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soothemetosleep · 8 months ago

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Nowhere Else To Go

"pairing": eddie munson & oc (lorraine seymour)

summary: when you almost died from an interdimensional monster but are even more afraid of coming home and having your mother see you looking like you just crawled out of a grave and on the verge of a panic attack, there aren't many shelters to choose from

words: 2.9k

disclaimer: mention of drugs, drug use, prejudices, use of bad words, minors with firearms

The cool night air wrapped around Lorraine as she exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl upwards and disappear into the darkness. Its sharp scent clung to her like the grime on her clothes.

It was much darker now, the oppressive weight of nightfall transforming the world around her, but Lorraine hardly noticed—her mind was elsewhere, pulled taut with the strain of nerves that refused to settle, focused only on every rustle of leaves, every distant creak.

Her shoes scraped against the crumbling pavement that eventually gave way to the rough dirt of the poorer side of town, slowing her steps as Lori took in the change, her surroundings becoming eerily unfamiliar. Or perhaps she did know them, only they were distorted under the cloak of night and the haze of fear and drugs.

The joint between her fingers had burned down to a nub, but she took another long drag anyway, letting the harsh smoke burn her throat and keep her from fully grasping that new surreal reality.

There was the flicker of a streetlight ahead, its sickly yellow glow struggling to stay alive. Lorraine blinked, squinting as her brain tried to clear itself enough to process where she was. Was that the edge of town? Had she reached the farmlands?

No. It was perhaps worse.

Sitting on practically the outskirts of town, the Forest Hill Trailer Park came to view as a cluster of mobile homes, the unpaved roads Lorraine had followed leading to it like to a forgotten corner of the world. The trailers were lined up in neat, uneven rows, but the uniformity ended there. Many of the "homes" had their exteriors faded by the elements, with rusted panels and chipped paint. Others bore the scars of hasty repairs —duct-taped windows, tarps spread across leaky roofs, and sagging porches where the wood had long given up fighting decay. But despite that, life clung on in stubborn ways: a few children's toys scattered around, the occasional potted plant sitting on the steps of trailers that tried, in their own way, to be welcoming. Dim lamps cast warm light through curtains that had once been white, the sound of a television drifting from an open window, the occasional dog barking in the distance.

Despite never having been there before, Lorraine knew enough to feel the resignation that hung over the place. She was about to turn and leave when an unexpected name and a direction written on a napkin stirred in her mind: Eddie Munson lived there, didn’t he? What a fitting place for the one everyone dimmed as an outcast, the one who seemed the type to roll with whatever madness came his way. The type to not press for details, to not judge. He wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

It was incredibly funny how her dealer seemed to be the most dependable person right then.

Lorraine flicked the last of her joint into the ground, watching the embers sizzle for a second before snuffing out completely.

Perhaps it was the still-present fear that drove her to do something as crazier as to step into the trailer park.

A deafening guitar riff poured out from Munson’s trailer, rattling the walls with every fierce strum of the strings. Clearly, this wasn’t a one-time thing; the neighbors didn’t even bother to complain. Either they were used to it, or Eddie had long stopped caring whether they did.

Lorraine doubted he’d hear her over the music, but she knocked anyway—loudly, insistently, for she really didn't have anywhere better to go or anything better to do. And to her surprise, the music cut off abruptly. A brief moment of silence followed before she heard footsteps and the door creaked open.

Eddie squinted into the darkness, his face lit feebly by the glow of the single bulb inside the trailer. His eyes widened as they locked onto hers, recognition crossing his features.

“Lorraine?” Confusion laced her name. “What are you doing here at this hour?” He glanced down, finally taking in her disheveled state and, of course, lingering on the rifle slung over her back like some relic from a war zone. He didn’t do as much as freak out. Didn’t even look surprised. If anything, it was the gentleness in his tone that caught her off guard, like he didn’t want to spook her, even if, by his posture, she could tell Eddie was tense. “Are you okay?”

“Hey,” Lori forced a smile, though it felt hollow as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. As if hugging herself would keep her together. “I'm—It's fine, I... I'm sorry to bother you, really, I just...” Her voice faltered. That’s where her wonderfully laid plan ended. She hadn’t even thought of an excuse before knocking on his door, looking like she’d crawled through hell. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Lori ultimately opted for a half-truth wrapped in vagueness. Let him fill in the blanks with whatever story made sense to him. It was better that way.

She watched as his throat bobbed with a subtle gulp before he stepped aside, silently agreeing to whatever version of what had happened he was constructing in his mind. “Come in.”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Lori’s chest deflated with a very much-needed relief. She followed him into the cramped living room, Eddie motioning her toward the old, sagging sofa that had seen better days.

“Take a seat,” he offered, but Lorraine shook her head weakly.

She didn’t trust herself to practically collapse on the cushions, not when she was still caked in filth, even if her body was aching in places she hadn’t noticed until the adrenaline and the weed began to wear off. “I’m fine. I don’t want to mess up your place.”

Eddie glanced around, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as if to say you think this place is clean? Still, he didn’t press, shrugging instead. “Suit yourself. You, uh, want something to drink? Water? Maybe something stronger?”

“Water’s fine.”

Eddie gave her a small nod, disappearing into the kitchen, leaving Lori standing awkwardly in the living room. The girl took it in —mismatched furniture, clothes lying around the floor, empty beer cans, a clutter of magazines and cassettes strewn across the coffee table, a poster of some band barely clinging to the wall. There was a copy of The Return of the King sitting on the TV, its well-worn pages hinting at multiple reads. It was a small detail, but it tugged at the corners of her lips. Somehow, the lived-in chaos was comforting, especially when her own mind felt as entangled.

Eddie returned, a glass of water in hand, and handed it to her without a word. She took it, murmuring a quiet “Thanks” before sipping the cool liquid, hoping it would calm her down, if only a little.

He leaned against the arm of the couch, studying her with a laid-back but present concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

The question settled into her already heavy chest. Loraine felt guilty for having him think the worst, but again, telling him that a monster from another world had almost caught her would only lead him to think that she had taken too many puffs and had had a hell of an astral trip.

“Could I use your shower? Please?” The tremor in her voice betrayed her, showing just how desperate she felt to wash it all away—the dirt, the terror. She needed to scrub it off, to feel human again, to somehow reclaim the part of her that still believed in normalcy.

Eddie studied her for a beat longer, ultimately nodding towards the bathroom. “Of course, go ahead. I'll get you some clothes you can change into later.”

Lori would never call him a freak or anything like that ever again. In fact, she would seriously defend him against insults from Becky or any other cheerleader or asshole on the team.

She turned toward the bathroom, pausing for just a second before the door. “Thank you, Eddie. Really.”

He shrugged, as if to say it was no big deal, but his eyes softened. “Shout if you need anything, okay?”

Lorraine sat curled up on Eddie's couch, her slight frame swallowed by the oversized T-shirt he'd lent her, an unknown band logo sprawled across the front. It was so big it might as well have been a dress, draping loosely over her as she cocooned herself in a blanket. The sound of the washing machine hummed softly from the other room, its rhythmic swish a kind of unexpected lullaby that soothed her in ways nothing else could at the moment. Her still-wet hair clung to her face, but even that was oddly comforting.

Her eyes roamed the room in quiet observation, though there wasn't much left to focus on. Eddie had picked up most of the mess she'd noticed when she first came in, the only thing left on the floor being her things, the firearm at reach in case anything went wrong, like the monster appearing through a crack in the ceiling or some other unbelievable-thing-that-wasn’t-as-unbelievable-now.

“I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, again. ” Her voice when she first talked after getting out of the bathroom came out slightly hoarse, the result of all the screaming she'd done in the woods. “You really don't know me beyond the fact that you sell me weed.”

Eddie glanced over at her from where he was sitting by the window, keeping a respectful distance —close enough to show he was there, but far enough to let her have her space. He smiled, easy and reassuring. “It’s no big deal. I’ve had a few people crash at my place before,” he said with a shrug, his casual tone making it clear that her presence wasn’t a burden. “Besides, you got me some business, and I’m not about to turn away a customer who promises to be a loyal one.”

Lorraine didn’t know how, of all people, it was Eddie Munson who was pulling a genuine smile from her. He let the silence stretch without feeling the need to fill it, allowing her to bask in a kindness she hadn’t realized she needed.

She exhaled deeply, sinking further into the couch, pulling her legs up to her chest as she tried to ground herself, remind herself that the danger was behind her. But even though Eddie's presence helped, no external stimulus drifted her mind back to the woods, the darkness, the monster.

“You were playing the guitar before I interrupted you. Could you continue? Play something? Anything.” Anything but that silence.

Eddie pushed himself up from the chair without hesitation. “Yeah, of course. Any requests?”

Lorraine shook her head, and nodding in response, he disappeared down the hallway, returning moments later with a red, geometrically sharp guitar. He sat down again, settling the instrument on his lap, fingers effortlessly finding their place on the strings. A soft, steady melody soon filled the trailer, a far cry from the intense riff he'd been playing earlier. It was something calmer, gently nudging away the lingering twitchiness. Lori found herself unexpectedly mesmerized: she’d always admired those who could play instruments, especially the guitar. When she was little, she’d wanted to learn it herself. But when she’d mentioned it to her parents, her father had enrolled her in piano lessons without asking. Perhaps he had viewed the piano as more proper for a girl, and Lorraine, eager to please, had gone along with it at first. She hadn’t hated it—not exactly. But the competitiveness of the music school, coupled with the strict expectations of her teacher, had drained the joy out of it. Eventually, she’d quit, her desire to play an instrument snuffed out like a candle.

“How many of those are yours?” The melodies were completely unknown to her —maybe because his taste in music simply differed from hers—, leading her to wishfully think that, if he had a band, it must mean he wrote songs, too.

Eddie glanced up at her, a proud smile spreading across his face. “About half of them,” he said, his fingers pausing for a brief moment on the fretboard. “The rest are covers. I've been working on an album, though...” His voice trailed off, a slight sadness coloring his tone. “But that's still in process.”

Lorraine perked up at his response. “You write the lyrics too?” There was something so revealing, so personal about what people decided to express through writing in a song, in a poem. Like a window into someone's soul. And now, sitting in that moment of unexpected tranquility with the boy who had taken her in, she found herself genuinely curious. What would his lyrics say about him, about the world he saw? She wanted a glimpse into that, to see him from a different angle, to understand something more about who he was beyond the surface.

“Yeah, everything,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug. “I've got a few songs I've been working on, but... I'm still trying to find the right sound, y'know? For the full, hypothetical album.”

Lorraine leaned forward slightly, her curiosity now fully piqued. Hypothetical was the kind of word someone used when they were unsure if a dream would ever really materialize. She wanted to know why. “Could I read some of them?”

Eddie let out a nervous laugh, caught off guard by her request. “You?” His grin was a little lopsided, his tone playful but edged with caution. “I’m not sure I want the poetess Mr. Hauser can’t stop praising to judge my stuff.”

Lorraine raised an eyebrow. Mr. Hauser? Praising her? That didn’t seem like the same man who rarely offered more than a half-hearted compliment in class. Especially compared to the enthusiasm he saved for students like that Robin Buckley. But even if Eddie’s words were a little exaggerated, the idea was flattering, and for a moment, it made her smile.

“Come on, I'm not even that good.” Lori brushed off. “Please?”

Eddie chuckled, but his defenses seemed to crumble under Lorraine's puppy dog eyes. “Alright, alright,” he finally said, shaking his head as though he couldn't quite believe what he was about to do. “I don’t usually let people read my unfinished stuff, but if you’re that interested...”

Lorraine watched as he disappeared down the hallway again, listening to the faint sounds of him rummaging through something in his room.

When he returned, he was holding a black notebook, the cover worn and torn at the edges, filled with stickers. He handed it to her with a grin, but there was a flicker of nervousness behind it. “Here. Just... don’t laugh at my horrible handwriting.”

“I won’t,” she promised once her fingers brushed against the rough texture of its cover.

Lorraine flipped through the pages, squinting slightly as she tried to decipher Eddie's scrawled calligraphy. His lyrics were a chaotic blend of mythological references, dark imagery, and intense emotions, but there was one that stood out. It was about a wanderer, someone drifting through life on their own terms, free but burdened by a sense of isolation. She read it again, lingering on the rhythm of the words, focusing on the strong hit of syllables, imagining the kind of music that might accompany them.

“Do you have a melody for this one yet?”

Eddie, who had been watching her with a quiet intensity, shrugged. “It's one of my newer ones. I've got a melody in mind, but I'm still working on getting it right.”

He took the notebook back from her, resting it on his thigh to let his fingers absently strum a few chords on his guitar. Then he paused, his gaze shifting from the notebook to Lorraine. He studied her for a moment before speaking, his tone thoughtful but curious. “Have you ever tried to write down a song? Instead of just poetry?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I mean... I don't know anything about composing or music theory at all,” she replied, shaking her head.

But Eddie waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “You don’t need to know all that to write,” he said, casual but insistent. “And you sure as hell don’t need it to learn how to play the guitar.” Before she could protest, he practically tossed the instrument into her lap.

“Hey, wait—” Lorraine raised her arms defensively, the weight of the instrument pressing against her legs. “Really, I can’t do it. I surely suck at it—”

“No shit, smart ass.” Lorraine’s mouth dropped open at such sudden liberties taken with her. He got up from his chair and plopped down beside her on the couch. “Nobody’s born taught, so don't sell yourself short without even trying first.”

Lorraine ended up holding the guitar, her fingers awkwardly positioned on the strings. Eddie leaned in, his calloused hands guiding hers as he showed her how to form basic chords. The first few notes she played sounded rough, disjointed, and she winced slightly, but Eddie just laughed, nudging her encouragingly. “You’ll get it. Try this one,” he said, showing her a short, simple riff.

She wasn’t Jimi Hendrix reborn by any means, but there was something oddly satisfying about the way the notes came together, the way Eddie’s patience and easy-going attitude made her feel less self-conscious.

Turned out she enjoyed it more than she thought she would.

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#stranger things #ao3 fanfic #eddie munson #fanfic #female original character #oc #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things imagine #lorraine seymour

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soothemetosleep · 8 months ago

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Meeting The Eddie Munson

"pairing": eddie munson & oc (lorraine seymour) summary: going into the trees to smoke a joint to de-stress from school life ends up becoming a meet and greet with the most famous freak of hawkins high words:3.1k disclaimer: mention of drugs, drug use, prejudices, use of bad words

That day's practice had been more exhausting than Lorraine anticipated, leaving her more eager than ever to smoke the last joint she had tucked away in her bag—not that anything looked like the perfect excuse at that point.

Taking advantage of Chrissy’s early departure, Lorraine excused herself, walking Chrissy to her mother's car, all the while feeling the pull of the woods that loomed just beyond three-quarters of the school grounds. Once Chrissy had driven off, Lorraine didn’t hesitate. She veered away from the parking lot and headed into the trees.

Two weeks ago, while scouting for a secluded spot to smoke her worries out, she stumbled upon a picnic table nestled relatively deep in the woods. The table and benches were in rough shape, the wood weathered and covered in scribbling and doodles, but that could only mean not many bothered with it. As she approached, she caught the faint, familiar scent of pot in the breeze, which at first didn't alarm her: the smell had already seeped into the wood long before she found it. She didn't think someone else would be there.

“Shit,” Lorraine muttered to herself as she spotted the unknown figure sitting at the picnic table, long dark curls resting on their shoulders, their head bobbing to the tempo of a music only they could hear, thin trails of smoke curling up around them.

Just great. Lorraine’s luck seemed to be spiraling downward at a frightening rate. Her reputation as a trusty good girl who doesn't get into trouble was about the only thing she had left after her status as a star student had already taken a hit, and the last thing she needed was to blow it up entirely by getting caught there, of all places, by someone that... Was that Eddie Munson? That just made it even better.

She started to back away, hoping to retreat quietly before he noticed her when a twig snapped under her foot. The sound wasn't that loud, but it was enough to make the Freak's head whip around as he took his headphones off. They both froze. Lorraine saw his eyes widen in surprise, his jaw slackening slightly as he fumbled to hide the joint under the table as if the telltale smell hadn’t already given him away.

“Um… Sorry,” Lorraine stammered, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “I didn’t know this spot was already taken.”

Eddie's brain seemed to be working overtime, processing the situation. Finally, he shrugged, trying—and failing—to look nonchalant. “Eh, it’s fine, I wasn’t really doing much. You can sit down if you want.” He gestured vaguely toward the other bench, ‘discreetly’ looking behind her in a comical display of panic.

Lorraine's smile tightened as her gaze dropped to the ground, her hands clutching the backpack handle. Now, being in that place only made her uncomfortable. Because of him.

Lori didn't want to be judgemental and superficial, but everything she had heard about him or his father wasn't exactly good things, and she didn't know him well enough to challenge those views, let alone trust him.

What if he went around telling people he’d seen her there? Maybe even twist the truth or make something up to make her look bad? Though, why would he? He had no reason to... right? Moreover, it wasn’t like anyone would believe him over her. She had the benefit of the doubt on her side, unlike him. And if it came to that, she could easily turn the tables on him.

Besides that, the craving to smoke was growing stronger with every whiff of the joint still hidden under the table, and it wasn't like Lorraine had much time to find another spot before she had to return to the library. So, screw it.

Lorraine exhaled softly, her artificial smile relaxing just a fraction as she met his gaze again. “Thanks,” she said, more out of politeness than gratitude as she walked over to the opposite bench and sat down on the opposite end where Eddie was, dropping her backpack beside her. The wood creaked slightly under her weight as she shifted to look for her pot.

“Didn’t think anyone else knew about this place,” Eddie broke the silence, his voice shifting to a more casual tone, still tinged with uncertainty as he tested the waters with the newcomer.

“Yeah, well... I guess we have that in common,” Lorraine replied flatly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave it at that. Rummaging through the interior pockets of the backpack, her fingers reached the joint, but the lighter was nowhere to be found. Lorraine clicked her tongue: for sure, some airhead from either sports team at Hawkins had added one to their collection, intentionally or not. Lori glanced up, not bothering to change that serious resting face Olivia had once commented could come off as intimidating to those who didn’t know her well, but being Eddie Munson at the receiving end didn't make her care. “Could you pass me your lighter?”

“Uh—" Eddie blinked. “Sure thing.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his lighter, holding it out toward her with an affiliative smile.

Lorraine took it by the end, purposefully avoiding any unnecessary contact, then pressed the joint to her lips. The flame ignited the tip with a quiet hiss. She left the lighter on the table, and as the first inhale filled her lungs, she felt her body ease, her eyes flutter close, every possible strain melting away with just one puff. The girl didn't need to look at Eddie to know he was staring at her, probably dumbfounded. He hadn’t moved an inch when she opened her eyes, still holding his own joint under the table as if what he’d just witnessed was a hallucination. After a few seconds, though, his expression shifted, and he relaxed. With a newfound sense of trust—or maybe just shared complicity—he pulled his joint to his mouth, no longer bothering to hide it. Now, they both had dirt on each other.

He took a slow drag, his amusement clear in the way he spoke next. “So that’s what someone like you is doing in here?” He was playful, maybe even teasing, but it struck a nerve.

“Someone like me?” she repeated, her biting voice laced with a quiet challenge. She hated those kinds of assumptions, those remarks. People always thought they had her figured out just by looking at the image she sold when they couldn't possibly know the half of it.

Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, easy there, hurricane. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just... you know,” he gestured vaguely up and down at her, the words trailing off under the weight of the pointed look Lorraine was giving him. He quickly took another hit from his joint, using it as an excuse to avoid finishing the thought. “I mean, no offense or anything, but you're not exactly the type I usually see hanging out in the woods, you know? But hey, more power to you if you're down to blow off some steam, right? I get it. Sometimes you just need to get away from all the bullshit.”

Lorraine narrowed her eyes, shifting them to the ground as she pulled her legs up onto the bench, crossing them as she took another drag. She could feel the tension starting to seep away, the sharp edges of her frustration dulling with each breath of smoke. She realized, with a pang of guilt, that she had just lashed out at him for no real reason. He wasn’t trying to pick a fight—he was just making conversation, maybe trying to be nice, and there she was, acting like a bratty teenager.

She let the smoke flow out in a measured sigh. “Sorry. I’m just... a bit on edge about everything lately.” The words felt hollow, echoing the state of perpetual exhaustion the constant pressure and expectations had worn her down to. She didn’t expect Eddie to understand, but she also didn’t care as much anymore.

Munson blinked again before his lips curved back into that playful smirk. “Apology accepted, no worries,” he said after a beat, letting the ashes of the finished joint fall to the ground before tossing the butt to the side. His shoulders had loosened as if her apology had taken a weight off him, too. “Life's a bitch, I should know.”

A snort of laughter escaped Lorraine, having not contemplated that comment at all. A sardonic smile tugged at her lips as she considered the irony of the situation: getting high with the school’s most notorious outcast in a secluded spot in the woods, only to find that maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

The usual storm of thoughts in her head had calmed, and Lorraine found herself more aware of the stillness around them, filled only by the muffled hum of music coming from Eddie’s headphones, serving as a background track to their unlikely conversation.

“What were you listening to?”

A knowing smile graced his lips as he pointed to his Walkman. “Oh, just some Iron Maiden. Nothing special,” though his face told a different story. “The Number of the Beast, just one of the best albums of all time.” His tone was light, teasing, which earned him another amused snort and a roll of the eyes from Lorraine. “Hey, don't laugh when you don't know what you're talking about. Here.” He held out his headphones to her. “Judge for yourself.”

“Oh.” Lorraine glanced at them, then back at Eddie, her expression blank but with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. After a bit of dithering, she reached out and took them, placing them over her ears. As the heavy melody and driving rhythm filled her head, her furrowed eyebrows began to loosen, her head nodding almost imperceptibly to the beat. “It's actually pretty good,” she admitted, not without a note of disbelief. “They’ve got a nice riff.”

Eddie couldn’t but smile wider at her reaction, his chest swelling with satisfaction. “Told you. Iron Maiden all the way,” he said, not making any move to take the headphones back. Instead, he leaned forward on the picnic table, his necklace swinging slightly with the motion. It caught a flicker of light and, in turn, Lorraine's attention. The chain had attached a black guitar pick, which was worn and smooth from use.

“You play?” She motioned toward the pick as she moved one headphone away.

Eddie nodded, his fingers instinctively reaching up to trace over the edges. “Yeah, guitar. I’m actually in a band. We’re called Corroded Coffin.” He couldn't resist adding a dramatic flair to the name, moving his hands theatrically as he said it, dropping it when Lorraine just stared back blankly.

Her eyebrows were furrowing again as the name tugged at something in her memory. “Corroded...?” The gears turned in her mind when, suddenly, it clicked. “Oh, shit!” The realization burst out of her, the filter that usually kept her more reserved breaking down thanks to the haze of the high. “You played in that talent show a few years ago, in middle school.”

Eddie's eyes seemed to lit up with the kind of hope that only comes from someone who’s not used to being recognized for something they’re passionate about. “Yeah, that's us! Did you see us perform?” He leaned in slightly, eager to hear more, as if her answer might validate the hours he’d poured into his music.

“Yeah!” Lorraine's smile widened, perhaps the most genuine one she had ever directed at Eddie Munson. “And you were, like... pretty great. One of the most memorable performances, too.” She chuckled softly. “The name was quite impactful.” His infectious grin was impossible to resist. She studied him for a moment, narrowing her eyes as she tried to picture him on that day. “Weren't you, like... bald, back then?” She pointed at her hair, the image of a scrawny skinhead kid with a guitar too big for him flashing in her mind.

Eddie laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I was. But I got tired of shaving my head, so now I just let my hair grow out.” He explained, running his fingers through his brown mullet.

Lorraine nodded in approval. “Good choice. It suits you.”

She picked up how his cheeks flushed slightly. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his fingers once again brushing through his hair as if to make sure it was still there. “I've always been into the metal look,” he added, trying to sound cool, but a hint of embarrassment still colored his voice.

It was kind of sweet —having a guy blush at her compliment instead of trying to embarrass her or fish for them himself.

Lori found herself starting to see him in a different light: yes, he was peculiar, but he wasn't the ‘freak’ everyone made him out to be. He was actually nice to speak with.

The cassette tape had reached its end, so Lorraine gently removed the headphones and handed them back to him. “Thanks for letting me listen.”

Eddie accepted them with a nod, his earlier bashfulness fading into something more comfortable. “Anytime,” he replied, tucking the Walkman away.

"Oh." Lorraine paused, realizing they hadn't introduced each other formally. Third-party hearsay didn't count anymore. She extended her hand, a friendly smile on her face. “I'm Lorraine.”

Eddie looked at her outstretched hand, stupefied by the gesture —like anything she'd been doing the whole time there—, but ultimately shook it with a firm grip. “Eddie,” he replied with a small smirk. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

In all the time they'd been talking, she had completely forgotten about the joint in her hand, now almost entirely burned out. She glanced at it, detached, before pressing the last embers against the table to extinguish them. She flicked the remains to the ground without much thought, her mind already drifting elsewhere.

“You know, you're not so bad. For a cheerleader.”

Lorraine perked up, her eyebrow arching as she shot him a look, her infamous intimidating resting face making a brief appearance. But she quickly caught the playfulness that hinted he was teasing her.

“And you’re not so bad yourself,” she retorted, her own smirk turning slightly cynical as she tilted her head, mirroring his tone, “for a freak.”

He was clearly enjoying the banter, judging by how he beamed brighter. "Well, now that we've established that, if you really liked my band back then, you should come check us out sometime. We’re playing at The Hideout next Saturday." He reached into his bag, pulled out a slightly crumpled flyer, and handed it to her. “I promise you, we’ve improved since then.”

Lorraine took the flyer, examining the address of the place and time of the performance. “Perhaps you’ll see me there.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered to the ground, nodding once. He bent down slightly, rummaging through his backpack, and Lorraine’s eyebrows shot up when she saw him pull out another joint. He lit it with practiced ease, inhaling deeply as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The sight made Lorraine haver, but curiosity gnawed at her. If he was this casual about it and seemed to have a steady supply, what harm could there be in asking? She bit her lip, considering her words carefully.

“Um, Eddie,” she began, tentative, trying and failing to sound laid-back. “I was meaning to ask you… Would you happen to know… someone who sells?”

The brunette raised an eyebrow as he locked eyes with her again, an amused glint in his eye. “You mean, like, weed? Because if you're looking for someone, you've found the right guy. I can hook you up.”

“Ah.” So the rumors were true after all. “Alright.” She wavered, unsure of how to navigate how absurd it all suddenly seemed. “So... how does it work? I just... hand you the money and we make an exchange, or...?”

Running a hand through his hair, he simplified, “Something like that. So... You're kinda lucky, Lorraine, 'cause I've got a stash right here, right now. And this place is almost always deserted.” He patted his bag, emphasizing the convenience. “And in other good news for you, uh… flattery works with me, so... how about a twenty-five percent discount for the half? Fifteen bucks.” He made a grand gesture with his hand. “A bargain for you and a robbery for me.”

Lorraine chuckled, charmed by his sudden blarney. “A great businessman, I see.” She considered the offer but then frowned, biting the inside of her cheek. “Well, I'm... very grateful, but I don't have any cash on me right now.” Her nervousness crept back. “Can we... meet up another day or something-? As soon as possible?”

Eddie paused, thinking it over before nodding. “Sure. We can meet up tomorrow after school, right here in the woods. Or...” He rummaged through his bag, pulling out a pen and a napkin, quickly scribbling something down before handing it to her. “You can swing by my place if you just... happen to walk by the trailer park.” Lorraine took the napkin, her eyebrows classically furrowing as she read the address scrawled on it. “And don't worry, all of this will stay between you and me.”

Lorraine's smile tightened as she processed the idea of going to his... house. One thing was unplannedly hanging out in the woods behind the school with him, and another very differently was specifically seeking him out in his own house, alone and in a closed space. Kind or not, she still didn't know him enough to put so much trust in him.

“Thank you, but I think I have time tomorrow after classes. Here, at the same spot?”

Eddie nodded, his smile reassuring. “Yeah, same place.”

Lorraine felt a wave of relief wash over her; the matter of how she was going to find more weed finally settled. She stood up from the bench and grabbed her bag. “Okay. Thank you. It was nice... hanging out with you.” The words felt strange on her tongue, something she never would have imagined saying to Eddie 'The Freak' Munson of all people. But life had a funny way of throwing curveballs, and today had certainly been one of them.

He leaned back on the bench, his signature playful grin on check. “Yeah, I guess it was. See you around, hurricane.” The brunette winked at her, then turned his attention back to his Walkman, casually rewinding the cassette tape as if it all was just another ordinary day for him.

Not so ordinary for Lorraine.

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