ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ [eddie munson]

ꜱᴘᴇʟʟʙᴏᴜɴᴅ

Eddie asked Lorraine if she wanted to go to his band practice later that day. It was their last practice of the summer, since Hellfire would keep him busy and with the others studying, they never got to practice as much as they did on their summer vacation.

"Of course," she said, smiling widely. "I missed your concert.. So I guess I have to," she emphasized. Eddie laughed, crossing his arms as he lent on the kitchen counter.

"It's at 7, so I can come round and pick you up, if you want." He offered, looking down at his shoes. He seemed to be nervous, or embarrassed, that she would be going to see him. Even if it was just band practice.

"Sounds perfect." She giggled, reaching her hand up to his cheek and pinching it with her thumb and index. Eddie laughed, smiling so hard his nose crunched up, hiding his eyes in glee. He playfully slapped her hand away from his face, begging for her to stop. When he was finally free from her pinch, he watched as she walked out of the trailer home, giving a last goodbye look as the door followed her to a close.

He jumped in place, reaching his hand to his head and pulling at his hair. He felt like a kid again, excited to show her all that she's missed out these past few years. Although he had a lot of things to do that day, besides practice, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about when she'd be there, watching him. And he, watching her. He puffed out a large sigh, remembering her smile, her laugh, her birthmark...

˜ " * ° • . ✫ . • ° * " ˜

Lorraine felt like she woke up from a dream, even though her head still ached from the night before. She caressed her lips with her middle finger, remembering the feeling of Eddie passionately pressing himself against her. The way his jawline clenched in worry, his hands, rough and callous, rubbing against her skin.

She shook her head, returning to the notebook she had laying on the armrest of the couch.

When she got back from his house, she showered, threw on a t-shirt and started writing. It was the first time in probably a year that she actually sat down and started to write something. This time, it wasn't a story. For once she was writing poetry, she wanted to express those feelings that she verbally, and sometimes physically, couldn't.

Whatever got into her head, whatever the feeling was that had possessed her changed her. Even if for just a few hours, she felt like she was no longer a dead beat. All she needed was someone to lift her up from the dirt, dust her off and remind her what it felt like to be a part of something genuine.

"Welcome home." Eddie's voice reverberated in her head. She closed her eyes, leaning her head on top of her folded arms, now sprawled on the notebook. She took a few deep breaths, relishing in the thought once more of Eddie Munson kissing her. Not that she hadn't found him attractive, or hadn't thought about it at least a few times since she knew him. One thing is a fantasy, another the reality. And god damn, she thought, reality really beat fantasy's ass this time around.

˜ " * ° • . ✫ . • ° * " ˜

It was almost seven, Eddie packing the van with his guitar and a few more things that Gareth and Jeff asked him to bring - mostly weed and audio jacks. He shut the back of the van as softly as he could, turning to look at Lorraine's house. It was still early, but he was eager. He started pacing in place, thinking that he should play it cool. Don't be the nerd, not this time, he thought. He took out a cigarette from the front pocket of his jacket, lighting it and inhaling slowly. He turned to the reflection of the window, fixing his hair a little, adjusting the leather jacket he layered underneath. He looked down and tried to pat off some ash that had landed on his ripped, black jeans. He took another breath, leaning his back on the van and looking at the door of her house.