Chapter Text
Eddie made his way down the street, guitar slung over his back, cord looped around his hips like a belt, and carrying his Pignose amp with one hand. The corner he liked to busk on was prime real estate; on the corner by a coffee shop to catch the evening college kids getting their fix, with a subway station to his left, all-night burger joint to his right, and a bar across the way. Depending on how the weather held up, he usually busked around seven to midnight. It wasn’t exactly a well paid gig, but nowhere else was willing to pay him for his music, so to the streets it was.
Settling in on the corner, not close enough to the coffee shop to be considered loitering, he plugged his guitar, adjusted the dials, and played a few test cords before addressing his audience: the people of Indianapolis who were doing their best to pretend as though he didn’t exist.
“Hello, New York,” Eddie joked. “Thank you all for coming out tonight, I’m gonna start with a fan favorite.”
Eddie warmed himself up with Hellion by Judas Priest, short, lyric-less, but absolutely killer guitar. He moved from there to Metallica, Dio, back to Judas Priest, and tossed a few of his own originals in here and there, but mainly covers. Across the way, the local religious kooks were handing out fliers as usual and preaching about saving one’s immortal soul before the impending end. According to the pamphlets Eddie had seen they were doomsday criers aptly named ‘The Final Chapter’ who believed the end was very near.
Eddie was more than familiar with their dirty looks as he sang his ‘devil-worship’ songs, but usually it was a middle aged woman in her forties buttoned up to the collar in hideous florals or a man in a worn-out suit with a beard that would make Gandalf jealous. Today it was a young man, somewhere in his early twenties with fluffy hair and a smile that belonged on the red carpet. A few of the college students who usually steered clear had actually risked getting the ‘are you going to heaven’ spiel just to talk to him. Dressed in khakis, a white button down, and a blue sweater, he looked like he had come straight from church… but otherwise he could have been a model.
Several patrons of the bar appeared to agree as it got later in the night and tried to strike up a conversation with him, even if it meant taking one of his pamphlets. He appeared to take it in stride, nodding and smiling along before sending them on their way. Despite the late hour, he was still there as Eddie put his guitar away, tucking the coins and few crumpled bills he had gotten into his pockets.
Crossing the street, Eddie headed for the bar, the Hidden Spoon… and got a closer look at the choir boy. If Eddie had bumped into him at the right venue, he would be hitting on him so fast it would make his head spin. He was built like he should have played for one of the local school sport’s teams, maybe he did, and classically handsome enough that his Sunday school get up wasn’t doing anything to deter the flirtation of drunk college girls.
“Any chance I can interest you in saving your immortal soul?” He asked as Eddie passed by, but the corners of his mouth were upturned like he knew it was a joke even as he said it.
“Can’t save what you don’t have, altar boy.” Eddie flashed devil horns at him, delighting in the way it made choir boy’s eyes widen.
Eddie stepped inside the bar, sidestepping other patrons, and making his way up to the counter. Jonathan, the bartender, nodded to him before returning his attention to his customer. Eddie had familiarized himself with most of the local bars, making sure they didn’t forget his face if they ever felt like coughing up a couple bucks for live entertainment. The Hidden Spoon was one of his preferred establishments considering they let him tack up a couple posters in his hunt for a drummer, bassist, perhaps a lead singer who could hit a couple more octaves than himself or another guitarist to keep him company.
Jonathan was a photography student at Butler, he had transferred in after two years at NYU when his little brother went missing. Originally he had come home on leave of absence, but when no leads turned up, he transferred to be closer to his mother who despite the fact that it was closing on a year since the kid disappeared hadn’t slowed her search in the slightest. There was always a poster of Will on the bulletin board in the back. Finished with his customer, Jonathan set a beer before him, and Eddie paid him with some of the crumpled bills he had earned.
“Hey, Johnny-boy, how’s it hanging?”
“Same old, same old.”
“Midterm season over?”
“Almost, got one more test on Thursday.”
“I’m sure you’ll ace it.”
Jonathan snorted. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Good night out there?”
“Well, no one tossed their gum into my case, so, yeah, pretty decent,” Eddie said.
Jonathan shook his head.
Eddie drummed his fingers against the counter. “Any chance the owner’s changed his mind?”
“No, but we could always use another bar back if you’re looking for, y’know, an actual job.”
“Low blow from the wannabe photographer. You heard what they say about glass houses, haven’t you?”
Jonathan held his hands up in surrender. Eddie took in the scene as Jonathan tended to other customers, looking around for familiar faces to share a beer or two with. It wasn’t close enough to any of the universities to truly be a college bar, but there were always a couple of students trying to kill their braincells, people going out after work, and a few old drunks here and there. The door opened and there was altar boy helping a drunk girl keep her feet under her.
“Okay, easy, alright, let’s find your friends, let ‘em know it’s time to head home, yeah?”
“M’fine,” she slurred.
“Your friends,” he prompted gently. “Do you see them?”
She swung her head back and forth to look around the bar before pointing vaguely to a back table. Altar boy escorted her to the back table, handing her off to her friends who were quick to prop her up, leave some cash, and head for the door. He had his pamphlets tucked in his back pocket as he held the door open for them.
“Get home safe.”
One of the girls thanked him before they helped their friend out into the night.
“Interesting,” Eddie said to himself.
Altar boy tugged his pamphlets out of his pocket, one falling to the floor unnoticed as he stepped back outside to take his post on the street corner babbling the words of the Bible. By the time Eddie finished his beer and chatted with a few regulars, he was gone.
The beauty of Eddie's rock and roll style life was that he could sleep in as late as he wanted before rocking up to a couple of campuses to put up a few more fliers for his hypothetical metal band and make a few deals which combined with shifts at the record store was how he paid for his apartment, new guitar strings, cigarettes, and ramen. He was a simple man after all.
Rolling up to his corner a little after seven, he found altar boy standing in his spot, trying to entice caffeine addicts into taking his pamphlets so he could save their souls from eternal damnation. Unlike his predecessors, he didn’t shout at passerbys about the danger their soul was in, just stepped up to them with a pamphlet and a smile. Eddie marched right up to him.
“Oh, hey, reconsidered your stance on your immortal soul?”
“You’re in my spot,” Eddie said.
Altar boy looked down at the concrete below his feet then back up at him, and quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize it was reserved.”
“It’s more of a gentleman’s agreement.”
Altar boy’s eyes flicked over him, lips quirked up slightly. “I didn’t realize you were a gentleman.”
“That’s a lot of audacity for an altar boy.”
“Audacity is part of the job description. Take a pamphlet, I’ll tell you all about it.” He held out a paper.
“Over my dead body.”
“Ah, but by then it’ll be too late to enter his kingdom.”
Eddie scoffed. “Why would I want to be in his kingdom, way I hear it, Lucifer’s got all the good stuff: sex, drugs, rock and roll.”
“Eternal damnation, fire, and suffering…”
“Every heard of masochism, baby?”
Altar boy flushed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ever heard of sharing? I’m sure there’s plenty of street corners for you to play on that aren’t already occupied.”
“Ah, but then how would my adoring fans find me?”
Altar boy swept his eyes pointedly around at the pedestrians ignoring the hell out of both of them.
“Point is, it’s my corner, so move it along, altar boy.” Eddie began setting up his guitar.
Altar boy proceeded to pretend as though he hadn’t heard, continuing to try to hand out pamphlets as Eddie plugged in his amp, and started to play, ‘Don’t Talk to Strangers’ by Dio, pointedly singing along.
“…don’t talk to strangers, ‘cause they’re only there to do you harm…”
Altar boy had no reaction as he tried to tell a college girl who asked for his number about the community church could provide, so Eddie moved as close as his cord allowed, tipping backwards to lean further into his space.
“…don’t go to heaven, ‘cause it’s really only hell, don’t smell the flowers, they’re an evil drug to make you lose your mind…”
Altar boy’s eye twitched as the girl laughed behind her to go coffee and stepped away to rejoin her friend; pamphlet-less.
Eddie grinned. “I’m danger, I’m the stranger, and I, I’m the darkness, I’m anger, I’m pain, I, I’m master, the evil song you sing inside your brain…”
Altar boy tried a few more times, but people gave Eddie’s enthusiastic guitar work a wider berth than they did a cute boy preaching about salvation. Altar boy sighed, migrating towards the cross walks.
“Run away, run away, go!” Eddie laughed after him. “No, no, don’t let them in your mind, protect your soul…”
Altar boy gave him an unimpressed look from across the way before putting on his smile to try to entice others into taking the Lord into their heart.
The next day, altar boy was on the other side of the street, but in sidewalk chalk there were the words ‘Reserved for the Spawn of Satan’, and Eddie tried not to smile as he looked at it, instead flipping him off and pretending he didn’t see him laugh as he set up. As the coffee crowd turned into the drinking and the drunk, Eddie cupped his hands around his mouth to make sure altar boy heard him.
“This one goes out to the Bible basher across the way, so, listen up, altar boy!”
Altar boy raised an eyebrow as Eddie began to play N.I.B. by Black Sabbath. He crossed his arms, pamphlets crinkling in hand as he gave full attention to his serenade, eyes widening slightly as the love song revealed it was from the perspective of Lucifer. Eddie polished off his song with wink and a deep bow to his friend across the way. His friend across the way who was making his way over.
Eddie contemplated how quickly he could pack up his guitar and amp because there wasn’t a chance he was running without either of them, especially not from a surprisingly buff bible beater who was definitely killing the ozone layer with his use of hairspray. So he slung his guitar onto his back, and faced the knitted-sweater consequences.
“Come to ask for an autograph?”
“Was it an original?”
“You don’t recognize Sabbath? Black Sabbath? Ozzy Osbourne?”
Altar boy tilted his head to one side like a confused puppy.
“That’s devastating, altar boy.”
“Steve.”
“Huh?”
“My name’s Steve, incase you feel like serenading some more, and, uh, I’m not an altar boy.”
“No?” Eddie’s eyes flicked over him. “You look like one.”
“I’m surprised you’d know, I doubt you’ve ever stepped foot inside a church.”
“And what? You’re gonna change that for me?”
Steve let out an amused exhale. “I suppose no one’s past saving, but you might be a close call.”
“Lucky for you, I didn’t ask for saving. Long live the devil, baby.”
Steve grimaced slightly, stepping back. “Have a nice night.”
“Better than yours I’m sure. I’m thinking a long night of drunkenness, premarital sex, and ritual sacrifice should keep me pretty well entertained.”
“Thought you were a masochist, not a sadist,” Steve tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.
Eddie spluttered slightly before shouting after him, “I have layers!”
Packing up not long after, Eddie skipped the bar in favor of a nearby gas station to procure spicy dill pickle chips and a fresh pack of cigarettes considering several of the convenience store had closed an hour or so before and he had big plans for the joint behind his ear, but no snacks left in his apartment. It was relatively empty as he perused the aisles, whistling to himself as he walked up to the counter with his haul of junk food.
“Don’t move, Munson.”
Eddie tensed, glancing over to find Hopper, one of the local pigs, holding a paper cup of crappy coffee, and looking like he regretted stopping for caffeine as their eyes met. Eddie’s eyes flicked to the door, and then back to him.
“Do not make me chase you tonight, Munson.”
“Officer,” Eddie held his hands up. “I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding—“
“You have a joint behind your ear, right now.”
“Medicinal!”
“Illegal either way.”
Eddie took a step backwards and Hopper tensed.
“Don’t.”
“Come on, man, I wasn’t even smoking it, or selling it! Not that I ever would, no sireee, bob, I would never—“
“Oh, save it, we both know you’re selling to half the undergrads here.”
Eddie put on an expression of mock innocence, pretending to look behind himself, then pointing to his chest, and mouthing 'who, me?’.
“Pay for your shit and let’s take a ride.”
Eddie groaned, but he didn’t have fleeing in him when he was still lugging around his amp and his guitar so he paid the minimum wage worker who looked like a murder could be committed in front of him and all he would do was go get a mop, and climbed in the back of Hopper’s car, un-cuffed, so he could eat his chips along the ride.
“You can’t get a real job, kid?”
“For your information, I have a real job, it just doesn’t pay jack squat in this economy.”
“Don’t even talk to me about jobs that don’t pay shit.”
“Oh, I pity you, working for the man, truly, I think I might cry a little over it.”
“Watch your mouth, smartass, you’re already in trouble.”
Eddie stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth, watching the city roll by out the window.