Dirty Little Secret| Eddie Munson x Reader

Sweet Nothing

Eddie's POV
Friday, November 22nd, 1985.

My heart was racing, beating faster than my van was moving, as I sped to her house. Y/n's voice, how devastated she sounded, it was the most harrowing thing I'd ever heard. In the back of my mind, though, tucked behind my initial fear where my bitterness lived, I couldn't help but wonder why I was even helping her. She's with Harrington now, isn't she? Why couldn't she just call him for help? I mean, she was always with him, always wrapped lovingly around his arm everywhere he goes, so why should tonight be any different? She was already with him tonight for fucks sake. My grip tightened around my steering wheel and I clenched my jaw, the image of her tucked into his side tonight, staring dotingly up at him in his sweatshirt making me feel sick. I shouldn't be doing this. I should just fucking turn around and leave her stranded just like she did to me. I mulled it over in my head, listing off every reason I should just go home, but I couldn't shake the thought that despite her moving onto Harrington so seamlessly, she called me for help. There had to be a reason she called me and not him. There had to be. Before I knew it, I was in her driveway and I immediately snapped out of autopilot, not wasting a single second as I turned off the engine and slammed my door shut behind me.

"Y/n!" I shouted as I burst into her house, not even bothering to knock.

"In here!" Y/n called back weakly. I followed her voice to the kitchen, where she sat at the table, mascara streaked down her flushed cheeks, hyperventilating over a lethargic Ozzy. I rushed to her side, leaning over the table to get a closer look at the cat.

"Shit, what happened?" I asked, taken aback by his condition.

"I-I think s-some sort of animal got him," Y/n struggled to get out between shaky sobs before her tears began to spill over her cheeks once more. Without warning, she began wailing into her hands, her shoulders heaving as she completely broke down. "Oh God, this is all my fault!"

"Hey," I crooned, pulling her into my frame, her tears soaking my shirt as breathless sobs escaped her mouth. She gripped my shirt tightly in her fists as I stroked the back of her head. In all honestly, I was scared shitless, completely out of my element. I sucked in a sharp breath as her crying turned violent, feeling utterly helpless as the sounds of her listless whimpering broke my heart. It took everything in me not to break down myself right then and there, but I felt the need to hold myself together for her sake. "Shh, listen, listen. He's gonna be okay, we just have to get him to a vet."

"I don't even know if there are any open right now," She choked out, turning her head to look over at Ozzy as she rested her cheek against my stomach. "I don't know what to do, Eds."

I rested my hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her off me slightly as I cupped her chin in my other hand.

"Y/n, I need you to be calm just for a minute, okay?" I asked softly, mildly swiping the tears from her cheek with my thumb. "He's gonna be okay. We just gotta work together. I want you to look through the yellow pages and find a vet that's open right now, and while you're doing that, I'm gonna go find something to transport him in, alright?"

She nodded in my hand and I helped her up from her seat, leading her to her kitchen counter, where the thick yellow pages sat in front of the phone, before running up the stairs to her room. I rummaged around, desperate to find anything, when, like an answer to my prayers, a cardboard box underneath her bed caught my eye. I knelt by her bed, sliding the box out from its hiding spot, freezing in place as my eyes flitted over the array of items stored inside, all the stuff I'd given back to her mixed in with things of mine that she'd kept, that I didn't even know she kept. Before I let that grief settle in my chest, I shook my head and dumped the box out onto her floor, grabbing the tattered flannel from pile and stuffing it into the box to act as some cushioning for Ozzy. I rushed down the stairs and back to the kitchen, where y/n stood, mournfully stroking Ozzy's head.