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Getting crossfaded with Eddie Munson on a Friday night was the new normal.
Life had grown so goddamn weird. It had been several months since the defeat of Vecna and Chrissy's symbolic return to the land of the living. Chrissy never felt more alive. It's the most she has felt in years - it only took a breakup and a trip to literal hell and back. She felt glued to his bed, drifting from thought to thought. She giggles at absolutely nothing. She could get used to this. Then, suddenly, she felt a water bottle being put in place of the vodka in her lap and a weight sitting beside her.
"Okay, drink up. I'm a responsible dealer, remember?" Eddie bursts in with a grin.
She rolls her eyes playfully, her mind still clouded. She takes a couple of large swigs before flopping clumsily on her back. She decides to mix things up.
"Wanna play twenty questions?" she says, smiling stupidly.
"You're on, Cunningham. I'll start."
"Favorite color?"
"Wow. Very original, Munson."
"I know, right. I got unequivocally unique questions for days."
She's giggling wildly again.
"Pink. Maybe blue. I'm too high to decide. Yours?"
"Green is a pretty sick color, pun intended."
"Wait. I thought it was black!"
He snorts.
"Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy, who's being original now?"
They throw mundane questions back and forth for the majority of the game.
"Middle name?"
"Favorite animal?"
"If you could have any superpower, what would it be?"
The answer "being able to read your own mind" made her spit her water out. She thinks Eddie Munson has to be the funniest person she's ever met.
He asks for her best memory; she exclaims about the day she got on the cheerleading team. Eddie tells her about setting up his first-ever Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Chrissy, on top of the world, accidentally opens a can of worms.
"What's your worst memory?" she asks, regretting her words as soon as they leave her mouth.
"We wanna go there?"
"I'll think of a different one. I wasn't thinking," she trails off, looking for the words.
Before she can, Eddie interrupts her.
"No, it's okay. I trust you. Somehow."
He lights another joint to smoke before speaking. Eddie thinks he'll probably need it.
"The day my dad died. I was waiting for him to come home from work. It was us against the world after my mom left. She's a real bitch. I still wanted mom back, though. But, my old man was trying his best. Anyway, I saw my mom pull up in the driveway, and for a split second, I remember I got so excited that I thought I could fucking cry. I really thought she was coming home and that nuclear family shit was gonna happen. Imagine my surprise."
He takes a drag.
"They notified her first since they weren't legally separated or whatever. Never saw her again after the funeral. Never saw dear ole' dad again. Obviously."
Chrissy's eyes widened.
"Oh, Eddie. I'm so sorry."
"It's all good. I'm the pinnacle of stability."
Chrissy nudges his leg with her foot. Eddie sighs.
"In all seriousness, I'm okay. I landed on my feet eventually. Not very gracefully, but I made it."
Chrissy wants to wrap him up in the blankets and hold him. Kiss him, maybe. Thoughts of kissing him occupied her often nowadays. Chrissy has no idea what to do with herself. He drums his hands against his legs, a nervous habit of his she picked up right away. He awkwardly transitions away from the topic.
"Okay, Cunningham, share with the class. I can't be the only mess in the room."
She sits up, leaning against the wall by his bed. Eddie follows. They sit side by side, legs pressed against each other. She notes the way the denim of his jeans feels on her bare skin. Her high was considerably worn off, but her mind still felt scattered.
"Worst memory, huh." she thinks aloud.
Her stomach drops at the memory that arises. Eddie sees her face reflect her inner turmoil.
"You okay? You don't have to share if you don't want to. We can table it for another night."
"No, I trust you. I can do this," she reassures herself.
"My fifteenth birthday. My mom had bought me a dress for eighth-grade graduation since it was in a couple of days. Heather, Jenna, and I had a sleepover the night before. I still have the friendship bracelets we made at whatever ungodly hour we stayed up to. My Aunt Kathy drove in from Michigan. She made me a cake. Strawberries and cream, she even put little frosting roses all over the edges. It was such a sweet gesture."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. She had barely started. It felt pathetic.
"I'm sorry, this is so silly."
Silence permeated the room.
"Really dumb, actually." she continued.
The silence rang in her ears - it was deafening. She'd kill for the radio to be blasting one of Eddie's favorite songs right about now. She takes a leap of faith.
"I messed up, okay? Ate probably half that cake." She stuttered, much more quietly than she spoke before.
Eddie tilted his head, confusion evident on his face.
"Chrissy, you're losing me a bit. Worst memory is cake?"
"After the party, I tried on the dress, but the back didn't fit. Mom got really overwhelmed. The dress was super expensive, and she wanted me to wear it. I overate. She kept getting more upset the longer we tried to get it to fit."
She felt hot tears freely line her cheeks. Wiping them away with shaking hands, she continued.
"She, uh, kinda dragged me to the bathroom."
She wanted Eddie to crack a joke, make a silly gesture, anything at all, but he just stared at her with concern. She had never had someone look at her with that much care. It felt bittersweet. She hated burdening anyone.
"I puked it all up. Mom said it would make her feel better. She said it would make me feel better. I still haven't kicked that habit."
She pushed out a strained chuckle.
"Dress still didn't fit the next day, but she sewed up the back, so everything worked out, right?"
The pause officially felt like it might strike her dead. Eddie breaks it with an almost sob himself.
"Holy shit, Chrissy."
"I told you, it's silly."
"No! That's the antithesis of fucking silly. You didn't deserve that. Please say you know that."
She realized that irrationally, she felt like she deserved it. That is all it took. A dam had burst, and there was no return. She let out a sob and another one after that. She thought she would choke on them, die even, if she didn't calm down. She gasped for air. His arms wrapped around her immediately. Chrissy felt incoherent. She rambled out apologies, crying harder into his shoulder. She felt his hand rubbing circles into her back.
"Let it out. I'm here. Deep breaths, okay? It's just you and me."
Murmuring words of comfort to her, he held her until she settled, sobs reduced to soft sniffling. She looked shyly up at him, mascara reduced to nothing.
"Oh god, your shirt is ruined! I'll wash it. I'm so-"
He cuts her off immediately.
"Please, for the love of gods, don't apologize for that."
He puts his hand softly on her cheek, wiping away any stray tears, and tilting her face to look at his.
"I'm proud of you, like immensely. We'll figure it out together if you want. Whatever you need, Chris, I'll be there."
She's so tired of forming words for the night, so she nods her head, leaning her cheek further into his hand, placing a kiss on his palm. He laughs softly.
"Well. I'm pretty damn sober now. Are you there yet?"
"Yeah, I think I am."
He rubs his thumb against her cheek one last time before getting out of bed. He rummaged through a dresser drawer before handing her something to wear to bed. She retreats to the bathroom silently. She walks back to his bedroom, swallowed by Eddie's bleach-stained Iron Maiden shirt, still slightly unsteady on her feet. Shirtless and now wearing sweatpants, he had a spare pillow and blanket in hand. He's about to head for the couch routinely.
"Eddie, wait!"
He sits down on the side of the bed in response.
"I don't want to be alone. Not tonight. Could we maybe share the bed?"
"You sure?" he asks lightly.
"Only a thousand percent sure."
"Woah, only a thousand?" he mouths jokingly.
They lay side by side. Her fingers brush his. She doesn't have the energy to overthink this. Entwining their fingers, she holds his hand the whole night, even when sleep steals her away. Eddie takes a shot in the dark, even if she won't hear it.
"Chrissy Cunningham, I think I love you."