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

part thirteen: no stranger to love

AN: HAPPY ANNIVERSARY! i published part one of the guitarist exactly one month ago today and im so glad i did!!! honestly i loved every second of writing these bad boys and i rly loved being able to make stronger & longer chapters this time around! i hope u enjoy :) next part as soon as i can, wifi still limited

CW: weed ment/ use

"I still think you're, like, totally wrong about the Smiths," you mumbled. A joint hung from your lips, and you were flicking a green lighter absentmindedly in your hand.

"They're whiny," your boyfriend grumbled from across the couch. He was fiddling with your shoelaces where your feet lay idly in his lap. "It's like, we get it man, everything sucks. But shit, at least get angrier about it."

You giggled as you rose to pass him the joint, fingers buzzing with electricity when his hand met yours. You brought your face close to his, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Maybe Morrissey only thinks everything sucks because he's not dating the hottest guy in town."

"Oh please," he drawled, taking a long hit of the soon-to-be-roach, "that sad sack could never pull me, sweetheart."

"No," you giggled, pushing his hair out of his face as you pressed a hand to his cheek. He leaned into your touch. "I'd totally have to fight him. It wouldn't be pretty."

"I think you could take him." He pressed his lips to your palm.

"Yeah, and then he'd write a song whining about how he just got his ass kicked."

"See! I told you they're whiny!" He had an ecstatic, revelationist expression on his face, beaming at you with victory.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes, unable to fight the smile breaking on your face at his unserious expression. "They're whiny." You snatched the joint from his fingers and brought it to your lips. "I'll only make Robin listen to them from now on."

Eddie's head knocked back into the couch, a fit of laughter echoing from his chest. "Yes, please, shirk the torture off on your roommate, I'm sure she'll love it."

The mention of the inevitable future brought a hush through the cave of your chest. Instead of flopping back down to the other end of the couch, you turned, leaning into his shoulder. He instantly wrapped an arm around you, holding you to him as you took another, heavier pull.

The smoke billowed out from your lips like a signal.

Despite the ease of the high coating your mind, you couldn't help but feel a tightness in your chest; the same one he was probably feeling too. At August's end, you were leaving. And despite how incredible your time with him had been, it didn't change the fact that you weren't a superhero, and you couldn't stop time. You couldn't drag this summer out forever.

Wordlessly, he brought a ring-heavy hand up to your hair, smoothing it in a soothing touch. A stark contrast to his brash and loud persona. There was something intoxicating about being the only one who knew him like this.

You diverted your attention to the joint in your fingers, trying avidly to focus on literally anything but the reality hanging in the air between the two of you. It was burning to the end, and had maybe one more hit to the filter.

"I think we're gonna need to roll another." You cleared your throat, glassy eyes lasered onto the coffee table before you. You started fumbling with the small package of paper, your fingers trembling as you tried to pull the tab open. It wasn't working. You tried even harder.