Chapter Text
Chrissy was exhausted.
Three hours before, when she’d initially walked into Jason’s home, she’d already been tired. But then fifty of their classmates popped out of poor hiding spaces, shouting surprise! so loudly she thought they’d ruptured her eardrum, and her internal dial went from ‘worn out’ to ‘enverated’ almost immediately. Like the room was full of vampires that thrived on energy, and every ounce she had was leeched as soon as she stepped foot past the threshold.
Whatever she wore on her face, Jason mistook it for excitement.
“They’re here for us,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her midsection and pulling her into an embrace that she immediately wanted to wiggle out of. “So everyone can see how we were made for each other!”
His voice steadily got louder as he spoke, so that the entire party overheard his declaration and gave their own joyous cheers. Shining a spotlight that she did not want directly in her face. Chrissy felt like she was trapped in the first act of a bad romcom, her skin growing tighter and tighter with every breath until she really was wiggling out of Jason’s arms, giving him the best grin she could muster in response to his raised brows. His eyes burned with something so startlingly similar betrayal at her transgression.
“Well, better have a drink then, right?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice light and even. “Can you grab me one? I really have to go to the bathroom.”
Immediately, his eyes warmed back into the devoted boyfriend he typically was. Pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, he replied, “Yeah, babe, absolutely. I’ll be in the kitchen with the guys.”
It had taken almost thirty minutes for her breathing to slow back to something relatively normal once she was behind a locked door.
When Jason had mentioned wanting to celebrate her birthday, Chrissy knew he meant something that would keep them together past midnight. It was finally her eighteenth, and, after he’d reached that milestone back in November, it was like he kept impatiently huffing and tapping his foot at the passing months. Like she was somehow expected to make the days go by faster so they could finally reach this moment and find out they were destined all along.
At midnight, when she officially turned from seventeen to eighteen, she’d be eligible to experience a soulmark. The universe, for whatever reason, awaiting that milestone like a person magically became mature enough to handle such a connection. A cosmic decision, out of her hands, that would spark the beginning of forever as soon as she touched her fate.
Chrissy just hadn’t expected an audience to be present for the spectacle. Basically their entire class was out there, drinking and treating this like an after-game party, and she just knew Jason had told them all to invite everyone so that all of Hawkins High could bear witness to his glorious connection. So he could talk about how he knew what the world had in store for them.
The problem was that, as convinced as Jason was that they were meant to be, Chrissy was on the absolute opposite end of the spectrum. Months had passed since Jason’s birthday, and Chrissy became more and more convinced that Jason was not the person she was meant to spend her life with.
How could he be, when she’d begun resenting him so much?
It wasn’t abnormal for people to date around. Especially since a person’s chance of actually finding their Marked was about fifty-fifty. Carol Perkins and Tommy Harkness were allegedly still seeing each other, despite both of them being twenty and absolutely toxic as a couple. Dating was easy when there was a possible expiration date written across the label.
Sometimes that expiration date came on extremely suddenly.
She would never forget the scandal from earlier in the year. Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington had been going steady for almost two years, but everyone found out that she dumped him over summer break. The day of her birthday, October sixteenth, she’d marched right up to Jonathan Byers in the hallway and, without even giving him a chance to greet her, had stuck her wrist out so it brushed against his.
Chrissy had been so enthralled with the display of effervescent color that she hadn’t realized how conscientious Nancy had been of placement until later.
The couple, now sporting matching tattoos that wrapped like vines around their left wrists, were extremely happy, as far as Chrissy could tell.
But the whispers about it never ceased, because no one understood how Nancy knew.
Except Chrissy.
While she wasn’t totally sure who was on the other end of her tether, she was certain it wasn’t Jason Carver.
Finally working up the courage to reenter the fray, Chrissy pulled herself from the bathroom and made her way into the kitchen. The clock informed her that it was a quarter to ten, and Chrissy had to close her eyes and take yet another deep, slow breath. It wouldn’t be possible to get everyone out of here before midnight, but maybe they’d all be too wasted to remember the embarrassment of Jason touching her and them not Connecting.
She found Jason leaning up against the breakfast nook, surrounded by his teammates as he boasted about the shot he’d made the night before to win their mid-season game.
“Hey, babe!” he said, leaning back and grabbing the red Solo cup he’d probably poured for her some time ago. The ice within was already somewhat melted. “You disappeared, so that might be a little watered down.”
“Just got caught up talking to Franny and Lydia,” Chrissy lied with a demure smile, taking a slight sip of the watered down vodka soda now in her possession. The last sip she’d likely be taking that evening.
“You excited for the nuptials, Chris?” Patrick asked, throwing a loose arm around Chrissy’s shoulders.
“Whoa, man, we’re Marked, not married,” Jason jested, his grin hard as he eyed the slack embrace in which Chrissy had no part.
“Eh, lifelong commitment’s a lifelong commitment,” Chance shrugged in response. Making Jason blink as he leaned further back against the table. “Still, it’s not like you haven’t been expecting this, what, two years now?” Taking a swig of his beer, Chance snorted a laugh. “You’re insane, Jay.”
“Yeah,” Jason replied, his voice distant. “Maybe.”
Chrissy took that as her cue to leave, making up some excuse about needing to see the rest of her guests. Not that eighty-five percent of the people in attendance were actually there for her, really. It may have been her birthday party and some type of Marked ceremony Jason had conjured, but Chrissy would guess that most of them showed up for free alcohol.
Weaving her way through the throngs of people, Chrissy found a side table on which to abandon her drink before taking a moment to actually observe the party being thrown in her name.
Most of the people had branched off into little groups, standing in small circles and talking over their own drinks. Too early in the night for anyone to be well and truly inebriated. Someone had taken up residence beside Jason’s parent’s entertainment center with a collection of what looked like mixtapes lined up. She thanked those who wished her a happy birthday, begging the universe for the tiniest modicum of peace at some point tonight.
Halfway shoved into the three seasons room, Chrissy wasn’t surprised to find it a little hazy. A group to one side was passing around a thin joint next to an open window, letting in a cold draft that had Chrissy curling up in her sweater.
On the opposite end of the room was Eddie Munson locked in what appeared to be a rather one-sided argument.
“It was thirty last week!” Harry Lewis cried, probably not for the first time.
“And?”
“How could the price jump ten dollars in a week?”
“Supply and demand,” Eddie shrugged in response. “Access ain’t so easy since your daddy put my supplier behind bars, Lewis.”
Chrissy pursed her lips around a giggle. Harry’s dad was little more than a desk jockey down at Hawkins Police Department, but blaming him for Reefer Rick’s imprisonment just added insult to injury.
(Officer Powell was actually the one that put him away. Chief Hopper had been strangely reluctant to read off Rick’s list of offenses, and had somehow managed to talk the judge down to an eighteen month sentence instead of the five years he was up for.)
Sputtering, Harry yanked two twenties out of his wallet and slapped it on the table, grabbing the baggy of prerolls from Eddie’s fingers with a muttered curse. Something that could’ve been asshole, but it was lost under the din of noise.
Eddie smirked at Harry’s back as he escaped back into the house, his warm eyes widening as soon as they landed on Chrissy.
“There she is!” he said, standing and spreading his arms wide. “The lady of the hour!”
Oh, he could be such a tease.
Chrissy grinned, slipping between a few rocking bodies and approaching Eddie slowly.
They’d been harboring this tentative friendship for a couple months now. Something distant enough to remain casual, should anyone ask, but deep enough that Chrissy knew, if she called him, he’d come running.
She knew, because she’d do the same for him.
Jason didn’t like the friendship. Often insisting that Eddie was a bad influence, that he would only get Chrissy in trouble. Drag her down to his level, equating Eddie to gum that lived on the underside of someone’s shoe. Then again, Jason tended to have a problem when anyone who wasn’t him even looked at her. Especially guys.
Eddie was the first person Chrissy had ever pushed back on. Had ever put her foot down against Jason’s meddling and attempted separation.
She just… she really liked being around him. Something about Eddie was familiar in an uncategorizable way. They’d forged something soft and safe at Tina’s Annual Halloween Bash; Chrissy unconsciously finding an anchor amidst the sweaty, costumed bodies when Jason disappeared to try and beat Billy Hargrove’s keg stand record. Chrissy never much liked getting drunk and being out of control of her body, and Eddie always stayed sober when he was working.
They were, in a strange way that made sense to no one else, two peas.
Eddie hadn’t thought she’d continue the friendship. She knew that because he told her, when she approached him at school that week and asked if they could hang out again.
Now, here they were, four months later. Eddie seated in Jason’s parent’s three seasons room, having shed his jacket and vest amidst the oppressive heat of people to reveal a faded Metallica t-shirt he’d clearly ripped the sleeves from.
“I’m surprised you received an invitation,” she jested, curtsying when Eddie gave a dramatic bow at the waist before they sat down. Him in the chair he’d been occupying and her on the wicker ottoman.
“I didn’t need an invitation,” Eddie scoffed in response. “I am working, Cunningham. An employee doesn’t run the clock by invitation.”
Chrissy hummed. “Aren’t employees usually on a schedule? Is that not a form of invitation?”
“Maybe,” Eddie shrugged, unphased, “if they have a boss. Luckily I’m a contractor. I make my own hours, baby, that’s all.”
The way her stomach swooped when he called her baby made Chrissy wonder, in that incorporeal, distant way she often did, what it would have been like if she’d met Eddie before Jason. But he was two years older, and they didn’t cross paths after middle school until she was a junior and started getting invited to these types of parties.
That simply wasn’t the way their history fell into place, and Chrissy had to shove those butterflies aside.
“Excited to become Mrs. Jason Carver?” Eddie asked, teeth glinting in the low light from overhead. Chrissy pursed her lips, trying to find any humor in this situation and failing cosmically.
When she didn’t respond, Eddie leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and tilting his head to catch her gaze. After a moment, she gave it to him, allowing him to hold it. Something in his eyes made her feel as though it were something precious, this connection of sight. Something worth savoring.
“Hey,” he said, his voice suddenly soft. “I know this whole being the center of attention thing is, like, not up your alley in any way, but are you alright?”
She hadn’t told anyone about her revelation when it came to her relationship. Thinking it was one thing, but speaking it aloud? That felt entirely too detrimental.
What if she was wrong?
“I’m okay,” she said, pushing a smile up past her teeth. The way Eddie’s brow furrowed, she could tell he wasn’t at all convinced by her display. “It’s just… a lot, you know?”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, his expression unchanged except for a slight twitching of his brow. “Sorry, toots, I dunno if I’m buying that, but I’m not gonna press, alright? Not here, anyway. Tomorrow is a whole other ball game. We can, uh, chat about whatever else in the meantime, if you’d like.”
There was a question in the back of her mind that had been tugging on her tongue basically since they re-met. One that had been swallowed down countless times, especially in those few quiet moments he allowed between them. When the comfort of silence could stretch its spine like a cat finding lazy warmth in the sunbeams filtering through a window.
She wondered if Eddie liked cats.
If he’d ever like to own a cat with his Marked.
“Do you ever think about that?” she asked before the words could be sucked back into her lungs. “About, um. A-About finding your––?”
He waited a moment for her to elaborate before he caught the meaning of her question. With a low, warm chuckle, Eddie fell back against the chair, resuming the easy posture she was so accustomed to.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “All the fucking time, Chrissy.”
Oh. For some reason, the way he said it – with this air of knowing, teetering toward a wistfulness she couldn’t place – made her heart squeeze in her chest. An invisible fist wrapped around it, fingers tightening until she was afraid it might pop. Might leave nothing more than a pulpy mess sitting there between her lungs.
“What do you think about?”
Spreading his legs, Eddie sat up all over again. Pulling himself right up to the edge of the chair and staring so intently at her that Chrissy forgot, for a long moment, that she knew how to breathe. He was so close, closer than she thought he’d ever been. His nose barely inches from hers.
“I think,” he murmured, so low she could hardly hear him over the music playing in the next room, “that she’s a lot fucking closer than she realizes.”
What?
“Chrissy!”
Her name was shouted from the doorway, four different girls on the cheer squad – Franny, Lydia, Amy and Becky – rushing into the room and practically yanking her to her feet before she could utter another word in Eddie’s direction. “Oh, my gosh, we’ve been looking for you, c’mon, you need to come hang out, you’re the birthday girl!”
They were all talking over each other as they dragged her away. Barely giving Chrissy a chance to shoot Eddie an apologetic, desperate look that he returned with obvious amusement. Waving leisurely at her until he was out of sight, and Chrissy was once more thrust back into the middle of a party in her honor that she had no interest in attending.
Another drink ended up in her hands, fresher than the one she’d abandoned. Echoes of congratulations rumbled up from the group that was steadily growing larger, until someone called for shots and everyone cheered. Chrissy narrowly managed to escape the straight vodka that was poured for her, passing it off to an inebriated Andy when no one was looking and pretending to hold her empty glass up in proof that she’d actually taken it.
Shuffled from room to room, Chrissy was pulled into conversation after conversation, her brain whirling with all of the new drama she was informed of by her friends as they slowly unraveled. Tina’s boyfriend cheated, apparently, and Kyle Vernon had the biggest crush on Melinda Carmichael, but Melinda was waiting until she found her Marked to date, and Jennifer Jones and Mark Brennan were secretly dating but their families were very conservative and they were from different churches, so obviously they couldn’t go public, and Penny Grant got her period and bled through her jeans, but then Isaac Meyer loaned her his jacket, can you believe it?
After a while, group conversations morphed into group dances, and Chrissy finally found herself having fun. Losing all those strings of thought like leaves blowing away in an autumn breeze, she let the inevitability of midnight fade behind the music. A bunch of top forty mixes that Eddie probably hated, and the thought made her laugh to herself as Lydia twirled her like a ballroom dancer.
At one point, as she and Amy moved and bopped to the beat of the Madonna song playing, she would’ve sworn she saw Eddie watching her from across the room. Something like anticipation bare in the dimples that bracketed his smile. But, when she had a chance to look again, he’d disappeared.
“Chrissy!” Becky hissed as yet another song came to a close. She blinked, still smiling at something silly Lydia had said, her chest heaving and her bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat. “It’s past midnight! Don’t you have, like, a plan or something?”
Oh. Right.
When did time start moving so quickly? Chrissy looked at her watch, verifying that it was indeed twelve-twenty-three, before glancing around for the head of blonde hair she expected to be impatiently stalking her from the sidelines of the party. Waiting for the moment she remembered what she was even there for.
It only then occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Jason all night.
“Well, I––”
“Go find your man!” Franny insisted, pushing Chrissy from the group. “Maybe, um, touch up your makeup in the bathroom real quick first though!”
Breathlessly laughing out a thanks, Chrissy weaved in and out of the crowd, skipping up the stairs with the intention of doing just that. Her purse, along with her cosmetic bag, had been stashed away in Jason’s room as soon as they’d stumbled through the door and into this party she never wanted. She could at least take a moment to herself as she followed Franny’s advice. Guide herself into just getting it over with instead of prolonging the inevitable she’d been steadily dreading since November.
Jason wasn’t her Marked. She was sure of it.
Even if that little voice in the back of her head kept asking what she would do if she was wrong. If he was meant for her, then whatever feelings of disingenuity she’d been shoving aside for the past three months were probably just cold feet or something. The prospective jitters making her doubt the future Jason was so absolutely certain of.
Right now, the idea of spending the rest of her life bound to him felt taxing in the worst way. However, once that knowledge went from an unknown to a certainty, surely that trepidation would wash out from the pulp her heart had become.
Wouldn’t it?
And if as she suspected came to fruition, Jason not being her Marked would be terribly embarrassing. But that, too, would fade, and they could both move on with their lives, fond memories of their silly high school relationship told in passing to inquiring minds.
She’s a lot fucking closer than she realizes.
Eddie’s voice echoing through her mind made Chrissy jolt, accidentally smearing mascara on her cheek where she’d been applying it in Jason’s bedroom mirror. Cursing, she grabbed a tissue from the box on his nightstand and licked it before gently dabbing away the wet dye. Rubbing away a tiny bit of concealer in the process, which gave her a noticeable patch on her skin that she was far too tired to try and mend.
Why was she thinking of him now? And why did his voice drifting like a phantom through her ears make her pulpy, grotesque heart kick up a few dozen notches, beating away in her chest like a jackhammer?
God. Closer than she realizes. Eddie must’ve known, right? Who his Marked was? How long had he known? Did she know, this mystery girl? Were they already bound? Had they just touched in a way that concealed their markings from everyone, somewhere safe just for the two of them to admire?
Why did the thought break her heart a little?
Sniffling, Chrissy blinked away the sudden moisture in her eyes, looking toward the ceiling to keep her eyeliner from smudging. She must’ve poked herself by accident, that was all. She was being incredibly silly, and she was still slightly overheated from dancing, which was having a negative impact on her judgment.
Pulling off her cardigan, Chrissy grabbed that and her purse, taking them with her as she slipped back downstairs. They were hung on a hook by the door, just in case Jason asked her to leave if they didn’t bond, and she went in search of her boyfriend. It was nearing one in the morning, and she probably should have seen him at least once since the beginning of the night. It was strange that she hadn’t.
Checking the kitchen first, she wasn’t surprised to see that he hadn’t hung out near the breakfast nook the entire night. Most of the people now taking up the room were canoodling couples and a few people digging through the fridge for more beer.
In the dining room, she shouted over the music to ask Frankie Peretti if he’d seen any of the basketball players, to which he responded that he saw Andy and Amy go upstairs a bit ago. He laughed at Chrissy’s inability to hide her disgust, and she moved through the living room, asking a couple other people if they’d seen her boyfriend or any of his friends.
“Uh, I think I saw them go that way a while ago,” Hannah Mayfair said, gesturing vaguely toward the three seasons room. “Jay seemed kinda freaked.”
Chrissy nodded her thanks, dodging a few people who bumbled around before ducking back into the three seasons room.
Eddie was still there, though he was now standing. Lunchbox on the ottoman, he was shaking out his jacket. On the verge of putting it back over his shoulders.
“Leaving so soon?” she asked, catching his bright attention like he was the sun willing to shine on her alone.
“Figured it was about time,” Eddie responded as she approached. Taking a cautious half-step back that had her curiously tilting her head. “I’m sold out, anyway. Made out like a robber tonight, Miss Cunningham, so thank you very much for the lavish party.”
“Always happy to be of service, Mr. Munson,” she said with a little curtsy, cautioning a step closer. It was still kind of new, but lately, Eddie had been hugging her when they parted ways. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she craved a little bit of that comfort right about now.
“Your, uh, little boy toy took off a few minutes ago, by the way,” Eddie said after a moment, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the door that went into the backyard. “Hadn’t seen any party lights coming from inside, so I figured you hadn't had a chance to complete the mating ritual.”
“Ew, please don’t call it that.”
“Bump skin as a prelude to bumping uglies?”
“Eddie.”
“Donning your new flesh memorials?”
“Now it just sounds like a funeral.”
“Good.”
But she was laughing, and Eddie was laughing right along with her. When she took yet another step, though, Eddie backed up, bumping his knees against the wicker chair he’d chosen as his perch for the night. Chrissy tried valiantly not to let the hurt show on her face, but Eddie’s expression fell in response to whatever her eyes seemed to speak.
“You, um. You aren’t interested in staying for the… the thing, then?”
“Nah,” Eddie said, brushing his hand through the air dismissively. “You know me, I love a good theatrical endeavor, baby, but, uh. I’m not gonna, y’know, sit around and watch you be uncomfortable like that. No offense to Carver or anything.”
There was something he wasn’t saying. Something she could see playing on his lips, locked behind clenched teeth like he was terrified it might try to escape. Chrissy wanted to ask him for the key to his jaw, to let all that truth spill between them, but she wasn’t sure how to form the words.
“I’ll still see you tomorrow, right?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her abdomen. Her voice was so small, in a way it never had been with him. “You promised me Scoops, Ahoy! ice cream. You said you wanted to see how many free samples you could get out of Steve.”
For a moment, it seemed deathly quiet. Like even the music inside had stopped playing, tense in awaiting his reply. Or maybe that was just the ringing in Chrissy’s ears drowning out everything else.
“Aren’t you, uh,” Eddie responded, waving awkwardly toward the door again. “Aren’t you gonna be… occupied? Rest of the future awaits, y’know.”
“But what if––”
What if he’s not––
“What if…?” Eddie prompted when Chrissy bit her lip to contain the question. She couldn’t ask that. She couldn’t. Because what if he was? A beat of silence had him sighing, and Eddie shouldered his jacket in one hand, reaching down to scoop up the lunchbox with the other.
“You can call me tomorrow, yeah?” he said to placate her. Which made her feel awful, for some reason. “Just, uh, lemme know what’s up, and we’ll plan accordingly. It’s your birthday, sweetness; we can do whatever you want.”
Keeping his eyes on the ground so as not to bump into any furniture, he moved to walk around the ottoman, giving Chrissy a decently large berth. Acting as though he didn’t even want to hug her, which kind of made her want to crawl into a hole and die. Without consciously thinking about it, Chrissy stepped toward his escaping back, one arm reaching, but the space was too narrow, she overshot her touch, and––
The world exploded.
Where her forearm, just below the elbow, brushed against his bicep, entire rainbows erupted. But it was far, far more than anything so trivial as color. It was an aching depth of light so bright, Chrissy couldn’t fathom why her eyes didn’t burn. As though every shadow that had ever been cast through her life was suddenly illuminated, bright spots of memory that hadn’t had meaning before Eddie waltzed in and cast his sunlight through her soul.
Nothing on Earth could ever be so qualified as the galaxy of connection that cemented them as one.
Of course it was Eddie, she realized. She’d blinded herself to the possibility of him, feeling undeserving with Jason’s arm around her shoulders, but of course. She’d never been so certain of anything all at once, staring up into those warm brown eyes that hadn’t for a moment been startled at their sudden consumption in light. She hadn’t even realized he’d turned toward her.
“Oh,” she breathed, her voice lost somewhere in the ether of eternity that spread from the warmth forming on her arm. “Eddie.”
He just grinned, warm and real and brighter than any star, as the light faded back to something more tangible. Something clattered to the ground just before divinity engulfed her hand, and it took Chrissy a moment to realize that he’d dropped his stuff just so he could lace his fingers between hers.
“Hey, sweetness,” he murmured, low enough that his words were hers alone, despite the sudden silence surrounding them. It took Chrissy a moment to realize that the quiet this time wasn’t imagined. She glanced around, seeing dozens of eyes staring at them in unmitigated shock through the open door and windows looking into the house. Even the music had been shut off, giving Chrissy an audience far more oppressive than the one she’d stumbled into earlier that evening.
Chrissy took an automatic step toward Eddie, the slight tremble of his chuckle against her shoulder relaxing her. Tenseness easing from her bones the moment she could find comfort in his presence.
“Holy shit,” someone finally stated, breaking the heavy stillness of the party. Murmurs of shock erupted from various sources, filling in the silence with whispered words of disbelief. Somewhere, a door slammed shut.
“Chrissy and Munson?”
“No way. They’re, like, on different continents.”
“It’s just like Nancy and that weirdo Byers.”
“Jesus, where’s Jason? Did he see the Freak just steal his girl?”
Something about that broke through the reverie. Anger overtook Chrissy’s soft awe, gnashing her teeth in the general direction of whoever had the audacity to call Eddie a freak. The only thing that kept her anchored was Eddie’s hand still in hers, giving a firm squeeze as he leaned so his mouth was just beside her ear.
“Let ‘em talk, baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing her lobe in a way that made her want to melt into the floor. A shiver wracked her entire body, immediately calming the tumultuous storm that threatened to take hold. “They don’t know fuck all about us.”
The hand not holding hers brushed against the new mark on her arm she hadn’t had an opportunity to investigate, and her knees nearly buckled.
Suddenly, the only thing in the entire universe she could fathom wanting was space. To be alone with the man who threw open the doors of the universe for her and made sure to take her hand when they stepped through as one. There would absolutely be repercussions for this later, she was well aware, but getting away from everything seemed far more important than dealing with the fallout of her connection.
The insane thing was that all it took was a simple glance, and Eddie was nodding in understanding. Releasing her hand for a brief moment, only for it to be captured by his other as he bent down to grab the lunchbox and jacket he’d unintentionally discarded. The crowd split for them like the Red Sea as they walked through, eyes following them with obvious scrutiny. Those bold enough leaned in, trying to catch sight of the tattoo now branding her flesh, and Eddie threw his jacket over her shoulders before moving just enough to press his arm into hers.
Covering their marks.
His jacket, full of leather and tobacco and him, smelled absolutely heavenly. Like forever.
“Those are for us,” he said, loudly enough that the peekers could color themselves embarrassed. “Thank you all so much for your cooperation in this fantastically sublime time, but we shall be taking our leave.”
They made it to the front door without any further fanfare, Chrissy grabbing her sweater and purse and silently patting herself on the back for her own forethought. Though her quick escape hadn’t been quite for the reasons intended, the convenience was impressive.
The tranquility of their discovery, cracked as it was, seemed to repair itself the moment they found fresh air. Each of them taking in a slow, deep breath, looking at each other with matching grins of euphoria.
Free.
“Chris?”
Oh. Oh no.
What a short-lived moment.
Jason, flanked by Patrick, Chance, and a panting Frankie Peretti, came around the side of the house, each in various states of disbelief as they looked at Chrissy wearing Eddie’s jacket, Chrissy’s hand locked with Eddie’s, Chrissy and Eddie wearing matching grins that maybe looked a little too lovestruck to be misconstrued.
Immediately, Eddie was tugging on her hand, pulling her back behind his body with a half-step in front of her that had her partially concealed from the new addition to their audience. Behind her, she heard the door open again.
“What––” Jason asked, and it was only then that Chrissy registered exactly how gone he was. Probably not blacked out – he was still standing upright – but his cheeks were ruddy and his eyes were glazed. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Jay,” Chrissy began, though she had no idea what to say. Sorry, hate to break up with you the night of what was supposed to be our Connecting. Turns out I Connected with someone else.
Turns out it’s Eddie Munson.
Turns out I think I knew all along it wasn’t you.
“Sorry, bud,” Eddie spoke when words failed her. “We, uh, had a little situation that was sorta…” Eddie grinned, glancing at her over his shoulder to show off the bright whites of his teeth. “Out of our hands.”
He turned just enough that the group could get a glimpse of the new brand on his arm. Chrissy wondered if she should do the same – if she should reveal that secret part of herself, that new mark tattooed by the universe on her forearm. It was still pulsating with a gentle warmth that bubbled through her veins. A babbling brook of molten fate under her skin.
The three other boys looked marginally disgusted, each of them deferring to Jason about how to handle this situation. Had Chrissy not spent the better part of two years learning all of her ex’s mannerisms, she would have thought he, too, was on the verge of distress.
But, beneath the pinched eyebrows and dark, glossy eyes, Chrissy would have sworn he looked relieved.
When nothing else was said, Eddie tugged Chrissy along, keeping a good amount of distance between her and the group of boys as he saluted them.
“Well, gentlemen, we’re off now. Uh, appreciate the hospitality and all that, Carver.” He raised Chrissy’s hand for emphasis, and she was torn between absolute mortification and bursting into laughter. In the end, all she let out was an indignant squeak that made Eddie cackle as he hustled her away.
“Should we…?” Chance asked behind her back.
After a moment, Jason spoke, as well. “Let ‘em go. Iss’not her fault.”
Murmurs followed, but they were too distant to hear as Eddie led her to the street, then down the couple blocks to his van. A safe haven on wheels, it seemed in that moment. He was quietly contemplative as they walked, his eyes flicking down to her every few seconds like he needed to verify that she was still beside him. Like he wasn’t certain he hadn’t dreamt the whole thing.
Unlocking the van, he yanked the door open before suddenly swooping down. Wrapping a hand around her thigh, the other grasped her waist as he lifted her completely off her feet and deposited her onto the passenger seat. Chrissy squealed, fisting his t-shirt in her hands to keep herself from toppling, before Eddie yanked her to the very edge of the chair and stepped between her knees.
He looked… awed. As completely and irrevocably struck by her as she was by him. By them. By everything that they were, everything they would be.
“Hey,” he said, leaning down with both hands on either side of her hips on the seat.
Chrissy grinned so hard her cheeks ached. “Hi there.”
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said plainly, his eyes tracing every centimeter of her face. “You’re a goddamn dream, Chrissy Cunningham. I’d know, I’ve had this same dream about a million times.”
Chrissy blinked, her hands moving of their own accord to run her fingers along his jaw, down his neck and shoulders. His eyes fluttered, lashes trembling as he tried valiantly to keep his focus on her despite the distraction of her touch.
“How long?”
“Hmm?”
“How long have you known it was me?”
“Uhh,” he breathed, puffing out his cheeks as he thought. “I dunno. Feels like I’ve always known? Like, that day when we were kids, when we talked backstage before you went and did your little cheer routine, I remember thinking, that’s her. That’s my Marked.”
He smiled again, this one softer. Leaning in, he let his nose glide along the length of hers like a prelude to a kiss. Chrissy’s breath caught in her throat, her entire body suddenly coming to life beneath him.
“Could’ve just been wishful thinking,” he admitted, ducking down to skim his nose along the curve of her jaw. To let his lips so, oh so lightly trace the throbbing tendon in her neck. “Then, when you found me last year, and found me, and found me, and found me again, I thought, yeah, alright, this is it then.”
“Why––” Her breath hitched, swallowing heavily around the kiss he placed on her clavicle. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Eddie hummed again, the sound drifting up from her collarbone to rattle around on the interior of her skull. It sounded like a promise. It sounded like a swear.
“Figured you needed time,” he said. “I had it all planned out, too. Was gonna go full Nancy Wheeler, just… not with a crowd around. Thought you wouldn’t want any onlookers observing our moment.” He chuckled against the hollow space beneath her ear, and she felt it all the way down in her toes. “I was gonna let Carver be butthurt, give you time to, I dunno, put yourself back together, because I figured you’d need a day or two. Then I was gonna make you pinky swear on a promise.”
“Pinky swear?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his teeth grazing her throat. The hands she’d let rest on his jaw grasped his shirt once more, trying to pull him closer, but there was nowhere for either of them to go, boxed in as they were by the shape of his van. “I thought it’d be metal as fuck, having our marks shooting up from our pinkies. I wondered how far they’d stretch all the time. What they’d be. If they’d go straight up our arms from our wrists or if they’d curve.”
He finally pulled back, relieving her of the cloud he’d spun in her brain with all his soft ministrations, and Chrissy immediately missed his warmth. Gently unwrapping her fingers from his shirt, Eddie lowered her hand to her lap, pushing his jacket aside just enough that they could see the reflection of her brand in the moonlight.
It looked like stars, she marveled. They created a new constellation on her arm, on their arms, erupting from the cosmos of flesh to make something blue-veined and beautiful. But the stars themselves were mingled together in such a way that they resembled––
“A violet,” she breathed, her other hand abandoning Eddie’s shirt to gently trace the shape. Fingertips skimming an obvious petal, still shocked at how warm it was. That would fade, she knew, but it was simply impossible to reconcile how that section of her skin held so much more heat than the entire rest of her body. Especially when it was so cold outside.
“Thanks for the new tattoo, by the way.” His voice was hardly a whisper, eyes locked on her mark like he still couldn’t believe it was real. Evidence staring him in the face and yet impossible to reconcile. “And, y’know, for not putting it on the arm where I already have all the tattoos.”
“That wasn’t intentional.”
“I have to politely disagree.” He grinned again, finally looking up to meet her eye, and mischief danced along the dimples of his smile. She felt one of his hands skimming up the interior of her arm until he could press a thumb directly over her mark. Making a shiver run all the way down the length of her spine. “You knew exactly what you were doing, Cunningham.”
“I didn’t––”
In that moment, Eddie grabbed her face, his thumb resting on one side of her jaw and his pointer finger on the other, holding her in place with his three other fingers on her neck and gently urging gaze back up to his.
“Best art I’ll ever put on my body,” he stated, his voice unbearably soft and full. Something so terribly akin to devotion slipped between each syllable, each letter of his declaration. “It’s fucking gorgeous, baby. Just like us.”
“Yeah?”
“Fucking celestial.”
And then – finally finally finally – he kissed her.
If their Connection had been an explosion – a sudden, impossible blast of particles and atoms screaming out in every direction – then this kiss, this first kiss, was the implosion of all those molecules suddenly spinning back together. Tiny little fragments of her soul that had escaped in an effort to find him were sucked back in like an inhale, pulled from the edge of everything until she felt completely, entirely whole for the first time in her life.
He pulled away just enough to let out a shaky breath, lips trembling just near enough that she could feel the shockwaves. It prompted her to close the distance once more, to give into the impulse she’d unknowingly been fighting for months and press her lips to his.
Suddenly, she couldn’t remember any other kiss she’d ever known. Everything was just Eddie. Nothing else had ever made sense before and she hadn’t realized until the chaos of existing was quieted with Eddie’s touch.
People who hadn’t found their Marked often found happiness and contentment. And Chrissy realized that it was simply because they didn’t know they were still within the riot, and likely always would be.
It was as though she was all at once privy to a secret the universe alone whispered in her ear, breathing some new language of song she intrinsically understood.
“Chrissy,” he gasped when she finally found the strength to leave this new home they’d carved for themselves in the front of his van. “Christ, sweetness, you taste like the stars.”
Chrissy hummed, her thumb gently tracing the hard bone of his collar.
She had every intention of saying something. Expecting the words to come to her as soon as she opened her mouth. The moment she did, however, the stream her consciousness was sure to supply was interrupted by a huge, unintentional yawn.
Eddie chuckled, falling forward enough that his forehead pressed against hers.
“Tell me how you really feel, Cunningham.”
“I’m–– I’m sorr––” Yet again, her own exhaustion caught up to her, the excitement and adrenaline of the night finally wearing off now that she was safe in her soulmate’s arms. Eddie laughed, setting alight Chrissy’s own giggles as her eyes grew heavy.
“C’mon then, princess,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Making her eyes flutter shut for a moment, until he pulled away and tucked her legs fully into the van. “Let’s get you to bed. I promise not to put any peas under your mattress to make sure you’re mine.”
Chrissy reached out, running her fingertips along the interior of his forearm before he could close the door.
“Back to your house?” she verified. Eddie’s whole body seemed to shudder, and he fell fully into her, squishing her against the seat and center console as she barked out a surprised laugh.
“Eddie!”
“You can’t just say shit like that to me, Cunningham!” he shouted back, his voice muffled by the mouthful of leather around her shoulder. “That’s attempted homicide!”
“Oh, my God.”
“Someone call the cops, my ‘mate’s trying to kill me!”
“Shhh,” she practically screamed, trying to push him out of the van. “You’re gonna actually get the cops called on us.”
“Good,” he mumbled as his lips moved up from her shoulder to her neck, pressing a kiss into her throat. “You should be locked up for all your crimes.”
Says the drug dealer, she wanted to say, though she only ended up yawning again. Eddie chuckled into her skin, letting out a long sigh that wrapped around her throat like a caress.
“Alright, alright, I know when I’m being dismissed.”
“Eddie––”
“We’ll go to bed,” he whispered, his voice just beside her ear. “At my place.”
Hopping out of the van, he slammed the door shut behind himself and she watched amusedly as he galloped around the front, struggling for a moment to get his own door open before he was rejoining her in the cabin.
He talked about nothing the entire drive back to his trailer, pulling conversation from midair without any expectation that she participate as he held her hand, and it was the happiest Chrissy could ever remember being.
It wasn’t Chrissy’s first time entering Eddie’s home. She’d been here a dozen times for homework sessions and movie nights. It was, however, the first time she’d walked in with the intention of crawling into Eddie’s bed. Typically, she saw very little of his room, instead sprawling out in the living room or stacking textbooks up on the dinette.
She should’ve been nervous.
As she kicked off her shoes and walked with Eddie back to his room, though, she only felt relief at the prospect of sleep.
His room had been tidied, she noted as he flipped on the light. His bedding, though haphazard, was actually laid over his bed like making it had been attempted. The garbage had mostly been cleared out, and there was a thin layer of artificial scent from room spray still hovering through the space.
Chrissy looked questioningly at him, and his lips turned down in an embarrassed frown before he nonchalantly whistled his way into the bathroom.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he’d been expecting this. The thought made her giggle as she dug through her purse for the spare toothbrush she kept in there.
“There’s, uh, some clean t-shirts in the top drawer of the dresser,” he shouted through the thin wall between them, just before the toilet flushed. “You can, y’know, put on something more comfy.”
Oh nuggets that sounded divine. She did just that, digging through the pile of t-shirts until she found the perfect one – an old Dio shirt she recognized well, worn enough that the collar was beginning to fray and there were small holes developing around the seams.
It was slipped over her head before she removed her bra or her jeans, settling down below her pantyline, but Eddie still hadn’t returned from the bathroom. Chrissy grabbed her toothbrush, walking the three steps from his door and leaning against the jamb through which he was still occupied.
He’d discarded his own shirt into the hamper, showing off the lean lines of muscle he kept hidden beneath his clothes. Half-climbed onto the counter, he was carefully inspecting the mark on his left bicep in the mirror. The same one now written into her own skin, and the sight of him looking so utterly pleased with it warmed her from the inside.
It took him a moment to notice her watching him.
When he did, his whole face lit up.
“What a goddamn vision you are,” he murmured, jumping back to stand on his own two feet before reaching for her. Eyes and hands roving over her body in a way that made her cheeks heat. “Jesus. Why do you even have your own wardrobe? You look fucking incredible in my clothes.”
“I don’t think you have enough clothes to sustain us both with how often you do laundry.”
“That’d hurt if I had any brain function left to feel shame.”
Chrissy grinned up at him, letting him pull her into his space. Her toothbrush was set on the counter, freeing up her hand so she could lay it against his bare chest. Because she could. Because he was allowing her to, and there was no awkwardness, no hesitation, when he laid his hand over hers and pressed it into the muscle and bone beneath her palm hard enough that she could feel the faint beating of his heart.
They did nothing more. They simply stood there, together, looking at one another and feeling the way synchronization echoed through their shared beings. The way his heart slowed to match her gait, lungs inhaling and exhaling as one, every breath like a blooming violet between them.
Right up until she yawned again. Then Eddie made her brush her teeth, doing the same beside her, before escaping the bathroom to give her some privacy.
Still, no awkwardness reared its head. No thundering pulse or mindless demand from her brain that she make herself as attractive as possible for him. Instead, she did her nightly routine to the best of her ability, using water and lotion to wash her face and remove her makeup. Using Eddie’s hairbrush and the scrunchie around her wrist to pull her hair back into a loose braid instead of leaving it down.
Eddie had changed into a loose pair of pajama pants by the time she made it back to his room. Propped up against his pillows, he’d exchanged the overhead light for a warm lamp on his side table and was flipping idly through a comic book.
Chrissy was hit, all at once, by the domesticity of it all. It stole her breath for a moment, the realization that this was her life. Would be her life. That she could expect to come home to Eddie for more nights than she could possibly count, the days they spent together outweighing the days they spent apart until they were as innumerable as the stars.
He looked up at her with a smile when she closed the door, setting his comic aside and holding a hand out for her. Helping her climb into bed and find a comfortable position, having to shift and move until her head was pillowed on his chest and they could both relax into the mattress.
A moment later, she felt him stretch a little, and the lamp was extinguished. Leaving them in dark silence that almost immediately had her dozing off.
“I was expecting this to be, like, weird,” he admitted into the quiet. Rousing her from the precipice of sleep.
“How come?”
“I dunno.” His fingertips were slowly climbing up the length of her side, then gently falling back down. Following the pattern of her breathing. “I’ve thought about it so many times that I expected shit to be, uh, uncomfortable, I guess. Or, like, I expected to be nervous.”
It was an echo of her own thoughts. Her own realizations reflected in his quiet wonder.
“You’re not?”
“Nah.” He managed to pull her infinitesimally closer. Sprawling her further across his chest. “Just feels natural. Like you’re supposed to be here.” A grin in his voice as he finished, “Guess you are. We got the marks to prove it.”
Chrissy smiled as she finally drifted to sleep.