out of tune (the guitarist: book 2) | eddie munson x reader

part three: such sweet sorrow

AN: ANGST! angst. (maybe not for long) (u didn't hear it from me) (also this one's like double the length as usual to make up for not posting yesterday)

CW: light profanity, drug mention

You paced on your front lawn, wringing your hands, cloaked by the cover of the midnight sky but feeling all too exposed in the darkness.

These little excursions had become commonplace for you and your pariah, but usually ended with the two of you planning the next, rather than gutting the very possibility with a proverbial break-up machete.

You held in a sharp breath as your fingers caught on the heavy silver gargoyle ring resting on your thumb.

"It looks better on you anyways, Thief," Munson had chuckled after slipping the biting silver onto your finger.

He'd taken your hand in his then, pressing the metal to his lips as he bowed his head. All traces of chivalry vanished when he'd raised his eyes back to yours, that knowing smirk painting his features in a familiar, mischievous glow.

The distant screech of worn out brakes pulled you out of the memory, shaking you back to reality's uncomfortable fog.

As usual, he'd pulled the van alongside the curb a few houses down, clicking the door shut as silently as possible before hurrying over to yours.

Atypically, however, you were now standing warily under the porchlight, a break from your usual routine of waiting in your bedroom and climbing down to meet him.

You'd always loved the view of him on the lawn from your window.

"Well, well, well, look who's out to greet me," Eddie mocked in a foolish whisper, grinning at you as if nothing were askew. "You gonna be alright in that?" He tugged at the fabric of your t-shirt, like there wasn't a thick layer of humidity from the early summer heat hanging in the evening air.

"I'll be fine," you smiled, cursing the subtle blush on your face as you darted your eyes away. "I don't think we'll be out long."

Your heart was somehow simultaneously sinking and jumping into your throat, like your head's own uncertainty was manifesting in your chest. You had no compass, no earthly idea how to make this right when it didn't feel right at all.

Eddie led you in the familiar direction of the street lit path the two of you had often taken, continuing to glance at you as you remained silent.

His increasingly nervous gaze fell to your fingers, coiling around each other like snakes, fiddling with his heavy ring.

"Hey," he spun on a heel to stop before you, lightly prodding your forehead with a finger. "(Y/l/n)? What's goin' on up there?" Munson swerved before you, playfully trying to find and meet your eyes.

He was smiling, trying to get you to do the same. That nearly took you out.

Your eyes squeezed shut, remaining closed even as he quickly shifted his tone, placing a hand against the side of your face.

The familiar coolness of his rings on your skin nearly made you break; abandon all hope of ending the relationship and college and everything else in the world but that feeling.

A sob broke in your chest, betraying the cool exterior you'd been relying on maintaining.

"(Y/l/n)?" He grabbed your face with hands, gently nudging your chin up with a thumb.

You couldn't meet his eyes, your own squeezing shut.

"(Y/n)," he whispered, your name pouring from his mouth like honey. "Hey. What is it? What's wrong?"