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followsfrankiep · 1 month ago

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Don't Worry About Her (Eddie Brock x Reader)

Summary: They always say, when a guy tells you not to worry about his girl best friend, you probably should. Izzy's wild and free-spirited nature has always contrasted with her best friend Eddie's quest for stability. Now that Eddie is engaged, he never expected Izzy to complicate things for both of them.

TW: Mentions of Sex, Physical and Mental Abuse, Anxiety, Trauma, Explicit Words, Cheating, Minors DNI.

Word count: 6.7k

A/N: HERE YA GO. Don't mind the incorrect spelling or grammar okay. Sorry to disappoint but no smutty part here bc our fave duo is on their version of "breaking up" or whatever u guys call it. Also, characters would often use "this" or "that" because they can't even label their own fucked up relationship. LOL. Just mind the warnings though. Very emotionally heavy and flashback heavy part of the story. I don't have a mood board for this chapter but this was heavily inspired by this song:

No pressure tag 💕 @rei-is-still-here @potter-solomons @feveredvisions @tickettride @lovebydaylite @dreamygirli3 @rach5ive (let me know if u guys want to be added as well 🥰)

Previous Part

Part 7 - Parental Figures

"We are live in 3, 2, 1!"

In front of the camera, what everyone sees is the Eddie Brock who is the charming fiancé, the fearless journalist, or the guy who always seems to have it all together. He is all smiles for the camera and for the people who recognize him walking down the streets of San Francisco.

What they do not know is he is internally screaming inside.

Four months before the wedding. A month after he and Izzy last talked and saw each other. He was restless. Eddie sat at his desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard, yet his thoughts were miles away from the article he was supposed to write. The cursor blinked mockingly at him, like a reminder of all the deadlines he was missing, all the expectations he was failing to meet. After some time of inactivity, unable to type at least a word, the picture of him and Anne as his screensaver popped up, his laptop in idle. He let out a frustrated growl, running a hand through his disheveled hair before slamming his laptop shut.

He tried to act all fine around her, giving the fiancé she once had, but it was the small things that caught her attention. Eddie buried himself in work even at home, never taking his eyes off his laptop, though he never seems to accomplish his deadlines on time.

When it came to the wedding preparations, he was a yes-man, well, more like a nod man. He was not at all enthusiastic about it. It became Anne's wedding rather than theirs. When she asked for Izzy's help with Eddie, he did become more present. He was at home early; he was able to attend all the necessary appointments they had, and most importantly, sex was back on the table. However, the man she loved was on autopilot. He was navigating life with her; their love boat was sailing, but Eddie, himself, was not there.

His heart was not there, it was with Izzy, and she was more absent in his life than she ever was before, even though he knew she was just one car drive or bike ride away.

His newfound best friend was an unexpected one: a bottle of whiskey and drinking it over the kitchen counter.

It wasn’t his style—he wasn’t the type to drown his sorrows in alcohol—that tonight, it felt like the only option. He drank on several occasions, mostly for the happy ones like boys' night out or when Izzy forced him to finish a bottle of beer during their movie nights. He did not like drinking during his down mood since it reminded him so much of his father, though it seems like as the days go by, the more he understands the numbing effects it has for the emotional fucking boulder he's been carrying inside.

"Eddie?" Anne called.

"Yeah?" He answered flatly.

He did not even spare a glance and it prompted her to step closer, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the man she used to know.

“Are you okay? This is the third night you've been drinking. Is there something wrong?”

Hell yeah something's wrong. Everything. He thought.

Instead, let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he downed the rest of his drink. “Just tired,” he muttered, the lie rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.

“Eddie, I—” she began, but he cut her off.

“Look, Anne,” he hissed. “Can we not fucking do this right now? I don't want to talk!”

She flinched, biting her lip as she nodded, retreating from the room. Eddie closed his eyes, the guilt washing over him in waves. He didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to push her away. But every time he tried to stay present, to focus on her, all he could think about was Izzy. He took out his phone, typing another message to send her, knowing like the ones he had sent days before would end up ignored like this one as well.

Then he heard a sobbing noise coming from their bedroom...

Eddie sighed heavily, closing his eyes as the guilt crashed over him in waves. He hadn’t meant to hurt her and for a moment, he stared at the empty glass in his hand. He knew his emotions got the best of him again, and how is he going to explain his unreasonable outburst tonight? Setting the glass down, he followed her into the bedroom, as he saw Anne was sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping away her tears. He stood in front of her, his hand brushing lightly against her cheek as he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. Eddie leaned in, his lips pressing against hers in a kiss that was more apologetic than affectionate.

He was trying to convince himself as much as her that he wanted this and Anne she leaned into it, her hands reaching up to rest lightly on his arms. As if suddenly, everything between them was okay and he was still hers. Her fingers were slowly undoing his buttons, Eddie mentally sighed in defeat knowing where this would lead.

That night, all he could ever think about was Izzy. He had sex with his fiancé as passionate as apologies can be that night with his eyes closed. He had sunk to a new low, using the woman who loved him to chase the ghost of the one he couldn’t have. But he can't bring himself to do so without it. His best friend's pomegranate-tasting lips, the way her body moved in perfect rhythm with his, the way she moaned his name—he longed for all of it. Afterwards, as Anne lay beside him, the bliss came crashing down on him once again.

Anne is the woman he was going to marry. The woman he'll spend the rest of his life with. But there's this constant uneasy feeling whenever he touches her, it feels like he was cheating on Izzy instead.

Eddie stared at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts once again. The last words Izzy spoke to him that night before she left replayed on his mind.

"Don’t come to the mansion, Eddie. I know you’ll try, and my parents won’t turn you away since they love you like their own. But I will. If I see you near that house, I swear to God, I’ll leave San Francisco again just to get away from you.”

Izzy had begged him, in her own way, to let her go. To stop clinging to what they had shared and to stop chasing a future that could never be theirs. But Eddie couldn’t. He loved her in a way that so consuming that left him hollow when she wasn’t there. And yet, he had chosen stability over chaos, predictability over passion—a choice he regretted more deeply with every passing day.

Since then, Eddie had been trying to reach her in every way he could—calls, texts, messages that varied from heartfelt to angry to pleading. But Izzy had gone silent, leaving him drowning in their goodbye.

Somewhere on the other side of San Francisco, Izzy was staring at the package that arrived a week ago. She did not want to open it since she already knew what it was. It was the dress and heels she bought using Eddie's credit card when they were still lovey dovey. It was a bittersweet reminder of the man, she was working so hard to avoid. She was not planning on going out that night yet she threw on the dres, wore the heels, and took a good look on the mirror inside her walk in closet. It looks so stunning. She imagined wearing this out with him, and felt a sting of pain in her chest again.

"Who says I can't wear this at home, huh?" she muttered to herself.

Izzy retreated back to her bed, still wearing the two grand worth of dress and heels, opened another tub of this artisanal popcorn her dad bought for her, and flipped through the TV for another all nighter of reality shows. She thought that at least the drama showing in her screen was paid for. The drama in her personal life was not.

"I'd like to get paid for being that dramatic." she grumbled, nose flaring, and popped another fistful of popcorn inside her mouth.

That was Izzy on a tamed night.

She carried her own burdens. Letting him go had been the hardest thing she had ever done, and yet she had done it, knowing it was the only way to save her bestfriend's engagement.

There were times she'd come home late and drunk from a party, wobbling her way up to her room. One time, her dad woke up cocking a gun at her when she accidentally broke a vase by stumbling upon it, thinking there was an intruder inside their house at 3AM. Turns out, it was their daughter who they barely recognized because of the smudged make up and messy hair. It got them worried. Usually, Eddie would bring her home in one piece, saving them both the head ache of dealing with their havoc of a daughter.

But what got them more concerned was when Izzy wouldn't come out of her room, obviously hurting. Her mom would wonder why it was almost past lunch time and she still has not come out of her room yet, seeing her deep asleep in her bed when she took a peak. Tubs of unfinished popcorn on the floor, crumpled can of sodas, and a salt covered blanket. All they can do was wait for her to open up.

That night. Bay Area.

She felt the numbness in her face creeping in as her jaw stayed tightly clenched. Izzy stood barely rigid, her fingers trembling despite her best efforts to steady them, her lips quivering with each confession.

She recounted everything. The conversation with Anne at the café—the guilt that had been breathing down her neck ever since, and the pain of realizing the role she had fully played in Anne’s heartbreak. The guilt she carried wasn’t just for Anne; it was for herself. For the ways she willingly stayed in Eddie’s life for so long and for the moments she knew she could have stepped aside but didn’t. She had taken something that wasn’t hers.

Her hands balled into fists, fighting the tremor that threatened to undo her entirely. Anne didn’t deserve the heartache she’d been dealt and Izzy knew that no words or apologies could make it better being the catalyst for it alll. When her words finally stopped, her gaze flicked towards Eddie, who was looking at her with an evident heart break and desperation. He knew where this was going and what has going through her mind, slowly nodding in defeat. His hand raked through his hair, leaving it tousled and even more disheveled as the wind blew through it, his gaze drawn toward the rippling water.

“Izzy, don’t do this,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “Whatever it is that we have, it’s not... it’s not just sex. You’re my best friend. You’re the only one who really gets me.”

“And that’s the problem, Eddie!” she burst out. “I shouldn’t be the one who gets you. She should. She’s supposed to be your fiancé, not me. This—” she gestured between them, her hands trembling—“this has to stop.”

She hated the heartbreak engraved into his features and the way she was standing here tearing his world apart even as her own crumbled beneath her. But she couldn’t stop knowing it was the right thing to do.

Izzy held her ground but Eddie knew her well enough to recognize the bravado she wore like an armor, but he also knew the trembling in her hands. And even from the pain of receiving her words, he couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer.

“You think ripping us apart fixes anything? None of us come out of this okay, Izzy. You don’t get to decide what’s best for everyone just because you feel guilty.”

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered sharply. “Don’t you fucking dare say like guilt is all I feel. You think this is easy for me? Standing here, telling you it’s over, while everything in me is screaming to just... keep going?!”

Eddie froze. He knew it. Deep inside her, beyond her words, he knew Izzy did not want to end things between them.

“Why can’t you just let it be what it is?” he pleaded.

“Because what it is,” her voice trembling, “is already hurting her, Eddie. She doesn’t even got a clue how bad this shit is. Do you know what she said to me today? Huh? She said she loves you so much she doesn’t know how to reach you anymore. She’s begging me to help her understand you, Eddie, while I—” Her breath hitched as she broke off, shaking her head. “While I’m the bitch causing it.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan. “You think she gets me like you do? You think she’s the one who keeps me together when everything’s falling apart? No, Izzy. It’s you. You’re the one I call. You’re the one who keeps me breathing when I can’t deal with the rest of it. It’s always been you.”

It was the gut wrenching fact that it was Izzy trying to save his relationship with Anne from falling apart that made her stomach churn. And as much as he wanted to fight, as much as he wanted to hold onto her, he knew she wasn’t wrong.

But that didn’t mean he could let her go. Not without a fight. Not without trying to make her see how much she mattered.

And somehow, Izzy knew how much Eddie clung to her, but she also knew the reality of their situation. They had to stop somewhere at sometime.

“It shouldn’t be me, Eddie. It should never have been me. She’s the one who signed up to love you. She’s the one planning a future with you.”

"You don’t get to say that, Izzy. You don’t get to decide that whatever this is doesn’t matter.”

“What I know is that it can’t go on anymore!” she snapped, tears pricking at her eyes. “Not when it’s built on lies and cheating. Damn it, Brock, don’t you see what we’ve done?”

His chest sighed as he stepped closer. “I see that I want you, Izzy. You have no idea how long I've waited. I wanted you since that night you kissed me for nothing."

Her breath hitched, the raw honesty in his words was breaking her stand but she couldn’t afford to soften up to him again. She was determined to make things right.

“You can’t just throw that in my face. You’ve already chosen her.”

“I didn’t choose her!” he growled, his hands flailing in the air like a frustrated lunatic. “I fucking settled, Izzy. All I ever wanted was you but you were never here.”

A scoff escaped her lips as she wiped her eyes using the back of her hands while shaking her head. It was painful to hear those words. Why now? Why not before when it was just the two of them?

“Eddie, you proposed to her. You promised her forever. And now you’re standing here, begging me to let you keep both of us like that’s something sustainable.”

“I’m not trying to keep both of you,” he muttered. “I’m trying to keep you."

Izzy tried so hard to keep herself to stand tall, her hands balled tightly at her sides, taking a deep breath, she said. “It's not me you should keep, Eddie.”

His voice dropped to a quiet broken whisper. “And what am I supposed to do?” he asked. “Just... let you go?”

Her eyes glinted for the briefest moment, forcing herself to smile and nod slowly in confirmation.

There was a moment of silence that filled the space between them. Eddie’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths as he stared at her. He looked heart broken, hurt, and somehow in frustrated.

“You’re bailing out on me again,” he muttered. “You always do this, Izzy. Whenever things start to feel right, you find a way to blow it up.”

She narrowed her eyes at him with her arms crossing defensively over her chest as she stepped closer. “Excuse me?” she shot back. “Are you seriously accusing me of bailing? Of all people?”

Eddie stepped even closer. “Yeah, I am. You did it before when you told me to find someone else who could give me the stability you didn’t think you could. And now, you’re doing it again.”

Izzy let out a harsh laugh, her head shaking as she jabbed a finger into his chest, her voice trembling with anger. “Fuck you, Brock.” she spat. “Let’s get one thing straight—I didn’t bail. I told you to find someone who deserved you because I wasn’t about to play house with you.”

“And there it is... You keep throwing me fucking scraps—just enough to keep me close—and then you yank it all away when it gets too fucking real for you.”

Her hands dropping to her sides as she took a deep breath to calm herself. “You want to know why I’m doing this, Eddie? Because Anne asked for my help. Because you couldn't hold it together!"

“Izzy,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “Don’t—”

“No,” she cut him off. “You don’t get to tell me not to do this. She loves you, Eddie. She’s trying so so so hard to hold on to you, and you’re not giving her anything to hold on to. And I can’t—I won’t—be the reason she loses you.”

In that moment, as much as he wanted to fight back, to make her see that she was wrong, deep down, he knew she wasn’t. Izzy had chosen for him since she knew his answer.

A week later, the wedding preparations were in full swing since the date was closing in. Over the chinese take out containers, Anne handed Eddie this huge wedding binder she carefully crafted from her childhood imaginations to Pinterest wedding ideas. He was skimming through the book when Anne asked something that struck a nerve.

“I know you’ve already asked Izzy’s parents to stand in,” she began, his hands stilling as he registered the direction this was heading. “But... wouldn’t it be better if your dad came instead?”

Eddie hesitated, his grip tightening on the edge of the binder as he met her gaze. She didn’t know the full story—the depth of the rift between him and Carl, the years of anger and silence that he endured.

“The Knights have always been there for me. They treated me like their own when I didn’t have anyone else. It's only right to include them.”

“I understand that,” she said gently. “And I’m not saying they don’t mean a lot to you. I just wonder if... I don’t know, if tying them so closely to this part of your life could be complicated.”

Eddie ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he leaned back in his chair. “Complicated how?” he asked.

“It’s just... they’re Izzy’s parents,” she said finally. “And I know you’ve been close to her for as long as I’ve known you, but... doesn’t it feel a little... off?”

“They’re more than just her parents to me,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “They were my family when my own father wasn’t there. That man can't even drag himself to my own graduation.”

The heavy emotions were starting to take over him again as he forced himself to take a deep breath before he continued. “It’s not something I need to reconsider,” he said, his voice softer now. “The Knights are my family. And that’s final.”

Anne nodded slowly, her gaze softening as she took in the tension etched into his features. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I understand..”

An awful amount of awkward silence filled their apartment and Eddie did not care. Carl Brock was a sensitive topic to him. He had to learn how to live without a loving parent because of that man, and he refuses to bring him in his wedding.

The next day, after a long day of work, Eddie was driving back to their apartment. The conversation he had with Anne regarding his father kept replaying on his mind, and he remembered that specific memory during their High School graduation.

He was standing alone in the auditorium, clutching his cap nervously, waiting for his name to be called. It was their high school graduation. His eyes scanned across the venue, each student had their own parents and guardians to come up with them on stage, yet his own father was nowhere to be found. He was still holding unto the tiny bit of hope that Carl would somehow show up there and be with him.

Izzy knew his father did not show up again. She’d been furious—not just at Carl’s absence, but at the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make an excuse. He hadn’t called, hadn’t sent a message, hadn’t done anything to acknowledge his son’s achievement. Her eyes constantly peaked to her best friend's seat, seeing how he was still hoping that his father would miraculously swoop in.

"Edward Charles Allan Brock." his name was called up stage.

He closed his eyes briefly, taking deep breath to brace himself from the humiliation of having to receive his medals and diploma alone. No one there to accompany him, no one to share his achievement with. He moved forward, each step feeling heavier than the last. While walking slowly up the stage, he felt an arm loop around his, his eyes immediately flicked to see who was it.

It was Izzy's mom.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetheart." she said, giving him a soft smile similar to Izzy's.

He felt a heavy yet warm tap on his back and saw Izzy's father standing on his other side. "We're proud of you, son."

Eddie felt like his heart was going to burst. He did not expect Izzy's parents to step in as his. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—not just the presence of someone, but them. Izzy's parents. The two people who had always been there for him, treating him like he was one of their own, even when his own father couldn’t be bothered.

When they walked him across that stage, for the first time, Eddie didn’t feel alone. He didn’t feel like the kid abandoned by his dad. He felt loved, supported—like he mattered. From her seat, Izzy was a force of nature. Holding the camcorder with shaky, excited hands, she cheered so loudly it echoed across the auditorium.

“That’s my best friend! Go get it, Brock!” she yelled, her voice full of pride, her energy infectious.

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle softly, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the lump in his throat. Typical Izzy—always there to lift him up, even when he didn’t ask for it.

As the ceremony ended and the three of them walked off stage, Eddie found himself glancing back at Izzy’s parents. He didn’t have the words to thank them—not properly, anyway. All he could do was nod, swallowing the emotions threatening to spill over. But they didn’t need words. The way Mrs. Knight squeezed his arm and the proud gleam in Mr. Knight’s eyes said everything. They celebrated with him afterwards, even got him a graduation gift as well.

When the Knights dropped Eddie off at Carl’s house later that evening, Izzy’s anger boiled over. She didn’t wait for Eddie to say goodbye or for her parents to drive away. She stormed out of the car, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement as she marched toward the front door.

“Izzy, wait—” Eddie called after her, but she didn’t stop. Her dad started to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but her mom grabbed his arm, shaking her head. “Let her handle it,” she said softly.

Inside, Izzy didn’t waste a second. She found Carl lounging on the couch, a beer in hand, the TV blaring some sports game. He barely glanced up when she entered.

“Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “You didn’t even show up. Eddie was waiting for you. Do you even care about your son?”

“Who the hell are you to barge in here and talk to me like that? Is he just following you around like a dog now? Who do you think you are, coming in here and running your mouth?” Carl hissed, face darkened, his grip tightening on the beer bottle.

For a young woman, freshly graduated from high school, Izzy’s fury ignited like a match. She was not taking this sitting down. Not with Eddie who deserved so much more than this. Her heart was broken just by seeing his face earlier.

“Dog? You call your own son a dog?" she scoffed. “Then you are a pile of dog shit, Carl. You don’t deserve to call yourself his father.” she spat, her voice trembling with rage.

There was not any ounce of respect left with her words. Carl then stood, towering over her, Eddie burst through the door, his heart pounding. “Dad, stop—” he started, but his father's hand was already raised, his anger boiling over.

The slap came fast, but Eddie moved faster. He stepped in front of Izzy, taking the blow himself. Izzy's eyes widened at the scene. The sting burned across his cheek, but he didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, his eyes locked on his father’s.

“Don’t you ever touch her,” Eddie said, his chest heaving. “You want to hit someone? Hit me. But don’t you dare lay a hand on her.”

Carl stared at him for a moment before scoffing and turning away. “Get the hell out of my house,” he muttered, collapsing back onto the couch.

But Izzy wasn’t done. She grabbed Eddie’s arm, pulling him toward the door. As they reached the doorway, she paused, her grip on Eddie’s arm tightening. She turned back to Carl, her gaze sharp, and without a word, she reached for a vase sitting on a nearby table—a harmless, decorative piece—and hurled it to the ground. The shattering sound caused a raucous as her final act of defiance that left Carl staring at her in stunned silence.

She didn’t say anything else. The look she gave Carl said it all: You’re a worthless piece of shit.

Outside, half way in the front lawn, Izzy spun around to face Eddie. Her hands reached for his face, her fingers brushing gently over the red mark blooming on his cheek. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips trembling as she pouted. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice cracking. “It was meant for me. I could’ve taken it.”

He chuckled softly despite the sting on his face. “I’m the one who got slapped, and you’re the one crying?” he teased.

Izzy’s lip quivered as more tears spilled over, and she pouted like a stubborn child. “Your dad is a horrible man,” she said, her voice breaking as she tried to hold herself together. But she couldn’t, especially when it came to Eddie.

Eddie’s heart ached at the sight of her like this. Izzy was the strongest person he knew, someone who rarely cried, who took on the world as lightly as she can, laughing her way out of the most ridiculous situations. But here she was, her tears falling freely—not for herself, but for him. And that, more than anything else, was what broke him.

Her parents stepped out of their car, the urgency in their steps shifting to alarm the moment they saw Eddie’s face. Her mom gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she took in the sharp red mark on his cheek. Her dad’s expression hardened, restraining his anger as he approached them. Their questions poured as Izzy answered through stifled sniffles. It was a no-brainer for them—they couldn’t let Eddie go back to a house like that. Without hesitation, they told him they would cover his dorm expenses and any other needs he’d have in college, just to ensure he wouldn’t have to endure his father’s cruelty again.

Eddie froze, caught completely off guard by their offer. It was too much, too kind—something he didn’t think he could possibly accept. Shaking his head, he started to protest. But before he could get much further, Izzy broke down. She yelled at him.

“Just take it!” she yelled. “Don't be a dumbass and choose yourself for once!”

Eddie looked at her, really looked at her—at the way her face was streaked with tears, her lip trembling as she pleaded with him. She wasn’t just crying for him; she was crying because of him, because she couldn’t stand to see him hurt anymore. No one advocated for Eddie the way Izzy did at that moment.

“Alright. Stop crying.” he said quietly. “I’ll take it.”

As he pulled up to the apartment, Eddie shook his head, exhaling deeply with a faint smile tugging at his lips. No matter how much time passed, he could never think of that day without feeling indebt to Izzy’s parents since they had been more than just stand-ins—they’d become his own family in ways Carl never could. And Izzy, as stubborn as she is, had always been his number one. His chest ached, considering how distant they both are now.

Sliding the key into the lock, Eddie stepped inside the apartment, tossing his keys onto the counter, and running a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind him. The place smelled faintly of takeout, and he braced himself for another round of wedding discussions with Anne, his mind already beginning to shut down from the exhaustion of the day.

But then he saw him.

Sitting on the couch, legs casually spread and an empty beer bottle balanced on one knee, was Carl Brock.

Eddie suddenly can't move his legs.

His father looked older now but he was still carrying the condescending smirk he hated. For a moment, Eddie thought he was hallucinating, the ghost of his childhood trauma sitting in his living room, but then their eyes met.

“Well, if it isn’t the golden boy,” Carl drawled, gesturing lazily with his bottle. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

Literally, he was too stunned to speak.

But before he could say anything, Anne appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly. “Honey,” she started, “I invited your dad.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, his chest tightened as emotions he’d tried so hard to bury began clawing their way to the surface. The apartment suddenly felt smaller around him as he stared at Carl, the man who had caused him so much pain, sitting smugly in the middle of his couch, drinking his beer as if nothing ever wrong happened between them.

He couldn’t decide which hurt more—the past he couldn’t escape, or the betrayal of the person who had brought it into his home.

“You’re looking good, kid. Thought it was about time we had a little chat.”

As if his father's words were an unpleasant smoke breezing through his ears, Eddie didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at him. His eyes immediately sought Anne, standing in the corner of the room.

“What is that doing here?” he asked coldly.

Anne flinched slightly at his tone but stood her ground. “I invited him,” she said, trying to meet Eddie’s gaze but failing. “I thought it was about time the two of you talked. He’s staying for a few days so you can... fix things.”

He didn’t look at him. His eyes were focused on Anne as she explained her decision, but Eddie could not hear her words. All he could hear was the loud thump of his heart from the anger bubbling up from a place so deep he almost didn’t recognize it. She brought him here. How ironic considering he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with the woman who was reviving his deep seated trauma. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he finally looked at Carl.

Fucking ridiculous.

“Fix things? Really?” he said with disdain as he turned back to Anne. “He’s not welcome here. You should’ve talked to me before doing this.”

“Eddie, he’s your father. I just wanted to give you both a chance to—” she pleaded.

“To what? You don't get to make that call, Annie.” Eddie snapped, cutting her off. “He doesn’t care about fixing anything. He never has.”

The years of buried resentment, the disappointment, the anger—it was all in the surface now, demanding to be acknowledged. His father’s presence felt suffocating, and Anne’s attempt to reason with him only made it worse.

Carl chuckled then, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s no way to talk about your old man,” he said, shaking his head mockingly. “Especially when your dear fiancé went out of her way to include me in your life. Funny though—you didn’t even tell me about your wedding plans. Imagine my surprise when I hear you’ve got that girl’s parents standing in for me.”

“You don’t get to talk about them,” Eddie hissed, trying to keep his composure. “They’re more of a family to me than you’ll ever be.”

Anne stepped forward, trying to talk some sense into her fiancée. “Eddie, please. He’s your father. At least try to show him some respect.”

Carl’s smirk widened at her words. He leaned back, crossing his arms as if enjoying the show. “I see your ‘friend’ has been rubbing off on you,” he said, his gaze fixed on Eddie. “How is she, by the way? Izzy?”

Eddie’s fists clenched at his sides, his entire body coiled with tension. The mere mention of her name coming from Carl’s mouth felt like someone had dumped gasoline onto the fire already burning inside Eddie. He was already sensitive just thinking about her, now he has to hear her name coming of out his father's mouth. He has been struggling to keep himself together without Izzy for more than a month now, and somehow, the universe found another way to fuck him over.

He was shaking in anger.

"Keep her name off your fucking mouth." Eddie growled.

As if Carl expected this reaction from his son, he leaned back with his legs spread, the beer bottle still dangling lazily from his hand, his smile widening.

“See, Annie?” Carl said, dragging Anne into his game without hesitation. “This boy’s been wrapped around his best friend’s finger since they were kids. Following her around, doing whatever she wanted him to do. I said this before but, it's pathetic, really.”

Eddie clenched his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his palms, his lips pressed into a hard line, and when he spoke again, his voice trembled with the effort it took to keep himself calm. “Get out."

But Carl wasn’t finished. Of course he wasn’t. “You’d be surprised, Annie,” Carl continued, his eyes locked on Eddie. “The things my boy will do for that girl. It’s almost funny.”

It wasn’t funny. It was cruel. Eddie felt the words hitting him like punches, each one targeting the weakest, most vulnerable parts of him. The room blurred slightly as his emotions took over him. He couldn’t stay—not with Carl’s presence polluting the air, not with Anne standing by him like he deserved to be there.

I can’t be here. I can’t breathe. Finally, Eddie snapped.

His voice rose, unrestrained and raw, as he turned to Anne, the betrayal still stinging like salt in an open wound. “Annie!” he shouted. “If that man is not going, I will.”

Carl chuckled softly that wasn’t just mocking—it was dismissive, like Eddie’s anger was beneath him and it didn’t matter. Anne’s hesitation only made things worse. She looked at Eddie, her gaze pleading, but her words felt like the final nail in the coffin. “It’s late,” she said gently. “I promised Carl he could stay. It’s for your own good—a path to healing.”

Healing.

The word twisted in Eddie’s mind. There was no healing here—not with Carl, not with the man who had torn him down at every opportunity. Without another word, he turned sharply, grabbing his leather jacket, his helmet, and his keys. The door slammed behind him. He was done. He stormed down the stairs to his bike, his heart pounding, his mind racing. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t breathe. He was trembling but pushes to hold himself together.

Back in the apartment, Anne froze. She glanced at Carl, unsure of what to say or do. But the old man shrugged and said, “Let him be,” lounging back on the couch like he had every right to be there. “He’ll come home. He always does.”

His bike roared down the empty streets of San Francisco over the speed limit. He screamed his anguish into the void along the howl of the engine. He was angry. At Carl, for tearing open old wounds. At Anne, for betraying him in ways she couldn’t even understand. At the world, which can't seem to give him a break. His life should’ve been going well. He had a career, a home, a fiancé, a wedding on the horizon, and a best friend. Yet, piece by piece, it felt like it was all crumbling around him. The streets blurred past him, and he didn’t care where he was going. He just wants to be away from his father as far as possible.

That same night, Izzy was preparing herself to go to bed, tying her hair into a loose knot as she got ready for sleep. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she reached for it lazily, not expecting much at this hour. But when she saw Eddie’s name on the screen, she immediately straightened.

My father’s back.

That’s all it said.

"Fuck." she muttered. She didn’t need more details to understand the gravity of the message. She wasn't speaking to him for more than a month now but this time, without hesitation, she typed back:

Send me your location.

Her cab halted at the same place they last saw each other: at the bay area. She quickly crumpled a bill on the driver's hand as the bolted out of the vehicle. His motorbike was parked there. She walked around the damp sand, while the cold night wind blew through her dark locks. Good thing she was already wearing her oversized hoodie and sweat pants to fight the cold.

There he was. Eddie.

He was sitting there alone in the sand, curled into himself. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was loud but she can hear the uneven sound of his crying. Her best friend was a proud, solid bull yet there he was, crying alone in the middle of the night, where no one could see him or hear how broken he felt. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see how far he’d fallen.

Izzy ran towards him without hesitation as she dropped to her knees beside him, the cold sand biting through the fabric of her sweatpants, but she didn’t care. Wrapping her arms around his shaking frame, she pulled him close, burying her head against his shoulder. The faint, familiar scent of wild honeysuckle perfume enveloped them. He didn’t need to look up to confirm it was her. The moment he felt her embrace, he broke even further, his sobs coming harder, heavier. She tightened her grip, her lips pressing against the top of his head in a soothing kiss.

“Let it out,” she whispered. “You’ve been strong for too long, Brock. It’s okay to cry. Just let it out.”

Eddie clung to her, his muffled voice shaking as he finally spoke. “Anne... invited him,” he choked out, his head still buried against her shoulder. “She invited him to the apartment.”

Her heart was breaking for him again, but she didn’t ask for more. She didn’t need the details. Whatever had happened, whatever had pushed him to this point, she knew it wasn’t something he could face right now. She took a deep breath to compose herself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she murmured, her hand running gently along his back. “There’s no way I’m letting you go back there. You’re coming home with me to the mansion."

His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer as if she were the only thing keeping him together. His fingers clutched at the fabric of her hoodie, holding onto her like a lifeline. Izzy sighed deeply, pressing another kiss to his temple. She had avoided him for weeks now, keeping her distance out of respect for his engagement to Anne. But seeing him like this, so shattered and vulnerable—there was no way she could turn her back on him. Not now. Not ever.

The waves continued their relentless dance against the shore, but for Eddie, the only sound that mattered was her whispered reassurance and the steady beat of her heart against his ear.

It was her who advocated for him then. She fought his battles even though he did not need her to. And now, even without realizing it, she was saving him again, bringing him back to the version of himself he had nearly forgotten. Eddie felt like himself again with Izzy in his arms. All because of her.

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