▪▪▪maligno
eddie munson x older!latina!reader
summary: today's a big day for you and your family, and it's got you missing your husband, Eddie.
warnings: no use of y/n, no smut, death, funeral, reader is middle aged fem with children, reference to miscarriage and animal death, spanish with no translation
word count: 1,500-1,600 words
You awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the caress of a fresh breeze coming through the window. It was the most beautiful day you’d seen all year, the peak of Indiana springtime. You were just about to stay in bed and enjoy the blissful scene before you remembered. Today was a big day. You immediately felt sick.
You blindly went through the motions in the silent bungalow; tea, shower, blow dry, brush teeth. Before you knew it, you were pinning on your earrings in the bedroom mirror. Up close, you examined your skin. Your makeup sat dry on your face. You surveyed your creases and the dark, downy hair that sat subtly on your jaw and upper lip. Backing up to view your full reflection, you ran your hands down your conservative black dress and felt the pudge of your lower stomach. A day like this, you thought, is just another part of aging: a funeral.
You had a few minutes before your kids would arrive. You’d carpool together to the funeral home, then —oh, that sour feeling again— do funeral stuff, go out to lunch, maybe take your oldest’s toddler to the park. He’d want you all to enjoy the day.
Speaking of lunch, you had a few hours to go before you’d eat anything. You wondered if you could keep anything down. You wished Eddie was here. He’d make you some coffee so you wouldn’t have to contend with your shaking hands. When you couldn’t think of anything to eat, he’d follow your eyes and know exactly what to pull off the shelf. He’d let you eat in his lap and wrap his arms, and his calm, around you. “Soulmate” doesn’t even come close.
The woman who married you both was named Gloria, and she really was a glorious little ray of sunshine. The timing of your matrimony was less than convenient for her, but she had the heart of a saint and moved mountains to make it happen.
It was more than just paperwork and a few words for Gloria. When you first met, she said (in her best English, for Eddie's sake), “I believe in marriage. My husband, when we met, said ‘ehhh, I don’t really believe in marriage.’ But I’ve always believed in marriage.” Back then, you didn’t really know what it meant to believe in marriage. Your two years dating were the easiest of your whole life. What was there to believe in?
And then there was the palm tree. Every little conversation you had leading up to the wedding featured this favorite allegory of hers. You and Eddie, giggling and giddy, had kept it between yourselves, like a sacred and arcane secret of matrimony. You, Eddie, and Gloria had taken a picture in front of one on your wedding day. Your families didn’t know why you insisted on doing so, nor why you needed it displayed so prominently in your home.
“Marriage is like a palm tree,” she would say. “The wind blows, the seas rise, a hurricane can take down an entire town—and what do the palm trees do?” She doubled her tiny body at the waist, elbows bent. “They bend. They sway. They never break.”
Eddie loved to pull that line out when you’d dance around the living room. “They bend!” he’d say, and dip you. “They sway!” and he’d swing you around, making you squeal. “And they never…” with a big kiss on your shoulder, “break.”
You both thought it was a pretty picture, this strong palm tree resilient against the breeze. But in your heart of hearts, you took it as yet another version of the “marriage is hard!” line that your family had been feeding you since you got engaged. You didn’t believe it’d be true for you two.
Over the years, though, it became clear what the palmera was all about. In the beginning, Eddie lost job after job. You crashed your car. You started trying for a baby and lost your first pregnancy. You went neck-deep into debt when your beloved dog almost died — all of this before you turned 25. When you finally did welcome three beautiful children to the world, the trials and tribulations seemed focused on them, and there was no shortage. Through it all, you clung to that palm tree together, and it never failed you.
That was the point of the palm tree. It wasn’t that your problems threatened to knock it down and cause you to give up on the marriage. It was that your marriage —your palmera—was your anchor. Hell or high water, nothing could touch you, as long as you had each other.
You were married for 20 years when you learned that cancer does not give a fuck about palm trees.
You looked at the framed photo on the dresser, the one you brought with you to every hotel and BnB. It was you: a cute little young thing, black eyeliner masking you like a raccoon, a black Stetson hat and a flowy short dress covered in chains. A man next to you, luscious curly hair down to his chest, a matching hat and a very, very sexy outfit; something like an undead vaquero, a black void with a healthy amount of chains, too. Behind you both, sharply dressed men and women in all manner of colors and very expensive boots, plus a few eyes wandering toward the two of you.
That's where you met him: a cumbia dance, back in your hometown of L.A. You and your best girlfriend were fearless, going dressed in your little devil-spawn outfits night after night. It was one crazy idea she had that stuck around. Besides sticking it to the man, it meant you didn’t have to maintain two wardrobes, one for the goth clubs and one for the cumbia nights. That girl was a genius.
Your face in this photo showed your unbridled, taken-aback wonder at finding someone just like you, purely on coincidence. At the diner that night, he revealed that it was no coincidence at all: he'd worn the outfit on purpose. His buddy Argyle had dragged him to the dance the first time around and, when he saw you, all was lost.
And that was the truth. The truth that was confirmed on your first trip to Indiana that summer, where Uncle Wayne said Eddie was an entirely new man, and you were the only one for him. This was the truth that grew and grew for twenty years until Eddie died.
You looked at the next picture. The same vaquero, much less hair now, holding a big, silver fish. Behind him a Florida marina. A sizeable gut. He used to say the diagnosis was really just a diagnosis of too many adventures.
“The gods are just jealous of us, baby.” “Dont cry, chula.” “It's one last big trip. If the digs are cool, I'll hold a spot for you. For now, you gotta stay here.” He had to make jokes and quips constantly—it was his forma de ser. You never once heard him say “I'm scared.”
It was hard not to feel afraid today. Eddie’s mom died when he was little. When he was 30, he got a letter that his dad was shot down someplace while doing God knows what, and shrugged. Eddie himself had been gone six years now. And today, Uncle Wayne was being put to rest; cancer took him, too. The Munson line, snuffed out.
You had flown out to Hawkins days ago to take care of all the arrangements. Your kids followed soon after to say goodbye to the man they called Grandpa. Your old friend Dustin had helped you gather up Wayne’s old coworkers and friends, which was no easy feat, as he had long been a lone wolf. Everything was in order, and it’d all be over by noon.
You heard your youngest daughter knock on the door. You could always tell it was her; two sharp raps—blink and you’ll miss it. “It’s open,” you shouted from the hall.
The kids’ greetings when they entered showed their best attempt at tact. “Hey, mom,” they said quietly, even though they were always unstoppably hyper, even at their big age. They were saving the sillies for after the service.
There were hugs all around. Your oldest carried her 2-year-old daughter in her arms who was munching on something greasy. “Hey, where’s mine?” you said, and laughed, to the surprise of everyone else. Your son, the middle child, produced a McMuffin from the bag he was carrying. With them around, you thought you’d have the strength to eat.
“How was your flight?” you asked them, scarfing down your breakfast. You didn’t realize how hungry you were. You planted a fat kiss on your son’s cheek when he handed you one of those way-too-sweet coffees you like.
Everyone’s answers were tuned out as you looked around. Your youngest had the most unruly, wavy, frizzy brown hair, and for her, to style it bigger was better. Your oldest had the killer combo of her father’s smile and her Grandpa’s seafoam eyes. And you knew your son was nervous today from the way he played with his fingertips, just like his dad. And the little one? Her eyes were darker than yours, enough to get lost in. Only one other person had the same.
Being surrounded by them felt like being surrounded by your soulmate again. There was so much Wayne in this room, so much Eddie. When you all stepped into the spring breeze, you felt ready to live out the beautiful day.
fall, 1994. dustin henderson's freshman year of college. he's the wise, funny glue to the friend group. but what will happen when eddie's dating eden, but chrissy likes eddie, and argyle likes eden, and dustin's the only one who knows any of it?
masterlist
Eddie takes his friends out to meet his new girlfriend, Eden.
4,000 words | ao3 | no content warnings
“No, no! God damn it!”
The recording booth was sweltering such that even the mic stands wore a thin film of sweat. The A.C. had gone out around 10 this morning, and Dustin Henderson’s patience had worn out just a moment ago.
“What? What did I do?” Eddie was feeling it too, his eyebrows squeezed together tighter than the man-bun he shamefully wore due to the heat.
Dustin stopped fanning himself with the script for a moment before brandishing it toward Eddie. “It’s the pacing, Munson. The cattle mutilation comes after the crop circles and before the anal probes. You can’t just jump to anal probes.”
“What makes you think a bunch of stoners and geeks will want to listen to you go on about crop circles for ten minutes? that’s, like, four… forty… at least fourteen percent of the show!” Eddie was no good with numbers, but he tried to make his point.
Although the boredom showed on his face, Dustin heard him out. “Okay. I’ll forego the description of the behavior of various grasses versus tractor beams,” he said, feigning reluctance, and crossing out the words with a flourish. “But please, just promise me you’ll take a walk with me here. The listeners will never believe if you don’t believe.”
“Believe…in aliens?”
“No. Believe that this show is worth listening to. It starts with you, man.” Eyes sincerely locked with Eddie’s, Dustin put his headphones back on.
The hosts both jumped when they heard a third voice—Marcus—in their ears. It made him laugh. “Yeah, that’s right, lovebirds, you aren’t alone in here. We’re two minutes out, fellas - check mics.”
“Check, check!”
“Check cans,” Marcus said. Dustin dutifully adjusted his headphones while Eddie adjusted his bare chest.
“Gimme a ready.”
“Ready!”
The show’s musical intro, and even its name, were a shameless ripoff of The X-Files. Who could blame them — the show had been out for a year and it had taken the world by storm. Their 40-minute radio segment about all things supernatural and strange was obviously riding on its coattails.
“Good evening, listeners,” said Dustin, as it was 2 p.m. ; they’d never be granted a late-night spot like Art Bell himself. “And thanks for tuning in to The Rex Files, the Bulldogs’ best and only source for supernatural news on WDOG.
“I’m your host, Dustin Henderson, joined by our resident skeptic Eddie Munson who, upon reviewing today’s topic of conversation, is very intrigued by the notion of alien anal probes. Isn’t that right, my virginal friend?”
“Ahh, well, let’s just say,” Eddie stalled, looking for a clever quip. “I’ve found your sister-in-law to be really out-of-this-world.” He saw Marcus shove the freshman beside him to throw in some frantic ba-dum-tss on the soundboard.
“Whoa, hey! We’re not even at the crop circles yet! Treat a lady right! Take her out to dinner first!” Dustin skated past the discomfort, dedicated to letting the humor carry them seamlessly into the real stuff.
That was their rhythm: Dustin was the wise straight-man who did all the research, and Eddie was the guy with all the jokes and questions, meant to keep the audience engaged. Or that’s what Dustin had dictated. They hadn't been doing this very long.
Even though Eddie was the one working at the university radio station under the Radio Marcus, renowned legend among broadcasting majors, Dustin was the one to land them their own weekly show last month. After doing nothing more than skimming the “Help Wanted” flyer, he waltzed in and seemed to know just what to say to the upperclassman with a reputation for being difficult.
Eddie had worked under Radio Marcus since last winter, as a freshman, and couldn’t stand him. His supervisor had the gall to call heavy metal “pedestrian.” That was Marcus’s favorite word, and Eddie hated it. He especially hated how, up until Kurt died, grunge was the best thing to Marcus since radio itself; now, it was also pedestrian.
Marcus’s second favorite word would have to be any one of the variety he used to insult anyone in the station. Any cable left plugged in, any single not properly alphabetized, any lightbulb that needed changed - Eddie was labeled a cretin, an imbecile, a nincompoop. And he wasn’t the only one, although it often felt like it.
“And then Fire in the Sky came out, it was the best film of all time, and we all lived happily ever after. The end,” Dustin proclaimed at quarter to 3. “This concludes our broadcast for this evening. Please, folks, be safe out there—wear your tin foil hat, put your cattle in the barn, uh…”
“Wear two pairs of drawers,” Eddie said, grinning into his microphone. “And stay strange, my friends.”
Smooth jazz played them off as they peeled off their headphones. Eddie smacked the table, his back unsticking from his plastic chair as he rose. “Another one down. How do you feel?”
Dustin looked up his brow at Eddie as he gathered his scripts and gear. “I feel like we need to talk about some of these ad-libs,” he said. “I feel like the whole Eden-in-your-ass bit could be a little distracting. The real nerds might not be into that.”
“I don’t know, have you seen some of those Star Trek zines that Holland and Wheeler have been pushing?” Eddie’s smile was relentless as he pulled his shirt over his head.
Dustin only sighed heavily and walked past Eddie out of the booth. He was headed straight for the exit when Marcus called out to him. “Hey, short stack,” he said. Dustin turned around, knowing Marcus would never give a freshman the dignity of a real name.
“It’s live air, bud. You can’t control everything. The more you try, the more likely it is to all blow up in your face.”
Had anybody else called him a control freak, Dustin would have flipped them the bird, but a lot was riding on having Marcus’s good graces. So, he turned and walked away.
⚜
When Eddie came out of the sound booth, Dustin was already gone. A look back at Marcus, who shrugged, gave no hint whatsoever. Eddie left the building without a word. Whatever Dustin’s damage was, he’d be over it in a day, tops.
Eddie’s van was a white-hot tin can at this hour, having sat in direct sunlight since noon. The early September sun just was not ready to let go of the summer heat, and unseasonably so. Fingers suffering, he clutched the steering wheel, turned the key, and pulled out of the parking lot.
Argyle lived just a street over from campus in a cutesy 1940s bungalow. Unlike any other house on the block, it was impeccably cared for, with darling flowers and precious hedges lining the property. It was only missing a picket fence.
Eddie parked on the street and opened the screen door with a squeal, knocking loud enough to be heard over his best friend’s ear-splitting ska. To Eddie’s surprise, his own roommate answered the door.
“Oh, Harrington, what’s up?” Eddie felt his eyebrows bunch together just seeing him here. Inviting him to hang out was always merely a hypothetical to him.
“Hey, man, we’re back here, come on! This is awesome!” Steve had rarely smiled this big since Eddie had met him.
Prepared to head for the back porch, Eddie’s stomach sank when he realized Steve was leading him to Argyle’s bedroom. There’s just no way, he thought.
Argyle looked up at Eddie from his spot on the floor. “Yo, Eduardo! It’s a pleasure seeing you, dude. Look. Isn’t she beautiful?” Argyle gestured to his girls.
Miyuki stood the tallest. Rosario was short and stout, the subject of a new experiment. And little Lucille seemed to have made strides since Eddie last saw her.
Eddie swallowed hard and looked at his roommate. “What do you think?”
“I think this is fuckin’ sick, man.” He threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulled him in before Eddie freed himself from the headlock.
Argyle pinched Miyuki in a sweet spot and rubbed his fingers. Her leaves were growing broad, her tiny flowers already purplish and sticky, with fuzzy white hairs sprouting in. In a few more weeks, she’d be ready. “Smell.”
Eddie brought his nose to Argyle’s fingers. Sweet, tangy, dank — Argyle had really outdone himself this time. Eddie pulled away and sniffed the air dramatically. “Am I getting…mango?”
Argyle, face smug, enunciated: “Pa-pa-ya.”
Steve nodded along. “Mango-Paya.” He smiled smugly at his bid to fit in.
Argyle went back to spraying Miyuki down. He turned to Steve. “Now, one does not simply dump in the day’s water all at once, lest he drown the plant.” He gestured for understanding until he received a nod from the novice, then turned to Eddie.
“Not sure what Miyuki’s cultivar will be called yet. But I can say this: she comes from good lineage.” His smile was one of pride and satisfaction.
Eddie waited for Steve to go take a leak before lowering his voice to Argyle.
“Thanks for the heads up,” he said.
“Whatever about, my liege?”
“Just that you decided to induct my douchenozzle roommate into our little… y’know. Project.”
Argyle shook his head slowly, wisely, a smile on his face. “Nothing pains me more than a man who knows not what he smokes. In fact, I’d go as far to say that Steve became a man today.”
Eddie’s face gave Argyle all the benefit of the doubt, but his words? “Oh, yeah, for sure, a lot goes into it. More than you think. Like a federal felony, for example.”
Argyle was scowling now, although he wasn’t very good at it. “Eddie, listen to yourself.”
He was right. Steve was more likely to have his hairdresser on speed dial than the FBI. He relented and asked, “Hey, are we still going to the Draw tonight?”
Argyle glanced at the door, gesturing with his eyes: “Do you want him to come?”
Eddie turned his head to one side, ready for a sarcastic shake, when he heard Steve's voice behind him. “Come where?”
Eddie turned back to look at Steve. Fuck it.
“The pool hall!” he said. “Across from the Twentyfirst. You know it?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Steve stammered, “The Twentyfirst Amendment?” It was what you'd call the rough-around-the-edges saloon if you'd never set a pristinely sneakered foot in it.
“The very same, my guy,” Argyle nodded, smiling now.
Steve’s fallen, uncertain face did nothing to hide his apprehension. When he perked back up, Eddie imagined it was because Steve remembered he knew how to play pool.
Eddie wryly put him at ease. “Don’t worry, sweetcheeks. We go there all the time. You'll love it.”
When the phone rang in the living room, Argyle bounded to it. “Greetings, this is Argyle speaking,” he said, moseying back to where his friends stood.
“Oh, what's up, brah! Yeah, we're going to the Draw like, right now. You takin’ the bus?” Argyle let out an “ope” when Eddie motioned for the phone, knowing Dustin was on the other end.
“Hold on, Eddie wants to talk to—oh, you…don't want to talk to Eddie?”
Argyle covered the mouthpiece. “He says he doesn't want to talk to y—AH!” Argyle jerked the phone away from his head. Dustin's high-pitched yelp on the other line could be heard even from where Eddie stood.
“Dustin, dude, what's going on?” Argyle asked with genuine concern. He nodded and listened before smiling slyly. “He says your girlfriend wants to talk to you, dude.”
Eddie snorted and took the phone. “Hey, Ede,” he said.
“Its not Ede,” Dustin sneered. “She's right here. But when we get to the Draw—we need to have a talk.”
“Promise me only after a few drinks,” Eddie said. Dustin handed the phone over with a huff.
“Hey,” Eden's voice was soft, smiling.
“Hey,” said Eddie. He glowered at Steve who rolled his eyes. The hairy rat giggled with Argyle.
“I'm gonna go out with some girlfriends tonight, will I see you?”
“Depends on which friends.” He began to twirl his hair when Eden giggled.
“You're right. I'll see if I can get them to go down that way,” she said. “I really wanna see you.”
“Me too.”
“Okay, well…I guess I'll catch you there.”
“Smell ya later.” He held the phone a moment more for her to finish one last giggle, and then hung up.
“Gag,” said Steve. Argyle laughed and chimed in with an “Oooh, Eddie!”
“You guys suck,” Eddie said, and they climbed in to Argyle’s van.
⚜
Dustin threw his longboard to the ground outside the station and rolled through campus. Young trees flew by, and his wheels made a satisfying clunk-click against the paved brick roads. Each building had generous windows that offered a preview into the little lifestyles of the students here. He often detested just how this place could feel like high school 2.0 , with so many kids still goofy, irresponsible, and immature. On the other hand, thankfully, cliques and bullying were things of the past.
He had a few friends of all different ages and stripes. For example, Eddie was an English major, but their friend Argyle was going for agriculture; one wanted to design the next breakthrough tabletop game, and the other wanted to have his own commune with at least 50 vegan babes. That was only the start of the amazing skills and dreams his new friends had.
His impossible dream was to enjoy this college experience with his girlfriend. He’d met Suzie at summer camp before his first year of high school and they were still going strong. But with all her credits and advanced standing, homeschooled Suzie finished her college courses before Dustin had even had a chance to start. Sometimes he wondered what would become of them beyond this gap year she was currently in. He tried not to wonder too hard.
He boarded the city bus with its loud creaks and hisses, bookbag slung over one shoulder, board leaning on his knee. Suzie didn’t live far from campus, in an idyllic 6-bedroom century home on a hill.
He knocked on the perfectly painted door and Suzie’s father answered. “Hey there, Dustin!” he greeted him, bright and cheery as always. Suzie’s parents were a charm. The eight siblings were the hard part.
The most difficult of them all was standing in the hallway when he arrived, looking at him from the background, silent in her unamusement. He smiled curtly at her and climbed the stairs to where Suzie should have been.
“She’s in the shower,” Eden said.
“Oh,” said Dustin, “It speaks. Usually, I would start with ‘How are you?’” He drew out the question and waved his hand, prompting.
“You would.” She stared. “Did you see Eddie today?”
He threw her an exaggerated smile. “What’s today, two weeks? Boy, when’s the wedding?”
In reality, he knew the couple had been talking just a little longer than that. He didn’t know what Eddie saw in her. Then again, he saw Eden as family, for better or worse. She’d always been a bitch to him, but hey. Dustin remembered what it was like in those early days of dating, where he knew none of Suzie’s bad habits or family baggage. Let Eddie have his honeymoon phase, he thought.
She squinted and grinned back at him. That’s when Dustin remembered all about their evening plans and called the gang up.
Suzie trotted down the stairs, hair dripping, and dragged Dustin up after the phone call. When she caught wind of any plans with the boys, she knew she had to have her time, too.
Before the sun set, the curly-haired casanova stumbled out of Suzie’s room in a daze and dug in his backpack for his cologne. Under no circumstance could he roll up to the pool hall smelling like cucumber and melon, although he hated to erase her from his skin.
It was all for naught as he boarded the stinky bus again. There was no time to hit his dorm on the way to the bar, but he was used to hauling all his shit around. With all the steps he'd got in since the semester began, it seemed like the Freshman Fifteen was working in the reverse for him.
He hopped off the bus and back on his board, rolling down the suspiciously moist sidewalks until he hit the shady side of the nightlife district. “Shady” was pulling a lot of weight; really, this was the side with clubs that didn’t play Whitney and bars that were favored by people who hadn’t been on a college campus in decades, if ever. A corner like that in a town like this would be pretty dark and quiet, even on a Friday night.
He climbed the metal stairs leading toward the half-lit neon sign of the Draw and swung open the stained glass door. The smell of cigarette smoke and dinge hung heavy in the air, although the place was empty and no smoke could be seen. The entire room was finished in hardwood that glowed under the sparse yellow light. The guys were toward the back of the hall, already playing. Argyle analyzed the green felt like it were very interesting, and Eddie jolted him out of his trance by speaking.
“Late again, Henderson,” said Eddie.
Steve chimed in from his barstool perch, clinging cutely to his pool cue. “What do you expect? He’s a busy guy,” he bit his lip and nodded maniacally.
Dustin wondered why everyone was so horny today, but more importantly: “What are you doing here?” He pointed to Steve and smiled, perching his bag against the wall.
“What do you mean?” Steve’s offense was palpable, as if he didn’t ask Dustin if his roommate hated him almost every night.
Since they were in high school, Steve had always been popular and friendly to a fault. So when he got a strange, sullen, sarcastic new roommate, Dustin got an earful of all his woes and worries. It only got worse when Dustin came over to the apartment one day, having just missed Steve, and Eddie invited him inside to hang out. Although Steve would never admit it, Dustin could hear the shade of jealousy in his anxious rants.
Since the start of the semester, Dustin had been coaxing the two together, always supervised, mixing in some Argyle to break the ice here and there…and it had worked. Somehow, Steve had even made it into the dodgy pool hall he’d always warned Dustin away from. Harmony at last.
A petite blonde approached the group. She was the sole waitress in the joint that didn’t really need a waitress. Somehow, she found a way to occupy herself, and it was way better than bringing your own drink to your table and possibly catching a stray elbow.
She asked, “What can I get you?” to which Steve looked inquisitively at Dustin.
Steve asked, “I don’t know, what’s good here?” Did this guy really not have a signature drink?
“Oh!” Eddie exclaimed. “Get him a bonbon.” He smiled an evil smile.
Dustin glowered at him. He hated how much amusement Eddie was going to get out of seeing Steve get the girly drink, but it was so good, everyone had to try it at least once.
So, you know what? “What he said. Bonbons all around. Thanks.” Dustin’s wide face spread in his wide, sarcastic grin. Steve just shrugged and took his turn.
The excited peep that left Steve’s lips when the waitress arrived with four dramatic milkshake glasses was priceless.
Eddie rolled his eyes. “This is your bonbon, Harrington.” He ordered a PBR to chase it.
Eddie looked so goofy in black denim and silver chains, hair fluffed to precision, sucking down that Baileys-chocolate-Kahlua milkshake in 5 seconds flat. A dollop of whipped cream on his nose, he plucked the chocolate truffle from the empty glass and popped it in his mouth. This is how a real man drinks a bonbon.
Dustin snorted at the whole image. “You ready to see Eden tonight?” he asked.
Eddie’s face was even, his response in the barrel. “Yeah. You ready to talk about this show, or what?” He took his shot as Argyle and Steve looked at Dustin.
It wasn’t that Eddie couldn’t read a room. It’s that he didn’t give a damn. It was one of the things that scared Steve so much, while drawing Dustin in.
Dustin retorted, “Sure, but I can’t take you seriously with… you know.” He gestured to his nose. Eye contact steady, Eddie’s tongue flicked upward and lapped up the cream, the sight making Steve yelp like a spooked dog.
Eddie laughed at Harrington. “Now, what were you saying?”
“Can you believe Marcus called me a control freak today?” Dustin got the triangle out and began to reset the game. “He practically accused me of hubris.”
“Ugh!” Steve spat, shaking his head. Dustin almost believed he knew what hubris was. “Radio Marcus. I had a class with that guy! Hate him!”
Eddie replied, “You? Controlling? Never. Now, how many sex jokes did you say I was allotted per show? Forgot what we agreed upon.”
Dustin shrugged. “I mean, you can have one. Maybe two. But you have to wait until at least twenty…no, we’ll say fifteen minutes into the show.”
The guys looked at Eddie, then at Dustin. “What?” he asked.
“You’re a machine, man,” said Argyle, shaking his head. “A mic-spittin’ machine.” He took the first shot.
⚜
They all barely climbed down the stairs of the Draw and, just like every time, Eddie wondered aloud “Who the hell let them have stairs?”
As they climbed the damp sidewalk toward the noisier, more crowded block, Argyle lit a joint to pass. “This is from Miyuki’s mother,” he whispered to the older men, saving Dustin's ears, “Georgina.”
Dustin turned back to them. “Ed, weren’t we supposed to meet Eden tonight? Where is she?”
Eddie would never interrupt his inhale for a question from the shrimp and motioned at him to keep walking. He felt butterflies with each hiking step up the hill. As he saw the crowds of kids gathered around bumping, brightly-lit buildings, his mind filled with questions. What kind of clothes did she wear to the club? Could she hold her liquor? Did she dance? What kinds of people did she go out with?
With a giggle and a clatter, all his questions were answered. Out the side door of one nightclub came a gaggle of girls, pouring into the street. There were four: Eden, absolutely ravishing, her sweet round features wrapped in black crushed velvet, uplifted by the sickest platform boots he had ever seen; a standard-issue Brenda and her sidekick, Stacy; and Chrissy Cunningham.
It had been a few years since he’d seen her for the last time, disappearing off the athletic field in a bright orange cap and gown. She was taller now — maybe the heels had something to do with it — and she looked like a woman, but there were things that never changed. He knew it was Chrissy from her eyes, deeply set and perfectly round, and the way she’d breathe through her mouth just a little when she was distracted.
Like now. She was distracted. He was distracted. He stared at the way her incisors brushed her plump bottom lip in the way she always called embarrassing, the way she did back when they knew each other.
His eyes only shut on instinct when Eden hugged her body into his and planted a big, wet kiss. He noticed that he didn’t pull her in as he usually did, for a reason he could already guess. He was in deep shit.
fall, 1994. dustin henderson's freshman year of college. he's the wise, funny glue to the friend group. but what will happen when eddie's dating eden, but chrissy likes eddie, and argyle likes eden, and dustin's the only one who knows any of it?
warnings: almost-cheating, chrissy's eating disorder, weed, alcohol, no smut thus far planned
fall, 1994. dustin henderson's freshman year of college. he's the wise, funny glue to the friend group. but what will happen when eddie's dating eden, but chrissy likes eddie, and argyle likes eden, and dustin's the only one who knows any of it?
masterlist
Argyle is in crisis. Something's afoot with Eden's best friend, Chrissy.
3,000 words | ao3 | no content warnings
“Swish, swish. Up, down, wait. Zigazig, ahh.” Eddie’s sneakers squeaked against the linoleum tile of the hallway.
“That’s not what I said at all. What does that even mean?” Chrissy giggled.
“It means you’re a pro, Chris. It’s abstract art, what you do.”
“What do you know about what I do?” Chrissy’s ponytail swung as she stepped to face Eddie head-on, stopping him in his tracks.
“I know that you look really good doing it.” He kept his hands to himself, but his eyes were all over her.
She smiled and sighed through her cute little overbite.
The picture melted away in an instant. The shiny floors and fluorescent lights of Hawkins High turned to soggy streets and neon signs. Her green and gold cheer uniform transformed into a pink spaghetti-strap top and low-riders. His raggedy denim vest fell to threads, and he was back on the strip near campus, with his girlfriend.
“Hey, you!” said Eden.
Eddie smiled back at her. Eden was the most enthused out of the bunch; the two preppy girls hanging back didn’t seem impressed, and Eddie could tell how Chrissy was trying to fold her jitters into a neat package.
“Are these your friends?” he asked.
“Yeah, um,” she trailed off as the other two began to wander into the bar closest to them, blatantly ditching. “This…is my best friend, Chrissy.”
“We've met,” Chrissy said. “We both went to Hawkins.”
“Oh! Wow,” Eden had never talked about high school with her new beau. She found herself at a loss for words.
Chrissy piped up and asked Eddie, “Remember when I broke my ankle junior year?"
He nodded. Of course he did. She let him draw a pentagram on her cast. “But keep it tiny, Eddie," she said. “TINY.”
“Yeah, Eden was at my house every day, doing everything for me,” she said. “She, like, legit saved my life.”
“The rest is history,” Eden smiled. “Do you want to go in?” She pointed to the garden bar they’d been loitering in front of. The guys all shrugged and followed her lead.
⚜
Looking at his friends, Dustin could tell there was something seriously wrong.
By all other accounts, the scene at this bar was perfect: a walled-in grotto, luscious greenery, and a fountain that had just caught plenty of rain. The subtle lights should have been inviting, maybe even romantic, but the evening for him was soured.
He could barely listen to what Steve and Stacy were telling him. He could only focus on the criss-crossed eyes of his friends across the courtyard; Eddie staring at Chrissy, Argyle staring at Eden.
He didn't know why it put a pit in his stomach.
Dustin decided to swoop in. He walked up to the four of them and coyly asked Argyle what he was drinking. Before the kindly stoner could reply, Dustin was already dragging him to the bar for another.
Even when Argyle complained “Whoa there!” in response to the pushing, Dustin detected something off in his voice. He coaxed him to turn toward the bar.
Argyle cheerily waved to the bartender before Dustin pushed his hand down. This was no time for drinks.
“Dude, are you trippin’ or what?” said Argyle.
Dustin challenged him. “Are you?”
Argyle’s mouth was a straight line, until it wasn't, collapsing under Dustin’s judgmental eye. His tragic face threatened tears as he said “Man, I just don't get it, man!” He leaned into Dustin's shoulder and was immediately pushed away, gently.
“Shhh! The others are watching us, dude!” Dustin warned.
Argyle calmed himself and allowed Dustin to ask what was on his mind.
“Eden, man. She’s so…she's an angel. I would do anything for that woman, bro. God!” His voice threatened to pitch again.
“If I'd have known she was this perfect, I’da never talked to Eddie in the first place. Now I gotta live my life as a piece of shit!” His emotions showed on his whole body; he was impossible to contain.
Dustin grabbed Argyle’s wrists to keep him from ripping out his luscious hair. “Bro. Bro, its okay. We’re gonna figure this out.”
Argyle looked at him as if figuring it out had never occurred to him as a possibiity. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Just keep it cool for now. Go hang with Steve. I can tell that girl’s got the wrong idea.” He glanced at the beauty queen making googly eyes at his Ken-doll friend.
He quietly took over Argyle’s place with the others. As Eden and Chrissy reminisced, he carefully watched who Eddie focused on the most. To his dismay, his friend stared him down quite a bit. He wondered if he'd been found out in his suspicion.
He decided to try a few more tests, the ones Eddie always called “mind games.” He asked Chrissy lots of questions, watching her visibly warm up to him, and listened to Eddie’s responses. There were far too many, with far too much enthusiasm — a “yeah!” or “right?” every few seconds, regardless what she said. Way more than what a friend would give.
Then, the nail in the coffin. He told his signature funny story. It was an old one, one that Eddie already knew. Laughing along a little would have been polite, expected. But when the punchline came, Eddie roared with laughter, looking straight at Chrissy.
There was no question. She had all his attention, and he wanted any little drop of hers he could get.
⚜
Argyle knew the van ride back was quiet. He didn’t know what the fuck to do about that. He only hoped his twitching face didn’t show in the rearview mirror. He was afraid to look back at his friends and see Eddie staring back at him, his beady eyes whispering I know what you did.
Argyle didn’t do anything. Unless you believe in thoughtcrimes. It sure felt like he believed in them now.
He tried to drown out the crimes. Every time he reached to turn up his Op Ivy tape, he remembered ol’Stevie was back there sleeping. He tried to sing along, even inside his head, but he couldn’t understand a word Jesse was singing. Every failed attempt at distraction just brought him back to his worries.
Dustin said they’d figure it out, so he decided to try -- right here, right now. He didn’t think about whether or not that was a good idea; it was the only one he had.
Every solution he thought of — just tell him; leave this place, never to be seen again, and never tell him; travel the world far and wide looking for a girl that’s just like her — seemed to be a dud. They’d all take him away from Eddie and Eden and true love and friendship, all those things he needed like Miyuki needed water.
But there are some things plants know nothing about, no offense. Loyalty. Honesty.
He once thought that he had those things in him. Would he stand up to this challenge?
He decided he would.
“This is your stop, brochachos,” he said to his friends. “Be gentle with the sleeping beauty.”
“I’m gonna get off here, too, Argyle,” said Dustin. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No prob, curls,” he said. “Be safe out there.”
Argyle had dropped them at the Campus Corner apartments. Steve was stumbling and barely conscious, but he knew his way home as long as Eddie was guiding him by the shoulder.
Dustin was glad he was there to help half-drag Steve up the carpeted stairs to his apartment. When Steve said “Nanite” and stumbled into his room, Eddie and Dustin were alone in the hallway.
“Nightcap?” Eddie said to Dustin, opening the fridge for a drink.
Dustin sighed. It would have helped take the edge off a long night. “No, I’m alright. I still gotta get home.”
Eddie nodded to Dustin’s longboard. “Shit, you’re right. How else are you gonna drive that thing?”
Their laughter trickled out until breaking free as quietly as it could.
“Okay, fine,” said the freshman.
Dustin took one sip before deciding he couldn’t contain it anymore.
“So, what’s up with Chrissy?” he said.
Eddie smiled the way he did back when he told Dustin he’d asked Eden out. “She’s cool, right?”
“Were you guys ever a thing, or?”
Eddie’s eye glimmered, and his voice fried in a noncommittal “Aaaah… No, not really. She had a boyfriend.”
Dustin nodded. So if she hadn’t had a boyfriend, then… No. He couldn’t get ahead of himself.
“Funny how it goes, sometimes,” said Dustin. He withdrew his suspicions for now and finished his nightcap. “One door closes…”
“And your sister-in-law opens.” Eddie was clearly very satisfied with himself.
Dustin squinted, ready to respond, and gave up. He hitched his backpack and headed for the door. “I’ll see you, when, Monday?”
“In your dreams, first, pumpkin.” Eddie blew him a kiss and bid him goodnight.
The way the door to this apartment slammed had a way of making it feel like the air had been sucked from the room. Eddie felt it, alone in his silent home, the only pool of light being the flickering overhead in the kitchen. He poured himself another glass and thought.
He started to wonder how much he was really invested in this whole Eden thing. It sounded terrible, because she was a person, not a predicament, but he wondered how much of his heart was in it. Wasn't it always exciting to meet someone new? Wouldn't you always think about them all the time, dearly anticipating your next meeting? This was all normal. It would happen with anybody.
He couldn't broach the question, even inside his head: did he want it all to happen with her?
And Chrissy. She used to be the only friend he had outside of his circle of freaks, the one he could count on for a refreshing break from the wizards, dragons, and heavy music that ruled his days. He smiled to himself, remembering how she couldn't make heads or tails of all his interests. She was a foreign concept to him, too, in some aspects. None of the ones that mattered, of course.
He remembered those days fondly and wondered why he couldn't simply have them back. Catching up with her at the bar had been so natural. This could be his chance. There's nothing wrong with making friends.
⚜
“God, this is too juicy.”
“Yeah, so are you.” Nancy shoved a napkin toward Steve's face, covered in burger grease. He grunted desperately as he tried to swallow, leaning away from her.
With a defeated look, he grabbed the napkin and wiped his lips. “Nance, please. I’m talking about the hot goss.” He looked across the table at Dustin, who was looking miserably at a plate of fries. “So, the thing between Eddie and Chrissy…you think it’s something deeper?”
Dustin nodded, small, pitiful. “And I don’t think it's over.”
Nancy scoffed. “Things get messy. That doesn’t mean there’s still feelings. Even if you can’t just leave it behind, forget that it ever happened.” She took a nonchalant bite.
“That’s easy for you to say. When was the last time you dated anyone?” said Steve.
“Oh, please. Not everyone’s love life has to be full of drama. Like yours.” Nancy threw her dirty napkin at him.
“Guys, seriously,” Dustin said, nearly whispering. “If this doesn’t get under control, Eden will be crushed. And Suzie…” He put his head in his hands.
Nancy shook her head at him. “Under control? You don't even know if there’s anything there. Besides, if there was, how is that your—”
“That's it!” Said Steve, spitting special sauce. “We don't know. We need to get to the bottom of what’s really going on. And since I live with him, I can run intel.” He sat back, smug.
“How? The guy hates you,” laughed Nancy, who was waved off.
The self-satisfied wiggle of Steve's eyebrows made Dustin’s blood run cold. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Under no circumstances will you say a goddamn word.”
Steve was scandalized by all the naysaying. “Why not?”
“Because,” Dustin said. “Clandestine love is of the strongest kind.” As with all things, he explained it severely, sincerely.
Nancy almost snorted Sprite up her nose, but nodded all the same.
“What? What does that mean?” asked Steve.
“It means that whatever keeps two people apart…” began Nancy.
Steve nodded. “Ooooh. It'll just bring them closer.” He demonstrated with two fingers.
Dustin was not amused in the slightest. “That's the problem, though. They're being kept apart as we speak. By Eden.” He rubbed his face in grief. “This is going to be a disaster.”
Nancy shook her head about as much as Steve nodded. “Ow!” He squeaked when Nancy kicked him under the table.
Nancy was obviously trying hard to smile. “Try not to worry about it right now. If Eddie needs your help, he'll just ask you,” she said. “You're a good friend, Dustin.”
⚜
The light was dim. A bedsheet stapled to the wall filtered the afternoon sunlight through sheer black cotton. Bloody Kisses was quietly trancing on the boombox. Eddie was sat on the edge of his bed, and Eden was on top.
Her pale foundation had creeped away from the edges of her mouth, worn away by sloppy kisses. Eddie ran his hands across her waist as she looked down at him, her black fingernails caressing his hair.
With a final smooch on his nose, she turned herself onto the bed and lay next to him. "You don't get bored of kissing?" she asked.
Eddie's hands would not stay off her. He placed one on her hip. "Do you want me to?" He lay on the bed and inched closer.
Eden only giggled and turned to face the ceiling, blushing pink. "I'm pretty sure I've got everything I want," she sighed.
"Scout's honor?"
She looked at him. "Shut up," she laughed at his three fingers held up.
"I'm never, ever going to be able to reconcile that image, Ede." Eddie smiled. "You and Chrissy in little khaki outfits."
"Green. We were bright green." She turned to him. "Well, we were Brownies when we met."
"Sounds like it really brought out your eyes." He brushed her hair behind her ear.
Eden snorted as she laughed. "God, it was such a good time. The only time I left the house besides church."
"No wonder you're a weirdo." Eddie planted a kiss on her cheek and got up.
These were her days now. Eden loved college because she was almost never home.
She knew that growing up in this college town could have been just as exciting. Back in high school, she'd run errands with her dad, or go shopping with her mom, and see kids her age running around the strip like any other grown college student. Her childhood was much more structured than that.
She was expected to help her mom with every aspect of the home — cooking, cleaning, changing diapers, even the homeschool curriculum and taxes. She had her hands full all the way up until the twins reached the age of reason. Then, and only then, was she allowed to go to college.
Since starting school, she'd thrown caution to the wind and went out whenever she wanted, with whomever she wanted. The lack of complaints made it apparent that her family just didn't need her anymore. Even though she was older, her life seemed to have started later than for Suzie, the golden child. When Eden was next to Eddie, though, she felt it all pay off.
The rest of Eden and Eddie's afternoon was fairly routine. He helped her pull the tangles out of her bedhead and walked her across the street to TCBY. She loved the contrast of a spooky couple in a pristine ice cream parlor about as much as she loved a peanut butter-chocolate split. And it was always Eddie's treat.
Between the heat and the multiple bus rides just to arrive home, Eden was ready for a nap. But when she climbed up to her room, her first priority was to call Chrissy. She always had to debrief her on every date, every little thing he said, all of it, because Chrissy was the only one she could share it with. With her best friend, she was never weird or annoying for being excited. Chrissy knew her better than anyone.
"And then what happened?" said Chrissy, practically her catchphrase at this point.
"He said we probably looked super cute in our scout uniforms. What a dweeb," said Eden.
"Oh my god, this loser. My cheer uniform was the same color."
"Oh, yeah? Did he see you in that?"
Chrissy paused. "I mean, maybe. There were lots of, like, pep rallies, and stuff. Oh, and this one time, in eighth grade—" Chrissy's voice faltered, and Eden took the opportunity.
"I wonder what life would have been like if I had met him back then," she said. "What was he like? Was he the same?"
"I mean, I don't know," said Chrissy. "You're talking about your boyfriend. I barely even talked to him back then," she laughed. "You know him way better than I do, at this point."
"Well, you got to catch up last weekend, at the garden bar. What did you think?"
Chrissy chuckled again. "I—"
Eden gasped. "Oh my god, did he get hot?"
"Ede, oh my God. How am I supposed to know if your boyfriend is hot or not?"
"Well, you would know if he used to be hot, right?" Eden teetered one long fingernail on her teeth. She couldn't tell what she was fishing for, and wasn't sure if she wanted the answer.
"Ede, if you had ever met Jason, you wouldn't be asking me that question." The two girls laughed raucously over the phone. Eden decided to quit stressing about Chrissy's type. Eddie was hers, and she was his.
fall, 1994. dustin henderson's freshman year of college. he's the wise, funny glue to the friend group. but what will happen when eddie's dating eden, but chrissy likes eddie, and argyle likes eden, and dustin's the only one who knows any of it?
masterlist
Eden learns of an exciting opportunity. A double date ends in tragedy.
2,600 words | ao3 | animal (cat) death in this chapter
Eden’s eyes were sore from staring so intently. She cursed herself — she always did this. Even though the sewing machine handled everything, rat-tat-tatting away, she always focused way, way too hard on her costumes.
Of course, she blinked for one second and heard a familiar grinding. “Shit,” she whispered, and took her sleepy foot off the pedal and wound the wheel back, lifting her needle. She nimbly gathered the tangled thread and snipped everything loose, ready to start over. This was why she needed to focus. She knew just the trick. Eden bundled the orange fabric and grabbed her car keys. It wasn’t too early to head to campus.
It was 4 A.M. Chrissy didn’t even need an alarm anymore, but her roommate still whined unintelligibly in her sleep whenever Chrissy rolled out of bed and tied on her running shoes. From here to the library to the edge of campus was almost exactly a mile — she knew because it was just under 2,000 steps. Although she’d like to do more, her brain couldn’t handle the monotony of running back and forth. So she did the two mile loop, and then came back to her dorm for black coffee and a shower.
An ice-cold can of strawberry SlimFast waited for her on the sink when she got out. She drank it in front of the mirror, rotating as she stood in her underwear, before rushing to throw on her signature red and white set. She had been staring too long. Practice was at 5:30, and the captain always had to be there first, and always looking fearsome.
“Where have you been?” Marcus barked. He was usually barking, but this time it was justified. Eddie had slept in.
Newspaper in hand, he began to say, “I got the headlines,” before Marcus interrupted him.
“No, no, no! I’m good! I’ve got everything I need! I got my stories, and my playlist, and my cohost, and no USELESS INTERNS!”
That’s what Marcus called his fellow student coworkers on bad days. Interns.
“What you are going to do,” said Marcus, “are the commercials.”
It was everything Eddie could do not to groan out loud. On his way in, he’d seen the sleepy faces of the students who had come to record an ad for their club, or event, or research project. Now it was up to him to get them a spot of coffee and coach them on speaking into the microphone and police their ad’s language and all that good stuff. Then, he had to read all the rest of the commercials by himself, and try to sound cheery for the sponsors.
Yeah, it was real radio work. Scripts, schedules, and asshole bosses. He always thought this would be a dream job. Be careful what you wish for, he thought.
This was no work for fat fingers. At least the cool morning air kept Argyle’s hands dry as he clipped and stored the specimens, the tiny bits of plant life that held infinite secrets. For reasons unknown, they only opened their world of knowledge at the asscrack of dawn when it was freezing outside. He swore he could feel even more wisdom pouring from the plants on the days he forgot to wear an extra jacket.
The feeling of stepping out of the humming greenhouse into the brisk world was something completely else. In there was claustrophobic, loud with fans and heaters, the natural light hampered by the plastic. Outside, it was like taking off a big, bulky helmet — all the pressure gone, birds chirping, wind blowing, and the best part? That sunrise.
At 8 o’clock, the gang knew the meaning of freedom. They met outside the dining hall. Although all their stomachs were rumbling, more important things were at hand.
A squirrel had paused to scream upside-down as it descended the trunk of the big tree.
The squirrel called out in rhythmic squeaks, crying every few seconds as if listening for a response in between. It looked toward some point in the distance, poking its head out, calling into the void.
Eden was the first of the semicircle to speak. “What do you think he’s saying?”
“Maybe he lost his family,” mumbled Chrissy, morose yet mesmerized.
Eddie began to snicker, then Dustin. The two were certainly not on the same page.
Argyle laughed along. “They spent his little squirrelly college fund.”
“Thought they had it squirrelled away!” said Dustin, bumping fists with him.
“I was thinking of something else,” said Eddie, still chuckling.
“You guys are sick,” said Chrissy. “Come on, Eden. I’m hungry.” She dragged her friend away.
Dustin called, “Oh, yeah. I’m so hungry I could eat a squirrel. A whole family of squirrels. Eh? Come on.” No one was laughing at the shrimp.
Chrissy pushed her eggs around on her plate. Dustin had his daily waffle and stuck his grainy tongue out at Eden when she poked fun at his stubborn baby fat. Eddie and Eden guzzled shitty coffee like it was their job.
“Argyle, are you not gonna eat anything?” Chrissy asked. In front of him was a lonely glass of water with lemon.
“I fast every morning until noon,” he said. The girls went wide-eyed in surprise. “It keeps the body and the soul clean.”
“Yeah, he’s super spiritual,” said Eddie, wolfing an Irish pile of whatever he found being served. “He gets by on smells and the energy of the universe.” Dustin passed a piece of waffle under Argyle’s nose, and they giggled.
Eden rolled her eyes. “No, that’s nice! I think it’s cool!” she said in his defense.
They were almost ready to head out and start their day when a tall girl in a blazer approached the table. She had a glossy flyer in her hand.
“Good morning, guys,” she said. “I’m with the Rotary Club and we have some exciting travel opportunities coming up next semester. Applications are due before fall break. I’ll just leave this here. Call us if you have any questions!”
The gang looked at each other as if a ghost had just visited them. She was gone as quickly as she came, but left her flyer. Eden picked it up.
“Oh, it’s study abroad. You can study Latin in Rome, Eddie, how about that?”
Her boyfriend scrunched his nose and she snorted. Eden continued, “Chrissy, you could join the ballet in Vienna.”
“Ugh! I’ve sworn off ballet forever,” she said, raising some eyebrows. “What about dancehall? Take me to Jamaica.” She leaned back, fingers laced behind her head, and laughed with her friends.
“Oh, my gosh,” Eden said quietly. “They literally have a theater program in Japan.” She crunched the flyer, pointing fervently at it, leaning in to Eddie. “Look. It says costume design right there.”
“Whoa.” said Eddie. “Would you…wanna do that, or?”
“How much is a plane ticket to Japan?” Argyle mused.
Eden looked at Chrissy, mouth wide, shaking her head. “I don’t know, but that’s really fucking cool, right?”
Chrissy shrugged and pouted her lips. “If I were you, I’d think about it.”
⚜
At four in the afternoon, the October chill wasn’t too bad. Argyle supposed it all came down to the way one dressed; Chrissy’s hoodie and Eddie’s waffle-knit sweater sure looked warm. Argyle, himself, was seriously lacking, even though he should have known how to dress for Indiana by now. And Eden, in her black and red trench, was smoking hot.
He swung his putter over his shoulder as the four of them moseyed toward the windmill. This was close to being the perfect day. It had been Eden’s idea: minigolf, dinner, drinks, wherever the night took them—all the better to get to know one another.
Argyle’s first shot at the windmill was a dud. And the next one.
“Of course you would hit the blade dead-on twice in a row,” said Eden, checking him in the shoulder. “Anywhere but the hole.”
Argyle’s laughter choked out in brief “heh-heh”s and began to grow until he met her deep brown eyes and froze.
“Ah…Good one,” he said to her, before shouting to Eddie.
“Hey, Eddie, man, your girl is so funny, you shoulda heard what she just said, about the…uh…”
Eddie was not listening, instead critiquing Chrissy’s form.
At the next hole, while Chrissy took her turn, Eddie and Eden were solidly in a lip lock. She was so into it, Argyle could see, that Eddie opened his eyes for an instant, thinking it was over. He was wrong. Her tongue was down his throat, and Argyle’s heart was in his.
“Okay, okay, I think you’ve marked your territory,” Chrissy said as she walked up and pinched Eden. No wonder these two were best friends. They were both so funny, and so smart, and God damn it.
They boarded the SUV that Eden had borrowed from her father and found themselves at the Draw again. With no money left for a table, they stood on the iron balcony and watched the bikers and boozers pass below. It was all cold beer, good-natured heckling, and a beautiful sunset.
When it got dark, they had obviously worn out their welcome on the stairs of the busy pool hall.
“What are we gonna do now?” asked Chrissy, notably restless.
Argyle knew: “You guys wanna meet my cat?”
They arrived at the bungalow on the dodgy street near campus. Argyle jingled his keys as he twisted the door open, flicking on the light. “Oh, Nug!” he called, turning back to grin at his friends. “Where you at, Nug, buddy?”
Argyle pointed Chrissy in the direction of the bathroom when she asked, and let Eddie crack into the fridge for a beer. They were just getting ready to open them when they heard a shriek.
“Oh my god!” They heard Chrissy cry, and Argyle ran to the rescue.
Dipping out the side of the litterbox that sat on the bathroom floor was the white-and-black spotted backside of Nug. The cat was lying limp in the sand, motionless.
“Holy shit!” said Argyle, shuffling Chrissy out of the bathroom. Eddie and Eden peered in.
Eden shook her head and spoke to her boyfriend. “I’ll help Argyle if you want to help Chrissy, Eds.”
Eddie nodded and led Chrissy out of the house as she chattered something about being okay with peeing outside and having never seen a dead thing—like, for real, for real dead.
Eden stood at the bathroom door surveying Argyle as he stood over his cat. He began huffing, then sniffing, then blinking, and then it all came at once, his dry face becoming soaked with tears. She saw him silently cry in solitary thought and left him there while she went to look for towels for Nug.
“Hey,” she whispered, arms full of soft, clean things.
Argyle looked at her, eyes red. “Hey.”
“I got some towels for him,” she said, now without her coat, the sleeves of her sweater rolled up. She knelt on the ground and spread out a towel to lift him onto.
Argyle sat on the edge of the bathtub. “He was my dad’s cat.” He sniffed.
Eden looked at him with genuine surprise. “Your dad’s? You brought him all the way from California?”
The big guy nodded small and sad. “Yeah. Dad called’im Gollo.”
“Goyo?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s that mean?”
Argyle cracked a smile through the tears, and almost chuckled. “It’s short for—it means, it means nug in Spanish.”
Eden began to laugh too, quietly, in reverence.
They hoisted little, soft Nug onto the towel, brushing litter clean from his long fur.
“He was so pretty,” said Eden. “He was an old baby, too, wasn’t he? Skinny.”
Argyle nodded. “He was turnin’ eighteen next month,” he said, breaking down again. “Wanted to—to do a little party for’im and everything—he’d be old enough to vote,” he sobbed, barely intelligible.
On instinct, Eden reached for his hand and patted it.
“Hey. He can still have his party,” she said. Argyle’s tearful face looking back was heartbreaking. “What was your favorite memory with him?”
Argyle sniffed again, deep and wet with all his grief. “I, uh… Here, why don’t I show you…” He lifted the burrito that was Nug off the bathroom floor and took his towel-clad baby to the bedroom with Eden.
He opened the closet to reveal his makeshift plant chamber, lamps, fans, and all. Eden was astonished. She knelt by the small plant closest to her.
“This is amazing,” she said.
Argyle knelt next to her, resting Nug gingerly between them on the floor.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the plant near Eden, “is Rosario.”
Eden pointed between Rosario and the towering plant beside. “What’s the difference between these two?”
“Well,” said Argyle, “There’s two. I’ve been cutting Rosario’s branches so she’ll grow more wide as opposed to tall. Because otherwise these babies will just grow and grow and there’s no stoppin’em,” he said.
“The other difference is just what I was gonna show you. See, if you touch right here,” he stroked his thumb against the small, sticky, stubby leaves where a flower would soon grow, and Eden followed suit. He brought his thumb to his nose, and she carefully played along.
“Wow,” said Eden. “It smells like…coffee or…”
“Biscotti,” he said. “Every one smells different. My favorite memory is when I let Nug smell it, and he made that schtank face cats make, you know what I’m talkin’bout?”
Eden drew back her lips and showed her teeth. They both laughed.
“No, no—it’s like this,” Argyle said, and stared his blank eyes into the distance, mouth set like he was tasting, contemplating the biscotti smell. “That was Nug. The dankness changed his life, dude.”
Eden nodded. “You should name it after him.”
“Yeah?” Argyle placed his hand on the bundle between them.
“Nug’s Biscotti.” Eden shrugged.
They left the room and Eden showed Argyle how to prepare Nug to be buried the next morning. “It’s been a long night. Give yourself a break for right now and leave it for tomorrow to figure out.”
Argyle nodded diligently and said goodnight. Eden walked out to her car and saw Chrissy already asleep in the passenger seat.
“Is he okay?” asked Eddie, materializing from the back seat. It was jarring to be back in the car. Eden thought she must have been in the house for 45 minutes.
Eden smiled at him and jerked her head toward Chrissy. “Is she okay?”
The noise Eddie made showed a severe loss for words. “I… didn’t even know someone could react like that to a cat they just met.”
Eden turned the car on. “Well, technically, they never met, did they?”
“Aw, Ede, come the fuck on,” he chuckled.
“I kid, I kid,” she said. “I helped him out as best I could. It reminds me of when my dog died. Years ago. Chrissy’ll remember that one.” Eden shook her head.
“I didn’t know you had a dog,” said Eddie. Add that one to the list.
“Yeah, had. One dog. And according to them, just a dog,” she motioned flippantly, one hand on the wheel. “So that meant eldest daughter got to deal with it on her own. Burial and everything.”
“Shit, Eden, I’m so sorry,” Eddie croaked.
“Hey, it’s ancient history,” she said. “And it looks like Oreo came back around to pay it forward tonight. I got to help out a friend.” She smiled in the rearview. “Makes it all worth it.”
hello dear. i would love to hear about maligno and/or camisado?!
omg thank you!!
maligno is one i actually just finished today...! it's very very short and is an older latina reader who is going to the funeral of....someone who lost their life to cancer. and eddie is involved. It talks a lot about family, marriage, and eddie as a partner. as for the characterization it was a mix of vibes ive wanted to play with, and they are just lightly sprinkled in. the other day i posted that i can take a fic in 2 different directions - this was that! so i went the sad route. there's another (smutty cougar) route that maybe i will write someday. idk should i post it???
camisado is a panic at the disco song lol and it got me thinking about jonathan byers as a kid. what if his life was really, really terrible? what if he was in and out of the psych ward, constantly between diagnoses and prescriptions? what if in high school he thought he met a girl who was just like him, but she turned out to be the biggest mistake he'd ever make? think jonathan and nancy but it's that one clingy unkempt couple from school who only ever had one another because their home life was shit...yeah.
