Given that I reached 40 parts on Eddie Munson - One Shots, I figured that I'd start a new section, to continue.
40 is a great, round, even number that I'm happy with.
So, I present to you, more one shots of our favourite ever guy, in the Stranger...
Trigger Warning ⚠️ Mention of unaliving, and alcohol abuse.
********************************************* The cameras flashed, all around me, but they weren't taking photos of me.
They were taking photos of the stars I was surrounded by, and my throat felt like it was closing up.
The tray balancing on my hand was precariously wobbling every so often, as I weaved in and out of the tables, sitting ten to twelve people at each one.
The black shirt felt constricting, felt tight, the collar pressing all too uncomfortably around my neck.
This very much felt like the pretentious affair I knew it was, and I couldn't bear the glittering off the diamonds around their necks, or their wrists.
I drew level with a table, and a face I more than recognised stared back at me, causing me to fumble, causing me to feel light headed.
I'd seen that face hundreds of times, just hadn't seen it in years.
I set down several glasses, receiving polite thank you's in return, before wordlessly turning to walk to the next table.
Somehow, my foot caught up in the long table runner, and I tripped.
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He watched, dressed in his expensive looking, smart jacket, with perfect posture, as the tray slipped from my fingers, champagne glasses crashing to the floor, glass shattering loudly.
I felt my face redden, as the room fell silent, and I could feel a sweat rising from the nape of my neck, as I couldn't move.
"Hey, it happens. That's alright." One said.
And right when I didn't want him to, he was at my feet, collecting the glass in his bare hands.
"Don't do that." I hissed, sinking down to his level.
I swept the glass into a pile with the towel from my pinafore, and he eyed me sadly.
"Just let me help." He said, as I shook my head stubbornly.
"It's not your place. This is mine." I mumbled, pushing him away with one hand.
He scrambled to assist me for a final time, and I couldn't take the heat in my cheeks, I couldn't take the sweating from the very public mistake I'd made.
"Eddie, just leave it." I hissed, as he raised his hands in defence, various pairs of eyes on us.
Hurriedly, I swept the rest of the glass onto my tray with bare hands, feeling glass shards cutting into my skin, and I felt myself feel normal suddenly.
The presence of sudden pain, overrode the feeling of shame, bitterness and anxiety.
I rose to my feet, he did at the same time, and I barged past him roughly, rushing towards the kitchens.
