Billy’s Blue Eyes, Cigarette, & Dangly Earring.

She/Her. 30s. Mexicana. Librarian. Occasional Writer. Unapologetic Billy Hargrove Stan. Harringrove, HellCheer, & Buckleway. Deathinasmalltown on AO3

[billysblueeyes]

My first bingo fill for @hellcheeranniversaryweek

Rated T (hint at smut but not explicit or detailed), angst, happy ending, original child characters, & mentions of blood (very brief)

Words: 9k+

Prompts: C1 Trauma Bonding & C3 Heartbeat

Bingo Card Name: deathinasmalltown

This fic is an angst train with a happy ending. EMPHASIS ON HAPPY ENDING. It’s probably one of the more realistic depictions of marriage and toxic family dynamics that I’ve written. Basically, it explores how trauma never really disappears and humans are all inherently flawed and prone to make mistakes. Anyway…I separated trauma and bonding for the C1 prompt. The C3 prompt, heartbeat, is mentioned a couple of times and is literal. Lmao!

✨

Chrissy knew moving back to Hawkins was a bad idea.

But Wayne had gotten his arm mangled in an accident with one of the newest machines at the Plant, and they had all been beside themselves with fear, thinking he might lose the limb altogether. The man was in his late sixties, and they knew he wouldn’t bounce back as quickly as he claimed he would. Luckily, the arm was saved, but he still needed help getting around for a while. Wayne needed someone there to take care of him. Eddie, Chrissy, and their girls, weren’t tied down to Chicago. They made it a home, but their loyalties lied more towards family, and Wayne was the best family. So, they decided to give Hawkins another shot and stick close to the older man for the foreseeable future.

It was one year after the turn of the century, and the world all survived the fear of Y2K. Chrissy was unsurprised to see that Hawkins hadn’t changed, not even a little bit. And that’s because they hadn’t been back since Chrissy and Eddie left town after graduating in ‘86. The scenery was the same. The businesses were the same. The churches were the same. The homes were the same. The people were the same. It was all the same, same, same, same, same.

Meaning, it was an awful idea…

Just as much as opening that line of communication with her mother was a bad idea when they got back into town.

Chrissy Munson had spent fifteen blissful years of no contact with the woman. She had married the love of her life. She had birthed three, happy, healthy, trauma-free children. She had thought she spent that time overcoming the abuse her mother had forced her to endure. Chrissy thought it would be an easy feat seeing the woman again, and she’d be able to hear her opinions about Chrissy’s life married to Eddie, and her opinions about the kids they shared, and her opinions about the fact that Chrissy didn’t turn out to be the woman Laura Cunningham had raised her to be, and Chrissy thought she would be able to handle it.

She also thought that she’d be able to communicate with the woman on a level that salvaged even a modicum of their relationship as mother and daughter.

So, Chrissy invited her parents over to the Munsons’ new home—a quaint, 3 bedroom and 2 bath, Craftsmen house, situated on the corner of Mulberry Oak Drive. It was a cute home with a teal-colored front door, that both her and Eddie worked to afford. Eddie had made most of his money in Chicago as a studio guitarist. Now, he gets residuals from his previous jobs, and he’s got a freelance gig driving to an Indianapolis studio once or twice a month, but he gets a steadier paycheck at the auto shop in town. Meanwhile, Chrissy took over as the library director at Hawkins Public Library after Marissa McNeal retired. She had fell in love with librarianship through Chicago’s amazing public libraries, slowly working her way to a master’s degree while raising the girls as a stay at home mom.

Chrissy and Eddie were doing well for themselves and their children. Chrissy didn’t want to brag, but she at least wanted to show her parents that she did pretty damn good without their help, thank you very much.

It was a surprise during dinner that night, when Chrissy admitted to herself that her mother was being fairly pleasant. She should have taken the time to second guess herself because she would have foreseen the proverbial ‘other shoe drop’. Laura Cunningham had bided her time all these years and after that initial dinner. The woman knew exactly how to get her daughter exactly where she once had her.

.

.

.

Chrissy, sweetie, you always look so tired.

Did you know that your old friend, Deb, married a big shot lawyer? They have a seven-bedroom home in Loch Nora, and they vacation in Mexico every summer. Aren’t you so envious? I know I am.

Oh darling, I really wish you would have continued cheering professionally, in college. Instead of taking over a decade to get a Master of Library Science degree. What a drab job.

Sweetie, that dress just doesn’t fit you right; you should really let me do some alterations. I’m sure you expected to have the same body after three kids, but you really don’t. The least you can do is wear better clothes than that sausage casing. Give it to me, and I’ll let it out, make it look more flattering.

Have you heard? Jason and his wife are getting a divorce. Could you imagine what your life would have been like had you married him instead? He wouldn’t be ending a third marriage, I’ll tell you that much. And you’d be in a better house with a nicer car. Oh, but I don’t mean it like that, at least you have your girls.

Your father and I were talking, if you need us to lend you some money to buy the girls some nicer clothes or toys, we don’t mind, and you can always pay us back later…or maybe not, lord knows you make more money than that man you married.

Why don’t you leave your family at home and come with me to the ladies meeting at the Country Club? You’ll enjoy the attention from your old friends. It’ll be just like high school. I know you must miss those days.

Honestly, I applaud you for working Chrissy, but you have three children who need you! You should have a husband who takes care of all of you! You wouldn’t be so tired all the time if he could provide for his family like a real man should.

Chrissy, enough is enough. Just look at yourself—look at the woman you’ve become. How can you go out to town on your days off, looking as you are, and not taking any pride in your appearance? You’re slovenly, just as much as that man you married, and your daughters…they’re taking after him too.

I just don’t know how you lasted this long without me, Chrissy. I really don’t. But don’t worry, I forgive you. Luckily, you have me now, and I’m going to make it all better.

.

.

.

The problem is that Chrissy fell for all of it.

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.

Chrissy thought she had created an iron resolve for herself after escaping the time under her mother’s thumb. But Laura Cunningham knew all the ways to really dig her claws in. And she made Chrissy feel like a little girl again, begging for her mother’s approval. Needing to prove to the woman that she is the golden child her mother tried to shape her into. That Chrissy actually wanted all of those terrible things her mother tried to force on her while she was growing up. Laura Cunningham knew exactly what she was doing, and her daughter was a people pleaser to a fault; she was gullible, and she was stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s how Chrissy Munson had found herself on the cusp of a divorce from the man she had married fourteen years previously—the same man that she was still head over heels, madly in love with.

***

Their girls.

God.

Chrissy always knew they were daddy’s girls. But it still really hurts that they don’t want to be around her all that much, lately.

Rose, their oldest, just turned thirteen, but Chrissy swears that the girl was born thirty. She’s the splitting image of Eddie: tall, lanky, wild curly brown hair, and big brown eyes. She listens to her dad’s heavy metal, but she also just made the Hawkins middle school cheer team. Their Rosy is so smart, so good-hearted, so funny, and she has the strongest conviction about who she is and what she stands for.

And she’s spitting mad at Chrissy.

“Rosy, you can’t ignore me forever.”

“Maybe not. But you did it to your mother for fifteen years, I’m sure I can last longer.”

Chrissy flinches. “Those words hurt me, Rosy.”

“And you hurt me, mommy. You hurt Evelyn and Charlotte. And you broke daddy’s heart.” Her big voice cracks on the last words, and Chrissy can feel her own heart breaking too.

“You’re—you’re too young to understand—”

“No! I’m not! I understand perfectly!”

“What then? What is it that you understand?”

“That Laura is evil! And to think this whole town says daddy is the devil worshipper! Your mother is literally the spawn of satan! And she’s convinced you that the life you have with daddy! With me! With my sisters! Isn’t enough! But it is, mommy! We were all happy! And now you’ve—you’ve—fucked it up!”

Chrissy sniffles, “you learned that language from your father.”

“So?!”

Chrissy sighs in defeat, clacking her French tips on the steering wheel. Her mother had complained about her split skin, disgusting cuticles and nail beds, and she made her get a manicure. Chrissy hates them. Meanwhile, her daughter glances at her nails warily before crossing her arms, sinking into the passenger seat, and angling herself away from Chrissy.

“There have always been things in my life that I’ve struggled with, Rosy—and my mother—my mother has always wanted what was best for me—”

Rose scoffs, and it’s pointed enough to fill Chrissy up with shame. “She’s always wanted to control you, mommy. There’s a big difference.”

“You have no clue—”

“You’re right. I don’t have a single clue about your relationship with her. Because you’re a good mom, and you’d never treat me the way she treats you.”

“My mother loves me, Rosy.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Chrissy has never raised her voice to her daughter, but she feels like screaming. She just needs someone to get it. To understand how hard all of this is. Someone who won’t judge her for believing her mother’s words, and her selfish promises, and who would never make Chrissy feel crazy for doing something so rash and irresponsible and stupid—

The only one who would ever do that is Eddie—and she—she broke his heart. Just like Rose said.

Her knuckles turn white as she fists her hands around the steering wheel and pulls up to the small house on Old Cherry Lane that Wayne moved into sometime during the 90s. Something about getting a raise and better benefits at the Plant, and he was able to move out of the trailer park. It’s where Eddie—and the girls—are staying now. The four of them moved out of the new house on Mulberry Oak Drive that the Munson’s just bought. Of course, their daughters prefer Eddie over her, so they had no qualms about leaving Chrissy to live there alone…

If she’s not careful, she could let her hurt feelings make her bitter.

“Are you sure you and your sisters don’t want to stay with me for the weekend?”

Rose finally looks at her, and it’s Chrissy who has to look away because all she sees is her daughter's hurt. “I don’t think so, mommy. Evie still doesn’t want to talk to you, and Lottie—Lottie still doesn’t understand.”

“Well, we could all talk—and maybe we could—we could work it all out—”

“Mommy, the only person you need to work anything out with is daddy.”

Chrissy glances out at the front porch. She can’t see him, but she can feel him. There’s also the unmistakable glow of a cigarette in the twilight. He had stopped smoking ten years ago. Chrissy knows that him picking up the old habit is her fault. Eddie is smoking again because she left him. She also knows that the reason he’s sitting out there is because he’s waiting. Chrissy’s heart stutters, but she won’t let herself assume that he’s waiting for anyone else other than Rose.

“Go on then, don’t keep daddy waiting.” She clears the thickness from her throat. “I’ll pick you up and take you to the basketball game tomorrow, to watch you cheer.”

“Daddy’s taking me.”

Chrissy scoffs a laugh, “your father is not sitting through a basketball game.”

“He already said he would. Daddy, pop-pop, and Uncle Lucas are taking me.”

“Oh. Is your Aunt Max gonna be there too?”

“Of course not, her opinion about basketball is worse than daddy’s.” Rose’s voice is droll enough to make Chrissy laugh. “You’re still gonna be there though, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

She picks at her cuticles, watching as the skin peels back and a bubble of blood wells up in her nail bed. Chrissy puts it to her mouth and licks it away quickly. Rose’s hand comes up and covers hers, tugging it away from her mouth. Chrissy looks over at her oldest daughter, and she finds Eddie’s eyes staring back at her, and they’re full of pity.

“You’ll sit with daddy and pop-pop, right?”

“They don’t want—”

“Neither one of them is mad at you, you know.”

Chrissy shakes her head, “go inside, Rosy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And because her daughter is so good, and she isn’t really so mad at Chrissy, Rose leans over and gives her a quick kiss on the mouth. Chrissy kisses her back, cupping her free hand to Rose’s cheek and blinking away her own unshed tears. Chrissy gestures with her head, urging her daughter to go inside.

“Bye mommy.”

“I love you so much, Rosy.”

Her daughter nods, “I love you more, mommy.” Her daughter squeezes the hand she’s been holding and sighs dejectedly before slamming the door behind her.

Chrissy’s tears finally manage to escape her, and she wipes at them angrily. She shifts the car into drive and heads to the house that she lives in, alone.

***

Jason has asked her out to dinner a few times.

Chrissy has had to hide the revulsion that rolls through her every time she lets him down easy.

She can’t help but stare at him closely when they see each other, which has happened way too often, recently. Maybe it’s cruel of her to say, but the ugliness of him never goes away. Yeah, he’s always put together, lathered in expensive aftershave and cologne, but it’s not enough to mask his permanently hard eyes, or his red face, thin white lips, his balding crown, and receding hairline. Chrissy assumes to spite all of this he takes pains to keep his body built like it was when he was still a Hawkins varsity basketball star. He also happens to be very successful, owning and operating the only luxury car dealership in town. He has a nice house in Loch Nora, and he has no kids. Chrissy has heard him boast about still wanting to be a family man, hinting at her as she listens to him drone on. She wonders what the three wives he attached himself to had endured during their time married to him that made the idea of making him a father so terrible. None of them were from Hawkins or even stuck around afterward. That’s another strike in her book because there are plenty of single women in their hometown, and not a single one of them are interested in him. That alone, tells her all she needs to know about the man Jason has become, or more likely, has always been.

Even more, there’s that cockiness about him that has gotten worse in the fifteen years since she last saw him.

He’s mean in his confidence.

Her bad feelings are cemented when he randomly shows up to the middle school basketball game…and sits next to her. Her eyes widen as he sits down; her hands get clammy, and she has the worst urge to gnaw on her manicured nails. There’s no reason for him to be there. And the hushed whispers from those around them, as he sits down, is more proof that him being there, next to her, is a bad idea. Her mother walks through the gym doors and waves to them, with Phillip Cunningham trailing behind her wearing a smile that’s actually a grimace. Chrissy immediately knows that this was all planned by the old woman.

Chrissy is mortified, and she feels like a fool.

The betrayal in Rose’s eyes as she runs across the gym floor in her cheer uniform has Chrissy on the verge of tears. She bites on her lip and follows her little girl with her eyes, hoping her daughter would look back, but Rosy refuses as she reaches her spot behind her megaphone, waving her pom poms at the crowd instead.

“Your daughter, she’s pretty, even if she looks like him.”

Chrissy’s heartache gives way to insult and anger. “Why are you here, Jason?”

“I used to run this court,” his smile is smarmy. “I might be getting older, but I still love this game, and your mother—”

“You’re not here to watch basketball, Jason. You’re trying to play a different game altogether. And I won’t let you use me as some one-sided pissing contest with my husband.”

“Ex—”

“We’re still married, and I am still never going on a date with you.”

“You need someone to take care of you, Chris.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Chrissy gets up just as her mother reaches them, and she practically shoves past the woman. Laura grabs Chrissy’s arm in an iron grip, but Chrissy yanks. Her mother’s manicured nails shred at her skin, and Chrissy walks away with her head hanging, trying to stop her tears.

She sucks at navigating the middle school hallways. It seems that Hawkins’ public schools are the only buildings that have changed in town. As the population has expanded, they’ve been remodeled to connect the high school and the middle school for more space, making it one expansive building. Moving through the larger hallways, she feels like that meek and haunted girl that she used to be.

By the time she finds a bathroom, her makeup is smudged, and she’s chewed through the acrylic of three French tips. Chrissy takes one glance at her face in the mirror and bursts into sobs that only make her look uglier. Her face is gaunt, and she’s lost weight since the start of ruining her own life, and it’s all exacerbated by running mascara and her sunken eyes.

She can’t bear to look at her heavily painted face anymore, so she grabs paper towels and angrily swipes away the makeup until she’s bare-faced and splotchy. Chrissy runs her wrists under the cold water to calm her racing heart, cool her blood, and ease the panic crawling up her throat. She looks down at the thin scratches on her arm, that her mother left her with, and watches as the rivulets of thin blood start to coagulate. She sniffles and tries to collect herself in time to go back out there and face the fact that her oldest daughter probably hates her, and everyone probably saw her behavior, and they judge her for the way she reacted towards her mother, and the rumors have more than likely already started about her and Jason, and Eddie probably saw the whole thing from wherever he was sitting…

“Mommy.”

Chrissy looks up to see Evelyn and Charlotte in the bathroom doorway. Her youngest daughter runs to her and wraps her small arms around Chrissy’s legs. She immediately swallows whatever emotions she was feeling and reaches down to pick up her baby girl, peppering her cherub, three-year-old face, with kisses and holding her close. Lottie giggles and kisses back. Chrissy rocks her in her arms, and she looks over at her other daughter. Evie hovers in the doorway, not really wanting to move any closer, staring at Chrissy with a stony expression.

“Pop-pop wanted us to come and get you.”

“I—I just had to potty,” Chrissy says as an excuse.

Her daughter’s brow furrows, and Chrissy knows that Evie knows she’s lying.

“He wants you to come and sit with us.” Her middle child looks at her challengingly, and Chrissy can’t help but smile at another pair of beautiful brown eyes that belong to her husband, even if they glare back at her. “Unless you’re gonna go back and sit with Laura.”

“No. I’ve missed you girls. Why wouldn’t I sit with you?”

The girl looks mollified until she spots Chrissy’s arm. “You’re bleeding.” Her daughter says with more concern than Chrissy thinks she deserves.

Evie finally walks into the restroom, and she gets more paper towels, wetting them and dabbing at Chrissy’s arm. The girl doesn’t look at her as she works, and Chrissy doesn’t know why it makes her feel more like a child than the actual ten-year-old helping her. Evie has always had an air of melancholy surrounding her that Chrissy thinks the girl inherited from her. It translates into a subdued nature that Chrissy thinks she might’ve shown everyone, growing up too soon under Laura’s thumb. Chrissy can only pray that she hasn’t fucked up her own daughter in the same way that her mother had, and this is just who Evie is.

“It’s alright, baby. It’s just a little blood.” She clears her throat, stepping back with Charlotte still in her arms.

“Laura is mean.” Evie says, as if hearing all the racing thoughts Chrissy has been having and daring to be the one to say them out loud.

Chrissy can’t expect any of her children to call Laura, grandma. Laura Cunningham doesn’t even want to be called grandma, saying it makes her feel old. She decided that the girls should call her ‘LuLu’.

They don’t.

“She is.” Chrissy agrees wearily.

“You won’t be mean like that to us, will you?”

And the fact that Chrissy has sewn that seed of doubt in her daughter is like her prayer has gone unanswered, and she’s already ruined her daughter, and the relationships with each of her children.

“No.” Chrissy fights another bout of tears. “I’ll never be like her.”

Evie nods, much like earlier, and she tugs on her mother’s hand, urging her to follow outside of the restroom. Chrissy hoists Lottie up higher on her hip, and she lets herself be dragged away by her daughter, if only to keep holding her smaller hand in hers. The ringing shouts from the basketball crowd echoes in the hallways until they’re at the large gym doors, walking around the people as they move towards Lucas Sinclair, Wayne, and Eddie. Chrissy feels all the eyes on her, and she wonders why the hell she still cares. Lucas waves at her; his eyes are kind, but his mouth is set awkwardly.

“Hey Lucas, how are Max and Olivia?”

“Great! Max got a promotion at work, and Livy is growing like a weed.” He chuckles. “How are you doing?” He physically cringes after asking, and she tries not to be bothered by it.

“I’m okay.”

“Good. That’s good.” His smile is encouraging, if not awkward.

Chrissy spares a glance at Eddie, but his eyes remain forward, watching as Rosy waves her pom poms at him. He has a soft smile on his face, and it barely falters as Chrissy sits down on the opposite side of Wayne, who sits between them. Evie lets Chrissy’s hand go, moving towards her dad, and she sits between his legs, on the bench below theirs. Chrissy watches as he tugs on her strawberry blonde pigtails, and Evie cocks her head back, smiling a genuine smile as she looks up at him; his smile only grows as he bends to kiss her forehead. He’s such a good dad, and their girls worship him. Chrissy can’t fault them for it because she used to be just as obsessed with him (used to, as in, actually still is). It would be remiss not to mention how Chrissy’s husband is the most handsome man she’s ever known. His hair is still long, but she’s spent years forcing him to properly condition and style it, so his curls are full, with a thick patch of grey in his bangs, despite only being in his late thirties.

Wayne smiles at Chrissy sympathetically, using his good arm to wrap around her shoulders, tugging her under his chin and keeping her there. Chrissy melts into him with relief. It’s as if he’s saying everything is alright. Everything will be just fine. And she can swallow down the permanent panic stuck in her throat. She sucks in a fortifying breath as she tries to navigate the awkwardness surrounding them. Chrissy practically uses Lottie as a shield, keeping her secured tightly in her lap, burying her face in her daughter’s brown curls, and sitting through the start of the game.

Despite being a cheerleader, Rosy is still kinda clumsy in coordination. Chrissy blames it on no formal training and the fact that at thirteen, she’s already 5’7, and the bottom half of her body is just legs, which she inherited from her father. Were Chrissy anything like Laura, her daughter would be in for a long berating at the end of the game, telling her everything she did wrong and all the ways she was embarrassing herself. Instead, Chrissy silently promises to tell Rosy how impressed she is with the girl’s booming voice (which she also inherited from her father) as she chants, and it carries above all the other girls across the court. Also, that her enthusiasm and school spirit is very convincing. Chrissy thinks she might offer to sign her up for dance or gymnastics, but only if she wants it. It’s only middle school after all, and the boys playing are just as clumsy as the cheerleaders cheering them on. But if Rosy does like cheering, and she wants to do it in high school, it might be good for her to actually learn how to move her hips…

“Rosy looks good out there,” Wayne comments wryly.

“She’s perfect.”

Chrissy flushes as her and Eddie answer him at the same time.

The thought is immediate and true. It washes away all of Chrissy’s previous thoughts. Even if it is an exaggeration, she’s their kid, one half of both of them, making her a whole person. Of course she’s perfect. Chrissy’s eyes finally meet Eddie’s, and the hatred she was so sure she’d find in his, isn’t there. Instead, she thinks they reflect the same pain she’s feeling.

She can’t bear to see it.

So, she looks away, burying her face in Lottie’s hair again and blinking away her tears for the umpteenth time…

The Hawkins Middle School Tiger Cubs lose 0-65. Chrissy couldn’t pay attention to the game, smiling shakily at Rosy as much as the girl graced her with her glances. Rosy seemed mollified to find Chrissy sitting next to her pop-pop and her daddy, after first running onto the court to go cheer and seeing her with Jason. As soon as Rosy motions them over, Lottie squirms out of her arms. Chrissy takes her time, making the climb down the stands, to the floor of the court, as the Hawkins families tend to do at the end of games. It’s an excuse to catch up and gossip or discuss plans for the next school event. Parents take pictures with their kids, and they congratulate or commiserate about their wins or losses.

Chrissy spots her mother and father, talking with Jason, and she suddenly feels something other than sadness, watching how they seem to welcome conversation with someone Chrissy hasn’t loved or known since high school. It’s baffling, how easily they show interest in the man. It’s the most animated Phillip Cunningham has seemed in years, even when in the presence of Chrissy or her brother, Kevin. Maybe it’s her fault for never expressing how unhappy she was when she was with Jason in high school; how scared he sometimes made her feel when she made him angry or upset. Then again, she never talked to her parents about her feelings back then. She still doesn’t. Chrissy stares as the three of them laughing together, and she realizes that she’s envious of Jason. He gets their laughs and conversation, and their easy demeanors. Chrissy has never had that, and she hates Jason for it.

“Did I ever tell you about my mama?”

She startles and looks back to see Wayne standing beside her. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Welp, my mama was a mean woman. It was mostly because of the alcohol; she drank herself to death, died of cirrhosis of the liver by the time she was forty, but she was also mean because she liked to be.”

“Did you ever wonder why?”

“Course I did. Sometimes, I still do. Maybe it’s because she was stuck with my daddy. He was worse—to her, and to me and my brother. I know she blamed me because he knocked her up when she were only fifteen, shunned by her family, when she had me. Maybe she felt stuck, and she thought she couldn’t leave. Growing up, I tried protecting my brother, Al, from her, and I took the brunt of her anger. Then she realized what I was doing, and she tried to pin me and Al against each other as we got older.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. Al realized that he could manipulate the both of us, and there were times I hated him for it—sometimes I was envious, ‘specially when she’d treat him better than she ever treated me.”

“How’d you deal with it?”

“Got out. Got away. It was mostly because I had been drafted into the war, but I never went back. I let that shit show burn itself to the ground. I know it might sound selfish, but I had to decide to put myself first. Al eventually followed me, but I know he still clung to all that ugliness, and he let it fester inside of him. Tried taking it out on his own wife and kid. But I did what I used to do for him—I protected Eddie and his mom, until she died too, of course.”

“I don’t—I don’t want that for me, Wayne. I don’t want the ugliness. I don’t want to have to have my kids protected from me. I love them. And I thought I did—get away, you know? I thought I was fine.”

“Pumpkin, I think the only time you ever put yourself first is when you decided to leave this place. I hate that I brought you back here—”

“No. Wayne, you did nothing wrong. Eddie and I knew that this is where we needed to be, for you. I don’t blame you. Whatever has happened since then has been my own mistakes.”

“Your girls love you, Chrissy. And you’re a damn fine mom. I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Wayne sighs. “I know everything else feels awful right now. I just wish you and Eddie would talk.”

Chrissy looks over at her husband. He’s got their girls under his arms, and he’s laughing with Lucas. And maybe Chrissy feels envious of that too. But it’s only because she wishes she was fit underneath his arm as well.

“I wouldn’t know what to tell him.”

“Maybe start with the fact that you still love him.”

She smiles softly at Wayne, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “Maybe.” He smiles back at her, until the moment someone comes up behind her. His smile disappears, and Chrissy doesn’t have to guess who it is. She sighs, turning to see her mother standing there. “I’ll talk to you later, Wayne.”

“Think about what I said.” He pats her shoulder with his good hand before leaving her alone with Laura.

Her mother smiles, but it’s one of those fake ones, done only to hide her anger. “You didn’t sit with us. You upset Jason.”

“I didn’t sit with you because of Jason.”

“Chrissy, you are grown woman. I didn’t know you could still act so childishly. People were watching.”

She shrugs, “I don’t really care about what other people think.”

Her mother laughs. Really laughs. “I don’t believe that for one minute, Chrissy.” Laura looks at her with a pointed brow. “And if it were true, I’d think twice about it. The impression you and your family give off is important, especially in this town. I don’t think you ever learned that no matter how much I tried to teach it to you. You did marry that flagrant after all, even bore his children. Now, you will learn soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You won’t be able to stand the embarrassment.”

“What’re you even talking about?”

“Your daughter, Rose. I saw you watching her. You were having the exact same thoughts I was having.”

“You have no clue what I was thinking—”

“She looked foolish out there.”

“Mother, I’m warning you—”

“And I’m warning you, Chrissy. You’re gonna let that girl embarrass you. Embarrass our family—”

“Well, I’ll save you the embarrassment, mother. She doesn’t consider you family. None of my daughters do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your grandchildren despise you.”

Laura glares. “It’s because of that man you married. He’s putting thoughts into their heads—”

“No.” Chrissy shakes her head. “Eddie has never spoken a bad word about you to them. In fact, he’s never even mentioned you at all. You mean nothing to him. And you need to accept that.” Laura Cunningham balks at the revelation of ever being meaningless, to anyone. “The reason they despise you is because Eddie and I have raised them to know their worth. My girls know that the only opinion that ever matters is their own. And they hate you because of how much you love sharing your unwanted opinions, especially about me. But I won’t ever let your words hurt them because I’ve decided that if they choose not to know you, then I’ll respect that decision.”

“I am their grandmother!”

“Not to them. To them, you’re just my evil mother. If you’re determined to be in their life, you should really think about the kind of impression you’ve made with them.” She shrugs, “and for the record, my daughter looked perfect out there.”

Chrissy walks away, her head held much higher than it’s been in a while.

***

Three weeks later, Chrissy is startled awake to the screams of her mother in her ear, after blearily answering the incessant ringing of the telephone.

“Mom, calm down. I can’t understand you…”

“Phillip is dead! Your father is dead, Chrissy! Help me! Oh god! Help me! Oh lord! I don’t know what to do!”

The hysteria in her voice. The heartache. It seems that her mother was capable of loving someone after all. And Chrissy thinks that there could have been a better time for her father to kick the bucket. It’s a selfish thought, but she doesn’t have very much time to think about it. She’s suddenly thrust into automatic, rolling out of bed, and slipping into her shoes. She stumbles to the front door, racing to her car, and then her mother’s house. Time slows, and the rest of the day passes in a blur.

Phillip Cunningham died in his sleep, seemingly of natural causes, though they’d later find out he had a pulmonary embolism from undiagnosed coronary heart disease.

Chrissy is numb to it. Granted, she loved her father, but in a mindless, ‘he’s my father, of course I love him,’ kind of way. She hadn’t been close to him since she was a little girl, when he used to hold her hand as she toddled around, or when he read her stories before bed, or shared his ice cream with her. She can’t say she knew a single thing about the father he was after she turned twelve years old, and Laura really dug her claws into both of them, keeping them separated. Her mom’s very weird possessiveness over her husband, bled into accusatory looks anytime Chrissy even tried to get close to her own father. And though Chrissy blames her mother for the distance, her father never attempted to change the outcome of their relationship either. Her lack of feelings toward his death is an ugly state to be in, but Chrissy hasn’t felt very pretty lately, anyway. Chrissy actually feels pretty ugly, inside and out, or more like her insides are her outsides, and she’s been metaphorically bleeding all over her mother’s pristine carpet.

Even after that confrontation with Laura, after Rosy’s first time cheering, Chrissy let herself fall back into the same old patterns her mother set out for them. She’s been living on autopilot, and the rest of her life has been deteriorating around her.

Now she has this to deal with…

The next day, her brother, Kevin, shows up from his hipster lifestyle in New York City. He looks at Chrissy with indifference. She doesn’t take it personal. It seems he feels the same as her when it comes to their father.

“Where are the girls?”

Chrissy clears her throat, “they’re staying with Eddie.”

“Well, can I stay with you guys? I don’t want to be here with Laura.”

“No, they’re not staying with me, Kevin. We—uhm—Eddie and I split up. They’re all living at Wayne’s place.”

Kevin blinks at her before snorting…and laughing…hard.

Chrissy’s body floods with embarrassment, and his laughter eventually dies out when he sees in her expression that she’s being serious. “Shut the fuck up, Chrissy. You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” She sniffs, unable to meet his eyes.

“God. Why?”

“I—I don’t know.” She concludes because she really doesn’t fucking know anymore. Chrissy looks over at Kevin, and his face shows dawning realization as he stares at her overpainted face, her gaudy new nails, ice-blond highlights with long hair extensions, and her formfitting black dress with heels, everything that her mother managed to berate her for not having done up before coming over to the house, knowing guests would be arriving all day to give condolences. Kevin scoffs, and his mouth opens to speak. Chrissy knows it’ll probably be to tell her that she’s an idiot. She stiffens her spine. “I don’t want to hear it right now, Kevin.”

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to Wayne’s.”

“Are—you’re gonna stay there with them too?”

“I sure as hell ain’t staying with Laura. Besides, I want to spend time with the girls. I’ll just take Wayne’s couch.”

It’s a dismissal if she’s ever heard of one, and it makes her finally feel something other than apathy. It’s a new spurt of blood splattering all over her mother’s couch. Kevin hardly spares their mother a kind word before exiting the house and avoiding the crowd of people who have loitered inside Laura and Phillip’s home—with their insincere words and half-hearted condolences. It’s all about appearances, and Chrissy is left to do all the heavy lifting. Laura plays off her son’s disappearance, making excuses for him, unlike she ever would for Chrissy. Her brother leaves her to fend for herself, and Chrissy can’t say that she even really blames him.

It still doesn’t hurt any less…

The next couple of days leading up to the funeral are Chrissy’s living nightmare. Her mother’s behavior towards her somehow gets worse, and Chrissy can only assume that the woman has finally lost her mind. Her future is bound to be boring, lest she make Chrissy her forever project. And it’s that realization that makes Chrissy understand her father just a little bit more. Maybe Phillip Cunningham couldn’t love Chrissy like he did when she was a little girl, but he could exist to distract her mother enough to give Chrissy a bit of freedom from Laura. Whether it was intentional or not, it was enough that Chrissy escaped her mom and found happiness with Eddie, and their life, and their little family.

And now with Phillip dead, there might not ever be an escape from the hell she chose over that happiness…

Chrissy is a distraught mess the day they put Phillip Cunningham in the ground.

She doesn’t even remember getting herself ready, but she knows that she’s tugged, pulled, yanked, bit, and gnawed at all the frayed strings that make up her entire existence—she’s prodded at and exposed every flaw on her person that Laura Cunningham would point out if the woman wasn’t so caught up in the attention she’s been bestowed for her dead husband.

Meanwhile, people assume Chrissy is mourning her father, but she’s actually mourning her future.

There’s a headache pulsing behind her eyelids, her feet are killing her, and she just wants to escape. Luckily, the funeral reception at the Cunningham house is dying down, and everyone is slowly trickling out the door. Chrissy knows she’ll be expected to clean up the mess they left behind before she’ll be allowed to slink away to her own home and lick her wounds in private. There’s such a deep exhaustion that’s settled in her bones, and she’s tired of pretending that she’s fine.

It’s no surprise that she bursts into tears when she walks into her mother’s kitchen and sees a table full of cellophane wrapped leftovers, and spots Eddie shoving them in the fridge. He looks up at her sheepishly, as if he had no intention of being caught cleaning up in her mother’s kitchen. Through her tears, she notices the same exhaustion she feels, written all over his face too. Chrissy doesn’t think. She just walks over and tucks herself under his chin, wrapping her arms around his waist. His arms come up around her shoulders, and she melts into his warmth. She doesn’t know how long she cries, but his shirt is soaked, and her eyes feel swollen.

And still, Eddie holds her close, rubbing her back in comfort.

“What’re you doing here?”

She sounds like the Cookie Monster because her voice is so thick with her tears.

Eddie shrugs around her. “I love your brother, but I’ve been wanting to kick his teeth in the past few days. I asked him if he was gonna helping you deal with your mom, and he said he didn’t want to. When he showed up at Wayne’s after the funeral, he said he wasn’t planning on coming here for the reception. I could only imagine what you’ve been going through. It feels like I’ve been climbing up the walls because I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to do this alone.”

“Oh, Eddie.”

“If you want me to leave…”

“No! I just—how’d you get past my mom?”

“Through the front door—like I give a shit if she knows I’m here.”

Chrissy might be laughing, but it’s muffled as she buries her face in his chest again. “Thank you, Eddie. You didn’t have to do this. I don’t—I don’t deserve—”

“I love you, Chrissy.”

She’s gonna start crying again.

“I love you too, Eddie. So much.”

“I know you do.”

“Really? After what I’ve done to you? To us?”

He sighs, “I think I might’ve been angry with you for about a day before I couldn’t be anymore.”

“You deserve to hate me.”

“No—” he pulls away, and she misses the feel of him already. His hands come up to cup her cheeks, but she can’t look him in the eye. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“How can you say that? I left you, Eddie! I ruined our marriage!”

“Would you believe me if I said that I know you never wanted to hurt me?” He smiles sadly, “that’s not to say that when you told me you were leaving, my first thought was, ‘welp, you always knew she was too good for you, Eddie. It had to happen sometime.’”

Chrissy chokes on her words as she really starts crying again, “that’s not true! Eddie, it’s not!”

“It took some time to realize that. I had to ask myself why you left, and I felt stupid for not seeing it before.”

“Seeing what?”

“Well, you’ve never really dealt with this, have you?”

“Dealt with what?”

“Your relationship with your mother.” He gently pushes her to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island, sitting next to her. “You and I ran away, Chrissy.” Her brow furrows as she takes in his words. “You were running from your mother, and I was running from this town and all its people who treated me like I was shit under their shoes.” Eddie reaches up and brushes her hair from her face, and she leans into his touch. “When we got together in high school, it was easy to ignore all of your quirks when you always told me you were fine, and you were happy with me, but I should’ve pushed you to talk to me. I knew that you had a weird relationship with food, and you could hardly look in a mirror, and you would close off when we talked about your mom. Afterwards, when we left this place, you were much better, but I knew you weren’t completely different, and I still didn’t pry. You got pregnant with Rosy so quickly after we were married. I think you decided for the both of you that you had to change. And you did. It’s like you were able to fix yourself because you wanted to be better for her. The same with Evie and Lottie. But I think it was actually like putting a bandaid on a wound; it’s still underneath, even if no one else can see it.”

Chrissy looks at him stubbornly, “bandaids help heal wounds.”

He huffs a laugh, “only if you take them off, clean and air out the wound, and replace the soiled ones.”

“What are you really saying, Eddie?”

“You need to talk to somebody. A professional.”

“Like, therapy?”

“Yeah. There are issues you never worked through. I remember that you really liked Ms. Kelley in high school. I know there’s gotta be someone else out there that can pick at your brain.” He sighs. “Maybe I should see someone too. To get rid of this idea that I had expected you to leave me, like my mom and my dad did, or because I never thought I was good enough for you, you know?” She nods. “We can do this, together.”

“Together?”

“We can go to marriage counseling, so we can learn to communicate better. Unless you’ve already decided you still want to be separated. Maybe you want to learn more about yourself and be on your own while you do it. If you really want a…a divorce…I’ll…”

“No!” Chrissy nearly falls out of her seat to wrap herself around him, kissing him desperately through her snot and tears. She kisses him everywhere her lips can reach. “Please, Eddie, no! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Eddie shushes her, kissing her back just as desperately, “I’m sorry too, Chrissy. Fuck, maybe I should’ve fought harder—Maybe I shouldn’t have let you leave—”

“It was a mistake! All of it was just a stupid mistake! And the girls—I hurt them—”

“We’re all gonna be okay, baby.” Eddie holds her tighter. “They love you so much. We’re gonna fix this, together.”

“Yes, together. I want you to come home. I need all of you near me again, Eddie. Please, I don’t want to be without you.”

Chrissy clings to him, kissing him until it feels like her heart isn’t breaking anymore. Like her insides are being stuffed back into her body, and Eddie’s love is stitching her back together again. He’s all she’s ever needed; all she’s ever truly wanted. Chrissy chose him a long time ago, and she can’t believe she ever thought leaving him wouldn’t be the end of her entire world.

By the time they come up for air, Chrissy is sagging in his arms. She just wants to fall into bed with her husband and let him hold her until she falls asleep.

“Should we talk about what happens next?” Chrissy shrugs, not really all that excited about the thought. Eddie squeezes her once, before his hands start rubbing her back in comfort again. “I know this town fucking sucks, but I think the girls like it here. And I actually love being this close to Wayne again. I just—I don’t know how you want to navigate being around your mom. I would never try and tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but it’s not like I actually want you around her if she’s gonna keep hurting you.”

“She’s gotten worse,” Chrissy whispers, “since my dad’s been gone. It’s only been a few days. I don’t know how it’ll ever get better. She won’t change until she understands that I’m really all she has left.”

“If she’s gonna treat you like shit, Chrissy—I won’t let her, and you shouldn’t.”

Chrissy leans back, but she won’t leave Eddie’s arms completely. “I’m realizing I just don’t have any patience for her. It’s easier to do what she says when it gets her to shut up.” She looks up at Eddie tiredly. “It’s not because I actually agree with her or even believe the things she says about me anymore.”

“You’re the strongest person I know, baby. I’ve seen you stand up for me, and for the girls, I just want you to do it for yourself now.”

Chrissy nods, “I know. I have to set some serious boundaries.”

“You can start by making her clean up her own damn kitchen.”

She gives him a watery smile, “take me home then?”

“Thank god.” Eddie gives her one more lingering kiss, and she tries to convey all the love she has for him and the relief she feels about being in his arms again.

They walk through the Cunningham house, and Chrissy spots her mother in the living room, sitting by herself in Phillip Cunningham’s favorite chair. Everyone is gone now, and it’s only the three of them in the house. The woman looks up as they enter the room. It’s maybe the only time that Chrissy thinks the woman isn’t trying to pretend to be anything but perfect. Chrissy thinks she’s never looked more human, or more beautiful. The woman looks between Chrissy and Eddie, seeing how Chrissy is secured tightly under Eddie’s arm, and her eyes shift into something like resignation.

Chrissy doesn’t say anything to her. Instead, she lets Eddie guide her away, and they walk out the front door, together.

***

Chrissy was so sure that after falling into bed with Eddie, secured in his arms, that sleep would be the last thing on his mind.

Except…they didn’t have sex like she thought they would.

Eddie just kissed her and kissed her until he said they should get some rest.

Chrissy couldn’t help but wonder if he didn’t want to because he didn’t really want her.

Her thoughts keep racing, sleep hasn’t come, and she’s more than alert as she presses her ear to his heart and listens to its steady beat, feeling the vibration of his soft snore as it rattles in his chest. She’s so exhausted, but she can’t even close her eyes. Chrissy is wrapped around his side like a koala, and she has no intention of moving, even when he tries to pull away in his sleep.

She’s already admitted to herself that she’s terrified.

Scared that he’ll wake up and change his mind, and he’ll say that forgiving her was a mistake, and he should probably head back to Wayne’s house, where their girls are still staying, unaware that their parents have made up.

The thought is too much, and she feels like crying, even after she’s already cried so much…

“Baby,” Eddie says hoarsely, his voice thick from sleep, “it’s burning up, and I’m getting sticky.”

She makes a pitiful noise, tightening herself around him despite his desire to detach his sweaty body from hers.

His own voice makes a noise of concern, and he rolls them across the mattress until she’s underneath him. He reaches blindly for the bedside lamp, clicking it on, and looking down at her with that same concern etched in his features.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes; her voice hitched with emotion.

He sighs, “have you been awake this whole time?”

“I didn’t want to close my eyes and open them to realize you weren’t here.”

“Chrissy, baby, you gotta stop beating yourself up.” He leans in, kissing her brow, and she feels only a little better. “Everything is fine now, remember?”

“What if you change your mind,” she whispers, “what if you realize you can’t forgive me?”

“I do forgive you, Chrissy. I forgave you almost as soon as you left, alright? I—I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me.”

“You didn’t want to have sex.”

Eddie looks bemused, “when? Tonight?”

“I thought maybe we’d…make up, you know?”

“Baby, when was the last time you actually slept? You were dead on your feet walking into the house. I wanted us to sleep together.” He snakes his arms underneath her and squeezes her closer.

“I can’t, Eddie. I just need to know—”

“You think me fucking your brains out is gonna prove anything?”

“I’ll know you still want me.”

Eddie almost looks insulted. He pulls them both up, situating them in the middle of the bed, Chrissy straddling his lap.

“If that’s the only way I’ve ever proven to you that I want you, I really fucked up somewhere, Chrissy. No wonder you left. Fuck—”

“No, Eddie! No, it isn’t that! I’m just—I’m all twisted up inside! Everything is all wrong! I need to know that you can look at me and not despise what you see—because—because I do…”

“Baby.” The single word is said so sympathetically and full of sadness that it finally unleashes the torrent of tears she was trying to avoid. She buries her face in his neck, tears soaking a different shirt this time, replacing the sweat they’d both been collecting while attached to one another. Its messy and ugly, and it feels a lot like what her insides feel like. “If I could reach inside and take this all away from you I would.” Eddie says, as if reading her thoughts. His voice is thick with his own tears. She finally looks up, horrified to see that he’s crying too, “god, I just love you desperately, Chrissy. I want to take all your pain and perceived ugliness and just make it go away.”

“Don’t cry for me, Eddie. Please—I don’t want you to hurt like this too.” Her lips smear their tears across his face as she kisses him, “I couldn’t bear it.”

“You gotta let me take some of it from you, baby. I’d take every bit of it if I knew it’d make you feel better.”

“You’re so selfless, Eddie. Just knowing that you’d try to take it from me is enough. I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Chrissy. Always. I’ll never not love you. You’ve always been it for me.”

His kisses consume her, and the terrible thoughts littering her brain hide themselves away just so she can enjoy his selfless attentions. Chrissy remembers when sex between them was still a novelty. When they were in high school, and they had to stay as quiet as possible in Eddie’s bedroom because the walls were so thin, and Wayne was just down the hall, or when Eddie would sneak up the side trellis of the Cunningham house, into her bedroom, and he would do things to her that would drive her wild in the darkness of night, but make her blush red thinking about it in the light of day. Not to mention the things he did to her in the back of his van…

This desperation feels exactly like that.

“I need you to know,” he pants as he starts to tug at her clothes, “that I’m gonna fuck your brains out right now because I’ve missed you, and I fucking love you, Chrissy.”

“Uh huh,” her giggles are giddy as he rips her panties to shreds, tossing the material away. “Just show me how much, Eddie.”

And he does.

The rest of the night, and three times after the sun comes up.

***

Sometime mid-morning, they practically crawl to the bathtub, wash off the evidence of their love making, put new sheets on the mattress, and then fall asleep holding each other. Chrissy sleeps so soundly that it’s nighttime again when she finally wakes up. Her body is well rested and the ache between her thighs reminds her that her husband really does love and desire her. She knows Eddie would argue that he feels both of those things without the sex, but she did beg him to prove it to her that way, and he really did.

She lets out a long groan as she stretches, and her joints pop into place.

There’s conversation and laughter outside of the bedroom, and she nearly sprints to see if her family has finally come home. Chrissy trips over toys and suit cases that are overflowing in the hallway, and it almost makes her cry all over again. She takes a minute to steady her racing heartbeat, and the shaking in her hands before turning the corner into the living room.

Her girls are spread out in front of the television watching a movie, and she spots Eddie in the kitchen, chopping veggies beside a mini-tower of steaming pizza boxes. It’s a perfect picture of what their life was before she almost ruined it…

And maybe that’s just her being too hard on herself, but after making such a stupid mistake, what she sees in front of her is something she still isn’t sure that she deserves.

A normal, happy life.

She walks over to Eddie first. His smile is soft, and he wordlessly leans over and kisses her.

“Mommy,” she pulls away from her husband and looks at Evie. Her solemn, quiet daughter. She’s staring at Chrissy with something like understanding, reaching out her hand, “come watch the movie with us. Daddy said he’ll tell us when food is ready.”

Chrissy presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s shoulder and walks over, settling herself between her girls. Evie crawls under her arm, wrapping both of hers around Chrissy’s waist, Rosy puts her head in Chrissy’s lap, and Lottie splays across Chrissy’s legs with her head hanging off the couch. It’s something they’ve done a million times before, but it lets Chrissy know that her kids still love her as much as her husband does.

It tells her that fixing mistakes and starting over is never too late.

[billysblueeyes]

You can also read it on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67086808

[billysblueeyes]

My first bingo fill for @hellcheeranniversaryweek

Rated T (hint at smut but not explicit or detailed), angst, happy ending, original child characters, & mentions of blood (very brief)

Words: 9k+

Prompts: C1 Trauma Bonding & C3 Heartbeat

Bingo Card Name: deathinasmalltown

This fic is an angst train with a happy ending. EMPHASIS ON HAPPY ENDING. It’s probably one of the more realistic depictions of marriage and toxic family dynamics that I’ve written. Basically, it explores how trauma never really disappears and humans are all inherently flawed and prone to make mistakes. Anyway…I separated trauma and bonding for the C1 prompt. The C3 prompt, heartbeat, is mentioned a couple of times and is literal. Lmao!

✨

Chrissy knew moving back to Hawkins was a bad idea.

But Wayne had gotten his arm mangled in an accident with one of the newest machines at the Plant, and they had all been beside themselves with fear, thinking he might lose the limb altogether. The man was in his late sixties, and they knew he wouldn’t bounce back as quickly as he claimed he would. Luckily, the arm was saved, but he still needed help getting around for a while. Wayne needed someone there to take care of him. Eddie, Chrissy, and their girls, weren’t tied down to Chicago. They made it a home, but their loyalties lied more towards family, and Wayne was the best family. So, they decided to give Hawkins another shot and stick close to the older man for the foreseeable future.

It was one year after the turn of the century, and the world all survived the fear of Y2K. Chrissy was unsurprised to see that Hawkins hadn’t changed, not even a little bit. And that’s because they hadn’t been back since Chrissy and Eddie left town after graduating in ‘86. The scenery was the same. The businesses were the same. The churches were the same. The homes were the same. The people were the same. It was all the same, same, same, same, same.

Meaning, it was an awful idea…

Just as much as opening that line of communication with her mother was a bad idea when they got back into town.

Chrissy Munson had spent fifteen blissful years of no contact with the woman. She had married the love of her life. She had birthed three, happy, healthy, trauma-free children. She had thought she spent that time overcoming the abuse her mother had forced her to endure. Chrissy thought it would be an easy feat seeing the woman again, and she’d be able to hear her opinions about Chrissy’s life married to Eddie, and her opinions about the kids they shared, and her opinions about the fact that Chrissy didn’t turn out to be the woman Laura Cunningham had raised her to be, and Chrissy thought she would be able to handle it.

She also thought that she’d be able to communicate with the woman on a level that salvaged even a modicum of their relationship as mother and daughter.

So, Chrissy invited her parents over to the Munsons’ new home—a quaint, 3 bedroom and 2 bath, Craftsmen house, situated on the corner of Mulberry Oak Drive. It was a cute home with a teal-colored front door, that both her and Eddie worked to afford. Eddie had made most of his money in Chicago as a studio guitarist. Now, he gets residuals from his previous jobs, and he’s got a freelance gig driving to an Indianapolis studio once or twice a month, but he gets a steadier paycheck at the auto shop in town. Meanwhile, Chrissy took over as the library director at Hawkins Public Library after Marissa McNeal retired. She had fell in love with librarianship through Chicago’s amazing public libraries, slowly working her way to a master’s degree while raising the girls as a stay at home mom.

Chrissy and Eddie were doing well for themselves and their children. Chrissy didn’t want to brag, but she at least wanted to show her parents that she did pretty damn good without their help, thank you very much.

It was a surprise during dinner that night, when Chrissy admitted to herself that her mother was being fairly pleasant. She should have taken the time to second guess herself because she would have foreseen the proverbial ‘other shoe drop’. Laura Cunningham had bided her time all these years and after that initial dinner. The woman knew exactly how to get her daughter exactly where she once had her.

.

.

.

Chrissy, sweetie, you always look so tired.

Did you know that your old friend, Deb, married a big shot lawyer? They have a seven-bedroom home in Loch Nora, and they vacation in Mexico every summer. Aren’t you so envious? I know I am.

Oh darling, I really wish you would have continued cheering professionally, in college. Instead of taking over a decade to get a Master of Library Science degree. What a drab job.

Sweetie, that dress just doesn’t fit you right; you should really let me do some alterations. I’m sure you expected to have the same body after three kids, but you really don’t. The least you can do is wear better clothes than that sausage casing. Give it to me, and I’ll let it out, make it look more flattering.

Have you heard? Jason and his wife are getting a divorce. Could you imagine what your life would have been like had you married him instead? He wouldn’t be ending a third marriage, I’ll tell you that much. And you’d be in a better house with a nicer car. Oh, but I don’t mean it like that, at least you have your girls.

Your father and I were talking, if you need us to lend you some money to buy the girls some nicer clothes or toys, we don’t mind, and you can always pay us back later…or maybe not, lord knows you make more money than that man you married.

Why don’t you leave your family at home and come with me to the ladies meeting at the Country Club? You’ll enjoy the attention from your old friends. It’ll be just like high school. I know you must miss those days.

Honestly, I applaud you for working Chrissy, but you have three children who need you! You should have a husband who takes care of all of you! You wouldn’t be so tired all the time if he could provide for his family like a real man should.

Chrissy, enough is enough. Just look at yourself—look at the woman you’ve become. How can you go out to town on your days off, looking as you are, and not taking any pride in your appearance? You’re slovenly, just as much as that man you married, and your daughters…they’re taking after him too.

I just don’t know how you lasted this long without me, Chrissy. I really don’t. But don’t worry, I forgive you. Luckily, you have me now, and I’m going to make it all better.

.

.

.

The problem is that Chrissy fell for all of it.

Hook.

Line.

Sinker.

Chrissy thought she had created an iron resolve for herself after escaping the time under her mother’s thumb. But Laura Cunningham knew all the ways to really dig her claws in. And she made Chrissy feel like a little girl again, begging for her mother’s approval. Needing to prove to the woman that she is the golden child her mother tried to shape her into. That Chrissy actually wanted all of those terrible things her mother tried to force on her while she was growing up. Laura Cunningham knew exactly what she was doing, and her daughter was a people pleaser to a fault; she was gullible, and she was stupid, stupid, stupid.

That’s how Chrissy Munson had found herself on the cusp of a divorce from the man she had married fourteen years previously—the same man that she was still head over heels, madly in love with.

***

Their girls.

God.

Chrissy always knew they were daddy’s girls. But it still really hurts that they don’t want to be around her all that much, lately.

Rose, their oldest, just turned thirteen, but Chrissy swears that the girl was born thirty. She’s the splitting image of Eddie: tall, lanky, wild curly brown hair, and big brown eyes. She listens to her dad’s heavy metal, but she also just made the Hawkins middle school cheer team. Their Rosy is so smart, so good-hearted, so funny, and she has the strongest conviction about who she is and what she stands for.

And she’s spitting mad at Chrissy.

“Rosy, you can’t ignore me forever.”

“Maybe not. But you did it to your mother for fifteen years, I’m sure I can last longer.”

Chrissy flinches. “Those words hurt me, Rosy.”

“And you hurt me, mommy. You hurt Evelyn and Charlotte. And you broke daddy’s heart.” Her big voice cracks on the last words, and Chrissy can feel her own heart breaking too.

“You’re—you’re too young to understand—”

“No! I’m not! I understand perfectly!”

“What then? What is it that you understand?”

“That Laura is evil! And to think this whole town says daddy is the devil worshipper! Your mother is literally the spawn of satan! And she’s convinced you that the life you have with daddy! With me! With my sisters! Isn’t enough! But it is, mommy! We were all happy! And now you’ve—you’ve—fucked it up!”

Chrissy sniffles, “you learned that language from your father.”

“So?!”

Chrissy sighs in defeat, clacking her French tips on the steering wheel. Her mother had complained about her split skin, disgusting cuticles and nail beds, and she made her get a manicure. Chrissy hates them. Meanwhile, her daughter glances at her nails warily before crossing her arms, sinking into the passenger seat, and angling herself away from Chrissy.

“There have always been things in my life that I’ve struggled with, Rosy—and my mother—my mother has always wanted what was best for me—”

Rose scoffs, and it’s pointed enough to fill Chrissy up with shame. “She’s always wanted to control you, mommy. There’s a big difference.”

“You have no clue—”

“You’re right. I don’t have a single clue about your relationship with her. Because you’re a good mom, and you’d never treat me the way she treats you.”

“My mother loves me, Rosy.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Chrissy has never raised her voice to her daughter, but she feels like screaming. She just needs someone to get it. To understand how hard all of this is. Someone who won’t judge her for believing her mother’s words, and her selfish promises, and who would never make Chrissy feel crazy for doing something so rash and irresponsible and stupid—

The only one who would ever do that is Eddie—and she—she broke his heart. Just like Rose said.

Her knuckles turn white as she fists her hands around the steering wheel and pulls up to the small house on Old Cherry Lane that Wayne moved into sometime during the 90s. Something about getting a raise and better benefits at the Plant, and he was able to move out of the trailer park. It’s where Eddie—and the girls—are staying now. The four of them moved out of the new house on Mulberry Oak Drive that the Munson’s just bought. Of course, their daughters prefer Eddie over her, so they had no qualms about leaving Chrissy to live there alone…

If she’s not careful, she could let her hurt feelings make her bitter.

“Are you sure you and your sisters don’t want to stay with me for the weekend?”

Rose finally looks at her, and it’s Chrissy who has to look away because all she sees is her daughter's hurt. “I don’t think so, mommy. Evie still doesn’t want to talk to you, and Lottie—Lottie still doesn’t understand.”

“Well, we could all talk—and maybe we could—we could work it all out—”

“Mommy, the only person you need to work anything out with is daddy.”

Chrissy glances out at the front porch. She can’t see him, but she can feel him. There’s also the unmistakable glow of a cigarette in the twilight. He had stopped smoking ten years ago. Chrissy knows that him picking up the old habit is her fault. Eddie is smoking again because she left him. She also knows that the reason he’s sitting out there is because he’s waiting. Chrissy’s heart stutters, but she won’t let herself assume that he’s waiting for anyone else other than Rose.

“Go on then, don’t keep daddy waiting.” She clears the thickness from her throat. “I’ll pick you up and take you to the basketball game tomorrow, to watch you cheer.”

“Daddy’s taking me.”

Chrissy scoffs a laugh, “your father is not sitting through a basketball game.”

“He already said he would. Daddy, pop-pop, and Uncle Lucas are taking me.”

“Oh. Is your Aunt Max gonna be there too?”

“Of course not, her opinion about basketball is worse than daddy’s.” Rose’s voice is droll enough to make Chrissy laugh. “You’re still gonna be there though, right?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

She picks at her cuticles, watching as the skin peels back and a bubble of blood wells up in her nail bed. Chrissy puts it to her mouth and licks it away quickly. Rose’s hand comes up and covers hers, tugging it away from her mouth. Chrissy looks over at her oldest daughter, and she finds Eddie’s eyes staring back at her, and they’re full of pity.

“You’ll sit with daddy and pop-pop, right?”

“They don’t want—”

“Neither one of them is mad at you, you know.”

Chrissy shakes her head, “go inside, Rosy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And because her daughter is so good, and she isn’t really so mad at Chrissy, Rose leans over and gives her a quick kiss on the mouth. Chrissy kisses her back, cupping her free hand to Rose’s cheek and blinking away her own unshed tears. Chrissy gestures with her head, urging her daughter to go inside.

“Bye mommy.”

“I love you so much, Rosy.”

Her daughter nods, “I love you more, mommy.” Her daughter squeezes the hand she’s been holding and sighs dejectedly before slamming the door behind her.

Chrissy’s tears finally manage to escape her, and she wipes at them angrily. She shifts the car into drive and heads to the house that she lives in, alone.

***

Jason has asked her out to dinner a few times.

Chrissy has had to hide the revulsion that rolls through her every time she lets him down easy.

She can’t help but stare at him closely when they see each other, which has happened way too often, recently. Maybe it’s cruel of her to say, but the ugliness of him never goes away. Yeah, he’s always put together, lathered in expensive aftershave and cologne, but it’s not enough to mask his permanently hard eyes, or his red face, thin white lips, his balding crown, and receding hairline. Chrissy assumes to spite all of this he takes pains to keep his body built like it was when he was still a Hawkins varsity basketball star. He also happens to be very successful, owning and operating the only luxury car dealership in town. He has a nice house in Loch Nora, and he has no kids. Chrissy has heard him boast about still wanting to be a family man, hinting at her as she listens to him drone on. She wonders what the three wives he attached himself to had endured during their time married to him that made the idea of making him a father so terrible. None of them were from Hawkins or even stuck around afterward. That’s another strike in her book because there are plenty of single women in their hometown, and not a single one of them are interested in him. That alone, tells her all she needs to know about the man Jason has become, or more likely, has always been.

Even more, there’s that cockiness about him that has gotten worse in the fifteen years since she last saw him.

He’s mean in his confidence.

Her bad feelings are cemented when he randomly shows up to the middle school basketball game…and sits next to her. Her eyes widen as he sits down; her hands get clammy, and she has the worst urge to gnaw on her manicured nails. There’s no reason for him to be there. And the hushed whispers from those around them, as he sits down, is more proof that him being there, next to her, is a bad idea. Her mother walks through the gym doors and waves to them, with Phillip Cunningham trailing behind her wearing a smile that’s actually a grimace. Chrissy immediately knows that this was all planned by the old woman.

Chrissy is mortified, and she feels like a fool.

The betrayal in Rose’s eyes as she runs across the gym floor in her cheer uniform has Chrissy on the verge of tears. She bites on her lip and follows her little girl with her eyes, hoping her daughter would look back, but Rosy refuses as she reaches her spot behind her megaphone, waving her pom poms at the crowd instead.

“Your daughter, she’s pretty, even if she looks like him.”

Chrissy’s heartache gives way to insult and anger. “Why are you here, Jason?”

“I used to run this court,” his smile is smarmy. “I might be getting older, but I still love this game, and your mother—”

“You’re not here to watch basketball, Jason. You’re trying to play a different game altogether. And I won’t let you use me as some one-sided pissing contest with my husband.”

“Ex—”

“We’re still married, and I am still never going on a date with you.”

“You need someone to take care of you, Chris.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Chrissy gets up just as her mother reaches them, and she practically shoves past the woman. Laura grabs Chrissy’s arm in an iron grip, but Chrissy yanks. Her mother’s manicured nails shred at her skin, and Chrissy walks away with her head hanging, trying to stop her tears.

She sucks at navigating the middle school hallways. It seems that Hawkins’ public schools are the only buildings that have changed in town. As the population has expanded, they’ve been remodeled to connect the high school and the middle school for more space, making it one expansive building. Moving through the larger hallways, she feels like that meek and haunted girl that she used to be.

By the time she finds a bathroom, her makeup is smudged, and she’s chewed through the acrylic of three French tips. Chrissy takes one glance at her face in the mirror and bursts into sobs that only make her look uglier. Her face is gaunt, and she’s lost weight since the start of ruining her own life, and it’s all exacerbated by running mascara and her sunken eyes.

She can’t bear to look at her heavily painted face anymore, so she grabs paper towels and angrily swipes away the makeup until she’s bare-faced and splotchy. Chrissy runs her wrists under the cold water to calm her racing heart, cool her blood, and ease the panic crawling up her throat. She looks down at the thin scratches on her arm, that her mother left her with, and watches as the rivulets of thin blood start to coagulate. She sniffles and tries to collect herself in time to go back out there and face the fact that her oldest daughter probably hates her, and everyone probably saw her behavior, and they judge her for the way she reacted towards her mother, and the rumors have more than likely already started about her and Jason, and Eddie probably saw the whole thing from wherever he was sitting…

“Mommy.”

Chrissy looks up to see Evelyn and Charlotte in the bathroom doorway. Her youngest daughter runs to her and wraps her small arms around Chrissy’s legs. She immediately swallows whatever emotions she was feeling and reaches down to pick up her baby girl, peppering her cherub, three-year-old face, with kisses and holding her close. Lottie giggles and kisses back. Chrissy rocks her in her arms, and she looks over at her other daughter. Evie hovers in the doorway, not really wanting to move any closer, staring at Chrissy with a stony expression.

“Pop-pop wanted us to come and get you.”

“I—I just had to potty,” Chrissy says as an excuse.

Her daughter’s brow furrows, and Chrissy knows that Evie knows she’s lying.

“He wants you to come and sit with us.” Her middle child looks at her challengingly, and Chrissy can’t help but smile at another pair of beautiful brown eyes that belong to her husband, even if they glare back at her. “Unless you’re gonna go back and sit with Laura.”

“No. I’ve missed you girls. Why wouldn’t I sit with you?”

The girl looks mollified until she spots Chrissy’s arm. “You’re bleeding.” Her daughter says with more concern than Chrissy thinks she deserves.

Evie finally walks into the restroom, and she gets more paper towels, wetting them and dabbing at Chrissy’s arm. The girl doesn’t look at her as she works, and Chrissy doesn’t know why it makes her feel more like a child than the actual ten-year-old helping her. Evie has always had an air of melancholy surrounding her that Chrissy thinks the girl inherited from her. It translates into a subdued nature that Chrissy thinks she might’ve shown everyone, growing up too soon under Laura’s thumb. Chrissy can only pray that she hasn’t fucked up her own daughter in the same way that her mother had, and this is just who Evie is.

“It’s alright, baby. It’s just a little blood.” She clears her throat, stepping back with Charlotte still in her arms.

“Laura is mean.” Evie says, as if hearing all the racing thoughts Chrissy has been having and daring to be the one to say them out loud.

Chrissy can’t expect any of her children to call Laura, grandma. Laura Cunningham doesn’t even want to be called grandma, saying it makes her feel old. She decided that the girls should call her ‘LuLu’.

They don’t.

“She is.” Chrissy agrees wearily.

“You won’t be mean like that to us, will you?”

And the fact that Chrissy has sewn that seed of doubt in her daughter is like her prayer has gone unanswered, and she’s already ruined her daughter, and the relationships with each of her children.

“No.” Chrissy fights another bout of tears. “I’ll never be like her.”

Evie nods, much like earlier, and she tugs on her mother’s hand, urging her to follow outside of the restroom. Chrissy hoists Lottie up higher on her hip, and she lets herself be dragged away by her daughter, if only to keep holding her smaller hand in hers. The ringing shouts from the basketball crowd echoes in the hallways until they’re at the large gym doors, walking around the people as they move towards Lucas Sinclair, Wayne, and Eddie. Chrissy feels all the eyes on her, and she wonders why the hell she still cares. Lucas waves at her; his eyes are kind, but his mouth is set awkwardly.

“Hey Lucas, how are Max and Olivia?”

“Great! Max got a promotion at work, and Livy is growing like a weed.” He chuckles. “How are you doing?” He physically cringes after asking, and she tries not to be bothered by it.

“I’m okay.”

“Good. That’s good.” His smile is encouraging, if not awkward.

Chrissy spares a glance at Eddie, but his eyes remain forward, watching as Rosy waves her pom poms at him. He has a soft smile on his face, and it barely falters as Chrissy sits down on the opposite side of Wayne, who sits between them. Evie lets Chrissy’s hand go, moving towards her dad, and she sits between his legs, on the bench below theirs. Chrissy watches as he tugs on her strawberry blonde pigtails, and Evie cocks her head back, smiling a genuine smile as she looks up at him; his smile only grows as he bends to kiss her forehead. He’s such a good dad, and their girls worship him. Chrissy can’t fault them for it because she used to be just as obsessed with him (used to, as in, actually still is). It would be remiss not to mention how Chrissy’s husband is the most handsome man she’s ever known. His hair is still long, but she’s spent years forcing him to properly condition and style it, so his curls are full, with a thick patch of grey in his bangs, despite only being in his late thirties.

Wayne smiles at Chrissy sympathetically, using his good arm to wrap around her shoulders, tugging her under his chin and keeping her there. Chrissy melts into him with relief. It’s as if he’s saying everything is alright. Everything will be just fine. And she can swallow down the permanent panic stuck in her throat. She sucks in a fortifying breath as she tries to navigate the awkwardness surrounding them. Chrissy practically uses Lottie as a shield, keeping her secured tightly in her lap, burying her face in her daughter’s brown curls, and sitting through the start of the game.

Despite being a cheerleader, Rosy is still kinda clumsy in coordination. Chrissy blames it on no formal training and the fact that at thirteen, she’s already 5’7, and the bottom half of her body is just legs, which she inherited from her father. Were Chrissy anything like Laura, her daughter would be in for a long berating at the end of the game, telling her everything she did wrong and all the ways she was embarrassing herself. Instead, Chrissy silently promises to tell Rosy how impressed she is with the girl’s booming voice (which she also inherited from her father) as she chants, and it carries above all the other girls across the court. Also, that her enthusiasm and school spirit is very convincing. Chrissy thinks she might offer to sign her up for dance or gymnastics, but only if she wants it. It’s only middle school after all, and the boys playing are just as clumsy as the cheerleaders cheering them on. But if Rosy does like cheering, and she wants to do it in high school, it might be good for her to actually learn how to move her hips…

“Rosy looks good out there,” Wayne comments wryly.

“She’s perfect.”

Chrissy flushes as her and Eddie answer him at the same time.

The thought is immediate and true. It washes away all of Chrissy’s previous thoughts. Even if it is an exaggeration, she’s their kid, one half of both of them, making her a whole person. Of course she’s perfect. Chrissy’s eyes finally meet Eddie’s, and the hatred she was so sure she’d find in his, isn’t there. Instead, she thinks they reflect the same pain she’s feeling.

She can’t bear to see it.

So, she looks away, burying her face in Lottie’s hair again and blinking away her tears for the umpteenth time…

The Hawkins Middle School Tiger Cubs lose 0-65. Chrissy couldn’t pay attention to the game, smiling shakily at Rosy as much as the girl graced her with her glances. Rosy seemed mollified to find Chrissy sitting next to her pop-pop and her daddy, after first running onto the court to go cheer and seeing her with Jason. As soon as Rosy motions them over, Lottie squirms out of her arms. Chrissy takes her time, making the climb down the stands, to the floor of the court, as the Hawkins families tend to do at the end of games. It’s an excuse to catch up and gossip or discuss plans for the next school event. Parents take pictures with their kids, and they congratulate or commiserate about their wins or losses.

Chrissy spots her mother and father, talking with Jason, and she suddenly feels something other than sadness, watching how they seem to welcome conversation with someone Chrissy hasn’t loved or known since high school. It’s baffling, how easily they show interest in the man. It’s the most animated Phillip Cunningham has seemed in years, even when in the presence of Chrissy or her brother, Kevin. Maybe it’s her fault for never expressing how unhappy she was when she was with Jason in high school; how scared he sometimes made her feel when she made him angry or upset. Then again, she never talked to her parents about her feelings back then. She still doesn’t. Chrissy stares as the three of them laughing together, and she realizes that she’s envious of Jason. He gets their laughs and conversation, and their easy demeanors. Chrissy has never had that, and she hates Jason for it.

“Did I ever tell you about my mama?”

She startles and looks back to see Wayne standing beside her. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Welp, my mama was a mean woman. It was mostly because of the alcohol; she drank herself to death, died of cirrhosis of the liver by the time she was forty, but she was also mean because she liked to be.”

“Did you ever wonder why?”

“Course I did. Sometimes, I still do. Maybe it’s because she was stuck with my daddy. He was worse—to her, and to me and my brother. I know she blamed me because he knocked her up when she were only fifteen, shunned by her family, when she had me. Maybe she felt stuck, and she thought she couldn’t leave. Growing up, I tried protecting my brother, Al, from her, and I took the brunt of her anger. Then she realized what I was doing, and she tried to pin me and Al against each other as we got older.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. Al realized that he could manipulate the both of us, and there were times I hated him for it—sometimes I was envious, ‘specially when she’d treat him better than she ever treated me.”

“How’d you deal with it?”

“Got out. Got away. It was mostly because I had been drafted into the war, but I never went back. I let that shit show burn itself to the ground. I know it might sound selfish, but I had to decide to put myself first. Al eventually followed me, but I know he still clung to all that ugliness, and he let it fester inside of him. Tried taking it out on his own wife and kid. But I did what I used to do for him—I protected Eddie and his mom, until she died too, of course.”

“I don’t—I don’t want that for me, Wayne. I don’t want the ugliness. I don’t want to have to have my kids protected from me. I love them. And I thought I did—get away, you know? I thought I was fine.”

“Pumpkin, I think the only time you ever put yourself first is when you decided to leave this place. I hate that I brought you back here—”

“No. Wayne, you did nothing wrong. Eddie and I knew that this is where we needed to be, for you. I don’t blame you. Whatever has happened since then has been my own mistakes.”

“Your girls love you, Chrissy. And you’re a damn fine mom. I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Wayne sighs. “I know everything else feels awful right now. I just wish you and Eddie would talk.”

Chrissy looks over at her husband. He’s got their girls under his arms, and he’s laughing with Lucas. And maybe Chrissy feels envious of that too. But it’s only because she wishes she was fit underneath his arm as well.

“I wouldn’t know what to tell him.”

“Maybe start with the fact that you still love him.”

She smiles softly at Wayne, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “Maybe.” He smiles back at her, until the moment someone comes up behind her. His smile disappears, and Chrissy doesn’t have to guess who it is. She sighs, turning to see her mother standing there. “I’ll talk to you later, Wayne.”

“Think about what I said.” He pats her shoulder with his good hand before leaving her alone with Laura.

Her mother smiles, but it’s one of those fake ones, done only to hide her anger. “You didn’t sit with us. You upset Jason.”

“I didn’t sit with you because of Jason.”

“Chrissy, you are grown woman. I didn’t know you could still act so childishly. People were watching.”

She shrugs, “I don’t really care about what other people think.”

Her mother laughs. Really laughs. “I don’t believe that for one minute, Chrissy.” Laura looks at her with a pointed brow. “And if it were true, I’d think twice about it. The impression you and your family give off is important, especially in this town. I don’t think you ever learned that no matter how much I tried to teach it to you. You did marry that flagrant after all, even bore his children. Now, you will learn soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You won’t be able to stand the embarrassment.”

“What’re you even talking about?”

“Your daughter, Rose. I saw you watching her. You were having the exact same thoughts I was having.”

“You have no clue what I was thinking—”

“She looked foolish out there.”

“Mother, I’m warning you—”

“And I’m warning you, Chrissy. You’re gonna let that girl embarrass you. Embarrass our family—”

“Well, I’ll save you the embarrassment, mother. She doesn’t consider you family. None of my daughters do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your grandchildren despise you.”

Laura glares. “It’s because of that man you married. He’s putting thoughts into their heads—”

“No.” Chrissy shakes her head. “Eddie has never spoken a bad word about you to them. In fact, he’s never even mentioned you at all. You mean nothing to him. And you need to accept that.” Laura Cunningham balks at the revelation of ever being meaningless, to anyone. “The reason they despise you is because Eddie and I have raised them to know their worth. My girls know that the only opinion that ever matters is their own. And they hate you because of how much you love sharing your unwanted opinions, especially about me. But I won’t ever let your words hurt them because I’ve decided that if they choose not to know you, then I’ll respect that decision.”

“I am their grandmother!”

“Not to them. To them, you’re just my evil mother. If you’re determined to be in their life, you should really think about the kind of impression you’ve made with them.” She shrugs, “and for the record, my daughter looked perfect out there.”

Chrissy walks away, her head held much higher than it’s been in a while.

***

Three weeks later, Chrissy is startled awake to the screams of her mother in her ear, after blearily answering the incessant ringing of the telephone.

“Mom, calm down. I can’t understand you…”

“Phillip is dead! Your father is dead, Chrissy! Help me! Oh god! Help me! Oh lord! I don’t know what to do!”

The hysteria in her voice. The heartache. It seems that her mother was capable of loving someone after all. And Chrissy thinks that there could have been a better time for her father to kick the bucket. It’s a selfish thought, but she doesn’t have very much time to think about it. She’s suddenly thrust into automatic, rolling out of bed, and slipping into her shoes. She stumbles to the front door, racing to her car, and then her mother’s house. Time slows, and the rest of the day passes in a blur.

Phillip Cunningham died in his sleep, seemingly of natural causes, though they’d later find out he had a pulmonary embolism from undiagnosed coronary heart disease.

Chrissy is numb to it. Granted, she loved her father, but in a mindless, ‘he’s my father, of course I love him,’ kind of way. She hadn’t been close to him since she was a little girl, when he used to hold her hand as she toddled around, or when he read her stories before bed, or shared his ice cream with her. She can’t say she knew a single thing about the father he was after she turned twelve years old, and Laura really dug her claws into both of them, keeping them separated. Her mom’s very weird possessiveness over her husband, bled into accusatory looks anytime Chrissy even tried to get close to her own father. And though Chrissy blames her mother for the distance, her father never attempted to change the outcome of their relationship either. Her lack of feelings toward his death is an ugly state to be in, but Chrissy hasn’t felt very pretty lately, anyway. Chrissy actually feels pretty ugly, inside and out, or more like her insides are her outsides, and she’s been metaphorically bleeding all over her mother’s pristine carpet.

Even after that confrontation with Laura, after Rosy’s first time cheering, Chrissy let herself fall back into the same old patterns her mother set out for them. She’s been living on autopilot, and the rest of her life has been deteriorating around her.

Now she has this to deal with…

The next day, her brother, Kevin, shows up from his hipster lifestyle in New York City. He looks at Chrissy with indifference. She doesn’t take it personal. It seems he feels the same as her when it comes to their father.

“Where are the girls?”

Chrissy clears her throat, “they’re staying with Eddie.”

“Well, can I stay with you guys? I don’t want to be here with Laura.”

“No, they’re not staying with me, Kevin. We—uhm—Eddie and I split up. They’re all living at Wayne’s place.”

Kevin blinks at her before snorting…and laughing…hard.

Chrissy’s body floods with embarrassment, and his laughter eventually dies out when he sees in her expression that she’s being serious. “Shut the fuck up, Chrissy. You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” She sniffs, unable to meet his eyes.

“God. Why?”

“I—I don’t know.” She concludes because she really doesn’t fucking know anymore. Chrissy looks over at Kevin, and his face shows dawning realization as he stares at her overpainted face, her gaudy new nails, ice-blond highlights with long hair extensions, and her formfitting black dress with heels, everything that her mother managed to berate her for not having done up before coming over to the house, knowing guests would be arriving all day to give condolences. Kevin scoffs, and his mouth opens to speak. Chrissy knows it’ll probably be to tell her that she’s an idiot. She stiffens her spine. “I don’t want to hear it right now, Kevin.”

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to Wayne’s.”

“Are—you’re gonna stay there with them too?”

“I sure as hell ain’t staying with Laura. Besides, I want to spend time with the girls. I’ll just take Wayne’s couch.”

It’s a dismissal if she’s ever heard of one, and it makes her finally feel something other than apathy. It’s a new spurt of blood splattering all over her mother’s couch. Kevin hardly spares their mother a kind word before exiting the house and avoiding the crowd of people who have loitered inside Laura and Phillip’s home—with their insincere words and half-hearted condolences. It’s all about appearances, and Chrissy is left to do all the heavy lifting. Laura plays off her son’s disappearance, making excuses for him, unlike she ever would for Chrissy. Her brother leaves her to fend for herself, and Chrissy can’t say that she even really blames him.

It still doesn’t hurt any less…

The next couple of days leading up to the funeral are Chrissy’s living nightmare. Her mother’s behavior towards her somehow gets worse, and Chrissy can only assume that the woman has finally lost her mind. Her future is bound to be boring, lest she make Chrissy her forever project. And it’s that realization that makes Chrissy understand her father just a little bit more. Maybe Phillip Cunningham couldn’t love Chrissy like he did when she was a little girl, but he could exist to distract her mother enough to give Chrissy a bit of freedom from Laura. Whether it was intentional or not, it was enough that Chrissy escaped her mom and found happiness with Eddie, and their life, and their little family.

And now with Phillip dead, there might not ever be an escape from the hell she chose over that happiness…

Chrissy is a distraught mess the day they put Phillip Cunningham in the ground.

She doesn’t even remember getting herself ready, but she knows that she’s tugged, pulled, yanked, bit, and gnawed at all the frayed strings that make up her entire existence—she’s prodded at and exposed every flaw on her person that Laura Cunningham would point out if the woman wasn’t so caught up in the attention she’s been bestowed for her dead husband.

Meanwhile, people assume Chrissy is mourning her father, but she’s actually mourning her future.

There’s a headache pulsing behind her eyelids, her feet are killing her, and she just wants to escape. Luckily, the funeral reception at the Cunningham house is dying down, and everyone is slowly trickling out the door. Chrissy knows she’ll be expected to clean up the mess they left behind before she’ll be allowed to slink away to her own home and lick her wounds in private. There’s such a deep exhaustion that’s settled in her bones, and she’s tired of pretending that she’s fine.

It’s no surprise that she bursts into tears when she walks into her mother’s kitchen and sees a table full of cellophane wrapped leftovers, and spots Eddie shoving them in the fridge. He looks up at her sheepishly, as if he had no intention of being caught cleaning up in her mother’s kitchen. Through her tears, she notices the same exhaustion she feels, written all over his face too. Chrissy doesn’t think. She just walks over and tucks herself under his chin, wrapping her arms around his waist. His arms come up around her shoulders, and she melts into his warmth. She doesn’t know how long she cries, but his shirt is soaked, and her eyes feel swollen.

And still, Eddie holds her close, rubbing her back in comfort.

“What’re you doing here?”

She sounds like the Cookie Monster because her voice is so thick with her tears.

Eddie shrugs around her. “I love your brother, but I’ve been wanting to kick his teeth in the past few days. I asked him if he was gonna helping you deal with your mom, and he said he didn’t want to. When he showed up at Wayne’s after the funeral, he said he wasn’t planning on coming here for the reception. I could only imagine what you’ve been going through. It feels like I’ve been climbing up the walls because I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to do this alone.”

“Oh, Eddie.”

“If you want me to leave…”

“No! I just—how’d you get past my mom?”

“Through the front door—like I give a shit if she knows I’m here.”

Chrissy might be laughing, but it’s muffled as she buries her face in his chest again. “Thank you, Eddie. You didn’t have to do this. I don’t—I don’t deserve—”

“I love you, Chrissy.”

She’s gonna start crying again.

“I love you too, Eddie. So much.”

“I know you do.”

“Really? After what I’ve done to you? To us?”

He sighs, “I think I might’ve been angry with you for about a day before I couldn’t be anymore.”

“You deserve to hate me.”

“No—” he pulls away, and she misses the feel of him already. His hands come up to cup her cheeks, but she can’t look him in the eye. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“How can you say that? I left you, Eddie! I ruined our marriage!”

“Would you believe me if I said that I know you never wanted to hurt me?” He smiles sadly, “that’s not to say that when you told me you were leaving, my first thought was, ‘welp, you always knew she was too good for you, Eddie. It had to happen sometime.’”

Chrissy chokes on her words as she really starts crying again, “that’s not true! Eddie, it’s not!”

“It took some time to realize that. I had to ask myself why you left, and I felt stupid for not seeing it before.”

“Seeing what?”

“Well, you’ve never really dealt with this, have you?”

“Dealt with what?”

“Your relationship with your mother.” He gently pushes her to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island, sitting next to her. “You and I ran away, Chrissy.” Her brow furrows as she takes in his words. “You were running from your mother, and I was running from this town and all its people who treated me like I was shit under their shoes.” Eddie reaches up and brushes her hair from her face, and she leans into his touch. “When we got together in high school, it was easy to ignore all of your quirks when you always told me you were fine, and you were happy with me, but I should’ve pushed you to talk to me. I knew that you had a weird relationship with food, and you could hardly look in a mirror, and you would close off when we talked about your mom. Afterwards, when we left this place, you were much better, but I knew you weren’t completely different, and I still didn’t pry. You got pregnant with Rosy so quickly after we were married. I think you decided for the both of you that you had to change. And you did. It’s like you were able to fix yourself because you wanted to be better for her. The same with Evie and Lottie. But I think it was actually like putting a bandaid on a wound; it’s still underneath, even if no one else can see it.”

Chrissy looks at him stubbornly, “bandaids help heal wounds.”

He huffs a laugh, “only if you take them off, clean and air out the wound, and replace the soiled ones.”

“What are you really saying, Eddie?”

“You need to talk to somebody. A professional.”

“Like, therapy?”

“Yeah. There are issues you never worked through. I remember that you really liked Ms. Kelley in high school. I know there’s gotta be someone else out there that can pick at your brain.” He sighs. “Maybe I should see someone too. To get rid of this idea that I had expected you to leave me, like my mom and my dad did, or because I never thought I was good enough for you, you know?” She nods. “We can do this, together.”

“Together?”

“We can go to marriage counseling, so we can learn to communicate better. Unless you’ve already decided you still want to be separated. Maybe you want to learn more about yourself and be on your own while you do it. If you really want a…a divorce…I’ll…”

“No!” Chrissy nearly falls out of her seat to wrap herself around him, kissing him desperately through her snot and tears. She kisses him everywhere her lips can reach. “Please, Eddie, no! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Eddie shushes her, kissing her back just as desperately, “I’m sorry too, Chrissy. Fuck, maybe I should’ve fought harder—Maybe I shouldn’t have let you leave—”

“It was a mistake! All of it was just a stupid mistake! And the girls—I hurt them—”

“We’re all gonna be okay, baby.” Eddie holds her tighter. “They love you so much. We’re gonna fix this, together.”

“Yes, together. I want you to come home. I need all of you near me again, Eddie. Please, I don’t want to be without you.”

Chrissy clings to him, kissing him until it feels like her heart isn’t breaking anymore. Like her insides are being stuffed back into her body, and Eddie’s love is stitching her back together again. He’s all she’s ever needed; all she’s ever truly wanted. Chrissy chose him a long time ago, and she can’t believe she ever thought leaving him wouldn’t be the end of her entire world.

By the time they come up for air, Chrissy is sagging in his arms. She just wants to fall into bed with her husband and let him hold her until she falls asleep.

“Should we talk about what happens next?” Chrissy shrugs, not really all that excited about the thought. Eddie squeezes her once, before his hands start rubbing her back in comfort again. “I know this town fucking sucks, but I think the girls like it here. And I actually love being this close to Wayne again. I just—I don’t know how you want to navigate being around your mom. I would never try and tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but it’s not like I actually want you around her if she’s gonna keep hurting you.”

“She’s gotten worse,” Chrissy whispers, “since my dad’s been gone. It’s only been a few days. I don’t know how it’ll ever get better. She won’t change until she understands that I’m really all she has left.”

“If she’s gonna treat you like shit, Chrissy—I won’t let her, and you shouldn’t.”

Chrissy leans back, but she won’t leave Eddie’s arms completely. “I’m realizing I just don’t have any patience for her. It’s easier to do what she says when it gets her to shut up.” She looks up at Eddie tiredly. “It’s not because I actually agree with her or even believe the things she says about me anymore.”

“You’re the strongest person I know, baby. I’ve seen you stand up for me, and for the girls, I just want you to do it for yourself now.”

Chrissy nods, “I know. I have to set some serious boundaries.”

“You can start by making her clean up her own damn kitchen.”

She gives him a watery smile, “take me home then?”

“Thank god.” Eddie gives her one more lingering kiss, and she tries to convey all the love she has for him and the relief she feels about being in his arms again.

They walk through the Cunningham house, and Chrissy spots her mother in the living room, sitting by herself in Phillip Cunningham’s favorite chair. Everyone is gone now, and it’s only the three of them in the house. The woman looks up as they enter the room. It’s maybe the only time that Chrissy thinks the woman isn’t trying to pretend to be anything but perfect. Chrissy thinks she’s never looked more human, or more beautiful. The woman looks between Chrissy and Eddie, seeing how Chrissy is secured tightly under Eddie’s arm, and her eyes shift into something like resignation.

Chrissy doesn’t say anything to her. Instead, she lets Eddie guide her away, and they walk out the front door, together.

***

Chrissy was so sure that after falling into bed with Eddie, secured in his arms, that sleep would be the last thing on his mind.

Except…they didn’t have sex like she thought they would.

Eddie just kissed her and kissed her until he said they should get some rest.

Chrissy couldn’t help but wonder if he didn’t want to because he didn’t really want her.

Her thoughts keep racing, sleep hasn’t come, and she’s more than alert as she presses her ear to his heart and listens to its steady beat, feeling the vibration of his soft snore as it rattles in his chest. She’s so exhausted, but she can’t even close her eyes. Chrissy is wrapped around his side like a koala, and she has no intention of moving, even when he tries to pull away in his sleep.

She’s already admitted to herself that she’s terrified.

Scared that he’ll wake up and change his mind, and he’ll say that forgiving her was a mistake, and he should probably head back to Wayne’s house, where their girls are still staying, unaware that their parents have made up.

The thought is too much, and she feels like crying, even after she’s already cried so much…

“Baby,” Eddie says hoarsely, his voice thick from sleep, “it’s burning up, and I’m getting sticky.”

She makes a pitiful noise, tightening herself around him despite his desire to detach his sweaty body from hers.

His own voice makes a noise of concern, and he rolls them across the mattress until she’s underneath him. He reaches blindly for the bedside lamp, clicking it on, and looking down at her with that same concern etched in his features.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes; her voice hitched with emotion.

He sighs, “have you been awake this whole time?”

“I didn’t want to close my eyes and open them to realize you weren’t here.”

“Chrissy, baby, you gotta stop beating yourself up.” He leans in, kissing her brow, and she feels only a little better. “Everything is fine now, remember?”

“What if you change your mind,” she whispers, “what if you realize you can’t forgive me?”

“I do forgive you, Chrissy. I forgave you almost as soon as you left, alright? I—I don’t know what to tell you to make you believe me.”

“You didn’t want to have sex.”

Eddie looks bemused, “when? Tonight?”

“I thought maybe we’d…make up, you know?”

“Baby, when was the last time you actually slept? You were dead on your feet walking into the house. I wanted us to sleep together.” He snakes his arms underneath her and squeezes her closer.

“I can’t, Eddie. I just need to know—”

“You think me fucking your brains out is gonna prove anything?”

“I’ll know you still want me.”

Eddie almost looks insulted. He pulls them both up, situating them in the middle of the bed, Chrissy straddling his lap.

“If that’s the only way I’ve ever proven to you that I want you, I really fucked up somewhere, Chrissy. No wonder you left. Fuck—”

“No, Eddie! No, it isn’t that! I’m just—I’m all twisted up inside! Everything is all wrong! I need to know that you can look at me and not despise what you see—because—because I do…”

“Baby.” The single word is said so sympathetically and full of sadness that it finally unleashes the torrent of tears she was trying to avoid. She buries her face in his neck, tears soaking a different shirt this time, replacing the sweat they’d both been collecting while attached to one another. Its messy and ugly, and it feels a lot like what her insides feel like. “If I could reach inside and take this all away from you I would.” Eddie says, as if reading her thoughts. His voice is thick with his own tears. She finally looks up, horrified to see that he’s crying too, “god, I just love you desperately, Chrissy. I want to take all your pain and perceived ugliness and just make it go away.”

“Don’t cry for me, Eddie. Please—I don’t want you to hurt like this too.” Her lips smear their tears across his face as she kisses him, “I couldn’t bear it.”

“You gotta let me take some of it from you, baby. I’d take every bit of it if I knew it’d make you feel better.”

“You’re so selfless, Eddie. Just knowing that you’d try to take it from me is enough. I love you so much.”

“And I love you, Chrissy. Always. I’ll never not love you. You’ve always been it for me.”

His kisses consume her, and the terrible thoughts littering her brain hide themselves away just so she can enjoy his selfless attentions. Chrissy remembers when sex between them was still a novelty. When they were in high school, and they had to stay as quiet as possible in Eddie’s bedroom because the walls were so thin, and Wayne was just down the hall, or when Eddie would sneak up the side trellis of the Cunningham house, into her bedroom, and he would do things to her that would drive her wild in the darkness of night, but make her blush red thinking about it in the light of day. Not to mention the things he did to her in the back of his van…

This desperation feels exactly like that.

“I need you to know,” he pants as he starts to tug at her clothes, “that I’m gonna fuck your brains out right now because I’ve missed you, and I fucking love you, Chrissy.”

“Uh huh,” her giggles are giddy as he rips her panties to shreds, tossing the material away. “Just show me how much, Eddie.”

And he does.

The rest of the night, and three times after the sun comes up.

***

Sometime mid-morning, they practically crawl to the bathtub, wash off the evidence of their love making, put new sheets on the mattress, and then fall asleep holding each other. Chrissy sleeps so soundly that it’s nighttime again when she finally wakes up. Her body is well rested and the ache between her thighs reminds her that her husband really does love and desire her. She knows Eddie would argue that he feels both of those things without the sex, but she did beg him to prove it to her that way, and he really did.

She lets out a long groan as she stretches, and her joints pop into place.

There’s conversation and laughter outside of the bedroom, and she nearly sprints to see if her family has finally come home. Chrissy trips over toys and suit cases that are overflowing in the hallway, and it almost makes her cry all over again. She takes a minute to steady her racing heartbeat, and the shaking in her hands before turning the corner into the living room.

Her girls are spread out in front of the television watching a movie, and she spots Eddie in the kitchen, chopping veggies beside a mini-tower of steaming pizza boxes. It’s a perfect picture of what their life was before she almost ruined it…

And maybe that’s just her being too hard on herself, but after making such a stupid mistake, what she sees in front of her is something she still isn’t sure that she deserves.

A normal, happy life.

She walks over to Eddie first. His smile is soft, and he wordlessly leans over and kisses her.

“Mommy,” she pulls away from her husband and looks at Evie. Her solemn, quiet daughter. She’s staring at Chrissy with something like understanding, reaching out her hand, “come watch the movie with us. Daddy said he’ll tell us when food is ready.”

Chrissy presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s shoulder and walks over, settling herself between her girls. Evie crawls under her arm, wrapping both of hers around Chrissy’s waist, Rosy puts her head in Chrissy’s lap, and Lottie splays across Chrissy’s legs with her head hanging off the couch. It’s something they’ve done a million times before, but it lets Chrissy know that her kids still love her as much as her husband does.

It tells her that fixing mistakes and starting over is never too late.

[billysblueeyes]

WIP Wednesday

Another sneak peek at a fic on my bingo card for @hellcheeranniversaryweek

🍹

“I’m not spending the days in Cabo with a stranger!”

“Where’s your sense of adventure? A stranger in Cabo sounds like a great time to me.”

“That’s because it’s exactly how you spent the entirety of your teens and early twenties! Meanwhile, I was catching red-eye flights to bail you out of foreign prisons and paying off tabloids to stop them from printing your nip slips and crotch shots every time you slipped out of a club and into the latest Bentley or Lamborghini you’d eventually total before your father would buy you a new one!”

“I really miss the mid-2000s.”

“Modesta!”

“O-kay, Chris,” Modesta huffs, “back to the point. Even if he’s a stranger, I’ll make sure it’s not a sleazy old guy. He’ll be sexy and well within your age range. I actually have someone in mind—”

“Who?”

“He’s a friend of Dave’s, and one of the groomsmen. He’s hot in an old rockstar kind of way. Eddie and Dave used to make tons of music together in the 90s when Eddie’s band was popular. I don’t know much about it because it’s that screaming music, and it just sounds like noise to me. He’s semi-retired, but he and Dave still record music in our studio basement. I steer clear when they’re down there.”

“It sounds like you dislike him.”

“Not at all, I may hate the guy’s music, but he’s really nice! You two could just hang out together in Cabo, make it look like you’re dating, and he’ll keep an eye on you when my father comes around sniffing.”

“Sniffing is a word for it.”

“You know Jason still tells people you’re the one that got away…”

“Oh please,” Chrissy scoffs, “your father ignored me for his mistresses for fifteen years. He’s only saying that because I took half of his money, possessions, and hotels, doubling all of my profits by making smarter business decisions than him. It’s his fault that he never took my advice whenever I gave it. He’d only want me back to take my money that I earned for dealing with his bullshit for so long.”

Modesta cackles, “should I even tell you that his new wife is your carbon copy?”

“Gross.”

“Does this mean that you’ll let Eddie take care of you at the wedding?”

[hometoursandotherstuff]

[billysblueeyes]

I made cheddar potato broccoli soup, and I had two bowls. We’re currently under tornado watch, and one was spotted about 30 miles away. If it comes for me or another one comes down, closer to my house, I’m just gonna let it take me. I’m too full and currently under my blankie, bitch. I’m not moving.

[whitmanic]

Whenever i get sad I just think about sour cream baby and get smiled again

[whatcoloristhatcat]

dilute black (blue) ticked tabby abyssinian

[luxiomahariel]

with low sour cream spotting

[ebongawk]

wip wednesday for the next chapter of lay your sanity on the line ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[tomatette]

deleted scene

more

[bigdumbbambieyes]

they’re at a party and someone drunkenly shouts “SUCK AND BLOW!”

so Billy grabs Steve and pulls him over to the circle forming, grinning as he watches the playing card be passed around mouth to mouth, sucking it from Tina’s mouth and turning to Steve, leaning in to pass it — but instead, he turns his head and blows the card away, pulling Steve in and kissing him instead, ignoring the others who burst into laughter and wolf whistles as he stuffs his tongue into Steve’s mouth

and Steve pushes him away with a red face after a moment, grinning, acting as if he’s not into it and Billy’s so funny and so drunk for pulling that shit, isn’t his best friend funny?

everyone believes it

but after the party, when he’s got Billy in the backseat of his car and they’re making out, there’s no excuse or playing card between them

[vampishno-deactivated20250719]

In my shitty au that exists only in my mind Billy has spent so much time in the Upside Down that he's become completely unhinged. He will rip the heads off of demodogs and eat the bats. By the time they pull his ass out he has no idea what social norms are anymore. He eats as if starved. He runs like his life depends on it. He won't stop touching his gaping flesh chest wound and it freaks everyone out. He kisses Steve in public. He hunts people for sport-

[billysblueeyes]

WIP Wednesday

Here’s a sneak peak at a fic for my HellCheer bingo card for @hellcheeranniversaryweek

Very loosely inspired by certain plot points in the film, A Walk to Remember.

God, I miss the way teen movies were written and made in the early 2000s.

🌌

“I should warn you,” Mrs. Mann states matter-of-factly. It draws Chrissy’s eyes away from Eddie and back to their teacher. “I take theatre very seriously, as do all those sitting in this circle, and if you want to pass this class, I expect you to take it just as seriously as the rest of us. You may not have asked to be here, Chrissy, but you are now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. That means not being late again.”

Chrissy doesn’t scoff, but she wants to. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Mann’s serious expression fades, and she smiles more genially, “you’ve joined at the perfect time. Our spring production this year will be a fun one. It’s an original play, written by our very own, Eddie Munson.”

“Seriously?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He says, the stony expression still sat on his face.

“I just—nothing. I was surprised, is all. I didn’t know students were allowed to write original plays.”

“Eddie has been in this class since his freshman year. He’s grown into a fine thespian. He started offstage, then he agreed to be an understudy, eventually taking on main roles, and now he’s using his love of storytelling and theatre, writing a play that I knew I just had to produce.” Mrs. Mann’s high-esteem for the boy next to Chrissy is undisguised and almost fawning.

“That’s…awesome.” Chrissy mutters helplessly.

“This is a large ensemble with many characters, so there will be plenty of opportunities to find a part that’s right for you.”

Chrissy feels her face flush, “uh…no. No, thank you. I thought I could do something like costume or makeup. Maybe a stage hand of some sort…”

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Mann’s smile turns feral, “Principal Higgins has made it clear that you are meant to actually act in this play.” She claps her hands together, “lets begin!” The woman allows no room for further argument, and Chrissy wilts in her seat. “Eddie, of course, will be playing one of our two main protagonists. Chrissy, today you’ll read for the other.”

“But—”

“You’re just reading today. If you don’t fit the role, we’ll find another part for you.” She stands, fixing the glasses on her nose and focusing on her copy of the playbook. She reads off the rest of the character list, handing out roles to the other students as if she already knew which character would work best for each of them. “I’ll set the scene, and we’ll begin in earnest.” Her voice changes, and she recites with breathy excitement. “We begin our tragedy with our star-crossed lovers, meeting at their secluded picnic table in the woods…”

[billysblueeyes]

The unhinged fic ideas I’ve come up with for my @hellcheeranniversaryweek bingo card. 👀 😈 🤭

[billysblueeyes]

Just popping in to say, Happy HellCheer-versary! Have a fic on me!

I’ve been slowly writing this for a few months. I finished it a little while back, but I thought I’d share it on the exact day.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64038937/chapters/164286895

[billysblueeyes]

Just dropping in to tell you guys that in the university library where I work, there is an older custodial worker I adore, who works during my weekly night shift. She likes to listen to trashy omegaverse audiobooks during her cleanings, without any headphones on…just top volume filth being read aloud by enthusiastic orators, in a quiet library as the rumble of her cleaning cart passes through book stacks and empty corridors.

✨ It really makes my night shift feel surrealistically magical. ✨

[billysblueeyes]

Guys, I’m still here; I promise. I miss harringrove and hellcheer everyday. My work/school life is consuming me, that and the dread of waking up everyday in this country, lmao. I started a new job in September, and I’m graduating with my MLS in May. I’ll have TWO masters degrees, what?!

It’s been so busy, and I try to write when I get bits of time, but they’re few and far between. I’m literally counting the days until summer. I do have a few things that are almost finished, so I hope I can share them soon, maybe before summer, but no promises!

[dragonflylady77]

only with you

The secrecy has been lifted, and I can finally reveal the fic I wrote for @billysblueeyes for @harringroveholidayexchange. The brief was some domestic fluff, GBFs, Billy and Max bonding, and some smut. I think I delivered.

Rating: M | 2185 words | domestic fluff, a dash of smut, harringrove parents

Summary:

Billy and Steve are hosting Christmas dinner at their house. Domestic fluff with a sprinkling of smut. And kids.

Read on Ao3

Steve watched Billy sigh and scrunch the piece of paper he’d been scribbling on into a ball.

“Babe…” Steve started as Billy threw the newly formed ball towards the trash can, narrowly missing it.

“Not now, Stevie, I’m concentrating. Need it to be perfect.”

A warm feeling unfurled in Steve’s chest. He walked across the living room to stand behind his husband at the breakfast bar and plastered himself against Billy’s back, hooking his chin over Billy’s shoulder. “It will be.”

Billy grunted as he grabbed another piece of paper and started again, pencil moving quickly across the page, lines and swirls filling the space. 

“You got this.” Steve dropped a kiss on his cheek before moving away. Best to leave Billy in his creative bubble. This stage of tattoo design was usually the most frustrating for him and the added pressure of this particular one was bound to stress him even more. It wasn’t every day that Billy had to come up with a matching tattoo with Max as a surprise Christmas present.

After checking that Noah was still fast asleep in his crib, Steve gathered the dirty laundry and put a load of washing on. It was early enough in the day that he would have time to hang it before their guests arrived. He double checked the guest rooms were ready then went back to the kitchen and made some coffee.

A few more scrunched up balls of paper had joined the growing pile by the trash can. He picked them up, feeling Billy’s gaze on him as he straightened up. He turned around to see Billy staring at him with a smirk.

“See something you like?”

“You know I do, baby,” Billy replied, unfolding himself from the stool he’d been sitting at for over an hour and walking to Steve, stopping when he was standing toe-to-toe with him. Steve went willingly when Billy put both hands on his hips and pulled him closer.

Leaning into the kiss was second nature at this point. Steve hummed softly as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s neck, fingers running through the unruly curls that had escaped his messy bun. Parting his lips when Billy nibbled on his bottom lip, and too focused on the heated way Billy licked into his mouth like he wanted to devour him, Steve let himself be walked backwards until his back was against the wall.

Billy abandoned his mouth to nibble a path down the column of his neck and Steve relished the feel of his husband’s body pressing against his—had since that day Billy had cornered him in the locker room after basketball practice, really. 

Steve’d had enough of the endless taunting and had surprised both of them when he’d grabbed the lapels of Billy’s open shirt and planted one on him... He’d been really late picking up Dustin from school after that and endured a million questions about the hickey on his neck. It had all been worth it, though, when Billy had shown up at his house later that night. They had been together since. 

Billy’s hands pushing on his hips brought him out of his little trip down memory lane and he startled when he realized Billy was on his knees in front of him.

“Billy, babe, your knee…” Steve protested, in a feeble attempt to spare Billy some unnecessary pain on Christmas Day. His knee hadn’t been the same since that fateful night Neil Hargrove had found out about them and taken to Billy with a golf club.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, pretty boy, I’ll pay for it later,” Billy countered as he kept undoing Steve’s pants and pulling them down his thighs. “Some things are more important,” Billy whispered, nuzzling Steve's cock over his boxers, before he moved a hand up under the hem to cup Steve, giving him a squeeze. 

Billy looked up, the blue in his eyes nearly eclipsed by his pupils, and Steve shared the hunger he could see on his husband’s face. Always had, from the first day he’d seen Billy show up in that blue Camaro at Hawkins High. 

Keeping the eye contact, Billy then carefully extracted Steve’s cock out of his boxers and used the precum beading at the tip to help his hand slide better as he got Steve fully hard.

Steve held back a moan, bucking his hips, searching for more.

“So greedy, Stevie… always so greedy,” Billy said with a grin. 

“Shut u—” Steve bit down on his hand to stop from crying out when Billy swallowed him down to the root without another word.

Steve stopped trying to make words, all thoughts that were not BillyBillyBilly fleeing his mind. His free hand found a home in Billy’s hair, hanging on for dear life when Billy did that thing with his tongue that made Steve see stars.

Too soon, way sooner than Steve would have liked, he reached his peak and came down Billy’s throat, remembering just in time to keep quiet. Knees threatening to buckle, he helped Billy up, and was still trying to get his breath back when he heard cries.

“Fuck!”

Billy chuckled. “Impeccable timing, your son.”

“Oh, now he’s my son, is he? I don’t remember doing a DNA test…”

“You can deny it all you want, baby, but he’s got your eyes, and your gorgeous hair.”

“Whatever,” Steve retorted with an eyeroll. “I’ll go get him.” He put his pants back on and gave Billy a quick kiss. “You better get back to your design, they’ll be back soon.”

Billy nodded and Steve headed down the hallway.

“Stevie?”

He stopped and turned to look at Billy, who was standing by the wall still, his curls a messy halo around his face, his shirt kind of askew, his jeans looking kind of tight in the front. “Yeah?”

“You owe me.”

Steve snorted. “I love you, too.”

***

Billy picked up his pencil and tried again. He could see the design in his head but, for once, didn’t seem to be able to get it onto the page. He knew moving to the iPad, like he usually did when working on a design for a client, would not help. Not for this particular one.

He heard Noah’s cries stop as Steve’s soothing voice carried from the nursery. His pretty boy seemed to be a natural at this being a parent thing, to the surprise of exactly no one. 

Some days, Billy still found it hard to believe that he was a dad. It wasn’t something he’d ever even remotely considered, too scared he would turn into his father. But Steve’s gentle loving, and a few years of therapy, had convinced him to give it a go. And now, he wouldn’t change it for anything. Steve and their kids were his whole world. 

The jingle of a key in the front door ten minutes later pulled him out of his creative bubble and he turned around to see some of his favorite people enter. Maisie ran at him with a happy screech and wrapped her arms around his neck when he picked her up. Robin and Heather followed at a slower pace, carrying a mountain of bags.

“I didn’t realize you ladies were buying everything at the store today,” Billy said with a smirk that earned him a sneaky middle finger behind his daughter’s back.

“Papa! Did you know, Auntie Hank said I should get Daddy ice cream from Scoops for his Christmas present and that’s just silly, because it would melt!”

Putting his five-year-old daughter down, Billy turned to his best friend. “How about we don’t bring up traumatizing memories for Christmas, Hank? Please?”

“Sorry, Billy,” Robin answered for Heather. She put down the half-dozen bags she was holding and collapsed into a chair. “We walked past the vendor with the samples and things were said. Now, where is my godson? I need cuddles.”

“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” came Steve’s voice from the hallway. “Unless you want to help me with his bath.”

“Oooh, yes, I’m coming!” Robin left the room, Maisie hot on her heel.

Billy chuckled when he heard the little girl asking to jump in the bath with her brother and turned to Heather. “Hey, you.”

“Hey back. Did you get it done?” Heather walked over to the breakfast bar and sat on a stool, looking over the pieces of paper.

Sitting next to her, Billy let out a sigh before bumping shoulders with her. “Not gonna lie, Hank, I’m struggling.”

“Oh, come on, Blue. She’s your sister, surely you can come up with something.”

“That’s the thing though, it can’t be just anything. It needs to be special. And perfect.”

“It will be. Maybe you just need to freestyle it, like you did for us,” Heather said, her finger tracing the lines of the Hawkins Lifeguard tattoo they’d both got on their arm.

“Maybe.” Billy wondered if maybe she was right. 

“What time are they getting here?”

Billy checked his phone and found a text from Max letting him know they had just parked outside. “Right now, apparently. I’ll go see if they need help.”

Leaving Heather to unpack the bags, Billy grabbed his keys and headed out.

Excited voices welcomed him in the driveway.

“Uncle Billy! Uncle Billy!”

“Hi, guys!” He grinned as his nephews crowded him and they did their special hand shake. He had been told in no uncertain terms at their last birthday that seven years old was too old for cuddles.

“Uncle Billy! The plane was late because of the snow. We had to sit in our seats for aaaaages and Wyatt cried like a baby.”

“Did not.” Wyatt glared at his brother, fists at his sides.

“You so did. I saw you.”

“Arlo William Sinclair, what did I tell you about being an A-hole to your brother?” Max warned her son before stopping in front of Billy and dropping the bags she was carrying. “Hey, Billy.”

Billy wrapped his arms around his sister and pulled her close while Lucas called the boys back to the car to get their backpacks. Max held him tightly, her cheek pressed against his neck. Billy whispered, so the boys wouldn’t hear. “Good to see you, shitbird.” 

“It’s been too long. I can’t wait to finally meet that son of yours.”

“Well,” Billy started, letting go of her, “if you guys moved to Cali like I’d been telling you since the twins were born…”

“We’re trying, I promise. I need to finish this enormous project at work, we’re so close to being done, after three freaking years… then I’ll talk to my boss.”

“Okay. Noah is in the bath, which means your niece will be in there too. Stevie and Robin are supervising.”

Max groaned. “Oh, god. That means your bathroom will be flooded, I hope you know that. And there won’t be any hot water left for me to wash the plane off.”

“There’s cold beer in the fridge, and enough food to sink a small ship in the meantime.”

“Lead the way, Hargrove.” Max laughed when Billy pinned her with a glare.

He’d taken Steve’s last name when they’d got married, letting go of the last piece of his father that was still in his life, and Max knew it.

“Whatever, Maxine.” He picked up the bags she’d dropped at his feet and high-tailed it to the door before she would swat him on the arm.

Arlo and Wyatt followed him, saying “Maxiiiiiiiiiiine” louder and louder, to their mother’s annoyance.

***

Steve looked around the living room where most of the people he loved were gathered. They’d had a delicious, yet unconventional, Christmas Eve dinner, made up of various random dishes everyone had contributed to. Afterwards, they had opened presents and Max had absolutely loved the idea for their matching tattoo, like Steve had said all along.

Now, after Christmas mince tarts and ice cream, Heather and Robin were chatting animatedly with Max and Lucas on the sectional couch while Maisie, Arlo and Wyatt were lying on cushions in front of the tree, looking rather blissed out, and Billy…

Feeling someone next to him, Steve turned his face and found his husband, who was cradling their sleeping infant son against his chest.

“You okay, pretty boy?” Billy asked, his hand moving slowly up and down Noah’s back.

“Yeah, I was… I don’t know… looking at our family, thinking how happy I am that they’re all here, at our house.”

“We did good.”

“Yeah, babe, we sure did,” Steve replied, putting one arm around Billy’s waist and looking down at their son.

“Bet you didn’t think we’d be married with kids before your thirtieth birthday when you dragged me into the locker room all those years ago.”

Steve scoffed. “Excuse you, you’re the one who shoved me first. I merely… acted on impulse.”

“Right… so your immediate reaction when a guy pushes you is to shove your tongue down his throat? Is that what you’re saying? Did that happen a lot to you in high school, King Steve?”

Steve smiled.

“Only with you, baby.”

[harringroveholidayexchange]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

As promised, here is the Harringrove Holiday Exchange MASTERLIST

Jealousy, Jealousy by @passivenovember for @avalonlights

Matching Souls by @medusapelagia for @dragonflylady77

Aftermath by @talanashta for @ihni

A Californian Christmas Party by @jad3w1ngs for @harringroveobsessed

Second Chances by @ihni for @sh1tbird-shantytown

A Christmas Carol by @lorifragolina for @bigdumbbambieyes

Only with you by @dragonflylady77 for @billysblueeyes

penny for your thoughts by @freezef4wn for @camaro-and-smokes

Mine Own Beloved by @chrisbitchtree for @medusapelagia

winter break by @bigdumbbambieyes for @alicetallula

It’s always been you by @camaro-and-smokes for @freezef4wn

Harringrove Holiday Exchange by @alicetallula for @jad3w1ngs

the road finally taken by @billysblueeyes for @chrisbitchtree

Baking Up Christmas Magic by @harringroveobsessed for @lorifragolina

heebie jeebies by @avalonlights for @talanashta

The First Kiss of 1985 by @mourntheantagonist for @passivenovember

Billy Did You Know by @sh1tbird-shantytown for @mourntheantagonist

Happy New Year!!

As a final note to you all, I absolutely LOVED running the event this year. It was a thrill to work with you all again. It was an easy one, and you all did a FANTASTIC job. I was running to finish the masterlist (amidst my very boring celebration at home with my sparkling cider and cats) So, if there are any mistakes, just let me know :,)

XOXO

Love,

Paige