-You are assigned to go on a mission with the twins, but it goes awry and Tangerine fixes you up.
• Don’t Call Me a Liar
-You’re just trying to relax on the train ride from Tokyo to Kyoto after a grueling mission. Of course, you get entangled with the twins in the White Death. Previous interactions with Tangerine haunt you as he accuses you of stealing the case.
• Speechless? (sequel to Don’t Call Me a Liar)*
-After the train crash, you miss your flight. Tangerine and Lemon decide to make it up to you by driving you to the airport for the first flight the next day. when you agree to this, however, you don’t realize the implications of staying in a hotel with the two.
• Damsel in Distress
-You are kidnapped by your father’s political rivals. Tangerine and Lemon are hired to rescue you and you take a liking to one of the twins.
•Cause and Effect
-After a lovely dinner, you and Tangerine are walking to your car when a man recognizes him. Not being in the business, you have to make a split second to protect Tangerine. He helps you through the aftermath.
•Sensitive Intel*
-Tangerine’s charm wildly derails you from your mission to steal his and his brother’s case. Or, rather, he rails you.
The Bear
Carmen Berzatto
Runaway Thoughts*
-After a mishap in the kitchen, Carmen takes it upon himself to cheer you up.
riotrants: i seriously cannot get this man out of my mind no matter how hard i try. i really hope this makes sense but yeah im just so in love with him expect more of him… I APOLOGIZE TO MY REQUESTERS BUT i’m plagued and I HAD TO DO THIS. anyways go watch season 5 it’s so peak.
VERY MINOR SPOILER FOR ST5 (nothing plot-related)
you were used to running.
running from things that you didn’t understand—emotions you weren’t used to, concepts you couldn’t apply, situations you had no control over—and it worked.
you escaped brenner and his inhumane experiments, you conquered the demogorgons that followed you through thick and thin, you survived the rift that tore hawkins in half.
but running could only get you so far.
heavy pants ripped from your mouth, sweat beading on your brow. twigs and branches snapped beneath your feet, the crunches of leaves behind you eliciting a wave of fear. mud, tar, and blood caked to your clothes, uncomfortably forcing the fabrics to cling to your clammy skin. the black tendrils that seemingly stuck and winded around everything squished and churned, as if alerting him of your location.
you knew he was chasing you, he had been for years.
you were stuck confined to the onyx hellscape, your only comfort the crimson spikes of lightning in the skies. the loud screech of a demogorgon made you freeze, yanking the grapple you’d crafted from scrap metal from your belt and scaling a nearby tree. stopping, when you knew he was so close, was incredibly risky, but you’d prefer to not be tore open by a bloodthirsty demogorgon.
as if he’d ever let them touch you.
you were exhausted, cold, and so hungry. you couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper meal (yes, you could. it was with him, remember?) and you knew it wouldn’t be long before your body collapsed. the soft chitters of the fleshy being neared, and you saw it creeping through the trees. it lifted its petaled face, as if sniffing you out. the demogorgon approached the tree you’d chosen, massive claws digging into the bark.
it snarled, baring its countless rows of teeth dripping with saliva.
it lurched forward, and stopped. you stared, breathing heavy and limbs wracked with static. its inhuman ligaments trembled as it fell to the ground with a thud, and you tilted your head as it stalked away.
“barbaric creatures, yes?”
you flinched, the chill of the upside down seemingly warm compared to the ice flooding your veins. you launched from the tree without a second thought, but it was too late.
henry had you.
you hovered mid-air, that suffocating grip of his powers coating your body. your pack—stuffed with things you’ve made and lived on—was stripped from you and tossed aside. your eyes fell to the ground when his arms circled you. he was warm, his chest pressed against your back.
“you’re freezing, dear. have you been down here all this time?”
you didn’t answer.
your throat closed slowly, and you instantly dug your fingers into his hand. he kept it clasped around your neck, eyes narrowed in displeasure. “answer me.” you nodded as best you could, and he loosened his hold. he hummed, unreadable. henry rested his chin on your shoulder, tracing the imprint of his fingertips left in your skin.
“you were right in front of me for so long,” he whispered, “hiding, waiting—watching.”
he traced a finger down your arm, slipping his hand into yours. the inky abyss surrounding you bled into daylight, and you saw his home before you. it looked flawless, bright, and beautiful. henry gently ushered you forward, guiding you inside. “where…”
“my mind, darling. an oasis for you to rest in.”
tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away. he shushed you softly, coaxing you back into his embrace, “it’s alright, you’re safe here. i promise. nobody can reach you but me.”
that made you cry, trying to push him away.
your nose bled, mind straining from the effort of using your powers. “ah, that lovely gift of yours doesn’t work in here, i’m afraid,” he smiled serenely, cradling your face in one hand, “there’s no reason for you to need it.”
you’d realize that eventually, he thought. right now, you’re vulnerable. tired from years of surviving in a wasteland of sludge and bloodthirsty creatures, mind worn from escape plans and nightmares.
he had you right where he wanted you.
“let’s get you inside and warmed up, hm?”
you nodded, accepting defeat.
henry was possessive, obsessive of you in all the wrong ways—but he took care of you. he stalked you when you snuck out, unleashed demogorgons to scare you back into his arms, but then he’d prepare you a five star meal. he would get angry when you ignored his voice in your head, refusing to join him in the mindscape for those precious moments he wanted so badly.
you held his hand as he walked you inside, him smiling at your poorly-disguised relief of a warm home.
he already felt much better. you were where you belonged:
with him, in a sanctuary he controlled.
“i will begin dinner while you get cleaned up,” he muttered, glancing at your filthy clothes, “i’ll make your favorite. how does that sound?”
“sounds nice,” you resigned to your fate, a kind one despite the cruel nature of the world he was creating. henry kissed your temple, moving past you to the kitchen.
after your shower, you quietly went back downstairs. you peeked around the corner, spotting him at the stove. soft hums of your favorite song made a chill run down your spine, and henry simply smiled, “no need to hide, dear. i know you’re there.”
you moved to stand next to him, your senses flooded with aromatics and spices. “i’m glad you’re home,” he laid the wooden spoon to the side, turning to you, “i’ve missed you terribly.”
he held your face in his hands, eyes shifting briefly to your lips. you lifted your hands to rest atop his, and you barely nodded.
why did you ever leave? his voice echoed, this is where you belong.
your mind couldn’t conjure any reasonable explanation, no logical argument even though you’d had several planned points to make. it was like they were vanishing, erased and painted over with the happiest of memories with him.
only me, he thought spitefully, fingertips casting memories of your friends on the surface aside in favor of filling the void with his affections.
“i’m sorry,” you murmured against his lips, voice wavering and pitched with sadness. henry let out a content sigh, as if grateful you’d come to your senses. he was worried he would have to overload your pretty little head, but it didn’t take much for you to relax in his embrace. his eyes sparkled with insanity, love swirling around his pupils.
“i know you are, darling. i forgive you.”
any semblance of logic and denial left in your mind shattered, blurred by the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body.
The twins find out Hufflepuff reader is the school dealer
I think it would be such a cute trope that you’re secretly growing and selling 🍃 herbs 🍃 to the entire school as the hufflepuff herbology prodigy and when the twins find out it’s you they become obsessed.
Hello! I hope you’ve been doing okay! I saw that you had requests open and I also saw that you take requests for Carmen? If it’s totally okay of course to request for him! I got into the bear a few days ago and my brain has been filled with nothing but thoughts of Carmy. Would it be okay just requesting something that’s just Carmen being worried/concerned about the reader? He just always sees whenever there’s that tiredness to them when it looks like it’s a bad day, that slump in their shoulders that all too much reminds him of him a little sometimes, just bringing them into the office and his eyebrows are furrowed with that look of concern and his eyes the same, maybe unexpectedly just wrapping them in a hug (Your writing is so cute btw!) 💕
to carry and to bear
ask, it will be my infinite quest to fulfill! love this request so much and i loved writing is even more. i'm going to be so annoying when s2 comes out, especially since i love carmen's character so much! thank you for your request anon <3
a/n: you know i love a character when i'm completing fics in under a day..lets pray this momentum keeps going
Wrapping yourself tight against the chilly wind of the unforgivable Chicago weather, you watch the city coming alive in the early morning as you walk down the concrete sidewalk of the Beef’s city corner.
Merchants and gazebo have begun to set up shop, their bright red vendor stands a stark contrast to the grey haze of the windy city. Corner stores and cafes have begun to uncover their blinds, dusting away the sliver of droplets that had long since evaporated after a heavy downpour the night before, it’s slow though.
The mass of cars and yellow cabbed taxis haven’t yet filled the gravel roads, and the surging rush of traffic and uncontrollable road rage the beef windows have been accustomed to viewing hasn't filled the air.
The pinch of cold begins to itch against the cracks in your outerwear, your trusted winter jacket and gloves had been left at the bottom of your laundry basket and instead you were forced to throw on a flimsy polyester jacket that provided absolutely no warmth.
Your fingers are stuffed into your pocket, trying to hide them from the cold but it is no use, they shake against the freezing air of wind and you push past huddles of men chain smoking and passing coolers of steaming coffee on street corners.
You’re about to go ask for a cup, despite Carmen's disgruntled comments of their huddled group festering near the restaurant. They were a pack of wolves, and whilst Sydney's sandwiches had fended them off for a while, the hole in the Beef’s window was still fresh, and more had begun to trickle in from alleyways, leading to customers steering clear from the nearby streets.
Carmen didn’t even like you walking to work this early, despite being daylight, Chicago had a way of defying social norms and you weren't impervious to the increase in robbings and attacks that had begun to frequent news reports.
It wouldn't have been a problem, walking was always voluntary for you as you had a perfectly fine working car that would drive you to and from your destination with as little as a rumble from its engine. And yet, that seemingly perfect car decided to break down on you this morning, leading to an overheated engine and a smoke filled hood.
So not only did you have to pay for a towing truck to drag away your car to an auto shop you couldn't afford to pay for, but you were late. And you hated being late.
Not to mention your sister had called you late last night, asking to stay for a couple nights after her good for nothing boy-friend you would rather call a child had kicked her out after a fight. She had rambled for nothing short of 2 hours after you had gotten home from the Beef late last night, and the pull of sleep had begun to weigh on you, the exhaustion and deprivation written in the slug of your limbs and the slump of your shoulders.
You had to come in today, there were no rest days even if the Beef wasn't neck deep in debt and Cicero didn't have you all on a leash, because you wouldn't allow yourself one. You had that in common with Carmen, you frequently ignored your own needs for your craft, the same insatiable passion and need for perfection driving you to exhaustion.
The familiar chime of the Beefs wooden doors hit your ears, and you shake off the cold of the city streets, the Beef is warm and you're grateful, sighing as the heat of prepped ovens and oiled pans defrosts your face.
It takes a second before you walk into the busy kitchen when the sound finally reaches you, the screeching sound of Richie's voice bickers with Tina about the next door convenient store being turned into a “pretentious hipster coffee shop that is legally selling dog water to unassuming Chicagoans”, dragging on and on about the invasion of gentrification that will soon take out all the good businesses that had been around since his grandfather had come from Sicily. In which Carmen yells that he is not Italian, and his obsession with the European country has been bordering on creepy.
Ebra is reciting an article about a culinary student that had gone rogue and murdered their entire class, giving pointers and little comments on how he himself had to patch up an entire unit of people stabbed by a bent corkscrew. The loud conversations and untethered yelling across the kitchen combines with the malfunctioning arcade that has begun to re-circuit the same sentence for 20 minutes now, and the beeping sound of cooking alarms going off.
You stand at the entrance of the kitchen, watching the commotion of early morning prep with a tight grimace, your head begins to vibrate a little, the start of a headache you won’t be relieved from until your head hits your pillow spreading and you have to swallow down the exhaustion that begins to seep in at the sight.
Sydney brushes past you, greeting you with a hello and one of her charming smiles before muttering about throwing that arcade machine out the back, you can't help but giggle because you would help yourself. You step into the kitchen, and the crew each turn to greet you good morning as you walk past them into the locker bay stuffing your bag and shoes into the cabinet before quickly changing.
Your phone reads 7am and you stuff it into the pocket of your hung jacket before slamming the locker shut. Carmen peeks his head around the corner, nodding at you as you put on your non-slip shoes, calling your name when you don't notice, you flinch before peering up and Carmen waves trying to get your attention.
“Mornin’ chef, didn’t think you were coming in” Carmen remarks, raising his eyebrows as he leans his shoulder against the wall.
“Morning, yeah, sorry about that, uh- shit happened and I had to deal with it all at once. Won;t happen again” You reply, biting back a yawn, before letting your feet fall to the ground.
“It’s all good,” Carmen replies, nodding, wiping his hand on the white towel hanging on his shoulder that was already smudged with stains.
“Just shoot me a text or call next time, yeah?” Carmen replies
“Will do chef” You reply, smiling, before peering out to see Sydney carrying a basket of ingredients
“New recipe?” You ask, nodding towards Sydney, and Carmen nods, running a hand through his curls as he leans forward.
“We’ll call it trying something, not yet finished, just needs some minor tweaks here and there” Carmen replies
“I can help Sydney out if you want?” You reply without a second thought, you already had prep and a marinade you had to make for Cicero’s function he had conveniently told Carmen about the night before, but helping out was second nature to you, it was a part of this family's culture.
Carmen shakes his head, his eyes falling to your slumped shoulder, and the slow but tight blinks you tended to do when you were exhausted, he second he had peered his head around the corner and saw the slug of your limbs he knew something was up, but he also knew he couldn't force you to relax, you were worse than him, always taking on so much, filling up your cup until it was overflowing.
“No, no, it’s alright, besides, that marinade isn’t going to be easy, I should be asking if you want me to help out” Carmen replies, chuckling, scratching his neck as you curve your mouth into that smile he loves so much. You could be half-dead and he still stares at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen.
“I think I’ve got it handled, I remember having to make something similar back at Le Bleu, you just got to get the temperature right or the entire thing gets spoiled. Having more than one person just makes it more confusing, besides, don't you have that meeting with the vendor today?” You reply, and Carmen sighs, nodding
“Yep, hopefully this place looks stable enough to get him to sign, you know I can’t deal with corporate bullshit, Sydney should’ve met up with them, any one other than me” Carmen replies, shaking his head as he fidgets with the hem of his apron.
Despite his numerous accolades, and world renowned talent, he only ever felt at nature in the kitchen, high function parties and elusive dinner bars were things he despised, feeling out of place despite it being thrown in his name.
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself, you're the face of this place Carmen, you’ve transformed it, you oughta show them the Beef is the best investment they’ll make. Hell you’re the best investment they can make” You reply, and Carmen ears perk at your reply, smiling fondly at your comment. He didn't deserve your praise, and he hated the way the sound of your lips curving around his name shoots through him.
“Are y'all going to get to work or continue eye fucking?” Richie calls, as he passes by the locker bay, and Carmen immediately shakes his head muttering a fuck you before nodding to you, and heading back to his station. You get up from your seated position on the bench, dusting and ironing out the creases in your apron before mentally going over the things you had to complete before opening.
Prep vegetables, then start the veal stock for Cicero's marinade. You had to complete it early, since it had to be chilled for at least 5 hours, any less and the fat would congeal and turn into a complete mess you didn’t have time to fix.
You walk towards your station, stepping over sauce that had spilled onto the tile floors, this crew was amazing in their craft, but god were they messy. You bump shoulders with Sydney as you begin to grate and cut root vegetables and herbs, you have to force your eyes open, blinking several times before dipping your hand into an ice water bucket and wiping your face with it.
Sydney converses with you, and it wasn't that she was boring, in fact you both frequently spend time even out of the restaurant as friends, but you can’t even try to decipher what she says, just sounds coming out of her mouth that you pack away in order to get your job done.
Just cut the vegetables, finish the stock, cut the vegetables, finish the stock, you repeat it like a mantra in your head, unaware at Sydney calling your name, Sydney reaches forward, pressing a soft hand to your shoulder to get your attention.
“Hey, did you hear me?” Sydney replies, concern written across her features as she peers at your disoriented state.
“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You reply, avoiding her gaze. You feel her penetrate through you, pitying the exhaustion on your face, probably realising you were a shit chef who couldn't even handle a couple responsibilities.
“I was asking if you could grab me some of the sauce I made yesterday from the storage fridge. You alright? You seem a bit..” Sydney starts, before you cut her off quickly
“Just had a long night, didn't get much sleep” You reply, rubbing your eyes with a hand. What has gotten into you? You weren't foreign to a few sleepless nights and a few too many deadlines you had to meet, hell your entire college and culinary life had been exactly that.
“That’ll kill you, you know” Richie butts in, reaching for a crab cake Sydney had prepared before being swatted away with a wooden spoon.
“What?” You ask, already regretting asking Richie to elaborate on what was clearly some elaborated story he had got stored away
“Go without that good old shut eye a few nights too long and you'll start hallucinating shit, not fuckinf with you you, don’t you know about the Russian sleep experiment-?” Richie rambles
“Ah here we go” Sydney replies, rolling her eyes
“You think because you went to Paris or whatever prestigious tight ass school you know everything? It’s real, happened right after World War 2, Russians got a bunch of people and just made them not sleep for like months, they starting turning into fuckin' aliens and shit-” Richie continues, ignoring Sydney's sly remarks about Richie's facebook usage.
“Richie c’mon, you know that shits made up” You reply
“Don’t matter, didn’t I tell you about my week long bender during college? Starting seeing my great aunt from the corner of my eye, and I swear she is still there-” Richie replies before getting cut off my Carmen calling his name
“Stop distracting my chefs Cousin”
You chuckle, shaking your head as Richie mutters about the fall of democracy and wipe your hands across your towel.
“I’ll go get your sauce Syd” You reply, and she smiles in gratitude as you turn towards the storage room. The cold air of the fridge wakes you up a little, and you rest your head against the door of the storage fridge, sighing in frustration. Talking to Richie was exhausting in itself, and when you were already running only fumes and second hand smoke you felt like it took the last bit of energy you had left.
You grab the container of sauce written with “DO NOT TOUCH” on its front, it's wrapped in cling film, with no lid and you're careful not to drop it everywhere. It wasn’t heavy, per se, just filled to the brim and without careful steps it was close to tipping out. You walk out of the storage room carefully, before turning towards your station.
“Corner!” You yell, twisting around the corner of the kitchen, before you slam straight into a tall body, jerking back and inadvertently spilling the sauce all across the kitchen floor and onto your shoes. You feel it sink into your socks and drip down your apron, eye twitching in frustration as Marcus starts apologising profusely, you ignore him, dropping down to your knees and reaching for paper towels. You start wiping away the sauce, as Marcus drops down to your level and tries to help, you shake our head looking up at him.
“Stop, Marcus, just stop. I can do it” You reply
“But-” Marcus protests
“We don't need two chefs to clean up a one person job, alright? You need to finish prep” You reply, letting the towels soak up the sauce. You grieve for Sydney, not all of it had spilt, but a quarter of a container wasn’t enough to get through the morning rush, let alone the entire day.
You ignore the spilt sauce all over your clothes, you didn’t have time to change now, rushing back to your station before telling Sydney about the spill
“You serious? I thought I could leave early today, got a friend's birthday” Sydney replies, pinching the bridge of her nose.
You instantly feel guilty, you should've been more careful, and now Sydney would have to pay for it.
“Hey, I got it, let me take that new recipe off your plate. That gives you enough time to get to the party?” You reply
Sydney looks up, rising her eyebrows “No, no I couldn’t possibly ask you to”
“Nonsense, I owe you anyway, remember when I had to leave halfway through the morning to get my sister?” You reply, with a tired smile before Sydney wraps her arms around you, you rub a hand across her back. You can’t really feel her arms around you, it’s like all your senses are delayed, you ignore it as you get back to work, now with another task on your plate.
You finish chopping the vegetables after a short while, usually you were the fastest in the house, but today you lagged behind, finally carrying the vegetables to Carmen who looked at you strange, his eyes staring through you, he swallowed like he was going to say something as you walked away, before stopping and continuing stirring the stock on the stove
By the time the Beef opens, you're still elbow deep in work, you've stayed silent most of the time, waving off Marcus’s apology and instead working, not stopping since you started. You skipped breakfast, and you hadn't gotten a chance to eat, and just when you're about to make yourself something, Richie calls your name from the front counter.
You walk towards the front of the Beef, wiping stains on your apron to look a little presentable to the outside world. Richie stands at the register, flicking a pen in his hand, a look of annoyance on his face.
“What up?” You ask Richie, as a tall man dressed down in a polo sweater and khakis stares down at you in anger, he’s familiar, someone you had served when Richie had to take his smoke break, and he scrutinises you as you smile at him, that’s the only way you could communicate with these people, any hint of anger and you’d be written of as angry and unable to control your emotions, you lost your last job because you defended yourself anyway.
“This guy said he came in and you made him something he apparently didn't like, but finished anyway” Richie replies, a knowing look passes between you both and you sigh, you don't have time for this.
“Morning Sir, May I ask what’s the problem” You ask politely
“You suggested to me a dish from the menu, alright, YOU, not me, so don't go blaming me for this, and look what I got, not only does it have nuts, which i hate, it's spicy. Way too spicy, I want a refund, NOW” The man replies, seething, his yelling catches the attention of other patrons, and Richie begins to reach under the table for a bat.
“Well, you finished it all so I don’t know what you-” You begin before the man cuts you off loudly
“Do you think I give a shift what you think? Huh? Jesus fucking Christ, see you just need to do what i fucking say, not argue, Give me a refund before i get you fired from this shit hole you dumb stupid-” The man yells, loudly before Carmen's booming voice cuts him off
“I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you” Carmen replies, clenching his jaw in way that told you he was trying to hold back the rage from spilling out
“Who the fuck are you?” The man asks
“I own this shit hole you piece of shit, and if you don't get the fuck out of my restaurant I'm going to break every single bone in your face with my bare hands".
“Excuse me?”
Carmen laughs, shaking his head before smiling at the man
“I told you”
Carmen drags the man by his collar, throwing him onto the sidewalk and dragging his body to the alleyway, you fear what he is going to do and Richie raises his eyebrows in astonishment.
“Well shit cousin, you ain't a pussy after all” Richie mutters under his breath
You can faintly hear the sound of splitting skin and the crack of bone, before Carmen storms back into the restaurant, eyeing all the patrons who are following his every move.
“Y'all got that? Anyone mess with my people hear and your walk out on a fucking stretcher” Carmen replies still seething with anger, before Richie claps loudly as Carmen walks back behind the desk.
“Call a fucking ambulance” Carmen replies, rolling his eyes at Richie before he walks towards you, the the tension immediately leaving him as he find your safe and away from that man.
“You alright? He didn't hurt you or anything?” Carmen asks in concern, his eyes darting across your body to see any imagined injuries
“It seems you should be asking him that question” You reply, nudging towards the alley of the Bear, chuckling as you shake your head.
“You didn't have to do that you know, i could have-” You start
Carmen looks down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places his hand on you shoulder
“Could've what? He was screaming in your face and I wasn't about to let him think that shit was okay, god, how could you not react?” Carmen replies, looking down at you in concern, shaking his head as he places a hand on your shoulder.
“I’m just so busy, I still- Fuck, i still got to get Cicero's marinade in the fridge, and i need to start on Syd’s broth” You mutter pressing your fingertips t your temples.
“What? You’re doing Sydney’s load as well? Hey, you need to sit down a second” Carmen replies, as you begin to walk back towards the kitchen, with Carmen hot on your heels, asking you to stop and turn to him.
You hear him call your name, but the mountain of tasks that were now even later due to that customer had begun to seize your consciousness, all you could focus on was the dishes you needed to make and the pain in your temples that had begun to spread down, your vision getting fuzzy around the edges as you try and shake yourself awake.
“Dammit, listen to me! Stop cutting fucking vegetables and listen to me” Carmen yells at you for the first time, twisting your body to face him and you spit out in anger
“What?!”
“What’s gotten into you today?” Carmen replies, yelling
And you don't know why, but that question breaks something in you, and you can't help but throw your head back in laughter. Carmen looks down at you in horror, trying to reach for you, to catch you when the inevitable happens and you look at him once before it does. Before your vision begins to blur and the edges begin to burn like a flame, you try and catch yourself, but it’s too late and you fall into Carmen's arms, wrapped up against his chest as you crash
Carmen gathers you in his arms, his heart breaking beneath his breasts, holding his sweet girl in his arms as the streams of tears dampen his shirt. The rest of the crew watch on in concern, and Carmen shoes them away as he carries your unconscious body to the office.
“What the fuck Cousin?” Richie calls
“Hey, hey, is she alright? What -what happened?” Sydney replies in horror as she watches Carmen carry you from the kitchen.
“What happened was, ya'll did fuck all when she was practically breaking down trying to finish everyone else's fucking mess. What happened? Are you fucking serious? If i wasn't there, she would’ve fainted into a burning skillet of your fucking vegetables Sydney” Carmen replies, shaking his head, the entire crew goes silent, the only sounds coming from the beeps of ovens and stove tops, and the sizzling of burning food.
Carmen goes quiet, as he assesses your state, there is something unwritten in the way he holds you, and he blinks tight, his face twitching a little as if he had to make sure you were in his arms, the only place he wanted you to be.
“Get back to work” Carmen replies, quietly, a stark contrast to his rage from before, the crew has never seen him like this, his eyes and focus on you, as if he has been seized by this responsibility and dying need to protect you. He can hardly breathe, his arms shaking as he stares down at your sullen and tired face.
“We need-” Marcus starts before Carmen shakes his head
“No, no, enough. Sydney will hold down the fort, this is my responsibility. Get. back to work.” Carmen replies
—-
Carmen wastes no time to gently place your body onto the scuffed office couch, pressing a hand to your head, before reaching for an ice cold container of water, dipping a towel into it before gently pressing it to your forehead.
Carmen shakes his head in anger, he should've seen this coming, he should've noticed from the slump of your shoulder and your one word answers that you were stretching yourself too thin. Carmen tortures himself as he replays the moments before you fainted into his arms, the way your features twisted into a sob, and the lasts shred of resolve snapped, and you had reached for him, you had reached for him, reached for Carmen when you fell, and something in him broke when he had caught you.
Carmen had been used to his own self-destruction, but as he rested his thumb, rubbing circles and wiping away the tears on your face, he wished himself to change, not just for him, but for you. How could he? How could you be such a poor example to you? This was his own fault, and the reality of that conclusion twists like a knife to his gut.
His sweet girl, his Sunshine, who had thought the needs of this goddamn sandwich shop was more important than her own. You begin to stir in his arms, and the tension and shake of his arms begins to release as you wake up, Carmen eases you into consciousness when you begin to panic.
“Hey hey, I’m right here, you're okay, you're okay” Carmen replies softly, and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to understand what had happened and why you felt like your body was filled with lead.
"What, what happened” You reply, looking across the location of the office.
“You fainted, and I carried you to the office because you are not going back into that kitchen” Carmen replies, sitting up from his slumped position.
You stay quiet, confusion lacing your features as you shake your head. You fainted? How did that even happen? You had never fainted in your entire life.
Carmen peers at you, his eyes dancing across your face as your silence frightens him, he wouldn't even recognise you, your usual bubbly, and incredibly chirpy self was not replaced by someone who was so exhausted they couldn’t stay conscious.
“You gotta talk to me baby girl, please, look at me, you can tell me, you can tell me anything” Carmen replies, softly, caressing your hand with his thumb when it begins to shake.
You look up at him, his expression of worry and concern causing your features to twist,
“I um, I’m just a little tired” You reply, the beginning of tears choking you, causing your words to rush out as you try to stop yourself but it is fruitless, and Carmen eyebrows kind of pinch, he kind of frowns a little as he looks at you in that way, and it's all it takes before you sob, and sink into the coach. Carmen gathers you once again in his arms, and scoops your legs so that they lay across his thighs, and your head rests against his collarbone.
“I know baby, I know, I’m sorry, Oh honey I am so sorry” Carmen replies, rubbing your back as you let the last of your resolve sink into his chest, the cry of your tears leaving you speechless. You can’t stop crying, the cup spilling over and making a big whole mess, snot and tears and heartache and exhaustion dirties Carmen's chef whites and you can't help but grip onto him like he is the only thing tethering you to Earth. You don’t have to tell Carmen then, he knew the second you walked in, and he knows now when you hold him. There's a certain grief Carmen feels when he looks at you and sees himself, and in a way this is for Carmen too.
You sit like this for a while, you and Carmen. Wrapped in his arms as you lay across his lap, long after the tears had run dry, where you are left with hiccups and the soothing touch of Carmen's hand across your back. It feels like you two are the only people on earth, everything is Carmen, its all you smell, all you feel against your skin, all you hear as he whispers into you ear. No one dares to step into the office doors, even when an hour ticks by, even when the trickle of customers turns into a downpour and the orders never end, the family knows that you need this, that your health was better than money, or happy customers and fuck all.
Even after you have cried your eyes out, the responsibility of work begins to weigh on your body, you still had so much to do with so little time
“But the marinade, and- and Sydney's” You begin before Carmen cuts you off with a soft squeeze.
“Richie’ll handle it, and if he doesn't Cicero can go fuck himself. You really think I’m going to let that override you right now? Just forget about the kitchen alright, can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Carmen replies
You nod, the burden that had exhausted you to sickness lifted from your shoulders. You look towards the clock and realise the vendors were coming soon to meet with Carmen, something he couldn’t miss.
“The vendors, aren't they-”
“They came in 3 hours early, it's why it took me so long to get to you when that asshole was throwing a fit” Carmen replies, knowing what you were asking for.
You peek at him in question “Well?”
“They signed.” Carmen replies, rolling eyes and smiling at your delighted squeal
“What did I tell you? Carmen Berzatto is more than-” You start before a yawn stretches through you.
“Alright, alright, enough talking from you. When’s the last time you ate?” Carmen asks
You stop and scratch your head, trying to think and you laugh a little when you can’t remember.
“I don't know” You reply
Carmen’s eye twitches, and he smiles down at you before easing you off his thighs and onto the coach.
“What- what are you doing?” You ask, not even trying to hide the sadness in your voice. You already miss the heat of his chest warm against your cheek.
Carmen smiles softly as he looks down at you, threaded a hand through his head as he wipes down the creases on his apron.
“I’m making you something”
“What? No it’s- it’s okay I’ll eat at family” You reply, reaching a hand out to him
Carmen reaches for your palm, pressing a soft kiss on your the skin of your knuckles before reaching down to kiss the top of your head.
“No you need to eat now, alright? You're going to sleep the rest of the day, and then, and then, you're coming back to my place so I can keep an eye on you. You gonna listen to me or protest?” Carmen replies, eyebrow raised as he crosses his arms. His voice drops down an octane, like it was a command, and you have to bite back the desire floating in your stomach at the way he looks down with his eyes all heavy from above.
“Okay, alright, whatever you say Chef” You reply with a smile, and Carmen sinks his teeth into his bottom lip when you say it like that.
“Just wait a sec” Carmen replies, and as he is about to leave you call for him again
“What are you even making, half the ingredients are gone”
“It’s no problem, it’s your recipe anyway” Carmen replies, with a hint of a smile on his face before he leaves the room. It takes you a while, half because you're exhausted and the other half because you're hungry before the realisation hits you that he's made a recipe for you, about you.
You can't help the smile that stretches across your face, goddamnit Carmen Berzatto, and you say you aren't a romantic.
Warnings: Smut, Language, Anxiety, Drinking, Slightly drunk sex
Word Count: 3,051
Summary: After a mishap in the kitchen, Carmen takes it upon himself to cheer you up.
A/N: This is my first Carmen fic and I hope everyone likes it bc I am definitely starved Carmen content lol. This is not proofread sorry not sorry <3
When your brother begged you to join him working at The Bear, you would have said no if you knew what it entailed. Richie pulled you into the job by calling me over and over, complaining about other candidates and how they “didn’t fix the napkin” whatever that means. You gave in, becoming a server for the restaurant, and managing front-of-house affairs, training the servers on anticipating customers’ needs and wants, and improving their overall experiences at The Bear. The tense atmosphere of the back of house staff doesn't often carry to the front of house workers, but when it rains, it pours.
Tonight was one of those nights. Focaccia courses were behind, pushing everything else back, and causing Carmen Berzatto to lose his shit behind the kitchen doors.
“Where the FUCK are the seven fishes for table 42?!” Carmen screams at Tina.
She attempts to explain that the last batch got undercooked, and she had to cook some of the ingredients a bit longer when Carmen cut her off, snapping “Just get it done, chef. Every second counts.”
Tensions have been high all night and only continue to rise as servers poke their heads in and out of the kitchen to ask where their missing dishes are. Nothing pisses the chefs off more than this.
The flames between the servers and the chefs are stoked with every backed up dish, and every question, a fact you are overwhelmingly aware of as the servers decide to come to you as a front-of-house manager. You’ve finally had enough of the complaints, and you stomp through the restaurant in search of Richie. He would know what to do, his gruff and snarky exterior being able to bridge the gap between front and back-of-house, with his sister in front and Carmen in the back. Unable to find him in the front, you push open the doors to the kitchen and begin to make your way to the back doors, behind which you assume Richie is standing smoking a cigarette. In your haste, you forget to yell ‘corner’ as you crash directly into one of the dishwashers, who just so happened to be holding a freshly clean stack of salad plates. You watch in slow-motion as part of the stack tips off the top, crashing and shattering on the kitchen tile.
“Oh my God, I-I’m so sorry, here let me go get the broom, I’ll-” you begin to panic, rambling on about cleaning the plates before you look up and meet the eyes of the person you crashed into. It’s one of the new guys, you haven’t talked to him before, making your mishap all the more embarrassing.
In the middle of your rambling he cuts you off.
“Are you too fucking stupid to say ‘corner’?!” He barks. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Do you not know how a kitchen works?! Now we’re gonna be fucked over for the rest of the night because we’re short fifteen plates! And it’s your fucking fault.”
You apologize profusely again as you grab the broom and the dustpan, attempting to sweep what you can to avoid any risk. The man finally walks away as you sweep, muttering more about how he hates you and how you fucked the kitchen for the night. You go silent, retreating from your current situation into your head and thoughts. Are you stupid? You couldn’t solve the server’s problems without running to cry to your brother. You empty the dust pan into the trash. You’re awful at this job. You don’t deserve to work here. You smooth your shirt as you walk back to the front, not looking at any of the chefs you walk past. You’re an obstacle. You don’t help all you do is hurt. You tell a server to deal with their backed up tables by themself, continuing to walk past the rows of tables, to one you know is waiting on their food. Thoughts continue to plague you as you offer them all free glasses of wine as they wait. You wouldn’t have to give away free drinks if you could control the servers. You’re costing the restaurant money. You’re gonna fuck everyone over.
Your night continues like this, nitpicking yourself as you try to do your job, unable to fully be in the moment. A faraway look sits on your face as you complete your cutwork. You roll silverware in fabric napkins, placing the complete bundles into a crate for tomorrow as your thoughts haunt the back of your mind. Richie’s gonna be so fucking pissed. You roll another. Carmen’s gonna fire you. Another. The chefs all hate you now. You reach for another fork, and realize you’re out of clean silverware, signaling your ability to leave.
Checking your phone, you realize it’s much later than usual, you must be moving pretty slowly tonight. The kitchen getting backed up must’ve been your fault.
You arrive at your locker, swapping your non-slip work shoes for regular sneakers. You hear footsteps as you grab your bag.
“Oh good you’re still here. I need to talk to you.” It's Carmen. You’re fired. He hates you.
“I was actually just about to leave, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened earlier too, I didn’t mean to knock into him, I understand if you don’t want me back, I totally fucked up the whole kitchen I’m so sorry.” your words escape you before you can think about what you want to say.
“No. No no no, you’re not fired (y/n). You’re like the most reliable one here. I just need to know what he said to you.” Carmen looks surprised that you would have thought he would ever fire you. “Plus I think Richie would kill me if I fired you so…” he laughs, trying to lighten the mood.
“Oh. Sorry. I just kind of assumed-” you trail off before you begin to tell Carmen the awful things the dishwasher said to you, not letting the tears that were welled in your eyes spill down your cheeks.
Carmen looks at you with an upset empathy in his blue eyes, he reaches forward to brush a stray tear from your cheek, then takes your hand in his as you finish telling him how the things the man said to you had echoed in the back of your head all night.
“I’m sorry, I know it shouldn’t affect me like it does, I should just move on, grow up.” You dryly laugh, attempting to brush your insecurities off as a joke.
“No, (y/n), I expect that from my chefs who have gone through culinary school. They have those words drilled into them for years and they learn to deal with that in a learning setting, not a professional kitchen like this. That is not in your job description and should not have happened, as the owner I can not apologize to you enough.”
Carmen’s words make you feel reassured and safe. You’ve never heard him speak like that in all of the years you’ve known him.
“It’s not your fault Carmy, I think- I think I just need to go home and sleep off the day.” you brush a strand of hair behind your ear as you bend to grab your bag again.
“Here let me call you an Uber, you don’t really seem to be in a place to deal with the L.” Carmy grabs for his phone, opening the app. “Where do you live?”
You tell him your address and he snaps his head to look at you
“Are you fucking with me?” he asks. You shake your head. “Oh my God you live like a block from me.” He laughs in surprise.
“Oh shit, are you leaving soon? We can just share the Uber to our shithole apartments.” You laugh back. It’s definitely not the nicest part of town but at least Carmy can share your pain.. You’re shocked Richie never mentioned that you live in the same area as Carmen, but Richie is kind of fucking stupid.
Carmy agrees to split the Uber, grabbing his things while you wait for the car to arrive.
As the two of you walk to the car, Carmen opens the door for you, allowing you to slide in before he takes his own seat and slams the door shut, briefly exchanging pleasantries with the driver. It’s a 20 minute drive through the traffic spent exchanging stories of Richie, remodeling The Bear, and finding line cooks doing drugs in the alley. As you pull up to Carmy’s building, he licks his lips nervously, and turns to look at you.
“Hey uh, do you want to maybe come in for a drink? I can walk you to your building later if you want?”
“Only if you have tequila.” You respond. He laughs and you follow him out of the car to the doors of his building.
You sit on his couch with a drink in your hand. He sits beside you, picking up your earlier conversation.
“Richie was always an asshole but you were so nice and polite, I didn’t believe you were related when you first came to Christmas.” Carmen is leaned back against the couch, feet up on the coffee table. The arm holding his drink is propped up on the arm of the couch. He looks delicious. It’s then you remember to respond.
“I think I was on my best behavior because your family is terrifying.” You laugh. “Like is Cicero in the mafia or like what is the deal with that?”
Carmen’s face drops “Oh babe, we can’t talk about that.” His voice is hushed and your heart drops. You dumbass you fucked it up. Carmy's concerned look cracks into a smile.
“I’m fucking with you.” He laughs and you let out a sigh of relief.
“You’re awful.” you laugh in response, softly swatting his arm. It's then you realize how close together you are really sitting. You can smell him, hear him breathe. As he finishes laughing, he meets your eyes. It must be the alcohol talking when he says “You know I used to have the biggest crush on you, I was too scared to talk to you that first Christmas because of it.”
You’re taken aback. Fucking Carmen Berzatto just admitted that he had a CRUSH on you.
“No you’re fucking with me again.” You can’t believe him.
“No I promise you I’m not. I honestly don’t think it ever went away, and I probably shouldn't say that but I’m a little drunk right now and there’s a beautiful girl on my couch.”
You can’t say anything. Your cheeks heat up as you lean into him meeting your lips with his. As your lips meet you feel him sigh in contentment, he’s been waiting for this and so have you. Your lips move against each other heatedly as you intensify the kiss. You’re leaned over him so you can kiss him as he is leaned against the back of the couch. Your arm meets his side of the couch to prop yourself up across him and he breaks the kiss for a moment as his arm meets your lower back, encouraging you to set yourself on his lap. Your legs wrap around his waist as you continue to kiss, his tongue entering your mouth as his hand pushes itself under your shirt, rubbing your back. Your hands make their way to his head, you have one hand on his cheek, one tangled in his hair as he moans into the kiss. You feel his hardening cock underneath you as you sit on his lap and you trail a hand down his torso towards his hips.
You pull away from his lips as you whisper with a soft laugh “Carmy I think I owe you for the Uber.”
You take yourself off of his lap as he frees himself from his pants, his hard cock rests against his stomach as he lays back on the couch. You place yourself between his legs, taking him in your hand. You run your hang along him a couple times before taking him in your mouth.
“Oh my God that’s so fucking good babe, Oh my God.” Carmen moans as you move your head up and down.
He threads his hand into your hair as his head falls back looking towards the ceiling, consumed in the pleasure you are giving him.
He begins to rock his hips to meet your mouth, your hands run up and down his thighs as you continue to suck him off.
Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, keeping his hand in your hair as he pulls you to his lips, heatedly kissing you.
“Can I please fuck you, I need to be in you.” Carmen almost whines.
“Please.” is all you respond before he lays you down on the couch, pulling your shirt off and throwing it somewhere into the abyss of the living room. His kisses from your neck down to your stomach, unbuttoning your pants. Your pants come off next. They meet the same fate as your shirt, thrown to the side. Carmen continues to kiss along your hips, pulling your panties down. He slides two fingers through your heat as he leans back up to meet your mouth with his.
“So wet babe. Is it all for me?” He knows the answer, he just wants to hear you say it yourself.
“Yes Carm, all for you.” you moan in response, giving him exactly what he wants.
“Oh babe.” He lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in bit by bit to give you time to adjust. He kisses up your neck, right under your ear as he begins to thrust into you, causing you to gasp and wrap your hands around his back.
He moans as he fucks you, your hands running down his back. He feels your nails dig into his shoulders as he angles his hips up, hitting the perfect spot inside of you. Your head is thrown back, whimpers escaping your lips as he continues at that angle.
“Oh yeah that’s the spot isn’t it?” Carmy muses, confidence dripping from his statement as he watches your reaction to his actions. It's driving him crazy. He fucks you harder as he feels himself about to finish.
“Oh Babe, I’m gonna cum, you’re so good, so tight oh my God.” He is rambling as he fucks into you, trailing his hand down your front, stopping at your clit, rubbing small circles as he continues to fuck you hard and fast.
“Oh my God Carm please don’t stop that I’m gonna cum, oh fuck.”
“Fuck babe, cum with me, please, fuck.” Carmen continues his actions as your orgasm washes over you, causing you to tense as he pulls out and finishes onto your stomach. Moans fill the room as you ride out your orgasms. Carmen, still above you, leans his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. You tilt your chin up to meet his lips, capturing each other in a sweet, heavy kiss.
Finally Carmen stands to grab a towel and clean you off. He finds his boxers and pulls them back on as he walks away to throw the towel in the laundry. You wonder if you are going to sleep here, or complete the walk of shame back to your complex down the street. Your questions are answered when Carmy tosses one of his shirts to you, cocking his head in a ‘follow me’ signal towards his bedroom.
“Uh, there’s a shower in there if you want, you can sleep here with me, or I can walk you home. No pressure.” He kisses your temple and moves to his dresser to find a shirt.
You make your way to his bathroom to take a brief shower, still feeling a little gross from your shift earlier. Washing yourself with Carmen’s soap, you’re lost in thoughts about how you just fucked your boss and family friend, and it was fucking awesome. You dry yourself with a towel, putting the shirt Carmen gave you back on. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, writing something on his phone when you open the bathroom door. He sets his phone down to look at you. You sit next to him and lean your head on his shoulder.
“Hey.” is all he says.
“That was so good, Carmy.” you simply respond.
“Fuck yeah it was.” He softly laughs. You turn your head and meet him in a soft kiss. “Do you want to stay here tonight? I can make you breakfast in the morning.” He offers, speaking into your hair as you lean against him.
“Yeah, I think I’d love that.” you respond. You crawl into the bed, settling under the covers as he slides in next to you.
He pulls you to him as you wrap your arms around him. “We probably shouldn’t talk about this in front of people.” He says softly.
You breathe out a laugh as you think about what Richie would say if he found out about this. “Yeah, probably not. Just act normal.” you respond.
“Just act normal, huh?” he laughs. “Act like I didn’t just have the best sex of my life with you?” He teases.
“I don’t know, Richie and Sydney would love to hear every detail of this, I’m sure.” You counter playfully.
He sighs as he begins to rub your back. You close your eyes as you are hit with a wave of exhaustion from the day, head growing heavier against Carmy’s chest. He kisses the top of your head, whispering a soft goodnight as he turns off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
...
After a delicious breakfast, Carmen walks you back to your building so you can get ready for your dinner shift. You smooth your shirt, trying to get rid of the wrinkles caused by it sitting in a heap on Carmy’s living room floor. Just act normal.
You walk into the restaurant, clocking in and walking past the chefs cleaning up lunch. You meet Carmy’s eye and hold back an awkward laugh. Sydney and Tina exchange a suspicious look and Carmen tells them to get back to work as he watches you pass through the kitchen doors to the front.
i can start a request list but i can’t promise anything will be up in a timely manner lolol 💀 i ahve and ideas list that about seventy thousand pages long haha!
i miss you hello!!! i’m doing well thank you for asking! i haven’t been writing much lately because i just haven’t felt inspired or compelled but trust more will be coming eventually :)
Warnings: 18+, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of unrequited love, heartbreak, lots of feelings, smut at the end, mean Eddie but also sad Eddie
Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x fem!Rockstar!reader | Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham | Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: You meet more of Eddie's friends and also spend more alone time with Steve while Eddie finally does something that he was supposed to do a very long time ago.
Author’s note: shoutout to @mysticmunson who always gives me the best ideas and advice, thank you bestie, you’re amazing 🫶🏻
Word count: 12k+
Series Masterlist
-
The sound of your laughter usually makes his heart flutter in his chest but at the moment, he feels nothing but bitterness and anger. His eyes keep moving back to you and him. Steve’s mouth is moving but Eddie can’t hear his voice, he can’t hear Robin’s voice either, all he hears is the sound of your voice and the sound of his pounding heart. His eyes glare daggers into him– one of his best friends.
Robin blabbers away, not noticing how Eddie isn’t even paying any attention to the things she is saying.
He is too busy observing you and Steve.
Your eyes glimmer and your lips are stretched into a big smile. Steve mirrors that look, he places his palm on your shoulder, squeezing it as he nods at something you said. He pulls back again, reaching for one of the movies on the cart.
Eddie’s brows knit together and he tilts his head up, trying to see what movie he is holding in front of you now.
“This one’s your favorite, right?” he hears him say.
Friday the 13th.
“You remembered!” you exclaim, reaching for the movie with a smile on your face.
“Of course, I did,” Steve replies smugly as he leans down to whisper something so only you can hear it.
Eddie scoffs, watching as you giggle.
He didn’t know that this is your favorite movie and somehow that bothers him, to know that someone else knows a small detail about you like this while he doesn’t– he hates it and he hates that Steve knows it. He thought that all you did was hook up with each other, not share details of your life and talk about things you like.
That makes him insecure, what if there is going to be more between you and him?
He feels betrayed the longer he stares at you with Steve. You told him that you could never move on from him, yet it looks like you have no problem not to think of him when you are with Steve.
Finally, Robin notices that Eddie isn’t even listening to her. Her brows are raised and her eyes flash with curiosity, she turns her head, following his gaze to see what he is glaring at.
It doesn’t take her long to figure out why he is looking at you and him that way.
“Eddie.”
He shakes his head, clenching his jaw in anger.
“Eddie!” Robin says louder, snapping her fingers in front of his face, causing him to draw back.
He tears his gaze away from you and looks at Robin, “what?” he mumbles.
Running her fingers through her short hair, she takes another look at you. Shaking her head just the way Eddie did seconds ago when she finds Steve tripping over a tape he dropped earlier, he almost stumbles into you but catches himself just in time, playing it cool by leaning against a shelf as he runs his fingers through his hair. You burst into laughter at his clumsiness.
“God,” Eddie mumbles, rolling his eyes, “they’re so fucking annoying.”
Robin narrows her eyes at him. He couldn’t be more obvious. She walks around the counter, tilting her head towards the office, “come on.”
Eddie follows her but not without stealing another glance at you and Steve, anger boiling inside of him.
Robin walks into the empty office, sighing when she spots the empty cheetos bags on the desk, “fucking Keith,” she mumbles as she grabs it and throws it in the trash.
Eddie shuts the door and leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest, he already braces himself for the conversation.
Robin plops down on the dark office chair and slaps her palms against her thighs, a smirk tugging on her lips when she sees the nervous look in his eyes.
“So,” she starts, tilting her head.
“So,” Eddie mimics, raising one brow, “what do you wanna know?”
“What’s going on between you and y/n?”
Eddie can’t say that he is surprised. Robin might get distracted easily but she is still very observant.
“Straight to the point, huh?” he chuckles as he pushes himself away from the door and crosses the room so he can take a seat on the small couch by the window.
“You know me,” Robin grins, spinning the chair so she can face him, “no need to talk around it, right?”
He shakes his head, “nope,” he sighs. Raising his hand, he runs it through his curls, placing his foot on the small table in front of him as he leans back. He can feel her eyes on him, watching him curiously, she waits for him to speak up.
What should he tell her?
Where should he begin?
“I fucked up.”
“No shit, dude,” Robin snorts.
He stares at her in surprise and she chuckles.
“You have that whole puppy eyes thing going on, she barely pays any attention to you and if I remember correctly, Steve said you were always gushing about her on your calls, talking about all your adventures with her, so something isn’t adding up.”
“Puppy eyes?"
“Yeah,” she chuckles, “those brown eyes are all big and sad and it’s… sad.”
“You should see her puppy eyes,” Eddie mumbles.
The sadness in your eyes is something he hates, to know that he is the one who caused it so many times already, makes him angry.
“Oh,” Robin breathes, “you like her.”
Eddie glances at her briefly before he looks down again, knowing that she won’t approve of his feelings for you. He is still with Chrissy, after all.
“I don’t like her,” he mumbles, “I fucking love that girl.”
Her eyes widen, she clearly didn’t expect him to be so forward. Eddie was always quick to jump into defense mode and hide his true feelings, always running away to hide his emotions from other people. Something had clearly changed ever since he left this town behind though.
“But Chrissy–”
“I know, I know,” he buries his face in his hands, sighing at the mention of his girlfriend’s name, “it’s– I’m such a mess, Robin, I always fuck things up with everyone.”
“I don’t think you’re a mess and I don’t think that you fuck things up, I don’t think that at all,” she says, “I think that’s what you think of yourself. That’s what you’ve been told by certain people,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.
“I mean look at you, Eddie. You left this shitty town and moved to L.A. and you made it, your band made it, you’re on tour, you performed at some of the biggest stages and look,” she pauses with a grin on her face, she reaches for a magazine she was reading earlier, flipping through the pages until she finds what she was looking for, “look, that’s you, that article is about you, I think they even have a poster of the band in here. Dude, you should be proud of yourself and yet you’re sitting here, saying you mess things up.”
The tension in his body leaves and his eyes soften as he slowly looks up at her.
“What did you mess up?” she asks, raising her hands in question, “your relationship with Chrissy? She messed it up, right from the start, Eddie. She used you and played with your feelings and you let her, you still do.”
Robin and Steve were the ones who warned him about the popular cheerleader, back then.
She wasn’t convinced of her ‘feelings’ for Eddie. Her breakup with Jason was fresh and her eyes always wandered, even when Eddie was right beside her, smiling and talking to her about something, her mind was always somewhere else, just like her eyes.
Steve simply didn’t trust her. Chrissy was going through a rebellious phase and then she set her eyes on Eddie, Eddie who she knew worshiped the ground she walked on. She didn’t love him, she never did but he took care of her in ways no one else did so she stuck around and claimed him.
They liked her, at first. But then she showed her true colors to them.
“I know, I’m gonna end things with her.”
“You better, you deserve better,” she mumbles, averting her gaze from him when she thinks about what happened at the party last weekend.
“Do I?”
“Of course you do!” Her words come out as a mix between a gasp and a scoff as she stares at him in confusion. Though Eddie had changed ever since he left Hawkins, his insecurities never truly left. He always believed that Chrissy was better than him, that she deserved so much better than him– how can he not see that it’s the opposite?
“I messed things up with her, I hurt her,” he admits in shame.
“What did you do?”
Eddie doesn’t look up at her, unable to, he feels too ashamed of himself and of the things he did.
“I never told her about Chrissy.”
He can hear her sharp intake of breath and it makes his stomach drop a little.
“We uh– we had this sort of connection from the start and I only focused on her– as friends, at first,” he states, “but god, she is just so, so different. She makes me feel all these emotions. She makes me feel safe and accepted, like I matter and like I’m not a freak,” he whispers the last part.
Robin’s gaze softens, just hearing that from Eddie is a lot, the man never knew how to talk about his feelings.
“We got closer and some things happened with us and she was so fucking happy, Robin. But I ruined it, she found out about her right after we fucking kissed.”
“Shit, Eddie…”
“Yeah, shit.”
He finally looks up at her, the look in her eyes is nothing what he expected.
“I want her back, I want to fix things with her and I want to go back to the way things used to be before I fucked it up but she won’t let me, she doesn’t even believe me, she is the only one that I want,” he says with a sad look in his eyes, “but she wants distance and I can’t… I just, I want to be with her.”
“Well,” Robin sighs, “maybe you should start off with Chrissy, break up with her before you go and try to fix things with y/n, she won’t believe you if you keep staying with a different girl when you claim to only want her.”
Eddie nods at her words.
“And maybe you should give her some distance.”
“What so she can hang out with Steve and fuck him again?” he asks, rolling his eyes and clenching his fists in anger.
Robin can’t help but laugh in surprise before she cups her mouth as Eddie gives her an annoyed look.
“Wait,” she mumbles with her mouth still covered, “they actually did it?”
“Yeah…”
“Holy shit, I thought he made that up!”
“Unfortunately he didn’t.”
She feels guilty for laughing, Eddie looks genuinely upset and hurt by it. The fact that it’s Steve– the man that his girlfriend has been ogling at for years seems to make the situation even worse. Eddie loves him, he is one of his closest friends but it hurts that he seems to get all the girls that he loved or loves.
“Hey,” Robin sighs, “I don’t think she likes him like that or that he likes her like that, they probably just had some fun and now they’ll continue as friends.”
“What makes you think that?”
She shrugs, getting up again, “you looked like a couple when you walked in earlier. She and Steve look like good friends.”
“You’ve only seen them with each other for a few minutes,” Eddie points out.
“Yeah and that was enough for me to see that there will be nothing but friendship between those two.”
Eddie’s eyes flash with hope, “you think so?”
“I know so,” she smiles, “now get your ass up, we should totally get drunk tonight.”
Eddie nods in agreement.
“The hideout got kind of popular after you got famous,” she says with a dramatic voice, grinning at Eddie.
“Wait really?” Eddie asks, gaping at her.
“Mhmm, the whole place is renovated too and they do karaoke nights now! Some band from out of town is playing tonight.”
“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “we are so going.”
That’s how the four of you end up spending your Friday night at the hideout. It took some convincing to get you to join Eddie and his friends, you wanted to avoid him but you didn’t feel like spending your night in some dingy motel room and you hit it off with Robin so you tagged along.
You enjoyed the drinks and watched Eddie catch up with his friends.
Though you have only known very little about Steve, you felt just as comfortable with him as you did when he came to watch the show and Robin seemed just as cool as him, you can see why Eddie likes them so much.
He looks happy and excited around them and the smile on his face is almost constant, it makes your heart swell in your chest.
The crowded bar surprises Eddie, there have never been more than ten people inside this place when he still lived here but things have changed drastically.
A smile lingers on his face, eyes flashing with pride when people turn to look at him with awe on their faces, that is something Eddie will never get used to, people used to look at him with fear or disgust in their eyes but now it’s all different.
Some Bon Jovi song is playing, the bar is bigger now, the stage higher, the dark dimmed room and the smell of cigars and whiskey brings him back to his time here, when the band performed here every Tuesday, back when no one knew them, back when he didn’t know you yet.
He glances at you to find you staring at him already, a small smile tugging at your lips, you quickly look away when he catches you.
“You guys should perform here,” you suggest to Eddie.
He furrows his brows, eyes moving down to the straw between your fingers as you push the ice around in your glass.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, this is the place where it all started, right?”
He nods.
“You should perform, people would love it,” you shrug, looking around the bar, you notice the curious glances, “you should have a gig again, on Tuesday.”
You remembered.
“Why did you say ‘you guys’?”
Shrugging, you look away, “it’s your town, your bar, it would feel weird to join in, this is your thing, where it all started.”
Eddie looks confused, “you’re a part of the band, if we perform then you will too.”
“Yeah,” Robin chimes in, kicking your foot under the table, “can’t leave the best band member out.”
You smile at her words.
“Right?” Steve says, “you’re gonna be the best thing that’s ever happened to this town.”
Eddie narrows his eyes, glaring at his friend who is completely unaware to it as he’s still staring at you.
“Shut up,” you giggle, rolling your eyes playfully, “boosting my ego here.”
“Good,” he smirks as his eyes flicker down to your lips.
Robin glances at Eddie, who looks ready to throw his drink into Steve’s face. He tightens his grip around his glass and looks down, mumbling something to himself.
“They have a karaoke station too, right?”
“Yeah! Steve sang before,” Robin chuckles.
She leans back, tapping her fingers against the table, she turns to Steve with a smirk on her face, “he tried to impress a girl but–”
“Shut up, Robin,” he mumbles, scrunching his face up in annoyance.
“What happened?” you ask with a chuckle.
“Nothing, absolutely nothing happened,” Steve mumbles, holding both his hands up.
“Wait, now I wanna know too!” Eddie snorts.
Judging by the flushed cheeks and the embarrassed look on Steve’s face, he already knows that he was rejected.
“He–”
“Robin!” Steve whines, “shut up!”
Robin giggles when he tries to cover her mouth with his hand, she slaps it away and scoots closer to the wall. You can’t help but laugh as they start to bicker.
“I’ll tell them about that Ruby chick if you don’t shut up!”
Suddenly, Robin’s eyes widen and the grin falls from her face, “okay!” she announces, “my lips are sealed.”
“A girl impressed me at a karaoke bar once,” Eddie says to them.
You turn to look at him, leaning your elbow on the table. He isn’t looking at you, he isn’t even looking at his friends anymore, his eyes are glued to your hand, he eyes the tattoo on your left hand, the one you got with him.
“Let me guess, it was her.”
He can hear the grin in Robin’s voice.
“Yeah,” he chuckles as he finally glances at you to find the soft eyed gaze he missed so much, “but I don’t think that she was there to impress anyone.”
The internal battle in your eyes is so clear, your lips twitch, you want to smile and enjoy the moment but every time you do, you must remember that he hurt you.
“She was just in her own little world, singing her heart out and she was really fucking good,” Eddie says as he looks into your eyes, “and then I got her to join the band.”
And then he got you to fall for him.
“And look at us now,” you say with a grin on your face that he knows is forced.
“Look at us now,” he nods.
For a moment, you forget about Steve and Robin, you forget about the eyes on you, the loud voices and the music in the bar, you stare at each other and let the world disappear.
Oh, how easy it would be if it was just you and him in this world. You could be lovers.
“Wow.”
Robin’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you quickly turn away from Eddie before your heart explodes in your chest.
“That should be a song title, look at us now.”
Eddie still stares at you, longingly. It goes unnoticed by Steve and you but not by Robin.
“That’s a good idea, Robin,” you smile, agreeing with her as though you don’t plan to leave the band after the tour, as though there will be more songs for you and Eddie, as though it isn’t over already.
“So, what did you think of Eddie when you first met him?” she asks.
You can see the curiosity in her blue eyes, the giddiness when she glances at Eddie before her eyes move back to you.
Eddie is just as curious, he turns his body towards you, throwing his arm over your chair.
“Did you like him or did you think he’s arrogant?” Steve asks, winking at Eddie when he rolls his eyes at him.
“Why?” you laugh, “is that what you thought of him?”
He nods, he leans forward, placing both elbows on the table, as he reaches for the peanuts in the small bowl, he picks one out, flicking it at Eddie, who moves his head just in time, snorting at his friend, “yeah, I thought he was an asshole.”
“Well, I didn’t think that he was an asshole but,” you pause, narrowing your eyes at Eddie, you can’t even help but smirk, “I did think that he was arrogant, he seemed pretty self-assured, which isn’t a bad thing,” you clarify, holding your hand up, “but the songs he was so proud of were shitty– sorry, Eddie.”
He shrugs, giving you a small smile.
“It was kinda fun to criticize him, he had that whole mad look on his face, I enjoyed teasing him,” you chuckle.
Yeah, you really did love it and you still do. You still love teasing him.
Eddie knows that what you are doing right now, is just an act. You don’t want to make his friends uncomfortable by giving him the cold shoulder and acting like a bitch towards him but seeing you so relaxed around him, gives him hope that there is still a chance for you and him.
“But we spend a lot of time with each other and I realized that he is a really cool guy. He’s a lot but in a good way– a really good way.”
Eddie’s eyes are soft as he stares at you, his chest feels warm. You don’t look at him, you don’t look at anyone. You stare at the table.
“And uh, you know, he kinda became my best friend,” you shrug, smiling through the pain.
Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, heart stuttering in his chest.
You easily mask the sadness on your face with a smile. Robin and Steve may buy it but he doesn’t. You quickly excuse yourself, in need of another drink and before he can follow you, Steve beats him to it.
His vision follows you, his lips are set in a frown. He can feel Robin’s eyes on him.
“Oh wow,” she sighs, “you two are… something.”
“We used to be something and then I fucked it up.”
“It’s nothing you can’t fix, Eddie,” she says with a small smile on her face, “you two are literally made for each other, meant to be.”
He smiles, “you think so?”
“Yeah! Just give it some time, give her the space and distance she asked for, don’t push her,” she pauses with a heavy sigh, “and… what’s meant to be will always find a way, trust me.”
Eddie wants to agree with her but a part of him feels like things will never be the same again. You will never give him a chance. You don’t believe a word he says and he can’t blame you, he would have been the same, if not worse if he was in your situation.
At this point, he might need to step away from you for his own sake. You don’t do it on purpose and he knows he deserves it but the cold shoulder you’re giving him and the back and forth, hurts him more than he wants to admit.
Maybe he needs to start focusing on himself and protect his own feelings before he gets burned any more while he continues to pine after you.
Maybe the distance will do good for the both of you.
Maybe that will get you back to him.
-
Eddie is reluctant to leave you alone at the motel, he already voiced his concerns earlier that day. Steve was quick to offer you a better place to stay, his house. Steve seems to offer everything to you, before Eddie even got the chance to offer his jacket to you, Steve already threw his over your shoulders.
He is irritated by that, not wanting you to stay with Steve, he offered you his place to which you quickly said no.
“I have a place to stay guys,” you mumble as you shove your hands into the pockets of his jacket.
Motel 6 is surrounded by a lot of trees and it’s right next to the woods. It's a little creepy but at the same time it’s comforting.
“I have a bunch of guest rooms and it’s much better than some dirty motel room,” Steve mumbles, looking down at the empty parking lot and all the dark rooms, “the motel is literally empty, you are the first guest here since forever and I’m convinced that it’s haunted.”
“Yeah, by Henry Creel,” Eddie mumbles as he smokes his cigarette.
You frowned at his words, laughing, ”what is it with you and that Henry guy?” you chuckle as you stare at him in confusion.
“Listen, I’m not one to judge but that guy is–”
“Creepy, he is really fucking creepy,” Steve says.
Eddie nods at his words, “exactly.”
You are hesitant but you are hiding your discomfort pretty well. Eddie can see that you feel uneasy by their words though.
“I’m staying here, I’m tough.”
Before any of them can protest against it, you wish them a good night, taking Steve’s jacket off and handing it to him before you slam your door in their faces. Locking it before appearing before the window, you give them a smile and a thumbs up before closing the curtains.
Both men sigh, shaking their heads.
“She’s so stubborn,” Steve mumbles with a frown on his features, putting his jacket back on, the material smelling like your sweet perfume now.
“Get used to it,” Eddie chuckles, slapping his chest, “come on.”
They continue their walk home in comfortable silence, a few snowflakes are falling, the night is calm and the air smells like winter.
Eddie used to hate the cold and the dark winter nights but they always remind him of you and your first kiss now.
“Do you mind if I take her out on a date?” Steve blurts out.
Irritation pricks at him, his jaw clenches and a sour expression takes over his face. Luckily, it’s too dark for Steve to make out the look on his face.
“You wanna take her out on a date?”
“Yeah, I-I mean, I just wanna hang out with her, honestly, she’s cool.”
“Yeah, she is,” Eddie mumbles bitterly.
“I don’t want to date her or anything, I mean I would, if she was interested but I don’t think she is.”
“Why do you think she’s not interested?” Eddie asks, glancing at Steve.
Steve shrugs, running his cold fingers through his hair, he laughs nervously, “come on..”
They both halt in their tracks, Eddie turns to face him, he gives him a questioning look.
“She looks at me the same way you do, like a friend,” he chuckles as his eyes flicker down to his lips for a brief second, “I don’t want anything more than–”
“Than a friends with benefits kind of thing?”
Steve shrugs, giving him a sheepish smile.
Eddie wants to scream out of jealousy and anger, he doesn’t want another man touching you, he doesn’t want you falling for someone else. But he can’t stop you, can he?
He shrugs, acting unfazed, like he doesn’t mind it.
“Do whatever you want.”
-
Eddie is sitting on the comfortable bench in the booth, Wayne picked out. Tapping his fingers against the table, he stares at his uncle with a nervous smile on his face, who reads the magazine that featured the interview you had a few days ago.
Wayne raises one eyebrow, placing the magazine on the table, he reaches for his coffee, “you broke up with Chrissy?”
Eddie avoids his uncle’s eyes, looking over his shoulder, he sighs in relief when he watches you walk into the diner. You rub your arms as you step into the warm, smiling at the waitress that greets you with a big smile on her face.
Suddenly, he is not so sure if he truly wants to keep his distance from you.
“Hi!”
You sound excited, the smile on your face is big, even as you look at Eddie, his energy doesn’t match yours, only giving you a small smile in return.
Wayne gets up to greet you, a big smile on his face when he pulls you into a hug as though you have known each other since forever. You look surprised but happy, you smile at the older man as you begin to make small talk.
He can’t even hear your words, he is too busy staring at you.
Your laughter finally pulls him out of his thoughts. You sit down across from both of them, giving Eddie a smile.
“Hey you.”
“Hi,” he mumbles before he turns away from you, opting to stare out of the window instead.
He lied awake all night, thinking of how to deal with all of this, with you. He needs to protect his own feelings, not realizing that he is hurting himself by doing this to you.
Both you and Wayne frown at his behavior.
Weird. You furrow your brows, staring at him in confusion. You don’t think that you have ever seen this side of Eddie– well, maybe when you criticized the bad writing in his songs but even then, he tried his best not to show how mad he was.
Wayne shakes his head at his nephew’s behavior, he looks at you with a kind smile on his face.
“How are you liking Hawkins so far, y/n?”
The smell of coffee and pancakes and Wayne’s kind smile, distract you from Eddie’s weird behavior.
“It’s amazing, here. It’s cute, looks like something out of a Christmas movie,” you say, pointing out to the snowy streets, “it’s definitely very different from Los Angeles.”
He smiles, “you’ve been to the hideout, last night?”
You nod, “yeah! It was nice to see where it all started.”
“You should play there on Tuesday. I’d love to watch you guys.”
Eddie watches the way your eyes light up at his uncle’s words.
“We talked about it last night, right Eddie?”
Eddie nods, crossing his arms over his chest, your eyes lock, “I thought you didn’t want to perform with us?” he asks with an annoyed tone in his voice, something that visibly throws you off.
“Oh, I don’t have to join,” you chuckle, trying to hide the confusion on your face.
“Nonsense, we need the whole band together,” Wayne smiles at you before he turns to Eddie, nudging his shoulder, “don’t you want to get the lady something to drink?”
“The lady can get herself a drink, she’s a tough girl.”
Your lips curl up in amusement, your eyes flash with something that Eddie can’t read. He almost regrets his words when he senses your walls rising up higher.
Wayne’s face shows nothing but disappointment and confusion and it makes Eddie cower back like a little boy, he looks away from either of you, rolling his eyes.
“What’s wrong with you today, boy?” Wayne mumble as he goes to get up to get you a coffee but you beat him to it, placing your palm on his chest as you already stood up, “it’s alright, I’ll be right back,” you smile at him before walking off.
Eddie stares out the window with a clenched jaw and anger in his eyes.
“Eddie.”
He hears Wayne’s sigh, he doesn’t have to look to know that he is shaking his head.
“I thought you liked her.”
“I do,” Eddie mumbles, “I like her too fucking much.”
The diner breakfast is better than you had thought and Wayne is even nicer and sweeter than you imagined him to be, it’s impossible not to like that man. It’s easy to fall into a conversation with him, you feel comfortable around him and in a way he even reminds you of your dad. Kind, sweet, not very talkative but an amazing listener.
He is supportive of Eddie and he seems to love him a lot, even if he doesn’t look very impressed by him today.
You learn that he was– still is a fan of your dad’s music, it warms your heart.
Wayne likes his coffee black with two sugars.
He collects every magazine that features Eddie in it.
He left Eddie’s room untouched even though he could’ve taken the bedroom for himself, now that Eddie had moved out.
He used to be a truck driver before he took Eddie in.
Wayne is amazing, just like Eddie said he was.
You enjoyed your morning with them– well more so with his uncle. Eddie kept giving you the cold shoulder and subtle glares, even when you tried to talk to him. It left you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach. It made your heart pound in a different way than usual.
His eyes that usually left you with a warmth in your chest, now left you feeling cold.
When Wayne had excused himself to talk to the handsome chief, you stayed quiet for a moment. Holding the warm mug in your hand, you look down at the dark liquid, swirling it around, you tap your ringed finger against the mug.
You glance at him. He is not even looking at you, the scowl on his face is prominent, the look in his eyes is almost a disgusted one.
Your heart drops to your stomach when a certain thought occurs. Is this it? Is he finally showing you what you have been suspecting all along? Is he finally showing you his true feelings towards you? Did he finally drop the act?
“Are you okay?”
He nods instead of speaking up.
You purse your lips, ignoring the racing of your heart.
“Why are you ignoring me?”
He shrugs.
“Did you get sick of lying?” you ask, trying to sound unbothered as you stare at him, waiting for him to finally look into your eyes.
“Yeah,” he whispers, “maybe I am sick of all of this and lying.”
You freeze and your eyes widen as they flash with sadness. Though you had suspected this already, you still didn’t feel prepared to hear these words from him.
“Lying about what?”
“About everything.”
You wait for him to look at you, wanting to see his eyes but he keeps them off of you.
Your chest begins to hurt as your breathing gets heavier.
“About how you feel about me?”
He raises his head and his eyes lock with yours, he is immediately consumed by guilt when he sees the tears in your eyes and yet he nods, without clarifying what he actually means.
“Yeah.”
Your large sad eyes and the broken look in them makes his heart twist in his chest.
“Oh,” you whisper, glancing down at your hands, you place your mug on the table and turn to look out the window.
He is too busy thinking about his love for you, not noticing the damage he has done to your heart, once again.
While you made up your mind about him already, you couldn’t help but still have hope that maybe you were wrong about him, that what you have thought of him was wrong, that he never used you, that he did care about you, that he did have feelings for you. You love him too much to just turn your back on him and pretend that you never cared about him but the feeling is obviously not mutual and he finally admit what you had suspected all this time already.
He lied to you about everything and it feels like a stab to your fragile hurt.
You can’t help but wonder, did he ever care for you at all?
When Eddie finally realizes the weight of his words, he panics, eyes widening with fear. He straightens his back and places his hands on the table, wanting to reach out for your hands but you pull away.
You blink, trying to hide the tears in your eyes. You try to mask your pain with a straight face but it’s clear that he hurt you again.
Before he can say anything, Wayne comes back and sits back down.
You don’t stay for much longer after that, you keep your conversation with Wayne flowing, avoiding Eddie’s eyes at any time.
His words echo in your mind, repeating themselves over and over again as you smile and nod along to Wayne’s words.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to drop you off?”
“Yeah,” you smile, “I wanted to go for a walk anyway, see more of the town.”
“You need a thicker coat,” he points out, staring at your thin jacket.
“Don’t even start with that, Wayne. She won’t listen,” Eddie mumbles as he places his hand on the roof of his uncle’s car.
“You’ll get sick,” Wayne mumbles with concern in his eyes.
“I rarely ever get sick,” you reply.
“You will get sick if you keep walking around with this jacket.”
You chuckle, “I’ll be fine, Mr. Munson– Wayne,” you correct yourself when you see his raised brows, “I’ll get going now, it was really nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Darling. You should come by the trailer on Christmas.”
Eddie nods at his words, “yeah.”
You glance at him before you look back to Wayne, “I’d love to,” you lie.
You can’t stand being around Eddie any longer, the thought of spending time with him again after what he just told you, sounds like a nightmare.
“I like her,” Wayne says to Eddie after you’ve left, “sweet girl.”
“Yeah,” Eddie whispers sadly.
-
By the time you make it back to the motel, your fingertips feel frozen and so does the rest of your body. You’re grateful for the thick socks and boots you decided to wear today. Tears slip down your cheeks, you wouldn’t be surprised if they froze to your face.
You wipe them away in frustration, angry at Eddie and mostly at yourself.
You walk up the stairs, reaching for the keys in your pocket.
“Hey, there you are.”
Steve
Startled, you quickly wipe your cheeks, trying to make sure that there’s no more tears on your face before you raise your head.
A smile lingers on his face, his brown eyes shine with excitement as he walks towards you.
“I was just about to go.”
“Hi,” you mumble with a small smile on your face now, “what are you doing here?”
“I figured you had nothing to do so I rented some of your favorite movies and thought we could have movie night,” he smiles shyly, glancing up at the sky, “or movie day,” he chuckles.
Cute.
“A movie night sounds amazing.”
“Yeah?” he asks excitedly.
“Yeah. I haven’t done those in a while.”
When you look into his eyes, his smile falls a little, noticing the glassiness and the sadness in them.
You quickly look down, fumbling with the keys to your room, “let’s go inside.”
Not wanting to push you, he doesn’t ask what happened but he knows that something is weighing on your shoulders.
He steps closer, hand coming down on your shoulder, “I wanted to take you back to my place, if that’s okay.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s nicer,” he chuckles.
“Oh,” you look up, amusement appearing in your eyes, “are you scared of big bad Henry?” you joke.
His eyes widen and he nods, “yeah, actually.”
“I wanna see this guy, you’re all being mean.”
“Trust me, we’re not being mean. He’s a creep.”
“You know, I grew up in a big city, there are a bunch of creeps.”
“Not like Henry.”
“Is he hot?”
He scrunches his face up, scoffing at your words, “no!”
You laugh at his reaction, “no?”
“No.”
“I bet he is hot,” you shrug.
“You wanna go knock on his door? He lives around the corner,” he jokes, “you’ll have to go through the spiderwebs in front of his house first though.”
“Ew,” you shudder, “I think I wanna go to your place instead.”
“Good, go get some things, you’re definitely staying the night,” he smiles.
Raising your brows, you tilt your head, “says who?”
“Me,” he smirks, leaning down towards you, “you’ll need someone to protect you after all the horror movies I picked out.”
“Or do you need someone to protect you?” you giggle.
“No, I’m a tough guy.”
“Sure you are,” you snort, moving past him, you take his hand in yours and pull him along with you, “let’s go inside, tough guy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
-
Bradley’s Big Buy is busy on this Saturday afternoon, the only supermarket in town is crowded. Max watches people rush around the store, the crazy and stressed Moms and their whiny children making much more noise than necessary. Everyone seems stressed as they prepare themselves for Christmas even though it’s still one week away.
Dustin and Lucas bicker back and forth, arguing about what chips to buy. She rolls her eyes at them, crossing her arms over her chest, “just take the pringles!” she sighs in annoyance.
“Yeah but which ones?” Dustin mumbles, “I like the original ones–”
“They’re so basic!” Lucas argues, “Doritos are so much better”
“Just take them both, oh my god!” Max interrupts him as she throws her hands up.
“Mike doesn’t like pringles.”
“Who doesn’t like pringles?” she asks with a confused look on her face.
“Mike,” both boys reply.
“Okay,” she rolls her eyes for the fifth time since they walked into the store, her eyes might get stuck if she rolls them one more time, “then take these,” she mumbles, reaching for a different brand of chips.
Lucas takes a step back, about to argue with her again when he looks over her shoulder, he freezes and his eyes widen when they set on someone. He drops the bag of doritos and mumbles, “oh my god.”
Dustin and Max turn towards him, glancing at the discarded bag of chips, their brows furrow as they watch him, his lips are parted in shock, hand still in the air as though he still holds the bag.
“Is he cursed?” Dustin mumbles.
“Looks like it,” Max shrugs.
“That’s– she, holy Jesus,” he whispers with an awestruck expression on his face.
“It’s not Christmas yet, Lucas,” Dustin jokes before he turns around to see what he is looking at, “holy shit!” he shrieks before slapping his hand over his mouth.
“What the hell is wrong with you– oh.”
All three of them stand frozen in place, shocked and excited looks on their faces when they see you in the candy aisle.
“Holy shit,” Max whispers a smile appearing on her face, “she’s so cool,” she mumbles, eying you and the outfit you’re wearing.
“She’s so…. so pretty,” Lucas says.
Dustin smirks, turning to look at Max, “oh, your boyfriend is crushing on another woman.”
She snorts, turning to him with a smirk on her face, “I get it, I have a crush on her too.”
Surprise takes over his face and he chuckles, “okay, then go and talk to her,” he challenges her with a smug look on his face, knowing that she will say no.
Before she can say anything, Lucas gasps once again and they turn to look at you once again.
“Oh…. Oh?” Dustin laughs.
“Really?” Lucas mumbles, watching as Steve wraps his arm around you, leaning down to kiss your cheek, “Steve?”
“I mean…”
Lucas gives his girlfriend a disapproving look, glaring at her.
“I bet his hairy chest impressed her,” Dustin chuckles. He slaps Lucas on the back, “come on, let’s meet your celebrity crush.”
Max snorts, “I’ll tell her that you have a poster of her in your bedroom.”
“Don’t you dare, Max.”
“Hey Steve!” Dustin yells through the aisles as he begins to walk towards him and you.
“Dude,” Lucas mumbles, rolling his eyes.
Steve looks away from you, hand coming to rest on your lower back as he looks up. You follow his vision in curiosity. Eyes falling on the three teens, you don’t have to look twice to recognize Dustin. Eddie showed you pictures of all his friends, Dustin was hard to miss, his curly hair and the happy grin making you smile already.
“Hey guys,” Steve smiles at them, eyes flashing with amusement when he finds them all staring at you, he glances down at you, “that’s y/n but you already know that,” he chuckles, “y/n, that’s Max, Dustin and Lucas,” he points to each teen.
Lucas waves at you with a shy smile on his face, Max and Dustin stare at you excitedly, you smile, “hi guys.”
“They’re big fans,” Steve chuckles.
“The biggest fans!” Dustin grins, “you’re so cool!”
Steve watches the way your eyes light up and a big smile appears on your face. He can’t help but smile at your and their excitement.
“I think you’re all cool, Eddie talks about you all the time!”
You easily fall into a conversation with them. While Lucas stutters after each word, Dustin rambles away like he has known you for years. Max smiles and nods at everything you say.
“We should all hang out sometime,” you say.
“Yes! We could play DnD,” Dustin grins.
“Yeah, we could teach you,” Lucas says, smiling nervously.
“No, we should go to the arcade or watch a movie,” Max smiles.
“Or–”
“Or you could come to the hideout and watch the band play,” Steve shrugs, grinning at them, knowing that they were dying to see you live on stage.
“Wait!” Dustin exclaims, “you’re gonna have a show? Here? In Hawkins?”
You shrug, nodding, “maybe.”
Eddie no longer wants you to perform with them but you don’t want to ruin their excitement. Seeing them so happy about you being here, warms your heart.
Steve can see the uncertainty in your eyes and the sadness that was there since he came to pick you up earlier. He knows that you have spent your morning with Eddie and his uncle. He already suspected that something happened between you and Eddie but now he is certain, the look in your eyes gives it away.
And he confronts you about it later that day, after you have eaten a few snacks and have finished watching Evil Dead, Steve pressed pause as the credits rolled. He takes his arm off of your shoulder and places the bowl of popcorn on the table before he turns to you.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, the movie wasn’t even that scary,” you say, chuckling. You play with the sleeves of the hoodie he gave you.
Your hair falls in front of your face as you pull your knees up to your chest, giving him a small smile before you look away, eyes settling on the pool outside instead.
Steve showed you around his house earlier, it’s big and empty, you’re surprised that he still lives here, his parents moved away and left the house for him and he stayed.
When your dad died, you couldn’t bear to stay in that big house by yourself. Not only did you feel uncomfortable to be there all on your own but there have just been too many memories, ones that would never allow you to move on.
Steve stares at you, trying to figure you out but your walls are built so high, he’s unable to even get a little glimpse.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s going on between you and Eddie?”
You tense up at his words and glance at him with a nervous look in your eyes, “what do you mean?”
“Come on,” he chuckles, “I was blind to it at first but I saw the way you looked at each other back in Indianapolis, the next morning, I mean and then last night..”
You raise your hand, cupping your cheek as you lean your elbow on the pillows.
“Is it that obvious?”
His brown eyes give you the comfort that you so desperately needed. He inches closer to you, reaching for your hand, you watch as he intertwines his fingers with yours, giving you a soft smile.
You take a deep breath, thinking about how you should tell him. Opting for the simplest way, knowing that he will understand.
“He never told me about Chrissy.”
His jaw drops as he stares at you in shock, understanding it right away. He never told you about the girlfriend he left behind and let you fall in love with him.
“Oh.”
He can’t help but be disappointed in him. Eddie is a good man and he has never done anything to upset him or his friends but Chrissy fucked him over and broke his heart, something that must have led him to break yours.
“Yeah,” you whisper, chuckling as you try to mask the hurt in your eyes, “imagine my surprise when she came to visit him in Cincinnati.”
“Jesus,” he scoffs, feeling a spark of anger in him.
How could Eddie do this to you?
“You love him?”
Your sad face and the heavy sigh that fell from your lips, already gave him the answer that he needed.
He scoots closer to you and runs his fingers through your hair before he tucks it behind your ear, eyes softening when you let him see the pain in your eyes, even if just for a moment but you let him have a glimpse.
“I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay, I was a blind fool, I could have seen it coming but I was too distracted by him to notice the clear signs.”
He shakes his head with a frown on his pretty face, “no, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known.”
“He led me on,” you whisper, trying not to cry when you feel his soft touch.
“But he likes you,” Steve points out.
“Does he?” you ask, “he tried to fix things with me after I found out about Chrissy, he told me all these things, how he wanted to break up with her, how he never used me or lied to me about his feelings but then he ignored me all morning and when he did talk to me, he was weird and kind of rude and when I confronted him about it, he told me that he is sick of lying to me, about his feelings and about everything.”
“That’s what he said?” Steve gasps.
You nod.
“That’s.. Eddie said that to you?” he asks again as he is in disbelief.
“Yes, he tried to explain himself afterwards but Wayne came back and.. that’s it.”
“Oh,” he mumbles, “maybe he meant something else,” he shrugs, not wanting to believe that he would hurt you or anyone else that way.
“I’m not sure. I-I struggle to believe him, anyways. I don’t trust him, not anymore.”
“I get that.”
“You do?”
You look into his eyes again, a warm feeling spreads across your body when you see the softness in them. He continues to play with your hair.
“Yeah, I’d feel betrayed.”
“That’s how I feel,” you whisper, “but.. please don’t be mad at him.”
“Oh, I’m already mad at him,” Steve scoffs, “how dare he hurt the most amazing girl?”
A smile tugs at your lips and you blush at his words, “most amazing girl?”
“Of course,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek again.
You close your eyes and giggle, “are you trying to get into my pants again?”
“Maybe,” he smirks, “is that okay?”
Your stomach flutters at the rasp in his voice and the feeling of his hand squeezing your thigh.
“Only if you promise not to be mad at Eddie. It’s a thing between us.”
“But–”
“Please?”
You look at him with big eyes, a small pout on your lips that makes him weak all over again. He sighs, nodding, “okay.”
Placing your hand on his chest, you slide it up to his neck, using his chain to pull him closer, “thank you,” you whisper, leaning closer to kiss his cheek, “you’re sweet, Steve,” you kiss his cheek again, “and so nice and funny.”
“Yeah? You think so?” He smiles.
“Yes, I think you’re amazing,” you whisper, smiling back at him.
Steve blushes at your words, he cups your cheeks, “I think you’re amazing too.”
He leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth, “and you’re really fucking pretty, baby.”
“You are pretty too, Steve.”
You cup his cheeks, placing your thumb on his bottom lip, you gaze into his eyes.
“Pretty enough to kiss again?” he asks with a smirk on his face.
You giggle, leaning closer to him, “yes.”
“Good cause I’ve wanted to do this since yesterday,” he says before he finally slams his lips against yours.
You moan into the kiss, sliding your hands down to his neck, you pull him even closer. Steve’s kisses are soft yet rough at the same time, passionate and enough to steal your breath just after a few seconds.
Just as you are about to straddle him, he grabs your waist and pushes you down against the soft cushions on his couch, parting your legs with his knee before he settles in between them.
You tug at his hair, earning a moan from him.
The first time you have kissed him and had sex with him, you felt nothing but guilt, he was good at distracting you and yet it made you feel bad, like you were betraying him but knowing that there is no hope left for you and Eddie, you have no reason to feel all of this, right?
Eddie lied and he pretended to be something he is not when he was with you all this time.
He never wanted you, he never had feelings for you, you were nothing but a distraction.
You never meant anything to him.
“You’re a really good kisser, has anyone ever told you that?” Steve mutters against your lips.
You shake your head.
“You’re the best kisser,” he smirks, pecking your lips again.
“You’re a really good kisser too.”
Running your fingers through his hair, you look into his eyes, trying to forget about everything, trying to forget about him.
He kisses your lips, your cheek, your jaw and then his lips settle on your neck, kissing and sucking at the spot he knows is sensitive. Your eyes close and you moan his name. His big hands slip under your– his hoodie, touching your skin gently, “can I make you feel good?” he whispers against your neck.
You think about Eddie and the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, it no longer makes your heart flutter, it makes your heart ache in pain, knowing that he never liked you or had any type of feelings for you. The memories of his lips and his hands on you, makes your skin crawl now. You want to forget it and your feelings for him, though you know it’s not possible.
“Are you sure?” you ask him, uncertainty rushing through you.
Is he feeling pity for you? Is that why he is doing this?
“Yes, I wanna touch you, baby. Can I?”
You nod, “o-okay.”
You expect him to tear your clothes off and take you right here on the couch but the gentleman that he is, he gets up and grabs your waist, picking you up with ease. You squeal in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck.
“What are you doing?”
He laughs, squeezing your waist, “gonna take you to my room.”
“You’re gonna carry me all the way up there?” you ask as he walks towards the stairs.
“Yes,” he smirks.
“You’re cute,” you whisper as you latch your lips on his neck now, giving him soft kisses there, smirking at the sighs and moans that he leave his lips.
He walks into the dark room, careful not to bump into anything, he turns on the small light on his desk before he places you on his bed. You smile at each other and he leans down, kissing your lips once again before he takes your hoodie off, eagerly. Leaving you in your shirt now that he quickly gets rid off too.
“Oh fuck,” he mumbles as he eyes the lacy bra, the hickeys that he left on your chest a few days back, still prominent on your skin, “you’re so.. perfect, honey.”
Blushing at his words, you hide the flustered expression on your face and look down, you get on your knees and pull him closer by his belt, hands reaching for the hem of his sweater, you help him take it off. The second it falls to the ground, his lips are back on yours, kissing you deeply as his hands begin to explore your body.
His skin is soft but his hands are rough, the butterflies on your stomach going wild as his lips leave yours so he can kiss your neck instead, his breathing grows heavier as your hand slides down his body.
He curses under his breath as he feels you palming him, his dick twitches in his pants, a pretty moan falls from his lips and for a moment, he closes his eyes and enjoys your touch.
“Can I suck your dick, Steve?”
Your words are enough to make his dick even harder.
“Baby,” he sighs, “let me… fuck, let me make you feel good first,” he mumbles against your skin before he pulls back, hands pushing you down against the soft mattress. He chuckles when you pout at him. He takes your jeans and your socks off, throwing them on the carpet next to his sweater.
“God, I wish I could take a picture of you,” he whispers as he eyes your half naked form on his bed, “you’re so beautiful.”
You admire him as he stands beneath the dim light in his room. Hair messy and falling in front of his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and puffy from all the kissing, brown eyes filled with desire.
“Stop being so cute,” you giggle.
Grabbing your legs, he pulls you to the very edge of his bed, he smirks when you gasp, “you want me to stop being cute?” Steve asks.
You nod.
“You want me to eat your pussy?” he asks as he places his fingers against your clothed clit, teasing you, “shit… your panties are soaked.”
Your eyelashes flutter, lips parting as you moan at his touch, “Steve…”
“Can I fuck you tonight?” he asks as he toys with your panties.
“Mhmm, please.”
“You want me to make you forget about Eddie?”
Your eyes shoot open and you stare at him in surprise. That’s not why you’re with him, you don’t want him to think that you’re using him to forget about him, not that it would ever be possible anyways.
You place your hands on the bed and push yourself up to sit, his hands fall to your thighs.
“I-I don’t. I’m not using you, Steve,” you say, “I would never do this to you.”
His eyes soften at your words, he leans down, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “it’s okay.”
Your brows furrow at his words, you stare into his eyes and find something. Pain and sadness linger behind all the softness, a sense of understanding in his words and you know that he once felt what you feel now.
He knows what it’s like.
“That’s not why I’m here,” you whisper as you look into his eyes, pulling him closer by the chain around his neck.
“No?”
You shake your head, “no,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, “I’m here because I like you.”
He smiles at your words, “I really like you too,” he says before he kisses you again, “and I think you’re really cool and super hot,” he says, making you giggle once again, “and I think that idiot is missing out.”
“Steve–”
“Shh.” He pushes you back into your previous position, no longer teasing you, he smirks, taking your panties off, he drops to his knees and throws your legs over his shoulders, wasting no time to taste you again. He licks a stripe up your soaked pussy, eyes filled with mischief when you cry out for him.
“Oh my god,” you moan, closing your eyes when he moans against you. He licks your clit, looking up at you as you holds you tightly against his mouth.
“S-Steve,” you whisper, reaching your hand down to grab at his hair, “f-feels so good..”
He moans in response, sliding his hand up your thigh until his fingers are pressing against your entrance.
“Please…”
He pushes a finger inside of you, smirking at the way you moan his name when he starts to finger you, adding a second finger and watching you arch your back in pleasure as he fucks your tight pussy.
You bite your lip and your brows furrow as you clench around his fingers, he replaces them with his tongue, pressing his thumb against your clit as he starts to eat you out like a starved man.
“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he rasps, “I could do this all fucking day.”
Your grip on your hair is so tight that it hurts him but at the same time it causes a spark of pleasure to run through him, his dick painfully hard in his jeans causing him to whimper.
“Come on, honey. Grind your perfect little cunt against my face,” he says.
It doesn’t take you long to come undone with the way he’s eating you out, he pulls moans, whimpers and cries out of you, making you see stars when he flips you over on your stomach and makes you cum on his tongue one more time. His moans drive you crazy, making you even wetter.
Steve takes his time with you, overstimulating you with his tongue and fingers. Fat tears roll down your cheeks and you’re nothing but a mess, your mind is off, no thoughts are in your head, all you feel, all you see, all you hear is Steve and you push the memories of him out when they do sneak back in.
He can’t get enough of you, even after you’ve gotten down on your knees for him, he didn’t waste a second to throw you back on the bed and taste you again, making you cry out his name again and again.
Moans and whimpers filled the room for the rest of the evening as you both worship each other, taking each others pain by healing your wounds with loving touches.
-
Eddie paces around his room, dealing with the guilt of hurting you again. The half empty whiskey bottle standing on his nightstand, next to a picture of him and Chrissy.
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he mumbles to himself over the loud music as he sits on his bed, tugging at his messy hair. He looks around the room, eyes falling on all the pictures of him and her. The pictures that he used to love bring him nothing but anger now. He rolls his eyes at the one of him staring at her with nothing but love in his eyes, the love that he has lost a long time ago already.
He gets back on his feet and walks towards his dresser, he grabs the picture and scoffs in annoyance as he takes a moment to stare at it. He is done. He is done with her and this relationship.
Eddie knows that she is in town, she never left, she never went on a trip. He saw her car in town when he and Wayne drove back home earlier. She was avoiding him because she knew what was coming, that’s why she left the hotel before he could talk to her back in Cincinnati.
Eddie loved her, even when he left Hawkins, he still loved her even though he wished he didn’t but as time started to pass and he no longer saw her, he realized that he felt better without her and that made him feel guilty. He promised her to come back to him, he made that promise before she cheated on him, he always had the plan to move out to Los Angeles and back then sweet Chrissy supported him.
But the sweet girl disappeared after she dropped the act and showed him her true colors.
The pretty and angelic girl turned into a monster. One that sucked his energy out of him, one that made him believe that no one could ever want him, one that made him believe that he was nothing without her, one that told him that only she could spend a lifetime with him but then he met you.
You wanted him without wanting anything from him, you only wanted him and his love, nothing more.
You could have anyone but you wanted him. You wanted the broken guy, the one that was still a mess after what had happened with her. He never told you this but you were the one that put him back together, you were the one that put his heart back together. You fixed him and you made him come back out of his shell.
But he broke your heart because of her and it makes him incredibly angry at himself.
Tossing the picture back on the dresser, he leaves his room and starts looking for an empty box in the trailer. He wants to get rid of all the things that remind him of her, the things that belong to her.
But the knock on the door interrupts him.
Foolishly he hopes that it could be you and that’s what prompts him to rush towards the front door but the person on the other side, isn’t who he hopes it is, at all.
“Hi, Eddie.”
His shoulders slump at the sight of her. He doesn’t even bother to say hello, he is angry and frustrated, maybe it’s the alcohol in his system that makes him feel this way or maybe he finally lets his true feelings out. He turns around, leaving the door open for her.
She slams it shut after walking in, staring at him with a frown on her face, she follows him down the hallway, “no hello?”
Eddie picks out a random shoe box, throwing out the magazines that Wayne collected in there before he walks back into his bedroom without giving her an answer. Maybe he is acting like an asshole towards her but he doesn’t really care, at least not in that moment.
“Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I’m sure you had enough of those today, Chris,” he mumbles after turning the music off, he glances at her.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me just right,” he scoffs, throwing the box on his bed, he reaches for the picture he just looked at and throws it in there.
Chrissy’s blue eyes flash with irritation and anger, “what are you doing?”
“I’m throwing your shit out. I don’t wanna see it anymore,” he mumbles, surprising himself with his words. One year ago, he wouldn’t even be able to turn his back on her.
“Are you serious?” she gasps, “why?”
“Why?” he mimics, laughing, he finally turns around to face her, anger sparking even more when he looks into her eyes, “you’re really asking me this question? I know you’ve been fucking your shitty ex boyfriend right from the start and I know that you tried to fuck Steve at some party, last weekend!”
She rolls her eyes and looks away, clenching her jaw.
Eddie stares at her for what feels like forever, waiting for her to say something.
“Aren’t you gonna say something?” he scoffs, throwing his hands up.
“What do you want me to say? It’s not like you’re fucking innocent either, Eddie. I read that article, you said you were single, I don’t remember you breaking up with me!”
Surprise flashes in his eyes, surprisingly she is calmer about the article than he expected.
“I’m breaking up with you now, I’m done with you, Chrissy.”
She shakes her head and laughs, “you are breaking up with me?”
He knows exactly what she is trying to do.
“Yes, Chrissy. I wanted to break up with you a long time ago, actually.”
“Oh, really?” she asks as she walks towards him, “is it because of her?”
Eddie sighs, closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, “just take your shit and leave,” he mumbles before he continues to collect the things she left behind, though he doesn’t think that she wants them anymore. He reaches for her 86 necklace, throwing it into the box along with one of her headbands.
She watches him in disbelief, “are you serious, Eddie?”
“Very,” he mumbles with narrowed eyes.
He pushes past her and she takes the opportunity to reach for his hand, grabbing it, “you need me, Eds,” she says softly.
Her perfume and the sweet smell that used to drive him crazy, triggers a headache now, one that makes him feel sick.
“I don’t need you, Chrissy,” he scoffs once again as he pulls his hand back, “I never needed you, you needed me. You loved the attention I gave you, you loved the way I followed you around like some idiotic fool, you loved the way I loved you even after the shit you put me through.”
She draws back, brows furrowed and lips parted.
“You lied to me, you cheated on me, you fucking used me to make yourself feel good and then you made me believe that no one else could ever want me, you’re fucking cruel,” he says as he looks her up and down with resentment in his eyes, “I hate what you did to me, I hate the way I turned into you and that I hurt her just because I didn’t know how to fucking break up with you!”
There is no remorse in her eyes, no guilt, nothing, just amusement and disbelief when she realizes what this is about.
“Of course, it’s about her!”
Eddie doesn’t deny it, he nods at her, brown eyes flashing with anger, “yes Chrissy, it is about her!”
She scoffs.
“I wanted you, Chrissy but I never needed you,” he pauses, stepping closer to her, “I need her, I want her.”
“This is ridiculous,” she mumbles, “you are ridiculous. Do you think that she needs you, do you think that she wants you? After what you did? You lied to her, didn’t you? You never told her about me, huh?”
His eyes shift and he looks down.
She laughs, “of course,” she whispers, “ridiculous, like I said. I hated her, you know? Because I thought that she was just some bitch that wanted to steal my boyfriend but you never even told her about me, why not, Eddie?”
Eddie turns away from her and packs the rest of her things away.
“Because you’re a fucking coward, right?”
He closes his eyes, the bitter aftertaste of his whiskey suddenly making him feel nauseous or maybe it’s the sound of her voice.
“You were always a coward, Eddie,” she mumbles, “that’s why you ran away from me, you could have broken up with me but you weren’t even man enough to do that, you packed your shit and ran, that’s what you always do, you fucking run, you run away from everything.”
Tears prick at his eyes and he keeps his back turned to her.
“Don’t try to make me feel bad now. You were the one that fucked it up in the first place,” Eddie mumbles. He finally turns back to face her.
“I really fucking loved you, Chrissy,” he says, clutching his fist over his heart as he lets his angry tears fall, “but you broke my fucking heart, you did this and you kept breaking it, you kept stomping all over it and I still loved you, I would’ve done anything for you but you kept fucking me over, fucking the man that made my life hell!”
For the first time after that night, he watches her eyes flash with guilt.
“I know you never loved me,” he says, “I know you always loved him but why did you stay with me? Why didn’t you leave me, why did you still want to keep this fucking thing going even after I was gone?”
She shrugs at his words, breaking eye contact, she looks down at the pictures he collected in the box.
“I liked your attention,” she admits, “and the way you made me feel, the way you stayed with me even after what I did.”
She steps closer to him, reaching for his arm, she pulls him towards her. He glances down at her, irritation taking over his expression when he feels her touch on his skin.
“Don’t.”
She sighs and drops her hands.
“You were there and you were a good distraction from everything but I never loved you.”
Eddie nods, blinking his angry tears away. He doesn’t love her anymore, there are no feelings in him that are left for her but he feels sad for the boy that loved her so much.
“Just take your shit and leave, we’re done.”
She ignores his words and reaches for him again.
“You say you need her but does she need you, Eddie?”
No, you don’t and he knows it, you don’t need him, not like he needs you, at least that is what he believes.
She leans in, getting on her tippy toes, she goes to kiss his neck but Eddie pushes her away, causing her to sigh again.
“Where do you think she is right now?”
He clenches his jaw, “Chrissy,” he warns.
“She’s with Steve, I saw them,” she smirks, “they made out in the parking lot at the–”
“I don’t fucking care, Chris,” he interrupts her, not wanting to hear about any of it, he reaches for the box and pushes it into her arms, “take it, I don’t want it.”
“You’re making a big mistake.”
“No, you were a big mistake.”
She shakes her head and turns to leave but not before turning back to him one more time.
“She will get sick of you too, Eddie, that’s why she’s with him now and honestly, I don’t blame her,” she says, looking him up and down with resentment in her eyes.
The moment she is gone, he slams the door shut, almost breaking it by the force. He reaches for the whiskey bottle, staring at it in anger, he feels himself losing control, his breathing gets heavier, his throat tightens and his heart almost explodes in his chest from the way it’s pounding against his ribcage.
He throws the bottle against the wall, watching as the glass shatters into tiny pieces, just like his heart did.
An angry sob rises up in him, he drops down on his bed, burying his face in his hands.
He hates himself so much for what he did to you all these months, for what he did to you today, for pushing you into another man’s arms.
The man that would never do what he did to you.
The man that holds you in his arms now, tracing your skin with his fingertips as he presses soft kisses against your shoulder and neck as you lay with your back against his chest.
“Steve?”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” you ask in a tired whisper, your eyes are drowsy and you’re on the verge of falling asleep.
His movements stop and he puts his arm around you, pulling you back so you can face him again. He keeps you in his arms, wrapping his arm around your waist now.
Your eyes lock and he reaches his hand up to brush your hair out of your face.
“You’re amazing,” you whisper, smiling at the action, “you’d be an amazing boyfriend.”
He smiles softly, heart fluttering in his chest, “you think so?”
You nod, “someone like you, shouldn’t be alone. Your girl would be a happy one.”
A sad expression takes over his face, lips twitching at your words, “the last girl wasn’t very happy, she cheated on me and then she left.”
Your heart breaks for him, the sadness in his eyes is big.
“Oh, Steve..”
“It’s okay,” he whispers as he lets his hand fall to your back, rubbing circles into your skin, “I’m okay now.”
“You deserve better.”
He smiles at the way you nuzzle your face into his neck as he pulls you on top of him. He missed this. He missed having someone to hold and kiss, someone to touch and sleep with, someone to care for, though he knows that this isn’t a permanent relationship, he can still enjoy the moment before he has to let you go again.
“So do you, honey,” he whispers, “you deserve better too.”
Your eyes soften and your heart swells, “thank you, Stevie.”
He smiles, “you’re welcome.”
He can’t help but wonder what things could be like if your heart wasn’t his already. Would you be interested in him and a relationship with him? Would you want to be closer with him? What if he was the one in Eddie’s place?
You and Steve clicked from the first moment. You were attracted to him and he was attracted to you but there was also so much more than that. It’s not the same as with Eddie but there is still something. You can have fun together but you can also have deep conversations, laugh about silly things and enjoy each other’s company in silence. There’s a sense of comfort, a familiarity.
And you understand each other.
Feeling your eyes on him, he tears his gaze away from the wall and looks down at you.
“What are you thinking about?”
“It’s stupid,” he chuckles.
“No, tell me,” you say as you press your chest against his, laying directly on top of him now, you raise your hand, brushing through his hair, he smiles at your gesture.
“I just– maybe I should have moved out to Los Angeles, should’ve become a singer and swooped you off your feet.”
You can’t even help but smile at his words.
“I think we could’ve been great together,” he says, smiling.
There is no sadness behind his words or in his eyes, there is just something bittersweet in his words and you can’t help but think about this too.
You could have been great together, yes. Things could have been different if you met at the right time.
But maybe, things are better off this way, this way no one will get hurt because deep down you know, that Eddie would have always found you, even if you wouldn’t have met him the way you did, you know that at some point you would. There is a certain energy surrounding you two, one that pulls you towards each other, one that shows you that you belong together.
Even when he hurt you.
-
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summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.
warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder
a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.
again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.
“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”
The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.
She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.
When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.
“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”
“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”
“Yes I’m su—,”
Goddamn him.
Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”
“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.
“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”
Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.
“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.
“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”
“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”
Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”
Type A, that’s how she was.
“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”
Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”
-
The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.
“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.
Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”
“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”
Dating.
Dating Eddie Munson.
Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—
You’re sweating.
Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.
“W-we’re not dating, just—”
How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?
“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.
“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”
Friends.
Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.
-
[Two weeks prior]
The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.
Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.
The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.
“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.
An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.
He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.
Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.
“Ed—”
“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”
Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.
Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.
Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.
He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.
“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.
Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”
He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.
Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.
“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”
When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.
Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”
Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”
His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.
“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”
He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.
The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.
“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.
Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.
Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.
“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”
“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.
“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”
He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”
“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.
Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”
He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”
“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.
“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”
“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”
Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.
-
“Tooty, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.
You definitely were not fine.
Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.
At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.
Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.
By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.
Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.
Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.
-
[Thanksgiving Day]
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”
Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”
Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.
Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”
[2 Weeks prior]
🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day
I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay
Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.
He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.
“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”
Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.
His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”
Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”
“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”
“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.
“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.
“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”
Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.
Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.
Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.
Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.
Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.
With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.
-
The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.
Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.
[Thanksgiving]
“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.
“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”
Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.
The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.
Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.
Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”
“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.
Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.
Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”
“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.
The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.
And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.
How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.
It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.
He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”
-
[2 weeks prior]
His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.
The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.
He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.
He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.
A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.
Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.
A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.
-
A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.
The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.
“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”
His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.
He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.
Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.
“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”
Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.
Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”
“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.
“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.
“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”
A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?
Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”
A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.
“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”
And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.
Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.
His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.
You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.
He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.
He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.
-
[Thanksgiving]
A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”
Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.
The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.
“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”
Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.
“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.
Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”
Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”
Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.
“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.
He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”
-
The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.
It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.
Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.
Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”
Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.
“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”
His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.
“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.
Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.
“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”
Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.
“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.
Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.
Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.
Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.
To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.
In this moment, nothing else matters.
It’s just you and him.
Him and you.
The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.
Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.
Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.
He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.
But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.
Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.
No.
You were much more than that, to him.
More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.
He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.
You were it for him.
The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.
Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.
Yup.
You were it for him.
And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.
hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥
@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷
Summary: Years after Hawkins was saved, Nancy and Steve’s wedding draws everyone back together and with it, you are reminded of the love you lost at the price of fame. [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader; WC: 17.4k]
Warnings: language, exes to lovers, mutual pining/yearning, frightened lil beans in love, heavy angst.
A/N: I worked on this for weeks. I am very nervous to post it, and I hope you enjoy it (excuse any errors, it's time consuming loves).
What is it like to be loved?
There was something in that room that made you question it. The palpable, sudden feeling that permeated around it like a fog; a special dance that so many would be able to feel, yet it seemingly evaded you.
Her dress was beautiful. An ivory lace with sleeves that covered her soft skin. The brown of her hair so vibrant against the spring flowers she held as the chapel’s old stones warmed with the feeling reverberated with the words of the priest.
He was tall and stoic; filled with a slight fear that his true colors would show in his dark suit and dotted tie. He was joyous; he was a radiant boy filling his father’s suit and marrying the girl of his dreams.
Nancy and Steve.
For a moment, while the priest held everyone’s attention in a moment of prayer, it was quiet enough to imagine love physically filled the space before you. Head lightly dipped, the bouquet in your hand distracting you from the eyes of every person in the chapel.
A silence was asked for and responded to with grace. The silence of baseless words washing over the room in a wave of down-turned heads and folded hands. However quiet, however peaceful the room had become, that floating feeling hung from the rafters. You felt your heart sink. That heaviness of sorrow that plagued beautiful moments from a pain buried in your bones that you weren’t even sure really existed. Love. A tragic thing.
All you could ask was:
What is it liked to be loved?
Maybe it was the wedding that made you teary-eyed and soft hearted. You weren’t a hopeless romantic. You weren’t searching constantly for Mr. Right because he didn’t exist. They had shown you that, he had shown you that. Not some Marilyn Monroe waiting for the next man to sweep you off your feet and carry you into a raging bloody sunset in Los Angeles. No. The cards were dealt with precision and meaning; each turned over when the time allowed and burned when the bells tolled.
Love brewed and bubbled; love ached and pained; love existed and diminished; love stood in front of you screaming to break free but the cries fell silent—dead on the cold, stone floor.
Steve’s eyes called to Nancy like a ship lost at sea. The tears that brimmed at the corners whispered to fall after years of trauma and resolution. But they were relieved and elated and somehow, Nancy returned the sentiments with eyes elated. And it hurt to see your closest friends happy when you couldn’t be.
‘And from this day forward they would walk hand and hand into everything that You have destined them to be.’
The words echoed and echoed. The priest as happy to say them as Ted and Karen Wheeler nodded as if it were true from the pews. Steve’s parents had actually shown up too, along with hundreds of other people. Friends, coworkers, and the guests each of them brought.
‘We give our hearts and beings to You now in adoration.’
People like you didn’t give their hearts willingly. Not like Robin, not like Nancy. You weren’t sure about Max or Eleven, but perhaps they gave theirs willingly enough too as they stood beside you up on the alter. And you wanted that. You wanted to give it willingly. As their heads hung and their eyes diverted from above, there was a calling. Probably not from some higher God you weren’t sure even existed, but something—a gut feeling. One that simmered and bristled against negativity and anxiety; the same one that painfully squeezed that arduous organ in your chest. That feeling told you not to bow your head. It told you not to close your eyes and whatever it did, it made you shift your head in the slightest.
The groomsmen were just across the way beside Steve. Dustin helmed them, walking you down the aisle and reminding you that as they embraced adulthood, you were also getting older. Over one age milestone of established adulthood and half of the kids you babysat as a teenager were closer to marriage than you.
Angled perfectly with your shoulder—bare from the design of your green gown. The shape of your nose and chin and the style of your hair falling sleekly into a perfectly haloed outline as though a magician had cast their greatest spell. And when it turned just enough, where the platform was illuminated by the rays of the sun, one other head remained as perfectly crafted as yours, looking back as though the universe said: here it is.
This is what it feels like.
Those butterflies? Love. The heart bursting panic that set off inside you? Love. The painful realization that you could have it and you could nurture it with passion? Love.
It existed.
And it did so in the cruelest of forms.
Because the sheen of your eyes from the beautiful wedding and the widely spoken words of the priest meant more when staring back at the one thing you had always wanted. It was one feeling, one person, and that’s what you swore you couldn’t have.
He had chosen that for you. Six years ago in a tiny apartment on the west side of Chicago, he decided his career was more important.
He was him. He was a brilliant, foul-mouthed metal rock star with impeccable hair and sense of style that made your heart leap for quiet bursts of love. He was complicated and corny and filled with a truth you hadn’t been able to recognize because everyone else clouded life. What life could be and what it could hold.
Eddie Munson was a rock star. Eddie Munson was one of the most famous musicians in the world. Eddie Munson was a friend, a hero, and Eddie Munson was the man who broke your heart and it could never heal itself.
And yet love remained deep down.
It’s regretful nature resurfacing because love was tangible in the chapel in Nantucket.
It was love. It existed. It was real. It was palpable in that room, in his eyes, against the prayer, across the aisle and in all of the pews.
‘And we welcome Your Holy Spirit amongst us. Amen.’
And the chorus filled the room. The pews creaked and heads returned upright. You lost the sight as Steve and the others lifted their heads, but the feeling remained. It sunk to the pit of your stomach where the realization remained.
“Hey,” a hushed whisper sounded near your right ear as your body jolted minutely from the call. Robin’s head tried to follow your direction but couldn’t find the destination. There were hundreds of people in that room. But she should have known. She should have known.
“Everything alright?”
Her concern was evident. Had you been that rigid the entire time? Was the look of love one of fear? Were the tears in your eyes truly that clear?
“I’m fine, Rob. Really.”
It hadn’t convinced her but you returned your attention to the ceremony instead. Robin waited, glancing over your shoulder again and again to try to find her answer. The sentiment of conflict appearing much faster in times of clear disruption than she remembered. The feeling of the world tilting on its axis for something you couldn’t control.
Her eyes looked for the answer. Searching the crowd with an unfathomable hardened gaze until it landed back to the groomsmen and she felt everything click back into place. You had reassured Nancy and Robin that everything was fine; that you were friends. That there was no animosity nor tension remaining over the years but it had. They just wanted to believe the best, yet all the signs were there.
The way you stood so still; scared of yourself as emotions took their hold.
Six years of separation meant nothing. Its degrees scorching the earth every moment not together, bound by the universe yet torn apart by wants, not needs.
They had all believed you. They believed Eddie’s lies that he had moved on—the woman looking straight out of a Vanity Fair magazine in the fifth row the one he brought to prove such a tale.
No.
They had all been wrong.
The two of you had imploded the meaning of love because if it couldn’t exist between the two of you, it couldn’t exist at all.
Steve and Nancy wed on a Saturday in March.
The morning had greeted everyone with golden rays. Sunlight streaming in from the curtains of the Wauwinet’s rooms waking its patron’s with a sprinkle of joy. Early morning glow; warm and intoxicating on a day such as that.
You couldn’t see the beach from where you laid; the white comforter covering your shoulders high, eyes peeking out from the space between the blankets and your pillow. High above on the second floor, the sky reflected its yellow and pink hues until they faded to blue. Not a cloud in the sky.
The two days you had spent on the tiny island thus far had been a reflection of that sunrise. An excitable shimmer of beauty and grace only to fade into a familiar blue–a melancholy gloom that you hadn’t expected to feel. You stepped off the plane only to be greeted with every feeling that ran in its opposite direction; Robin and Nancy clung to you with joy, Steve and the boys, who you should probably call young men now, hugged you tightly.
And then a cloud formed.
The cloud was ugly, gray, and filled with matter you had buried deep. Years of pretending everything in your life was going smoothly–that you were exactly where you wanted to be–lingering above you like a joke. Laughing, jesting you with the past as happiness was rubbed into a wound like salt.
He had a smile plastered onto his face the first time you saw him that weekend–the night before the ‘I do’s.’ He was sitting in the wine cellar with Steve, reminiscing about the past as the future was gently placed on Nancy’s finger; sparkling against the shine of the hotel’s lighting as night had long fallen on a Friday evening.
As the thoughts lingered in your mind as the sun began to rise, it hadn’t been seeing Eddie for the first time in years that had thrown your world off its axis. The woman, clad in the most casual New England fashions, who sat beside him with her arm resting on his, did.
A petty, jealous feeling at the sight rose within you rapidly.
You felt there was no right for you to feel that way.
Six years. Six years had left an open season for both he and you to find new people to love, hate, and screw, but the idea that there was a reality that existed where Eddie no longer loved you was jarring.
The fear of it became engrained in your bones. Tattooed onto skin that was untouched and permanently stained with words that hurt and stung and ultimately resulted in the reason you had come to that wedding alone.
Eddie had scarred you–in a beautifully tragic way that you’d never be the person you were at seventeen when he asked you to go see Temple of Doom at a theater two towns over. It was a shame you’d always tie him to that film… because you really fucking liked the movie but all you could think about was how Indy left Marion in the dust and hell, you felt like Marion sometimes.
He just sat there. A gorgeous woman on his arm and smiling at Steve as though not a day had gone by. He looked older, more sure of himself, and dare you think it, had a bit more style than he did before. Nice, in a ‘formal but not too formal’ kind of way.
They were all sipping on some hundred-dollar wine. He could afford it now. Red-soled shoes, a jacket with no fringe, and a bottle of wine that cost as much as your monthly rent.
Nancy had been perched on a stool at the high-top beside Steve. The two had been going over the rehearsal that Eddie conveniently missed as well as the dinner from hours before. From what Robin had divulged, he had a show in Boston and would make his way out to Nantucket after it was over.
You didn’t think Nancy ringing your suite for drinks would mean he’d be there too.
The thunder from the cloud above you rumbled when Nancy caught your eye in the entryway.
Everything, from the clothes you wore to the company of the room, felt out of place. Like you were looking from the outside and into a world that was completely yours but never one you recalled. The people in it–sparingly familiar but strangers all the same.
Nancy had taken a sip of her wine, swallowing quickly as she perked up and waved at you. The attention drawing each eye away from Steve and to you, unwelcome and afraid of familiarity. Two looked happy, one looked curious, and the other looked like the whole world had stopped.
A moment in time paused. No calm waiters tending to guests, no heads turning toward him because he was identifiable; it was blank. Two worlds gone completely still because for the first time in six years, you and Eddie had finally converged to one place.
Some expensive hotel on Nantucket Island for a wedding between two people you both held near and dear to your hearts. It took nothing to imagine that if things had gone right, perhaps it would not be Steve and Nancy meeting at the alter tomorrow afternoon.
In the stillness, a reunion is not bound by the trivial “it’s good to see you” or “its been too long.” A mind playing funny tricks and sending you back to years before–the way his entire person disappeared beyond the bedroom door only to be followed by the slamming of the front one. An apology sputtered at the end of a fight that had been brewing for weeks.
The last time you saw Eddie Munson he had come home from a tour with no direction but up. Up to a new place, to a new life, and one that kept the past behind. Questions of love, home, and loyalty tested two people who were holding onto a fine thread before it snapped.
Now, its lingering shreds brushed together with an easterly wind.
You don’t know what he was thinking when the words stopped fumbling from his lips.
“Hey!” Steve cheered happily from his spot as Eddie went quiet. “Come on, join us!”
You felt like a fool standing there idle. Feet glued to the floor, eyes trained on Eddie a moment too long because as soon as the fifth second passed, the woman by his side asked:
“Who’s that?”
Steve said your name, waving at you the same way Nancy had, “She’s Ed–“
“My Maid of Honor!” Nancy cut in, giving the woman a smile in reassurance that it was the description most accurate to who you were. Nancy didn’t know why she cut Steve off like that; the side-eyed glance she received from him as Eddie stared back at you should have told her everything.
Not friend, not best friend, not former classmate, but Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. What a label to have.
Your planted feet begged you to move. The awkwardness of standing still for lingering seconds in time drawing eye after eye, raising questions as to whether or not you were having a medical emergency or just plain stupid. Your feet took those commands and walked, before your mind could even process that the night had continued to move forward without being truly ready to interact.
“I told you she’d join us,” Nancy hit Steve’s shoulder lightly with the back of her hand, “Can’t spend the last few hours of us together as an unmarried couple without those who brought us back together.”
Steve gave her a smile, hand squeezing her kneecap under the table because in reality, there wasn’t an ounce of a lie there. Not that any regular person would understand, but Steve had always dreamed of this moment: the night before he went to sleep one last time as an unmarried man, sipping chilled wine in an expensive hotel with his bride-to-be, his closest friends, and the reason he and Nance were at this stage.
One piece of that puzzle had gone mute, silent as though they never heard him talk. As you approached the high top that was tucked into a corner by the windows that looked out to the Atlantic Ocean, Eddie couldn’t form words. He had prepared himself for this moment for years and yet his mind had gone blank. Emotions barren from his chest like he was an empty, cavernous being and not a person. He felt nothing–like the world had been obliterated and there was only him in space; alone and helpless to save his sanity.
And if it hadn’t been so long since he last laid eyes on you, perhaps he could have recognized the same emotions bleeding out of you. That the wound had never truly closed and there was much unsaid floating around the two of you that the air was hard to breathe.
But against it all, it was you who offered the closed smile and a small:
“Hi.”
Eddie’s relief that the first words weren’t “fuck you,” or “I still hate you.” Just a simple “hi” that replayed in his mind as the seconds transpired and the ball had fallen into his court.
But those words were hard for you to even muster.
“It’s good to see you,” he settled on, not leaving his chair to wrap his arms around you or whisk you away to hear how your life has been since he left. He sat there, as still as you had in the entryway, and let you take the spot beside Nancy because it was the furthest away from his own that you could take.
Eddie had completely forgotten about the woman to his right.
No one had thought anything of the interaction. In two minds, it played out differently because the truth existed somewhere between two people unwilling to face it. For people like Nancy and Steve, there had been one story that had been told yet no one questioned the absence of the other on specific holidays, birthdays, or more.
“We broke up,” that was what you had told Nancy and he had told Steve. Word for word, the same story. “Distance was getting too hard and we thought we’d take a break. It’s better this way and we’re still friends–we we’re friends before everything so…”
For every truth, there were two lies.
Nancy flagged down the waiter, tapping on her glass and holding up two fingers. You shifted in your seat as one leg crossed over the other and glanced at the woman to Eddie’s right.
She wasn’t familiar at all. Still hanging on Eddie’s arm and fiddling with the cuff of his jacket. In all of your years together, you had never seen Eddie wear a dinner jacket.
And against your feelings, you extended your hand over the table toward her. Eddie didn’t know what to think of that. You introduced yourself.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he knew the voice. It was the kind someone would use on the telephone if they were talking to a co-worker or boss, not a friend.
“Veronica,” she lifted her hand from Eddie’s arm and graciously shook yours over the wine glasses; a tiny set of flickering candles beside a small relish tray beneath it. “I hear you’re the Maid of Honor?”
“As much as one can be,” you told her, eyes looking over her face and form. Eddie could see it now that you were comparing yourself to her, an unfortunate circumstance of choice. “The other bridesmaids have helped a bit with planning and what not… it’s not easy work,” you scoffed, tipping your head at Nancy and the bride shook her head with a grin.
“I promise I’m not one of those crazy brides,” Nancy jokingly defended herself to Veronica who admired the friendship before her. She knew you all of two seconds and could see how comfortable the two of you were.
“Yeah, sure…” you trailed off as the waiter returned with two new glasses of wine. You thanked him and took a long, needed sip as the white wine’s bubbles barely had time to settle.
Steve cleared his throat as you drank, glancing at Eddie before turning to you. “We were just catching him up on what went down at the rehearsal. Told ‘em that Robin tripped down the aisle so he’s gotta hold onto her tightly.”
You snickered at the memory. Robin Buckley couldn’t walk in heels even if she tried to. Nodding your head, you didn’t make eye contact with Eddie to reiterate the sentiment.
“She’ll topple over if you don’t.”
“Will do,” Eddie replied quietly, differently than he normally would have and Veronica put her hand on his arm again, rubbing it up and down as if she knew. For once, he just wished she would stop.
“We’re going to–“ Steve’s voice drowned itself out as he rattled on about the plans of tomorrows festivities.
Every now and again when you’d catch a word of Steve’s, you couldn’t help but look at Eddie. Those eyes still telling of his emotions rather than the words he spoke; wide and pupils blown from both the environment and alcohol.
You weren’t shameless about it when he caught you looking. He couldn’t help it either; it was as though he was drawn to a magnet that kept pulling him in. Just as you had observed him, everything was familiar yet strangely different. The way you held yourself, the clothes you wore, makeup and hair just enough having changed to make him notice that he didn’t know you now as he had then.
However, he still felt that hand on his jacket.
Yet he was looking at you. And he felt like a coward for thinking he’d rather have you cling to him like that then her. She, Veronica, didn’t deserve to have a man think that of her.
“Are you still in Chicago?” He blurted out over Steve’s talking. Like walking in a path of quicksand, Eddie did not want to drown before his life truly began. Steve stopped and glanced at Eddie as though his friend had a stroke.
“Mhm,” you murmured over the lip of the glass Nancy had secured for you. “Still in California?”
“Yeah, near Bell Canyon.”
“Is that…” Of course you wouldn’t have known exactly where that was. It wasn’t like you had a map inside of your brain or tracked his every movement. Based on the question on whether or not he still lived in California, he wondered if you read anything about him at all.
“It’s near Los Angeles… like suburbs of it.”
“Ah, alright,” you met his eyes briefly before taking another long sip of your wine. He could see the way you practically folded in on yourself; anxiety and fears bubbling within you the same way they used to.
“And you still live…” he trailed off in a veiled hope that the implication went unspoken. ‘At the apartment, our apartment.’
“No,” you shook your head, “I moved a few years ago… have a nice view of the lake,” the thought of it brought a small smile to your face. It was nice. It was nearly perfect.
“No more of the ‘L’ ruining your sleep?”
He saw the hint of smile play on your lips.
“It’s pretty quiet now,” for a multitude of reasons he could think of.
“That’s good,” Eddie nodded, glancing at Steve and Nancy who provided no support to make the situation any less awkward.
“So,” Veronica began with a perky voice for eleven-thirty at night, “Eddie said you all went to high school together?”
The model wore these big, curious eyes. She was kind, in a doxy kind of way but her sentiment’s with her words transcended through each of you. This woman, a date, hadn’t been a steady, familiar thing to Eddie. Anyone who knew him as close as a formal, long-term partner did, would have known about the crew from Hawkins.
“Yeah,” Steve answered as a savior, “But we weren’t all friends then… that took some time. We were all pretty different.”
Nancy hit his arm playfully, giving a scowl as Steve quirked his eyes at Eddie. The latter had simply taken the labels he was given and ran with them–a transformative play for the man with a lengthy petty crimes list and could out smoke Pablo Escobar.
“It doesn’t matter what we were like! We’re all friends now and those three–“ Nancy gestured her hand over Steve, Eddie, and yourself, “were in the same class.”
“Oh!” She beamed. “How cool! I don’t really talk to anyone from my class so it’s nice to see it works for some people.”
Everyone just gave her tight smiles. Having friends from childhood didn’t make you less of a person. It meant stronger connections and the fact that no one could say why you were all bonded so closely made things more difficult.
“And the rest of your friends?” Veronica turned her face toward Eddie who shrugged.
“In their rooms, I’m guessing. I think we got here a little late,” he chuckled.
“They know you had a commitment,” Nancy reassured him. “Besides, Dustin and the others will be just as thrilled to see you in the morning.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “After the bachelor party, I didn’t think half of us would even make it here so it’ll be a nice surprise.”
Thank God for Steve and his stupid jokes. It broke some tension, a smile actually cracking Eddie’s face again and one that reached his eyes. The brown, doe-eyed ones that Robin once said made her sad were recalling that party like it was the funniest thing he had ever experienced.
‘It probably was’, you thought, ‘Steve Harrington always knew how to party.’
“So,” Veronica interjected, pointing a finger between you and Nancy, “the bachelorette party wasn’t anything to write home about?” Quick judgement.
“We went wine tasting in the Valley,” Nancy’s eyes lit up at the memory, “and then we went hiking… which in retrospect wasn’t something any of us liked.”
It was the end of summer when everyone could get together and the heat ate at each of you as the sun rose higher, the drinks flowed more, and the guides took in their amusement of each woman.
“Went to some museums, ate too much food…” you said additionally.
“El learned she was allergic to pears and Max got stung by a bee,” Nancy interjected, “and our heroes Lucas and Mike came to save the day when we got stranded in the middle of lake because the engine died on the boat we rented.”
“I think we’ll stick to spa days and cooking classes next time,” you picked up your glass, a side-eye to Nancy as she quickly agreed. Veronica perked up, still clutching Eddie’s arm.
“Who’s getting married next? You?”
She meant nothing by it. Her eyes were friendly and voice high pitched, interested in the conversation to just be a part of something more than a two-person bubble. You choked on the wine, the question startled you because it hadn’t been something you thought of in a long time.
You put the glass down as your hand went to your mouth, wiping it dry and you, unintentionally, looked from her to Eddie. Steve noticed, Nancy didn’t.
“No!” You replied a bit too loudly. “Sorry,” shaking the embarrassment from you, “I just–no. Not me. I would put money on Dustin and Suzie once they’re done at MIT… He’s loved her since he was in middle school.”
She smiled at the idea of everlasting young love. “That’s cute! Sometimes, if you know, you know, right?” And she squeezed Eddie’s arm the same way her hand squeezed your heart at the sight.
Eddie dropped his arm into his lap after her grip loosened. Her hand fell onto the table and whether she realized it or not, the rejection she felt showed on her face.
“How did you two meet?” Nancy picked an olive with a toothpick from the small dish on the table. Veronica peered at Eddie to answer but he wasn’t going to.
“At an event for our agency a couple…three? months back.”
Three months.
“Cool,” Steve mumbled as he followed Nancy’s lead and took one of the pickles from the tray. “So what are you? An agent? Model...?”
“I model for magazines, yeah,” she nodded and focused her hands at the base of her wine glass. You watched Veronica tap her white nails on the table cloth before bringing them back to the foot. “Sometimes do commercials or videos and stuff.”
Steve sat back in his chair; a thought pondered in his mind as he watched your eyes divert from the table and out the window to your left. It was dark, you couldn’t see anything beyond ten feet. The arm that had been taken off the table now sat at Eddie’s side with his hand in his lap. He had taken his thumb and twisted at the ring that rested on his ring finger–the one with a dark stone he had worn since forever.
The groom reflected back to his bachelor party, three weeks ago, and how Eddie made no mention of Veronica but very drunkenly admitted something he didn’t want to see the light of day.
Buried; six feet deep with the memories he had locked away in Pandora’s box. There was key to unlock them, let them fly away and spread like stars in the sky but it was booze and a little bit of weed that truly let them sing.
Steve wasn’t sure if Eddie realized what he had told him that night.
The way he was twisting his rings made him think that if he didn’t, Eddie was at least thinking the same thing now.
“You know,” Steve crossed his arms as he leaned back, glancing at Veronica first before allowing his eyes to wander to you, then Eddie. “If you asked me a few years ago if I thought that Eddie, Eddie Munson, would be dating a supermodel… I would have laughed.”
Veronica chuckled, a light blush forming on the balls of her cheeks as Eddie shook his head. It was Steve’s tone that made you turn to him.
“Not really your type, dude,” Steve said and the woman’s face went flat. The chuckle cease and Nancy forgot how to breathe for a second. Maybe Steve had too much to drink, maybe he was done for the night, and if she whisked him away now, he wouldn’t be hung over for the wedding.
“Come on, man…” Eddie shifted his head to the side, glaring at Steve to knock-it-off before things crossed a line he wasn’t prepared for. Eddie thought himself a jackass sometimes but he never wanted others to feel uncomfortable.
“No offense, Veronica,” Steve held out his hand as if saying ‘I don’t mean anything by it.’ “It’s just…” He clicked his tongue, “you want the best for your friends, right? And for the last decade or more I’ve never seen you fawn over the looks of a model.”
“Steve,” you interjected, providing the same look Eddie had given him because he was trying to open that box. “Stop being an asshole.”
You turned to Veronica, “he’s just a little drunk, that’s all.” Nancy supported it with a smile and put her hand on Steve’s shoulder.
Steve laughed at your words like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “That’s kind of rich coming from you.”
“I think we should–“ Nancy began but Steve leaned forward on his elbows.
“You like Lord of the Rings, Veronica? Or ever go to a thrift store and absolutely wreck the clothes you bought? Play D and D?” She looked confused so Steve stopped, “Dungeons and Dragons? Like the game? No? How about drugs? Do you do those?”
“Steve! Fuck man…” Eddie hit Steve’s shoulder, “I think we’re a little past a buzz, huh?”
“Tell me, Eddie,” Steve took the whack to his shoulder in stride, “You’re not thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“I don’t know what you’re thinkin’ about.”
“Okay,” Steve drug the ‘a’ out of the word, “fine!” He looked to you, “are you thinking what I’m thinking then? And when I said it’s funny, I meant in you defending her when–“
“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Eddie said loudly, “would you just shut the fuck up for once! I was so worried about us getting into it,” he threw a hand up and motioned between the two of you, “but you took that and ran right the fuck away with it!”
As Eddie argued with Steve, you turned to Nancy.
“I think you better take him to his room,” you saw how mortified she was, “or I can call up Lucas and Dustin to come get him too?”
“I’ve got him,” she took your hand and held it tightly. “He’s just up-“
“—OH!” Steve’s voice cut through hers, “like you’re not giving ‘fuck me eyes’ to each other! Goddammit! It’s like living with divorced parents! No wonder you switch off holidays!” Steve pointed at you, “was that your idea? I bet it was.”
“Wait,” Veronica cut in after Steve’s ‘divorced parents’ comment, “did you two date?” her eyes flicking between Eddie and yourself. Her question went unanswered as Steve continued his tirade.
“And Dustin reassured me there wouldn’t be an issue!”
“There wasn’t an issue until you brought it up!” Eddie said pointedly. You downed the rest of your wine in one gulp and Nancy hopped off her chair as people started to go quiet at the surrounding tables.
“Please!” Steve lamented, “you got fuckin’ plastered in Miami and told me and the boys that you wished it was you gettin’ married not me!”
“When the hell did I say that?” Eddie furrowed his brows, voice still loud and defensive. Nancy shrugged on her cardigan that was on the back of her chair, Veronica looked befuddled, and you felt like you blanched. Even if they couldn’t see it, you felt it.
“At the shitty strip club!” Not something he should have shouted in a place like this. “You got all weird and drank yourself to pieces because, and I quote,” Steve said crazed, “the wedding makes you fucking sad and you didn’t know how to handle it.”
“Oh fuck you, man,” Eddie soured, rolling his eyes at Steve as Nancy grabbed his arm gently.
“Steve, come on,” she coaxed him, “we better get going.”
“If you want to convince people you don’t still love each other,” Steve chided, “then maybe stop acting like the world will fall apart the moment you walk into a room.”
“Wait,” Veronica added again, shaking her head in misunderstanding, “still love each other? When did this happen?”
“We don’t love each other,” Eddie answered for both of you without a second to spare. “And it won’t fall apart! Look! We’re here now!” He motioned his hand between the two of you across the table again but didn’t look at the way you listened to every word like you had when you fought in the kitchen that horrible evening.
“Yeah,” Steve nodded as if he didn’t believe Eddie in the slightest, “Swear on Dustin? On your… shit… I don’t know, guitar!? Say that to her face and tell her like you didn’t just tell me you make a fucking mistake years ago.”
Mistake.
There were two paths of a mistake.
One, where his choice to follow his career without you was a mistake because it wasn’t as it seemed or it wasn’t complete without you; or two, that being with you entirely was a mistake because it clouded his wants for his future.
Eddie sighed, head bowing as he ran a hand over his face and through his hair before coming up again.
“Do you really want this to be how you remember the night before you get married?” Eddie asked Steve as the groom sat there with his bride clutching his arm in a pleading motion to exit the wine cellar.
“Do you want this to be how you remember the day you chickened out on being a man for once?”
Steve knew it cut deep. The wound open and bleeding for all to see as Eddie’s face scoured into the in-between of pissed off and irate.
“Go, Steve,” Eddie said flatly, “Big day tomorrow. Don’t want to be late.”
Nancy gave you a supportive, closed lip smile as Steve finally got off his chair and walked to the door. She let him leave first.
“I’m sorry about him…” She laughed with embarrassment, “He’s just overwhelmed with everything.” And Nancy wasn’t telling you or Eddie that, but Veronica.
“It’s alright,” she told her kindly in reply, “wedding’s aren’t wedding’s without a little drama, right?”
For that, Nancy was grateful. She looked between you and Eddie–still separated by the table yet the string still bristled.
“Be in the bridal suite by nine, okay?” She told you, “and I think the guys are getting ready at like ten so, don’t sleep in.”
“Got it,” from Eddie and a “yeah, okay,” from you.
“Sorry again,” Nancy apologized, leaving to go scold Steve as the table now sat quiet and awkward.
The flames flickered as the noises from other tables now filled the void of conversation at your own. Veronica tapped her glass, yours sat empty, and Eddie was still facing the empty seat where Steve had been.
“So,” Veronica pursed her lips, “you two dated then?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. It provided her the answers of why Eddie had been acting the way he had and the conciseness of dialogue that existed amongst you. The way he gazed, the way you diverted it; his own curiosity and knowledge of the sound of the elevated train that impacted your sleeping and the way the admittance that Eddie now lived in a suburb sent you the wrong way.
Even then, you glanced at Eddie to see if he’d answer. She was his guest, after all. He turned back around in his seat–back flush against the chair, shoulders slouched.
“Yes,” he treaded carefully, “we did.”
“For how long?” It may have been worse that she said none of it with malice.
Eddie flicked his eyes from where they were trained on the table top to you. And fuck, they sucked you right back in and spit you right back out.
“About eight years…” You told her, ready to flee.
“That’s a long time,” she nodded to reaffirm her words. “And you lived together?”
“Mhm,” Eddie hummed as if he didn’t want her to know every detail of his life. He looked down at the table. “For four years of it.”
“More like three,” you mumbled passively, pushing your wine glass forward on the table.
“Four,” Eddie said firmly and his eyes shot back up to you. Sensitive subject, you suppose. He remembered every word you had said to him that evening and the comments about his time spent at home stuck. “Four,” he reiterated.
“Tell me, when was the last time you were excited to come home?”
You didn’t forget your words either.
Your expression pinched; eyebrows shooting up for a brief second before your head cocked to the side with silent words. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself or this table any further by getting into a spat with Eddie over something as trivial as years spent in a shabby apartment in Chicago.
The wine glass was already pushed; two chairs empty as bed appeared to be the best option to end the night. A soft, hotel pillow to help you replay every image your mind could remember from what you had, what you lost, and what had just happened.
You hated that. But it was better than arguing with someone you didn’t want to argue with.
Breathing in a deep, sharp breath, you retracted your gaze from Eddie and gave Veronica the softest one you could muster.
“It was good to meet you,” you told her. It wasn’t her fault Eddie took your heart and ran away with it. “I hope Steve’s little scene didn’t scare you off. He can be a drama queen when he drinks.”
“All good,” she gave a tight smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “Happens to the best of us.”
“So it does,” you replied, giving her a nod before sliding off your chair and letting the space return to two. Eddie’s sigh was loud; the way he closed his eyes in frustration hadn’t gone unnoticed.
As you passed on her side exiting the corner table, you put a hand on the table when your feet came to a stop. Veronica looked at you curiously and waited for another ball to drop on her toes but it didn’t.
“Don’t let him smoke a whole pack, alright? Won’t do any of us good if he does.”
And then you walked away.
Veronica had only been romantically linked to Eddie for three months. She hadn’t seen any side of him that resembled the man sat beside her before and from what she knew, Eddie was not a smoker. The only comment that had surprised her more than the outburst from the groom was when Steve admitted Eddie had become hammered from the booze and weed at his bachelor party.
But before you could escape the wine cellar fully, Eddie turned around in his seat and shouted your name across the restaurant.
In a full, obnoxious manner that reminded you of the boy you had fallen in love with in high school.
“I quit. Six years ago.”
When the sun rose to its blue hue and the reminder of the night before replayed in your mind like a fresh, unadulterated film, there was a conflict brewing within you.
The idea of love.
Love was precious; an almost a forgettable thing when the daily grind became too much for simplistic thought yet it was what people craved the most. To love, to be loved. On a day like that–where there was not a raincloud in sight and when two people were joining each other in matrimony bound by the tethers of love–it was hard not to think about how the feeling evaded you.
It touched you once.
It gripped its claws into your flesh and left fatal wounds in its wake, yet you desired it so. Love, the splendid little thing that meant mountains but fell to cavernous trenches.
You don’t know which part of Eddie you had fallen in love with first. Juvenile, childish love was innocent at seventeen. As you grew older and the complications of adulthood and circumstance of living in Hawkins transformed life, the reasons for loving him changed too.
It wasn’t always about how he could make you laugh or the way his eyes were so expressive; the comfort he brought or the way he helped you love yourself through him loving you in return.
It was doing the dishes together at the end of a long night. Falling asleep on the couch because making it to the bed after one of his gigs was too exhausting, but he’d wake up in the early hours of the morning and make sure you’d both end up there anyway. How Eddie made time for everyone and everything until life stopped allowing him to do so.
It was moments where you and Eddie would be waiting for the train at Clinton station and he’d link his finger with yours because winter gloves constricted full hand movements.
Those times made you hate what love often resolved itself with: pain and bitter resentment that life was cruel.
And the clock ticked away as you thought of it.
When Nancy put her veil on, Robin was the first to cry. Then Max, then Eleven, and Karen was close behind them all. You stayed for a few minutes before excusing yourself to the hallway because the sight painted you blue.
You felt horrid for feeling bitter when Nancy’s fairytale was not an hour away.
In the hallway, there was a series of doors that led to varying rooms. Ones that held the groomsmen and Steve, one for the flower girl and ring bearer’s families. It was decorated with seaside decor of light yellows, blues, and whites. A table down ten feet and across the way had a mirror hung above it cased in gold.
The woman in the reflection was one you neglected to see for a long while. The apparent dissatisfaction of your own circumstance on a day filled with joy riddled on every feature. A necklace clutched in your palm feeling the brunt of sweat and aggravation as Eddie filled your thoughts again.
You wanted to love him, to be loved by him. You tried to hook the clasp. Missed.
Why couldn’t you just move on and be happy with someone else? Again, the clasp dug into your finger. Missed.
Could you even remember what it truly felt like to be loved?
The clasp evaded you. It was mocking, laughing as you struggled in the hallway mirror and began to sweat the idea that you’d never be able to secure it. Heaving a deep sigh in the mirror, you clutched the necklace in your hand and leaned against the table with two fists.
“Get it fucking together,” you told yourself quietly.
Regaining your posture, you tried again, ignoring the sounds of a hall door opening and closing down the way. Your fingers trembled as the clasp caught air once more.
“You need help with that?”
You stared at your reflection and pretended not to see where he had stopped. Jaw tense, you shook your head and attempted the connection for the tenth time.
When you missed again, he scoffed.
“Give it to me,” he held out his hand palm up, ready to take it from your timid fingers and do it for you. “Come on,” Eddie egged on.
“I don’t need help,” you told him.
“Yes, you do,” he said pointedly. He could see the indentations of the small lever on your index finger. “Just let me help you.”
He wasn’t going to leave. Your eyes met in the mirror and he rose his brows expectantly. More hesitantly than he wished, you held out the necklace and let it ring into his palm. A nod from your head gave him the assent he needed.
In the silence of the hallway, you felt squeezed—both your mind and heart. Eddie moved to stand behind you and you could barely breathe; the simple gesture of helping you put on a necklace far more harrowing than previously realized. He was so close. So close. His fingers trailed to the back of your neck, brushing away the hair with his fingertips and letting it fall where it would not infringe the task.
You couldn’t bear to look at him. Focused on the sconces beside the mirror, you tried not to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you for the first time in half a decade. You tried not to remember the way his touch intoxicated you; every stroke and graze intentional as his eyes watched you struggle.
Eddie lifted his arms above your head and let the jewelry fall onto your collarbone. You wondered if his heart was beating as fast as yours.
“How does she look?” Nancy. His voice was low, quiet in the hall to not disturb the others getting ready. You hadn’t even taken him in yet.
The suits Steve chose were all black, form-fitting with ties instead of bow ties. The pocket squares were filled with a white handkerchief, and the shoes were a clean, shiny black. On his lapel, a single rose was pinned.
“She looks beautiful,” you replied but still wouldn’t look at him. You heard the clasp make it. The necklace sat firm but his hands did not move. They lingered, tracing the line of the back of your neck to the tops of your shoulders.
“You look beautiful.”
You didn’t want him to say that.
“Don’t say that,” you replied morosely.
“Why?” Eddie’s fingers brushed the necklace’s golden chain. “It’s true.”
The bottom of your lip trembled dangerously.
“Because you can’t say that.”
“But I did,” he sounded hopeful which dug into that wound a bit further.
“You brought a date.”
“Why won’t you look at me?” He whispered, fingers still gliding. He said your name softly, “look at me, please. Talk to me.”
You felt your heart constrict, sending a shuttered breath through you and your eyes blinked rapidly. There was no way in Hell you would let Eddie see you cry. He had moved on. He brought a date. A goddamn runway model that, in your opinion, ran circles around you in every way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.
“I need to go,” you stepped away from him, shaking your head and jetting off down the hall. “I’m sorry.”
He called your name once, twice, but you ignored him. You grasped the golden handle with a heavy hand, breathing unsteady as he stood in the distance in your peripheral. As though the world stood still again, Eddie felt that he had broken through. You would turn, talk to him, and let him relish in the company of you.
Yet, you grasped that handle tighter.
But, you did turn.
And when you opened the door back to the dressing room, it wasn’t only you whose memories transported you back to the night in Chicago that plagued your mind, but Eddie too. Straight back as he made his way to the men’s dressing room in the opposite direction.
“Stop being such an asshole!” You stood in the kitchen, hands clutching the sink as the anger seethed out of you. Eddie paced in the living space just beyond the island to your right.
“What do you want me to say, huh?” He threw his arms up in defeat. “For once in my life things are finally looking up and people just don’t get signed to a label and expected not to do—” he fumbled his words, “everything that comes with it!”
“I’m not asking you to give up music, Eddie!“
“Then what are you asking me?” He craned his head to the side, hands on his hips and breathing hard. “I can’t work from here. I have to go there and the least you could do is come with me.”
The least you could do. The least you could do.
You tossed the dish rag that had been strangled in your grip into the sink, focusing on the window positioned across from it and scoffed. A view of the goddamn ‘L’ train tracks you despised.
“Well I can’t just get up and move,” you said as calmly as you could. “Why is it so easy for you to ask that of me but when I bring up what I want, it becomes a problem for you?”
Eddie shook his head, hair mused as he ran a hand over it. “I don’t make it a problem, baby.”
“Yes, you do!” You laughed exasperatedly. “You just fucking said—“ a frustrated groan left your lips and you bounded off the sink and faced him from behind the counter. “It’s not like this is Hawkins; it’s goddamn Chicago and I’ll be dammed if there isn’t a music producer in one of those skyscrapers.”
“They’re not like they are out there. If we want any chance to make music–actually make music of our own that sells platinum records and wins awards–those producers are out there,” he pointed to the door as if it signified a world beyond this one.
“What? So, it’s all about money?”
“No! But hell, if that isn’t a major part of it I’d be lying!”
“And what about our home here?” You put your hands on the counters ledge and the nails on your fingertips motioned against it with rhythmic clicks. “Everything we’ve built here goes to shit because of one possible record deal?”
“It’s not just one deal,” Eddie groaned your name in frustration, “It’s the only deal and this… this here,” he motioned around the apartment, “was only ever temporary.”
News to you.
“Like Hawkins was. This isn’t really home.”
“Not home?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Then where the hell do you think it is? You bolted from Hawkins the second you got the chance and as far as I am concerned, this is my home. You see those pictures on the wall?”
You tipped your head in the direction of the wall that the couch sat up against. Above it was a collage of frames that held so many memories. From Nancy to Max, from Steve to Mike, everyone was on that wall.
“Those people helped us find this one.”
“Well,” he shook his head, “they can help us find another in California. There are people out there, baby. Real goddamn people that know just what we need.”
Not you, Corroded Coffin. What they needed.
“It’s not going to find us all the way out here.”
“Tell me, when was the last time you were excited to come home?”
He had been traveling the world with Corroded Coffin for a year and a half. In all of that time, he had come home for approximately two months. Eight weeks out of seventy-eight. This wasn’t the first fight about it; he had changed. The stronghold fame was suffocating him and was the very thing drawing you apart.
“Hm?” You hummed as he diverted his eyes to the apartment door.
“I’m here now.”
“That wasn’t my question, Eddie,” the ground rumbled beneath you. The way his eyes darted to the door as if it were calling him to leave. Foundation cracked and crumbled, fragmenting as the words threatened to tumble out. “Do you even want to be here?”
“If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here, yeah?” He looked annoyed, lips nearly flattened. That’s how you knew he was angry. Angry at life, at you, at the world.
“Eddie,” you pleaded softly in one last attempt to salvage the broken platform, “stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are!” You breathed in deeply, thinking of the unthinkable questions that pondered in your mind. “I’m not asking you to stay because I don’t want you to follow your dreams—you twisted my words—but why can’t I be the selfish one and want to stay here? You’ll have more money, you can visit and we— “
Can work it out. It was already over when he said he had been signed that godforsaken deal.
He said your name dejectedly. It hung there in the air as if saying ‘stop trying.’ You felt a lump form in your throat as you looked him, already decided in what he wanted because he was going after his dream. Halfway there, this was his out.
The tears gathered at the sides of your eyes, “you don’t even try.”
Eddie always had something to say but he couldn’t form words in that moment.
“What?” You steeled your wet eyes on him, “can’t even say that you had? Or that you were? Eddie, I’ve been doing this alone for so long that I don’t even remember the last time you told me you loved me and you meant it.”
That set him off. He pointed a bitter finger at you. “I always mean it when I say it. Don’t play that card.”
“Card!?” You cried, “I’m not trying to guilt trip you into staying but you don’t mean it! Eight weeks! Eight weeks in a fucking year and a half and you expect me to get up and throw my life away for you?”
“I was on tour! Halfway across the goddamn world!”
“Exactly!” You exclaimed, turning away from him and trying to escape to the bedroom but you could hear his heavy feet following.
“Stop it,” he said your name over and over as you gripped the door and tried to close it. He pressed his palm against it with a hard slap and pushed it against the wall with a deafening thud. “Would you just stop!”
“For Fuck’s Sake!” You yelled, “I can’t move! I don’t want to move! I have a lease, a good job, and I want to stay here and build my future!”
“You can have that in California!” He yelled back.
His eyes were wide, trying to pretend the antithesis of the fracture was anything less than his career.
“No, I can’t!”
“Why not!?”
“Because of you! You don’t want what I do!” You screamed at him, voice breaking as you cried and realized that this was the end. Eddie would move out to California and you’d be left in a tiny apartment in Chicago alone.
“I want a family, Eddie. I want to raise kids here or in the stupid suburbs, and grow old here. You want to be a—” you swallowed hard, cheeks wet and eyes getting puffy, “—rock star and those lives don’t mix. They just don’t.”
He was only twenty-five. He didn’t really know what he wanted from life.
“You don’t want to be here. That’s why you haven’t come home and I get it, I do. The band is growing, you’re popular, you have a million women to choose from, but I can’t keep pretending that my wants have to be ignored for you to succeed.”
“Are you saying I’ve ignored you?”
“You tell me, Eddie,” you shrugged, “how would you feel if the person you loved most was gone for months only to be reassured that everything was fine by a phone call every few days?”
He let his head tip to the floor, eyes closed because although many of the cracks stemmed from his choices, this wasn’t what he wanted. Eddie wanted to be happy, to be in love and be loved. But he was at the precipice of being what he always wanted and decisions had to be made.
Callous and resentful decisions.
“Do you hate me?” Eddie’s eyes spurred something in him. A hatred for himself, a despised feeling growing that a part of him that had always been missing—family—was being ripped away for a dream.
“I don’t hate— “
“Yes, you do,” he looked up, giving you a knowing look as his bottom lip trembled.
“No, I don’t. But I’m hurt and I don’t think you see that.”
“So,” he cleared his throat, breath hitching in his chest, “this is it then? We’re just going to give up?”
“I didn’t give up, Eddie,” you needn’t say the rest to indicate that he had. “We just want different things.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do,” you shook your head, sitting down on the edge of the bed with your face turned away from him. “Right now we do and it’s not doing anything for either of us.”
It was quiet for a few minutes. Minutes. A thick fog fell over the room; marinating in every picture, the clothes folded away in the dresser, the shampoo in the shower, the two dinner plates half-cleaned in the sink. Domesticity wasn’t enough. Love wasn’t enough.
You weren’t sure how long it had been, but Eddie’s socked feet moved from the spot he stood in and approached the bed—carefully and freely. He knelt down, hands on the outsides of both your thighs and his thumbs rubbed the tops of them gently, the pressure soothing when it shouldn’t have been through your jeans.
“I want you to be happy…” he swallowed thickly as he chose his words gently. There was no point in trying to stop you from crying when he couldn’t do so himself. “I want you to have what you want, sweetheart… and if I can do that… someday… we’ll find each other again.”
“Eddie…” Your heart ached as you shook your head. Hope was the killer of it all.
Hope that perhaps one day you’ll find each other again; that you’d both be free to choose the paths that crossed while maintaining your own personalities and careers without giving one up. Hope that a future existed when the flame was extinguished on a cold evening in Chicago.
“I’m sorry,” he rubbed your thighs tenderly.
“Me too.”
“I love you,” he said softly as if were one last confession. The tears were quietly flowing when you leaned forward, cupping the back of his head with your hands and resting your forehead on his own.
Just to hold him one last time.
“I love you too.” He left the apartment an hour later and it was the last time you had seen him. No contact, no cards, and no one, in the group of friends you shared, brought up the other on purpose.
The reception was noisy.
Like a zoo full of animals that were awakened by a whistle only they could hear; sounds of song’s you hadn’t heard since high school played from the small band the Wheeler’s had insisted on just beyond the designated space for dancing. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were losing it on the floor since the second a Michael Jackson song emitted its first few strings.
Steve and Nancy were hand in hand greeting guests at their tables as others made their way to the bar, dessert table, or chatted with drinks in their hands.
At the head table, El and Max were positioned at the end talking in whispers about the people in the room and you sat like a lone duck near the center of it. An abundance of flowers in white and yellow flanked the table before you, empty dishes and scattered bags and goods littered its table top. Mike left a pack of cigarettes in his spot while Dustin’s best man speech was crumbled in a quarter-fold beside his sweating glass of coke.
Time had left you behind; sitting solemn at your best friend’s wedding while everyone else put on their best smiles and grinned their way through the evening. And maybe that’s what observation had led you to believe, that you looked as though you were wallowing in self-pity for an absence of love in your life. Loveless at an event so full of it.
You fiddled with the necklace absent mindedly.
The room of excitable tunes slowed.
Couples–married and not, grabbed their partners for a dance. Robin and Eddie were standing near the center of the room beside the table that all the parents were at when Veronica slid next to Eddie, her hand slinking down his arm and into his palm as she nodded to the growing group on the dance floor.
Hours ago, you had looked back at him when he pleaded with you to stay. Now, as his hand was gripped by a woman he wasn’t sure why he had even invited, Eddie looked back from the center of the room and to the head table where you sat.
Veronica pulled him away before he could make a choice.
Robin leaned against one of the chairs, watching as Eddie trailed behind the woman in orange. She did not realize Joyce and Hopper were still sitting at the table she rested against.
“What the hell was that?” Hopper voiced, hand pointing in Eddie’s direction like a finger gun. He had a mustache that was perfectly trimmed and highlighted his frown well. Joyce crossed her arms with scrutiny.
Robin shrugged, sighing as she turned around and pulled out a chair to sit at the table. “Two idiots in love, I think.”
“Jesus,” Hopper scratched his forehead, “I knew it was a bad idea…” he mumbled as he watched Eddie pretend to be interest in what the woman was telling him as they danced.
“What?” Robin shook her head, “What was a bad idea?”
“Them breaking up!” He said as if it were obvious. “I got a call from one of the bartenders at The Hideout that there was a scuffle goin’ on one Friday night a few years ago and when I got there, Eddie was there just fuckin’ bombed on the sidewalk.”
Joyce nodded along to his words because she had heard the story before. Robin listened intently as Hopper continued.
“I couldn’t understand a word he was sayin’ so I put him in the truck and offered to drive him to her parents’ house because that’s where they always stayed when they came to town and he just… cried. Drunk and sobbing his goddamn eyes out in the front of my truck.”
“Was this recent or…?” Robin pondered.
“No,” Hopper shook his head, “years back but he was goin’ on about how he was a bad boyfriend and they broke up and he was moving to California in a few days… I just thought to myself ‘shit, man, I have never seen someone so bent out of shape from a breakup.’ Those two… If it weren’t Steve and Nancy gettin’ hitched, I would have bet money on it that it was them instead.”
“Every Tuesday he’d pick her up from Melvald’s and take her out. He had flowers for her every time,” Joyce recalled. “I asked her about it once,” she nodded and looked at how you watched Eddie with the other woman, “she said that he never had a good example of what it meant to be a good boyfriend. I guess his dad was a piece of shit,” Hopper hummed a knowledgeable assurance that she was right. “And he wanted to be the only example he could think of–be that good guy that she deserved.”
“I didn’t know that,” Robin said quietly.
“I told him he needed to fly back to Chicago and fix things,” Hopper added, “but I guess he was too beaten up about it; probably thought she’d slam the door in his face.”
“Doubt it,” Robin snorted, “I don’t think they’re idiots,” she corrected herself, “I think they know exactly what the other one is thinking but are too scared to get hurt again if it doesn’t work out.”
Hopper scooted his chair back, adjusting his pants and jacket as he stood from the table. “Well, then we’ll just have to make it happen–or,” he clarified, “get them in the same spot.”
Robin swiveled in her chair as Hopper rubbed Joyce’s shoulder as he passed behind her, heading straight for the head table and directly to you.
Jim Hopper wasn’t a man that could be missed in a crowd of hundreds. His bulky frame that towered over guests and moved about the room like a boulder in grass drew your eyes to the movement immediately. He passed by Max and Eleven at the end of the table, never missing the opportunity to pat the girl he raised into a wonderful young lady on the head.
It was a nice distraction from Eddie and Veronica swaying to a melodic tune.
“Hey kid,” Hopper pulled out the chair beside you labeled with a table marker for ‘Robin Buckley.’
You gave him a closed smile. “Hi Chief.”
“I guess I can’t really call you ‘kid’ anymore,” he groaned, chuckling as he sat down with an ache all older men his age did. “I blink and you all grow up… makes me feel like a real old man,” and then he gave you that sly, side grin that made you wish Hopper was your dad instead of the one you had.
“You’re not old, Hopper,” he managed to pull a small laugh from your lips. The dejected film washing away for a brief second in time.
“Well,” he cleared his throat as he put an elbow on the table and adjusted himself in the seat to face you, “that makes me feel a little better about my age. So,” Hopper gave a pointed look that answered the hundreds of questions as to what Robin was chatting to him and Joyce about, “what are you sitting all the way over here for? Don’t want to chat or dance?”
“Just tired,” you told him, “Nance didn’t pick the most sensible shoes.”
“Robin took hers off; I’m sure you can do the same.”
“And walk barefoot on this floor?” You snorted. “Never.”
He shared the amusement before turning his gaze to the groups of people beyond the tables as they danced. A goddamn direct view. ‘Cruel,’ he thought. And surpassing the stone of the church from hours before, the beach where it trickled rain as photos were snapped for scrapbooks forever, and the smells of delicious food filled his belly before reaching his mouth, Jim Hopper felt the love that filled the room.
It touched him, as it had you and everyone else on the wedding weekend of Steve and Nancy Harrington.
Joyce was attempting to occupy Robin in conversation but every time Jim’s eyes met hers, he knew they were both far too curious and nosey to not be gossiping about longstanding drama that befuddled even the most romantically inclined.
The woman that restored his faith in the prospect of love and devotion had witnessed the earliest of your own. Tuesday’s at the local mart, the way Eddie would hold the door for you and attempt to steal magazine’s off the rack just to get your attention. How Eddie drove you around when your car was in the shop and eventually, would take the little rascals of Hellfire with for soda and snacks before their campaigns began–but also because he wanted to see you if even for a minute.
Although people often judged the idea of love at a young age, Jim and Joyce both recognized its honesty between Eddie and yourself. It was pure, unadulterated, and basked in a light that only belonged to the longevity of companionship.
“You know, the moment I knew I loved Joyce, I thought I’d never get her.”
Hopper could see Eddie and his date having their own conversation, whatever it may have been, because a blank face melted from one of an increasing lack of emotion, to one of strife.
“And when I did, I thought she’d see a different man than the one I believed I was.”
“She would have been blind not to see the real you, Hopper,” Joyce smiled at you as you caught her eyes. “You always tried to help us be the best versions of ourselves and she did too. If that’s not a perfect match, I don’t know what is.”
“Are you the best version of yourself now?” He questioned, tapping his finger onto the white tablecloth of the table. “Weddings can be… sobering… but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a person look as distant as you.”
“Flattery never was your strong suit, Hopper,” you grimaced, “and I’m fine,” you weren’t fine. “You didn’t have to come save me from myself.”
“So, there aren’t a million thoughts swimming around in that mind of yours? I know I’m not the most intuitive dad there is but believe me when I say I’ve been trained to know when somethin’ just quite ain’t right.”
“I have hundreds of thoughts racing through my brain. ‘Why is the cake so far away?’ ‘Rob and Joyce can stop staring at me any second now,’ and perhaps my favorite thought, ‘why does Jim Hopper care about my state of mind?” Combative. He knew the signs.
“Maybe Jim Hopper knowns that the girl deep down inside of you just needs to heal,” he said honestly. “But there is only one way to heal what’s been lost and let me tell you, it’s not going to come waltzing on down here as you sit and mope.”
“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” You scoffed at yourself, “that this wedding has only made me jealous about what I don’t have.”
“I don’t think you’re jealous, kid,” Hopper deflated, “I think you’re realizing a mistake was made somewhere along the lines of your own life.”
Mistake. It was that goddamn word again.
“There’s been no mistake,” you shook your head at him, “everything has played out the way it was meant to.”
“And you really believe that?”
“There had been nothing in my life to prove me otherwise.”
“And lying was never your strong suit, kid,” he put on his ‘dad’ face. “You don’t have to talk to me, fine, but if I asked to be the first person to ask for a dance tonight, would you say no?”
How could you deny Jim Hopper, Police Chief and hero of Hawkins, Indiana? You couldn’t. Even if you were flailing for support in an ocean of heartache, sparing one dance for the man was cinch. He rose from the chair, holding out his arm in hopes that you would link yours through his and entertain him one dance as Steve and Nancy added themselves to the pairs on the dance floor and swayed gently to a new song.
His stature would block a view you’d rather not see.
“You may be the only person to ask me to dance,” you joined him on your feet. “I can’t say no to you, Chief.”
“That’s the spirit, kid.”
“Why did you bring me here?”
Veronica’s voice cut through the music as couples and pairs settled onto the dance floor with the melodic hum of a song playing through sets of speakers. Instead of dancing like an adult, she had flung both her arms over Eddie’s shoulders and linked her hands behind his head. He had no choice other than to put his hand at her waist; the fabric of her orange dress was coarse under his fingertips.
“I asked you to come,” Eddie replied. “I thought I told you that last night.”
Ah, yes. Last night; where Steve made a scene about Eddie’s lingering feelings of letting another woman go while she sat beside him with the best intentions.
Veronica did not know Eddie Munson–the guy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks by fate, the one who had a strange group of friends that shared varying interests and ran in different social circles, or someone who threw everything he had into a career he realized wasn’t as glamorous as the cameras and magazines made it out to be.
He cursed those Rolling Stone magazines he scoured when he was a bit too early for closing time of Melvald’s.
“Yeah,” Veronica said as if that hadn’t mattered in the slightest, “and here you are, barely even touching me or sparring me a second look. You know I had to sit by some stoner guy for dinner and they didn’t believe you could bring someone like me.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes, taken aback by her comment. “What’s that supposed to mean? Those are good people. And I was a huge fuckin’ stoner once too.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she shook her head, “I mean, they didn’t see me with you. Not because of who I am or who you are, but because it wasn’t right.”
“You know,” Eddie lowered his voice when he caught the eye of Dustin dancing with Suzie not two feet away from him, “you’re sounding an awful lot like someone who’s about to dump someone else.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Her eyebrows quirked as she tipped her head to the side. “Why waste more time on me?”
Even if his heart raced in another direction, the sound of someone saying that to Eddie was bothersome.
“Please don’t say that,” he said, “you’re not a waste of time.”
“But for someone else’s love, I am,” Veronica’s lips extended into a thin line. “That’s not a bad thing, Eddie… It just means I’m not the one for you.”
The chords of the music sobered him.
Across the room, sitting desolate at the dinner table, his heart called.
“Afford me this dance,” Veronica continued, “and when the time comes, do what makes you happy, however difficult that may be. She may not run into your arms as she once did,” as the motions swayed the pair, she faced the table as Jim Hopper approached. “That doesn’t mean love doesn’t exist.”
She felt Eddie’s shoulder’s deflate from the tension he had been holding in the entire day–nay, two days–since the prospect of you had become a reality.
“I abandoned her,” Eddie admitted quietly to her, “like a fucking ragdoll for some dream that really isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”
Veronica did not know every detail. She did not know the exact history, nor did she fully grasp the levity of a near decade of love being tossed to the side for a pipedream. But she did know what it was like to leave an abundance of life behind to chase a want.
Yet the model had never seen a group so peculiar as the one he belonged to. The tightknit communal that leaned on each other like family even though many were from different corners. She had seen the binds of friendship like never before. She had seen a broken love bonded by pain from across a candlelight tabletop and wondered why she had ever been invited if that would always have been the outcome. It was as though two ships hadn’t sailed passed one another but docked; lengths of a life finally running out of individual ink before relying on two for competition.
“You both hurt each other,” she settled, “that is what separation does. But…” she chuckled, “I have been in love before and I’ve never witnessed such a feeling when being in the presence of the two of you–and I don’t even know her…”
“She won’t talk to me,” Eddie confided. “I tried, earlier today because she was on the verge of a breakdown over a necklace and she could barely look at me.”
“Don’t you think it may be because if she did, she’d fall all over again?”
The song was coming to a close.
“There is nothing wrong with pain, Eddie. Feeling pain, wanting to be healed, and being scared of that healing… and maybe she’ll need time. She loves you. I know she does because when women know, they know.”
Jim Hopper stood from the chair.
There was a comradery he felt in Veronica. Romance beside itself, the woman was a chakra. She had looked into a future he could barely imagine himself and pulled the heroic card before it was dealt. These cards overturned like quicksand settling between his toes.
“You know,” Eddie gave her a sly, friendly grin, “you sound an awful lot like those odd fortune tellers that sell their services on the strip.”
Veronica laughed; whole-heartedly, warmly. “Maybe in a previous life I was,” she played, “but in yours, there has always been one path and I guarantee you, from one romantic to another, loneliness was never an option for you. It’s what kids dream about–that ‘fairytale…’ Even if it is a little bit messy.”
You linked your arm with Jim’s.
“I’ve always been a little too messy,” Eddie said sheepishly.
“I can tell,” Veronica groaned, “You don’t have to be perfect for her. Imperfection seizes our hearts faster than perfection… it’s enough to haunt us when perfection tears that apart.”
“El isn’t dancing with anyone.”
Jim Hopper held one hand in his and the other on the upper half of your back. It was as though he was dancing at an elementary father-daughter dance than anything else, stiff in his hulking frame. The music did nothing to silence your rapidly forming thoughts that Eddie and Veronica were feet away; Eddie’s eyes caught yours as Jim helped you to the floor, an anguish in them acted as a puzzle waiting to be pulled apart.
In the eyes that watched Veronica rip the persona he had gathered for himself in the years past, Eddie could only imagine you. He waited for them to turn into your own, for her laugh to morph into yours, for her hands to run through his hair as yours once did, and the comfort of her presence to become you. Looking for that glimpse, Eddie found it inside of his imagination; searching every corner of it to find a home for his torment–self-inflicted and its mortal consequences bleeding life from him like a sieve.
“It’s those sensible shoes…” Hopper joked. “Her feet are killing her. A couple blisters later, she’s sworn them off forever.”
“I don’t blame her,” Lucas and Max joined the pairs beside you. The red-headed girl rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closed in the utmost content state she could be in. True love.
“How many dances do you have in your feet?”
“Why?” You questioned. “Am I a better partner than Joyce? She was always rather clumsy.”
“No,” he laughed but could not disagree, “I just think those boys won’t end the evening without asking you. I think Dustin’s always had a little crush on his former babysitter.”
“I don’t think,” you tipped your head at him, “I know he’s always had a crush on me.”
Dustin Henderson had always been a cute boy. His pure child-like imagination and motivation had inspired you to explore your own interests without fear. You had watched him from five until his mother decided he didn’t need you anymore, but you were lucky to call him a friend now.
“But he’s got Suzie,” you could see the two giggling as everyone danced around them. “And I can’t think of a more natural person for him. I think they’re next,” your eyes moved themselves around the room, “to get married.”
“Too many childhood sweethearts in my opinion,” Hopper’s gruff voice was certain in that. “Not everyone is meant to be with their first loves.”
“I think they are… just like Steve and Nancy, just like Max and Lucas.”
“And you and Eddie.” Not a question, a statement.
It was the scoff that left your lips that made his hopes for you feel weak. “That chapter ended, Chief. He’s moved on, so have I.”
“No,” he clarified, “you haven’t. You wouldn’t have been moping around your best friend’s wedding if you were.”
“I wasn’t moping,” you defended, “Jonathan was moping. I’m pretty sure he cried and had decent reason to but I was just… people watching.”
“Person watching. You were watching Eddie and there’s nothing wrong with it,” he asserted. “You love him. There is no shame in it.”
“Why is everyone so interested in how I feel?” Your face put on the mask of a scorned lover. Eyes drawn narrow and brows forming a crease in its center. “This is Nance and Steve’s wedding, their only wedding if they’re lucky, and I’ve had person after person question how I feel about something I no longer have.”
“Maybe it’s because for once we all see the truth of it all…” He had seen the truth as a washed-up Eddie cried in his truck. “That the pain of the past isn’t worth the loneliness of the future.”
“A true poet,” you mumbled, “but I’m fine. I promise you, I’m fine.”
“I’ve said it before,” Hopper chuckled, “and I will always say it to you, but you’re a terrible liar.”
“Lies be lies, Chief. But there’s no point in trying to make me feel better about feelings I can’t control.”
“No one is asking you to control them,” you turned your head away from Jim’s and clocked Lucas eavesdropping. He gave a strained, tight smile before resting his cheek onto Max’s head. “That isn’t what we’re trying to do… I want the kids I watched grow up to be happy and you’re not happy, he’s not happy. I don’t know if the answer to that equation is the two of you finding each other again but I’ve never been a man capable of understanding the love you had. And that sound ridiculous coming from someone as old as your old man.”
“I can’t even be in the same room as him without feeling like breaking down,” your voice was quiet, a mere whisper of what it was because the prospect of Eddie still having feelings for you was frightening. You didn’t want to end up becoming a ghost again.
“It’s like I’m a nobody in a room full of somebody’s and they can’t see me.”
“Someone will always see you,” his eyes were gentle. “He saw you when he couldn’t see himself.”
“Then why did he leave?”
And the way Hopper’s body stood taller, his gaze no longer meeting yours, and turning you cold told you the world was ending. This love, imploded if it couldn’t exist between the two of you, was bubbling to the surface like a volcano. Here, on the island of Nantucket, a tsunami couldn’t save you from emotional ruin.
“I think that’s a question you’ll have to ask him.”
Veronica’s hand extended into your peripheral vision. She held it out to Jim like a lifeline.
“Do you mind if I steal him?” Her body came into view and you needn’t know the conversation the two had to know she had led Eddie back to you. “I need to hear all about this ‘hero of Hawkins!’”
“I’m not the hero,” Jim said rather sheepishly. “That’s all him.”
You could feel Eddie’s presence in a room of hundreds of a room of one. It enveloped you into a cocoon against your fighting mind.
“Those are strong words coming from you, Chief.” His voice rung out against the music. Eddie had been on the poor graces of Chief Jim Hopper for many a year before the man had seen Eddie for what he was: a good, kind man with a fierce complex.
Jim looked to you. “You got this, kid. I’ve got another partner now, so do you.”
He took Veronica’s arm and linked it through his arm like an elderly man who needed help walking. He wasn’t that old. She took him away without a glance back at the one who had asked her to come.
“Now,” Eddie cleared his throat from behind you, “I could ask you to dance or,” he had put on that voice like there were more options than he had, “we can go outside, sit down, and maybe you’ll talk to me.”
‘Look at me. Why won’t you look at me,’ his words echoed in your mind.
When you turned around to face him, he got his wish.
Eddie looked hopeful, as if it were the permanent face he wore. His eyes were the smallest bit glassy, hands stuffed into his pockets, and the shine of his shoes to the wear of his tie was different than he had ever worn before. He was still him, yet so different all the same.
“If we talk,” you felt like you swallowed a frog, “no lies. I don’t want to hear any lies.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
The night was cold.
Springtime enfolded the shores of Nantucket; cattails and tall grasses billowing, soft sounds of ocean waves lapping muted the music from inside. Adirondack chairs lay vacant, pillows dewed and their wood smooth.
You couldn’t bear to sit down.
Allowing the night air to take you, Eddie shut the door behind him and felt the scene before him play at the edge of a cliff; every piece of you blowing away against a yearning to stay. He began shrugging his jacket off and you held out a hand in front of you.
“I’m fine,” the frost bit at your voice. “Keep it.”
“You’re freezing,” Eddie continued to remove his piece. “I’m not going to be an asshole and let you freeze to death because you’re stubborn.”
You scoffed. “I am not stubborn. I don’t need it, end of story.”
He tugged it off, folding it in his hands before tossing it on one of the chairs that separated the distance between you. His tie was long undone, the two buttons at the top of his shirt undone but the cufflinks remained. You wanted to take the jacket. You wanted to recall his scent and warmth but your stubbornness in protection vexed you.
“Fine,” he huffed.
“Fine,” You replied in kind.
Only the note of waves filled the stillness. You both looked at one another as though a million years had gone by in the blink of an eye. Not unlike the seconds passed in the wine cellar the night before, the world seemed to dissipate to a single existence of two former lovers. Two people, in spite of themselves, who haven’t felt whole since a single moment six years before.
Goosebumps raised on your skin, the jacket appeared delectable yet an item of fear as it sat, calling to say ‘put it on,’ only to be followed by a whisper of ‘forgive me.’
“I can’t imagine that small talk is what you wanted to discuss,” you started.
“I don’t believe it’s what you would want either,” he countered, “and we both know that would get us nowhere.”
“So, what?” You lightly shook your head. “You want me to ask how your life has been and catch up on all I’ve missed? There’s a reason I don’t read gossip magazines anymore… I don’t need to see beautiful women rubbed in my face or success showing me that my pain was worth something more.”
“A lot of those things are lies,” Eddie walked his icy path with steady feet. “You don’t need to read them, no. But I would hope you still cared enough to ask about me when you visit Rob and Nance, not to mention Steve never brings you up to me.”
“Oh, you mean the literal effort they all put in to never mention you around me?” You gazed at him as though the reason you never asked about him, or they never spoke about him, was obvious. It hurt too much. “It’s not exactly a cake walk, Eddie, to hear about your fantastic life when I could barely hold my own together.”
“It’s not fantastic and if you asked, you would have known that.”
“And it’s my responsibility to learn that? Did you want me to reach out, ask how you’ve been, and get lunch like you didn’t fucking break my heart?” You gawked. Eddie took his hands from his pockets and put them on his hips–a Steve move he had taken upon after establishing their friendship. “If I couldn’t talk about you, I don’t know how the hell I would have talked to you.”
“Then maybe I should have called,” like an easy solution, “and maybe instead of… what was it Steve said? Trading holidays liked a divorced couple, we could have been civil and spent time with our friends together.”
“Was that when you were traveling the world or recording records?” You pursed. “Or when you moved out to California and visited once a year? Tell me, Eddie, is a hypothetically cordial relationship something you really want with me? I can barely feel the world turn as it is when I’m in your presence, I doubt I would be able to have a good time with our friends.”
Eddie laughed savagely. “I didn’t know all the fun had been sucked out of you.”
You took a step back, careening your head out toward the ocean as you bit your cheek. He had gall. He was bold and unflinching, but his eyes told the truth. His own pain and suffering at the consequences of his actions had let the light leave him for so long. When pain overtook a person’s being, anger and callous language followed.
“If you’re going to be an ass,” you looked back to him, “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“It isn’t the truth, though? I’ve at least tried to have a halfway, goddamn decent time at this wedding and every time I looked at you, you’ve been nothing but bitter.”
“No one asked you to look at me, Eddie. You brought a date. You should focus on her.”
“How could I!?” A dam had broken inside of him. He couldn’t not look at you. “Every time I think I’ll give someone else a chance, it’s like seeing a fucking ghost in my mirror! I have to look at you. I need to look for you.”
“No, you don’t!” You exclaimed with as much passion. “You lost that when you walked out! I am sorry that I am so shitty for being sad at a beautiful wedding. I am sorry for wishing that this time, maybe it was me walking down that goddamn aisle. And for fuck’s sake, I am so sorry that I am fearful that you’ll finally move on and want to marry someone else! Jesus fuck! It’s been six goddamn years and I still think that you’ll come walking through the door and say you made a mistake but I don’t want to hear that tumbling out of Steve’s mouth. I don’t want it to be based in lies because you feel bad I am sad at my best friend’s wedding.”
“I love you,” he blurted out without reason.
“Don’t say that!”
“Why!?”
“Because it isn’t true! IF I was, you never would have left! You wouldn’t have asked me to throw my life away and follow you to the ends of the fucking earth! If I wasn’t just some body, maybe somebody would love me enough to stay,” You argued loudly.
“I do love you,” He argued back with the same ferocity.
“You did. You don’t anymore.”
“I do love you. I do. I haven’t fucking stopped loving you since I was seventeen and I don’t think I ever will stop. I will always love you, I have always loved you, and I know that when I am dying, I will die loving you,” he was breathless. Angered and pent up with emotions he had buried deep where his eyes were fiery and his tone was firm.
“You can’t say things like that…” Fuck the tears that loved to threaten to fall.
“Why!? Tell me why I can’t tell the truth. You asked me not to lie and I wouldn’t do that to you!”
“Becau–” you stammered the word as your mind racked itself for answers, “because it’s not fair to me! I can’t live another day knowing that someone else out there loves you in a way that I do. I can’t keep waiting around in my shitty, fucking life for someone who walked out of it for something bigger than me.”
“And it was a mistake! I will never forgive myself for it but please, even if it’s the last thing you do, please believe that it was. I never should have asked that of you, I was selfish. I knew what I wanted in life then because it hasn’t changed. It existed deep down but was scared to come to the surface and I needed to be pulled under to see that. I love you. I love you so goddamn much that every day without you has been the most unbearable few years of my life. I want you, and only you.”
“Don’t lie to me,” your lip trembled, face hot.
“I’m not lying,” his own eyes watery. “Please, I am not lying to you.”
“I don’t think you know how much you hurt me, Eddie,” you shook your head at him. “There are times when I don’t feel like myself because you took that away from me. I don’t depend on anyone; I’d never say that I lost everything when you left but you cracked me open, slaughtered me in the place we shared because of a dream. And believe me, really, that I am so happy you found that life but how can I know that my suffering was worth it?
“You don’t think I suffered too?” He exclaimed loudly at the sky. “I went to Hawkins, you know, after everything because I didn’t have anywhere to go.” You didn’t know.
“I got so fucking drunk at a bar that Hopper had to come scrape me off the sidewalk and from what I remember, I exploded in the truck when he tried to take me to your parent’s place. Do you know what he did? Let me sleep on the couch and when Eleven got up the next day, she held my hand and told me that I’d be okay and I haven’t been okay. I’ve never been okay without you and I’m not scared to admit that. You are my lifeline, sweetheart. I have tried to replace that feeling but I can’t.”
“Do you know how long I wished for you to walk through that door?” You pointed to the door you walked through as if it could transform itself into the one of the apartment you shared. “I sat there, waiting for you because I barely remembered a life where you weren’t part of it and that was hard enough to imagine when it slammed in my goddamn ears,” you huffed, eyes nearly ablaze as his committed declarations of love echoed through every vacant place inside of you and right back to the moment he left.
“There is not a day that goes by where I don’t question why you let it go so easily.”
“It wasn’t easy,” Eddie stressed your name exasperatedly, “nothing about that choice was easy.”
“You made it seem like it was.”
Eddie felt the grounding he had built in his mind with his vow of love was strong. He felt the ghosts of the past begin to grip his feet; haunting and pulling him to the depths of his former despair to face a choice chastened by ambition. On the cold, concrete sidewalk and the airy Nantucket patio, it ruptured in spouts.
Pain, longing, abjection tied to every word; you had tried in obstinate strength to keep the fortress from becoming invaded. That somewhere in your heart there was a knowledge it was stronger than the force of the man that had left you to bleed but it wasn’t. It felt his bullets like bandages. They neither wounded nor massacred its path forward, binding the holes left behind with attestation.
“When I said we wanted different things, why didn’t you tell me what you wanted?” You asked in a voice wavering. “I thought you wanted this life,” a hand painted his figure against the night, “he one with the glitz and glamor and women like Veronica. If you wanted what I did, why toss it to the side?
Eddie shook his head, backing away from you and throwing his hands on top of his head in a connected grasp. He looked out to the water so dark he couldn’t see yet heard. “You remember what I told you about my parents?”
After a second, he returned his gaze to you and in return, you nodded.
Eddie’s perception of self was deeply rooted in the disjointed childhood he had been forced to experience. Every feeling, every action questioned by himself as to whether the receiving party had viewed it as strange, difficult, or simply heartless. He kept his heart on his sleeve, however, he kept it tethered there. When someone tried to hold it in their own palms, Eddie pulled away.
It had taken years for him to be comfortable enough with himself to be willing to be someone he liked.
“It doesn’t just go away with time,” he sighed. “I will always doubt myself. I always fear that I’m one step away from becoming him even if I know I’m nothing like him.”
For a child of a loveless marriage, a brutal life, the most fearful thing they could imagine was not whether or not they could be loved later in life, it was turning into the people they hated most.
“It’s not every day that someone comes to your concert and wants to sign you without so much as a demo session… and that overtook me. I know that now, and I knew that the second I walked out the goddamn door. I will apologize for the rest of my life if it means you know how I feel.”
Eddie let that sit.
“You can hate me forever, I don’t mind. But don’t convince yourself I never cared enough about you.”
“I don’t hate you. I never hated you. And I’m sorry if I made it seem that way.”
Perhaps he would have to convince himself that you never hated him just as you would that he loved you.
“Even when I left?”
“There was not a piece of my body strong enough to feel anything more than empty when that happened.”
“I felt it too, you know,” his eyes shimmered in the lamplight. No joy, no hilarity–just hope that you knew the truth.
“I do now,” you told him.
“I’m not asking you to give me a second chance,” Eddie shrugged his shoulders lowly. In a nearly defeated sigh, he took the words he replayed in his mind for two thousand, one hundred and ninety days, “but fuck… I told you I’d find you again if the time was right and the minute I saw you in the archway I knew that was my shot… you’re the same but different… I loved you then and I love the you that you are now. And I’m sorry that it took me that long to realize it.”
“What did you feel in that church today?”
A cosmic connection, a fleeting moment he wished to hold onto forever.
“Eddie,” you took a step forward, closing the distance, “tell me what you felt.”
“I felt…” He paused. Breathing in deeply, it was not his admissions of love that proved to be most difficult. It was the regret of letting it go that scarred the deepest. “I felt… bitter.”
“Bitter?”
“Because I don’t have what they do,” he threw a lazy arm toward the door. “Or I did have that and I let it go because of a silly dream.”
“I don’t think your dream was silly,” you admitted, “it worked out of you in the end.”
“But at what cost?” Eddie took a step closer to you; the chair with this tuxedo jacket the space that separated you. “Why do those dreams take everything away to make them happen? I didn’t want to do that, this, alone. Not without you.”
“I felt helpless,” you disclosed. “In that church with the sun streaming in… like a fucking… higher power was saying to me that the way I loved you still existed inside of me. It hasn’t ever truly gone–as much as some moments I wish it was–yet it stays.”
“Helpless because you love me?”
“Helpless because I can’t have you.”
“And why can’t you have me?” Another step closer. “Why do you, the only woman I have ever truly loved, feel you cannot have me?”
“Because someone else does,” your eyes flashed toward the doors as if Eddie’s proximity and both of your vulnerabilities were forbidden. “Because someone else loves you.”
“She doesn’t love me,” Eddie’s fingers eclipsed your own. Fanning in a light flutter, it was discovering touch again. “She isn’t mine and I am not hers.”
He stepped closer again and every one of your senses went spiraling. Eddie leaned his head forward and rested his forehead on your own. Two sets of eyes closed at the sensation.
“You have all of me. Every part of me since the moment I saw you.”
“And what do you want?”
‘I want you to have what you want, sweetheart,’ his words were distant from the past.
“What do you want now?” you asked him, breaking away as your eyes shone to his. His free hand cradled the back of your neck gently, he rubbed his thumb over your cheek. “I know what I want, but I need to hear it from you. No lies.”
“No lies,” he repeated, a quick glanced down at your lips had him soaring. “I want you, baby. I’ll only ever want you.”
“Good,” you whispered, lips barely tracing his for the first time in six years. “Because we’re not letting this go this time.”
“Never.”
And he pulled your lips to his.
To answer the question the chapel had asked you, ‘what is it like to be loved?’, there is only one answer:
This is what it feels like. Pain, beauty, and joy. There is no bind without strife, nor is there passion without sacrifice.
And in the years in between said sacrifice, the tethers of a string brushed together until they found one another again on a little island off a blustery coast for the wedding of Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler.
A/N: As always, comments, reblogs are kindly encouraged :) thank you for reading!
Summary: short fic ab Eddie taking you and your friends in a road trip to the lake
a/n: hi everyone! this not proofread plz be kind lol! also i’d like to promote my other Eddie fic ‘Tis the Damn Season which won’t show up under any tags for some reason,,, Thanks :)
•
The van makes thudding noises as it hits potholes and cracks in the road. Dustin and Mike are in the backseat arguing over something involving Star Wars lore. You sit in the passenger seat as Eddie drives the van full of your friends to your aunts house for the weekend. Mike, Dustin, Gareth and Lucas rode in the backseat rows of Eddie’s van. It’s summer break and the underclassmen in the Hellfire club had been complaining about not having anything to do so you offered a road trip across the state to your aunt’s place on the lake.
Eddie has one hand on your thigh as you switch out the cassette that had been playing. The boys in the backseat shout music requests but you hardly listen, opting to play music you and Eddie enjoy.
Eddie smiles and glances over at you as one of his favorite songs starts playing.
“Nice pick babe.” he grins as he starts to bop his head and drum on the steering wheel.
“When are you gonna play music that anyone other than you guys likes?” Dustin shouts from the backseat. The other boys grumbled in agreement.
“As if Henderson. I’M driving your asses to HER family house, so WE are picking the music.” Eddie pushes back as you turn around to look at the four of them in a “yeah, fuck off.” kind of way.
That shuts the boys up and they go back to their conversations. You turn to Eddie, fixing a piece of his hair that has began to stick straight up “Thanks for driving us Eds.” you mumble as you mean back in your seat, staring out the windshield at the passing road.
“Course, babe. I’d do anything for those guys, plus I get a romantic lakeside getaway with you.” He makes a suggestive face as you laugh lightly in response.
“How much longer?” Mike whines. You and Eddie look at each other and roll your eyes.
Finally arriving at your aunt’s house, you take advantage of the boys and make them carry your suitcase into the house. Your aunt is gone for the weekend, leaving the six of you with the house to yourselves. Everyone chooses a room to sleep in, or the couch in the living room (Gareth doesn’t want to share.) You and Eddie share a bedroom in the back of the house, closest to the lake. As you begin to unpack your necessities, Eddie flops down on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes, seemingly ready to take a nap.
As you finish, you lay down next to him. He pulls you into his chest, one arm around your shoulders, the other one stretching across the bed like a starfish. He kisses the top of your head and you close your eyes, ready to pass out when there’s a knock at the door.
It’s Lucas, he asks if the two of you are going to come and swim in the lake with the other boys. Eddie groans and stands up, trading his nap for a swim. You follow, putting on your swimsuit, you take a moment to admire Eddie’s tattoos as he changes. He ties his hair up into a bun at the nape of his neck, taking you by the hand and dragging you out of the room and down to the lake outside of the house.
The boys are already in the lake enjoying themselves when Eddie runs down the small sandy beach jumps in. You slowly follow after, adjusting to the water temperature. You join him at his side.
Eddie puts his arm around your shoulders and squeezes where his hand rests. As you watch the boys swim, Eddie realizes he forgot towels inside, so he runs back in, returning with a hot pink inflatable chair.
“I found a throne for the queen.” he bows as he pushes the chair towards you, gliding over the water’s surface.
You grin and thank him, taking his hand as he helps you into the floating chair.
You lounge on the lake with the boys for hours until the sun is setting. You couldn’t be more grateful for your friends and Eddie.
warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of christmas, sad, inevitable sense of dread
summary: after two years at college you stumble across your high school boyfriend on winter break. you are forced to confront your stowed feelings before you have to leave again.
a/n: I can not believe I posted this. it’s been in the drafts for six months. this is my first eddie fanfic i’ve written, so take it easy on me :)) i’ve been sitting on this idea for a few months so hopefully it’s not too niche or anything
Based on ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift
•
If I wanted to know who you were hanging with
While I was gone I would have asked you
Two years. It’s been Two years since you had last seen your high school boyfriend Eddie Munson.
It's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass
But I felt it when I passed you
You were walking through the aisles of vinyls on the local record store when you saw a man with long curly hair asking the lady at the counter if they had the latest Iron Maiden album. There was only one man in Hawkins that could be you thought.
You decided to try and leave unnoticed. It had been so long since you had talked to him and honestly, you weren’t sure if you were completely over him. Every man you met on your college campus was compared to him.
He’s not as funny as Eddie
He doesn’t open doors for me like Eddie would
He doesn’t care about me like Eddie did
You walked towards the door to the shop, averting your gaze just as he glanced up in your direction. You could see his facial expression switch instantly. His eyebrows slightly raised in surprise while his mouth set into a thin, straight line. You froze. It was like your whole relationship flashed before your eyes. You didn’t have time to react as he jogged around the counter.
“(y/n) hey, you look uh, older.” Eddie nervously remarked
“Yeah, it’s been a while. Your hair got so long”
Eddie let’s out a breathy laugh “Conditioner, baby. Works wonders.” There’s a pause “So uhh, what have you been up to? Well, college obviously but you know, you’re back in town and it’s the middle of the winter and school is like, all year, minus the summer and-”
“Eddie.” you cut off his nervous rambling “It’s winter break. I don’t have to be back until the sixth.”
“Oh. Yeah. Winter Break. Me too! I mean from school. High school. Pretty embarrassing right? I was supposed to graduate with you in ‘84 but O’Donnell was a dog again last year so here we are again. It’s okay though. This’ll be my year I promise!”
The word promise hit you like a little spark. Why is he promising you things? You haven’t seen each other in two years and yet here you are talking like you never left.
There’s an ache in you
Put there by the ache in me
But if it’s all the same to you,
It’s the same to me.
“A super SUPER senior huh?” you giggled. “You didn’t see O’Donnell pulling that shit again?”
“Have you met me (y/n)? I think I showed up for class twice my FIRST senior year. I was never in her class enough to figure her out.” he playfully responded. “So uh, you never did tell me what you’ve been up to. “Got any new friends? Still at school for the same thing? Make any uhh, you know… man… friends?”
You blink at him. Man friends? Was he really asking you if you had a boyfriend? Of course you’re not going to tell Eddie the truth about how you compare every boy you meet to him. But you can’t help but wonder if he’s asking because he feels the same way; unable to move on, still thinking about you.
He’s staring at you so intensely you’re not sure if he even registered what you had said.
“Eddie?”
“Yeah, yeah sorry I was just thinking. do you have anything going on tonight?”
You blinked in slight surprise. “No! I’m totally free actually. Do you want to do something? Dinner? We could go to the diner and catch up?” you offer, probably too enthusiastically. You couldn’t help it. You had just missed him so much. It tore you in two when you had mutually ended things as you moved away to college. It was the last thing you had wanted to do but you had both decided to try and focus on school, and it was decided that the two of you would split.
So we could call it even,
You could call me babe for the weekend
‘This the damn season
And I’m staying at my parents house,
And the road not taken looks real good now
And it always leads to you in my hometown
At the diner, it was painfully obvious he had felt the same way you did all along. You had talked for hours about the last years of your lives. He told you all about his Hellfire campaigns, and the classes he was failing. You told him about your classes, and how you had decorated your dorm with posters of your favorite bands, and the celebrity crushes that had carried over from high school. As you talked, he stared at your lips, glancing to make eye contact periodically.
After downing your greasy burger and fries, he offered to drive you home.
“Only if you promise not to drive like a madman.” You plainly replied, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach.
He dropped you off at your parents house with a chaste kiss on your cheek
“Call me, okay?” he whispered as he opened the passenger door for you.
“Yeah. Okay.” you whispered back with a smile.
I parkеd my car right between the Methodist
And the school that used to be ours
The holidays linger like bad perfume
You can run but only so far
You meet again the day after Christmas.
You knock on the door to his trailer and it almost immediately opens. You catch the scent of cologne. Did he put that on for me? you wonder.
“Hey babe give me two seconds and we can go, okay?” He asked as he over dramatically gestured for you to come in like a servant to a queen.
“Okay yeah. Is- is your uncle here?” you ask quietly, afraid of Wayne seeing you and assuming things. Maybe he should assume things. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong if he perceived the two of you together. It doesn’t feel like you and Eddie had ever broken up at all.
Eddie quickly responds, snapping you back to the moment and out of your internal thoughts. “Yeah but he’s asleep. He still works nights at the factory, so he’s kinda nocturnal.” Eddie quickly responds, trying to make sure you’re comfortable being in his trailer, again. You looked around as you stepped inside. It was like it had been frozen in time. Nothing had changed save for a few new baseball caps lining the ceiling.
“If you wanna just sit on the couch and um you could watch TV, or uhh just chill in my room?” He looked nervous at the thought of you entering his room but he glanced back hopefully as he walked down the hall. You decided to follow and as he opened his door, the distinct smell nearly transported you back to the day you said goodbye before moving away.
I escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave
But if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me
•
Eddie stood in his doorway as you grabbed your backpack, brushing your hair out of your face. You stood up, sliding it over your shoulders. You turned to look at him and frowned with tears in your eyes. You wanted to keep going, to do long distance, do anything but leave, but you both knew it was time for you to go. You had to move forward in life and Eddie had to stay behind and finish out high school. Eddie had insisted you focus on school because “you’re paying too damn much to think about anything other than your major.”
“What’s wrong babe?.” Eddie sighed
You looked at him with a sad smile. “Frustrated because I cant fit you in my backpack?”
•
Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires
Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out
We could just ride around
And the road not taken looks real good now
And it always leads to you in my hometown
As you sit on his bed, you think of the number of nights you’ve spent in your dorm, avoiding parties and bars in favor of watching movies and sleeping, imagining he was there. You had felt ridiculous. Two years had been spent in the past, thinking about Eddie, wishing he was there with you. As you sit in his room now, he walks from the closet to the dresser, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, before grabbing a record off of his shelf and sitting next to you. It breaks your heart thinking of going back to school. You don’t think you can bring yourself to leave this again.
“Okay, so I got this record a few months ago and I thought you would like it. I want to play it before we leave..” You don’t know if he realized that he had just revealed that he had been thinking about you too, but it doesn’t surprise you as much as it should.
He sets the record up in the player, and lowers the arm. Softly, the music begins to play, and you turn to look out the window. The music is a softer rock than he usually listens to, and he was right, you do like it.
“I don’t have any idea why you picked this out, but it’s really interesting.” You continued to listen to the album together, and you could feel his excitement for you to hear the rest.
“Babe, if you think this song is good, wait for track three, you’re going to lose it.” You turn your head and meet his eyes.
You melt. The way he is looking at you is all you’ve wanted for two years. You can see the admiration in his eyes, like you are the only thing in the room. As you stare back your mouth parts in a soft smile.
Eddie leans forward and gently hold your chin as your lips meet. You both softly giggle into the kiss. Maybe you laugh because of how ridiculous this is. In the two years you’ve been apart, neither of you could get over each other. Or maybe you’re laughing because this is all either of you have wanted for the entire time you’ve spent apart.
The kiss intensifies until you’re fully making out, him gently laying you back into the bed. As he climbs on top of you, you shiver with excitement. He breaks the kiss and begins to move down your neck. He pulls back before going further, looking slightly nervous.
“You sure you want to to this princess?” he raises his eyebrows as you nod.
He continues where he left off, kissing down your neck. As he does, he undoes his belt with one hand and throws it onto the cluttered floor.
Sleep in half the day just for old times' sake
I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay
You stir in his arms, shifting to the side to try and remove your face from his chest without waking him. He stirs with you, pulling you in tighter and resting his face in the top of your head. As you lay in his arms, in his bed, a thought dawns on you. You’ve never felt safer or more at home than right here. You never want to move. You don’t want to go back to college. You don’t want to leave Eddie again.
But it’s inevitable.
So I'll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends
Who'll write books about me, if I ever make it
And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'
And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own
To leave the warmest bed I've ever known
You’re crying. You can’t stop. You sit on the edge of his bed as he kneels in between your legs, trying anything to comfort you.
“Babe, it’s okay. We’ve done this before and look at us now. We will see each other again. We can call, or even write letters if you want. It’s not like we’re dying or anything.” He lets out a sad laugh, more of a sigh than anything. You know he feels the same way as you do. Your tears begin to subside and you are left with occasional hiccups as you sit on his bed, staring at your palms.
Eddie stands and grabs your hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses it as he helps you up too.
“Alright peaches, you’ve gotta get back to that big, fancy school. I’ll drive you home, alright?” His eyes look sad, but he’s masking it well. You know he’s not showing his feelings in fear of making you feel guilty, but it does the opposite. As you climb in his van, you feel like shit.
He parks half a block from your house so you can get out without your parents seeing you with him. You stare straight ahead as the van rolls to a stop. You make no effort to open the door, or to look at him.
“Hey.” is all he says.
You turn to him. You’ve no clue what you look like, but your best guess is probably pathetic. He leans in and kisses your cheek before unbuckling your seatbelt for you.
“It’s okay.” he nods at you. You can tell those words mean so much more than the face value they’re given.
It’s okay that we spent two years apart.
It’s okay that we jumped right back into the deep end.
It’s okay that you’re leaving again.
It’s okay. I’m letting you go.
You nod back, not trusting your voice. Unlatching the handle of the door, you push it open. You step out and place your hand on the door to push it shut. Eddie watches you as you pause.
“I love you Eddie.” you choke out. Tears begin to well again as you continue to stand with the door open, unable to slam it shut.
“I love you too peaches.” he offers a sad smile as you gently push the door shut.
We could call it even
Even though I'm leavin'
And I'll be yours for the weekend
As you begin to walk down the sidewalk to your house, he drives away. You watch the van until you lose sight of it, then turn and walk up your driveway. You hope he’ll be around for spring break. Maybe you would do this again. If you could handle the heartbreak that follows.
sorry I had to take a sip of water a year and a half ahem ah yes like I was saying rough day chapter 20 will be posted on Sunday March 12 2023 at 9pm est thank you
