This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.
I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨
Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers
@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore
@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy
@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world
@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again
@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up
@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!
@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it
@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done
@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!
@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn
@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now
@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹
@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??
@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine
@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩
…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read
@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader
~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~
Summary: A shocking turn of events leaves Eddie bereft and furious. Luckily you’re waiting for him back at his trailer with soft hands and comforting words. Based on I Saw Red by Warrant.
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: cheating (not on reader and not by Eddie), Chrissy is a little bit demonized but for good reason, crying, destroying property (his own), hurt/comfort, Eddie has an ongoing mental breakdown, allusions to sex, angst with a very happy ending, best friends to lovers, flufffff, a kiss without explicit consent, more consensual kissing, Eddie is going through it but reader helps him
A/N: Draft fic that was done like two months ago. I was gonna name this ‘I Saw Red’ after the song, but then I decided I like the reference to the fish better (read and you'll get it).
Masterlist
Submission Guidelines
Tires screech as his lead foot lands on the brake pedal. Opening the creaky door, Eddie flies out of his old van, marching up the driveway to his girlfriend’s house. His eyebrows pull together as he recognizes the car haphazardly parked diagonally across the drive. Chrissy doesn’t own a pickup truck…
Blood starts rushing in his ears like water in the Grand Rapids. Surely not. She wouldn’t.
Knocking on the heavy door, he waits impatiently to be proven right or wrong—he’s not sure which would feel worse. If he’s right—well, god forbid. And if he’s wrong, that still begs the question: why is Jason Carver’s car in Eddie’s girlfriend’s driveway? The chain attaching his wallet to his pants jingles as he taps his foot, trying to find a place for the nervous energy to go.
The sound of the lock clicking brings a smile to his face—force of habit—but the sight before him has the smile plummeting straight to a confused frown. Wide, worried, blue eyes meet his, but what really brings the frown is the reddish-purple mark on delicate skin. There on his girlfriend’s neck is a hickey—clear as day.
Now, Eddie’s never been known to be a particularly gentle lover—often getting too excited and sometimes teeth and suction comes with the territory. But Chrissy used to reprimand him any time he’d try to give the girl a hickey. ‘Eddieeee, stop. I have a game tonight, the makeup will sweat off and everybody will see,’ she’d whine. The good and respectful boyfriend that he is—he abided by her instructions, appreciating the boundaries she set.
However, it seems those boundaries are nonexistent for her ex.
No need to see any more proof, no desire to hear apologies and excuses—Eddie throws a look of disgust at his girlfriend. “Fuck this.” Shaking his head at the nerve of the girl, her blue eyes fill with tears—pretending like she gives a shit now. Promptly whipping around, he takes long, angry strides back to his van, ignoring the soft calls of his name. Fuck this.
The world is dangerously blurry as he drives back to his trailer, hot tears spill down his cheeks as he replays every moment he spent with her in his mind. Surely there is something he missed. One doesn’t just go cheat on a good thing. He must’ve done something. Was he not good enough? He satisfied her, he knew that. But was he not a good partner? He’d buy her things, take her places, listen to her complain about class, her friends, practice. He did so much for her.
Tires skid on gravel as he slams the brakes. He’s thanking every lucky star in the sky that Wayne is working tonight. Eddie would very much like to break down in peace. Muttering curses, he throws the car door shut, harder than he ever has before. Of course, the piece of shit that it is, the door clicks shut and then unclicks with the force he used on it, swinging open again—only pissing him off more. “FUCK,” he roars, shoving all his force and body weight behind his palm, the door finally bangs shut.
If he had half a logical mind, he would have noticed the lamp in his bedroom was on. Normally, he’s meticulous about turning off all the lights when he leaves. That one summer Wayne made him pay the electricity bill to teach him a lesson for constantly leaving them on around the trailer really scarred him. But Eddie isn’t thinking logically right now. All he feels is rage, and all he can think about is punching a hole in the universe—everyone should feel lucky he doesn’t have superpowers. He’s pretty sure this would be his villain origin story.
The girl he loves doesn’t love him back, then the girl he gets with to get over her cheats on him. Life is going perfectly for him.
Fumbling with the keys to the front door, he kicks the wall of the mobile home when they fall from his shaky grip. He crouches down to pick them up, but instead of standing back up and trying again, he just stays down, hunched over with his wet face in his hands. Trying to stop the hyperventilating breaths, he forces himself to hold air in for ten seconds before blowing it out. After about thirty seconds on the ground, he vigorously scrubs the tears from his face, swiping the keys off the ground and successfully unlocking the door.
As if the crying on the drive over wasn’t enough, even more tears fall once he’s safely inside his home. Looking around at the clutter, he starts throwing shit around. Everything is a mess, everything is bullshit. His D&D character sheets are bullshit, the empty beer cans on the edge of the counter bound for the recycling are bullshit. The heap of homemade Hellfire shirts on the couch are extra bullshit. Picking up the pile of useless t-shirts, he sniffles as he marches into his room, heading straight for his closet and throwing them messily down on the floor in there before slamming the door shut.
“Are you cleaning up for your date tonight?”
Eddie’s back goes rigid at the sound of your voice. He had no idea he wasn’t alone. If he knew he had company, he would’ve delayed his breakdown at least long enough to tell you to get lost. But he wouldn’t do that. Not really. Because unfortunately, you’re exactly what he needs right now and he can’t tell you that.
A fresh wave of tears stream down his wet cheeks, already feeling light headed from all the dehydration. It’s your genuinely excited voice that sends him into another spiral. You knew he was supposed to celebrate eight months with Chrissy tonight, but it appears you had no idea the time he was going to go over there. The insinuation that he’d bring the cheerleader back here makes him bristle, the way you’re so blasé with the comment—you really couldn’t give less of a shit that he’s with another girl, huh?
“You must be excited,” you try again.
Slowly turning around, he gives you a deadpan look. No need to dismiss your comment—his appearance will do it just fine. Weirdly, he feels vindicated when the light in your eyes dims and your smile falls as you take in his swollen, red eyes and runny nose.
“In that really awful suicidal way,” you finish slowly, standing up from your place on his unmade bed. “I’m sorry, I just let myself in. I figured you’d be back eventually.”
He watches with a sniffle as you jerk your thumb to the window he keeps cracked specifically for you. You’ve come knocking at his window late at night enough times for him to just permanently leave it open for you—like a cat that comes and goes as she pleases.
At his heavy silence, you continue, nervously fiddling with your fingers, “I didn’t know if you’d already gone over or–” It’s pretty clear now where he was, he can see it in your face. You’re sad for him and you don’t even know any details yet. You’ve always been like this, though. You feel what he feels. Sharing in his joy, his sadness, his fear, his pain. How could he not love someone who loves him so completely—but not the way he needs it, that’s the caveat.
“Did something happen–” Okay, that was a stupid question, you’ll admit. But how else do you broach the radioactive emotions of your best friend when you don’t even know what went down?
A humorless, wet chuckle leaves his throat as he shakes his head at the question. Did something happen? No, not really. Just the past eight months of his life blew up in his face tonight. What’s new in Eddie’s world? Nothing much, what’s new with you?
Deciding he needs something to do, he starts fluttering around his bedroom, throwing any garbage he finds onto the floor. The mixtapes of pop songs Chrissy swore were good—floor. Food wrappers from late night ventures into the kitchen while staying up on the phone with her—floor. The goblin PEZ dispenser she got him for their five month anniversary—floor.
Wide eyes watch him with shock and worry as he doesn’t show signs of stopping his rampage, you don’t know how to help him if he doesn’t tell you what happened. “Eds, what’s going on? Is she not well?” You’re shooting in the dark here—it could be anything for all you know.
Another humorless chuckle escapes him as he swipes a stack of D&D papers off his dresser. He watches as the papers drift peacefully to the ground—a stark contrast to the raging tornado of emotions inside him—shaking his head at the idea that Chrissy Cunningham could be unwell. She had two boyfriends, after all!
“Oh no, she’s well, alright. She’s fucking fantastic. Got her boyfriend back and everything.”
Missing the indignation in his form, you frown as you pick up the papers he threw. You know he’s on a whole other level right now because he’d never treat his precious D&D stuff like this. That’s the one place in his life he’s the most organized. Compiling the looseleaf notes, press them into a neat stack again. “I didn’t know you guys were having problems.”
“Her old boyfriend,” he specifies, sending another trinket she bought him flying to his carpet.
You stand up, placing the papers back on his dresser now that he’s moved on to the pictures on the mirror. A look of shock and horror crosses your face at his revelation. All you manage to string together in response is a somber, “Oh, shit.”
Choosing once more not to look at you, he rips up a photo of himself and Chrissy from the day they went to Indianapolis together. “Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”
Unsure of what to do with yourself, you cross your arms, squeezing the skin on your biceps anxiously. “Well, it’s okay,” you try, taking on a soft, consoling tone. “There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”
It’s a classic for a reason—there’s so many more people out there and it’s not over because Chrissy Cunningham cheated on him. You never really understood their whole thing anyway. It was weird to see him crossing the social stratification, especially in a town like Hawkins—that was practically unheard of.
Making sure there are no pictures of Chrissy left on his mirror, he pauses at the one of you and him. It’s from last summer, when you dragged him to the Hawkins pool, even convincing Wayne to come along since it was his day off. He grumbled the whole time and refused to dip more than a toe into the water, but it gave the old man the perfect opportunity to capture the moment.
The picture shows Eddie holding you bridal style in the water, while you’re very clearly pushing his head away, trying to get him to put you down because he wouldn’t stop dunking you. Both of you are mid-laugh, with wet hair and squinting eyes.
The sunny memory drives an icicle into his heart—followed by fifty more—only making him feel worse. He can’t have you, but he can have you just enough to hold you in a joking manner. He can’t feel you, but he can feel you just enough to know the heat of your skin from a thousand half-hugs. You’re not his, but you’re his just enough to take up precious space in his small room.
Snorting at your pitiful attempt to help him, he smooths his thumb over the image of your smiling face. “There’s only one fish I want and she’s not interested.”
Your scoff draws his attention, placing the photo back onto the mirror, he turns to gauge your reaction. “Well, that fish is stupid!”
His eyebrows raise, unimpressed by your defense of your own argument. Also, you clearly don’t understand what he’s talking about—you must think he means Chrissy, judging by the way your reaction shows unbridled anger.
“Eddie, seriously, fuck her. She didn’t know what she had when she had it, dude. You deserve so much better! Any girl would be so lucky to call you hers,” you declare, pissed at your own sex for neglecting such a gem of a man. You’ll never admit it, but a small, selfish part of you is secretly glad he doesn’t exactly have girls knocking down his door for a date. However gnawing that feeling is, you won’t rejoice in his sorrow.
Bristling at your constant friend-zoning, he huffs out. You never fail to slip a ‘dude’ into your sentences when you speak to him, it makes him even more upset. He’d die just to hear you use at least one endearment. If Hades himself came to drag him down to the Underworld, he’d barter for one ‘baby’ in that sweet tone you only use when he’s upset or you’re talking to animals.
You mistake his huff of annoyance for rejection of your assertion and march over to him, doubling down. “I’m not just saying that! You’re kind, you’re handsome, you have interesting hobbies, you’re fucking funny,” you list out each description on your fingers, looking at him wildly, imploring him to believe you. “Seriously, I’m jealous of any girl who gets to be with you because I know she’s got the best man in Hawkins—no, the universe! Just because Chrissy fucking Cunningham was too much of an airhead to see it doesn’t make it any less true.”
Slowly, his frown melts into a look of quiet shock. Did you just say you’re jealous? Not to mention, this is the first time he’s hearing you say something bad about the girl he’s been dating for the past eight months. You always seemed so supportive, but were you covering up your disdain?
You assured him you’re not just saying that because of everything that went down tonight, so he’s inclined to believe you. Did he miss something in his friendship with you? He certainly missed some change in his relationship with Chrissy, so he doesn’t think he’s been on his game. Maybe you feel differently for him than he originally thought.
You called him handsome to his face just now. And you said you were jealous of any girl who gets to have him. You also said it like you don’t know he’d drop any date in a heartbeat if you’d even look his way. Maybe he hasn’t been clear enough. He can be clear.
Observing the change in his expression, you’re pretty sure he just looked down at your lips. You don’t think you imagined that—or maybe you did. It wouldn’t be the first time, unfortunately. The world feels like it’s moving in both slow motion and hyper-speed when he leans down, large, ringed hands holding your face ever so gently as he brings your lips to his.
The kiss makes you feel like the laws of physics no longer apply and you’re floating up to the ceiling, his warm hands are the only things tethering you to this plain. The way his lips move on your stunned mouth feels like a wave of butterflies will erupt from your throat, traveling up from your stomach the second he parts from you.
But that’s not what happens.
When your frozen lips still refuse to meet his languid movements, he jumps back like he’s been burned. Your mouth is parted in surprise and your eyes make him think he’s never going to see you again once you leave this trailer. “Oh fuck. Oh shit, I’m so–I’m so fucking sorry,” his hand covers his mouth, mumbling his words. It probably looks like the general reaction of shock, but the hand is there more to stop him from trying again.
He’s mortified and on the verge of angry tears—at his awful actions, not your lack of response—but he’s also vibrating with the need to feel you that close again. It’s like you’re a neodymium magnet and he’s scrap metal trying to fight the pull.
His head won’t stop shaking side-to-side in awe of his stupid actions and because it’s the only movement that feels like the word ‘sorry’ without saying it. Eddie watches in horror as you stay silent, only bringing soft fingers to your lips, like you could feel his kiss still lingering. “God, that was so shitty, I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. Please, please forgive me, that was–I shouldn’t have done that.”
Your prolonged silence and distant stare have him mentally flogging himself for forcing this on you—his best fucking friend, who was only trying to make him feel better. He’s never felt more like a piece of shit, and he’s had the town on his ass since he was eleven. Hurting you is the most deplorable thing he’s ever done, and he’s two seconds away from dropping to his knees to beg for your forgiveness.
“Jesus H. Christ, I’m such an asshole,” he shouts with a humorless huff, restless hands grasping the roots of his curls. He fucked up with you, then he fucked up with Chrissy, then he fucked up with you, again. It’s the definition of insanity at this point. Despite your lack of interest in him for all twelve years that he’s known you, his stupid ass thought maybe eight months made a difference. Clearly it hasn’t.
“I ruin fucking everything, no wonder she went back to Jason! Am I just like–a plague of a person? What the fuck is wrong with me? Everything I do–”
His rhetorical, self-deprecating meltdown is halted when you shut him up with your perfectly soft lips. A grunt of surprise turns into a moan he’d feel humiliated over if it wasn't for the fact that you’re kissing him. Of your own volition. And you’re not stopping when he hesitates. No, you’re taking the reins with no qualms, trusting his brain will catch up eventually.
Once the Big Bang happens behind his eyelids, his hands move on their own accord, desperately grabbing your cheeks, pulling you in closer. The tiny mewl you let out nearly has his knees buckling.
You pull away first, your delicate hands gently pushing against his chest. He gives you space, but he’s needy for your touch already, refusing to drop his grasp on your cheeks. His mouth is parted and he’s panting like he just ran a marathon. Before you speak, you make sure his eyes are on yours—but what you don’t know is that he’s never not looking at you.
“Shut up.” It’s a firm order to someone who hasn’t spoken a word since your lips graced him a second time. “You’re not a plague, you’re the best person I’ve ever met and when I said any girl would be so lucky, that included me.”
Afraid to speak too loudly and break the spell he seems to have cast on you to finally capture your attention, he whispers hesitantly, “You like me?”
Your palms glide down his abdomen. Your fiery touch has him fighting everything inside him to keep the groan in the back of his throat from escaping. He’s not religious by any means, but he used to pray for moments like this—falling asleep dreaming about the way you touched his arm that day or pretending the soft pillow was your body, finally allowing him to hold you. You play with the hem of his shirt as you give him a chiding look. “Do I even have to dignify that with a response?”
He sure would like you to. “But if you–then why didn’t we–” Unable to form coherent thoughts, his mind replays every interaction he’s ever had with you in a split second—this time with a better outcome to hold onto than the one he found in his reflection on his relationship with Chrissy.
You give him a wry smile, shrugging half-heartedly. “You never asked. I didn’t know you felt the same. Thought I was doomed to watch you marry Chrissy Cunningham and live in a big house with a picket fence.”
Coming back to his body, he frowns at that, “Where would I get the money for a big house? Marrying Chrissy wouldn’t make me rich.”
Scoffing, you click your tongue at him, “I don’t know, Edward. I was too busy breaking my own heart to figure out the logistics.”
Your biting tone brings a smile to his face, his cheeks feeling like unstretched leather, stiff from the dryness left by his tears, but his grin still puts every shining star to shame. “Aw, baby,” he coos, leaning in to give you a sweet peck. “Don’t break your heart for me. I like you too.” Purposely holding back, he doesn’t think you’re quite ready for the other ‘L’ word—but lord knows he is.
You can’t fight the relieved smile that overtakes your face at his adoring words and gentle affection. He kisses you so easily, like you’ve been doing this forever. The thought makes you both happy and sad—you could have been doing this forever. But at least you know you will be doing this forevermore.
“But what about Chrissy? Why’d you–” You struggle to question his choices—not for lack of confusion, but because you hate to bring up his very recent ex when he’s trying to tell you how much you mean to him.
His brown curls sway as he shakes his head, but his grip on your cheeks never falters. “I’ve been trying to be a good friend for the past five years,” he whispers, thinking back to when you went from his best friend to the girl he dreams about at night. “And, of course, being the asshole that you are, you just kept getting prettier and prettier every year,” he quips, “It got harder and harder to be around you.”
Your face warms at the compliment. You try to look away from his piercing gaze, but he doesn’t let you. With heavy eyelids, your best friend leans in again, halting your attempt to retreat with another world-altering kiss. His lips on yours makes you feel like those cartoon characters entranced, floating toward a delicious-smelling pie. You can’t help but get trapped in his orbital pull, his tongue draws you in for more. He shines so bright, it’s blinding, and you’d gladly feel your way around forever.
When he frees you once again, your body is swaying from the hum of electricity he shot straight into your bloodstream with that kiss. “Chrissy asked me out as a rebound and I thought it was the perfect chance to try and get over you. But now I don’t wanna be over you,” he rushes out, desperate for you to understand just how ‘yours’ he’s always been.
No, he doesn’t want to be over you—maybe under you, but that’s a ways down the road. He’s going to treat you right—not rush into things, get you to stop calling him ‘dude’—because he doesn’t want to be alone again. He’s tasted your lips, felt your hot touch, and he’s pretty sure if you take this drug from him, he’ll go insane. He just got you, and he knows there’s no reality where he’d rather be without you. No reality where he could stand to be without you.
Realization dawns on your face, you let out a gasp as you look into his eyes, “Am I the fish?”
An elated chuckle leaves his lips as he watches you with crinkling eyes and a toothy grin, “You’re the fish, sweetheart.”
A/N: like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed it! I wanna know what y'all think!!!
Tag List: @defututus @ratsematary @american-idiot-jpg @glassbxttless @justalotoffanfiction
roomate!Eddie x roommate!Reader
the end, the beginning, and everything in between.
foreword: wow, ya’ll. this series has been so special and healing to write, and it’s been a joy to connect with so many of you through the POV of a neurodivergent and OCD Reader. the roommates will continue to live in a special place in my heart, and I hope you enjoy this bookend of their story <3
cw: roommate!R has OCD, very light SH habits, OCD-related panic, drinking, weed usage, Robin’s best friendship, Becca too, Three Little Words, intimacy, vulnerability, kissing, R has breasts + a vagina (no pronouns used), PiV sex, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms, petnames, Boyfriend label, references to the Vegas Trip, Munson Farms + Wayne’s dad energy
wc: 12.2k
It’s been a categorically perfect New Year’s.
Robin, Steve, and Becca joined you and Eddie in a bar crawl, ending the night at Hank’s downtown with a raucous rendition of Auld Lang Syne that had all the bar’s patrons on their swaying feet.
With the ball dropping from a staticky screen behind the bar top, Robin (showing every bit of her six drink-pileup with the flush in her cheeks) declared dibs on a three-way kiss; Becca and you squished your faces to Rob’s, a messy, alcohol-sticky meeting of three lips before bursting apart at the seams and falling into each others arms wracked with giggling.
Eddie had taken Steve’s face in his ringed hands and planted one on him, to the utter delight and wild cheers of the rest of your group. While Steve made a toast, waxing poetic about the magic of friendship, Eddie caught your eye from across the booth- a wink and a crooked smile that you interpreted as I’ll getcha later.
It’s later, now, nearly two in the morning after sharing a cab with Becca and making sure she got back to her own apartment safely before trailing up the stairs for yours and Eddie’s.
He’s got the end of a joint between his lips, stripped down to just a black undershirt and matching briefs.
You’re tucked into his side on the couch, an oversized sleep shirt tossed over your bra and undies for comfort while you both pretend to watch the current rerun of Saved by the Bell.
And then Eddie’s peeling himself from you, sticking the joint in your mouth at your mild protest, and snapping up a VHS from the bottom rung of the TV shelf.
You sit back against the cushions, taking a long drag, feeling the smoke curling down your throat, around your lungs. Don’t gotta be high to appreciate how pretty your boy is, all long arms and knees akimbo as he sits cross-legged to load the VCR.
“Gonna turn me to stone,” he says, feeling your eyes boring into the back of his skull.
You stare at him harder, memorizing the slope of his nose, backlit by the TV static, the dark shape of his brow. “Hissss.”
The smoke pours from your nose with the noise. The TV pops to life, and Eddie turns away to walk on his knees towards you as you gasp- “Hey. How’d you do that?”
On the screen, a recorded version of the Times Square ball drop plays, just minutes before the event you’d all watched at Hank’s.
“I have my devious little ways,” Eddie says, slotting his knelt form between your legs, taking the joint while you’re distracted to place it on the coffee table ashtray. “Wanted to show you what I wish I coulda done, at midnight.”
He brings your hand up to kiss the back of it, your other going to his neck, thumb poking into the divots of his dimples as he grins.
“You’re sweet.”
“Can be.” Eddie shrugs but looks very pleased with himself, and your praise, leaning his cheek into your hand.
The countdown on the tape hasn’t started yet but you can’t wait to kiss him, leaning forward as Eddie raises up a bit to meet you halfway.
Your lips touch, soft and gentle, Eddie’s plush bottom one fitting perfectly between the crease of yours- you can feel your heartbeat quicken, and his, too, just under his jaw where your fingers rest.
It hasn’t gotten old, yet, and you hope it never will.
Kissing Eddie always feels just as exciting as the first time; you’ve spent enough of your life denying the simple act, and never knew how much you craved it until the access tap got turned on full blast.
“Gotta tell you something.” You’re lip to lip but pull back just enough to let your breath coast over his mouth, can feel his smile as his hands drop to your waist.
“Tell me anything. Two minutes to midnight, better get it off your chest.”
There are muted, euphoric screams from the crowd in New York as you swallow, feeling lightheaded but sure of your next words- so sure, in fact, that you look Eddie right in the face as you say it.
“I love you.”
Eddie blinks. A slow sweep of those stupidly long lashes, dark chocolate eyes that are crinkling at the edges, his hands tightening at the words, he’s shaking with emotion-
no, not emotion. Laughter.
Eddie is laughing at you, after you just said you love him.
You know he isn’t intending to be cruel, and seeing Eddie laugh is making you crack a smile, because, okay, whatever, maybe the situation is a bit ridiculous, and he wasn’t expecting it, and you can share in the humor.
“You don’t have to say it back,” you start, but Eddie shakes his head, unable to wipe the grin from his face but clearly trying to bring himself back down.
“Okay.” He nods, playing at serious. “Sure. Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
Then he’s leaning in again, tilting his chin up for another kiss, and you start to feel the situation’s a bit off, moving back with a frown.
“I’m not- I thought you’d be, y’know, a bit more enthused about this.” Your hands drop to the inside of Eddie’s arms, tracing over his puppetmaster tattoo, feeling like your own strings are being yanked around. “I mean. What with my whole… lack of commitment. Thing.”
“Oh, I am enthused,” Eddie counters, still with that same, dopey smile that’s starting to get under your skin because it means he knows something you don’t. “I guess it’s just a little funny, hearing it for a second time.”
“What?” You gape at the boy halfway in your lap, brows shoving together, heated confusion churning through your body. “I- what the fuck. That’s the first time I’ve said anything like that to you.”
“Nah,” Eddie says, a bit gentler this time, his thumbs working underneath the hem of your shirt to seek out bare skin. “Christmas night. Wayne’s place. The old man was out with his drinking buddies, you and me broke into his whiskey, and you said it right before goin’ to sleep.”
There’s a hazy, booze-blanketed memory that resurfaces for you now, rippling like the surface of a pond. A soft quilt being tucked around your form, a kiss to the top of your head, some drunken, murmured words to Eddie before he left your room for the night.
It hurts, that the memory isn’t even fully there for you.
As embarrassing as it is, not being the one to remember, you don’t retreat into yourself or try to edge around the topic like you would’ve in the past. It only serves to make this moment more real.
“Eddie.” You lift both your hands to the side of Eddie’s face, holding him there and still between your hands, looking earnestly no matter how much it scares you to feel, this much- “Even though I meant it then, I was drunk. But I’m not now- had a single hit, I’m pretty much sober. And I mean it.”
You can see the waves of emotion cascade over Eddie as he processes this, like someone tossed a rock past the surface that dislodged some long-buried something.
“Say it again,” he pleads, voice just above a whisper, eyes still locked with yours.
“I love you.”
“Holy shit.”
It’s Eddie’s turn to be open-mouthed, to gasp, clutching at your sides like if he let go you might float up into nothingness, eyes shimmering over with fresh tears. “You really mean it?”
“Yes,” you breathe a laugh into the word, stroking your thumbs over the apples of each of his flushed cheeks. “I really mean it. Have for awhile, just haven’t had the guts to saymmph-”
His mouth is on yours, noses bumping in his eagerness, hand cupping the back of your head to pull you in deeper- you think if he could swallow you whole, right now, he would.
Not like you’re far behind on that sentiment; you’re pulling Eddie in just as much, an audible wet noise as your tongues slip in and out of each other’s mouths, your ankles fitting to cross at the small of Eddie’s back as he practically consumes you with this kiss that feels endless.
Your brain is catching up to your body, arms over Eddie’s shoulders now, but still pulling back a fraction to rest the tip of your nose on his, pulling in a shaky breath- “And you don’t- like I said, earlier, you don’t have to say it b-”
“Oh, shut up.” With exasperation, Eddie dips forward to lap into your mouth again, letting his teeth sink into the plush of your bottom lip before kissing it better- “Been wanting to say it back for months. Strongest thing I felt in years, you make me so…”
Eddie’s chest stutters against yours, and when he pulls back to look at you again, there’s a tear that escapes his left eye, splashes onto your knuckle just below as he finishes, “...happy. And insane. And in love. I love you.”
There’s a sudden, lurching feeling that happens so often, that can spiral quick into self-loathing if you’re not quick to course correct- guilt starts to simmer at the fact that you’ve made Eddie wait so long.
It’s taken you years just to say these three little words, and if you were different, changed, somehow, you’d be a better fit, that Eddie deserves better-
“Hey.” His voice cuts through to the core of your swirling thoughts, eyes flitting over your changing expressions like he’s reading an open book. “It’s okay. Whatever you’re thinking- it’s probably the opposite. Gotta think happy thoughts when I tell you I love you- it’s conditioning, or some shit.”
This gets you to crack a smile, but it’s not enough to completely quell your worry. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know you don’t like when I apologize for being myself, or whatever, but-”
Eddie moves with impressive speed and precision, a hand at your back to cushion the blow as he flips you flat against the couch. A startled uumphf is knocked from your mouth again, until Eddie kisses the noise away, form stretched over yours with delicious weight.
“Sounds like you already know the answer,” he says, low and slow at your ear, bringing his hand up to palm over your breast.
Your chest pushes up into the touch automatically, and Eddie tsks, half devil and half angel hovering an inch from your face, unspooled black curls taking up most of the frame. “Say it again.”
With your ankles still snugly wrapped, you pull Eddie’s pelvis low enough to rock against yours, feeling the stiff shape of his cock brushing through the layers at your heated core, watching as the pleasure twists his features and settles into a simmer.
“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love-”
“Fuck. Fuck.”
He’s mindlessly rutting now, cock kicking at the words, arms caged around your head as you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him quicker, closer-
It’s not an apology, but you want the feeling of amends to be imbued into every movement. A tender stroke to the back of Eddie’s head, a kiss pressed into the hollow of his throat, invitations laid bare- all to say, I’m yours. No one else can have me like this. Just you.
It’s not absolution, but you feel the intensity of Eddie’s emotions as you murmur the words on repeat. I love you I love you I love you becomes the gospel you both revere; there are cheers tinny and far away on the screen as Eddie slips your underwear to the side, seeking your warm, wet muscle with two fingers.
He fits like he always has- perfect. Not just like he was made for you, but like you’d both put in the work to make it so.
Eddie licks the sweat from your clavicle and works you up on his fingers before shoving his briefs down, lining himself up, and sliding home.
Your back arches again, fully off the back of the couch, into Eddie’s strong, waiting arms- “I’ve got you,” he rasps, pushing in until you feel the head of his cock nudging deep. “I love you. Love you.”
Two hours ago in Times Square, the midnight of a new year dawns.
You and your boy christen it with the sacredness of two people, in admittance of love, for the first time.
___
Another month of being in love quietly passes.
You’re sat on the couch with a dogeared paperback in your lap, while Eddie is on the floor in front of you, guitar strings humming.
His back- pressed against the flat of your legs- is vibrating with musical tone as he runs through an acoustic version of Corroded’s set list for a gig this weekend.
You read the same line for a seventh time then give up, voicing aloud to the back of Eddie’s head- “I was thinking we should get a bigger bed.”
His fingers stay plucking on the strings but he interrupts his own mumbled flow of lyrics to hum, thoughtful. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Your mattress is too small, and mine is hardly better at fitting us both.”
Eddie’s hand climbs the frets. “Can’t see why I’d want to shell out for that expense when I actually like how it feels to be inside your skin.”
You laugh, sock feet wiggling under the seat of his jeans. “Shut up, you know I like it too. But- I’m actually serious. I’ll pay for my half, and you-”
Eddie turns over his shoulder to look at you quick enough to breach whiplash territory. “Your- your half?”
“...yes?” You weren’t expecting this topic to be met with such surprise. In your own mind, this is simply the next step, the thing that just makes good sense to do.
The book flutters as you toss it to the coffee table, freeing up your hands to lay out the logistics as you speak. “We’re already spending the majority of our nights in each other’s beds, right? Our closets are basically meshed. So are our dressers. Mind as well make the switch, and a comfier one, at that. Your room, my room, doesn’t matter to me- we should combine and conquer. Fix up whatever’s left into a spare.”
Eddie’s eyes are flicking between yours like he’s trying to read your mind again. He attempts to swallow his shock when it’s clear that’s making you cagey. “Ohh-kay. Wow. Yeah, that’s- that makes sense. Uh. What if someone comes over and- y’know- uses their eyes to see?”
This is the part of the scenario you’ve given less thought to. Bizarre, for someone with no less than four separate planners.
Maybe you just don’t care who sees. Not anymore.
But that’s a statement that feels like a landslide so instead you shrug, playing it very cool and very safe- “We can explain away just about anything on the basis of you being a Freak, capital F.”
Eddie’s grin is a slow, crawling thing that’s all teeth by the end. “How very economical of you.”
He doesn’t see the throw pillow coming; it whaps against the back of his head and you speak over his indignant squawk. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up- all the way to the mattress store. Should make yourself useful and take us tomorrow.”
Eddie rests the neck of his guitar against the coffee table and pushes up from the floor to settle into the cushion at your side, still grinning. “I ain’t laughing.”
“No,” you agree, reaching out for his face, settling your grip around his chin and feeling the divots of his dimples at either side as you squeeze, playfully. “Somehow this is worse.”
It’s nearly time for your Thursday night ritual- getting stoned, watching Perry Mason reruns on mute, and making up the voices for the onscreen characters. Eddie is the best at it, but he’ll pout if you don’t contribute, too.
You clamber into his lap and his arms encircle you, his chin fitting to the top of your head. Affection comes easier these days and you’re reveling in it, this new space that affords you some bravery and a lot of touch.
“Could go for ice cream, after the boring store.” Eddie’s voice buzzes comfort through your skull. “We’re gonna be dog tired after jumping on all those mattresses.”
Your cheek is pressed to Eddie’s chest, and the warmth of him leaks through. As it often does. Into everything.
The brassy orchestral swell of Perry Mason’s theme song lifts from the speakers. Your eyes shutter closed, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine it.
The day you’ll have tomorrow, the jokes and teasing and the happiness shared; the long drive and the open road and Eddie at your side. Sunshine and a brand new mattress and the sweetness of cold sugar melting into your tongue.
___
Nothing changes. Everything changes.
Somehow, you find yourself existing in a grey area, when previously all that you’ve known and held dear has been black and white.
Eddie is still the same Eddie. Loving and attentive, goofy and sweet.
He still hides his physical affection when you’re with friends but sneaks in touches beneath tables and between times when no one’s looking.
The fucking is different.
It’s the same rhythm, the same knowledge of each other’s bodies, but with new intention. New purpose.
Now, there’s a ragged and intense loop of I love yous saturating your mind and mouth during every act of intimacy. It used to feel easy; leaving the feelings at the door, going to work without ruminating on what might be waiting for you at home.
Now, you’re lucky to get three consecutive minutes of not thinking about Eddie during your shifts at the bookshop. Memories of the previous night’s activities will surface at the most inconvenient times, making you physically hot under the collar, the ghost of his touch like a lingering brand.
Eddie occupies your mind. He fills all the empty spaces, and for the first time, there’s no fear mixed in with the thoughts. Keeping him close in memory feels less like a warning sign and more like a security blanket.
It feels so good to feel it all- the wanting, the longing, the arousal- without the sharp edges of Rules to hold you back.
You’ve been having one of those days, today- all shift long you’ve been burning and buzzing with the need.
You beat Eddie home by a few minutes and the moment you’re inside the apartment everything on you begs to be parted. Your work bag hits the floor with a thud, followed by your tennis shoes, your jacket that gets tossed without care towards the couch.
It’s practically a mess. You allow yourself the luxury.
By the time Eddie walks in you’ve just managed to pull off your jeans, where you stand in the middle of the carpet amongst the wreck of undressing.
Eddie barely has time to raise his eyebrows and set his guitar case next to your work bag before he’s being walked backwards, pushed against the wood of the front door by your hands.
He’s fresh from rehearsals, smelling like sweet sweat and hormonal electricity as your hands roam the ribbed contours between his leather jacket and t-shirt. There’s black pencil liner smudged around his eyes and it’s all driving you fucking crazy.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, but does nothing to stop you from burying your nose behind his ear and inhaling deeply. “Been wound up without me?”
“Something like that.” You want to bite him, hard, but settle for kissing your way towards his adam’s apple and grazing your teeth against the shape of it.
Eddie shudders, clinging to your low back, pulling you in closer. You wish he’d unzip his skin and let you in- really, it’s the least he could do to satiate your craving.
The fuck me right here in this hallway line is about to be crossed so you detach yourself from Eddie even though the space instantly hurts, and turn for the first room on the left.
The new king bed sits comfortably under the window, with just enough floor space for a dresser and bookshelf. You slip your undies free as Eddie rounds the corner, scrambling to catch up, watching you with a slightly dazed expression.
“Ovulation.” You shrug off his unvoiced question as to the nature of your desire, because deniability comes easy, and so do excuses.
And then you remember you’re trying to be better about this, about letting him in. So as Eddie shrugs his coat off and pulls his shirt over his head you take a few steps backwards, letting your thighs hit the back of the mattress, adding-
“And you. It's mostly you. I’m really into you.”
Eddie temporarily gets his head stuck in the hole of his shirt but rips it free with a full-bodied shake, hair frizzing in every direction as he grins (leers) at you.
“Well, shit, baby, what a coincidence.” He doffs an invisible cap and bows deeply, with faux grandiosity. “Seems we’ve got the same idea.”
Jesus, what a fucking dork. You’re about to explode without his touch.
“Yeah, yeah.” The sarcasm can’t mask the adoration in your tone. Your knees part, and Eddie’s eyes drop to the space between your legs. Got him. “I’m in love with you and you can laugh it up later- fuck me like you mean it, now.”
There’s a flush already settling across the apples of his cheeks as Eddie sinks to his knees, reaching for yours. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
He eats you out with fervor, with the hunger of a starving man- like maybe he, too, has been aching for this all day. Using the memories of you like sucking candy until he can come home to taste the real thing, straight from the source.
Eddie fucks you with his tongue and fingers and doesn’t stop until you’re heaving with a second orgasm; he crawls up the length of your body and flattens you to the quilttop with kisses.
You draw him into yourself, words that mean nothing and everything on a shuddering loop- I need you, need you, so much- until the tides turn into a chorus of nothing but I love you I love you love you…!
Eddie answers. Sinks inside of you and kisses the words into your mouth. You have me, baby. All of me. Promise. I love you. I’ll give you anything.
He fucks into you from behind, front molded to the curve of your back as you’re tipped on your side. There’s a tickle of his lashes at your jaw, his chin resting on your shoulder where it’s hooked- he wants to watch his cock disappear and reappear, coated in your slick.
Eddie’s left arm spans your chest, holding you steady as his hips smack forwards in a hypnotic thrusting pattern. His right wrist presses firmly against that soft spot just below your tummy, while the middle fingers of his hand are working fast, wet circles over your clit.
You’re making noises you’ve never heard yourself make before- weepy, fucked-out moans that crawl unbidden from your throat, punctuated by a sharp gasp every time Eddie’s hips snap forwards.
He kisses behind your ear, murmuring something about how pretty you sound and drawing back just enough to watch your expressions. His half-lidded eyes are drinking in every minute twitch and feeling that passes over your face.
You can’t help but react authentically. There’s a small part of you that wants a shoulder to burrow into, or a pillow to cover your face- make this a step removed, less intimate, some breathing space-
but if seeing the look he’s fucking onto your face is some sort of reward for Eddie, you figure he’s more than earned it by now. The shape of your face is etched plain with the pleasure and euphoria that’s being built up in your body.
From him. For him.
It’s a practice in vulnerability. An opportunity to stretch your comfort zone, to move that goal post just a bit further.
Your brows pinch together, eyes slamming shut when Eddie angles the head of his cock to stroke perfectly against the spot that makes everything tighten and swell. His hips falter as he watches the pleasure course through you, and then he’s talking you through your fifth orgasm of the night with desperate, throaty encouragement-
That’s it sweetheart- fuck, yes. Fuck. Feels so good, you’re doin’ so good- fuck me. Tha’s it. I’ve got you, I’ve got you- ‘m right here. I love you. Love you.
And in the aftermath, more tenderness awaits.
Instead of making a guilt-ridden retreat to your own room and cleaning up amidst crashing hormones, you get to share the small bathroom space with Eddie. You pee while he brushes his teeth at the sink, spluttering on a mouthful of toothpaste when your foot pokes into his side teasingly.
You grab the water glasses, he grabs the snacks. The routine is a familiar pattern that soothes- Eddie likes you tucked under his left arm and against the headboard so he can eat out of your hand, and feed you with the other.
You stopped worrying about bed crumbs a long time ago. Nothing a quick wash won’t fix, and you’re loath to break the post-sex tradition of eating in comfort.
There’s no need for complications before sleeping, anymore. Not when Eddie is such a warm and solid comfort beneath the shared sheets.
In the morning, sunrise filters softly through the east-facing window. It’s a rare joint day off for the both of you, and Eddie is taking his time waking up.
He holds you in his arms, petting up and down your sides in long, sweeping strokes, absently running his lips across your forehead. His husky voice vibrates through the top of your skull as he lists out options for the day.
“Could go bother Stevie Boy at work. Or to the theaters- there’s nothing good on, I already checked, but we like the bad ones sometimes. Nice big screen to throw popcorn at.”
You’re not sure why this moment, of all the moments, prompts a realization so sudden and true it makes you sit up. It’s just the way of things, sometimes.
Maybe it’s the way Eddie is touching you- unguarded and for no purpose other than to feel the slide of your skin against his. Maybe it’s the casualness with which he suggests plans- something that used to be so difficult for your system to adjust to.
“Oh my god.”
Eddie was already curious when you sat up out of his arms and now his brows raise, looking up at you from where his dark hair is splayed across the pillow. “What?”
“You’re, like, my-” the word gets snagged. You clear your throat. “-boyfriend.”
The dawning starts to touch every part of your mind. It’s like the sun is rising on every memory, every source of affection with stunning clarity.
All your planning and compulsive carefulness that has been falling to the wayside recently has brought you here, to an epiphany about two years late.
Eddie sits up, too. Hand slipping to steady over your hip. “I mean. Not really. I’m just some guy you sleep with who lives in your apartment.”
He’s teasing, but there’s a cautious tone to his words. A tone that makes you think he’s trying to be careful for your benefit.
“No, Eddie- like, actually. Think about it.” You blink at the wall behind Eddie’s shoulder where an Iron Maiden poster hangs next to an ecology identification sheet. “We split the rent. We eat together, we live together, we share the same bed every night- oh my god.”
Boyfriend swims into your consciousness and floats about.
How could you not have seen it before?
Eddie had gone still with the flow of your words but now he squeezes at your hip, still using that low tone as if you’ll spook with anything else- “Hey. It’s okay, sweetheart. We can call it whatever you want. Okay? I don’t care, seriously.”
You’re still staring at the posters on the wall. Trying to make it all make sense.
Eddie must be itching under the silence because he asks, after a few moments- “What are you thinking?”
“I… I’m thinking I need a second.”
You get up and Eddie’s hand slides from your side and you can’t look at his face or it’ll break you into a million pieces so you beeline to the bathroom without looking back.
The door shuts behind you. The tiles are gleaming, freshly mopped, so you ease yourself to sit against the wall opposite the sink and stare vacantly.
A memory surfaces.
June in Vegas, years ago, air thick with humidity even at midnight.
A diner, the sugar-sweet taste of syrup and waffles. The ink drying on the fake marriage license between you and Eddie on the formica.
Wedding Waffle Special!
It was only funny because you were such good friends, two people who’d never really get married- only for the night. Only for the gag of getting free food.
Eddie has asked you, then, after forking a whole waffle and taking a drunken bite- What’s so bad about being real-married?
The question added a sharp edge to your liquored soft-stupor. You’d given him a real answer- Because then everyone would know.
Eddie had looked crestfallen. Like a piece of his heart got chipped off.
You’d tried to add some lightness, with all the clumsiness that drink afforded. You’d tried to assure, It’s not ‘cuz of you, it’s me, I can’t-
But Eddie had recovered quickly. Shoved a giant piece of chocolate chip waffle towards your face and declared a Waffle War, and the moment was churned over and forgotten.
Until now. Until you’re back in your body, tiles cold beneath you, twisting the bracelet you’ve worn every day since Christmas around and around your left wrist.
The silver charm with the letter E hasn’t tarnished at all. Even after all the times you’ve fitted your thumb over the letter to press the grooves into your skin.
Maybe, some part of you has always known. And this is just the breaking-open part of a bigger story.
It’s been about ten minutes or so since your thoughts have been tumbling in the bathroom and you wonder if Eddie is silently panicking on the other side of the wall.
Then again- he’s used to your rhythms. Your moods. While Eddie is very much a verbal processor, you often need some space and quiet to sort through your own interiority.
Eddie has been more than patient with this. With you.
The thought of him is motivating enough to send you into action, using the sink’s edge to pull yourself to standing and walking back into the room.
Eddie’s lying back again, lush forest of curls still fanned against his pillow; the bedside drawer is half-open and there’s a cigarette being fidgeted between his fingers.
He doesn’t smoke indoors anymore, and has evidently been waiting for you to return- you’ve always enjoyed the ritual of hanging out under the apartment building’s awning with him. Bundling yourself up in his winter coat and watching as he exhales hazy clouds that lift into the air and disperse, somewhere unseen.
The two of you have formed into each other’s lives so gradually but so completely that it would now be agony to separate.
You sit on the mattress to the right of Eddie’s hip. He smiles, close-lipped but still with the wink of dimples on either side.
“I do my best thinking in the bathroom, too. Most of my campaigns were built on that porcelain throne.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be disgusting when I’m trying to say something.” Your irritation isn’t real and Eddie knows it, grinning with all his teeth when you reach out to spin a lock of his hair through your fingers.
Your voice is quiet but firm. “You’ve been my boyfriend this whole time, and you haven’t cared that I didn’t let you tell anyone?”
Eddie fiddles more with the cigarette, considering this. Watching you with those bittersweet cocoa eyes. Melting when your finger brushes against his neck.
“I mean- I’ve cared. But I care about you more. The mostest, if you will.”
He shrugs, but you’re not ready to brush past this. Words feel so heavy- how do you sum up a culmination of years of wanting? Of years dedicated to senseless Rules?
So you don’t say anything. Instead, you lean down to press your lips to his.
The feeling of his cupid’s bow, the plush pout beneath- the novelty still hasn’t worn off.
You can’t believe you’ve denied this and other simple pleasures for so long. Maybe it was always meant to be this easy, this peaceful.
When you pull back there are tears beginning to shimmer in your eyes, and Eddie has the beginnings of a concerned frown so you laugh through the sadness-
“God. You must be seriously obsessed with me to put up with all this shit. Rules and everything.”
Eddie laughs, too, relieved you aren’t overly upset, tossing the cigarette back to the drawer so he can pull you into himself again. “That’s putting it lightly, sweetheart. I’d lick the bottom of your shoe for breakfast every day if you’d let me.”
“Gross.” You sniffle against the soft cotton of his sleep shirt. Cheek squished to the flat of his breastbone, the steady thwump-thwump of his heart in your ear. “Thanks for staying with me even after I acted insane.”
Eddie grows quiet at your words, even as his hands continue in their wandering path against your back. He doesn’t take the easy set-up of a joke like you thought he might.
Instead, he kisses your forehead. “Y’know, you got this idea somewhere along the way that you’re this, like, totally unlovable person.”
Your turn to grow still and quiet. Eddie kisses at your brow this time, and speaks again- meaningfully soft-
“You may be neurotic, and- uh. Unique in your way of thinking. But you were never hard to love.”
___
As the end of spring approaches, so does the annual Munson Farms Harvest and Hoopla (titled, once again, by Robin). It started with just you and Eddie, traveling the few hours east and staying the weekend to help Wayne with the excess of his farm-grown goods.
In its fifth year, Harvest and Hoopla involves just about everyone you and Eddie know. It’s a tradition that now spreads over a three-day weekend and ends Sunday evening with a big outdoor BBQ.
Your cousin Max and her best friend Jane will take the train to the Byers’ place, while the Sinclairs and Hendersons are caravaning together. Which means Nancy, Robin, and Steve will hitch a ride with you and Eddie.
Everything hinges on this coming Friday.
At the beginning of the week, you’re sick with excitement. Eddie lugs storage containers from the basement under your instruction, and helps where he can to organize for everyone’s arrival.
There’s cleaning that needs to be done, and novelty t-shirts to spray paint with the homemade MFHH logo, and packing and sorting and endless over-the-phone coordination.
On Wednesday evening, Eddie calls it. He plies you into relaxation mode with a freshly-rolled joint and Breakfast Club on VHS, under strict orders to Chill the fuck out.
He’s good at knowing what you need. When to use a soft touch, or a firm hand.
You’re good at knowing his needs, too.
Bender’s mouthing off to Claire onscreen and your mouth is wandering- up the side of Eddie’s neck, under his jaw, the squirm of his thigh pinned beneath your hand.
It always feels good to touch Eddie but even better when you’re both high. His droopy, red-rimmed eyes watching your every move; his fingers slipping beneath your shirt, seeking skin; the soft, whining pants from his lips to yours.
You sink your teeth into the stretch of his shoulder, clamping hard and long enough for a deep bruise. Eddie’s sweat is sweet against your tongue as he groans.
“Wanna mark you up.” You’re licking over the indents of your own teeth, following the line of his muscle down, down, until you’re slipping from his lap to kneel at the carpet.
Eddie’s gripping your elbows, watching as if in a trance- a flush has settled at his cheeks. Temples dewed with sweat. When you mouth over the hard line of his clothed cock he hisses sharply, air through his teeth and a curse to follow- “Fuck. Oh, fuck.”
You continue like he hasn’t spoken at all, fitting a hand over the trembling plane of his stomach to hold the edge of his shirt up; there’s a perfect dark trail of hair disappearing behind the line of his sweats.
Saliva begins to pool before you swallow to speak. “Gonna make you mine. Make everyone know it.”
Eddie makes a noise that’s half whimper, half shout, strangled with pleasure as your teeth find a home again in the plush fat of his abdomen. You make your way across the lower band of his stomach with meticulous pressure, just the right amount to leave behind marks meant for lasting.
“I want to start telling people.” You rest the apple of your cheek at the inner thigh of Eddie’s jeans, eyes flicking up briefly to gauge his reaction to this declaration- he was already a wreck.
Chest stuttering, nails digging into the skin of your elbows. Jaw dropped loose enough to part his lips. Cock leaking pre into the fabric under your right palm.
Eddie exhales, disrupting the curls that have stuck to his neck with the perspiration. Sucks in air, then asks with desperate hope- “Really?”
You work the bridge of your hand along the length of his dick, which throbs in response. “Really. Should wear your shorts to the river this weekend. Let everyone see the way you let me mark you up like a whore-”
“Holy fucking shit-” Eddie’s stomach jolts under your hand, and so does his cock.
It’s your words alone that have him coming, nearly untouched, hunching forward and pulling you into himself as the orgasm curls his spine and races through his limbs.
He chants a mixture of your name and more fucks, and when the last of his cum is thoroughly wrung out into the wet fabric of his jeans you move-tilt upwards to kiss him.
Your tongue slots against the grooves and contours of his mouth, all that leftover pleasure still simmering in every pore and atom, hand held at the back of his neck to keep him in place. His hair is silky from the oatmeal and coconut shampoo you’ve been buying special for him.
Mine. It’s another word that brands, on a cosmic level.
___
It’s one thing to talk about a new way of living. It’s another entirely to actually live it.
By Thursday morning, your excitement for the trip and the truth being loosed has been completely taken over by anxiety.
It feels like a sickness. Like your happiness and fear are two pieces of duct tape slapped together, sticky and messy and impossible to separate.
To combat the chaotic interior of your mind, the anxiety often manifests in habitual cleaning. You can’t explain why- it just feels good to distract yourself with.
When you’re working up a sweat against the fridge shelves or kneeling to bleach the baseboards, it’s hard to remember what had been plaguing you in the first place. The physical exertion is a craving while the ensuing pain is penance.
It’s Thursday and you’ve pulled out all the stops- scrubbing the countertops until they gleam, using a toothbrush against the grout in the bathroom, spending an hour on your hands and knees at one last attempt to lift the mysterious discolored stain in the corner of the living area carpet.
It’s not working. None of it’s working.
You’re elbow deep in a sink full of hot water, hands bare and gloveless, sloughing off the light layer of grime from each of the removable oven burners in turn as the others soak.
The kitchen smells like bleach and lemon antiseptic. There’s a frantic energy that buzzes below the surface of your skin, zipping and snapping about with no relief.
Your hands are rough and cracked and the tiny cuts are the only things that make you feel, that tether you to reality- those flecked-sharp bits of pain that cut through the fog of anxiousness are more than welcome.
Becca, in her spare time between work and higher education, has been inviting you over for weekly tea chats. Becca- with all her kindness and half of a psych degree- opens heavy textbooks and manuals across the surface of her coffee table and stresses every time that her opinion is not meant to be taken as an actual medical diagnosis, nor is it meant to ‘fix’ something that isn’t broken.
She’s very easy to talk to, and she’s going to make a great therapist someday. Becca’s been a treasure trove of information, especially in the ways of understanding yourself; she’s talked about coping mechanisms, intrusive thoughts, obsessions and compulsions- all these things you’ve been experiencing but have had no equivalent words to match until now.
Becca and her deep river of empathy. Her quick but knowing smiles whenever you bring up Eddie, which leads you to suspect she probably knows more about it than you’d care to give thought to.
You wish desperately that she could join in the group trip- it would be so nice to have someone who understands your eccentricities like her- but Becca's already left for her own spring break vacation with her family.
Having the clinical explanation for your symptoms is helpful, sure, but no amount of intellect applied can take away the roiling nausea from the anxious-dial currently turned up to ten.
As much as you can say the words I am having an obsessive-compulsive episode due to the stress of change and truly believe them, there’s nothing to be done but try and ride the wave the best you know how.
There’s a lump of hard ginger candy in the pocket of your cheek, all the square edges worn smooth and small in the last thirty minutes. One of the few things that has historically helped the chronic nausea that comes with constant intensive worry.
The last of it gets crunched between your molars and you swallow down the crystals, indulging in a bit of fantasy by imagining they’re going to heal you completely. The silent-freeze style of panic attack is being kept at bay but just barely as you drain the sink and begin rinsing the metal spirals under a stream of fresh tap water.
The front door creaks open then shuts with a bang. There’s a scuffle of Eddie’s sneakers against the mat, and he’s whistling as he rounds the corner. “Okey doke, big cooler from scary basement acquired. We’re gonna have the snack space to sustain an army on this road trip. What time is Rob s’posed to show?”
“Twenty minutes. Will you check the milk?”
Robin doesn’t even drink milk.
Robin is coming in less than half an hour to spend the night and help with the pre-dawn packing checklist tomorrow before pretty much everyone in the world you hold dear will be all in one place and Robin doesn’t even drink milk and still, you’re thinking about it, the lone carton in the fridge that may or may not have spoiled since breakfast an hour ago.
“Sure,” Eddie says, and it doesn’t even sound like he’s humoring you. Which somehow feels worse.
The sound of the plastic fridge seal peels and breaks, then there’s the twist of a cap, two quick inhales, and Eddie says mildly- “Smells like milk to me.”
The fridge closes again. If you were You from six months ago, you’d be shouldering past Eddie to throw the milk away yourself. Tip it right down the drain with mania disguised as a joke about how Eddie’s nose must be off.
Trust is a great thing to have. It’s been fought for and hard-won on both sides and it means you don’t turn tail and run when Eddie comes behind you at the sink to drop his chin to your shoulder.
“How come you’re not wearin’ any gloves? I got you those sexy pink ones from the five and dime for a reason.”
You wish you could laugh. The tap is cool over your fingers as you work the grime out from beneath your individual nail beds, head tilting to lean against Eddie’s in silent apology. “Dunno. I forgot.”
Eddie’s sigh coasts warm over the right side of your neck. “Trouble. How ‘bout you wash up.”
The warmth of his body fit to yours leaves along with him as you wash your hands, wincing slightly at the sting of soap on fresh wounds. There’s a nail brush nearby and you use it brusquely against the underside of your nails; your movements are harsh with autopiloted instinct as you stare through the east-facing window towards the blacktop parking lot.
Robin’s car will be pulling into that empty spot, soon.
Eddie is back with hands soft against your hips as he turns you away from the sink, towards himself, holding out a dishtowel for your wet hands.
You dry them. Eddie takes the towel and places his palms up between your bodies, waiting patiently. You oblige, slipping your palms against the calloused flats of his own and letting your fingertips trail on the insides of his wrists.
Eddie lets go of your right hand to reach into his back jeans pocket and surfaces with a tube of lotion (must’ve snagged it from the bathroom, sneaky), of which he uncaps to set a cool stripe across the arch of your left knuckles.
He starts working in the moisturizer with the warmth and pressure of his own hands, thumbs running parallel down the fine bones in the back of your hand, then sliding to the meat of your palm muscle. Then along the lines of each finger, individually, pulling with just the right amount of careful strength.
The lotion heats to the same temperature of your skin and so do Eddie’s rings. He’s using the good stuff on you- unscented, the special brand he saves for tattoo aftercare, which is probably why it doesn’t hurt your nicks.
It’s not until he’s moved on to your other hand that Eddie speaks. “We don’t have to do this today. You don’t have to do this today, I mean.”
His thumb coasts up the side ridge of your pinky, then back down. Kneading and filling the silence with touch.
You’re thinking. You’re thinking about the conversation you and Eddie had earlier this week about who will be the first to know- which person, out of everyone in your friend group, can be trusted with this bombshell of news and information.
And you both agreed. It has to be Robin.
Not only does she have a passion for gossip, she’s also the safest bet when it comes to passing along the message through the group in a meaningful way. Robin is where you and Eddie began- it’s her you have to thank for the introduction in the first place.
Robin who was so thrilled when the roommate situation ended up working out. Robin who cheered you on from the sidelines, who hasn’t held back any part of herself since you met her on the first day of freshman campus classes a lifetime ago.
Robin who has been your best friend. Robin who has surely felt the growing distance every time you’ve declined plans to hang in the last few months, too sick with secret to face her.
She’s got the most to lose. The one who stands the most to be hurt by this lie you’ve started and maintained, tended to like a fucked up garden all these years.
Eddie pulls you from the spiral of thoughts again, brow furrowing as he finds another section of your skin split across the knuckle. “We’ve already been doing a sick job on the whole ‘clandestine dalliance’ thing. What’s a few more months? Who cares if-”
“I care.”
Your interruption comes out more wobbly than intended but the truth of it solidifies as soon as you speak the words aloud. A ragged breath is sucked through your lungs and the rest of it leaves in a rush, a flood of shaky insistence as you stare at the constant movement of Eddie’s fingers instead of his face.
“I care. I want- I really want to start telling people. Our people.”
Your gaze climbs, braver now, taking in the ripped sides of Eddie’s cropped tanktop, the stretched-out collar hanging loosely around the base of his neck. He looks so handsome, in a way that almost hurts to behold. Sweat has dampened the baby hairs at his forehead and temples and sticks to his skin in whorls, entire constellations in miniature.
And the bruises. The scraped-up skin nipped into the column of his throat, the faint line of your teeth still visible from last night’s activities, brutal and delicate- he’s wearing them proudly today.
This boy is yours. Not in the way of ownership or control, but rather belonging. Him to you, you to him.
You want to make your claims and intentions clear. You want to be able to kiss your boy, your lovely boy, in public. In front of friends and family and god and anyone else who cares to look.
You want to hold Eddie’s hand at a party and not have to separate yourself from him for the whole night because this way of living has been so lonely, and so sad.
And you know, too, that this weighs on Eddie just as heavy. And that he’s been carrying the emotional weight of this for much longer than you, even if he’s never once made you feel badly for it.
Eddie’s eyes flick to yours when the pause in your speech stretches.
Being looked at by him, especially this close and intensely, has always felt like stepping into a sunbeam.
As if you’ve been traversing a cool, dark forest, and suddenly- light. Warmth beyond measure. Golden-brown pools of color so rich they beg you to stay awhile.
“It’s important to me.” You’re whispering, as if the moment might be disturbed and scatter to the wind with any other volume. “It’s important to you, I know, but it’s important to me, too. We belong together and I want- I need- people to know.”
“Whatever you need,” Eddie answers, adopting your same tone. Still massaging against the muscles of your hand like he’s trying to move the stuck feelings from your body. A smile curling at the corner of his mouth, the outline of a dimple betraying the relaxed demeanor he’s trying to keep up for you. “Whatever you wanna do, baby. I’ll back you a thousand percent. A million.”
You know it’s true. You feel the honesty in a place that rings deep.
Eddie lifts both your hands and meets them halfway to press a kiss to the tender skin of your wrists, one each. Lips soft and pillowed against the thudding of your heart pulse.
There’s a childish part of you that kicks out in tantrum, that wants to whine Quit being so nice to me! and maybe shove Eddie, just a little, like you’re in middle school stunted with a puppy crush.
But you don’t. You let the feeling of Eddie’s lips on your skin sink in and then you’re pulling Eddie towards you, burying your face in the spot of his neck that smells the most like home, humming a pleased note as his arms wrap and squeeze just how you like.
“A million percent is a lot,” you murmur.
Eddie snorts a laugh. The curve of his smile presses against the crown of your head as he replies- “Yeah, well. As previously established. Obsession of one said Freak will get you into the millions, every time.”
___
Robin arrives, and for a few hours, it’s just like old times.
She’s been busy at the record store an hour from here, with her and Steve’s new managerial statuses meaning less time to hang out or attend apartment parties. The last time you saw each other was over a month ago, and just in passing- your joy for the unfiltered togetherness cannot be understated.
Robin sits at the breakfast bar to help pack the cooler for tomorrow’s road trip, taking it upon herself to make Steve’s lunch (“He’s so picky and so spoiled,” she’d complained, even while lovingly cutting the crusts off a dry turkey sandwich).
Between the three of you there’s months worth of local gossip and you spend hours catching up, laughing at each other, feeling the rising pitch of stories and voices like a happy storm.
And even though you’re so glad Robin is here, real and in front of you instead of just a voice down the phone line, the secret starts permeating into everything.
As it has before. As it will continue to do.
It feels like a balloon is slowly swelling behind your breastbone, threatening to suffocate the air from your lungs until you’re choking on the surface words. Until you take the needle of truth to the looming, rounded edge of hiding and it all pops in one go.
You’ve been putting it off and putting it off. Unable to find the exact right time, the perfect pause in conversation; a few times, you’ve widened your eyes at Eddie over the back of Robin’s turned head, a panicked indicator- Help! What the fuck am I doing?!
Each time, Eddie has given you a wink. A quick, subtle response. For the heat of your mind, a cool balm- It’s okay, honey. On your terms.
You’re not even sure what the fucking terms are, anymore.
You’re used to rules and structure and building solid walls around the tenderest parts of yourself and while it’s been easier, recently, to shift that thinking under Eddie’s care- it feels so much more daunting to do it again. Regardless of how much you love Robin, or how truly safe you feel with her.
Eddie senses your discomfort and offers up a freshly-rolled joint to the group, and soon you’re all lazing about in the living room as it gets hazier with each puff and pass.
Robin brought the new Sinead O’Connor album as a surprise and the record spins as the talking gets louder, slipping quickly into the bright hilarity that only a good sativa blend can bring.
The A-side clicks off and no one notices, especially not you, leaning into Robin with a giggle fit so intense you’re practically in her lap. Neither of you can even remember what was so funny in the first place but it all just feels so good, so good to be able to find silliness and hear Robin’s laughter again.
Eventually Eddie stands from his corner chair with a loud clap of his hands and declares with a grin, “I’m sick of you two giggle monsters- how ‘bout you scurry down the corner to pick up some snacks? Make yourselves useful.”
After much more giggling, and a lazy middle finger thrown Eddie’s way (courtesy of Robin), the two of you move with jellied limbs to shove feet into sneakers and arms into coats.
Eddie follows you both to the entryway, procuring a crumpled ten dollar bill from his jeans pocket to tuck it with a flourish into the pocket of your denim jacket. He winks again- “Don’t spend it on drugs, kids-” then reaches for your collar to smooth it out.
Robin laughs again, her hand already on the front doorknob. You nearly lean in for a kiss out of habit but stop yourself halfway, an aborted movement that’s clumsy with weed, covering the strangeness by reaching for Eddie’s own stretched collar to repeat the movement.
As you follow in Robin’s path out the door, you take one last glance at Eddie, who smiles big and gives you a dorky two thumbs up.
You hope with a deep ardency that this will be the last time you ever have to deny him a thing.
___
The walk to PJ’s Corner Store is only a few blocks but the two of you make a meal of it all the same.
In the soft light of the low sun, the neighborhood is alight with pre-suppertime ritual.
Kids on spring break holler to one another from across the street, zipping from sidewalks to empty curbs on bikes and rollerskates. There are neighbors that nod to you from their porches, smoking cigarettes or watering their flower pots.
The air is sweet and cool as Robin loops her arm through yours, bumping against your shoulder happily as you fall into step. She’s recounting her latest disaster in the dating world- a story that is sprawling and somehow involves two NDAs- and your laughter is shaking her frame, too.
A shuddering of souls that reminds you of your college years, sneaking off campus to get drunk as skunks and coming back to dance under the moonlight on the quad grass.
Robin’s hair is longer than when you last saw her, done in messy, looped braids that swing and shift from each of her shoulders in animated speech. The familiar rasp-squeak of her excited voice, the way her hands lift to outline the shape of her words- it all feels like home.
One block from the corner there’s a copse of trees that create a miniature forest, too overgrown for a proper park but lovely to look at all the same. Robin drags you both to a halt and faces the greenery, still talking, bright eyes the color of a clear morning sky dancing around the treeline.
You rest your head against her shoulder, still connected by the elbows. The sound of her voice vibrates through your mind, and somewhere near the end of her story you find the courage to ask-
“So are you seeing anyone now?”
She giggles. Squeezes at your hand in solidarity.
“No. I’ve been getting myself into too much trouble recently- Steve says it’s ‘cuz I haven’t found ‘The One’ yet and I’ll feel differently when I do but oh, my god, what the hell does a permanent burnout bachelor like him know about true love?”
Robin breathes a deep sigh that you feel, too, then says in a voice that betrays her utter fondness-
“We have got to find him a nice person to settle down with. I’m tired of his long white jock socks and one night stands being everywhere when I get home. Steve’s the type of guy who needs someone to love. Not that I find that so terribly unrelatable- but, y’know what I mean about his needs. He’s a guy destined for sweet, sweet monogamy.”
Something in her words makes your stomach twist in recognition. A familiarity, a longing long-buried that begins to unwind itself in hopeful tendrils.
Before you can speak Robin starts laughing again, a memory that has her bending forwards with the force of it even as you tug on her arm, begging to be let in on the joke- “What? What is it?”
“Oh my god-” Robin straightens again as she struggles to breathe around her fit of giggling. “Speaking of. Someone really went to town on Munson. Did you see his neck? Looks like he got strangled by a goddamn creature of the deep!”
Robin must interpret your sudden silence as revulsion because she drops your arm in favor of taking both your shoulders, eyes wide- “Oh, jesus, please tell me you didn’t have to listen to the deeds being done. Eugh! I can’t believe you’ve lived with such thin walls this whole time. It must be-”
You can’t hear the rest of that sentence because the noise in your own ears is like a tidal wave, a rush and roar of drowning until you break the surface, still frozen in place but with a sharp gasp for air, voice barely above a whisper but saying it anyways-
“It was me. I did it.”
The humor in Robin’s countenance falters, sputters out as she lets her hands fall. She blinks, confused- “Huh? What do you mean?”
In this moment, you find you were wrong about the shape of your secret. It doesn’t pop in one swift, clean motion; instead, the pierce of your words leave the rest to hiss and leak out.
The truth is messy. It jolts from you like a car with a shitty transmission.
It makes you cry, tears beginning to stream as your voice warbles with the last bit of bravery you can summon.
“It was me. I did that, to Eddie, because he- me and him, we’re- I’m in love with him. Have been, for a long time, and we’ve been- I’m so, so sorry, for keeping this from you- for lying about it- this whole time-”
And then Robin is hugging you. Pulling you in tight, squeezing around your ribs like she’s trying to excise the sadness and fear.
Her voice in your ear, so bright with happiness that it takes some of the panic away- “Hey, hey, please don’t cry! I’m not mad, like, at all! It’s okay. It’s totally cool. I kinda knew already, so it’s not such a shock-”
“You knew?” is all you think to say, tears wetting the sleeve of her t-shirt.
“Well, yeah-” Robin pulls back, face alight with grinning as she points to your bracelet. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it, babe.”
“Oh my god.” You manage a small laugh through your tears. The relief washes over you in waves. You did it! You told her!
“And I didn’t know the whole time,” Robin clarifies, still holding you kindly by the shoulders like she’s worried you’ll tip over without the support. “I just… had my suspicions. And maybe placed a running bet with Steve like… two years ago.”
“Oh my god.” Your hands slip over Robin’s elbows as she makes a yikes expression, cringing when you ask- “Does Steve know, too?”
“Of course not. He’s none too observant, bless his little hairsprayed heart.” Robin’s rubbing circles against your shoulders with her thumbs, trying to soothe the ache of release. “And it’s not like I was trying to convince him of anything- he totally doesn’t believe the two of you are hooking up, like, at all, and I figured it was easy money.”
“You’re sick.”
“So are you. I’m willing to split the profits.” Robin grins when you do the same back at her, and then she’s giving you a little shake, teeth practically gritted in excitement- “Holy shit. This is better than I could’ve imagined- I didn’t know you were in boyfriend territory!”
Somehow, this word doesn’t sound so scary when Robin says it. Boyfriend feels comfortable, and almost too simplistic for the feelings you’ve got for Eddie.
“What’s he like?” Robin asks, looping her arm in yours once again, starting to trail up the sidewalk with renewed energy. “Y’know, when he’s not, like, performing for a group of us.”
This is what you’ve missed out on, the thing that you’ve been wishing for. The sharing, the friendship outside of your relationship- it feels so good to tell Robin all about what sort of person Eddie is. What he means to you, how he’s cared for you in the past few years.
The blacktop of PJ’s parking lot is in sight as you’re bookending the conversation. “-and he’s just really, really kind. Much more patient than I deserve, most days. And I’m super, sickeningly in love with him and I’m so glad you’re the first person I’ve told.”
Robin is fighting her own tears by the time her sneakers crunch against the lot. She pauses to hold you at arm’s length again, and tells you in a serious tone- “I’m honored. Truly. And I want you to know your secret is safe with me, and that I’m pretty sure not even Soviet torture methods could break through. I won’t even tell Steve, if you don’t want.”
“Thanks, Robin.” You mean it. “But- I actually want to start telling people. You were just first on my list.”
Her face crumples, the corners of her lips downturned like she’s pushing away the urge to cry. Instead, she hugs you again, with a force that means safety.
“Oh, shit.” Robin swears as she pulls away, eyebrows shooting up- “You’re gonna have to tell Mr. Munson before you show up to the farm and start sharing the same bedroom.”
A mild horror washes over you at the thought, but then is easily brushed away with a dismissive wave of your hand. "That's Eddie’s problem now. What else are boyfriends for?”
Robin squeals her delight, hands gripping yours as she pulls you towards the front doors of the corner store. There’s a twinkle in her eye that suggests a whole new world of mischief has just been opened for her.
“Exactly right!”
Epilogue
The sun is setting on the third night of the Munson Farms Harvest and Hoopla, and fireflies are beginning to blink to life against the dusky landscape.
Wayne’s property is only six hours east of the city but the air itself feels otherworldly. Lush, cleaner, with no smog or traffic-fueled smells having touched the greenery of this place.
The rocking porch bench creaks steadily under your weight as you tip back and forth, wood-slatted porch solid beneath the soles of your sneakers.
Ceremony calls for a barbeque on the final night at the farm, an enjoyment of all the hard work and another successful harvest. Steve and Nancy are muttering over the grill’s propane tank a few yards away while Robin and the kids are spread around the front lawn, entertaining themselves in various groupings before supper starts up.
The screen door to the house creak-bangs. A moment later Eddie settles into the seat beside you with two cold beers in hand.
You take his offering, clinking the neck of yours to the neck of his, and when Eddie lays his arm across the back of the bench you scoot in closer to his side. Humming a pleased note when his hand cups the breadth of your shoulder and begins to rub circles into the muscles there.
He’s wearing another of his black cutoff tanktops tonight- the last piece of clean clothing thanks to his lawless packing. Whenever he shifts you can see the beginnings of a farmer’s tan, the clear delineation of colors between marble-white and toasted Wonder bread.
Eddie should count himself very lucky he’s had you to fuss over his sunscreen usage every morning, otherwise his skin would be closer to that of an Indiana Cherry.
Eddie is watching the cluster of boys at the treeline with faint amusement; there are shouts and cheers, a tourney in miniature as Mike and Lucas bat at each other with walnut sticks that have been stripped of their leaves to make for better swords.
There’s a whole new spray of freckles against the underside of Eddie’s jaw. A spot that begs for kissing.
You clear your throat of the need to feel his skin under your lips and settle on a question, instead. “How’s Wayne?”
The days here have been so full, so deliriously busy and happy and brimming with people and work that you and Eddie have been hitting the same sheets sated but exhausted at the end of each night, no time for pillow talk.
And while you’ve missed the usual quiet intimacies, you’ve been finding him in your dreams. Waking up early just to cuddle against his sleepy form while he holds you, soaking in the precious few minutes before suiting up for the orchards again.
Eddie takes a long pull of his beer. He finds a tense spot in your neck with his thumb and presses into it, firm but careful. “Wayne’s good. Happy to have company. He doesn’t get out much, ‘sides seeing his fishing or drinking buddies. Nothin’ like a little chaos to shake it up.”
“And… what was it like? To tell him about us, I mean.” Your thumbnail fits to the edge of the beer label, peeling as your heart patters in wait.
Eddie snorts, shifts with the memory, pulling you in closer to his side with the movement. “Wayne said he knew the whole time, which is a goddamn lie. No way that old man was wise to it. Prob’ly said it just to tick me off.”
You give Eddie a sideways glance and realize he’s nearly blushing. The fondness buried just below the surface of his words unveiling the younger boy he becomes when stepping foot onto his uncle’s farm; a return to his roots.
There’s an ease to his nature here that isn’t always apparent in your shared city-living. A looser, more lithe energy that beckons his tongue to slip back into countryside accents and adages.
“Jesus,” you say, unable to help the trembling laugh that escapes, even as Eddie turns to raise his brow in question. “Wow. I thought it was surely only me that was gonna spin out over telling everyone. Turns out it’s you, too.”
Eddie splutters, indignant, rolling his eyes before snapping at you playfully with his teeth like an oversized puppy- “Hey! I’m not spinning out. I’m totally cool as a cucumber knowing my old man knows I’m warming your bed. Totally, totally cool-”
“Gross,” you chide, poking an elbow into his ribs that he can’t dodge.
Eddie sneaks a kiss behind your ear while your face is turned towards his and withdraws, casual again- “And I’m pretty sure Red claimed the same, so you’re not one to talk.”
Your turn for an eye roll, a scoff, remembering Max’s triumphant grin among the clamor of enthusiastic teenagers at the news of their DM’s newest partnership. She’d slipped to your side once the noise had died down and gave you a fierce, unexpected hug, then whispered- “I called it.”
“She didn’t call shit.” You’re just as indignant, slipping both your legs over the seat of Eddie’s closest knee. “And neither did Wayne, or Robin- we’ve been so great at hiding it.”
It’s sarcasm, and Eddie reads your tone like a favorite book. His thumb rests at the hidden nape of your neck as he nods- “Right. ‘S what I said.”
Your arm slips around his middle, fingertips steady at the mouth of your beer while the crown of your head budges up to the side of his jaw. A long, dreamy sigh leaves your lungs, then a concession- “Maybe we were more transparent than we knew. Maybe we were never supposed to hide this.”
Eddie responds by kissing the top of your head, and swiping goosebumps across the back of your neck. “Yeah. And y’know, having it out in the open might be more trouble than it’s worth. Wayne’s gonna be a pain in the ass about us getting hitched. Havin’ his grandbabies. We’ll have to fend him off with a sword.”
“Yeah right.” You lift your head from the comfort of Eddie’s to take another long sip of your beer, squinting sideways at your boy. “You know you’re not allowed to have swords after what happened to my wall last year. And besides. I can handle it.”
Eddie smiles at you, gives you a look like you’re the only reason he’s upright and breathing.
There’s no need for Rules anymore. No more walls around the softest parts of your mind- walls that were structured to hold you together but were actually breaking you apart.
You’re sitting on the porch of the house where you first told Eddie you loved him, and though you don’t remember it, you’re sure you’ve made up for it a thousand times over. A pattern you want to repeat and repeat until the meter swings so far in the other direction that Eddie will never again have to guess at what’s in your head.
The feeling is enormous. You don’t shy from it.
“I love you,” you murmur. Simple and honest.
Eddie’s smile is sideways, heavy with the weight of it. He demures, looks down and then up at you through those long, deerlike lashes- “Love? Little ol’ me?”
You lean in and press your lips to his. It’s a soft, quiet kiss, one that you hope is worth a couple thousand words.
There’s a far-off shout of Get a room! from your cousin, a tittering giggle from Jane, some of the boys catching on and whooping in teasing bursts, a brief reprieve from their all-consuming play.
You throw a middle finger in the vague direction of Max and Eddie is grinning so wide you can feel the neat row of his teeth between your lips before you pull back just to see the pink tinge at the apples of his cheeks.
He meets you halfway for another kiss.
For a blissful moment, it’s just the sound of the cicadas, you, and Eddie- and everything feels just right.
reblogs, comments, keysmashes, etc. are all fuel for my delicate little writer's heart. thank you endlessly for taking the time to read <3 fin.
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♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
It was amazing to think how much things change.
There had once been a time where you considered Eddie Munson to be your best friend, that and your brother Gareth. There had been a time where you thought Eddie Munson was one of the most perfect people in the world, where you had craved to spend any possible second you could with him.
Now, sitting in the back of his van soaked to the bone as you sob, you find that you’re somehow sitting across a stranger. He watches you closely, eyes stern as he wraps a blanket around you to try and help the shivering.
It was weird to recognize every single detail of him and still feel like you didn’t all at once.
“Do you want to smoke? Will that help?” He asks, already reaching for the lunch box hidden in the back so he could grab one of the joints you had seen him roll earlier in the day.
“I want to go home.” You cry, a shiver going down your spine. “But I don’t want them to see me like this.”
“Okay.” He nods, and you can see him try to come up with a plan. “I can take you to my trailer for a bit, you can shower and sleep some of this off. Okay?”
“Okay.” You nod, hands still shaking. “Thank you….. thank you Eds.”
He stills at the nickname, eyes catching yours for a moment before he is shuffling to get into the driver seat without another word.
You felt silly, calling him his nickname after everything that’s happened, shuffling to lay on your side to help ease some of the pain built up. You hear him shuffle around with the music, debating if he should have it up or down.
“Do you want music, bugs?” He asks, your chest warming at the nickname as you close your eyes, inhaling the scent from his sweater and blanket as you fall asleep.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
You had met Eddie your freshman year of highschool, before that he had always been Gareths mysterious friend that you had never seen before.
But now that you went to school with them it seemed that Eddie was everywhere, not that you minded.
You had quickly become a main member of their group, sitting with them at lunch and going to their band practices. You and your brother had always been close, so it wasn’t anything different than how it used to be. You were just hanging out with your brother…… and his extremely hot friend that you sometimes imagined kissing. No biggie.
But being completely honest everything about Eddie to you was a huge biggie.
Like right now, as he glared at you while angrily breaking pretzels with his teeth, and all you could do was smile at him.
“What is wrong with you?” He snaps and you preen under the attention.
“I said what I said.” You simply reply, flipping your hair over your shoulder with confidence.
“How can you hate Texas Chainsaw?! It’s such a classic movie! First of its kind!” He whines, snatching a fry from your plate.
“You say that about every slasher movie, Eds.” You grumble, snatching a pretzel from his bag. “They’re all new and amazing to you.
“Because they are!” He sighs, obviously frustrated that you wouldn’t agree. “You’re just upset that we didn’t watch that new goonies bullshit.”
“What’s going on?” Gareth asks, sitting beside you with his own lunch tray and snatching one of your fries even though he had some of his own.
“We were just talking about movies.” You mumble, a blush rising across your skin. Wednesday nights Gareth had to work at the gas stations over night shift, so you had begun hanging out with Eddie when your brother was busy. That had turned into spending the night at Eddie’s and telling your older brother that you were spending the night at your friend Abigail’s since you knew he would get butt hurt that you hung out with Eddie without him.
“Bugs here thinks Texas chainsaw sucked.” Eddie grunts, throwing a pretzel at you.
“Oh no way! It’s so good!” Your brother gasps as Jeff joins the table and soon Paul joined. Suddenly the table was packed and chaos filled the once normal conversation.
You allowed them all to talk over you, choosing to look around the cafeteria as they do so. Everyone today seemed to be in a flurry of excitement, laughing and dashing across the cafeteria.
You make eye contact with Adam Hanson, one of the schools popular basketball players and he gives you a wide smile, winking as all his friends talk around him.
At first you pass by it, not really thinking he was looking at you until he waves his hand to get your attention again, smiling like a goof as he wiggles his fingers right before he winks again.
A small touch at your wrist pulls you back to the table, where Eddie is peering at you with wide brown eyes as the boys yell at each other about something. His thumb is rubbing your wrist softly as you try and smile.
“You okay?” He asks, looking past you to where Hanson sits before looking back to your eyes.
“I’m fine. Hanson has always been a clown.” You mumble back shrugging.
“Okay well I was asking you if you want to retry.” Eddie mumbles, thumb still rubbing your wrist.
“Retry?”
“Movie night.”
“I’m not watching texas chainsaw again.” You laugh which makes him smile.
“I meant we need to make up for it. Get a movie you might actually like.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Gareth works tonight and Wayne is going to be doing an all nighter at work so we can get another movie.”
“That sounds like fun.” You smile at him, watching his shoulders relax a bit.
“What sounds like fun?” Gareth asks turning to you.
“Burning the government down.” You reply, smiling innocently.
“That sounds like fun, count me in.” A new voice emerges from behind you, making the rest of the table blink slowly as you turn to see Adam Hanson standing there smiling wide. “What time should we meet up? I’ll bring the gasoline.”
“I think our rebel van is already full this time. Maybe you can catch the next round.” You smile.
“Burning down more than one government are we?” He laughs with raised eyebrows.
“Mmm. Maybe a monarchy next.” You offer, shrugging a bit as he laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “I like to keep my options open.”
“Can we help you?” Gareth scoffs, glaring at Adam like he was being a huge issue.
“Hey, take it easy. Just trying to join a revolution.” Adam teases, hands held up in a surrender way and winking at you once more before walking off to join his friends at the door while your brother glares at you like you had done something wrong.
“What?”
“That was gross!” He scoffs. “Dude was ogling at my baby sister.”
“No he wasn’t.” You scoff back, blushing a bit as your brother rolls his eyes. Risking a quick look to Eddie, nervous about his reaction, you find him wide eyed looking between your brother and yourself.
“Wasn’t that disgusting, Eddie?” Gareth snaps, pulling the poor dungeon master into it. “The kid barely notices you then you hit puberty and suddenly he’s all over you? Fucking perve.”
“Why are you making such a big deal about this? He was just being nice.”
“You’re a child. And he was not just being nice.” Gareth scoffs again, smacking the back of your head. “It’s called being a pedophile.”
“Doesn’t count. They are both minors.” Jeff reminds through a mouthful of pizza.
“Yeah well it’s still gross.” Gareth snaps.
Now, completely embarrassed by this whole ordeal, you risk one more look at Eddie only to realize that he was avoiding eye contact and pretending to read the textbook in front of him.
“I’m gonna go to my locker.” You mumble, the embarrassment eating you. You grab your stuff quickly, dropping off the tray into the trash before exiting all together.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
Eddie’s trailer had once made you nervous, the idea of being where Eddie lived and slept.
But now? You were very used to it, excitement fills you whenever you come over.
Knocking, just as you always do, after parking your bike by the side so it doesn’t get stolen. Soon enough the door was cracking open and Eddie’s face came into view, a smile breaking out on his face when he sees you, opening the door wider to reveal he is only in sweats with his torso of tattoos that has your eyes widening.
“You’re early.” He mumbles out, rubbing his eyes to try and wake up, pulling you in so he can shut the door from the cold. “Jesus. Why is it so chilly?”
Within moments he is pulling you in for a hug, rubbing your back in an attempt to warm you up. You’re body is immediately ablaze, cheeks warm from blushing and skin hot.
“It’s this funny thing called fall.” You joke, hugging him back tightly before he tries to shuffle you both back to his room without breaking it. A giggle escapes you when he trips slightly before you let go so he can walk normally and moves to his room with you close on his heels.
It’s a routine that you both follow easily when you arrive, going to his room to change out of everyday clothes and into something more comfortable.
He lets you wear one of his band tees and sweats, snatching the pillows from his bed as you change, and then he leads you back out to the living room.
“I went ahead and got the goonies for you, because you’re a nerd.” He grunts out, moving to put the tape in. “Why are you so early today?”
“I didn’t go home, I had a meeting after school and came straight here.” You answer, watching his interest peak as he raises an eyebrow.
“What meeting?” You wait for him to sit on the couch, laying down before extending his arms to grab you so that you both could lay down, pressed to each other as you fixed the blanket.
“Cheer. They have an opening so I signed up for the auditions.” You mumble, using his chest as a pillow while he looks down at you.
“You want to cheer?”
“Yeah. I always have. I used to do it all the time, cheer camp and everything but when I first came to Hawkins someone told me I shouldn’t.” You answer, adjusting the blanket so it covered you both as his hands move to play with your hair.
Something about Eddie? He was ALWAYS touching you. Found every excuse in the book to do so. And it annoyed you to no end because he was so casual about it and it always left you flustered and a mess.
“Is that why that kid came up to talk to you today?” He asks, something off about his tone. “Seemed like you knew him.”
“I have math class with him.” You yawn, closing your eyes and keeping your nose pressed into his chest as you fall asleep.
Sometime later he wakes you up, half asleep himself to get you both to his room, falling into the mattress and pulling you in to fall back asleep.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
“You’re being so weird today.” Gareth snaps through a mouthful of cereal, leaning against the locker next to yours.
“Shut up.” You mumble out, not daring to look him in the eyes as he draws attention to you both.
“Why me shut up? Dude this isn’t a good idea.”
“Gareth. Take it down a notch.” You warn.
“You want to be on the cheer team? Really?” He scoffs. “That lame group that shares maybe one brain cell between them?”
“With me there might be more” you try to tease, watching him roll his eyes before another figure emerges.
“Dude. Where were you last night? I called like 6 times.” Gareth sighs, and you’re just thankful that the conversation moved on from you for a moment.
“I went to bed. Take it down a notch.” Eddie shrugs, looking at you the same time you looked at him.
Technically he wasn’t lying. He had gone to bed. “What’s the problem?”
“My sister wants to join the world of bimbos and stds.” Gareth snaps, and you feel Eddie move forward to avoid being pushed in the crowded hallway, his chest hitting your shoulder with warmth.
“You want to date Steve Harrington?” He laughs, making you smile back.
“She wants to be a cheer slut.”
“Who does?” This time it’s Paul that asks, with Jeff right on his tail. And once again you’re thrown in the center of their arguing.
“Seriously?” Paul laughs when he is told, blatantly laughing in your face. “That’d be so hilarious!”
“Hey, come on.” Eddie warns.
“I mean she’s….” Paul trails off a bit and you find yourself filling in on the words he didn’t say. You’re what? Lame? Ugly? Unlikable?
“It’s not gonna work.” Gareth shrugs.”I just don’t want you to get hurt buggie.”
“She’s not gonna make it. And even if she does it’s not like she’ll be on long.” Paul giggles to himself. “You’d have to put out to the-“
Eddie and Gareth both punch his shoulders on either side, as hard as they can.
“See you at cheer practice, ……” a soft voice rings out, drawing your attention to Chrissy Cunningham, a girl in your class.
She held a small smile, one that said “I got your back.” And you realized what she must have seen, you surrounded by a bunch of guys making fun of you.
So you give a tiny wave, which makes her smile widen and suddenly you were smiling too, a little happier when she walks off.
Something light fills your chest until you look back to Gareth who glares at you. “You’re not even in yet and you’re already acting like one of them.”
“I don’t get why you’re so mad. Paul, you said last band practice that I annoy you guys.” You remind, snatching one of your books as Eddie stands straight suddenly. “Being a cheerleader means I don’t sit in on practices anymore.”
“Wait; you said that?” Eddie asks, chest still pressed into your shoulder as he holds out his hand to Paul in a shocked way. “Why?”
“Cause she always-“
“Can we get back to the problem at hand? You’re gonna be all cool and popular and lose all your personality.” Gareth snaps. “Just another girl with a pretty smile that the jocks use and abuse.”
“I’d still hang out with you guys?” You laugh, closing your locker. “What are the chances that we all stop being friends? I live with you, remember Gary?”
“Whatever bugs.” He huffs, a small smile playing at his lips.
He waltzes off after that, bowl of cereal in hand as Paul and Jeff follow him to class. Eddie remains, watching you.
“I don’t know why Paul said that but-“
“Eds, it’s fine. He’s a little right at the end of the day. I mean there’s only so much I can talk to you guys about so maybe it’s time I make a couple more friends.” You shrug.
“You can talk to me about anything though.” Not about the huge crush you have, or the way every time he touches you your heart beats fast.
“Not about periods or bra sizes.” You joke, moving to walk away, surprised when he follows you. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of school?”
“You can talk to me about anything.” He states again, this time more serious. “Periods. Bra sizes. Anything and everything. I just want you to know that.”
You smile at him, shrugging and walking away to class.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
Two days later you’re rushing home with excited news, a smile splitting across your face as you run to tell everyone.
Tonight was band practice, which meant all the boys would be in the garage so you’d probably tell them first, your new cheer uniform clutched tightly in your hands as you make your way up.
You see Eddie’s van parked in the driveway and excitement fills you at the thought of telling him, so you cut across the lawn, just at the point where they can almost hear you when you hear them talking.
“-I think it’s great that she’s going for the cheer team.” Jeff’s voice rings out, catching your attention “she used to cheer when she was younger right?”
“Yeah. She stopped when she got to high school. I don’t know man, I just think it’s going to ruin her you know?”
“At least she won’t be following us around all the time.” Paul grunts out, and your heart clenches. “She’s always there!”
“That is a good point.” Gareth sighs. “Maybe go and make her own friends.”
“She’s so annoying. Always talking our ear off about everything and always asking us if she can play DND.”
“She doesn’t ask us if she can play. She asks how we play and if she can watch.” Jeff corrects.
“For what though? So she can start coming to those hangouts?! She ruins everything!” Paul snaps and you suddenly feel really stupid.
“I think you’re right.” Eddie laughs, which makes Jeff and Gareth laugh too and you completely shatter there.
What happened to you talking to him about anything?
“I’m just saying man-“
“Yeah yeah, we know what you’re saying Paul.” Eddie interrupts him, still laughing. You can’t hear anymore, you turn to head through the front door rather than the garage, storming up to your room and slamming your door.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
Eddie was anxious, had been all day since he found out the cheer tryouts were today.
He didn’t know what he was so worried about in general, and no matter what he tried to talk himself out of he always found something else to worry about.
What if you got in and stopped hanging out with all of them? No more secret movie nights at his trailer or sneaking you into the hideout so you can watch their shows.
No more of you coming to band practices and cheering them on. He wouldn’t get to be near you as much. You wouldn’t sit at the table with them and he wouldn’t get to talk to you everyday.
Or worse, you become one of them and you end up hating him just like they do.
But then he tells himself that neither of those would happen, you would still be their friends and you loved movie night as much as he did. Or.,….. well he hoped you did.
Besides, he would be upset if they turned you down. He knew you would be upset and he just wouldn’t be able to handle how sad you would look.
They would be idiots to turn you away, he’s seen you dance at the hideout….. well more so like he watched you intently like a perv, scared your brother might finally notice just how much Eddie liked you.
That had been his biggest concern as of late, Gareth. Watching your brother freak out everytime someone tried talking to you or everytime Paul hinted about you, well it made him feel like a shit friend.
Not to mention it made him feel bad for you. You just wanted to hang out with your brother and his friends, you didn’t need him being all weird about it.
You especially didn’t need him trailing after you like a lost puppy all the time.
Which was why he was getting so anxious at band practice, listening to Gareth get into it with Paul over you.
“This is such bullshit man, I already got you drooling over my sister at every turn-“
“I do not!” Paul snaps.
“-and not the rest of the school will be too!” Gareth yells, frustrated.
“Just wait until she starts dyeing her hair and sucking faces with all the boys on the team!” Paul gags, which makes Jeff roll his eyes.
“You’re just saying that because you’ve been head over heels in love with her since middle school dumbass. We all see it. And personally I think it’s great that she’s going for the cheer team.” Jeff adds, always the calm one. “she used to cheer when she was younger right?”
“Yeah. She stopped when she got to high school. I don’t know man, I just think it’s going to ruin her you know?” Gareth sighs, and Eddie finally recognizes what the biggest problem here was. He was afraid he wouldn’t have your back anymore.
“At least she won’t be following us around all the time.” Paul grunts out, and Eddie finds himself clenching his fists and trying not to lose his cool. “She’s always there!”
“That is a good point.” Gareth sighs. “Maybe go and make her own friends.”
“She’s so annoying. Always talking our ear off about everything and always asking us if she can play DND.”
“She doesn’t ask us if she can play. She asks how we play and if she can watch.” Jeff corrects which makes Eddie nod. He had countless nights planning the campaigns with you and always offered to teach you, but you never wanted to actually play, instead you gave him ideas on his campaigns.
“For what though? So she can start coming to those hangouts?! She ruins everything!” Paul snaps.
“I think you’re right.” Eddie laughs loudly, turning to Jeff in reference to Paul’s crush on you as they all laugh at Paul, who gets completely red in the face at the way they are all calling him out.
“I’m just saying man-“
“Yeah yeah, we know what you’re saying Paul.” Eddie interrupts him, still laughing even though he feels like pummeling his face in. “You’re madly in love with Gareths little sister and she doesn’t like you back so you have to be angry at her for it.”
“Back off my little sister you freak.” Gareth laughs at paul. “She’s too good for you.”
She’s too good for everyone, Eddie thinks, turning towards the open garage door waiting to see you. “What time was that shit supposed to end anyways?”
“All I know is she said she’d be home for dinner.” Gareth shrugs and Eddie still can’t decide if he wants you to make it on the team or not.
All he hopes for is that they are nice too you.
So he waits, and waits. Even when they are playing their songs he keeps his eyes on the door for you to emerge.
Finally Gareths mom comes out smiling to call them in for dinner.
“What about sis?” Gareth asks as everyone helps his mom set the table.
“She’s upstairs.” This catches Eddie’s attention, heart thundering as he tries to play it cool.
“I didn’t see her come in?” Gareth asks, moving to the stairs in an attempt to call you down but your mom is quick to stop him.
“Don’t. She’s upset and trying to lay down.”
“She’s upset?” Eddie asks, chest aching. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I went to check on her and she was crying. Said she didn’t feel well.” Your mom answers and Eddie’s fist clenched.
They probably made fun of you, they probably made you cry at the try outs. Jeff taps his shoulder, mouthing a ‘chill out.’ That makes Eddie worried.
Did Jeff know he had a crush on you too?
Did Gareth know?
“Eat up boys.” Your mom orders.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
The next morning was rocky at best.
You got up and got dressed into your cheer uniform, and then at the last second decided that since you were wearing the uniform why not do your makeup? You wanted to look cute for your first day on the team.
You hadn’t thought about what you overheard until your brother barged in your room, giving you a confused look as you finish up the final touches on your face, suddenly embarrassed as it all comes rushing back.
“You made it?!” He asks, which makes you roll your eyes.
“Yes. Shut up.” You grunt, pushing him out of the way to grab your shoes.
“Mom said you were upset yesterday, so I figured you didn’t make it.” He shrugs, admiring himself in your mirror before throwing your own brush at you.
“I just had a migraine.” You lie, trying to play it off. Don’t cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.
“Damn. Sorry bugs. I’ll grab time Tylenol before we leave in case it comes back.” And with that he is gone, you hot on his heels to catch up as you dash to pack your lunch.
“Eddie is swinging by to pick us up.” Gareth informs, snatching an apple and the bottle of Tylenol before moving to count the money in his wallet for lunch.
“Why?” The only times eddie took you to school were after your movie nights when you were at his house anyways.
“He offered last night. Let’s go.” Your brother sighs, ushering you to the door.
“We’ll I don’t wanna intrude and I have something after school so I can just ride my bike.” You’re quick, moving away from your brother in attempt to make it look like you forgot something. “Go on without me.”
“Bugs, I’m sure Eddie or Paul will give you a ride after your meeting thing. Let’s gooooo.” He groans, pulling you by your hair and out the door.
When he manages to drag you to the van Eddie leans over to open the door and Gareth waits for you to hop in.
“I should just ride my bike. I’ve got something after school later and you guys won’t want to wait around-“
“We have DnD tonight.” Eddie shrugs. “We’ll be at the school late anyways.”
There was no winning with these two, so you nod and hop in, trying not to take up too much space as Eddie stares at the uniform.
“You got in?”
“Why is everyone so shocked?” You snap, embarrassed and upset. They thought you were annoying and always there and apparently no one believed you would get in the squad.
“It’s just-“
“Is that a donut?” Gareth asks, snatching it from the console.
“I got it for bugs to cheer her up-“ Eddie starts right as Gareth shoves half of it in his mouth. “Nevermind.”
“Can we just go?” You snap, attempting to avoid eye contact with both.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, walking with you on your way to your locker after 3rd period, his eyebrows pinched in worry and his eyes wide.
“I’m fine.” You lie, trying to smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Maybe because I overheard people I thought were my friends making fun of me, or maybe because the guy I’ve been madly in love with since I met him thinks I’m clingy and annoying.
“I just wanted to make sure because-“ he grunts out as Steve Harrington elbows him to get past, accidentally shoving him into you and sending you both into the lockers. “God damnit.”
Eddie is quick to give you space, reaching for the arm that hit the lockers to make sure you’re not hurt as he blinks.
“I’m fine.” You smile, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your skin. “Did you pack lunch today?”
“No. But since I stopped to get you breakfast, sorry about that by the way, I picked something up.” He explains, walking with you and dropping his hand. The way he’s staring at you makes you nervous, In the best way. And you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as he attempts a smile, until you remember what was said yesterday and those butterflies find themselves in a blender. “Might you be interested in sharing a store made sandwich and sun chips milady?”
“Oh how thoughtful-“ you begin, joining him in the lunchroom before you see Paul and Jeff already sitting there, panic rising. “But I realized I forgot my lunch. I’ll go get something.”
“Okay, I can walk up with you-“ Eddie starts, but you stop him.
“I’m fine! I’ll be good.” You mumble out. “Besides, Paul’s already calling you over.”
Eddie gives you a worried look, but nods and heads over to the table anyways, all the boys matching in their hellfire shirts as Paul starts loudly complaining about something.
You realize halfway to the line that your excuse didn’t make sense since you did pack lunch, and you hadn’t grabbed your wallet since this outfit didn’t have pockets so you had no money to buy anything.
And while you stood there, debating what you should do, you see Chrissy walking towards you in her uniform as well.
“Hey!” She smiles, moving in to hug you. “I’m so happy you made it! I was worried when there was only two spots and you were soooo good!”
A small burst of pride settles through you as she compliments you, linking your arms together as she heads to the cheer table. “I was also worried I'd be left alone. But you’re here and we’re gonna be so awesome!”
She leads you to the table, and takes a seat like it was the most natural thing in the world, meanwhile you were panicking. What would the boys think? Would these girls want you to sit with them?
You risk a look over to the hellfire table, seeing all of them staring at you with wide eyes, especially Eddie, who had saved the seat next to himself.
“Girl; come on! We want to do your hair!” Sarah, the captain, giggles and pulls you to sit.
It was for the better, all the boys thought you were annoying anyways. Maybe they would get a break from you.
One lunch wouldn’t hurt and you wouldn’t be so annoying. Right?
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
“Too cool to eat with us now?” Gareth teases, waiting for you after practice. The sun had gone down in Hawkins, and the sweat from practice clung to you making the night air twice as chilly.
He had a red mark on his cheek, which told you that he probably was being overdramatic during the campaign and smacked himself again.
“No. I…” you start to explain, right as Eddie comes out of the doors and spots you. “I was going to get lunch, but Chrissy pulled me to the table.”
“How was it?” Eddie smiles. “You got to see how the other side lived? Any exciting news to report back?”
“Nothing much,” you smile, walking with them both as they head to Eddie’s car. “I got to know them a little better and they all talked to me about my routine because they like-“
Your brother does an overdramatic yawn, tossing the back door to Eddie’s van open and throwing himself in. “Boring already.”
You roll your eyes, shutting the door on him before moving to hop into the passenger seat. Eddie gets into the driver side, looking to where your brother is already lighting a cigarette.
“So they liked your routine?” He asks, looking at you as he starts the van.
“They did!” You smile, excitement bubbling in you as you move to start talking again.
“Oh my god. No one cares. Are any of them single?” Gareth smiles, and you lean to smack his head before sitting in silence the rest of the ride.
When you get home you’re the first to hop out, turning to grab your bag as Gareth crawls out.
“I can get you guys tomorrow? If you’d like.” Eddie offers, face red for some reason. Gareth narrows his eyes at his friend, while you shrug.
“Actually the girls are gonna come get me early. Thanks though Eds.” You smile, walking away as Gareth says he’ll be ready by 8.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
One lunch turned to another, then another. Then that turned to going and getting a milkshake with the girls after practice and rides from them in the mornings.
You went from always being around to never in sight, which absolutely shredded Eddie to pieces.
It’s not like he wasn’t happy for you, you seemed to be always smiling and giggling with them. You went to the mall with them on weekends and always came back ecstatic about everything you got because the girls all said it looked great on you.
You definitely grew into the feminine side, and his heart exploded everytime he did manage to see you….. and he was ashamed to admit his pants always got tighter whenever he saw you in uniform.
You messed around with makeup and you always had a style for you hair.
Eddie loved it for you, he loved that you seemed to go from stunningly beautiful to so stunningly gorgeous any guy at school wanted you. You seemed to enjoy your new look and he was happy for you. He wasn’t happy about the fact that he never saw you anymore.
So, on a Wednesday afternoon, when he was dropping off a new cover for Gareths guitar while his friend was at work he was excited to see your shoes in the doorway.
He waltzed up the stairs and knocked on your door, heart hammering through his ribcage as he heard you jump to answer it.
Then there you were, as beautiful as can be, with nothing on but a tank and shorts. Excitement courses through him, a smile spreading across his face, it has been weeks since he last saw you and now he could ask about movie night.
“Hey I-“ he stopped short when he saw Adam Hanson sitting on your bedroom floor, staring at him like he was crazy. Of course he was staring at him like he was crazy, Adam was probably wondering why the school freak was at your door. “I was just dropping off this new cover for your brother. Make sure he gets it, yeah?”
He practically shoves it into your hands, heart thundering and desperate to get out of here.
“Okay!” You smile at him and he feels his heart clench through his chest. “Actually Adam and I were finishing up homework if you wanted to watch a movie-“
Hanging out with you? Dream come true. Hanging out with you and your boyfriend? Fuck. No. So he finds himself lashing out, a mix of embarrassment and jealousy made for a bad situation. “No thanks. I have better things to do than hang out with Gareths baby sister. Or should I say better girls to do.”
He pairs it with a bullshit wink in adams direction, not daring to look at you as he moves to walk away while you slam the door.
“Does the freak always talk to you like that?” Adam asks, and Eddie can only hear ringing at the blood rushes to his ears. Freak.
He doesn’t bother waiting around, instesd he marches straight out of your house and leaves.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
You’re in shock when you close the door, eyes welling with tears.
“Does the freak always talk to you like that?” Adam asks, pulling your attention to him. “Woah, hey don’t cry.”
“He’s not a freak.” You defend, as you had been doing the past two months. “And he’s never….”
What? Talked like that before? You didn’t know that, and you knew he had talked about how annoying you were behind your back? So maybe he’s said more things too.
“Never to my face.” You shrug, wiping away the tears that kept coming.
Adam sighs, moving to hug you and let you cry.
“I’m so telling my boyfriend about this.” He sneers and you laugh lightly.
“I don’t really know what you’re long distance boyfriend will do to help.”
“Send me treats that I can share with you obviously.” Adam laughs. “Hey, I can stay and watch that movie with you-“
“No it’s fine.” You sniffle. “You have a curfew.”
And he soon enough leaves, worried about you but you keep telling him it’s fine, anger coiling in your gut at every pity look your friend gives you.
How dare Eddie. How dare he embarrass you and say that. What had you ever done to him?
Sure you were the annoying little sister but it’s not like he had ever told you to back off or anything. He had always made it seem like he wanted to hang out.
You couldn’t shake the anger as you went to bed, and suddenly you found yourself in a weird spot.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
The line that had originally been drawn in the sand, on whether you remained their friend or not, had quickly dispersed after that.
In fact the sand had been kicked through and suddenly, without warning, you and eddie had been thrown to war.
Gone were the cute nicknames of Eds and bugs, now when you addressed each other you referred to him as freak and he referred to you as wannabe.
You let the basketball players push him in the halls and he threw food at you and your friends in the cafeteria.
When the winter formal rolled around Adam took you, and you had been so excited for it until Eddie made some snide comment when you came down the stairs which sent you into a sour mood the rest of the night.
When winter break rolled around Gareth had let them come over nearly everyday for stupid band practice and whenever you came home you made sure to enter through the garage just to piss them off, making sure to unplug the amps each time.
Like today, hands filled with shopping bags as you came home, saying bye to Chrissy as she drove off with a wide smile, and then turning to the garage.
“Hey bugs.” Gareth greets, which you simply glare to, making sure to hit Eddie’s shoulder with your own as you pass which makes his curse out and spill his drink.
“Freaks.” You snap, unplugging their amp and hitting the light switch as you head inside. You hear them all groan, and then you take it one step further and turn off the lights in the garage completely by the power box in the kitchen.
“Damn it!” Gareth snaps when he realizes and you pick up the phone, dialing adams number since you promised to call him earlier.
He picks up right as the boys all dash inside, Gareth glaring as you pretend like you don’t even see them.
“Hey handsome, thought I’d call to check in.” You smile through the phone, hearing him laugh.
“Hello back beautiful.” Adam says, matching your tone. “You bothering the boys again?”
“Oh. My favorite thing to do-“ you giggle, slapping Gareth's shoulder when he reaches to hang up the phone. “Back off.”
“I’m getting mom.” He snaps out while Paul and Jeff disappear to the garage again. He dashes to go find your mom which leaves just Eddie in the kitchen, glaring at you.
“I miss you too.” You coo into the phone, enjoying the way Eddie’s jaw ticks as Adam laughs and plays long, enjoying the game himself.
“What’s your problem lately, brat?” Eddie snaps, his eyes angry and set.
“Hold on baby-“ you say into the phone, covering the mouth piece and giving Eddie your best uncaring face. “Can I help you, freak?”
He reaches forward, cursing under his breath as he reaches around you to hang up the phone.
“What the fuck-“ you start before he is snatching the handle from your hands and slamming it into the receiver, turning to you fully.
“Why are you being this way? What the fuck did we do to you?”
“I’d love to stay and chat, but I have better things to do. Or should I say better men to do.” You smile, moving to stand quickly as his eyes widen. When you move to walk away he goes to grab one of the bags in attempt to keep you in the room, the paper of the bag rips and suddenly everything you bought at that store falls to the kitchen floor.
Your mouth falls open as Eddie’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of lingerie sets that fall out.
Not really lingerie, but close to. All lace panties and bras that Chrissy said would look great on you.
“I’m-“ Eddie begins, moving to help you grab them at the same time you bend to grab them so your heads hit each other.
“Damn it-“ you gasp out, rushing to grab all the underwear as he helps you to try and shove them all in the bag.
“I didn’t realize you were so into Adam.” He sneers.
“Oh shut up.” You sneer back, snatching everything into your hands. “Not everything is about sex-“
“Of course it is”. He laughs bitterly. “You’re their new play toy.”
“I swear to god freak-“
“What you gonna do brat?” He seethes, getting into your personal space.
“Everything okay here?” Gareth asks, making you and Eddie jump back.
“Whatever Gareth.” You push past him, ignoring the excited buzz you feel from Eddie.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
“Are….are you guys good?” Gareth asks eddie the next morning, making Eddie turn to glare at him. “Don’t bite my head off, okay? I just….”
Eddie stays silent, starting the car as he watches you waltz across the lawn in the cheer uniform.
“It’s just that she’s been so different lately and for the past couple weeks you have been too. Did you guys break up?”
Eddie, who had started driving, immediately hits the brakes and whips to look at Gareth. “What?”
“Did you and my sister break up?”
“I’m not- what- we never- Gareth-“ Eddie panics, trying to find the right words. “Listen-“
“Dude it’s fine. I always knew okay?”
“Wait wait wait. We never- she and I never-“ what the hell was happening. “Okay let’s back up. You thought we were dating?”
“Oh come on. All your secret sleepovers? You really thought I didn’t know about those? You know how many times I pretended to call her friends house for you guys so mom didn’t catch her? And all the small little touches you always had or the way you looked at her. Not to mention all the paragraphs about you in her diary-“
“We never dated.” Eddie cuts him off. “She didn’t like me like that.”
“No man. She did.” Gareth laughs. “She has always liked you like that.”
He ignores the feeljng bubbling in his chest at the thought, shaking his head. “Why haven’t you tried to kill me if you thought we were dating?”
“What?”
“You’re always freaking out about her and guys, and you always threaten Paul whenever he-“
“Guys are gross and I don’t want them hurting my baby sister. Paul is a lame excuse for a human beings.” Gareth shrugs. “And I always figured if my sister was going to date someone it should be you. You are…..semi decent.”
“We never dated. And she hates me now so I hate her.” Eddie starts driving again, shrugging like it didn’t matter.
“Why does she hate you now?”
“Not a clue.” He had a slight clue after the other night.
“Okay well, do you think you can like… fix whatever it is?” Gareth sighs. “I miss my sister.”
Eddie missed you too.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
He didn’t try to talk to you, he had debated it for all of 4 hours before you had to go and ruin it.
Just when he was starting to talk himself into apologizing he turned the corner to find you, giggling and blushing with none other than Steve Harrington.
Upon hearing his footsteps you turn, face falling when you see his glare before that bitch look you’ve perfected the past couple weeks falls in its place, making his heart thump wildly as he walks closer.
“Your brother asked me to apologize.” He bites out, hands catching themselves behind his back as he glares. “Sorry.”
“Wow. What a great apology.” Harrington smiles making you slap his shoulder with wide eyes until he laughs and nods. “I’ll see you later okay?” He smiles, tapping your nose before walking off with a simple “Bye Munson.”
Eddie watches him leave before turning back to you with a raised eyebrow, and suddenly he was desperate to piss you off. Desperate to get under your skin the way you got under his.
“Oh I see. You didn’t get all the panties for one guy, you got them for the whole school.” He smiles, watching your face fall into one of shock. “What’s the deal? Tap you and then get to keep the panties? Having a buy one get one free sale?”
“Calling me a slut?” You seethed .
“If the shoe fits baby.” He coos, smiling from ear to ear as you slam your locker and move forward.
“I hate you!”
“I hate you back!” He snaps back, matching your tone as you get closer and closer until your chest are pressed against each other.
“What did I ever do wrong?” You snap, eyebrows pinching in anger and confusion. “I thought you all liked me and-“
He’s confused now, racking his brain for what you mean before he settles on an answer. “You thought the guys you’ve slept with liked you?”
The second the words come out he hears how bad it sounds, watching as your face falls and he rushes to explain that he was just trying to understand what you meant. But it’s too late and you reach a hand up to twist his nipple.
“OW! Holy Jesus-“ he gasps in pain, moving his body to try and pull away but you follow easily, pushing him into the nearest supply closet you can.
By the time you actually let go he is red in the face, using his hand to rub the sore spot and trying to glare. “Do I wanna know where you -NO OW!”
“Take it back!” You order, already twisting his second nipple which makes him gasp and move to twist your ear.
A gasp of pain slips from you and you let go of him to pull back, both of you glaring at eachother.
He’s panting, and so are you, adrenaline coating your nerves.
“What’s going on lately?” He snaps, still rubbing the sore spot as you glare back.
“You tell me.”
“No you tell me! What did I do? Do I embarrass you? Or maybe I just annoy you-“
“Bold of you to say! All you and your friends can talk about is how much I annoyed you!” You snap back.
“Who said that? Tell me and I-“
“You said it!”
“When would I ever say that?! Is it that night at your house, because sorry if I didn’t want to hang out with you and your boyfriend!” You shove his shoulder lightly and he gasps before doing it back. Acting like literal children.
You keep shoving each other, back and forth over and over until a laugh slowly starts leaching from both of you. And suddenly it was normal again, not that angry yelling that’s been between you guys for months.
“Freak.” You giggle.
“Princess.” He laughs back, but then he is peering at you, hands on his hips as he tries to figure out how to fix this.
But then, without really thinking, you are on him. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you shove your lips to his, his hands immediately flying to your hips as he lets out a surprised grunt while he catches you.
He’s still as a board for the first second, his brain taking a moment to catch up before he is diving into the kiss himself, grip on your hips tightening as he devours you in the kiss.
A small moan slips past his lips into yours, pulling you in as tight as he can, making sure to wrap his arms around your waist to make sure you stay close.
When you manage to pull back you smile, seeing his eyes closed and eyebrows pinched as he takes a breath in. “Gareth was-“
“OH YOU UTTER-“ in an instant his blissful daze is broken as you tear yourself from him, snatching the handle of the closet and storming out leaving him confused and breathless.
His brain registers finally, managing to pull himself together the slightest bit so he can chase after you, reaching for the handle and giving it a pull as he thinks about what he will say.
You just kissed him, you just did what he has been dying to do for years and then you ran.
“What the fuck?” He snaps when the door won’t open by the third pull, the handle stuck. “YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!”
It’s another 30 minutes before someone is there to help him out, the janitor giving him a confused look as Eddie hauls out of there.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
Un-freaking-believable.
You kiss that man child, give it your all and the first thing he says once you’re done is your brothers name. What a freaking imbecile. What a dumb ass. What a-
“Hey girl, you okay?” Someone asks, pulling your attention to where Maria is standing, wearing her cutest party outfit with a small smile playing off her lips. “You were mumbling angrily about a man child.”
“I….. ugh.” You groan, dropping the brush as all the girls turn to you with excitement.
“Tell us everything.” Chrissy smiles.
“How did he feel? Were there fireworks?” Maria asks.
“Oh my god, he definitely seems like he knows what he is doing.” Abigail giggles and you watch them all in shock as they stare back.
“What?”
“Your first kiss! How was it?” Chrissy explains, eager to know.
“I….. I didn’t kiss Steve Har-“
“Ew, of course not you have standards.” Maria laughs. “But you’re obviously frustrated about a boy and I’m betting you finally kissed Munson.”
“You….. you guys know I-?” You can’t find the words, embarrassment clawing at you as they all giggle and cheer at having caught you.
“Oh my god, were his lips soft?” Abigail squeals.
“Was he gentle? Or like possessive? I love possessive guys.” Maria groans.
“Did he treat you like heaven? Oh he’s always got this love sick look when you walk by!” Chrissy kicks her feet, all three really excited.
“Yes. Yes and yes. And no, he actually- ugh- he only sees me as Gareths little sister.” You whine, falling into the bed. “I kiss him and for a second it’s just like, amazing, and when we stopped kissing I was expecting this romantic thing. Maybe he would be all like ‘wow’ or tell me I’m beautiful. You know what the first word he said was?”
“What?”
“Gareth.” You explain, and they all gasp like it’s the worst thing in the world. So, ever the amazing friend, you sit up and start telling them everything.
“I kind of like the way your brother protects you,” Maria blushes. “I mean the boys at Hawkins are all so…. “
“Sex crazed?” Abigail finishes the thought.
“Yes. And Gareth has always been respectful to me.” Maria smiles.
“Do you have a crush on my brother?” You giggle, staring at her.
“No!” She blurts, then smiles a bit. “Okay maybe.”
And just like that all 4 of your are laughing and planning for the party.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
The party at Jason Carvers house was the last place Eddie Munson wanted to be, truthfully he wasn’t even sure he was allowed. The good news is he hadn’t been kicked out because he was the dealer.
So he pretended like he was there to sell, really he was looking around for you. This was a last minute plan to talk to you, figure out where he had went wrong and try to fix it.
Figure out how to kiss you again but he’d take anything at this point, even a friendship. He’d keep his feelings in check.
30 minutes in to the party and he was beginning to think it was a bust, but then there you were, surrounded by 3 other girls he was sure were on the team, as they all passed by glaring at everyone like they were the queens of the universe.
And they were, all of them beautiful and untouchable. Especially you.
It’s like the earth stopped spinning whenever you walked in the room, Eddie’s lungs expanding as he stared at the way you greeted everyone, or rather everyone lunged to greet you.
Eddie went to greet you, then thought vetter of it and moved to the back of the room and started to talk to the kid that had money waiting for him.
He keeps along the sidelines of the party, letting you do your thing as he tries to come up with what to say.
Remember when you rocked my world less than 7 hours ago? Yeah that was amazing and I miss you.
“You okay there bud?” Someone asks, pulling his attention to where Maria, co captain of the cheer team, is smiling at him over her cup.
“Yeah, just came in for a refill.” He nods to the keg, an obvious lie since he would never drink that piss water.
“Right. Okay.” She smiles, and he moves to grab a cup and fill it up so it looks like the truth. “It’s cute, the way they all crowd around her.”
He, without needing to ask, looks for you immediately . Spotting you by the pool surrounded by a bunch of guys, all desperate to talk to you.
“Yeah I guess.” He shrugs, spine tense and doing his best not to clench the cup in his fist.
“Well the guys surrounding her aren't what’s cute. It’s the way she keeps looking for you.” Maria giggles, obviously too drunk to keep her eyes open. “Look, right there.”
Sure enough he sees you look around, bored of the conversation at hand as one of the guys snakes his arm around your waist.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing, feet already moving as Maria giggles out while he dashed outside right at the moment the tool throws you both in the booth as you scream.
His breath stops and he waits a moment for you to emerge, your eyes immediately meeting as you struggle to get to the edge of the pool, the strap of the dress you wore broken.
The girls are all there to help you as the tool, Tommy something, reaches to pull you back in. Eddie makes quick work of pushing him in with his foot, and snatching you from the water while doing his best to make sure you’re not too exposed.
“You okay?” He whispers, hand sliding up your body to cover your breast as you try to fix the strap quickly.
“Y-yeah.” You sniffle, obviously holding back tears. “I’m fine.”
The girls, your friends, are all yelling at Tommy and the other cheerleaders soon join and start throwing stuff at him in the water, Harrington pushing him back in whenever he tries to crawl out.
“He was just being silly.” You try to ease yourself, struggling with the strap of the dress. “I don’t know why I’m upset.”
“You were just thrown into water. It’s okay to be upset.” He smiles, shrugging off his jacket and moving to place it around you so you’re covered. “You wanna leave?”
“Yes please.” You nod, and he gets to moving, pulling you with him as your 3 friends all wave and smile like they know something, cooing out a “bye eddie.” At the same time.
He gives them a tight wave, helping you out since you seemed to have lost a heel in the pool.
“Is this even considered a dress?” He scoffs, leading you to his van.
“It’s very popular in france.” You answer, letting him pull you down the street where his van is hidden, helping you into the back of it.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
By the time he pulls into the trailer park he can’t hear you, which means you're definitely passed out back there, and he feels guilty over every pothole and bump he hits before he is pulling into his regular parking spot.
Wayne’s car is gone so he assumes his uncle is already at work, hopping out of the van and going along the back to open the door you’re closest to. The blanket had moved around a bit, exposing your legs to him and the smallest sight of your panties that has him feeling guilty and quickly readjusting the blanket as he rubs circles on your back to wake you up.
“Let’s go princess.” He hums, helping you crawl out and get into the house.
“It smells like….”
“Sorry.” He blushes, embarrassed. “I didn’t really clean like I normally did whenever you came over.”
“It’s fine. I was gonna say it smells like you.” You mumble, waiting for his cue to go further into the trailer. It was odd for him, watching you wait, and he’s suddenly reminded about all the time you’ve been separated. This wasn’t a regular movie night, you hadn’t had one of those in months. You probably didn’t feel comfortable being here.
“I c-can go turn on the shower so it’s hot for you. Give you a moment to relax.” He offers, smiling when you nod before moving to the bathroom to start the shower. He knocks on Wayne’s bedroom door just in case before waltzing into the bathroom and starting the water, making sure the shampoo and body wash are both ready for you and setting up a towel for you to use.
When the bathroom starts steaming he moves to go get you, jumping a little when he runs into you at the door.
“Sorry!” He blurts, trying to step out of your way. You shrug, moving past him and into the bathroom, not waiting for him to leave before you shuck his sweater off and move to take the dress off.
“Help…” you mumble, struggling to roll the fabric off since it was soaking wet and unable to reach the zipper.
So he moves forward, ready to help you, until you stop him. “Shut the door Eds, you’re letting all the warm air out.”
He rushes to shut the door for you, tripping over his feet and accidently falling into the door which makes it slam shut and you gasp out. “Are you okay?”
“Yep. Yeah. Fine.” He mumbles, standing straight and trying to play it off like it was smooth. “Y-you still want help?”
“Yes.” You nod, watching him closely to make sure he is okay before turning back around and fixing your hair so he can see the zipper.
With shaky hands he slides it down, enjoying the way your skin shivers at the feel of his fingers down your back, before he helps you slide the fabric off your hips for it to land on the floor.
Your skin is cold from the fabric, and it reminds him of coming in after a snowball fight and having to fight to get the jeans off leaving him in the damp but not yet wet skin.
Without meaning to his eyes trail across your exposed back, heart stopping when he realizes you had forgone a bra and only had a pair of panties on.
“I….” He tries to find words, watching you turn your head to peer at him over your shoulder. “I’ll go.”
“You’re gonna leave me to shower in silence?” You scoff, slipping the panties off, obviously unaware of the torture you are inflicting when you toss them with the dress and move to step into the shower.
Your legs are shaky, and he’s panicked. You might slip so he moves to help you step into the tub, his hand wrapped around your elbow gently as he makes sure to keep his eyes on your face.
“Stay and talk to me?” You ask, and he’s sure you’re just messing with him. Torturing him as payback as you close the curtain and step into the water.
He sits on the toilet, using the towel he had gotten you as a cover on his lap just in case you peaked your head out, he didn’t need you seeing his massive boner like the freak he was.
“Why were you at the party?” You ask after a moment. “You hate Jason Carver.”
“I needed to sell.” He answers a little too quickly.
“Did I ruin your sell’s since you had to help me leave?” You ask, guilt in your voice. “I’m sorry I-“
“I made enough.” He interrupts you, struggling to breathe in the shirt with the steam. “Why were you at the party? You used to hate Jason Carver too.”
“I still do. Ugh he’s the worst and he’s always following Chrissy around like a little puppy. And he’s so mean to everyone.”
“He’s friends with Adam isn't he?” He finds himself asking, and never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he would be gossiping about the jocks. Especially with you.
“Not really, Jason said some really messed up things when Adam told everyone he’s gay.” You explain and Eddie snaps his head towards the direction of the curtain.
“He’s gay?!”
“You can’t tell anyone okay? It’s a secret and he wants to come out himself.” You answer back, and Eddie finds himself standing up.
You must see his figure get up through the curtain, because you open the curtain and peak your upper body out. “You’re not leaving are you?”
“N-no. I’m just shocked. I thought you and Adam were…”
“Absolutely not. Mom would never allow Adam in my room if he we were.” You laugh.
“So that night you invited me for the movie, you weren’t dating him?” He was stupid, so entirely stupid.
“No? Why would I invite your for a movie in front of my boyfriend?” You laugh, and he can’t seem to process anything. Stepping forward so he was within arms length of you.
“So you weren’t inviting me to hang out with you and your boyfriend. You were actually wanting to hang out with me?”
“Yes?” You roll your eyes. “And I know it’s lame. I’m just Gareths little sister and all that-“
You disappear from his view once more, pulling both the curtains into the middle to close off the shower again as you keep going. “But I actually thought you liked hanging out with me. You know? And maybe if I gave you guys space I wouldn’t be the annoying little sister all the time but then that day rolled around and you…. It was silly. I shouldn’t have asked you-“
A small shriek falls from your lips as he whips the right curtain open, glaring at you.
“What the fuck do you mean give us space? Who said what?” He’s angry now, jaw set as he glared. “What’s all this about being annoying and suddenly giving us space. Is that why you don’t sit with us?”
“Yes! You guys just think I’m Gareths annoying little sister!” You snap, and Eddie realizes that you’re completely naked right now, so he quickly shuts his eyes with a groan and pulls the curtain back sharply, keeping it clenched in his fist as he tries to relax.
“We don’t think that.” He snaps, eyes still squeezed shut. Truth was he always tried not to think of you as Gareths little sister, with the amount of times he’s imagined you-
You snap the other curtain to the side, letting some of the water hit his jeans and making his snap his eyes open right as you push your face close to his. “I heard you guys!”
“You heard us? When was this, Princess? Cause I’ve never-“
“The day of my tryouts! I came home and you guys were talking about how annoying I was and-“ he realizes then what you had heard, his eyes widening as he stares at you before he leans forward to catch his lips onto yours, a small gasp falling from you as he lets go of the shower curtain to wrap around you. Only problem was he was leaning into you and you didn’t have a proper stance so you slipped, and he fell forward into the tub, cursing out to try and catch you both as you accidently bit down on his lip.
He keeps one arm around your shoulders, his other catching the tub floor just in time as his body lands on yours.
The water is hitting his back, soaking his clothes as his boner pressed into your naked form, blood leaking from his lip where you bit.
“Are you okay-“ he begins to panic, but you’re already pushing up to pull him into another kiss, moaning at the taste of iron as your hands slide up his hips until they manage to crawl beneath his shirt and feel at his back, trying to inch the shirt off.
He pulls back to lean up, whipping the shirt off and flinging it out of the tub, panting as you try to move so the water doesn’t hit you in the face while he moves to help you.
“It was Paul that day.” He explains. “I don’t know what you think you heard but it was only Paul saying that. Jeff was making fun of him because the tool has a massive crush on you and- shit I’m no better am I? I’ve been dreaming about you every fucking night since I met you.”
And once again, like two magnets, you find yourself kissing him again and he is obsessed with his. Obsessed with your taste and the way your body melds into his own as you press your chest into his. When you reach for his belt buckle he moves a hand down to stop you, shaking his head through the kiss and moving to stand with you.
You follow, clumsy and confused, especially when his hands slide to your hips to turn you around so your back is to his chest.
“What are you-“ your question is met with his hand sliding across your stomach and further down until his fingers find purchase in your folds, a soft moan slipping past your lips that has his blood thrumming.
“Is this okay?” He whispers, feeling the water hit both you as you nod quickly, his name slipping past your lips. “I need to hear it, please.”
“Yes!” You snap, your hand moving to push his wrist to apply pressure. “Eds please!”
So he lets himself, pressing his thumb into your clit as he leans to kiss at your neck, his lip stinging against your skin as you mean out when he moves to slowly press a finger into you.
“You’re not just the annoying little sister.” He whispers into your skin, fully pushing his finger in and wiggling it until he was ready for another, pulling it out to press both in. “I’ve never seen you like that.”
“Eds.” You gasp out, keeping one hand on his arm as the other flies to his hair, clenching and pulling it into your fists.
“If anything princess, I’ve tried talking myself into believing it.” He grunts out, pushing his fingers in quicker than last time. “But you’re not. You’re my girl. Right?”
“Yes.” You blurt quickly, tugging at his hair and tilting your head to try and kiss him. He doesn’t let you, keeping his own lips pressed into your neck.
“You’re my girl?” He asks again, voice deeper as his fingers speed up, his thumb circling your clit. The feeling of your body pressed to his, the way your hips rotate ever so slightly to try and match his movements and accidently rub your ass against his crotch.
His jeans are now soaked, even if they weren’t from the water he is sure he’d have a wet patch from all the pre cum leaking out as he grunts out at the friction.
“Yes. Always.” You answer, gasping at the pleasure.
“Promise?” He grunts, nipping a bit as you try once more to kiss him.
“Eds please!” You cry, hips moving faster as you chase your high on his fingers.
“Promise me princess.” He growls and your eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows pinching together as your face contorts into one of pure pleasure. You barely manage to yell out a quick “swear it.” as you shake against him, making a smile spread across his lips.
“Atta girl.” He coos, finally allowing you to tug him into a kiss, biting down on your lip as you kiss him like your life depended on it. “You wanna go to bed?”
“Yes please.” You sniffle, swiping the bangs from his forehead as he leans to turn off the water; keeping a hand on you at all times while he manages to get you both out of the shower.
Wrapping a towel around you and snatching both your clothes quickly before leading you to his room.
The second he shuts the door behind him he sees you drop the towel and crawl across the bed to fall into the pillows, not even giving him a moment to grab you a shirt.
“Wait. Lemme grab you-“ he starts, struggling to shuck off the soaked jeans and boxers before you are moving to help, helping him step out of them and dragging your hands up his thighs until they reach his hips and you’re pulling him into the bed with you.
“I thought you wanted to sleep?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your collarbone as you both crawl up the bed.
You fall into the pillows, hair splayed out as you smile at him, wrapping your legs around his hips while he covers you both with his comforter, trying to warm up.
“I said go to bed. Not to sleep.” You mumble with a small attitude, canting your hips up into his own which makes him moan loudly. “This is bed, isn’t it?”
“Oh, smarty pants are we?” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple as he melts into you. His forearms slid under the pillow as he let his body weight lay against yours, kissing you ever so slowly as you tried to wiggle around and make it work. He lifts his hips for a moment to help you out, and once you’re settled he presses into you, beginning to grind himself against your folds as you hug each other close.
“Jesus Christ.” He gasps, eyes squeezed shut as he presses his forehead to your own.
“Who knew the satanist was so religious ?” You tease, pushing your hips forward trying to gain more friction.
“Gotta be right now. It’s not everyday a freak like me has a cheerleader in his bed.” He smiles, kissing the corner of your lips softly.
“I mean it could be.” You offer, making him freeze for a moment. “Or maybe in the drama room. I’ve had tons of ideas about the locker room too.”
“Princess-“ he grunts, reaching a hand to cover your lips. “Please. You’re ruining me.”
You lick his lips and laugh when he pulls away to reach for his nightstands, moving your hips against his and kissing at his chest as he searches, getting more and more frustrated.
“Come on- shit baby- I- please- I gotta find a condom just give me a moment please.” He gasps out, and you smile at him.
“Forget it. I want you. Come on.” You coo and watch him physically shutter, hips pressing into yours tightly as his hands roll into fists and his eyes shut tightly.
“Eds?”
“Stop. Give me - fuck- a moment princess.” He grunts, shaking a bit. “I’m gonna bust before I even start.”
So, being the brat you are, you push your hips up until he is entering you, moaning a bit as he gasps loudly.
“No no no no.” He gasps out, which makes you freeze.
“Is it wrong? I’m sorry?” You panic, moving to pull your hips back quickly which makes his hand snap out to stop you.
“It’s not wrong. I just- I refuse to cum.” He blurts, keeping you in the spot with a tight hold. “I can’t cum so soon.”
“You can.” You whisper, kissing at his neck and nipping at the skin here and there. “I wanna feel it.”
“I hate you.”
“I hate you too.” You giggle. “And I need you to move.”
He takes a deep breath in, giving himself one more moment to try not to cum and then begins moving his hips. Slowly at first, moaning softly as you wrap around him perfectly, moving himself so he was laying on top of you and hugging your body to his before he begins a brutal pace of snapping his hips into yours.
You stay close, both hugging each other as he moves, the bed thumping against the wall with each thrust.
Your moans quiet the closer you get to finishing, turning into strangled grunts and mewls as both of you focus in. The sounds of skin slapping just adding to the pleasure of it all as you come undone around him, making him gasp out as he lets go, filling you easily.
“Oh my god.” He breathes out, shoving his nose into your neck as you try to breathe.
“There’s that religion again.” You tease, eyes closing as your body finally relaxes. You don’t hear his response, numbing out a bit, snuggling close until his warmth is ripped from you and you have no choice but to open your eyes.
“No no. You’re not sleeping yet.” He grunts, slapping your thigh lightly before helping you shuffle. “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
So he puts on a pair of boxers, putting you in one of his band tees and helping you shuffle to the bathroom to pee, and grab a warm washcloth so he can clean you up while kissing all over your face and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
“My good girl.” He murmurs, leaving a kiss on your ear before leading you back to the room and shoving the towels and dirty clothes in his hamper with the washcloth.
You tuck yourself into his bed, waiting for him before you close your eyes and get comfortable.
“Freak.” You whisper out, face pressed into his chest.
“Wannabe.” He murmurs back, playing with your hair as you finally fall asleep.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
You’re woken up by the shrill ringing in Eddie’s trailer, snapping awake as he lunges up and blinks.
The ringing stops after a minute, and then Wayne’s voice breaks out calling for Eddie.
“The phone!” He calls, making Eddie roll over you to pick up the phone.
You giggle when his body collapses on top of you as he answers, catching the smile he sends your way.
“It’s Eddie.” He grunts, eyebrows shooting up when the person on the other side yells.
“You know where my sister is?! She was supposed to be home last night and-“
“She’s here, calm down. She slept in the couch.”
‘Liar’ you mouth as he rolls his eyes, pinching your side.
“Okay. I’m coming to get her.” You hear Gareth snap before Eddie shakes his head.
“No. I’ll drop her off when she wakes up. I’ll be by for band practice anyways.”
You hear Gareth mumble something out before the receiver clicks and Eddie hangs up on his end.
“How’d he know to call here?” You ask, reaching a hand up to play with his hair.
“He thought we were dating already.”
“Oh?” You laugh before he bites on your collarbone. “Freak.”
“Wannabe.” He grunts out, and before you know it you both are stripping once more, being quiet since Wayne is in the other room.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
The cafeteria is a mess Monday morning, everyone yelling as some music plays over the speakers to get everyone excited for the game later.
You took a moment to look across the room, not really being able to see much due to how crowded it was, but you made it to the cheer table, saying hi to the girls as they all giggled over the mark on your neck.
“You wanna go sit over there?” You ask your three closest friends, wiggling your eyebrows.
“You’re out of uniform aren’t you?” Jason asks, eyes narrowing at your shirt. Today you had chosen to wear a hellfire shirt over your cheer uniform.
“Technically not.” Steve adds from the next table over, glaring at Jason.
“What happened to your face?” You ask, eyes wide at how bad he looked.
“Byers.” Steve grunts, and you laugh before the girls get up to follow you to the table.
All four of you, (Chrissy, Maria and Abigail) walk up slowly, making all the guys stop and look up.
“Can we sit?” You ask, watching Eddie’s face burst into an excited grin as Gareth quickly snatches a chair for Maria. Abigail and Chrissy take the last two open spots and there was no more room.
“I can grab a chair-“ Eddie starts, already standing to grab one before you shake your head, moving to sit on his lap.
“I’m good here.” You smile, making him smile back and kiss your shoulder through the shirt.
“Are you coming to DnD?” Paul asks as Gareth pretends to gag at you and Eddie.
“No, we have a game tonight that I have to cheer at. But I figured I can wear this until then.” You shrug.
“Where’s yours Eddie?” Paul asks, glaring at the dungeon master.
Eddie raises a brow, and the entire table seems to freeze as they slowly realize that Paul hasn’t figured it out yet, even with you in Eddie’s lap.
“What?” He asks, looking around.
“This is mine.” Eddie mumbles, pinching some of the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.
“You’re wearing his shirt? Gareth, you’re gonna allow that?!”
Another moment of silence passes before the entire table is laughing in his face, Eddie pressing his nose into your back with his hands on your hips as he cackles.
“What’s so funny?! Gareth said none of us could date his sister!”
“No, I said you couldn’t date my sister, nerd bomber.” Gareth laughs.
“What does it matter?” Eddie laughs. “I thought she was Sooooo annoying!”
He imitates Pauls voice for the last part which sends the table into another fit of laughter.
“Don’t you have a girlfriend in canada?” Chrissy asks, turning to you. “That was him right, the one dating the model in canada?”
“W-we broke up. I dumped her.” Paul corrects which makes the girls laugh harder. “You guys suck.”
“And you swallow!” You snatch one of Eddie’s pretzels to throw it at his forehead, hitting him perfectly as he glares.
“Not funny.” He mumbles, and the table absolutely loses it.
♡ ⸻ ♡ ⸻ ♡
You’re surprised when you see Eddie leaning against the bleachers that night, now in his hellfire shirt and leather jacket as you get ready to perform with the girls.
When he spots you looking he sends a wink, crossing his arms as he watches the routine. When you’re done you dash over as the game starts, giving him a quick kiss.
“Aren’t you supposed to be-?”
“I had a couple minutes. Thought I’d come see what all the excitement was about.” He smiles, surveying the game going on from your spot in the corner.
“What do you think?”
“Well seems pretty boring to watch Harrington and Carver fumble around, but there was this really smoking cheerleader.” He chuckles making you roll your eyes.
“Freak.”
“Wannabe.”
“Brute.”
“Brat.”
“Airhead.”
“Princess.” He smiles, kissing you one more time. “You wanna come watch the campaign?”
“I have to dance at halftime and cheer them on. You’ll tell me about it later though?” You ask, giving him your best doe eyes.
“You got it.” He smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles before shaking it so the Pom Pom shakes. “Decide on what movie for tonight?”
“I might be willing to give Texas Chainsaw one more shot.” You smile. “I think you deserve it.”
You already know he won’t make it 10 minutes into the movie without jumping your bones anyways.
“I was thinking breakfast club.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Cause I might actually want to watch the movie.” You tease before Chrissy calls you.
Giving him one more kiss before dashing to cheer with the girls, Eddie watches you for a moment before leaving to go play DND.
The second you both are done you meet by the drama room doors so that you can go to his place for movie night, a new routine you had built up.
Weekends were for your friends, these nights were for just you two.
Holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder, you can’t help but let out a high pitched laugh. Something Eddie says tickles you from the other end of the line. You pop another piece of chicken breast into your mouth. Juicy and cooked to perfection.
“How’s New York?”
You’re trying to keep up in the conversation. But, Eddie notes the strain in your voice. Work must have you exhausted. No matter how many times Eddie suggests looking elsewhere for work, the nerves about meeting a whole new group of people, and interviewing for the position has you stuck in the same lousy job. Your boss doesn’t value your skills, and that’s easy for anyone to see. Eddie listens to you hammer on about all the meaningless tasks the old traditionalist has you doing. He’s truly shocked that your boss doesn’t ask you to lick his boots clean. What a jerk!
Eddie lays spread out on a soft mattress in a New York hotel. While the city is outside, he can still hear faint honking coming from the city streets. Nicole, his assistant, brought him dinner. When Eddie told her “surprise me,” he hoped she would bring him something decent. Nicole doesn’t do well without being told exactly what to do, but that’s only because she wants to do everything exactly how Eddie wants things to be done. She’s always on time, and follows direct orders so he’s not upset by her at all. If anything, he feels quite bad she doesn’t really share her personality with him. Sometimes he feels like he’s talking to a well-trained concrete stone.
The hamburger and fries will go down smoothly, but he sure wishes he could drink something other than water. His manager wants him to watch the sugar. Bullshit.
It’s strange to be staring at an empty dining chair across from you. Normally, Eddie would occupy the space and you could watch him devour your food while praising your cooking skills. He’d joke about the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. That would give you butterflies - the kind that leave you awfully warm.
After the wedding, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Grant all caught the same flight out to New York. There was a lot of promotions and practices to do, before they perform. The first rehearsal back with the boys, Eddie clipped a soundbox sending him tumbling across the stage. Albeit embarrassed, Eddie got up on his two feet to continue the rehearsal.
Eddie calls you up nightly because he misses your cooking, but more importantly he misses you. The way you hide your face when he gives you a compliment. You’re too shy to enjoy the moment. Or, the way the soft light above you makes your face glow. He loves how pillowy your cheeks are and the little dimple you get when you smile.
“I haven’t gotten to see much of the city, but er- the arena is nice,” he inspects the hamburger closer in case there are pickles contaminating the sandwich, “the hotel they have us locked up in is cozy.”
The team and the band have taken over nearly a floor of hotel rooms. A couple connecting rooms makes sleeping near each other less aggravating. Gareth is laying flat in his bed next to Eddie, but he’s not asleep - more like meditating. He knows that Eddie is calling you each night, but he’s not going to acknowledge the obvious. He’s not going to be a jealous ex-boyfriend.
“Hm,” you’re not going to be able to keep up with this conversation tonight, or so that’s how Eddie sees it. So, he must deter the conversation quickly.
“How’s Indianapolis?”
“Wouldn’t know,” you’re half joking, but the workload that your boss throws at you is absurd. You’re not a trained monkey with fifteen arms! “My boss has me reorganizing the file cabinets again, and on the off-chance I have a spare moment he’s having me fetch coffee from the break room.”
At it again, your boss is treating you like garbage. Eddie won’t suggest you get a new job again. You’re already exhausted and the last thing you need is another man bossing you around. For now, he will just listen to your complaints.
Eddie clicks his tongue to his teeth, “you don’t deserve that. You’re a skilled writer. Don’t they have anything you can do besides run errands?”
“Look pretty.”
“Well, you have no problems there.”
You stop chewing abruptly. The line goes dead a moment. Behind the phone, you’re trying not to smile too deeply that you can hear it in your voice. Eddie always knows what to say to you without even a second thought. There’s no filter on his mouth. You hold your tongue trying not to go there.
“You still there?” Eddie chews on a fistful of fries unknowing that what he’s said had such an impact on you. The beauty of telephone lines is you can act like an idiot and the other person can’t see you.
“Yeah,” you say after a moment to yourself, “I think I need a vacation.”
A vacation isn’t really in your financial bracket. Even after graduating college, you never took a break. Steve helped you get a job at the same company he works for, and now you’re able to pay your rent and buy groceries. There’s no space for a vacation, but one can dream.
“Come to New York,” Eddie insists as though it is that easy for you to pick up and go. “I’ll hook you up with a nice hotel, and a driver to take you around town.”
That sounds awfully nice, but awfully expensive. Eddie has money to share. You can’t help, but think you’re biting more than you can chew with the Munsons. You can’t keep living off of their expenses.
“Eddie, don’t go wasting your money on me,” your fingers wrap around the necklace he gave you that never leaves your body. “Besides, I have to work.”
“When is the last time you took a vacation?”
Your silence on the matter makes Eddie’s point all the more evident. Vacations aren’t your thing. Even when you have a moment to yourself, you’re doing laundry or scrubbing the apartment over and over again.
“One weekend,” Eddie insists, “it’s my first show in two years. I need you there.”
Need. A strong interpretation that Eddie might fail or die on stage if you’re not there. He might as well. You’re his muse. Something he’s never shared explicitly with you. What would a return to fame be without you?
New York City in the summertime. You can only imagine all the things you can do. Day and night - the city never sleeps. Also, the neck cramps you receive holding your phone up to your ear hours on end do get old. It would be nice to support Eddie in person. You get to see him deep in his element amongst hundreds - no, thousands - of screaming and adoring fans.
“Alright,” you cave. “Alright, I’ll come.”
Eddie celebrates on the other line sending you into a fit of bubbly laughter.
-> <-
July 1994
Flight has to be your new favorite way to travel. The less time you spend on the road with angry drivers honking and cursing at you for obaying road signs the better you feel. You’re flown in first class. A champagne flute garnished with a raspberry is first passed to you in your private seat, along with comfortable offerings like a blanket, a neck pillow and an eye mask. You sip your champagne, eat the raspberry and tip your seat back for a nap.
A private driver awaits for your arrival in New York waving a sign with your name written across it in thick black ink.
The man introduces himself as Paul, and he will be here for you all weekend long. At any time, you can ring for him and he will pick you up to take you anywhere within the city limits. He doesn’t allow you to wheel your luggage, but rather insists he do that for you while you keep pace as he takes you outside the terminal into the parking lot.
A four door sedan awaits for you there. Paul opens the back door for you to slide into the leather seats. Holy shit!
Paul pops the trunk open to lift your suitcases inside, while you celebrate embarrassingly in the backseat. This is like the movies! Oh, you cannot wait to call Robin. She’ll absolutely die!
Paul shuts the trunk, and rounds his way around to the front of the car to hop into the drivers seat. The agenda is up to you, aside from this first trip where he’s given strict instructions to see that you are comfortable in your hotel room.
He drives like a professional through the bustling New York City streets. Paul’s a bit unforgiving and rash, and yet you’re unbothered in the back seat. You’re staring out at the people in their every day lives going to work, shopping, jogging - whatever really.
The skyscrapers are even bigger in person. They swallow you into a sea of concrete, bricks and bright flashy lights. Flashy is a word for the buildings and for some of the people you see. In broad daylight, a woman stands at a flower shop wearing a fur coat. You wonder if it’s real.
Tilting your head up to see if you could see the sky from here, you see a huge billboard sign that advertises Corroded Coffin playing live tomorrow night in the city. Man, a few years ago no one would believe Eddie Munson would turn into something big like this.
Jason Carver is probably seething right now. Rumor has it, he’s knocked up a senior back at Hawkins High. So much for his gym teaching career.
“My dear,” Paul catches your attention. “We have arrived.”
This has to be a joke! You’re staring at the most glamorous building you’ve ever seen. White-gold lights surround the exterior of the hotel lighting up the brick. Red carpet trails up the stairs into the lobby.
Eddie Munson, what have you done?!
You stick out like a sore thumb in your jeans and a t-shirt compared to the well-dressed madam that just waltzed into the front door with her nose high above her custom fitted coat and designer heels.
“Oh, my-.”
Paul opens your door once again, and holds out a hand to help you step from the car onto New York streets. The air is thick with the stink of petroleum and city air. Too many people for this massive city.
You still can’t believe you’re actually here living in a freaking movie.
Paul hands you a business card and provides strict instructions to call the number written on the back when you’re ready to travel around the city.
“Thank you,” you wave goodbye for now.
Taking yourself and your luggage into the hotel, you’re overwhelmed at how on earth you got this opportunity. How could Eddie do all of this for you?
Everyone here was pressed by an iron, no wrinkles or creases in their attire or their attention to detail about the entire hotel. The lobby doesn’t have a speck of dirt or crumbs across the furniture or the floor. Someone must wait behind the large pillars with a dust pan waiting for that crumb to fall.
Checking in was a breeze. A form of identification from you, and a secret alias that Eddie told you the reservation would be under. The staff stare at you like a queen. It’s strange, but you could get used to being pampered like this.
The elevator is staff operated, and the operator is pleasant with minimal conversation. He wishes you a pleasant stay and to have a wonderful day as you get to your floor. The top floor.
Everything is so gold and shiny. Is it real? No, it can’t be real. This has to be painted on or - or - it just cannot be real!
With a click from your hotel key, your room is unlocked and room it is. This is a damn house inside of a hotel! There are rooms. Kitchen. Dining. Living. Bedroom. Bathroom.
“Holy shit!” You’ve repeated the phrase so many times already today. “Holy shit! Holy-,”
“I hope you like the room,” Eddie peaks around the corner from the kitchen.
“Eddie!” Your face turns beet red, “Oh my god!”
“I let myself in - hope you don’t - oof!”
You charge at him in full speed to give him the tightest hug you could. This is all too much - it’s all too Eddie. The most giving man you know.
“I love it!”
-> <-
The boys went out into the city tonight despite their managers request that they stay in and rest because they have a huge day tomorrow. All of the boys, except one.
“I’m sorry I can’t take you anywhere,” Eddie fiddles with silky fabric from your nightshirt. It’s just one of the rules. At any time someone could see you. Make assumptions. They’d write pages of your life just because you spent five minutes with your best friend sharing a bagel with cream cheese.
You’re resting with your head on his lap barely staying awake. Travel can do that to a person, but also Eddie is just so warm. He’s always been a personal heater.
“It’s fine,” you yawn, “I’m glad I get to spend some time with you before your big show. Are you ready?”
Eddie catches your yawn, and says, “as ready as I can be. I’m just so nervous. What if- what if they don’t like me anymore?”
You flip over to your back, so that you’re looking right up at him now. A funny angle that makes his nose look huge.
“How could they not like you anymore?” You blink.
“Music changes every day,” he shrugs.
“Your music is going to last an eternity,” you say with the most confidence, “next stop - rock and roll hall of fame.”
Eddie raises his eyebrow, “you really think that?”
“‘Course. You’re the best singer in the world.”
Aside from the movie that you two have been watching, the room goes into a thoughtful silence. This is the first time you and Eddie have gotten to spend time together in months. He’s been so busy with getting ready to perform that he hasn’t gotten more than a few phone calls to share with you.
You get comfortable on his lap again, rolling away to face the television. Eddie catches the blanket from falling off your hip and tucks you back in. The ceiling light casts over your face catching all the markings across your skin that you’ve earned gracefully as you cross your late twenties. God, that means he’s known you for nearly the same amount of years. How could the time have gone by already?
Unbeknownst to you, Eddie watches you closely as your lashes flutter. You’ve had such a long day getting to the city to see him. To see his band. He can’t imagine you’re here just for him. That’s just silly.
Eddie should be going back to his own hotel soon, but he just can’t part with you. This is some of his only time with you, and if that means he gets chewed out by his managers then so be it.
You inhale deeply reawakening yourself trying desperately not to miss a moment with Eddie. It would all end soon, and he’d go back to his busy life as a superstar. You can’t wait to read all the papers and cut out little stories you find just golden.
“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” Eddie brushes his knuckles across your cheek.
You stretch your feet out, “not yet. I’m going to pee.”
An excuse to get you to stand to move around, before you crash. You want to finish the movie at least. There isn’t more than ten minutes, so by the time you come back around the film has wrapped up. You got distracted brushing your teeth and applying a fair amount of chapstick to your dry lips.
Eddie stretches his arms over his head, cracking a few much needed spots in between his knuckles and his sore back.
“Do you have to go back tonight?” You feel silly asking him to stay.
“No,” he fibs. “I can stay if you want.”
The pair of you put the hotel room to bed, along with yourselves as you retire to the bedroom where a king sized bed awaits you.
There are no springs jabbing at your stomach when you roll over, and no mysterious stains. It’s not like the trailer when you would spend the night. And, there’s so much more room to spread out. Yet, you find yourself right next to Eddie with his fingers drawing little circles across your arm.
“That tickles,” you snicker.
“Oh,” he stops his mindless fidgeting, “I didn’t know.”
“Good night, Eddie,” you prop your head onto his chest, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he kisses the top of your head.
-> <-
God, Eddie snores like an oncoming train about to hit a deer. You have got to untangle yourself to use the bathroom, but the sun hasn’t even awoken yet this morning. The world is still dark and asleep despite Eddie’s snores that could win an Olympic gold medal.
You press your head into his chest accepting your fate that you won’t do much good trying to weasel out of his hold. Eddie subconsciously rubs your back trying to get you to settle. You know, he smells quite musky in the morning. A bit damp and warm. But, that could be from you clinging to him all night.
When you were both younger, he was the bed hog. Although, the bed you shared back then was an old twin. This is a king, and you can say that now you’ve become the opposite. Behind you is miles of open space untouched.
An old twin to the mattress of kings! The mattress shapes to your body, letting you sink further into feathery bliss. Not to mention the sheets are silky and cooling. You might be able to fall asleep again.
Eddie makes a particular move that stirs you, before you can get to dream land again. He straightens his leg out exposing the front of his body. He pokes you.
Okay, so - he’s hard. That happens in the morning for men. It’s large - er, normal! Man, you really have to pee.
Wriggling one more time, Eddie lets you slide away from his hold. He turns onto his back where even through the night, you can see a well-pitched tent in the blankets.
Stepping into the bathroom, you refresh yourself by using the toilet, washing your hands, brushing your teeth, lathering some deodorant under each arm and spraying perfume directly on your skin. Thinking you could just slid back into bed with him and pretend you didn’t see anything was an interrupted plan.
“Hello?”
Someone’s in your hotel room? You listen out because maybe Eddie’s talking in his sleep. But, the voice is far too feminine and away from the bedroom.
“Helloooooo!”
Shut up.
“Are you still sleeping?! I’ll jump on your corpse and wake you from the dead!”
It’s Robin!
“Robin!” You yell at the top of your lungs, probably waking Eddie. But, you race around the suite to get to her at the front door anyway. “Robin!”
Robin nearly bumps into you head-on trying to get a hug from you. The two of you bounce up and down spewing incoherently at each other. Mostly about New York, or how did she get here? You’re just happy she could be here.
“How are you?” Robin steps back to stare up at the high ceilings, “Jesus, this place is huge. Hello!!”
“Robin,” you jerk your head towards the bedroom a moment remembering Eddie’s still sleeping - probably. “Sh!”
“You haven’t been in New York for more than a few hours, and you’re already hooking up?” She shimmies your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you!”
“No, Robin-,”
In all of your madness, Eddie did wake up to the sounds of your girlish yapping and squealing. Robin must be here, which means Nancy is close behind. He didn’t tell you because he wanted to leave you a surprise. Since he wouldn’t be able to hang out with you and take you to all the touristy spots in New York, he wanted someone too. He flew Nancy and Robin out - a girls trip.
Judging by the noise level, Nancy just made her grand entrance. Eddie should get out of here soon, so you three can chatter away and explore the city. He’s also very late for promotions and the last soundcheck.
Eddie makes a grand appearance in the front hallway with the girls. Sleep sits behind his eyes, although this was one of the better night’s rest that he’s gotten. Hair bunched up despite his sad attempt at wetting down the matted tangles. He put his jeans back on, so that he’s fully dressed in front of you all. But that doesn’t stop Robin from being accusatory.
“Eddie?” Robin sounds both astonished at the sight, but proud of what she sees because in her mind you both are stubborn as mules. If she could just get you two alone, and really talk about your feelings then maybe some good could come from it. She has her hopes.
“Robin,” you insist on swaying her to see your way in the matter. “He just spent the night.”
Robin doesn’t say anything out loud, but her face speaks volumes. Later, she’ll corner you with all sorts of questions implying you must see a bigger picture.
Nancy pants behind you, whilst cradling her cramping belly. Traveling is a bit more difficult when you’re pregnant. She’s so early into her first pregnancy, so every little thing about her body sends her into a shock that Steve can usually manage to calm her down. He’s only a phone call away, but Nancy is sure she can handle this.
“Thanks for everything, Eddie,” she smiles through her pain. “I can’t wait to go into the city!”
“Yeah, and your concert is going to be insane!” Robin claps.
“No, problem,” he replies, while heading to the front door, “I should get going though. I’m pretty late. I’ll catch you girls later.”
Robin takes Nancy to the living room couch to have her sit down a moment. They’re busy in their own conversation about the room being larger than any house they’ve ever seen, while you sneak away to follow Eddie into the hallway.
“Eddie,” your voice flies down the hallway.
Eddie turns on his heel, “everything okay?”
You bound over, “you brought my friend’s here?”
“Yeah, I hope that was okay.”
Eddie Munson, the man who thought of everything and more. Your heart begins to pump a little harder every time you’re next to him. Something deep within you warns you that nothing will be the same if you take that leap. You have the perfect bond that takes years of trust and faith between you two. That leap could mess everything up.
Instead of leaping into his arms, and kissing his face like you so wish you could. You reply to him calmly;
“Everything is wonderful.”
Eddie’s lips curl up into a soft smile, and he grabs your head from either side to plant a gentle kiss on top. He leans in to give you a hug, while rubbing your back along the way. You shiver at his touch, and watch him dance down the hallway like Eddie would do.
“I’ll see you later!” He calls-out behind him.
“See you, later.”
Squeezing your eyes shut a minute, you ground yourself back on earth where reality is. You return to your hotel room where Nancy is trying to explain to Robin that pregnancy is beautiful, but Robin disagrees and insists Nancy is growing some sort of alien.
You direct the conversation just by your being there.
Robin, the instigator, begins, “how’s Eddie?”
Nancy nods in excitement.
“Eddie’s fine,” you round the couch and plop down a bit too harshly, and sigh a bit too dramatically. “Very fine.”
“She admits it!” Robin accuses with the point of her finger.
Nancy, the lesser dramatic of the two, offers a word of suggestion, “why don’t you just ask him out?”
Your eyes nearly pop from your skull, “ask Eddie Munson out? You’re kidding right? He’s got chicks hanging off of his arms. He probably only sees me as his dorky little friend.”
“First of all, dorky can get into a pair of underwear and strut down the runway these days,” Nancy shakes her head at Robin’s pointless example, but never the less she doesn’t interject, “you and Eddie have know each other for years. You know what that gets you? A foundation.”
You stare at her.
“A foundation,” she repeats, “the basis for a solid relationship. Your best friends. That’s like everyone’s wet dream, before they get into a relationship with someone.”
“I don’t want to hear about your wet dreams, Robin,” you reply totally unconvinced.
Nancy snorts, “she just means that being friends with someone first can go along way in a romantic relationship.”
“Or, I could be the creepy friend that has a crush on someone that doesn’t like me back,” you sink further into dispare, which is quite comfortable - these couches are marvelous.
Nancy and Robin both howl with laughter. You must have missed out on the joke, and you glare at them until they control themselves enough to let you in on their little “joke.”
“Are you kidding?” Nancy can’t believe what she’s hearing from you, “I’ve known you and Munson the shortest amount of time, but all of this?” - She makes a large circle with her pointer finger to emphasize the mass of the room, and the three of you in it - “Not only did he pay for your ticket, he paid for us to come out here, he paid for a driver, he paid two hotel rooms, he paid for a private room for us to see the concert in peace tomorrow - shit, he’ll probably find a way to give you money to go on a shopping spree if he hasn’t already. That man is in love with you.”
Robin fans Nancy with a decorative pillow, as she leans back to catch her breath.
“What she said,” Robin seconds.
You can see where they’re coming from, and maybe you’ve been a bit blind when your other friends have been nudging you towards Eddie. The fact is you both have known each other nearly your whole lives. You’ve been there through thick and through thin. It’s not his money that you’re after, you really don’t care about that. If anything you wish he wouldn’t splurge so much to make you happy that his bank account drains completely.
“What can I do?” You lick your lips, “I have a job-.”
“A job,” Robin interjects, “that’s not a career for you. And, I know how badly your boss treats you.”
“He treats Steve like shit too,” Nancy agrees with her, “he might have found a higher position at a different company.”
“Really?” Robin finds herself distracted.
“Girls,” you say selfishly. “What if Eddie and I don’t work out? They say that this sort of stuff changes a relationship. Like- what if we have sex.”
“I’ll be needed all the details,” Robin bats her lashes at you.
Nancy nudges her.
“What? I’m nosy!”
“I know you are,” she replies to her, and adds quietly, “don’t forget to call me up and let me know too.”
“Oh, my god!” You groan, “you two aren’t helping!”
“Hear me out,” Robin directs toward Nancy, “do you think all that confidence is a man well-endowed.”
Nancy furrows her brows, “he was quite cocky in high school.”
“Pun intended?”
“I didn’t even catch that,” Nancy snickers, “I’d say he’s at least healthy.”
“Yes, he’s big. Can we move on please?”
The two crane their neck at this.
“We’re going to need some clarity on this,” Robin speaks first.
Nancy places her order second, “yes, indeed. Tell us what you know.”
This conversation isn’t going anywhere. These two bloodhounds were going to sniff out any information they sought. If you had just kept your mouth shut, instead of blurting out the first thing that came to mind you wouldn’t be in this situation!
“Oh, God,” you curse again knowing you’re going to have to tell them about this morning, “when we woke up this morning he was -,” they stare at you knowingly, but they want you to say it, “he was hard. I didn’t see anything under the blankets, but he’s big.”
Nancy uses her fingers as a means of measurement, “how big?”
“This really isn’t helping me, girls,” your sad attempt at moving the conversation along.
“He’s got a third leg,” Robin gasps.
“Is that why he flunked? All the blood rushed to his-,”
Summary: Nurse!Reader is reunited with her high school crush in the emergency room. Faced with a lifetime worth of debt, she helps Eddie Munson in the only way she can. But is it the only way? Follow Eddie and Reader through their first year as they heal more than one kind of wound.
What to expect: Fake marriage. Friends to lovers. Medical trauma. Lemon/Smut. Angst. No Vecna/canon divergent bc I’m in denial.
A/N: Fusing my obsession with Eddie and the need to process the absurdity of working in American Medicine. I’m quite proud of this one. Hope you enjoy! ❤️
Series playlist ✤ Fan Art
* contains smut
(# of parts and smut in future chapters subject to change until completion.)
Summary: After Barb’s death, things hadn’t been the same for you and your long time friend Nancy. Now that senior year is here, you’re looking forward to a future away from Haunted Hawkins. Until the school’s biggest Freakazoid gets paired with you for a project to prepare students for adult life. Eddie Munson has a habit of making a mess of things and it seems your life is no different. But...what if you don't mind too much?
What to expect: Enemies -> Friends -> Lovers. Hurt/Comfort. Eventual smut/Lemon. Canon Divergent/No Vecna.
By the time you made it into your room, it was nearing two o'clock in the morning. From then on you were in a vicious cycle of screaming into your pillow, crying, angrily digging into the Sheetrock with a hair clip, puking up the food that turned sour in your stomach, talking aloud to yourself in furious hushed whispers as you reimagined the fight with Munson and the things you wished you had said and bullying yourself over the things you didn’t. For trusting him. For feeling the way you did about Nancy. About Munson. About everything.
By the time the sun started peering through the curtains, you had worn yourself out enough to at least fall unconscious. Sleep was a generous term that didn’t quite describe the state of restless stupor you’d slipped into. You could still see the way he looked at you—filled with so much hate and fury—and hear how you were screaming at him with equal ferocity as you tried to snooze on, but there was no escape and certainly no relief.
How could he do that? Flip like a switch from laughing hysterically over nothing to screaming so hard that the vein in his forehead visibly throbbed. Maybe everyone was right—Munson was crazy. Demented. An outright nutcase. And he turned you into one too just by being around him. He somehow amplified your emotions—both good and bad—to something you couldn’t manage yourself. Getting away from him could only be a good thing, even if the idea of being kicked to the curb by even the town freak stung quite a bit.
Whatever. He was fucking deluded anyway.
Whether it be from exhaustion, dehydration, the whirlwind of emotions over the last twenty-four hours, or all of the above, you couldn’t wake up once you fell out. You tried to force your eyes open at the piercing shrill of the phone ringing, but your body wouldn’t comply. You were sunk too deep reliving a nightmare that nothing could wake you from.
At least, until one in the afternoon when a pounding so loud and persistent made your senses float back to you. Slowly. At first you thought the noise was just the pounding of your headache, but the shouting of your name that accompanied it made you realize someone was at the front door.
Moving was awful. You weren’t hungover but it sure did feel like it—limbs heavy as lead when you staggered into the hallway. Everything was spinning. Your skin sticky with sweat and hands shaking as you crashed against the walls like a pinball until you finally reached the door and opened it to a very concerned looking Nancy Wheeler.
Great. The last person you wanted to see.
During your hours of infuriated self reflection, you’d come to terms with the idea that perhaps Munson wasn’t completely wrong in statement. He wasn’t right! But…he wasn’t incorrect either.
It wasn’t Nancy’s fault.
It took a long time and a lot of ruminating to come to that conclusion. In the previous years, every time you tried to play the “if the tables were turned and I did what Nancy did…” you always came up with the answer “but I wouldn’t have done that!” Until you realized that’s exactly what you had done last night. You argued with yourself that it wasn’t the same—just like you had done with Munson—that the motive for separating from your friend wasn’t selfish until it dawned on you that it was. If something had happened to Nancy last night, would you be to blame since you were the last to see her alive? Of course not. That was stupid. The fact that you went to hang out with Patrick or if you’d have even gone to the toilet and found her missing, it wouldn’t have been your fault. The fault was with whoever or whatever had taken her while you were gone no matter what the reason for your sudden departure.
Then there was the ‘what would Barb do?’ scenario. Normally you tried to justify why Barb would blame Nancy too. Left to die alone in the woods after being told to go away by her lifelong friend. But after much uncomfortable contemplation, you knew deep down that Barb wouldn’t have blamed Nancy for what happened. She probably would be disappointed and a little hurt at being dismissed, but she would be more than peeved to know that you held any resentment towards Nancy at all for this. She’d hate to see her two friends at odds, especially when she wasn’t there to remedy it.
What you said to Munson was true: the lab had killed Barb, and it was the lab that went to disgusting lengths to cover it up. Barb would’ve despised the way you felt about her death and she would tell you Nancy Wheeler wasn’t to blame at all.
It was a truth that tasted as sweet as vinegar. It was easy to be angry at her. It was easy to blame her. It was not easy to admit you were wrong in doing so. And here she was, mere hours after your revelation, as if to taunt you into admitting the truth aloud.
She didn’t wait for an invitation inside. Instead she stepped past you and scolded you. “You were supposed to call when you got home.”
“Sorry,” you muttered, shutting the door. “I didn’t get home until almost two and it was—“
Nancy gawked. “Two? A-M? In the morning?!”
You nodded, instantly regretting the movement. You beckoned her to follow you, stumbling all the way back to your room. She was muttering something, but you couldn’t comprehend it. You had mere seconds to get back to your bed or else you were going to pass out. Or puke. Or both.
You collapsed face first onto your bed, legs dangling off the side, and waited with your eyes pinched shut for the room to stop spinning.
“So,” Nancy said stiffly behind you. “How bad was it?”
You groaned, grumbled, and huffed into the mattress as you rolled over just enough to peer at her sitting at your thighs, brow arched high as she chewed the inside of her cheek in anticipation.
The permed hair really fit her. Much better than the straight, sleek look she had for so long. It made her look older. More mature. But then again she was both of those things compared to when you met her so long ago.
“You’re really pretty,” you admitted softly.
Nancy did not seem impressed. “You’re still drunk.”
“I didn’t drink,” you responded. “Well, I had two beers at the party but I wasn’t drunk.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You really expect me to believe that? You’re the picture next to ‘hungover’ in the dictionary!”
You were getting annoyed. “Nancy, I did not get drunk last night. Other stuff happened. It—it was a disaster.”
She quirked her brow, her expression clearly saying ‘I told you so’ though her mouth never did.
“Not for the reason you think,” you said defensively. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know.”
So you told her what happened at the party. The only thing that seemed to suprised her was Munson’s sudden appearance. Your nausea increased at the memory of how excited you were to see Eddie when he showed up. Nancy noticed you grab your stomach and cover a disgusting wet belch behind your hand. She went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water and a few slices of bread that she instructed you eat before you continue your tale.
“You were with Munson all that time?” she questioned with clear concern. “Eddie Munson? Your partner for Albrecht’s class? What on earth were you doing with him until two o'clock in the morning?”
You took your time chewing to avoid the question—or more like the answer. What were you doing with him? Having fun before screaming at each other like absolute lunatics and swearing to never darken each other’s doorsteps again.
“We went to the Waffle Hut in Ladoga,” you answered quietly.
The thought did occur to you when you were spewing up your midnight feast, but you were certain it was related to the sudden and intense spike in stress rather than an actual illness. Though the remembrance of how greasy the place was made your stomach stir again.
“I don’t have food poisoning,” you sighed. “The food was actually good for what it was.”
Nancy wrinkled her nose. “What’s wrong with you then? What did he do to you?”
Again, you took your time busying your mouth to avoid answering her, but the cool water was too good and nourishing to mess around with for too long. When you did finish it and ran out of an excuse to keep quiet, you collapsed on your back and watched her bewildered and impatient expression.
“We were kind of getting along during the project. But last night we had a giant fight. He said I was a shit friend to you.”
Confused, she asked “How would he know?”
You side stepped her question. “Do you feel that way?”
She shook her head just a tick before stopping abruptly, taking more time to consider. “I think we’re all just doing our best after years of tragedy.”
You frowned. “So yeah, you think I’m a bad friend.”
She scooted closer towards you. “That’s not what I said.”
With your resolve for keeping things bottled up shattered during the previous hours, you had no will to hold back. Your chest started heaving. “What if I am? What if all this time I’ve been so angry with you and I blame you for what happened to Barb?”
Nancy’s thin lips tightened. “I know you do.”
Your heart jumped and your breathing ceased for a second while you gaped at her. If you weren’t so dehydrated, maybe the waterworks would’ve started, but instead your face morphed into an ugly grimace while your nerves frayed, unable to formulate a response.
She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping under the weight of the tension. “I’d say you should work on your poker face but you’d have to have one to begin with.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Nancy sighed heavily. “Because I agree. It is my fault.”
“It’s not. The lab—“
“I know,” she interrupted sharply. “It was the lab. Everyone keeps telling me so. They keep saying it’s not my fault and I’m not to blame, but they’re wrong and it feels wrong when they try to pardon me. I killed her. I let her go out in the dark alone and then she died.”
You didn’t know what to say. How to console her since you had—as she had known all along—agreed with her sentiment. But seeing her admit it, hearing the self loathing Munson said would plague forever, let a shamefully sick, almost perverse, pleasure trickled through your veins.
“You’re the only one who wasn’t bending over backwards to stop me from blaming myself,” she continued, sniffling quietly. “Sometimes you’d give me this look and I just knew—I knew what you were thinking and I was waiting for you to explode. I needed you to throw it in my face and punish me because I wanted someone to just once say that yes! I deserve to feel guilty!”
The rush of smug superiority washed away as quickly as it surfaced, replaced by shame and self loathing. All this time you thought she’d been unaffected—focusing all her attention on boys instead of mourning her supposed best friend—but it wasn’t true at all. Nancy had been carrying her own pain as well.
Perhaps Munson wasn’t just not wrong—but right. Maybe you had been a shit friend.
“But you don’t,” you countered. “Just because you saw her lost doesn’t mean you’re responsible for her death.”
Nancy gave a waterlogged, humorless chuckle. “Doesn’t it?”
You sat up and sat beside her with your thighs touching and wrapped your arms around her. Nancy stiffened, since it had been many years since you hugged each other, and hung her head to hide beneath her curly curtain of hair.
“I don’t deserve everyone telling me it’s okay cause it’s not and she’s gone and she’s never coming back!” Nancy huffed.
Twenty-four hours ago, you would’ve agreed. Wholeheartedly. Perhaps even blown up at her like you did Munson and given her the punishment she craved. But now, things were different. Not only had she been punishing herself, but she’d been waiting for someone to demand retribution—give her a chance at penance so she could rid herself of some remorse. You weren’t going to convince her that she was absolved of all guilt, that much was clear. The last thing she needed was another voice echoing in her ear the same sentiment she didn’t believe. You could, however, give her a little bit of both—scolding and reprieve.
“It was selfish to cast her aside to hang out with Steve,” you told her firmly. “but being a selfish fifteen year old girl does not make you a murderer.”
Nancy shook her head. “If I had just stayed with her—“
You rested your head on her shoulder as you gently interrupted. “Barb wouldn’t blame you, you know,” you said, resting your chin on her shoulder. “She might have been a little irritated with you when she left Harrington’s house, but she wouldn’t be now. She’d probably think us both jackasses for how we’ve handled things.”
Nancy covered her eyes as she began to sob. “I know!” she snapped. “That’s what makes it worse! I ju—I jus—“
And there it was. The uncontrollable, harrowing, soul-unburdening wail of someone who had been suffering from something so painful yet unable to let go of. The same one you’d echoed many times in the hours previous as you wrestled your demons and came face to face with reality. You had done it alone, but Nancy didn’t have to.
So you held her and wept with her. Both hugging each other eventually and making a cacophony of heartbroken sobs, shrieks, and wails. Blubbering apologies and exonerations into each other’s shoulders. Assurances that you didn’t hate her, and that she didn’t hate you, and promises to one another to be better friends. You weren’t sure how long it went on for. An hour, perhaps. Maybe more. Until it became impossible to produce any more tears or when your nose got so stuffy you couldn’t breathe through it anymore. Perhaps it was Nancy who hiccuped last and it all quieted down from there.
Your headache was worse, but the weight of the world seemed to have lifted from your chest. Your bones. Everywhere. Nancy quite looked the same—tired, a little forlorn, but free of the darkness that underlined her posture.
“I miss her,” Nancy said sadly, wrapping her pinky around yours. “And I missed being close with you.”
“Yeah,” you agreed with a watery smile. “Me too.”
And that was how spring break started. You lost a friend, but found your way back to an old one.
It had been great for the first couple of days into break. You and Nancy had been almost inseparable. You spent three nights in a row at her house like the old days watching movies, talking about college, your plans since you were waitlisted (which she insisted was not the end of the world), and simply hanging out. It was as if you were both making up for lost time. Barb was included, of course. There was her yearbook picture that Nancy glued to the end of a popsicle stick and sat it between you during movies, tucked ‘Barb’ into a book on her nightstand when it was time for bed, and as horrifyingly insane as it sounds, you both talked to the photo on the stick as if it really could answer as to whether or both Barb liked that nail polish color on you.
“I think she likes it,” Nancy said proudly. “Look at that smile!”
It was inane, and stupid, and wonderful all at once. There were tears again, of course, during moments where the silliness dissipated into sadness. Mostly in the dark of night when the rest of the house slept. But you had each other to cling to and somehow always found a way to pause the guilt until the dark came again tomorrow.
The most important thing was that there were no boys! Johnathan had rung Nancy exactly one time during the three days, and she told him she’d been with him some other time—she had some things to tend to and would call him later. It was honestly so nice to not have to compete with him for conversation or listen to him sulk. And with the new reconnection, you found yourself able to ask Nancy exactly how on earth that happened.
“His brother Will had gone missing at the same time,” she answered. “So we both knew what it was like and found comfort in each other over it.”
You swallowed thickly, trying not to find the resemblance in how you felt the same about that butthead, Munson.
“Then why do you guys never look happy?” you prompted.
Nancy shrugged. “I don’t know. It used to be enough and we make a great journalism team but…after the internship at The Post…things really haven’t been the same.”
“But you’re going to Emerson together?”
Nancy chuckled bitterly. “I doubt that. Every time I bring it up he gets fidgety and weird. He’s hiding something. I just don’t know what yet.”
You always found Johnathan to be fidgety and weird, so you could not attest to any change Nancy may have noticed.
“What are you going to do?”
“Go to Emerson,” she answered simply. “Try my hand at New York. See what’s out there for me. If Johnathan doesn’t want to come with me, then…” she shrugged again. “He’ll be doing his own thing, I guess.”
You gave her a curious look. She seemed nonchalant about the idea of breaking up with him and moving across the country. You wanted to ask more about that since they’d been together almost all of high school, but she interrupted your train of thought by bringing up him.
“What was going on with you and Munson anyway?” she asked. “You never fully explained that.”
Thinking of Eddie Munson made you react quite viscerally inside, and unfortunately you thought of him often. Against your will. Much to your displeasure. Almost everything reminded you of him. The morning meals Mrs. Wheeler made was a slap in the face because now Eddie Munson’s memory had tainted all breakfast foods. Mike zipping around the house made you think of him since he was in the same stupid club, not to mention the long hair he was attempting to grow out made you do a double take every time.
Yes, Eddie Munson was haunting you like a ghost with a vengeance. It made you furious. Annoyingly angry. And terribly, terribly solemn. You found that most nights, even with Nancy’s company only a few feet away, you felt incredibly lonely. You wondered what he was doing. If he thought of you as much as you did him. How were you going to continue with the project? Would you just have him write his name on the remaining sheets and turn in it? It seemed the most logical thing to do since he probably wasn’t going to play nice anymore. Not that his version of nice was very pleasant to begin with.
“Nothing,” you spat. “We had a truce to work on the project but he said I was a shitty friend to you and we got into a fight. That’s it.”
Nancy gave you a look, unconvinced. “I thought you said he made you laugh.”
“Yeah—like—once,” you lied quickly. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s annoying. He doesn’t bring anything to school to do work. He doesn’t help with the project when it comes to writing stuff down, and he talks about the weirdest shit! Not to mention—“
You listed one hundred and one reasons why Eddie Munson was the biggest, most annoying, irritating, waste case to ever cross your path, but Nancy seemed unconvinced judging by the way her sharp brow stayed quipped and her lips pursed with suspicion.
“Not friends but comfortable enough to let him take you to Ladoga, treat you to dinner, and talk about a highly sensitive topic? Something he wouldn’t have known about had you not discussed it before,” Nancy hummed thoughtfully. “Not to mention the whole flower thing.”
You gave her a nasty look and resumed cutting out coupons from the paper for Mrs. Wheeler, offering no words to continue the conversation. But Nancy would not let it go.
“Would you ever forgive him?” she probed.
You scoffed. “Yeah, right. Munson would rather die than apologize. Or speak to me again.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Nancy replied. “Guys don’t usually go out of their way for girls they don’t like and Ladoga is a little bit of a ways.”
You were starting to get irritated. Mostly because she was playing the seed of a hope and it made your heart stutter at the thought.
“Respectfully, Nance, you don’t know anything about it. Just what I’ve told you. He judges me, he sneers at me, and he just makes me so angry I could spit.”
A little smirk graced the side of her lips. “That may be true, but I think you miss him anyway.”
“Think again,” you snapped.
She giggled, which only infuriated you more, but did not press the issue further.
Her brother, however, was not as kind.
Some hours later after lunch, a crazed and wide-eyed Mike Wheeler came charging at you as you sat on the porch swing with Nancy.
“YOU!” he hollered with an accusatory index finger pointed straight at your forehead. “This is your fault, isn’t it?!
You looked at Nancy with confusion before looking towards Dustin who stood beside Mike.
“He means Eddie,” Dustin said.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t talked to him in days.”
Steam was practically whistling out of Mike’s ears. “So it is you! I knew it! I told you it was her!”
Dustin held up his arms in surrender. “I never said it wasn’t!”
“I’m sorry, what’s going on here?” Nancy interjected.
Mike stood to his full height—which was now incredibly tall—and sighed heavily, glaring at you with pure malice as he spat, “Purple Rain.”
Clearly he thought this was some sort of revolutionary statement, but neither you or Nancy knew what the hell he was talking about.
“The song?” you offered.
“Yes,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Continously. As soon as the song finishes—no, sometimes even before it ends—he rewinds it and starts it all over again. He won’t stop playing it!”
This still did not give you any clarity on the situation at all. “I think you need your head checked or something.”
Dustin stepped forward. “What Mike is trying to say is, we’ve been through this before, okay? He went through it the first time Lucas and Max broke up, and I had to deal with it when Steve and—you know—sorry Nance, no offense. When Steve and Nancy broke up,” he smiled weakly. “The point is, Eddie is playing break up music and we can’t get him to stop. So can you just talk to him?”
“Not to mention he’s been extra pissy lately,” Mike added bitterly.
You didn’t know what else to do besides laugh. Munson playing Prince on loop? In front of people? Like some lovesick idiot? How pathetic! And hilarious. And also a little sad. Though the self satisfaction of knowing he was suffering—whether or not that had anything to do with you—was a little uplifting.
“I can guarantee you that I am not the reason he’s doing that!” you laughed.
Mike’s top lip curled in a confused sneer. “Yeah it is.”
“He said that?” Nancy piped in with an annoying smile.
“No, but I just know it is,” Mike argued. “You’re the only girl who’s ever talked to him in his life and now you just said you’re not. Who else would it be?”
You hoped not-so-deep down that there wouldn’t be anyone else that could do this to him.
“I don’t know, but it’s not me. Sorry,” you shrugged.
Dustin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation here. Purple Rain in its entirety is eight minutes and a half minutes long, okay? Almost nine minutes! You gotta help us!”
“I like Prince. I mean, who doesn’t? But I swear if I have to listen to that goddamn song again….” Mike threatened. “I don’t know what I’ll do but I won’t listen to that album for a very long time.”
“I don’t know what power you think I have, but I can’t stop him,” you told them.
“Will you try?” Mike questioned.
You were starting to get annoyed. “Try what, Mike? It’s not like we're friends! I’m actually the last person that can get that freak to do anything!”
Mike swelled. “Just talk to him when he gets here! He’s picking us up to go to the arcade. Should show up any minute.”
Your stomach fell to the seat of your ass. Any minute? He couldn’t see you like this! You hadn’t been home in a few days, so you weren’t at your best. Yeah, you combed your hair but it wasn’t with your comb. The spare soft bristled toothbrush Nancy gave you probably didn’t whiten your teeth the way your firmer one from your own home did. You weren’t decent. You weren’t ready. And frankly, you didn’t want to see him! What if he said something stupid and you flipped out at him again in front of everyone? What if he said nothing at all and pretended you weren’t there? That would hurt worse than getting called a shit friend.
Frantically, you scrambled to your feet and tried to shove your way through the boys in order to hide in the house. Dustin, who wasn’t nearly as tall as Mike but was far sturdier, jumped in front of you to block your path. “Do I have to get on my knees and beg? Cause I’m at that point.”
“Get out of the way!” you demanded, trying to push past him.
Mike joined in creating a barricade with his long arms. “Face your fears!” he yelled, bumping his chest into your face to herd you back onto the porch swing. “It’ll only take a minute!”
“That’s seven less than one play of Purple Rain!” Dustin yelled, boxing you into the corner of the porch. “Please! Just this once, just try—!”
Then, you heard it. The loud, roaring engine of the van as it got closer and closer towards the house. There was only one person it could be, and if what Dustin and Mike said was true, the unmistakable guitar solo becoming more and more coherent was a dead give away.
“I will hurt you if you don’t get out of the way!” you shouted, sawing your forearm in between their shoulders.
“Please! Just this once, just try—!” they begged.
But it was no use. You knew it as soon as you heard the tires screech to a halt. Eddie Munson was here.
The clack of the driver door opening made you all freeze—ceasing the struggle between you and the boys. He started shouting before he stood up to crane his neck over the top of the van. “Let’s go, people! I got—“
As cliche as it sounds, time stood still when your eyes met.
He looked the same. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It hadn’t even been a week. His hair was as unkempt as usual and he had on that same dumb leather jacket. But the circles under his eyes stood out a little more. Or was it just your imagination?
For a split second neither of you said anything nor did anything but stand there and stare at each other—completely at a loss as to how to react to the sudden presence of the other.
You weren’t overcome with anger and annoyance like you were every time he crossed your mind. No, this horrible, sinking feeling was something quite different. It was then you realized—by the way your heart plunged to the floor—how much you did miss his company.
You wanted him to say something. Perhaps ask if he could speak to you privately. Maybe even acknowledge you with a small wave or anything. Some sort of olive branch to show that perhaps he was over it? Since he was the one that flipped like a damn switch and went berserk like a crazy person. He had to be the one to make the first move, right?
But then he looked away and nodded his head towards the boys. “Hurry up. It’s Two-Scoop Tuesday,” he said, and got back into the van without another word.
“Wait—so that’s it?” Dustin deflated.
“Go say something to him!” Mike urged.
“Move,” you commanded. And when the boys split like the Red Sea with hopes you’d talk to their leader, you instead took the opportunity to bolt into the house, trying to outrun the searing pain of heartbreak in your chest.
Nancy found you sometime later face down on the twin mattress you’d been sleeping on in the middle of her small bedroom, simmering in despair.
“Drama, much?” Nancy observed.
You groaned into the pillow your face was smushed in. It shouldn’t bother you. You were mad at him. He screamed at you, drove like a madman that could’ve killed both of you. You shouldn’t want to see him. And yet…
Defeated, you rolled over onto your back and frowned at her. “Clearly he didn’t want to talk to me. You saw how he ran like a coward!”
“So did you,” she pointed out. “At least, you would have if Mike and Dustin didn’t stop you.”
You glared at her. “Who’s side are you on?”
She shrugged, the shadow of a smirk lingering on the corner of her lips. “You’re miserable being on the wrong side of him. He’s obviously miserable too. Someone’s gotta fess up and fix things.”
“No, we don’t,” you muttered bitterly.
She grinned. “We’. So cute.”
“Stop,” you demanded.
Nancy laid in her bed, snuggling towards the edge so she could look down at your sulking form. “Just admit you miss him.”
“But he’s so stupid!” you blurted, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “And annoying, and so damn irritating!”
“You’ve said all that before,” Nancy nodded. “But if he was only that, you wouldn’t look so pathetic right now. Spill. What’s likeable about Eddie Munson?”
“Nothing,” you sneered.
Nancy, getting irritated with your resistance, barked your name in a tone that resembled her mother. She was not amused when you shared that with her.
Nancy held up Barb’s popsicle stick next to her cheek and pouted. “Talk to us,” she pleaded softly.
Your frown deepened as those sparkly, round eyes shone with sadness, pleading to connect over something that mattered. Unable to refuse her, you huffed and gave in—to both Nancy and the part of you that vehemently refused to acknowledge what you missed about that shitass.
“At first he was not easy to be around. At all. All we did was bicker and get on each other's nerves. But after that day I ran out of class, we kind of became friends. He made a comment about Barb being the redhead that…yeah,” you trailed off. “He told me about his friend that died in the mall fire—“
Nancy stiffened. So much so that you were taken aback by it. “Barry Berman,” you added. “Did you know him?”
Nancy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh. Well. Eddie was really close friends with him and he’s been a wreck ever since the fire. He said Barry was with him shooting fireworks when he suddenly started walking towards town. Eddie thought maybe he was going home or something but it turns out he went to the mall and ended up—you know. Munson claims it’s some huge government cover up but so is the moon landing. Anyway, we got closer after that? At least less volatile towards each other. We’d go to the gas station and get—“ you paused, not wanting to betray the illegal gambling operation Janine ran from behind the counter. “—roller dogs when doing homework.”
Nancy grimaced. “Why do they eat that stuff? Johnathan loves the cheddar ones.”
“I only eat the pretzels. I haven’t braved a hotdog yet outside of a single bite,” you admitted. “I don’t know. I went over to his house once because he hung up on me, and then he got mad at me for biking there alone. He thinks remnants of the lab are still active or whatever the government is covering up is still out there. I don’t know. He doesn’t like me traveling alone.“
“That’s why you bike with Mike and Lucas,” Nancy breathed.
“Yeah. He told them to do that.”
A disgusting, sticky sweet smile spread across her face. “That is the cutest thing I ever heard!”
“Whatever,” you bristled. “We smoked a couple of times together—“
Her jaw dropped. “You?! You smoked? You smoked weed?! All the times you bitch about Johnathan—!”
“I know, I know!” you interrupted. “But it turned a bad time into a good time so it’s fine. Anyway, I just. I don't know, Nance. He's easier to be around because I don’t have to impress him. I mean—it’s Munson.”
“I thought you said he judges you?”
“He does but on stupid stuff. Well. Maybe more like he challenges me? This is annoying. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”
“You’re thinking too much,” she advised. “Stop explaining and just answer. Why do you miss him?”
You sighed heavily and stared at the ceiling instead of at Nancy. It took some time to sort things out in your head, but Nancy waited patiently while you figured it out and at last answered.
“We have fun,” you said sadly. “I haven’t laughed like I did the other night in a long, long time. He talks a lot about nothing but I learn some things from him. Things I never thought about or honestly even cared about, really. He’s seen me cry. He’s seen me drool. Probably heard me snoring that time I fell asleep at his house. God, that’s awful to think about. But he’s never judged me for that or made fun of me. Not until we had that fight.” You frowned further at the memory of him. At how easy he actually was to be around. “I just—I don’t feel pressure when I’m around him. I feel…free.”
You opted to keep any notice of his looks to yourself. She didn’t need to know he actually had really cute dimples or expressive brown eyes that sparkled. Was it really important to share that he had different smiles and the one where his teeth and dimples showed was your favorite?
The pity that washed over Nancy’s features was unbearable. “Sounds like love.”
You closed your eyes in order to stop tears from forming. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“Sure it does,” she replied. “You've both just got to stop being stupid and talk it out.”
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Nancy argued. “I saw that sad puppy dog look on his face. I think he—just like you—doesn’t know how to fix it.”
You didn’t want to talk about this anymore. In fact, you wanted to just go home and come to terms with what you had just admitted aloud. Nancy didn’t object, but she did let you know that she had to spend at least some time with Johnathan over break, and that tomorrow she would likely be out.
“You should get out, too,” she suggested. “Go digging in the lake or something.”
That sounded a lot better than being at home and staring at the walls. “Yeah,” you agreed. “I’ll probably go to Lake Jordan. Lover’s Lake is the last place I want to be.”
So the next morning you took her advice. Dressed in your best fishing bib and waterproof boots, you headed down towards the shallow end of Lake Jordan with a bucket and the least stained Tupperware tub ready to find some goodies to trade Mr. Horowitz at the antique shop.
Though the sun was shining brighter than it had in months, the water was still far too cold for swimming, and if it weren’t for your waterproof fishing boots and coveralls you wouldn’t have dared enter the lake. It was quite nice being outside—really outside—for the first time in months. A few others had the same idea to come out and enjoy the sun. There were a few fishermen casting their line on the other side of the bank and one or two on skiffs in the middle of the water. Each person kept to themselves and enjoyed the solitude and the outdoors. The crisp, fresh air filled your lungs with each breath and for a few moments you completely forgot to be miserable.
The chilly breeze made ripples in the water, obscuring the clarity a little. Even so, tiny minnows could be seen swimming around the ankles of your rubber boots. Within no time you were tossing pottery fragments, crazy colored rocks, old glass bottles, and coins into a bucket. A badly rusted buckle of some sort was your current prize, and you wasted not time in trying to chip off the heap of crusty corrosion to try and make out the material. You were so engrossed in removing as much junk by hand that you didn’t know anyone was near until they spoke.
“When are you gonna learn you’re not supposed to be out here by yourself?” he questioned with exasperation.
Your froze, heart jumping into your mouth at the sudden appearance of one annoying ass Eddie Munson. You didn’t look over at him at the edge of the bank. Instead you resumed scraping the buckle against the plastic rim of the bucket. You could’ve asked how he knew where you were, what he wanted, or maybe why he was there in the first place, but the angry part of you settled on, “Why do you care what happens to me since I’m such a shit friend?”
He sighed loudly and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Really? We’re just going straight there? Can’t even be a little decent first?”
You said nothing, abandoning the seemingly silver buckle and returned to rummage for goods in the silt and sand. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Nancy was right, you did miss him, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t partly relieved to have him speak to you, but the bitter and more insecure part of you was not going to let go easily.
You saw him plop onto the ground from your peripheral, resting his elbows atop his knees as he squinted your way. “Wheeler said you’d be out here. Guess yall are cool now?”
“Which Wheeler?” you snapped, already knowing the answer.
The only one who knew you were planning on coming out today was Nancy. When the hell did he talk to her? What did she say? She wouldn’t have dared say anything to him about what you told her. No, she wouldn’t do that. Right? What did he say? A bitter bite of jealousy and fear took hold.
“Your Wheeler. The sister,” he answered with confusion.
“Why don’t you ask her? Since apparently you’re friends with her now,” you snapped.
“You know what? Whatever, man,” he scoffed, rising from his place in the dirt and dusting off the seat of his pants. “I only came out here cause she said you wanted to apologize.”
Your jaw dropped, eyes bulging out of your head in shock. “Me apologize? ME?” you yelled. “You screamed at me like an asshole. You drove like an asshole and nearly chucked me out the window. You were just a complete ASSHOLE!”
“Yeah, cause you were saying complete bullshit!” he shouted back. “Excuse the fuck out of me!”
You were so angry you could scream. Actually, you did exactly that. With gritted teeth you screeched in fury. He was so maddening! He couldn’t even admit that he had done something wrong or hurtful! You had already apologized to Nancy, and that should’ve been enough! How you felt about Barb’s death had nothing to do with him! And that’s exactly what you told him.
“I was talking about me and my friend and what I thought and you turned it into a soapbox session for your pain!” you added hotly.
Munson, with a nasty grimace on his face, shrugged. Repeatedly. Like he didn’t know what to say or where to start. You were just about to give up and tell him to piss off when he finally seemed to string together a thought.
“Look, man. I know I freaked out,” he said stiffly, taking steps towards the edge of the water. “It pissed me off because you know what happened to your friend—the whole damn country does. They did a 20/20 special on it. But no one knows what happened to Barry. Not really. Just the bullshit we’re being told. Another cover up. So how you could sit there and say it was someone else’s fault just because they were the last one—“ he paused, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “It set me off, alright? ‘How dare you? How could you?’ you know?”
You stared at him hard for a long while, trying to find your own words while simmering with both relief to be talking to him and aggravation. He made it sound like having the answer somehow made it less painful to lose a friend, but he didn’t seem to realize he was implying.
With an attempt at a calming breath, you emerged from the lake—ignoring the embarrassing squeak of the rubber bibs and boots—and stood before him on the rocky shore’s edge.
“That 20/20 special came out a year and a half after Barb’s death,” you said as calmly as you could. “There was an entire year that we didn’t know what happened to her. The lab people stole her car and made a fake purchase for plane tickets and claimed she was a run away. For a year, I didn’t know if she was living or dead. Abducted? Grabbed by some Ted Bundy wanna be and left in pieces somewhere! I—“
You took another calming breath as old feelings of anxiety and fear welled in your throat before continuing. “But yes, you’re right. We now know what really happened to her. That doesn’t make it easier. That doesn’t mean I don’t still get angry or resentful about it.”
“Yeah, towards the wrong people—“
“Like you lashing out at me was towards the wrong person?” you interrupted.
At least he had the decency to look a little ashamed.
“I know how you feel, Eddie, so please understand I’d never say or throw anything like that in your face. Just like I never said anything to Nancy about how I felt,” you continued sullenly. “It’s a bitter, ugly feeling that I hated having and I thought that by sharing it with you that I’d be freeing myself of it but…”
You didn’t really know what else to say, so you left it at that. Awkwardly moving around the rocks and sandy debris in your gloved hand while you waited for him to say something. He appeared to be mulling it over as he toed his shoe in the dirt. But seconds that felt like torturous minutes ticked by and he still said nothing, keeping his gaze on the ground and gnawing on the inside of his cheek.
“Now I feel like I can’t talk to you,” you blurted. “Not like before.”
He finally looked up and frowned deeply. “Well that’s just not true.”
“You don’t make it easy. You’re so defensive and ready to explode.”
He wiped his forehead again, wincing at the discomfort of being confronted. “I usually have to defend myself. You’re not stupid. You know what people around here say about me. It makes me a little touchy.”
“Yeah, but I thought we were friends,” you admitted sadly. “I don’t think those things about you.”
He rolled his eyes, not even pretending to believe you.
“Okay, I don’t anymore,” you clarified. “I think you’re an abrasive jerk sometimes, but—“ you shrugged. Your turn to be uncomfortable with muttering the truth. “I have fun hanging out…with you.”
God. You wished a rogue wave would ripple over the lake and whisk you away from this conversation. Is there anything as embarrassing as barring your soul to a dumb boy?
“I think you’re judgmental and sheltered.” Though it wasn’t a compliment, he seemed to skeptically brighten just a little. “But you’re willing to try new things and change your mind, which I like.” He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I guess I have fun too. It’s been a weird few days.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding back. Suddenly things didn’t seem so tense and scary. He missed you too, in his own Munson-esque way. At least something was mutual.
“Well, stop being such a combative butthead!” you teased.
“Sweetheart, you’re asking a fish to breathe out of water,” he scoffed playfully.
Sweetheart. How quickly you were willing to forgive him just to get that title back and never lose it again.
“Then could you at least not be such a combative butthead to me?” you proposed.
He made a show of considering the suggestion—humming loudly and rubbing his chin as he tapped his foot. “Oh, I suppose,” he sighed. “Wouldn’t want my balls kneed into my chest.”
You grinned. “Exactly.”
He smiled lazily, ticking up only one side of his lips. “I’m sorry,” he said firmly. “For the whole thing. It was just…you know?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry, too.”
You both stood there, not really sure what to do now. Relief was still ebbing its way through your mind and body. Things were okay. At least, they were going to be. And Eddie would try to not be a dickhead and you would try to be patient with him. It wasn’t until Munson started to take off his shoes that you were prompted to speak.
“What are you doing?”
“Kenku training.”
“What?”
“In DnD there’s this creature that scavenges for shiny things. Trades it for money or goods or whatever. It’s called a Kenku. You’re scavenging for shiny things, right?”
“Not just shiny things,” you replied stiffly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Eddie. The water is freezing.”
He didn’t seem to hear or care. Rolling his pants up to his knees to reveal very pale legs that might have never seen the sun, you instinctively stepped back as he made his way towards the water.
“Yeesh,” he groaned as he stepped into the chilly lake.
“Your toes are gonna fall off,” you warned him.
He shrugged, but didn’t step any further once the water got to his ankles. Surprisingly, he listened intently and watched how you scoped the bottom with the Tupperware and didn’t interrupt or tell you any better ways to do your thing. He seemed genuinely interested and eager to try. Much to your annoyance, he was already much luckier than you were. Within just a few minutes he was pulling coins, rings, and even a rare homemade item.
“No way! Is this really—?” he questioned, holding out a small cube in his palm. It was chipped, but sure enough there was a small dice in his hand.
“I’ve found only one of these before. Mr. Horowitz said it’s made of bone.”
“That is so fucking sick!” he cheered, holding it up to the sun to inspect it further. “Move, you might be standing on the other one.”
All the stress and misery of not having him around had melted away into nothing as you watched him wince and chitter while he tiptoed in the shallows in search of forgotten treasure. It looked so silly that you laughed, and once you started doing that around Eddie Munson, it was hard to stop.
it’s not weird to find fanfiction from 2021, or 2017, or 2014 that you’ve never read and actually taking your time to read it.
it’s not weird to love it and comment and leave kudos because the author will probably still see it someday and it will make them happy.
it’s not weird to like said author’s work so much that you want to go look for other fics from them.
it’s not weird to go through the authors profile and look for other fics from the ships you like (or maybe some that you’ll give a chance because you liked the author) and maybe bookmark them for later.
it’s not weird to read these other fics and like them too and comment on them because you actually like them and you want to let the author know.
it’s not weird to read fanfiction from 5, or 8, or 10 years ago and actually enjoy and engage with it because it’s perfectly normal to relate to something that’s less than a decade old!
let’s stop treating fanfiction like they’re instagram posts that stop being interesting in 24 hours! fanfiction is NOT social media, fanfiction is art!!! and art doesn’t get old in one day, one year, or even a decade!
read fanfiction! write fanfiction! comment on fanfiction! let’s not let fanculture die people!!!!!
Not only is it not weird, it is ACTIVELY ENCOURAGED. Authors LOVE IT when people do this!!! Its not "weird" and its not "neutral" -- its a fucking DELIGHT. Feel very absolutely free to read though an author's entire back catalogue, leaving kudos and/or comments along the way; we absolutely freaking love when someone does this. There is nothing more joyful than getting a comment notification for an old fic. It will make our day, I promise.
A quickly written little blurb based on the tags from @rebelfell on this post because she painted such a beautiful picture, and I could only hope to capture even just a snippet of the image Sarah planted in my brain
wc - 790
Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist
The heat of the late July day has mellowed into a balmy evening, the sun has retired for the day, leaving the moon to take over the limelight. There’s a quiet hum of the bug zapper light handing over the porch door, leaving you back-lit in a soft glow. The small kitchen radio filters into the night, playing a rolling playlist of soft country songs.
The lumpy garden couch cushions dipped beside you as Eddie slumps into the seat next to you, a joint tucked between his pink lips, using his tattooed hand to shield it away from the gentle breeze as he clicked his lighter to life, the end of the joint burning billowing smoke Eddie took in a hit.
You’re in a pair of soft shorts and a slouchy t-shirt that you’ve literally had forever, the edges of the sleeves fraying slightly with the years of wear and tear. Complimentary, Eddie is dressed in similar comfortability, a torn off Metallica shirt showcasing his scrawling inky tattoos that he’d accumulated over his teenage years. His frizzy hair is tucked back in a little knot at the nape of his neck, and there’s warm pink flush across his cheeks, the faint scattering of freckles staring to make themselves known with the
He offered his joint up to you, which you gladly took, breathing in and blowing out, letting the smoke curl out from your lips, streaming into the night sky before handing the joint back to Eddie. Your head falling to rest on the slope of his shoulder, his pine bodywash and tobacco fill your senses.
“Y’know, I’m going to miss this.” he says, pulling the joint away from his lips to speak, smoke coating his words as he speaks with a wistful softness in his voice.
“What do you mean Eds?”
“This” he says, gesturing between you and him. “I’m going to miss these little moments where it’s just me and you. I like me and you.” his voice wavering a little. “You’re going to go off to college pretty soon, smart girl, and you won’t have time for little ‘ol me anymore.”
“I’ll only be two hours away, Ed, It’s just Indianapolis.” you reassure him. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time, I promise.”
“It’s okay, I don’t expect you to make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”
And there it was. Sweetheart. That little nickname that Eddie reserved for you and only you. That little nickname that made your heart feel like butterflies. You’d been friends for absolutely ages, you were comfortable with your friendship with Eddie, but that didn’t mean that every time he called you Sweetheart with that soft, sleepy southern tilt in his voice that creeps in when he gets tired that you didn’t feel the warmth making a home in your chest.
“Eddie, when I make a promise, I keep it. You know that about me. I won’t allow the fact of me being two hours away to change things between us.”
The soft tilting sounds of John Denver's 'Country Roads' floats through the window.
“Just let me have this please.” he stays as he stands up, stubbing out his joint in his ashtray. His hand extends out to you, his fingers wiggling keenly. “May I have this dance, Sweetheart.”
You take his hand in yours and allow him to pull you close in a soft sway. Your heart against his, two hearts beating together as one. Breaths steadying together, until everything melts away it feels like it truly is just you and him in this big old world. His glittering brown eyes cast down to your lips, almost like he was thinking about kissing you but he was too scared to make the first move. And then, for a fleeting moment, a part of you starts to reconsider that Eddie had only ever thought of his relationship with you as nothing more than platonic, maybe you weren’t totally wrong for wanting more from this.
He keeps you tucked close to him, his arm looped around your waist, as he sways with you, barefoot on his front porch.
“Just promise me this one thing, promise me that you’ll wait for me, Sweetheart, because, I’ll wait for you, forever if I have to.”
You press up on your toes, and press a sweet kiss to Eddie’s cheek, him smiling under your affections.
“You don’t have to wait for me Eddie. You always had me, always will.”
He drops his head to press a kiss into your hair, the music still playing softly as you hold each other.
You didn’t know what this meant for your friendship with Eddie, but you had a pretty good feeling that it was the start of something good.
Summary: After being a goody-two-shoes bookworm throughout high school, you became a goody-two-shoes librarian at the Hawkins Library. Enter Eddie Munson, who knows that rules are meant to be broken.
WC: 2.1k
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, corruption kink, fingering, brief choking (kinda), mutual masturbation, Eddie and Reader are in their early 20s
Divider credit to @saradika-graphics
The stars twinkled in the night sky as you flipped the Hawkins Library’s sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’
Summer evenings at the library lacked the busyness of the school year. There were no students cramming for exams or checking out books for reports they’d procrastinated until the last minute. There were no disappointed faces when you’d tell them that all ten copies of The Great Gatsby had been checked out.
It was just you, the chirping crickets, and the D&D game still going on down the hall.
Shit.
You’d put it off long enough. The D&D club wasn’t a bad group of kids; they always cleaned up after themselves, though you did have to remind them to lower their voices every now and then. The games apparently got…intense, and this was a library, after all.
No, the problem wasn’t the kids, or the game, or the fact that the club’s logo nearly sent your small town into full-blown Satanic Panic.
The problem was their fearless leader, Eddie Munson.
Your first rap on the door went unnoticed, caught up in the din of their game. Your second knock fared better.
“Aw, shit. What time is it?” A familiar voice lamented. You placed him after a second: Dustin Henderson. The kid had an overdue list a mile long.
“Time to admit defeat!” Eddie’s growl sent a horde of butterflies surging through your stomach. “A truly pathetic showing tonight, boys.”
“Hey!”
“And Lady Applejack,” he amended before quickly slipping back into his dramatic persona. “Now, leave my sight! Your presence disgusts Eddie the Banished.”
The rest of the group trudged out of the room, but not before a shaggy-haired boy flipped Eddie the bird.
“No manners, these kids. I’m tellin’ ya.” Eddie shook his head. He grabbed an empty soda can and chucked it at the nearest trashbin, missing by a longshot.
“Shit,” he muttered, the tips of his ears turning pink as he scooped it up and tossed it away with purpose. “I was never much of a jock,” he joked lamely.
You gripped the table, fending off the urge to kiss his embarrassed smile.
“I know,” you blurted out, feeling your own face grow warm. “I mean, I remember in high school, you were more of a…”
“Freak?” Eddie supplied, his grin growing more confident.
You laughed. “I was gonna say ‘rebel.’”
“Same thing.” He shrugged. “Better to be a rebel than goody-two-shoes, y’know?”
You didn’t know. You were a rule-follower; someone who craved order and structure.
Eddie sensed your hesitation. “You’re a rebel, too.” He chuckled when your brows shot up, his declaration catching you off-guard. “Look: the library closes at nine, but it’s currently…” he checked his watch. “…nine-oh-six, and you haven’t kicked me out.”
You could kick him out. If he was anyone else, you would’ve reminded him that the library was closed and opened tomorrow at eight a.m.
But he was Eddie Munson, the guy you’d harbored a crush on since middle school—buzzcut and all.
He hoisted himself onto the plastic tabletop, plopping down with an exaggerated thud.
“So, besides my athletic talent, what else do you remember about me?”
The way your patches were crookedly sewed onto your denim jacket. The way you cut class to hole up in the band room and practice guitar. The way you smelled of cigarettes and Old Spice. The way you climbed on top of cafeteria tables and made grandiose speeches, usually tearing into Jason Carver or Billy Hargrove in the process.
“Not much.” The lie came out in a higher register, instantly giving you away.
Eddie swung his legs back and forth. “Well, I remember you. And if I’m remembering correctly, you actually were quite the rebel yourself.”
“Me?”
He nodded emphatically. “Oh, yeah. Always reading, even when the teacher was talking. You got after-school detention for reading To Kill a Mockingbird in chem class.”
You balked at the memory. “That was not rebellion. That was just me being a bookworm.”
“I dunno.” There was a teasing lilt in Eddie’s voice that matched his smirk. “I think you’re more rebellious than you realize, Bookworm.”
His words haunted you until he showed up at the library a few nights later. It was two minutes to closing, and the place was a dead zone.
Eddie’s Reeboks scraped against the carpet, his thumbnail tucked between his teeth as he chewed nervously.
“H-Hey.” He twisted a skull ring around his middle finger. “You weren’t…upset the other night, right? When I was teasing…um, joking about you being a rebel?”
You shook your head. Shocked would have been a better descriptor than upset.
Eddie blew out a sigh of relief. “Good. Yeah.” He raked his fingers through his curls. “Because I wasn’t making fun of you or anything. I…I thought it was pretty badass, actually. Like when we had to go to those stupid mandatory pep rallies and you’d just read the whole time.”
“I thought you were pretty badass, too,” you said softly. “I wish I had the guts to stand on top of the lunchtables and tell off Jason Carver like you did.”
Eddie’s face lit up, his usual confidence beginning to emerge. “Well, I wish I could’ve corrected Mrs. O’Donnell in front of the whole class like you did,” he countered. “I’d never seen her speechless before that day.”
You bit your lip, quelling your anxiety and working up the nerve to speak again. “I wish I’d talked to you back in high school.”
“I wish I’d kissed you back in high school.” Eddie took a step forward so that his body pressed against the desk. One hand gently cupped your cheek, and when you didn’t pull back, he drew closer. “I wish I told you I saw you reading The Grapes of Wrath so I tried reading it.”
“What did you think?”
He grinned against your lips. “I fuckin’ hated it.”
Before you could inquire further, Eddie pressed his mouth to yours, sealing his opinion with a kiss. You didn’t hesitate, kissing him back like his lips were a lifeline.
His tongue brushed yours and you let him in, savoring the taste of cigarettes and spearmint gum. You pressed your thighs together, grateful that he couldn’t see from the other side of the checkout desk.
When Eddie finally pulled away, there was no hiding the flush of his cheeks and his swollen lips. “I can leave now, or…”
He left it open-ended, waiting for you to fill in that blank. He should leave; the library was closed and it was time for you to go home.
But…
“Stay.”
Eddie leapt over the desk as soon as the word left your mouth. His hands found your waist, backing you into the cart of books that needed to be reshelved.
His hardness strained against his fly and pressed into your thigh. Without thinking, you rolled your hips into him.
“Oh, fuck,” Eddie moaned, tightening his grip. “Knew you weren’t all innocent.”
“Maybe you’re just a bad influence.” Your fingers tugged at his shirt. “Coming into my library and corrupting me.”
Eddie chuckled darkly, his dark curls tickling your cheeks as he shook his head. “This isn’t corruption, sweetheart. You haven’t even seen corruption yet.”
“Show me?”
Eddie groaned at your request. One hand slipped under your linen skirt and squeezed your ass. “Show you, huh?”
You nodded, trying to fend off the heat in your cheeks and between your legs.
His nose brushed your ear. “Bend over this desk,” he whispered, “but stay quiet. Can’t be loud in the library, right?”
The moment your forearms rested atop the counter, his middle finger traced the dampness in your panties.
“Fuck, yeah.” He circled your clit over the fabric, already sensitive from just the thought of his touch. “Have you been wet this whole time?”
“Mm…mhm.” You clenched around nothing, desperate for him to fill you. Every time you’d fantasized about this, you were in a bed or somewhere private. The public library was not on your list of imagined sex locations.
But you couldn’t deny the thrill. The front door was still unlocked and the lights were still on; anyone could ignore the posted hours and walk right in to see Eddie currently shoving your panties aside and fucking you with his fingers.
“Oh…oh my god,” you whimpered. “Keep going. Please, keep going. Just like that.”
“I got you.” Eddie kissed the side of your neck, sucking at the supple skin. “Gonna let me leave a mark, Bookworm?”
You’d let him do whatever he wanted, no questions necessary. He was waiting for an answer, so you nodded–the only movement you could manage with two of his fingers buried inside you.
His teeth nipped where he’d just kissed, hard enough that a bruise would surely form by tomorrow morning. You’d have to cover it with makeup.
Or you could leave it. Show it off. Prove to everyone you saw that Eddie Munson had claimed you, even if for just one night.
“Eddie…Eddie!” You came around his fingers, rocking back into them. Eddie slowed his pace but stayed inside you, gently bringing you down from the high.
More. You needed more.
“Okay, okay!” Eddie laughed.
Shit, did you say that aloud?
It didn’t matter; Eddie licked his fingers clean with a delighted sigh.
“Turn around for a sec, little rebel.”
You nearly gasped. He unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper, his cock straining to be free. There was no denying that he was rock-hard.
He stroked himself beneath his boxers. “Almost came when you did,” he admitted. “Almost…fuck…almost blew my load in my pants.”
The thought of him coming without even being touched was strangely hot. Something you definitely wanted to explore when you had more time.
“That turn you on, little rebel?” Eddie grinned, expertly reading the subtle diversion of your gaze. “Guess what? Me, too.”
He spun you back around and tapped the tip of his cock on your bare ass. You whined, aching for him, and he knew it.
“Patience,” he murmured. “Just gotta…there we go.”
He anchored himself inside you, pushing in until he bottomed out. His movements were torturously slow; he was too hard and you were too wet to do anything but fuck, yet he thrusted with care and precision.
“Eddie. Faster.”
His grip on your hips tightened, but he didn’t budge. “Beg for it,” he demanded. “Beg for me to fuck you against this desk like the bad fuckin’ girl you are.”
“Please, Eddie,” you tried again. “Please fuck me against the desk. I need to be fucked r-right now.”
“Mhm.” Eddie moved faster, but not fast enough. You reached around for his thigh to move him yourself, but he growled and swatted your hand away. “Now tell me who made you this bad. Who corrupted you.”
“Y-You did. You corrupted me, Eddie.”
With a string of curses, Eddie drove himself into you, unable to hold back as he pistoned his hips.
“Thas’right,” he slurred. “I corrupted you.”
“You corrupted me,” you echoed pathetically. Every thought you had was focused on him, his cock, and how amazing he felt inside you. “Only…only bad for you.”
The two of you worked in tandem, finding the spots that made you moan while he grew impossibly harder within you. Every drag of his cock unleashed another wave of pleasure, and he chased after it reflexively.
“My pretty little rebel. Gonna make a mess of you, ‘kay?” When you nodded, he wrapped one hand around your throat and drew you back. “Need to hear you say it.”
Your brain scrambled for words until you finally found one: “O-Okay.”
You could practically hear his grin. “Touch yourself while I make a mess of you, little rebel.” He let go of your throat but stayed inside you until he saw you rubbing your clit with a trembling finger.
The soft schlick of his hand stroking his erection distracted you from the emptiness. You rubbed faster, failing to swallow the moans that echoed throughout the library.
“Gonna…gonna…oh, shit. Oh, yes!” Eddie painted your ass with warm cum, pushing his tip into your soft flesh. “Jesus H. Christ. That was…holy shit, that’s a lot of cum.”
Between heaving breaths, you laughed. Eddie Munson had just fucked you in the library–at your job–and finished on your ass, and now he was bewildered by the amount of cum?
He reached for the tissue box, ready to clean you off. And maybe it was the bravery of someone who just fulfilled a fantasy, or maybe it was just sex-induced foolishness, but you grabbed hold of one last piece of rebellion.
“Leave it.” You adjusted your panties and skirt, letting them cling to the large wads of his spend. It would certainly stain, but you didn’t care.
You wanted a reminder of the night that Eddie Munson utterly ruined you for anyone else.
⋆˚꩜｡summary: Between school gossip, record store dates, rainy afternoons, and meeting the 'rents, Eddie slowly learns that being loved might not be as fragile as he thinks.
⋆˚꩜｡tags: no y/n, she/her reader, eddie pulls back emotionally (don’t worry it lasts 2 seconds), john lennon slander bc he’s way too overrated, jokes about impregnating/having babies, eddie meets the ‘rents, exactly 2 jokes of eddie killing himself (out of embarrassment, I promise it’s not dark or anything), domestic fluff, my questionable music taste shoved down your throats again, found family? emotional intimacy
⋆˚꩜｡tw: explicit content, 18+, minors do not interact, cigarette use, marijuana use, alcohol mention, social ostracization, slut-shaming, anxiety, strong language, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), protected piv sex (as we all should), virginity loss, uhh that's all i think?
⋆˚꩜｡word count: 19k+ (jesus)
series spotify playlist
The first few days after wearing Eddie’s jacket passed in a strange blur of growing normalcy, quiet discomfort, and stolen kisses between classes.
No one said much directly to your face – although, honestly, it probably would’ve been easier if they had.
Instead, Eddie noticed the way conversations softened whenever the two of you walked by. He noticed eyes lingering too long on you, even from people who barely knew your name, looking at you like they were trying to solve some kind of puzzle every time his hand brushed against yours in the hallway.
He noticed the way two cheerleaders near the water fountain abruptly stopped talking the second you walked past them together. The way Jason Carver muttered something underneath his breath one morning that made the boys behind him laugh quietly into their lockers.
Eddie noticed all of it – even the way you tried to brush it all off.
But he had spent years learning how to survive the judgmental hallways of Hawkins High – which meant he knew exactly what people sounded like when they were judging someone.
And the worse part of it all was the way you still kept gravitating naturally back towards him anyway.
The escalating gossip and the quiet way your social world had started shifting around him made an uncomfortable static buzzing settle underneath Eddie’s skin, his mind flooding with overthinking thoughts that only ever seemed to hurt him more.
He pulled the burning cigarette from between his lips with an exasperated sigh, a deep scowl settling across his face before he threw the tainted filter onto the pavement and crushed it beneath his sneaker.
It had taken him almost an hour longer than usual to leave the trailer that morning, and because of it, he’d pulled into Hawkins High’s parking lot long after the first bell had already rung and the rows of cars had emptied. Now he leaned against the side of his van with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, repeatedly kicking at the cracked pavement beneath his feet while he debated whether he should walk inside at all – or just drive back home like he had never shown up in the first place.
Eddie reached for another cigarette when the second bell rang through the open air of the nearly empty parking lot, his temple already throbbing painfully. His jaw clenched hard enough to hurt while his fingers pluck a cigarette from the crumpled pack, his eyes still glued to the school building like it had personally offended him.
He hated the whispers, Jason Carver’s bullshit comments, the way people suddenly looked at you differently.
And the fucking fact you still smiled every single time you saw him anyway – like none of it mattered, like he was still something good to come back to.
The thought twisted painfully somewhere underneath his ribs while the uncomfortable static buzzing beneath his skin only worsened. Eddie dragged both hands down his face, nearly dropping the cigarette hanging between his lips, before finally lighting it and taking one long, deep drag.
By the time he finally stepped inside the school, the hallways somehow felt even brighter than the early Wednesday sunlight had only seconds earlier.
Most classes had already started, leaving the corridors eerily quiet besides the distant muffled drone of teachers talking behind closed classroom doors and the occasional locker slamming somewhere further down the hall. He kept his head lowered while making his way towards the office for a late slip, fingers tightening repeatedly around the strap of his bag every time his thoughts threatened to spiral again.
And then he saw the jacket hanging over the back of your chair through one of the narrow door windows.
His jacket – still wrapped around your world even when he wasn’t beside you.
Eddie stopped walking for half a second.
And somehow, that made the awful buzzing underneath his skin feel even worse.
The first thing Jeff noticed when Eddie walked through the cafeteria doors was the deep furrow settled between his brows, followed by twitching fingers and eyes that looked completely lost somewhere deep in thought. His gaze tracked Eddie’s movement through the massive room until he finally reached the Hellfire table.
No jokes, no curses, not even a comment about how shitty they – or more specifically he – had played last night.
Eddie just… sat down in his usual chair at the head of the table, unusually quiet in a way Jeff hadn’t seen from him in weeks.
For a moment, Jeff only stared blankly down at the cold pizza sitting on his tray like he genuinely couldn’t decide whether he hated the cafeteria food more than the sight in front of him. His eyes then flickered briefly towards the growing lunch line near the back of the cafeteria, checking to make sure the rest of Hellfire was still far enough away not to overhear them before looking back at Eddie again.
“You know,” Jeff started softly while reaching for his disgusting slice of pizza, “she’ll be okay. She’s tougher than you think.”
Eddie’s jaw tightened almost immediately. “She shouldn’t have to be.”
“And you shouldn’t make decisions for her,” Jeff muttered while taking another hesitant bite of his pizza.
Eddie shot him a sharp look almost instantly, his arms crossing tightly over his chest in defence. “I’m not–”
“Yes, you are,” Jeff cut him off softly. “You’re making the exact face you always make whenever you start overthinking yourself into stupid decisions.”
He scoffed quietly underneath his breath before looking back down at the table.
“This is different.”
Jeff hummed lowly like he didn’t entirely disagree, though his expression stayed annoyingly calm. His dark eyes briefly flickered towards the lunch line where Gareth, Mike and Dustin were finally making their way through the crowd towards the table.
“Maybe,” he admitted with a small shrug. “But she’s still choosing you anyway.”
That made the Eddie go quiet again.
“You should talk to her,” Jeff added quickly. “Not push her away.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but Dustin’s loud voice cut straight through the conversation the second he practically threw himself into the chair opposite Jeff.
“Why do cafeteria pizza somehow get worse every single time?” he complained dramatically while shoving his slice into his mouth anyway.
Nathalie stretched her neck upwards before blowing a sharp stream of cigarette smoke into the open air, a faint furrow settling between her brows.
She leaned back against the brick wall facing the football field, her gaze following the sweaty senior boys running back and forth across the grass while she – for once in her life – carefully chose her words before saying them out loud.
“How are you?” she finally settled on.
Her eyes flickered briefly down towards her shoes while she took another drag before lifting her head again.
Your brows furrowed slightly while you looked up at her from where you sat on the concrete floor beside her.
“Yeah,” Nathalie mumbled while crushing the cigarette beneath the sole of her shoe. “But, like…”
She hesitated briefly before looking back at you again.
“How are you doing with all of it?”
A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips while your fingers absentmindedly played with the frayed hem of your shorts.
“I’m… good,” you answered with a quiet little chuckle. “He’s really good to me.”
Nathalie pursed her lips while a quiet, almost inaudible sigh escaped her. She reached back into her purse for another cigarette before lighting it carefully.
“That’s… great,” she settled on cautiously after taking a drag. “But it’s not really what I meant.”
Your gaze followed Nathalie’s towards the football field as you pulled a face – whether it was because of the sweaty senior boys running back and forth across the grass or because of the question she’d just asked, you weren’t entirely sure.
You loosened your grip on the frayed hem of your shorts before silently raising your hand towards her instead.
Nathalie immediately reached back into her purse again before placing a cigarette and lighter into your open palm without another word.
The two of you stayed like that for a while afterwards – smoking in silence while the football team shouted mindlessly across the field and early-summer wind curled cigarette smoke into the open air between you.
“It’s fine,” you mumbled after a long moment of silence, your grip tightening slightly around the cigarette before you brought it back to your lips.
“Is it?” Nathalie asked softly.
Your gaze dropped towards your shoes while you slowly exhaled the burning smoke into the open air.
“It will be, right?” you murmured quietly, your brows pulling together in a way Nathalie wasn’t used to seeing on you. “I mean… eventually this all becomes old news or whatever, right?”
Nathalie let out a soft sigh before slowly sliding down the brick wall, completely ignoring whatever damage the rough surface might do to her clothes as she sat down beside you. then, she extended one hand towards you, palm facing upwards while she tilted her head back against the wall.
You brought the cigarette to your lips one last time before placing your hand into hers, fingers tightening gently around her hand as you mirrored her and leaned your own head back too.
Nathalie didn’t quite have the heart to answer your question.
So instead, she simply rested her head against your shoulder while the two of you continued watching football players scream mindlessly across the field.
“I’m here for you,” she whispered quietly while softly squeezing your hand. “You know that, right?”
You squeezed back automatically, but didn’t answer.
“But I’ll kill him if he ever starts being a dick to you.”
That finally pulled a quiet laugh from you while you stubbed the cigarette out against the concrete beside your shoe.
“Oh,” you murmured softly, leaning your head briefly against hers, “I know you will.”
Your hair bounced softly when you turned to glance over your shoulder, quickly scanning the hallway to see if he was anywhere nearby before turning back towards your open locker again. The leather hanging around your frame creaked quietly with the movement while a soft sigh escaped your lips.
You hadn’t really seen Eddie all day.
Sure, you’d caught glimpses of him at the back of the classrooms or leaning over the water fountain between classes, but the two of you hadn’t had a single moment alone together. And his absence had started bothering you more than you wanted to admit – not because you suddenly needed to be glued to his side every second of the day, but because you’d started noticing the way he seemed to be avoiding you.
Like keeping his distance might somehow stop the staring, or quiet the whispers following you through the hallways.
By the time you finally walked outside towards your car, your hand clenched tightly around the strap of your bag while your eyes instinctively searched the parking lot for the familiar Chevy Gaucho – but it wasn’t there.
A soft furrow settled between your brows while you dug through your bag for your keys before sliding into the driver’s seat with a quiet, defeated sigh.
The engine rumbled to life beneath your hands as you glanced over your shoulder and carefully backed out of the parking spot while, for a moment, you debated just going home and leaving Eddie alone for the rest of the day.
But another part of you, the louder part, already knew you probably wouldn’t.
The drive across town towards Forest Hills passed slowly and almost completely silent, interrupted only by the occasional whoosh of wind slipping through the small gap in your rolled-down windows. And before you fully realised it, the crunching gravel beneath your tires had carried you right in front of the Munson trailer.
You set there for another moment afterwards, fingers still curled around your car keys while you gathered enough courage to finally step out and walk towards the front door.
The aluminium door creaked open just as you pushed your car door shut, revealing a tired-looking metalhead leaning heavily against the frame.
“How’d you know I was coming here?” you asked softly.
“I didn’t,” Eddie sighed while pushing himself away from the doorway to let you inside. “Recognised your engine.”
A quiet hum left you while you stepped into the trailer, your fingers immediately fidgeting together when your eyes caught the exhausted look lingering across his face.
“You should let me take a look at it one of these days,” he murmured absentmindedly while closing the door behind you.
“If that’s what it takes for you to stop ignoring me,” you replied quietly while your fingers found a loose piece of skin near your thumbnail.
He sighed tiredly while dragging a hand down his face. “I’m not–”
“Yes, you are,” you interrupted quietly, biting at your lip while you tried deciding whether to stay where you were or step closer to him instead. “And I know why you’re doing it.”
Your fingers twisted nervously together before your eyes lifted back towards his again.
“I just want you to stop,” you mumbled softly while searching for his eyes again. “I wouldn’t have worn your jacket if I wasn’t sure about this, Eddie.”
Eddie dragged a ringed hand through his hair, accidentally pushing his bangs back while he dropped heavily onto the couch behind you. He tried saying something, but the words died on his tongue the second he opened his mouth.
You swallowed nervously after tugging a little too hard at the loose piece of skin around your thumb before finally stepping closer to him instead, until you stood quietly between his legs.
“I really, really like you,” you whispered softly, like saying it any louder might somehow scare him away. “And pushing me away isn’t gonna stop that.”
Another exhausted sigh left his lips as he softly curled his fingers around your wrist to pull you into his lap. He then brushed his nose against your neck as he hid his face from you, like that might make the words come easier.
“I just…” he trailed off softly, leaning further into the crook of your neck. “I don’t know how to do this without ruining it.”
“Neither do I,” you whispered back as your hand found the back of your head, your fingertips brushing softly against his scalp. “This is my first… relationship too, you know.”
Eddie let out something dangerously close to a laugh against your neck, though it carried no real humour underneath it – just emotional exhaustion and disbelief tangled together.
“Yeah, but you are…” he started softly before his words died again.
Better. Too good for this. Too good for him.
The thoughts swarmed too loudly underneath his skull for him to even attempt saying them out loud.
“We’re both figuring it out,” you whispered quietly. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it?”
Eddie swallowed hard against your neck as your hand slid from the back of his head down towards his cheek instead, gently coaxing him to finally look up at you.
“You don’t have to protect me from this,” you whispered softly. “You’re not ruining anything.”
Something vulnerable flickered across his face so quickly it almost hurt to look at. “But what if I do?”
Your brows pulled together before you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against his forehead.
“Then we’ll figure it out,” you murmured against his bangs. “Together.”
The shop windows were fogged with fingertips and cluttered hand-lettered posters advertising long-finished gigs in and around Hawkins, while warm streaks of evening sunlight slanted through floating dust motes and turned the air inside the record store hazy and almost sepia-toned despite the humming AC overhead.
Rows of wooden crates and wobbling shelves created narrow aisles of colourful record spines, forming uneven skylines of faded fonts and worn album covers while old floorboards creaked beneath mismatched armchairs and softly humming turntables.
You flipped through the vinyl far slower than Eddie usually did, carefully lingering on each sleeve while your fingers traced absentmindedly over worn cardboard corners.
Eddie had driven the two of you downtown with the suggestion of picking out a record to buy for each other.
To say you’d been spiralling ever since stepping foot inside the shop would’ve been an understatement. Nerves buzzed restlessly underneath your skin while you worried about accidentally choosing something Eddie would absolutely hate.
While your fingers continued their lazy but determined flipping through the vinyl, two ringed hands suddenly curled around your waist before familiar curls started tickling softly against your cheek.
“You find anything interesting?” Eddie mumbled quietly against your skin.
You hummed thoughtfully for a second without lifting your gaze from the record sleeves in front of you.
“Yeah,” you murmured back while tilting your head slightly away from the curls tickling your face, “Found three that look promising, but I’m really stuck between two of them.”
Eddie squinted suspiciously at your side profile even though you weren’t really looking at him anymore.
“Lemme see.”
“Nope,” you chuckled.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured while his grip around your waist tightened slightly.
“Absolutely not.”
“You know this counts as censorship, right?”
You only laughed softly and shook your head before continuing to flip through the records, completely ignoring the increasingly dramatic curses mumbled underneath his breath.
“Can you at least give me a hint, then?” he tired again.
You hummed thoughtfully, pretending to seriously consider the request for a second before finally glancing back over your shoulder at him.
“The first one sounds more like you,” you murmured softly once your eyes met his glinting ones as your fingers paused briefly against a random vinyl. “And the other one kinda… feels like you.”
The low ring of the bell above the shop door pulled your attention away from him for only a split second while his grip around your waist tightened briefly before loosening again.
When you looked back at him, your breath caught softly at the unreadable softness that had settled into his eyes.
“What?” you murmured quietly.
“Nothing,” Eddie replies in the same low tone while one of his hands rose to your face, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. A crooked little smile tugged at his lips. “Just, y’know… trying not to fall hard for you.”
An unexpected snort escaped you immediately, your cheeks warming despite yourself.
“Real smooth, Munson,” you laughed softly while turning your gaze away from him.
The silence between the two of you stayed easy and warm while you continued flipping through sleeves until you reached the end of the crate, forcing Eddie to lazily shuffle along beside you towards the next one.
The owner – Aaron, maybe – moved through the shop with slow familiarity, absentmindedly sliding his coffee cup across the register counter while rambling about old pressings and local shows to another customer.
Eddie’s eyes lingered on your face, taking in the slight furrow settling between your brows whenever you tried reading the tiny lettering on the back of the sleeves, the way your eyes glimmered every time you found a record by an artist you loved, and – more importantly – the way your entire body had relaxed comfortably in his arms.
His gaze briefly flickered towards your hands, lingering on the questionable shade of green painted across your fingernails that somehow felt incredibly you, before he closed his eyes and leaned further into you.
“You just gonna hover over me or…?” you murmured jokingly without looking away from the crate in front of you. “You haven’t looked at a single record in, like, ten minutes.”
“I got distracted,” he mumbled softly against your cheek.
That pulled the smallest smile at the corners of your mouth.
Eddie opened his eyes again afterwards, quietly watching the warm glow of the overhead lamps stretch across your face in soft amber stripes, the way your teeth occasionally caught your bottom lip while you searched through the crate, and the absentminded little hums that escaped you whenever you recognised the song playing overhead.
And somewhere between the dusty shelves, humming turntables, and your warmth resting comfortably between his arms, Eddie realised he didn’t really care whether Hawkins understood any of this or not – because he did.
The plastic bag crinkled softly in your hand while you followed Eddie back into the trailer, the metalhead practically vibrating with curiosity beside you.
Wayne’s heavy work boots still hadn’t appeared by the porch, and his truck was missing from its usual spot outside, leaving the trailer quiet and completely yours for the evening.
Eddie kicked off his shoes the second he stepped inside before immediately stealing the bag from your hands and heading straight for the record player.
“C’mon,” he urged while motioning dramatically towards the couch. “I need to know how psychologically accurate these choices are.”
You laughed softly under your breath while lazily slipping off your shoes before settling comfortably against the cushions and mismatched pillows. Leaning over the back of the couch, you quietly watched Eddie move around the living room while warm evening light stretched through the trailer windows.
“So,” he murmured while carefully pulling the records from the plastic bag before setting it beside the record player, “which one is which?”
“Just warning you, neither of them is metal,” you replied quietly. “Start with Deuce.”
“We’ve already established I contain multitudes, Sweetheart,” Eddie tsked while his careful fingers reached for the black-and-white sleeve.
His ringed hand carefully lowered the needle before he took a step back, waiting for the soft crackle of static to slowly give way to dry electric guitar notes layered with bluesy warmth and reverb-kissed rhythm.
“It’s less about the lyrics, and more about how the album feels,” you murmured quietly from the couch as your eyes drifted towards him again. “It’s… earthy and immediate, propulsive and honest. Like you.”
Eddie still had his back turned towards you, his gaze fixed quietly on the spinning record while the spacious atmosphere of the song slowly gave way to Rory Gallagher’s rueful, reflective vocals.
The trailer filled slowly with rough guitar tones and restless percussion while warm evening light stretched across the carpet in fading amber stripes.
He stayed standing near the record player for a while longer than necessary, one hand resting against the edge of the cabinet while the other hung loosely by his side.
You watched the subtle way his shoulders loosened underneath his jacket; the way his head tilted ever so slightly towards the music – like some invisible tension had finally started easing from his body without him even noticing.
Then he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his expression completely softened now.
“You think I’m honest?” he asked quietly, like the thought genuinely surprised him.
“Yeah,” you answered simply as a small furrow settled between your eyebrows. “Painfully so, actually.”
That pulled a quiet huff of laughter from him before he finally stepped away from the record player and dropped onto the couch beside you. The cushions dipped underneath his weight while his arm immediately stretched across the back of the couch behind you out of pure instinct.
“Most people usually go with words like obnoxious first.”
Your lips twitched softly. “They don’t know you very well, then.”
Eddie went quiet again after that – not uncomfortably, but the dangerous kind. The kind that settled whenever you accidentally said something that reached deeper into him that you probably realised.
By the time you’d flipped the record and the lean blues-rock palette of Should’ve Learnt My Lesson filled the soft quietness of the trailer, your fingertips had found their way into Eddie’s curls, nails lightly scraping against his scalp while his head rested comfortably in your lap as he rolled a joint for the two of you.
There hadn’t been many word exchanged while the record played in the background, most of Eddie’s attention drifting towards Gallagher’s expressive guitar work and gritty vocals instead.
A breathy chuckle escaped you when you noticed his socked-covered toes subtly wiggling along to the rhythm while he expertly rolled the joint closed before lifting the sticky edge towards your mouth for you to seal it.
“Glad to see you’re enjoying it,” you murmured teasingly while brushing another curl away from his forehead.
Eddie only hummed distractedly in response before lighting the joint and taking the first drag.
“That guitar note is making me transcend,” he mumbled while smoke curled lazily from his lips. “Can’t wait to play this for Wayne. He’s gonna love it, too.”
You laughed softly and shook your head, warmth immediately blooming across your cheeks.
But your smile slowly softened afterwards while you looked down at him stretched comfortably across your lap beneath the warm trailer light.
Because somewhere between the low hum of music filling the living room, the fading evening sunlight outside, and Eddie absentmindedly tracing shapes against your knee with his thumb, the entire night had started feeling strangely important.
“You hungry?” you asked after a while, still gently scraping your nails against his scalp while taking the joint from his fingers with his free hand.
Eddie nodded lazily while the faint rhythmic chirping of crickets outside slowly filled the trailer after the needle had returned to its stand.
You stood in the kitchen stirring a generous spoonful of store-bought pesto into the large pot of pasta you’d made for the two of you – and Wayne whenever he eventually got home – while Eddie’s sock-covered feet thudded softly against the linoleum floor towards the record player.
“Tell me about this other one,” he murmured from the living room before taking another sharp drag from the joint.
You continued stirring the wooden spoon through the pasta in lazy, circular motions while quietly humming to yourself, trying to figure out how to explain it properly.
“It’s… raw, and present in a really intense way,” you started softly after a moment. Another handful of grated cheese disappeared into the pot before you continued. “It’s about loss, and honesty, and survival.”
Your eyes flickered briefly towards the living room.
“But it’s also just… really intimate, I guess.”
Eddie’s hand stilled briefly around the blue sleeve, the ash at the end of the joint threatening to fall while he forgot to tap it entirely. For a second, he just stood there quietly letting your words settle somewhere deep underneath his ribs instead.
“Is this…” he started softly before swallowing hard. “Is this the one that feels like me?”
You brought the wooden spoon to your mouth to taste the pasta before humming absentmindedly in agreement.
The trailer fell quiet again besides the soft wet sounds of the pasta being stirred and the faint nighttime noises drifting through the open kitchen window.
Eddie looked back down at the sleeve in his hands, his thumb absentmindedly brushing across the worn cardboard edge while something unreadable settled over his face.
“Y’know,” he murmured quietly, almost more to himself than to you, “it’s kinda… scary how well you read me.”
His ringed hands carefully pulled the record from the sleeve before gently placing it onto the turntable and lowering the needle with slow precision.
A soft crackle filled the trailer before Marianne Faithfull’s bruised voice slowly bled through the speakers.
Instead of answering him right away, you leaned against the kitchen counter and watched him from across the trailer while warm streaks of pink and amber light spilled across the living room and smoke curled lazily towards the ceiling. Because the truth was, reading Eddie had never really felt difficult – not when every emotion he carried lived so openly underneath his skin.
“I really like her cover of Working Class Hero,” you murmured softly after a moment, trying not to make him more uncomfortable than he probably already was. “Honestly think it’s better than the original.”
Eddie snorted quietly while his eyes scanned the tracklist again. “Yeah, well, not exactly hard to trump John Lennon, Sweetheart.”
While the propulsive bass locked in with muted synths and Marianne Faithfull’s weathered, cinematic vocals drifted softly through the trailer, you pulled two bowls from the cupboard and filled them generously with pasta before setting them down on the small kitchen table.
Eddie had his sock-covered feet propped onto the empty chair beside him while he slouched lazily in his own, absentmindedly pushing the ashtray towards the centre of the table before pressing a soft kiss against the inside of your arm when you handed him a spoon and sat down beside him.
The two of you ate in comfortable silence while the record continued spinning quietly in the background – at least until the sudden, heavy pull of the front door echoed through the trailer.
Wayne’s brows furrowed slightly when he stepped inside, pausing briefly to kick off his work boots before stepping in as his eyes landed on the two of you sitting together at the kitchen table. Then his gaze drifted towards the record player.
“You’re way too good of an influence on him,” he grunted, like this wasn’t the very first time he’d walked in on the two of you together while he stepped further into the kitchen.
Eddie snorted softly underneath his breath while his eyes flickered towards yours again, immediately taking his feet down from the empty chair across from him.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the early morning sky hadn’t opened with warm amber streaks of sunlight but instead with thick, grey clouds and light rain tapping softly against the windshield. The humid air, however, still clung heavily to the world outside while Eddie drove the two of you towards Hawkins High with both windows cracked open just enough to let the smell of rain drift through the van.
His legs still bounced dramatically between shifting gears, but for once, it wasn’t because he felt nervous about whatever waited for the two of you inside the endless school hallways.
Not after the warm, comfortable weekend you’d spent together between the record shop downtown and the safe walls of his home.
Megadeth’s Devils Island played softly through the van’s staticky speakers before it was abruptly cut off alongside the engine once Eddie pulled into his usual parking spot. He tilted his head back against the headrest and turned to look at you with sleepy eyes, quietly taking in your messy bed hair and the way both his shirt and jacket hung loosely around your frame.
“What?” you mumbled while loosening your seatbelt and stretching your arms upwards with a quiet groan.
A soft smile tugged at Eddie’s lips. “I really, really like you. Y’know that, right?”
“You made it pretty obvious when you gave me that first pressing of The Letter/Neon Rainbow yesterday,” you joked quietly, your own sleepy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
“Oh, yeah?” Eddie shot his eyebrows upwards, an exaggerated unimpressed expression settling across his face.
“The way you kissed me when She Knows How started playing was a pretty good indicator, too.”
Eddie laughed then – loud and warm and unmistakably him – before reaching for the strap of your bag while simultaneously pushing open his door.
“Damn,” he sighed dramatically after calming down enough to close the door behind him before walking around the front of the van towards you. “And here I was thinking I’d been subtle.”
You chuckled quietly under your breath before reaching for his ringed hand and tugging him towards the school entrance before the two of you got completely drenched by the morning rain.
“There’s nothing subtle about you, Eds.”
He gave your hand another soft squeeze before his grip relaxed slightly again, his thumb brushing absentminded circles against the back of your hand while you tugged him towards the vending machines near the covered entrance.
It only took one quick glance for Eddie to notice the lingering stares and quiet whispers following the two of you through the crowded entrance – eyes flickering towards your joined hands, his shirt and jacket hanging from your frame, the closeness between you. But instead of spiralling the way he would’ve only a week earlier, Eddie simply squeezed your hand once more before fishing loose change from his pocket with his free hand.
“Well, well, well.”
You heard Nathalie’s unmistakable voice before you even saw her.
A knowing grin tugged at her lips while she crossed her arms over her chest beneath the covered entrance.
“Look at you lovebirds,” she continued with a quiet chuckle before shamelessly stealing the soda can straight from your hand. “You date for, what? Two weeks? And he’s already becoming a bad influence on you?”
“Can I have my Coke back?” you mumbled flatly, shooting her an unimpressed look.
“Absolutely not,” she replied without hesitation while clutching the can dramatically against her chest. “It’s not even eight in the morning and you already wanna drink soda?”
Her eyes flickered knowingly towards Eddie before she snorted softly underneath her breath.
“I already regret sending you running to his trailer.”
Eddie nearly choked on his cigarette smoke beside you while his cheeks shifted from milky white to an exaggerated shade of pink. “Jesus Christ, Nathalie.”
He immediately looked away from the blonde, his eyes flickering across the crowded entrance while pretending to search for his friends instead.
“If you’re looking for Gareth,” Nathalie started smugly while dropping the unopened can into your bag, still hanging from Eddie’s shoulder, instead of giving it back to you, “he’s not here yet.”
“You anxiously waiting for your Loverboy?” you teased while pulling Eddie’s cigarette between his lips for a quick drag before handing it back.
“He’s not–” she started automatically before abruptly cutting herself off with a deep sigh. “You know what? No comment.”
Before Nathalie could recover, the familiar – and annoyingly loud – voices of the Hellfire boys echoed somewhere behind the three of you right before a red-and-black flannel-clad arm slithered dramatically over her shoulders.
Gareth’s curls bounced wildly while he pressed an exaggerated kiss against her temple as Jeff and the two freshmen blinked at each other behind him. His eyes immediately narrowed the second he noticed Eddie’s still pink cheeks, your suspiciously smug expression, and Nathalie unsuccessfully trying to shrug him off.
“…Why does everybody look guilty?” he asked slowly before his eyes widened dramatically.
“Aw, fuck,” he gasped. “They know, don’t they?”
“We already knew,” you and Dustin answered at the exact same time before jeff smacked the back of Dustin’s head hard enough to make him yelp.
“But it’s not like you were being subtle with your arm right there, Romeo,” Eddie pointed out while blowing smoke towards the rain outside before crushing the cigarette beneath his shoe.
“Or the way you literally waited by the entrance for him,” you added sweetly as you shot Nathalie a smug look.
Gareth’s curls bounced again while he whipped his head towards Nathalie so fast it looked painful.
“You waited for me?”
“No,” Nathalie answered instantly as she looked away.
“Oh, you so did,” Dustin snickered immediately before Jeff smacked him in the head again.
A stupidly delighted grin slowly spread across Gareth’s face.
“Oh my God,” Jeff muttered immediately. “Do not encourage him.”
“She waited for me in the rain,” Gareth whispered dramatically to nobody in particular before pressing another kiss on Nathalie’s temple. “You basically love me.”
Nathalie looked genuinely homicidal. “I’m killing every single one of you.”
“You can’t kill me, babe,” Gareth replied smugly while tightening his arm around her shoulders again. “I’m beloved.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet,” the drummed replied smugly while pointing at himself, “still irresistible.”
Jeff gagged loudly in the background while Nathalie shoved Gareth hard enough to nearly knock him into Dustin.
“I miss when Eddie was the embarrassing one.”
The first few classes passed unhurriedly while the clouds outside slowly darkened into a deeper shade of grey than they’d been when you left Forest Hills earlier that morning, while rain tapped harder against the fogged classroom windows as you shoved your notebook back into your bag before stepping out into the already buzzing hallway.
Eddie leaned against the wall beside the open classroom door, patiently waiting while absentmindedly drumming his fingers against his thighs as his eyes scanned the stream of students spilling into the hallway.
The softest smile immediately curled at his lips the second his gaze finally landed on you. Especially when he noticed you instinctively adjusting his leather jacket tighter around your frame while making your way towards him.
He immediately slipped your bag from your shoulder onto his own before his hands found your hips – his latest favourite way of holding you.
“You look way too good in this,” he murmured while his eyes slowly drifted down the leather jacket before lifting back towards your again. “I’m starting to think I might need to buy myself another one.”
You only chuckled softly before he pulled you closer for a lingering kiss.
“Although…” he started quietly after pulling away, dramatically squinting down at you, “I’m not entirely sure christening another leather jacket in my bed would be a good idea.”
Your eyes immediately darted away for half a second when warmth rushed into your cheeks underneath his gaze.
“Don’t be a horndog, Munson.”
“I literally can’t stop, babe,” he laughed softly before pressing a quick kiss against your temple and intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you towards the cafeteria. “Have you seen yourself in this thing? Jesus H. Christ.”
His thumb brushed softly against the back of your hand while you simply shook your head, a small smile lingering stubbornly at your lips as you followed him through the crowded hallways.
Lockers slammed somewhere in the distance alongside squeaking sneakers and the constant low buzz of teenage gossip while the two of you stepped through the cafeteria door together.
“You, uh…” Eddie started softly while guiding you through the crowd towards the Hellfire table. “You wanna sit with us?”
The slight uncertainty in his voice made your expression soften immediately, like he still wasn’t entirely sure whether you’d actually want to.
“That okay with the boys?” you asked quietly.
Eddie snorted softly underneath his breath before tugging you a little closer beside him. “I couldn’t care less about them,” he murmured while leading you towards the table anyway.
He gently released your hand before dramatically pulling out a chair for you with an exaggerated bow and a soft milady slipping from his smiling lips before slouching comfortably into his usual chair at the head of the table.
While you busied yourself with setting your bag down and pulling the ziplock bag filled with homemade sandwiches from inside it, Dustin and Mike approached the table carrying their lunch trays.
“I’m, like, super happy about the whole feminine presence at the table thing,” Dustin started while practically throwing himself into the chair beside yours, “but that’s actually my seat. Just for future reference.”
Eddie slowly tilted his head towards the freshman, narrowing his eyes dramatically while his jaw clenched in fake irritation.
Dustin immediately looked back down at his tray.
“You know what?” his voice cracked slightly. “It’s whatever. I’m actually not that attached to the chair.”
“That’s what I thought,” Eddie muttered smugly before stealing a handful of fries straight off Dustin’s tray. “Insolent little prick.”
Mike pulled a face while absentmindedly nudging his food around with the plastic fork in his hand while you slapped Eddie’s wrist for stealing Dustin’s fries before shoving one of the sandwiches you’d packed into his hand instead.
“Don’t be mean,” you muttered.
“So,” Mike stared bluntly while glancing between the two of you, “are you guys officially dating yet?”
Eddie nearly choked on the sandwich mid-bite while Dustin whipped around in his seat dramatically.
“Oh my God, thank you,” he breathed out while pointing at Mike. “I’ve been trying to figure out if we’re allowed to ask that.”
“No, you’re not allowed to ask that,” Eddie muttered hoarsely while grabbing his soda. “Shut up. It’s none of ya business.”
Mike blinked slowly. “That sounds like a yes.”
“It sounds exactly like a yes,” Gareth agreed immediately while dropping his tray onto the table before tossing his backpack onto the floor and slouching into his chair.
Jeff only snorted quietly under his breath while your eyes met his briefly across the table, both of you trying to suppress your laughter.
Underneath the table, your hand found Eddie’s thigh and gave it a soft reassuring squeeze. He immediately glanced towards you at that, some of the exaggerated annoyance melting from his face the second your eyes met his before he slowly turned back towards Gareth instead with a knowing grin immediately tugging at the corners of his lips.
“What about you, loverboy?” he asked while tilting his head dramatically. “Where’s your girl with your leash?”
“Uh…” Gareth blinked several times while an alarming shade of pink slowly spread across his cheeks.
“Oh my God,” Dustin gasped dramatically while pointing at Gareth. “He’s blushing!”
“Dude,” Mike deadpanned while staring directly at the drummer, “don’t tell me she actually puts a leash on you.”
Jeff immediately leaned back in his chair with the exhausted expression of a man witnessing a train derail in slow motion.
“Jesus Christ, Wheeler,” he muttered while dragging a hand down his face. “You are way too young to know about that kinda shit.”
“About what?” Mike blinked innocently towards the bassist.
Gareth scoffed dramatically, completely ignoring the lingering warmth still staining his cheeks.
“For your information,” he started while sitting straighter in his chair, “I would look fantastic on a leash.”
Eddie immediately pursed his lips towards the drummer in disgust.
“Dude,” he groaned while pointing vaguely across the table, “can you not be disgusting in front of my girl?”
You blinked slowly towards him while a soft smile immediately tugged at your lips. “Your girl, huh?”
Eddie’s eyes widened slightly while Jeff and Gareth immediately snorted before slapping each other a triumphant high-five.
“You are never beating the whipped allegations now, dude,” Gareth announced proudly, visibly relieved all the attention had shifted away from him and back onto Eddie instead.
“Took him long enough,” Dustin muttered under his breath.
Meanwhile, Eddie just stared at you for another second while a slow blush started creeping back across his cheeks and down his neck.
“…I mean,” he muttered weakly, suddenly far less smug than before, “if you want to be.”
“You even have to ask?” you teased softly, a playful glint settling in your eyes. “After we christened your jacket and everything?”
Jeff immediately groaned loudly while he dragged both hands down his face. “Aw, c’mon. There are children at this table.”
Unfortunately for Eddie, his last period hadn’t fallen through the way yours had – the blessing and the curse of not taking AP Psychology for extra credit like you were.
So, the second the final bell rang after an excruciating hour of listening to Mrs. O’Donnell’s drone on, he shoved himself out of his seat and headed straight for the library in search of you.
Eddie had long since grown used to the lingering stares and cruel whispered comments thrown his way every time he walked through the hallways of Hawkins High, but that didn’t mean living with it had ever become easy. Especially now that most comments weren’t directed at him anymore.
They were directed at you – even when you weren’t there to hear them yourself.
His hand twitched every time he overheard girls giggling about the freak groupie while leaning against their lockers, or basketball players muttering that you were probably doing charity work before eventually coming back to your senses.
“How do you go from sleeping with Zack fucking Whitaker to sleeping with the Freak?” one girl whispered to her friend while leaning over the water fountain. “She’s such a slut.”
Eddie sank his nails deeper into his palms until it hurt, trying his hardest not to react because he knew that would only add fuel to the fire. Instead, he swallowed hard while a headache started pounding behind his temple and continued making his way towards the library.
All the excruciating noise from the hallway seemed to dull the second Eddie pushed open the library door – like the entire room had somehow been soundproofed from the rest of Hawkins High.
Maybe it had been – fuck if Eddie knew how they’d built this godforsaken school.
Even his own footsteps suddenly sounded too loud against the floor while he made his way through the rows of tables and shelves, pulling a slight face like he shouldn’t even be walking at all in order not to disturb the comfortable quietness of turning pages and the distant dripping of the coffee machine somewhere in the back.
The agonising pounding behind his temple slowly started easing the second his eyes finally landed on you.
You sat with your head resting against one hand while scribbling something into your notebook with the other, three different books spread open across the table in front of you.
Eddie quietly came to a stop as his gaze lingered on the way you absentmindedly brought your pen to your mouth to bite softly against it while your brows furrowed in concentration, and the way you still wore his leather jacket around your shoulders.
Something warm twisted quietly underneath his ribs.
Then, without making his presence known, he slowly turned towards the back of the library to grab the both of you a cup of coffee.
The smell of cheap, burnt coffee followed Eddie back through the library while he carefully balanced the two styrofoam cups in his hands.
You looked up the second he approached the table, the furrow between your eyebrows immediately softening.
“There you are,” you whispered quietly.
Something inside his chest loosened embarrassingly fast at the simple words that slipped your mouth.
He only hummed in response before setting one of the coffees beside your notebook and sliding into the chair next to yours instead of the one across from you, immediately pulling you gently against his side so he could press a soft kiss against your temple.
Your knee bumped softly against his underneath the table almost instantly.
“You okay?” you asked after a moment while closing one of the open textbooks.
Eddie stared quietly at the rain sliding down the library windows for a second too long before your hand found the sleeve of his flannel underneath the table – not forcing, or prying.
Just… there.
And somehow that made the headache behind his temple ease more than the silence ever could.
“Better now,” he whispered quietly, a small smile finally tugging at his lips when he looked back at you.
Eddie had switched the obscure underground metal station to something quieter and more generic while he drove the two of you through the heavy rain towards Forest Hills.
The relentless spatter of rain against the roof of the van softened the low song crackling through the 8-track player while neither of you bothered filling the silence, exhaustion slowly settling into your bones as blurry buildings outside gradually gave way to blurry trees.
At some point during the drive – after you’d kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs across the dashboard – Eddie’s hand had found your jean-clad thigh and had absentmindedly started tracing lazy patterns against it while he steered with the other.
He glanced towards you briefly, quietly taking in the relaxed expression on your face while you watched the rain slide down the windows.
Meanwhile, he was anything but. An uncomfortable buzz still lingered underneath his skin while his mind replayed the two minutes he’d spent smoking alone outside the school entrance after you’d disappeared into the girls’ bathroom before the two of you finally left for the day.
Two semi-blissful minutes of nicotine and silence ruined the second a strong hand landed against his shoulder.
You gotta stop looking like she’s gonna run away, man.
The entire drive home, Eddie’s ears still rang with Zack’s words.
Your leg shifted underneath Eddie’s hand when the van stopped at a red light somewhere near the edge of town, while the windshield wipers dragged rhythmically across the glass while warm yellow streetlights smeared across the rain-soaked roads outside.
You finally turned your head away from the window and looked over at him properly when his fingers had stopped tracing shapes against your thigh at some point.
“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice still heavy with exhaustion.
Eddie blinked once like he’d briefly forgotten you were there before the corners of his mouth pulled into a small smile.
“Yeah,” he murmured automatically.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. “No, you’re not.”
A quiet huff of laughter escaped him through his nose while he glanced back towards the road.
“Yeah? How’dya know?”
“Because you get that little wrinkle between your eyebrows whenever you overthink too hard,” you murmured while absentmindedly brushing your thumb over his knuckles.
That pulled another soft laugh from him.
The rain filled the silence for a few seconds before your hand slowly slid over his where it rested on your thigh, intertwining your fingers together.
Eddie’s grip tightened immediately on instinct – like his body reacted before his brain could.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you shifted further down into the passenger seat before looking back out at the rain. “It’s kinda cute.”
Eddie stared at you for a second too long after that.
Because somehow you’d managed to say the exact opposite of every terrible thing he’d been telling himself during the drive home.
The comfortable quiet settled over the van once again when the light turned green, and you loosened your grip on his hand so he could shift gears.
Eddie just pulled your joined hands towards the gearshift instead of letting go of you entirely.
“Real safe driving there, Munson,” you murmured teasingly while you couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at your lips when his fingers stubbornly stayed laced with yours around the shifting gear.
“Shhh,” he muttered while lazily guiding the van around a slow curve in the road. “I’m multitasking.”
Rainwater streaked across the windshield in blurry silver lines while the low crackle of the radio filled the comfortable silence between you again.
The closer the two of you got to Forest Hills, the more the tightness underneath his ribs slowly started loosening. Trailer lights glowed warmly through the rain once the familiar gravel roads finally came into view, puddles splashing underneath the tires as Eddie pulled into his usual spot outside the trailer.
For a second, neither of you moved as the rained hammered loudly against the roof of the van while warm air fogged the windows around you.
“You staying tonight?” he asked quietly, like he already knew the answer but still needed to hear it anyway, while he brought your joined hands up and pressed a soft kiss against your knuckles.
“You sure your uncle won’t mind?” you asked softly after nodding in response.
“Sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue with a small smile tugged at his lips, “I’m pretty sure Wayne likes you more than he likes me.”
“He’s literally only seen me once,” you muttered with an exaggerated purse of your lips.
Eddie snorted softly. “What’s your point?”
He pressed another soft kiss against your knuckles before muttering something about the last person to reach the trailer door being a loser. Then, without warning, he shoved his van door open with your bag already in hand and sprinted through the rain towards the trailer while quiet laughter spilled from his lips.
You stayed seated for another moment, a small smile tugging stubbornly at your lips while you calmly slipped your shoes back on before eventually following him through the rain yourself.
Because, honestly, you didn’t care if he called you loser instead of sweetheart for the rest of the evening.
The cold rain immediately soaked through your clothes the second you stepped outside the van, forcing a startled laugh out of you while puddles splashed beneath your shoes on the gravel. Eddie had already reached the trailer steps by the time you caught up to him, damp curls sticking messily to his forehead while he fumbled dramatically with his keys.
“Move, loser,” he muttered through a grin while shielding the door with his body once he finally shoved it open.
Warm air immediately wrapped around you the second you stepped inside the trailer, carrying the familiar smells of cigarette smoke, coffee grounds, and laundry detergent. Rain hammered loudly against the thin trailer roof while Eddie dropped both your bags beside the couch and kicked the door shut behind you.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then Eddie looked at you properly and immediately snorted underneath his breath.
“What?” you asked defensively.
“You look like a drowned cat.”
“You literally look worse than me right now.”
“That’s impossible, Sweetheart. Have you seen this face?” he scoffed while grabbing the sleeve of your soaked jacket. “C’mere before you freeze to death.”
Your wet socks squeaked softly against the linoleum while he pulled you down the hallway and into his bedroom. Grimacing when you noticed your soaked socks dampening the carpet, you quickly peeled them off while Eddie basically disappeared into his built-in closet in search of a couple of towels.
When he finally turned back around – after taking far too long searching for two stupid towels – he found you standing in front of his dresser with your hand buried in one of the drawers.
Eddie immediately stilled.
You’d already pulled one of his shirts and a pair of boxers free almost absentmindedly – like you’d done it a hundred times before.
Your eyebrows lifted slightly when you looked over your shoulder and found him staring at you.
“Uh…” you blinked softly. “Is it okay if I borrow some clothes?”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathed out quickly before finally snapping out of it enough to hand you one of the towels. “Yeah, of course.”
It wasn’t the first time you’d slept over; it wasn’t even the first time you’d borrowed his clothes.
What caught him off guard was the way you moved through his room so naturally now – the way you already knew where he kept his shirts and underwear, how comfortable you looked standing in the middle of his space.
Like you already belonged there.
“You wanna take a shower?” he asked quietly when you turned back towards the dresser to grab another change of clothes – for him this time, which definitely didn’t make his heart somersault somewhere inside his chest.
“Ugh, that’d be amazing,” you groaned dramatically while tilting your head back. “Promise I won’t use all the hot water.”
That pulled another small smile from Eddie while he took the extra clothes from your hands before tossing them onto the bed beside him. Then he stepped closer again, hands finding your hips as he gently pulled you towards him until he was close enough to kiss you softly.
“I don’t mind taking a cold shower,” he murmured against your lips before pressing another gentle kiss against your rain-soaked temple. “You’re gonna warm up my feet anyway.”
A laugh immediately escaped you. “You better keep those dogs away from me, Munson.”
By the time you finally reappeared from the steamy confinement you’d turned the bathroom into, Eddie had already settled himself at the round kitchen table with his trusted metal lunchbox and a stack of plates beside it.
“I ordered pizza,” he murmured while tilting his head back the second he heard you step closer.
“Spicy Chicken?” you asked while wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders from behind.
“You know it, baby.”
His fingers continued expertly rolling the joint before he licked it shut and gently leaned it beside the nearby ashtray. Then his hand disappeared into the front pocket of his jeans, fishing out a lighter and a couple crumpled bills for the pizza delivery.
“You mind opening the door while I shower?” he asked while standing from the kitchen table.
“Of course not, Eds,” you whispered before placing a soft kiss against the crown of his damp hair. “Go, baby.”
You watched him disappear down the hallway before the soft slam of the bathroom door echoed through the trailer. A few seconds later, the old pipes groaned loudly before the shower sputtered to life somewhere behind the thin walls. The trailer suddenly felt strangely quiet without Eddie’s constant presence filling it.
Rain hammered steadily against the roof while warm yellow light spilled softly across the living room, illuminating the abandoned pizza menus on the counter, his scattered lighters beside the stereo, and the flannel he’d carelessly thrown over the back of the couch earlier that morning.
You wandered slowly through the familiar space while absentmindedly rubbing the sleeves of his oversized shirt between your fingers.
Your fingers brushed across the stack of records leaning beside the player before your eyes drifted towards the hallway again at the sound of Eddie quietly singing something underneath the running water. At first the words were lost beneath the shower and the rain hammering against the trailer roof, but as you listened more carefully, you slowly recognized the melody. He was singing I'm Not Awake Yet. The realization immediately pulled a small smile onto your lips.
For a moment, you simply stood there listening to the soft sounds echoing through the trailer; the rain hammering steadily against the roof, the shower continuing to run somewhere down the hall, and the low harmonious notes slipping from beneath the bathroom door.
It made the Munson home feel strangely alive around you – not because of the music, or because of the weather.
But because every corner of it carried little pieces of Eddie: the overflowing ashtray on the kitchen counter he’d forgotten to empty before leaving for school; the pile of campaign notes abandoned on the coffee table, the guitar picks scattered across practically every available surface.
Your eyes lingered on them for a moment longer before a soft smile tugged at your lips. Because somewhere between the record shop, rainy drives home, and evenings spent squeezed together on worn-out couch cushions, the trailer had stopped feeling like Eddie’s home.
It had started feeling a little like yours, too.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and all but the last few hours of Thursday were filled with fleeting kisses, lingering stares across school hallways, and teasing banter from Jeff and Dustin, and they still somehow passed in the blink of an eye.
Eddie’s socked footsteps thudded softly across the wooden floors of your living room despite the fact you’d already reminded him twice that he didn’t need to take his sneakers off when he came inside. This was only the second time he’d been at your house, yet he still wandered further into the room like he was more than familiar with it, and his attention drifted on the row of photo albums carefully tucked into the lower shelf of the TV cabinet.
“Any embarrassing photos of you in those?” he murmured, a toothy grin already spread across his face.
“Not really, no,” you replied jokingly as you kneeled and took one out. “I was an adorable baby, for your information.”
Eddie immediately shoved the thought aside before it had the chance to fully form; he refused to think about future babies with tiny curls and little leather jackets.
Especially after only two fucking weeks of dating.
Jesus H. Christ.
“Yeah?” he snorted as casually as he could while dropping onto the couch, doing his absolute best to stop the absurd thoughts of returning. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
A soft chuckle slipped from your lips as you knelt beside the coffee table and pulled the large baby-pink album free. You flipped through the pages, skipping past ultrasound reports and blurry sonogram pictures until your fingers stilled on a photograph of your very pregnant mother while your father stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her bump.
“Here,” you said as you passed him the album before settling down beside him on the couch.
Eddie’s brown eyes lingered on the page for a moment, taking in your parents’ faces as he quietly realised you were somehow a perfect mix of both of them.
Then he continued turning the pages – the bigger the baby version of you got, the bigger the smile on his face became.
A wrinkly newborn turned into a chubby-cheeked toddler with bright eyes and an endless collection of ridiculous outfits.
“Jesus, you were adorable,” he chuckled when his eyes landed on a picture of a tiny version of you happily suckling on a dark blue sandal while your discarded pacifier sat abandoned beside you on the carpet. “What happened?”
You rolled your eyes immediately, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your attempt at looking offended.
He turned another page before stilling when a small ziplock bag glued to the paper caught his attention. A few strands of hair tucked inside. His eyes lingered on the curly My first haircut! your mother had written beside it. Before he could stop himself, his thumb brushed softly across the plastic.
Something warm spread through his chest. When he finally pulled his eyes away from the page and looked over at you, there was a softness in his expression that he hadn’t quite managed to hide.
Your gaze lingered on him for a few silent moments before a mischievous smile slowly spread across your lips.
“Stop thinking about getting me pregnant, you freak.”
Eddie’s cheeks immediately turned a violent shade of pink.
“I’m not!” he choked out, absolutely horrified at your words.
“You so are,” you laughed, leaning in to place a quick kiss against the corner of his lips, fully aware that wasn’t going to help his situation at all. “Let’s try surviving high school, and maybe college, before we start thinking about having babies, hm?”
Eddie opened his mouth to defend himself, only for his brain to completely short-circuit at the sound of two sets of footsteps echoing through the hallway. A second later, the soft clink of keys hitting the glass tray beside the front door followed.
“Who’s having a baby?” your dad asked as he stepped into the room, his brows furrowing before his eyes landed on the two of you sitting on the couch.
“Oh.”
His body immediately stilled. For one agonising second, his eyes remained fixed on Eddie. Then another second, then a third.
Eddie could physically feel himself shrinking further into the couch cushions.
The furrow between your father’s brows hadn’t disappeared as he continued blinking towards him.
Your mother, on the other hand, simply laughed warmly.
“You must be Eddie!” she exclaimed excitedly as he placed her purse on the dining room table before making a beeline straight towards the couch.
Before Eddie had the chance to stand up – or formulate a coherent thought – she had already wrapped him in a hug. Meanwhile, his wide eyes remained hopelessly locked on your father over her shoulder.
Eddie wished the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. There could not have been a worse possible moment for your parents to get home.
Ever so slowly, the furrow between your father’s eyebrows softened before his mouth finally pulled into a broad grin – the kind of grin that immediately told Eddie he’d spent the last thirty seconds panicking over absolutely nothing.
“Jesus, boy,” he laughed, shaking his head as he turned towards the kitchen. “You look like a deer caught in the headlights.”
Eddie blinked slowly – once, then twice again.
Slowly, he turned towards you when your mother finally released his shoulders.
“He smiled,” he whispered, still blinking. “Your dad smiled.”
“Were you expecting him to challenge you to a duel?” your mother teased as she pinched his flushed cheeks before following your father into the kitchen.
You remained comfortably curled up on the couch, trying – and failing miserably – to muffle your laughter behind your hand while your gaze stayed glued to Eddie’s increasingly horrified expression.
“I’m gonna kill myself,” he muttered, replaying the last five minutes in his head.
“Before we have dinner?” your father called from the kitchen, the grin in his voice only seemed to widen when he heard Eddie’s voice.
“Assuming you’re not eating at home?” your mother added as she poured herself a small glass of wine.
“Would that be okay?” you asked softly, leaning over the armrest of the couch.
“Of course, honey.”
The nervous metalhead continued staring blankly towards the kitchen for another moment before finally turning back towards you.
“Your parents are making fun of me,” he murmured once their teasing had finally sunk in.
“They like you,” you replied, laughing softly at his bewildered expression.
“They’ve known me for less than ten minutes.”
“Your point being?”
His curls bounced as he looked back towards the kitchen again, taking in the way your father pressed a soft kiss against your mother’s temple before opening the fridge.
“…I don’t know how to handle this.”
However, to Eddie’s surprise, having dinner with your parents turned out to be something he actually could handle.
All of the contingency plans he’d spent days constructing melted away as his ringed hand curled around the can of beer your father had offered him.
Your mother – who had apparently decided to spare him from being the centre of attention – gestured animatedly with her fork as she told the plot of the movie they’d seen earlier that evening. You sat with your elbows propped on the table, your half-finished plate momentarily forgotten as you laughed at whatever ridiculous scene your mother was describing.
Eddie leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his beer before his attention drifted away from your mother and settling on you instead; on the way your eyes glimmered beneath the warm overhead light, and the way your lips pressed together in a losing battle to jeep another laugh from escaping.
It felt easy – far easier then he’d ever imagined it would. The homemade dinner, the warm light above the table, and the laughter echoing through the room made something unfamiliar spread through his chest. And for once, he wasn’t worried about saying to wrong thing, or waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Eddie was so busy thinking about how lucky he felt to be sitting there that he never noticed the softness that had settled across his features.
Your father did.
Because while your mother continued talking and you laughed beside him, his attention had quietly shifted towards Eddie – towards the warm expression that crossed his face whenever his eyes found you.
He wrapped his hand around his own beer and took a slow sip before he turned his attention back towards his wife – a small, satisfied grin still lingered at the corners of his mouth.
The trailer park had long since gone quiet by the time Eddie finally got home.
The television hummed softly from the living room while rainwater occasionally dripped from the gutters outside, and somewhere down the hallway the old pipes groaned loudly while Wayne washed away the remnants of the rare early shift he’d worked that day.
Eddie sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom with the phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, the stretched cord snaking around the couch and all the way down the hallway – it was, unfortunately, as far as it would go.
“Miss me already?” you teased softly from the other side of the line when you picked up.
“Always, Sweetheart,” he shot back automatically, though the words held far more truth than humour. He wrapped the phone cord around his finger before continuing in a softer voice. “Wanted to let you know I got home in one piece.”
“Good,” you murmured, the smile obvious in your voice. “I’d hate having to explain to my parents that I accidentally got their new favourite person killed.”
Eddie snorted. “Pretty sure I’m not your dad’s favourite person.”
“Oh, believe me,” you chuckled softly. “You are.”
He heard the rustle of bedsheets from your end of the line as you shifted onto your back, your own finger curling around the phone cord while you stared up at the ceiling.
Eddie shook his head, smiling like a fool at nothing in particular as he thought back to how surprisingly easy and well the evening had gone.
“Still can’t believe he offered me a beer.”
“You’re never letting that go, are you?” you laughed. “What’s the big deal? Wayne gives you beer all the time.”
“Wayne’s my dad,” Eddie clicked his tongue. “Totally different situation, babe.”
The warm sound of your laughter echoed through the receiver, spreading a soft tingling buzz beneath his skin as the smile on his lips widened.
He remained completely unaware that the bathroom pipes had stopped groaning several minutes ago.
Behind the closed door, Wayne had long since finished drying off. Instead of heading to the pullout couch, he’d found himself standing quietly in the steamy bathroom, listening to half a conversation he wasn’t supposed to be hearing.
Leaning against the sink, he crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him he was invading his nephew’s privacy. His eyes remained fixed on the dripping tiles in front of him as he blinked slowly and let Eddie’s words sink in.
Wayne tried telling himself the soft tug in his chest came from hearing Eddie call him dad instead of his uncle – something the boy had never said to his face before.
Definitely not because he felt relieved knowing the curse of their last name hadn’t followed Eddie to your house that night.
“I really liked your mom,” he heard Eddie murmur from his bedroom. “Your dad too.”
A brief pause followed before he continued.
“They’re kinda impossible not to like.”
Wayne’s weathered hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose as a quiet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then, finally, he pushed himself away from the sink and stepped out the bathroom.
Eddie tilted his head when he heard the bathroom door creak open and Wayne step into the hallway. He lifted a hand in greeting and quietly mouthed your name as he pointed his finger to the phone.
“Tell her I said hey,” the older man murmured as he continued towards the living room.
“You heard that?” Eddie asked, sitting upright again as a soft smile tugged at his lips.
“Yeah,” you replied softly. “Hug him goodnight for me.”
He let out a quiet snort and nodded, even though you couldn’t see him, before promising you he would.
The rain continued tapping softly against the trailer roof. And for a moment, neither of you said anything, both perfectly content just existing together through the phone line.
“Hey, I was thinking,” Eddie said after a while. “Do you think your dad would let me kidnap you for a weekend away?”
“Eddie,” you laughed, “he literally said it was fine if you slept over.”
“I’m pretty sure that was a test, Sweetheart,” he murmured absentmindedly, distracted by the plans he’d been turning over his head for the last few days.
The quiet sound of your laughter echoed through the receiver, follow by the rustle of sheets as you rolled onto your side.
“Weekend away, you said?”
“Yeah,” he unwound the phone cord from around his finger before immediately wrapping it around again. “There’s this, uh…”
Eddie exhaled softly and leaned his head back against the wall.
“There’s this band playing in Indianapolis on Saturday,” he continued. “And I thought we could make a little trip out of it.”
You bit your lip to stop the grin threatening to take over your face.
“Is this your way of saying you wanna take me to a motel?” you teased. “First you wanna get me pregnant, now this?”
Eddie slapped a hand over his face, dragging his rings down his cheeks as he tried – and failed – not to laugh.
“C’mon, babe,” he groaned dramatically.
A few seconds of shared laughter passed before you finally answered.
“Yeah. I think they’d be okay with it.”
“Oh, of course we are, honey!”
Your mother’s voice suddenly echoed through the line. Your eyes widened immediately as you sat upright faster than should’ve been possible. You clamped a hand over the receiver and shouted downstairs for her to get off the phone.
“Jesus,” you groaned once she’d finally hung up. “I can’t believe she’s been listening this whole time.”
“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, slapping a hand over his face again. “I’m definitely killing myself tonight.”
As if it had done so especially for the two of you, the grey skies of the last few days had finally given way to a sunny – if slightly chilly – Saturday morning when Eddie pulled into your driveway. It was still early enough that the rest of Hawkins slept peacefully while the van’s engine rattled softly at the curb as he waited for you to emerge from behind the front door.
He was busy fiddling with the radio when a sudden tap against his window pulled a startled yelp from his throat. Eddie whipped around so fast he nearly smacked his hand against the horn.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the glass.
You only laughed and blew him a kiss through the window before making your way towards the back. the rear doors creaked loudly as you pulled them open and tossed your backpack inside before shutting them again with a firm push.
The passenger door flew open the second you reached for it. “Get in.”
“Good morning to you too, Eds,” you smiled as you climbed into the van.
“You almost killed me,” he muttered, shooting you a dramatic scowl before checking his mirrors and pulling away from the curb.
“Don’t worry,” you teased. “My mom would kill me if I did.”
He just shook his head, messy bed curls bouncing with the movement.
“Good,” he muttered, shooting you a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road. “At least one person looking out for me.”
You just chuckled at his dramatics and turned your attention towards the window before softly asking if it was okay to turn the volume up a little. Eddie gave you an approving nod, even though you couldn’t see it, and reached for the knob before you had the chance to.
His ringed fingers drummed lazily against the steering wheel as he bobbed his head along to the music, while you kicked off your shoes and stretched your legs across the bench seat between the two of you.
It didn’t take long before the familiar You’re Living Hawkins sign appeared by the side of the road, and you watched it disappear in the side mirror.
The first hour passed easily while the radio crackled softly between stations and the open highway slowly replaced the farmland surrounding Hawkins and its neighbouring towns.
At some point, Eddie glanced over and noticed you’d stolen his flannel from the backseat and folded it beneath your head like a pillow.
“Comfortable, baby?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed lazily as you looked over at him. “But we can switch at the next stop if you want.”
“Nah, it’s fine,” he said, shaking his head.
“You hate sitting still for too long.”
Eddie considered that for a moment before reluctantly nodding. “Actually, that’s a pretty good point.”
“Thought so,” you chuckled under your breath.
“Don’t sound so pleased with yourself, Sweetheart.”
“You only say that because we both know that I know you better than you know yourself.”
Eddie shot you a quick look before turning his attention back to the road. A moment later, he flicked on the turn signal when he spotted the little gas station icon beneath an upcoming exit sign.
“No comment,” he muttered.
Before you could tease him any further, he gave your thigh a quick squeeze and returned his hand to the steering wheel as he took the exist.
After an entire hour of sitting still, your joints cracked loudly when you climbed out of the passenger seat once Eddie had parked in front of the gas station.
The fluorescent bulbs buzzed and flickered beneath the yellowed canopy overhead, reflecting faint glimmers across the oil-black puddles and rainbow slicks that stained the concrete below.
The place was grimy. The brick façade of the store was streaked with diesel stains and the ghosts of old graffiti. Inside, the scuffed linoleum floor stuck slightly to the soles of your shoes while crowded shelves sagged beneath dusty motor oil cans, limp bags of chips, and a cracked candy display. It smelled like hot asphalt, deep exhaustion, and coffee that had gone stale hours ago.
“You want anything?” Eddie asked over his shoulder as he stepped towards the coffee machine. “Black coffee? Bad cappuccino?”
“Just coffee.”
“Anything else, Sweetheart?”
“Coffee,” you repeated, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath, already pulling a paper cup from the stack beside the machine.
The next thing you knew, Eddie had set down two cups of steaming, stale black coffee on the counter before disappearing between the crowded aisles. When he returned a few minutes later, his arms were overflowing with more snacks than either of you could realistically eat in a single day.
The teenage cashier shot you a look suspiciously similar to the one you were already giving her.
“Jesus, Eds,” you blinked at the pile accumulating on the counter before taking the plastic bag from the cashier’s hand. “I’m sorry about him. Here, lemme do it.”
“What?” he asked, looking genuinely offended. “I’m a growing man. I need my road trip provisions.”
“We’re literally an hour away from Indianapolis,” you deadpanned as you shoved yet another pack of beef jerky into the bag.
“Exactly,” Eddie pointed at you like you’d just proven his argument. “We have absolutely no idea what could happen in that hour.”
The cashier shot him an unimpressed look, loudly chewing her gum as she shook her head and continued punching numbers into the register.
“What if we get stranded?” Eddie asked, tilting his head as though he was daring you to question his logic.
“On Interstate 70?” the cashier replied before you had the chance.
Eddie stared at her for a moment before taking out his wallet.
Then, he muttered something deeply offensive beneath his breath and turned on his heel, the plastic bag crinkled loudly in his grip as he made his way back towards the van.
“Goddamn attitude,” he complained while yanking the passenger door open and climbing inside.
“She’s right, though,” you teased as you slipped into the driver’s seat and plucked the keys from his hand.
He pretended to be offended, crossing his arms over his chest and staring dramatically out of the passenger window while you brought the engine back to life.
His little act lasted less than two minutes.
By the time you’d merged back onto the highway, he was already poking at your side and generally making a nuisance of himself.
“You try tickling me again and I’ll push you out of the door while I’m doing sixty,” you muttered, slapping his ringed hand away.
“That’s attempted murder,” he informed.
“Self-defence,” you corrected, stealing a quick glance in his direction. “The cashier will be my witness.”
“You can’t just bring strangers into our argument!”
“Fine,” you shrugged, chuckling under your breath. “Pretty sure Wayne would happily be my character witness.”
“No, he won’t.”
“Yes, he will. He likes me more than he likes you.”
“Fuck,” Eddie huffed, dragging a dramatic hand through his hair. “You’re right.”
He slumped further into his seat.
“He does like you more.”
The next hour passed in the blink of an eye. It disappeared beneath quick banter, failed attempts at starting unfair tickle wars, hands repeatedly being slapped away from places they weren’t supposed to be, and far too much disgusting gas station coffee. Before you knew it, the flat stretches of highway had given way to taller buildings and heavier traffic. The Indianapolis skyline rose on the horizon beyond the windshield.
You cracked your neck as the van rolled to a stop at a red light, much to Eddie’s visible dismay.
It had been a while since you’d last been to Indianapolis, and somewhere during the two-hour drive you’d forgotten just how stiff your body got from sitting still for that long.
Beside you, Eddie drummed his fingers impatiently against his knee while he waited for the light to change.
“Where to, Munson?” you murmured as the traffic light finally flicked back to green and you merged into the flow of cars.
“Take a right here,” he replied immediately, pointing towards the next intersection.
He continued murmuring directions and punctuating them with the occasional point of his finger until you finally found an empty parking spot large enough to accommodate his van. His knee bounced frantically while you peered over the centre console, one arm draped over the back of his seat as you did your best o parallel park.
You finally killed the engine with a soft exhale before letting your head fall back against the headrest and turning to find Eddie.
Except he had already thrown his door open and practically launched himself out of the van, seemingly too excited to sit still for another second.
The passenger door slammed shut behind him. A moment later, he appeared beside your window and examined your parking job with a thoughtful purse of his lips.
“You park better than I do,” he informed you with and nodded in approval, pulling the driver’s door open and holding out a hand. “C’mon. I planned a bunch of stuff for us to do and we don’t have much time.”
“We’re literally spending the entire weekend here, Eddie,” you replied, shaking your head as you stepped out of the van. “We have all the time in the world.”
“You forget that I need at least half a day to browse the record store.”
“Yeah, okay,” you conceded immediately. “Fair point.”
Eddie grabbed your hand and started pulling you down the street.
“Where are we going first?”
“You’ll see,” he murmured distractedly, stroking his thumb against the back of your hand.
“Eddie.”
“You’ll see.”
The first stop had been a warm, leafy independent bookstore.
The lighting inside had been soft and slightly dusty, and the clerks had been friendly and chatty as they recommended unexpected titles from behind towering shelves.
The bell above the door rang softly as you stepped back onto the sidewalk, Eddie carrying a plastic bag filled with considerably more books than you’d originally intended to buy.
The fact that he kept retrieving the ones you’d put back and throwing money at the clerk before you could argue had certainly contributed to the problem.
“Don’t do that again, Eds,” you murmured quietly, shooting him a look that was meant to be annoyed but ended up far warmer than you’d intended.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Sweetheart,” he replied, a broad grin already spreading across his face as his free hand found yours.
Before you could argue, he tugged you down the sidewalk towards a nearby diner.
“I’m paying for lunch,” you murmured as the two of you approached the entrance.
“No, you’re not,” he replied instantly, shaking his head as he pulled the door open and stepped aside so you could walk in first.
“Yes, I am,” you muttered, shooting him a look over your shoulder.
Eddie laughed quietly under his breath, still shaking his head as he placed a hand against the small of your back and guided you towards an empty booth near the back of the diner.
“You can buy me lunch when we’re eighty.”
“Doubt you’ll let me when the time comes,” you replied, rolling your eyes as you slid onto the worn vinyl seat.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie scoffed as he settled into the booth across from you, “when we’re eighty, I’m gonna let you buy me all kinds of things.”
“Oh, really?”
“Absolutely,” he grinned teasingly, pushing the menu closer towards you. “Dentures, canes, the whole shebang.”
You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips refused to disappear as you opened the menu. “How lucky am I.”
“Very,” Eddie replied without missing a beat.
The diner around you buzzed softly with conversation and the clatter of dishes while sunlight streamed through the windows and painted warm rectangles across the checkered floor.
The waitress appeared beside your table a moment later, coffee pot in hand and an easy smile plastered on her face.
After she had taken your order and disappeared towards the kitchen, Eddie immediately reached across the table and stole one of the little cream cups from beside your coffee.
“You know,” he started casually, peeling back the foil lid, “there’s this record store a couple blocks away.”
“Yeah?” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I figured we’d spent some time there first.”
He poured the cream into his coffee before continuing.
“Then there’s a comic shop around the corner. And after that we can drop our stuff off at the motel before the show.”
Your eyebrows slowly rose as you took a sip of the steaming coffee in your cup. “You’ve planned the whole day, haven’t you?”
“No.”
“Eddie.”
“Okay, maybe a little,” he dragged a hand through his hair, unable to contain a grin from spreading on his lips. “We drove two hours to get here. I wasn’t gonna wing it.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.
Eddie dragged you through a record store large enough to make him forget how to speak, a cramped comic shop tucked between two brick buildings, and a second bookstore that smelled faintly of mildew and old paper.
Somewhere in between, the two of you split a basket of fries neither of you had been hungry enough to order, checked into the motel, and argued over who was carrying the growing pile of bags.
Before either of you realised it, the afternoon sun had given way to evening. The Indianapolis skyline glowed gold beneath the setting sun while the line outside the venue curled around the block. Eddie had been practically vibrating beside you since you’d left the motel, his excitement impossible to hide as more and more band shirts appeared around the two of you.
Eddie had spent the entire walk towards the venue talking a mile a minute about previous shows he’d seen, bands he’d missed, and a guitar solo he swore had permanently altered his brain chemistry when he was fourteen. By the time the two of you finally stepped through the doors, his excitement had become impossible not to share.
The room breathed with sound.
Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, moving like a single sweaty organism beneath the relentless pulse of music.
The low ceiling amplified everything, making the bass thrum deep in your ribs and the snare crack like a whip above the crowd as the two of you pushed your way inside. Stage lights carved the darkness into hot slices of red and amber, while a hazy veil of cigarette smoke and fog machine residue softened the edges and caught the beams overhead.
The air hung thick and warm around you, carrying the scent of spilled beer, cheap whiskey, and the metallic tang of adrenaline.
Eddie had taken it upon himself to wrap an arm securely around your waist as he guided the two of you deeper into the venue, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease while his shoulders brushed against strangers.
He leaned further into you when the two of you came to a stop, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear.
“Can’t wait for the next band,” he said loudly over the music and chatter surrounding the two of you. “You’re gonna love them. I just know it.”
“Yeah?” you shouted back, glancing over your shoulder and catching the familiar glimmer that had settled in his eyes.
“Hell yeah.” A broad grin spread across his face before he pressed a quick kiss against your temple. “You want anything to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Alright, Sweetheart.”
He gave your waist a gentle squeeze before shrugging off his battle jacket and draping it over your shoulders.
“You stay right here, okay?”
“I’m not gonna disappear, Eddie,” you said, shaking your head.
“You better not. If I come back and you’ve wandered off, I’m putting a leash on you.”
“I’m not Gareth,” you deadpanned. “I don’t need a leash.”
Eddie’s laughter immediately mixed with the noise surrounding the two of you, loud and warm as he threw his head back.
“Fair point.”
He gave your waist another squeeze and pressed one last kiss against your temple before reluctantly pulling away. Still grinning, he disappeared into the crowd.
You shook your head fondly before pulling his battle jacket a little tighter around your shoulders. Left alone, you finally took a moment to properly look around.
The venue seemed even smaller now that Eddie wasn’t standing directly in front of you. The people continued pouring in through the front doors, their conversations blending into a constant hum beneath the music playing through the speakers. Denim jackets brushed against leather ones, patches and band logos flashing underneath the red lights as strangers squeezed past each other in search for better spots.
On stage, a roadie disappeared behind a stack of amplifiers while another adjusted a microphone stand. The crowd shifted closer almost immediately, anticipation rippling through the room like electricity.
Your eyes drifted towards the stage again. It wasn’t really your scene; not the way it was Eddie’s. You didn’t know the band that was about to play, couldn’t name half the patches sewn onto the jackets surrounding you, and had no idea why everyone seemed so excited.
But watching Eddie’s face light up every time he had talked about it had been enough. Because somewhere between the bookstores, the records shops, and the endless rambling about albums you’d never heard of, his excitement had somehow become yours.
And then your excitement instantly soured when the drunk guy beside you took a double take and had seemingly decided you looked bored and alone.
You dragged your eyes away from the stage and shot him an annoyed look, tugging Eddie’s jacket tighter around your shoulders.
“Piss off,” you murmured loud enough, your eyebrows settling into a deep scowl. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”
He tried catching your attention a few more times, talking at you like you were actually listening to him.
In the three minutes he’d been bothering you, you’d already told him twice that you weren’t alone, pointed vaguely towards the bar, and huffed out several increasingly obvious hints for him to leave you alone.
And yet he remained firmly planted beside you.
“You sure you’re not here by yourself?” he asked again, trying to lean closer before you pushed him back.
“For the last time, no.”
The guy opened his mouth to continue whatever point he was trying to make, but then his eyes shifted somewhere over your shoulder instead.
You didn’t need to turn around to know Eddie had finally returned – not when a cold beer suddenly appeared in front of your face and his other arm immediately snaked around your waist.
“Everything alright here?” he asked, glancing down at you before his eyes flickered towards the stranger.
“Seriously?” the guy raised an eyebrow at Eddie before looking back at you. “You said boyfriend, not consolation prize.”
Behind you, you felt Eddie tense. His arm tightened around your waist while his mouth fell open, clearly preparing to tell the guy exactly where he could shove that comment, but you beat him to it.
“What did you just say?”
The stranger blinked. The scowl already settled between your eyebrows deepened, and the curt tone in your voice bordered on cold.
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, I did,” you replied, taking a small step forward. “I just wanted to make sure you were stupid enough to say it twice.”
For the first time since he’d started bothering you, the guy looked uncertain. You pressed a finger sharply against the centre of his chest, your nail diffing into the fabric of his shirt.
“Drag your sorry ass out of my fucking face before I slap you.”
The guy stared at you for a second, then another, and whatever smartass response he’d been preparing seemed to die somewhere behind his eyes. He raised both hands in surrender before taking a step backwards.
“Relax.”
“I’m perfectly relaxed,” you muttered back.
He wisely decided not to comment on it and quickly disappeared into the crowd. The second he was gone, the tension drained from your shoulders.
You took a long sip of beer, then another, before you finally turned around and finding Eddie already staring at you.
The music continued thundering around the two of you, and the crowd swayed beneath the flashing red and amber stage lights.
Eddie’s eyebrows slowly disappeared behind his bangs as they climbed higher, big brown eyes blinking once, then again.
“That was so hot.”
You immediately groaned, heat spreading across your neck and down your chest. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No, seriously,” he replied, pulling you closer against his chest. “You just defended my honour.”
“You don’t have any honour.”
“That somehow makes it hotter,” he shot you a toothy grin. “You threatened to slap someone for me.”
“He deserved it,” you muttered under your breath, your eyebrows furrowing at the mere thought of the guy.
“Yeah, but you did it for me,” Eddie replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Something in his expression softened, his eyes searched yours for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’m in love with a terrifying woman.”
“What?” The furrow between your brows melted instantly, your voice coming out quieter than it had all day.
Eddie froze, his expression faltered as the words replayed in his head, and a deep flush immediately spread across his cheeks.
For a moment, he simply stared at you. Then, slowly, the familiar glimmer returned to his eyes, and a shy smile tugged at his lips as he tightened his hold around your waist.
“You heard me,” he replied softly.
You continued staring at him, something warm and overwhelming tugging at your chest. Your free hand curled into the front of his shirt before you pulled him down into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, and for a second, he seemed too stunned to react before finally melting into it.
When you pulled back, your breathing slightly uneven, you opened your eyes to find his already fixed on your face.
“I’m in love with you too,” you confessed softly, your hand leaving his shirt to cradle his cheek instead.
For once, Eddie looked completely speechless.
The six words you’d whispered to him replayed over and over in his mind, even after you’d turned your attention back to the stage as the band stepped into the spotlight and the first chords echoed through the venue.
He’d been waiting to see them live for what felt like years. And yet there he was: one arm curled tightly around your waist, his chin resting on top of your head as he tried – and failed – not to spiral over what you’d said.
I’m in love with you too.
The words continued looping through his head louder than the music itself. Every time he thought he’d finally gotten a grip on himself, they came rushing back and made his stomach flip all over again.
The motel room was nothing special – faded wallpaper stained yellow by years of cigarette smoke, a humming air conditioner struggling to cool the room, and two lamps casting warm pools of light across the warm carpet. But after hours spent surrounded by people, it felt strangely peaceful.
You’d disappeared into the bathroom to wash away the layers of sweat and cigarette smoke the concert had left behind, leaving Eddie alone in the room for the first time all day.
He was sprawled across the bed, his hands folded across his chest and his eyes fixed on the ceiling while he waited for your return.
I’m in love with you too.
The words continued replaying in an endless loop, drowning out every other thought that tried to steal his attention away from them.
A quiet breath escaped Eddie as he blinked up at the ugly water stains that spread across the ceiling and dragged a hand through his hair before falling back onto his chest.
Yeah. He was a gone man.
The bathroom door creaked open, spilling steam into the room as you stepped out. Eddie tried – really tried – not to sit upright the second he heard you move further into the room.
You’d changed into one of his oversized shirts and were using the old motel towel to dry the excess water from your hair.
He tried convincing himself that his heart hadn’t skipped a beat the moment his eyes landed on you.
“Hey, you,” you whispered softly. Tossing the damp towel onto the floor, you shot Eddie a small smile as you climbed onto the bed with him.
“Hey,” he whispered back, rolling onto his side, he propped his head up on his palm and let his eyes trail across your face.
They lingered there for a second too long, making a bashful smile tug at your lips.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he replied softly. “Just appreciating the beauty in front of me.”
You immediately looked away, but that only made his grin widen.
“Shut up,” you muttered under your breath.
“Never.”
A scoff escaped you before you could stop it, and you gave him a weak slap on the arm. Eddie caught your hand before you could pull it away and tugged you closer against his chest as he rolled onto his back. His free hand immediately found your side, mercilessly tickling you until you were gasping for air.
When you finally managed to swat his hand away, a satisfied smile spread across his lips as he took in the way your nose had scrunched up in annoyance.
Before you could retaliate, his fingers slipped through your damp hair and gently guided you back down towards him. The kiss he pressed against your lips was soft and unhurried.
“I’m serious,” he whispered when he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek. “You’re beautiful.”
Blinking bashfully at him, warmth crept from your cheeks down to your chest. Your fingers toyed absentmindedly with the fabric of his shirt as your gaze drifted downwards. Eddie slipped a hand beneath your chin and gently tipped your head back up until your eyes met his again. Then he leaned in, his lips lingering softly against yours. Your grip tightened on his shirt as you kissed him back, slow and unhurried.
A quiet breath escaped him as he somehow managed to pull you even closer against his chest. His fingers traced lazy circles against your scalp, reluctant to let the moment end. When you finally pulled away, you pressed a few quick kisses to his lips before opening your eyes.
“I’m ready,” you whispered.
Eddie immediately stilled beneath you, his fingers faltering and eyes blinking up at you.
“No, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head before letting out a slow breath. “Not like this. Not in this shitty hotel.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped you at his choice of words.
He released your hair and dragged a hand through his own and continued before you could respond.
“You deserve rose petals,” he started, glancing away for a moment before his eyes found yours again. “Candles. Chocolates. Hell, anything’s better than… this.”
Your expression softened. “I don’t care about any of that, Eds.”
“You should,” he whispered, looking away again. “You deserve more than this.”
“I don’t care,” you murmured. A small smile tugged at your lips as you pulled his face back towards yours. “As long as it’s with you.”
Eddie blinked slowly, like his brain had short-circuited all over again.
That seemed to happen a lot lately.
“You drive me absolutely insane,” he whispered, though it sounded more like a realisation than a complaint.
“You love every second of it, though,” you replied, unable to stop the soft chuckle that escaped you.
“Fuck yeah, I do,” he confessed.
His hand came up to brush a damp strand of hair away from your face before he leaned in and stole another kiss.
Eddie gently rolled the two of you, laying you on your back as he started trembling on top of you.
“I think I’m gonna die,” he mumbled against your lips, fingers twitching against your waist. “Are you absolutely sure?”
That pulled a soft chuckle out of you. “Don’t tell me it’s your first time, too.”
Eddie’s milky cheeks immediately turned into a deep shade of red.
“N-no,” he confessed, and swallowed a dry lump down his throat. “I’m just… scared to ruin this for you.”
The chuckle immediately died in your throat as his words reached your ears. Your expression softened when you noticed the nervous glimmer in his eyes and brought a hand to cradle his face.
“Stop being so mean to yourself,” you whispered with a faint furrow settling between your eyebrows. “You could never ruin anything for me.”
You dragged your thumb across his bottom lip, pulling it down until it hung open. Flickering your gaze towards his. Eddie’s weight between your legs felt warm and familiar, even though the two of you hadn’t been in that position that often before, and spread a satisfying buzz underneath your skin. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, utterly helpless under whatever spell he was sure you’d put on him. He swallowed another dry lump down his throat before he licked at his lips, accidentally swiping his tongue against your thumb when he did.
You gulped at the brief feeling, sparks bursting in between your legs.
“We… we’ll go slow, okay?” he managed to breath out, eyes blinking slowly as he searched your face for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. “And we stop whenever you want, no questions asked.”
“Okay,” you whispered back, followed by faint nod.
Your eyes fluttered close when Eddie leaned in to kiss your eyelids, warm breath ghosting over your skin as he trailed kisses down your cheek until he reached your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against you, pulling quiet whimpers from you as he gave you the occasional nip before smoothing the spot he’d bitten with his tongue.
Beneath the hem of your shirt, Eddie’s thumb traced lazy circles of electricity against your skin while his mouth found the other side of your neck. His hand trailed up, warm and twitching against your belly, until his fingers stopped against the swell of your breast. His breath hitched, and his entire body stilled for a split second before he picked up from where he’d stopped.
Eddie was the first to pull away, dark brown eyes swimming in something indescribable as he looked down at you.
“You’re perfect, you know that?” he whispered, not giving you time to answer and already lowering himself back to steal another kiss.
His tongue was warm and slick when it pushed against your lower lip, spreading a thin layer of spit on the skin before he pushed into your mouth. A soft exhale escaped him as the hand under your shirt dared to trail further, fingertips reaching your hardened nipple. His thumb and pointed finger closed gently around the swollen pebble, alternating between giving you tentative pulls and rolling your nipple between his digits.
“Please, E-Eddie,” you murmured breathlessly as you broke the kiss. “I need more.”
“I know, baby,” he whispered against your skin. He had his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, almost like it pained him to hear the desperate tone in your voice. “But I gotta get you wet and ready.”
You looked up at him with your own eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip hanging low as your chest heaved up and down while he continued his gentle assault on your nipple.
“Fuck, don’t look at me like that, Sweetheart,” he choked out, dragging his free hand through his hair and pulling at the roots. “You’re gonna make me cum in my pants.”
A disbelieving, breathless escaped you at his words, followed by a broken whine when his warm fingers let go of your nipple.
“Sshhh,” he mumbled lowly, pushing himself off of you until he kneeled between your legs. “Just gonna take my clothes off.”
You pushed yourself up, twitching hands reaching for his shirt and hastily pulling it off of his frame. You threw it somewhere behind him without thinking twice about it, and immediately reached for your own and repeated the process. Eddie’s eyes immediately trailed down your naked frame, gaze lingering a second too long on your heaving chest and hard nipples before you ultimately wrapped your arms around his neck, and pulled him back down.
“Need your hands, Eds,” you gulped down and brought one of his hands back down to your chest.
“Fuck.” Eddie propped his free hand against the mattress, eyes trailing down to his ringed fingers closing around your nipple once again. He licked his lips, blinking slowly at the goosebumps that followed in his fingers’ wake. “You’re fucking perfect, Sweetheart.”
He turned his head towards your other breast, and enveloped his lips around your nipple, alternating between giving you soft licks and harsh sucks, and occasionally grazing his teeth against the hardened pebble.
Your fingers sunk into his curly hair, nails scraping against his scalp with every harsh suck he gave you. Arching your back into him, you gave him an accidental roll of your hips, pulling a muffled curse from him.
Then, ever so slowly, he let go of your breasts, and started trailing open-mouthed kisses against your sternum, down your stomach until his mouth stopped right above the elastic band of your underwear.
“Can I take this off, Sweetheart?” he asked in between kisses and soft laps of his tongue against your skin. His eyes found yours in an instant, eyebrows furrowing at the nods you gave him. “Gotta say it out loud, baby. You can’t imply consent.”
“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out. “P-please, Eds. Take it off.”
His ringed fingers curled around the baby blue panties, gently pulling it down your legs, and hiding it in the back pocket of his jeans.
“I saw that,” you chuckled breathlessly, shooting him a knowing look.
“No, you didn’t,” he smiled back and reached for your thighs, pulling them apart. His eyes flickered from yours and settled on your slick folds on display, the playful teasing glimmer in his gaze melting instantly. “Jesus, baby. Look at you, so wet f’me already.”
He gave your thighs soft squeezes before he pushed them further apart, settling between them. Eddie’s brown eyes flickered back to yours for a split second before they flickered back to your swollen clit. He immediately for it with his thumb, tracing gentle circles against you while he actively tried not to cream his pants. Then, slowly, he brought his digit to his mouth and licked it clean, humming softly at your taste.
Eddie’s fingers dug deeper into your skin as he pulled you closer to his face, burying the tip of his nose against your clit while his mouth lapped at your leaky slit.
A strangled moan of his name escaped your throat as you threw back your head, and gave him and accidental roll of your hips against his face. A muffled moan against your pussy made you twitch under his grip. He continued flicking his tongue into your slit, lapping at your sweet slick, while he bumped the tip of his nose against your clit.
You barely noticed when one of his hands loosened around your thigh before ultimately letting you go altogether, too drunk on Eddie’s mouth against your pussy. But then you felt a fingertip sliding between you, resting patiently against your slit, and your breath hitched once again.
“P-please, E-Eddie,” you whimpered. “F-fuck.”
His finger slipped in without hesitation, stretching you open as Eddie pumped his digit in and out of you while he continued lapping and sucking at your clit. He tried counting to fifty in his head, get you stretched open enough on one finger before he added another, but quickly gave up. Eddie pulled his finger out of you, ignoring the broken moan that fell from your lips. His digits circled your slit, spreading your sticky slick around your pussy like your folds weren’t already wet enough. Then, with a torturous slowness, he pushed two fingers into your cunt, careful not to hurry it.
“Fuck, baby,” he moaned against your clit, sending mind blowing vibrations down your pussy. “You’re so tight.”
His words made you flutter around his fingers. Your toes curled, legs twitched around his head, and before you knew it, Eddie was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“C’mon, Sweetheart,” he whispered, and gave your inner thigh a soft kiss as he slowly added a third finger, thrusting in and out of you. “Come for me, baby.”
“E-Ed–”
Your back arched off the bed, eyes falling tightly shut as broken moans spilled from your open lips. Eddie quickly brought his lips back to your clit, sucking harshly and making that tight knot deep in your stomach snap until you saw white.
“F-fuck, Eddie!”
He slowly brought his fingers to a stop and placed a soft kiss on your clit before he stood up from between your twitching legs.
When you opened your eyes again, blinking heavily, you were met with the sinful view of Eddie licking his fingers clean. Before you could comment on it, he reached for his belt and undid the buckle.
“You still want this?” He asked once he’d pulled the zipper down, relieving himself of some of the ache. Eddie dragged a hand through his hair, gulping nervously before a bashful smile took over his lips. “We can stop if you want. I’m more than happy to just eat you out again.”
You motioned for Eddie to come closer, and pulled him by the neck until he fell on top of you.
“I still want this, Eds,” you mumbled against his lips before pulling him into a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on your tongue.
“F-fuck. Okay.” Eddie pulled away for a brief moment, pulling down his pants and boxers in one smooth move and climbed back on you. “Fuck. Condom. Jesus Christ.”
You watched as he climbed back off, his legs nearly giving out on him as he stepped onto the floor. He ignored the chuckles that left your mouth as he reached for the wallet in his front pocket, hastily flipping it open and pulling a condom out of it.
“I’m on the pill, Eds,” you murmured as you watched him throw the wallet on the ground.
“I don’t trust those damn pills,” he mumbled as he climbed back on the bed, already tearing the foil. “Just in case.”
“I thought you wanted me to get pregnant?” you couldn’t help but joke, warmth spreading across your cheeks and down your chest as the words barely left your lips.
Eddie’s cock twitched in his hand as he stilled his movements and flickered his eyes towards yours.
“You really want me to cum prematurely, huh?”
That pulled another laugh from you.
“So you admit it?”
“I’m not admitting shit,” he murmured as he rolled the condom down his length.
“Sure, buddy,” you chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss.
Eddie placed one hand beside your head to hold himself up, while the other gripped your waist. His nails dug into your skin when he felt your tongue slide against his. He pressed closer, head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss, lips glued onto yours.
“You still sure about this?” he whispered against your lips when he pulled away, resting his clammy forehead against yours.
“Yes, Eddie,” you replied. “I’m still sure.”
He blinked slowly at you before he nodded – although, by the look on his face, the nod was more for himself than it was for you.
Eddie gulped down nervously as he wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a soft squeeze before he brought it down to your pussy. He rolled his hips, sliding his length through your slick folds and pulled your leges against his waist.
“I’ll go slow, okay?” he promised lowly, glimmering eyes glued onto yours.
Ever so slowly, he carefully pushed the tip inside, stopping halfway when he noticed the faintest twitch of discomfort flicker through your expression. His heart was pounding in his ears, chest heaving up and down, afraid he’d already hurt you.
“I’m okay, Eds,” you whispered as you cradled his cheek with your hand, while the other slid down the bed in search for his. “It’s just a little uncomfortable.”
Your breath hitched when he slowly pushed further inside, fingers tightening around his. Eddie leaned down, curly strands falling around your face, hoping that kissing you would distract you from the discomfort. And it did – his tongue was warm and slick against yours, forcing a muffled whimper to fall from your lips as he continued brushing his lips against yours while he pushed further inside.
When Eddie pulled away again, your eyes were half lidded and shimmering under the warm yellow lighting. He kept sinking deeper, inch by inch, until, finally, his hips were flush against yours.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so tight,” he mumbled accidentally, immediately cringing at himself. “Sorry, fuck. I mean, are you okay?”
You chuckled under your breath, the words spilling from his lips a nice distraction as you got used to the overwhelming feeling of being filled to the brim.
“Yeah, just– Just gimme a sec,” you whispered back. Eddie nodded softly, bowing down and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck while he gave you all the time you needed. “You… you can move, Eds.”
Eddie continued placing soft kisses along your skin, lips trailing up your cheeks and kissing your face while he slowly pulled out. He rolled his hips against yours, gentle and careful, pulling soft exhales from you.
He straightened up just enough to see the way your lips had fallen open into a small circle, eyebrows slightly furrowed and eyes shut.
“C-can you–” you gulped down, blinking at him and licking your lips. “Just a bit?”
“Yeah?” Eddie nodded, dark curls bouncing with the movement, and rolled his hips against yours a little faster than before. He changed your breathing with every soft thrust, every open-mouthed kiss, every broken moan that he tried holding back. “Fuck, Sweetheart. You’re taking me so well.”
His words made your legs twitch against his waist, whimpers spilling from your mouth as you forgot how to articulate with each thrust he gave you.
When Eddie felt you rolling your hips against his, he picked up the speed just slightly, giving you intoxicating thrusts as his cock slid in and out of you. The condom was thin enough you could still feel the faint protruding veins of his shaft, deliciously gliding against your velvety walls. You fluttered around him, making a shiver run down his spine and his balls twitch when you gushed around him.
The room smelled like cigarette smoke, sweet body lotion, and pussy, driving Eddie absolutely mad. His head fell to the crook of your neck as he angled his hips just slightly pulling a whole different kind of sound out of you.
“F-fuck, Eddie,” you moaned out against his ear, letting go of his cheek and dragging your hand through his hair. You pulled at his roots, nails scraping against his scalp while broken whines kept falling from your lips. “Yeah, just like that.”
“Yeah? Feel good, Sweetheart?” He pushed away from your neck, brown eyes trailing across your face. Your mouth hung open and your eyes were half lidded as you looked up at him. You nodded dumbly at his words, throat suddenly dry as he gave you another roll of his hips. You answered with a hard, accidental clench around his cock, nearly punching the air out of his lungs. “Fuck. Fuck.”
“I-I’m close, Eddie,” you managed to breathe out.
Eddie let go of your hand and brought his thumb to your lips, pushing it in until your tongue stained it in sticky spit.
“Come for me, baby,” he groaned out as he brought his wet thumb down to your clit, tracing sharp circles against your clit.
You tightened the grip on his hair even more, pushing the back of his head until his lips brushed against yours. Ignoring the sharp hiss that fell from his mouth, you pulled him into a sloppy kiss, messily moving your mouth against his as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.
“Wanna see you come,” he mumbled against your lips and pulled away again, immediately fastening his thumb against your clit. “C’mon, Sweetheart. Come on my cock, hm?”
Your starry eyes found his for a split second before they fell tightly shut, a broken moan of his name spilling from your mouth as you came for a second time that night. Your pussy clenched hard around him, twitching with every thrust he gave you while you rode out the waves.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moaned, eyebrows furrowing as he kept his eyes glued on your twisting face. Eddie picked up the pace just a little bit more, desperate for his own release. “So perf– fuckfuckfuck.”
Eddie fell forwards, face finding the crook of your neck again as he moaned your name and filled the condom with sticky ropes of cum. The roll of his hips slowed down, exhaustion taking over, until he finally stilled.
For a moment, neither of you said anything – you couldn’t hear him even if he had, not with the loud the heartbeat pounding in your ears.
“You okay, Sweetheart?” he asked after a minute or two, pulling away from your neck. “Are you hurt? Sore?”
“I…” you trailed off, blinking heavily up at him with glimmering eyes. “I love you.”
The three words tugged painfully at Eddie’s chest. He just stared at you for a moment, like you might suddenly sprout a second head.
Then, ever so slowly, a bashful smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“Yeah?”
His smile widened instantly when you gave him a lazy nod.
Eddie pulled out as slowly as he could, pressing soft, apologising kisses against your temple when you whimpered from overstimulation. He climbed off the bed and disappeared to the bathroom to dispose of the condom for just a quick second before he returned.
He pulled you closer and rolled the two of you over until you were sprawled comfortably across his chest. One arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other slipped into your hair.
“I love you too,” he whispered.
He watched your heavy eyes blink lazily as you fought to stay awake for just a moment longer before finally giving in and drifting off against him.
Eddie’s fingers continued their gentle scratches against your scalp, relishing in the sleepy little exhales that escaped you. The smile never quite left his face.
Carefully, he reached behind him and fumbled for the bedside lamp, doing his best not to disturb you. When the room finally fell dark, he pulled you a little closer, pressing his nose into your hair as he settled back against the mattress.
Eddie was still smiling when he finally closed his eyes.
⋆˚꩜｡a/n: and there it is, the very last chapter of xchc, so bittersweet to see how this went from a concept to an actual written series :') i'm gonna miss these two so so so much <///3 thank you all so much for reading. all the reblogs, likes, comments, overall love this series received genuinely means a lot to me <3 i'm not making any promises right now, but don't be surprised if i ever write a oneshot of these two, just bc i love them sm <3
Summary: Eddie Munson has become an Urban Legend: the Devil of Hawkins. You are new to town, but can’t seem to believe the rumors about the man that lives in the trailer across the street. Based on the song of the same title by Molly Frances.
Contains: Brief mentions of the Upside Down/Upside Down related injuries, use of y/n, rumors of Eddie being a serial killer, agoraphobic!Eddie, shy!reader, platonic!Steve x Reader, difficult relationships with father figures, slowest burn in the history of slow burns, each chapter has warnings
(A MODERN AU. SLOW BURN, ENEMIES TO LOVERS FT. LINECOOK!STEVE X FEM!READER. 3.2K)
THE MENU
The streets were close to dead at such an hour.
The glow of the traffic light outside of your bedroom window made your walls look scarlet and the summer air that leaked in through the open crack was too warm for five am.
But it was July and it was early and there were clothes scattered over your floor, a shoe by the door, your bra hanging over the back of your desk chair. The sheets were twisted into a gingham green lump at the end of your bed, there was a pillow slumped into your nightstand, nudging precariously against a half drunk glass of water.
The town outside was still sleeping, the AC unit was whirring, your head was aching and there was a man in your bed.
You tried not to audibly groan as your feet found the floor. The body asleep next to you was lying on his front, his face buried into one of your pillows, his arms wrapped around it like it tried to run away in the night. He was tanned and dotted with freckles, a summer scene across the skin on his back, broad and taut with muscle. You frowned as you looked over your shoulder at him, trying to place a name, a face, any memory of the last few hours.
The only things that came to mind were bare skin and a lot of touching. Teeth and lips and hands and calloused fingers that dug into your hips as you rode him. You rubbed your face, clearing the sleep from your eyes, the tequila and the taste of sex from your lips.
You tried really hard to walk quietly to your bathroom, padding softly across the wooden floors, avoiding the sweater that lay there and the board that you knew squeaked like it held a disease in its whorls and knots. The bathroom door shut with a squeak and a click and you held your breath, forehead braced against the cool wood but you heard nothing, no sheets rustling, no feet on the floorboards.
Your reflection stared back at you from above the sink with disdain and disappointment and you weren't in a position to disagree with her. Your hair was a mess and there was leftover lipstick on your neck of all places, like you’d gifted it to someone who’d pressed it right back onto your skin. There was the beginning of a hickey on your chest, purple and pink and blooming under the bright fluorescent light that hummed above you.
The shower started with a groan and a hiss, the pressure battering the floor of the tub and you shed what little clothes you had on before clambering into it, skin prickling at the chill before it rocketed to almost too hot. You hit the temperature dial with an annoyed indifference, hiding under the cool spray until your hair stuck to your head and it didn't hurt as much as it did when you first opened your eyes.
You thought back to the night before, eyes closed, your stomach starting to turn with tequila and vodka and cheap beer. You remembered the sticky floors of the new bar you’d been dragged to, nothing more than a basement room filled with sweaty bodies and with brick walls covered in band posters and beer mats from places around the world. There were more people than tables and an oversized disco ball turned slowly overhead, entirely out of place as some indie sleaze song leaked out from the speakers in every corner.
You’d danced with your friends, nothing more than your hips moving in the crush of bodies, skin on skin as you tried to take shots without it spilling over your fingers. You remembered licking raspberry syrup from your thumb, your eyes on a guy who stood across the room from you, his brows raised when you grinned.
You remembered a song passing, maybe two, before he came over. There hadn’t been any bravado, no cheesy lines, no faux nonchalance. He’d bent down to your ear, a large warm hand hovering over the small of your back as he leaned into you. Someone had bumped him, his lips brushing your ear and he’d told you that you were pretty.
You’d grinned, shyness disappearing under the taste of tequila and when he’d asked you to dance you’d handed your empty glass to your friend and took his hand. It got blurry then, his hips against your ass as he moved to the music, moved against you. His hands, warm and big, laying on your hips, fingers settling into the crease of your upper thigh until you were too warm and the only answer was to pull him outside for some air.
He’d tasted like beer when he kissed you, your back against the rough brick outside of the bar. But his hand had cupped the back of your head to save it from becoming sore and that alone had you arching into him, his free hand around the back of your thigh as you hitched your leg to his hip. There must’ve been a taxi ride to yours and there was a fuzzy memory of your couch, the man pressed into it as you shed your shirt and straddled him, his lips dancing across your throat, your sternum.
You stayed under the spray until the water turned too cold and your head felt less like someone had jumped on it. Your hair was clean and your face had been scrubbed, your toes minty fresh as you spat leftover toothpaste down the tub drain and when you got out, wrapped in a too small towel, your bed was empty.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
You didn’t think too much of the man. You tried not to. But when you’d finally gotten dressed and shuffled along the sidewalk in the town that’s finally waking up, you found yourself thinking about the night before more often than you wanted to.
You told yourself it was a good thing he left when he did. The perfect way to avoid the awkward morning after, the stilted conversation of if they wanted coffee and exchanging numbers no one was ever really planning on calling.
Right?
Right.
The subway was packed, uncomfortable and sticky hot, like honey on your skin. There was a woman pressed too close to your side, both of you clinging on to the same handrail, her gum snapping too sharp and obnoxious by your ear. There was a kid crying about a broken toy two carriage’s down and every time the doors opened, the shrill noise of it all cut you in two. You were way more hungover than you’d let yourself believe, hiding shamelessly behind a pair of oversized sunglasses that turned the bright morning sun and the flickering overhead fluorescents into a shade of grey that was much more manageable.
It suited your mood. It dulled the flavour of tequila that sat at the back of your tongue. But it didn’t dampen the memories of last night that were coming back to you, persistently stronger and less blurry than before.
You could remember getting out of the cab, the air still heavy and hot despite the early morning hour, the only way a night could be in Chicago during summer. There were memories of you dragging the boy behind you, your hand clasped in his as you fumbled at the door of your apartment building, pressing the wrong numbers for your key code, eyes fluttering closed as the stranger pushed his nose to your neck, his lips following the path he made. Then there was the stairwell, blessedly empty, the air much cooler and the brick wall rough as you were pressed against it on the first landing. More kissing, the dirty kind with all tongues and teeth, breaths panted into open mouths, hands tugging at the fronts of belts, sneaking under skirts, fingers pressed to cotton and lace.
The train jerked on the tracks and you stumbled, so unlike yourself and the thoughts of your late night guest gave way to the packed train once more. You didn’t think about him between your legs, you didn’t think about your hands in his hair - brown and messy and almost too long - and you definitely didn’t think about the way he moaned as loud as you did when you came on his tongue.
Elbows pressed into your sides as you pushed your way off the carriage, the train doors beeping, humid subway air giving way to something only a little fresher as you climbed the concrete steps and out into the street. Chicago was louder here, closer to The Loop now, you had to dodge others on the sidewalk, everyone with some form of earphones in, their heads down, their eyes low. Trucks were parked too close to the sidewalk, men with cigarettes hanging out their mouths yelled at each other as they passed crates of vegetables and fruit to each other, corner store owners filling their shelves and somehow, the streets smelled like freshly baked bread, roasted coffee and sewers all at the same time.
It did nothing to help your hangover. Neither did the ache in your hips that had you remembering how you’d been pressed into your mattress only hours before, skin slapping skin, gasps and moans floating in the air.
Your face burned with it.
It only cooled when you made a sharp left, narrowly avoiding a young couple trying to manipulate a too large couch from the back of a moving van into their narrow doorway. The alleyway turned the sky duller, the sun hidden from view as you walked between the two tall buildings, avoiding leftover puddles and rat traps before you raised your fist to an old fire door and knocked.
Knock was perhaps too polite. You let your palm slam down on the rust covered surface, the tiny pane of glass that acted as a window rattling at your efforts. The sound reverberated through the alley, loud enough to piss off the neighbours in the apartments above you and someone leaned out their window, half asleep and swearing viciously.
But the door was kicked open and the smell of cinnamon and bacon greeted you. The air was hotter than ever, the hum of the ovens adding to the warmth and the too loud sound of the back kitchen. Everything was silver and white and coated in a fine layer of icing sugar and flour and god, ew, a little bit of fryer grease. Someone’s Bluetooth speaker was blasting music that was too loud but it still didn’t drown out the drone of the extractor fans, the bubble and pop of the bagels in an enormous vat of boiling water.
The Gate was something of a hole in the wall, not quite a cafe, not quite a restaurant and not a place you usually saw tourists. It was on the right line of cheap, a little rough around the edges but the food was the best you could find this side of the Chicago River. It was all brick walls and a huge glass front, neon lights shining out of it every hour of the day and night. Chipped green and white tiles on the floor, wobbly legged tables and chairs that didn’t quite match anymore, The Gate was owned by a man called Jim Hopper but it was run by the rest of the staff he’d hired.
A group of people who were all in the middle of that age bracket between teenagers and adults, a bunch of somewhat misfits who were collectively in the stage of life where no one knew what the fuck they were doing and smoke breaks took precedence over bussing tables.
A guy called Eddie manned one of the grills you passed by, a cig tucked behind his ear and his dark curls pulled high into a bun atop his head. A sketch pad of tattoos peeked out from his chef whites and he merely lifted a spatula at you in greeting, a pair of headphones covering his ears as he flipped pancakes on the griddle and blocked out the pop song that came from the speaker by the prep zone.
There were Robin and Argyle, both sitting haphazardly on stools that had been dragged from the bar, peeling a variety of vegetables as they both shared details of the night before, both nursing the same kind of hangover you suffered from. The front of house looked quiet, no other staff at work just yet. The doors were still closed and the neon sign on the front flickered a garish pink as it told the rest of the city The Gate was still closed for now. The small bar in the corner was wiped clean, no sticky leftover gin or rum staining the wooden worktop and the various glass bottles on the glass shelves behind it were glinting in the morning light. There were crystals on the windowsills, more hanging in the corners of the room from wicker baskets and mosaic pots, all of them holding bundles of green, leafy plants. They scattered rainbows of all sizes around the restaurant, painted little rectangular sponges of colours on the tables, the brick walls, your arms and the tiled floor.
You sighed as you hung up your bag, swapping it for an apron that you tied around your waist. Breakfast shift was never your favourite, but you hoped that everyone decided the day was too warm and everyone was too hungover to bother venturing out this early. You looked at the clock, twelve minutes to seven. Seventy two minutes until the doors and you still didn’t deem that enough time to feel human.
You stuffed a new order pad into your apron pocket, reminding yourself to hunt for a pen as soon as you managed to snag some pancakes or a bagel from the kitchen first. Jim said he didn’t believe in technology, not to the point of tablets replacing a good old pad and pen for taking orders, but you were pretty certain that the man was just fucking cheap.
Minutes passed as you stood in the middle of the tables, your head tipped back as you closed your eyes and took a breath. And another. And another. Kaleidoscopes of colours painted your cheeks, your eyelids and you could hear the speaker from the kitchen playing faintly through the closed door. Suddenly it was five hours ago and you were on the edge of a dance floor you’d never been on before, a body pressed against the back of your own as you both swayed and rocked to the music. The cab drive to yours became clearer now, your head tipped against the window as you let your dance partner kiss down your neck, his hand skating up the fabric of your skirt as he gripped your hip. You remembered the cab driver's eyes in the rear view mirror, the sharp cough he let out when you grabbed your new friend’s jaw in your hand and licked into his mouth.
“Get ‘em while they’re hot.” The clatter of a plate and Eddie’s too loud voice broke you from your thoughts.
Cheeks burning and heart thumping a little too wildly, you spun, eyes flying open as you found a stack of pancakes waiting on the bartop for you. They’re dusted with sugar and dripping with maple syrup, a handful of freshly washed berries on the side. You moaned, the man who shared your bed momentarily forgotten about, and you contemplated giving Eddie a fat kiss on the cheek.
“You’re an angel,” you told him instead, forgoing cutlery as you bit straight into a pancake, eyes fluttering at the sweetness and warmth. “A real life angel.”
The chef snorted, already walking back into the kitchen. “Call my high school principal and tell him that, would ya?”
You managed two whole bites before the phone rang and Robin answered it, her voice bored and tired and muffled under the noise of music and hissing grills. Then the door flew open and she handed the receiver to you, eyes rolling. She pinched a strawberry and poked at your bare skin, where your blooming hickey bruised the space between the top of your shirt and your exposed collar bones.
You batted at her hand, frowning when she smirks and your lips were sticky with maple syrup when you tried to form a professional greeting. “Good morning, thanks for calling The Gate, this is— oh, it’s you.”
Hopper scoffed on the other end of the line. “Hello to you too, kid. Listen, there’s a new start coming today for the linecook position. Should be ‘round seven thirty and he’s more than qualified so just get him some spare whites and show him where the trash goes. Eddie’ll handle the rest.”
Your hangover pulsed in annoyance. “Can’t Joyce get him sorted?” You speared another raspberry and popped it into your mouth, eyes rolling when your boss sighed in return.
“Joyce is on vacation. With me. We told you this on Monday, you never lis— look, just get the guy sorted alright? He’s a good kid, he’s not gonna cause any hassle.”
“Whatever, sure,” you mumbled. You needed to find some tylenol, your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of their sockets. “Enjoy Cabo, or wherever it is you guys are.”
“We’re in Colorado, but close enough,” Hopper grunted. “Just don’t burn the place down, alright? See you in two weeks.”
You were frowning when the dial tone buzzed in your ear. It was three minutes past seven and you were left with a sticky, sugary mess on your empty plate and thirty three tables to set before the doors opened. And a new start to get set up.
You found a tylenol in Nancy’s open locker and a set of new chef whites in Hopper’s abandoned office. You set them by the side of the bar before you gathered cutlery and new napkins, splitting them with Robin as you both wove in and out of tables and booths, the kitchen getting noisier as Argyle and Eddie started prepping for lunch. The glass cabinets by the cash desk were filled finally with fresh pastries, the front of house smelled like freshly squeezed oranges and you had made yourself busy by misting an oversized fern when someone knocked on the front door.
There was a man standing behind the glass. He was tall and dressed in denim jeans that had faded knees, a white T-shirt with rolled sleeves and he had a pair of black Ray-Ban’s perched on his nose. Despite that, you recognised him. His hair looked ruffled, like someone had been pulling on it all night, dishevelled and messy in a way that would’ve made your mother’s cheeks burn. Any mother’s, actually.
Fuck.
No? No.
You unlocked the door and the click of it was too loud, too jarring. You stared at the stranger who didn’t seem all that strange and your stomach turned as you recognised the sweater he had clutched in his right hand. A forest green thing with a yellow patch on the chest. You knew that sweater. It had been on your bedroom floor when you’d made your quiet escape to the bathroom.
Fuck.
You looked at the man and he looked at you, the customer service smile he’d plastered on his face wilting at the same time his extended hand did, the professional greeting slipping from every fibre of him.
“You.”
He grappled with words for a beat, his face faltering and even behind his sunglasses, you could see the panic. All he said was: “Me?”
description: eddie thinks steve gets every girl he’s ever wanted, so when he finds out steve likes robin’s new roommate too, he backs off before he can get his heart broken. the only problem? you've been hopelessly in love with eddie since the moment you met him.
pairing: eddie x farirycore!reader (fem!reader)
tags: eddie x you, no y/n, mutual pining, jealous eddie, friends to lovers, slow burn if you squint, fluff with mild angst, love triangle (?), conscious eddie, cottagecore!reader
TW: NSFW (18+) minors do not interact!!, PiV, unprotected
WC: 5.6k
A/N: requested by @carolinaclouds i hope you enjoy!! <33 i proofread as best as i could, i've been studying for some stupid exam so my brain is in PAIN. anyway...reblogs are always appreciated, my loves:)) enjoyyyyyyyyyyy<3
The apartment is quiet when Robin unlocks the door, quiet enough that she immediately freezes. Because the apartment is never quiet.
Usually, there’s the hum of the refrigerator, or the upstairs neighbors stomping around like they’re rehearsing for Riverdance, or music coming from somewhere down the hall. But tonight there’s something different underneath it all, soft music drifting faintly from the bedroom she’s supposed to be sharing with a complete stranger.
Robin tightens her grip on her keys. Right, she thinks, New roommate day.
She’d almost forgotten about Keith being insufferable for eight straight hours and Steve pretending not to care about his hair getting rained on. Robin nudges the door shut behind her and kicks off her shoes, already preparing herself for awkward small talk and forced introductions.
Instead, she walks into what looks like an enchanted forest, and she actually stops dead in the hallway.
The bedroom door is open just enough for warm golden light to spill out across the carpet. Fairy lights twinkle along the walls, tangled through hanging ivy vines that drape across the ceiling. Little paper stars sway lazily overhead whenever the fan turns. Your side of the room is all soft blankets and patchwork quilts and stacks of books and tiny trinkets tucked into every possible corner.
Robin stares for a full five seconds before blurting: “What the fuck?”
Your head immediately pops up from the floor where you’re sitting cross-legged beside an open box. “Oh my God, hi!”
And there you are. You’re wearing this oversized sweater that’s practically swallowing your hands, hair messy from unpacking, surrounded by candles and records and enough decorative mushrooms to concern the average person.
Robin blinks. “You’re real,” she says.
You laugh softly. “I think so?”
“No, because I thought maybe the apartment got cursed while I was at work.”
That makes you laugh harder, bright and pretty and completely unembarrassed. Robin feels herself relax instantly.
“Sorry,” you say, standing up quickly. “I didn’t mean to completely fill the room. I just started unpacking, and then I kinda blacked out.”
Robin looks around again. Honestly? The room looks amazing, like one of those bedrooms in magazines that people pretend they casually threw together when in reality it probably took seventeen hours and emotional warfare.
“Are those stars hanging from the ceiling?”
You beam immediately, like you’ve been waiting for someone to ask.
“Yes! Okay, so technically they’re supposed to be Christmas ornaments, but I thought they looked magical, so—”
And that’s it. That’s the beginning of the end for Robin Buckley. Because ten minutes later, she’s sitting cross-legged on your bed while you excitedly explain every little thing you unpacked.
The moon-shaped lamp you thrifted for three dollars. The pressed flowers tucked into frames. The tiny ceramic frog named Ferdinand.
“Named?” Robin repeats.
You look at her like that’s the stupidest question she’s ever asked. “Obviously.” Robin snorts so hard she almost chokes.
You ramble when you’re excited, words tumbling over themselves while your hands move animatedly through the air, and Robin finds herself completely locked in. You talk about books you love like they personally changed your life. You tell stories with your whole body. Every emotion crosses your face so openly that it’s impossible not to get swept up in it.
Most people make Robin feel too loud.
You make her feel matched. At some point, you end up sitting on the floor together, eating vending machine snacks from Robin’s backpack while music hums softly through the room.
“You know,” Robin says after a while, “I was terrified I’d get assigned someone horrifying.”
You gasp dramatically. “Robin!”
“I’m serious! One time, Steve had a roommate who clipped his toenails in the living room.”
You stare at her in horror.
“See?” she says. “Exactly my reaction.”
You laugh again, smiling so hard your nose scrunches a little, and Robin decides right then she likes you, a lot. Like enough that she’s already mentally preparing how to introduce you to the rest of the group. Which, honestly, might turn out to be a mistake. Because if Robin thinks you’re charming now, she has absolutely no idea what’s about to happen when Eddie and Steve meet you.
Robin calls it an apartment warming party even though it’s really just: cheap beer, frozen pizza, three folding chairs, and whoever happened to answer their phones. Which means by seven-thirty, the apartment is full of loud voices and wet shoes piled by the door from the rain outside.
You’re in the kitchen trying to separate paper plates that are aggressively sticking together when the front door swings open. Steve Harrington walks in first. And unfortunately, he’s very pretty.
Tall, broad shoulders shoved into seemingly too-tight tan jacket, hair still annoyingly perfect from the rain somehow. He’s carrying a case of beer under one arm while arguing with Robin before he’s even fully inside.
“I’m telling you, this is not enough food.”
“There are twelve people here, Steve, not the population of Indiana.”
“That doesn’t matter—”
Then he sees you and stops talking mid-sentence. You blink back at him, and Robin immediately notices the exact moment Steve Harrington develops a crush on you. It’s physically visible.
“Oh,” Steve says.
You smile politely. “Hi.”
Robin groans quietly into her drink. “Steve,” she says flatly, “don’t.”
“What? I didn’t even do anything.”
“You’re doing the face.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Before Robin can roast him alive, another figure shoves through the doorway behind him.
“Move your gigantic hair outta the way, Harrington, some of us are carrying important cargo—”
And then he walks in. Leather jacket damp from the rain, dark curls pushed messily out of his face, and a cigarette tucked behind one ear despite Robin threatening murder every time he smokes near the building.
Eddie looks up, sees you, and completely loses his train of thought. “…holy shit.”
Robin closes her eyes. “Oh no,” she mutters, because she recognizes that look too.
You’re still standing by the kitchen counter holding a stack of paper plates, but suddenly you feel oddly frozen under Eddie’s attention. Not in a bad way, but in a terrifying way. Like your entire nervous system just sat up straight. Eddie stares at you for half a second too long before Robin finally speaks.
“Eddie,” she says slowly, “this is my new roommate.”
You say your name softly. Eddie repeats it immediately, like he’s testing how it sounds in his mouth. God. And then he smiles at you, crooked, warm, a little shy underneath all the theatrics. And you are done for instantly.
“Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”
Robin physically watches your soul leave your body. Steve notices too, which is unfortunate for everybody involved. The night only gets worse from there, because Eddie is everywhere.
Sprawled across the couch, telling dramatic stories that make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. Talking with his hands when he gets excited, grinning every time he catches you already looking at him. And the thing is, you can tell immediately he’s smart.
Not school smart, necessarily. But passionate smart, the kind of person that collects knowledge simply because he loves things deeply.
At one point, he starts passionately ranting about some fantasy campaign he’s writing while Gareth and Jeff argue with him from across the room, and you swear you could listen to him talk for the rest of your life. Which apparently becomes very obvious, because Robin leans against your shoulder at some point and whispers:
“Oh, you are gone.”
You shove her lightly. “Shut up.”
“You have not stopped staring at him for twenty minutes.”
“I have absolutely stopped staring at him.”
Across the room, Eddie glances over at you instantly as if he felt it, then grins. You almost choke on your drink.
Later, after more people show up and the apartment gets louder, you slip away to your room for a breather because your room is softer than the chaos outside. You’re fixing one of the strings of stars above your bed when there’s a knock against the open door.
You turn, and there’s Eddie, leaning against the doorway carefully, like he’s not sure if he’s intruding. “Whoa,” he says quietly.
You smile a little. “Hi.”
“Robin said your room was cool, but she severely undersold this.”
You laugh softly. “You think?”
“Think?” Eddie steps inside slowly, eyes darting everywhere at once. “Sweetheart, this looks like a woodland creature got accepted into art school.”
You burst out laughing, and the sound alone visibly delights him.
“Oh my God,” you say. “That is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I’m serious!” Eddie says, already wandering toward your shelves. “You’ve got little potions and shit in here.”
“They’re crystals.”
“Ah. Magic rocks. My mistake.”
You shake your head, smiling helplessly while he picks up one of your tiny ceramic frogs with absolute reverence. “This guy rules.”
“That’s Ferdinand.”
Eddie looks at you immediately. “He has a name?”
“Obviously.”
Eddie presses a hand dramatically to his chest. “You get me.”
And that’s it, that’s the exact moment you fall hopelessly, stupidly in love with Eddie Munson. Because instead of making fun of you, he lights up.
Every little thing in your room fascinates him. He asks questions about every trinket and listens to your answers like they’re genuinely important. Gets excited when you explain the meanings of your crystals. Tells you your room feels “safe in a really cool way.”
At some point, the two of you end up sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor, talking while the party carries on without you.
The party finally dies sometime after one in the morning.
Jeff and Gareth leave first, still arguing over something stupid. Robin disappears into the apartment, muttering about cleaning tomorrow because “future Robin deserves to suffer, not current Robin.” And somehow that leaves Steve and Eddie alone, hauling empty pizza boxes down the apartment stairs toward Steve’s BMW.
Rainwater glistens across the pavement outside as Eddie lights a cigarette the second they step outside, leaning against the passenger door while Steve tosses the trash into the dumpster nearby.
For a minute, neither of them says anything. But Eddie’s brain is still upstairs, still stuck in your room. Your laugh. Your stupid little fairy lights. The way your eyes lit up every time he asked about something on your shelves like nobody had ever cared before. Jesus Christ.
He takes a long drag from his cigarette while Steve shuts the trunk. “So.”
Eddie immediately narrows his eyes. “Why do you sound like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like a man about to say something deeply irritating.”
Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s this weird grin pulling at his mouth. And Eddie suddenly knows, his stomach dropping in an instant. “Oh no,” Eddie mutters.
Steve leans against the car beside him. “What?”
“You like her.”
Steve pauses, then laughs once under his breath. “Is it that obvious?”
Eddie stares out at the wet parking lot instead of answering. Because yeah, yeah, it is. Of course it is. Why wouldn’t Steve Harrington like you?
You’re pretty and sweet and charming, and you looked at people like they mattered when they talked. You had this soft, dreamy thing about you that made people want to lean closer without realizing it. And Steve? Steve always got the girl.
Not because he was a bad guy. Honestly, that almost made it worse. Steve was good-looking, kind, and dependable in a way Eddie never felt he could compete with. Eddie flicks ash onto the pavement.
“Dude,” Steve says carefully, “you okay?”
“Mhm.”
“That sounded fake.”
“Kinda was.”
Steve snorts quietly, then he says, “I dunno. I just really liked her.”
Eddie’s chest physically aches because he really liked you, too. Pathetically fast, honestly. The kind of fast that should concern medical professionals.
But the second Steve says it out loud, Eddie can practically feel himself shoving the whole thing down into his ribs where it can’t embarrass him. He laughs once instead, forcing casualness into his voice.
“Yeah,” he says lightly. “She’s cool.” The words taste awful immediately.
Steve glances over at him, and Eddie knows Steve’s looking for something there. Some reaction. Some claim. But Eddie just shrugs and opens the passenger door. Because what’s he supposed to say?
“Actually, Steve, I think I fell in love with her in approximately four minutes while she explained the lore behind a ceramic frog collection?” No fucking thank you.
Steve hesitates before climbing into the driver’s seat. “You sure?”
Eddie forces a grin. “Harrington, if I fought you every time we liked the same girl, we’d both be dead by now.”
Steve laughs at that, thankfully. But Eddie turns toward the window before he can see his face. The whole drive home hurts. Steve keeps talking about you absentmindedly, not even realizing that each thing he says is basically another nail in Eddie’s coffin.
“She’s funny.”
“Mhm.”
“And smart.”
“Tragic, really.”
“And did you see her room? It looked like a fairy exploded in there.”
That one almost makes Eddie smile despite himself. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “It was nice.”
Steve glances over at him again. “You really think so?”
Eddie thinks about you sitting cross-legged on the floor under warm golden lights, looking at him like every word out of his mouth mattered.
He swallows hard. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I really think so.”
But by the time Steve drops him off at the trailer, Eddie’s already making up his mind. He’s not doing this again. He’s not letting himself get stupid over someone who’s obviously gonna realize Steve Harrington is the better option eventually.
So whatever this thing is blooming in his chest, he’s gonna kill it before it gets embarrassing.
The next time everyone hangs out is at Steve’s place. Robin drags you there after work with the promise of free food and “at least three people getting into an argument dramatic enough to count as entertainment.” You spend almost the entire drive fixing your hair in the passenger mirror while pretending not to.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You’re nervous.”
“I am not nervous.”
“You’ve checked your lip gloss four times.”
“I just like to look nice.”
“For Eddie.”
You groan and shove her shoulder while she laughs all the way into the parking lot. And honestly? You’re excited to see him. Pathetically excited. Ever since the apartment party, Eddie’s been stuck in your head constantly. The way he listened to you. The way he smiled when you talked. The softness underneath all the theatrics.
You’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time replaying that night in your mind. Which is why the disappointment hits so hard when you walk into Steve’s living room, and Eddie barely looks at you. Not barely looks at you because he’s distracted, but barely looks at you on purpose.
“Hey,” you say softly when your eyes meet his.
Eddie gives you a quick smile from where he’s sitting in the armchair. “Hey, sweetheart.”
And then he looks away, that’s it. No wandering over to talk to you. No easy teasing. No immediate gravitational pull toward you like before. Your stomach sinks a little.
Meanwhile, Steve lights up the second you walk in. “There she is,” he says dramatically from the kitchen. “Thank God. Robin almost bought generic chips.”
“I did buy generic chips,” Robin calls back.
You laugh despite yourself, and Steve stays beside you basically the entire night. At first, you don’t think much of it because Steve is naturally affectionate and attentive, but after an hour, it becomes impossible not to notice the contrast between him and Eddie.
Steve sits beside you on the couch. Steve hands you drinks before you ask. Steve remembers tiny details you mentioned in passing. While across the room, Eddie barely speaks to you at all. And every time you try to talk to him, he gives you these short, polite answers before redirecting himself somewhere else. It hurts more than it should.
By the time the movie starts, you’re curled into the corner of the couch trying not to visibly mope while Steve talks animatedly beside you.
Robin notices everything immediately; her eyes narrowing toward Eddie across the room. Eddie pointedly avoids looking over. Coward.
Halfway through the movie, Steve leans closer to whisper some joke in your ear that makes you laugh. And from the recliner across the room, Eddie finally glances over. Then he stands up.
“I should head out,” he says suddenly.
Everyone looks over. Robin frowns. “Already?”
“Early shift.”
“That’s literally a lie,” Gareth says.
“Wow,” Eddie says flatly. “Didn’t know you knew work my schedule better than I did.” But he’s already grabbing his jacket.
“Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay.”
Eddie finally looks at you directly for the first time all night. And for one awful second, something vulnerable flickers across his face, something almost guilty.
“Night, sweetheart.” Then he leaves.
A week later, Steve asks you out. Not dramatically or arrogantly, he actually looks kind of nervous. The two of you are walking back toward the apartment after grabbing coffee while Robin is in class, and Steve suddenly rubs the back of his neck before blurting:
“So… would you maybe wanna go out sometime?”
You stop walking. Steve immediately winces. “Jesus, that bad?”
“No!” you say quickly. “No, Steve, oh my God.”
He laughs awkwardly. You feel terrible instantly because Steve is wonderful, truly wonderful. But he’s not Eddie. And unfortunately for you, every stupid thought in your head still somehow circles back to Eddie Munson.
You exhale softly. “Steve…”
“Yeah?”
“I really, really like somebody.”
His face falls a little, though he tries to hide it. “Oh.”
“And it’s—” You hesitate. “It’s Eddie.”
Steve stares at you, then blinks. “…Eddie?”
“I’m sorry,” you say softly.
“Don’t be.” Steve nudges your shoulder lightly. “Can’t exactly control who you like.”
Then your face brightens suddenly. “Wait.”
Steve eyes you cautiously. “That look concerns me.”
“No, listen, I have a friend.”
“Oh no.”
“She’s in one of my lit classes.”
“You’re trying to set me up?”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“Dangerous opening statement.”
“And she loves dumb movies and rambling and stupidly nice people.”
Steve narrows his eyes. “Are you calling me stupid?”
You grin. “A little.”
And somehow Steve agrees to meet her at the next group hangout. Which turns out to be the best decision of his life. Because the second your friend walks into the diner and immediately starts arguing with Steve about whether Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie, Steve falls catastrophically in love. Like, immediately.
Robin watches it happen in real time. “Oh my God,” she whispers to you from across the booth. “He’s gone.”
Steve is sitting there staring at your friend like she personally invented happiness. Meanwhile, your friend is laughing so hard at one of his jokes that she’s nearly crying.
“You know what?” Robin says thoughtfully. “They’re gonna get married.”
And honestly? You kind of think so, too. Which would all be great news if Eddie hadn’t spent the last three weeks completely disappearing from your life.
Eddie sees them completely by accident, which somehow makes it worse. He’s cutting through downtown after leaving the record store, headphones hanging around his neck and a cigarette tucked between his lips, when he glances across the street and nearly walks directly into a parking meter.
Steve is sitting outside the little café near campus. And across from him is a girl Eddie’s never seen before. Not just sitting, holding hands, laughing. Steve looks disgustingly happy about it, too, leaning across the tiny table while she steals fries off his plate.
Eddie stops dead on the sidewalk, and his stomach twists immediately. “What the fuck,” he says out loud.
Because no. No no no. Steve Harrington did not spend weeks following you around like a lovesick puppy just to immediately start dating another girl. Eddie’s chest burns hot, and before he can think better of it, he’s already crossing the street.
Steve notices him halfway there and grins automatically. “Munson!”
Eddie does not grin back. Steve’s smile slowly fades. “Uh oh.”
Eddie walks right up to the table, pointing accusingly. “What the hell, man?”
The girl blinks between them. Steve looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!”
“I literally don’t.”
Eddie gestures wildly at the girl sitting across from him. “This!”
Steve stares, the girl stares, and Eddie looks personally betrayed.
“You spent all that time chasing after her, and now you’re out here cheating on her in broad daylight?”
The girl chokes on her drink. Steve’s eyes widen in horror. “What?!”
“Don’t what me, Harrington!”
“Eddie,” the girl says carefully, trying not to laugh, “I think maybe—”
“No, because this is insane behavior!” Eddie continues. “You were obsessed with her!”
Steve suddenly realizes. And then, unbelievably, he starts laughing. Like full-body laughing.
Eddie glares at him. “Oh, cool. Awesome. Glad infidelity is hilarious to you.”
Steve physically puts his head in his hands. “Oh my God,” he groans through laughter. “You are so stupid.”
“Excuse me?”
The girl beside Steve is openly giggling now. Steve looks up, finally, still laughing. “She turned me down, dumbass.”
Eddie blinks. “What?”
“She turned me down because she likes you.”
Silence, actual complete silence. Even the traffic noise suddenly feels far away. Eddie just stares at him. “…what?”
Steve looks at him like he’s witnessing a medical emergency. “She likes you,” he repeats slowly. “She literally told me she had feelings for you.”
Eddie’s brain completely short-circuits. “Nah,” he says automatically.
“Yes.”
“No, she—”
“Eddie.” Steve points at him. “The girl spent an entire party staring holes into your head.”
Eddie opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. “She… what?”
Steve looks genuinely offended now. “How did you not notice?!”
Because Eddie had been so busy convincing himself Steve would win again that he never even considered the possibility that you’d wanted him back. You wanted him. Oh my God.
Ohhhhhhh, shit.
Every interaction over the last month slams into him at once. You laughing at all his jokes. You always gravitate toward him. The way your face fell every time he pulled away. The hurt in your eyes the last night everyone hung out. Eddie physically pales.
Steve watches as the realization hits him in real time. “There it is,” Steve says flatly. “That’s the face of a man realizing he ruined his own life.”
“Oh my God,” Eddie breathes.
“You stopped talking to her!”
“I know!”
“You idiot!”
“I KNOW!”
The girl across from Steve is laughing so hard she’s wiping tears from her eyes. Eddie runs both hands through his hair frantically. “Oh my God,” he repeats. “She probably thinks I hate her.”
“Probably, yeah.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Steve points down the sidewalk dramatically. “Go fix it!”
Eddie doesn’t even argue; he turns so fast he nearly trips over the curb before sprinting back down the street.
Eddie almost falls up the stairs to your apartment, seriously. He misses the second step entirely because his brain is moving faster than the rest of his body, heart pounding so hard it feels painful.
You like him. You liked him the whole fucking time. And he spent the last month acting like a wounded puppy instead of just talking to you like a normal person. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters to himself, shoving a hand through his curls as he reaches your door.
The lights are on inside. Good, good. Eddie knocks once. Then, immediately again, louder this time because he suddenly cannot breathe properly. And the door swings open. Oh. Oh, he is so unbelievably screwed.
You’re standing there fresh out of the shower, hair still damp around your shoulders, oversized sleep shirt slipping off one side slightly. No makeup. No jewelry except the tiny rings you always wear, soft skin still a little damp.
You look sleepy. Comfortable. Beautiful in this terrifyingly effortless way that makes Eddie’s brain go completely blank. Your eyes widen when you see him standing there looking half feral. “Eddie?”
His name leaves your mouth softly, confused. Your brows knit together a little. “Hi.”
And God, that almost kills him too, because even after he’s been avoiding you for weeks, you still sound happy to see him.
“I’m an idiot,” Eddie blurts immediately.
You blink. “What?”
“I’m, like, a catastrophic idiot, actually.”
“Okay…”
“I thought you liked Steve.”
You stare at him for a second. “Oh, my God.”
“I KNOW.”
“You thought I liked Steve?”
“He asked you out!”
“And I said no!”
“Yeah, apparently everybody knew that except me!”
Despite yourself, a tiny laugh escapes you. Eddie looks so distressed standing there that it’s honestly a little adorable. His cheeks are flushed pink from running over here, his curls are windblown, and his chest is still rising too fast.
“I thought,” he says breathlessly, softer now, “I thought for one second maybe I actually had a shot with you, and then Harrington told me he liked you and I just…” He laughs once at himself. “I don’t know. I got weird.”
You stare at him because suddenly everything makes sense. The distance. The avoiding you. The weird tension every time Steve sat beside you.
“Oh my God,” you whisper.
“I know, sweetheart, trust me, I know.”
“You thought I wanted Steve Harrington over you?”
Eddie grimaces. “When you say it out loud, it sounds stupid.”
“It is stupid.”
“I’m aware.”
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself now. And Eddie looks at you like the sight of that smile physically revives him. “I really hurt your feelings, didn’t I?” he asks quietly.
You hesitate, which is an answer enough. Eddie closes his eyes briefly like he hates himself for it. “Shit.”
Before you can respond, he suddenly steps closer. “You have any idea,” he murmurs, voice rough, “how hard it’s been not to talk to you? See you?”
Your breath catches instantly while Eddie’s gaze drops to your mouth, then back to your eyes. And when you don’t move away, that’s it. His hand slides gently against your jaw, and suddenly, he’s kissing you. Like he’s been starving for it. Like he’s been thinking about it for weeks, which, to be fair, he has.
You make this tiny, surprised sound against his mouth before immediately melting into him, hands sliding up his chest to the back of his neck as he kisses you harder. Eddie groans softly the second you kiss him back.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes against your lips. “Thank fucking God.”
You’re laughing a little now between kisses, dizzy from how fast this is happening. “You are insane,” you whisper.
His hands slide carefully to your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every ounce of attention you're gracing him with. He walks you backward into the apartment without breaking the kiss, one hand still cradling your jaw like you might disappear if he lets go.
The door clicks shut behind him, and he spins you gently, pressing your back against it. “Been losing my mind over you,” he murmurs against your lips, voice rough. “Every fucking night.”
You make a soft, overwhelmed sound and pull him closer by his jacket. He shrugs it off in one messy motion, letting it hit the floor, then his hands are back on you, sliding under the hem of your shirt, palms greedy against your bare waist.
“Eddie—”
“Yeah, sweetheart?” He kisses down your neck, open-mouthed and reverent, like he’s memorizing the taste of you. “Tell me what you need.”
You don’t even know how to answer. You just tug at his shirt until he yanks it over his head, revealing all that pale skin and dark ink. Your hands explore him immediately, tracing over every tattoo and piece of him that you can get ahold of.
He walks you toward your bedroom, never letting you get more than a breath away. When the backs of your knees hit the bed, he eases you down like you’re something precious, then follows, crawling over you.
“Look at you,” he whispers, eyes dragging over your body. Your shirt has ridden up; he pushes it higher, exposing your stomach, your ribs, the curve of your breasts. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me.”
You laugh breathlessly, a little shy under the intensity of his stare, but he leans down and kisses the sound right out of your mouth. Then lower, your collarbone, the swell of your chest, the soft underside of one breast. When his mouth closes around your nipple, tongue teasing, you arch with a broken moan. He hums in satisfaction.
Eddie takes his time, like he’s making up for every second he wasted avoiding you. He maps your body with his mouth and hands, murmuring filthy-sweet things the whole time.
When he finally hooks his fingers in your panties and tugs them down, he actually curses under his breath at how wet you are. Two long fingers slide through your folds, circling your clit with devastating patience until your thighs start shaking.
“Eddie, please—”
“I got you.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, then looks up at you through those dark curls, eyes almost black with want.
He doesn’t tease for long. The first slow drag of his tongue has your back bowing off the bed. He groans like you’re the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth, licking and sucking with messy enthusiasm, two fingers curling inside you just right.
One of your hands fists in his hair; the other clutches at the patchwork quilt beneath you.
You come hard, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name in a broken whimper. He keeps going through it, gentling you down with soft licks until you’re trembling and oversensitive.
When he finally crawls back up, his mouth is shiny, pupils blown. You pull him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, and reach between you to palm him through his jeans.
He hisses, hips jerking. “You sure?” he rasps, already sounding wrecked. You nod, helping him as he desperately tries to take his belt off.
He hovers over you for a second, then smirks as he reaches to your shelf and turns Ferdinand around. “Look away, buddy,” he mumbles.
He leans back into you, kissing you gently as he settles between your thighs. He braces one forearm beside your head and looks down at you, suddenly serious beneath the hunger.
“You sure?” he whispers. “We can slow down. I’ll wait as long as—”
You cut him off with a kiss and guide him to your entrance. “I want you. Now.”
He sinks in slowly, inch by inch, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. When he bottoms out, he stays there, buried deep, just panting against your mouth.
“Fuck… you feel like heaven, baby.”
Then he starts moving, slow rolling thrusts that drag against that spot inside you with every stroke. Eddie’s mouth stays on yours, on your neck, on your chest, wherever he can reach. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together beside your head while he fucks you harder.
“Look at me,” he breathes. “Want to see you when you come again.”
You do; staring into those big brown eyes while the pleasure coils tighter and tighter. He angles his hips just right, and you shatter around him with a sharp cry, clenching so hard he curses and follows right after, hips stuttering as he buries himself deep and groans your name, followed by a couple of “fuuucks” for good measure.
For a long minute, the only sound is your mingled breathing and Eddie’s rabbiting heart. Eddie collapses half on top of you, face tucked into your neck, arms wrapped around you like he never plans to let go. You’re both smiling in that dazed, exhausted kind of way, the kind that feels a little unreal.
Eddie presses one slow kiss against your shoulder. “You alive there, sweetheart?”
You giggle softly into your pillow. “Barely.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs smugly.
You snort immediately. “Don’t start.”
“I earned starting.”
“You are so annoying.”
“And yet,” Eddie says dramatically, motioning to the predicament the two of you are currently in.
You laugh again, turning your head slightly, and then you notice it. Your tiny ceramic frog statue is still sitting on the bookshelf, facing the wall.
You go completely silent, Eddie noticing instantly. “What?”
Slowly, you point toward the shelf. Eddie follows your gaze and physically freezes.
“Oh my God,” you whisper.
Eddie immediately starts laughing. Not a cute laugh either, a full body, wheezing, face-in-your-neck laugh.
“I cannot believe you turned Ferdinand around!”
“He didn’t need to see all that!”
You burst into helpless laughter beneath him. “Eddie!”
“What?!” he says between laughs. “You said he had feelings!”
“He is ceramic!”
“Yeah, and he could have been a traumatized ceramic!”
You’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts now, trying to shove at his shoulder while he grins down at you completely unashamed. “I cannot believe you did that.”
“I was respecting the sanctity of your weird little frog son.”
“That is actually insane behavior.”
“Says the woman with an emotionally significant amphibian collection.”
You groan loudly into your hands while Eddie keeps laughing. Then suddenly, he pushes himself up just enough to glance toward the shelf again.
“…do you think he’s mad at me?”
You stare at him for half a second before dissolving all over again, while Eddie looks absolutely lovestruck watching you laugh beneath him.
would love some thoughts and feedback on something new I'm working on (very very new) but i'm feeling rusty when it comes to creating content that's not already on this blog.
it's just vibes rn but I always wanted to do another fic similar to simmer. not eddie this time, maybe steve (probably), maybe another character from another show, maybe even something original. but i'm thinking a little moodier, a slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of thing, maybe some angst. I think? anyway, here's what I have so far, if anyone would like to read.
HONEY, SHOW ME HOW TO DO IT
The streets are close to dead at such an hour.
The glow of the traffic light outside of your bedroom window makes your walls look scarlet and the summer air that’s leaking in through the open crack is too warm for five am.
It’s July and it’s early and there’s clothes scattered over your floor, a shoe by the door, your bra hanging over the back of your desk chair. Your sheets are twisted into a gingham green lump at the end of your bed, there’s a pillow slumped into your nightstand, nudging precariously against a half drunk glass of water.
The town outside is still sleeping, the AC unit is whirring, your head is aching and there’s a man in your bed.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
You try not to audibly groan as your feet find the floor. The body sleeping next to you is lying on his front, his face buried into one of your pillows, his arms wrapped around it like it tried to run away in the night. He’s tanned and dotted with freckles, a summer scene across the skin on his back, broad and taught with muscle. You frown as you look over your shoulder at him, trying to place a name, a face, any memory of the last few hours.
The only things that come to mind are bare skin and a lot of touching. Teeth and lips and hands and calloused fingers that dug into your hips as you rode him. You rub your face, clearing the sleep from your eyes, the tequila and the taste of sex from your lips.
You try really hard to walk quietly to your bathroom, padding softly across the wooden floors, avoiding the board that you knew squeaked like it held a deadly disease in its whorls and knots. The bathroom door shuts with a squeak and a click and you hold your breath, forehead braced against the cool wood but you hear nothing, no sheets rustling, no feet on the floorboards.
Your reflection stares back at you from above the sink with disdain and disappointment and you’re not in a position to disagree with her. Your hair is a mess and there’s leftover lipstick on your neck of all places, like you’d gifted it to someone who’d pressed it right back onto your skin. There’s the beginning of a hickey on your chest, purple and pink and blooming under the bright fluorescent light that’s humming above you.
The shower starts with a groan and a hiss, the pressure battering the floor of the tub and you shed what little clothes you had on before clambering into it, skin prickling at the chill before it rocketed to almost too hot. You hit the temperature dial with an annoyed indifference, hiding under the cool spray until your hair is stuck to your head and it doesn’t hurt as much as it did when you first opened your eyes.
You think back to the night before, eyes closed, your stomach starting to turn with tequila and vodka and cheap beer. You remembered the sticky floors of the new bar you’d been dragged to, nothing more than a basement room filled with sweaty bodies and with brick walls covered in band posters and beer mats from places around the world. There were more people than tables and an oversized disco ball turned slowly overhead, entirely out of place as some indie sleaze song leaked out from the speakers in every corner.
You’d danced with your friends, nothing more than your hips moving in the crush of bodies, skin on skin as you tried to take shots without it spilling over your fingers. You remember licking raspberry syrup from your thumb, your eyes on a guy who stood across the room from you, his brows raised when you grinned.
You remember a song passing, maybe two, before he came over. There hadn’t been any bravado, no cheesy lines, no faux nonchalance. He’d bent down to your ear, a large warm hand hovering over the small of your back as he leaned into you. Someone had bumped him, his lips brushing your ear and he’d told you that you were pretty.
You’d grinned, shyness disappearing under the taste of tequila and when he’d asked you to dance you’d handed your empty glass to your friend and took his hand. It got blurry then, his hips against your ass as he moved to the music, moved against you. His hands, warm and big, laying on your hips, fingers settling into the crease of your upper thigh until you were too warm and the only answer was to pull him outside for some air.
He’d tasted like beer when he kissed you, your back against the rough brick outside of the bar. But his hand had cupped the back of your head to save it from becoming sore and that alone had you arching into him, his free hand around the back of your thigh as you hitched your leg to his hip. There must’ve been a taxi ride to yours and there was a fuzzy memory of your couch, the man pressed into it as you shed your shirt and straddled him, his lips dancing across your throat, your sternum.
You stayed under the spray until the water turned too cold and your head felt less like someone had jumped on it. Your hair was clean and your face had been scrubbed, your toes minty fresh as you spat leftover toothpaste down the tub drain and when you got out, wrapped in a too small towel, your bed was empty.
welcome to hawkins’ number one diner! where the staff don’t wanna be there and the linecook is a grumpy metal head who likes to argue with his boss and ignore everyone else. but the new waitress can’t hack the rude customers and the regulars can be a little… much.
serving up indiana heatwaves, slow burns, walk in freezer breakdowns, late night talks, shared shakes and food as a love language. order extra spice for $4.
[41K] a linecook!au with eddie munson and shy fem!reader.
CH1. HOME STYLE
CH2. ICE BOX
CH3. SUNNY SIDE UP
CH4. 0800-AWKWARD
CH5. WAKE ‘N’ BAKE
CH6. SPILLED MILK
CH7. SPICE BOX
CH8. BOILING POINT
CH9. SIMMER [EXTRA HOT 18+]
CH10. CHEQUE, PLEASE
THE SNACK BAR 🥡
THE KITCHEN MIX 📻
WWW.JIMSMIDNIGHTDINER.COM 💾
