Eddie Munson One Shots

Love Bites

"Now you are mine, in my control. A taste of your life and I own your soul"
Love Bites - Judas Priest
***********************

You pick up the teddy bear that had sat on a chair in the corner of your room for months now. You'd become so accustomed to it at this point you'd almost forgotten about it completely but as you pile the collection of cassette tapes you'd borrowed, it catches your eye, just another symbol of him that you needed to cleanse yourself of.
You stroke the soft nose with your thumb and the memory of the carnival where he'd won the toy for you plays through your mind. A ring toss game, one he'd had to do over and over in sheer determination to win you something. A mental recording of a time you'd been happy, loves young dream but now, well, now all he is to you is a dull ache in your chest and a stream of tears on your cheeks.

You'd been warned about him by so many people, he was no good, he wasn't going anywhere in life, he was a troublemaker. But you knew him better. He was sweet and funny, he made you laugh and blush and everything in between. How could someone like that be labelled so harshly?
It had barely been a year and you knew deep down you were in love and you thought you knew him inside out but when the phone calls at night started to dwindle and the invites to Corroded Coffin gigs stopped completely, when the compliments grew scarce and alone time together became forced and awkward, that's when you truly saw him for what he was. He grew cold and distant and became overly critical of everything you said and did, you wondered why for the longest time, what had you done to make him turn so quickly? What had happened to change how he saw you? You'd gone from perfect to a chore in what felt like a blink of an eye.
A brief glance at a note on his bedside table one day was all you needed, all the confirmation you required to see what had changed and everything clicked into place all at once.

That note from that girl, one that laid it all out in black and white with scribbled red hearts. He'd been cheating, according to her note he'd told her he loved her and she was the one he truly wanted to be with. As hurt as you were you couldn't help but be thankful for the detail she had provided, the declaration of love she had given him and how his for her had made her feel, it was the final push you needed. This couldn't be saved, he didn't want that it was very clear, but now neither did you.

You stormed out of his house after he admitted it all, his demeanour cold and unbothered, and you held the tears until you got into your room. You kept it bottled and hidden until your door clicked shut and finally the floodgates opened.
He had broken your heart, a heart that once belonged to him, it now sat in your chest lifeless and empty until finally, days later, you gained some sense of self and realised he wasn't worth the tears or the torment, you're better than him in every conceivable way.

You wouldn't be defeated by Gareth of all fucking people.

From that moment you'd started packing everything up. Every bit of clothing of his, every cassette tape, every cuddly toy, every love letter. They all sat in boxes on your floor waiting to be taken away, that last bit of him removed from your life forever.
The only contact you'd had from him since that day you left was a brief phone call last night, a formal, cold conversation to let you know someone was finally coming to collect his stuff today and was bringing your stuff with them. A small relief at least that it wouldn't be him you'd have to see but it still made you angry that he didn't have the guts to face you himself.

Closing up the last box, you take a quick look around the room, one that seemed so much tidier now any trace of Gareth was gone, and breathe a small sigh of relief. This had been the hardest part by far but now it was done it could only propel you forward.
As if on cue, your doorbell rings. Gareth's personal collection service had arrived.
You practically run downstairs, excited to finally have everything taken away to begin the task of sifting through your own belongings, and feel another pang of relief to see he'd sent Eddie, secretly your favourite of his friends, and he stands with two boxes of your own stuff at his feet. Neither of which had been carefully packed or closed up.