I really wanted to have a WIP ready for Hellcheer anniversary week, but all I’ve got is a half finished outline that taunts me from my notes folder every time I open it up (to feverishly succumb to another bout of Eleverson brainrot). As an apology offering I present a piece I wrote last September called Right Side Up, which takes place about three days after Eddie escaped the Upside Down (because of course he did) and Vecna was defeated (because of course he was).
For a moment, she doesn’t know where she is; she’s curled in an unfamiliar chair, covered in a slightly scratchy blanket, and somebody nearby is quietly crying like a child, soft little brokenhearted whimpers they’re clearly trying to suppress but which will not be held back.
Then she hears Wayne Munson’s quiet, disbelieving voice gasping “Eddie?” and everything comes flooding back. They’re in Eddie’s hospital room, Wayne sleeping on a little cot the nurses rolled in for him, Chrissy in a squeaky vinyl recliner tucked into the corner. They hadn’t left him alone for a second, though it had been almost two and a half days since his surgery and he’d been unconscious the entire time. Now it’s the middle of the night and her neck aches from sleeping in the chair but none of that matters one bit, because Eddie finally, finally woke up.
“Eddie, my boy.” Enough dim light spills in from the hallway that Chrissy can see Wayne get up from the cot and hurry over to sit on the bed next to Eddie, carefully gathering his weeping nephew into his arms. “Thank the lord. Oh, my boy.”
“W-Wayne?” Eddie buries his face in his uncle’s chest, his next words coming out muffled, but in the quiet of the room Chrissy can still make them out. “I m-missed you so much.”
“I missed you too, son. I was so worried about you.”
“Am I… am I…” Eddie falters. He sounds so weak. Breathless. “Arrested?”
“No. Don’t you worry about that,” Wayne soothes, his hand stroking through Eddie’s hair. “Some fella named Owens took care of all that, you don’t have to worry ‘bout police anymore.”
“I didn’t…” Chrissy can see Eddie’s eyes, huge and luminous with tears, pleading, fixed on his uncle’s face. “Didn’t k-k… I didn’t k-k-kill…”
Wayne flings his arms around Eddie again, nearly crushing the boy in his embrace. “I know that, baby, dontcha think I know that? I know you wouldn’t hurt anyone. Never thought for one second that any of that shit was true about you. I know you ain’t never hurt anyone.”
Eddie makes a sound, halfway between a sigh and a sob, of pure relief. “Didn’t k-k-kidnap… she needed… she needed…”
“Easy now, darlin’, take it easy, now. Everythin’s alright, we know you ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
For a moment, the silence is only broken by Eddie’s quiet sniffling and the starchy scritch of Wayne’s hand rubbing his back through his thin blue gown. Then Wayne speaks again, and Chrissy is surprised to hear a hint of laughter in his voice.
“As if I’d believe you’d do anything to hurt Chrissy Cunningham.”
Eddie groans. “Don’ make fun o’ me.”
“How many songs you write about that girl? Reckon you’re up to twenty, now?”
Chrissy just barely manages to stop herself from sitting bolt upright. Songs? Eddie’s written songs about her?! When could he possibly have done that?
“Stop it.” A pained grunt, as if it hurt when he shifted in the bed. “You heard… if… if she’s okay?”
Wayne laughs outright now, softly, but undeniable. “You’n ask her yourself in the mornin’, son, she’s sleepin’ right over yonder.”
“Wayne.” Eddie’s voice trembles. “Please stop.” A pained moan escapes him. “‘S’not funny.”
“Don’t… don’t make fun…” A sob catches in his throat. “Please.”
“Ed, I swear, I ain’t makin’ fun of you. Chrissy is fine, and I swear to you she ain’t left this room since you got here. Damn near sick over you. She’ll be so happy to see you awake. I promise I ain’t lyin’.”
“No,” Eddie moans. “No. Not for me. M-mother won’t… let… let her…” His breath hitches. “Wayne?”
“Lemme get the nurse. You had surgery, son, patchin’ up holes in your guts. They’n give you somethin’ for the pain.” He presses the call button, then resumes gently rubbing his nephew’s back. Chrissy can hear Eddie’s uneven breaths, too fast and too shallow, even with his face pressed into Wayne’s shoulder.
Neither of them speak again until a nurse has come in, injected the pain medicine and flushed it through with saline, and checked Eddie’s temperature and vital signs. She wishes them both a good night and reminds them not to hesitate to ring again if there’s anything they need. Chrissy smiles to herself, thankful for the nurse’s kindness.
“Was she…” Eddie’s voice is hesitant. “Chrissy… she’s really okay?”
“She’s fine, son. She’s just worried about you,” Wayne replies, but to Chrissy’s surprise, Eddie starts to cry again. “I was scared,” he sobs. “She needed… me to b-be brave… and I, and I w-w-wasn’t.”
“That ain’t how she tells it.” Wayne’s voice is so loving, so comfortingly warm. “She tol’ me you saved her life. Says you’re her hero. How d’you like that?”
“Now why’s that so hard to believe?”
Eddie sniffles. “You know why.”
Chrissy doesn’t know why, and she wants to. After how close they’ve grown over the last week, after everything they’ve been through together, why would Eddie think she’d have anything but wonderful things to say about him?
“Well, I can’t make you believe me.” Wayne gently eases Eddie back against the pillows as he speaks. “But that’s what she said. An’ she sat here holdin’ your hand n’lookin’ at you like you done hung the moon just for her.” He pulls the blanket up to Eddie’s chin. “An’ if I thought you’d be awake for more’n five more minutes I’d go get her up so’s she could tell you herself.”
“‘S’a nice story,” Eddie murmurs. “I like her.”
Chrissy feels her cheeks flush warm, her eyes fill with tears. Enchanting? None of her cheerleader friends ever called her anything besides ‘nice’ or ‘pretty’, empty clichés they all tossed meaninglessly at each other, and her ex hadn’t even bothered with that for longer than she cared to remember. It was so like Eddie to give her the best compliment she’d ever heard, when he didn’t even realize she’d heard it.
Wayne is chuckling again. “You be sure to tell her that in the morning.”
“Don’ laugh. She… Chrissy.” Eddie’s words are definitely slurred now; the pain medicine is rapidly making him drowsy. “Chrissy. She’s ‘mazing. Think I… love her.”
“I know you do, son,” Wayne repeats, barely louder than a whisper. He leans forward to smooth Eddie’s hair back from his face and gently kiss his forehead.
“You too,” Eddie murmurs. “Wayne. Love… Wayne.”
“I know, darlin’. I love you, too. Go to sleep, now.”
“Course I’ll stay. Got a bed for me right there. I won’t leave you.”
“‘Kay.” Eddie sighs deeply, then his breathing slows and Chrissy can tell he’s asleep.
Wayne stays seated at the side of his bed for a few more minutes before getting up. He stretches a little, his back cracking, then stoops to kiss his nephew’s forehead again before climbing back into his cot. In less than two minutes he’s softly snoring.
She slides from the recliner, slowly so it doesn’t squeak, and tiptoes across the room to Eddie’s bed. She slips in carefully next to him, making sure to avoid the iv line, and snuggles close, resting her head against his shoulder and one hand on his chest, right over his heart. His eyes don’t open, but his breath hitches and she can see his eyelashes flutter a bit. A moment later, his hand slides slowly up to cover hers.
Chrissy smiles, turning her hand to lace their fingers together. Eddie hums a small, contented sounding sigh from the back of his throat. His breathing deepens, slowing into the rhythm of sleep again, and moments later she follows him down.
