Through A Glass Darkly | Eddie Munson x Reader

Chapter Three

"Forgot this on Tuesday," Eddie said, plopping in his seat for American Government and holding out a cassette case.

You took it to examine. The case's insert was white paper with a photocopied hand-drawn Corroded Coffin on the front and spine. The track listing on the front looked to be only cover-songs.

The urge to tell him the band needed to record original songs died when you looked at him. He gnawed at his bottom lip and fiddled with his rings. He exuded nervous energy. You didn't have the heart to criticize. It wasn't your place, after all. You'd never been in a band.

"This is cool," you said. "Thanks."

"We recorded that in Dougie's basement."

You nodded, asking, "Good acoustics?"

"Yeah, it's carpeted, and we tacked rugs and blankets on the walls."

"Cool." You turned the case over. The cassette had a narrow sticker with just Corroded Coffin on it. "I'll keep it safe since it'll be a collector's item in a few years."

Eddie blushed — full-out, pink-cheeked blushed — as he averted his gaze. It was adorable. You wanted to cup his face to feel the warmth of it.

He said more to his desk than you: "I— I, uh, I kinda doubt it."

"I don't," you said with confidence.

He glanced at you through his wild bangs, seeming to falter for a reply.

You smiled and hoped he didn't take your confidence for a joke.

After a second, he asked, "What kind of music do you usually listen to?"

You named a few bands. He didn't recognize them, which was unsurprising. Most of your tapes and vinyls came via indie catalogs, though you enjoyed plenty of new wave, classic rock, and some heavy metal.

"You know," you said. "I can make a couple of mixtapes for you."

He crossed his arms on his desk and leaned in with a grin, the chain on his jacket sleeve clanked.

"I'd like that, milady."

The bell rang, as always: right when things were getting good.

Eddie shared a pout with you before turning in his seat. You attempted to focus on the lesson, but you knew you wouldn't remember your notes when class was through. In the margins, you listed a few songs you thought he might like.

When the bell rang again, Eddie gave you a wink and left with the flood of other students.

For a second, you sat stunned. You didn't understand how one little gesture from him could throw you into an internal tizzy. Like yes, you had a crush — no doubt about that — but a wink? For real? A wink left you in a daze?

You hardly felt the floor under your feet as you walked to Study Hall.

Which was annoying.

Eddie Munson was just a metalhead, you reminded yourself over and over.

With an expressive, pretty face. And long, soft hair. And tattoos. And a cute ass.

Fuck, you were a goner, weren't you?

You sat at the usual table for Study Hall, greeting the usual girls. You hoped they couldn't tell you were in the middle of a crisis. None of them commented as you opened your Trapper Keeper and began writing songs on a fresh sheet of paper.

After roll call, they whispered about a costume party at Jimmy Kirk's. It was this Saturday. Everyone was going to be there.

You peered from your ever-growing song list to see one girl — Sheryl — glancing your way. You raised your brows, because you'd evidently missed a conversation prompt. Another girl, Christy, looked at you with anticipation.