Eddie Munson x Reader | 𝗢𝗻𝗲𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝟭𝟴+

Shifting Point (Angst)

A/N: Y'all... you have to realize I can see your age if you read this in my statistics. It says 18+ for a fucking reason. I'm sorry to be harsh about this but if you are under the age of 18, do not read this, do not interact with this and just click away. I'm aware there's more fluff chapters here than smut, but even then this is an adult character and I am writing reader as an ADULT. I repeat, if you are under the age of 18 and a MINOR, DO NOT INTERACT OR READ! Thank you. 

TRIGGER WARNING: HEAVY DRUG ABUSE 

You told him it wasn't his fault. And really, it wasn't. He didn't know he was enabling you. He was just trying to be a good partner. Things were ordinary for the first part of your relationship. The Honeymoon Phase. Both of you were happy. You were in love. The drugs didn't seem like a problem. Not in the beginning. You just wanted to be numb. Eddie understood the feeling of wanting to be without thoughts, even for just a little. He just wanted to help.

He noticed you were becoming more and more irritable. More detached. The only thing you did together these days was get high. When he didn't feel like smoking, you'd get angry. Accusatory, even. He didn't love you, right? Because if he did, he'd join you. He must be cheating on you with some whore, because why else would he not want to get high with you?

You were destroying yourself and, in turn, destroying Eddie. All you cared about was the pills. Your usage kept increasing, your desperation growing. In moments of clarity, you'd apologize. You were so, so sorry. You didn't want to do this to him. You loved him, for fuck's sake.

Eddie wished he could believe you. He really, really did. But it hurt because he was no longer sure you were genuinely sorry or just trying to get him to give you more drugs. He didn't know whether you were in love with him or the escape he provided. You told him it wasn't his fault. But it was his bathroom you were currently lying in, surrounded by your own vomit. It was his drugs you'd taken. It was his fault.

His vision was blurred while he scooped your unconscious body from the floor. His face was wet. Whether it was tears, snot or sweat, he wasn't sure. He put you in his bed, taking off your bile-covered clothes. He was relieved you were alive. He was less relieved that that was something he even had to worry about.

When your breathing finally seemed to steady, Eddie's knees gave out. He steadied himself and sat against the edge of his bed. He brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He let his head fall forward with a quivering sigh. Tears hit him like a tidal wave, and sobs soon followed like thunder. He didn't know how long he was able to keep doing this. He loved you, but he was tired.

You woke with a cough, groaning audibly. Eddie didn't raise his head from his knees when you shuffled around his room. He didn't want to feel this way. This bitter. He knew you were exhausted. You were spent. But so was he. Eddie wished he could hate you for putting this on him. He wanted to end things, if only for his own sanity. But he couldn't. It was you. He couldn't. Not when it's his fault you turned out this way.

He jumped when a hand found its way onto the back of his head, bed dipping behind him when you sat down. You quickly removed your hand. His head raised to look at you. Colour was slowly returning to your face. You sat in silence as tears continued to roll down Eddie's face quietly. You wanted him to say something, anything. His disappointed and fatigued gaze was enough for you to break.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." Your hand reached back down for his shoulder, but he flinched away from your touch. "Are you?" He questioned, his glossy gaze settling on anything but you. He refused to meet your gaze as you wept silently. "Because I'm starting to not believe you anymore." He continued. Your breaths quickened. He deserved to be upset. You would've been surprised if he wasn't. He had every right to hate you.

"Please, Eddie. Please, look at me." You begged. Eddie's thunderous sobs returned, shoulders shaking as he put his face in his hands. "I can't do this anymore. I love you, but if this is what you turn into when you're with me, I can't do that to you." He shook his head violently. He accepted the comforting hand you placed on his back, rubbing in circles. You didn't know how to reply. You needed Eddie. You needed him like you needed oxygen. How you needed the drugs.

A cold sensation settled in your bones as you realized this was Eddie giving you an ultimatum. This couldn't continue, not if you wanted to be with him. You'd have to get better, get clean. You genuinely wanted to, not only for him but for yourself. Eddie's shoulders slowly stopped trembling, the occasional hiccup making him jump. His gaze was detached, face void of emotion. He was drained.

It was that night that your worldview shifted. You couldn't keep drowning your sorrows in substances. You couldn't keep wallowing in self-pity. You couldn't do this to Eddie. You'd made the difficult decision to admit yourself to rehab. Eddie was so incredibly supportive. You almost didn't deserve it, deserve him. It was so fucking challenging. There were times you doubted you could do it. But Eddie was with you every step of the way.

Eddie had quit dealing drugs. You told him he didn't have to. It was his primary source of income, after all. But he insisted he looked for a 'real' job. "It was time, anyways. Don't know how Wayne even tolerated drugs in his home." He said it jokingly, but you knew it was just as difficult for him. He saw you at your absolute worst during the trial. You'd punched him, begged him, screamed at the top of your lungs. But he'd stayed. He'd stayed, and you couldn't thank him enough. You weren't sure you could've done it if it wasn't for his undying love and support.

After rehab, it was still brutal at times. You struggled with the most minute things, trying not to relapse. You did everything in your ability not to go back to the way you were, and Eddie noticed. He couldn't be more proud of you. Sure, there were hiccups. But hiccups he could deal with as long as they were yours. He still blamed himself, but you were getting better. You both were.