solace | eddie munson x reader [y/n]

012

       The sun was low in the sky, ready to sink below the horizon to allow night on the spooky occasion. After Eddie drove you home, you'd showered and put on fresh pajamas; a matching Halloween set, naturally. Your mother was home and ignored your presence as she waited around for her night shift at the diner. Thus, you hid in your room anticipating her departure. A hangover weakened your body anyway, so it was good to be taking it easy.

Laying in bed to pass the time had nearly clutched you into sleep, eyes closed and body entirely off. A gentle rapping shook your mind aware. You waited to determine whether it was an early symptom of dreaming, eyelids lifting to the evening light when the knocking came again. Sitting halfway up, you turned towards the location of the noise. Behind the pane of your window was Eddie with a devious smile and a wave.

Fumbling with the lock, you slid the window up and stepped back for your friend to tumble in. He stood and brushed himself off as if he'd completed some suave maneuver.

"What are you doing here?" you half-whispered.

"Hello to you, too. Saw your mom's car and figured I'd better not try the front door. Got lucky you keep your curtains open for any perv to see you sleeping like a baby." He made no effort to quiet his voice and you winced hoping your mother couldn't hear him. He pinched the lacy sheer of the hanging curtains between thick fingers. Without taking a step he looked around your bedroom.

"Firstly, fuck off. Second, why did you need to see me badly enough to creep around my house?"

"Oh, right. You didn't think I'd let you spend our favorite holiday alone, did you?"

The tall boy slowly began a stroll of your room, analyzing each decoration, object, and piece of furniture. You didn't have a response to his comment, distracted with the image before you.

       He looked out of place in your light, girly room; the black of his attire against the pink and white of your belongings was almost jarring. The way he had to touch everything; the hand of chunky silver rings holding a tiny tin full of hairpins. Picking up candles to bring them to his nose to test, vanilla notes drowning out the cannabis and musk aroma he'd brought with him. He made it to the record player and stack of vinyls, eyes landing back on you while dipping a finger between the papery covers separating them.

"Cute pajamas, by the way," he teased, voice nasally. You'd forgotten you were wearing them, arms crossing over your chest as embarrassment came. You realized too you had no bra on, trying to cover your boobs although the night before you'd laid freely in the male's bed. Not only were you self-conscious of your appearance, but you also began to cringe at what your room looked like.

       A bedroom is personal, and you never had anyone over to see it; it was decorated only for you. Had you known he was coming, you might've hidden away certain items, taken down some posters, maybe even exchange the pastel pink comforter for your neutral gray. The more you noticed the more you wanted to crawl into a hole to die.