This is why I don't socialize {Eddie Munson X Reader}

P1) Pain in my...Neck

Ever since I can remember, I hated Eddie Munson's guts. I hate his stupid hair and I hate his stupid band T-Shirt. I hate his loud voice and his ridiculous announcements in the cafeteria.

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"Eddie Munson, you're up next," Mr. Herrick says, looking up from his desk at the front. I turn around and see Dustin and Mike slamming their fists on the table, shouting, "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!" like he is a fucking God. I turn my head to the front and smack my head on the desk. Fuckkkkk. I don't want to listen to this dipshit read someone's poetry. I hate this assignment, why is this even a thing? We all had to write a free verse poem and then everyone in the class will pick someone else and read their poem. Eddie has been talking about reading Dustin's because apparently it's funny.

Eddie walks like his ego is growing with every step.
Mr. Herrick removes his hand from his forehead (I genuinely think he has a migraine 24/7) when he says, "okay, just pick someone."

Eddie looks up at Dustin and then bursts into laugher. Mr. Herrick sighs and just says, "Munson, if you want a zero, you might just get it. You are on my last nerve, pick someone."

The room goes silent when Eddie says, "Y/N L/N"

"Screw this," I say and smack my hand on my desk. I'm done. I'm done. I walk up to him and stuff my paper in his hands, "have fucking fun," I say and he grins at me. Jesus, I know he hates me but this is ridiculous.

He looks down at the paper, looks back up at me and mouths the words, "what the hell is this?" I shrug and tuck my head in my arms.

"Okay, so the title says
'Are you trying to make me hate you?'"
Just by hearing him read the title, my bones ache and feel ice cold, I feel like I'm going to vomit. He continued,

"You have no idea how intolerable you are.
I hate how loud you are and how you act like you are all mean and scary when you think others are mean and scary.
You don't even know the power you hold against me.
You don't even know that I exist.
Why should you?
Why would you?
Why do I care about you and your stupid hair and your stupid band? I hate you for making me love you. I hate that I want to know more about you. I hate that I want you see where you grew up.

If I was about to jump off a cliff, you wouldn't come in after me, you'd watch."

The silence returns. Then Mr. Herrick says, "Well that was depressing," and the rest of the class laughs, "Ok, Y/N, now you can pick someone."

"Give me your paper," I spit out at Eddie. He seems a little shaken but hands me his paper. I make my way to the front, pissed and read, "the title is 'Can't you see, you've broken me,"

No way did Eddie Munson write deep poetry.

I continue,
"Although I am uncharitable and blasphemous, you continue to brake me. You hate me and I hate you, there is no going back on that. One time I saw you with your favorite food at lunch and I was jealous because you looked so happy to have your food but I wanted you to look at me like that. It's like I have no power over you, as if you think that your existence doesn't matter to me.
Who am I kidding, I hate your stupid coordinated outfits and I hate that you are so smart, I hate that you are happy without giving me a chance. I hate myself for picturing me with you. Fuck off."

When I finish reading, I walk to the back and slam Eddie's paper on his desk. Then the bell rings and everyone shuffles out of the classroom.

On my way out Mr. Herrick stops me, "what?" I say.
He retorts, "okay 1. Take a deep breath, this is a safe space when it's just you and i 2. Am I crazy or did you and Eddie just write about each other?"

I roll my eyes and say, "I don't have time for this. He hates me Mr. Herrick and you and I have both witnessed it. He lit me on fire last week." Mr Herrick laughs and says, "technically he lit your sweater on fire and it was an accident."

"Yeah right," I say, finally escaping to my last class.

As I walk into my last class I hear a guy, "yeah dude I'm not joking, it was so weird, she's a freaky poet." Oh great now people know about my shit poetry.

The rest of my last class was spent listening to assholes laugh about my embarrassing writing.
Please God, just kill me now.