Diana, a timid 19-year-old artist, battles severe anxiety while recovering from the aftermath of a toxic relationship. With support from her father, the VP of a biker club, and his close-knit friends, she starts to heal. When she unexpectedly bonds...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I don't know why I am the way I am, Not strong enough to be your man I tried, I can't stop staring at the ceiling fan and spinning out about things that haven't happened Breathing in and out
-boygenius
✶✧❃✧ ✶
A/N:lyrics in chapter are from 'Doll' by Foo Fighters. They are not mine.
THURSDAY - November 5th, 1986
DIANA
On the second day of staying at Eddie's, I was pleasantly awoken by him to the smell of various breakfast foods.
Made by Wayne, of course.
"Here ya go," he mumbled under his breath, setting down the glass plate stacked with eggs, bacon, and pancakes.
"She's not gonna eat all of that," Eddie said, shoveling a mountain of eggs into his mouth.
"She might," Wayne said, sending Eddie and I a playful glare from across the table.
"I'll give you my leftovers," I whispered, digging into the home-cooked meal in front of me. It was common for him to pick off of whatever I didn't eat — hell, the way he stole food from my plate during our lunch breaks could be considered tradition. As the three of us sat at the table and ate, I couldn't help but notice Eddie's mischievous gaze darting towards my nearly empty plate.
I raised an eyebrow, my voice laced with a hint of mock protest. "You know, you're lucky I like you enough to share." I said, nudging my plate towards him.
With a twinkle in his eyes, he leaned in closer, his fingertips subtly swiping a slice of bacon from my plate. He popped it into his mouth with a delighted grin, savoring the stolen morsel. "How sweet of you."
Just as Eddie devoured the stolen bite, I looked up and noticed Uncle Wayne standing with his empty plate, a subtle smile across his face. He had been observing our playful exchange, making me feel a bit awkward about it all.
"Can't tell you where he puts all that food," Uncle Wayne said, rinsing his plate off at the kitchen sink. "Boy ain't no heavier than a feather."
I couldn't help but laugh at his comment, watching as Eddie stopped mid-chew to flash his uncle an unamused glare.
As if on cue, Uncle Wayne continued, not giving his nephew the opportunity for a sarcastic response. "How's your dad doing, Diana?"
"He's good," I replied, feeling my stomach drop at the mention of my father. I was trying to put off another dreaded phone call, letting him know that I wouldn't be showing up for work yet again. My lip was still slightly swollen and bruised, but was now starting to scab up.
