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WHO: Eddie Kaspbrak and Chrissy Cunningham
WHAT: Serious discussion (tw: ED, child/emotional/psychological abuse)
WHEN: Wednesday 8/10
WHERE: Their shared apartment

Admittedly, Eddie's been sitting on this for a week. He should've brought it up when he first noticed it. Instead, he's spent the last seven days second-guessing himself, worrying that he's about to overstep boundaries by bringing it up, and fretting that he's wrong and she's going to be offended or angry or, worse, he'll hurt her feelings and make things worse.

At the end of the day, though, Chrissy's part of the Dead Folks Club and that means she's on borrowed time and this is a second chance. If Eddie's suspicion is correct, she's hurting herself and that's likely to shorten this second life she's been given. Whether he likes it or not, Eddie's grown quite attached to the teenager sharing his space in Richie's absence. He doesn't like the idea of her being hurt or worse.

Entirely too many Google searches and especially disturbing rabbit holes later, after days of deliberation and waffling over whether or not to go for it, Eddie's sitting in the recliner of the apartment he shares with Chrissy, waiting for her to get home from wherever she happens to be, whether it's work or next door at Lydia's where the Eddie she knew from home lives.

When the front door opens, Eddie feels his stomach swoop uncomfortably with nerves and he straightens up in the chair a little, knee bobbing with anxious energy. He waits a few seconds after she enters to ensure that no one's with her, and when he's confident she's come home alone, he clears his throat and speaks up, giving her a warm, but mildly concerned, smile.

"Hey, Chrissy? Do you have a few minutes to talk?" he asks. His own anxiety disorder comes in handy with his verbiage. Rather than asking 'can we talk,' or telling her that they 'need to talk,' Eddie's positioned it with emphasis on whether she has time to sit and talk to him. He's always thought it sounded less confrontational or ominous that way and he hopes she'll feel the same.

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The curls of Chrissy's ponytail bounce slightly as she lets herself into the apartment, the hairdo one part of the norm of home that the cheerleader hasn't been able to let go of. It's one of so many things, honestly. Somehow it doesn't seem to matter that she's, technically, had time to 'settle in' here in Eglaf. She still can't help but feel that pull of connection to the things that she did back home. And that's not even mentioning the trauma from Hawkins that still haunts her every night - and not just Vecna, though she's been dealing with that by leaning on Eddie since he filled her in on everything.

She still doesn't understand it, but she doesn't really need to as long as she understands some of the big points along the way.

And even though Eddie doesn't feel like she brought it on herself by the way that she was feeling, by the vulnerability that she had - there's still a part of her that can't help but hold onto the idea. She still hasn't managed to shake the feeling. It's gotten a bit less overwhelming being around Eddie himself...both Eddie's actually. There's been something incredibly comforting about having an adult there with her in her own apartment...one that doesn't seem to judge, berate, or hate her. And then there's her Eddie, the Eddie from home who...well...she can't quite put her feeling on why it's comforting to be around him or her feelings but she knows that she wouldn't be functioning or managing to keep on the perfect face if it weren't for him, for having him there to recharge with.

Slipping her tote bag from her shoulder, Chrissy balances it in the crook of her arm as she slides her shoes off next to the front door. She's wearing a pale pink crew neck t-shirt with a spaghetti strap slip dress over it - both being entirely too large for her frame. One could almost say that both have the shape of a potato sack. "I have time to talk, sure. I just got out of work and no plans...." Chrissy offers Eddie a smile, but she can feel her stomach churn ever so slightly with the question of what he might need a few minutes to talk about? Did she do something wrong? Is he mad at her? Is she in trouble for not spending enough time here?

The questions - ridiculous as some of them might be - cycle in the back of her mind even as Chrissy puts her bag down next to her shoes and pads to the couch. Maybe he wants to talk about Richie - the ghost of a roommate? Though it's probably not very nice to hope that it's about something like that rather than something she's done. "Is everything okay....?"

When Chrissy agrees to talk, Eddie gives her a warmer smile. It feels hollow, but he's trying. It's nerve-wracking to have even invited her to talk, never mind rapidly mentally prepare to actually have the conversation.

Is it overstepping? Shit, it's overstepping, isn't it? Part of him is terrified to have this conversation and that part is expanding exponentially with every passing second. Somehow, the feeling only manages to intensify as she moves to drop down onto the couch.

Is everything okay?

Eddie clears his throat. Well, at least she's opening the door before he has to try. "I...don't know..." he confesses, brow creasing in the center of his forehead as he looks back at her.

He looks down, his hands in his lap, right thumb and first finger automatically moving to spin his wedding ring anxiously, a nervous tic he still can't shake, even a couple of years after everything. He keeps telling himself he needs to take it off and every day, it stays in place. Eddie sighs softly and looks back up at her, concern etched into his features. "Chrissy, are you all right? I'm worried about you," he admits. "I heard you in the bathroom after breakfast." He pauses, knee bobbing almost violently at this point. "...and late last night when I got up to get a glass of water."

Eddie's eyes shift down once again and his fingers stop on the wedding ring, sliding it up and down his knuckle anxiously instead of spinning it. "And after dinner last night, too, even though I didn't see you eat very much..."

His voice is laced with concern because he genuinely cares about this girl and doesn't want to see her hurting. Then again, he also doesn't really want to sit back and let her do it just to save them both the discomfort of this conversation. If this conversation disrupts their delicate balance enough to ruin the budding paternal feelings Eddie's been developing entirely too quickly for the teen, then so be it, so long as she gets help. He's trying to be open-minded in case there's actually something medically wrong with her and it's more than just what he thinks it may be, but Eddie's doubtful about anything other than exactly what it seems.

Surely it can't be that bad - whatever it is he might want to talk about here - if he can smile at her like that? Her mom never had a warmth to her smile, generally speaking, if Laura Cunningham was smiling it was a forced or fake smile that she put on for show. And in private if she was smiling it was even worse; Chrissy can remember the almost cruel glint behind her mother's eyes before some necessary truth would come out of her mouth. And even though the teenager knows it's cruelty...it's a mom's job to tell their kid the hard stuff, right? Who else was going to teach Chrissy that she had to be perfect or nobody would love her? Who else would have been so honest about how fat she continually looked in her uniform?

The answer is nobody because nobody else ever, really, said anything - so mom was right, right?

That doesn't make it feel any better, though. And if Chrissy is being real with herself she already prefers living here with Eddie - and spending the rest of her time with Eddie Munson. That's not important, though. Sitting back with her back against the sofa, Chrissy rests her hands in her lap with her legs arranged prim and proper. She's not really prepared for the older man's question, though. there's a moment before he finishes his question that Chrissy feels the urge to immediately reassure the newfound...and very quickly edging into a paternal figure that she's fine and there's nothing to worry about.

It'd be a lie, but it's a lie she has to give, right? You don't tell the truth when someone asks about difficult events....or the way you keep your weight from ballooning you into an elephant. She can't quite help the way that she wrings her hands in her lap - missing a sleeve to actually have something to touch at the moment. She looks very much the deer in the headlights that she feels like she is. "I'm fine - I'm okay - there's nothing to worry about, I have it all under control." There's a moment of panic and an edge of desperation to her voice that is all because of the panic that is bubbling up. She can remember the way her throat felt raw when she'd snapped at that little redhead girl in the bathroom at school.

She can feel her heart pumping just like it did then. "It's no big deal - I'm sorry that I worried you, I'm not sick. Or contagious. Or anything." Chrissy tries to smooth over her words, speaking a little quicker than normal - a part of her definitely correcting to a degree as her brain scrambles to make this better, to not be weird or thrown off and put on a spotlight. There's a moment in her head where she can't help but wonder why he couldn't just ignore it and say nothing like her dad does - why did he have to say something?

"It just...it's something that happens sometimes, something I do - it just...it helps me keep my weight down. I promise there's nothing to worry about. I don't do it all the time...." Scramble. Lies. Why wasn't she quieter? Why did he have to hear? Is he mad? Her dad never said anything why is he? Is he going to kick her out or ask her to leave? Does he think less of her because she's not perfect?

Chrissy's body language speaks volumes before a single word passes her lips. She starts to fidget and wring her hands. It's weird to witness his own nervous tics manifesting themselves before him in the form of a teenage girl. Her deer-in-headlights expression breaks his heart because he knows he's right about her purging. ...and his face falls when she all but confirms it out loud, copping to the fact that she's not sick and she has it under control.

"Oh, Chrissy..." he moans quietly — not pitying, but crushed on her behalf. Who hurt you? Was it your mother? Is that why they put you here with me...because we have something so terribly specific in common? he finds himself wondering as he deflates a little. The nervous bounce in his knee starts to settle down to something more akin to a twitch.

Eddie scrubs an open hand over his jaw, closing it in front of his face and settling his lips against his thumb as he grapples for a path forward. If she's going to the extreme of forcing herself to regurgitate entire meals to keep her weight down, then neither direction he can think to take would be good. If she isn't paranoid that someone is noticing her body because he tells her she's perfect just the way she is, then she's likely to feel awkward that he knows such an ugly secret.

Of course, there's also the option that him worrying over someone he's only known for a couple of weeks will feel offensive or inappropriate or, worst of all, smothering. The last thing he would ever want to do to someone — especially Chrissy — is something Mommy or, if he's honest, Myra would do to him.

No matter what he says right now, she's going to make things worse because there's no way to make it better.

"Chrissy, that's so dangerous..." he finally finishes sadly. When he finally looks back up at her, his expression is torn between sympathy for her position and shattered to hear her confirm in exactly so many words how she's hurting herself. ...and he fucking waited to address it. "You could really hurt yourself." Or kill yourself, he thinks miserably.

Edited 2022-08-13 04:10 (UTC)

"Please don't look at me like that...." Comes tumbling from Chrissy's mouth before she can stop it. She shouldn't have said it. She shouldn't have said anything. Why didn't she just tell him she'd been feeling sick? Or maybe she should have told him she might be pregnant - no that's stupid. She can't lie about something like that, it's not right. And it probably would make her look just as bad according to her mother. And having that added element on top of things would only make it worse. and it already feels bad enough.

She can feel her stomach churning, practically up into her chest.

"It's really not that bad, Eddie, I'm okay and it's not that bad or that serious you don't have to worry about me or anything." There's a desperation that Chrissy is trying to will out of her voice trying to think of what the right thing to do or say here is. "It's just a little puke every now and then and my mom, she knew about it, and was fine with it." Why did she say that? Chrissy lifts her hand to her face, scrubbing it down as she winds up leaning forward, her elbows hitting her knees - it only helps the discomfort settling in her stomach ever so slightly. The regret is pretty clearly written on her face, but she can't take it back once it's already tumbled out.

Lying makes her stomach hurt. Lying makes her feel bad. But she feels like she lies all the time. She's so far from the perfect that she's supposed to be and this just drives it home. "It's just something dancers have to do, and cheerleaders - not all of us can keep the weight off as easily...and the costumes and the uniforms have to fit or you're the fat cheerleader who can't be lifted. It's just a part of it." Every time she opens her mouth Chrissy feels like Laura's voice is coming out and yet she can't stop it from spilling out. No matter how awful each word makes her feel, or how scared she is about where this is going or his reaction.

"I'm sorry for scaring you and worrying you - but you don't have to..."

Eddie stares back at her, just this side of goggling in shock when she tells him that her mother not only knew about it, but was fine with it. And then something even harder hits him. She's just another victim of a fucked up mother

They're gazebos! They're bullshit!

who would rather sacrifice the health of her child to have attention for herself.

That realization is almost more overwhelming and nauseating than the fact that Chrissy is forcing up all of her meals before she can digest them. He raises both hands to his face, scrubbing from his forehead to his mouth, pausing to look at her with wide-eyes over his fingertips as he covers his slackened jaw.

The more Chrissy tries to talk herself out of the hole she's dug, the further back in time Eddie feels like he's falling.

Eddie, you can't...you're sick.

For a long moment after Chrissy's voice trails off, Eddie stares out over his fingertips no longer at her, but through her, backsliding to his thirteen-year-old self cradling an arm in a cast signed only once with an added strategic bit of graffiti from the Losers.

No. No, absolutely not. He's not going to let this happen again. He's not going to let another mother's vicious lies tear down another vulnerable teenage mind. Not when that mind belongs to such a sweet girl who deserves so much better. If he leaves this alone and Chrissy grows into adulthood believing all the bullshit — if she even lives that long doing what she's doing — then it'll be his fault when she winds up falling in love with someone who treats her exactly the same way her awful mother does.

No. Not on Eddie's watch. Not now, not ever again.

Suddenly, he takes in a quick, deep breath and lowers his hands from his face again. "Did I ever tell you I used to be severely asthmatic? When I was a kid, only a few years younger than you?"

Chrissy is probably minutes from a full-blown panic. Minutes from needing to go hide in the bathroom as she stares at the man in the recliner waiting for him to accept her words. Surely he'll just accept it? But what if he doesn't? What's going to happen if he doesn't? Why wasn't she quieter in the bathroom? Why wasn't she more careful?

Maybe she should have just asked for an apartment alone, but...Chrissy likes being around the older man. There's something comforting about having him around. She likes being where she is, but now she feels like it's all coming crumbling down. And she can feel the anxiety and the fear and all of the emotions building up and bubbling in her stomach as she stares at her roommate. But when he finally speaks she's not prepared for the question and she feels a moment, a second, of her body wanting to relax. He's changing the subject, right? That means that it's changing.

"No, I don't...I don't remember you ever saying that." Chrissy says, slightly confused and continuing to lean forward the way that she is, only lifting up slightly. "But you said you used to be - how did they fix it? I thought if you had asthma you had it forever?" Chrissy asks wide-eyed, praying that this means he's moving on, maybe he's forgetting, or maybe he can make a bargain or compromise.

Eddie's falling back through time again and a soft, mirthless laugh escapes him when she points out that asthma is forever. "It is. You can't grow out of asthma. It doesn't just go away," he answers, eyes having shifted to look back into the distant past again for a moment before turning back to Chrissy.

He realizes that'll sound cryptic so he doesn't leave it hanging for too long. "My mother told me, my whole childhood, that I was sick. I had asthma so there were things I just couldn't do like other children. I shouldn't be outside playing; I'd get hurt, and I was fragile. I was so fucking fragile," he says, shaking his head and looking down.

"You know, when your mother is the only relationship you really have with a parent, sometimes it gets really hard to see the trees from the forest and you have to have someone on the outside show you what you're missing. I was never sick. I was never fragile. There was never anything wrong with me at all, she just told me over and over and over until she made me believe it."

Eddie pauses again and looks back at Chrissy, dragging himself back to the present. "Can you relate to any of that...?" he asks her gently.

"Why would she do that?" Tumbles from Chrissy's mouth before she can help it. She, genuinely, had no idea where Eddie was headed with this line of question. She's off-put by it, to a degree. Because that initial hope that it was just him dropping it is so unlikely, so unrealistic...even ifs he's not very smart she knows it's too much to hope for....it can't be that easy. God, she really wants it to be that easy.

She doesn't know what the alternative is - or how she can deal with it. How do they move forward from here with Eddie knowing? Is there a way to given he's already worried and she really doesn't want to worry and scare him? She doesn't know and there's a panic attached to that.

And even though her mom didn't tell her she was sick it's...a little scary thinking about the fact that her dad being so quiet and not caring about any of it did kind of make her the only parent. She's pretty sure that her dad never did see her. Or maybe he did and he just didn't care enough. Was it because she wasn't perfect enough no matter how hard Laura tried? Chrissy feels confused and torn as she practically hugs her knees to her chest in the bent forward position that she's in.

"But my mom isn't telling me I'm sick..." Her natural inclination is to find differences, not think about the fact that her mom is the only real one who has ever told her she's a disgusting, fat pig. "She's just...I know that maybe she sounds bad to you, but she loves me! She doesn't want me to get fat and screw up cheerleading or dance or being too big to keep a boyfriend." Chrissy can feel it getting harder to say, her voice getting more raw, and growing ever so slightly more shrill with an edge that she wishes she could will away, especially as she feels the sting at her eyes and the back of her throat - emotion battling with panic.

"Moms are supposed to be the person you can trust to tell you the truth and want the best for you...." Chrissy says, desperately - struggling not to fight to hold onto everything that she's known.

Eddie shrugs in a non-answer to her blurted-out question. Truthfully, he doesn't really know why Mommy did the things she did. "It was always just me and her. I think it was her way of keeping me close so she wouldn't be alone," he replies. That's as good an explanation as any that he can come up with.

His heart hurts as the teenager in front of him curls into herself like she's trying to shield herself from his words, the realization of what he's trying to suggest, or maybe just what she's feeling hearing something so vulnerable about a grown-ass man.

Frowning slightly, Eddie shakes his head. "I'm not saying she doesn't love you, Chrissy. I know my mom loved me. I'm sure your mom loved you, too," he says, forgetting that he's much more used to using the past tense to refer to people in the life he had before Eglaf than Chrissy probably is. "That's not what I'm saying. But moms are people, too. They make mistakes and they say and do some stupid shit. Sometimes they say or do mean, awful things, but they don't always mean it to do the harm it actually does."

He takes a deep breath and looks down at his hands again, fingers moving back to the ring. Eddie sighs the breath out. "And if you let your mother's mistakes shape you, you're going to end up like me, marrying someone who treats you exactly the same way and the cycle never ends."

Eddie's eyes shift back up to meet Chrissy's face. "You're not fat, sweetheart, you're wasting away. You are a beautiful girl and if some guy doesn't want to be with you because he thinks you're fat...then he's a fucking asshole and you're better off without him, you hear me?

"You are perfect exactly the way you are. I don't care what your mom said. I don't care what your friends back home might've said, or what Jason might've said. You are perfect. Don't you dare let anybody ever tell you anything different, Chrissy Cunningham."

Chrissy just has no idea what it is she should be saying right now. She feels like she can pick apart little differences, but when it boils down to it - most of the time - it was just her and her mom. She can see the similarities even though they aren't the same. Chrissy never thought she was sick. Chrissy just knows that she's so...imperfect, but she has to do everything possible to not be. "That seems....sad and wrong."

Is the only thing Chrissy can come up with in response. It seems to be such a lackluster response to what Eddie is saying that it feels sad. It feels like she's letting him down. It feels like she's messing up. Just like always.

"But it's not just me and my mom - I have a brother and my dad....it...it's different than you and your mom." It finally pours out in desperation to try and not let what he's saying sink in. It's just...hard. She's not stupid....or maybe she is. Maybe she is stupid because she's always screwing up on her diet or needing her uniform let out and then there's the fact that she can't even hold it together now and figure out if what Eddie is saying is kind of right. It takes a moment for what he's saying to penetrate through those thoughts, though, as she registers that Eddie married someone like his mother. "You married someone like your mom - who tells you you're sick? Is that....is that why you don't talk about her?"

Chrissy sits up ever so slightly, pulling away from her knees and legs, but not fully upright.

"I know you're just saying that - you didn't see how my cheerleading uniform didn't fit...you don't know what it's like to be a girl or to need to be light and to have to be small to dance." Chrissy repeats the familiar words, but finds herself shifting forward back into her legs even as she does - her stomach churning. "Girls only get anywhere when they're thin and pretty...or smart...and I'm not smart, Eddie." Chrissy looks down, almost as if she's admitting a sin.

"If I were perfect the way I am it wouldn't be so hard or confusing!" She snaps, tears starting to leak from the corners of her eyes, fat droplets fueled by all of the pain she's been holding in for so long. But there's not much she can do about it because how can she change when this is who she is? And it's the way things have to be. "It's hard to be perfect and I'm always failing!" Chrissy lets out a sob before burying her face against her knees, hands moving to cover her face.

"It's not exactly the same, I know," he agrees, remembering her mentioning her other family members in passing when they'd been talking. The tone in his voice suggests that he's silently asking her to consider whether there are still some similarities between them, regardless of that.

He sighs softly as Chrissy pushes back, shaking his head. "Chrissy...you are thin and pretty and smart, whether you realize it or not and—"

But he doesn't finish the sentence, stopping abruptly when he realizes she's started to cry.

Eddie gets to his feet and moves to sit beside her on the couch, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder and creases his brow with concern. He wants to hug her but he doesn't know whether it would be comforting to her at all, so he doesn't. He just leaves his hand on her shoulder and gives it a little squeeze.

"Hey...hey..." he soothes quietly, frowning. "Listen, I'm sorry I upset you. I just...I care about you, kiddo. I don't want you to keep hurting yourself. I couldn't live with myself if you did and something really bad happened to you. I really couldn't."

Chrissy can't decide if the weight of Eddie's hand is comforting or if it's crushing. There are so many conflicting emotions in her head, in her body right now. Her bones feel weary, her stomach feels like it's on fire and churning with the need to barf that flame up and purge everything. There's a part of her that wants to purge this feeling, this conversation - and wipe the slate clean and have the one adult that has been blanket kind to her think she's a stupid mess.

Not only does he think she's a stupid mess, but he knows and that's somehow worse.

And maybe that should be a sign to the teenager that what she's doing is wrong, and somewhere inside she knows it. But the voice of Laura Cunningham is right there in the back of her head - maybe it's a sign of just how crazy she is. Chrissy had been trying to avoid feeling as if she were, thinking that she is, since arriving in Eglaf, but the fear had just been simmering beneath the surface untouched until this moment....because why is she fighting back right now other than she can practically feel her mother's breath brushing her ear as her voice tells her that she's an ugly pig who needs to go a size up or let her clothes out before the burst at the seams.

She's never going to have a husband or a family with this much fat on her.

Squeezing her eyes shut Chrissy doesn't actually manage to think through what she's doing as she lifts up enough to launch herself at Eddie, throwing her arms around his midsection and hugging him, her face against his shoulder as she chokes back a sob. "It's....it's not you...not your fault." Chrissy defends him, to himself, automatically. She cares about him. She likes him. She's felt safe here, oddly enough, with him. It's been...more relaxing and comfortable than it ever had at home.

There are so many things she, in some place in her mind, should realize but it's hard to grasp at those dangling threads as she thinks about how her mom would hate Eddie - both Eddies. But she doesn't. Not even a little bit. "I have to do it, though....it's..." She doesn't want to say it. It'll change everything. She's terrified of admitting it - even as the hot tears spill over her lashes and cheeks, seeping into Eddie's shirt. "It's her voice....if I don't....I can't stop...or I'll keep hearing what she'd say. How fat I am. How worthless....how ugly....h-h-how screwed up I am." Chrissy sobs, hiding her face from the man she's latched onto because she's already ashamed of the words spilling out.

She's going to have to move after this outburst or something. She's never going to be able to look at her the same. He's really seeing how damaged she is now.

"I'm....god....I'm so fucked up I got myself killed!"

For a moment, she doesn't say or do anything and he's terrified that he's just completely alienated her when she's already vulnerable enough as it is. The last thing she needs is one of the small handful of people with whom she keeps company making her feel uncomfortable, in her own home, no less.

But then, before he can fully process it, she's circled him in her arms, hugging him and crying into his shoulder. It takes his brain a second to catch up, so his reaction is delayed, but he hugs her back because she obviously needs it and he's glad that she's okay with him giving her that physical comfort.

His eyes close and he sighs, shaking his head at the ceiling as she insists that she has to or she'll "hear her voice" berating her and all he can think, angrily, is that the one woman in the entire world who should've been willing to give anything to make Chrissy happy made her feel worthless, weak, and unlovable. ...just like Eddie's mother had done to him all those years ago.

The way she clings to him as she cries, her voice muffled against the shirt he can feel her tears wetting straight through to his skin, tells him that she's not ready to look at him again, so instead of trying to get her to do so, Eddie just cradles the back of her head with one hand and rubs her back in slow circles with the other.

"You are not fat, or worthless, or ugly," he assures her gently. "And I'm so sorry that your mother made you feel like you were any of those things. And I know how hard it is to break free of that voice, believe me...I'm a fucking professional by now, but it took a lot of work and support from people who love me...and if I, the most neurotic person you'll ever meet, can do it...then I know you can, too," he promises softly. "And whatever you need from me to help you get there, whether that's help finding a specialist who can treat you or if it's just holding you accountable when I catch you if you backslide, or if you...fucking...I don't know, want me to sign up for a kickboxing or fucking hippy yoga class with you so that you can introduce a new outlet for keeping your weight in check and channeling your upset, then I'll do it. ...I just want you to get better."

Eddie gives her a gentle squeeze before resuming the hopefully calming circular rubbing of her back as he hugs her, tilting his head to rest his cheek against the crown of her head. "We're all fucked up. Some of us got ourselves killed because of it; some of us just died and it's easier to blame that, but either way, you're in good company. You're not allowed to blame yourself for your own death. Even if it was 100% your fault, that's an automatic Get Out of Jail Free card, if you ask me. That was that life. This is this one."

"But that's how I feel." Chrissy's voice is an effort to push out, her throat feeling raw - and the shame written on her face, and coloring her tongue as she forces herself to say the words. Why is she doing this to herself? She could just run. She could just leave. She doesn't have to be here. She has a get-out-of-apartment-free card at any point, but she doesn't want to lose more people at the same time. "I hate myself - and I hate myself even more for telling you this and just....for all of it." Chrissy spits out, raw emotion and truth spilling from her lips.

These are things that she never could say to her mother. She can imagine the mocking response she'd get back. If she can't love herself how will anybody else ever love her? If she takes care of herself, stays thin, makes herself pretty...that'll do the trick. That and a little bit of makeup is all she needs after a trip to the bathroom to purge every piece of food she's eaten and feeling in her body along with it.

"I don't know how to turn it off...I don't know how to stop...and I don't want to put you out or bother you or scare you. I don't want to screw up your life and waste your time because I'm such a mess." Chrissy squeezes her eyes shut, wondering if maybe she should ask her Eddie, the one from home, if he's found any drugs here. Maybe she was on the right track all along with how to turn it all off? "I can't ask all that from you - it'll get old....and you don't deserve to have to go through my stuff."

Chrissy finds herself speaking, only half thinking through what she's saying in her damn near inconsolable state.

"You'll see me differently after a while and you'll stop caring and liking me..." If nothing else, though, the sobs are calming even if her panic, her words, her emotions are still high. And she's still hiding. "I think I'm more fucked up than everyone else that came through here, though. I wanted to die, Eddie.... I didn't want to be like this anymore. And I was going to try and stop feeling with drugs and...I don't know how to leave it behind. I don't know how to start over - who am I if I do that?"

The question make sit so clear, even as Chrissy holds on a little tighter, that she doesn't know who she is - and the thought terrifies her.

"I know it is, sweetheart," he sighs sadly; knowingly. He knows because he's been there. And the worst part is that there's nothing he can really do to help her except be supportive in whatever way she needs that he can manage. He gives her another gentle squeeze that he hopes is reassuring or comforting.

His hand on her back slows to a stop. "Please don't hate yourself for telling me. Everybody needs someone that they can talk to about the fucked up parts of themselves. Chrissy, I'm really glad you felt comfortable enough for that person to be me, okay? Don't be upset. You're not putting me out." Worrying him, yes. "And you can't just turn it off, but there are professionals who can help you. I will make sure you get that help if you want it. But you have to want it or it's not going to change," he points out. "And it's going to be hard work and it'll take a long time, but we have to figure out something because here's the thing: most people get to have one shot at life. We get two, and if you keep doing that...you're going to blow it. Your body can only take so much abuse, you know?"

He wants to pull away from her so that he can look her in the eye when he responds and show her how much he means it, but she clings tighter and he has a feeling she's doing that for a reason.

"I will never stop caring about you or liking you. Can I tell you a secret, Chrissy?" he asks and only waits a moment for her to answer before going on. "My wife and I tried to have children for years, but I don't have any because I can't have kids. I just physically...it's complicated and convoluted and a long story. Needless to say, I've wanted kids my whole adult life and I can never have one. ...so if you think I'm going to be scared away from the closest I'll ever get to it because you're a little fucked up, you're sorely mistaken.

"Okay? So don't worry about me. But if you want help working through the throwing up and trying to untangle who you really are under all the trauma...just say the word and first thing tomorrow morning, I'll start making phone calls to find you the best eating disorder specialists and therapists in the state."

"What if it's impossible, though? What if I'm too far gone to help?" Chrissy asks - her voice small as she thinks about Vecna - about what got his attention on her. She didn't want to be here anymore, didn't want to do this, along with so many other awful and terrible feelings, that she hasn't just gotten rid of. Sure, she's not haunted by a grandfather clock or the disgusting monster - or the hallucinations. AT least some of them. Her mother's voice is still there even if the visage morphing into the monster isn't anymore. "Even with spilling my guts to you - what if I'm just ruined?"

Chrissy's eyes well up with tears again. What if she don't deserve the second chance here continues to play in her brain. Chrissy manages to pull away, but only barely, her face splotchy and pale. "I don't want to let you down after dragging you into this - I....I have never been able to tell anyone about all of this." Chrissy finishes lamely, not quite realizing that even though she's let go, she's got a hold of Eddie's arm now instead as the tears gather and slowly spill down her cheeks. "I don't want to keep....doing this - failing and feeling like this and hiding, but I'm scared. I half want to run from you...how am I supposed to tell a professional or anybody else?"

Though it's a moment too late Chrissy does realize that Eddie said we, not she. So she's half distracted as she nods permission to tell her, just managing to give Eddie her attention as she lets go of his arm with one hand to wipe at her eyes and nose.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." Chrissy says, sniffling as she squeezes his arm. There's a beat as she processes this information. Processes that he sees her as the closest thing he would have to a kid and...she can't decide if she's horrified because she's the worst daughter ever or if she's touched that he cares about her that much. "I'm not a very good example of what a kid should be....but you'd make a really good dad, you know...maybe you should adopt?" Chrissy offers, already thinking about how she could leave and her room could be for Eddie's kid - though she's not sure where the slight jealousy bubbling up is coming from. She knows he deserves better. And half of that is probably visible on her face as she avoids his face again. "I think you know me better than mine does already, and I like being around you more than I like my dad because you listen and I feel safe around you and like you care...you deserve a good kid without so many problems and baggage, though, but I'm really touched that you'd think of me that way. I would have been way different if I'd had you as a dad."

Chrissy looks down - almost wishing she could go back and pick her parent, or parents. She barely gets through those words, the emotion thick in her voice and climbing again at the thought of what could have been. How she could have been so much less screwed up.

"Do I have to tell everyone if I get help? I don't...I don't want them to think differently of me or lose them...."

Shaking his head, Eddie gives her a small smile that she can't see. "You're not ruined and you're not too far gone. It's not going to be easy or fast, but you can heal. I'm still healing. But if you put the work in, you'll get there, eventually," he assures her. He's convinced that if he's where he is, she'll be able to manage it even faster.

Once she looks up, Eddie gives her another small smile. "You tell them slowly, at your own pace, when you feel like you can, that's how." He reaches to thumb away a couple of her tears. "And you won't be letting me down. I think maybe your first step would be, like mine was, to stop worrying so much about other people and start putting yourself first. That was the hardest for me and it's still a little bit of a work in progress, but I believe in both of us."

Hearing her talk down to herself all the time like that is so difficult. He has no idea how to help her stop doing that; it's not his area or, really, his place, but it hurts his heart to hear her put herself down. And then, she goes on to finish her thought and that hurts his heart even more, somehow. "Shit, Chrissy, come here..." he says, frowning sympathetically and pulling her in for another hug. "Who needs a kid with no baggage or problems? I'd just fuck it up, anyway," he says with a little laugh, an attempt to inject a little bit of levity.

Eddie gives her a gentle squeeze and lets go again to look back at her. "Hey...you don't have to tell anyone anything that you don't want to tell them. Nobody's going to make you. Least of all me."

There's still fear written all over Chrissy's face. She doesn't know how exactly to process the idea of changing. It doesn't mean that she doesn't want to. It doesn't mean she does want to. But she thinks she does - it's just hard to think about giving up everything she knows to be and do something different from how you've always done things. Chrissy isn't entirely sure who she'll be if she manages to change this as if it is what she is all about somehow. And that's sad but somehow true...considering it's dictated her entire life for so long.

Sniffing, Chrissy really is trying to get control over herself - her face she's sure is covered in pink splotches. One good thing about her existence right now is that she's not wearing any makeup. Or maybe it's not a good thing considering it's because she's been hiding beneath the baggy items and avoiding the effort. It's a moment before Chrissy looks up at Eddie, lifting slightly from her bend and wiping at her nose and eyes. "I don't... I don't want to be alone, though. If I do that... if I don't care or put other people first... I'll wind up alone." There's no real truth to it, but Chrissy doesn't realize that. She doesn't realize that caring about other people and putting them first doesn't keep them around, it's clear that she's convinced it does, though.

The cheerleader accepts the hug, sort of needing it as she latches onto Eddie, resting her cheek against his shoulder, unable to think of the last time her dad held her or tried to comfort her. It has to have been back when she was small. And despite that realization, Chrissy finds herself smiling, however light it might be. "I don't know about that." She responds softly, unable to imagine Eddie letting her mother speak to her the way that she always has. There's a part of her that kind of wishes he had been her dad, truly. What would life have been like?

Pulling back, Chrissy looks down and reaches to wipe her eyes and nose again, shaking slightly - though it's a toss-up if it's because of her emotions or the fact that she hasn't eaten, honestly. "I don't want them to think of me differently...or to lose any of them. I don't know what I'd have done here without you and Lydia and Eddie and Klaus and the people who have been kind to me. I'll disappoint them if they know."

Eddie shakes his head. "You absolutely will not wind up alone if you put yourself first once in a while. You don't have to do it so often that you turn into an asshole about it or anything, but if you never put yourself first, you're just going to attract shitty people. Trust me...I'm old and I speak from experience," he points out.

Chrissy accepts the hug and Eddie gives her an affectionate little squeeze before rubbing her back gently when he feels her face press against his shoulder. The ease with which she accepts his hugs and lets herself truly appreciate them makes him wonder just how starved for affection this poor kid really is. Her parents are garbage, he thinks bitterly, and yet they have this beautiful sweet daughter they don't deserve while he and Myra had nothing. Bill and Audra have none. Stanley and Patty had none. Eddie still has no children, not really. It's not fair, it really isn't. Not to kids like Chrissy and not to the Losers who wanted so badly to be parents.

When she pulls back, Eddie releases her so she can draw back all the way and he gives her a sad smile. "I don't think you'd disappoint them and I don't think you'd lose them, not if they're really your friends, but I also understand not wanting to share it with them. You don't have to. You never have to, if you never want to. ...but maybe pick one you feel comfortable with, at some point when you're ready, and share the burden. You'd be surprised how much easier it is to deal with the struggle when you share it and you'd be even more surprised how willing and happy the people who love you will be to take it on to ease your pain."

He pauses for a moment before going on, deciding to share a little with her so that she'll understand that he's not just shooting in the dark with that advice. "When I was a little younger than you, I had the Losers. ...well, my friends. We called ourselves the Losers Club as kind of a joke and it stuck. Richie was one of them," he explains. "Well, when we were twelve, my friend Bill's kid brother was murdered. Big Bill took it really hard because he loved the hell out of Georgie, he really fucking did, and his parents, in their grief, they just...kinda checked out on him. Back then, it was just me, him, and Richie, and kinda Stan when he wasn't at temple, but shortly thereafter, we met the new kid, Ben, and then Beverly, and finally Mike...and I think that because Bill told all of us, over time, what happened to George, he finally had the support system he needed."

He doesn't tell her, right now, about what that support system ended up having to be for or how horrific that fucking summer really was, but he doesn't need to; that isn't the point. He just needs her to understand that sometimes, it's okay to share the load with the people who love you the most.

"And, if you still don't want to tell any of them, well...you've got me, and I'll never tell anybody," he promises with a small smile. "...can you promise me, in return, to at least try not to throw up everything you eat? I know it feels like you have to, but is gaining a couple of pounds you could lose by going to the gym or taking a run on the beach really worth the damage all that stomach acid can do to your esophagus and teeth? Did you know that it can make your teeth fall out? Literally, just fall right out?"

He hadn't, at least not until he'd Googled bulimia for a better understanding of what he was going to be facing, exactly.

"Do you think my friends here are shitty people?" Chrissy asks - genuinely - as her wide eyes set themselves on his face, on Eddie. There's a part of her that feels like somehow calling him her roommate isn't quite right sometimes because it's not like they just coexist together. She's pretty sure average roommates don't care about eating disorders or tragedy, they just want to coexist, right? Or maybe she's overthinking it. What does she know, right?

Chrissy considers the people in her life. Eddie Munson - her attempted savior. The person that makes her feel safe and lighter. Lydia - her new friend thanks to Eddie - someone that she wishes she weren't always saying the wrong things around because she's so smart and nice. Klaus - kind and quirky and unapologetically himself and encouraging of everyone else to do the same. None of them seem shitty, but they somehow seem to all be too good for her. Then there's Steve and other familiar names that she hasn't quite branched out to yet because it's...harder and yet easier here somehow wrapped up in one.

Maybe she could trust any of them, but would she be okay with them seeing her ugly?

The idea of Eddie Munson looking at her with pity instead of light and that grin of his is almost enough to make Chrissy want to hide. She's pulled from that thought, that fear, by Eddie's story, blinking a little sad for Eddie and his friend. "It sounds like you and your friend Bill didn't have a very good time growing up... maybe I could try with Lydia or Klaus....or Steve or somebody." She considers, purposefully leaving Eddie Munson off of the list, but it causes a question to spill from her lips before she can take it back, looking up at Eddie in earnest. "What about your wife? Did she see you differently when you told her about your mom? Is she part of your support system since you're still...working on it and everything?"

Would Jason have seen her differently? Would Eddie now that they're both here if she decided to tell him too? She only gets pulled out of that through the process by her roommate's request, her hand going up to her mouth almost subconsciously.

"I'll try... it can ruin my teeth?" She asks innocently. "Even though I brush them...." Maybe she should know this, but she doesn't. There are so many things that she doesn't, that Laura Cunningham never told her and it feels like they're constantly smacking her in the face now that she's away from her and not shielded from everything but her mother's hatred.

Shaking his head, Eddie is already trying to figure out how to explain why it's different in a way someone other than him will understand before Chrissy even finishes the question. "No, I don't think they're shitty. I think you've met most of them in the middle of a situation that sort of forces you to put yourself first; showing up in this place and having to navigate not only a new city and state but an entirely new millennium as far as time goes."

A soft huff of mirthless laughter escapes Eddie at Chrissy's observation. "You don't know the half of it, kiddo, and you never will if you want to avoid a special brand of hellish nightmares," he sighs. It's interesting to him that she leaves the one person she appears, to him anyway, to be closest to in this place, the other Eddie.

Then she hits him with that question and her innocent little doe eyes feel like a stab in the back with their stark contrasts to one another. his fingers move reflexively to spin his ring again. It's become a nervous tick more than a reassuring one.

"Myra knew my mother for a while before she died, so I didn't have to tell her. As far as I'm fucking concerned, she might as well have taken notes on how to be my mother," he mutters a little bitterly before he can stop himself. "I didn't really have a support system, Chrissy. Not until I got here. And I know that sounds like a lie considering I just mentioned the Losers, but that's really complicated and confusing to explain. I'm confident they would've been my support system, if they'd remembered me. ...if I'd remembered them..."

He might sound a little distant when he mentions that, his thoughts wandering slightly into the realm of what could've been. It takes him a second to snap back into the present. "Like I said, it's complicated. But no, Marty's not part of my support system. She never was, which should've been enough for me to know that marrying her wasn't the smartest decision, but...it is what it is."

Eddie's expression is slightly grave when he answers her question. "Yeah, even though you brush them, you don't brush them the exact second after you vomit, so some of that stomach acid adheres to your teeth and even a few minutes is long enough for it to start to decay the enamel. It might take years or even decades before it does enough damage to make them fall out, but it can happen. It can mess up your salivary glands which can make your face swollen and puffy. Your hair can start to fall out, you can get dry skin...if you ever want kids, you could cause damage to your reproductive system and cause problems for the baby if you're doing it while you're pregnant. It can make you depressed, faint, tired... Yeah, it can really fuck you up, Chrissy, that's why I wanted to talk to you about it. It's not just about getting rid of the stuff that you worry could make you fat, it can really fuck up your body in the process..."

There's a lot to process, but seeing how... lost and sad Eddie looks, Chrissy can't help but reach over and give his forearm a squeeze. She didn't think that someone like him, someone older and smarter, could understand anything about where she's coming from - what she's been through. His mother and his wife don't sound like her's. They sound like the opposite in all the worst ways, actually. And Chrissy can't help but wonder if maybe that would have been easier to handle.

And then she feels bad for that considering how Eddie looks talking about this.

"I'm sorry, Eddie..." She squeezes, softly, trying to show him that she cares. "Why do you wear the ring - and stay married if you know that she's not really good for you?" Chrissy finds herself asking - not sure why Jason is popping into her mind right now, but there's his face. His gestures. Their 'perfection' flashing somewhere in the depths of her mind - and the knowledge that she couldn't talk to him about what she was going through. It's the opposite of Eddie's situation again. And there's a tug and pull between Jason and that thought process and the knowledge, and details, of what could happen to her.

Chrissy finds her hand going up to her mouth unbidden and then inching up to pet her hair feeling her heart hammer in her chest. Her mother had never been worried about what she was doing but Eddie's rattling off so many terrifying things she can't decide if he's trying to scare her or not. But she doesn't think he is. "Jesus...I'm in trouble...." Chrissy admits, shakily. "Why didn't she know all of this - she should have known, right? When she...when I started all of this and she knew she should have known that it could be bad, shouldn't she?"

Her question catches him off guard and his fingers still on the ring suddenly. "Why do people do anything they shouldn't be doing?" he asks her in response, looking down and shrugging. "I've been wearing this ring for fifteen years. I didn't divorce her, although I might've if I'd made it home alive...old habits are hard to break, Chrissy. You know that. I know you must."

Eddie looks up at her again and gives her a knowing look. "It wasn't a good marriage, I shouldn't have even married her, to begin with, but the way she treated me was what I was used to. I'm not proud of it, but...my therapist says that, uh...childhood trauma can shape us in really undesirable ways sometimes and I have childhood trauma to spare," he says, a mirthless laugh escaping him.

His expression shifts into something more sympathetic when he sees her reaction to his laundry list of things that could go wrong if she keeps doing what she's doing. He keeps to himself that some of the damage is already done. Eddie knows he shouldn't, but before he can stop himself, he's giving her mother the benefit of the doubt. "I don't know, maybe she didn't realize, like you didn't. I didn't know it," he confesses, "I looked it up to see if I should try to get you to a doctor, before I realized what exactly you were doing. That's how I learned."

Chrissy nods, quietly. Even now she's dreading trying to stop the routine that she has. And she doesn't know if she can do it. This entire conversation could be for nothing because the idea of stopping feels like it could rip everything she knows to shred and spit on it and she could save the effort by pretending none of this has been said or talked about. But there's a part of her that knows that problems don't disappear like that.

And she really doesn't like the sound of all the things that could go wrong because of it.

"Did your mom like your wife?" Chrissy finds herself asking, again, thinking about just how much her mother adores Jason and his grand, perfect gestures - and the pretty image that the two of them create being a couple. It's everything that Laura could have ever wanted - for Chrissy and herself. There are pieces of her own life coming into place now, with a light shone on them that has her questioning all of her choices. The only one that she made for herself was reaching out to Eddie - and feeling safe with him, trusting to buy drugs from him. And while that was questionable... the reason was pretty awful even if out of character.

"Maybe - or maybe she didn't care because it was more important to be perfect." Chrissy responds, looking down and feeling a little lost as to how she should feel, or wants to feel, or what she should let herself feel right now. "Or maybe back then they didn't know as much as now." Chrissy adds on, shrugging and sagging under the weight of not really knowing - and she never will. "I don't know how to feel, but I don't want my teeth or my hair to fall out or...any of that, Eddie, I know that. I want... I want your help. I want to get help, please... ?" She looks up at him - for permission? For reassurance? For acknowledgment? She's not sure.

But right now she's scared... again, and not because of the monster attacking her but the one that raised her, the one whose voice is still in her head even after death.

Eddie has to pause to consider how to answer her question because it's not so black and white. It's a lot more complicated than a simple yes or no. "Sometimes," he finally says. "She liked Marty a lot most of the time. Not at first, but I think that was because she knew I was going to leave her. But once she realized Myra was going to be the same as she was, I think, that's maybe when she warmed up to my wife."

This time, Eddie is the one to reach out, drawing her into a hug. "Yes. We'll get you help, then. If you want to do the work, I'll make sure you have the best professionals in the country to help you and I'll be there to support you the whole way through."

He releases her only to look her in the eye and nod so that she knows he means it. "I'm going to help you, Chrissy. I don't want any of those things to happen to you, either. Okay, kiddo? Anything you need. I'll start making calls in the morning and we'll find you a specialist."

Chrissy finds herself frowning, even though she doesn't necessarily mean to. But with the light shed on so many different elements of her life now Chrissy can't help but frown thinking about how her mother made every decision for her. And none of them were really that good for her. Was Jason one of them? Chrissy can't help but find herself wondering as she looks at her life through some of her newfound realizations.

He probably was.

Chrissy drops the subject, not sure if she can think about it right now, not with everything else already on her mind. Leaning into the hug, Chrissy hugs the older man back, not feeling very strong at the moment. Though she realizes that for the moment she's managed to wait it out - and she doesn't feel sick anymore. "I want to." She repeats again. Is she trying to convince him or her? She's not sure but she knows that she wants this. She doesn't want any of those awful things to happen to her and she doesn't want to be stuck with her mother's voice in her mind playing over what she'd say constantly like she does now.

"Okay." Chrissy nods, taking in a shaky breath and sniffling. "I just... want to stop thinking about what she'd say, to stop feeling this way. Eddie... thank you. I don't think I could do this alone." Chrissy takes a moment after his name, not sure what she's going to say until it comes out and she knows... it's true.

If he weren't doing this she wouldn't be ready, wouldn't be doing it. She's not sure if she is ready but she wants to be. She wants to try. It won't be easy but she finds herself reminding herself internally of the list of things that what she's doing can cause and if she keeps reminding herself of those things maybe she can fight for it even if she screws up along the way.

She can't live like this.

Eddie gives her a soft smile as he releases her and nods. "Okay, then let's figure it out and get you the help you need. I'll take care of it," he promises her in a warm, sincere tone.

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a huffing sigh, nodding again. "Yeah, I know that feeling. That's going to take longer and it's going to be a lot of thought work, but we'll get you someone that can help with the eating disorder and the trauma. They can guide you through the steps it'll take to get you to a point where you don't have to worry about what she might think anymore. You don't need to, obviously, but it's never as easy as just knowing that. You have to teach yourself to feel it, too." Eddie gives his roommate a sad, but understanding smile. "You're welcome, Chrissy. You'll never have to, so don't worry about that."

With a small smile, Eddie gives her bicep a soft squeeze that he hopes is reassuring before he pushes himself to his feet. "I hope I didn't completely ruin the rest of your day with this, but..." his voice trails off because what else is there to say? He's already said it. He doesn't want her to end up killing herself doing this shit to please a person she'll probably never see again. She can't keep living like that.

Chrissy doesn't know that she understands what thought work is. She hasn't had real therapy. She's gone to a guidance counselor, but even that was only because of what was going on with Vecna and it didn't help... in fact it drove her right into Eddie Munson's trailer to try and shut everything off and down with drugs. She's not sure what, if anything, that says about her but Chrissy, in this instance, can only trust the people in her life that she's managed to surround herself with. They've all treated her better than her mother, especially Eddie Kaspbrak.

Nodding, the cheerleader lets out a heavy exhale - she doesn't know what this next will look like but at least she's not being abandoned, or berated.

"You didn't." Chrissy reassures Eddie, looking up at the soft squeeze on her arm. "It's okay, I'm okay -" Those are lies. Lies that she's sort of trained herself to tell because of her mother's encouragement. Or maybe they're Laura's lies. "I mean I'm not okay, but it's not your fault, you didn't ruin my day, is all. I think I just need to sit for a little while, but you didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not mad." Chrissy sits up to get up but finds herself a little listless as to where she wants to go, so she just stays where she is. settling back into the couch, pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch and over her body as she settles.

She's not ready to go see Eddie and Lydia, so she's just going to stay here for a little while.

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