for debate. You’re my girl, and I’m taking very good care of you". His lips brush your jaw, then lower, pressing teasing little kisses down your neck. "A cake", he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, "Presents. Your favorite food".

You hum, pretending not to be affected, "Mm. Sounds kinda nice".

His voice drops, raspy and full of trouble as he softly sucks your skin between his lips, "So much sex. So many orgasms".

You do shiver this time.

Eddie grins, nipping at you, "My naked body, and every filthy little fantasy in that pretty head of yours".

You snort, smacking his shoulder again, though your stomach is definitely twisting in ways it shouldn’t while standing outside of school.

He just smirks, opening his mouth to say something else, but before he can, the bell rings. He sighs dramatically, finally pulling his hands from your back pockets.

But when he does, something else comes with it.

A small, folded note.

He frowns, flipping it in his fingers before handing it to you, "What’s this?"

The second you see it, your whole body goes cold. You forgot about that.

Billy’s note. The one he left in your locker after you humiliated him in front of the whole school. You found it, just slid it into your jeans and forgot about it. Fuck.

You must hesitate a second too long, because Eddie catches the way your face shifts, the way your fingers hesitate before you take it from his hand, holding it like it's poisonous. He narrows his eyes, asking again. "Babe. What is that?"

Your heart stammers. You force a laugh, tucking it into your pocket, "Nothing. Just some dumb-"

Eddie’s expression darkens, "Bullshit".

Your stomach tightens. He knows you’re lying. His voice is low, edged with something rougher now, and you hate it. Hate how the soft, teasing warmth between you has been replaced by something colder, sharper. You don’t want to do this. Not now. Not here. You shake your head, forcing a smirk. "Seriously, it’s nothing. Can we just go inside? Sit through classes like normal people?"

Eddie doesn’t budge. He tilts his head slightly, eyes scanning yours, searching. His jaw clenches, fingers flexing at his sides before he exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "Sam", he says, softer this time, but not any less firm, "You’re a terrible liar".

You cross your arms, looking away, "Eddie, please".

His eyes darken, "Please what?"

"Just drop it", you murmur, shifting on your feet. You feel his stare burning into you, feel the way his whole body tenses at your words.

Billy hadn’t done anything, not really. Just the note. Just the stares. Just an unspoken reminder that this wasn’t over. But you wanted it to be. Needed it to be. And if Eddie found out? He’d lose it. Again.

You reach for his hand, squeezing it, hoping it’s enough to make him move on, but his fingers remain stiff against yours. "Baby".

He exhales through his nose, still watching you. Waiting. Then, finally... "Show me".

You close your eyes for a second, dread pooling in your stomach, "It's noth--

"I said, show me".

You hesitate, gripping his hand tighter as if that will make him let this go.

But Eddie isn’t the kind of guy to back down, especially not when it comes to you. His jaw is locked, his shoulders tense, eyes pinned to yours with that sharp, unwavering intensity.

There’s no getting out of this.

Slowly, you reach behind you, fingers brushing over the folded piece of paper in your back pocket. It feels heavier than it should, like it’s made of lead instead of cheap notebook paper. You don’t look at him as you pull it out and hold it between you, like handing over evidence in a trial.

Eddie doesn’t take it at first. His gaze flicks from you to the note, then back again. Suspicion deepens the crease between his brows as he finally plucks it from your fingers. You swallow, shifting uncomfortably as he unfolds it. You don’t need to see his face to know what’s coming, you hear it.

The way his breath hitches slightly, how it goes eerily still right after.

The second of complete silence that follows.

You better watch out. We’re not done yet.You belong to me. And I always get what I want.

He stares at the note like it personally offended him, his whole body tensing up as his fingers crush the paper in his grip. His breathing is slow, controlled, but too controlled. Like he’s holding back from ripping something apart. "What the fuck is this?", his voice is low, rough, the kind of tone that sets off alarm bells in your head.

You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably, "Eds, I-"

"When?" He doesn’t even look at you, still glaring at the note.

You swallow, "Monday".

That gets his attention. His head snaps up so fast you take a half-step back, "Monday?"

You nod.

His face twists into something dark, eyes narrowing, "You’ve had this for four fucking days and didn’t think to mention it?"

You exhale sharply, already feeling the heat rising in your chest, "Because I knew you’d lose your shit just like this".

He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, "Oh, bullshit".

"It’s not bullshit, Eddie!" You throw your hands up, frustration bubbling to the surface, "I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to deal with this". You gesture to his whole furious stance, his clenched jaw, his white-knuckle grip on the crumpled paper. "Billy hasn’t done anything besides leave a creepy note and stare at me like an asshole. That’s it."

Eddie’s face darkens, "That’s it?" He shakes his head, scoffing, "Jesus fucking Christ, do you even hear yourself?"

You groan, shoving a hand through your hair.

"No, fuck that!" His voice rises, eyes blazing as he takes a step closer, invading your space, "You lied to me!"

"I did not lie", you snap.

He lets out another dry laugh, pointing a finger at you, "Omission is lying, babe. And you knew I’d be pissed, so you kept it from me. That’s the same fucking thing".

You glare at him, "Oh, so sorry for not wanting to start another war in the middle of school. For not wanting you to get fucking hurt again".

His nostrils flare. "You think that’s what this is about? That I just wanna go throw hands for the fucking fun of it?"

You cross your arms tighter, refusing to back down, "I think you’re looking for any excuse to go after him again, yeah".

His jaw clenches, hands flexing at his sides, "He thinks he fucking owns you". His voice is quieter now, but somehow that makes it worse. More dangerous.

"And if you go after him, he wins", you argue.

Eddie just shakes his head, lips pressed into a hard line, "That’s not how this works".

You scoff, "Oh? Enlighten me then, Eddie".

His fingers twitch, "You don’t get it--"

"I do get it!", you step closer, voice rising now, matching his, "I get that you’re pissed. I get that you wanna protect me. But you don’t get to decide how I handle this".

His eyes flash, "Handle this? You’re not fucking handling anything! You’re just ignoring it and hoping it goes away!"

"Because I want it to go away!", you shout, throwing your hands up again, "I just wanna have a normal fucking day without worrying about you getting into another fight!"

He laughs dryly, shaking his head, "Yeah? And what happens when he does something? Huh? When he finally decides to stop with the fucking notes and stares and actually acts on his bullshit?"

You falter for half a second. And Eddie catches it. His face twists into something almost pained, "Jesus. You know he will".

You shake your head, "I don’t know that".

"Yeah?" He steps forward again, so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him, "Then tell me this, sweetheart - do you feel safe?"

You freeze.

His eyes are locked onto yours, sharp and searching. The way he asks it, soft, but firm, makes your stomach twist.

You could lie. You could tell him yes, that you’re fine, that Billy’s just an asshole playing mind games and it’s nothing.

But Eddie would see right through it.

So you stay silent.

And that silence is everything.

He exhales through his nose, looking away for a second before shaking his head, "Yeah. That’s what I fucking thought".

You swallow hard, blinking against the sudden sting behind your eyes.

You hate this. You hate fighting with him.

Eddie rubs a hand down his face, exhaling hard before looking back at you. His voice is lower now, but still tight, "I just, fuck, I can’t sit back and do nothing. I won’t".

You bite your lip, heart pounding, "I don’t want you to get hurt".

He lets out a humorless laugh, "Little late for that, babe".

You frown.

The bell rings, sharp and grating, snapping you both out of it.

He shakes his head, jaw still tight as he exhales sharply through his nose. He looks at you for a long moment before shoving the crumpled note into your hand. "We’re not done", he mutters before turning and storming off toward the school.

You stand there for a second, watching him go, chest tight and stomach twisted in knots. You’re on the edge of crying as you realize what happened and rush after him, your voice breaking as you call out, "Eddie, come back! Stop being fucking mad at me!"

But he just shakes his head, his shoulders stiff, not even looking back.

And then, he leaves. And that breaks you.

You stand there for a moment, frozen in place, watching his back disappear into the school. Your throat tightens, your chest aching with something raw and awful. You wipe at your eyes, dragging your sleeve across your face as a few tears slip free.

Not here. Not now.

You sniffle, taking a deep breath, trying to push it all down before finally heading to class.

You’re a little late, but when your teacher sees your watery eyes, he doesn’t say a word. Just gives you a look and moves on.

You’re grateful for that.

But it doesn’t make anything better.

Eddie’s in another class, and the seat next to you feels too empty.

You sit through the period without hearing a single word, your thoughts too tangled, too heavy.

By the time lunch rolls around, you feel awful. It wasn’t even a huge fight. But Eddie has never walked away from you before. Not in the middle of it.

And that’s what hurts the most.

Robin’s on a field trip with her history class, which means you don’t even have her to sit with. You throw your bag into your locker, grabbing some cash before heading to the vending machine. You pull out a Coke, cracking it open as you think about where to go. Eddie’s probably at the cafeteria, and you really don’t want to spend lunch exchanging pissed-off glares across the room.

So instead, you slip outside, shrugging on your jacket as the cool air hits your face. You make your way to the smokers’ corner, still running on autopilot, still replaying everything over and over.

He was right. But so were you.

You’re mad at him for being so stubborn.

But you also want to apologize.

You want to punch him for always acting like he has to fix everything himself.

But you also want to kiss him for wanting to protect you.

You sigh, pulling a cigarette from your pocket and lighting it with shaky fingers. You take a deep drag, letting the smoke settle in your lungs, mixing with the dull ache in your chest.

A few feet away, a small group of smokers is talking about you. Just like people have been doing all week. Ever since you wrecked Billy in front of half the school.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your soda, not even bothering to listen.You just stand there, leaned to the wall, smoking, staring at the pavement, thinking about Eddie.

About Billy. About how you’re still scared.

Three cigarettes in, you hear a familiar laugh somewhere in the distance.

You frown, lift your gaze, scanning the busy schoolyard in the distance.

It's him, shrugging on his leather jacket, a cigarette behind his ear.

In company.

Your stomach twists as you exhale smoke slowly, watching as Eddie tugs on his jacket, completely at ease, talking to Chrissy. Cunningham. Or whatever her fucking name is. She’s small, blonde, and stupidly pretty - the type of girl people always seem to gravitate toward.

You recognize her instantly.

Cheerleading Captain. Queen of Hawkins High. The kind of girl that belongs in a yearbook under Most Likely to Marry Her High School Sweetheart. And she was, at least, that’s what everyone thought. But just as your eyes lock onto her, you catch the murmurs from the smokers behind you.

"Chrissy and Jason are on a break or something…"

"…Yeah, heard they’ve been fighting for weeks".

You flick your ashes off, watching her as she tosses her hair back, all shiny and perfect, and smiles up at Eddie with wide, adoring eyes. Then, she swats at his chest at something he said, playful, teasing.

And Eddie fucking laughs. Not his usual, mocking kind of laugh. Not the sharp-edged one he uses when people like her talk to him.

No, this is different.

Light, easy. Amused.

Then he says something else, and she laughs again.

And then he smirks. That stupid, lazy, charming smirk that makes your blood run hot.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re gripping your soda can until it dents under your fingers.

Eddie’s smile lingers as Chrissy giggles again, her fingers barely brushing his forearm in a way that makes your stomach fucking burn.

Your hand tightens into a fist.

So that’s how it is? He walks away from you, leaves you standing there on the edge of crying, and then goes off to have the time of his life? Just laughing it up with her while you’ve been stewing in guilt and anger, fighting to hold yourself together?

You swallow the lump in your throat, but the hurt quickly morphs into something sharper. Something hotter.

Because fuck him.

He doesn’t even look upset.

Did your fight mean nothing to him? Because he sure as hell seems fine now. Fine enough to chat up that fucking cunt, making her smile like she’s never had a bad day in her life.

Your eyes narrow as you watch him move.

The way he leans slightly toward her when she speaks. The way his smirk lingers just a second too long. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear and bites her lip before looking up at him again, hanging onto his every word.

It looks flirty.

Maybe it’s not.

Maybe it’s nothing.

But maybe it fucking is.

You’re fuming.

And just as you take another slow drag of your cigarette, as the anger builds and builds -

Eddie finally turns.

He reaches for the cigarette behind his ear, his gaze lifting absently toward the smokers' corner as he moves to light it.

That's when he sees you.

The moment his eyes land on yours, his movements still.

The lighter flicks but doesn’t catch.

His smirk fades.

Because your face says everything.

The disappointment. The anger. The hurt.

And he put it there.

You see the exact moment it clicks for him.His jaw tenses, his fingers clench around the cigarette.

You don’t move. You just keep staring, keep holding his gaze with cold, quiet fury.

Chrissy says something to him, still smiling, still oblivious to the way his entire demeanor just shifted. But Eddie barely hears her. His eyes stay locked on you, on the way you lean against the brick wall, smoke curling around your fingers, your expression carved from fucking stone.

He knows. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.And for once, he doesn’t have a joke. Doesn’t have a cocky remark. He swallows, shifting his weight, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to shake something loose.

Then, finally, he moves. He mumbles something to Chrissy, a distracted yeah, later before turning and heading toward you. Each step is hesitant, careful, like he’s testing the ground before he puts his full weight on it. Like he knows he’s walking into a storm.

And he fucking is.

You don’t look away. You don’t even blink.

Eddie stops a few feet in front of you, cigarette still unlit in his fingers. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Runs a hand over his face. He hesitates before finally muttering, "Babe". 

Your lips curl, "Don’t."

His brows furrow, "Come on".

"No." You push off the wall, tossing your cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with your boot, "You don't get to do that, Eddie. You don’t get to storm off, leave me fucking behind when I asked you to stay, and then..."You gesture vaguely behind him, voice sharpening, "What the fuck was that?"

He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck, "It wasn’t anything. We were just talking."

You let out a short, humorless laugh, "Right. Talking".

"We were," Eddie insists, sounding more defensive now, "Jesus, what, I’m not allowed to have a conversation anymore just because I have a fucking girlfriend now?"

Your hands curl into fists, "That wasn’t just a conversation, and you fucking know it".

"Oh, so now you can read my fucking mind?" His tone is clipped, low, but there’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes, betraying him. "Maybe you should teach me how to do that, since you sure as hell can’t tell me the truth when it matters."

Your stomach twists.

Because fuck him. Fuck him for throwing that back in your face when you already feel like shit about it. Your voice shakes when you say, "That’s not fair".

"Isn’t it?" He lets out a sharp breath, shifting his weight, "Jesus, babe, what do you want me to say? That I fucked up? Fine, I fucked up. I don't even know what your fucking problem is, but I guess I fucked up". He drags a hand through his hair. "But you don’t get to stand there acting like you’re the only one who’s allowed to be mad."

Your jaw tightens, "I’m mad because you fucking left me, Eddie! You walked away! And now you're all fucking flirty and touchy with that blonde little cunt, apparently unbothered as fucking hell that we had a fight only hours ago, while I was on the edge of fucking crying through my whole class".

Eddie exhales sharply, his grip tightening around the cigarette in his fingers. "Jesus Christ," he mutters, raking a hand through his hair, "You're being fucking overdramatic." 

Your breath catches. You stare at him, disbelief bleeding into fury. "Overdramatic?" you repeat, voice sharp, "Are you fucking serious right now?" 

He groans, shifting on his feet. "I didn’t do anything", he snaps, eyes flicking around the courtyard like he’s suddenly very aware of where you are, who might be watching, "I was just talking. About work.  You act like I, like we--" He exhales again, frustration etched into his features. "You usually get all jealous and cute, but this? Come on, babe."

Your hands shake as you cross your arms over your chest. "Cute," you spit, "You think this is fucking cute?" 

He steps forward suddenly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the side of the building, away from prying eyes.

You yank against his grip, resisting. "What?" you snap, "Don’t want your little admirer seeing how your girlfriend reacts to her biting her lip and giggling at all your stupid jokes?" You wrench your arm free. "Be fucking happy I didn’t come over, Eddie." 

His jaw tightens, his own anger flickering to the surface. "Oh my fucking God, you’re impossible," he mutters. "You want to cause a fucking scene? Start yelling in the middle of the schoolyard? Yeah, that’d be real fucking mature." 

Your nails dig into your palms. "Oh, but sitting there and letting her fucking eye-fuck you, that’s fine? Flirting with her like we didn’t just have a fight?" 

Eddie groans again, shaking his head. "I wasn’t fucking flirting with her. We just talked, Sam. And besides," he points at you, voice rising, "like you’re one to talk. You didn’t even tell me that Billy fucking threatened you, but now I’m the bad guy because I had a conversation?" 

Your stomach twists with anger, with guilt, with everything you don’t want to feel right now. "That’s different," you snap, "I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get involved, because I knew you’d do something stupid!" 

"Oh, so now I’m fucking stupid because I wanna protect you, huh?", his voice is sharp, cutting. 

"That’s not what I fucking meant, and you know it!" you shout back. 

"Well, maybe if you actually talked to me instead of shutting me out, we wouldn’t be in this situation," Eddie retorts, stepping closer, "Maybe if you actually told me things, I wouldn’t have fucking walked away." 

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head, "Oh, right. Because walking away was totally the mature, rational way to handle things." 

Eddie throws his arms up. "The bell rang. I needed to fucking cool off".

"As if you give a flying fuck about a starting class. And instead of looking for me at lunch to talk about it, to actually fucking fix things, you decided to go play Mr. Charming with some blonde little princess?" Your voice wavers at the edges, anger spilling into something raw, something vulnerable. 

Eddie clenches his jaw, frustration warring with something else in his eyes. "It wasn’t like that," he mutters, but there’s a flicker of guilt there, just enough to make your stomach turn. 

You scoff, shaking your head, "You don’t even fucking get it." 

His brows furrow, his voice lowering, rough around the edges, "Then make me get it, babe".

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but everything, the fight, his indifference, the way he doesn’t even seem to see why you’re upset, it’s all pressing down on you, hot and suffocating. Your throat is tight, your chest feels like it’s caving in, and then...

"Eddie?"

Your entire body goes rigid. You already fucking know who it is before you even turn your head.

Eddie tenses, too, and he curses under his breath. "Fuck." He exhales sharply, then mutters lowly. "Babe, this is just fucking work. We were talking about the shit I sold her, that’s it. Nothing happened". 

You don’t care. You don’t fucking care. Because it doesn’t matter if they were talking about drugs, not when she’s standing there looking at him like that, all wide eyes and sugar-sweet smiles, like she’s so fucking innocent in all of this.

Like she isn’t making your blood fucking boil.

"Eddie?" Chrissy calls again, softer this time, tilting her head.

And you turn. Slowly. Your glare is cold, cutting, your whole body thrumming with barely contained rage as you meet her gaze. Your voice is sharp, clipped, "He’s busy."

Her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting you to actually acknowledge her, let alone shut her down. "Oh," she says, voice small, blinking between the two of you. She looks so fucking innocent. Like she wasn’t just standing there, watching you argue, like she wasn’t just waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in.

And you hate her for it. Hate her for the way she makes you look- like the overbearing, jealous girlfriend, when she’s the one pushing boundaries. When she’s the one testing limits, seeing how far she can go before you break.

Eddie runs a hand over his face, letting out a tired sigh. "Chrissy, I’ll find you later, okay? Just- just take one, like I said."

She hesitates, shifting on her feet, then looks up at him. "Are you sure?" she asks, feigning concern, like she just wants to make sure she’s got it right. But the way she lingers, the way her gaze flicks between the two of you, it’s deliberate.

You’re right there. Standing directly in front of Eddie, between them, and yet she’s acting like you aren’t. Like you aren’t losing every ounce of patience you have left. And then she fucking tries to get him to leave you behind again.

Chrissy steps in just slightly, tilting her head up at him. "Maybe you should just come with me real quick, you know? Just to be sure?"

That’s it. That’s your breaking point.

You snap.

Your patience? Gone. Your filter? Fucking gone.

"Are you fucking deaf?" You spit, stepping forward. "Take fucking one, or fucking don’t if you’re scared, but just leave us the fuck alone, okay?"

Chrissy’s eyes widen slightly, but she barely reacts otherwise, just blinks up at you like some delicate little doll, like she doesn’t understand why you’re pissed, why she shouldn’t be standing there with her big, pleading eyes and breathy fucking voice.

Eddie groans, already rubbing his temples, "Jesus, babe".

And then Chrissy tilts her blonde little head, all soft confusion, like she’s in some sweet little fairytale world where girls like her never have to deal with real fucking consequences. "What’s the problem?" she asks, voice laced with sugar, "Why are you being so rude?" She turns to Eddie now, lower lip actually trembling, playing it up like she’s the victim here. "Eddie, what’s going on?"

Your voice is low, sharp as a blade. "Don’t fucking talk to him." You step closer, crowding her space, watching how her eyes flick between you and Eddie, how she takes a tiny, calculated step back, like she wants to look like the smaller, helpless one here. "Christina, or whatever the fuck your name is, he’s busy. Piss off."

She gasps, like you just slapped her, and Eddie groans again, stepping between the two of you, "Alright, that’s enough, Sam--"

But she just won’t fucking quit. Her brows knit together in a perfect little show of distress, "Eddie, I just don’t understand..."

"You don’t need to understand," you snap.

And she has the fucking audacity to look hurt. Like she wasn’t just standing here, doing everything in her power to push her way between you and Eddie.

And it pisses you off even more.

Because she knows. She knows what she’s doing. Knows how she tilts her head, how she shifts closer to him when she thinks you won’t notice. How she giggles at his jokes and bats her lashes and makes every goddamn conversation linger just a little too long.

And Eddie, stupid, oblivious Eddie, doesn’t see it. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

Maybe he likes the attention. The soft, innocent act she puts on for him, pretending she’s not the same fucking manipulative bitch that’s clearly trying to make a move on your man.

And that? That makes you want to hurt her.You take a step toward her, ready to rip into her for real, but Eddie grabs your arm, holding you back. "Babe," he warns, voice low. "Stop."

And you hate him for it. Hate that he’s stopping you, hate that he’s not telling her to fuck off, hate that he doesn’t see the way she’s fucking looking at him. Your pulse is pounding. Eddie’s grip on your arm is firm, fingers wrapped around your wrist like he’s actually worried you’ll swing on her.

You might.

Because she’s still standing there, all wide eyes and parted lips, fingers curled near her collarbone like some delicate fucking princess. "Eddie, I..."

"Go", you snap, yanking your arm out of Eddie’s grip, "Now."

Her lip wobbles. It’s infuriating, the way she keeps pretending. Like she wasn’t just trying to get Eddie to walk away with her. Like she’s some helpless little thing who just doesn’t understand why you’re being so mean.

And then, instead of leaving, that little bitch turns to him. To your boyfriend. "Do you want me to go?" she asks softly, ignoring you completely.

Like you’re not even there.

Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face, and that hesitation?

That single, fucking hesitation?

It makes something burn in your chest.

Because you can see it. See the way he doesn’t want to be rude, doesn’t want to upset her. Because she’s all sweet and fragile and Chrissy, right?

And he’s so used to you - loud, rough, hard-edged.

Too much.

And maybe that’s why she’s here.

Because she’s easy. Soft in all the ways you aren’t.

Eddie exhales sharply, "Chrissy, just..."

"Oh my fucking god." You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "Are you fucking serious?"

His head snaps back to you, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"You’re actually thinking about it?" You shake your head, voice rising, "Go, then. Fucking go, Eddie. Maybe you two can giggle about how fucking crazy I am while she bats her eyelashes at you and plays dumb".

"Jesus, babe", he hisses, stepping into your space now, voice low and sharp, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

And that? That stings.

"What’s wrong with me?", you let out a sharp breath, furious, "Are you actually asking me that right now?"

His jaw tightens, "You’re acting fucking insane."

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

Because he left you. Because you had a fight, and he didn’t look for you. Didn’t check in. Didn’t even try to fucking talk. Just ran off, probably spent lunch with her, let her drape herself all over him, let her smile at him like he was hers.

And now you’re the bad guy? You’re the one who’s too much?

No. Fuck that.

"Shut the fuck up, Eddie," you snap, voice shaking, "Just fucking shut up."

And then, like she was waiting for the perfect moment to make it worse, Chrissy’s voice cuts through the tension again. "Eddie?"

You whirl on her. "Oh my god, are you fucking dense?" Your voice is razor-sharp, "Shut the fuck up and go away! I swear to god, if you don’t leave in the next five seconds, I’ll--"

"Sam". Eddie grabs your shoulders, holding you back again, "Enough."

Your blood is boiling. His big hands are on your shoulders, holding you back like you’re the problem, like you’re the one making a scene, while she just stands there, looking between you both with that fucking innocent, confused little face.

Like she’s done nothing wrong. Like she didn't just try to get your boyfriend alone, touching him, giggling at everything he says, looking at him like she wants to fucking devour him.

And now he’s telling you to stop?

Oh, fuck that.

You rip yourself out of Eddie’s grip, shoving his hands off you with a force that makes him stumble a step back instead of the other way around. His eyes widen just slightly, but you’re already turning back to her, chest heaving."Are you fucking stupid or just desperate?" Your voice is sharp, cutting. "He’s busy. He’s with me. And I swear to god, if you keep fucking standing here, blinking up at him like a lost little puppy, I’m going to make you regret it."

Chrissy gasps, and - oh, it’s rich. The way she flinches back like she’s so shocked, so hurt by your words. Like she hasn’t been trying to push you out of this conversation since she fucking walked over. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she blurts, voice all breathy and offended.

And that’s when Eddie steps back in. "Alright, enough. I fucking mean it." His voice is tight, jaw clenched, and the second he moves between you and her, blocking you from taking another step forward, something inside you snaps, again.

Because that’s it.

He doesn’t get it. He never gets it.

He’s always been flattered by your jealousy before, always fucking smirking when you’d get possessive, always pulling you in and murmuring in your ear how much he liked it, how hot it was that you wanted to fight for him. But now, when he’s been avoiding you, when he’s been letting her sink her claws into him, when he left you standing there hurting earlier, when he knows you’re already raw and pissed off - now, he’s acting like you’re the fucking problem?

"Are you fucking serious?", your voice cracks on the last word, emotion finally bleeding into your anger, and Eddie groans, raking a hand through his hair.

"Baby, please, you’re being--"

"What?", you cut him off, eyes burning. "Go on. Say it. Say I’m being crazy. Say I’m being fucking insane because I won’t just stand here and let this bitch bat her fucking eyelashes at you while you act like nothing fucking happened earlier, happily flirting".

"Oh my god," Chrissy mutters, folding her arms, but you ignore her.

Eddie’s lips press together. His nostrils flare. He’s frustrated. And the worst fucking part? He still doesn’t look guilty."I wasn’t-", he starts again, but you shake your head.

"You were flirting".

"Oh my fucking God", he throws his hands up, "we were talking, babe. It wasn’t..."

"Don’t fucking lie to me, Eddie."

"I’m not lying to you!" He’s practically shouting now, and you don’t fucking care, "Jesus, you’re blowing this way out of-"

"Out of proportion?" You laugh, but it’s cold, "You think this is just me being fucking dramatic? Eddie, she wants you, and you’re letting her. You’re fucking letting her-"

"Oh my god," Chrissy groans, "Would you just relax?"

Your head snaps back toward her. "What the fuck did you just say to me? Why are you even still here?"

Eddie steps right in front of you, "Nope. No. We’re done."

But you’re still staring at her. Because you want to lunge. You want to see how fast she’d stop being cute if you grabbed her by that stupid, perfect ponytail and...

"Come on." Eddie’s grabbing your wrist again, pulling you away, "We’re fucking done here. Enough of that bullshit, Sam".

He yanks you away, grip tight on your wrist, dragging you out of earshot and around the next corner, but you don’t give a shit.

Let them hear. Let them all fucking hear.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he spits, spinning to face you. His chest rises and falls like he’s trying not to scream, "I didn’t even do anything!"

You’re already shaking your head, hands clenching into fists at your sides, "Bullshit".

"Bullshit?", he lets out a harsh, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair, "Jesus Christ, Sam, it was just a fucking drug deal! I was just answering her goddamn question!"

You scoff, stepping closer, shoving at his chest, "Oh, how fucking noble of you".

His jaw clenches, eyes dark with frustration, "I wasn’t kissing her. I wasn’t touching her. I wasn’t even flirting with her". His voice rises with each word, hands flying in the air before slamming down onto his hips, "Why the fuck are you losing your mind like this?"

"Because I know her", you snap, pointing a finger at him, your breathing ragged, "And I know what the fuck she was doing, Eddie. I know girls like that".

"She asked me a question". His hands gesture wildly, "And I answered. That’s it! And you come storming in like a fucking psycho-"

"Oh, so now I’m crazy?" Your voice is sharp enough to cut, but it only fuels his frustration.

He groans, looking away, shaking his head, "I didn’t say that."

"Yeah, but you thought it", you laugh, bitter and sharp.

"For fucks sake, why can’t you-" He stops himself, breathing through his nose like he’s trying to keep himself from exploding. Then, suddenly, his eyes snap back to yours, blazing with anger, "Why can’t you just be more chill?" His voice cracks with it, with everything building up inside him, "Why are you like this? Why don't you fucking trust me?"

The words hit like a slap.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling something crack deep inside your chest. "What?" Your voice is low now, dangerous.

Eddie throws his arms out, pacing back and forth, "Why can’t you just... why can’t you be-"

"Be what?",you snap, "More like her?"

He freezes.

And that’s it. That’s what breaks you.

Your body moves before your mind catches up, pushing into his space, finger jabbing at his chest. "You know who the fuck I am, Eddie. I’m the mess. I’m the one with the fucked up ex fling that keeps breaking your bones and bruising your fucking face because I won’t go back to him. I’m the one who got kicked out for choosing you. The one who fucks you in your car, in school, in public, wherever the fuck I want, because I need you that bad". Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. "I’m the one who ran to you when you almost fucking died. The one who stays up at night making sure you’re still breathing. I’m a goddamn wreck compared to her, but you wanted this. You fucking fought for me?" You let out a sharp, broken laugh, "I fight for you".

Eddie’s breathing is ragged, his eyes locked onto yours, lips parted like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

"That bitch wants you, Eddie", you hiss, voice low and shaking with fury, "And I know it. And I know it usually makes you all fucking hard and needy when I’m like this". Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, yanking him closer, your breath hot against his mouth, "But now, with her? You’re suddenly all pissed?" Your eyes search his, wild and desperate, "Why’s that?"

He swallows thickly, his lips pressing into a tight line, his fists clenching like he’s fighting himself.

"She different?", you taunt, tilting your head, "Does she make you feel all soft inside?"

"Stop".

"No" Your grip tightens, your voice breaking, "You stop. Stop being a fucking pussy about it, Eddie". You shove him again, but this time, he barely moves, just stands there, fists shaking at his sides. "I won’t let that little cunt be all over you and just watch. That’s not who the fuck I am. I’m a mess". Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. Your eyes burn, throat raw, chest caving in on itself. "And I love you". You exhale, hands shaking now, "I love you so fucking much it kills me".

Silence.

His face is unreadable. His breathing is heavy, lips slightly parted, his whole body tense, coiled like a wire ready to snap.

Then, suddenly, his hands are on your face, his mouth crashing into yours so hard it knocks the breath from your lungs.

It’s rough, desperate, teeth clashing, hands tangling in hair and jacket, a battle of tongues and heat and want. He grips you like you’re the only thing keeping him standing, like he needs you just as much as you need him, shoving you against the wall, both of you breathing hard, still burning from the fight.

You’re seething, he’s fuming, and his mouth crashes back into yours, rough and messy, all teeth and heat and desperate fucking hunger. You yank at his jacket, fist twisting in the fabric, pulling him closer like you can fuse him to you. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding down to your ass, squeezing so hard it makes you gasp.

"You're such a fucking pain in my ass," he mutters against your lips, groaning when you bite his lower lip in response.

"You love it," you shoot back, tugging his hair, and he groans again, hips pressing into yours, letting you feel exactly how much he does.

"You're insane," he breathes, hands tightening on your waist.

"And you're a dumbass", you hiss, sucking a bruise onto his neck.

His head tilts back, a sharp exhale escaping his lips, "Fuck, I love you."

Your hands slide under his shirt, fingers digging into his skin, "I love you. I don’t want anybody else, Eddie. Ever."

He groans, lips crashing back onto yours, his body pressing against yours, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s trying to mark you, to own you, to make sure you know exactly who you belong to. It’s messy, breathless, hands pulling, pushing, taking. He curses into your mouth, tells you how bad he wants you, how you drive him insane, how much of a fucking headache you are, but he needs you, always.

"Eddie?"

Chrissy’s voice.

Your whole body tenses, fingers tightening in Eddie’s jacket as he stills against you, head dropping with a groan like he already knows.

You don’t fucking believe it. She followed you. Again.

Eddie exhales sharply, eyes squeezed shut for half a second before he forces himself to pull away, but your hand is already on his chin, gripping it tight, keeping him right there, his lips still right in front of yours.

"Eddie, the bell rang", Chrissy chirps, stepping around the corner, soft voice laced with fucking concern, "We have class together. Do you wanna go--"

Then she sees. Sees how tangled you are in each other, how Eddie’s hands are still gripping your hips, how his lips are swollen and red from kissing you so hard, how his body is still pressed into yours like he belongs there.

Your burning gaze locks onto her, making sure she sees it, making sure she knows. You watch her face fall, that little flicker of disappointment, of something breaking inside her.

Good.

Eddie sighs, tries to turn his head toward her, but your grip tightens, fingers digging into his jaw, keeping him right there.

"Passes," you mutter, lips brushing against his as you speak, "Thanks."

She hesitates, looking between the both of you, all wide eyes and soft concern, "But the bell rang…"

Your grip on Eddie doesn’t loosen.

You can feel him about to move, about to say something, and your body tenses, jaw clenching.

"If you move, or say one fucking thing," you growl, voice so low it barely escapes your throat, "I swear to God, we're having a real problem".

And he freezes.

Because he knows. Knows you mean it. Knows exactly what you’d fucking do if he so much as looked at her right now. His whole body stays locked in place, your fingers still gripping his chin, your lips still barely an inch from his.

Chrissy lingers for a second too long.And then, finally, she turns. And walks away, mixing into the students scattering back inside, the echo of distant chatter fading into silence.

But you don't care.

Neither of you do.

The second she disappears, you slam your lips onto Eddie’s again, teeth clashing, tongues meeting in a battle of heat and anger. Your fingers claw at his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and he groans into your mouth, hands already back on your ass, squeezing, pulling you against him like he can’t get enough. You kiss him like you're staking a claim, like you're branding yourself onto him, like you're making fucking sure he remembers exactly who he belongs to.

And he likes it.

You feel how much he does, his cock already straining against his jeans, pressing hard into your stomach. "Fuck", he groans, licking into your mouth, panting as you nip at his lower lip, "God, you're so..."

"Wanna fuck you", you rasp, breathless, voice dripping with need. Your hand slides down between you, pressing against the bulge in his jeans, fingers curling around it through the denim, making him shudder, "Wanna remind you why you chose this".

His breath catches, whole body tensing under your touch.

That gets him. Immediately. His control? Gone. Any last sliver of hesitation? Obliterated.

Eddie loves this. Loves when you get like this. Wild. Possessive. When you grip him like you own him, because you do.

"Right here?" he grins, breath still ragged, his usual cocky, smug self breaking through the haze of lust.

You smirk, sliding a hand into his back pocket, fingers curling around his keys. You jiggle them suggestively, tilting your head, raising a brow. His pupils darken. In an instant, his hands are on your waist, gripping hard, dragging you with him as he moves, leading you across the emptying parking lot. His fingers dig into your skin, his breath warm against your ear as he mutters, "Fucking come on."

He unlocks the van with one hand, shoving the door open before pulling you inside, slamming it behind him. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s on you again, pushing you down onto the mattress in the back, his body hovering over yours.

No words. No hesitation. Just heat.

Belts unbuckling, zippers dragging down, jeans shoved past your hips, his own following. His wallet is out in seconds, a condom ripped from it with shaking fingers. Then he's on top of you, lips back on yours, hands sliding up your torso, shoving your shirt and bra up in one go. His palm is rough, hot against your skin, fingers curling around your breast, squeezing hard enough to make you moan.He groans into your mouth, hips rutting against yours, cock aching and ready, so fucking desperate for you.

"Fuck, just do it," you pant, fingers digging into his back, your legs wrapping around him, "Just give it to me".

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He shoves his boxers down just enough, rolls the condom on with shaking fingers, then grabs your thighs, spreading you open beneath him. His lips are still on yours, feverish, messy, all tongue and teeth, his breath ragged as he groans into your mouth. "You think I need to flirt with anyone else?" he growls, his voice raw with frustration, "You think I fucking need anyone else when I have this?"

He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in one rough motion, making you cry out, your nails clawing under his shirt, dragging across his back, feeling the heat of his skin. "Oh my god," you gasp, arching, your head pressing back against the mattress.

"Yeah? That shut you up?" He smirks, but his eyes are dark, wild, barely in control,  "Fuck, you feel so-... shit, baby- so fucking tight". His hands grip your thighs, pushing them higher, stretching you open, letting him sink even deeper. You whimper, shuddering, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging, making him groan and snap his hips harder. "You think I could ever want someone else?" he hisses against your neck, licking up the skin, biting down hard enough to make you whimper, "You're my fucking dream, baby. You." You moan at his words, at the heat of his breath, the way he’s thrusting into you like he’s trying to claim every inch of you. Your hands roam, slipping under his shirt, nails dragging down his spine, making him shiver. "Fuck," he grits out, voice breaking as you arch up, grinding against him, "God, I fucking love you like this."

Your mouth is on his neck now, biting, sucking, marking him the way he marked you, and he fucking loses it.

He grabs your hips, lifts you slightly, and fucks into you deeper, harder, making the van shake, making the mattress slide across the floor beneath you. Every thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, has you gasping, moaning, gripping his shoulders as pleasure coils deep in your belly, tightening fast. "Eddie," you whimper, digging your nails into his arms. "Make me fucking cum."

He groans so loud it almost sounds like a growl, his pace turning brutal, desperate, the slap of skin against skin filling the van. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, squeezing your breasts, sliding down to press against your clit, rubbing hard, making you scream. "Fuck, baby", he pants, watching your face contort, watching the way your body shakes beneath him. "God, I love when you tell me what you need, fuck, I’ll give you anything". He thrusts deeper, his mouth crashing against yours, tongue claiming you, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you into him as his pace turns relentless. "Come on," he urges, voice shaking, "give it to me, wanna feel you cum on my cock".

Your body tenses, the coil inside you snapping all at once. Your orgasm crashes over you so hard you almost black out, your vision going white, your whole body trembling as pleasure floods every nerve. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Eddie groans, feeling you tighten around him, his own release tearing through him as he thrusts deep one last time, his whole body tensing, shuddering as he spills into the condom, gasping against your neck.

The van is silent except for your ragged breaths, the lingering echoes of your moans. Eddie collapses on top of you, sweaty, shaking, completely spent. "Holy shit," he mutters breathlessly. You let out a weak, breathless laugh, still twitching from the aftershocks.

"Yeah," you whisper, pressing a lazy kiss to his temple, "Holy shit."

As you both catch your breath, the van’s windows fogged up from the heat of your bodies, the tension shifts.

The aggression, the desperate need, all of it starts to settle into something quieter, deeper. Eddie buttons his jeans, cinching his belt, still a little shaky from how hard you both just went. He glances at you as you're sitting up, brushing the damp hair from his face, and then he reaches for you. "Come here", he mutters, tugging you back down beside him. You let him, rolling onto your side to face him as he mirrors you, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling your thigh over his hip. Your breath is still uneven, your heart still pounding, but the fire is simmering now. His hand finds your face, fingers tucking your hair behind your ear, his touch softer now, lingering. Your noses brush as you settle into the warmth of his body, the space between you vanishing, and the weight of what just happened, of everything that led to this moment, presses down on you both.

He sighs, rubbing his thumb against your side. "I wasn't spending my lunch with her, you know." His voice is calm, even, "I was waiting for you in the cafeteria. You didn’t show, so I went outside to see if you were at smoker's. And that’s when she caught me." You stay quiet, just listening. "I sold her some pills yesterday," he continues, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, "She was afraid to take them. That’s it. She wanted to talk. I didn’t even... fuck, I didn’t even realize she was touching me or biting her lip or whatever. I was just answering her questions. That’s all it was."

You swallow hard, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt. "I-", you whisper, "I just..." You close your eyes, shaking your head against the mattress, "I lost it, Eddie. I don’t know what happened. Something just snapped in me. I’ve never been the jealous type, ever. But seeing her all over you?" You exhale sharply, "I was done." He watches you closely, his eyes dark, unreadable. "Especially after we argued earlier", you add, voice quieter now, "All I wanted was to keep things light, keep things good. Keep you from losing it again because of Billy. And you said I lied to you, when all I wanted was to protect our peace. And then that happened. And I just... I don’t know, I fucking lost it".

Eddie huffs out a small, breathy laugh, his lips curving up slightly as he gives you a look. "Well", he smirks, "I kinda liked how it ended". He wiggles his brows, biting his lip suggestively.

You roll your eyes, shoving his chest, "Eds".

"What?!" he laughs, eyes glinting, "I'm just saying! The whole stop being a fucking pussy, grabbing my dick kind thing - fucking hot, babe".

"Jesus Christ". You shake your head, unable to fight the small smile playing on your lips. But then it fades a little, and you sigh, "I'm sorry. For my jealousy. I’ll work on that".

His smirk softens. He tilts his head, eyes warm, thoughtful. Then, he shakes his head. "No", he murmurs, brushing his fingers over your cheek, "Don’t".

You blink at him.

"It’s… flattering", he admits, lips quirking, a small, knowing smile forming, "And I like it. I really do. You know that". He pulls you a little closer, his fingers pressing into your skin, "Because I’m just as jealous as you are."

Your breath catches slightly.

"I was just caught off guard", he goes on, "And I was worried. That maybe she’d start talking shit about me, about my business. She’s fucking Chrissy Cunningham, sweetheart. She’s everybody’s darling. If she went around saying shit about me, people might stop buying". He sighs, "It was just… a mess. A big, fucking mess".

You nod slowly, understanding settling in.

"But I love you", he continues, his voice dropping lower, more serious now, "I love only you. Your jealous, hot-ass self." His lips twitch, "My mess."

Something about the way he says it, the way he looks at you, so sure, so unshaken, so him - it breaks something in you.

Your throat tightens. And suddenly, your eyes start to sting.

You're just overwhelmed. Completely and utterly overwhelmed. The weight of it all, the jealousy, the anger, the snapping, the way you lost it without thinking, the way you behaved like a jealous wife of ten years instead of a girlfriend of one fucking week - it’s all hitting you like a truck now.

And Eddie, despite everything, despite the names you called him, the way you lashed out, the way you tried to control him in the heat of it, he’s still here. Still looking at you with those soft brown eyes, still holding you close, still kissing you between his teasing remarks, still treating you like you’re worth something. Like you’re worth everything.

And you don’t deserve it. You don’t fucking deserve it.

Your throat tightens, your chest constricts, and before you can stop it, before you can even process it, your vision blurs, hot tears spilling over and tracking down your cheeks.

Eddie’s smile falters the second he notices. His brows furrow, his teasing expression shifting instantly into one of concern. "Hey, hey, hey", he murmurs, tilting his head to catch your eyes, "What’s- what’s wrong, baby?"

You shake your head quickly, trying to keep it together, trying to swallow the lump in your throat, but it’s useless. The tears keep coming, faster now, your breath shuddering as you struggle to speak.

He curses under his breath, shifts, moving to sit up a little, keeping you close as he cradles the back of your head, his thumb swiping at your wet cheeks. "Jesus, sweetheart", he mutters, "What, why are you crying?"

You sniffle, frustrated, wiping your own face as if that’ll stop the flood, "I- I don’t fucking know", you choke out, "I just... I feel awful, Eddie. I was such a bitch to you". 

Eddie blinks. Then snorts. "Yeah, well", he smirks, giving your thigh a squeeze, "That’s kinda the reason I fell in love with you in the first place".

You let out a half-laugh, half-sob, shoving at his chest, "You’re such a dick".

"And you’re a jealous-ass bitch", he shoots back, grinning now, wiping more tears away with his sleeve, "But you’re my jealous-ass bitch, so…" He leans in, presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another, soft and warm. Your breath shudders again, but this time, there’s a little laugh underneath it. "See?", he smirks, "Got you smiling again".

You shake your head, biting your lip, the warmth of his presence slowly calming you. You let out a deep breath, fingers curling into his shirt as you press your forehead to his. "I’m sorry", you murmur, closing your eyes, "For everything. For the jealousy. For losing my shit. And…" You hesitate, "For not telling you about Billy’s note".

Eddie stills slightly. "Yeah". His voice is quiet, "That was kinda a big one, sweetheart".

You nod against him, "I know. I'm sorry".He doesn’t say anything, just waits. Patient. You sigh, "I didn’t mean to lie", you whisper, "I just- I wanted to ignore it. Ignore him. I didn’t want him to have any power over me. Over us. Over you".

He swallows hard. His fingers thread into your hair, massaging your scalp gently, "Baby…"

"I just want to be happy with you", you continue, voice breaking slightly, "No more bruises. No more fights". You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your hand resting on his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, "Even though, I won’t lie, it’s kinda hot when you do that for me. Being all protective and shit".

Eddie huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head, "Of course it is".

"But I can’t take it, Eds", you say, voice suddenly tight, "I can’t see you all beaten up again. I won’t".

His expression softens, but there’s something in his eyes, something unreadable, something dark.

"God knows what could happen next time", you whisper, "When he lands another punch like last week. What if... what if no one finds you next time? What if you collapse again, and there’s no one there to help? What if... what if next time, I lose you? Just because of that?"

Eddie’s jaw clenches. His grip on you tightens.

And just like that, the tears come again.

You try to stop them, try to push them down, but it’s too much. The stress, the weight of everything, Chrissy, Billy, the fights, your own fucking feelings, it’s all boiling over, spilling out of you all over again, whether you want it to or not, mixing with the stress that's still lingering in your bones from what happened with Lauren.

It's too much.

Everything.

The fight you had with her. The way she screamed at you, how she insulted you, how she kicked you out of your own fucking home. And sure, you put on a brave face, acted like it didn’t matter, but it did.

It hurt. It hurt in ways you didn’t even know were possible, because she was supposed to be your friend.

And now? Now, it’s just over. Now, all you can do is hope she’ll be decent enough to tell you when she finds someone new, so you can grab your remaining shit, your furniture, your memories, before she dumps it on the street.

Eddie lets out a quiet curse, pulling you in tighter, arms wrapping around you fully as he tucks your head against his chest. "Shhh", he murmurs, pressing kisses into your hair, "It’s okay, baby. Please don't cry".His arms are holding you like he’s trying to keep you from shattering completely. His chest rises and falls unsteadily, like it physically hurts him to see you like this, to hear you sobbing into his shirt, your fingers twisting into the fabric like you need something, anything, to hold onto. "Shhh", he breathes again, voice thick with something raw, something fragile. His lips press against the top of your head, lingering there, "It’s okay, baby. I got you. I got you".

But you just shake your head against him because no, he doesn’t. He can’t. Because it’s not okay. None of it is okay, and the more you try to keep yourself together, the more you fall apart, the pressure finally breaking open inside you like a dam bursting its seams. "I-I’m sorry", you choke out, voice ragged, "I’m s-sorry, I don’t- I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me".

"Hey. No". Eddie pulls back just enough to grab your face, cradling it between his calloused hands, thumbs brushing over your damp cheeks, his big brown eyes swimming with so much concern it makes your chest ache, "Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that, okay?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to force back the tears, but it’s useless. "Lauren hates me", you whisper, voice cracking, "I have nowhere to go. M-my father keeps showing up. Chrissy’s a fucking- fucking bitch and Billy-" Your breath stumbles over his name, another wave of emotion crushing into you, another sob threatening to rip from your throat.

Eddie winces, like the mention of Billy alone is enough to send something dark rolling through him. "That motherfucker", he mutters under his breath, jaw clenching. His hands slip down to your shoulders, then your arms, smoothing over your skin like he’s trying to physically soothe you, to take all of it away. "Baby, listen to me, none of them matter, okay? Not Chrissy, not Billy, not even Lauren. They don’t fucking deserve you crying over them".

You let out a shaky breath, sniffling hard, but your vision stays blurry. "But I-" You swallow thickly, voice trembling, "I’m a fucking mess, Eddie".

His hands slide down to your wrists, thumbs tracing over your pulse, grounding you. "And you think I’m not?", he huffs, shaking his head, giving you the softest fucking look, like you hung the damn moon in the sky, "You know I am, sweetheart".

You let out something between a laugh and a sob, watery and broken. "I yelled at you", you whisper, "I called you a pussy-"

He smirks just a little, squeezing your wrists, "Kinda hot, not gonna lie".

You huff, rolling your eyes, even as another tear rolls down your cheek, "Eddie".

He sighs, bringing your hands up, pressing his lips against your knuckles, keeping them there, his expression turning serious again. "You’ve had a shitty couple of days, baby", he says, voice gentle but firm, "And you snapped. That’s okay. You’re allowed to feel shit. You don’t have to carry it all on your own". You sniffle, shaking your head, but he doesn’t let you pull away. "Listen to me. I love you", he says, staring straight into you, making sure you feel every word, "I don’t give a fuck how jealous you get, or how pissed you are, or how messy your head is - I love you. And I want you to talk to me, alright? No more keeping shit in. No more pushing me away". His voice lowers, more intense. "No more shutting me out".

You look at him, face wet from all your tears, still blinking some more out of your eyes, his big hands still resting on your cheeks. "Okay", you finally whisper, sniffling softly as he gives you a warm smirk, moving his thumbs to wipe away the salty tracks on your cheeks, even moving them under your watery eyes to try his best on your smeared mascara.

He keeps his hands on your face, thumbs brushing back and forth over your damp cheeks, his gaze locked on yours. His brown eyes are so warm, so steady, like he’s grounding you with just his presence, holding you together when you feel like you’re falling apart.

You sniffle, attempting a weak smirk, "You think people will notice I cried?"

He snorts, shaking his head as he carefully wipes away the last smudges of mascara under your eyes, "Nah. No way. You look as good as new". He pulls back slightly, tilting his head like he’s assessing his work, then grins, "Beautiful as always. Breathtakingly pretty. Still the hottest chick around".

You let out a small, choked laugh, finally lifting your hand to cup his face in return, "You’re so full of shit".

He gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, "How dare you. Here I am, being all sweet and romantic and reassuring, and you insult me?"

You chuckle again, rubbing your thumb over his cheek, "I love you too, idiot". His grin softens, something melting behind his eyes, and he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm. "And I’m thankful for you", you mumble, voice quieter now, "So fucking thankful".

Eddie smirks, raising an eyebrow, "Even though I’m apparently full of shit?"

You huff, rolling your eyes, "Yes, even though you’re full of shit".

He laughs, shaking his head, and then his smirk turns sly, "Y’know, no one would ever believe me if I told them what a big softie you actually are".

You raise a brow, "Oh?"

"Mhm", he grins, running his hands down your arms before resting them on your waist, "All this tough, don’t-give-a-shit attitude you got? Pfft. Total fraud". You scoff, shoving his shoulder, but he just grins wider, undeterred. "Nah, but really", he continues, leaning in slightly, voice dropping into something more teasing, "No one would believe me if I told ‘em my girl is secretly a sweetheart who cries into all my shirts and lets me wipe her snot off her face".

You groan, smacking his arm playfully, "Shut up, look at you! You're just as big of a softie, all understanding and wiping my tears away kinda shit". He just chuckles, grinning at you as you lean back, sighing when realization hits. "You know, I never used to cry", you mumble, serious again, "Like, ever. I don’t think I cried once in the last ten fucking years before I moved here. Life with my mother made me... stone cold".

Eddie whistles lowly, "10 years? Damn. That’s impressive".

"Right?", you chuckle, "Just another proof of how fucked up I was. And now, in just a few months, you’ve somehow turned me into this fucking softie I apparently am now".

He smirks, dragging his fingers up your arm, light and slow,  "Guess I just got that effect on you, sweetheart". You scoff, shoving at his shoulder. "I knew you were soft under all that bite, baby", he teases, leaning closer, "You just needed someone to make you feel safe enough to let it out".

You blink. He's right.

"And yet", he presses on, like he hasn’t heard you, "somehow, I’m still the one who gets called the softie".

You lower your hand, narrowing your eyes at him, "Because you are".

He scoffs, gesturing between you, "You just cried your fuckin’ eyes out in my van, babe".

"Because of you!"

"Oh, please,” he groans, throwing his head back dramatically, "Like I made you cry".

You purse your lips, tilting your head, "Well… in a way…"

"Don’t even", he points at you, narrowing his eyes.

You just grin, "Okay, fine. Maybe not this time".

"That’s what I thought", he mutters, still giving you a look.

The mood has shifted now, lighter, warmer. The tension in your chest has finally started to ease, the weight of everything just a little less suffocating. And it’s because of him.Because Eddie always knows how to pull you back from the edge, how to make you laugh even when you’re drowning in your own emotions.

He shakes his head, muttering under his breath, then sighs dramatically, resting a hand over his heart, "Y’know, no one warned me that having a girlfriend means dealing with, like, a million rollercoasters of emotions within seconds".

You snort, raising an eyebrow, "Rollercoasters?"

"Yes. Rollercoasters". He widens his eyes, holding out his hands like he’s describing something massive, "Like, holy shit, no one told me I’d be going from ‘she’s screaming at me’ to ‘she’s fucking me’ to ‘she’s crying on my chest’ in the span of one hour". You laugh, shaking your head, but he’s not done. "I mean, Jesus, babe, I’m just tryna survive here", he continues, pressing his palm against his forehead like he’s exhausted, "Every time I think I got it figured out, boom - new crisis".

You’re full-on giggling now, pressing a hand to your mouth as you shake your head, "You’re such a drama queen".

"Oh, I’m the drama queen?", he scoffs, pointing at you again, "Really?"

"Yes, really", you roll your eyes, "You love it".

Eddie grins, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him, "Maybe".

You hum, looping your arms around his neck, "Definitely".

He tilts his head, lips brushing yours,  "Guess I do".

And then you kiss him.

Slow, deep, lingering, nothing desperate or rushed this time. Just warmth, just him, just the feeling of his lips against yours, the way he sighs softly into your mouth, the way his hands hold you so securely, like he never wants to let go.

Like he won’t let go.

No matter how much of a mess you are.

As your lips slowly part, your heart still fluttering in your chest, you blink at him, a little dazy.

"You feeling better?", he asks quietly, warm eyes scanning your face.

You let out a slow breath, nodding, "Yeah".

He studies you for a second longer before leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, "Good".

You close your eyes for a moment, just breathing him in, the scent of his leather and smoke and Eddie grounding you.

Then, you sigh, glancing at the van doors. "Ugh, I really don't wanna, but we should probably go back inside, class will be over any minute", you murmur.

Eddie hums, shrugging, "Or…"

You narrow your eyes at him, "Eddie".

He smirks, "What? You just said you don’t wanna go back".

You sigh, rubbing at your face, "I know, but…"

"But what?", he drags a finger down your arm, sending a shiver up your spine, "We could just… I dunno. Go somewhere. Just us".

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though your lips twitch, "Baby-"

"No, no, listen", he grins, brushing some hair behind your ear, his hands cradling your face again, fingers pressing gently against your jaw, holding you in place as he leans in, noses brushing, "You just said you don’t wanna go back in. And I, personally, think you deserve a break from all this bullshit".

You sigh, tilting your head slightly into his touch, "I always take a break with you. We both do. We’re, like, the worst fucking students ever".

He chuckles, nudging your nose with his, "We’re delinquents, babe. It’s part of our charm".

You laugh softly, shaking your head, "Jesus Christ".

Eddie shrugs, smirking, all lazy and smug like skipping class is the easiest decision in the world.

You sigh loudly, "We really should go back".

"But do we want to?", he mumbles, biting down another chuckle.

You groan, because of course he’s like this. Of course he’s making it so easy to just say fuck it. "You’re such a bad influence".

His grin widens, dimples popping as he leans in, nudging his nose against yours, "You love it".

You do. God help you, you do.

You sigh again, more dramatic this time, making him chuckle, "Fine. But if I flunk out of school because I’m too busy fighting, fucking, or crying with you..."

Eddie barks out a laugh, throwing his head back, before grabbing you and pulling you closer, "Baby, if anyone is flunking, it’s me".

You snort, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck, "True. You already barely show up as it is".

"Exactly", he grins, fingers tracing over your thigh, "So really, me keeping you out here is like… an act of love".

You narrow your eyes at him, but he just waggles his brows, "Oh yeah? Love, huh?"

"Mhm", he leans in closer, lips brushing your jaw, "Keeping my girl all to myself? Away from responsibilities? Away from all the bullshit?" He nips at your neck, grinning when you shiver, "Sounds like love to me".

You bite your lip, pretending to think about it, "Hmm. Fine. But only if you take me somewhere with food".

"Done", he says immediately, "Where to, my lady?"

You hum, considering, "Would literally kill for one of those milkshakes at that one diner".

He nods. "Diner it is, then".

Then he gets up, climbing into the front to flop down on his driver seat, "Now let’s get the fuck outta here before someone notices we’re gone".