The pair had overcome a lot of obstacles together: high school, differing social circles, Steve graduating while Eddie was still a senior…oh, and being in a homosexual relationship in the 80s in the small, narrow-minded town of Hawkins, Indiana. The group of friends that they did so happen to share—the group of friends that had brought them together—was convinced they’d move onto the next stage of life together; the couple did, too. But some things aren’t meant to last. And sometimes love isn’t enough.
Corroded Coffin was growing. It had taken a while, as most things did, but with the 90s approaching and metal becoming more popular, when they took off, they took off. Even in a small town like Hawkins, word travels, first to the better part of Indiana, then the surrounding states. It was…honestly unbelievable when they started touring around—small stuff at first, but the demand for their presence expanded as their music reached more people.
At first, Steve and Eddie tried to make it work, but the distance and the limits of technology made it difficult. Really difficult. At first it was just weekends that he was away, which was manageable—Steve was even able to tag along, when the shows weren’t too far and there was enough notice. But then Eddie was gone for a week, then a few weeks. When it got to be months, things started to really fall apart. Maybe neither of them tried as hard as they should have. And Eddie couldn’t shake the guilt of making Steve wait…of keeping him from finding someone he could settle down with.
The breakup was one of the hardest things he’d ever gone through.
He was happy to get out of Hawkins. Too many memories, good and bad, haunted him. People, places… He had his band, he had his music, and he had his coping mechanisms.
Sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, baby.
For a while, he did the rockstar thing—he had meaningless sex with groupies, drank onstage, picked from a fucking buffet of substances nearly every night. It was good. It was distracting. But, even after a considerable amount of time on the road, living what had been his dream since he first picked up a guitar, he never got over Steve Harrington.
And, maybe for one night, he wouldn’t have to.
In 1989, while they were setting up for a show in LA, the metalhead thought he recognized someone he knew—someone he, for the longest time, thought he’d probably never see again. But he knew that hair anywhere.
They were doing a sound check about an hour before the show, security and the other safety measures filtering in and getting briefed for the night to come. He was in some sort of uniform, although it was too far away for Eddie to tell what it was. Distracted, he fucked up a few fingerings and there was a noticeable quiver to his voice as he sang, which caused the others to stop.
“You cool, Munson?” Gareth spoke into his mic.
“Uh, yeah, man, sorry. Just got a little tripped up. My bad. Let’s, uh…let’s take five, yeah?” He slung his guitar over his shoulder and looked back to the pit, gaze growing bleary as he fought to blink back tears, his stomach churning and hands shaking. He exited the stage and went straight for the green room, which was a trailer set back from the stage (it was an outdoor venue). And sure as shit, he saw Steve fucking Harrington, in a cluster of EMT workers, standing not far from where he was headed. Shit, shit, shit.
‘‘ letting you go was the hardest thing i ever had to do. ‘‘ (not even sorry <3)
Note to self, never absolutely never, let Steve get this high again. Weed running rampant in the other mans system or not Eddie knows better than to question the words, knows that there’s always going to be some kind of truth to them when it comes from Harrington. The man had one hell of a reputation, one that even Eddie had heard countless times over, but he was never known to be a liar. “That’s some sappy shit, Harrington.” It’s out with an exhale of white plume, flicking off dead ass from the end of his joint before leaning forward to rest elbows against his knees. “Think you’re a little too high.” | @kingharringtxn
-- ♔ Memories of light hearted laughter dance across her mind, the familiar sound of sneakers hitting pavement and old chain hitting metal pole, swing swaying from the rough dismount of children playing together. HANDS CLASP TOGETHER AS TEARS FALL OVER MOURNED LOSS, comfort in the wake of sorrow shared between friends. Too many memories to count cross her minds eye, a vague notion that she should be worried of the reaction, that she should be concerned about the outcome.
Vecna would be proud of the way she’s disposed of yet another body, blood staining skin and fabric, the clothing practically clinging to her form from the mess. It was owed after all. Soft coos of it being alright are promised to the victim, trying to calm the fear building within the man as features twist into monstrous expression; inky veins crawling from beneath her eyes as flesh is torn open once more. Azure is clouded as they snap forward, the only indication she’s even acknowledged HIS PRESENCE, stumbled upon her frenzied attack. No, she’s been aware since his scent hit her a minute prior, the wind catching it with ease.
Heartbeat stops indicating there’s no need to continue, body drops with a sick crunch as Claire sways backwards, tongue licking out across blood covered lips; her fangs glistening in the moonlight. There’s something human inside her that has her chest tightening the longer she watches Steve, and perhaps it’s that feeling that has her vanishing and reappearing directly in front of him in a matter of seconds; head tilting slow as gaze moves over him. “S T E V E.” Name drops with unconveyed emotions despite the hollow expression against porcelain, after all how long had it been since she’d last seen him? Six months? Nine? Claire isn’t sure how time works anymore, but she knows it’s been a long time given the state of Hawkins -- given the changes in Steve.
she couldn't say she was surprised when she got word that Steve had gotten in trouble with the Ghoulies, not that it made her any happier that she had to save his ass from them and break into the house of the dead along with some of her most trusted serpents. once they were left alone outside the Wyrm, dark eyes turned to look at his beat up face; an unamused look on her face. ❝please enlighten me Steve, do you actually have a death wish? they could've killed you.❞
Billy was driving maybe a little too fast, pushing his speedometer closer to ninety with every tap on the gas pedal. Not like anyone cared on these shitty backroads in this overall shitty town. Most people were home at this point aside from partying teens, overworked food servers, and the local theater. Where he should’ve been with his date if his shitty little sister hadn’t run from home.
Max. Kid didn’t understand how much better she had it compared to him. He takes every hit, keeps his dad focused on him so he won’t deviate and strike her instead. Billy would die before he allowed Neil to put a hand on her. She’s just a kid and it’s bad enough she witnesses it at all.
He forced himself to flirt with the Wheeler kids’ mom in order to find the little fuckers and sure enough when he pulls up to the Byers’ house he sees Steve Harrington come outside and Max failing to fucking hide because she kept looking out the window. The blonde shut off his Camaro and got out, leaning on the door frame.
“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” Billy’s doing the math in his head and all of it is fucked. His thirteen year old stepsister was in a house with several strange boys, including one his age. “Mind telling me why my sister is with you?”
ALIVE. He was alive. Disoriented, bloody, and in pain…but alive.
And alone.
They had left him. And why wouldn’t they have? The intention had been to save them, whatever it took—even his life. It seemed that maybe he had. But not everything had gone according to plan.
For a while, Eddie simply lay there, too frightened to move. When alone in the Upside Down, unnatural noises reverberated menacingly around the space, distant and distorted. It was too quiet, in comparison to the mayhem that he had somehow managed to survive. It didn’t make sense to him. He could only assume that Vecna had something planned—whether that be to use the Freak as a pawn, or to simply leave him to be driven into insanity by thoughts of guilt, abandonment, and fear. The guy was a sadist and Eddie wasn’t sure which fate was worse.
When he did finally muster the strength (and the courage) to attempt to stand, he found that simply sitting up was a feat—his head spun from the altitude change and blood loss. This shit was gonna be rough. But on the off chance that the gate that had been at his place was still open, he had to get moving.
It was only when he stumbled through the door that he saw the damage that had happened to the trailer. In place of the gate, the top was now open, the fleshy tissue that ringed the opening now hanging black and limp—dead. He didn’t know what this meant for his home in the…Rightside Up?…but, for a fleeting moment, he was happy not to be there.
Staying there didn’t seem like an option—that open hole was a fucking invitation to be attacked again. But where else could he go? He didn’t want to run the risk of dragging any of his outside friends into this fucked up situation. He definitely didn’t want to go to the school, especially not in an alternate, hell-scape dimension. Dustin didn’t need to know that he was alive, not yet—he knew the little shit would do something crazy in an attempt to get him out. He didn’t want to get any of the kids re-involved, really. Nancy was out, too, since he didn’t know where Mike was at this point. Robin would freak. Really, the only viable option seemed like Steve.
Not that Steve would be looking, of course, but…Eddie had seen how the Upside Down effected the surface world. Maybe he could communicate with him and then get the fuck outta there. It would have to be strategic—Harrington was good at that. He was one of the more level-headed of the group, too. It just…made sense.
So, Eddie started for Steve’s house, thankful that the kids’ bikes were there. He had quite a ways to go and, if he’d had to walk, the odds of some gnarly creature getting him went WAY up, if exhaustion didn’t take him out first. Which was possible, especially by the time he got to the residence. He dismounted the bike, letting it drop to the ground heavily, nearly tripping as he stepped over it. He climbed the steps to the front door, body aching as he did, his muscles protesting with each step cleared. Once inside, he headed straight for the couch.
The place looked even more uninviting than those with money tended to, under these circumstances. Dark and cold and lacking a presence that he really wished he’d had right then. So he took a shot in the dark.
“Hey, Harrington, can ya hear me?” His voice was weak.
NORMALCY had never been something that he strove for, but since the events of spring break—the close encounters with death, the introduction to the supernatural, and being hunted by monsters (some very human and others that he had previously assumed were only lore of a fantasy game)—Eddie just wanted his life to return to normal. Not that it ever truly had been, of course. His childhood hadn’t been normal, his interests weren’t normal…HE wasn’t normal; he had always been a freak, but that was better than being a suspected murderer. Cult leader he could handle, but the witch hunt had gone too far and, even now, with his name cleared, the court of public opinion had ruled him guilty.
Maybe it wasn’t wise for him to have taken the job at Family Video, when Robin had scored it for him—it surely couldn’t be good for business and he’d have to endure the wrath of more than just the population of Hawkins High. But he couldn’t bring himself to go back to dealing drugs; even if people trusted him enough to meet out in a secluded part of the woods for a transaction, he didn’t trust them. Plus, at the store, he had friends—people who understood what he was going through more than anybody else could ever dream of and that…that was comforting to him.
This first shift was shared with Steve; they were opening together, sans Keith, which motivated Eddie to get his ass outta bed and be there on time. The pair hadn’t done much hanging out since everything went down—not that this could be considered a hangout, by any means, but…he was looking forward to seeing the guy again. So, bright and early on a Saturday morning, Eddie Munson donned his shiny new green vest, sporting a sizable pair of dark bags under his eyes (he hadn’t been sleeping well, if at all—plagued by nightmares, he was only able to fall asleep if lulled by a bottle and, even then, it wasn’t much), his arrival to Family Video rung in by the chime of the clock bell that hung above the door.
He was curled up on the ground after a D&D session, the wind having been knocked (kicked) out of him. Under the cover of darkness—the games typically ran late—it was easy to be jumped; usually, the party left together, but tonight it just…hadn’t worked out that way. He shouldn’t have stopped for a smoke. He should’ve just waited until he got to his van. But he hadn’t. And now, his board and dice were scattered next to his crumpled body, and he was crying, which only made things worse.
Only one of them had gotten physical, others fanned the fire with their words. And there was someone who didn’t seem to be doing…anything. Someone he’d not only KNOWN long ago, but someone who had vowed to protect him. But life and reputation tore them apart and now…now he stood by watching as his once best friend was abused. Tear-filled eyes were lifted to him, pleading.
“Steve…”
“You friends with this freak, Harrington?” the one asked, his assault ceasing as he turned to the other man, voice threatening.
