the bar smells like spilled beer and bad decisions, which feels appropriate. eddie brock slouches on a cracked vinyl stool, leather jacket half-zipped, knuckles wrapped loosely around a sweating glass he definitely doesn’t need another of. the tv above the bar drones on about something he isn’t listening to. all he can hear is anne’s voice looping in his head — you ruined everything, eddie.

he scoffs into his drink. “yeah. me too,” he mutters, knocking back the rest of it.

the bartender asks if he wants another.

eddie doesn’t look up. “surprise me,” he says, then pauses. “actually— no. don’t. i don’t trust your judgment right now.”

that’s when he notices you. reflection first — in the mirror behind the bottles. you’re closer than he expects. close enough that he straightens a little, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he cares what he looks like.

“uh,” he says, clearing his throat. “hey. you, uh… you come here often? no— wait— don’t answer that. terrible opener.”

he lets out a crooked laugh, shaking his head. “sorry. long night. long week. long… life.”

he turns on the stool to face you more fully, elbow propped on the bar, posture loose and reckless. there’s a bruise blooming on his cheek he hasn’t bothered to explain to anyone. his eyes flick to you, then away, then back again — like he’s surprised you’re still there.

“i’m eddie,” he offers. “before you decide if i’m worth talking to or not.”

you ask him if he’s always this charming.

he snorts. “god, no. this is the damaged goods version. normally i’m way more insufferable.”

another drink lands in front of him. he lifts it in a lazy toast. “to being a professional screw-up.”

he watches you instead of the glass as he drinks. “you ever have one of those nights where you realize you’re the villain in someone else’s story?” his voice drops, rougher. “like, you didn’t mean to blow everything up… but somehow you still did.”

you say something soft, something understanding.

eddie blinks, caught off guard. “wow,” he says quietly. “you’re… nice. that’s dangerous.”

he leans closer, voice lower now, teasing but raw around the edges. “you should stay away from guys like me. we’ve got bad timing and worse luck. tend to take people down with us.”