"How quickly can you get to the Hideout?"

Willow's breathing stops at Gareth's voice over the phone, "What? What's wrong?"

There's shuffling over the line, a conglomerate of arguing voices. Willow swears she can hear Eddie amongst them. And right after she swears she hears him, she can hear expletives coming from Gareth.

"Willow? Are you still there?" it's not Gareth anymore, and the commotion is continuing on in the background, "It's Jeff. We're sorry about calling but, we really need you here at the Hideout. Like, now ."

" What's wrong ?" she repeats her question from before the commotion, more sternly this time.

"It's Eddie."

"Eddie? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's-" Jeff stops, clearly contemplating his words, "He's not... hurt . He's just drunk . He's drunk, and he won't stop asking for you."

"I'll be right there," Willow doesn't ask any further questions, heart racing as she hangs up the phone.

He's drunk, and he won't stop asking for you.

She turns to Steve so quickly that she can feel a painful pop in her neck, and she completely ignores it, staring at him with a wide-eyed expression that he returns.

"Hideout. Now. Please," are the only three words she can get out in her whirlwind of thoughts.

It's enough. Steve and Robin waste no time piling back into Steve's car with her, and begin to drive recklessly in the direction of the bar. Willow remains quiet the entire time, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watches the flurry of trees whiz past them. Robin attempts to pry, to ask who was on the phone and what happened with Eddie. Willow is only capable of one-worded answers in her fretful state.

Who was on the phone?

Jeff. (Gareth remains an afterthought, unfortunately).

What happened with Eddie?

Drunk.

Did they ask you to come down there?

He did.

Robin can clearly tell at the last one that Willow is referring to Eddie. Eddie asked her to come, indirectly through his friends, so she would be there. Anytime he would call, she would always come. No matter the circumstances.

There was a time before where they drove this exact same road, going to the exact same location, in the exact same seating rearrangement. A time before Eddie. A time before Willow was at his beck and call, entirely wrapped up in everything that was him. It's a hard thing to imagine. Her life, split into thirds.

There was a time before Eddie, there was a time during Eddie, and now, there might be a time after Eddie.

Willow would do everything in her power to avoid the last one. She had gotten a taste of it this week, and it was a bitter one.

She tries to focus on what she's going to say instead of reminiscing on things she can't change. But everything she had planned to say to him the next time she saw him was now thrown to the wind; he was drunk. Tonight was not the night for reconciliation. He's not in his right mind, and Willow doesn't think she could handle pouring her heart out to him only for him to not remember. Her only real plan for when they arrive is finding Eddie and getting him home safely, letting him sleep everything off before properly talking tomorrow .

Tomorrow. Her heart doesn't know if it can wait until tomorrow.

The gravel of the Hideout's parking lot crunches beneath Steve's tire all too soon. There's not many cars, despite the evening sinking its teeth in as the sun sets. Willow is sure once night properly falls within the hour that the bar's usual haunts will arrive and take their seats, but for now Steve's BMW joins the graveyard of a lot that's only company includes three cars - a small red sedan, a light blue Ford Escort that had clearly seen better days, and Eddie's van.

The moment she sees it, Willow's heart roars into overdrive.

Steve shifts the car into park and reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt, but Willow's hand quickly comes down on his, "I need to go in alone."

"What?" Robin asks from the backseat, already having her hand on the door to exit the car, "Excuse me?"

"You guys can't come in," Willow reiterates with an austere tone.

"'Low, we can help-" Steve begins, but one look from Willow cuts him off mid-bargain.

Willow unbuckles herself and takes a few deep breaths. She can do this. It's just Eddie.

"I'm sorry," she offers to the down-fallen faces of her friends, "I appreciate you guys so much, and thank you for the ride," she pauses and looks pointedly at Steve with a look that she hopes shines with genuine gratitude, "But I'm doing this by myself. I'll call you guys later. Maybe tomorrow. It'll be fine."

She gets out of the car without another word, and leaves the door open so that Robin can take her place in the passenger seat.

When Robin steps out of the car, she pauses in front of Willow, placing both hands on the girl's shoulders, "Don't fuck it up. Please."

Willow weakly smiles, "I don't plan to."

"I mean it, 'Low."

"I know. I mean it too."

With that, Robin's hands drop and she climbs into the seat. Steve sends a final forlorn glance across from Robin through the open door, Willow waving curtly in return.

They're gone before she even reaches the door of the bar.

The memories of the first time she was here hit her hard, remembering the way she and Eddie had their first conversation alone outside on the sidewalk. His jacket being draped over her shoulders, his cigarette kept out of reach. It was the night that changed everything, really. And she had hoped that tonight would be the night to cause another cosmic change for them, but that was before Eddie wound up at the Hideout, drunk.

He's drunk. He's inside waiting for her with Jeff and Gareth, and he's drunk. There will be no reconciliation.

She spots the boys easily once she opens the heavy door and steps into the stuffy atmosphere. They're shoved into a corner booth, Jeff and Gareth on the side that faces the door as Willow spots the mop of curls that belongs to her boy.

Her boy . Was he even hers anymore?

Jeff spots her first. His eyes are pleading as she approaches their booth, keeping her steps light but quick, nearly matching her erratic heartbeat. Gareth is still glaring at the mass that is Eddie slumped in the opposite side of the booth, the one not facing Willow.

When she gets close enough, she can make out the argument taking place.

"Munson, drink the fucking water ," Gareth snaps, using a finger to shove a glass of the said water towards Eddie. Her boy keeps his head down, shaking his head against the table.

She almost doesn't make out his next words, mumbling into his arms in a pouting tone, "I don't want water. I want Willow ."

Not Red. Not sweetheart. Willow . He's using her actual name, and it breaks her in an entirely new way.

Jeff bumps his shoulder to Gareth as Willow finally comes to stand at the end of the table, and the youngest boy looks up with a twisted form of relief.

"Guess it's your lucky day, asshole," Gareth says as he maintains eye contact with Willow, "You ask, and you shall receive."

"No, I won't. She's with Harrington ," Eddie groans and continues to slur into the tabletop, not looking up. Jeff has already slid out of the booth and motioned for Gareth to follow him when Eddie continues to drunkenly ramble, "She loves him, not me ."

More words follow but none of them can make them out between the muffled effect his arms are having and the terrible slurring.

Jeff turns to Willow, keeping his voice low as he begins to explain, "We found him when the owner called us. He came in and Eddie had been overserved already. But they know us and have our numbers. I have no clue how he got wasted to fast-"

"I have a clue, and its name is Jim Beam. Or Jack Daniels. Or just any of the whiskeys they serve," Gareth scowls, scooting his way out of the booth, "He reeks of alcohol. I knew the bartenders here were stupid, but Jesus H. Christ -"

"Anyways," Jeff continues, ignoring Gareth's rant as Willow forces her eyes to look at the kind boy rather than drunk Eddie, "They have our numbers because of the gigs. They said to come get him but... he won't leave. He just kept crying and asking for you."

Eddie had been fairly oblivious to Jeff's speaking to Willow until he heard those words. Suddenly, the boy's voice sounds from where his face is smashed against the wood of the table, "I'm not leaving without Willow."

Another crack in her heart. A terrible clenching in her chest.

Willow nods slowly, taking in the information. Did he come straight here after she punched Jason? He must have in order to be this wasted.

"Do you have the keys to his van?" Willow whispers, not ready for Eddie to become aware of her presence quite yet. She isn't ready to see the heartbreak written on his face.

Jeff shakes his head, "He won't give them to us."

Great. Cool.

Willow only nods her head, and both boys take it as a sign to leave her to it. If anyone can convince Eddie to be sensible, it's her.

Gareth moves quickly, eager to get away from Eddie in his frustrating state, while Jeff pauses and puts a hand on Willow's shoulder as he passes her, "Just let us know when you've convinced him to leave. We'll help you carry him out there."

When. Not if. Their faith is unending.

"He won't have to be carried."

"Trust me. The bartender lost count of how many shots he had, but there were ten empty glasses on the table when we got here. He'll need to be carried."

The boys walk away, and it's just Willow and Eddie alone now. She moves to take a seat on the side of the booth his friends had just occupied.

"I'm not leaving," he slurs again, turning his head with his eyes closed, cheek smashed into the wood table, "Not leaving without 'Low."

She knows he's not saying it as a nickname, that the shortening of her name is a symptom of the effect the whiskey has had on his speech, but it still pierces her chest.

"Eddie," her voice comes out soft and low, the most careful she has ever been with him.

Even in his drunken state, he recognizes her voice quickly.

She's sure it has to dizzy him, how quickly he opens his eyes and lifts his head. He's staring at her in shock before he finally breathes out, " Red ."

It's a breath of relief, as if she's an angel sent from above for him. A calm rushes over his words and it's the first word that hasn't escaped him in a groggy tone.

"You're here," he continues on. He doesn't slur his words.

"Yeah," she exhales, "It's me."

She's at a loss for actions or words. There's no handbook on how to comfort your ex- fake -boyfriend when he's drunk out of his mind after spending a week not speaking, especially after an angry love confession that had been left to decay. She finds herself wishing she had spoken up that night for the umpteenth time, because maybe if she had, they wouldn't be in this position.

"Why are you here?"

The slurring's back. And she had believed he was relieved to see her, but she second guesses herself now at his tone.

"Jeff and Gareth called me," she explains slowly, watching his eyebrows scrunch up, "Do you... do you not want me here?"

She internally scolds herself. Even when she should be taking care of him, making sure he's okay, she's somehow asking for reassurance. It's pitiful, and leaves her feeling a bit gross. She's about to take back the words and focus back on him, on getting him home safely, when he shakes his head, and her heart cracks. The shards crawl up her throat as she's about to lift out of the booth and call the boys over, letting them take him home instead, but his voice stops her.

"Don't want you there . Want you here ," he shuffles himself to lean on the wall and nods at the empty seat now beside him. She gets the message quickly.

"Eddie, I can't-"

" Please ," he slurs out hopelessly, slapping a hand down on the empty space for emphasis. She finally lifts herself out of the booth and moves to his side, sliding in gently.

She tries to keep the space between them, but it's a losing battle when Eddie immediately shifts all his weight from the wall onto her shoulder. He's heavy, and he reeks of alcohol like Gareth said, but she succumbs to it as his arms wrap around her in his attempt to velcro to her side.

"Eddie," she sighs his name, not even sure why she's saying it or if he can hear her.

She quickly has an answer to the latter.

"I know," he whimpers, turning his head and burying his face in the crook of her neck, "You're not my girlfriend anymore. You're Harrington's. But... please."

"I'm not with Steve," she corrects him, shaking her head to the best of her ability. She knows that he won't remember this conversation and she'll have to explain herself again, but she needs to get it out there for her own sake, "I was never with Steve. Not in that way. Never in that way."

"I miss you," he continues to murmur into her neck, and she can feel his lips brushing her skin. It's nearly painful, making her breathe deeply and stare at the ceiling as she wills tears away. She knows she'll be able to fix this, to some degree, soon. But to have to sit here now, with a broken Eddie and the casualty of what they once were, sends sharp pains into her chest and throat. She's so close to having what she wants, what she needs, but she can't have it. Not tonight.

Tomorrow , the voice in her mind whispers.

But how does she know he'll forgive her? Or believe her?

There's a possibility this is the last time she'll ever be this close to Eddie.

Suddenly, she wriggles her arms that were pinned to her sides free, curling them around Eddie's waist as best as she could with how he's holding to her.

"I know you love Steve, but I love you. I want you to choose me," he continues to mumble into her neck. He continues to send daggers into her heart, "Always wanted you to choose me. Thought if we fake-dated, it might turn real."

"Eddie-" she's failing at blinking away the tears, and one slips free. She curses it to all Hell.

"You're everything to me, Red. Everything."

You're everything to me, too , she feels the words come up on her tongue. But this time she holds back, not out of fear, but out of the knowledge he won't remember. Nothing she says can fix this hurt tonight. Nothing .

"Do anything you asked me to. Swear it."

His words are already terribly hard to decipher, and her skin is doing no favors as it works to make him mumble, his lips not lifting from where they rest against her neck. They aren't kissing, or sucking, or nipping. No familiar antics are taking place. His nose nudges into the spot below her ear, and she can feel him pressing himself impossibly close to her.

He just wants to be close to her. He's holding her like he'll never see her again.

"Anything?" she replies to him, and he nods against her, curls tickling her cheeks as he refuses to pull away in the slightest, "I need the keys, Eddie. We need to get you home."

"In my pocket," he breathes out against her.

She tries to detangle from him enough to get to his pocket, but it's no use.

"You've gotta let go of me, sweet boy," she urges when he whines, holding her tighter as she tries to get out of his grasp.

He's drunk. He's allowed to be so clingy, to be so clearly destroyed. What's her excuse?

The last thing she wants is for him to let go of her. She wants to stay this tangled up with him for the rest of her days. She doesn't care if it's in this bar, if it's in his van, if it's in either of their beds. She just wants to be with him.

"We've gotta get you home," she tries again, " Please , Eddie."

The please gets to him. He lets her out of his grip and throws himself back against the booth, head leaned back towards the ceiling as she begins to dig into his pockets for the keys.

"Way you punched Jason," he begins to babble, head rolling on his neck, "Really hot. Really brave."

She fights back a laugh through her teary expression as she finally snags the key ring, yanking it out of his jeans, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I heard you also got some punches in."

"Jus' a few," he slurs, cracking his eyes open to stare at her. There's still so much love there for her, flooding his doe brown eyes to an overwhelming extent. She has to look away before she gets too swept away in it.

It's too much. Far more than she deserves.

"He deserved it," she murmurs as she places the keys on the tabletop, "He fucked with Dustin."

Eddie nods, extremely slow and exaggerated, "Yep," he pops the 'p' obnoxiously before continuing, "He was also callin' you names. Don't deserve that. You don't deserve it."

She takes a shaky breath, closing her eyes.

I do deserve it. I deserve every name in the book that Jason Carver could possibly call me.

"Yeah, well - Jason should know better than to fuck with your sheep," she tries to retrack the conversation to focus on Dustin, not wanting to hear about how part of his motivation was to defend her when she had done nothing to earn it.

"Mhm," he hums as she turns slightly, looking to Jeff and Gareth leaning against the bar. They were watching like hawks, and the moment she meets Jeff's stare, he's motioning for Gareth to follow him back over to the booth, "Can't have them going around saying stuff about my girl."

She completely freezes. He's still pressed up against her just enough to feel it, and he's still in his right mind enough to correct himself.

"Sorry. Forgot. Not my girl. Harrington's girl," it's hard for her to piece together the puzzle pieces of his drunken words, but she realizes that he's still going on about her being with Steve.

She should be setting boundaries, for tonight at least, but she can't stop her palm from coming up to cradle his cheek when he begins to refuse to look at her. She forces his gaze to find hers.

"Why are you so sure that I'm with Steve now? That I love him and not you?" she asks. It's not the question she should be asking him while he's inebriated, but she realizes this might be the most honest she gets him to be about the entire situation.

He stares longingly at her for a second before responding, "Because you kissed him."

It's not a question, it's not an assumption, it's not an unprecedented fear. It's a fact. A statement about the events that had transpired. She can't deny it, she can't explain it.

Her hand falls from his face, "I'm sorry."

"Ready to go?" Gareth suddenly interrupts once he and Jeff stand before the two of them.

The moment that never was there is gone. A chance that never existed for her to explain herself or admit her feelings has vanished.

Tomorrow .

She nods before facing Eddie again, putting on her best faux smile, "Alright, Eds. Gareth and Jeff are going to take you home now-"

"No," he immediately says, a scowl taking over his face as he glares at his friends over her shoulder.

"Yes," she fights back, grabbing for the keys, "They're going to get you out to your van, and one of them is going to drive you home-"