who: eddie & @courtroomphilosopher
what: is it the 80s again?
where: the hideaway (where else tbh)
if being back in hawkins had taught eddie one thing, it was that almost dying in a supernatural dimension was apparently not something one could just work through in therapy. even over the course of twenty fucking years. not that eddie had kept up with his sessions much these last months. scratch that, these last years, too busy with being miserable living his dream life. it had also taught him that this town still blew.
and that he needed to get out of there, stat. he’d initially driven to the hideout, that piece of junk corroded coffin had played in a couple times in their prime, but had quickly come to find it boarded up, an eviction notice taped to the door with police crime scene tape. not that it surprised him much, it had been pretty crappy, even in the golden age of seedy crappy bars.
so where was there left to get a drink but the hideaway? the only place to get something to drink, really, if you didn’t want to sit on the hood of your car with a six pack of beer like some freshly graduated jock loser. yes, he was thinking of tommy hagan specifically, but that was another thing. eddie needed to be among people, people that weren’t his suffocatingly loving almost-step-aunt and uncle. people that were just as much of a mess as he was. what better place than the only bar left in hawkins. nobody respectable would choose to have their shameful drink there, much less on a week night.
three senses hit him first when he walks through the door. one - smell, obviously, always smell at the hideaway, that one hasn’t changed since the first time he flashed his fake i.d. to the bartender. the second - sight , as his eyes zero in on an unfamiliar face sitting on a bar stool in the corner. his eyes travel down the stranger’s form and unavoidably eddie’s gaze stops on the piece of fabric dangling from the other guy’s back pocket. no fucking way. it ties into sense three, which, well, it’s more of a … a sentiment his body expresses suddenly, with an urgency that nearly overwhelms him. telling him that holy hell, eddie needs to get laid. like, yesterday.
no wonder he’s been so tense since arriving in hawkins, there’s been no shenanigans to ease up the tension from all the crazy happening around him. mostly due to a lack of options. and here was his golden ticket to salvation. ugh, too cheesy. anyway.
eddie truly felt like the hottest piece of action in the joint, as if there was a fan pointed on him and everything was happening in slow motion as he casually got himself a drink and made his way across the bar, ignoring everyone around him but him.
he knew it was stupid to even ask - but … well, he was also in indiana. in the middle of nowhere, indiana, to be exact, and everything around him seemed to be stuck in the 80s. so it was worth a shot. eddie cleared his throat, flashed the other a grin when he got his attention. “uh… so, you can, like, totally tell me to get lost if not but … shit i’m - i’m just gonna ask, are you flagging? by any chance?”
dededos
kaledo-art
2087
jacobvanloon
yousharknotpass
