Crash Course

But something is wrong. Eddie’s blue eyes are bleary and unfocused, his head lolling from side to side while his fingers take to twitching at his side. They try to grip the sheets. They try to gain enough leverage to be able to push himself up. He’s clearly fighting against something inside.

But the symbiote’s host is leaning forward, and again it feels far too intimate and wrong. It feels like anything but comfortable. He’s laying his hands over Eddie’s face gently enough to feel innocent, but the demeanor inside is all wrong. Fingers push the sweat slicked hair from Eddie’s face and pad over his lashes. They fall over his cheekbones. They hover over his skin and press in as they travel down, where they become transfixed over his lips.

A gentle pull to his ankle and Eddie begins to slide down effortlessly, his body weightless and moving too easily. There’s surprise and confusion written all over his face. He looks exhausted.

But there’s a glitch in this memory, and suddenly Eddie is sitting on the floor and leaning back against the base of the mattress. More scratches in the man’s memory. More darkness comes to keep the symbiote from seeing Eddie.

There are sounds inside the void that sound like both Eddie and the man are struggling against each other. There’s the sound of fabric rustling and of Eddie groaning weakly from somewhere in the darkness. It sounds too low to be directly in front of the host. It’s followed by more struggling that doesn’t sound too serious.

But then Eddie’s voice becomes muffled, and the sound of Eddie’s voice becomes distorted inside the memory. After that, there’s a suspicious and concerning sequence of sounds. Something that sounds an awful lot like choking.

The vision flickers back with intensity. Blue and unsteady eyes are flashing up. A tremor is felt inside. The symbiote doesn’t know if it’s good or if it’s bad. But the struggle ensues. One that barely lasts. Because Eddie is too lethargic and too out of his mind to fight back properly. He’s too out of it to even understand what’s happening.

It’s clear now that Eddie’s been drugged. It’s also clear to the symbiote that this man had tried to use that to his advantage.

There are more muffled sounds that are ripped from Eddie’s strangled voice, and the sound of even more struggling. Eddie tries to pull his face to the side and get himself out of the way, but he ends up failing horribly.

The man uses one hand to thread his fingers through Eddie’s hair. They sink to the roots and grip tight enough that his knuckles turn white. The vision blurs. It becomes dark and muddy to the point that the symbiote can no longer tell where Eddie begins and the backdrop ends. Everything melds together. The sounds start to become louder against its senses.

The breathing that’s coming from the man starts to become labored and tight, whereas Eddie’s becomes more halted and suppressed. There’s a weak grip the symbiote can feel, fingers that reach out and try to grab at the host’s pant leg. There’s an even weaker tug when it feels the man press his hips forward, followed by a strained and panicked yelp that’s cut off and replaced by the sound of even more choking.

The symbiote has to fight off the repulsion when a shiver runs through it, completely against its will. This man is clearly enjoying whatever he’s doing. And Eddie clearly isn’t. But it can’t see through the mess to be able to tell what exactly he’s doing to him.

It’s got an idea of what could be happening, stemming from enough knowledge it’s gained from both Eddie’s mind and information it’s picked up along the way. Something in the way of how humans seek pleasure. A process inspired from their desire to procreate. But it’s a desire the symbiote isn’t made to have, which means the symbiote isn’t able to relate to it enough to understand it fully.

All the symbiote knows is that whatever is happening isn’t something Eddie has agreed to. It’s clear in the way the man is fighting to keep Eddie in place just to keep the momentum going. Fingers are pressing inside the corners of Eddie’s mouth without finesse. He’s trying to keep those teeth pried apart enough for him to move his hips. And Eddie, in turn, is fighting against himself to pull himself away. Blunt and wet teeth try to clamp down over the pads of those fingers. But it’s not enough.

And maybe the vision suddenly becomes too clear. Maybe the symbiote starts to see each color too well. It starts to notice how forceful the host is being with Eddie, with how uncaring and unabashed he is with each snap of his hips. It doesn’t look like Eddie is able to move much, let alone move away. And that’s concerning.

And maybe, just maybe, the symbiote can see too clearly for a horrifying moment, of just how much Eddie’s throat moves and bulges with each harsh thrust.

It’s not until the vision starts to falter, when Eddie’s eyes start to roll back and bits of the memory start to focus in and fade out with the backdrop of Eddie’s stunted cries, that the symbiote is able to connect the dots and understand the severity.

Eddie is drugged, unable to do or say much to rebel against what’s happening to him. And this man the symbiote is currently sitting inside has been with him at some point. He’s been with him like this, taking advantage of Eddie after feeding him those drugs, and going in greedy with his filthy cock shoved so far down Eddie’s throat that he has no choice but to gag.

There are bits of fluidity where the memories halt after that, where the fragments scatter. Moments where Eddie’s face is a deep shade of red and straining, his lips swollen and his expression anything but grateful for the experience. There are moments that come and go where Eddie can’t handle the rough abuse of the man forcing himself down his throat. He gags roughly around it, choking wetly and getting no reprieve for his struggles. His legs slide against the carpet between the man’s legs uselessly.

There’s a defining moment there, where the man’s grip lessens and slips free. Where the tension inside builds too fast too quickly and he almost loses himself to the feeling. And Eddie doesn’t miss a beat. He bites down through his pain, hard enough to cause pain that rockets through the host and through the symbiote. A sensation felt more in sympathy through their current connection rather than in reality.

Everything fades back to black after that. Anger flares to the surface.

The sound of a clear snap rings out in the darkness. A pained grunt follows, the octave of it rising into a groan when the sound echoes against and resonates deeper. A fight ensues, but it doesn’t sound like Eddie is able to contribute much other than try and voice his distain. The symbiote can feel the man lashing out. It can feel him physically taking his anger out on Eddie. It doesn’t need to see it to know that the wet feeling over the man’s knuckles means that Eddie is bleeding.

Another, more clear slap rings out. Then another. It’s followed by a clenched fist when Eddie still won’t stop trying to struggle. And all Eddie can do is groan against the pain.  

When the vision comes back it’s blurry, as usual. Eddie’s head is currently being manhandled without much care. Now, the symbiote is able to see exactly where he’s been beaten.

The skin all over his face is discolored now. The skin around his eyes is a deep shade of crimson, some of the skin along the outer corners already beginning to bruise. The skin around his nose and his nose itself is red and irritated. There’s also a fine stream of blood seeping from one of his nostrils. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pool in his cupid’s bow.

By now Eddie is a mangled mess. He doesn’t seem to be able to vocalize anything close to actual words. He groans instead, a clear protest just as the man tries again to get him to comply. But Eddie refuses to open his mouth willingly. The symbiote starts to feel something cold inside. It sinks right to its core.

The man then grabs Eddie’s face by his jaw and tries to squeeze his mouth open by force, wedging his fingers into the space between his cheeks and jaw. But Eddie still tries to move his head to the side. There’s still rejection, still enough of himself inside that he’s able to refuse. All that’s left to feel after is anger and an ever-growing impatience. A need for release that Eddie is currently standing in his way of.

A closed fist connects more solidly with Eddie’s nose this time, and the pained expression on Eddie’s face evaporates instantly. He almost blacks out. Another pained sound vibrates out into the space between them, but Eddie can’t even bring himself to show it.

The visions flicker between blurry images and nothingness. Just Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s cries. More blows against Eddie’s face and the sound of Eddie trying to find purchase against the pain.

For good measure, the man makes sure to add in a few kicks. Just a little something to feel as a greater threat and to add a little more fear. A few to his ribs and a couple slated against his hips that’s hard enough to make his body buckle. He steps crudely over one of Eddie’s turned ankles, pressing against it at an awkward angle until Eddie is screaming.

He’s made to endure it all. All without the energy to defend himself. The drugs inside his bloodstream keep him confused enough to keep him loopy and malleable enough to be anything but a threat.

When the images begin to clear, blood is running down from both of his nostrils. Eddie’s jaw is trembling from the pain as the cartilage in his nose becomes enflamed. One of his eyes is already beginning to swell obscenely. There’s blood smeared on his lips and blood through the lining of his teeth.

Suddenly, a voice lifts in the stillness of the room. It’s definitely not Eddie’s.

“Stupid bitch. Quit fucking fighting me.”

The memory abruptly stops, and a new one springs to life. A white, nearly translucent powder is forced over Eddie’s tongue, with the man’s fingers still pressing his mouth open. He pushes the lip of a dark bottle up and forces it past Eddie’s lips. The host lifts the bottle even more when Eddie doesn’t immediately react, pouring too much inside until it spills from the corners of Eddie’s mouth. He pushes Eddie’s head back, hoping it will help Eddie’s drug addled brain to get him to swallow it all down. If only so he doesn’t choke on what’s rushing down his throat. And Eddie, too confused by the situation and still saturated in fear, just complies.  

The man waits for the drug to kick in. Eddie’s pained expression starts to wane. The grip he still has against the man’s pant leg drops.

Flashes of black return. They speckle in and stay for minutes at a time.

In between them and the darkness Eddie’s voice rises. It sounds much weaker than it had been just moments ago. The sound of choking returns. It escalates too quickly, until Eddie is struggling just to breathe. There’s nothing to see just yet. Just the sound of the man’s own heavy breathing and the way Eddie’s struggling to.

But then an image comes across the symbiote’s senses, this one even more violent than the last. One of Eddie’s head being forced back. It’s moved with the man’s fingers against his scalp. The sound of something wet forcing its way inside Eddie’s throat becomes too loud inside. The vision of the host pushing himself inside becomes too clear. The ghosting feeling of pleasure that slides over the symbiote makes it grimace. It doesn’t pair well with the knowledge that Eddie’s throat feels too lax to be natural under the circumstances. And that this man is enjoying himself much more now while Eddie can do even less. It’s a strange, almost out of body experience. With Eddie’s body sagging against the bed and the man grinding almost painfully against his face.

The memories stay stuck like pictures in places where the man seems to hold the most pleasure. The sight of tears gathering despite how swollen Eddie’s one eye is. The blood that’s now smeared all over his cheeks and chin from all the struggling. The sight of Eddie’s lips stretched and swollen, painted red from all the blood. His eyes that struggle to focus and take in the moment.

Strained sounds vibrate up from Eddie’s throat. And the man responds with hands that come forward to grip the underside of Eddie’s jaw. Fingers wrap around the back of his neck for leverage as palms sink in against his throat. The man uses more force with his body then, slamming forward fast and stopping in intervals only to grind his pelvis against Eddie’s already raw lips.

The visions just won’t stop. They’re faster now, but much more invasive. They follow the symbiote even after it tries to pull away.

Eddie’s eyebrows knit together, his cheeks puffing from the exertion and his body spasming. The too clear image of pubic hair scratching over his battered lips and irritated skin. The sound of strangled coughing. The wetness from the slapping of skin against skin and the man groaning out into the silence as he continues to pull and push.

The fingers against Eddie’s jaw and the palms against his throat grow tight. They push against him and squeeze. The man becomes erratic with a final, forceful thrust forward. The grown he lets out makes the symbiote wish it couldn’t hear at all.

A flash of white and a spans of black. The sound of Eddie sputtering through a fit of wet and troubled coughing, and the sound of Eddie struggling to swallow. Eddie is suddenly gagging, his chest heaving against something inside.

The crystal-clear image when the man pulls away, of the bloodied and translucent liquid slipping from Eddie’s open mouth in chunks as he continues to choke and try to clear his throat. Some of it leaks out from his nose obscenely.  

Eddie fights to either swallow or cough up what’s sticking inside. But he ends up coughing too much without finding any relief. Semen and saliva mixes with the stomach bile rising from his throat, and suddenly there’s vomit everywhere. There’s no substance to it, just stomach bile, the remains of all the alcohol he’d consumed, and clumps of white and crème. It’s all over Eddie, from his chin all the way down to where it pools in his lap.

Strange words seem to echo inside after Eddie’s convulsing eases down. A simple string of sentences inside a hollow voice.

“I’m not a faggot.” Rustling and movement. A hefty sigh as the man fixes his attire. “But my luck hasn’t been great lately, and the beautiful bitches are all taken tonight. I’m not too picky. And you were easy enough. Better than nothing, I guess.”

There are lingering thoughts there from the past that aren’t vocalized. The symbiote doesn’t need to tug at them to be able to see them fully.

They center around Eddie’s withdrawn demeanor in the club. How he’d assumed Eddie to be queer when he hadn’t joined in on his banter sprinkled through their conversation about the women parading around. Nothing to indicate he was interested even though he was at a club full of them. He was so sure of it even after an hour of chatting.

Those thoughts focus on the way Eddie’s eyes had been so dull and so grim, so big and so enticing. The bit of facial hair and the jagged angles of his face didn’t matter much. The fact that he was a man didn’t matter much either. He was handsome enough, sitting there giving off enough vulnerability and almost quivering for attention with those whore lips of his that it would be enough to get him off for the night.

Which is why he’d offered to keep him company for the night. He knew Eddie wouldn’t be crying about sucking a dick in the morning if that’s what he did on a normal basis. But he’d refused.

After all the work he’d put into Eddie to appear amiable enough to get back to his shitty motel room and get his dick sucked, Eddie had still refused. And it had made him mad. Not only had the women in the club been rejecting him, but now this fragile faggot was too, acting like he didn’t want the company either when he was so clearly craving it.

He had taken the rejection too personally. He didn’t want to risk drugging a woman and dragging her out when she could just cry rape and have him locked away for it. Not here, anyway.

But Eddie was an easier target. The man had decided he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, that the drugs would create enough of a gap in his memory that he wouldn’t remember his face. And if he remembered anything and he truly was straight, then he’d probably be too ashamed to ever go to the police.

There are more blank spaces after those thoughts die out. Something that’s more ominous and aching within another memory. It stays much longer this time. It’s clearer and more sensory. It’s painfully fresh.

Eddie is being dragged somewhere, out into the open and under the darkness of the night. He’s mostly unconscious by now, the only signs that he’s even alive being the pitiful sounds he lets out when his body hits against something particularly hard and the slight spasms in his limbs when the man stops to catch his breath.

Eddie is placed down, somewhere deep in the junction of an unknown alleyway. He’s hidden beside and against heaps of trash. Black bags and metal cans. Spoiled food is scattered under and around him as he’s haphazardly left lying there, half leaning against the trash and the wall.

Shortly after he’s placed there the man stands up. He breathes in until his breathing is steady. And then he reaches into his pocket in one fluid motion, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s face. He watches Eddie’s half lidded and dazed expression only half illuminated by the lamplight from the street a way’s away. One of the corners of Eddie’s mouth starts to twitch in intervals as the man pulls his wallet out and opens it, picking at the pocket inside and pulling out a single and crinkled twenty-dollar bill.

He flings the bill down, where it lands in the wet mess that’s seeped through Eddie’s shirt. Eddie’s eyes don’t carry any recognition behind them, but they try to follow the movement. They don’t really work so well anymore, especially not with one as swollen as it is and barely visible. His better eye wanders, trembling in and out of focus, as the stranger stares down at him. It flits from left to right, his pupil blown wide.

“Thanks for tonight,” the man says, a grin lifting his lips.

He knows he won’t be caught. There are too many drugs in Eddie’s system to allow for that. And if Eddie dies, if his DNA brings the police his way, well, he’s got surveillance from the club that will show how willingly Eddie had left with him. All under the influence of course, and only solidified by what he’d told the bartender before leaving. That Eddie simply had too much to drink and they were going to leave.

The great thing about the drugs he’s used tonight is how well it blocks the mind, and how well the body falls into a state of autonomy. Something that isn’t traceable that he’s able to use to his advantage. He’ll tell the cops later that they simply shared time together. There’s no surveillance at the motel he’s staying at, and there were no witnesses to watch him drag Eddie’s body out over the broken pavement. There’s no one to try and say Eddie was taken against his will, or that he’d ever taken any drugs at all.

All the cops will have to know is that a little consensual dicking went down, and after it was all said and done Eddie had left. This was his room after all, and Eddie had somewhere else to be. A perfect alibi to excuse this all away.

The more the man stares down at Eddie, the more he starts to think that’s going to have to be the case. That it’s going to have to be just that and nothing less. Because Eddie has already spent a considerable amount of time virtually comatose and out of it.

And now, he’s showing clear signs of an overdose. His jaw is twitching, his good eye growing more erratic and unstable as he tries to focus them. His hands tremble as they try to move, the muscles in his legs only jumping in spasms as he groans out his discomfort.

It all goes downhill from there. The man watches on as Eddie’s muscles grow tight and constrict. He watches him start to seize, his body going rigid with spasms that he can’t control. Saliva and foam are pushed forward by his halting breathing within less than a minute, through clenched teeth and his strained huffs of pain. It gathers at the corners of his mouth like a rabid animal.

And that’s exactly how the memories fade out. It’s how the host has decided to leave Eddie. Like that, shaking and strained against himself and unable to even call out for help. Left for dead and left alone just like the trash surrounding him.

Something incredibly vibrant and dark glides over the symbiote. Something foreign that it isn’t used to feeling. Something that knocks away any and all issues it’s ever felt arise between itself and Eddie for good. Panic. And rage. Real rage.

It drowns everything else out inside. Until nothing but a constant stream of panic, rage, and cries of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie ring out inside its mind.

Eddie is lost somewhere, having been used and abused for this man’s guilty pleasures and left to manage the damage by himself. The alcohol he’d consumed is probably already too much for his body. From the memories it’s clear to see from his vomit alone that he hadn’t even eaten before going out. Coupled with the amount of drugs the man had forced him to ingest, the result will be too lethal to survive by himself.

Eddie is probably still laying there, wherever he was before. And he’s probably sick out of his mind. His body might not be able to save itself from the deadly concoction. His mind just might shut down faster than the symbiote is able to find it.

It's already been hours since it happened. The sun is already beginning to rise. It might not have much time left to save him before his body shuts down completely.

But it only has brief flashes of environments to go off of. Many of the images look like others it’s seen around town. That just makes it that much harder to narrow its search.

The symbiote isn’t the biggest fan of waiting. Especially when Eddie’s life is on the line. It growls deep from inside its host, letting it vibrate inside until it feels his veins go cold with fear. This man will not win. The symbiote won’t allow it. Not now and not against them.

The man you were with earlier. It pushes strands of itself out against the inner most tender part of his ribs, pressing with enough pressure to show the threat it holds against him. That it could snap each one of them with ease. Where exactly did you leave him?

The man visibly startles. “W-wha-who’s there?” He swings around, looking for someone and finding no one.

I don’t have time to deal with you properly, the symbiote snarls. The man from earlier. It applies enough pressure that the lowest rib finally snaps. Where. Is. He.

The man cries out, clutching his side.

“What the h-hell- is going on?!”

It’s clear this isn’t going anywhere fast. And the symbiote doesn’t have the time to sit still and explain everything. It could stay here and torture him to hell and back, but it wouldn’t change the fact that Eddie is still out there somewhere. That it’s still in danger of losing him for good.

It laments with a grunt of frustration, deciding instead to enter the man’s mind fully in search of the information it seeks. It’s full frontal and incredibly painful to do this with a host it hasn’t properly bonded with, but there isn’t a better way the symbiote can think of than being able to cause him more anguish. The added information is just a bonus.

But from what it gathers, Eddie is still too far away. They won’t make it fast enough for the symbiote’s liking if it lets its current host take it there on foot. Which means it’s going to need to take control and cover the distance quicker. It’s going to need to risk being seen in its larger form for the sake of Eddie’s survival.

The symbiote doesn’t hesitate. And it makes it there in record time.

But by the time the symbiote finds Eddie, it’s a gruesome sight. He’s barely visible from the street when it first spots him. In fact, had it not been for its heightened senses it would have simply passed him by completely. Because from the opening he’s too far back, and all that can be seen are parts of his legs. The jeaned fabric from his pants stick to his skin, covered in mud and vomit. His dirty and scuffed shoes are in no better state.

When the symbiote gets close enough, its mental state only gets worse. The first thing it notices is how pale Eddie is. He’s laying now half on his side and against the bags of trash in an awkward position, with one arm trapped under him and little space between him and the bag he’s laying against to breathe properly. There’s blood and vomit smeared all over his face and shirt and his face is almost completely swollen. His bad eye is completely swollen shut. His other eye is closed, but even that one is starting to rise with inflammation from all the abuse.

At first glance, it looks like the symbiote came too late. But miracles are a real thing here on Earth. And Eddie is still breathing. It’s slight, but it’s still there. He’s still alive. He’s still breathing and his soul is still there, somewhere inside. It’s just confined under all that poison coursing through his veins and trying to keep him down.

The symbiote bends down, kneeling on one knee. Black moves to cover over its teeth in a deep and withered frown.

You’ve suffered so much in my absence. A dreadful feeling rises, threatening to consume it. It reaches out with one clawed hand, slipping it under the side of Eddie’s face. The contrast between the symbiote’s skin and Eddie’s is far too intense. It reminds the symbiote of a similar time, back when Riot had torn through Eddie’s heart and ended his life. Eddie’s skin had looked similar then. The contrast had been the same. Like paper against ink. Even Eddie’s lips are too dull in color.

My dear host. My Eddie. Forgive me. I should not have left you.

It’s a wheezing and terribly strained sound that leaves Eddie’s lips when the symbiote tries to right his posture to sit him up straight.

I will make this right. A single darkened claw caresses gently over the bruised side of Eddie’s face. Won’t let you be hurt anymore.

A growl starts low in its chest. It echoes off the walls and ricochets to a place deep inside its core. The man forced inside the symbiote’s skin is trembling with fear now, especially when the skin starts to bubble around him.

Tendrils sink inside him from where they’re connected. They come at him with vicious teeth and harsh movements. Black sinews sink into organs, hollowing them out and devouring them one by one. The symbiote begins with the ones a human needs the least. It consumes its host slowly, keeping its eyes trained on Eddie as the man inside screams in pain.

You dared to take something that did not belong to you, it says as the voice inside continues to bellow. It doesn’t need to directly address the man inside to know that he’s listening. You dared to try and take Eddie away from me, for good. And for that, you will suffer.

It will never be enough. But it’s a welcomed and deserved punishment for what he’s done to something it holds so dear. For the sins he’s committed by putting its true host through so much.

He’s eaten slowly. The symbiote consumes him in the stretch of ten whole minutes, edging it only enough that Eddie won’t be in any more harm. Once it’s done and no more sounds can be heard inside, the symbiote wastes no time in jumping back into Eddie.

The man falls back and off to the side, lifeless. And the symbiote starts the process in trying to reverse the damage inside. It’s a lot, but it’s not so much that it won’t be able to handle it. Because the symbiote’s just eaten, it has the energy to spare. It just needs to do it more slowly to avoid any unnecessary spoilage. Using too much energy while Eddie is still too weak would only set them both back and put them both in danger.

It absorbs the poison swimming in his veins first. Soon after which Eddie’s mind starts to twitch to life. The symbiote’s out in that same instant, already hovering in Eddie’s line of view and ready to be the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes.

But Eddie’s face is still swollen and one of his eyes is still too puffy to open. It doesn’t change the fact that the symbiote fills with relief once his good eye finally opens. It wobbles for a moment, Eddie’s vision still swimming and still unfocused. The symbiote can still feel remnants of the fog inside from the damage it’s still actively trying to reverse.

That single blue eye gradually regains focus. And the symbiote smiles even wider. There’s suddenly something bright and warm blossoming at its core.

“Hey.”

The word sounds rough and broken, without any emotion behind it. And Eddie ends up in a coughing right after. But it’s still nice to be able to hear his voice again.

Hello, Eddie.

Still, Eddie manages a small smile. And the symbiote smiles right back.

Later, while the symbiote is still too busy trying to dissolve the drugs it’s absorbed and before it has the energy to heal the rest of his ailments from the night, Eddie will be conscious enough to ask why he’s in so much pain. He’ll ask why his throat feels so raw. And he’ll ask why his body feels so heavy and why there is such a wide spans of nothingness in his memory.

But some things are better left unsaid, in fear of the unknown. Human indecency like this is something the symbiote doesn’t quite understand yet. It’s not just usual violence. It’s not as easy as explaining simple criminal activity. What’s transpired has the potential to cause damage inside that the symbiote might be unable to fix. Damage inside Eddie’s mind that it doesn’t want to tamper with out of fear of having to change Eddie forever.

The symbiote will find itself lying to Eddie later as it works to mend the remaining damage, being too gentle with its care, and too gentle with its words as it tells Eddie that he’s been too careless without it there to stop him from acting on his impulses. It’s mostly true.

But he’d gone out and drank until he’d blacked out, and had gotten sick and into a senseless fight because of it. And that part is definitely a lie. Well, it’s a mangled version of the truth. Just with a few crucial details conveniently left out for Eddie’s sake.  

Another day maybe it will give in and tell him truth. Maybe after they’ve fully bonded and Eddie is more willing to let the symbiote help him through the repercussions. But right now, Eddie is still hurting and in need of extensive repair, and today isn’t the day.

It isn’t until much later when they’ve settled back into Eddie’s apartment and the symbiote is feeling more comfortable back inside Eddies skin that Eddie decides to speak up again. It’s after a long and agonizing walk in silence, where Eddie had spent most of his time inside his head. He had so many questions. Most of them the symbiote either didn’t answer or couldn’t.

Now that Eddie is safe, back at home and stretched over his own mattress, things start to feel more normal. Eddie’s mind isn’t, though. That’s still hazy. It’s still filled with too many thoughts and too many questions. It still carries too much emotion and it still feels too taxing to try and untangle any of it.

Eddie rolls over onto his side, bringing his hands up between his head and the pillow to rest against them. He decides to put all that aside and focus on something else instead. He breathes in, holding it gently before letting it pass back out through his parted lips.

“…I missed you.”

A warm sensation spreads throughout the symbiote. It almost feels like pain. But it doesn’t hesitate to respond.

And I, you. It slinks a tendril or two out to wrap around its host and hold him tight. More than you’re aware.