Dirty Little Secret| Eddie Munson x Reader

With Or Without You

*CW: mentions of anxiety and depressive ideation*

Y/N's POV
Friday, November 1st, 1985.

Crumbs fell over my lap as I picked the crust off the edges of my PBJ. The hallway was bare as I sat on the cool linoleum floor, most of the students being in the cafeteria for lunch. I stared down at the limp sandwich in my hands for a moment, the center of it soggy from too much grape jelly, before stuffing it back into its Ziplock bag, not having much of an appetite at all. I slid the headphones around my neck onto my ears and pressed play on my Walkman as the first song from the mix Eddie made for me hummed into my ears, hugging my knees to my chest. I looked down at them, my eyes lingering on the rough scratches on my skin peeking through the rips on my jeans, the scrapes a raw, aching reminder of the night before. I still hadn't seen my friends since the fight; I'd been avoiding them, keeping my head down in classes, hiding out in bathrooms between them and sitting in the hallway instead of in the newsroom, instead of in the cafeteria. I was too afraid to face Steve after seeing him mercilessly attack someone who wasn't even fighting back, too angry to face Nancy, that smug grin of hers burnt harshly into my brain. The worst part of it all, though, was that I couldn't even tell them why I was so upset. So, instead, I decided to hide. Like I always did lately. Following the aftermath of the fight, I'd gone home without telling my friends I was leaving, walking the entire forty minutes on my own, just sobbing to myself. When I got home, I walked directly upstairs to my room, crawled into my bed, curled up around myself, and cried until I had no tears left. The phone had rung a few times throughout the night, my friends checking up on me, to which I promptly hung up right away. Each time the phone rang, though, I'd hoped it was Eddie on the other side of the line. It never was, of course. I was stupid for even thinking there was a chance it'd be him. I felt even stupider for thinking he'd show up to school today. Of course he didn't. I closed my eyes and rested my head back against the chilled metal of the lockers behind me, Eddie's mix becoming overwhelming. I still listened to it though, letting the hurt completely wash over me. I deserved as much. A moment later, I felt something brush up against my thigh. I peered down through my eyelashes, seeing a worn khaki covered knee brushing up against me. I trailed my eyes up the frame of the person next to me, stopping on their face, seeing Mike Wheeler smiling wearily back at me. I slid my headphones back around my neck.

"You kind of disappeared last night after...what happened," Mike said carefully. I stared back at him, not knowing what to say as No One Like You by Scorpions played faintly through the headphones around my throat. "Is Eddie okay?"

"I wouldn't know. He hasn't talked to me," I shrugged. "Kind of broke up with me, actually."

"Oh no," Mike said, his voice dripping with devastation as his face dropped. I simply nodded as the feeling of needing to cry itched at my throat once more, though no tears came with it. Mike wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. I allowed myself to sink into his touch, letting his warmth soothe me the slightest bit.  "I'm so sorry, y/n. Are you okay?"

"Not in the slightest," I mumbled, my voice muffling against his shoulder.

"Right, stupid question, sorry," He shook his head. We sat like that for a while, Mike allowing me to slump against him pathetically. He rubbed a hand over my back, his movements apprehensive as if he felt like being this close was inappropriate. I allowed myself to appreciate the comforting gesture, albeit awkward in nature, knowing this would most likely be the only time I'd be able to confide in someone about this. Knowing Mike would be the only person who ever knew. "He'll come around. I know he will. You guys just need to talk it out."

"I really hope you're right, Mike," I said with a sigh.

***

I stared at the phone on my bedside table, silently willing it to ring, hoping Eddie would call already, contemplating on whether or not I should just call him myself. Just to apologize, just to hear his voice, his breathing. I knew he wouldn't answer, though. I flopped onto my back and let my eyes wander around my bedroom, at the Prince poster hung above my desk, over the few Polaroids I'd sneaked of Eddie during my time writing the Hellfire story, now tacked onto my corkboard, to the pale blue taffeta garment hung up in its clear, plastic bag over my closet door. I threw the thick down duvet off of my body and rose from my bed before striding over to the dress, running my hands over the crinkly plastic garment bag. I knew Mike was right, that I needed to talk to Eddie. The only way I could have a chance at it is if I went directly to him. I knew I could just go empty handed, on my own accord, but having an excuse to stop by could possibly buy me some extra time talking to him. I turned to my desk and opened the drawer, rummaging briefly through the messy assemblage of belongings stuffed in there, until I found the Macy's receipt. I grasped it in my hand, crumpling it in my fist as I swiftly took down the garment bag before running downstairs and out the front door. The driveway was empty, Dad still being at work, so I'd have to walk to Eddie's. That was no issue, it was a relatively short walk, although, I'd walk for hours if I had to, just to see Eddie's face. The entire walk, I folded over my apology in my head, silently rehearsing everything I wanted to tell him, though, anything I'd planned on saying completely left my mind as I came up to Eddie's trailer door. I rapped lightly on the rickety screen door, my heart pounding rapidly against my ribcage as I anxiously waited for an answer. After what felt like eons, Eddie cracked the door open only the slightest bit, his dark puffy eyes peeking back at me through the faint sliver before he started to close it again, obviously jaded that I came to see him.