𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚊𝚗.

𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚆𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚐𝚘.

𝙿𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔 '𝚗' 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗.

𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗, 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔 '𝚗' 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗.

𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

𝙿𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔 '𝚗' 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗.

𝚁𝚘𝚌𝚔 '𝚗' 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕.

𝙿𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗, 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜.

𝚁𝚘𝚌𝚔 '𝚗' 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗.

𝙿𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔 '𝚗' 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗.

"Eddie!"

"Come on! We have to go find your boyfriend!"

"Eddie! You know Billy is not my boyfriend or I would not be here!" Lennon giggled, being forced to follow Eddie through the two feet of snow in the woods.

"By the angels! Eddie!" she screamed, yanking her arm from his and stopping once she saw the van a few meters away.

"What does that mean?" he panted, turning on his heels and kicking up snow as he came to a halt. "What does that make me then?" he smiled mischievously, tilting his head and walking backward toward the van.

"You... are... such... a dick!" she screamed with glee, clenching her jaw and marching through the snow to push Eddie back in retaliation.

"Hey. Whoa. I was just asking a question!" he laughed.

"You know what you were doing!" she hissed enthusiastically and giggled when she tried to shove Eddie back again only to be caught by the wrists.

The sound of their laughter turned the air around them into clouds of steam and jovial elation. Eddie had grabbed Lennon's gentle punches and held her steadily, both keeping his chest from her innocent beatings and keeping her from retreating.

"I was just asking you a question," he lowered his voice and lifted his brows delicately.

"You were making fun of me!" she giggled, barely trying to tug at her wrists and not actually wanting to be freed by Eddie's grasp.

"Was not," he crinkled his nose and smiled brightly.

"Yes you were," she countered playfully.

"Prove it," Eddie's voice grew deeper but his humor remained hidden beneath his tone. His eyes had turned to half-lids and his lips had curled into comfortable supports for his dimpled cheeks.

Lennon gazed up at his brightly lit face and hummed in disbelief. She shook her head and fell into his eyes the instant she felt encouraged to please her desires.

She narrowed her eyes at him and huffed out a breath of humor. "You want proof, tough guy?" she fought his hands but he wouldn't let go.

"Yeah, I want proof," Eddie leered sarcastically, nodding his head and pressing his tongue to the sharp edge of his teeth as he played with Lennon's self-control.

"Fuck you."

"Please do," he frowned, widening his eyes in an endearing manner that made his big brown eyes look more puppy-like than ever.

It was very fitting; how the two of them could talk of such devious schemes and still manage to make them seem so innocent.

She giggled lowly, feeling the light brush of Eddie's delayed breathing on her chin as she neared his face.

She knew whatever she had with Eddie wasn't going to last much longer, but if sacrificing a second of her worry about her friends and brother meant she could have just one second with him, she was going to take it.

"You lost your chance last night, Munson," Lennon smiled and leaned forward to close the gap between them.

Even though Eddie was teasing her, fluttering his lashes at her, flapping his beautifully curated lips with a roguish drawl, and giving her his twinkling eyes as a token of his infatuation, he was surprised she accepted it.

She played his game. Hell, he played her game.

She teased him equally as much as he teased her whether she knew it or not. He understood his boundaries and because he hated himself for falling for someone so young, he didn't dare try to overstep. She didn't want to be with him. She enjoyed his company and she was flirtatious which made him think she liked him more than a friend, but she didn't want to be his. He had to respect that. He had to accept that, even though he didn't entirely understand it, especially now that Brontë knew, but he had to accept it.

She toyed with him and he didn't even mind as long as she stayed. He learned that beggars couldn't be choosers and even though he couldn't have her in the ways he wanted, he still had her, and that was enough for him.

But she was kissing him now.

Her lips were quite literally pressed to his and it confused him. He made a joke. She replied to his joke with a remark of denial; a no. She said no. She said he had no chance. It was mischievous, but he understood what she meant. It wasn't a permanent no. It was a present no.

But she was kissing him. She matched her denial with a kiss.

She matched her denial with a kiss.

It didn't make sense but he didn't complain about it either.

Eddie's grip on Lennon's wrists loosened when she leaned forward and ended her yearning with the friction of his kiss. He hummed in response, not quite sure as to what was happening. It wasn't the first time they had kissed but it was different this time.

He wasn't high on pills and she wasn't drunk. He wasn't in the midst of an anxiety attack and she wasn't winding down from a suppressed panic attack. They weren't needing comfort and finding themselves drawn into a very physical way to relieve that stress and anxiety.

They were both completely lucid, completely conscious, and completely sober.

That was new.

There were no frazzled nerves, no drugs, no alcohol, no bets, no dares, no fatigue, there was nobody around, it was raw.

It felt different.

It felt nice.

They weren't looking for a cure to something. They weren't looking for an antidote for anxiety, or for a serum for healing a wound. They weren't looking for reassurance or self-pleasure.

It was like they were simply existing. It was purely instinctual; the wanting.

His grip on her wrists eventually fell slack and he had secured his hands to her waist and hers had gone to the nape of his neck.

"You want to name a silly little feeling," she mumbled against his flesh. He didn't reel back. Her words weren't exactly comforting, but any sort of alarm they caused was immediately eased with the soft puckering of her gentle kiss. "I know when I'm being made fun of, Munson."

She knew what kind of reputation came with that title she knew he wanted so badly. He was making fun of her; of her unwillingness to admit to it. The feelings were there, the acts were in place, the intentions and care were there, but she couldn't name it.

They weren't something worthy of a name to one another. They couldn't be.

Her life in Vermont was a living Hell. She had boyfriends before, she had a few friends, she had a younger brother and a living mother and a happy father but all of that was gone.

He boyfriends broke up with her, her friends betrayed her, her brother was dead, her mother defiled, and her father was serving a lifetime in jail.

She thought she was happy with all that.

But she was wrong.

She couldn't want a boyfriend, and even if she did, she didn't want Eddie to end up like them. It felt repetitive, it felt too ordinary. He was anything but ordinary. He felt more intense, more real, more authentic. He was nothing like the others and giving him the same title she had to those boys back home felt wrong.

Being happy again scared her. What she thought was normal couldn't be her normal here. She needed people around her. She needed to be as kind as possible, not that it was difficult. She couldn't face that kind of deceitfulness again. If people liked her, if they knew about what kind of person she was, there was no possible way she could be accused of anything bad again.

The only terrible thing she did was be with Eddie. She was caught with drugs the other night but if she told the truth, that they were Brontë's, she would be cleared. The only thing that stained her pearly white reputation was Eddie.

He was the only thing that risked her perceived innocence. Because after all, it didn't matter if you are innocent or not. What matters is if people believe you.

She knew who Eddie was and it wasn't the cultish freak who killed people and did drugs for fun. She knew he was a sensitive soul trying to heal from past trauma; she never suspected D&D to be anything but a fantasy game, that much was evident to her. But none of that would matter.

She knew Eddie's teasing was innocent, but she didn't want him to think she didn't feel for him either. She cared about him. Truly. She didn't like seeing him with Tina and she didn't want to see him with anyone else. She knew what that meant for her, but she also knew she couldn't have what she wanted.

"How about we just feel that silly little feeling instead of naming it and call it a day?" she whispered, pulling back and pressing her hand to her mouth to suppress her anxious laughter.

She wasn't high on adrenaline or emotion when she kissed him. She wasn't promising him that she liked him after finding out he tried to overdose. She wasn't drunk on sleepiness or withdrawing from a high spike of anxiety. She wasn't intoxicated with tequila and vodka and beer, and she wasn't worried about him.

For once, she had to rely on her rational brain to make the next move.

The funny thing was, she felt awkward. She had kissed him plenty of times and she initiated it but she didn't quite think it through.

She just kissed him.

Eddie was staring down at her with warmth radiating from his eyes. The contrast of his dark hair and eyes against the light snowfall made her feel captivating merely because he was. To be worthy of that kind of attention, of something someone so captivating had their eye on had to mean she had something rare to offer.

"Doesn't feel quite silly or little," Eddie smirked, taking a step back and clasping his hands behind his back like a child trying to act like a gentleman. "To me, at least," he quickly pulled his flat palms to his chest and backed away from her.

Lennon giggled and took one step forward for each step he took backward. "No..." she agreed inconclusively. She had tilted her head to the whitening sky and tried to stifle her smile in an attempt to downplay how badly he made her happy. "Quite the opposite," she admitted ruefully.

"But uh... I'm glad we are at an agreement," she found her way beside him, causing him to turn on his heels and resume walking to the van properly.

"We're not at an agreement," he scoffed incredulously.

Lennon knew what she meant and Eddie was entirely in the right. He might have wanted more but he settled for what he got. Lennon wanted it too, but she wanted peace more than she wanted a title. However, as they approached the van, she stopped talking about her feelings and started talking about the real problem at hand.

"So, Billy and Max live in the trailer park across the lake from me. The same area your Reefer dude lives so I'm sure you can find your way," she diverted the conversation before hopping into the passenger seat and watching as Eddie kept staring at her in utter disbelief as he rounded to the driver's side.

"You don't finish conversations, do you?" Eddie immediately rebuked once he took a seat.

"Well, I kissed you and you let me kiss you so it seems we are in agreement," she shot back sarcastically. "And you need fuel and I need to find Billy or Max or someone who knows what the hell is going on right now so... C'mon," she quickly encouraged him. "Concluded."

"Concluded," Eddie scoffed and turned the key to the vehicle. "What fucking century are you from?" he mumbled perpetually before leaning over the cupholders and backing out of the wooded area behind Benny's Burgers.

***

"Because it just sounds like a plastic pic scraping against metal!" she laughed.

"That is so disrespectful!" Eddie countered loudly, making sure she could hear his offense over the speakers. "I thought you liked my music!"

"I do!" she giggled. "But these are the same sounds playing over and over again, Eddie!"

"Didn't you just compare this masterpiece with satire?!"

"If all I read was satire, I would be more miserable than Heathcliff!"

"Compared to what?!" he shouted over the sound of W.A.S.P. "What could possibly be better than this?!"

"Whitney Houston, Madonna, Duran Duran, Tears for Fears, Elton John, David Bowie, Diana Ross-"

"No!" Eddie laughed offensively. "Elton and Tears for Fears are tolerable but the rest is just offensive!"

"Wow. You did not just say Whitney fucking Houston is an offensive musician!" she shot back dramatically.

"I said what I said!" Eddie tilted his nose to the air and hummed in discontent.

"Wait..." Lennon dropped her argumentative stance and started to giggle when she replayed Eddie's words in her head. "I'm sorry..." her giggling continued when she lowered the volume of Eddie's precious W.A.S.P cassette.

"You don't need to be a dick about it-" he complained, moving to counter the power of the stereo, thinking she was upset with his taste in music so much that she couldn't bear hearing any more of it.

"No!" she laughed. "The music is fine. Did you just say admit to liking Elton John?"

"No. Now turn it back up," Eddie quickly brushed her off and tried squeezing his fingers through her blocking hand on the knob that controlled the volume.

"Eyes on the road, Munson. You listen to Elton John," she smiled, seeing as she now had control of the music and the conversation.

"Says who?" he tried to bargain his way out of admitting the truth.

"By the angels!" she widened her mouth and smiled. "You do!"

"I have. Alright? There's a difference. I don't listen to Elton John. I have listened to Elton John. Got it?" he pursed his lips and turned onto the main road with caution.

"Alright," she put her hands up in defense and laughed. "Alright... jeez. You just got really defensive over something you claim to have only heard once or twice..."

"Stifle your offensive comments and listen to Blackie Lawless," he insisted humorously, turning up the volume before getting into the left lane.

Lennon sat alone, giggling to herself as Eddie blasted the speakers to the point no conversation could be exchanged. But, to her luck, Eddie had pulled into the gas station before the song could end.

However lucky she felt, she knew as soon as Eddie started the car, she would have to sit through the rest of his W.A.S.P cassette, and that felt sort of unlucky.

He lowered the volume and turned the engine off. "Do you mind pumping? I need a pack of smokes." He glanced over at her and tilted his head like a puppy.

"That's gross; but fine," she replied.

"Of all the things I put in my body, you think the legal drug is what's gross," he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. He hopped out and asked if she wanted anything while he was inside. She said she was fine, Eddie paid for the pump, and she stood by while the tank was being filled.

She kept wondering how she managed to get herself into this situation.

What was she doing?

Why had she gotten so attached to this man that she was willing to pretend to be interested in someone more niche?

Billy was popular and attractive and people didn't think he killed people in his spare time so it seemed fitting at the time. She went really far into that lie as well. She invited a bunch of people to a party just to keep Billy from making a move on her even though it was kind of the opposite after spin the bottle. She was owing favors and making people think she was interested in people she wasn't, all just to see Eddie.

When did she start hanging out with guys who smoke and deal drugs?

She hated the smell of cigarettes. She had no interest in doing drugs so being around them never made her feel uncomfortable but she didn't know what to do if someone was doing them in front of her. She didn't want to find out either. She didn't graviate towards those kinds of people until she met Eddie.

When did she stop wanting food?

She didn't feel like she had an eating disorder. It would be quite stereotypical of her to have picked it up though. Cheerleading... Being popular... Most of them were small and even though the thought had crossed her mind about being better at the sport if she lost some weight, it didn't feel severe. She had seen people with eating disorders and she noticed some of their behaviors too. She didn't have those. She just... forgot to eat sometimes and... didn't really want to eat in front of people...

When did Brontë become overbearingly protective of her?

He was such a dick to her up until now. As soon as she mentioned Eddie driving her home on that first Friday after school, he's been different. And she found it really odd of him to know Eddie on such a personal level. He knew about his mom and his friend and somehow, he knew Eddie was bisexual. That sounded like a close relationship if she ever heard about one, but this was her brother she was talking about. Brontë and Steve were synonomous in high school. She wouldn't catch Steve willingly hanging out with Eddie on any day of the week. Brontë knew Eddie didn't have a pristine track record and the thought of his sister being with him scared him, but why? What was so terrible about Eddie?

What was wrong with Billy? How was Max doing with everything going on?

She saw Billy last night. He was wasted on beer but he was fine. Actually, he was more than fine. He had Tina and he seemed pretty content with her. But Brontë wasn't at work and all the guys on the team seemed to have met up on a random Sunday afternoon... Why? And what did they mean when they said Billy was in an accident? That he was hurt? What did that mean? He was fine. And Steve mentioned Max. If Max was upset about the brother she didn't even like, all Lennon could think was that the 'accident' was bad. And even if that wasn't enough to worry about, she had to wonder if Max still believed her after she told her that Billy wasn't who she liked. Lennon had done a lot to convince everyone that she was interested, but did Max still believe her?

What was she going to do on Christmas with Brontë in the same room as Eddie?

Whenever she saw her brother again, she was sure she was going to get an earfull. But it didn't seem fair when he was refusing to answer any of her questions without making any accusations. It wasn't fair of him to be upset that she wasn't home when he wasn't at work like he said he would be. So, how was Christmas going to go? If Brontë didn't like her going out unannounced, he was surely going to get upset about having not one, but two Munson's in his house on Christmas.

It was all such a mess.

She was staring past the dial that gave the van sixteen gallons of gas before a car drove past that caused her blood to turn to ice.

It was Steve.