didntrun | (no subject)

Eventually, he tells Lestat he's ready to go home. Truthfully, he's still completely petrified, worried he'll do something stupid, hurt Chrissy without meaning to, but he's being sent home with a full belly, without the slightest bit of hunger pangs, and he's still himself.

It comes down to that every time he worries. He's still himself, he's just more.

But the more scares him. He can hear things now, peoples' thoughts, and it feels invasive and uncomfortable. He doesn't want to hear Chrissy's thoughts, he doesn't want her to ever be in a position where she has to worry he's listening in. There's also the matter of her being human, needing to exist in the sun, her life being normal and regular, not like his will be anymore. Yeah, he's still himself, but he can't go into the sun and he has to drink blood and he needs to sleep in a coffin.

Maybe not a coffin specifically, but all the light needs to be blocked. That's what Lestat has told him. The easiest way to get that level of safety is a coffin. That's going to be weird, having a coffin in their home, and he doesn't want to make anyone uncomfortable, so he's already thinking about putting it in an unused bedroom. God, he hopes Robin doesn't want to kick him out because of it, though he'd understand if she did.

It's dark, it's safe, and Eddie slinks home, gold eyes almost glowing in the dark. He realizes, once he's home, that he can't enter. He unlocks the door and swings it open and has to stand outside on the front step before he sends Chrissy a text.

u have to invite me in, babe

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The time that's passed since Eddie first called her — since they first wound up in that freaky other Darrow at all, really — has felt both interminably long and like an absolute haze. Chrissy has slept little and eaten less, stress and bad dreams keeping her awake at night, usually resulting in her texting Eddie during those hours to see how he's doing. In spite of the worries that have kept him away from the house and from her, it has at least helped a little to be able to talk with him and know he is, more or less, okay.

But she still sees that awful place when she closes her eyes and on the rare occasion that she does manage to get some significant sleep. The accompanying unsettled, jumpy feeling makes it hard for her to even feel like she can eat, or to keep food down when she does manage to eat, or to want to keep food down when she actually accomplishes the first two. Work has been getting busier as the weather's gotten warmer, and she's barely been aware of it, zoned out through her shifts. She feels like a zombie, or maybe a puppet, just going through the motions every day, starkly reminiscent of what life was like back in Hawkins.

That thought really doesn't help her mental state at all.

Her hope is that Eddie being home will help. She doesn't want to lay all of her problems on him when he's got so much to deal with right now, but she's missed him, and however clueless she may be about what's going to happen next, at least he'll be here. All evening, she's a bundle of nerves and excitement both. Around dinnertime, she tries to take a nap, but she can't manage it, staring at the ceiling instead, then giving in and playing games on her phone.

That's what she's doing when it buzzes in her hands with a text notification, Eddie's name on the screen. Her breath catches, and for a moment, nothing else in the entire world matters. She leaves the phone on the bed and all but runs down the stairs to greet him, wearing a t-shirt of his that she's taken to sleeping in during his absence and a pair of sleep shorts.

"Eddie, oh my god," she says, forgetting that there might be any reason to be cautious as she flings her arms around him, holding him close. "Come in, come in, come in, come in. Oh, my god, I missed you."

For a heartbeat, Eddie tenses, but instinct has him wrapping his arms around Chrissy, pulling her close. He buries his nose in her hair and inhales, her scent overpowering, stronger than it used to be, entirely her in a way he's always known, but never been quite so aware of until this moment.

Her eyes are brighter, too, their sparkle overwhelming to him. Under his hands, her skin is so smooth and warm.

Hunger flares in him briefly, then dies. He had eaten before and he's been practicing on keeping himself aware of what he needs and how that differs from what he feels.

"Hi," he says. "I missed you."