the shire is burning [eddie munson x OC]

chapter thirty three

The month of September is... strange .

At least, for Willow, it is.

Maybe it's her own damning pride, or it might be Steve's, but the two friends don't rekindle. At first, it causes a burning sting, similar to that of a paper cut, to be ever present in her chest - nothing that would kill her, but certainly painful.

Robin is caught in the middle of it. It makes Willow feel awful; she takes full liability for all of it, but Monday after the party, it's clear Robin doesn't send any blame her way.

"So," Willow started as she sat down at lunch with her friend on the outskirts of the bustling cafeteria, "I'm... I'm not going to be riding home with you guys this afternoon."

She had more to say, but Robin hadn't needed any further explanation.

"Figured that much," Robin shrugged through a mouthful of cold fries off of her tray in front of her. Willow hadn't gone through the long and treacherous lunch line - remnants of anxiety still riddled her stomach.

"And you're not mad?"

"Never. This is good, make Harrington sweat it out. But I'm kind of curious who exactly you will be riding home with?" Robin phrased it as a question, a pointed look at Willow before she glanced in the direction of the table that Hellfire had claimed as their own. Eddie's seat was empty, "Is Operation PDA still a go, or did he chicken out?"

Willow turned to follow her line of sight, brows furrowed, "As far as I know it's still a go, he just ditched the first today. Something about a new record he wanted to buy in the town over, but he still gave me a ride to school this morning. Why would he chicken out?"

"Oh, come on, 'Low. I think this is the most painful game of chicken I've ever witnessed."

"Game of chicken? Jesus Christ, why is poultry on your mind? Stop talking in riddles."

Robin sighed dramatically, dropping one of her last few fries she'd been lifting to her lips. "You like him."

Willow's heart stopped. She liked it better when Robin spoke in riddles.

"He's a good friend, yeah," she tried to play oblivious, but Robin wasn't having it.

"Yeah? A really good friend, it seems. You can't tell me you aren't crushing hard on that dipshit."

"I'm not!"

"Oh, denial sings the sweetest truths!" Robin sang out, leaning onto the table to get closer to Willow, "I give it a month."

"A month before what ?" Willow snapped, eyes narrowed at her best friend.

"Before one of you caves. I'm not blind to Steve's jealousy, and I'm certainly not blind when my best friend is clearly falling for a boy. I mean, remember how quickly I called it with dingus?"

Willow did remember that. She hadn't even been contemplating her crush a full week before Robin had pointed out what she thought was obvious. To Willow, it hadn't been. But to Buckley? It had stared the two of them painfully in the face as far as she was concerned.

"Fine. He's nice. Cute, even. Who cares? Sue me," Willow admitted, not up for playing games that morning, "But why are you even saying 'one of us', instead of just me? It's not like he reciprocates the feelings."

"You're hopeless!" Robin groaned, exasperation lacing her body language as she shook her head, "My God, you're a hopeless idiot."

"Who's a hopeless idiot?"