Chapter Text
Death by a thousand cuts.
Chrissy had known the phrase since elementary school when she’d heard her father use it in reference to his workload. For a while, the phrase confused her. She’d gotten a few cuts in her life and she knew they hurt.
She’d tried to imagine what it would be like to receive a thousand papercuts and wondered how one could possibly die from something that was painful, yes, but ultimately so small. She remembered the time she had slipped while helping her mother cut vegetables for dinner and cut her thumb. That had been more than a papercut. She wouldn’t have made it to 100, let alone a thousand of those. Maybe that’s what he had been talking about, she’d thought.
But she knew better now.
It wasn’t that there was any one big unspeakably horrible thing making her miserable. It wasn’t even several awful things. It was a handful of things that, in the grand scheme of things, probably only rated as not-so-great. But added together, they were starting to overwhelm her.
The pressure to figure out what she was doing after high school.
The knowledge that cheer–the one thing that never failed to put a smile on her face–would be ending.
The fact that her mother had been on her case more than usual lately.
And the hard truth that she wasn’t in love with Jason anymore and wasn’t sure how to break up with him.
Plus the bonus truth that she was a little scared of what it would mean to be Chrissy Without Jason. They were a package deal–always together. For so long she’d thought he was it, and it was a little scary to think of what her life would be without him. She’d be in charge of her own destiny, no longer tied to whatever Jason had planned for the two of them. And that brought her back to point number one.
It was enough to make her head spin.
Which was why she found herself sneaking up the stairs at Jessica White’s party that Saturday, seeking out the third door on the left, where she’d overheard a person might find some relief. Jason was drunk–black out drunk, she suspected, and not likely to notice she’d gone. Even if he did, this was no big deal. She’d gotten high with him and his friends once or twice before. This was a slap on the wrist and a stern warning behavior at most.
Chrissy made it to the top of the stairs and passed the first two doors. The first one, she knew from the decorative placard, was the door to Jessica’s bedroom. It was closed, with light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the door and when she walked past, she could hear the telltale sounds of a couple enjoying their time together.
She kept moving. The third door was open and the light was on. Suddenly feeling nervous and shy, she stepped into what was clearly a home office, with a couch lined against one wall and large desk in the center of it. The chair behind the desk was facing the other direction, forcing her to clear her throat politely to get its occupant’s attention.
The second she made a noise, the chair spun around, revealing Eddie Munson. Grinning broadly, he spread his arms in welcome and kicked his feet up on the desk as if he owned the place.
“Chrissy Cunningham,” he greeted her as if he’d known she was coming.
“Hi,” she said slowly, still feeling nervous.
“Please, have a seat,” he gestured grandly to the chair in front of the desk, clearly enjoying this set up. “I must say, I’m a little surprised to see you up here.”
She let out a small laugh as she sat down. “Guess I’m not your normal type?”
He grinned and winked at her. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Realizing what he’d meant, she blushed faintly. “I meant… well. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before. Bought from you, I mean,” she added quickly, not wanting to open herself up to more teasing. Buying weed was one thing, but flirting with the dealer might be considered more than a minor offense. Everyone smoked, even good girls. But they didn’t chat up the plug.
Eddie leaned back, his smile easier, friendlier. “I’m just yanking your chain, Cunningham. Relax.” Suddenly, he clapped his hands together as if realizing something. “You know, this isn’t the first time we’ve hung out.”
Forgetting her nerves for a second, Chrissy frowned. “It isn’t?”
Eddie nodded. “Middle school talent show. You did that cheer routine. It was cool… I liked it. I was there with–”
In a flash, the memory came rushing back to her. A younger Eddie Munson standing backstage with a guitar too large for his smaller frame, wearing a shirt on which he had drawn a band logo in what looked like permanent marker. She remembered what it had said…
“Corroded Coffin!” she blurted out. “I remember!”
Eddie slapped a palm down on the desk in triumph. “Yes! Corroded Coffin!”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I remember that,” she laughed to herself. It seemed like ages ago.
“I can’t believe it either. You’re a freak,” Eddie teased her.
“Wow,” Chrissy breathed out, feeling significantly more comfortable now. “Do you still play?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Still do. Still do. We play at The Hideout on Tuesday nights. You should come see us sometime.”
“Maybe I will,” she allowed, half wondering when it had gotten so easy to shoot the breeze with Eddie “the freak” Munson. “You know, you’re not like what I thought you would be like,” she admitted.
The corners of his lips twitched. “Mean and scary?”
“Yeah.”
He took his feet down off the desk and leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered. “I’ve got a rep to protect.”
She giggled. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Eddie smiled at her for a second, then drummed his hands on the desk. “Ok. I’m guessing you didn’t come up here to reminisce with me. What can I do for you?”
Oh right. She’d been so taken in by him she’d almost forgotten what she’d come up here for. It felt like someone had punctured a balloon inside her as her mind drifted back to the stress she’d been under.
“Um. I wanted to buy. From you,” she said, not exactly sure how one went about these things.
“All right. What are you looking for? I can give you half an ounce for fifteen–that’s a 25% discount. The friend price,” he said, pointing a finger gun in her direction.
She considered it for a second. She wouldn’t mind being high right now and weed would definitely relax her. But… if she were really being honest, she wanted a more total escape. She couldn’t drink until she blacked out like Jason sometimes did–she’d get sick first and she wasn’t looking to throw up all over herself.
“Do you… do you have anything stronger?” she asked tentatively, wondering what Eddie must think of her. Here she was, the head cheerleader, saying weed wasn’t enough for her.
Sure enough, his brow furrowed for a second as he considered her. “I’ve got some coke,” he said slowly.
“No,” she shook her head. “That’s not… that’s not what I’m looking for.”
“Oook,” he drawled out. “What are you looking for? Because I don’t keep harder stuff on me. The only other thing I have is some X, but if you’re looking for–”
“Ecstasy?” she cut him off.
“Yee-ah.”
She thought about it for a couple seconds before nodding her head. “That sounds good.”
Eddie’s eyebrows lifted slowly. “Are you sure, ‘cause–”
“I’m sure,” she said quickly, then forced herself to calm down. “Sorry. It’s just… do you ever feel like you’re losing your mind?”
Eddie snorted. “Oh, only every day.” He paused then asked, sounding a little concerned, “Is that why you came to see me?”
Chrissy shook her head. “I just really need a break from reality right now.”
“Well,” Eddie said, reaching down and producing a black lunchbox that he then plopped on the desk between them, “X’ll help you do that.” He opened the lunchbox and rifled around until he was able to pull out a small bag of purple pills. “Five dollars a hit, again, that’s the friend price.”
Chrissy was already pulling the money out of her small purse. She handed over a five dollar bill, and Eddie took it, then frowned.
“What?” she asked. Had she somehow screwed this up?
“Just the one?” he asked, opening the baggie.
“Yes. Why?” The anxiety was creeping back in. How had she messed this up? People bought drugs all the time. Trust that she would be the one to find a way to do it wrong.
“Nothing. It’s just… you’re gonna do it alone?”
She shrugged, feeling defensive. “I guess. I don’t really have anyone to do it with.”
“Not Jason?” Was it her or did she detect a hint of spite in the way he’d said the name? Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. She knew Eddie and Jason didn’t exactly get along.
“No,” she said quietly. “It’s, uh, I don’t think it’s his thing.” Nor would he probably be too happy with her doing it, either. She could just picture his disapproving glare if he found out. Good girls don’t do ecstasy.
She really needed to figure out how to end things with him.
“Look, far be it from me to tell others how to live or how to get fucked up,” Eddie’s voice brought her thoughts back to the present. “But you shouldn’t do X alone,” he shook his head as he fished a single pill out of the bag and placed it gently in front of her. “Not because it’s all that dangerous,” he added. He must have been able to read the concern on her face. “It’s just. Well, it’s kinda a social drug. More fun in groups. Less likely to focus on the not so fun stuff.”
“Hmm,” Chrissy hummed as she picked up the pill and turned it over in her hand. It had a little heart stamped on it. Who knew drugs could be cute? But back to the problem at hand. She ran through the list of people she knew at the party and considered if any of them would want to get high with her. She came up empty handed. The only person she (sort of) knew here who would probably do X was sitting across from her.
But did people do drugs with their dealers? Was that a thing? She always assumed the deal was done and then both parties walked away.
But then again, buying drugs off Eddie hadn’t been anything like she’d expected. He’d been warm and funny and made her feel comfortable. Kind of the perfect person to get high with, really.
It was worth a shot. And if he rejected her, it wasn’t like she’d have to speak to him again. They didn’t exactly run in the same circles.
Summoning her courage, she lifted her eyes from the pill to his face. “Eddie,” she said slowly. “Would you… would you want to do it with me?”
He raised his eyebrows and smirked and she mentally groaned. She’d done it again. “I mean do you want to get high with me?” she stressed.
Eddie blinked, seemingly in surprise, then leaned back in his chair, swiveling slightly from side to side, considering her request.
Chrissy squirmed in her seat, suspecting she’d committed a major faux pas. She was just about to tell him to forget it when he nodded sharply and jumped up from his seat.
“You know what, Cunningham?” he said as he walked around the desk, past her and over to the door. “I think it’s quittin’ time.”
Chrissy felt a small wave of relief wash over her as she watched him shut the door and lock it.
Thirty minutes later and Chrissy was feeling fantastic. Everything that had been stressing her out felt so far away and insignificant. Why worry about life after high school or her mother’s judgemental stares when the print hanging above the desk looked so, so beautiful and Eddie’s hair felt so, so soft gliding between her fingers?
They had wound up slumped on the couch together, giggling and pointing to things around the room that they found fascinating to look at. At some point, Chrissy had become fixated on Eddie’s hair and asked to touch it. He had happily acquiesced, and was now laying with his head in her lap while she stroked his curls. A half-noticed thought flickered through her head–something about how easy this felt, an easier intimacy than she was used to with Jason.
She curled a strand of Eddie’s hair around her finger and pulled slightly before letting it fall back into place.
“Mmmh,” he moaned, deep in his throat, and Chrissy felt something warm roll through her. She gazed down at his face. He looked almost beautiful from this angle, all big eyes and full lips.
He was looking back at her. “Heyyy,” he said lazily. “What? Got something on my face?” He grinned and his dimples popped. Unable to help herself, Chrissy traced the one, careful to keep her touch featherlight.
“No,” she said, feeling happy and entranced. “You just have a really nice face.”
“ You have a really nice face.”
She snorted. “No I don’t.”
Eddie twisted in her lap so suddenly she let out a squeak. He pulled himself up to sit next to her, folding a leg underneath him and turning to face her. “Cunningham,” he said, his tone almost scolding. “You have an amazing face.”
He raised his arms, lifting his hands toward her, but stopped. “Wait. Can I?” he asked, fluttering his fingers in an attractive wave that made her stare for a second before leaning in toward him and nodding.
Her breath caught in her throat the moment she felt his hands on her cheeks.
“Amazing,” he muttered, smoothing his fingers over her cheekbones. She could feel his callouses as they ran across her cheeks and down along her jaw.
“Mmmh, that feels nice,” Chrissy found herself sighing. Her eyes fluttered shut as he traced a thumb across her lower lip. His touch left a trail of heat in its wake, setting her nerves alight and making her feel incredibly conscious of her lips… and how incredible it would probably feel to kiss someone right now.
“Do that again,” she murmured, keeping her eyes shut.
“Hmm? What–this?” His voice was soft as he retraced the path over her lip.
Chrissy nodded, opening her eyes. “Yeah… it’s like…” she cast about for words that would fit what she was feeling. “It’s like your fingers are leaving little kisses all over my lips.” She giggled. “That sounds so weird.”
He joined her laughter. “No, no. It’s the X. It makes you feel things, like, really intensely. Wait, wait, wait… do me.” He jutted his chin out toward her invitingly.
Without hesitating, she reached out and ran her index finger over his full, lower lip, then swept upward and traced the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. She could feel the heat of his breath on her. “They feel so soft,” she sighed, then laughed again. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
Her fingers were still on his lips and she felt them stretch into a grin. “Yeah, but I won’t tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what?” she asked, still giggling.
“That you’re positively obsessed with my face,” he teased.
“Am not,” she laughed, her fingers now trailing along his dimples.
He snorted, but didn’t argue, instead, smoothing his fingers across her temple and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
This all felt incredibly intimate and more importantly, so damn good. An idea was beginning to take form in her mind… potentially a dangerous one, but also potentially an amazing one. Any other time she’d never even consider it, but given the circumstances…
“Kiss me.”
The words hurtled out of her mouth before she could stop them. But instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, she was only excited to hear whether or not Eddie would agree. Because all of a sudden, her mind was consumed by how it might feel. If his fingers felt this good, then surely those full, soft lips of his would be absolute heaven right now.
Eddie blinked at her and dropped his hands from her face.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she nodded, sweeping her hands down his neck and onto his shoulders while twisting around to fully face him. “I want to feel it. Wait,” she paused, a thought occurring to her. “Have you ever kissed someone? I mean, while on this?”
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well? Was it… was it good?” She couldn’t imagine how it wouldn’t be, if simply touching each other’s lips had been so wonderful. But Eddie was the one with experience. Maybe it would be too much. Too intense.
She watched him as he tilted his head back and let his eyes fall shut, then nodded. “Yeah. It’s… it’s pretty fucking amazing.”
She felt another surge of that good, warm feeling washing through her and she shifted on the couch, scooting closer to Eddie, her hands still on his shoulders. The idea of kissing him was consuming her and she was almost fearful that she might not get what she wanted.
“Can we then?” she panted, squeezing his shoulders gently.
His gaze drifted down to her lips and she swore she could feel it. “You sure?” he asked, his voice sounding raspy.
“Yes,” she nodded eagerly, and leaned in, swiftly closing the distance between them.
All of her suspicions had been true: his lips felt amazing against hers—warm and pillowy soft, she swore she could feel them brushing against each of her cells individually. She moaned into his mouth, opening up to him and running her tongue along his bottom lip.
He tasted like weed and brightness and freedom—which up until now she wouldn’t have thought had a taste, but whether it was the drugs or it was just Eddie, the taste was intoxicating.
Eager to feel and taste more of him, she flicked her tongue against his, eliciting a groan that she immediately felt go tumbling through her. He tilted his head and deepened their kiss, humming along her lips and sending another pleasant wave of vibrations through her.
She could have kissed him for hours, allowing herself to get lost in the sensation of his lips moving against hers, and she let out a whimper of disappointment when he pulled back from her.
“Jesus, Cunningham,” he gasped. “That was…”
She nodded manically, understanding what he was trying to say. “Like stars. Like kissing champagne.”
Eddie let out a laugh. “Exactly. Fuck, I forgot how good it all feels when you’re high.” He ducked down and planted an open mouthed kiss on her neck, making her gasp out and squeeze at his shoulders as she turned his words over in her head.
“It all feels?” she pried.
“Huh?” He pulled off her neck and ran a hand up into her hair, threading the strands of her ponytail through his fingers.
“Mmmh,” she hummed, enjoying the pleasant pulling sensation. “You said how good it all feels.”
“Yeah.”
“What did you mean?”
“Ah! Uh, you know. Everything. Just… everything,” he explained, ducking down to look her in the eye. “You are so fucking pretty, did you know that?” he added, as if he had just noticed.
“You’re talking about sex,” she said, putting two and two together. Unbidden, images of her and Eddie tangled up together flooded her brain and she felt a low throb between her legs.
“What? Oh… yeah. I mean, you can see how, right?”
Chrissy felt like her brain was playing tug of war with itself. On one hand, she knew she shouldn’t; she was still with Jason and even if she knew their time together was winding down, cheating was still cheating. And also, good girls don’t take drugs and fuck their dealers behind their boyfriends’ backs.
On the other hand, good girls didn’t take drugs and make out with their dealers behind their boyfriends’ backs. In for a penny, in for a pound as they say. The idea of her maintaining that good girl image tonight had long sailed out the window.
And the thing was, the more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. Which was unusual for her. She and Jason had tried a few times and to be honest, it hadn’t been great. It always felt rushed and uncomfortable and left her without much pleasure. After those first few times, she’d told Jason she didn’t think she was ready. It would be better if they waited. He’d believed her—the good girl act always worked with him—and they’d gone back to doing everything but.
But now… now she strongly suspected it would be different. Eddie had been right—kissing had felt so incredibly good. She could barely imagine what that sensation might feel like if she opened her entire body up to it, and she was very interested in finding out.
Experimentally, she ran her hand down his front, sweeping slightly from left to right, letting her fingers glide over the fabric of his t-shirt. She could feel the heat of his body through the fabric and the flat line of his stomach, which twitched under her touch.
As her fingers approached the place where the front of his shirt was shoved into the waistband of his jeans, she became aware of his hand sliding down her arm, leaving a tingling trail in its wake before grabbing her wrist.
“Whatcha doing there, Chrissy?”
Eddie didn’t sound upset and the grip on her wrist was light. If anything, she could hear amusement in his voice and she got the impression that this was a yellow light, not a red one.
“Just, you know, enjoying leaving reality behind for a little,” she answered honestly, feeling braver than she usually did. Normally, she left it up to Jason to initiate anything more than kissing, but tonight she was feeling bold and alive and unencumbered. She pushed against his stomach until he moved backward into a seated position and she swung a leg over him so that she could sit straddling his lap, her skirt riding up over her thighs. Not directly up against his crotch, but she felt she was making it pretty obvious what she was after.
“Never a bad thing…” he said slowly, reaching up and giving her ponytail a light little tug with one hand while the other found its way to her hip. “But what about that boyfriend of yours? Ja-son?” He broke the name up over two syllables in a mocking tone.
Chrissy let out a huff. “In this version of reality,” she said thoughtfully, “I get to decide what I want. Not Jason. He doesn’t matter right now.”
She caught a quick frown from Eddie as she dove back in for another kiss, but whatever had troubled him wasn’t enough to keep him from kissing her back. With both hands on her hips, he pulled her closer until her pelvis was smack against his hips. She could feel him beneath her through his jeans, hard against the inside of her thigh and she wiggled, grinding down on him.
They let out twin groans and she wondered if he was feeling the same achingly good pressure she was. She ground against him again, feeling like a thermometer whose mercury was slowly rising, filling her up. Between the sensations between her legs and his lips on her mouth, the rest of the world had fallen away and the only thing she wanted was more Eddie.
Desperate to feel more of him against her, she grabbed at the hem of his shirt and tore it upward. When he took over for her, she tugged off her own shirt and unclasped her bra before pressing her naked chest against his.
“You’re so warm,” she murmured, leaning in to kiss his neck and then humming when he jerked his hips against hers.
“Fuuuck, Chrissy,” he groaned, then pushed her back a little so he could see her. He ran his hands over her breasts, pushing them together and licking a line down the center of the cleavage he’d created. She swore he was leaving a trail of lightning across her skin and she gasped as he kissed across one breast and pulled a nipple into his mouth.
She rocked against him, the mercury inside her still climbing. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” she chanted softly as he moved against her, soaking her panties a little more with every small thrust of his hips.
It still wasn’t enough. “I need… Eddie…” she groaned as he pulled off her chest with an audible pop.
“What, baby? Whattya need?” He was already breathing heavily and his fingers skimmed over her sides making goosebumps erupt behind them.
She put her hands on either side of his face—that lovely, lovely face—and stared, trying to make him see she was serious.
“I need you inside of me.”
His head tipped downward and he pressed his face against her chest. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, sending his voice vibrating through her rib cage.
“Please, Eddie,” she whined, rolling her hips again. She needed this. God, she needed this. “I want it. It’ll feel so good.”
He lifted his head and smiled up at her. “Cunningham. If the last hour has taught you anything, it should be that A, I am a total hedonist. And B,” he paused and gripped her tight, then pushed her backward until she was lying beneath him on the couch. “I seem to have a lot of trouble saying no to you.”
Chrissy paced her bathroom, pulling a scrunchie back and forth between her hands and watching as the clock she’d brought in from her bedroom remained unchanged.
Who knew ten minutes could last so long?
That was only, what? The length of about three pop songs? Only, she didn’t feel much like listening to music right now.
She glanced at the clock again and her stomach lurched as it rolled over another minute. Only six more to go. Or two more songs.
It hadn’t taken her long to figure out something was up. Chrissy had always been regular as rain, a trait all the women in her family enjoyed, her mother said. It made for easier planning, she’d said.
So when she’d looked back over her week in the small planner with dolphins on it that she kept in her purse and saw a discreet circle around April 3, red flares had immediately gone up. It was April 8 and Aunt Flo had been a no show.
Two gut-wrenching hours and a trip to a pharmacy three towns over later, she had done the at-home pregnancy test with shaking hands, double and triple checking the instructions as she went along and praying that the A she had pulled in chemistry class would serve her here.
After she’d peed and mixed and test tubed, there was nothing left to do but wait.
And think.
If she really was… pregnant—the word sounded clunky and alien even in her head—that was it. Her life was over. It was bad enough she had let this happen at all, let alone let it happen in what might be the worst, most irresponsible way possible: high on X with a guy who was not her boyfriend.
Well, there was the one silver lining here. If she was pregnant, she’d finally have to break up with Jason. No more chickening out. He was bound to figure out it wasn’t his. You don’t get pregnant from hand jobs.
What had she been thinking? With Eddie Munson, of all people.
Actually, she knew what she’d been thinking: that Eddie was cute and kind and funny and he’d made her feel good even before the drugs had kicked in. And once they’d kicked in she’d been thinking about how good he made her feel in other ways.
Her mind tumbled back to the couch from several weeks prior. Eddie on top of her, his hair curtaining their faces as he moved inside her, dragging his cock against her extra-sensitive walls as she wrapped her legs around him and gripped onto his back.
It had felt better than anything she’d ever experienced and when she’d come she’d nearly cried from how amazing it felt and the sweet relief that had flooded through her. Later that night, when she’d come down, she’d found herself wondering how much of it had been the drugs and how much had been Eddie, but she’d pushed that thought aside. Eddie was fun and she liked him, but… that was enough. She’d enjoyed her little night of escape and rebellion and now it was time to return to reality. And she and Eddie didn't interact all that much in reality.
Except now they might have to, depending on this test, which was now less than one song away from being done.
Chrissy sat down on the edge of the tub, still playing with the scrunchie. It could be nothing. Periods could be late for plenty of reasons. She’d been under a lot of stress recently. That could do it, she’d heard.
But they could also be late if you’d recently had sex and couldn’t remember the guy putting on a condom.
Why hadn’t she asked about a condom?
Oh right, she’d been too excited to feel Eddie inside of her, a need that had only flared further to life when he’d kicked off his pants and she’d seen how hard he was for her. The concept of condoms had been pushed right out of her head and once she’d felt him nudging against her entrance the only thing she’d cared about was how good it would feel once he filled her up.
She looked at the clock again and felt another jolt go through her. The time was up. Shaking, she rose from the tub, crept over to the sink and peered down into the little vials.
One was blue.
Chrissy Cunningham didn’t swear often, but she thought she would be more than excused for the soft “fuck” that escaped her in that moment.
She was pregnant.