the guitarist | eddie munson x reader

part ten: the brewing storm

Author's Note: I'm glad y'all liked that chapter! Now that we're all fed, shit's about to go down I fear. 

Bold: Eddie's pov

CW: anxiety, fear, nightmares

You weren't at school the following day.

Eddie stood by the set of lockers you shared, waiting before last period when you'd always stop by to swap out your trig textbook for another.

Waiting. Like a chump.

He rubbed his brow, exhausted from your escapade the previous night, and frustrated by his own worrying; should he not have kissed you? Was that why you didn't show?

And more importantly: where the hell were you?

_________________

You were lying in your bed, sprawled on the mattress in an attempt to stay as still as possible to keep it at bay.

It, of course, being the worst migraine you'd ever had in your life.

You'd had the headaches for days, an aftereffect of your looming anxiety, but they'd always subsided with a bit of Advil and a distraction from the owner of the boot prints on your bedroom floor.

But this... this felt different. Worse.

Probably the lack of sleep, you conceded to yourself.

You had gotten back at around 2am, but the adrenaline of your encounter had kept you awake until dawn. The gleaming sunrise had been the first messenger of your lack of sleep after Eddie had brought you back home hours before.

Oh, Jesus.

Eddie.

You'd completely blanked in that regard, neglecting to communicate that the pain brewing behind your brow had incapacitated you so significantly that you could hardly stand, let alone show face at school today.

Not that you even could, seeing as you weren't entirely certain the boy so much as owned a landline.

You were wondering what he must be thinking of your absence when a dull pain pinched in your forehead, dizzying you enough that you began to lose consciousness for the second time that morning.

Your dreams were deprived of the sweet solace of smoke and crooked smiles.

Instead, the dread in your chest pressed down like a weight as warped, nightmarish memories occupied your unconscious mind.

"Your grades are slipping, (y/n)," Mrs. Bouschbel's shrill voice echoed through your skull as you sat in English class.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

"I'm very disappointed in you." Her figure approached your desk, her looming shadow casting a dread over you as you tried to rise.

You couldn't.

Your feet were stuck in place, like they were glued to the floor.

You glanced frantically down at your arms on the desk, bound by a rope made of hissing shadow.

I can explain! you wanted to scream.

You wanted to claw at your throat, to find the words lodged there as you failed to speak.

The figure you'd thought was Mrs. Bouschbel began to turn in on itself, shadows pooling at its feet into the ground around you.

Books were flying off the small library shelves, shrieking around you like bats as you ducked.

You were trapped.

_________________

What harm could one more skip on his record possibly do?

Eddie ducked out of the double doors at the end of the hall, strolling casually through the gym lot to avoid rousing any suspicion as he located his van.

He fiddled with his keyring, nervously, hopelessly drumming up something clever to say to you when he finally saw you again.

He'd have to think of an excuse.

________________

A shadowy wind tore the air around you, drawing your breath as you willed your arms to move.

________________

The brakes screeched to a stop as he pulled haphazardly against the curb in front of your house.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled to himself, bending to collect pebbles to toss at your window. "I didn't mean to make things weird."

He was aiming to toss the first stone at the shutter when he heard a scream.

________________

The books swarmed you, hissing dismay in your ears, your eyes, down your throat... you pulled your arms free from the desk to reach for one, flailing as they came careening down around you.

"(y/n)," they seemed to taunt.

"(y/n), (y/n)--

"(y/n)!"

You gasped as you shot upwards, clawing at your throat when you finally screamed.

You grabbed frantically at the blanket around you, throwing it off your legs as you searched around your room.

"(y/n)."

Eddie stood beside your bed, hands raised in placidity.

You took a ragged breath as you stared at him.

He moved slowly to the edge of your bed, taking a seat as he lightly grasped your shoulders.

"It was just a dream," the boy assured. "Just a dream."

A sob broke from you as you clung to his frame, finally registering your own consciousness, taking count of your surroundings.

You were in your room.

Eddie was there.

He looked startled, worried, and maybe a little afraid.

"Thank you," you breathed. "Thank you for waking me."

"Any time." He pulled back, eyes searching in yours for any unspoken explanation. "Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

You released a steady breath, and began to explain it. 

Everything.