ʚɞ Summary: Eddie Munson's ghost and Henderson! Reader have a chat next to his gravestone.
ʚɞ Contents: Ghost! Eddie Munson and his best friend, Henderson! Reader. Discussion of major character death, references to violence and bullying, grief, loss, drugs, alcohol. Overall angst but there's some comfort between Dustin and Reader at the end because God knows they need some support from their sibling right now.
ʚɞ A/N: College has been kicking my ASS but winter break is here so here's some short STs angst. Eddie not only haunts the narrative but now he gets to haunt you too!! Yay!! Also I have very mixed feelings about that finale but those are issues for another day...
Ever since Eddie's death, neither you nor your younger brother had it easy.
You had the benefit of graduating from the hell that was Hawkins high the previous year while your brother Dustin still had to tread into what could've been best described an active minefield. The Hellfire shirt he insisted on wearing might as well have been a big, bright target painted on his back. You, as a result, spent most of your evenings in your home's bathroom, the first aid kit sat next to you on the bathtub's wall as you tended to the black eye's and bloody noses Dustin returned with every other night. While you had always been one of Dustin's main caretakers in the absence of your father, this was a new beast entirely.
While you didn't have to face Hawkins High anymore, you did have to face the outside world, which might have been worse. You started a new job, began taking classes at Hawkins' community college, started... drinking. And smoking. A lot.
You weren't proud of it. Of course you weren't. But, God, why should you give a shit about pride when your best friend was dead? What good was pride when you drove past his trailer and saw a 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn? Or when you listened to Metallica and Black Sabbath knowing Eddie would never get to hear it again? Or when you visited his grave and every single fucking time it had been vandalized by some heartless assholes?
It wasn't any good. So you didn't factor pride into the decision to smoke more weed than you'd ever had in your life and drink yourself until you were numb. The only thing from keeping you from drinking yourself to death was the guilt of leaving Dustin alone again. Because he couldn't lose you too. Not again, and not you. But you were angry, so unbearably angry. Not just at yourself for letting Eddie walk into that deathtrap in the first place, but at all of Hawkins, at society, at the world. What else were you supposed to do with all of that anger other than drink it down?
It took you months to work up the nerve to visit Eddie's grave again. You could only bear it once in a while and tonight was one of those rare occasions.
"Dustin's taken over Hellfire for you. Taking care of 'em, like you asked," You told Eddie's grave, your back resting on the back of the tombstone. You swirled a cheap bottle of liquor in your hand, watching the contents slosh around inside the brown tinted glass. You had planned to drink it in his honor, but the first few swigs tasted awfully bitter on your tongue. So you placed it down at your side. "Still wears that shirt you made, too. Practically lives in the damn thing. I have to wrestle him to wash it. Steve's, uh... workin' at the radio station with Robin now. You'd be surprised, but they're a good duo. He's her sound guy and she's got good taste in music."
"Not as good as mine though, right?" That familiar voice rang in your ears. Smug, annoying.
You clicked your tongue, casting a side-long glance to the apparition of Eddie Munson crouched at your side. His chin rested in his hand and, of course, a smirk sat on his face.
"Of course not." You answered. "No one could even come close to your revolutionary taste in music, Munson."
You had started seeing him not too shortly after his sacrifice in the Upside Down. You had been horrified at first, convinced you had truly and finally lost your mind. But, at some point, you had just accepted it. Because if this was truly just some hallucination your mind had created, then at least you could pretend Eddie was there a little bit longer. You could see his smug ass face again.
"It's a good design. Can't blame the kid for not wanting to ever take it off." Eddie bragged.
"I can when it gets covered in dirt and smells like shit."
"Some sacrifices must be made."
Eddie watched as you winced in response to those words leaving his mouth. He was quiet for a moment before he sighed, plopping down next to you. The air got a bit colder.
"Kinda flattered they keep fucking with the tombstone, honestly. The paint looks gnarly." Eddie attempted to lighten the mood before something else caught his eye. "...Y'know," He tilted his head toward the bottle of liquor at your other side. "Didn't take you for a drinker, Henderson. Thought you couldn't stand drunk people."
"Yeah, well, a lot has changed since..."
You didn't turn to look at Eddie because you were sure he was giving you that goddamn frown.
"You don't gotta drink yourself to death for little ol' me." He muttered quietly. "I mean, yeah, sure, I died and that totally sucks. But you didn't die. So you shouldn't be rushing that process, especially not on my grave."
"You don't get it, Eddie." You murmured. Your fingers dug into your palms, your nails leaving crescents in your skin. "You don't get it. You died. You died and now you're gone. And I have to keep living and working and going to school and taking care of Dustin and pretending like everything is normal. And- you know what? I'm so fucking mad at you for running back into a swarm of demon bats and getting yourself killed. You died on me and on Dustin and-" You hadn't realized you were crying until your voice cracked. You suddenly felt the heat burning your eyes and tried to blink away the blurriness in your vision. "You left me alone."
"I mean... That's fair." Eddie said after a long silence. He pushed his hair back and his head tilted back to rest on the gravestone. "I did die on you. But it wasn't really on purpose."
"I know that." You interrupt. "I know... And that makes it worse because I know you weren't planning on playing hero and getting yourself killed that night. I know you did it for Dustin."
"But it doesn't make it any easier, does it?"
You didn't reply, but instead nodded wordlessly. Eddie watched you and observed the various emotions all put on display on your expression. Tears ran down your face, your skin flushed in humiliation, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. God, he hated this. He hated this distance. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, to place an awkward hand on your back and let you cry it out because even if it was awkward as hell and sappy, at least it would be a reminder he was there. That he was there for you.
"I made Dustin promise me something, so it's only fair I do the same for you."
"Just hear me out, alright? Come on. I don't wanna play this card, but you kinda owe me for all that free pot over the years."
"Jesus Christ. Seriously?" His expression told you he was, in fact, very serious. First time for everything. "...Fine, okay. What is it?"
"Promise me," Eddie turned to you then, placing himself in your peripheral so you could see his pleading eyes on you. "That you're gonna live a long, happy life."
You felt a lump begin to form in your throat. "Eddie-"
"I'm not done, Henderson. Promise me you're gonna live. You're gonna stop this drinking bullshit because it'll kill your liver, you're gonna stop letting mini Henderson push you away. Promise me that you're gonna listen to all those metal tapes I left you, and finish school, and do something with your life. And if you won't do it for you, then do it for me."
"That's not fair," Your breath trembled as you said it, "Not fair and you know it."
"I never played fair, did I?" Eddie asked. "You get it. People like us... we gotta fight to survive, tooth and nail. We did for years. And you wanna give up now? That's bullshit, Henderson. Promise me."
You bit the inside of your cheek in a desperate attempt to swallow down a sob. "Fuck, okay. Okay, I promise. I promise..."
"See? Was that so hard?" Eddie huffed.
You blinked back more tears and then he was gone. It was cold.
You turned around to see Dustin approaching. You should have heard his boots crunching on the dead leaves all over the ground, but you hadn't.
Dustin didn't question you about the tears that ran down your face. He kicked the bottle of liquor away and when he saw you didn't react, he sat down at your side.
You two sat in agonizing silence. And then his head collapsed sideways onto your shoulder. Despite all the arguments and tension that had been bubbling between the two of you in your shared sea of grief, you were both too exhausted to care in this moment. Because in spite of all of that, you two were still there. You were breathing and alive and that was enough.
"I'm glad I found you here." He admitted.
You took a deep breath before your head did the same and fell to the side, your cheek resting on his brown curls. "I'm glad you found me."
"I'm sorry. For being such an asshole to you lately." Dustin said that and you almost scoffed. Asshole? Sure, maybe a little. But he was grieving. He was just as angry at the world as you were.
"You've earned the right to be an asshole for a while." You replied, your arm loosening from his so you could place your hand on his head. "I'm... sorry too. For being such a fuck up lately."
Dustin shrugged. "If I get to be an asshole for a while, you get to be a fuck up for a while."
You let out a snort. It was soft and quiet, but stuck out too much in the silence surrounding you two for it to not be noticeable.
"I'm scared." You whispered out into the quiet. "That you're too much like him. That you'll end up here too."
Dustin responded by shaking his head. "...And ditch you? What kind of brother do you take me for?" After a moment he added, "You die, I die."
Those words settled oddly comfortably over you, allowing your shoulders to sag as and for you to lean more of your weight on your little brother. "You die, I die."
