Innocent | Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 3

QUICK WARNING!

The video for this chapter just deserves more views. It made me sob like a baby. It is, however, DEPRESSING AS HELL. Nothing to do with the chapter, just incredible.

Continue!

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I took a deep breath, and let it out slow. I was so out of my element. So. Out of my element. I knocked on the door.

It swung open almost immediately. He was already leaning on the frame, waiting with a proud little smirk. "Milo Moore. Welcome to my dungeon."

His house was cozy. I didn't honestly know until then that he lived in the mobile home park. In fact, I realized I didn't know much about Eddie Munson at all. But I felt so much more comfortable in this type of place than at my own house. For more reasons than one.

"Like what you see?" He asked, picking at the hem of his jacket.

"It's cozy." I smiled.

Relief flooded his expression. "Yeah, not much, but she's home. Come on,"

I followed him further into the house, and all the way in the back was his room. Posters and merch surrounded me, most from bands I had no semblance of. He looked so proud, though, I gave him a quick smile. I thumbed through a few albums, crouching lower and lower, having no idea what I was seeing, until one caught my attention.

"Journey!" I cheered, holding it up. "I know this one."

"Is that the only one you recognized?" He chuckled, crouching down to my level.

"Listen, last night was the first time I've actually had the pleasure of experiencing crunchy music, so yes, only Journey." I furrow my brow defensively, holding the disk to my chest.

"That's fine." Eddie shrugged, putting his hand out expectantly. I gave in, handing over my one life raft in a sea of unfamiliarity.

Once again, as if he could sense my discomfort, he began softer. "Hey, hey, no sweat. I said I'd be your teacher, right?"

"Not my teacher." I groaned.

"Fine. Tour guide. I'll be your guide on this magical musical journey. You trust me?"

I stayed silent for a bit too long, considering the question. I trusted him to some extent, sitting here alone in his room. Somehow the question felt bigger than just his taste in music. I felt like I was being tested- if I truly believed him to be more than everyone else at school thought. I think this was his way of asking me if he was allowed in my life, more than acquaintances. Was I going to be friends with Eddie Munson?

In my verbal absence, he began fidgeting. He found a particularly long piece of hair and spread it over his face, covering the majority of his expression.

"I think... I do." I finally admitted. "You're- actually different than I thought."

"Not that big and scary?" He smiled, still toying with his admittedly gorgeous locks.

"Not too scary." I confirmed. "This music, however..."

"What about my music?" He defended, standing from his crouched position defensively, crossing his arms.

I became acutely aware the new distance between us, some part of me missing the absence of it. I stood to meet his height.

"It's pretty crazy." I shrugged, brushing the wrinkles out of my pants.

He suddenly flailed his arms in exasperation, making me flinch in surprise. He was constantly doing stuff like that, quick movement, compulsive behavior. He managed to dominate any space he was in, making full use of it. He was so animated- I didn't even know people were like this. And yet, I didn't mind it. It was pretty funny, actually.

"It's sick, is what it is. Tread lightly, little grasshopper. I can make this tour very unpleasant."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, ok."

From there he flew into a flurry of lore and excitement, detailing different important concepts of "metal," his favorite bands and songs. It was the most I'd ever seen him smile, talking about all of it. He started to play music for me, some of it tailored to my fragile taste, but some of it his very favorites that he couldn't resist. Metallica and Ozzy Osbourne were some of his very top artists. He broke into air guitar a few times, putting on a real show as I stood back. Eventually, I needed to give him such a wide birth that I settled for sitting on the edge of his bed while I watched him weave around the room. My eye caught the guitar he was using at the show, and by the time I met his gaze again, he'd caught on.

"Oh that? That is my baby." He divulged, gently pulling the guitar from it's post.

He turned the cassette player down, hopping onto the bad next to me. I tried not to think about the fact that we were both sitting on his bed, so close I could see my breath tickle the ends of his hair with every exhale. Eddie had a small issue with personal space, I came to conclude. He fidgeted with the guitar a little, gave it a strum, then met my gaze with a proud, satisfied smile. It was then that he realized how close we'd gotten, gave a mixture between a laugh and a cough, and we both scooted a little away.

"So," he began, ignoring the encounter, "This is my leading lady, Ann."

"Just Ann?" I questioned.

"No- well, yes- but she's named after Ann Wilson, mother of modern rock, and the coolest lady guitarist-"

"Oh, from Heart, right?" I smiled proudly. "I like Heart. Powerful lady rock."

"Right!" He chuckled.

I detected a look in his eye I had yet to decipher- amusement wasn't quite it. Admiration? Maybe. I wonder if he could see it in mine.

"You know, you're kinda cooler than I thought." He admitted finally, fingering through his hair again.

"Because I like your crazy man music?" I teased.

"I mean, obviously that's hot, but I think I'm starting to see that you're thinking deeper than a lo-o-ot of the others at Hawkins High." He complimented.

"Yeah?" I mumbled uncomfortably.

That was probably the biggest insecurity I had at the moment, squished down by the most individual person out of all the people I had ever met. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to figure myself out. I only hope it could be before I was set back in school.

"100%, Moore." He confirmed, bumping my shoulder with his.

He didn't spare my blushing face another glance, luckily, as he got up and began to put the guitar back on the stand. His arms stretched just high enough to give me a quick peek of bare back under his signature jacket, his pants sagging a bit below the hem of his boxers, his chain dangling along the side of his figure. I blinked away the train of thought, raising my eyes to his hands. They were gently tucking the folds of the strap into place, his chunky, painted, ring-clad fingers trailing across the paint-job lovingly. He kissed his hand and placed it to the guitar, giving a small sigh, turning back to me.

"So, where were we?" He asked obliviously.

I held back a gulp, knowing I may have been in for more than I bargained for.

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heheheheheh

-donny