*vicious*, eddie roundtree

v.

. . .

After everyone agreed to get food at the diner Chris and Ronnie frequented on the Strip in about half an hour, they each dispersed and got ready to leave. This included Chris and Ronnie, who booked it out of that room the minute the plans were set.

"I can't believe you did that to me!" Chris exclaimed, hitting Ronnie with her bag as they made their way outside.

"You needed the push! I am not going to apologize. This will be good for you!" Ronnie choked out as he dodged the blows from her purse.

"No, it'll be good for you. You love laughing at my pain," she pouted as they crossed the street, heading to their apartment to change out of their club clothes.

"Don't be so dramatic, I do not. Someone does though. Don't think I didn't catch that laugh mystery boy tried to cover when that hunk hugged you." Ronnie couldn't wait to see the frontman again.

"If you're talking about Billy, you can cease drooling. He's dating someone. They're practically joined at the hip," Chris said with disgust.

"Ugh. The pretty ones always have a girlfriend."

The two arrived at their apartment and entered their separate bedrooms to change. Chris peeled off the tight clothes she wore to the bar, opting for a baggy red sweatshirt, jeans she had to cuff at both the waist and ankles, and pair of grandpa sneakers she wore often. Her feet ached from the uncomfortable boots she had on before, and she valued comfort above all else at the moment.

She looked in the mirror of her dusty vanity. She felt ridiculous knowing they saw her all dressed up. She'd never worn things like that in Pittsburgh. For some reason, she felt much more confident in what she wore now and was feeling slightly better about going to dinner.

Only slightly. She needed a substance to calm her nerves, so she opened her jewelry box, grabbed the bag of flower and rolling papers she hid there, and rolled two joints. She opened the window, put on Bridge Over Troubled Water, and pulled the needle past the first few tracks on the B-side, finding the line that marked the beginning of the eighth track, The Only Living Boy in New York. She laid on the floor, lit the tip of her freshly rolled joint, and inhaled. She had some time before Ronnie was ready to leave. Aside from tonight, he usually took much longer to get ready than Chris.

She'd finished her joint as well as the last few songs on the record by the time Ronnie was pounding on her door, beckoning her out. 

. . .

Eddie rolled his eyes as Graham practically paced around the room.

"God, you two are so dramatic," Eddie sighed. He was exasperated. He'd seen Graham begin the 7 stages of grief since Chris left. Eddie thought he'd been at anger, but the minute Graham saw Chris, he could tell all his anger he had for her leaving evaporated from his body.

"I'm just nervous, man. I haven't seen her in, what, six months? We'd never even spent a full week apart before this. Plus, we didn't exactly leave on the best terms," Graham ranted.

"Look. We know her, Graham. She would've left if she didn't want to see you. She never does anything she doesn't want to," Eddie offered. He was getting sick of being their therapist.