Eddie Munson X Reader - I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

                                    

                                          
A/N - Once again, we're using the newest Taylor Swift album for inspiration on a chapter; this one is based on I Can Do It With A Broken Heart. I hope you all enjoy it.
Eddie had gotten pretty good at catching you when you thought that no one was around to see you. Hanging around backstage between songs, during set changes, waiting for your cue, when your guard was down and your smile would drop and you'd suddenly look lost, even when you'd been doing the same thing day in, day out for months now. 
When he'd been hired as one of the roadies on your tour he'd been elated. Hell, you weren't exactly the sort of musician he had imagined hitting the road with, but it would be an incredible jumping-off point. If he could prove he could keep up on one of the biggest international tours that had ever happened, then he would be able to get any tour-related job from here on out. 
And then, he actually started working with you. You were possibly the sweetest person he had ever met, giving your attention to anyone, no matter what role they were in, and making everyone comfortable. You were a little ball of sunshine. And then you would get on the stage and perform your heart out for your fans without a single complaint. 
It was only in moments like these when you thought you were completely alone, that the facade would slip and he could see that maybe you weren't as happy as you were pretending to be. He knew about the breakup, I mean, everyone knew about the breakup; it had been front-page news. But you'd brushed any comments from your team off like it had been nothing; like it hadn't been a long-term relationship that had been ended over the phone. 
"You good?" The words had slipped out of him before he could catch them, and your head had snapped to look at him, eyes widening for just a second before you were plastering that perfect smile of yours back onto your features. 
"Yeah, sorry," you hummed out. "I was in my own little world," you pressed on, your chuckle sounding a little false as you stepped forward, finding your spot on the stage, ready for the curtains to pull back and reveal you to the crowd for your next song. "Are you good?" you finally added, glancing back over your shoulder at him.
Eddie shrugged slightly, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "I'm pretty good," he confessed quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah; It's hard to have a bad day when you've got a boss that actually gives a shit about their employees," he told you. "Although," he pressed on, considering whether the next move was smart. Sure, you were one of the nicest people he had ever met, but that didn't mean you would let him pry into your life without kicking up a fuss. "I wish she'd put as much effort into taking care of herself as she puts into taking care of the rest of us," he told you, watching as your smile faltered for a second. "You know, if you ever want to talk about anything, I'm all ears."
"I'm fine, Eddie," you pushed, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lips. "I'm a real tough kid; I can handle my shit. But thank you for the offer."
Eddie nodded as your next song kicked in, watching as you readied yourself, that perfect, unflappable persona slipping back into place as if it had never left. "Well, it's not a limited-time offer; give me a shout if you change your mind," he called out just as the curtains dropped revealing you to the cheering crowd.
*Time Skip*
Eddie had woken up that night to a knock on the door of his hotel room, quiet enough that if he had been a deeper sleeper, he doubted he would have heard it at all. He grumbled as he pulled himself out of bed, half-expecting to find an empty hallway, a victim of some shitty kid ding dong ditching their way through the hotel. But when he'd pulled the door open, his eyes had landed on you, looking a lot younger than he was used to, your face free of makeup, and dressed in a pair of fluffy pyjama bottoms that were hardly fitting of your pop-star status. 
"Hey," he hummed out softly, offering you a small smile as you shifted on the spot, drawing his attention down to your feet, clad in socks and nothing else. "You want to come in?" he asked softly, stepping out of the way for you to enter when you nodded your answer. 
"I'm sorry for just showing up in the middle of the night-"
"Nonsense," he breathed out, quickly attempting to tidy up before you could catch sight of the dirty laundry that was strewn over the floor of his room. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess," he pressed on. 
You snorted with laughter. "If you think this is a mess, you should see the makeup room before a show" you chuckled. "It looks like a bomb hit it, even though we've been doing the same routine for like 3 months now," you pressed on, still standing awkwardly near the doorway, almost like you were waiting for a reason to bolt. 
"Are you here to take me up on my offer?"
Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and then you were nodding again. You looked so different like this, so out of your element, like a little kid who didn't know what on Earth was going on around them. 
"When I was little my mom always used to say that you've got to fake it til you make it; it was her favourite saying," you started softly, swallowing around the lump forming in your throat. "And, I got really good at faking it. I mean, I'm standing on the stage every night feeling like my world is collapsing around me, and the crowd are chanting for more and I just keep pretending that I'm having the time of my life," you pressed on. "Because who's going to come and see some depressed mess standing on a stage having a breakdown over an old relationship for two hours at a time, right? I mean, who in their right mind would pay for that?" 
"But you're allowed to be upset about that shit," Eddie started softly, brow furrowed at your confession. "I get that you need to put that face on when you're on stage, but you went through something really tough and you're allowed to have emotions that aren't positive when you're with the rest of us," he pressed on. "Hell, you guys have seen me get all grouchy when a set piece gets damaged or-"
"That's not the same," you interjected. "When you're upset it doesn't get plastered in some gossip column in a magazine. It doesn't get talked about on radio shows. No one goes digging into every aspect of your life trying to find out exactly why you had a shitty day."  
Eddie hesitated for a moment. "You're right," he hummed softly, finally perching himself on the foot of his bed. "Can we make a deal?"
Your brow furrowed slightly. "A deal?"
"Yeah," you pressed on. "When you have a shitty day, come and talk to me. Come and be mad, or sad, or tired here with me. Don't keep bottling it up." 
Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip as you considered his deal. "And what would you be getting out of it?"
"Why would I need to get anything out of it?"
"That's how deals work, right? They're usually mutually beneficial."
He shrugged slightly. "I like hanging out with you."
"You already hang out with me-"
"I like hanging out with the real you, not the manufactured you that's scared of putting a foot out of line and ending up in a headline. I like hanging out with this you."
You swallowed down the lump in your throat, nodding slightly. "Alright. Deal."
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