Slow and Steddie /// stranger things one shots. Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

10. Sign Me Up 😅

Eddies POV

I, Eddie Munson, am a coward by definition.

I've always been the one to run from my problems. Then again, I've never been one to stray away from an audience. I love the attention.

I have my moments of bravery, but most of those moments take place on a stage.

Wether I'm in that one middle school production from years ago or I'm playing with my band on a Friday night, stages bring out the best of me. Or at least they used to...

I love the stage, I really do. I love the people that take the time to listen to our albums, and come to our performances. It's just...

I feel like I've gotten lost. It's the age old story for an artist. I feel like one screw up and I'm done, but at the same time I want nothing more than than for all of this to be over. I feel like I'm drowning. Like any moment now I'm going to fall off the deep end.

I miss how it was. When there wasn't any controversy, or bickering. When it was just me and some nerds playing in the back of sketchy clubs. That probably wasn't safe, but it's not like we cared.

Tonight was one of the nights that made me numb. It was the same story, show up, play some songs, hop back in my car and leave. Only this time, I can't just hop in the car and leave, because we're at a music festival. So I'm stuck here for the weekend.

God I miss my bed, and my cat, who I may or may not have snuck into the hotel.... It's ok don't worry. She knows how to use the toilet... I still don't know who taught her that.

It was cold out, and the air on the outside stage was freezing me alive. Even with all of the tiring moves and vocals, I had no warmth.

I could tell tonight but as gonna be rough ( and not in the fun way ). I wasn't sure how many more nights of the same routine I could take before I lost my shit if I hadn't already.

So as we finally wrapped up the final song of our performance for the night and the lights dimmed for me and the group to exit, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My body was exhausted, and as previously stated, it was fucking freezing out.

I couldn't find my jacket before the show so I had to perform in a red button up that wasn't buttoned up all the way, ( despite the fact it's called a button up -) and a pair black jeans that where basically just little bits of cloth clinging to my skin, all of the holes leaving my legs shaking because of the cold.

Normally after a show, me and the band would be chatting relentlessly as we packed all of our stuff away and retreated to the dressing rooms. Today, nothing. Not a sound. It's probably better that way, we're all tired.

We packed up quick. Parting ways and speeding around to our dressing rooms. Why do we need dressing rooms? I don't fucking know. I opened my door, quickly slamming it shut soon after.

I leaned my head back, sighing and undoing my hair from it's uncomfortably tight hairband. It's the only way I can see anything during performances...

I collapsed onto the couch across from the mirror. I really just wanted to sleep, but I knew better than to do that with make up on, and I'd much rather sleep at the hotel anyways.

I sighed and dramatically rolled over, staring at the ceiling. I could feel my emotions start to get the better of me as I sniffled. Wether it was because of the cold or the tears brimming my eyes, I don't know.

I covered my face with my hands, quietly wiping my eyes. I sat up and walked over to the mirror rimmed by bright lights, like the ones you see in movies.