069

The bedroom is dim, bathed in some gloomy November daylight filtering through the curtains. The air is warm, thick with the lingering scent of sex and sweat, of whispered apologies and desperate touches.

Eddie is behind you, his naked body pressed against yours, his arm heavy around your waist, holding you close even in sleep. His breath is soft and steady, brushing the back of your neck as he snoozes, exhausted from the short, uncomfortable night on Grant’s couch, from the brutal fight that nearly tore you two apart, from the way you needed each other afterward, bodies tangled, trying to fix what you almost shattered.

You should be asleep too. You should be sinking into his warmth, letting his embrace soothe the last remnants of the storm between you.

But you can’t. 

You stare blankly at the wall, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over the ink on his arm, feeling the raised edges of his tattoos under your touch. He sighs softly in his sleep, stretching behind you, pulling you in even closer, as if some part of him knows you’re still on the edge of slipping away. His lips press against your hair, a sleepy, unconscious kiss before he drifts off again. 

You love him. God, you love him.

And yet, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that one wrong step will send you both plummeting.

Chrissy’s lips on his cheek.

Her fucking wave at you.

That look in his eyes when you accused him, when he didn’t deny it fast enough.

Those images are still burned into your mind, still make your stomach twist, but worse than all of that, worse than her, is him.

Billy. 

His voice. His presence.

The way he cornered you outside at your car this morning. How he threatened you.

You can still feel the ghost of his hand on your skin, the heat of his body too close, suffocating. 

Those weren't empty threats. You know that.

Eddie may have won those fights, may have "won" you, but Billy doesn’t lose. Not really. Not when he has power like this.

Power over you.  

Eddie shifts, sighs again, burying his face into your shoulder, oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

You close your eyes. Swallow hard. You can’t tell him. He would kill Billy. Literally.

Too much happened. He’d throw away everything he’s worked for before it’s even begun. His life, his future, his music, it would all be over.

And you can’t let that happen. You won’t.

But the alternative? The price Billy is demanding?

Just the thought of it makes bile rise in your throat.

You know exactly what he wants.

What he’s always wanted from you. What he had before you saw him for what he really is.

And if you give in, if you let him do this, you’ll never be free of him.

He’ll hold it over your head forever.

And Eddie will know.

Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, he’ll know.

And then, you’ll lose him. Completely. 

Your fingers tighten over Eddie’s arm, nails digging into his skin without meaning to.

He stirs again, murmurs something sleepy and unintelligible, his grip tightening around you instinctively, his body curling closer, pulling you deeper into his warmth. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, inhale sharply. 

How far will you go to protect him?

You already know the answer.

To the fucking end.

Just like he would, for you.

Eddie stirs behind you, his body warm against your back, his breath slow and deep.

You feel the moment he wakes, the way his breathing changes, the soft inhale as he registers that you’re still in his arms.  His hand, draped lazily over your waist, tightens slightly, pulling you closer before he presses a slow, sleepy kiss against your shoulder. "You awake?" His voice is raspy, thick with sleep, sending shivers down your spine.

You hesitate for a second before lying, "Yeah. Just thinking."

Eddie hums softly, his lips grazing your skin again, "Thinking about what?" His hand slides down, tracing light patterns on your bare hip.

"Just… today. The fight. It still lingers", you murmur, keeping your voice steady. 

He exhales, the sound deep and knowing. "Yeah", he admits, fingers dragging gently over your skin, "It was a bad one".

You nod, staring blankly at the wall, biting your lip. You can feel his gaze on you now, heavy and searching.

His hand stops moving. "You’re still tense", he notes, shifting slightly behind you, "Is there something you didn’t say? Something I said or did?"

You shake your head quickly, forcing a small, tired smile as you turn in his arms, burying yourself against his chest. His warmth is overwhelming, surrounding you completely, but it doesn’t wash away the weight pressing down on you. "I just feel drained", you lie, wrapping your arms around him, pulling the sheet up over both of you, "Like the day’s already over, and it’s not even noon".

Eddie sighs, his chin resting on the top of your head, fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine. "Me too", he admits.  There’s a pause before he presses another kiss to your hair. "What do you wanna do, hmm? I mean, let's be real, we're so not going to school today".

You shake your head, tightening your grip on him, "I just wanna be with you, Eds. Alone. Close. Just you and me".

His hand slides lower, resting on the curve of your ass as he sighs contentedly, "Want some couple time, huh?"

"Yeah", you whisper, nuzzling into him, "That’d be nice".

He stays silent for a moment, and you feel him thinking. Then, he shifts slightly, his fingers giving you a playful squeeze, "If you let me stand up, I might be able to make that happen".

You frown, lifting your head, "What?"

He grins, "Just lemme make a few calls. I’ve got an idea. Not sure if it's working, though. Can't promise anything yet".

You shake your head immediately, "No. Can't let you. Wanna stay here. Forever".

Eddie chuckles, pressing soft, lazy kisses across your face, "I promise it’ll be worth it. I'll be back, okay?"

You still don’t want him to move. You squeeze yourself tighter around him, your leg shifting just enough that your thigh brushes against his dick.

Eddie groans low in his throat, eyes darkening as his fingers tighten on your waist. "If that’s what you’re offering, sweetheart, I’m more than happy to stay in bed a little longer", he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and something deeper.

You snort, rolling your eyes, and finally loosen your grip, letting him roll away from you.

He stretches, completely unbothered by his nakedness, then pulls on a pair of boxers before heading for the hallway, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as he closes the bedroom door behind him.

You flop onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Your heart is still heavy, but for a moment, you let yourself sink into the warmth of the bed, of him. 

Ten minutes later, the door opens again. Eddie steps inside, a cigarette between his lips, two cups of coffee in his hands. He hands you one before sitting beside you, his eyes soft as he watches you sip from the cup, still wrapped in his sheets, your hair a messy halo around your face.

"I can’t wait to live with you", he murmurs suddenly, his voice warm, filled with something deep and real.

Your heart aches. You swallow past the lump in your throat, forcing a small smile, "Me too, babe".

Eddie grins, stretching out beside you, tapping ashes off his cigarette before taking a sip of his coffee.

"So", you prompt, nudging him with your foot, "Were your ominous calls successful?"

His smirk widens, "Yeah".

You narrow your eyes, sitting up further, barely covered by the sheets, "And?"

Eddie inhales slowly, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. Then, he leans in, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, "How about we don’t wait until tomorrow to head for Indianapolis?"

Indianapolis. You almost forgot you're supposed to go back there for his gig at The Black Cat tomorrow night. That one big gig at one of Indy's coolest venues he won as one of the first prizes at the Battle of the Bands they won last weekend.

You frown, pulling back slightly. "What do you mean?"

His grin deepens. "I mean, let’s go today. Just you and me. One night in Indy. The hotel’s already available, and they’ll put the extra night on the radio station’s bill. They probably won't even notice. The others will meet us tomorrow. Tonight, it’s just us".

You stare at him, your coffee cup warm between your hands, sheets tangled loosely around you.

Eddie’s sitting there, all soft, bare skin and messy curls, cigarette between his fingers, watching you with those deep, dark eyes, waiting. "Wanna go?"

The words settle over you, thick and sweet like honey.

Just you and him.

One night away.

A night where there’s no Chrissy, no Billy, no threats, no aching paranoia clawing at the edges of your mind.

Just Eddie.

Just the two of you, tangled together in a hotel bed in Indianapolis, pretending, if only for a night, that nothing else exists outside of each other.

Your chest tightens, and before you can stop yourself, you move. You set your coffee down on the nightstand and crawl forward, letting the sheets slip from your shoulders.

His eyes flicker down for half a second as the fabric pools behind you, leaving you completely bare as you slide onto his lap, straddling his hips. His free hand instantly finds your waist, fingers curling against your skin, while his other lifts the cigarette to his lips for one last drag before he stubs it out.

"You serious?" you murmur, searching his face.

He tilts his head, his grip on your waist tightening slightly, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles against your hipbone, "Dead serious".

You exhale softly, fingers dragging down the plane of his stubbly chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch as you follow the silver chain around his neck, "Just you and me?"

His lips quirk up into that smirk that drives you insane, "Just us, baby". His hands are everywhere, hot, rough, and possessive as they roam over your bare skin, tracing the dips and curves he knows so well. His grip on your waist tightens as you shift in his lap, deliberately pressing against him, feeling the evidence of exactly how much he wants you.

"Just us?", you whisper, leaning in, letting your lips brush over his, feeling him tensing beneath you.

"Yeah, you and me", he murmurs, voice thick and dark, his breath hot against your lips.

You hum, dragging your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch, the slow rise and fall of his breath. You follow the cool silver chain around his neck, teasing, watching his eyes flicker between your lips and your body. You can feel the restraint in him, the way his hands flex, the way his jaw clenches as he fights the urge to just take. "And what are we gonna do, huh?" Your voice is soft, sultry, full of teasing as you roll your hips just slightly.

His fingers dig into your skin. Eddie groans, tipping his head back for just a second, as if gathering himself, before locking those dark, burning eyes on you again, "Anything we fucking want, sweetheart."

You smirk, pressing your mouth to the edge of his jaw, your lips dragging over the rough stubble there, "Like?"

He lets out a slow exhale, his fingers tracing up your spine, down over the curve of your ass. "We could go out," he says, voice thick with something darker, something filthier, "Nice restaurant, bar, a movie if you wanna act like normal people for a night."

You drag your nails lightly over his chest, down his stomach, watching the way his breath stutters, "Mmh, that sounds nice."

His hands slide down, cupping your ass, gripping tight as he presses you down against him. Your breath catches, and he smirks, watching your lips part just slightly. "Or," he continues, voice dropping lower, raspier, more sinful, "we could stay in bed. No clothes. Just us. Fucking all night." Heat pools low in your stomach as his words settle between your legs, as his fingers dig into your skin, his body pressing you even closer. "Use every surface in that shitty little hotel room," he murmurs, his lips brushing over your shoulder, his teeth just barely scraping your skin, "wreck it completely. Have housekeeping fucking hate us." A shiver runs down your spine, and you shift in his lap again, feeling the way he twitches beneath you, the way his hands tighten as he exhales sharply. He kisses you again, rougher this time, hungrier, a filthy groan slipping from his throat as you grind against him, just barely.  "We could stay naked, order food, see if the hotel has room service so we don’t even have to move", he rasps, "Just you and me, locked away, fucking until we can’t anymore."

You smirk, pretending to think about it, tilting your head as if you aren’t already soaking for him, as if you don’t already know damn well you’re going.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, catching your chin between his fingers, making you look at him. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen and parted just slightly.

You shift again, slow, deliberate, dragging your bare pussy against the tent in his boxers, watching the way his breath shudders out, the way his fingers twitch against your skin.

"What, mh? Your little grin means we're going?", he murmurs, catching your lips for another kiss.

"Of course we're fucking going", you smirk, shifting in his lap, pressing your naked tits against him, letting your lips brush his, "But do we have to leave, like, right now?"

He groans, hands flexing as he pulls you even closer, pressing his forehead against yours, lips brushing, teasing, "Absolutely not". His hands tighten on your ass, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp against his lips. He smirks, dragging his mouth down your jaw, over the column of your throat, tongue flicking against your pulse point before his teeth sink in, just enough to make you shiver. "Guess that means we’ve got time, huh?" he murmurs, voice low, vibrating against your skin.

You hum, rolling your hips, pressing your soaked sex against the hard length beneath his boxers. "Guess we do".

Eddie groans, fingers digging into your flesh, his breath coming out in a sharp exhale. "Fuck," he growls, dragging his mouth back up to yours, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before kissing you, deep and filthy, all tongue and heat and need.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, making him groan into your mouth. You can feel his boner, hard and twitching beneath you, and it sends another wave of arousal through you, pooling between your legs. "Eds," you breathe, shifting again, grinding against him, feeling the damp spot on his boxers grow.

He tips his head back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, jaw tight as he exhales roughly through his nose. "You're killing me, baby."

"No," you smirk, dragging your lips over the sharp edge of his jaw, down to the hollow of his throat, letting your nails scrape lightly down his stomach, "I'm making you feel so good."

His breath stutters when your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, tugging just slightly, teasing. He tilts his hips up, wordlessly giving you permission, but you don’t move, just let your fingertips skim lower, barely touching him where you both want it most. "Baby," he groans, eyes fluttering open, staring at you with that desperate, pleading look that makes you feel powerful, like you have him completely at your mercy.

And fuck, you do.

"Mm?" you hum, pretending to be innocent, dragging your lips over his collarbone, down his chest, moving lower, shifting off his lap as you kiss your way down his body. His hand tangles in your hair, a soft curse falling from his lips, his hips shifting beneath you. "Thought we weren’t in a rush?" you tease, nipping at his hipbone, watching the way his stomach tenses beneath your touch.

Eddie groans, his other hand gripping the sheets beside him. "We’re not," he rasps, "but if you don’t do something soon, I swear to God, baby-"

You smirk, your nails dragging down his thighs, your breath warm against his skin. "What, Munson? What are you gonna do? Punish me?" 

He looks down at you, dark eyes full of hunger, full of love, his fingers tightening in your hair as he exhales roughly, "Fucking hell".

Your smirk deepens as you press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the sharp jut of his hipbone, feeling his muscles twitch beneath your lips. You know exactly what you’re doing to him, teasing him like this, keeping him on edge.

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers tightening in your hair, tugging just enough to make your scalp tingle. "Baby," he rasps, his voice thick with need, "don’t fucking tease."

But you do.

You kiss lower, letting your breath fan over the damp patch on his boxers, feeling the way his body tenses beneath you. His cock is straining against the thin fabric, desperate for relief, for you."Tease?" you murmur, glancing up at him through your lashes, lips brushing over the outline of his length, "I thought we had time, Munson?"

"Sam," he groans, head tilting back against the pillows, jaw tight, his grip on your hair flexing and releasing, "you’re fucking torturing me."

Good.

You like him like this, on edge, needy, desperate for you.

You flatten your tongue against his cock through the fabric, dragging it up the length of him, tasting the faint hint of salt and heat, making him curse under his breath. His hips jerk up instinctively, but you press your hand against his thigh, holding him down. His breath comes out in heavy pants as he watches you, his pupils blown wide, lips parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Fuck," he hisses, his knuckles turning white as he grips the sheets, trying to stay still.

You take pity on him. Finally. Your fingers hook into the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down agonizingly slow, letting his cock spring free, hard and leaking.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Eddie mutters, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before looking down at you again, his expression utterly wrecked.

You wrap your fingers around his length, stroking him slow, savoring the way he twitches in your grip, the way his breath stutters, the way his muscles flex under his skin. "Look at you," you murmur, your voice full of admiration, lips brushing the sensitive tip before you flick your tongue against it. Eddie chokes out a moan, his hips bucking involuntarily, his grip in your hair tightening, and fuck, that’s all the encouragement you need. You take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him as you bob your head, taking him deeper up your throat. Your eyes never leave him as you suck him harder, letting your tongue swirl and flick around his tip.

"Oh, fuck" he groans, throwing his head back, his fingers shaking as they tangle in your hair, "God, baby, just like that".

You hum around him, sending vibrations down his length, making him jerk beneath you. You keep going, slow, deliberate, savoring every reaction, every twitch, every breathless curse that falls from his lips. Eddie’s completely unraveling beneath you, his muscles tight, his thighs flexing as he fights to keep himself from thrusting into your mouth. You can feel him getting close, the way his breathing gets more ragged, the way his grip on your hair turns just a little rougher, the way he’s cursing under his breath, babbling about how fucking good you feel, how much he loves you. "Shit, baby, I’m gonna cum".

But before he can finish, you pull off him with a pop, grinning as you wipe your mouth, licking your lips as you watch him try to catch his breath.

Eddie stares at you, his chest heaving, his hands twitching. You grin, licking your lips. "Oh, you’re in fucking trouble now", he growls, and you're absolutely ready for that.

He grabs you, flipping you onto your back in a second, pinning you beneath him, his eyes dark and hungry as he smirks down at you. "Think you can tease me, huh?" he murmurs, dragging his fingers down your body, spreading your legs, slotting himself between them.

You bite your lip, lifting your hips, grinding up against him, feeling his cock slide against your slick folds, "I don’t know, baby. What are you gonna do about it?"

His smirk deepens, his hand gripping your thigh, squeezing, "Guess you’ll have to find out." Big hands are pushing your legs apart even further, spreading you wide beneath him. He’s still teasing, sliding the thick head of his cock through your slick folds, pressing against your clit just enough to make your breath hitch, but not enough to give you what you need.

"Eddie," you whimper, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, "Stop teasing."

He grins, dark and wicked, leaning down to nip at your jaw before whispering, "Oh, you don’t like it when I tease, baby?" He rolls his hips, his cock dragging through your wetness, making you shudder, "That’s funny, because I remember you teasing the fuck out of me just a minute ago."

You’re panting now, your body squirming under him, trying to get more, trying to make him sink into you. But he keeps you trapped, keeps you right where he wants you, enjoying every second of watching you fall apart. "Baby, please," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in.

He grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he lines himself up with your entrance. Finally, he thrusts in, all at once, stretching you wide, filling you so deep you cry out, arching against him. "Oh, fuck," he groans, dropping his head against your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

A desperate moan rips from your throat as he pushes deeper, stretching you, filling you, sinking into you inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt, seated so fucking perfectly inside you that your whole body shakes with it. You clutch at him, gasping against his lips, nails digging into his shoulders as he groans, low and guttural, his breath shuddering against your skin.

"Jesus fucking Christ", he growls, voice wrecked, his forehead pressing to yours, "Fuck… you’re soaking me. You really need it again, don’t you?"

You whimper, rocking against him, your thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around his waist. You’re shaking with it, desperate for more, for everything. "Yes", you gasp, voice barely more than a breath.

He leans in, lips brushing yours as he stays buried inside you, teasing. "Say it", he murmurs, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Tell me how bad you want it". He rolls his hips again, slow, maddening, making you whimper, "Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you, baby".

You can barely breathe, "So bad. Fuck, I need you so bad". You’re already trembling, your walls clenching around him as you still adjust to the fullness, to the way he stretches you perfectly, the way he feels like he was fucking made for you.

He grins, kisses your gasping lips one more time, and moves. Slow at first, pulling back, teasing you with every inch of him, before slamming back in, making you cry out. He sets a rhythm, deep and steady, grinding his hips, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. Every roll of his hips is a promise, a claim, dragging pleasure through your veins like fire. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, propping himself up on his elbows to watch your face, to watch the way your mouth falls open, the way your brows knit together in pleasure, "So fucking pretty, taking me so good, baby." You whimper, your hands dragging down his back, nails leaving red trails in their wake. He sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours, skin slapping against skin, his breath coming out in heavy pants, eyes locked on your face. Your eyes roll back, you're biting your lip, moaning his name, arching into him, desperate clawing your nails into his shoulders, his back, his ass. Hot lips fall on yours, swallowing your sounds as he pumps into you. "You like that, baby?", he groans, and you nod.

"Y-yes", you pant, moving in his fast rhythm, "Just like that".

He fists a hand in your hair. "You get that now, don’t you?" His voice is rough, possessive. Another thrust, harder, deeper, making you whimper. "No one else. No one else can fuck you like this".

You can’t even form words, just nod frantically, nails clawing at his back, his arms, trying to pull him even closer, trying to take even more of him.

Eddie growls, shifting, bending you back just enough to bring his mouth to your throat, biting, licking, sucking marks into your skin as he pounds into you. "That’s right, baby", he murmurs, breathless, "You’re mine".

You're wrapping tighter around him, pulling his head down, kissing him deeply, moaning into his mouth, "Please".

"Please what, sweetheart?" he grins, his thrusts slowing just slightly, just enough to drive you insane.

"Don’t stop," you beg, rolling your hips up to meet him, "please, don’t stop, don’t stop".

He fucks you harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars, that makes your whole body shudder beneath him. "That’s it, baby," he grunts, gripping your thigh and hiking it up higher around his waist, pushing in even deeper, "so good for me, such a good girl".

You’re unraveling, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, your breath hitching as you get closer, so fucking close. "I'm c-cumming", you whisper, head falling back into the pillow, body tensing beneath him.

Eddie groans, his thumb slipping between your bodies to press against your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts.

You fall apart beneath him, your orgasm crashing over you like a fucking tidal wave, your body tightening around him, your vision going white as you cry out his name.

Eddie pants breahlessly, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release, his grip on you bruising as he slams into you one last time, spilling inside you with a deep, broken moan.

You're both gasping for air, smirking satisfiedly as he collapses on top of you, caging your head with his arms as he tries to catch his breath, forehead glistening in sweat. He lets out a breathless laugh, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, "Holy shit."

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, letting his weight press you into the mattress, "Yeah. Holy shit."

He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your skin. "Can't wait to do that all over again in that hotel room", he grins. He watches you roll onto your stomach, your body stretching out beneath him like something sculpted just for him, something he could worship for hours. He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow, his fingers immediately trailing over the curve of your spine, tracing lazy circles into your skin. He drinks you in, completely mesmerized, following every dip and curve, the way your long hair spills across your shoulders, the way your bare ass looks so fucking perfect in the morning light streaming through the window. His fingers ghost down to your lower back, and you shiver slightly, the sensation sending a ripple through your whole body. Eddie smirks, his hand dipping lower until he cups your ass, giving it a slow, appreciative squeeze. Then, without warning - smack.

The sharp sting makes you jolt slightly, a surprised laugh bubbling from your lips as he grins down at you, absolutely unrepentant.

"That ass, babe," he murmurs, squeezing again, jiggling the flesh in his palm like he’s appreciating fine art, "Fuck, kills me every day." You snort, wiggling your hips just to tease him, making his grip tighten as a deep groan rumbles in his chest. "You're so fucking perfect," he mutters, almost to himself, like he can’t believe you’re real.

You smirk, shifting your head on your arms to look at him. "You’re so obsessed with me, Munson."

His lips curl into that cocky grin, and he leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, "You have no fucking idea."

You chuckle as he leans over you, lips trailing lower, down the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your back. He whispers between each kiss, his voice gravelly, low, full of heat. "Obsessed with every inch of you, baby. Your soft skin. Your perfect fucking tits. The way you fall apart on my tongue, on my dick. The way you moan my name, like you were fucking made for me." His lips trace down the ridge of your spine, making you shiver as he moves lower. Then, his hands grab both of your ass cheeks, spreading them slightly, making you let out a startled gasp as he squeezes, massages, fucking worships you. "And this ass," he groans, biting one cheek just hard enough to make you yelp, "Fuck, I swear, I could spend hours on my knees just buried between these thighs, tasting you, making you scream for me."

You laugh, a breathless, delighted sound as you glance over your shoulder at him. He grins up at you, his hands still kneading your flesh like he’s trying to memorize it.

Then, with one last teasing kiss to your lower back, he sits up, reaching for the coffee he abandoned on the nightstand earlier. He takes a sip, then makes a face. "Still lukewarm," he mutters, shaking his head, "Damn. Guess I should work on my performance, huh?"

You giggle, rolling onto your side to face him, letting him hand you your own cup, "Oh, baby, your performance is just fine."

He winks, setting the coffee back down before stretching his arms over his head, his whole body flexing as he stands up, completely, shamelessly naked.

The way he stands there, all lean muscle, his tattoos on full display, his cock half-hard again just from touching you, it makes you wanna drag him back into bed.Naked and prepped up on your elbows, you watch your boyfriend digging through some clothes, quickly throwing together a pile of outfits he'll pack for the weekend.

Then, he disappears into the bathroom.

You stand up, stretching your sore limbs, still feeling the aftershocks of Eddie’s hands all over you. A satisfied smirk tugs at your lips as you move around the room, gathering everything you’ll need for the weekend.

Clothes, toiletries, makeup, everything for a night alone with him, but also for his gig tomorrow and the radio interview on Sunday.

As you fold a fresh outfit for the show, your fingers pause over something silky.

A slow, mischievous smile spreads across your lips as you pull out your black silk dress, the one you wore on your first date.

The one he absolutely loved.

You toss it into your bag, along with your thigh-highs, before grabbing something else.

Lingerie. Delicate, lacy, sexy as fuck.

You bite your lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing, knowing exactly how Eddie will react when he sees it.

From the other side of the wall, you hear the water running in the bathroom. He's showering. Your smirk deepens as you toss the last few things into your bag, leaving it unzipped on your bed before heading toward the bathroom. The door is unlocked. As always. Because this man has zero shame.

You quietly step into the bathroom, locking the door behind you, the sound of rushing water filling the small space. Steam curls through the air, the scent of Eddie’s soap already clinging to the humidity.

You hear him humming inside the shower, completely unaware of your presence.

A smirk plays at your lips as you peel off the t-shirt and underwear you quickly threw on, tossing them onto the floor before stepping forward, slowly pulling the shower curtain aside.

Eddie’s back is to you, wet curls sticking to his shoulders, rivulets of water dripping down his toned back. He’s running his hands through his hair, sighing under the spray, completely relaxed. Your hands move slowly, deliberately, as you reach for him. The heat of the water makes his skin slick under your touch, and as soon as your palms slide over his waist and down to his ass, giving it a firm squeeze, he jolts, but doesn’t turn around.

Instead, he lets out a deep sigh, voice dripping with fake exasperation. "Wayne", he says, shaking his head, "We talked about this, man".

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh, fingers kneading into his flesh again, just to see how long he’ll keep it up.

"I get it, alright? I got a great ass", he continues, dramatically running his hands through his hair, still not facing you, "But this is crossing a line". 

You bite your lip, sliding your hands up his back this time, raking your nails lightly down his spine.

"Goddammit, Wayne, you promised you wouldn’t-"

That’s when you lose it, bursting into laughter, pressing your forehead against his wet shoulder as you shake with giggles.

Eddie finally cracks too, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest as he turns in your arms, water running down his face, his grin wide and mischievous. "Oh", he teases, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him, "It’s you. That’s… actually a huge relief."

You snort, "Actually?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, would’ve made Thanksgiving dinner real awkward", he smirks, then gives your ass a firm slap, "Not that I’d blame him".

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you slide your hands up his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm, "You’re an idiot".

"And you’re so in love with this idiot", he murmurs, tilting his head down, lips brushing yours, voice thick with affection, "Now, are we just here to grab my ass, or are we actually showering, sweetheart?"

You grin, pulling him closer, sliding your hand back around to shamelessly squeeze his cheek, "Can’t it be both?"

As Eddie leans in to kiss you, his hands sliding down your back, you take full advantage of the moment, running your fingers through his wet curls, massaging his scalp as you lather shampoo into his hair. He groans, tilting his head into your touch like a cat soaking up affection. "Fuck, babe," he mutters, eyes half-lidded, "You keep doing that, I’m gonna fall in love with you all over again."

You laugh, raking your nails lightly against his scalp, feeling him shudder under your touch, "Mm, then I guess I should do this more often."

"Yeah," he sighs, "like, every day. Three times a day. Minimum."

You roll your eyes but keep massaging, watching as he melts under your hands.

But, because he’s Eddie, he can't help but ruin the peaceful moment. "Actually, y’know what would be really romantic?"

You hum, knowing he's about to say something ridiculous.

He smirks. "If we had one of those double showerheads. That way, we could stare into each other’s eyes while we rinse, like one of those steamy movie scenes. Very sensual. Very intimate."

You snort, "Or we could just, I don’t know, turn around?"

He gasps dramatically. "And deprive you of this view?" He gestures down at himself, completely unashamed, "Babe, that’s just cruel."

You shake your head, but your grin betrays you. "You’re impossible."

"And yet," he murmurs, leaning in, nipping at your bottom lip, "you still love me." With that, he tilts his head back under the spray, rinsing the shampoo from his hair.

Everything seems fine - until it isn’t. 

The soap runs straight down into his face, catching him off guard.

He sputters, flinching, shaking his head like a wet dog.

Then, as expected, the dramatics begin. 

"OH GOD," he yelps, stumbling slightly, hands flying up to his eyes. "IT’S IN MY EYE! I’M GOING DOWN!"

You freeze, watching as he fumbles blindly, rubbing at his face like he’s been struck down by an unseen force. A snort escapes before you can stop it.

Eddie groans, leaning back into the water, blinking furiously. "Shit, babe, this is it. This is the moment. I’m gonna be that guy. The one who lost an eye in the shower. They’re gonna call me Cyclops Munson."

You’re already shaking with laughter, hand pressed over your mouth, but he’s just getting started.

"Tell the band to replace me with a keyboard player," he continues, voice thick with faux grief as he rinses his eyes, "A guy with no hair. No risk of shampoo accidents. It’s the only way." 

You giggle so hard your stomach aches, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he stumbles dramatically, gripping your shoulders like he might collapse at any second. "You’re such a fucking idiot," you gasp between fits of laughter.

"And yet, you chose me," he counters, blindly reaching for you, dramatically pressing his soapy face into your neck, "You poor, poor thing." 

You try to push him off, but he's clinging to you like some tragic soap opera protagonist. "Get off me, you’re all slippery!"

"This is just who I am now," he sighs, shaking his head sadly, "A blind, slippery man. No hope. No future."

You’re laughing so hard at this point you actually feel weak, doubling over slightly as another snort escapes.

Eddie grins at that, knowing he’s won. "That’s it," he smirks, wiping his eyes exaggeratedly, "That’s my purpose now. Making you snort-laugh until you pee in the shower."

You straighten up, eyes wide, "I will kill you, Munson."

"Joke’s on you, I’m already dying," he groans, leaning dramatically against the wall, "Slow, painful, shampoo-related death."

You’re breathless, shaking with laughter as he finally blinks up at you, one eye slightly red but his grin wide and triumphant. "You good now?" you ask, wiping at your own tear-streaked face.

He sighs, tilting his head from side to side like he’s assessing the damage. Then, he smirks, "I mean… I guess I’ll survive. If you kiss it better."

You roll your eyes, but you’re still giggling as you press a quick, playful kiss to his cheek, "There. All better?"

He grins. "Eh. Might need one more. Just to be safe."

You sigh dramatically but indulge him anyway, pressing another soft kiss to his cheek. "There," you murmur against his skin, "all better now?"

Eddie hums, considering, "Mmm… I mean, maybe one more, just to be sure."

You roll your eyes, but you’re still grinning as you plant another kiss, this time on the corner of his mouth.

He smacks his lips together, pretending to test it out. "I dunno, babe. Feels like a two-eye situation. Pretty sure both of them got hit."

You huff a laugh, but you’re already leaning in, pressing a kiss to his other cheek, then another to his nose just for good measure. "And now?" you ask, arching a brow.

Eddie sighs dramatically. "Honestly, I think the trauma was deeper than I thought. Might need a whole bunch. Like, a rapid-fire healing sequence."

You snort but oblige, giggling as you start peppering kisses all over his face, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, all while he makes these ridiculous exaggerated "mmm" sounds like you’re performing some sacred, magical ritual. 

"Ooooh yeah," he drawls, eyes closed as he soaks up the attention, "That’s the stuff, baby. Curing me right up. I can see the light. I think... yes, I think I'm regaining my vision!"

You’re giggling so hard you can barely keep going, especially when he suddenly gasps, grabbing your shoulders like he’s just seen something shocking. 

"Oh my god!" he exclaims, eyes wide, "Is that my beautiful, amazing, incredibly hot girlfriend?!"

You laugh, shoving him playfully, "Shut up, you idiot." 

But Eddie just grins, waggling his eyebrows. "What? I thought I went blind! This is a miracle, babe!"

"You’re so full of shit," you wheeze, wiping at your damp face, still giggling. 

"And yet, you still love me," he quips, giving your ass a playful squeeze before turning toward the shower knobs. 

Before you can come up with a snarky response, the water suddenly shifts, one second it’s warm, and then it’s ice-cold. 

"FUCK!" Eddie yelps, jumping back against the wall, "ABORT! ABORT!"

You squeal, darting out of the spray as fast as you can, shoving past him in your hurry.

"JESUS CHRIST!" He frantically fumbles for the knobs, but by the time he shuts the water off, you’re both breathless and shivering, arms wrapped around yourselves for warmth. He glares at the showerhead like it personally betrayed him. "Unbelievable," he mutters, "All that love and affection, and that’s how the universe repays me?"

You’re still catching your breath, snickering as you grab for the towels hanging on the rack, "That’s what you get for taking an hour to rinse your hair, Munson."

Eddie pouts, snatching his towel and wrapping it around his waist. "This is a cruel world," he grumbles, rubbing at his arms, "Cold. Unforgiving."

You roll your eyes but can’t stop smiling as you grab your toiletries from the counter, bundling them into your arms. "Come on, drama queen. We’ve got a road trip to get ready for." 

Eddie’s stretching as he leans against the kitchen counter, his damp curls still slightly messy from the shower, lazily spooning cereal into his mouth.

You’re across from him at the small table, munching on your own bowl, both of you comfortably silent for a moment, just enjoying the last bit of calm before you hit the road.

The van is packed, his guitar, your bags, everything you need locked inside.

A door opens, and Wayne shuffles into the living room, looking every bit the grumpy old man who just crawled out of his grave after a long night shift.

Eddie nearly chokes on his cereal, biting back a laugh because, holy shit, this is exactly where he gets it from. The messy hair, the heavy-lidded eyes, the deep scowl, the aura of pure exhaustion.

It’s like looking into a time-warped mirror of his future self.

Wayne scratches at his stubbled jaw, eyes squinting at the two of you as he lets out a low, gruff grunt, "What the hell are you two doin’ home already? School's out?"

You glance at Eddie, then back at Wayne, spooning more cereal into your mouth. "Mm."

Eddie swallows his bite, playing it cool. "Uh, yeah. We’re heading to Indy already. Gonna stay there till Sunday afternoon."

Wayne just grunts again, shuffling toward the coffee maker like a zombie. "Mmhmm."

Eddie smirks, lifting his bowl. "You gonna listen in on Sunday? 92.3, one o’clock."

His uncle waves a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Got my alarm set and everything. Ain’t missin’ it." He finally pours himself a cup of coffee, muttering under his breath, "Sittin’ right here, cheerin’ for my boy…"

You press your lips together, trying so hard not to laugh because Jesus Christ, the resemblance is uncanny. Eddie mutters the exact same way when he wakes up.

Wayne glances at the two of you again, sipping his coffee, "You two eatin’ breakfast or lunch?"

"Yes," Eddie deadpans.

Wayne just shakes his head, muttering something about how teenagers are weird before groaning as he stretches, cracking his back. "Alright, I’m gonna hit the shower. Y’all take care, drive safe."

"Bye, Wayne," you say sweetly, watching him shuffle off toward the bathroom.

Eddie just lifts his bowl again in salute. "See ya, old man."

You both sit in silence for another minute, finishing up your cereal.

Then, a very angry voice from the bathroom. "DID YOU USE ALL THE HOT WATER AGAIN?!"

Your eyes widen in horror.

Eddie’s freeze mid-bite.

And without a single word, you both bolt, snatching your jackets and rushing out the door like your lives depend on it.

The road stretches ahead as Eddie hums along to whatever rock tape he’s popped into the van’s cassette player. His fingers drum lazily on the steering wheel, curls still slightly damp from the shower, his other hand resting comfortably on his thigh.

You’re curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked beneath you, a folded-up newspaper in your lap, skimming the classifieds for apartment listings in Hawkins.

Your own place.

A little home, just for both of you.

"You want a fireplace, huh?" Eddie smirks, glancing over at you.

You nod, flipping the page. "Obviously. Gotta have a place to dramatically stare into the flames while I contemplate life and sip fancy wine."

Eddie snorts, adjusting his grip on the wheel, "You? Fancy wine?"

"Alright, fine. Cheap wine. Or, like… spiked hot chocolate in the winter. That’s the vibe."

He hums in thought, nodding approvingly. "I can get behind that. Long winter nights, us curled up under a big blanket, my toes shoved under your legs for warmth".

"Absolutely not," you cut in, flipping the page again, "Your feet are like ice cubes".

"They are not", he argues, glancing at you indignantly.

"They absolutely are."

He grumbles under his breath before nodding toward the paper, "Alright, what else we got?"

You skim through the listings, reading a few out loud. "Here’s one… studio apartment, second floor, rent is decent. No pets allowed, though."

He scoffs, "Lame. What if we wanna get a dog? Or a cat? Or, like, I dunno, a pet rat."

You give him a look. "A rat?"

"A really cool rat," he insists. "Like… one that sits on my shoulder while I play guitar. Maybe even a tiny little leather jacket. Maybe even a-"

"Next listing," you say, shaking your head.

Eddie smirks, drumming his fingers on the wheel again, "Bet if I had a rat, it’d be cooler than Harrington’s stupid hair."

"Not setting the bar very high there, babe."

He gasps dramatically, "You wound me."

You ignore him, scanning the paper again. "Okay, here’s one… one-bedroom, small kitchen, decent price. Says ‘quiet neighborhood.’"

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, well, that won’t last long with me around."

"True," you mumble, tapping your pen against the paper.

He peeks over again. "Wait, does it have a bathtub? ‘Cause listen, I know you want a fireplace, but I need a bathtub."

You raise a brow. "You need one?"

"Yes." He nods seriously. "For recovery purposes."

"Recovery from what?"

"Life."

You roll your eyes, circling the listing anyway, "Fine. I’ll put a star next to it."

"Thank you," he says, overly dramatic, "I can already see it. Me, stretched out in the tub, candles lit, bubbles up to my shoulders..."

"You in bubbles?"

"Yeah." He grins. "Like a fancy man. Maybe a glass of that cheap wine you’re sipping by the fireplace."

You burst out laughing, shaking your head as you fold up the paper, taking a look at the next page, "You’re impossible."

You keep on reading the listings, checking the rents.

This is so expensive. How are you supposed to pay that much rent for an apartment the size of a shoe box? And for furniture you may need? The other bills?

You sigh, flipping to another page of the classifieds, circling another maybe-decent listing, but your mind is already somewhere else.

Eddie can tell. He always can. "You’re making that face," he says, side-eyeing you as he switches lanes.

"What face?", you frown, glancing at him. "That thinking face." He mimics you, scrunching his nose, furrowing his brows, lips slightly pursed.

You smack his arm lightly, "Shut up."

"Not until you tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours," he singsongs.

"Uh, it's just so expensive", you sigh, "We should probably look for a real job for you first, before applying to any apartments".

"I'm actually thinking about taking the job Chrissy's stepdad offered me".

You freeze at his words.

What?

The classified section blurs in front of your eyes as the thoughts spiral, crashing into each other like a goddamn demolition derby in your brain.

You swallow hard, forcing your breathing to stay steady, but your fingers tighten around the paper in your lap.

You don’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not when the morning still feels like an open wound, raw and stinging every time you brush against it.

Eddie keeps glancing at you, waiting for a response. When you don’t say anything, don’t even look at him, he exhales through his nose and taps his fingers against the wheel. "Babe," he tries, softer this time, "talk to me."

But you just turn your head toward the window, watching the trees blur past.

If you open your mouth now, you don’t know what’ll come out.

You’re not even sure if you’re angry anymore. Or hurt. Or just exhausted.

Eddie shifts in his seat, drumming his fingers against the wheel in an uneven rhythm. He always gets fidgety when you shut down on him. "Look, I know you’re still pissed about this morning-"

"Can we not?" You finally cut in, voice tight, still staring out the window.

A pause.

Eddie sighs, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "Alright," he mutters, like he’s letting it go, but you know him better than that. "Fine. Then let’s talk about the job."

You close your eyes for a second.

Christ.

"It’s a good gig," he continues, voice careful, like he’s testing the waters, "Steady money. I’d learn a real trade, y’know? Something I could actually do if- if the music thing doesn’t work out."

You know he’s right. You do. But your stomach still twists into knots at the thought. At the idea of him seeing her every day, of her having a reason to be around him, to talk to him, to smile up at him with those big innocent eyes while she bats her perfect lashes.

You hate it.

You hate her.

"You really wanna work there?" you ask, finally turning your head toward him. Your voice comes out quieter than you meant, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and dangerous just under the surface.

Eddie glances at you again, then sighs. "I don’t wanna work anywhere," he mutters, scratching his jaw. "But I sure as shit don’t wanna be flipping burgers or working some dead-end retail job for the next ten years. And this? This could be something real."

You swallow around the lump in your throat, fingers tightening in your lap. "Something real," you echo, staring at him now, forcing him to meet your eyes, "And her? She’s part of that ‘something real’ too?"

His brows pull together, and his hands flex on the wheel. "That’s what this is about," he mutters, shaking his head. "Christ, babe-"

"Of course, that’s what this is about, Eddie!" you snap before you can stop yourself, the emotion finally breaking through, "You really think I wanna sit around watching you go work for her dad? Give her a reason to come around all the time? To remind me every goddamn day that you spent the night at her house?"

"I didn’t-"

"I know!" you bite out, voice rising, "I know you didn’t, okay? But I thought you did, Eddie! I spent way too long thinking you cheated on me! And now you wanna take a job that’s gonna keep her in our lives forever?!"

Eddie groans, rolling his eyes. "Jesus Christ, here we fucking go"

"Don’t", you cut him off, your voice shaking now, because you’re so fucking mad, "Don’t you fucking roll your eyes at me, Eddie Munson. Not after what the fuck I went through this morning".

He lets out a sharp breath, knuckles going white on the wheel, "For fuck’s sake, we just got past that".

"Did we?" You laugh, but it’s humorless, sharp like broken glass. "Because I don’t remember the part where I magically stopped seeing you in front of her house at seven in the morning, her hugging you, kissing your fucking cheek--"

"Oh my God"

"I don’t remember the part where my fucking heart unbroke, Eddie!" you shout, and suddenly, you don’t care anymore that you’re in a moving vehicle, that you’re supposed to be having a nice road trip together. You don’t care about anything except the rage clawing its way out of your chest. "Do you have any idea what that did to me?" Your voice is shaking now, thick with emotion, but you don’t stop. "I almost broke up with you, Eddie! I ran out of this fucking town, I- I nearly crashed my car, I had a fucking panic attack, and now, now, you wanna sit here and act like I’m just being some jealous bitch because I don’t want you working somewhere where she can just waltz in and bat her little fucking lashes at you whenever she wants?"

Eddie’s grip tightens on the wheel, his jaw clenched so hard you think his teeth might snap. "It’s a fucking job, babe".

"It’s a fucking set-up", you hiss, "It’s her way of keeping you close. Keeping you around. Because she wants you, Eddie, and she doesn’t give a shit that you have a girlfriend".

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head, "Oh, come the fuck on".

"Oh, don’t act like you don’t know", you snap, "Don’t act like you don’t see the way she looks at you, like you’re some fucking prize she just knows she’s gonna win one day. Like if she just sticks around long enough, you’ll finally get tired of my ‘jealous bitch’ routine and realize you’d be better off fucking her on one of those hoods at her daddy’s garage".

He slams a hand on the wheel, "Jesus Christ, what do you want from me?"

"I want you to not fucking work there, Eddie!"

"I need a job!"

"Not that one!"

"Why not?", he shouts, eyes flicking to you now, burning with frustration, "Why the fuck not? Because you don’t like her? Because you don’t want her looking at me?"

"Because I don’t want her anywhere fucking near you!", you scream, "Because I don’t trust her, Eddie, because I know exactly what the fuck she’s doing! She’ll keep finding reasons to stop by, keep being all sweet and innocent, batting her little perfect fucking lashes at you while you’re all sweaty and dirty from work, hoping one day you’ll just give in and finally fuck her perfect little pussy like the bad guy you are!"

The words hang in the air, heavy and venomous, and as soon as they’re out, you know you’ve crossed a line. But you don’t care.

He stares at you, his chest heaving, his hands gripping the wheel like he’s stopping himself from saying something he’ll regret.Then he exhales sharply, shaking his head."Jesus fucking Christ", he mutters, "You really think so little of me?"

Your stomach twists, "That’s not-"

"No, no", he cuts you off, voice low and seething, "You really think that, huh? That I’m just some fucking dog who’ll fuck the first bitch who spreads her legs?"

"That’s not what I-"

"Then what the fuck are you saying?", he snaps, "Because that’s sure as fuck what it sounds like."

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because you do trust him. You do. But you don’t trust her.

Eddie shakes his head again, looking back at the road, "Un-fucking-believable".

The silence between you is thick and suffocating. You’re both breathing hard, the air crackling with everything neither of you is saying. Eddie’s jaw is tight, his hands flexing on the wheel like he wants to rip it off. You can see the anger rolling off him in waves, but underneath it, underneath all of it, is hurt.

And that’s what really gets you.

That’s what makes your stomach twist like you’ve just swallowed glass.

He’s pissed because he thinks you don’t trust him. That you think he’s weak, or worse, waiting for an excuse to cheat. But that’s not it. It’s never been that.

It’s her.

You can’t fucking stand her.

She’s too perfect. Too sweet. Too much of everything you’re not, and she wants him. She’s been circling for weeks, looking for cracks, looking for ways in. She’s waiting for her moment, and this job? This is her opening.

And maybe Eddie doesn’t see it, maybe he’s blind to it, but you see it.

You know.

So no, you’re not just gonna sit there and let him walk right into her fucking trap.

His voice is low when he finally speaks, rough with frustration. "You don’t fucking get it, do you?"

You snap your head toward him, your pulse still pounding in your ears, "What the fuck don’t I get, Eddie?"

"I don’t get opportunities like this!" His grip tightens on the wheel, and his voice wavers, just a little, "I don’t get chances at real jobs, real fucking work. Nobody wants to hire the freak, remember? I walk into a place, and they see my hair, my tattoos, my name, and I’m already done before I open my fucking mouth."

Your chest tightens, because fuck, you do know that. You know how hard it’s been for him, how many doors have slammed in his face, how much it fucking hurts him, even if he pretends it doesn’t. But this? This isn’t just some job.

"So what, you’re gonna let her daddy throw you a fucking bone?" Your voice is sharp, edged with something too close to desperation. "You’re gonna owe them something? You really wanna be in their fucking pocket?"

Eddie lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus, babe, it’s a fucking job, not a goddamn mafia deal".

You stare at him, incredulous, "Oh, so you trust them now?"

"No, but I trust me", he says firmly, shooting you a glare, "I trust myself not to be some weak fucking idiot who gets his dick hard just because a pretty girl smiles at him".

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.Because that’s not what you meant. That’s never what you meant. But it is what you said. And Eddie heard you loud and fucking clear. You swallow hard, your throat tight, "Eddie".

"No", he cuts you off, voice sharp, eyes burning, "You think I don’t know what she’s doing? You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know what she wants?" He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head, "You don’t give me a whole lot of credit, babe".

You blink, thrown, "So then why-"

"Because I don’t fucking care", he snaps, "Because it doesn’t matter. She can bat her lashes, she can flirt, she can do whatever the fuck she wants, I don’t fucking care".His voice drops lower, rougher. "Because I’m not interested".

Your heart clenches.Because part of you knows that. You do. But you still hate the idea of her even trying.

Eddie shakes his head, looking back at the road, his shoulders tense. "But I guess that’s not good enough for you, huh?"

"That’s not-"

"You don’t fucking trust me".

And that is what fucking breaks you.

"I do", you insist, your voice cracking, your hands gripping your thighs so hard it hurts, "Eddie, I do".

"Then fucking act like it", he snaps.

His words hit you like a slap.

You stare at him, gulping hard. Fighting your tears. Your voice is shaking now, but you don’t fucking stop. You can’t."What, now I'm supposed to feel fucking better because you are fucking aware of what she's doing? That she's been flirting with you, fucking checking you out for weeks now? That you know she fucking wants you now, after being with that perfect homecoming basketball idiot that looks like her fucking brother? That she now wants to know how it is to fuck the bad guy? What the fuck, Eddie? You know that, you're fucking aware of that - and you still let her touch you like that? Get this fucking close? And all of that fucking topped with the fact you did had a fucking crush on her once, and you still call her a pretty girl in fucking front of me?"Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding as you continue. "What, huh? You wanna fucking fire up her little sex dreams about you? Let her think that if she just waits long enough, plays her little games, you’ll finally snap and fuck her?"

Eddie’s nostrils flare, his fingers curling into fists on his thighs as he swallows hard, his jaw tight, but you see the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

"And now", you press, voice trembling, "after everything, after we almost broke up over this bitch, you wanna take a fucking job there? Can't you fucking understand why I'm not utterly excited about that?"

He shakes his head, eyes dark, "You don’t fucking get it".

"Oh, I get it". You laugh again, sharp and broken. "You almost lost me over her, Eddie. And now you’re just… what? Gonna work for her dad? Gonna see her every day?"

His hands slam against the wheel, the sudden sound making you flinch. "No! We almost broke up because you didn’t trust me, Sam!" His voice is loud now, rough and raw. "And apparently, you still fucking don’t!"

Your breath catches. His words slam into you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind right out of you. "Oh, fuck you, Eddie". Your voice wavers, but you refuse to back down, "This isn’t about trust".

"The hell it isn’t!" He throws up his hand, eyes burning as he glares at you. "Jesus, Sam, do you even hear yourself? You’re acting like I’m two seconds away from fucking her just because she wants me!"

You shake your head, jaw clenched so tight it aches, "You fucking let her think she has a chance".

"I don’t let her do shit!" Eddie snaps. His voice is sharp enough to cut. "You think I fucking want her flirting with me? That I like it?"

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, "Oh, you don’t? Then why the fuck do you let her touch you, Eddie? Huh? Why don’t you fucking stop her, tell her to fucking leave you alone? Because you wanna work at daddy's garage? Because it could ruin your drug business if she stops buying from you and spreads the word?"

Eddie’s jaw twitches, his fingers curling tight against his jeans, "I do stop her-"

"Oh, really?" You shake your head, disbelief and anger curling in your gut, "Is that what I saw? ‘Cause it sure as fuck looked like you were just fucking standing there. Not doing shit".

His eyes flick to you for a second, his breath ragged, his body tense. But then he looks back at the road, gaze burning. "You left me, Sam", he bites out, "You ran instead of talking to me. You didn’t even fucking let me explain."

Your chest tightens, the memory of this morning slamming into you like a freight train.

The gut-wrenching moment you thought you’d lost him. The panic. The heartbreak. The way you had run because you couldn’t handle the thought of him choosing someone else.

"You didn’t see what I saw", you whisper, voice trembling.

Eddie’s face softens for half a second, but then his anger flares again, frustration taking its place. "I don’t need to see it, Sam. Because I know what happened. And I know I didn’t do a damn thing wrong".

Your heart is racing, your breath coming too fast, your fingers digging into your thighs. "And now you wanna fucking work there? Be around her?"

Eddie exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face, "I need the fucking job". His voice is tight, controlled. "I can’t just turn down real money because my girlfriend’s jealous".

Your whole body goes rigid. "Jealous?"

His eyes snap to yours, and it’s too late to take it back.

Your blood boils, rage simmering just under the surface. "That’s what you think this is?" you whisper, voice shaking, "You think I’m just being some fucking jealous girlfriend?"

Eddie exhales through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it with his thumb and forefinger, "I think you’re making this a bigger deal than it is", he mutters.

"You fucking asshole", you hiss, "No big deal? You think I’m just being crazy, Eddie? Is that it? You think I’m just some insecure, jealous idiot?"

He clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his teeth grind. "I think you don’t trust me," he mutters darkly.

"Are you fucking serious?" Your voice comes out quiet, deadly.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares through the windshield, breathing heavy. And when he finally speaks, it’s softer, but somehow worse. "You ran from me," he says, "Before I could even open my fucking mouth. You left me." His voice is raw, hurt bleeding into every syllable. "Over nothing. Because whatever I say or do, when it comes to her, and God know who else, you just don't fucking trust me. You left me."

The car goes silent again, but this time it feels different. Heavier.

You swallow hard, something painful twisting in your chest. "It wasn’t nothing," you whisper.

Eddie's eyes darken. "It was to me."

Your breath shudders in your chest. That hurt. That fucking hurt.

"It was to you?" you echo, voice barely above a whisper. "Are you-" Your words cut off in a bitter laugh, but it's more of a sob, your throat burning from holding everything back, "That’s real fucking nice, Eddie. Glad to know my feelings don’t fucking matter."

Eddie's face twists. "That's not what I said-"

"Yeah, it fucking is!" Your voice cracks, the weight of everything crashing down on you. "It was to me." You throw his words back at him, a mocking edge to your voice, but there's no real fight in it anymore, just pain. "I thought you cheated on me. I thought I lost you. Do you even fucking know what that felt like?"

His anger falters. Just for a second. Just enough for something else to flicker across his face, something closer to guilt.

"I was fucking broken, Eddie." Your voice wavers. "I couldn't breathe. I- I ran a red light just to get away from you, from what you made me fucking feel. Almost got fucking hit. I had a panic attack so bad I-" Your voice catches, a sob threatening to tear out of your throat, but you swallow it down. "I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

Eddie's expression shifts, his lips parting like he wants to say something but nothing comes out.

You shake your head, blinking against the blur of tears. "And it was nothing to you?" The words taste like poison.

"That’s not what I meant," he says quickly, his voice softer now, almost desperate, "Baby".

"No." You pull back, wiping at your face with shaking hands. "No, you fucking meant it." You let out a choked laugh, shaking your head. "You think this is just jealousy, don't you? You think I'm just pissed off because she's pretty and you're you?"

Eddie exhales sharply, rubbing his face, "Sam, I-"

"She wants you, Eddie." Your voice is steadier now, but your hands are still trembling. "You said it. You know it. And you still let her touch you. You still let her be near you. And now you wanna go work for her dad?"

His jaw tightens. "Because it's a job."

"Because it's a fucking invitation for her to keep trying!" You grip your hair, breathing hard. "And you don't even fucking care!"

Eddie's hands slam against the steering wheel again, but this time, his voice isn't as loud. It's rough. Tired. "What do you want me to do, Sam?" He turns to look at you for a second, eyes burning with frustration, but beneath it, there's something else. Something almost pleading. "What do you want me to fucking do?"

Your head snaps toward him, eyes burning. "What do I want you to do?"

The disbelief in your voice is sharp enough to cut.

He keeps driving, his hands gripping the wheel, knuckles going white. He glances at you again, waiting. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for you to tell him what the fuck to do.

And that’s when it hits you.

He really doesn’t get it.

You said everything you had to say. You laid yourself bare, every fear, every bit of pain, every fucking ounce of love you have for him, and he still has to ask?

You scoff, shaking your head. "You should already fucking know, Eddie. But you don’t. And that’s the fucking problem."

His jaw clenches, his breath comes out sharp through his nose, but he doesn’t say anything.

Fine. Fine.

You turn away from him, pulling your hoodie over your face, arms curling around yourself as your body shakes. You bite your lip hard, trying to keep the sobs in, but it doesn’t fucking work. They come anyway, silent and broken, your chest caving in with the force of them.

And Eddie just keeps driving.

You sniffle quietly, pressing your sleeve to your nose, trying to keep it in.

But he knows. Of course he knows.

He grips the wheel tighter, his jaw ticking.

He hates seeing you cry.

It twists something deep in his gut, makes him want to pull over and fix it, fix you, fix this.

But this whole thing with Chrissy?

It’s too fucking much.

The way you get about her, the way you react, the jealousy.

It pisses him off.

But then, slowly, the thought creeps in.

If the roles were reversed?

If it were you?

If some guy had been sniffing around you for weeks, waiting for his shot, knowing Eddie was right fucking there, but still pushing his luck?

And you, you, let him touch you like that, let him get close, considered working for his family?

Eddie’s stomach churns.

He'd lose his fucking mind.

He'd be dying.

The realization hits like a gut punch. His grip on the wheel loosens slightly. "Sam," he starts, voice lower now, not as sharp.

But you don’t answer. You don’t even turn toward him. You just sit there, curled in on yourself, silent except for the occasional shaky breath.

Eddie exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He tries again. "Sam…" His voice is softer now, careful, but you don't respond. He reaches out, fingers brushing against your sleeve, but the second you feel him, you shift away, curling into yourself. And that hits him like a punch to the ribs.

You're hurt. More than hurt. His words cut you deep, and maybe it's not just this fight, not just Chrissy, but something bigger.

Something he should’ve seen by now.

This relationship terrifies you.

Not because you don’t love him, fuck, you love him too much. So much it swallows you whole, so much you can’t breathe without him. He’s the first man you ever gave your heart to, the only one who’s ever held it.

And that means he’s the only one who can break it.

And maybe, maybe he already has.

Because for that one, agonizing second this morning, you thought he did it.

You thought he cheated.

You thought he betrayed you.

And even though it wasn’t true, even though it wasn’t what it looked like, you felt it. You felt how badly he could hurt you, and that feeling, that gut-wrenching pain, it hasn’t gone away.

So you just sit there, staring blankly ahead, silent tears sliding down your face.

Not moving. Not reacting. Just hurting.

Eddie watches you for a short moment, then, without a word, he pulls into a parking bay off the highway. There’s still an hour left to go, but he doesn’t care. He can’t keep driving like this, can’t pretend everything’s fine when it fucking isn’t. He throws the van into park, kills the engine. The silence is thick, suffocating. Then, finally, he speaks. "Look at me."

You don’t. You can’t.

You keep your eyes fixed on the dashboard, blinking rapidly as more tears spill over. Your breath is shaky, uneven. You’re trying so fucking hard to hold it together, but you’re unraveling, and Eddie can see it.

He swallows hard. "Sam". His voice is quieter now, but firm. "Baby, come on. Look at me.”

Still, nothing.

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He shifts in his seat, turning to face you fully. "I’m not starting this car again until you talk to me."

You flinch at that, but you don’t answer.

Eddie exhales, dragging both hands through his hair. He’s frustrated. Not at you, but at himself, at this whole fucking mess. He wants to fix it. Needs to fix it. But he doesn’t know how. "Do you even wanna be here?" His voice cracks slightly, like the words physically hurt to say. "With me?"

That’s what finally makes you turn. Your head snaps toward him, eyes wide, disbelieving. Like you can’t believe he’d even ask that. Your voice is raw, barely above a whisper, "Are you serious?"

He looks at you, really looks at you. At the pain in your eyes, the way you’re holding yourself together by a thread. And fuck, he hates himself for putting it there. "I don't know," he mutters, shaking his head. "You won’t even look at me. You won’t talk to me. You..." He lets out a bitter laugh, gesturing between you, "We’re us, and we’re sitting here like fucking strangers."

Your lower lip trembles. "Because you don’t get it," you whisper, voice thick with emotion. "You don’t get what this did to me."

Eddie’s breath catches. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. Not yet. "Then tell me," he says, and it’s not a demand, it’s a plea. "Please."

Your breath shudders as you try to hold it in, try to keep it all inside, but it’s too much.

The weight of it, the fear, the fucking pain of it.

"You wanna know what it did to me?"Your voice wavers, raw and strained. You wipe at your face, as if that’ll stop the tears, but they just keep coming, "It broke me, Eddie. I fucking broke."

Your boyfriend just watches you, his eyes dark and intense, but he doesn’t interrupt.

"I thought you cheated on me", you choke out, "For real. For real, Eddie. I saw her on you, touching you, all over you, kissing your fucking cheek, and I ran". Your voice cracks. "I ran like my fucking life depended on it, and I thought I was gonna die."

He flinches, but you don’t stop.

"I couldn’t fucking breathe. I was shaking so bad I-" You press a hand to your chest, reliving it, feeling the panic coil back into your ribs, "I had a full panic attack. I couldn’t see, couldn’t think, I-" Your voice breaks completely, and you squeeze your eyes shut, covering your mouth with your sleeve.

Eddie’s face twists in pain, like he’s physically hurting from your words, "Baby…"

"And then", you gasp, forcing yourself to keep going, "I fought you. I almost broke up with you. Because I didn’t believe you. Because it didn’t fucking match what I saw".

Eddie shakes his head, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. "Sam, I..."

"And I still came back". You wipe at your nose aggressively. "Because I love you, Eddie. I love you so much that I physically can’t be without you".

His expression crumbles, his body leaning forward slightly, but you’re not done.

"So yeah, maybe I’m fucking jealous when it comes to her. Maybe it makes me sick to think of her touching you again, flirting with you, wanting you". Your voice shakes. "Because for a moment, I thought I lost you to her".

Eddie swallows hard, his fingers twitching against his knees, but he's completely still. Watching you. Listening.

Your voice is shaking, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not when everything is spilling out, years of locked-up fear and love and pain pouring from your chest like an open wound. "You don’t get it. You don’t get what it did to me to think, for just one second, that you didn’t want me anymore. That you could... could just go". Your voice cracks, and you swallow down the lump in your throat. "I never thought I’d have someone like you, Eddie. And now, I have to live every fucking day with the fear of losing you."

His mouth parts, but he stays quiet.

You breathe in, unsteady. "You have my heart. My small, fucked-up, bruised heart that I tried so goddamn hard to keep safe. That built up every fucking wall it could just to make sure no one could ever hurt me." You pause, eyes burning into his. "And you climbed over them like it was fucking nothing."

He swallows hard, his breath hitching.

"You shattered them. With your stupid smirk, your dumb eyes, your laugh, your everything." You shake your head. "And it scares me. Because this morning, when I thought, even for a second, that you..." Your voice dies for a moment, throat tight. "It was like looking into hell. It was worse than hell. My whole body shut down. I couldn’t breathe. And all because of you."

Eddie’s fingers twitch in his lap, but he still doesn’t reach for you.

"And it would be one thing if it was just some random girl, some fucking fan at one of your gigs or whatever", you continue, voice laced with anger now, raw and sharp, "but it wasn’t. It was her. Chrissy fucking Cunningham. The girl I always had a feeling about. The girl you used to have a crush on".

Eddie flinches, just barely.

"And you know it. You know she’s been running around you for weeks, playing her little innocent doll act, batting her eyes and pretending she’s helpless. ‘Oh, Eddie, I don’t know how to take the drugs I bought from you, can you feed them to me with your tongue?’" Your voice pitches up in a mockery of hers, before your face hardens, voice dropping. "'Oh, Eddie, am I interrupting you and your girlfriend while you're making out? Can you please help me? I am so weak, I can't do anything alone, I need a strong man.'"

He exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"I fucking hate her", you spit, "And I hate how you’re still so nice to her. How you know what she wants from you. How you know how I feel about her. And you still-" Your voice breaks, lower now, more hurt than angry. "You still let her touch you in a way that made me think that you fucking cheated on me".

Silence.

The van feels impossibly small, like the walls are closing in.

Your breath is sharp, your hands trembling in your lap.

He looks wrecked. Like someone just reached into his chest and squeezed. He looks at you, blinks, and moves. Opens his seatbelt, his door. And climbs out of the van. The door slams shut behind him, the sounds of the highway filling the van in his absence. Your breath hitches when he suddenly appears on your side, yanking your door open with an urgency that makes your heart pound. He unclips your seatbelt, hands rough but careful, and before you can even think to resist, he’s dragging you out of your seat and into his arms.

You fight it. Immediately.

Your hands press against his chest, pushing, trying to break free of his grip.

You don’t want to feel this. You don’t want his warmth melting into yours, don’t want the scent of cigarettes and leather and him wrapping around you, making it impossible to keep your anger upright.

It makes you feel weak. Makes you feel like all he has to do is touch you and everything inside you crumbles.

But he doesn’t let go.

"Let me go", you choke out, twisting in his grip, but Eddie just holds you tighter.

"No". His voice is hoarse, strained, like he’s barely keeping himself together, "No, I’m not letting go. Not this time".

You shake your head, still fighting, but he just buries his face into your neck, clutching you like you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

"I’m sorry", he breathes, "I’m so fucking sorry".

You shake your head again, "Eddie, we-"

"I get it now", he cuts in, voice thick with emotion, "I swear, baby, I get it". His hands grip the back of your hoodie, fisting the fabric like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. "I don’t want her. I don’t want anybody... fuck, Sam, I just want you".

Your breath stutters.

"Forever", he whispers, "You. Forever. You’re all I want". His words are breaking you down, piece by piece. "I love you so much it fucking hurts", he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are desperate, shining under the dim, overcast light. "Seeing your face this morning, fuck, Sam, I thought I was gonna die. The way you looked at me. How you ran. How you wouldn’t stop". His voice cracks, "How you locked me out. I had to beg you to open the door. And when you finally did, you..." He swallows hard. "You said you loved me. Past tense".

You squeeze your eyes shut, more tears slipping down your cheeks.

"You told me I broke your heart". His voice is barely a whisper. "You didn’t answer when I asked if you were breaking up with me".

You shake your head, but he keeps going, keeps bleeding out every piece of pain he’s kept locked inside since this morning.

"You drove off, baby. Even when I held onto the hood, fuck, I almost cried. I did cry. I was screaming your name." His breath shudders. "I fucking sank to my knees, Sam. Because I thought I lost you".

Your chest aches, the memory playing behind your eyelids.

"Didn’t you see my pain?" His voice is so broken it shatters something inside you. "Didn’t you see how it killed me?" He cups your face, thumbs wiping your tears away, but they keep falling, spilling over like a flood neither of you can stop. "I love you", he whispers, forehead pressing against yours, "I love you so fucking much. And I wasn’t lying when I said I wanna fucking marry you". His breath is shaky. "You’re everything to me, Sam. You’re all I want."

You let out a broken sob, hands gripping onto him like you’ll never let go.He exhales a shaky breath, his forehead still pressed against yours, his fingers trembling where they cradle your face. Your hands clutch at his jacket, gripping the worn leather like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. His voice drops to something raw and vulnerable. "Please, baby. Say something".

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your throat is too tight, your chest too full of everything - pain, love, fear. The weight of the morning, the memory of how it felt to see him like that, to think, just for a second, that he had destroyed everything you’d built together. You shake your head, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. You don’t know what to say.

Eddie swallows hard, his grip tightening. "I thought I lost you", he breathes, "I felt it. I felt it, Sam, like someone fucking ripped my heart out and stomped on it. I never-" He chokes, sucking in a harsh breath, "I never want to feel that again".

You stare at him, into those big brown eyes filled with nothing but sincerity and desperation. Your heart aches. Your whole body aches. "Neither do I", you whisper, voice barely there.

His breath stutters, "Then don’t run".

You press your lips together.

"Baby, please". His hands slide down to your shoulders, then lower, curling around your waist. Holding you like a prayer. "Don’t run from me. I love you. I don’t give a fuck about her. I don’t give a fuck about any of them." His voice shakes with intensity. "You’re it for me. You know you’re it for me."

You do. Of course, you do. That’s what makes it so terrifying.

"I don’t know how to stop", you admit, voice breaking, "I don’t know how to stop running."

Eddie exhales sharply. His grip tightens, "Then let me fucking catch you".

The words slam into you with the force of a tidal wave.

You let out a quiet, broken sound, and before you can think, you’re gripping his jacket and yanking him in. His lips crash against yours, and it’s desperate, messy, fueled by everything - fear, love, relief. His hands bury in your hair, pulling you impossibly close, like he’s trying to fuse you together, like he’s trying to make sure you never slip away from him again. The kiss is deep, filled with unsaid words, apologies, I love yous neither of you can say enough. He tastes like cigarettes and desperation, like the man who loves you so much it makes his whole body shake.

When you finally pull apart, panting, his forehead rests against yours. His hands cradle your face like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. "I’ve got you", he whispers, "I’ve got you, baby". Warm lips fall back on yours, kissing you again.

Eventually, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumbs brushing over your wet cheeks. His eyes are searching, desperate. His breath is warm against your skin, his chest rising and falling with deep, steadying inhales, but you can feel the tension in his fingers, the way they tighten just slightly, like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say. His voice is quiet, rough with emotion. "Do you still wanna go to Indianapolis?" He pauses, like he’s afraid of the answer. "Or do you want me to take you home?"

You swallow, blinking up at him. You hadn’t even thought about it. The fight, the emotions, the sheer weight of everything had drowned out the rest of the world. But now, with the question lingering between you, reality creeps back in.

He watches you, his brown eyes flickering with something hesitant, something raw. "Do you still wanna move in together?" His hands slide down your arms, his touch soft, tentative. "Find a home together? Do you still…" His voice wavers for a second. He swallows hard. "Do you still wanna be with me?"

Your heart clenches.

He looks like he’s preparing for the worst. Like he’s bracing himself for you to say no, for you to take back everything, for you to tell him you’re done. And for a moment, you hate that you made him feel like this. That your pain, your fear, made him doubt what you want. What you need.

You reach up, pressing your hands against his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. Your fingers tremble slightly as you search his face, taking in the soft freckles, the messy curls falling into his eyes, the parted lips still swollen from kissing you like he thought it would be the last time. "Of course I do, baby" you whisper, voice unsteady but sure.

His brows pull together slightly, like he doesn’t quite believe it yet. Like he’s scared to.

You nod, tightening your grip, needing him to feel it. "Of course I fucking do, Eddie." His exhale is shaky. You press your forehead against his. "I don’t want to go home", you admit softly, "I want to go to Indianapolis. I want to move in with you. I want to fight about stupid shit and make up in even stupider ways and…" You shake your head, closing your eyes briefly before looking back at him. "I just want you."

Something in his expression shatters. He exhales sharply, then suddenly, you’re being lifted, his arms tightening around you, holding you against him like he never wants to let go. His face buries into your neck, and you feel his body shake with the force of his relief. You clutch at him just as tightly, letting his warmth, his presence, wrap around you completely.

"I love you", he murmurs against your skin, "I love you so fucking much, baby".

"I know", you mumble, kissing his temple, wrapping your arms tighter around him, "I love you more". You lean to his ear, lips just barely grazing the shell of it, voice dropping into something low, dark, and filled with heat. "But if I ever see that bitch touch you again, Edward Munson", you whisper, slow and deliberate, "I will hurt her".

A shiver racks through him.

You feel how his breath stutters, how his fingers tighten on your waist, pressing you against him like he needs you closer, needs to feel every inch of you.

"You’re mine", you continue, voice a deadly kind of sweet, "You’re fucking mine. My man."

His breath is hot against your skin, his heart hammering beneath your palms. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just listens.

"If you want this", you murmur, lips brushing against his ear, "if you really want me, then Chrissy Cunt-ingham is no longer a fucking part of this".

His hands are shaking slightly. He doesn’t know if it’s from fear or if it’s because you’re driving him fucking insane.

"This bitch stays away from you", you growl, "If you don’t tell her to keep her little fucking hands off, I will. And then I'll fucking cut them off just to make it very clear".

A low groan escapes him before he can stop it. His hands move, one to the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip so tight you know there’ll be marks.

You pull back just enough to see his face, to see how dark his eyes have gotten, how his lips are parted like he’s gasping for breath. "Say it", you demand. Your fingers tighten in his hair, "Say she’s done".

Eddie swallows hard, his chest rising and falling against yours. "She’s done", he rasps, voice rough, wrecked.

Your fingers tighten, "Again".

"She’s done." His grip on you tightens, his forehead pressing against yours. "No more touching. No more flirting. No more anything." His thumb strokes the side of your neck, grounding, reverent. "It’s you, baby. Only you. Always."

Something in you finally settles, your anger cooling into something just as intense but so much deeper. "Good."

You pull him in to kiss him.

It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle. It’s a claim. A promise. Eddie groans into your mouth, pulling you even closer, hands roaming like he can’t get enough, fingers gripping like he needs to feel every inch of you.

But you break away, breathless, lips tingling, and he lets out a frustrated whine, forehead dropping against yours. "Come on", you murmur, lips brushing his one last time before pulling back completely, "Let’s go."

He huffs but obeys, and soon, you're back in the van, heading toward the city.