Work Text:
Chris Cornell had never felt so close to death in his life.
He'd seen it time and time again since the very beginning of the '90s with Andy Wood.
Then Kurt Cobain, then Layne Staley, dancing with narcotics till death did them part.
It was far from a coincidence that every singer Chris met succumbed to the same dreadful fate.
It felt like a curse.
Chris's gaze trailed to the right, where his friend of nearly 30 years, Eddie Vedder, was seated. He was grinning, obliviously, drunkenly droning about his upcoming projects.
Chris didn't know which one of them would depart the earth first. He knew with trepidation what would happen if Eddie continued down the path of alcoholism.
The idea of Eddie being swallowed by death filled him with existential dread.
Chris set his glass of alcohol on the bar's counter; the ice cubes within clinked together musically.
In a haze, fueled by either the alcohol or the benzodiazepines coursing through his blood, Chris wrenched Eddie into a cramped hug, stupefying him.
He desperately clung to the singer, holding on for dear life, for Eddie's life.
"I love you," Chris mumbled, his voice strained with a thousand jarred emotions.
