I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.
And All at Once / Masterlist
Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6
plot: your first song about Eddie is about to drop, leaving you nervous about how he'll react
Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)
Warnings: a very real conversation about drug addiction and familial death, smoking
wc: 5k
The guy on the screen was uncanny.
“It's very, very special. Because if you can see, the numbers all go to 11. Look, right across the board. 11, 11, 11, 11."
"And most of these amps go up to 10."
It was one of the band members of the fake band Spinal Tap, clad in a black cut-off tee with a neon green print of a ribcage. Black jeans. Shaggy brown hair with bangs. A cigarette hanging from his mouth. Surrounded by a dozen guitars.
It was as if Eddie had been cloned with a hair straightener.
“You look just like that,” you murmured, glancing over at him.
He rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look at you. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do,” you argued. “You wear the tightest leather pants I’ve ever seen. And that shirt? The cig?”
"...you're on 10 on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where?"
"I don't know."
"Nowhere. Exactly."
“Yeah, but I don’t think I look like that.”
“Maybe not, but you do look like that. And you act like them, too. Don’t make me pull up Wayne’s World either.”
“Why don't you just make 10 louder, and make 10 be the top number, and make that a little louder."
"These go to 11."
He burst into laughter. Whether it was at you or the joke on the screen, you couldn’t tell. But it didn’t matter to you. His wild laugh was, to put it simply, everything.
“Okay, maybe I do.”
You loved him.
God, you loved him so damn much and you wanted to tell him over and over again. Drown him in your love and affection, get your sticky, glittery goo smeared all over his tattooed arms. Spread it all over him so that he never went a day without it.
But you stayed quiet in loving him despite being on his arm. Despite the photos and the TikTok stitches and the Instagram reels. The Tumblr communities that speculated what you talked about and how you would navigate arguments based off your respective star signs. But never once did you tell him that you loved him.
It was obvious. Maybe it didn’t need to be said.
Even if your new single was going to drop in the next few weeks and it was absolutely, positively about how much you fucking loved him.
Eddie had begged you to let him listen to it, but you were too scared. It was a pop song for Christ’s sake, and you didn’t want him to think it was cheesy or stupid or, you know, not good. You’d caught him listening to your music sometimes, so you knew he didn’t hate your sound. But there was always that possibility…
It was on your mind tonight while watching This Is…Spinal Tap on his couch, Oz and Puppet curled into each other on the other side. You leaned further into his side; legs pressed up to your chest. A fuzzy black blanket draped over you.
“Tell me something true?”
Eyebrows furrowing, you looked at Eddie. “Yeah, what is it?”
“Why are you so scared about me hearing your song?”
You grew bashful. “Well, I mean… It’s about you.”
“And?”
“Well, what if you don’t think the lyrics are good? Or, like, you hate the music? Or you get embarrassed because of how bad it is?”
Eddie snorted. “Are you really that worried?”
“It’s not like it’s a ballad,” you explained, picking your nails under the blanket. “It’s like a fast-paced pop song. I mean, it’s literally called ‘Okay, Now Stop!’ It has an exclamation point at the end.” He chuckled. “The lyrics are very pointed but also vague, and I didn’t know if that would be okay, but now I can’t really change it. And I know it’s not the most poetic thing I’ve ever written. The label really wanted it to be the first single, but I’m nowhere near being done with the album—"
Eddie interrupted you with a kiss, pulling your chin towards him with his pointer finger and thumb. You lost all sense of insecurity as he deepened it gently, basically swapping saliva as he nearly devoured your mouth.
When he finally pulled back, he gave you a swift peck. “I honestly don’t mind. I know you’re worried that we’ll cause more commotion, but this is your art, you know? You get to say what you want to say and it’s not your responsibility to tell people to butt the hell out and just enjoy the song. And if it’s fun, the lyrics don’t need to be poetic. Cut yourself some slack, sweetheart.” You nodded, knowing he was right. “When did you write it?”
“I wrote it around the time we first started running around.”
You weren’t expecting to see him smirk. “Oh, really?”
“It’s fun,” you said, more confident now. “I like dancing to it.”
“Then I’ll be there dancing with you.”
“I think I’d like that,” you said.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Eddie chased your lips again, hands moving of their own volition. And though the night was spent in pleasure, you were still stuck on this idea of failure. Not just from the fear of Eddie’s opinion, but the opinion of the world. And you knew, knew that you weren’t supposed to care. You weren’t supposed to let this stuff get to you anymore after almost losing him.
And that’s how the guilt settled in your stomach at three in the morning. Because you knew that you still cared. Maybe you would always care.
It was strange, having everyone over at your hidden house.
Usually, it was empty, save for Eddie and Scott. An oasis to escape to whenever there was too much noise. However, tonight was too special, with your entire team and Corroded Coffin there. Even Becky, Este, and Mary had flown in for the special occasion despite finals coming up in the next few weeks. And they didn’t complain about it once, just excited that they got to see you. You could reciprocate the sentiment ten times over.
Your lavish living room was decked out in decorations, pink and holographic silver streamers galore. Balloons getting tossed around and popped every so often. Grant and Jeff had provided the refreshments, supplying any empty space in the kitchen with liquor, beer, and mixers. Clara had gotten your favorite local restaurant in the city to cater for the evening, even going so far as to bring it all herself to uphold your privacy.
Your last two albums played over the speakers despite your protests. Eddie had egged it on, poking your sides and telling you how much he loved everything you made. How you deserved to be celebrated, no matter how cliché it was. How you should be proud of your past as it was a part of your future. In the end, you knew he was right.
Everyone was dressed casually, your boyfriend wearing a beat-up Iron Maiden t-shirt with dark jeans and mismatched socks. Everyone’s heavy jackets sat near the back door just in case the party moved. It was November, after all. You’d tried to be just as casual, with a white long-sleeved crop top and jeans. For the first time in a while, you weren’t self-conscious about how different you both looked. If anything, it made you smile that much more.
And Eddie made it a point to move the furniture so the room could turn into a big dance floor, spinning you around to your own music as the night continued. “I’ll take that,” he’d say randomly, taking your drink and placing it on any stable surface before dragging you to dance.
“This is one of my favorites,” he’d add, but you couldn’t help but think he was lying after the third time.
You were a chaotic pair, bumping hips and swing dancing as awfully as you could at the groans and protests of Jeff, Grant, Gareth, and Ronnie. In the end, they all joined in—Eddie just had to threaten demolish them in their campaign first. Then they suddenly had the urge to congregate and make fools of themselves.
When you weren’t dancing, Eddie was still all over you, always touching you in some way. Stroking your back, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you spoke to his band. Your friends. Your entire team. Even Scott, which you thought was brave.
He did it all and whenever you had a pause, his lips littered kisses on your cheeks.
It was still something to get used to. Because though the past stayed in the past, it was a rather usual feeling to be left to your own devices without your partner. Only a hidden shadow in the dark. They came to your events, sure. But they never came close for too long, always aware of pictures and gossip. You were the secret they were too ashamed to keep.
Eddie wanted nothing from you except to be yours.
And you couldn’t thank him enough for it.
“I think you should put it on now,” Este suggested, thirty minutes from the release. You tried to hide your smile. “It’s only fair.”
Clara shook her head. “Nope. No way.”
“Ah, come on,” Eddie said with a playful grin. “Don’t be a grinch! Especially this close to December.”
You giggled, detangling yourself from Eddie to approach her. Clasping your hands together, you mustered up the softest pout that you could. “Let me give everyone an exclusive.” Batting your eyes, you added, “Pretty please?”
Clara gave you a hard stare, clearly calculating whatever risk she saw before sighing. “Fine, but if something goes wrong, you’re to blame!”
Everyone cheered as you skipped over to your phone sitting on your bookshelf, still connected up to the speaker. Pausing the current song, you turned to face everyone.
“Okay! So, before I start this, I want to thank everyone for being here. It’s really lovely to see all the people I adore in one room. It’s an early Christmas miracle.” Your friends giggled. “And I know this is just the first single and we still have an album to finish, but the music I’m writing now,” your eyes flickered to Eddie before looking away, “is maybe the most important writing I’ve ever done. And I can’t wait for what comes next.”
“A toast,” Eddie called out, causing all eyes to fall on him. “to one of the most talented women to ever walk the earth.”
Murmurs of agreement sounded from the rest of the party. You bit your lip, trying not to let those flutters in your stomach overwhelm you. And as everyone took a sip, your eyes met Eddie’s, watching as he nodded at you. His smile emitted pride, raising his glass to you before sending a quick wink.
You nodded before pressing play and skipping back over to Eddie’s side.
The song started with you clearing your throat and saying,
“Okay, my pretty boy...now move!"
A trumpet wailed before the drums kicked in and the electronics filled the soundscape, an Eighties-inspired beat enveloping the room. Becky, Este, and Mary squealed and started dancing. You couldn’t help but giggle and move your shoulders to the beat.
You deliberately avoided Eddie’s gaze on you at the sound of you calling him a pretty boy. You knew you’d be too embarrassed. And though he didn’t try to directly catch your attention, you could tell he liked it by the way he squeezed your hand. Hopefully he’d keep that sentiment.
“Would it be crazy to say how deeply I'm into you?
Would you promise no games, 'cause I always lose."
You continued to feel Eddie’s stare, finally turning your head to find him raising his eyebrows at you. With a quick shrug, feigning nonchalance and secrecy, you decided to sway your hips along to the beat. You hadn’t been kidding when you said you loved dancing to it.
“Every day looked the same as the ones before.
But you nursed your whiskey and said you wanted more."
As the beat built up and dropped into the chorus, you saw smiles on every face. Eddie was even tapping his foot along to the beat, every so often bumping into you on purpose. You held back your laughter.
“Okay, now stop! Hear me knock!
There's no hotel room I couldn't find my way into.
Okay, now stop! Hear the clock!
We're wasting time, here's to another long goodbye."
When you looked behind you, you noticed Gareth starting to head bang, giving you a thumbs up as the song hit a small instrumental. Ronnie was nodding along, something you didn’t expect. Past him, you noticed Scott watching you with a fond smile on his face. You returned it, sending him an air kiss.
“If this is fate, I confess to you that I don't mind.
And if I ask for something true then please don't lie.
Can you tell that I miss you whenever I'm away?
There's only so much time, who knows what can change."
By the time the bridge came, some had latched onto singing along with the lyrics. You’d even caught Eddie trying to learn the melody immediately. It felt good, like all the worry you’d had before was washing away. You’d made this, confident in its production. You never needed to worry because you were proud of it. Sometimes you just forgot where you put your confidence.
“This is my favorite part,” you said quietly to Eddie, nudging him as it began.
“Hey there! I confess! That there is now an Angel in my bed.
Hey there! I confess! That I'm the Devil waiting in our bed.
Okay, now stop!
We're dancing dirty to The Beatles and the Stones.
Okay, now stop!
You're dancing pretty asking me to lead you home."
You put your fingers up, turning to Eddie and pointing to him. There’s a pause in the song before you scream,
"And I DO!"
Everyone started whooping, the entire house shaking with the bass and the many bodies now dancing along to something you created. You got the same feeling as you did when you toured, always able to feed off the excitement of the audience. The energy, the rush of adrenaline.
It was as electric as Eddie’s touch on your waistline, aggressively nuzzling his face into your neck. It was as addicting as his presence, breath continuing to wash over your skin and into your lungs.
It felt like magic.
“Baby,” Eddie whispered in your ear as you continued to sway. “I like it.”
You stopped, softening at his statement. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely. It’s cute and fun.” He kissed your ear. “I know every little thing you’re talking about. It’s actually kinda hot.”
“Even if it sounds desperate?” you wondered.
He shook his head into your neck once more before pulling back. “As if I wasn’t.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “You sure never acted like it.”
He shrugged, taking a step back before he moved some of his hair behind his ear. “Well, I had to keep my rizz intact.”
You couldn’t help but lightly smack his stomach, watching as he pretended to take a blow and almost fall over.
“I hate that you said that.”
“You love it,” he whispered, grabbing and pulling you back into his arms. You couldn’t help but laugh when he pretended to bite your neck.
“This is so good!” Jeff exclaimed as the song ended, interrupting your light bickering. You freed yourself from Eddie before hugging Jeff. “I just know the rest of the album is gonna go hard.”
“You think?”
Before he could respond, Scott was approaching you, a grin on his lips. He looked slightly cartoonish, his mustache lifting with his smile.
“Doin’ great, kiddo,” he said, patting your shoulder. “Doin’ great.”
Tears collected in your eyes at his words. Sniffling, you shook your head. “I bet you say that to everyone.”
“Not even close. You deserve it all,” he replied. “And I’m so proud of you for getting this far.”
In Scott’s face, you saw the beginning. When your father decided to treat you like a cash cow, Scott was there to treat you like a daughter. He kept you safe. But more than that, he was there when you needed him. He listened when you had to speak. Was there to cheer you on whenever you doubted yourself. Spoke up for you whenever anyone else doubted you. Made sure that no matter what, you had someone in your corner.
So, you pulled him into a tight hug. Buried your face into his shoulder as the world around you became a source of ease. There was nothing outside of this house tonight. No pictures. No receipts. No accusations. No need for armor.
No, the rest of the world no longer existed. Not when everyone you held close was right there, living in this moment with you.
“Why don’t we go out on the balcony?” Eddie asked, grabbing his jacket and your cardigan from the coat hanger.
You raised an eyebrow, eyes flickering around the room at everyone still dancing and drinking. It was midnight, but no one seemed to care. Least of all you and Eddie.
“And leave the party?” you questioned.
“Yeah, come on,” he said, already starting to pull you towards the door. “I got a present for you.”
Something in you softened. “For me?”
And Eddie was damn near smirking as you pushed through the doors.
“Mhm. Come on, sweetheart.”
And so you did, draping the cardigan over your shoulders and slipping out the French doors.
The balcony was something you’d spent real money on, always wanting something like it since you were a kid. There was the railing, all while Roman columns. The plotted flowers adorning every lining and every corner. The few benches overlooking the backyard. Land, with woods and everything, for as far as the eye could see.
It was like your own little Victorian dream.
Then there was the moon, waxing gibbous, high in the air and brighter here than anywhere else you’d ever been. Sometimes it reminded you of those trips you’d take to your grandparents’ house as a kid, far out in Nowhere, Tennessee. The extensive farmland, with lightning bugs and the low hum of crickets. The stars, the moon—so much closer and more tangible than you could ever fathom.
Though you couldn’t hear or really see anything like that here, it still felt like home to you. You made it feel like home.
“I know you don’t smoke as often as I do, but…” Eddie trailed, breaking the silence. He dipped into the front pocket of his jacket. “I made you something.”
You looked at him curiously as he placed something in your hand. It was a joint, but it wasn’t wrapped in normal paper. Was it even paper at all? In the low light, you noticed its maroon hue, the uneven texture.
“They’re rose petals,” he explained. “I actually made it myself. Pressed it and all that shit.”
You twirled it around in awe. The precision at which Eddie was able to roll a joint was astounding. Sure, it was due to years of practice, but it looked as clean as what you could find at any dispensary near your apartment in the city.
“I love it,” you said, biting your lip to hide your smile. Looking back into his eyes, you suppressed the urge to tell him just what else you loved.
And your pause did something to him, his eyebrow lifting as he waited for you to say something else.
But you didn’t, the words lodging in your throat.
“Want me to light it?” he asked suddenly, shaking his head.
You peered at him curiously, wondering what he was thinking.
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
Once you’d gotten the smoke into your mouth, you could taste a slight tinge of something floral. It didn’t taste all that bad. Actually, it was nice. As you exhaled, you noticed the lack of a strong burn in your throat.
“That’s smooth,” you commented. “Did you use a fancy filter?”
“The fanciest.”
As you smoked, you leaned your head on his shoulder, breathing him in as much as you could. The high settled in soft and sweet, taking that high energy and molding it into something peaceful.
“Can I tell you something true?”
You nodded, leaning back. “Yeah, what is it?”
Eddie’s eyes met yours, all signs of humor fading from his face. “I’m really glad to have you in my life,” he said. His voice was lower now, more serious. Deliberate. “Everything is so shitty sometimes and having you through it all has been really…” he trailed, trying to find the right word before shrugging. “I don’t know. Just really something.”
“Me, too,” you said, your smile widening. “Sometimes I can’t believe that you’re not even listening to the world. And when you can’t avoid it, you’re able to just laugh at it. I haven’t seen someone do that before.”
“I just try not to take it all so seriously. If there’s three million people saying one thing but we're still living our lives, then eventually the joke is on them. Not us.” His smile returned then, just for you. “Plus, your laugh is just heavenly.”
“You really think so?” you asked, voice growing small.
“Yeah, sweetheart. I really do.” Eddie’s fingers cupped your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek. “With everything that I went through, with the drugs and Wayne and everything… I don’t know. It’s nice, not just to have a friend, but someone I can come home to and, like, cherish. You know?”
You nodded, leaning into his touch. “You never exactly told me how all of that happened.” Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “The drugs, I mean.”
He looked surprise, dropping his hand to take the joint from you. “Uh, shit. Well. Do you want me to tell you?”
“I do,” you said with a nod. “but only if you want to.”
“Are you sure? Tonight’s, like, your night.”
“And because it’s my night, I wanna hear about it.”
“Here, let me get another hit in before it gets all sad and shit.”
You rolled your eyes. “We’re artists. We’re always sad.”
Eddie started laughing which resulted in him coughing out the smoke. You rubbed his back as he caught his breath again. “Yeah. Shit. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“Satisfied?”
He nodded, taking another hit before he started. “I knew it was a fucking mistake when I did it. I really knew better. Gesturing towards the bench, you sat down next to one another. “Here, let’s sit down.”
Eddie handed you the joint before he kept going. “I didn’t have anyone there to tell me not to. I don’t blame the guys for using it recreationally. Once, twice—sure. Go ahead. But it’s when you start doing it a loooot more that gets a little tricky.
“I thought I was smarter than addiction the second I caught my dad’s stash that first time after Mom passed,” he explained. “And, sure, I was smoking weed but that wasn’t a big deal. Weed’s great. Tried mushrooms and acid, sure. Molly once. What can I say? I have an open mind.” He gave you a small smile as you chuckled. “But then Grant said something at a party about trying coke together and I was like, ‘Sweet, let’s just try it once.’ And for Grant, that was true. But not me.
“Narrowly avoided it but, fuck. People just have it all the time.”
“Yeah,” you agreed. “I haven’t tried it, but it’s been offered to me more times than I can count.”
“Bingo. Exactly.” He tapped your knee with his. It was only then that you noticed the other was bouncing. You couldn’t decipher whether it was from the cold or nerves.
“I convinced Ronnie to have more parties so Grant could get us some more. But none of them wanted it, so I always took all of it. And I just convinced him that we needed it as a just in case thing.” A sigh left his lips. “That, uh, lasted for two years.”
Your eyes widened, watching as he grew crestfallen.
“Eddie…” you whispered. “That was after your uncle…”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Yeah, it stayed after Wayne passed. But, like, five months after coke made it worse, Grant and the others sat me down and told me that they were worried about me. Ronnie hit me in the face which was, yeah, deserved to say the least. I was acting like a prick, spinning lies about how Wayne passing couldn’t be related. That I was fine when I really wasn’t. Like, clearly I wasn’t, you know? I was using.” You nodded. “Anyways, they convinced me to try and get help.”
“What did they say?” you asked.
“Jeff told me that they decided to stop partying, or at least stop doing it almost every weekend. That from now on we take alone time or find something to do together and just chill. Turn off for a while. See if it helped. Solidarity.” He grinned, something you weren’t expecting, his eyes glazed over in a memory. “Gareth asked me if I still had any of my old D and D campaign notes. I did, do, in a very protected place. Laminated it myself when I got the funds. And Ronnie, well, she told me that they wanted to play again and that if I was coked up, I couldn’t DM. And no one questions if I should be a player or the DM.”
A smirk formed on his lips. “And you know that it meant something to me. Still does. And she told me that once I got out of rehab, I better have a killer campaign to play.” Growing somber again, he took your hand in his. “You know, James Hetfield struggled with a drinking problem for a long time. They called Metallica ‘Alcoholia’ instead ‘cause they got so fucked up on tour.”
“I didn’t know that,” you admitted. “That’s awful.”
Eddie let out a laugh, but it wasn’t really a laugh. More like a scoff he was trying to cough out. “Sometimes,” he said. “I feel like such a fucking idiot, you know? The signs were there. The warnings. Everyone said it and I just…did it anyways. And I don’t wanna touch that shit again but, fuck.”
You thought back to your cousins, the twins who couldn’t make ends meet after your aunt passed away. They resorted to selling, nearly embarrassed to admit how much it helped them pay their bills. If they were eating, that was all that mattered. It was only when they started using the product that it became something else. When you’d gotten the money to do so, you made sure they each had their own house and paid any expenses for rehab. You couldn’t stand watching them go through something like that anymore.
“Addiction is handed to people on a silver platter sometimes,” you said. “And you didn’t think doing it once would turn into a problem. I don’t think anyone does.” Lightly squeezing his hand, you added, “I think what the guys did was really awesome. They’re good for you.”
“Yeah, they’re amazing. Saved my life more than once, that’s for sure.”
Eddie grew quiet then, staring back out at the moonlight. The faint sound of “because i liked a boy” by Sabrina Carpenter could be heard beneath a high-pitched laugh, belonging to Mary no doubt. You and Eddie were somewhere else, blanketed by the promise of the truth. Freezing in the mid-November air, particularly brutal this year. But you two stayed there, too wrapped up in your shared words. Some part of you knew it was crazy, but you’d stay out there all night if he asked you to.
“And, uh,” he started after a few minutes of silence. “I feel very grateful that I found you,” You tried to hide your smile but couldn’t. “Not to sound like I’m high while I’m high, but it just, like.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it feels like the planets and the fates and the stars just kinda align and suddenly you’re somewhere you never thought you’d be. For better or for worse. And I know that with you, it’s for better.”
Tears welled in your eyes, the weight of his words piercing your chest. “You just had to go and make me cry, didn��t you?”
“Crying’s good,” he said, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Enough with the sappy shit. Well, maybe there’s more.”
“What else could you possibly say that isn’t going to wreck me?”
“Well,” he started. “I wanted to invite you on a little trip.”
“Where?”
“Some island off the British Virgin Islands. The details are kinda hazy since Gareth sprung it on us, but we’ll be warm…” He pulled you closer. “We can go snorkeling or jet skiing or whale watching.” A kiss to your neck. “And we’ll have a lot of privacy to do whatever we want.”
“Are you trying to take me on a…ah, fuck…a fuck-cation?” you wondered, trying to keep your voice level. There were people just beyond the door after all.
“It’s more than just that, sweetheart,” he said, pulling his head away. “I just want to spend some time with you outside of all these cities is all. We don’t have to run around or worry about any cameras. I made sure of that.”
“Did you drop money on something for once?” you asked.
Since getting to know Eddie, you found that he didn’t spend a ton of money all the time. Like you, he donated a lot of it and only spent real money on himself when it came to guitars and jewelry. Maybe a nice meal here and there. But besides that, he still frequented thrift stores and cooked his own food. Still kept a budget for expenses despite practically never needing one again. He’d told you that old habits die hard, and you couldn’t agree more.
A blush tinged his cheeks. “I might’ve.”
“When do we leave?” you asked.
Eddie’s eyes lit up, a smile already growing. “We leave in three days.”
“I think I could do that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The two of you stayed out there for another hour, quiet in your contentment. It was like you’d waited for something like this your entire life, always reaching towards something so pure. Your life felt like a series of endings, all hushed demolitions and bitterness tinging your skies. Now it felt as though this was the end to all the endings, a kingdom being rebuilt. And you didn’t mind to declare the man beside you the king.
I am including this amazing image that @strangergraphics designed for my fic (and she made the divider so full credit to her) of what the single would look like! Ugh, I love her. Anyways, here you go!
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