what they don't tell you about hadestown is that orpheus and eurydice are not the main characters. neither are persephone and hades. or hermes. or the fates. the main character is whoever in the band is playing the trombone because holy fuck
That video where the woman says her boyfriend is about to talk about his nerdy collection except it's Eddie talking to Corroded Coffin before Steve comes to one of their practices/hang outs saying, "Listen up, my boyfriend is coming tonight and he's probably going to make some sports references you don't understand and you better be nice to him or you'll have to start drafting up new characters for Hellfire."
The whole time Steve is talking to them, Eddie is stood slightly behind him giving them a warning glare. And everytime he excitedly brings up something they aren't familiar with, Eddie makes a threatening gesture, such as mouthing 'your character' and dragging a finger across his throat.
Kate announced she would leave for India, but didn't. Sophie wanted to go to the Americas, but didn't. Meanwhile Michaela just left. Didn't tell a soul and just fucked off. Say what you want about the woman, but at least she follows through with her travel plans.
How I sleep knowing franchaela is going to be canon, we gonna see francesca and michaela kiss, make love to each other and maybe even marry and many other cute scenes no matter how much hate the antis tries to spread:
The drive back to Hawkins was less of a professional retreat and more of a high-speed heist, mostly because Steve had technically stolen himself.
He had walked into Charlie Roth’s office that morning—the office that smelled like ‘Success’ and lemon-scented furniture polish—and laid his keycard on the glass desk. Robin had stood behind him, looking like she was vibrating at a frequency high enough to shatter the windows.
"I’m done, Charlie," Steve had said, his voice steadier than he felt.
"Done? Steve, baby, we’re at the finish line! The 'Lighthouse' remix is dropping in forty-eight hours! You’re on the cusp of being the next big thing!" Charlie had surged out of his chair, arms wide as if to embrace a profit margin.
"I don't want to be a 'thing,'" Steve countered. "I want to be a person. And this? This isn't me. You can keep the name, you can keep the songs you mangled. I'm going home."
Eddie, who was currently sitting above Charlie’s head—his translucent legs dangling over the man’s expensive sunglasses—had cheered. "Tell him, Stevie! Tell him his hairpiece looks like a dying squirrel! Go for the jugular!"
Steve hadn't mentioned the hairpiece, but he had walked out, followed by a frantic, swearing Charlie- oscillating between threatening and begging, and a very determined Robin.
Now, they were crossing the Hawkins town line in Steve’s old BMW. Robin was in the passenger seat, furiously typing an "I quit" email to the label’s HR department, and Eddie was in the back, currently trying to see how many different ways he could distort the car’s GPS.
"In two hundred feet, turn left into... The Pit of Despair," the GPS voice suddenly deepened into a demonic growl.
"Eddie! Stop it!" Steve snapped, swerving slightly at Robin’s loud shriek echoing in the small space.
"I’m bored!" Eddie wailed, flopping across the backseat. "The tension is gone! The drama is over! We’re back in the land of cornfields and repressed memories. I need stimulation, Harrington! Play something with a double-bass pedal or I’m going to start haunting the seat warmers."
"We are going to see your uncle, Eddie," Steve said, his voice softening. "Try to keep it together. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to him."
"You aren't," Eddie said, his playful energy vanishing in an instant. He sat up, staring out the window as they passed the 'Welcome to Hawkins' sign. "You’re just going to check on him. You’re going to be a 'concerned citizen' or whatever. I just... I just need to see his face. To see if he’s okay."
🤘👻🤘
The Forest Hills Trailer Park hadn't changed much since 1986. It was still a labyrinth of gravel paths and pre-fabricated homes that looked like they were holding onto the earth by sheer force of will. The trees were taller, the shadows deeper, but the air still held that specific Hawkins scent: damp wood and woodsmoke.
Steve pulled the BMW to a stop in front of Unit 42. It was a modest trailer, the metal siding slightly oxidized, but the small patch of grass in front was meticulously mowed. A set of wind chimes made of old wrenches hung from the porch, clinking softly in the breeze.
"He's still got the wrenches," Eddie whispered, his voice cracking. He was already out of the car, standing on the gravel, staring at the front door. "I made those for him in shop class. I got a 'D' because I spent too much time etching 'Iron Maiden' into the metal."
Steve climbed out of the car, his heart thumping against his ribs. Robin stayed in the car, giving him a supportive, if slightly terrified, thumbs-up.
"Okay," Steve whispered to the empty air. "What's the plan?"
"Just knock," Eddie said, drifting toward the porch. "He’s probably just getting home from the plant. He likes a cold beer and the evening news. Just... tell him you’re a fan of my music. That’ll get you in the door. Wayne can’t resist talking to anyone who actually liked 'that loud noise,' as he called it."
Steve took a breath and knocked.
A few moments later, the door creaked open. Wayne Munson was a man carved out of granite and grief. His hair was white now, and the lines around his eyes were deeper, but he had the same steady, honest gaze that Jonathan had described. He was wearing a grease-stained work shirt with 'WAYNE' embroidered over the pocket.
"Can I help you, son?" Wayne asked, his voice like gravel grinding together.
"Hi. Mr. Munson? My name is Steve Harrington. I... I grew up around here. I’m a musician," Steve stammered.
Eddie was standing right next to his uncle, his hand hovering inches from the old man's shoulder. "He looks tired, Steve. He looks so tired."
"A musician, huh?" Wayne leaned against the doorframe. "You look a bit polished for a musician. More like one of those boys on the TV."
"I was. I mean, I’m not anymore," Steve said, regaining his footing. "I’m a big fan of Corroded Coffin. I’ve been listening to the old tapes. I just... I wanted to come by and say that your nephew was a genius. Truly."
Wayne’s expression shifted. The suspicion didn't vanish, but it softened into something weary and grateful. "A genius, he says. Most people called him a headache. But he had heart, my Eddie. A big one." He stepped back, gesturing into the trailer. "Come in. I’ve got some old photos if you’re interested. Not many folks come by asking about him these days, unless they're looking for a ghost story."
The inside of the trailer was a shrine. It was clean, smelling of pine-sol and tobacco, but every surface held a piece of Eddie. A guitar pick on the coffee table. A framed 'Hellfire Club' drawing on the wall. A stack of old Dragon magazines in the corner.
Eddie was vibrating. He was darting around the room like a hummingbird on a sugar high, pointing at things. "Look! My '84 tour shirt! He kept it! And the D20—the one Dustin swore was cursed! Oh man, Steve, look at the fridge! He still has the picture of us at the quarry!"
Steve sat on the worn floral sofa while Wayne went to the kitchen to get two beers. "You okay?" Steve mouthed to the air.
"I’m... I’m great," Eddie said, though his form was flickering violently. He sat on the floor at Wayne’s feet as the older man returned. "I’m fantastic. I’m a ghost haunting my old trailer. Living the dream, Harrington."
Wayne handed Steve a cold can. "So, you play guitar?"
"I do. Though I’m not as good as Eddie was," Steve said.
"Nobody was," Wayne said simply. He sat in his recliner and pulled an old photo album from the side table. "People think he was just some wild kid. But he practiced until his fingers bled. He wanted to get us out of here, you know? Wanted to buy me a house with a foundation made of real stone, not wheels."
Eddie bowed his head, his curls obscuring his face. "I'm sorry, Wayne. I'm so sorry."
Steve felt a lump in his throat. He looked at the photos—Eddie making a goofy face with a guitar; Eddie and a younger, scruffier version of Wayne at a diner; Eddie looking surprisingly serious behind a Dungeon Master’s screen.
"I know those old rumors about him aren’t true, my friend Jonathan Byers recently told me about what he found about his disappearance. He saved someone, didn't he?" Steve asked softly.
Wayne looked up, his eyes glassy. "That’s what the Byers boy says. Says Eddie was a hero. I always knew it. My boy didn't have a mean bone in his body. He just... he had a way of attracting trouble because he couldn't look away from it."
"He was a good man," Steve said firmly.
"He was," Wayne agreed. He looked at the empty space next to Steve for a long moment, a frown creasing his brow. "Funny. It feels... cold in here today. Usually, this place is like a sauna until you open the windows."
Eddie let out a wet, staticky laugh. "That's because I'm hogging the heater, Wayne."
“Yeah, I uh- I…” Steve looked at Eddie, he didn’t know what to do, but he felt like he should tell Wayne his nephew was sitting in the room with him- just let him know that Eddie was here, and let them talk. Steve looked to Eddie to try and ask him what he wanted. Eddie was watching him and when it clicked what Steve was hesitantly, silently asking, Eddie jumped up, frantic. Steve took a swig of his beer to help hide the startled jump of his eyebrows, and his awkward pause.
“NO, Steve! There’s no way that will help anything. Wayne is okay now, and what are you gonna say that’s not gonna end up with you thrown out of here? That would just upset him! He doesn’t even believe in ghosts, he’ll think you’re grifting!” Eddie cautioned Steve.
“Speak up, son, you got something stuck in your throat?” Wayne brought Steve’s attention back to him.
“Uh, yeah, sorry, sir. Uh– I actually wanted to tell you that I found something of Eddie’s. Uh, an old– an old journal,” Steve stammered his way through a bullshit excuse. As soon as the word ‘journal’ left Steve’s lips, a lightbulb went off in his head and he gave a quick look to a wide eyed Eddie who was throwing his hands up in frustration and confusion. At least he was standing beside Wayne now so Steve didn’t have to split his attention, he could just glance behind Wayne a little to his right, and look like he was just awkwardly avoiding eye contact.
“What?!”
“What?” Wayne spoke at the same time as Eddie, but with significantly less emotion.
“Right, sorry, this is a little awkward, I didn’t know if I should bring it up. I thought bringing it to you might be the right thing to do, but I didn’t want to bring up painful memories if talking about Eddie was still hard for you. I actually left it at home, I don’t have it here with me– I found it in the woods out behind the high school, shoved in a hole in a tree trunk.” Steve lied through his teeth, but turned on the charm, trying to look bashful. He glanced at Eddie from under his lashes, but Eddie was glaring at him like he had no idea where Steve was going with this and he wasn’t sure he liked it. ‘Just go with it.’ Steve breathed, hoping Eddie would follow his lead.
“So how do you know it was Eddie’s? After all that time in the elements it can’t have weathered well.” Wayne looked sad but kind of hopeful. Any piece he had left of Eddie he clung to, afraid he might one day forget his memories of his surrogate son.
“Well, you see- it was in a metal lunch pail.” Steve shrugged, Wayne nodded like that made sense. Eddie looked on with his hands folded in front of his mouth like a prayer. “It actually was preserved just fine, a little bit of warping due to moisture, but it was mostly written in pencil so everything in it is still intact. And I know it was his because he wasn’t a very subtle guy, it was full of doodles and drawings of ‘Dungeon Master Munson’ and dragons and whatnot.” Steve hoped Wayne would ‘just go with it’ too, he really thought he deserved some closure, both of them.
Wayne looked Steve in the eyes like he was taking his measure, making Steve sweat in the silence.
“He knows you’re full of shit.” Eddie whispered behind his clasped hands.
“Well, that isn’t very subtle, but that was definitely not one of Eddie’s forte’s” Wayne finally softened with a chuckle.
“So he speaks Italian now?” Eddie groaned, crouching down beside Wayne’s chair in relief that he wasn’t yelling at Steve to get the hell off his property and never come back.
“Yeah, I would say, he was definitely bold.” Steve’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he saw Wayne’s grin as a sign to continue. “But he was also very emotional. It’s written all over the journal. Some entries about his life, his friends, his hopes and dreams. Stories for his storytelling group,” ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ Eddie corrected, annoyed, “lyrics for his music. Tattoo sketches. And a few things that might make you blush.” Steve chuckled along with Wayne.
“Alright, alright, you haven’t actually found my journal– have you?” Eddie looked a little stressed.
“Uh, but the one thing that made me think of bringing it to you is a letter he wrote. It was right before the pages went blank– he was thinking about leaving town when his friends graduated, whether he made the grade or not, to try and make a go of the music thing with Corroded Coffin, but he was worried about leaving you.” Steve said, trying to gauge Eddie's reaction while not breaking eye contact with Wayne in case he really was detecting Steve’s bullshit. Eddie had gone still, but the room seemed to get colder as Wayne’s eyes started to tear up.
“Well that’s ridiculous,” Wayne blustered, “the boy shouldn’t have been worried about me, I always knew he was meant for bigger things than he could find in Hawkins. I woulda supported him chasing his dreams, he would have made it. I just know it– that boy was meant to be a star.” Wayne let out a gruff, wet laugh, obviously trying to keep any tears from falling.
“Well, he was worried, I can’t exactly recite it from memory, but I’m sure there were a few things in there he would have wanted you to hear.” Steve made pointed eye contact with Eddie, who also had suspiciously glassy eyes. Eddie took his focus away from watching Wayne choke up when Steve cleared his throat. “If you just give me a second, I’ll try and recite what I can remember, I’ll go slow, so I don’t leave anything out.” Steve nodded at Eddie, a shocked expression giving way to a blinding smile for Steve’s genius plan.
“Wow, Big Boy, who knew big feet and big hands also meant Big Brain?” Eddie smirked, giving Steve a very inappropriate slow look from his toes, pausing for a noticeable moment in the middle, to his hair.
Steve coughed to cover the wheeze that left him, quickly bringing his beer back to his mouth to try and clear his windpipe.
“Take your time, son.” Wayne sat back in his chair and coughed once to clear his throat.
“Okay,” Steve started, glancing at Eddie once to prompt him to start talking, but keeping his eyes on his Uncle Wayne.
“I don’t really know what to say, I-” Eddie hesitated, but at Steve’s wide eyed look that had Wayne looking over his shoulder to check if something was going on behind him, Eddie jumped at being in Wayne’s line of sight and his suspicious eyebrows. “Tell him I wouldn’t have forgotten him. The plan was always to make it big, and then bring Wayne up with me.” Eddie waved his hands to try and kick start his brain.
Steve repeated his words.
“I never wanted to leave him behind. I always appreciated everything he’d done for me, all the times he worked late just to keep me fed and clothed, not to mention when he worked weeks of overtime just to get me a real Warlock.” Eddie crouched down next to Wayne as he listened to Steve repeat his words like he’d written them in some letter in his journal back in ‘86.
“You took me in. When the rest of the world didn’t want me. I know what you mean to me, but you made it clear what I meant to you, every- single- day. You never left me wondering if you loved me like my own parents did. You are my Dad, Wayne. I’m so sorry I never said it to you. I love you. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry for leaving you. But just know, every moment I’m away from you, I’m thinking about you. And I hope you can–” Eddie's voice cut off as tears ran down his cheeks in silver streams, he reached out his hands to hold Wayne’s hand in his, even if he couldn’t feel it, he needed the connection.
As Steve let his own tears fall unashamed, repeating Eddie’s words until he reached the last one, looking to Eddie to continue his thought, Wayne tracked his eyes movements and glanced over to his right, directly into Eddie’s eyes as he touched his hand on the arm of the chair.
“I forgive you, Son. I love you too.” Wayne whispered, his voice almost completely air as he tried to speak through the knot in his throat. He left his arm on the chair but turned his palm up, like he could feel Eddie holding it.
The room seemed to vibrate with energy as Eddie went stock still and his form started to hum and glow in waves. The room started to warm up, and the lights glowed a little brighter.
“I wish I could tell him that, I know it’s too late now. But I feel him, even stronger than when he had just gone. It’s like he’s here with us.” Wayne ground out through his tears.
“I’m sure, wherever he is, he can hear you, Wayne.” Steve got out of his seat and put his hands over Wayne’s other hand, kneeling in front of his chair on the other side from Eddie. He looked over to Eddie to find him completely wrecked, sobs shaking his shoulders as he held his Uncle’s hand in both of his, and they all cried.
“He can hear you.”
🤘👻🤘
After they calmed down, Eddie disappeared into the back of the trailer for a while– and boy did Steve want to excuse himself to the bathroom to check on him, but he’d already been weird enough, he couldn’t be caught talking to the toilet– Wayne sat him down to share some old pictures and memories of Eddie. He said Steve was probably the last person on Earth who knew Eddie, maybe better than Wayne did since he’d ‘gotten a glimpse inside his head with his journal’.
Eddie finally joined them again when Wayne had gone into the back room and came back to show Steve some of Eddie’s old tapes he’d left behind, to Eddie’s great embarrassment. ‘No, Wayne, dont! These aren’t finished, Steve, they’re just demos!’
About an hour of songs and stories later, Steve made his excuses and headed back to the car. Wayne shook his hand at the door, a firm, calloused grip.
"Thanks for coming by, Steve. It’s nice to know that Eddie and his music is still making an impact on the world," Wayne said. “And thank you for bringing me some closure, Son. Anytime you wanna stop by, you’re welcome here. And don’t worry about bringing me that journal, I heard what he needed me to hear, I think. And you sound like he’s really inspired you, I think maybe he’d be alright with where it’s ended up. Just keep his memory alive.” Wayne brought Steve in for a hug, and the relief he felt at hearing Wayne say he didn’t expect him to produce Eddie’s journal nearly squeezed all the breath out of him, though that might have been Wayne’s grip. He hugged him back a little extra long for Eddie.
As Steve walked back to the BMW, Eddie followed him in silence. He didn't make any jokes. He didn’t chatter a constant stream of his thoughts at Steve as he was prone to doing. He just drifted alongside Steve, looking smaller than he had in the city.
Robin looked at them as they climbed in. "How was it?"
"Heavy," Steve said.
He started the car but didn't put it in gear. He looked at Eddie, who was staring at his own hands in the backseat.
"Eddie?"
"Yeah, Stevie?"
"You really were a hero. Even before the 'saving the girl' stuff. Just... being who you were for him. That’s a big deal."
Eddie looked up, and suddenly the icy spiderwebs felt different. The air in the car didn't just get cold; it felt charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm. Eddie leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of Steve’s seat.
"You're making me get all emotional, Harrington. It’s embarrassing. I’m a metal-head. I eat bats for breakfast. I don't do feelings."
"Shut up," Steve laughed, though his eyes were stinging. "You're a big softie, an emo kid some might say. And when you look at that catalogue of music, you’re a poet. ‘A winding road, traveled farther than my dreams can carry me, gotta find a way home, no signs to guide me, to somewhere I’ve never been, can’t even make it out of the darkness within.’" Steve sang low, a shallow approximation of the raw emotions captured on the tape Wayne had played for him, one that had never made it to the internet. Something Eddie had been working on before he disappeared, still in the tapedeck that used to be in his bedroom, and was now burning a hole in his pocket.
“Am not," Eddie pouted as he shook himself, remembering to respond after hearing Steve’s voice singing his song cleared all thoughts from his mind, his face inches from Steve’s, he felt it was necessary to bring the vibes back up. "I'm a creature of the night. A harbinger of doom. A—"
He stopped. He was looking at Steve’s mouth. The humor drained away, replaced by a sudden, heavy tension. Steve didn't pull away. He found himself leaning in, drawn to the strange, electric pull of the man who wasn't there.
"Steve?" Robin asked, her voice cautious. "Not that I’m not loving the cover of Eddie’s 80’s emo power ballad, but you’re doing the 'staring into the void' thing again. Are we going or what?" Robin stretched out the aches from her nap in the car.
Steve snapped out of it, blinking rapidly. "Yeah. Yeah, we're going."
"Good," Eddie muttered, leaning back and trying to look cool. "Because I’m starving. Can ghosts eat fries? I feel like I could really go for some fries. Or a milkshake. Do they still make those 'Scoops Ahoy' things you were talking about?"
"The shop is gone, Eddie," Steve said, shifting into drive.
"Tragic. Truly the greatest loss of the 21st century, I heard tales of some sailor uniforms that would make a priest blush" Eddie sighed. "Alright, let's go. Take me to your leader. Or, you know, a Taco Bell. I want to see if the 'Baja Blast' is as radioactive as it looks."
As they drove away from the trailer park, Steve caught Eddie’s reflection in the rearview mirror. Eddie was grinning again, his wild hair flying in the phantom wind of the car’s motion, making a 'rock on' sign at a passing cow.
Steve shook his head, a massive smile breaking across his face. He was unemployed, he was being haunted, and he was pretty sure he was falling in love with a guy who died before he was born.
"Just go with it," Steve whispered to himself.
"I heard that!" Eddie shouted from the back. "And for the record? We’re finishing that song later, it really suits your voice, and your whole sad boy vibe.” Eddie winked at Steve.
“Are you calling me emo?” Steve laughed.
“Well if the boot fits,” Robin chirped.
“You can’t even hear him, don’t start ganging up on me now.” Steve gasped in exaggerated outrage.
“Who’s ganging up on you? You are emo Steve- under all that prep and glam, you’re just a soft, sad boy.” Robin ribbed him.
“See! I just calls’it like I sees’it! I’m team Robin, us geeks and losers gotta stick together.” Eddie fist pumped, his words taking on a bit of a drawl that had Steve looking over his shoulder at the weird thrill that sparked in his chest.
“He just called you a loser.” Steve told on Eddie.
Robin whipped her whole body around to look into the back seat, “Ugh, I thought we had something Eddie, but now I see you’re talking shit behind my back?! Literally? We’re through! Don’t come crawling to me scratching creepy crayon notes on the coffee table when you need someone to turn on the tv for you.” Robin stuck out her tongue and Steve burst out laughing at Eddie’s worried eyebrows scrunched over his panicked expression.
“No, NO! STEVE you take it back! Tell her what I really said right now!” Eddie pounded on the seat back, actually shaking Steve’s seat in his panic over losing access to his newfound love of TV when Steve was too asleep to entertain him. “No, Robin! Baby, I would never say ‘Loser’ in a derogatory way, it’s a badge of honor!” Eddie pleaded to Robin’s deaf ears.
“Alright, alright, you’ve tortured him enough, Bobin, he’s about to cry. He didn’t really call you a loser, he actually called you a geek.” Steve paused for Eddie’s dramatic gasp of outrage. “But he said ‘us geeks and losers gotta stick together,’ and although, I’m not sure I fit into either of those categories,” Steve pointedly ignored Robin’s raised eyebrow and smirk, “I guess he’s right. We’re all we’ve got. And somehow, I feel like, together? We can do anything.” Steve smirked right back at Robin.
“Alright, no need to get all emo on me.” Robin giggled, “Your tv privileges have been restored.” Robin nodded to the empty back seat, where somehow the release of tension was palpable, and turned back to sit in her seat properly. “So what now?” Robin directed at Steve, watching the leaf littered road disappear under them.
“Well, now we gotta find some way to make my house into a home, because if we’re stuck back here in Hawkins, I’m gonna need to change the wallpaper or I’ll end up burning it all down.” Steve shivered, turning them onto the street his parents hou– his house was on.
“I vote to burn it all down and start fresh, I don’t think it’s worth fighting that weird plaid room upstairs.” Eddie popped his head between the two in the front seats.
“I say ignore whatever Eddie’s saying right now, and we’ll call Max Mayfield. I heard she went to school for interior design and was doing good work in the city, but moved back to town when her mom got sick. She reopened that old furniture shop her mom ran in the square and started making custom furniture. You’ve got all this money, might as well support local creatives and small businesses. And she’ll make it like your weird Beige Mom never stepped foot in there.” Robin pulled out her cell phone to start texting her old friend.
“Yeah,” Steve sighed, “Poor kid got sucked back to Hawkins, starting to think this town is cursed.” Steve laughed.
“Well it’s not my fault, I didn’t summon anything.” Eddie threw his hands up, smiling wide to the sound of Steve’s slightly hysterical laughter.
