summary: new year's eve, 1983. a rooftop, an epiphany, and a kiss that changes everything
wc: 5k
ship: eddie munson x f!henderson!reader
warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs and smoking, mention of barb's death (rip queen), stancy (eugh), kissing, the reader being jealous and insecure and also kinda stupid.
a/n: writing stancy made me physically ill. i really do love nancy but i'm afraid i wrote her terribly ooc in this ugh. also, do i headcannon eddie as a saxophone player? yes, yes i do. why? no fucking clue. robin's favorite band is named 'blush' after maya hawke's first album.
-
meet me at midnight
December 31st, 1983
"Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?"
You were inclined to, that's for sure.
Annie Lennox's voice booms throughout the house as you tuck yourself further into the corner you've managed to claim, a lukewarm cup of punch in hand. It feels like the entire student body of Hawkins High is here at Tina's party, bodies jostling each other on the makeshift dance floor and spilling down the hallway like an overflowing sink, even trickling outside onto the deck to smoke despite the frosty air.
You shift your weight from one heeled boot to the other and choke down a sip of your drink, wincing at the alcohol burning its way down your throat. Leave it to some thickheaded jock to make a punch that's almost entirely rum, you think as you abandon the solo cup on the nearest shelf and pull your sweater sleeve down to check the time.
It's not nearly as late as you'd hoped, the glowing green numbers reading ten-thirty, and you drop your arm with a sigh. An hour and a half before midnight and an hour and a half way too long in your opinion.
"Having fun?" Nancy's face is flushed as she squeezes her way through the dancing crowd to you, dragging Steve by the hand.
Absolutely not.
"Oh, totally!" Your smile feels so forced you're sure she'll notice and call you out but it never comes, both to your relief and disappointment; once upon a time you'd been thick as thieves, the best of friends just like your little brother and hers, before she'd ditched you for Barb and left you behind in the dust.
Barb, whose body lies in another dimension, frozen forever at sixteen.
Yeah, you're still processing that last part and you were there, standing beside Dustin as Eleven confirmed Nancy's worst fear, heart breaking for your former best friend as she cried into Jonathan's arms.
(Later that night, when everything was said and done and you were safe in bed with your little brother sleeping soundly across the hall was when you cried for Barb, too, a girl who was kind and innocent and undeserving of her terrible fate.)
Your relationship's been on the mend ever since but as much as it hurts to admit, you'll never be as close as you once were and Nancy's inability -or unwillingness, you think bitterly- to pick up on your unhappiness is only further proof.
"Wanna come dance with us?" She asks, oblivious, and you shake your head, crossing your arms to keep her from grabbing your hand because as bored as you are, being a third wheel would be even worse. You already feel bad for crashing their date by tagging along for the drive here, even though they both insisted on giving you a ride.
"Trust me, that wouldn't be pretty. Dusty says I dance like a school chaperone."
Steve bursts out laughing at that and it makes your heart do a little flip in your chest, even as Nancy fondly shakes her head. "Come on, you're not that bad."
"Oh no, I am." You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as someone opens the front door and lets in a freezing blast of air. "Seriously, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go grab some snacks."
"Try the snickerdoodles! I ate, like ten of them." Steve admits that last part pretty sheepishly and the way Nancy stares up at him with the most adoring look in her eyes makes you feel like you're intruding on something private.
You offer an awkward smile in thanks and with a tiny wave from Nancy, they melt back into the mess of bodies dancing along to Cyndi Lauper, leaving you alone once again.
For no less than the fifth time tonight, you wish Robin was here, not halfway across the state visiting her grandparents. While you might've lost Nancy as your best friend in middle school, you gained another: Robin had also been dropped by Barb and so it was only fitting that the two of you became fast friends, not just acquaintances that sat beside each other in the band's trumpet section.
(You miss Nancy honestly, you really do, but sometimes you think being ditched was one of the best things that's ever happened. You and Robin just click, two peas in a pod, and to you, she feels like the sister you always wish Nancy would've been.)
If Robin was here, she would've already made some quip about Steve and his coiffed hair, or Carol and the permanent expression on her face that made her look like she smelled something bad, or Jason and his attempts to impress Chrissy with his awful dance moves, and it would've had you doubled over in laughter.
She wouldn't let you wallow in the corner by yourself, an outsider looking in, both unwilling and unable to throw caution to the wind and just let go. But she's not here, so wallowing it is.
Being kind to yourself has never been your strong suit.
As if the universe is listening, mocking, a gap in the crowd grows just enough to give you a perfect view of Steve and Nancy swaying in each other's arms and you hate the bitter taste that suddenly floods your mouth.
You have no right to be jealous.
You've never admitted your little crush on Steve to yourself, let alone Nancy: how was she supposed to know? You're not even sure if it's all about him in the first place because sure, you think he's cute -you always have- but you get the same gnawing feeling watching Bradley spin Tina around the room in a playful waltz or Nate stealing a kiss from Georgina under the mistletoe still hanging in the doorway and you can barely tolerate either of those idiots.
It's all so terribly confusing.
Steve twirls Nancy under his arm and then dips her low to the ground, her delighted laughter reaching your ears even over the pounding music and something ugly blooms in your chest. You make your escape before you can do something stupid like cry, weaving your way across the living room and down the hall toward the kitchen with your head down.
…Which is precisely how you end up head butting one of your classmates directly in the chest when you turn the corner.
They give a soft 'oof' of surprise and you're absolutely mortified when you realize it's a boy, not just from the tone of his voice but from the toes of his white Reeboks bumping into your boots.
The same shoes you've heard keeping time in band every day since seventh grade, tapping along to the beat on the riser behind you with the rest of the saxophone players. The same shoes you see at the desk in front of you in third period English, still tapping along to the music that's always running through his mind, accompanied by the furious scribbling of a pencil across paper as he jots down lyrics for a new song.
You wince and keep your head down, hoping he'll just act like nothing happened and go on his merry way and just when you're about to think you're in the clear-
"Ow. You have a hard head, Henderson."
Shit, you think. Of course you had to literally run into the one person you feel like you can't speak two words to without making a complete fool of yourself; something about Eddie just makes you flustered beyond belief and you really wish you knew why 'cause it's, to put it frankly, annoying.
Really fucking annoying.
"Shit." You say out loud, quickly looking up to meet his big brown eyes before glancing away and staring at the zombie adorning the front of his Iron Maiden shirt instead. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."
"No shit, Sherlock." He teases but there's no trace of malice in his voice, just amusement, even as his ringed hand comes into view and rubs the spot where your forehead crashed into his chest. "You okay?"
Embarrassment burns your face and you cross your arms defensively, firing back with a weak insult you're sure he can see right through 'cause if there's one thing you're good at, it's looking like an idiot all day, every day.
"I'm fine. You're not looking very festive, Munson."
He snorts in laughter and you finally gather the courage to meet his eyes again, only to find him already looking down at you with something behind his gaze that you can't quite figure out.
"I think you're festive enough for the both of us." He gestures to your deep navy sweater dotted with bursts of silver thread that give the illusion of stars. "You look really pretty, by the way."
Your brain short circuits.
Pretty? You're wearing your mom's sweater and Eddie thinks you look pretty?
You're too busy trying to get your mouth to work as the silence stretches on -you'll take a 'huh?' at this point, or maybe even an unintelligible squeak, just say something, you moron- to notice the pink blooming high in his cheeks and the way he speaks in a rush, the words all jumbling together so fast it's hard for your frazzled mind to understand what he's saying.
"-your help, so keep watch, okay?"
Keep watch?
He turns and strides into the kitchen without another word and you end up following a few seconds later, after you've finally recovered enough to get your legs working, at least.
You find him standing by the big bowl of punch, rummaging around the array of bottles littering the island, every so often picking one up to inspect before putting it back in its place with a shake of his head. To your surprise, it's not more alcohol he finally picks up but a two-liter of Sprite and at last you get your mouth to work as you blurt out, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Fixing this shitty ass punch." He's not even phased by your sudden question, save for the quick smile he sends your way as he pours the entire bottle in. "Have you tried it? Jesus, Jan would be disgusted."
You cross your arms and lean your hip against the counter, keeping an eye on the door just like he'd asked. "I have, unfortunately. Who's Jan?"
"Bartender at the Hideout." Eddie throws a reply over his shoulder as he digs around in the fridge, yelling triumphantly when he finds whatever he's looking for. It turns out to be a can of pineapple juice and he dumps that in, too, turning the blue punch a pretty shade of green. "My band plays there on-"
"-Tuesdays, I know." You interrupt without thinking and rush to explain yourself, almost tripping over your words when he turns his curious gaze on you.
"Um, there's this all-girl band Robin loves, Blush. We go see them sometimes and end up staying to watch you guys, too, because you're really good-" You pause at the smile slowly growing wider on his face and shake your head. "-but you already knew that, didn't you?"
He shrugs, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he stirs some cherries into the punch, then dishes out two cups and pushes one across the island to you.
"Yeah, I see you there a lot. You're kind of hard to miss when the rest of the audience is just five old drunk dudes."
Your laugh rings in the cavernous kitchen as you push off the counter to grab your drink, tapping it against his when he holds it out toward you.
"Cheers."
You're not sure what to expect when you take that tentative first sip but it's definitely not something sweet and smooth with just the right amount of fizz, the burn of the rum still present but not as overpowering as it was before.
"Okay, so I don't know how you managed to make this shit taste good but you did."
Eddie sweeps into a low bow and you hide a smile behind your cup at his theatrics. "Thank you, thank you. I do accept tips, you know, and all proceeds go directly to Jan so she can buy herself a car."
You smile wider and take another sip. "I'd love to donate but I left my purse at home, I'm afraid."
He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment before leaning forward across the island and waving you closer, dropping his voice to such a low whisper you would've had to move in anyway to even hear him.
"How about I make you a deal, Henderson? Come watch us next Tuesday, slip Jan a twenty, and I'll play a song -any song- just for you."
"Ooh, tempting." You whisper back just as quietly, tapping a finger against your chin even as a weird feeling takes hold in your stomach at his offer. "Any song I want? How about-"
"Hold on, I take that back. Any song but 'September.'"
Your jaw drops. "How'd you know-"
"Because I hear you humming it every day in band, that's how."
"Oh." How the hell does he know you hum that song when half the time you don't even realize you're doing it? You've annoyed Dustin enough to know it's true, after he told you in no uncertain words. "How about I make you a deal? I give Jan thirty dollars and Corroded Coffin covers Earth, Wind & Fire."
He stares at you for a beat longer before slowly breaking out into a smile. "…I'll think about it."
You've always know he has a pretty smile, catching glimpses of it across the cafeteria from where you sat with Robin and the rest of the marching band or in crowded hallways as you rushed to make it to your locker in between classes, but having its full force directed right at you knocks the very breath right out of your lungs.
"it's not a no, so…works for me." You say, propping your chin in one hand and swirling your cup in the other, watching the opaque green liquid spin around like the center of a hurricane. "Why'd you have me guard the door, anyway? I wouldn't call making this sludge drinkable very deviant of you."
"Please," Eddie scoffs, mirroring you exactly. "'Resident metalhead spotted adding mixers to the jungle juice?' I can't trash my reputation like that."
"No, never." You huff a laugh under your breath. "You'd be ruined."
He laughs, too, and you're not sure when it became so warm in here but it's making you want to roll your sweater sleeves up to your elbows.
"See! I knew you'd have my back, Henderson."
The more you think about it, the more you realize you always have. Every time the rumor mill paints him in a bad light, you're there to put it all to rest with nothing more than a perfectly directed scowl because you like Dio, too and wear black nail polish and occasionally play DnD with Dustin and his friends when they need a sub and no one's ever accused you of worshiping Satan for fuck's sake.
If any of them would bother to look deeper than the surface, they'll see what you do, that he's kind and sweet and caring and you know because you've seen him prove it with your own eyes: driving the rest of the Hellfire Club home if they didn't have rides, sticking up for the freshmen when the seniors decide to be cruel, and even now, witnessing him first hand try to raise money for a coworker to buy a car (granted that method might be called borderline manipulation but still, at least it's for a good cause).
"'Course I do." It's both too simple a statement and more than you ever wanted to admit and the way he's staring at you feels different, somehow, different and yet not unwelcome as you stare right back…
(Has he always had that dusting of freckles across his nose?)
…which is why you end up putting your foot in your mouth without even realizing it. "That's what friends are for, right?"
"Right, yeah."
Something flickers behind his brown eyes but it's gone before you can put your finger on it and he's smiling that smile again, pointed canines on full display as he hastily nods and straightens, downing the rest of his drink in one go.
"Do you have the time?" He sheepishly holds up his bare wrist. "Forgot my watch."
"Oh, sure." The sudden change of subject nearly gives you whiplash as you push your sleeve up to check. "Almost eleven fifteen."
"No time to lose, let's go." He grabs a napkin and swipes a few cookies from the counter, tucking them away into the pocket of his leather jacket.
"Go where?"
"You'll see." Eddie nods his head toward the doorway and holds out a hand, silver rings catching the harsh kitchen lights. "C'mon, you trust me?"
"Against my better judgement." You tease and his laugh is downright devilish when you take his hand anyway, letting him lead you out into the hall.
You're not prepared for the warmth of his palm or the rough, calloused touch of his fingers or how your hand looks so small in his as he expertly weaves through your classmates milling about until you reach the bottom of the stairs, pausing just long enough to make sure the coast is clear before dashing up to the second floor.
"Are we even allowed up here?" You whisper and while the little conspiratorial grin on his face doesn't do much to ease your mind, the quick squeeze he gives your hand somehow does.
"Nope!" He leads you down the dark hallway with practiced ease, opening the last door on the left before pulling you inside and softly shutting it behind you both.
"I feel like a delinquent." Your quiet voice echoes in the large room, clearly Tina's from the Hawkins High cheer uniform hanging on the closet door and the over abundance of pink, and he snickers as he drops your hand to grab a blanket draped over the desk chair.
"Live a little, Henderson!" He opens another door, this one leading out onto a moonlit balcony -Jesus, you knew Tina's family was rich but come on- and holds it for you as you step outside. It's just beginning to snow, specks of white drifting down silently and forming a barely there dusting on the railing and you hold out your hand to catch one, watching as the tiny flake instantly disappears from the heat of your palm.
"C'mon, I'll give you a boost." Eddie says, tossing the blanket up onto the section of roof that's just a bit lower than the others.
"Don't tell me you shoot webs from your wrists." You joke, warily eyeing the spot even as you step forward and stand in front of him, grabbing the edge with both hands.
"Nah, I couldn't handle the responsibility of being Spider-Man." He moves closer and hovers his hands over your sides. "Still trust me?"
You nod.
"Can I touch you?" His voice is a low whisper in your ear and when a shiver runs down your spine, you blame it on the sudden gust of wind, nothing more.
You nod again.
His hands are big and oh so warm as he places them on your waist and before you know it, you're lifted onto the roof without so much as a warning, the rough shingles cold against your knees even through the thick denim of your jeans.
Holy shit, he's strong.
You don't even get the chance to offer your hand as he pulls himself up with an almost casual grace and spreads the blanket out, each step he takes so confident and sure, like he's done it time and time again.
"So, you sure know your way around Tina Williamson's roof." You carefully crawl closer and take a seat beside him, close enough that the length of your body is pressed right up against his to ward off the cold.
To be fair, you're also the slightest bit terrified of somehow falling right off the edge and it's like he reads your mind when he shuffles even closer and rests his arm along the curve of your back, not quite touching but near enough that you just know he'll catch you.
"Found out I could climb up here two years ago and-" He explains, pointing off somewhere beyond the back yard in the vague direction of town. "-it's got a killer view of the fireworks."
"It's peaceful." The sounds of the festivities have faded to nothing more than a faint thumping of bass and the occasional burst of laughter floating up from the smokers on the back deck. "So for the last two years, every party Tina's thrown, you've just been hiding up here?"
"More like escaping." Eddie shrugs and stares ahead at the snow-covered trees. "I don't even want to come to these things and I'm only invited 'cause I deal. Once these rich kids get their stuff and I get paid…no one really cares where I go so I just do what I want."
You care.
"All by yourself?"
He nudges you with his shoulder and when you turn to face him, that same look from earlier is behind his eyes, the one from the hallway and the kitchen that you still can't quite figure out. "You're the only person I've ever brought up here."
"Really?"
It's cold, the snow starting to fall a little bit heaver now, and yet you're so, so warm under his gaze as he nods, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly in the softest smile you've ever seen from him.
It's like hot chocolate on a snowy day or a cozy blanket on a cold night, safe and warm and feeling more than a little like home.
"I'm trusting you with this, Henderson. Don't abuse your power."
You smile and duck your head, pulling your sweater sleeves down further over your cold fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it, Munson."
You'd nearly forgotten all about the cookies hidden in his jacket pocket until he nudges your arm and hands you two, one of his own hanging out of his mouth and you realize they're the snickerdoodles Steve had told you to try.
For the first time, the thought of him doesn't make your stomach twist or your chest hurt. Honestly? You don't really feel anything in particular, other than the fact that he has damn good taste in desserts as you take a bite of your cookie, perfectly baked and covered in just the right amount of cinnamon and sugar.
No wonder he ate ten of them.
You finish eating in silence but you don't feel the need to fill it with anything other than the sound of your breathing; Eddie doesn't either and for who knows how long you sit side by side, watching tiny snowflakes lazily fall from the sky. They dot his dark hair with spots of white and a laugh slips from your mouth before you can stop it.
"What?" He turns your way and you just shake your head as you reach over and brush some flakes from the ends of his curls.
"The snow in your hair, it kinda looks like powdered sugar."
"Oh, so you think I'm sweet?" He waggles his eyebrows and you laugh so hard you have to lean on his shoulder to keep from falling over. The arm he has resting behind you's now fully pressed against your back and it feels like a live wire running along your spine.
"I never said that!"
"But you implied it." Your breath catches as he gently brushes some snow from your hair as well, the warm, calloused pads of his fingers glancing along your face. "And good thing 'cause I think you're sweet, too."
You suddenly get the feeling you've missed something very very important as you scoot away just far enough to turn and face Eddie fully. Down below, your classmates flood out onto the back deck to wait for the fireworks as the new year approaches but you could care less, all of your focus right in front of you on big brown eyes and tiny freckles and a beautifully devastating smile.
"Me?" You speak quietly into the cold air, the question forming swirling white wisps that float above your heads for a fleeting second before disappearing into the night.
You could elaborate but you don't have to because you know he knows exactly what you mean as his hand hovers in the air between you for a long moment before he finally reaches forward and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
"I thought I was being obvious." He says, a red hue coloring his cheeks that you know now is definitely not from the cold.
"Why?"
"Why did I think I was being obvious? Henderson, I'm gonna play Earth, Wind & Fire for you!"
"No, why do you…why me?"
It makes him pause, a gentle furrow to his brow, and the way he says your name so softly makes your heart skip a beat.
"Because you're you."
A minute to midnight is a pretty fucking weird time to have an epiphany but you've never had good timing.
"Oh."
It's like something just clicks, the last piece of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to solve slotting into place and it all makes such perfect sense you're not sure how you didn't see it before.
"I know you're into Harrington," Eddie says hastily, eyes darting away from yours for just a second before they come right back, wide and honest in the dark. "And I get it if you never want to speak to me again 'cause I just made things super weird but-"
"I'm not into Steve."
You don't know how he makes confusion look so cute but he does, eyebrows knit together and making a little wrinkle in his forehead that's just visible under his bangs. "You're not?"
"I thought I was but…" You trail off as more and more people flood outside, their voices loud and full of excitement as the countdown begins. "Turns out I'm falling for someone else and I finally figured out who."
"Ten, nine, eight."
You scoot closer, sitting on your knees so your face is level with his when you reach out to brush some more snow from his hair, letting your fingers graze over his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."
"Seven, six, five."
"Oh. It's okay." He sputters, a brilliant red flush slowly crawling up his neck like ivy. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now, ever since you joined the band when I was in eighth grade-"
"Four."
"-and you sat in front of me with your trumpet, wearing a Judas Priest shirt and I-"
"Eddie?" You interrupt because as much as you want to hear the rest of his story, you've got a more important thing on your mind.
"Three."
"Yeah?"
"Two."
"Please stop talking."
His jaw snaps shut almost comically and he watches with those wide eyes of his as you slowly cup his face in your hands.
"One."
The clock strikes midnight. The first firework shoots off from downtown and explodes in a brilliant flash of shimmering gold in the inky black sky. And you lean forward and kiss Eddie Munson.
The fireworks overhead are nothing compared to the ones you feel when he responds to your kiss with one of his own, his lips soft and sure under yours as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.
He tastes like cinnamon sugar, spicy and sweet, and you can't get enough of him, of his warmth and his fingers sliding into your hair and the noise he makes low in his throat when you part your lips under his.
Kissing him is addicting, intoxicating. It's all you've ever wanted.
He's all you ever wanted.
You were just too blind to see it.
He's all you can see now when you finally part, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks and a smile that would've taken your breath if you had any left to give. The fireworks are long over but you don't even care that you missed the whole show as you lean forward to press your forehead against his.
"So, eighth grade, huh?" You ask and Eddie nods, rolling a strand of your hair between his thumb and pointer finger.
"You were humming 'Highway to Hell' and had holes in your jeans. And when I heard you talking about learning to play DnD for your little brother? That was it for me."
"I was nervous when I first joined band 'cause I had trouble staying on beat. I was so scared they were gonna kick me out." You say and when a snowflake lands on his cheek, you wipe it away with your thumb. "But I heard you tapping your foot behind me and you helped me keep time. Without you, I don't even know if I'd still be playing."
He tucks your hair behind your ear before taking your cold hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, his touch so soft and sweet it makes your head spin.
"Your hands are freezing."
"I don't want to go home yet."
You could stay like this forever with him and when he leans forward to press his lips to yours, you know he feels the same.
"Where to then?"
He's never looked more beautiful to you, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and full of affection and reflecting the shimmer of the stars overhead and a slow smile creeps onto your lips when you weave your fingers between his.
"Surprise me. I'm all yours."
An adorable pink blush sweeps across his nose as he pulls you in for another kiss and you know without a doubt you're speaking the truth.
prompt idea! dramatic confession of love in the rain with friends to lovers reader & eddie. maybe like arguing outside about the fact that somethings been off with one of them & demanding an answer, love confessing ensues then BAM! rain kiss 🫢
i love this request so much, i adore writing love confessions! ♥ | 1.7k words (got a little carried away lol)
It started with a simple question.
"Do you mind getting another ride home today?" Eddie had said.
You didn't mind, not really. Of course, you used to take every opportunity to spend time with him, but you could understand that he had his own life and sometimes his plans didn't line up with yours. It was okay.
When he explained the reason behind the question, however, you felt yourself wither and dwindle like a dying flower.
"I'm going to take Aubrey home, so...you know."
You did know. Aubrey lived on the other side of town, completely off the route you and Eddie took to get home every day. He wasn't just giving her a ride; it was something. Something else. Maybe some kind of date, even.
Date.
You felt your heart three times heavier as you forced a smile and said, almost capable of hearing the tiny pieces of it tinkling inside your own chest, "Oh, sure. It's okay."
And then, before you could stop yourself, you did the stupidest thing one could possibly do; you had asked.
"So…did she ask you out on a date or something?"
You'd poked him in the ribs playfully then, trying to look more relaxed than you really felt as the words left your mouth.
If Eddie noticed it, he didn't let it show. He actually laughed, looking a little embarrassed, and replied, "Actually, I kind of asked her."
Wonderful.
You couldn't stop your eyebrows from rising then, whatever's left of your heart from breaking. You tried to avoid looking like the kicked puppy you felt. Probably didn't succeed as much as you'd like to say.
In general, you were good at doing this — you'd been doing it ever since you realized your feelings for Eddie Munson went far beyond a mere affection between two good friends. It was almost second nature — both being in love with him and hiding it.
Eddie hadn't noticed anything wrong when you smiled that day, just as he doesn't notice anything wrong with the smile you're giving him now, in the school hallway, a week later.
He's so blind when it comes to you.
"I'm not going home with you today," you tell him, closing your locker and packing your backpack carefully.
It's been no less than torture letting Eddie drive you around in his van for the past few days; his van, where everything smells like him, where he strikes up conversations and tells jokes and makes you laugh like everything is fine.
Because everything is fine to him. You're the one who couldn't help but fall in love. Like an idiot.
You didn't want to risk him finding out that whatever he had going on with Aubrey made you jealous, though, so you'd forced yourself to let him pick you up and drive you home from school every day while he remained blissfully unaware.
He seems surprised when your words sink in.
"No?"
"I have to go somewhere else first," you lie. It comes off easily when you're not looking at him.
"It's all right, I'll go with you."
"No, it's fine. I think it'll take a little while."
"I don't mind."
Smile, just smile. "Eddie, really, it's okay."
"It's raining a lot," he argues, looking awfully worried. "You can't just walk home. Do you even have an umbrella with you?"
"Yes," another lie. It's downhill from here, you can tell. "Don't worry."
You feel like you're going to get burned any moment now if you don't get away from Eddie.
Most people have already gone home — you've been studying in the library and Eddie's been at Hellfire with the boys, so you two had stuck behind. The empty hallway makes everything seem worse somehow, his worried gaze on you heavier.
He lets you take three steps before grabbing your arm.
"Wait," he says, brows furrowed, eyes searching for something in your expression. Whatever it is, he finds it. "Something's wrong. What's wrong, Y/N?"
Eddie never had much of a sense of personal space — he's invading yours now, very much, and everything just got a lot more complicated; his fingers around your elbow are warm, the eyes that stare back at you are kind. He smells the same as always: leather, spearmint, cigarette smoke masked by cheap cologne.
You look at your arm and wonder what are the odds you'll be able to break free and walk out the front door without him following you. Not good.
"Nothing," you manage to say. "Nothing is wrong. What are you talking about?"
Perhaps the fake smile is losing its power, you think, because Eddie doesn't look like he'd be giving up anytime soon.
"Something is off with you these days," he insists.
"Eddie, look, I need to go-"
"Have I done something wrong?"
"What?" you sound horrified, because you are horrified; as if Eddie would ever be able to intentionally hurt you. It would have been funny if you weren't so sad. "No, of course not!"
"Then why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not, I-" It's hard to get the words out with him so close, with his hand on your arm, with his eyes on yours-
Oh, how you'd like to disappear right now.
“Did I forget something?” Eddie looks terribly guilty, even though there's nothing to blame himself for. "Your birthday is still pretty far, so-"
You hate this.
"Eddie-" you try, but he's too far inside his own head to hear. He's probably going over a list of things he could have done to make you mad right now.
“-did we make any plans that I forgot?”
"No, I-"
“Did I say something wrong? Shit, I did, didn’t I?”
“Eddie-”
"-I'm sorry if I said- I don't know what I said, but I am sorry, I-"
“I love you.”
It's a mistake. You instantly know that, you know that the very moment the words leave your mouth without permission, a confession you never meant to make. One look at the way Eddie's entire body seems to tense up, at how his lips freeze mid-sentence, parted but not uttering any words, any sound... it's more than enough to tell you it was a fucking mistake.
Time seems to slow down, each second stretching impossibly beyond normal. The only sound that can be heard is the rain. Heavy, rhythmic, coming down without pause.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
You pull your arm back and pretty much run towards the door as if you might distance yourself from the stupid words you just blurted out by doing so.
You think you hear a mumble of "shit" behind you, but you don't stop to look, don't turn around to be sure. Your eyes are prickling and you can taste the tears that ain't coming.
Rain. You're still running anyways. You're soaked and still running, stumbling because it's hard to see through the storm now, hair sticking to your neck, heavy breathing pushing your chest up and down, your face wet from both the rain and your tears.
The rain...almost as cruel as whoever was responsible for making you fall in love with a friend like Eddie.
A friend who's now calling your name — a yell in the distance muffled by the sound of the rain and of your breaking heart. You ignore it. You can't look at him. Not now.
He insists.
“Shit! You- you can't just tell me you love me and walk away! HEY!”
You avoid the hand that tries to grab your arm this time and keep walking across the parking lot as fast as you can.
But did luck ever stay on your side?
No.
Your head bumps right into Eddie's chest.
He holds you by the shoulders, palms gentle on your now cold skin, eyes gentler when you lift your chin up to look at him. You try to back away, attempting to squirm out of his grasp.
Not this time, though. Eddie holds you tight this time.
"Are you out of your mind?" he says, shouting to be heard over the storm...or maybe just because he's angry. "You can't just storm off like that with weather like this!"
Eddie's hands slide along your arms and then drop from your fingers.
He's taking his leather jacket off.
You take a step to the right to try and go around him, seizing the opportunity; he, however, steps to the left and holds the jacket over your head — as if you weren't already soaked from head to toe. As if he wasn't soaked from head to toe, too.
Eddie looks angry.
And too close.
Of course he looks angry, you think, I blew it.
“Eddie-”
“You're an idiot,” he says. “How could you just take off running like that? You could get fucking pneumonia out here!”
“I didn't mean to-” he's close, very close, and you feel silly, high, dizzy. Everything and nothing at the same time. The words you want to say are lost inside your mind like a paper boat drifting at the sea.
Eddie is still holding his damn jacket over your head like the goddamned gentleman he is.
Despite the closeness, you feel like you need to yell in order to be heard, your voice high and hoarse. “Just let me go!”
You try again and again, but he skillfully foils every one of your plans to walk away from him.
"No!"
"I am sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said that, I just…I just need some time! Just give me time and I'll get over you, Eddie, I swear, and everything will get back to normal and you and I can just pretend it never happened-"
In a heartbeat, he's tossing the jacket to the floor and his lips are on yours.
You gasp, too surprised, too tense, and Edde slides a hand to the small of your back, pressing you against his body with something akin to desperation — both of you so entirely soaked from the rain, so entirely frightened, so entirely in love.
When the kiss ends, it's because both of you are out of breath; Eddie doesn't let the space between the two of you grow any further, though.
“Don't get over me,” he pleads, pretty much breathing into your mouth, forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed. “Don’t ever get over me.”
It seems like your heart is about to jump out of your mouth. He leans in again and you don't have it in you to do anything other than the same.
Letting yourself be kissed is easy. Too easy. It also makes it easier to forget everything that brought the two of you here — the confession, the feelings you believed were unrequited until now… Aubrey.
Aubrey.
You realize you broke the kiss and whispered her name when Eddie opens his eyes to look at you.
“I mean, you and Aubrey…the date…”
He squeezes your waist and laughs, "The date lasted 10 minutes before she told me the obvious."
my eddie is a big ol’ dork. my eddie trips over his own feet and tries to throw things in the trash like a basketball shot and misses completely and my eddie does finger guns and bows as he opens a door for someone. my eddie makes up random songs about what he’s doing in the moment and tries to do big note runs and can never hit the high note. he pumps his fists in the air when he gets a c+ on a test and makes his uncle stick it on the fridge. my eddie has the first seven pages to lotr completely memorised and can recite them on queue. my eddie sticks his tongue up towards his nose when he’s concentrating. and my eddie high fives himself when no one’s around to give him one.
As someone who is only ever interrupted and spoken over when they’re speaking I headcanon Eddie Munson always listens intently to every little thing you have to say and only ever interrupts you when you’re both joking around and playing off of what the other person has to say. If he caught anyone interrupting you or trying to talk over you he’d either bark at them until they shut up and let you go on or he’d pull you aside and let you finish bc he sure as shit is way more interested in you than whatever anyone else is blabbering on about.
Eddie talks in his sleep. You think it’s the sweetest thing ever, lying next to him. His weight fully pressed into the mattress, warm and solid and comforting. He hogs the covers and totally starfishes but he’s just cute enough to get away with it. In between snores you’ll hear him mumbling as he lays on his back, eyelids flitting and deep in sleep. The things he says are so incredibly off the wall that you’ll be in fits of giggles in the middle of the night. He gets conversational too-
“babe the mice are fighting”
“Tell them to stop Eds”
“They’ve got knives”
Or
“Roll for initiative”
“Uh 16.”
“Ok”
And then suddenly he’ll be snoring again, entirely unaware. You tease him about it mercilessly come morning and he just hides his face and groggily tells you to fuck off (with love)
based on a discussion I had with @latenightsimping about their bf ☠️
eddie would still flirt with you like you weren’t already his girlfriend . he’d put on a cheeky smile, throw you a subtle wink and uses his best pickup lines (which you think is lame but still cute), asks you out on a ‘first date’, saying things like “your boyfriend is a lucky pal..…so dinner at 8?” or “please tell me you’re single because I’ve been watching you for a while now and you’re so gorgeous so i kind of want to ask you out.” and all that just makes you smile and roll your eyes at how dorky eddie is. he’s pretty much a playful boyfriend. loves to see you get all shy and warm on the inside. eddie does those things as if he’s still trying to steal your heart and make you his. everyday. because if he’s planning to make you his forever then he needs to do whatever it takes
eddie munson is not a smooth talking romantic bad boy lover. he is probably three feral raccoons in a trench coat. he flirts primarily through obscure fantasy book quotes and d&d references that you will not understand cause it is nonsense even to him. on a first date, he will make you a shitty mix tape and climb a tree to impress you. he is hunched like a gargoyle 85% of the time. he hasn't washed his bedsheets in god knows how long. his favourite meal is cheez whiz on bread and a handful of pretzels. he plays the same four riffs of a song cause he can't remember the rest of it and it pisses him off . his cringe fail personality captivates me and you just can't appreciate him like I do.
eddie munson plays dead when you won’t give him attention. he gives you a full theatrical performance — an invisible knife to the heart, followed by a backwards plummet onto your bed and to his ‘death’. when he’s done he just lies there moaning and groaning and maybe you’d ignore him but he’s really cute annoying. one little shoulder tap from you and he’s been miraculously revived, much too energetic and clingy for someone who was on death’s door a minute ago. maybe you should’ve ignored him, after all …
summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways.
Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong… [16.5k]
[one sided enemies to lovers — you hate steve and by god, does he want to change that] dedicated to my dearest kenny
Fact #1: You did not, under any circumstance, like Steve Harrington.
It doesn’t matter what Dustin says nor the smug roll of Robin’s eyes, you knew it yourself even if no one else believed it; you did not like Steve Harrington.
From everything you’ve ever heard about the guy, it was a surprise that he still had any friends — especially with the likes of your friends, a fact that makes you gag when Robin brings it up.
Robin, lovely best friend Robin, who completely betrayed you by associating herself willingly with Steve.
Since the beginning of high school, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Gossip was spilled between the two of you frequently, juicy enough to make even Carol Perkins’ head spin — you talked often enough that it got you split up during class time constantly, giggles too loud to be contained.
Being at the bottom of the social food-chain —or maybe worse, completely unseen to your peers— there was nothing like sharing snarky remarks between you and Robin about the dunderheads who ‘ruled’ the school through idiotic popularity.
Robin had a particular dislike for Tina Burgess ever since she’d started the rumour that girls in band were freaks in the sheets and would put out to anyone who would ask. You weren’t sure what had been worse: the obvious dig that Robin wasn’t getting any or the slimy guys who believed it and had the guts to ask.
You, however, distinctly despised the likes of King Steve.
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