#Eddies POV change would be chapter two

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY TWO

in which eddie is honest. for real, this time.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, discussion of/allusions to smut from last chapter, angst, not edited (what's new though), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.1k+

→ a/n: welp. this... yeah, this is a lot. i truly hope it's worth it. in the waiting, anticipation, and length. if it isn't... my bad. i'm sorry in advance. also, please note, pov change only applies to the memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

22:00 ──────────────ㅇ─ 24:00

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

—

HOUR TWENTY TWO – 1:00 PM

You can’t speak. It’s as if you’re frozen; every muscle, including your tongue, has gone rigid. Every racing thought escapes just beyond your reach. Every single one of the last twenty two hours pound behind your rib cage, and you think you might just faint. Right here, right now. The blood rushes your ears as your body goes ice cold, and even the railing cutting into your palm seems to drift away from you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t even try to deny it. He knows you heard what he said – he can’t take it back. It’s written plainly on his face that if he could, he would swallow back down those disastrous words. He’d grab that destruction four letter word right out of the air, no doubt, and set it aflame. He’d blow away the ash if he could guarantee you would have never heard it.

But he can’t. You heard him. 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

Everything is heavy. The air, your limbs, your godforsaken tongue. 

“Say something,” he suddenly begs. You’ve never seen Eddie look so desperate, eyes wet and voice cracking, “Anything.” 

You want to answer him. Your bones ache with the need – the need to reply, the need to question, the need to do anything but stare at him with what he must surely mistake for horror.

Were you horrified? Were you?

You don’t know. 

It’s why you can’t answer him. 

“I-” he starts up again, breaking down even further right before your eyes. You want to reach out, to coddle him, to tell him it’s fine. But it’s not fine. 

You don’t even get the chance to ruminate on just how not fine it is, or that heat beginning to come to a boil in the pit of your stomach, because the sound of one of the neighbors exiting out onto their own balcony interrupts the infinitely delicate moment. 

“Hey there, Eds-” You don’t know what actually interrupts the gruff man that steps out, who exudes familiarity with Eddie until he takes in the scene before him. 

Eddie, completely fucking naked. You, with only a shirt on. If it weren’t for the moment at hand and the trembling emotions coming to fruition inside of you, you’d probably find it comical. You’d probably find a way to join in the old man’s single guffaw before the two of you meet each other’s gaze and become aware of what exactly is happening.

But it’s not funny. You’re both fucking naked — physically and emotionally — and it’s not funny.

You’re mortified as both of you are scrambling across the balcony, a whirlwind of discarded clothes fisted and nearly tripping over each other to shove back into Eddie’s living room. That embarrassment now trickles down into the start of a boil, everything in you becoming red-hot from how flustered you’ve become and the way you can’t have a second to just process it all. 

When you turn to face Eddie once the sliding door has slammed shut, his cheeks are the brightest pink imaginable. 

“What the fuck,” you whisper out, trying to steady your breathing, trying to take it all in. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your adrenaline is almost making you sick. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he catches your whisper amongst your stoic silence and seems to forget the moment that his neighbor had just shattered, voice clear as day as he pulls his curtains shut. You swear you catch the old man still staring, still laughing, and you’re just grateful that you’re not the one completely nude, “I had no idea Mr. Jenkins would come outside, usually none of those fuckers see the light of day before sundow-”

“Your neighbor just saw us naked,” you almost scream. You want to shout, want to throw everything in sight. You crave to flip that coffee table in the center of the room and throw a fit that outdoes even the most petulant of toddlers.

“I know, I-“

“If you say sorry again, I’m walking back out there,” you take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm you’re shaking body, “And I’m throwing myself off the fucking balcony.”

Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about it in five years. A year, even. Hell, a month or as soon as next week. But you can’t right now; all you want to do is cry.

Some random man just saw you naked. Eddie apparently fucking loves you. 

It might be the sleep deprivation and it might be the fact that it feels like the Universe is laughing in your face at every turn right now. Whatever higher power exists seems to be waiting around every corner for the chance to kick you repeatedly as you stumble to this finish line. And you can’t fucking take it.

So you give in. You give in to that childish need to stomp your feet and scream until you’re blue in your lips.

“I just- Fuck!” Eddie jumps a bit at your exclamation, he’s still naked, “I can’t catch a break! I can’t catch a fucking break. First, I’m showing up here, and I’m stuck with you for twenty four hours. I’m stuck with the man I hate for a whole fucking day,” you’re full on pacing, not caring how ridiculous this scene would appear to anyone. Your hands wave erratically in the space around you, and all Eddie can do is stare, tense with wide eyes, “And I cry in front of you, have full breakdowns in front of you. I listen to you remind me over and over how much you truly despise only to now suddenly find out that, hey! I actually love you! And do I get to process that? No. Because now, some fucking old man that lives next door to you has seen my goddamn vag-“ 

Eddie’s entire demeanor collapses. “Oh, so now I’m back to being the man you hate?” 

You pause your ranting, realizing what you’ve said. 

You’re just angry. You should have thought before you spoke, before you opened your mouth and began to spew your venom, because you can see the way the words have struck Eddie. Not your intention.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you said that,” he flatly argues back. 

Your stomach twists.

“I’m just-“ your tongue is back to being heavy as the two of you face one another. Feet apart, worlds apart. “I’m fucking embarrassed, Eddie.” 

“You think I’m not?” he scowls, and you try to tell your racing heart it’s a good sign. But it’s not. You almost preferred his walls dividing the two of you, “Shit fucking happens. We got caught — we fucking dirty talked about getting caught! Big fucking deal! Karmic justice or whatever bullshit people spew. It doesn’t mean I’m going to- It doesn’t change-“ he’s stuttering now, matching that exasperation that had you pacing just moments before. He huffs, a hand reaching up and dragging his bangs upward, harsh at the root as he finally drops his hands in his own defeat, palms slapping his sides, “Everything changes. You said that, not me. You said everything changes, and all it takes is a little bit of fucking embarrassment to go back on your word?” 

He’s still fucking naked. You still can’t think.

“I’m not having this conversation with you naked,” you whisper, almost in disbelief as you shake your head, “I’m- Put your fucking clothes on. Please.” 

“Put my clothes on?” he scoffs, taking a step closer to you, “Put my clothes on? Do you mean the same clothes you just insisted I take off not even ten minutes ago?” 

“We were having sex!” you yell. You’re sure if the old man is no longer on his balcony, he can hear you through the walls. Hell, even if he is still outside, it’s likely he hears the screaming match beginning, “Why- Why are you turning this on me right now? You just said you fucking love me! The least of our issues right now is me telling you to get fucking dressed!” 

“Why are you lashing out at me right now?” Eddie’s voice is louder than yours, something more broken inside of it, “I-“

“Clothes,” you grit out, avoiding his eyes as you start to yank your panties on violently, “Now.” 

You can still feel him. His essence is dripping between your thighs. And you don’t find any sense of enjoyment in it, you don’t savor that quick-fading warmth nor the reminder of the pleasure he’d just brought you. It just reminds you of the words he had said all while not even looking you in the eyes. He couldn’t even face you as he had admitted it. 

One thing at a time, you try to remind yourself. One fucking thing at a time. 

Eddie’s own redressing is another sight that maybe, hopefully, one day you’ll look back on and laugh at. But right now, it can’t spark any amusement in you. Not as all your emotions slam back into you at full force.

You’re embarrassed. You’re confused. You’re angry.

“Happy?” he spits out once his boxers are on, shirt tugged back on so hard over his head that his curls frizz up.

“No,” your eyes are burning, and you feel it again. All those desperate emotions. Like a wild animal inside of you has begun to claw at your insides, making you bleed from the inside out. 

Eddie loves you — and he has, for a long time, apparently.  

Eddie’s neighbor has seen you naked. Saw your full bottom half exposed.

You’ve managed to hurt Eddie’s feelings, again.

Eddie fucking loves you and never thought to mention it. He has for a long time.

All your tempered strings snap, that wild and stricken thing inside of you finally cutting loose.

You don’t know what you’re angry at. You’re angry at him, and yet you’re not. You’re angry at the situation, and yet you’re not. You are bitter from words withheld and you are sour from every moment that paves the road that brought you two to this very moment.

You’re just angry.

“What did you mean?” the question comes out sharply enough to make his own defiant anger fade ever so slightly as he physically flinches, “I- I need to know what the Hell you meant, Eddie.” 

Anger is metallic on your tongue. It seeps from your skin, floods the air, only further dampens everything already so heavy. 

The longer he doesn’t answer you, the more smothering the entirety of the apartment becomes.

“Just tell me. Make it make sense, because right now?” you pause for a deep and shaky breath. Your eyesight is blurry now. Eyes red rimmed with tears that will surely sear your cheeks if they find the nerve to be shed, “Right now, I don’t get it. Over and over and over again, you have reminded me that you hate me. Prior to tonight, it was safe to assume that scorning my existence was one of your favorite pastimes. And I know, I get it — everything has changed. But- But-“ 

How can anything change if you weren’t honest to begin with? 

Did anything change for him? While you were discovering and tending to sore feelings that had been festering for a while but had never seen the light of day, was he only nursing an old wound? 

“But what?” his voice drops low. His entire demeanor has dropped, cowering down before you. His head dips down, his shoulders droop with prepared rejection, you watch the man before you, the man you had just let defile you and the man you had just worshiped on your goddamn knees, turn to dust.

A shaky gasp. Wobbly knees. The blood rushes through your ears again, flushing out any noise except the two of you breathing out of sync. His deep breaths, accepting and welcoming a rejection he was so sure he was receiving. Your shallow breaths, panting and rapid and trying to just get everything to slow the fuck down.

You were right. Once the tears shed, they burn a trail of Hellish fury right down the center of each cheek. “When I say everything has changed between us, what does that mean to you?” 

He’s undressing an old wound, an open slash that seems to be unable to form a scab. You’re pressing on bruises, aching parts of you that had purpled from his neglect long ago. It’s clear as day now — the difference.

You no longer care about the embarrassment of being caught.

“What do you want it to mean?” 

“Don’t do that,” the tears fall faster now. You can’t even begin to dig into this chasm of emotions. Are you angry at him? Are you disappointed by the circumstances? Do you love him? “I want an answer — I need your answer. You promised me your honesty, so give me it. Now.” 

His eyes meet yours, and your entire world seems to fold into itself, “It… doesn’t mean much. It doesn’t change much.” 

Everything has only changed for you. 

“So it means nothing, then? You have me at your disposal, you have me on my fucking knees for you, you tell me you fucking love me, and it all means nothing?” 

You’re twisting his words and you know it. But you can’t help it, can’t stop it. 

“I never said that!” his voice is no longer low and quiet. Sudden worry creases beside his eyes as his mouth goes slack in shock, “I never said it meant nothing.” 

“But it doesn’t mean much, right?” You hate your wet cheeks. You hate the way everything in you is somehow slow-breaking, yet suddenly shattering. An unnerving juxtaposition that is drowning you and sending you reeling over and over again, “It doesn’t change much, right? Because when I said that, Eddie, I meant it – everything fucking changed for me. It wasn’t- It’s not- This isn’t just some throwaway thing to me. Not even a day ago, I thought I had to hate you with everything I had. I thought I had to hate you.”

And I don’t. Not even a little bit. Even right now, when I should. 

“Is that what you think I’m saying?” his voice is low where your voice has risen, his face calm where yours has gone stormy. 

Where you’re on fire, he’s treading still waters. The opposite dilemma that has always existed, and the one you had the nerve to see as poetic. But water meeting flames is never poetic. It never ends well. You should have seen that coming from a mile away.

“What am I supposed to think?” you also quiet your tone to match his. You wonder if the neighbors really had heard a thing. You almost hope they had, that this argument is affecting someone else’s day the way it’s affecting you, “You’re standing here, and you’re telling me it doesn’t mean much, and-“

“It doesn’t change much,” he corrects, and you’re now the one flinching at the crack in his voice. “Not for me. Not when I-“

Not when I’ve loved you for so long.

He can’t even finish his own sentence.

“So what does it change?” you throw your hands out in exasperation, “If it doesn’t change much, what has it changed?” 

There it is again — his silence, your anger. 

“Is it not enough to just know it changes something?” 

If you were stupid, you’d take his tone as pleading. You’d mistake it for begging. But you can’t. For all your fury, you can’t believe that he’s actually stooped so low as to beg for you, especially after what he’s just said. Time and time again, you had repeatedly cracked yourself wide open for him, and he’d managed to rip your heart right out of your chest with such a simply yet damning statement. The most casually cruel bit of honesty he had offered you yet tonight: that nothing changes.

“We’re back to square one,” you choke out in realization, “I- Fuck. This entire time, you weren’t honest with me.” 

He opens his mouth quickly, and for a second you believe he’ll offer an explanation that can soothe over the ache. He’ll come up with an excuse that you can buy, he’ll explain himself in a way that proves you wrong, and the sweet oblivious bliss can return. 

“No,” he says instead after careful consideration, “I wasn’t honest with you.” 

Your tears are running rampant as you only nod slowly, pressing your lips together in defeat, “Awesome. Great,” you reach up, sniffling as you swipe at your nose, still silently quiet but no longer awarding him with any display of your rage, of your hurt, of anything but your acceptance, “No, really, that’s- Cool. Nothing changes. I get it.” 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

It didn’t make sense, but you don’t have it in you to dissect it any further. He had loved you the entire time, and still set out to make you bleed. His grand admission doesn’t change a single fucking thing. 

You don’t say another word as you grab your pair of jeans up into your fist, being sure to move slowly and not in the haste every nerve in your body calls for. You need to leave – you need out of this apartment, and you need to never see Eddie Munson again. It wouldn’t be a far leap from what your friends already deal with. If the friendships take blows of damage from it, so be it-

“Where are you going?” he asks, standing stiller than a statue as he watches you.

You grab your bag, “I’m leaving. The deal’s off. Or- I don’t know. Tell them the bet’s off-”

“The bet is not off-”

“It is,” you turn to him, absolutely frozen in your resolution, “It really, really is. You can even fucking lie to them if you want, I don’t care. Figure out a way to get the money but I don’t want it. I’m done.” 

“So that’s it?” he scoffs in disbelief. When you pull on your jeans, when you sling your bag back over your shoulder and begin to walk to the counter where your phone was left, he realizes that it’s really happening. He realizes you’re truly done, “No questions? I just told you I wasn’t fucking honest, and you’re just going to walk away, not even demand I tell the tru-”

“I’m tired of pulling the truth from you,” you finally move with some of the aggression you felt, hand smacking the counter beside your phone, “If you care so much, if you love me, I shouldn’t have to beg until my knees bleed for you to actually be honest with me,” you take your phone, shoving it into your back pocket before you look at him, “I can’t keep doing this. You were always right. They’re your friends. Congratulations, you got what you always said you wanted. You won’t have to deal with me anymore – consider this a farewell from your life. I’ll make sure no one invites you to my fucking funeral.” 

You assume he grabs you due to your cruel reference to his insult from the very beginning of the night, that he’s going to fight you for that bit of your oddly calm speech. But when his hands wrap around your bicep, and you face him with those silent tears still racing, what comes out of his mouth stuns you. 

“I’ll be honest,” he is pleading, he is begging, “Stay, and I’ll tell you everything. I don’t even fucking care about the bet — we can call off, everyone else can go to Hell. I don’t care about the money, I don’t care about the bet, I just-” he pauses, and you watch the desperation building taller and taller within him, “Stay and let me explain.”

You should tell him no. You should tell him to go to Hell. If you stay and hear him out, it will only end in pain for you. You should leave.

Instead, your bag begins to slip off your shoulder. 

“You have ten minutes,” you whisper as his hand finally releases its grip, “Explain.”

—

SIX MONTHS EARLIER - EDDIE’S POV

If he were smart, Eddie would’ve kept his word.

He’d told them he wasn’t showing up. He’d told them he had work (not a complete lie), and that he wouldn’t make it tonight. He just hadn’t felt like drinking anymore — not since two weeks prior, when he’d gotten black out drunk while hanging out with Nancy, throwing his own personal pity party. 

Pathetic.

It wasn’t just that killer headache that had been haunting Eddie since that night. It was much more than that; it was solid and palpable regret. He’d thrown back too many beers, mixed it with some sort of wine coolers that Nancy offered him once he started to feel the buzz. All it took was just a bit too much alcohol in his system, and suddenly, his rant that Nancy had agreed to indulge him in became so much more. One moment, he was just complaining about you. And the next, he was rambling, letting less harsh words slip between the complaints, more compliments than things he wanted you to change. One wine cooler in, and he was no longer complaining about the way everyone had been fawning over you after a full six months of friendship, but instead the way that your sad eyes and pouting lips following him around a room was cosmically unfair. 

He didn’t remember much of the rest of the night, and he was glad when Nancy had given him a pitiful look over the cups of coffee she offered. 

He’d told her. He knew he’d admitted his stupid, annoying, despicable crush on you to her. Probably whined about the way you and Harrington had clearly had something going on. Definitely spoke too much about how badly he wanted to experience your gentle hand in his calloused one, or to feel your arms wrap around his neck in greeting rather than daggers from your glare every time he entered a room. Hell, he’s sure there was a good thirty minute period amongst the fuzzy memories where he’d sat on the edge of tears as he continued to mumble about how he wasn’t good enough for you.

Nancy Wheeler, his best friend, finally knew. Six fucking months of keeping it under wraps, and Eddie Munson had finally slipped up.

And she clearly hasn’t forgotten as Eddie had prayed she would every single night as she’s the one to answer his knocks on Steve’s door, grinning with the hidden knowledge.

She’d texted him with one last plea for him to show up. Insisted everyone was here. Went so far as to make him a list, and made sure to add your name at the end. It had been phrased like an afterthought on the screen, but he knew her too well. He knew Nancy purposefully mentioned you.

“Munson! Finally! It took you long enough,” she squeals, clearly already halfway to drunk before she quiets down, “And you said you weren’t coming. Wonder what, or who, changed your mind.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It had been a bad day. Work, classes, a phone call with Wayne that had just left Eddie disheartened and terribly homesick. It was selfish, but the thought of seeing you in passing tonight, even if you did seem to dislike him just as he had intended, made it all a bit more bearable. 

Coming home. Seeing you felt like coming home, even if you’d slammed the front door on his face.

He follows Nancy down the hall, a pit growing in the bottom of his stomach, heavy as ever. He shouldn’t have even wanted to see you. The last time he had seen you, you’d been out for blood, blatantly ruining a date he’d managed to bag with Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy, who never gave him the time of day in high school. Chrissy, who was clearly set on using him as a rebound during yet another break from Jason. Chrissy, who’s only flaw wasn't just the fact that she wasn’t you.

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle greets Eddie the moment he enters the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, Jonathan to his right and a space where Nancy clearly had occupied now empty. 

Eddie nods, still feeling the week weighing him down. No sight of you yet, “Hey, man.” 

He just wanted to see you. One glimpse, preferably before you’ve caught sight of him, and he’d be fine. He’d learned to live with those fleeting moments the last six months, he could keep it up for just a bit longer.

He’d get over you eventually. Even if it killed him.

He had to give his plan time to work. So far, he’d done well, easily offering you a cold shoulder and nothing more after that first night. It wasn’t easy — he doesn’t think anyone would find the task of being cool towards someone as radiant as you easy — but he’d done it. Brick by brick, his wall of invincibility was standing tall and strong between you two. It was safer this way, he had to remind himself. It was better to run off of brief glances of your smiles and laughter never directed at him than to risk anything more. He’d only disappoint you, or you’d magically disappoint him, and it would end in bloodshed. Someone like you, someone so good and kind and easy to gravitate towards, would leave Eddie broken beyond damage. 

You didn’t go for guys like Eddie. Steve had made that clear since day one.

Eddie takes the loveseat as Nancy returns to Jonathan’s side. He tries to make it subtle, the way he twists his head to glance around the room as he removes his jacket, eyes roaming until he finds you. In the kitchen, with Steve and Robin, tense back telling him you’d already noticed his arrival.

So much for seeing you smile.

He tries to keep up with the conversation going on. Argyle and Jonathan are having some sort of debate about aliens, nothing short of heated and passionate, and he’d normally be jumping in without hesitation. But his eyes can’t stop flickering to the kitchen and each time, he can see you downing even more alcohol. He knows you don’t like him, but did you hate him that much?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Nancy leans over to whisper as Jonathan grows in volume about another branch of a conspiracy theory.

“Just tired,” he flatly replies. He’s suddenly itching to get his hands onto some alcohol of his own. Fuck the lessons he should’ve learned a few weeks ago. Fuck his regret in confiding in Nancy.

“Was work rough?”

He hums pathetically in response, eyes glued to the kitchen still. To you.

Nancy’s eyes finally follow his focus, “Have you… I don’t know, ever tried just talking to her?”

He snaps from his daze at that, head turning quickly to Nancy, “I talk to her all the time.” 

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

“Never nicely,” she points out, narrowing her eyes, “You’re like a little boy on the playground, tugging on her pigtails until she figures it ou-“ 

“I don’t want her to figure it out,” he cuts off the assumption, eyes widening in horror at the thought, “Christ, Nance. I thought I made that clear when I ended up shitfaced on your couch.” 

Nancy softens. She can see what’s happening here, see every dampening thought that weighs Eddie down. He might not remember his drunken rambles, but she does. 

“The only thing you made clear is what a spectacular ass you’re making out of yourself,” her words hold no bite, only truth, “Who cares what Steve said that night? He was drunk.” 

“So was I,” Eddie’s eyes are back on you, palms running up his outer thighs until he curls them to fists by his hips, “I was drunk when I talked to you about her. Forget about it.” 

Surprisingly, his stubborn best friend leaves it be. Puts the pointless argument to rest.

Eddie’s feelings can’t rest, though. 

Every night, he tells himself it’ll all go away. The distance will make his heart grow harder, and he’ll eventually be able to wash himself of you one of these days. And every night, all the feelings you’ve sprouted inside of him only teem their way higher, up into his throat and choking him with every last breath before he falls asleep. He can’t forget those first few weeks, the way you seemed to think his coldness was a phase. You’d tried so desperately to seek him out at every function, sparked so many failed conversations with him that left him to burn. Every smile you’d offered him during that time, he’d taken for granted.

Even last week, when you’d interrupted his date, he’d let himself relish in the memory of your attention. Pathetic. 

Had you been jealous? Had you just been spiteful, finally giving him a taste of his own medicine? He couldn’t decide, wouldn’t let himself linger on the reasoning. But he’d remembered your touch, could still feel it scarring his skin wherever your palm of fingertips had rested as you’d scared off Chrissy. He’d even hesitated in the shower that night, pausing for a moment before washing over the shoulder you’d gripped when you’d first approached their table and embarrassed him without care. 

He deserved your spite. 

And he deserves to have to overhear the conversation you’re currently having in the kitchen. You’re going on and on about all the men you’ve had dates with, detailing out every one night stand for Steve and Robin who listen with eager ears.

It makes his stomach churn and twist sharply. Each new man you bring to your roster makes his throat burn with jealousy, plain and simple. And he knows it written all over his face when Nancy leans over and puts a hand on his knee, giving him a concerned look. 

Even the change of topic between Argyle and Jonathan on goddamn Bigfoot can’t overtake the sharp cut of your bragging. 

“I’ve never seen your eyes so green, Eddie.” 

He’s about to snipe back that his eyes are brown, and be unnecessarily cruel from his sour mood, when he realizes what she means.

“I’m not jealous,” he lies through his teeth.

“You very much are.” 

He doesn’t have it in him to bicker back and forth about this again. Not about you, and not with Nancy, “What does it matter? Like I said, me and her? Never gonna happen.”

He had said that. He remembers that, at least, from his drunken confession. He’s sure he reiterated that point several times once he’d made it past the point of coherency. 

“She’s lying,” Nancy casually whispers, pulling her hand back, “She- Us girls talk, you know? Just… she’s lying.” 

“I went on a date with Chrissy. It doesn’t matter.” 

And she has no clue how fucking hung up on her I am. She’ll never know if I have anything to do with it.

“You can keep saying that,” Nancy glances, making sure their other two friends on the couch are still too deep in conversation to listen in, “But we both know that’s not true.” 

Unsurprising. Even if Nancy hadn’t listened to him cry that night about all his miserable yearning, all his unrequited feelings born out of a mess he got himself into, she would have known. Eddie has tried to guard himself when it comes to you, but there’s some times his leashed affection can’t help but seep out. 

Whenever you stumble on sidewalks beside him, his arms and hands are the first to fly out. Whenever the group has gone out to bars altogether, he watches you like a hawk, almost daring the men surrounding you to disrespect you. Whenever your birthday came around, he’d bought that damn gift card to his favorite coffee shop, all because he saw you frequent it twice. Although, to be fair, he’d made Harrington be the messenger there. He wouldn’t have been able to look you in your eye, wouldn’t have been able to put up the bitter persona on a day that should be special to you. He didn’t want to ruin your birthday, so he’d simply sat on the sidelines. Let everyone else go out and celebrate with you. Let everyone else pour enough affection into your cup, even when he wishes his own could have been the final drops to cause it to overfill. 

He had to tread carefully. It’d be too easy — to let himself pour out all these silly feelings and meaningless attraction. One wrong move, and he’d cause his own undoing. His own destruction. It doesn’t matter if it would be by your hand; he’d only have himself to blame at the end of the day.

He’s lost in thought, still itching for a drink, when Nancy is suddenly standing over him. “We’re going out for a smoke, you in?” 

He shakes his head numbly. His mind is far away now, getting lost in all that he’s done wrong, all that he can’t have. 

He’s homesick. He’s watched the way you’ve interacted with Robin and Steve the entire night, and he’s goddamn homesick for a home that he’ll never hold the keys to. 

“You sure, man?” Argyle asks him, wiggling his brows, “I brought the good shit.” 

Numbing his mind with drugs. It’s tempting.

“I’m good,” he reaffirms, still speaking in monotone. He doesn’t have the energy to put up a brave face, too focused on his heavy chest and that miserable pit in his gut still. 

And everyone leaves. He’s sure there’s something poetic for his stormy mind to pick up on there, as he watches his friends gather without him and exit to the outside, but he’s more focused on a miniscule detail.

You’re not with them.

Meaning you’re still in the kitchen.

And God, he really should know better. He should stay planted in his seat and he should sit in his misery until they all return. Only trouble can come from not doing so. But then his body moves to its own accord, fueled by something wickedly cruel and terribly homesick as he grabs one of the bottles of beer off the coffee table. It’s Nancy’s, he’s sure of it. Her lipstick stains the opposite side of the rim he takes a swig from. The beer has long since gone lukewarm, but beggars can’t be choosers. He clears his throat as the bitter lingers on his tongue.

He should know better.

But he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t as he enters the kitchen. You’re on your phone as he stands in the doorway, and there’s no time to hide what you’d been glancing over.

A dating app.

You spin to face him, and he imagines a world where your eyes land on him and light up. Something akin to that first night, to those first few weeks. Where you look at him with purpose, and he sees relief flood your irises rather than irritation or fear. 

No such luck. He only has himself to blame.

He can’t think of anything else to say, so like an idiot, he gestures vaguely with the bottle of beer towards your phone, “Those apps fucking suck.” 

That jealousy is still gnawing at him. Hateful, painful, reckless. 

You look down at your phone for a second, and click to exit whatever messages you’d been on. And then you look back up at him.

“You’ve used them in the past?” you question him, but he’s still stuck on all the recounts of your escapades he’d overheard tonight. Whether or not they were true didn’t matter. All he sees when he closes his eyes is you, with other men. You, looking at someone else with purpose, relieved eyes awarded to someone more worthy.

He’s lucky he can choke out a short, “Nope,” and make it not sound strangled. 

“Okay,” your attention returns to your phone screen, and Eddie’s returns to his internal battle.

He’s jealous. So goddamn jealous it’s insufferable. It’s not your fault – he chose to push you away, he chose to lash out like a child for his own sanity and his own safety. You’d ruin him; you’ve already ruined him without even trying. If he gave up on the act, on this carefully thought out plan, he’d be beyond leftover rubble of a man. He’d be gone beyond recognition, reduced to ash and smoke. A nameless, forgotten whisper of dust that people would only point to and say, see? Look at that. That’s what becomes of you when you never learn. 

He’s pined enough in his lifetime after girls like you. Girls who were too good for him. He’d done it with Chrissy, and it was still causing him nothing but trouble. 

That burden didn’t hang over Chrissy, or over you. It was all Eddie’s own fault. Neither of you could help that he wasn’t good enough; it wasn’t either of your jobs to fix him or lower your standards for him. You’d even been kind, you’d even nearly fallen into that trap. 

It was for the better. All of it was for the better this way. 

And yet the jealousy remains. The anger still thrives between his ribs, and begs for release. 

“Why are you even still on them?” he should think over his words more carefully as they begin to roll off his tongues. He knows he’s in the wrong before he even continues, “I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

Each word is sharpened so intentionally, glinting from raking against that anger inside of him. You don’t deserve their prick. Really, he should just be comforting you the way the others do – how Robin surely was, how Steve must be. 

But it’s part of the plan. So he tampers down the jealousy and he feeds into the anger, lets it consume him. Because making you hate him is easier than letting you like him. It’s easier to watch the one you can’t have sneer at you like the enemy than let them smile at you like you’re just a friend. 

“I-” you falter in your words, and he decides to straighten his back, takes a deep breath as he slips the mask on effortlessly. He hates how easy it’s become. He hates how quickly he turns everything with you into a fight, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.” 

Sometimes, it’s like a game. And he can pretend that your hatred, your distaste, is also all a facade. Like the both of you are two sides of the same coin. A playful banter rather than an actual argument between two people who can’t even call themselves friends. When he looks at it like that, blinded by his delusion, it makes the ache dull. Sends it away for a few fleeting seconds, convinces himself he really can carry on this way. 

“You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all, tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the boy count you’ve got there, player,” he forces a grin as he leans on the counter, watching his words get under your skin exactly as he had intended. 

You’re cute like this. Clearly drunk, getting flustered. He revels in the way your face physically scrunches in annoyance, the way he can watch you gear up to fight fire with fire. A sick, twisted game of cat and mouse that always can entertain him in the moment and haunt him at night. 

“You’re bluffing. You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.”

He wonders, for a second, if you’d caught him staring at any point. He wonders if you’d even care.

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying.” 

You cross your arms, and he can’t help but watch the way they push your chest up. He can’t help but ponder on how much better it would all feel if this were really playful banter. 

He has to refrain from physically shaking the thought from his mind. 

It’s for the better. 

He narrows his eyes, he grips onto the anger again, that hidden jealousy. He should know better. He should stop it. The words even feel heavy on his tongue, terribly forced. Because his anger isn’t at you. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” and oh, how ironic, for the liar to be calling out someone’s little white lies, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up,” the words come out a bit easier when imagines the barrel of the gun pointed at himself, as if he were speaking so casually cruelly into a mirror rather than at you, “Everyone strikes ou-”

He’s clearly struck a nerve. And it aches, but he reminds himself that that’s the point. That’s his goal.

 “I’m pathetic? Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

He wasn’t trying to avoid you. He was trying to avoid Nancy after his entire drunken confession fiasco. 

“I did!” he continues to lie. Even with no one to show for, he piles up his lies high. Buries himself beneath them, beneath his pathetic act and worthless reasons. It’s probably for the best that you had assumed that he was avoiding you. 

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

The act cracks for a moment as he freezes. Why did you know about his apartment’s pet policy? 

“How do you know that?”

It can’t be because you care, or even get curious about him. He’s done everything in his power to cause the exact opposite, to make you be repulsed by him and to run the other way if you can help it. 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” He doesn’t even react to the roll of your eyes, unable to get riled up as he usually would at that. It clicks for him; it makes sense, because Nancy had stormed down his door not even a day later, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

Eddie does feel guilty about that. He doesn’t mean for his own self-destructive behavior to leach out to his friends, or even you. His goal has always been to make it so that when he’s not around, he’s not even an afterthought to you. But selfishly, part of him preens at the idea of you being reminded of him, of you thinking of him when he’s not in the room with you. It’s a conundrum. It’s almost deadlier than his other option. 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” he grumbles like a damn child, almost pouting in his guilt. There’s another selfish sliver of him that’s also upset at that – upset at the fact everyone else gets to bloom with your friendship and positive attention, but not him. Once again, it’s his own doing. He really shouldn’t be angry at you about it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

Times like these make him want to give it all up. He has to physically tense his body, tick his jaw and bite his tongue to avoid throwing the entire act to the side. He wants nothing more than to grab you by your shoulders and shake you, scream that sometimes it is your fault. But you don’t know it – you can’t read his mind, see past his intentions. 

You don’t know what Steve had so generously reminded him of that very first night. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice is devoid of all emotion despite the storm brewing inside of him. He can’t even blame it on alcohol – he wishes he could, but his tolerance to beer can handle the single sip he’s taken. He crosses his arms, wrapping them around his body, trying to protect that terrible vulnerability only he’s aware of. When your position mirrors his, he wonders for a moment if you’re also feeling it. 

But you’ve been drinking. This entire conversation, every emotion, can be blamed on that. You’re luckier than Eddie. 

“I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment.” 

He lets a reaction at his own irony slip through for a brief second, eyebrows furrowing as the voice inside him screams hypocrite! Hypocrite! Hypocrite!

He wishes he could pretend to be oblivious to why he can’t stop bringing Steve up, but he knows better. He can bury the jealousy alive, but it still bites all the same. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going? We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

We aren’t exactly friends. 

He should relish that confirmation that his plan is working, that you truly don’t see him as a friend, but it just fucking stings. He swallows hard physically, as if it can help him swallow down the truth any better, but it does nothing for him. The truth only continues to choke him up. His tongue has momentarily frozen over in his mouth as he tries to push past the painful reminder and wrap up this conversation. He feels it, that sharp burn of an unattended wound, and he realizes at the wrong moment that whether or not he keeps you at an arm's length, bloodshed will always occur. 

At least this way, he tells himself it’s protecting himself. This way, the knife isn’t pointed at his own heart. 

“You’re right. We aren’t friends,” the words are poison on his tongue. They taste of dirt and rust, like a grave that screams to be dug up but he has no shovel. He’d tossed it once he’d sealed the tomb, like a fool, “But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

At least he wasn’t lying to you for a brief moment. Nance had told him. He’d throw you that bone, at least. 

“Well-” and with your own pause, you seemingly return the favor. You’re handing him yet another opportunity on a silver platter; exposing an insecurity that he should let live and let die, but he won’t for the sake of the wall he has bled to put up between you two, “You say that as if Nancy and I aren’t friends.” 

“Are you?” 

He’ll regret that taunt for the rest of his days. Two simple words, and he’s damned himself. The conversation that follows, about Instagram and followers and social standards of friendship, doesn’t even matter to him. It’s just a routine. Constant knives, clashing swords of words, lie after lie piling up with the bile in his throat as he shoots for kills. He hands over reason after reason for you to resent him, and makes sure that each punch lands. Ignores the ache, the one billowing in his knuckles as if each subtle insult he tosses your way doesn’t bruise his innards all the same way. By the end of the back and forth, it should be enough, for both of you. He’s accomplished the same thing he always sets out to do with every conversation: he pisses you off, putting another inch in that stretch between you two. 

But then you turn your back on him. And he deserves it. God, he deserves it. But he’s still full of bad ideas tonight, the awfulness of the last few days still suffocating him, and so he makes another decision to regret. He walks up behind you.

You open your phone, and he sees it. You’re on the dating app again, and the screen flashes with the face of your latest contender. 

He knows that face. He schools his face to remain even, but he fucking knows that face. 

The bartender at his local haunt. The only other person besides Nancy who had ever seen Eddie so miserable over you. He had been drinking alone that night, and the whiskey had him pouring out his guts to the poor guy. Slurred words of the girl who had slipped between his fingers, of the one who got away, of you. 

And that same bartender had been the one to sympathize with Eddie, claiming he understood. That he knew that feeling – dating around and doing anything in your power to get the girl you truly want off your mind. He said he had one of his own. He’d told Eddie that his pain-riddled speeches helped him make up his mind, that he was going to go after the girl he really wanted, that Eddie should do the same. 

Was this bartender your ex-boyfriend? Had the two of them been discussing the exact same girl?

Bad decisions. Over, and over, and over. It all comes to a rise within Eddie – not just the anger, but the jealousy and the hurt and the goddamn envy of the man on the screen. He hates the bartender, he hates himself, he hates the world at this point.

He tells himself he should add you to that list. But he doesn’t. He can’t. 

And it all spirals out of control before he can prove that to himself. Words grow sharper, small kindles of tension between the two of you finally explode to full blown flames, and he’s suddenly saying things he doesn’t mean. Things he’ll linger on for the days and weeks, the months to come. 

“You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted, Not by those assholes, not here-” 

He’s mid-lie, one finger on the trigger of the gun he assumed was aimed at his own chest, when it finally happens. A snap within both of you. Timed perfectly with the glass that shatters against the wall beside his head. 

Eddie learns two things that night. 

One, half of his plan worked. He’s succeeded. You hated Eddie Munson’s guts, and instead of him being content in his success, he’s sick to his stomach. It doesn’t bandage the wound inside of him, doesn’t pack away cotton nor cauterize the bleeding. It only worsens it. Widens it, impossibly so. He swears shards of that broken glass fly right into his unsuspecting chest, even if Nancy doesn’t find a trace on him when she comes back inside to see the aftermath. You hate him, he’s proven his point. He has proven himself to be the worst possible version of himself, the most unlovable man he had always seen in the mirror now residing in him staunchly enough that every single one of his friends sees it. 

He’d done it. He’d diminished any chance he had ever held of being friends with you. And he thought that, without a doubt, that meant he’d diminished any disastrous chance of letting you close enough to risk the chance of any more of his feelings getting involved. He thought it would have meant that he’d done it – he’d protected himself, and in some sick twisted way you, from inevitable bloodshed. 

But blood had still been shed. Even if his friends were only cleaning up broken glass in the kitchen, he could still see the stain of red across the floor and walls from you and him. He was bleeding out for you, but he had just driven the knife in deep enough that you would never return the feeling. There was no world where you would be bleeding out for him, only because of him. 

The second revelation comes a bit later in the night.

Closer to midnight, hours after the fight, when Eddie finds himself alone as per usual. He stumbles to his usual bar, thankful for the late hours, fully prepared to get so fucking wasted he can’t remember his own name. He’d wish to not remember your face, especially when he had spewed such hateful intent your way, but he knows there’s not a single brand or amount of whiskey out there that can cleanse him of that. Your name is just another ghost to add to the lineup. You’ll haunt him until his dying day. And he deserves that. 

But then, when he walks into the bar, he sees the bartender. 

The same man who had stood you up just the night before. The same man Eddie simply couldn’t understand. He was clearly on a date, a nice girl sat at the table across from him, laughing at every word he said. Eddie remembers their conversation, although a bit hazy. 

“I think you’re onto something, man. Some girls are just… irreplaceable. I’ve got a girl like that of my own – prettiest eyes you’ll ever see, a smile that could cure cancer – and… you know what? I think we should both go for it. Give up on the girls who could never compare.” 

He wants to vomit. The bastard had even poured a round of shots on the house, had fucking cheered with Eddie before throwing back the alcohol with him in the promise of moving onto the girls who matter. 

He had said cheers to discarding you. Brushing off you. To you being one of the girls who could never compare. 

Eddie’s vision goes red, and he knows half of the blame falls on himself. He’d been the reason this asshole stood you up. He had already been the reason for your pain tonight before he’d even said a word to you. His self hatred has never burned so deeply, so viciously.

But you can’t punch yourself. And so instead, Eddie doesn’t hold back when he approaches the table and lands his right knuckles right on the bastard’s cheek bone. Even goes in for a second punch. He would have gotten in a third punch, but the bartender hits back. Not as hard as Eddie, fists fueled by self-defense rather than ravaging guilt and crippling self-hatred, but enough to get deter him until security could gather both men up.

It’s in the alleyway that he has his second revelation. At the hands of the man who had just hurt you. It was like looking in a mirror. Eddie nearly does finally vomit as he leans against the brickwall, security a few paces away, ready to file a police report. But then, the bastard still manages to somehow be better than Eddie, throwing up a hand to stop them from dialing for the cops. 

“Don’t,” is all he says, leveling a stare when Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Really?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, pushing his luck. He needs someone to punish him. He needs to be thrown in a cell for the night, to be treated as the degenerate he truly was, “I just rearranged your fucking face and-”

“Why’d you punch me?” the bartender spits out some blood, nose crooked, “You- You’re a fucking regular, dude. How’d I piss in your cheerios?” 

Eddie’s feeling vulnerable. All his actual feelings boiling and burning in the back of his throat, begging to be released. He doesn’t need a drop of whiskey this time to be honest. 

“The girl,” Eddie rasps, tears threatening to spill as he pictures your face again, “I told you about the girl. The one no one else compared to.” 

The bartender’s eyes widen, “Jesus, fuc- are you telling me that we were talking about the same fucking girl? I- Vanessa told me she wasn’t seeing anyone else, I can’t believe she fucking lie-”

“Not her,” Fuck Vanessa, Eddie thinks bitterly, almost laughing. He has no right to say his next words, but he does, and they cause a pain worse than even the most nightmarish hangovers he’s ever experienced, “My girl is the one you stood up for her.”

You weren’t his girl. You never would be his girl. 

The bartender only looks more confused, and Eddie’s anger flares a bit more at the thought of him talking to more girls beyond you. The man before him had had everything Eddie wanted: he had had you. And just like Eddie, he had fucked it all up. It was easy to misdirect his anger in the moment. 

He says your name out loud, a searing iron in his throat that makes it come out garbled and strangled. Some recognition falls upon the man’s face. 

“Oh… her.” 

Eddie doesn’t hold back, “Her? That’s all you have to fucking say? You stood her up, you fucking- Jesus Christ, go burn in Hell,” He’s being irrational. He doesn’t care, “Call the cops on me. Tell them to let me rot in a fucking cell. I deserve it – but so do you. That girl… that… her. She’s one in a fucking million, she’s a thousand times better than whatever girl you have waiting on you inside, and you couldn’t see that. You’re a goddamn dick.” 

No one makes the move for the call. The bartender just shakes his head again, being far too patient. Eddie opens his mouth, ready to scream now as he demands they punish him. Make him pay for his crimes. Not just the punches, but everything he had broken tonight.

He broke you tonight. He deserves to burn in Hell far more than the man before him. 

“I knew you were in love with her, but-”

Eddie cuts him off, “I’m not in love with her.”

He hates the look he receives. It’s the same pity that Nancy now looks at him with. That same hidden judgment, like everyone else knows something that he doesn’t. 

“You may hate to hear it,” the bartender is choosing his words very carefully as he swipes in a contrasting carelessness at the blood pouring out of one of his nostrils, “But you don’t throw punches like that for a girl you’re not in love with. So I suggest you mind your business, and if she is as valuable as you keep going on about, you tell her rather than punching the dude he just serves you fucking alcohol.” 

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see you anymore. The image of you is clear as day, even with his eyes open. You, broken and vulnerable and full of hatred for him. Just as he had intended. 

Success tastes metallic and bitter. Eddie finally empties what little he had in his stomach onto that concrete alleyway.

He doesn’t leave the wall. Not when the bartender goes back inside with one of the bar’s bouncers, not when the remaining bouncer eyes him and nervously steps forward, not when they return with a paper declaring him banned from the bar. 

He can’t move. All he sees is you. He hasn’t drank more than that one pitiful swig of beer at Steve’s, but he feels like his world has gone incoherent all the same. 

He fucked up. 

He crinkles that piece of paper harshly once he’s properly left alone in the alleyway, angry enough that it tears a bit from his force. It doesn’t phase him; he didn’t intend on returning anyways. He carries it with him the entire way home, regardless, rolls it between his palms until it’s gone soft with the sweat of his hands. 

It’s for the better. He fucked up, but it’s for the better. 

He tosses the wadded ball into the trash when he gets home. Goes through the numb motions of taking off his shoes, tossing his jacket on the counter rather than the hook he’d put up for it, and leaves his bike’s keys beside it. Eventually, he makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth but never once glancing up in the mirror. As a matter of fact, he avoided every single reflective surface in his apartment that night. 

He still sees your face, broken and teary, as he turns off his bedroom light and lays on his mattress that night. It doesn’t matter how many times he repeats it to himself, reminds himself over and over, the mantra of it being for the better doesn’t work. It can’t break through. All because of a pathetic revelation.

Eddie learns that night that he is, in fact, in love with you. And it doesn’t matter, because you hate his fucking guts, just as he had intended. 

—

You don’t make a single move once Eddie breathlessly finishes his explanation. Not even to breathe. 

He’s been in love with you since that night at Steve’s. 

You’d known that he had punched the bartender that night. You’d known that he had been banned from his usual bar that night. But you hadn’t known the entire truth. You couldn’t have ever imagined it, ever pieced it together, until now. 

And you don’t know if that speaks more on you and how dense you’ve been this entire time, or on Eddie and how dishonest he’s been this entire time. 

“God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

It suddenly makes sense. At a sickening and sudden pace, it clicks into place. 

“Eddie, I-” 

“Don’t,” he stops you, looking you directly in your eyes. You nearly shrink under his attention. Your fury is gone; you just feel empty, “You… You don’t need to say it back. You don’t need to say anything – the bet’s off. I’m not being honest to stop you from leaving,” he admits, every single wall crumbling at both of your feet, “I’m just being honest because you deserve it. I should have told you that night. I should- I actually should have never done any of this. Any of it.” 

You remember the girl you once were. In a bar, surrounded by strangers and new friends, with tunnel vision for the boy in front of you. You remember that feeling of coming home, the way you ached for him to let you in and had been fooled for one night that it was possible. 

A year later, and he was letting you in, too late. 

“Why?” your voice cracks. You should just pick up your bag and go, but you can’t. Not until you stick the final stitches into the wound, seal up this hurt once and for all. For you and for Eddie. “Why would you… Why would you do that? Why would you set out to make me hate you?” 

“Because I didn’t deserve you,” he says it like a simple fact, like it doesn’t shatter you apart, “Because I knew if I didn’t create the rift and kept letting you in, I’d fall in love with you. At first, I thought I needed you to hate me to prevent it. Figured you’d be stronger than me about it. If I made you hate me, I was… Honestly, I was saving myself. I’d tell myself it was about saving you, but it wasn’t. I was being fucking selfish.”

You nod silently, swallowing down tears. Tears for what could have been, tears for what you still want so badly that it aches. 

“All because of Steve making…” you trail off, head trying to wrap around all the honesty he had just presented you with, “Making some off-handed, drunk comment.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to silently nod. To swallow hard and flutter his eyes shut so you couldn’t see the hurt lit within them. 

“You said you hated me,” you’re thinking out loud more than you’re properly speaking to him at this point, voice broken and soft, hands fighting the urge to reach out for him. Even after it all. Every reminder of what he had done for you, and now having the pitiful reason behind it all, still couldn’t break what had formed here tonight. Everything has still changed for you, “When I said everything changes, I meant the hate – I didn’t want to hate you anymore.” 

“I know,” he bites his lip, as if he’s trying to hold back any careless words. Words that might hurt you, but not for the same reasons as they used to, “That’s why… not much has changed. I never hated you. God knows I wanted to. I told myself I had to hate you, because if I didn’t hate you, I’d love you. And I couldn’t do that again – I couldn’t handle falling in love with someone I couldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t survive loving you when you’d never love me back. It wouldn’t be fair… to either of us.” 

“But you did it anyway,” you almost laugh at the awfulness of it all, terribly irony stacking up between you, “You fell in love with me, you said it yourself. You… you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects, eyes now wide open, “I love you. It’s not- It’s not some feeling in the past tense. You should still hate me, because I still love you.” 

He’s right, you finally realize. You should hate him for all of this. 

“And all of this counted on the first part of your plan working,” he has to take a step closer, whether it be subconscious or due to how low your voice has dropped. The physical distance erased aches. Splinters each of your bones and all of your emotions, “Which you never even asked me if it worked, even now. You just assumed.” 

He takes a deep, brave breath before he quietly asks you, “Did it work?”

You both already know the answer now, “No.”

But it changes nothing. You know that, he knows that. It’s just as he said – the point of saying it out loud no longer has anything to do with repairing what’s been damaged just tonight. You’re both being honest only because you both deserve it. You both deserve to finally close this tomb. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to close it, though. Not truly. Not properly. 

“I can’t stay,” you whisper, “I still… I still need to leave.” 

Especially now. 

“I know you do,” he responds. He’s gentle, understanding. 

It doesn’t stop the tear you see break from his lower lashes. He doesn’t draw any attention to it, doesn’t so much as move to clear it from his cheek. As if he’s scared if he does, you’ll notice it if you hadn’t already.

“The bet’s still off,” you continue, unable to meet his gaze as you pick up your bag once more. 

“I know it is.” 

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. And part of you, this time, wishes he would have as you slip back out the front door of apartment 2C and let the door shut with a quiet click behind you.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[abibliophobiaa]

talking in your sleep

- eddie munson x afab!reader; 80s summer camp slasher au.

There are rumors that Hawkins is cursed. That there’s a gateway to hell in the town’s epicenter—paved by the blood of innocents. That there’s a whole world roaming beneath, teeming with monsters who have gaping maws full of endless rows of teeth that walk on twos and fours, screeching bats, and swirling shadow beasts.

But they’re rumors all the same. Hushes in hallways, within the four walls of homes, by conspiracy theorists trying to strike up their next controversial story. Stories told around campfires to wide eyed children, fear struck grave and true behind their gazes, or by those wishing to warn others to stay away, to reconsider coming—to turn back while they still have time.

Those same rumors fueled by the terrible murder of the Creel family, a haunting story of a girl who disappeared and was never found again, the impossibility of the zombie boy who was gone from this world one day and alive the next, the devastating fire that burned down the Starcourt Mall and took the lives of many.

Tragedies. All of them. Twisted to fit a narrative. Because Hawkins is safe. Inconspicuous. Boring. Nothing strange happens there.

Nothing, that is, until the summer of 1986.

…Welcome to Camp Firefly.

🏕️🛶

warnings: obviously dark in tone, so please understand that before entering (although chapter one is light and fluffy); thriller vibes; character death; violence; gore; blood; depictions of murder, though limited in description — i would say on par with what we see in the actual show; possession; alcohol and recreational marijuana use; horror tropes galore; pov changes; smut; additional tags to be added; 18+ minors dni.

additionally—while this is technically an au, the upside down does exist here. the original core st gang has experienced the events of season 1-3, but in a different capacity that will become clear through the narrative. also a loose loose loose adaptation of s4 with this slasher flair.

🏕️🛶

playlist || ao3 || a sketch by my dear friend

🏕️🛶

Chapter List:

one: burnin’ for you

two: obsession (tba)

three: running up that hill (tba)

[ratridingaskateboard]

Always See Your Face

Chapter Two

Link to Chapter One here

Summary: Eddie is beginning to find solace in an unfamiliar face.

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, mentions of drugs, Y/N is described!

Tag list: @daisyridleyyyy @silky-luxe @bl00d-puppy @ttsbaby01 @kennedy-brooke @sadbitchfangirl @abzzz3 @josephquinnschesthair @aislinnclifton

A/N: OMG I was not expecting the amount of feedback I got from Chapter 1 thank you so so much!! Like in Chapter 1, different character perspectives will be marked with: --. I know y'all will like this chapter since Eddie's pov is in it :)

--

The days have seemed to be dragging out longer these past weeks for Eddie. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t jerk off, couldn’t play his guitar. Even the campaign had several hiccups because he couldn’t focus. He would think about possible reasons for this feeling: repeating senior year, not having a girlfriend, and not being able to secure a job. Out of all the reasons he had conjured in his head he seemed to find that the best definition for this feeling was loneliness. His parents were not in the picture and his uncle Wayne wasn’t exactly the best company. Don’t get him wrong he was a great guy and a better man than Eddie’s father ever was but Eddie wouldn’t consider him close to Wayne by any means.

‘86 was supposed to be Eddie’s year and he had begun to lose hope. 

Today was no different than any other day. Eddie had found himself stuck in trying to figure out tricks for his Hellfire campaign that would be able to mess up friends. His mind still couldn’t focus and he noticed himself repeating familiar tactics that he had done in the past. He rubbed his palms against his face, trying to drown out the laughter and conversation of his friends around him. 

“You okay, Eddie?” Dustin asked.

Suddenly, there was silence. Eddie placed his hands down and looked over at Dustin until a voice rang out.

“Hey, I know you showed me around and I might be asking for too much but is it alright if I sit with you?”

It was such a sweet voice. Not an inkling of insincerity, pity, or ill intent. It seemed so warm. He had been wanting to hear a voice like that for a long time. 

He looked up to see her. Was he in a dream? Had he been looking at that picture of Demi Moore in the swimsuit he had cut out and pasted in his makeshift porn mag for too long? She looked so similar to her yet she adorned the clothes Eddie would wear except for the skirt, of course. Her hair was a dark brown, long and straight which went down to her mid-back. Her bangs were whispy and thinner than many of the other girls who had teased theirs beyond recognition. Her big brown eyes stared so kindly at Dustin as if she was seeing an old friend again. 

Eddie went stiff. His friends around him looked to her then back at Eddie then back at her. They were amazed to see their lord and savior Eddie Munson be so frigid around a girl. Normally, he was as boisterous as usual with a touch of chivalry for the ladies. But he was never noticeably nervous like he was now. 

Eddie wondered to himself; Was some divine being sending him this girl so he could get through his last senior year? Was she an angel? He needed to take advantage of her sitting at their table before she left. This could be his only chance to speak to his dream girl.

She had looked over at Eddie and he gulped. Her lips were so plump and red they were practically begging him to kiss her. Stop it, Eddie! Fuck, He needed to get laid. She seemed to be analyzing his face and he let her. He would let her do anything as long as he got to keep staring at those eyes. Her eyes quickly shifted over to Mike once he entered the table. He felt his body relax once her gaze had changed.

"Jesus, that line was long!"

Mike's exclamation had broken the silence and Hellfire erupted into an uproar of questions.

"What's your name?"

"So where are you from originally?"

"How are you liking it here?"

"Are you single?"

Eddie was silent, watching her like a hawk to see what information his friends could attain from her. But she didn't answer any of the questions, she just started to laugh.

"I'm sorry! I laugh when I'm overwhelmed." She smiled. "All of you are so sweet for wondering about me."

Well, Eddie wasn't expecting that response but he had a feeling she would continue to surprise him. Dustin's once bewildered face began to soften as everyone spoke. He still seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet but at ease nonetheless. Eddie could tell he was plotting something since Dustin was not one to stay silent at the lunch table.

"Oh!" Gareth seemed to remember something as he reached into his bag. He pulled out a Geometry textbook and began to flip through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Do any of you guys- Oh, sorry, I mean guys and lady- understand how to do this? I can't figure any of this out and if I fail another test, I'll fail the class."

"Hey man, I don't know anything about Geometry. I barely passed Geometry when I took it."

"Yeah dude, no one at this table would be the right person to ask."

"Can I see?"

Gareth stared wide-eyed at Y/N as she began to walk over to him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the question. Eddie had sat right beside Gareth and he couldn't be happier with their current seating arrangements.

She was so close to Gareth and he could tell that Gareth had stopped breathing the second he felt her warmth. They could both smell her; She smelled like clove cigarettes and vanilla. Suddenly, Eddie started to care about Geometry.

"Alright, lemme see here..." She leaned further into Gareth, her breasts accidentally touching his shoulder. Gareth's face began to turn bright red. Eddie swiftly moved the book over to his side of the table.

"Oh Gareth, this is super easy!" Eddie exclaimed. "All you have to do is- uh... umm..." Eddie flipped through the pages trying to understand the math his mind was beginning to read as a foreign language. His friends began to laugh at his confusion.

She put her hand on Eddie's shoulder and he felt a bolt of lightning crawl down his spine.

"Hey, you guys didn't know how to do it either." She scolded. Eddie's hands still rested on the book and she put one of her hands over his left hand. Her other hand she used to flip through the pages.

Eddie had to stop every muscle in his body from kissing her at that moment. He barely knew this girl, yet, he felt as if she was doing these things to get a rise out of him. Whether innocent or guilty of this, it was working. He imagined turning her face with his hand on her chin to face him. Tucking the piece of hair out of her face and feeling the softness of her lips. What did she taste like? Vanilla like her perfume? Clove like her cigarettes? Whatever it was he wanted to taste her, every inch of her.

He silently adjusted himself in his pants, trying to make sure no one had noticed. Thankfully, no one had. Eddie's presence had been upstaged by the girl, bending over the table to look at Gareth's Geometry book.

"Fuck baby, why don't you tutor me after school?"

A football player's voice rang out as he passed behind her. Before Eddie had the chance to get up and teach this douchebag a lesson, he heard a loud thud behind him. He turned to see her standing above said football player, Eddie couldn't give two shits about remembering the guy's name, her knuckles bruised and a red imprint forming on his face.

"What the fuck, bitch!"

She surprised him again.

--

A/N: sorry this was kinda short but I felt like this was a good place to end. Please lemme know if you have any suggestions and I will keep you guys updated on new chapters :)

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 12th-18th 2024

No thoughts, head empty except for that new S7 trailer.

Complete

all things go, all things go. by dylaesthetics (Post-S5E10 Wrapped in Red | 11K | Teen): “He doesn’t hate you for transferring,” says Hen, as though reading his mind. “But the guy thinks everything’s his fault. He probably blames himself for it.” “Why would he? It was solely my choice,” says Eddie. It doesn’t make any sense. “I’m the one who got shot and had to live with the consequences.” Hen considers him, her eyes a bit sharp. “And he’s the one who watched that happen to you, and couldn’t do anything to prevent it from happening. It might be your trauma, Eddie, but it is also his.”

🔥 the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Didn't Know They Were Dating, Post-S3 | 27K | General): or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 49/54 | 91K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

48. We Objectify One (1) Man Here, Sir (Honeymoon, Explicit) 49. It's Called Stress Release (PWP, Explicit)

🔥 A Minor Delay by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Post-S6/S7 Spec | 43K | Mature): Almost a year after the bridge collapse, a lot has changed. The team are scattered—Bobby and Athena on their Honeymoon, Hen on adoptive parent's leave, and Buck and Eddie... They may still work together, still have movie nights with Chris whenever they can, but things have changed. With Maddie and Chimney's wedding around the corner, Buck tries to make it perfect. And maybe, along the way, he might figure out why everything still feels... wrong.

come back by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck (Christopher POV, Tsunami | 1,6K | Teen): “Okay, Christopher,” Gabriella says. “Let’s try and find your dad, huh? Or your mom?” “My dad is a firefighter,” Christopher says. “He’s helping people. And my mom—” he blinks. “My mom isn’t here. We have to find Buck.” “I haven’t seen him,” Gabriella says, her voice a little sad. “There was nobody else with you when we saw you. But we can look for him together, okay?”

🔥 hey baby (i think i wanna marry you) by asteriasera / @asteriasera (Post-S6, Established Buddie, Proposal | 13K | Teen): Two months into officially dating Eddie, Buck begins to plan the perfect, extravagant proposal that his boyfriend deserves. As usual, nothing goes according to plan

🔥 finally found what i’ve been looking for by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (S7 Spec | 5K | Explicit): or, buck's good at basketball, eddie's trying really hard not to commit an act of public indecency about it, and maybe, just maybe, a slightly bloody beachside pick-up game can be the start of something new

paradise under a pine tree by Maira / @carrierofthepaperclips (Valentine's Day | 4K | Mature): ... or, the one where Eddie brings Buck a gift and ends up with a fiancé.

quiet my fears with the touch of your hand by devirnis/ @devirnis (S7 Spec | 1K | General): Eddie comes to with a burning in his chest and Buck’s name on his lips.

might as well be drunk in love by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Madney Wedding, Bed Sharing | 2K | Teen): or, getting little-spooned by his drunk best friend was not on buck's maid-of-honour checklist, but. it's happening

WIP

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 3/18 | 20K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 5/9 | 33K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 115/? | 339K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 26/? | 17K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

27. 51. Spinning your lover into a kiss on the dancefloor

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3

A/N: Guys, I’m so sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy for me the past couple weeks but I hope that I can get back to writing more regularly. This chapter is the well-awaited Eddie pov, as well as a ton of backstory for him that I didn’t really plan on but it just kinda came out. This chapter is kinda rushed, I’m gonna be honest, but I wanted to get it out to you guys as soon as possible since its been awhile. There are gonna be some major warnings here so I’ll post them below. Take care of yourselves and stay safe, now enjoy!

Tw: homophobia, homophobic language, child abuse, domestic violence, referenced drug use, Eddie being incredibly gay

———

It’s a muggy Sunday morning, the summer sun burning through the last vestiges of chilled night air and frosted dewdrops as it rises from its slumber. Like the sun, Eddie rises as well. However, it’s with much less fanfare and grace due to the obnoxious pounding at his front door.

He groans dramatically, shoving his face in his pillow and willing whoever the fuck decided to bother him at—he glances at his alarm clock on the other side of the room, squinting to read the numbers—nine in the morning to go away. His wish must have pissed off some universal god because the knocking only gets louder, making the window above his desk rattle with every shake of the door.

With a sigh big enough to rival the windy intro of “Holy Diver”, he pulls himself to the door in a zombie-like state. Movements sluggish from his interrupted sleep, he misses the doorknob twice before finally turning it, throwing it open with newfound strength to find one Robin Buckley in all her glory. Her fist is raised and ready to knock again, her face the epitome of righteous fury as she glares at him.

“Uh, hey Buck. Whatcha doi—“ he begins, only to be interrupted by Robin shoving past him and barging into the trailer. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and pulling on his hair slightly before shutting the door.

Kids and their manners nowadays.

“Yeah, sure, come on in. Totally fine. I wasn’t sleeping or anything, noooo,” he says to himself before turning to face his intruder. Whatever Buckley is upset about seems serious, and from the icy look she’s giving him it also seems like it’s his fault. Her hands are on her hips like she’s in a Steve Harrington impersonation contest and plans on taking home a first place prize. Something in him squirms at the thought.

But, he is nothing if not a performer. So, of course, he puts on a show.

“Lady Buckley,” he declares in a posh British accent, bowing deeply with a flourish on his arm. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine morning?”

He’s expecting a fond eye roll, or a laugh, or huff, or something. He gets silence.

“Cut the bullshit, Eddie. We need to talk about Steve,” she demands.

Steve… Now isn’t that an interesting subject?

Now, Eddie has always been different. He was loud, and jumpy, and fidgety, and the other kids never wanted to be friends with him because they were scared. He was always covered in dirt, always barefoot because he either forgot to put on shoes or the ones he had were too small for his ever-changing feet. He would talk to himself, mutter little reminders under his breath or work through the questions plaguing his mind aloud because he just functioned better that way.

Then, at eleven, he found out just how different he really was. He was outside during recess when he fell off the monkey bars and scraped his hands and knees. He huddled on the ground, tears falling down his small cheeks because it hurt and his wounds felt like they were throbbing. Then a boy, James, ran up to him and asked him if he was okay. James had stark blond hair, a face full of freckles, and bright green eyes. He looked so concerned for Eddie, and was gentle when he picked up one of his hands to inspect the cuts littered there. It was that gentle touch that elicited a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, and ever since then Eddie knew.

When he had gotten home to the trailer that day, he felt confused. Other people in his class were constantly talking about who they “liked”; boys liking girls and girls liking boys. About how they would get all nervous around their crushes, and Eddie realized he had never felt that before. All of the girls in his class were just… girls to him. They never gave him that fluttery feeling James had. But… no one ever talked about boys liking boys. No one ever said if it was okay, so Eddie thought it must not be. That boys liking boys wasn’t okay. That he wasn’t okay.

It took awhile, but he finally confessed to Wayne that he liked boys, that he got all the little butterflies that boys were supposed to get about girls. Wayne shook his head and told him that he could feel butterflies for anyone he pleased, as long as they made him happy. They both cried that night, and ended up in a hug so tight they nearly fused together.

Since then, Eddie’s come to accept the fact that he’s gay. Has added it to his whole anti-conformist persona, even. So when high school hit he let himself finally be free. He joined Hellfire club, made friends with the upperclassmen who ran it, and learned all the intricacies of D&D that he never imagined he would. After two years, he met Gareth and Jeff who joined Hellfire much in the way he did. Then, Grant joined halfway through Eddie’s junior year and he quickly recruited him as well. He found his friends, his people, and he finally let himself be himself around them.

He told them he was gay after a long session of lazily practicing in Gareth’s garage and smoking, the weed having loosened both his limbs and his lips. They were all extremely chill with it, even after the weed had worn off. That, however, didn’t exempt them from making fun of him though.

Eddie was loitering in the hallway after school, waiting on Gareth to finish up a quiz he missed the week prior, when none other than Steve Harrington walked out of the pool room in nothing but those little speedos that leave zero to the imagination. Seriously, all those girls were right, holy shit. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, he noticed Steve was looking at him with that adorable little confused puppy look before a god damned smirk fell across his face. Eddie’s face, he knew, had to rival that of a Victorian nobleman fawning over a sliver of pale skin shown by a lady across the room with her face hidden by an elaborate fan because he was literally drooling for the man in front of him.

It got considerably worse when Steve leaned down to drink from a nearby water fountain, making Eddie’s mouth go completely dry with this blatant offering of ass right in his face. In hindsight, it might not have been an offering, per say, but it was definitely there and Eddie was definitely staring. So it really wasn’t a surprise that he jumped when Gareth tapped his shoulder, Eddie having not heard him come up behind him, and he turned on his heel so fast he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Dude, you good?” Gareth asked. Eddie opened his mouth, squeaked out, “I’m fine” and immediately felt his face go up in flames. Gareth glanced over Eddie’s shoulder and he could see in slow motion the series of thoughts that crossed his mind. Gareth went from concerned to confused to understanding to smug so fast it was almost comical. When their eyes met, Eddie’s went wide.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, and the smug look only intensified.

Once they got to his van, Gareth immediately rounded on him.

“Seriously? Steve Harrington?” Gareth teased. “Of all people, it had to be that douche?”

Eddie groaned and clenched his eyes shut. “I know, Garebear, now shut up before I push you out of the van.”

Of course, news about his little crush spread around his friend group like wildfire, and soon enough he was being teased by them relentlessly. Eddie knew his crush wouldn’t get very far, Steve was very clearly straight and in a happy relationship with Nancy Wheeler of all people. Still, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about that smirk.

Just as his crush began to fade away, Steve showed up to school with a busted face and eye bags deep enough to rival shitty vampire Halloween make-up from a toddlers costume contest. Feelings came rushing back, the intense need to protect, to find out what happened and get justice for that pretty face.

Then it kept happening, and Steve showed up to school with a beat up face yet again. However, judging by his stumbling and droopy eyes, it came with a concussion this time. Just when Eddie was trying to figure out who did it, Billy Hargrove came stalking through the empty halls and all attention was focused on his scabbed knuckles. On the hungry glare he sent Steve’s way. On the way Steve shrank back a little on instinct.

And Eddie… Eddie just couldn’t leave well enough alone, now could he?

He walked up to Steve, brows furrowed. “Harrington?”

Harrington didn’t turn, eyes still focused on the spot where Billy had been before. Eddie tapped his shoulder. “Steve?”

He jumped that time, like Eddie had actually hit him, and spun to face him. Up close, his face looked a hell of a lot worse and Eddie had to suppress a wince just looking at him. Steve looked at him confused, though it was hard to tell between the swelling and assortment of bandages on his face.

“…Munson?” Steve began. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up.”

He said it flippantly, with a wave of his hand towards his left ear like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Eddie felt like it wasn’t his place to push.

“You good, man? You look like you got in a fight with a dump truck and lost,” Eddie said. “Badly.”

He expected Steve to scoff and roll his eyes, push past him and hit his shoulder too hard to be an accident. He expected him to spit some barb and walk away, to leave Eddie there in the hallway alone. None of that happened, though.

Instead, Steve smiled. A little self-deprecating, but a smile nonetheless. He huffed a laugh.

“Make it a supercharged dump truck and you’ve got it right,” Steve joked at his own expense. It resulted in a shocked laugh bursting from Eddie’s lips, which he immediately stopped by smacking a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “That’s not funny. I mean… your joke was, just not,”—he gestured to Steve’s… everything—“this.”

“It’s okay man, I know what you meant,” Steve said sincerely and Eddie doubted why he was ever called King Steve. The person who stood in front of him was the furthest thing from what those jocks supposedly worshiped that Eddie had to hide another bubble of laughter.

“Seriously, dude, did you even go to a doctor?” Eddie asked, and at Steve’s wince he knew the answer. He rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his shoulders, careful not to land too hard in case he was bruised there too, and led him down the hallway towards the nurse’s station.

“Uh,” Steve began. “Where are we going?”

“The nurse,” he explained. “Figured a look wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed a little under his arm, and Eddie decided to focus on him during their walk down the empty hallway. He noticed the way his hair bounced a little with every step, how a couple strands were threatening to fall from their perfectly coiffed positions. He noticed his moles and freckles, how he had a smattering of faint ones all over his face from time in the sun. He noticed how his nose was a little crooked now, with a bump on the bridge that wasn’t there before the weekend. He noticed how pretty his eyes were, with at least three different shades of brown all swirled together like melted chocolate with flecks of forest green nestled in the folds.

He noticed that Steve was looking at him.

They had come to a stop in front of the nurse, yet Eddie’s arm was still over his shoulders. He quickly retracted it, but Steve didn’t move away and neither did he.

“Well, this is your stop,” Eddie nearly whispered out. Steve smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, and his eyes flitted across Eddie’s face.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he started. Steve took a step backwards toward the station and did a little wave with his fingers that had no right being as endearing as it was. “See you around.”

With that, he disappeared behind the thick mahogany door and Eddie was left there alone, face full of flames and smiling like he was in fucking love with the guy.

Fuck, maybe he was a little bit in love with the guy.

That feeling didn’t waver, not even after seeing him in a skimpy sailor uniform as he scooped overpriced ice cream for toddlers in the Mall. Or, when he was pinning him to the rickety wall of the boathouse he was hiding in after seeing Chrissy murdered in front of him by some freaky wizard from an alternate dimension with a broken bottle to his beautifully freckled throat.

That feeling greatly intensified when he saw Steve take an honest to god bite out of a demonic bat and spit the flesh and blood out on the dried lakebed in the previously mentioned alternate dimension.

And, really, you can’t blame him for falling all the way when he found out exactly who dragged his half-dead body out of hell and saved his life.

So yeah, Steve was a very interesting subject indeed.

“Is… Is he okay?” Eddie questions as he straightens from his hunched position, head tilting to the side and making his bangs fall in his eyes. Robin throws her hands up with a mighty huff and a frustrated groan.

“Obviously not!” She exclaims. She starts pacing around his living room, back and forth in front of the coffee table. “He’s obviously not okay because you’ve been avoiding him and making him feel like shit for months and I’m actually really worried about him ‘cause he’s been doing stupid shit that can get him killed and I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this before it completely ruins him.”

As Robin rambles, her face turns a bright shade of pink. She finishes her speech, sucking in a deep breath as if she ran out of air. Eddie’s brows furrow.

“I haven’t been avoiding Steve,” he defends weakly. He hasn’t, not really. He just… he doesn’t want to get hurt.

Okay yes, Eddie is practically in love with the guy, but that doesn’t mean Steve feels the same about him. They’re friends, that’s it. Steve is going to find some beautiful girl and get married and have the houseful of kids he’s always wanted and Eddie will be here, still pining from afar. He knows it would be easier to just forget about him, and forget about the feelings clutching his heart like a starved hawk with its first fulfilling catch in months. That’s why he’s been slowly letting go over the past few weeks, trying—and failing—to get that stupid pretty boy out of his head. Of course, it’s not working, and every day he spends not talking to Steve feels like hell.

So no, he’s not avoiding Steve. He just doesn’t think he could survive it if he confesses and Steve rejects him completely. Staying away means he won’t accidentally reveal his feelings for the man, and judging by how much he’s feeling, it wouldn’t be very hard for that scraggly cat to come clawing and screeching out of the proverbial bag.

Robin, however, thinks the opposite because according to the look she’s giving him, she says he absolutely fucking has.

Eddie sighs. “Okay, maybe I have just a little bit but it’s not—“

Eddie freezes, stomach plummeting as Robin's rambling words take purchase in his mind. She said Steve was doing something stupid, something that could kill him. Flashes of a night now a distant memory play in his mind, one filled with panicked breaths, stilted tears, and a bloody bat with nails.

“Robin… What do you mean by ‘stupid shit’?” Eddie asks tentatively. Part of him wants to know the answer, while part of him fears the idea of ever finding out. Robin only gives him a confused look and crosses her arms.

“Eddie, that’s totally not the point of this conversation and you know it—“ Eddie cuts her off by waving his hands.

“Robin! Just…” he trails off. Should he tell her about Steve? He promised he wouldn’t but…

“Okay, I have to tell you something about Steve but please please don’t tell him I told you because I promised him I wouldn’t but if you also know something about him then I think you should know about this too,” he rushes out, words tumbling fast out of his mouth as his lungs scream for air. Robin’s icy glare has melted a bit, turning into one of anxiety and caution.

He sighs and flops down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks down at his hands. He feels more than sees Robin sit next to him and he knows he has her attention.

“What happened, Eddie?” She prompts, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I had a visit from Steve awhile back, around four or five days ago,” he begins. “It was early in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I was writing notes for a new campaign idea in the living room. I could feel that something was… off, so I looked out the window and there he was.”

He ran a hand over his face, pushing his bangs back and pulling on the ends. He glances over at Robin to find her looking at him. He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before looking back at her.

“He wasn’t all there, Robin. Like… like he was trapped in his mind or something. I thought,” he huffs a deprecating laugh, “for a moment there, I thought he was cursed.”

He doesn’t mention that the image found its way in his head and can’t seem to find its way out, like a stubborn housefly who keeps banging against the glass hoping to be freed. The thought of Steve floating—eyes rolled back in his head while his lids flutter and his limbs shudder and break one by one—has kept him awake on more nights than he can count. The thought of him being subjected to his worst nightmares given life, all the lies that he tells himself turned to truth. The thought of Eddie being completely helpless, watching him die in agony in front of him.

He doesn’t mention that every night since then, he’s called Steve. He needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay. To know he was alive. He never got a call back.

“I got him to come inside but he didn’t stay long. Something spooked him, I think, I just… I don’t know, it was really weird. Like…” he trails off, unable to find the words.

“Like he was in fight or flight mode?” Robin suggests, and he nods.

“Pure instinct.”

Robin groans. “Shit, this is worse than I thought.”

“Wait, did he tell you?” He asks. Steve was so insistent on Eddie not telling her—made him promise, in fact—so why…?

“Well… after a very long, very emotional, and very vulnerable conversation, yes. He told me on his own terms though, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she supplies. “He… He didn’t tell me a ton of details, though. Not… Not like that.”

There’s a pause as Robin clenches her eyes closed and looks away from him.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” her voice comes out just barely above a whisper, something he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t right next to her. Eddie stays silent, unwilling to break the solemn mood. Robin, however, misses that message entirely as she smacks his arm.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, doofus?!” She accuses, giving him a half-hearted glare that is no less threatening. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender, unable to hide the exasperated look on his face.

“He made me promise!!” Eddie defends. “Plus he gave me those damn puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t say no.”

“He is really good at that, especially when he wants something. He says he has no clue but I bet you he does,” Robin whispers, almost conspiratory as if they’re sharing a terrible secret. Eddie can’t help but smile and shake his head. Screw Harrington and his stupid pretty eyes.

“Did he say anything else while he was here?” Robin asks after a moment of silence.

“No, that was the only thing he said really, other than an absent ‘I’m fine’ before he bolted out the door. It was a very uh… one-sided conversation,” Eddie explains. “He mostly gave only one or two word answers before he panicked and ran.”

“I’m gonna assume he didn’t tell you why he left?” She asks, and at the shake of his head she curses. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

Robin shifts beside him, raising her hand to mindlessly chew on her thumbnail. He thinks the conversation is over. Or, rather, wishes it were over.

That universal god must really hate Eddie today because Robin roughly shakes her head and waves her hands around, letting out a huff.

“Okay, one problem at a time. That was totally not the point of this little talk and you know it, Munson,” she admonishes. “Why. Are. You. Avoiding. Steve?”

She punctuates each word with a, quite literal, punch to the arm. Eddie reels back, dramatically clutching his bruised arm and gives her a fake glare.

“Ow!!” He rubs his arm. For her incredibly bony arms, she really can pack a punch. He’s only half joking that it hurts.

“Answer the question!”

“Fine fine…” he takes a deep breath, knee bouncing with building anxiety before he stands up, unable to quell the urge to move. He paces twice in front of the coffee table before he has the nerve to look at her waiting gaze.

“So, as you know, I am a raging homosexual,” he states, and at his pause, she nods. “And I miiiiiight have a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy, enormous crush on him.”

The end of his sentence is rushed out, words jumbled together as he screws his eyes closed and waits for… whatever Robin’s response is going to be. He waits for five seconds. Then ten. Then twenty-five because yes he’s counting. If he knows one thing about Robin Buckley it’s that she doesn’t know when to stop talking so silence is a very rare occurrence for her and now its been a whole minute and something must be wrong so he opens his eyes to find her—

The only word that even remotely comes close to encompassing the expression on her face is seething.

He instinctively takes a step back.

“Edward Lee Munson you better explain yourself right fucking now or I swear to every god out there that I will rip out your spleen and feed it to the neighborhood dogs before you take a step out that door,” Robin all but growls out, eyes icy and cold as they stare through him. He’s quick to explain because he really quite values his spleen, thank you very much.

“Okay, okay, geez I get it! Fine,” he huffs. “I’ve been avoiding Steve because it’s hard to be around him.”

Robin only raises an eyebrow. Eddie groans. He really wishes he didn’t have to explain his big, fat, gay love this early in the morning.

“It’s hard because he’s so…. So Steve all the time. He’s so kind and caring and hot— god, Birdie, he’s so fucking hot—“

“Okay, yeah, I didn’t need to know that,” Robin interrupts.

“Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepish. “Every little smile he gives me feels like a swarm of butterflies are fighting horde-style to get out of my stomach. I just…

“I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie confesses. The way her eyes blow wide is comical, and he’s half expecting them to pop and burst like they do in cartoons.

“But I know better,” he gives her a sad smile. “I know that I’m not special, he doesn’t mean it like that. Like I want it to. And…. And I know he never will.

“I thought that distancing myself would make the feelings go away, make it… I don’t know, hurt less? But not seeing Steve at all… fuck, it hurts worse than dying and I know what that feels like. Now I don’t even have him as a friend,” he scoffs at himself, shakes his head a little and focuses on a framed picture of him, Steve, Robin, and Dustin from graduation on the wall. Focuses on how Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, hand gripping his upper arm as he smiles shyly at the camera. How Eddie himself is leaning into his side, tucked under his arm as if he belongs there. As if he’ll ever belong there. He looks back at Robin.

“But this is what’s best. I can’t have my stupid heart feeling things my brain knows it shouldn’t,” Eddie ends his little speech by flopping back down on the couch. Part of him regrets telling her, but another small, itty bitty part is almost grateful.

Eddie’s always had a way of caring too much, even from a young age. Wayne could tell you better than anyone that Eddie has always had a soft side. He could tell you that Eddie refused to let him kill any of the bugs that got into the trailer when the weather turned cold and insisted that they be put outside under the trailer where it was at least a little warmer. He could tell you that every time Eddie would see another person cry, he would too.

He’s just always been like that, so carrying this around with him everyday? It was becoming too much to bear, having to put on a face around everyone so no one could tell. So no one could see how it was breaking him inside. Wearing him down to the bone. Slowly, slowly killing him.

Robin sighs beside him and he had almost forgotten she was there. Her voice is quiet and strangely gentle as she speaks.

“Why do you think that, Eddie?”

What?

“What?” He asks incredulously and knows his face is in a similar state to his voice.

“Why do you think Steve wouldn’t like you like that? Has he said anything to make you think he wouldn’t?” She clarifies, which really doesn’t clarify anything at all for him because what?

“Um… are we talking about the same Steve? You know, Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ resident ladies man? Why the fuck would you think I’d have a shot?” He explains. “He’s so painfully straight and I am so painfully not, Robin.”

Robin just looks at him like she’s trying to read his mind. Or, rather, push a thought into his mind. Waiting for something to click. It doesn’t. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Besides, Steve never tried to talk to me about the whole distance thing, so I just—“

“You know what happens when people assume things, Eddie,” Robin interrupts.

“—figured that he didn’t mind,” Eddie finishes with a glare. Robin closes her eyes and takes a breath as if calming herself. She pinches her nose, right between her eyes like Steve always does when he’s frustrated or tired, and turns to him. She takes his hands in hers, and her face is only a mere mask of calm, the tumbling waves of anger rolling just under the surface.

“Eddie,” she begins. “Have you ever thought of the possibility that Steve doesn’t talk about his feelings? That he would keep it all bottled up inside like he does with literally everything else?”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “I only found out about this whole… thing two days ago and that was only because I just so happened to catch him falling asleep at work. He wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t ask him, I know that for sure. He… Eddie, he honestly believes that this is all his fault. That he’s the one that fucked everything up between you and he kids.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. “Wait, what do the kids have to do with this?”

“You haven’t told them anything?” Robin asks, eyes going a little wide.

“Have I told a bunch of teenagers—whose opinions I regretfully respect—that I have a crush on their babysitter? No, I have not.”

“Okay, yeah that was a stupid question, sorry,” she amends. “Just… the kids are avoiding Steve and I can’t think of a reason why.”

“They’re what!? Wait, why haven’t I heard of this until now?” Eddie exclaims. Robin gives him a look that makes him deflate a little. “Let me guess, you only found out two days ago?”

“Bingo, we have a winner!” Robin fake cheers, raising her arms in a mock-celebratory fashion. She drops them with a huff. “They haven’t talked to him in weeks, Eddie, and I think it’s because you have been avoiding him.”

Her tone isn’t accusatory, but it still makes him feel like shit.

“They must have picked up the sense that something was going on between you two and assumed they should be avoiding him too,” she suggests. Eddie leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t get how they could think that, though. I mean, Steve has been nothing but good to them for years now.”

“I know,” Robin agrees. “But they’re kids. Stupid, dumb, ungrateful kids, but they’re still kids.”

Eddie drops his head in his hands, pressing hard on his eyes until spots form behind his eyelids.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” He asks it rhetorically, but Robin gives a noise of agreement anyway. “How do I fix this, Birdie?”

“You could start by talking to him,” Robin suggests.

Now isn’t that a terrifying thought?

Because knowing you have feelings for someone is one thing, but telling them? That’s something so far out of the realm of possibility for him that he’s never even thought about considering it.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Buckley?” Eddie exclaims, looking over at her with wide eyes. “I’d like to keep all my teeth if you don’t mind. I mean, I know I’m not your type and everything but some poor schmuck would probably like to look at this face one more time before it's beat all black and blue.”

Robin only rolls her eyes at his rambling—which is rather hypocritical of her if you ask him, since she seems to treat rambling as an Olympic sport she plans on winning every time she opens her mouth. She grabs his face between her hands and honest to god shakes him.

“I can’t tell you everything, but I’m telling you to trust me and talk to him,” she practically demands, giving him a pointed look much like the one from before. Except he still doesn’t know what it means, as that final piece has yet to click into place.

He nods in her hold, partially afraid of her now, and she releases him.

“We need to fix this. Now,” Eddie insists. He looks over at her. “We need to talk to the kids.”

Eddie stands up, running to his room and groaning at the mess he left. Tossing his sheets and blankets back on the bed, he reaches under his bed for the walkie he knows he last saw under there three days ago. Except, it’s not there. He stands up, scrunches his eyebrows, and thinks.

Let’s see… it was next to the keychain that was on top of the VHS sitting on the books on the corner of the desk, then he moved it when he had to answer one of Lucas’ questions which he did while he walked around the trailer and he laid it down when he finished to get some cheese from the fridge, meaning—

Eddie runs back to the kitchen, finding the walkie on top of the fridge, right where he thought it would be.

“Got ya!” He grabs it and runs back to the living room where Robin is waiting very impatiently.

“Where even was that?” She asks but he ignores her, electing to set the frequency so he can talk to the kids all at once instead of answering her. He presses the button.

“This is Eddie the Banished calling an emergency Hellfire meeting pronto,” he orders into the speaker. “I repeat, emergency Hellfire meeting.”

He waits for a response. One minute. Two minutes. Three—

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the button again. “Over.”

Immediately, Dustin responds. “Hear you loud and clear, Eddie. Is this a code red situation? Over.”

“Nope, not a code red. More of a uh…” he glances over at Robin who shrugs. “Code yellow? I think. Over.”

“What the hell is ‘code yellow’? We don’t even have one of those,” comes Erica’s, as always, sarcastic remark. Eddie can faintly hear Lucas yelling in the background.

“Munson, you better not be shitting with us.”

“I promise you, Red, I wouldn’t. Not about this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, people! You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking! Over.”

“Shove it, Dustybuns, the adults are talking.”

Eddie has to hold the walkie away from him at Dustin’s responding shriek. He presses a hand over his eyes. These kids are going to kill him one day.

“Guys, this is serious. Just get your asses over to my trailer as soon as possible. Robin’s already here, does someone have Little Byers and Supergirl?”

“I’ve got them. Over and out,” Mike responds.

“Erica and I are on our way. Over and out,” Lucas says.

“Be there in fifteen. Over and out,” Dustin declares. Eddie glances at Robin, sharing equally nervous and worried looks. This is not going to be fun.

Thirty minutes later, all of the kids are cramped in Eddie’s living room. Lucas, Max, El, and Mike are scrunched together on the couch, while Will and Dustin sit on the floor in front of them. Erica claimed Wayne’s recliner as soon as her and Lucas got there, refusing to move for the older teens.

Robin is standing next to him, hands on her hips again—really driving home the whole “Steve is my platonic soulmate” bit—as he stands there with his arms crossed. The two of them remind Eddie of disappointed parents about to tell off their kids, which, in reality, isn't too far off.

“Okay, what the hell?” Dustin asks, still breathless from the trek there. “I literally just got home an hour ago. Why did you call us and make us bike all the way here in the heat?”

“Because you deserve it for being shitheads,” Eddie defends and rolls his eyes. He’s met with a cacophony of dweeby teen voices as they retaliate.

“What did we do this time?”

“What?! We didn’t do anything!”

“What did Dustin do, now?”

“Me? Why am I the one being blamed? I wasn’t even here!”

“Because you’re too damn nosey, dude.”

“Ouch, Lucas. Ouch.”

“Hey!” Eddie yells, clapping his hands to get their attention. It startles them all enough to quit talking over each other and look back up at him. “Okay, I’m just going to get to the point. Why are you all avoiding Steve?”

Mike gives him a confused look and crosses his arms, his expression the epitome of teenage angst.

“We thought you hated Steve, dude. You would always leave the room whenever he was around with some shitty excuse so we just decided to do the same,” Mike answers. Dustin nods from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah, we all thought he did something or said something to you since every time we brought him up, you’d shut the conversation down somehow. It just… naturally progressed from not talking about him to not talking to him either,” Dustin explains.

“Steve stopped showing up to things, too. He used to help me practice but he’s not shown up in weeks,” Lucas adds.

“Mom’s gotten really worried about him. He’s not shown up to dinner in a while, either,” Dustin chimes in. He shrugs. “We just thought the feeling was mutual.”

Eddie clenches his eyes closed and throws his head back. Fuck, this is worse than he thought. He hears Robin shift beside him, and knows firsthand the look she’s giving them right now.

“Have any of you even considered asking Steve about this?” Robin asks accusatively. “Or even talking to him about anything other than rides or movie nights?”

Silence falls over the room, so thick and suffocating that Eddie briefly prefers the air of the Upside Down to this. He pulls his hair, scrunching down on the floor and balancing on the pads of his feet.

“This is all my fault,” he groans, twisting strands of hair frustratedly.

“It is,” Robin agrees and ignores the glare Eddie sends her way for that. “But we can still fix this.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Mike asks.

“Why does Eddie look three seconds away from strangling himself with his hair?” Max hesitates, sounding the most cautious he’s ever heard her. Eddie groans and avoids eye contact with the group.

“The reason I’m avoiding Steve isn’t because I hate him. It’s uh… quite the opposite, actually,” he explains, nervously fidgeting with his rings and pulling a thick strand of hair to hide his face. He glances at Robin, who gives him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up, and he rolls his eyes.

Max and Erica give him equally smug smirks while Will looks at him with wide, understanding eyes. The rest of the group, however, look confused.

“Wait, then why are you avoiding him?” Dustin asks.

“Dude, that makes zero sense,” Mike counteracts. El just looks lost, almost like she’s trying to read his mind. Which… he really wouldn’t be surprised if she could at this point. Eddie sighs.

“That’s not the point,” Eddie redirects. “The point is that an issue with me and Steve shouldn’t affect you guys’ relationship with him.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, and he deftly ignores the pointed look she sends his way. “Steve has been there for all of you for years.

“Dustin, wasn’t it Steve who helped you catch D’art when he escaped from your cellar? He bought pounds of meat for you to lure a demodog away with, then fought a pack of them by himself to keep you safe. Steve put himself in the line of fire again against said demodogs in the tunnels after he was beaten unconscious by Billy, then sacrificed himself to Russians just so you and Erica could make it out alive a year later.”

Dustin clamps his mouth shut from its gaping position—likely from him wanting to defend himself from the truth—and has the decency to look sheepish. Eddie turns his gaze to Lucas.

“Lucas, wasn’t it Steve who helped you train for basketball when you started to show an interest in it? He practiced with you every week, even after a long shift at work or when he felt like shit, just because you asked. Steve protected you against Billy because it was the right thing to do, and took a beating so you wouldn’t. Not many people can say they’d do that for someone else, especially not against anyone as vicious as Hargrove,” Eddie adds. Lucas drops his head in his hands, knee bouncing from his place on the couch.

“Max,” Robin begins. “Steve checked up on you every day after Billy died. He would bring you food or ice cream or a distraction, but he was always there. He would drive you to the arcade just to cheer you up, let you beat him at Dig Doug and Pinball just to see you smile. Steve was terrified to let you be the bait for Vecna, he… he kept telling me that he wished it was him instead. That he should be the sacrifice, not you.”

Robin wipes her eyes where they begin to tear up, and Eddie uses the pause to look at Mike. He still has his arms crossed, but the smartass look on his face has dwindled a little.

“Mike, I know you don’t like Steve because of him and Nancy, but you can’t hold onto that grudge forever. What happened between them had nothing to do with you, so there's no need to be mad at him for it,” Eddie states. Mike isn’t looking at him now, and something tells Eddie that the kid just needs a reality check. Hopefully, this will work. “Steve has been protecting you from the beginning, even when you were more than hostile to him. You’ve at least got to give him credit for that.”

Eddie looks around, sees the morose expressions on the kids’ faces.

“Steve has picked you all up countless times from Hellfire, waiting the entire session out in the parking lot while wasting away in his car. He was there rain or shine, snow or sleet, and he never missed a day. Not once,” he states.

Eddie first found Steve’s presence after Hellfire to be confusing, an anomaly. He didn’t know that the Steve the kids talked about was the same Steve he had a debilitating crush on in high school, not until he saw him waiting outside after the first session the kids attended, leaning against his maroon BMW like a Calvin Klein model. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach at the sight, because one thing about Steve Harrington was that he’s unpredictable. Eddie just didn’t know if it was good or bad yet.

“You know, usually when people graduate they tend to stay away from high school, not willingly come back,” Eddie teased.

His words seemed to spark some life into Steve, as he jolted from his relaxed position against the hood to stand firmly beside his car. Steve ran a hand through his hair, and looked Eddie up and down.

“You’d probably know more about that if you managed to actually graduate, Munson,” Steve quipped, but it wasn’t mean. He had a smile on his face, and the air around him was friendly. Some of the anxiety churning in Eddie’s gut eased at the sight.

“Besides, who says I’m here willingly?” Steve asked rhetorically, as Dustin made his appearance by running up to him and immediately began talking his ears off about the new campaign. Steve turned his full attention on the boy, nodding along to certain comments even when Eddie knew for sure Steve didn’t know what the hell Henderson was talking about. The other kids soon crowded around the former jock, all talking so incredibly fast that Eddie was surprised the sound barrier survived their cracking voices.

Eddie watched as Steve glanced at him over the kids’ heads, giving him a loose smile and a shrug as if saying, ‘what can ya do?’

Soon, all the gremlins piled into Steve’s fancy car, still talking and gesturing wildly with their hands. Eddie had a passing thought that he should get Steve some earplugs or something to at least help drown out the noise. He immediately shook his head at the thought and jumped in his old, beat up van, driving home to an empty trailer and trying desperately to forget Steve Harrington existed.

“He always waits until the excitement starts to wear off before he takes you all home, letting you talk to each other for nearly an hour after each session despite the fact he never has a clue what you’re talking about. He always listens to you guys, no matter what,” Eddie supplies. “Did you guys know he has mixtapes for each of you?”

At the question, they all look at him with varying degrees of confusion and an all-too-late realization. Eddie huffs, while Robin mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, ‘of course they didn’t.’

“There’s one for each of you, filled with songs you like or mentioned liking at some point despite some of them not being his own taste. He listens to you, all of you, and it fucking hurts to know you don’t see that,” he exposes, and part of him regrets letting a bit of his anger out. Though, the kids need to know this is serious, that you can’t go through life assuming the worst in people, so if being angry is what it takes then so be it.

The kids have various emotions on their faces, ashamed and regretful being the two most prominent. Dustin clears his throat and looks up at Eddie, flicks his eyes to Robin, and returns them to his lap.

“I… I didn’t realize he did so much for us,” Dustin quietly admits, and a small part of Eddie cheers at finally teaching the kid a thing or two about humility.

“We��ve been taking advantage of him for… for so long,” Lucas breathes out. Max nods morosely beside him, and Will raises a shaky hand to cover his mouth.

Mike rolls his eyes, still petulantly crossing his arms. “Why should we even care about him? All he’s probably doing is wallowing in his fancy house or something.”

He says it with a layer of snark so thick, all the kids turn to him with varying levels of bitchy glares. Eddie, however, can tell his attitude is a mask, a way for him to hide how he’s truly feeling to prevent from being too vulnerable. From being too open. Eddie knows a lot about that.

It started when Eddie was four and he scraped his knee on the harsh gravel outside his parents’ run-down home in Kentucky. Tears rolled down his chubby cheeks as he ran inside to tell his mom, who he knew would take care of him. She told him to play outside, and not come in until she told him so, but his knee really hurt and he was scared they would have to cut it off if it bled too much. At least, that’s what Charlie—a kid who lived two streets over—said they would do.

When he stepped over the threshold, something felt off. The house was quiet, more so than normal, and it set him on edge. The TV was filled with static that grated on his little ears, and he covered them with his hands as he made his way over to turn it off. He picked up the antenna off the floor, wondering how it got knocked off the top of the TV in the first place. He looked around the living room, finding it in a similar state of disarray. He followed the trail of broken things before him; the overturned coffee table, a spilled ashtray, a stray pillow, and the chair his dad always sat on, pushed far out of its normal place. He questioned who could have messed up his house like this, leaving a big mess behind.

He found his answer when he ventured into the kitchen, just a few short steps from the living room, and found his mother laying on the floor. She was on her stomach, arms splayed out as if she tried to catch her fall and head turned to look at the doorway where little Eddie stood. Her eyes were closed but she was still breathing, the floral pattern of her dress moving with each breath. Shards of ceramic were spread out around her, littered with droplets of dark blood that spilled from a cut on her forehead. It dripped down the side of her face, along the curve of her cheek and onto the floor where it formed a small puddle. Her skin was pale in the artificial light of the house, the soft yellows doing nothing to soften the tones of her ashen face.

“Mama!” He ran up to her, falling to his knees beside her still body. He shook her, trying to get her eyes to open, but all it rewarded him was a pained grunt. His eyes welled with tears again, this time for his Mama, but nothing he was doing was working.

A shadow fell over the floor and he looked up to find his father blocking the light from the gold-colored light fixture above the kitchen table. His face was stern and dirty looking, his stubble well past the point of a five o’clock shadow and leaning more towards a sleazy strip club owner. There was a smear of blood on his face from his hand, which he noticed was bruised around the knuckles. However, the sight of what was in his other hand made him freeze, entire body going stock still.

In his father’s left hand were the remnants of the broken plate on the floor, the jagged edges cutting into his skin where he gripped it tightly. Matching blood littered the edge, and a splatter of the dark liquid traveled up his hairy arm and disappeared into his rolled up flannel sleeve.

He looked up at the figure before him, and the tears spilled over against his will.

“What happened to Mama?” He asked. “Why won’t she wake up?”

“‘Cause she’s sorry, son,” his dad answered, throwing down the ceramic and causing it to shatter against the floor. Eddie flinched, and his father caught the motion. He hadn’t been able to quell it, hadn’t learned how to hide his fear yet. The man scowled at him, lip curling as he grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him off the floor in one solid motion.

“She’s weak, Edward,” he began. This close, Eddie could see the redness of his eyes, and the deep purple bags that hang underneath. “Just like all women. Do you wanna be weak, boy?”

Eddie shook his head, and his father gripped his arm tighter. “Answer me!”

“N-No sir,” Eddie muttered, voice small and weak in the face of his father.

“Then stop that fucking crying, don’t be a sissy. I ain’t raising a fucking faggot, Edward.”

With that, his dad dropped his arm and stumbled into his bedroom down the hall. As soon as his figure was gone, Eddie turned back to his mom, crouching next to her. Sometime when his dad was talking, her eyes had opened and her breathing grew stronger. Eddie felt like it was nothing short of a small miracle.

“Mama, are you okay?”

“‘M okay, baby,” she replied, pushing herself off the floor with a grunt. She sat up with Eddie’s help, and frowned when she saw the reddened mark on his arm. “I shouldn’t have let him do that to you.”

“You were hurt, Mama. ‘S not your fault,” Eddie reasoned, pulling his arm out of her grasp to wipe at some of the blood on her face. “You’re bleeding, too.”

“Oh,” she began, reaching up to touch the wound as if she hadn’t realized it was there. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just a little scratch. Mama will be okay, promise.”

She didn’t look okay, this close, with her sunken-in face and slowly forming black eye Eddie hadn’t been able to see before. But his Mama was always right. Always.

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asked, holding out his little pinky. His Mama smiled, and raised a shaky hand to lace her pinky with his.

“Pinky promise.”

A year later, he was riding in the car with his Mama, backpack at his feet. She was dressed nicer than he ever remembered her being; a baby blue, short-sleeved dress hugged her slender frame, paired with white heels, white bug-eyed sunglasses, and a sheer white scarf she had tied around her hair. Her suitcase was in the trunk, but his father was nowhere to be found.

“Mama?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Where’s Dad?” He asked. His Mama cleared her throat before she answered, voice shaky.

“He’s not coming with us, Eddie,” she said. “We’re going somewhere far away from him. Somewhere new.”

“Where?”

“Have a look for yourself, honey,” she said, pointing to the window. Eddie crawled up on his knees to look out, seeing a sign welcoming them to a place called Hawkins. He sat back down in his seat, looking back at his mother.

“What’s here?” He asked. His mother smiled.

“Your Uncle Wayne. He’s my brother,” she supplied. “We’re just going to pay him a little visit, okay?”

A few short minutes later, they were parked in front of a small trailer, a gruff looking man waiting for them on the newly-built porch. They got out of the car and Eddie grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders before his Mama led him up the steps.

“Eddie, this is Uncle Wayne,” his Mama informed. He looked up at her and she nudged his arm, urging him to say something.

“H-Hello, sir,” Eddie greeted, sticking out his small hand for the man to shake. Wayne huffed a laugh and crouched down, causing Eddie to take a step back on instinct, before he took his hand and shook it.

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie,” Wayne began. He let go of his hand but stayed crouched. “You can call me Wayne, or Uncle Wayne, or Uncle, or—hell, Todd for all I care. Just none of that ‘sir’ business, you got me?”

Eddie smiled and nodded. “Sorry, si—uh, Uncle Wayne.”

“That’s better, boy,” Wayne said, smiling as he clapped his shoulder softly. Wayne had kind eyes, blue and soft around the edges. They weren’t mean like his fathers. Instead, they looked exactly like his Mama’s—save for a few extra wrinkles around the edges. “Why don’t you go on inside while your Mama and I talk?”

Eddie did as he was told, walking in the trailer and taking in his surroundings. It was small, smaller than his house, but cozy. A couple mugs were hung up on the wall, paired with three trucker hats and a framed picture he was too far away to see. An old, floral patterned couch sat on the long wall of the living room, a coffee table in front littered with an opened can of Coke and a half-eaten bag of chips. The windows were open to let light in, making the space feel much bigger than it actually was.

He stepped into the kitchen, just a pace away from the living room, and took in the red-toned wooden cabinets and cream countertops stained with coffee rings yet to be wiped away. There was a hallway to his left where he found a single bedroom and a bathroom. The bathroom was small, just big enough for a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink. A single toothbrush sat in the cup on the side of the sink along with a bar of soap and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. On the other side of the sink though, Eddie noticed an unopened toothbrush. It was blue and had sparkles throughout its plastic. At the bottom, there was a small dog sticker and it made him smile a little.

His attention soon wandered to the bedroom, where he found a little twin-sized bed and tons of boxes. The bed was bare, save for a folded up quilt near the bottom with a pillow on top. The boxes were filled with various things; clothes, books, a cassette player, shoes, and tons of other small trinkets. He sat on the ground, pulling a box closer to look through it. There were thin books near the top labeled ‘Hawkins High’, and he flipped through it to find pictures upon pictures of people. He read the names, sounding them out to see if he could get them right. Some of them were weird, though, and he quickly put the book down to look at something else.

There was a box of cassette tapes to his left and Eddie scooted over to look through it. There were tons of names he didn’t recognize as he rifled through the plastic cases, though one stood out to him.

He picked up the Fleetwood Mac tape along with the cassette player from a box near the closet, plugging it into the wall and putting the tape in. He eyed the front door, seeing it still firmly closed. Just then, the tape clicked, causing him to jump, and he pressed play.

The familiar voice filled his ears, and he smiled. He and his Mama used to listen to Fleetwood Mac back home in the kitchen while they made supper, singing along with the tape or the radio to fill the house with music. The sound of it brought a smile to his face, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the words.

Engrossed in the music, he barely registered that the front door had both opened and closed until a soft hand was laid on his shoulder.

“Eddie, baby, I have to go,” his Mama said, and he jumped to his feet. He kinda felt bad about going through Uncle Wayne’s things without him being there, but if they were leaving then he didn’t think he would get too mad.

“Where are we going now, Mama?” Eddie wondered. His mother’s face turned pinched, and she lifted her glasses to look at him directly. She wore make-up, much more than she usually did, and as she crouched down Eddie could see it was barely disguising a bruise along the top of her right cheekbone.

“Eddie, only I’m leaving,” his Mama corrected. “You’re staying here with Wayne.”

At that, his whole world fell apart.

His mother, his Mama, was leaving him. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t go with her, that he couldn’t stay with his Mama like he wanted to. Wayne seemed nice from their brief interaction, but he didn’t know him. Not like he knew his Mama.

His stomach sank to his feet, and it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water over him. His eyes grew wide as tears welled, spilling over his cheeks.

“Why, Mama?” Eddie sobbed, wiping at his face because he wasn’t supposed to cry. “Why can’t I go with you?”

“You just can’t, Eddie, I’m sorry,” she stated. It felt hollow, her explanation. Like she was hiding something.

“But why?”

“Because you just can’t, Eddie!” She snapped, and Eddie’s breath caught. She sounded mad, but Eddie had never heard her get mad, not at him at least. He didn’t know what he did, only that she wouldn’t let him go with her.

She took a breath and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“But- But you can’t leave me!” Eddie wailed. “Mama, please!”

She opened her arms and he fell into them, clinging hard enough to deem separating impossible. She hugged him back just as tight, and Eddie saw evidence of tear tracks streaking through her caked-on foundation.

“I know, baby, I don’t want to leave you either,” his Mama soothed. “But Wayne is going to take care of you, okay?”

Eddie looked over her shoulder to see Wayne leaning against one of the kitchen countertops, smiling sadly at him. Eddie screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his mothers neck.

“You’re gonna come back, right?” Eddie mumbled before he moved to look at her. “Pinky promise you’re gonna come back for me.”

His Mama cried and wiped at her cheeks, smearing the make-up and making the bruises appear fresh on her pale skin. She held out a pinky, and Eddie laced his with hers.

“I promise, Eddie,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead before getting to her feet. Her and Wayne shared a hug on her way out, and Eddie caught Wayne wiping his eyes too. He and his uncle stood on the porch as his mom drove away, waving until her taillights disappeared around the curve of the road.

That was the last time he saw his mother.

Unfortunately, it was not the last he saw his father.

He stayed with Wayne for two months until his father found him. They had grown accustomed to each other in that time, Eddie having warmed up to another parental figure and Wayne having gotten the basics down for caring for another being. Wayne insisted he start school in the fall, and he was two weeks in when all hell broke loose.

His father rolled up to the trailer in a fancy-looking sports car Eddie knew his dad didn’t have the money for. He stumbled out on the gravel, banging on the door until Wayne pulled it open.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Wayne asked, standing firm in the doorway.

“I’m here to get my son,” his father demanded. He pushed past him and stormed the place until he found Eddie in the only bedroom—Wayne having set up a cot in the living room.

Eddie hadn’t expected to see his father again, mostly because he didn’t think the man really cared for him. That was prominent when he snatched Eddie off the bed and hauled him out of his room.

“Dad?” Eddie questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking you away from here,” his father responded, glaring at Wayne who stood blocking the doorway.

“You’re not takin’ him anywhere, Al,” Wayne countered. He crossed his arms, looking far more intimidating than Eddie ever imagined. “He’s happy here.”

“He’ll be even more happy with me,” his dad insisted. “With his real family.”

“Son of a bitch, Al, I am his real family!” Wayne yelled. “You ain’t got the means for takin’ care of that boy, and you know it.”

His father stood toe to toe with his uncle, glaring at him. He whispered something Eddie was too far away to hear, but it made Wayne deflate completely.

Eddie didn’t want to leave. He found that these past two months with Wayne were filled with more happy memories than he ever remembered having back home. Wayne was nice, a little rough around the edges but he was a big softy inside. He cared about people, that much was evident in the way he was constantly helping people out around the park. He was a good person, so leaving him felt like his Mama all over again.

“Come on, son,” his father demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the trailer. Eddie looked back at Wayne, eyes stinging. He waved, and Wayne waved back. He watched the trailer from the backseat until he couldn’t tell which one was theirs, only facing the front when his dad snapped at him.

They rode for hours, far past the Indiana state line, until they ended up in a strange city filled with tall buildings and blinding lights that made Eddie’s eyes sting. They went through the city, stopping on the outskirts in a run-down neighborhood even more decrepit than his old house in Kentucky.

He spent two years with his dad in a city he came to know at St. Louis, but it never felt like home. Not like the trailer with Wayne, or anywhere his mother was. He learned how to hotwire cars and how to drive like a bat out of hell whenever his dad told him to. He learned that he was too much to take care of; his father constantly complained about feeding him, keeping him clothed, taking care of him like a father should. He learned that showing emotions would only get you hurt, that he had to hide them to survive. He learned what all the different white powders did to someone, how they would affect your mind and your body. How they made his father violent, or remorseful, or depressed, but never happy.

His father was on a bad trip when a rush of red and blue lights invaded their windows, sirens blaring and making Eddie’s ears ring. Their front door was kicked open, the old wood splintering easily under the force of a steel-toed boot. Police flooded the house, and Eddie was grabbed and dragged out before he had time to comprehend everything that was happening.

He was sitting in the back of a cop car with the door open, body completely still as police went in and out of their house. He couldn’t let them know he was scared out of his mind, that he was afraid of what they would do to him. He knew the best way to get through it was to show nothing at all. To be indifferent. Emotionless. It was the only thing his father taught him that he deemed useful.

His father was dragged out of the house by two policemen, kicking and screaming at them but Eddie couldn’t hear what he was saying, ears having gone deaf to anything other than the ringing in his head. Next thing he knew, his father had broken free and punched one of the officers, causing several to tackle him to the ground and handcuff him before practically throwing him into a car and hauling him away. All Eddie could do was watch, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him.

“You got somewhere to go, kid?” One of the cops that took him out of the house asked, leaning against the open door and blocking the flashing lights. Eddie nodded, and the cop took him back to the station where he called Wayne.

“Eddie, son, where are you? Are you okay? If that bastard hurt you, I swear to god—“

“Wayne,” Eddie began, his voice rough from not using it. “Can you come get me?”

A pause. “Sure, kid, where are you?”

“St. Louis,” Eddie supplied. There was cursing on the other end, muffled so Eddie couldn’t tell what was said but he knew Wayne well enough. Even after only two months, the man had become more like a father to him than his own dad ever was.

“I’m coming right now to get ya, just hold on tight, okay? I’ll be there ‘fore the morning.”

True to his word, Wayne showed up right before dawn in his beat up truck. He stormed the station like a madman, looking for him. He was rumpled, like he threw on just enough clothes to be decent before booking it all the way here. If he knew Wayne, that’s probably exactly what he did.

“Eddie? Eds, where are ya?”

“Sir,” the lady at the front desk interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice—“

“Wayne!” Eddie perked up from the desk chair he was sitting at in the station, running around desks before jumping straight in his uncle's arms. Wayne held onto him just as tight, and he could’ve sworn he heard a sniffle or two come from the man.

“I was so worried, Eds,” Wayne whispered. “I tried lookin’ for ya, I swear I did, just—If I’d known he’d taken ya to another state I wouldn’t’ve stopped ‘til I searched the whole damn country.”

“I know, Wayne,” Eddie muttered. “I missed you too.”

As much as Eddie tried, he couldn’t put up that mask of indifference around his uncle. He could try, sure, but it never worked longer than five seconds before he saw right through it and it crumbled at Eddie’s feet.

“Let’s get you home, son,” Wayne insisted and before he knew it, Eddie was asleep in the passenger seat of the truck as they took the highway home.

Since then, Eddie and Wayne had become inseparable. There were no secrets between them, no masks. They weren’t needed, not when Wayne was more than good to him. They weren’t wanted, either, since Wayne made sure to remind him that showing emotions wasn’t a bad thing. That it was good, healthy.

It wasn’t until much later in middle school when he learned that having a mask was necessary sometimes. Especially when people started calling him a freak and a weirdo because he wasn’t identical to everyone else. Because he lived in a trailer with someone that wasn’t his biological parent and wore hand-me-down clothes that were baggy on him since his growth spurt hadn’t hit yet. He donned the air of indifference he had left behind long ago, letting the names and rumors bounce off his skin like water off an umbrella.

That need intensified when high school hit and the rumor mill grew exponentially. Suddenly, he was bombarded with accusations of Satanism, prison time, drug dealing—though that one was true—pet raccoons, and, at one point, an army of undead babies he sucked the life out of that he could command at will. Really, the shit people came up with was astounding, and Eddie learned to shove it all away. None of it was true—save for a couple things he would never, in a million years, tell another soul at Hawkins High—so he made sure to act like it was true. Let people believe what they want to believe. In the meantime, Eddie used it to his advantage to prevent anyone from getting too close. From looking past the barrier he put up between himself and everyone else.

So yeah, Eddie knows a little bit about where Mike’s coming from.

“Actually…” Robin starts. “Steve’s not doing so great—“

“What?!” Dustin squawks out, cutting Robin off and all but jumping up from his seated position. “Why the hell did you not start this whole damn thing with that?!”

“We were getting there, Henderson!” Eddie clarifies. “Now sit your ass down.”

Dustin—for once—does as he’s told. Eddie looks to Robin and gives her a nod, letting her have the floor.

“Steve’s got it in his head that he’s the only one allowed to sacrifice himself for us, that he’s only needed or wanted when he can put himself in the line of fire. So, like the caring dumbass he is, he’s been wandering around Hawkins at night because he’s worried that something will happen.”

“But I closed all of the gates,” El starts, head cocked and eyebrows scrunched like a confused puppy. “We are in no more danger.”

“I think part of him knows that, Supergirl,” Eddie explains. “But he needs to know for certain, to make sure you guys are absolutely safe.”

She nods, and sadness finds its way to her eyes. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for her, knowing that learning how to live all over again is never easy.

“He’s not been sleeping much,” Robin continues. “It’s like he’s barely there anymore. Like he’s just… a shell.

“He thinks you all hate him. He thinks he deserves this for all the shit he did in the past, even though we all know he’s more than made up for it by becoming a decent fucking human being,” she spits out. There’s anger in her eyes now as she glares at a stain on the carpet, unwilling to look at the kids but needing to get her point across. “He broke down in my arms because this is the fifth fucking time the people he’s loved has left him and I think… I think this time broke him.”

She raises her head and looks over the kids, tears balanced on her lower eyelashes and threatening to spill over.

“You’re his family, the family he got to choose, and you still… you left. Just like everyone else has.”

The room fills with silence as the words sink in.

“How… How do we fix it?” Will asks, his quiet voice now loud. Eddie sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a motion that keeps reminding him of Steve—before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I know part of it is my fault, I admit that. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to him all of the sudden, I should’ve… well, there’s a lot of things I should have done but I didn’t, so I plan on fixing that,” Eddie admits. He looks around the room, makes as much eye contact as he can to drive his point home. “You should too. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it, not this time. Not for this.”

The kids all nod, and Eddie gestures to the door to dismiss them. They all look like kicked puppies with slouching posture and ducked heads, walking out of the trailer with their tails between their legs. Dustin and Mike are the first to hop on their bikes, ready to either apologize and get it over with or get as far away from his and Robin’s disappointed glares as possible. Before they can push off, Eddie calls out to them.

“Hey! Give it a couple days,” Eddie orders. “Steve… He’s going to need some time. Go to him when he’s ready, okay?”

He’s met with various nods and ‘will do’s as some of them take off, their knobbly knees hitting the handlebars of their too-small bikes. Then, he notices a particular brunette has yet to leave, her bike with little white training wheels still standing in the grass. Her big brown eyes lock with his and, even though there's a porch between them, he can feel the seriousness in her gaze.

“I miss him. He was always very nice to me,” El confesses. “He always gave me piggyback rides.”

Her face falls a little. “I did not know we were being mean to him.”

Eddie finds himself softening a little at her words.

“I know, Supergirl,” he winks at her. “That’s why you’re my favorite.” 

She giggles in response and hops on her bike, meeting up with Max who stopped to wait for her a few yards away. 

Eddie closes the door, falling against it with a thud. He groans, the sound bouncing off the thin door and out in the empty trailer. He turns to go to his room, preferably to wallow, before nearly jumping clean out of his skin. 

Well, he thought the trailer was empty, except there now stands one Robin Buckley who has resumed her unimpressed, hands-on-her-hips, "you're a fucking dumbass" position from earlier. 

"Jesus H. Christ!" He exclaims. A hand comes up to grab at his heart which is actively trying to beat out of his chest as his lungs grapple for air. "Birdie, I forgot you were there."

"Yeah," she deadpans. "Clearly." 

Eddie straightens up, and quirks an eyebrow at her rather over dramatically. Robin rolls her eyes.

"Well?"

"It's a deep subject," Eddie sarcastically responds. Robin, unfortunately, doesn't find that funny. "'Well' what?"

"Go apologize!" She yells. 

“Okay, okay, geez!”

Eddie pats himself down, looking for the keys to his van before Robin clears her throat. He looks over at her to see an unamused quirk of her eyebrow before she points to the hook by the door where his keys hang. 

“Thanks, Buck!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together in prayer to the saint she is. Grabbing them, he throws the door open and clears the steps in one jump, stumbling a bit on the landing but really, he’s quite proud of this rare athletic appearance. 

Jumping in his van, he slams a random tape in the deck, grinning a little at the song that plays first. Despite his obvious avoidance of the second track, the Master of Puppets album still holds a very special place in his heart. So it's really not a surprise that the song that just so happens to play first reminds him of the very man he’s going to see, sacrificial tendencies and all. 

He slams on the gas, tires squealing as he peels out of Forest Hills trailer park faster than he ever has before. 

He’s not running away this time; not running from a small cheerleader’s body trapped on his ceiling, not running from angry town hicks with their fiery pitchforks, and not running from a creepy interdimensional demon who enjoys sucking the life out of depressed teenagers. 

No, this time, he’s running to something. Running to Steve. 

He just hopes Steve will let him.

———

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[gravedigginbbydoll]

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey y'all! I'm beyond sorry for the wait but I've been busy with moving and everything. This chapter is a bit of a shorter one, so I'm sorry. But it's comforting. Also, I swear there will be MUCH SMUT next chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Also pls, remember that reblogs and comments are appreciated! I love feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

<Previous Masterlist Next>

Chapter 7

Eddie's POV

Eddie hadn’t heard from you for almost 2 weeks. He was beside himself with worry. At the party, had been discussing with Chrissy about his costume when Argyle came up to him, rambling about you rushing out the door. Eddie felt his stomach sink. He was originally looking for you, but Chrissy had stopped him.  She asked him what he was, and Eddie began playing off as the goofy class clown he was known as so as to hide the hurt she caused when he had last seen her. 

After Argyle let him know about you rushing out the door, Eddie looked everywhere for you. The bookstore at the corner of Hawkins Town Square where you loved to thumb through stacks of old and well loved books. The coffee shop that doubled as a bar that was open late on the edge of campus, where you loved curling up on the velour dark green loveseat. Mr. Frosty’s, where you and Eddie first felt a tug to one another. You were nowhere to be found. 

Eddie had called you over and over, voice raw by the 50th voicemail. His heart had felt sore, his mind swimming with worries. You were so strong and consistently hid your true feelings, trying to appear perfect. Eddie never pried too far, scared to push you away. 

By 4 am, Eddie returned home, a small part of his heart hoping you would be on his sofa, the extra key he had given you in use. But he came into an empty and cold apartment, not a soul in sight. 

Eddie had seen you the following week in class, later than usual, sitting in the back. He felt relief flooding his veins, about to speak to you once the class was over. However, he was stumped after you rushed out of class, feeling stung. 

He asked around, no one seeming to know what happened to you to have you give Eddie the cold shoulder. To have you look so…hollow. 

Until he got to Robin. 

He had begged her to tell him what happened, her eyes betraying her with worry and nervousness. She sighed, giving in slightly but her answer just puzzled Eddie even more. 

“Look Eddie, I can’t tell you. It’s not my place. Just give her some time, okay?”

Eddie couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. He felt his heart sink deeper and deeper the longer this went on. You didn’t answer texts or calls. He felt like his stability was crumbling. 

But he clung to the hope that something would change. 

Eddie had waited until the two weeks were over to text you via Steve’s phone. 

Can we talk? 

He felt his heart leap out of his chest when you responded. 

Sure

I can head over around 4

Just don’t tell Eddie, k?

Eddie’s stomach twisted in knots, guilt consuming him. He shouldn’t have pretended to be Steve, and it was clear that Steve was aware of the situation but was staying out of it. He just wanted his old best friend back. Or at least to apologize. 

Eddie waited by the door, pacing back and forth, his insides flopping like a fish. He didn’t know how you’d react to the set up. Or if you would even stay. 

A knock sounded at the door, causing Eddie to jump and his heart to beat faster. He opened the door, staying behind it as you walked in, rambling. You were clearly frazzled, still in your work polo, a cup of iced coffee in one hand and your keys in the other. Eddie let you talk, his heart pounding as he softly closed the door, your back to him. 

“Look, I don’t know what Robin told you but I just need some space and time. I know-” 

“Bug…,” Eddie softly interrupted, hands shaking as he let the familiar nickname escape his mouth. 

You froze in place, turning around to look at Eddie. His heart broke as he saw your tired eyes and almost sickly face. You looked on the verge of tears. Your hands tightened on your coffee, your knees a bit shaky. 

“Eddie…Did you text me?,” You asked, your voice quivering with emotion. Eddie couldn’t pinpoint exactly what the feeling was but he felt a tug at his heart. He nodded, causing you to sigh shakily, your shoulders slumping. 

“I…I have to go,” You muttered, eyes glassy with unshed tears, trying to rush past Eddie to the door. 

Eddie felt panic prick at his nerves as he stepped in front of you, eyes sorrowful and longing. He leaned down to meet your gaze that was trying to focus on the welcome mat at the door. 

“Please…Just…tell me what happened? I can’t stand this…I miss my best friend,” Eddie choked out, his throat tightening as he felt the prick of tears at the back of his eyes. His hands clenched and unclenched, trying to reach out to you. 

You bit your lip, looking at Eddie's shaky hands. You stayed quiet for a bit. Finally, when you spoke up, your voice was thick with tears, Eddie realizing as they ran down your face, your soft sniffles practically echoing in the room. “I don’t want to lose you… But I can’t be friends anymore,” You sobbed, your shoulders shaking. 

Eddie felt his heart shatter, his hands shaking as he tried to reach out to touch you but stopped himself, clenching his fist. He was desperate at this point. His words flowed out without any walls up, a rare occasion for the Munson boy. 

“Please, I’ll do anything. Hell, I’ll even beg. Just let me know what I did wrong, or what happened… You’re the best person I’ve ever met and I’d be lost without you…I miss our sleepovers, our late night talks, our cuddle sessions, the way you talk me down from an anxiety attack…the way we are both so different yet so alike. You’re like this bright star full of warmth and I can’t stand the thought of losing you and never knowing how in the world I fucked up so badly, I-,” Eddie rushed out, sobs shaking his tall frame, his nose and eyes tinged red now, his eyes stinging from the salty tears. 

You shook softly, crying as Eddie rambled, shaking your head. “I just… God it’s pathetic…” 

Eddie came closer, grabbing your shoulder softly to try and look into your eyes despite his blurred vision. “P-please, Bug. Please…” 

You looked up at the ceiling rather than Eddie, your tears flowing steadily. Eddie felt his heart break once again. Girls full of mystery and humbleness and sunshine through the clouds and soft cozy days shouldn’t sob. At least not because of their idiot fucked up and grumpy metalhead friends. 

“I… I like you Eddie. I have for a while. You’re easy to be around and always know what to say and do. You’re so unapologetically…you. And I tried to push down the feelings and ignore them. It was working. For a while, at least. But then I saw you with that girl at the party and heard Steve mention some hot girl you liked and…I couldn’t handle the hurt. I’m sorry,” Your voice shook as you tried to keep your voice calm and without letting the sobs wrack your body. 

Eddie’s heart somehow lifted up into his throat and sank into his shoes at the same time. How did he not see it before? He had been so blindsided by trying to ignore his own budding feelings for you that he hurt you. 

You looked so tired and shaky, eyes still avoiding him. You tried to brush past him yet again. Eddie felt his heart leap as he rushed to grab your hand, stopping you. 

“Bug…please…I like you too.” 

You turned with a humorless laugh, eyes still glossy but you were holding back tears. Eddie felt a prick of confusion and hurt. 

“Yeah right, Eds. Just, please don’t lie to me. It’s okay. I’ll get over it,” You sighed, voice sharp with hurt. 

“I’m not lying,” Eddie said sternly, his eyes trying to peer into your own. You looked at him for the first time since entering through his door, your face guarded from emotion despite your eyes. 

“Eddie…you’re you. And I’m me. You have a different person over every week, you have a reputation. I'm a boring college girl with a thankless snitchy job and no one tries to come on to me. Just…stop lying,” You said bitterly, your voice soft despite the sharp edges in your words. 

Eddie felt his blood boil and his heart squeezed with sorrow. How could you not see everything you meant to him? How could you not see how funny and unique you were? How amazing and accomplished? “Look, maybe I’m Eddie ‘The Manwhore’ Munson, but I’ve stopped hooking up with people. For a while now. Since I’ve known you. I was talking to Chrissy at the party and joking around because she asked about my costume. But I wasn’t flirting. I hadn’t seen her since early September.” 

You looked away, folding in on yourself, your shoulders deflated. Eddie couldn’t stand the pout on your lips, the furrow on your brow. He wanted to kiss them away. 

“You’re all I’ve thought of and the only person I’ve ever needed so strongly in my life. You’re so amazing and you don’t even see it, Bug. Let me show you. Please,” Eddie pleaded, tilting your chin up to look at him, your eyes wide and full of fear and shock. He felt his heart trying to break free of his ribcage, his emotions coming over him in waves. His eyes flitted back and forth between your parted lips and red rimmed eyes, the invisible tug towards you strong. Your eyelids fluttered as you nodded, sighing out softly. 

Eddie leaned down slowly, still holding your chin in his hand before softly kissing your lips, his mouth slightly chapped against your soft mouth. He was gentle and slow, holding your jaw as if he was scared you’d break. When you finally pulled away, you both stared at each other. Eddie saw the clear shock and flustered expression on your face, reveling in your sudden shyness. 

“See,” He teased in a soft whisper. “I like you, dumbass.” 

You smiled softly up at him, laughing a bit. 

Eddie’s heart soared. You were worth the risk. 

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90 @animechick555

[pizzaqueen]

Steve Harrington time stamps

For when you just want to watch Steve’s scenes

I had the idea to do this during my current rewatch thanks to @harmonictechnicality (who was very happy for me to post this) and then @al-ghoul sent me his timestamps so a HUGE thank you there!

Oh, and @faequeentitania has a supercut of all of Eddie's scenes (link is in their bio) so I didn’t add Eddie’s time stamps to this post

My original intention was to not post this until it was completely done, but I honestly don't have much energy right now, so there are only time stamps up to S04E05. But I do intend to finish it one day! (If anyone wants to help out with the remaining ones, that would be great.) You can also see where the formatting changes and that's where I stopped typing up my notes and just used what @al-ghoul sent me, but I do want to reformat it so it's uniform, and add in songs used for his scenes, but I just wanted to get this out there

And I want to say sorry if someone has already done something like this in the meantime! I tried searching but Tumblr search isn't great

SEASON ONE

Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers

14:54 - 16:07 Steve’s first appearance in his rendezvous with Nancy in the bathroom

37:59 - 38:42 Mike sees Steve trying to climb through Nancy’s window

41:04 - 43:12 helping Nancy study

Chapter Two: The Weirdo on Maple Street

12:26 - 14:04 asking Nancy to the party at his house (mention of his parents); the scene cuts to Nancy and Jonathan at 13:20 but you can still see Steve in the background until 14:04

38:17 - 38:37 opening the door for Nancy and Barb (song: Raise a Little Hell by Trooper*)

43:06 - 45:39 pool scene with the drinking, etc., with Tommy H, Carol, Nancy and Barb (song: I Melt With You by Modern English)

49:18 - 49:40 drying off and going upstairs

50:22 - 51:18 we see Steve and Nancy through the window from Jonathan’s POV then it cuts to inside Steve’s room

52:36 - 52:50 getting hot and heavy with Nancy (song: tiniest snippet of the opening strains of Hazy Shade of Winter by The Bangles)

*seems to be playing inside Steve’s house because it’s muffled and gets louder when he opens the doors

Chapter Three: Holly, Jolly

00:40 - 1:50 sleeping with Nancy, intercut with Barb being killed (song: Waiting for a Girl Like You by Foreigner)

3:03 - 3:50 Nancy tries to wake Steve, then leaves

10:16 - 11:11 at Nancy’s locker

20:48 - 21:56 cafeteria with Tommy H, Carol and Nancy

30:07 - 32:16 confronting Jonathan about photos

36:01 - 36:43 waiting for the game in the hallway with Tommy H, Carol and Nancy; Nancy leaves

Chapter Four: The Body

13:16 - 14:30 meeting Nancy between buildings; asks her not to tell the cops about the beer (mention of parents)

Chapter Five: The Flea and the Acrobat

25:47 - 27:51 Steve shows up at Nancy’s to say sorry and invite her to the movies (mention of parents; song: Steve singing a bit of Old Time Rock and Roll)

Chapter Six: The Monster

3:29 - 4:45 driving to Nancy’s with Tommy H and Carol; sees Jonathan and Nancy on bed through window (song: Sunglasses at Night by Corey Hart*)

30:46 - 33:18 alley fight with Jonathan

* playing on the car stereo

Chapter Seven: The Bathtub

14:21 - 16:00 Tommy brings Steve a can of Coke and painkillers; Steve has fight with Tommy and Carol then drives off

18:40 - 19:21 offers to help scrub graffiti off cinema marquee

Chapter Eight: The Upside Down

14:42 - 17:03 comes to Jonathan’s to say sorry; gets introduced to the upside down shenanigans

18:53 - 22:00 Nancy gives Steve an out; he runs, then he comes back (it cuts to Hopper and Joyce at 21:18 for a couple of seconds)

22:27 - 23:50 following the lights with Nancy and Jonathan that Joyce and Hopper are lighting up as they go through the UD version (intercut with scenes of Joyce and Hopper)

48:01 - 48:24 epilogue snuggling on couch with Nancy in Christmas sweater

SEASON TWO

Chapter One: Madmax

12:13 - 14:02 Nancy looking over Steve’s essay in the car outside the school (song: Talking in Your Sleep by The Romantics)

20:09 - 20:38 waiting by the corner in the hallway to pick Nancy up and twirl her around by the lockers

31:38 - 33:50 dinner with Nancy at Barb’s parents

Chapter Two: Trick or Treat, Freak

15:58 - 19:22 studying in the library with Nancy/Steve is worried about the government if they talk too much about what happened and suggests going to party and pretend everything is normal (between 17:15 to 17:36 it cuts to Nancy thinking she sees Barb)

31:23 - 32:17 Tommy H and Billy come over while Steve is with Nancy at the party; Tommy H: “We’ve got a new keg king, Harrington.” (Song: Shout at the Devil by Mötley Crüe)

42:03 - 44:14 dancing with Nancy (song Girls on Film by Duran Duran)/spills drink on her/bathroom ‘bullshit’ scene

Chapter Three: The Pollywog

19:11 - 21:14 playing basketball against Billy (Song: Go! By Tones on Tail) and talking with Nancy between the buildings

Chapter Four: Will the Wise

16:23 - 17:53 basketball again (Song: Scarface (Push it to the Limit) from Scarface) and the shower scene with Tommy H and Billy

Chapter Five: Dig Dug

35:17 - 35:52 shows up to Nancy’s with flowers and is waylaid by Dustin

Chapter Six: The Spy

00:51 - 3:43 In car with Dustin (song: Hammer to Fall by Queen*) going to kill Dart with bat

12:39 - 13:06 bringing meat with Dustin

24:51 - 27:34 laying trap for Dart with Dustin (meat on the railroad tracks) and talking about girls

31:48 - 32:37 at the junkyard with Dustin

33:10 - 33:21 at the junkyard with Dustin, Lucas and Max

35:27 - 35:38 fortifying the bus/setting stuff up at the junkyard

35:49 - 36:02 pouring gasoline

36:48 - 37:01 going into the bus

37:44 - 38:24 inside the bus; flicking the lighter

40:46 - 45:06 demodogs appear; Steve goes out as bait/to fight them

* playing on the car stereo

Chapter Seven: The Lost Sister

Doesn’t appear in this episode

Chapter Eight: The Mind Flayer

08:35 - 10:33 walking from the junk yard with kids at night, looking for Dart on the train tracks

13:27 - 13:56 in front of Hawkins lab; meet up with Nancy and Jonathan

15:15 - 15:45 in front of the lab

16:15 - 16:21 gate opens

21:58 - 22:22 waiting at gate; Hopper picks them up

23:06 - 23:42 at the Byers’

24:43 - 29:03 in Byers’ kitchen; Steve is in and out of the frame/sometimes in the background

29:23 - 29:55 duct-taping the shed with Nancy

31:51 - 32:07 finishing the shed with everyone

33:05 - 33:10 practicing with a bat at Byers'

34:32 - 34:35 blinking lights at Byers’

38:52 - 39:16 morse code

40:31 - 40:56 “close gate”

41:31 - 41:37 hearing demodogs

42:15 - 44:34 preparing to fight/El arrives

S02E09:

00:07:23 Steve (at Byers with everyone) (00:08:03)

00:09:08 Steve (at Byers backyard with Nancy) (00:10:02)

00:10:50 Steve (on the Byers porch with kids) (00:11:06)

00:15:22 Steve (putting demodog in the fridge) (00:15:57)

00:16:17 Steve (at the Byers with the kids / Billy arrives) (00:19:09)

00:19:47 Steve (fighting Billy) (00:21:02)

00:24:41 Steve (waking up in the car with Max) (00:25:54)

00:26:43 Steve (arriving to the tunnels) (00:28:17)

00:30:00 Steve (at the tunnels) (00:31:42)

00:33:40 Steve (torching the tunnels while Will burns) (00:34:43)

00:36:52 Steve (running through the tunnels) (00:36:59)

00:38:00 Steve (freeing Mike / meeting Dart) (00:39:38)

00:40:16 Steve (running out of the tunnels) (00:41:19)

00:43:40 Steve (gate closed) (00:43:44)

00:45:19 Steve (at the Barb's funeral) (00:45:27)

00:48:51 Steve (driving Dustin to the Snow Ball) (songs: Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar and Twist of Fate by Olivia Newton-John*) (00:50:10)

*both are playing inside the Snow Ball Edit: actually the Pat Benatar song seems to be coming from his car on re-watching 😅 it definitely sounded like from inside the building to me before but now it doesn’t

--------------------------------------------------------

S03E01:

00:09:15 Steve (letting the kids through Scoops Ahoy back door) (00:09:40)

00:10:46 Steve (lights go out) (00:11:01)

00:12:12 Steve (lights go back) (00:12:18)

00:24:42 Steve (Scoops Ahoy with Robin, hitting on ladies) (00:26:46)

S03E02:

00:10:15 Steve (Scoops Ahoy with Dustin) (00:12:34)

00:17:52 Steve (translating Russian with Dustin) (00:19:24)

00:35:27 Steve (Robin translated first Russian) (00:35:54)

00:41:26 Steve (mall after hours with Robin and Dustin) (00:43:37)

S03E03:

00:17:23 Steve (spying for spies in the mall with Dustin) (00:19:19)

00:27:12 Steve (found a sport fitness "spy" with Dustin) song: Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go by Wham!* (00:28:32)

00:29:20 Steve (with Dustin returning to Scoop Ahoy) (00:29:26)

00:30:03 Steve (Robin cracked the code) (00:30:12)

00:39:20 Steve (in the rain looking at delivery) (00:40:30)

*playing in the jazzercise class

S03E04:

00:09:04 Steve (Scoops Ahoy, devising a plan) 00:10:08

00:21:14 Steve (Robin brings Starcourt blueprints) (00:22:58)

00:24:32 Steve (bringing Erica into the plan) (00:25:11)

00:34:51 Steve (Erica goes into the vent) (00:35:05)

00:36:22 Steve (Erica got to the room) (00:37:00)

00:40:28 Steve (opening the boxes with the team Scoops) (00:42:08)

S03E05:

00:00:07 Steve (the elevator room falling) (00:01:58)

00:16:25 Steve (stuck in / getting out of the elevator room) (00:19:46)

00:25:19 Steve (walking the tunnel) (00:27:16)

00:34:40 Steve (finding the russian base / fighting the guard) (00:37:01)

00:37:21 Steve (Robin found The Machine) (00:38:21)

S03E06:

00:00:14 Steve (being apprehended by russians) (00:01:48)

00:17:12 Steve (being beaten up / questioned by the russians) (00:20:21)

00:31:06 Steve (tied to a chair with Robin) (00:35:58)

00:45:25 Steve (truth serum kicks in / Dustin saves them) (00:48:50)

S03E07:

00:06:31 Steve (Dustin is driving away through the tunnel / elevator) (00:08:45)

00:13:13 Steve (running from the mall guards into the cinema) (00:14:04)

00:14:30-32 / 00:14:41-44 (tweedldee and tweedledum in the cinema)

00:23:19 Steve (drunk with Robin in the cinema hallway) (00:25:08)

00:28:27 Steve (confesses Robin in the cinema restroom) (00:35:02)

00:39:07 Steve (sneaking out of the restroom) (00:40:03)

00:48:50 Steve (hiding from mall guards under the counter) (00:49:16)

00:49:41 Steve (El defeated the guards) (00:50:51)

00:51:09-14 Steve (El collapses)

S03E08:

00:00:36 Steve (Eleven's fucked up leg) 00:01:25

00:02:50 Steve (El pulls the Flayer out of the leg) (00:03:16)

00:04:28 Steve (everyone is catching up on things) (00:05:11)

00:06:34 Steve (hanging around while everyone prepares) (00:06:43)

00:07:40 Steve (driving away from the mall) (00:08:10)

00:13:32 Steve (driving kids to the radio hill) (00:14:42)

00:17:50 Steve (on the radio hill) (00:18:19)

00:24:19 Steve (on the radio hill, Flayer attacks Starcourt) (00:25:12)

00:26:03 Steve (on the radio hill running back to the car) (00:26:14)

00:32:54 Steve (hitting Billy's car at Starcourt, Nancy's driving away) 00:33:35

00:34:39 Steve (Flayer pursues the car, Suzie appears) (00:34:50)

00:35:49-53 Steve (in the car while Dustin sings over the radio)

00:36:28-31 Steve (in the car while Dustin and Suzie both singing)

00:38:04 Steve (in the car while Flayer goes back to Starcourt)

00:42:29-34 Steve (throwing fireworks at the Flayer in the mall)

00:43:03-04 Steve (keeps throwing)

00:44:16-22 Steve (on the radio with Dustin)

00:50:33 Steve (Flayer disassembles) (00:50:43)

00:54:58-01 Steve (at the ER car in the background)

00:56:44 Steve (arriving with Robin at the Family Video for a job) (00:58:04)

00:58:55 Steve (bumping into the cardboard figure) (00:59:12)

--------------------------------------------------------

S04E01:

00:15:24 Steve (in car with Robin) (00:16:58)

00:54:43 Steve (with Brenda at basketball game) (00:56:24)

S04E02:

00:07:56 Steve (at Family Video with Robin) (00:09:49)

00:28:13 Steve (at Family Video with Max & Dustin) (00:29:06)

00:44:58 Steve (at Family Video flirting / searching for Rick) (00:47:43)

01:01:45 Steve/Eddie (at Reefer Rick's) (01:06:14)

01:07:22 Eddie, Steve (talks about Chrissy / Vecna revealed) (01:12:30)

S04E03:

00:12:28 Eddie, Steve (receiving supplies at Rick's) (00:14:23)

00:15:14 Steve (at Fred's crime scene) (00:15:29)

00:25:29 Steve (with kids and Nancy discussing Vecna) (00:28:12)

00:38:21 Steve (outside shrink's house in the car) (00:39:28)

00:41:22 Steve (driving away from the shrink) (00:41:33)

00:42:00 Steve (driving the car while Lucas radioes) (00:42:43)

00:50:53 Steve (breaking into school shrink's office at night) (00:51:38)

00:55:54 Steve (at the shrink's office) (00:56:53)

S04E04:

00:02:09 Steve (school after Max's episode, Nancy and Robin arrive) (00:04:50)

00:07:29 Steve (the Wheeler's house - Max writes letters, Nancy and Robin arrive) (00:10:44)

00:17:35 Steve (Max finished the letters, wants to go) (00:20:04)

00:31:33 Steve (driving Max to the trailer park) (00:31:53)

00:34:35-49 Steve (Max returns to the car)

00:48:17 Steve (driving Max to the cemetery) (00:49:00)

01:02:32 Steve (going for Max at the cemetery) (01:03:04)

01:03:17 Steve (trying to wake Max up) (01:03:35)

01:04:58-07 Steve (with Dustin and Lucas trying to wake Max up)

01:09:01-12 Steve (Dustin brings music to Max)

01:10:45 Steve (everyone searching for the tape) (01:11:06)

01:11:50-00 Steve (Max flies)

01:13:43 Steve (Max is out) (01:14:14)

S04E05:

00:14:32 Steve (sleeping in Wheeler's basement) (00:14:38)

00:36:19 Steve (arriving at Creel's house with everyone) (00:40:06)

00:49:55 Steve (checking Creel's house with DNR) (00:52:36)

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Age Of Consent [part three]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 1,784

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, and a lot of profanity.

A/N: When you write an entire chapter and then it doesnt save so you have to write it again from memory. Anyways, how about a little Eddie POV? Pretty sure we can categorize this as a slow burn. Thank you so much for sticking with this little story. Enjoy this next part and if you would like to be tagged, please let me know!

Read Part Two || Read Part Four

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about you.

He was hopeless, unable to concentrate on anything else. After two years, he thought that he had managed to get over it, but the moment he heard your voice that scar on his heart split right open into a festering wound, once more.

His fingers tapped against the lunchroom table as he waited for Dustin, wanting an explanation. Why were you there? What did you want from him? Was this some sort of sick joke? Did you just want to torment him? Make fun of him for still being in high school like a fucking loser?

He eyed your brother as he approached the lunch table.

The moment that Dustin had sat his tray down, Eddie grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him away from the crowd. The younger boy was absolutely terrified at this point, having not a single idea of what was about to happen. He liked Eddie, but he didn't really know Eddie, and he did not want to be punched in the face over a misunderstanding that was most likely your fault.

Eddie's eyes were menacing, squinting at his curly-haired friend before he address him, "Henderson," he almost growled.

"Eddie." Dustin gulped.

"You want to tell me what your goddamn sister was doing here last night after Hellfire?" Dustin's mouth gaped open, his mind desperately trying to find the words. "Now, Henderson!"

"S-She uh, she said that she d-didn't want me to be a part of the club!" He stuttered. "So I uh- I invited her to come out and meet you and see that you weren't as bad as some people say, b-because you're a totally nice guy."

Eddie sighed. Reality had hit him like a brick as he realized that you still hadn't told your family that the two of you had dated. Hell, you hadn't even told them that you knew him. Not even after Dustin had told you that he was part of the Hellfire Club, which, to Eddie, would have been the perfect opportunity, even if it was two years too late.

"She really never told you," he muttered quietly. "Figures."

"Told me what?" Dustin asked.

Should he out your secret? God, did he want to, if only just to annoy you; cause an issue in your otherwise perfect little life and force you to confront the past that you so desperately tried to run from. You had your reasons, you made them clear, but Eddie still carried this smoldering torch that he just wouldn't let burn out. He always would.

"Oh my God," a realization washed over Dustin's face as he figured it out. "You dated my sister, didn't you?"

Eddie said nothing, but it was all over his face.

"Gross!" Dustin shrieked. "Ew, you dated my sister."

"Yeah, and she broke my goddamn heart." Eddie ushered his younger friend back to the table. "In fact, she was very clear that she never wanted to see me again, ever, so imagine my surprise last night when she just- just showed up like it was the good ol' days."

"Dude, I had no idea."

Eddie's expression softened. This wasn't Dustin's fault, at all. "I know, man. I know you were just trying to advocate for me. I appreciate it."

"What happened between the two of you?"

"That depends on who you're asking, I'm sure."

"I'm asking you," Dustin replied curtly.

Eddie knew that offloading all of his pent-up emotions was probably super inappropriate, but it's not like he had anyone else to talk to about it. Except for Wayne, but his uncle had already heard him crying in his pillow enough times to get the gist of what had happened. The countless sad songs that Eddie had written, and practiced out of his bedroom, basically told the entire story from start to finish so Wayne never needed to ask.

"For starters, she didn't want to tell anyone we were together," He began. "Which, let me be clear, I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy; the feeling that you're not good enough, but you're just so fucking in love you're like- whatever, babe, whatever you want. You know?"

Dustin nodded his head despite the fact that he most certainly did not know.

"She said it had something to do with my 'life choices', but that is such bullshit, man. I know that the real reason is that I wasn't able to graduate and she didn't want to be with some lame asshole who was stuck in high school. Whatever, it was inevitable. She was going to go off to college and meet some normal dude who she could take home to the family and wouldn't hold her back."

He knew he sounded pathetic.

"It doesn't matter, dude." He waved a hand in the air. "It was years ago. Shit's in the past. Just, for my heart's sake, please keep her away from me. No more surprise visits, okay? Shit almost killed me."

"What!? No." Dustin exclaimed dramatically.

"What do you mean, no?"

"You're obviously still in love with her." The younger boy accurately noted. "As gross as that is, you totally are."

Eddie hated how a fourteen-year-old kid could see right through him like he was made of glass. He hated it and at the same time was mildly impressed. How is it that this kid- this child- who didn't know a goddamn thing about love, have it all figured out? No matter how much of a facade he tried to put on, it was just that painstakingly obvious that he just wasn't over you.

"So?" Eddie said, his voice small.

"So, get her back."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Get. Her. Back." Dustin emphasized, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal whatsoever. "It's simple."

"I don't think you really understand, Henderson. Your sister made it very clear that she never wanted to see me again, let alone be with me again."

"So why'd she agree to come to Hellfire?" The younger boy asked innocently. "Maybe she's still in love with you, too."

Eddie laughed dryly, "No, no- see, that's where she and I are different. She never loved me. Not really, anyways."

Dustin sighed and sat his sandwich down on the tray in front of him before placing a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Listen, Munson." He said frankly. Eddie was incredibly confused. "What I'm about to offer is for a limited time only, so if you're interested, I suggest you take me up on it. I can help you get her back."

Fuck, he hated your brother's confidence. It gave him hope. He was a pessimist by nature, so he knew that it was most likely false hope, but it was hope nonetheless. If there was even the slightest chance that Dustin was right, Eddie had to take it. He was already a fool, but not taking a chance on the one thing that he wanted more than anything- that would just make him plain stupid.

"How?"

That was all Dustin needed to hear. He spent the rest of their lunch block calculating ways to put you and Eddie in the same place at the same time. He rambled off a schedule of your day-to-day activities; your work schedule, when you usually took lunch, what stores you liked to shop at, your jogging route, and what you did on the weekends.

"We go to Antonio's for pizza every Wednesday night around 6:00," Dustin mentioned. "You could conveniently be picking up dinner for you and your uncle around that time."

Sure, it sounded a lot like stalking, but Dustin was confident that they would be able to chalk it up to coincidence and you'd be none the wiser. Eddie wasn't really convinced, but he figured he might as well trust the process and see if Dustin might be able to work his magic. After all, he said that he had experience with this sort of thing.

It took everything in you not to accost your brother the moment that he got home from school. You had practically been sitting in the same spot all day, waiting for him to arrive, knowing that the first thing he did this morning was seek out Eddie to find out what had happened last night.

From your room you heard his backpack hit the floor in the kitchen, followed by the sounds of the refrigerator opening and closing. You gave him ten minutes before you tip-toed down the stairs, stopping just around the corner to assess his mood and demeanor.

"I know you're there," you heard him say without even looking up from his textbook.

You sighed and cut right to the chase, "what'd Eddie have to say?"

"Not much," Dustin answered and you thought for a moment that maybe Eddie didn't say anything at all. "Just that you two dated and then you broke up with him because he didn't pass the 12th grade the first time around."

There it is.

"Of course that's how he remembers it," you muttered.

"Kind of shitty, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't." You spat. "It's a lot more complicated than the fact that he didn't graduate, Dustin." It was just like Eddie to make himself out to be the victim. "Actually, that wasn't even an issue."

"So what was the issue?" He asked. "And why didn't you ever tell us?"

You combed a hand through your hair and sighed. "Because it was right when dad had just died, okay? Mom was already going through so much, I- I didn't want her to think that she had to worry about me lashing out because I was dating Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. You and I both know that sometimes it's just better if she doesn't know things."

Dustin could only nod in agreement.

"And it's not like it was a secret from everyone. The whole school knew we were dating." You argued. "And yeah, I broke up with him and it sucked. But you can't just pinpoint it to one thing, there were multiple things over time and I just finally decided that I had to do what was best for me."

"D'you miss him?" Dustin asked and the question surprised you.

"No!" You replied a little too quickly. "No. Absolutely not. The only reason that I agreed to go last night was because of you. I definitely do not miss him, that would be absurd."

You could tell that he wasn't buying it.

"Anyways, this conversation is over." You declared. "Keep going to your little club, I don't care, just- no more talk about Eddie Munson, deal?"

"Deal," Dustin replied with a smirk. "It'll be like he doesn't even exist."

Tags: @fangirling-4-ever, @nojamsonmytoast, @munson-burner, @slvdsjjk, @kiszkawagnerwhore, @bitterplacebrokendreamsmaegan, @katxn15, @itswormtrain, @itsallnonsens3, @aashy723, @buginktsworld, @in-this-minute, @animexholic, @colbychu

let me know if you would like to be added!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Right Place in Time

Summary: What if Steve was in the woods with Chrissy and Eddie getting weed for his headaches?

@disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @darkrose517 @panicatthediaz @mandriice @nightmareglitter

Tw Laura is only in memory, but she does hit little Chrissy.

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chrissy's POV

Chrissy slid to the floor of the kitchen, having just said goodbye to her boyfriends. She hated parting with them, but she knew that they needed confirmation and that someone needed to be here for Max.

"You didn't have to stay here for me, you know?" Max said as she slid to the floor next to her.

"I wanted to," Chrissy said and squeezed her hand. "I'm just worried about them. I'm worried about all of us."

"Me too," Max said softly.

"It's just utter bullshit that we had to be benched!" Dustin complained.

"Oh, man, come on. You know that Steve was right," Lucas said.

"I know, I just want to be helpful," Dustin said. "I hate the waiting around."

"You have been helpful, son," Wayne said. "And there's nothing to be done about the waiting around part."

Vickie joined Chrissy and Max on the floor.

"We have yet to talk about you and your new boyfriends," Vickie said and paused. "I like them much better than Jason. You seem happy."

"I am. They're both very kind, not to mention dashing. . .," Chrissy said.

"Eddie? Dashing?" Lucas snorted. "That's not the word that I would use."

"Hush, you," Chrissy said playfully. "Anyway, they're both handsome and funny. Although, Eddie can really go on about the things that he likes, which I find very endearing."

"You think he talks a lot now, just you wait," Wayne said, scoffing. "Boy even talks in his sleep."

"He does? That's so cute," Chrissy grinned.

"I'm glad you like him so much," Wayne said in amusement. "I'm glad he's found someone like you two."

"We wouldn't change a thing about him," Chrissy said, and then she paused. "Well, he can be a little set in his ways sometimes, but it's nothing we can't handle. . . Vickie, tell us about you and Robin."

"She's so great! She rambles on just like me when I get nervous, you know? It's so cute when she does it. Did Steve tell you that they've talked about opening their own buisness together?" Vickie asked.

"Yeah," Chrissy said in amusement. "Kind of like us wanting to collaborate on a book together."

"You guys want to write a book together?" Max asked.

"Well, it would be Vickie doing the writing and me doing the illustrations," Chrissy said. "I love to draw."

"That's actually really cool," Max said.

They all talked about their hopes and dreams for a while until they all nodded off, the moonlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains and casting a line on the wall. She watched it for a while, watching the tiny dust particles float through the air. Eventually, sleep caught up with her, and she closed her eyes, her cheek pressing against the top of Max's head. She wasn't sure how long it had been, but Chrissy and the others had awoken to the sound of their secret knock coming from the front door in very loud bangs. Wayne opened the door for Jeff, Frank, and Gareth. Their faces were bleeding and bruised.

"Jason and his friends are coming. We stole Nancy's car," Frank said. "The others got pulled into the lake when they showed up. Jason and his goons must have been patrolling the area. We got away and tried to turn them away, but Nancy's car is low on fuel, and we needed to get to you guys. They're coming! We need to leave now."

"Okay, we'll take Steve’s car, too. Grab what you need. Turn on the lights and pull down the curtains. Rearrange the blankets," Wayne said. "And let's go."

"Steve gave me his keys before they left," Chrissy said.

"Good. Do you know how to drive?" Wayne asked, and Chrissy nodded. "Let's go!"

"Where are we going?" Max asked.

"The other gate. At the high school," Dustin said. "I'm hoping that's where they'll be."

It wasn't as difficult as she thought it would be driving with her cast. Max and Lucas had squeezed into Wayne's truck with Wayne. Vickie was sitting up front with Chrissy while Jeff, Frank, and Gareth squeezed in the back of Steve’s car. Chrissy's tape was blasting in Steve’s stereo, drowning out any possible conversation, not that Chrissy had anything to say. All she could think about was Steve and Eddie. Were they okay? Were they still alive? Chrissy suddenly imagined Steve’s body being broken in the sky, and she bit her lip to hold back the sob. No, Vecna wasn't going to kill Steve. She wasn't going to let that happen. Their tires screeched as they pulled into the parking lot. They all ran towards the spot where Fred died and stopped when they saw the gate stretched out on the ground.

"Fuck," Jeff muttered.

Dustin scurried off and came back with a big stick. He moved toward the gate, but Chrissy stopped him, pushing him back. She gestured for the kids to move back while Wayne grabbed the stick. He started pushing through the skin like texture spread over the gate. Soon, it was open, and she was in the arms of her boyfriends. Then suddenly she wasn't.

"Chrissy. . .Chrissy Cunningham. You and Max escaped me once before. . .You won't do it again. . . Chrissy. . .let me end your suffering. . . "

Chrissy was standing in what looked like a hospital hallway or a lab, possibly. There was a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. She ran as fast as she could and burst through the doors into a blue Victorian style house. It was beautiful and new. A family was moving in, and on the outside, they looked beautiful, happy. . .almost too happy. Chrissy could tell when people were trying too hard. She had seen enough of it from her mother. The girl was dancing through the hallway. The young boy looked bored, and there was something off-putting about him. The wife called her husband Victor. Chrissy's eyes widened. This was Victor's family. She could only watch as the family was haunted and then brutally killed. The only one who was calm amongst them all was the boy, Henry. The scene ended with Victor cradling his little girl in his arms.

It changed, and she was back in the lab again, watching as a creepy looking doctor tattooed Henry, looking at him like he was a weapon to be used. 001. The look on the doctor's face was absolutely gleeful. The creepy feeling she got from the kid was similar to the one she got from the doctor. Dr. Brenner, she later learned, was his name. The scene changed again. A girl, her head shaved, was sitting on the floor in a rainbow painted room. A blond haired man was sitting next to her. He looked familiar to her, and as Chrissy moved closer, she realized that the man in front of her was Henry Creel. He was clearly manipulating the girl.

"Chrissy," a familiar voice called out.

She looked up to find Matty standing in the doorway.

"Matty?"

"You have to fight him. You have to fight it," Matty said.

He turned and ran down the hallway. Chrissy ran after him, and she was reminded of all the times that they played tag together. She followed him through one door and found herself in her house. She was looking at a younger version of herself. She was four, maybe five. Laura was trying to make her wear an ugly, frilly orange dress. Young Chrissy hated it.

"I don't wanna!" Young Chrissy screamed.

"Christine Cunningham! You will listen to me!" Laura exclaimed.

"No!" She shrieked.

To Chrissy's surprise, the lights flickered, and the dress was torn out of Laura's hand. It was flung against the opposite wall by an invisible force. Young Chrissy's nose started dripping blood. Chrissy's eyes widened. She did not remember this at all. Laura's hand shot out and slapped young Chrissy's face.

"What did I say about using the devil's magic?!" Laura yelled. "Get on your knees."

"Mama!" Young Chrissy cried.

"On your knees," Laura said softly.

Young Chrissy got on her knees while Laura did the same. Laura took her hands in hers, gripping it tightly, and started to pray. Young Chrissy continued to cry. Suddenly, Chrissy was standing in her living room watching the TV. It was showing Hawkins being split wide open. It was like hell on Earth. Matty was standing beside her again.

"You have to fight it, Chrissy. Stop him. You have the power. You've always had the power. You don't have to run from it anymore," Matty said softly.

"Are you really Matty?" Chrissy asked.

"Yes and no. I'm the part of him that you keep alive inside of yourself, and I'm the part of you who wants to keep fighting. Chrissy, you fought for me every single day of my life. It's time you fought for yourself too," Matty said. "Do you remember how I died?"

"It was an asthma attack," Chrissy said.

"That's what mom told you," Matty said.

The screen flickered, and it was early November 1983. It was right around the time Will Byers had gone missing. Chrissy was doing her homework when Matty screamed. She watched herself run out the door and out into the backyard. A shadow loomed over Matty, his body still. The creatures head snapped up, its lower part of the face dripping with blood. The face opened up like a deformed flower, and it screamed at Chrissy. She hadn't used her powers in a long time, but she tried to use them then, and she did everything she could do to blast it away from Matty. She pushed it away from him with her powers and watched as it ran off. She collapsed to the ground, Matty's lifeless eyes staring at her.

"It came for you that night. Henry came for you. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Mom told you it was an asthma attack because you couldn't remember what happened after. She thought you killed me. You thought so too, I think. You tried to save me, and you've always tried to save me. You don't need to be afraid of your powers anymore, Chrissy," Matty said and took her hand. "Save us."

Suddenly, she was standing in pitch blackness and in water. A girl stood before her, the same girl from earlier, but she was older now. Her head was still shaved or maybe it was shaved again.

"I'm Eleven, but my friends call me El," she said.

"Chrissy," she said softly. "You're friends with Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Mike is your boyfriend?"

"Yes," El grinned. "You are friends with them too?"

"Yes."

"You're like me and Henry?" El asked.

"I'm like you, yes," Chrissy said. "And we do have powers like Henry, but we're not monsters like Henry or like Dr. Brenner. We don't have to be their puppets, not for either one of them."

"No, we're not puppets," El said determinedly.

Chrissy smiled and took her hand.

"Let's cut the strings then," Chrissy said. "Together."

"Sisters," El said nodding.

"Sisters," Chrissy agreed.

Suddenly, the connection with El was cut off, and Chrissy was standing in the rainbow room again. Henry was standing in front of her, a crooked smile on his face. It was twisted just like he was.

"Join me, Chrissy. Your suffering will end, and you will be stronger than ever," Henry said.

"You only want one thing from me: my power," Chrissy said.

"A power that you didn't even know you had," Henry said. "I showed you that."

"You're getting nothing from me, from El, or from this town," Chrissy said.

She dug down deep, letting the anger take control. The door that she kept locked burst open, and she felt the power building up inside of her.

"Chrissy. . ."

Matty stood next to her, slipping his hand into hers and holding on tightly. The power inside of her grew bigger, and Henry scowled at her.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" Chrissy screamed.

Suddenly, she was floating in the school parking lot. Her boyfriends and friends were screaming her name down below. She raised her hand and pointed it at the gate, blood gushing from her nose. It started stitching itself closed until there was nothing left but the smooth pavement. She could feel the other gate still wide open, but she was too tired to close it from here. Suddenly, she was aware of just how tired she was, and it was like the strings were cut. Then she was falling and fell right into the arms of her lovers. She clutched Eddie and Steve, exhausted but still holding on.

"I'm not a fucking puppet," Chrissy said and then she fell asleep.

Chapter Sixteen

[katyawriteswhump]

the power of love part 7 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Chapter Seven

Eddie POV

Steve insists on being pathfinder lead for the next hour. 

Eddie’s gotta admit—following Steve, as he thrashes his way through the undergrowth, is the best entertainment that banishment has provided yet. Steve’s tight-fitting pants don't do any harm. Goddammit, the perspiration patches on Steve’s shirt make Eddie sweat even harder than Steve is.

“You need the fedora hat,” calls Robin, “and you’ve totally nailed the junior Indiana Jones look.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder. “I was channelling that guy out of Romancing the Stone.” 

“Michael Douglas? No way as hot.” Eddie flashes his best flirtatious grin with ever greater confidence. This afternoon, Steve has begun returning them. “Stick to Indy, man.”

By the time they reach the logging camp, however, they’re all beyond exhausted.

Eddie’s feet are raw with blisters, and Robin’s been complaining of the same for the past hour. She limps through the door of the first cabin they come to, which fortunately turns out to be a bunkhouse. She throws down her pack then throws herself onto the bottom of one of two sets of bunks. Steve collapses onto the other lower bunk and appears to fall instantly asleep.

Eddie considers crawling up onto one of the top bunks and seeing if sleep takes pity on him.

He doubts it would. The choppers were a stark reminder of the nightmare reality snapping at his heels, and he’s wired as hell. He begins to unpack their supplies. Robin, having taken a moment, sits back up.

“We should check this place out,” she whispers. “There must be a clean water supply somewhere, maybe a generator. Definitely canned food and that kinda stuff, for when the loggers come back in the autumn.” 

“I guess it’ll make a change from cardboard-flavoured cereal.”

“God, I know, right! I’d literally murder for some Count Chocular right now.”

They split up to search the various cabins. Eddie hits the jackpot first, in the guise of a crate of bottled beer. 

“Seriously?” says Robin, when she meets him outside the bunkhouse. Eddie sits on the beer crate he’s dragged out, taking a well-earned rest. “You’re gonna get buzzed?”

“You got it in one, sister.”

He doesn’t feel the need to justify this—I saw Chrissy butchered in front of my eyes. I’ve spent a week on the run from the cops. I BASICALLY DIED IN A WHIRLWIND OF EVIL KILLER DEMOBATS. And now I’m on the run again, with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, and I’ve fallen stupid hard for him. Oh, and there’s a small but real possibility he’s been flayed. Or something else freaky along those lines.

Robin hasn’t quit scowling at him. His smile is the first overtly false one he’s bothered with for a while:

“Forgive me, Robin. I’ve reached the point where, to quote my sweet old Granny—there ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ like it for me nerves. ’Course, she favoured hard liquor.” He offers one of two bottles he’s gotten out to Robin. “Want one?”

“I’ll stick to the cardboard cereal.” Her scowl lessens, though she remains deadly serious. “Look, promise me you won’t give too much to Steve.”

“Why?”

“What kinda pea-brain question is that? Despite the super-commando act, he’s still struggling, it’s totally obvious. Getting trashed is not gonna help.”

“Yeah, but… he’s improving, right?” Her slight wince betrays that, once again, they’re thinking the same thing. Perhaps Steve’s getting stronger, because he’s getting closer again to Lover’s Lake, Hawkins, Vecna, the Hive-Mind, and yet… “You know our little worst-case scenario, Rob? I’m still not buying it.”

The wind rustles the nearby trees. In sync, Robin’s hunched shoulders soften a little. “Me neither. Hand on heart, if Steve had a link to that evil shit, any at all, I’d sense it by now. Although… Was it just me who thought it was weird when the choppers came over, and then it suddenly clouded up?”

“Yeeeeaah, that really was just you. I was too busy eating dirt and shitting myself.” Now he thinks about it, mind, it was darn convenient.

She shrugs. “I guess I’m super-paranoid that way. I literally spent my Middle School years spotting aliens everywhere.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Then I realised they weren’t aliens. It was the Fae all along.”

“You sure it wasn’t dragons?”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Her laugh sounds as manic as his latest crazy smile. On the other hand:

“Maybe Steve really is getting better naturally,” he ventures, “and the set-backs are because he’s been overdoing it. I mean, yeah, we keep an eye out for anything cuckoo, watch for connections, make sure he takes rests, but… Time heals, huh?”

“Not always.” She purses her lips, veering straight back into scary mode. “Steve doesn’t like people to know, but since his second major concussion, he’s not supposed to drink. Of course, he does sometimes, but—”

“Message received. I’ll just have the one—for medicinal purposes, ’kay?” 

“Please yourself. Then wake Steve long enough to put our own bedding on those disgusting bunks. I don’t wanna be bitten to death by bed bugs.”

Robin stomps off toward the camp generator. Eddie is executing the important business of prying the top off his beer, when Steve appears, leaning in the cabin doorway. “Why did you both let me… Hey, is that beer?”

The top pops off with a treacherous fizz. “Uh, no?”

“You’re a useless liar.” Steve closes in. His messy, sleep-mussed hair renders him totally edible. 

“You got me.” Eddie darts his tongue nervously across his lips. “This indeed is the amber nectar of the Gods. You want some?” 

There’s a skewed logic behind Eddie’s offer. If he told Steve he couldn’t drink, like he was his mom or something, Steve would probably get mad. He opts to play a good cop, bad cop routine with Robin, who… 

Eddie glances toward the generator.

She’s not there. If bad cop isn’t gonna show, then he needs a Plan B.

“I guess I’ll have one.” Steve stretches to take the bottle. 

“Just gonna test it. Been here a while.” 

Eddie takes a glug, splutters it out across dusty ground. “Oh man, it’s worse than cat-piss.” He’s only slightly exaggerating. “There’s a reason those lumberjacks left this garbage behind.”

Steve yawns into the back of his hand. “Gonna be honest. I’m not supposed to drink anyhow. Long story.” Ooookay. That went easier than predicted. “Got any water left?”

“Yeah. By my pack.” Eddie hurries into the bunkhouse, and Steve follows. It’s the last bottle, so he hopes Robin’s busy locating fresh supplies. Though that proves the least of his worries.

Half a minute later, he’s sitting on the edge of a bunk, thigh-to-thigh with Steve. They pass the bottle of water and a bottle of beer between them.

And being this close to Steve, now Steve seems so much better? Exchanging chitchat about how long they can hideout here, and if any of them have the skills to hunt a deer or something?

It sends tingles up and down Eddie’s spine.

The way Steve looks at him underlines exactly why Steve was angry last night, when Eddie “assumed” he was straight. Eddie suddenly can’t look Steve in the eye. Trouble is, he then can’t stop staring at Steve’s mouth—those shapely, slightly chapped lips, moist and glistening with water and bad beer.

Then Steve blindsides him with: “Do you honestly think you died, Eddie? Before I did the CPR?”

“I dunno, Harrington.” Eddie squirms on his butt, all kinds of defences flying up. “It was like a dream. Apart from that, it wasn't a dream. It was a place, and Dustin was there, and Robin was there, and you were there, too.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

Eddie cackles out a mocking laugh. “I’m misquoting ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ dude.”

“Oh.” Eddie glances sidelong. Steve appears… oddly crestfallen. “It’s just… You know, I said when I get hurt, I feel like I come back different each time. I mean, I don't know if it's true or not, but... I never knew you before... and I know you now and... and…” Steve fluffs his hair. “Jesus, I’m blabbering.”

“Nah,” says Eddie. “You sound like you’re getting somewhere.” 

Compared to the meltdown my brain is having.

“Okay, well, here it is. I like you, Eddie. I really like you.” 

Eddie half wants to flee for the hills. He fixes on a beetle scuttling across the dirty floorboards. “Dude, you sure you’re not in love with Wheeler?”

“I… I… No!”  Steve doesn’t sound angry, only bewildered. “Yeah, I believed that once, and maybe I was. I guess she fitted in so many dreams I’ve had of my future, and I owe her a lot. But now I’m with you, and…” Their eyes finally meet. Steve’s earnest warmth sends a brutal shockwave through Eddie. “I know this seems fickle, but…” His gentle laugh is too much. “Who knows? Perhaps it’s because Nance has never been dead. Or, near dead. You know, we’ve gotten that in common, right?”

“Riiiiight,” Eddie says, stupidly, then, “Screw it, I like you too, Stevie. I really like you.” 

They fling their arms around each other, and tumble into the kiss.

For Eddie, the sensations are like no make-out session before, such is the hunger that zings between them. Eddie’s so blown away, that the brush of Steve’s lips seems to kindle an actual crackling, electric friction..  Damn, the boy can kiss! 

Eddie’s gotten a semi already, fingers threading up through Steve’s hair, toying at the nape of his neck. Steve does amazing twisty things with his tongue. Gnng! You wanna kill me again, Baby? Even the scrape of Steve’s shallow stubble totally unhinges him.

They work the kiss with their whole bodies, striving to get beyond close, as if they could slide beneath each other’s skin. Eddie can’t help wondering—can they get each other off, before Robin gets back?

Then something changes.

He senses Steve gasp, then moan into Eddie's mouth with something other than dumb teen passion. His arms, clinging around Eddie, falter and slip away.

“Stevie?”

Too late. Steve crumples against Eddie, totally senseless. 

“Steve?” squeaks Eddie, struggling to stop Steve slipping to the floorboards. “Robin! ROBIN!”

Part 8

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

[hairstevington]

Freaky Friday (Steddie's Version)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Dustin is fed up when his two friends, Eddie and Steve, hate each other for stupid reasons. The universe decides to bring them together by having them switch bodies until they get over themselves. Link to Ao3

Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5

Word Count: 7K, more chapters to come

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, slow(ish??) burn, canon universe (more or less) set before season 4, Dustin gets bullied at the beginning which is a bit sad but it's brief, body swap, angst, revenge, POV switching, Steddie both love Dustin so much, honestly just tons of fun lmao

A/N: A while back I made this post where I had a Steddie AU idea I never really got out of my head and then I started writing it and now I can't stop lmao. FYI this starts in third person Dustin POV but switches to Steve/Eddie midway! Please enjoy, I'll have it up on Ao3 soon probably like I do with everything else :)

Dustin had enough of this shit. 

He had been bummed that Steve graduated from Hawkins high the year before Dustin entered the ninth grade. Having Steve there would have been a buffer for Dustin, who - although he rarely admitted it - actually didn’t like being unpopular. As much as he hated being the victim of bullying, he hated the thought of changing himself even more - which is why he refused to. 

He showed up to his first day of high school in his Weird Al shirt, because he would be damned to give an inaccurate impression of himself. He knew that after graduation, he’d turn out better than all the other assholes at the school anyway. He was smarter than them, he was better than them. He could get through four years of their bullshit until he proved that. 

Although…Having Steve around would have made it a lot easier. 

But, whatever. Steve had graduated. Dustin still called him all the time, and they hung out every so often, but Dustin knew that nineteen year olds didn’t have a lot in common with fourteen year olds, at least not enough to hang out regularly. They were like brothers, more than anything, and they were in a weird spot. 

Thankfully, through some grace of God, Dustin met Eddie. 

It was bound to happen, considering Dustin had wanted to join the Hellfire Club anyway. He’s already informed the rest of the group - Mike and Lucas - so that the three of them could still play DnD together. Lucas had seemed hesitant, but that was to be expected. Things were changing. 

He missed Will. Will would have loved Hellfire, had he not been in California. 

Dustin met Eddie Munson at lunch - his first lunch in high school. The food Hawkins High served was mildly disturbing and likely lacked any nutritional value, so Dustin was grateful that his mother had kept up the tradition of packing him a lunch special for his first day. She even included chocolate pudding, since it was his favorite. 

Mike and Lucas weren’t going to be at lunch on the first day, because Lucas wanted to check out the basketball team, and Mike wanted to see if he could call El - she wasn’t starting school until the following week. This meant that Dustin was alone in the cafeteria, and he wasn’t entirely prepared to face the brutal sting of rejection, so he didn’t want to just pick a random table and try to make friends. He already had friends, they just weren’t there. 

He stopped in his tracks and scanned the room, pondering his next move. There was no way he’d sit with the jocks or the cheerleaders, and the rest of the tables were unrecognizable in terms of what cliques they represented. This was nothing like he’d seen in movies - he didn’t even really know who the popular ones were versus the unpopular ones. 

He must have been standing there for a bit too long, because suddenly he was nudged hard in the shoulder. 

“Move it, loser,” a guy twice his size said. “You’re in everybody’s way.”

“S-sorry,” Dustin apologized. He took a few steps backward, deciding to just start walking and see what happens, but then he bumped into someone else. 

“Jesus, kid,” another voice said. “You’re like a pinball.” 

Dustin looked up to see a tall, rather intimidating man with long, curly brown hair. He was dressed in denim and leather, the Hellfire logo splayed across his chest. He looked way too old to be a high school student, but way too scary to be a faculty member. 

Not scary in a dangerous way - Dustin had experienced enough real danger that most normal things didn’t faze him - but scary in a way where Dustin felt the person standing in front of him had some kind of power in the school. A reputation, at least, whether it be good or bad. 

“Welcome back, Freak,” another random student remarked at him as they walked past. Dustin watched as the enigmatic metalhead flipped the student off with zero hesitation.

Ah, so it was for sure a bad reputation. Noted. 

“So, I’m the school freak,” he said, theatrically bowing as he introduced myself. “Eddie. Eddie Munson. And you are…”

“Dustin Henderson,” he answered without a second thought.

“I was going to say -” Eddie continued, “- you are….wearing a Weird Al shirt. Bold move for your first day, Dustin Henderson.”

“How did you know it was my first day?” Dustin asked, grateful to be having some sort of civil conversation, even if he had no idea where it was going. 

“Just a hunch,” Eddie replied with a shrug. Dustin looked back at Eddie’s shirt. 

“You're in Hellfire?” he asked. Eddie grinned, then pointed at a table where a bunch of people were wearing the same shirts. 

“Hellfire is my pride and joy. We play a game called Dungeons and Dragons, have you heard of it?” Before Dustin could confirm, Eddie kept talking. “Of course you’ve heard of it, look at you. You’re one of us, I know it.” Eddie gestured for Dustin to follow him to the Hellfire table, which he gladly did. 

“Eddie, who’s this?” a member seated at the table asked when they approached. 

“This, Gareth, is Dustin, and he’s sitting with us today.” Eddie pointed at an available seat, then looped around to his own. Dustin noticed a textbook in front of Gareth and chimed in. 

“You’re taking chemistry?” he asked. Gareth nodded. “That’s cool. I love chemistry. I went to this awesome summer camp called Camp Know Where -”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Eddie interrupted. “Did you just say you love chemistry? What kind of kid actually enjoys that shit? Are you a masochist? I failed that class twice.” Eddie’s rambling was entertaining, to say the least. 

“Isn’t Camp Know Where that science program where all the geniuses go?” another person at the table asked.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie exclaimed dramatically. “Okay, Dustin Henderson. I will protect you, since you so desperately need the protection. In return, you will join Hellfire, and occasionally help me with homework because you’re obviously smarter than half the people in this school. Deal?”

“Only half?” Dustin joked - although, it wasn’t really a joke. Dustin knew for a fact he was smarter than at least 75% of the school. “Fine, I accept these terms. Can my friends Mike and Lucas join too?” Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You’re killing me,” he said. “Yeah, yeah. Bring all the Freshies in, I guess. No one will come near you if you stick with us, but you’ll avoid being stuffed in lockers at least.” That seemed like a good enough deal to Dustin, for now. “Alright, kid. Welcome to Hellfire.”

-

Dustin recounted this entire interaction with Steve the moment he’d gotten home from school. 

“Eugh, Hellfire?” Steve said over the phone, acting disgusted. “That club’s for nerds.”

“Earth to Steve, I am a nerd,” Dustin deadpanned. “And Eddie said -”

“Oh god, not Munson,” Steve groaned. “That guy’s trouble, I swear. Seriously, you should get out of this while you can.”

“And go where?” Dustin retorted, starting to get agitated. “It’s not like I can float through school like you did by joining all the sports teams. I’m gonna be made fun of either way, and you know it.” Steve was silent on the line for a bit, knowing that Dustin was right. 

“I wish I could be there to watch over you, ya know,” he said at last. 

“Yeah, I wish you could too, but I have Eddie at least.”

Eddie. Ugh. Steve hated that guy. He was always doing something weird and dramatic to try to get a reaction from people. 

“Yeah, okay. But I’ll kick his ass if he tries anything, alright?” Dustin laughed. 

“Sure you will, Buddy.” 

-

Mike and Lucas were far more terrified of Eddie than Dustin was. He knew why - Eddie had shown a bit of kindness that first day, but he wasn’t usually like that. Eddie was the kind of guy who loved attention, and he knew the best way for him to get it was through negative attention. He consistently made an ass of himself. 

Dustin enjoyed it. Mike and Lucas didn’t not enjoy it, but they still felt like he was unhinged. Maybe he was. Dustin didn’t think about it that much. 

Him and Eddie had bonded pretty quickly, especially since Dustin would hang around after lunch or club meetings to talk about homework. Eddie had a lot of questions, and he was kind of a horrible student. This was especially evident when Dustin discovered he was a third year senior, which explained why the guy looked so goddamn old. 

“Damn,” Dustin said once he found out. “You’re even older than Steve. Wait - you might know Steve actually. He graduated last year. Steve Harrington?”

Eddie Munson did an actual spit take with his soda. Dustin had only ever seen that in movies.

“No shit,” Eddie responded. “You know that asshole?”

“He’s not an asshole,” Dustin replied immediately, quick to defend his friend. “He’s awesome.”

Dustin opened his mouth to continue, but it was hard to explain why Steve was awesome when he had to leave Upside Down stuff out of it. He totally saved us from a bunch of Demodogs, and one time he got tortured for information underground by evil Russians. Dustin considered mentioning the time Steve protected the kids from Billy - that was unrelated to the secret world the group had been privy to - but, considering Hargrove’s death, it felt in bad taste to bring up now.

“So you’re trying to tell me that you’re friends with the guy?” Eddie asked suspiciously. “Why? I mean, why would he be friends with a kid so much younger than him?”

“Why are you?” Dustin retorted. Eddie chuckled. 

“Touche. But I know why I’m friends with a bunch of kids, why is he?”

“It’s complicated,” Dustin replied with a shrug. “But Steve’s pulled through for me a lot. He’s cool. You should give him a chance.”

“Give him a chance? I don’t ever see him. Are you trying to have us all hang out for a slumber party or something?” Dustin shook his head and was about to respond, but Eddie was on a roll (as usual). “Listen, Henderson. You’re cool and all, and I’m glad you joined our little clan here. But you wouldn’t want to hang out with me outside of this hellhole we call school, and I certainly wouldn’t want to hang out with Steve goddamn Harrington.”

There was a definitive finality to his statement that let Dustin know there was no point in arguing. But it did leave him wondering what exactly had happened to cause them to dislike each other so much.

-

Dustin blew through his first few weeks of school like this. He’d visit Steve and mention Eddie, and Steve would complain about how Eddie was a bad influence and would probably get arrested before graduation, if he ever did graduate. Any time Dustin brought up Steve in Hellfire, Eddie would groan and complain about the forced conformity and bullshit societal infrastructure at the high school that separated the good from the bad and blah blah blah. Dustin probably had that speech damn near memorized. Eddie seemed to hate the jocks, and for decent enough reason - the jocks hated him. And Dustin knew that Steve was kind of a dick in high school, but he’d changed now. 

So, yeah. He’d had enough. He just thought that if maybe he could get the two of them in the same room, they’d start to understand why Dustin liked each of them so much. They were both good guys who were protective of him, and he wanted them to get along, dammit!

Steve always went to the basketball games to support Lucas and the rest of the team, which was nice. On nights where the games coincided with Hellfire, Steve would drive Dustin home after. 

On one of these nights, Dustin hatched a bit of a plan. Usually, Hellfire got out before the game was over, so Dustin would meet Steve outside of the gym. This time, Dustin intentionally stayed late to help Eddie clean up and talk his ear off about his upcoming biology report. Eddie seemed to be in decent enough spirits, fresh off another successful campaign, and Steve was in a good mood because he now had a job again with Robin. It gave him money to take women out on dates, which he did often. 

As Dustin chatted with Eddie, there was a pounding on the door. 

“Hey, Dipshit!” Steve called from the other side. “Are you in there? Did Munson kill you or something?” Dustin grimaced as he gaged Eddie’s reaction to the comment, but thankfully Eddie seemed amused more than anything. 

“Sure did,” Eddie shouted back with a grin. “Bite me, Harrington.” Dustin rolled his eyes. 

“I’m fine, Steve!” he yelled. “Come in!” 

“You’re inviting him into my sacred space?” Eddie asked with feigned offense. 

“Your sacred space?” Dustin mocked. “You mean the drama club room? Based on the shit I’ve heard, it’s the least sacred spot on school property.” Eddie was laughing as Steve opened the door and came in. 

“You guys making fun of me?” he asked, his chest puffed out in his silly Steve way. Dustin didn’t find Steve or Eddie that intimidating, because he saw right through their tough guy act. They were both goofballs. 

“Always,” Eddie replied, returning to his cleaning tasks. “So, you’re Dustin’s ride home huh? How’d you guys become friends in the first place?” Steve hesitated, facing the same issue Dustin had when he’d been asked the same thing. Thankfully, he’d had more time to prepare since then. 

“Steve used to date Mike’s sister,” Dustin stated plainly. Steve opened his mouth to object to the sharing of that information, but then Dustin added - “And then I annoyed him into being my friend.” 

“That’s not really -” Steve grimaced, then realized that was the best version of the story either of them could provide. “Yeah, okay. The kid really worms his way into your heart.”

“I know, right?” Eddie replied absentmindedly. Dustin was thrilled to see them agree on something. It was a moment where he hoped they’d realize they could actually get along. “I remember when you dated Nancy Wheeler. I’m surprised it didn’t work out, since you were so perfect for each other.”

Okay, so maybe they wouldn’t get along. The way Eddie had said the word perfect almost seemed like an insult. To Eddie, it was. Dustin noticed Steve tensing and felt the need to mediate. 

“Anyway,” he said, searching for something, anything, to redirect the conversation. He wasn’t sure when he was gonna get them in the same room again, so he couldn’t just leave. “How was the game, Steve?” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve lit up again. 

“We lost,” he answered. Dustin noticed Eddie hiding a smirk under one of his ringed hands. “It’s a shame they keep Lucas on the bench, although he’s a Freshman so it makes sense I guess. I mean, that’s how it always has been.” 

“You mean to tell me,” Eddie interjected. Oh boy. “- that a high school sports team values a players popularity over their talent?” He scoffed. “Probably why you got so much airtime, right Harrington?”

Oh Jesus Christ this is bad. This is going badly. Steve was clearly offended by that comment, and rightfully so. 

“Eddie, can you just - be nice?” Dustin pleaded. 

“Since when am I nice?” Eddie shot back, picking the last of his papers up and stuffing them in his bag. 

“You’re nice to me,” Dustin pointed out. 

“Yeah, because I like you,” Eddie replied, “-and as I’ve said to you multiple times, I don’t like him.” Eddie gestured vaguely in Steve’s direction. 

“What did I ever even do to you, Munson?” Steve questioned, finally deciding to stand up for himself. “Seriously man, you’re being a dick.” 

“I know what you think of me,” Eddie answered plainly. “I’m just calling it like I see it.” 

“Okay, well this has been sufficiently awkward and horrible,” Dustin sighed, finally giving up. “I was wrong, you two are hopeless. Eddie, Steve’s right. You’re being a dick.” That accusation actually did seem to have an effect on Eddie, even though he tried not to let it show. “Steve, let’s go home.”

On the walk to the car, Steve had already seemed to brush the whole interaction off. 

“I told you that guy’s no good,” he said. “Thanks for defending me, by the way.” 

“I promise he’s not usually like that,” Dustin assured him. But, come to think of it, that kind of was how Eddie usually spoke to people, especially the popular kids. But Dustin was in Hellfire, he was one of them, as Eddie said, and he treated the freaks far differently and with more respect. 

His two cool older guy friends were bound to hate each other, he realized. No getting around it, no point in trying to change it.

_______________________________________

Eddie had gone to Family Video countless times over the years, because what else were people supposed to do in Hawkins, Indiana? It was cheaper and involved less people than going to the movies, and it was something to entertain him while he was home. 

Imagine his surprise when he walked into the store one day and saw none other than Steve Harrington behind the counter. 

The green vest Steve was forced to wear was a lot more masculine than the get-up he’d worn at Scoops Ahoy over the Summer. Eddie had the pleasure of seeing him a few times at the mall in his little short shorts and stupid hat, and it was an image he sorely missed. Seeing King Steve pathetically dressed and striking out with women post-graduation? Delicious. 

He’d only let himself visit once, although he may have done it again had the mall not burned down. But alas, Steve’s sailor outfit days were short-lived, and now he was back to being the same old boring jock he always had been - just now, he didn’t even play sports. 

Eddie may have been in his third go-around of senior year, but at least he wasn’t pretending he was someone he wasn’t. He embraced his freak nature, and had grown comfortable in it. Life hadn’t been kind enough to him to give him the option of the niceties people like Steve took advantage of. 

“Hey, man,” Steve greeted him as he entered the door. He was so nonchalant about it, like he didn’t even care about Eddie’s presence. Eddie didn’t care too much about Steve being there, except he did. There was a fire in Eddie's dislike for Steve that seemed one sided. Steve being almost indifferent made Eddie hate him even more. “Let me know if I can help you find anything.” Eddie ignored Steve’s surprisingly sincere customer service and went directly to the row of movies he always went to. He scanned the selection - it looked about the same as it had the last ten times he’d reviewed it - then picked one of his favorites and brought it to the counter. 

Steve didn’t say anything more than that as he went through the rental process. It was all over in less than two minutes, and Eddie was mildly disappointed in the lack of drama. If Steve wasn’t an asshole, then what? Was Eddie the asshole all along?

Yeah. Yeah, he absolutely was.

He was on his way out when he stopped, then spun on his heels to face Steve at the counter again. 

“Listen, man,” he began. Steve looked up from the pile of VHS tapes he was sorting, seemingly unbothered by any of this. “I’m sorry about, uh - about the other night.”

“Thanks,” Steve responded with a nod. Eddie could never really just leave things alone, though. 

“Dustin was right,” he continued. 

“The little shit usually is.” Steve had returned his gaze to the movies in front of him. 

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, a bit too forcefully in an attempt to ease the tension. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“See ya,” Steve responded. Eddie pouted, not satisfied with how that went, and he wasn’t sure why. But whatever. He was gonna go home, get high, and watch the movie. A good night was ahead. 

He paused at the door when the phone rang, pretending to get distracted by a cardboard cutout near the window. 

“Family Video,” Steve said on the phone. “Woah, shit. Dustin, calm down. Where are you?” This got Eddie’s attention, and he raced back to the counter. “Okay, I’ll figure something out.” 

“What’s up with Henderson?” Eddie asked, his concern growing. 

“I guess some guys are picking on him. He called from the side of the road on a pay phone near the power plant.”

“Jesus, what did they do to him? Is he okay?”

“He’s great, that’s why he called,” Steve shot back sarcastically. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know if I can just leave my shift since I just started this job like three days ago. Shit.”

“I’ll go,” Eddie offered. “The plant is right by my place anyway. Don’t sweat it.” Steve eyed Eddie suspiciously, then nodded.

“Okay, I guess. Just - can you call here once you know he’s safe?”

“Sure thing, Harrington.” It was a brief, genuine moment between the two of them, both desperate to protect the tiny child they each adored so much. 

And with that, Eddie bolted out of Family Video, to his van, and towards the plant. 

Dustin had apparently been chased down and recaptured after he called Steve, because Eddie found him tied to a pole a bit further down the street. 

“Eddie!” he yelled once they locked eyes. “Get me out of this shit!” 

Dustin was doing his damndest to break free from the binds, but it was no use. Eddie took his pocket knife out from where he always kept them tucked in his jeans and got to work, successfully freeing the little twerp once he stopped squirming. 

“Who did this? Where are they?” Eddie felt the heat rising in his chest, up his neck, and to his cheeks. “How’d they even get a hold of you? Why are you all the way over here? What -”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Dustin interrupted him. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanna go home.”

Eddie looked Dustin up and down and noticed a bruise forming on his jaw. 

“Come on, my trailer is right there,” Eddie said, pointing in the vague direction of Forest Hills. “Let’s get you cleaned up first.” 

_______________________________________

Steve tried to wait idly by while he entrusted a guy like Eddie to go rescue Dustin. He tried to do the responsible thing for once and stay at his stupid job so he could keep said job. He tried not to think about how Eddie could have been behind this whole thing, for all he knew. Some sick twisted mind game. He tried not to think about any of that. 

He lasted two minutes before he called Robin and begged her to fill in. She accepted after a few minutes of persuasion - after all, Steve didn’t ask her for things very often, and he always drove her around, so she kinda owed him. It took her about fifteen agonizing minutes to get there, and just as she walked in the door, the phone rang. 

“Family video,” he greeted, hoping a familiar voice would be on the other end. 

“Steve, it’s me,” Dustin’s voice called through the phone. “I’m at Eddie’s. I’m okay.”

“Where does he live?” Steve asked, still hellbent on leaving. 

“At the trailer park. You don’t have to -”

Steve dropped the phone and ran out the door, not even bothering to hang it back up on the receiver. He headed to Forest Hills, and was thankfully able to locate Eddie’s trailer pretty quickly due to the beat-up red van parked in front of it. He stumbled out of his own car as soon as it stopped, nearly forgetting to take his keys from the ignition. Maybe it was silly for him to worry about Dustin so much, but after what they’d been through together, Steve had learned to treat everything as life or death. 

The door pushed open from the stress of his knock alone, so he let himself in. 

Eddie’s place was small, messy, and smelled of smoke. But, it was clear the place was a home. Steve’s house was a hundred times bigger and somehow contained less. 

“Dustin?” Steve called as he walked deeper into the living room. “Eddie?”

“Bathroom!” Steve followed the voice down the hall to where Eddie was tending to a bruise forming on Dustin’s jaw. 

“Who did this? Where are they?” Eddie chuckled, and Steve almost lashed out because of it, but then Eddie explained. 

“That’s exactly what I said when I found him, Harrington.” Steve took note of the care that Eddie was actually putting into his first aid. It was surprisingly gentle. “Good luck getting him to rat the bastards out.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter,” Dustin groaned. 

“Whoever it was, we can take ‘em,” Steve insisted. He noticed Eddie smirk at the inclusion of them both taking the bullies down.

“You idiots!” Dustin snapped, standing up from where he was sitting on the lip of the bathtub. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to ‘take ‘em.’ It was embarrassing enough to have them pick on me, I don’t need you guys to go down there and humiliate me even more.”

“We’re just trying to protect you, man,” Eddie replied. 

“I don’t need protection!” Dustin shouted, causing Eddie and Steve to back up. “My bike isn’t far. I’m going home. Eddie, thanks for cutting me down. Steve, thanks for leaving work when I asked you to. You’re both really good friends, and I appreciate it. I just want to go home.” 

It broke Steve’s heart to know that Dustin was getting picked on. He just wanted to help, but he understood the whole pride thing. Steve had fought many uphill battles in the past in the name of saving face. Ironically, his face was usually what took the brunt of the consequences. 

“You sure you’re gonna be -” Eddie began to ask the question before Steve was able to, but stopped himself when Dustin shot a glare at them both. “Right, okay. Can you just call when you get home okay?”

“Me too,” Steve added. 

“Okay, mom and dad,” Dustin replied, rolling his eyes. “Or, Steve could stay here ten minutes and then I’d only have to make one call. Unless you guys will murder each other by then.”

“Jury’s out,” Eddie muttered. Steve felt like it was a joke, but also Eddie gave off psycho killer vibes, so anything was possible. “Sure, Harrington. You can stay here until he gets home.”

Steve wanted to think of a witty comeback, but his head was empty. He could stay, and then he figured he should get back to work. 

“Fine,” he agreed. “But the moment you walk through your door, got it?”

“Yes, dad,” Dustin deadpanned. 

“I thought I was dad,” Eddie cut in. 

“You think I’m mom?” 

“Ten minutes, no murders,” Dustin reminded them before heading out the door. There was a beat of silence before Steve and Eddie turned to each other once again. 

“So, we’re definitely gonna go to that plant and kick some ass, right?” Eddie asked, his tone completely devoid of its usual teasing. Steve smirked. 

“Finally, we’re on the same page,” he replied. 

Ten minutes later, Dustin called as promised. Seconds after the call disconnected, Steve and Eddie made a beeline for the front door. 

-

It was getting dark, even though it was a bit too early for the sun to set. Clouds were forming in the sky, a bleak omen of the impending storm that neither Eddie nor Steve had prepared for. 

They walked to the plant in silence, because what was there to be said? They were going to tolerate each other to defeat the common enemy. 

A group of misfits were in fact still camped out under one of the towers. They were all smoking and laughing and spouting nonsensical vitriol about the student body - kids like Dustin, as well as the women of the school. If Eddie and Steve weren’t heated already, the few comments they’d overheard sent them over the edge. 

“Hey!” Steve shouted, cutting one of the guys off. Five pairs of eyes flickered over to the pair, who’d realized once they were in the situation that they were vastly outnumbered. 

“Steve Harrington?” One of the boys questioned. “What are you doing over here?”

“And with Munson?” Another added. “I never thought I’d see the two of you together.”

“Neither did I,” Steve and Eddie said in unison. They glanced at each other, awkwardly acknowledging that they’d said the same thing at the same time, then hastily moved on. 

“Is this about the boy?” The leader of the group was probably a Junior, and shorter than both Eddie and Steve, but he had enough audacity to make up for it. 

“Found him tied to a pole,” Eddie reminded them through gritted teeth. This was news to Steve, who’s blood boiled at the thought. A few years prior, Tommy and Carol used to do shit like that. Maybe not to that extent, but it was all the same. 

“Why do you care so much about that dumbass anyway?” The leader (was his name Chad?) asked. 

“He’s totally harmless,” Steve said.

“Us on the other hand…” Eddie interjected. 

“Oh yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’ve been known to throw a punch, and Eddie over here  is actually insane, I’m pretty sure.”

“Aw, thanks man,” Eddie grinned devilishly, smacking Steve on the back. “Our point being, you stay away from Henderson and we won’t break anything, okay?”

Thunder cracked in the distance, followed by a flash of lightning. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chad mocked. “We’re not scared of you.” Eddie and Steve looked at each other, shrugged, then both trudged forward. Eddie took Chad while Steve went for the one who appeared to be second in command. They each pushed them against the metal pillars, gripping them by the collar of their shirts, and drawing their other hand back into a fist. 

“How about now?” Eddie asked with darkness in his eyes. 

“Let’s get out of here,” one of the others in the group said, and within moments the other three bullies scampered away into the night. 

“Some loyal friends you got there,” Eddie teased. Steve was getting agitated at how many stupid quips Eddie had. Was he supposed to be all quippy too? Was that the secret to winning one of these goddamn things?

Thunder rumbled again, this time much louder than before. Rain started to fall hard against their skin, distracting them enough for the two pathetic bullies to slip from their gasps and follow their friends out of sight. 

“Shit,” Steve groaned, realizing that they’d just made a fool of themselves. “Not only did we not hurt them, but they’re definitely going to tell people about it, and then -”

“Is that seriously what you’re worried about right now?” Eddie interrupted, the rage in him still burning. “Your reputation? Claaassic Steve Harrington, always thinking about himself.”

“That’s not what I was saying, asshole,” Steve responded. “Dustin’s going to find out, and then -”

“So what if he does?” Eddie asked. Steve was sick and tired of being interrupted. “If they mess with him again, then -”

“Could you let me finish a goddamn sentence? Holy shit,” Steve exclaimed, thoroughly irritated. The rain was falling steadily now, the drops heavy as they hit him. His hair was already starting to feel weighed down to his scalp. Perfect. Just perfect. “Dustin told us not to do anything, and then we did, okay? So what do you think that little shrimp’s gonna do when he finds out, huh?”

“He’ll handle it, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. “He’s a big boy.”

“Oh, come on!” Steve groaned. “Don’t give me that bullshit when ten minutes ago you dropped everything to rescue him like he was some lost puppy.”

“Because he was tied to a pole!” Eddie responded. 

“That would have been helpful to know before we headed out here, by the way.” Steve put his hands on his hips and planted his feet in the mud. It was way too late to worry about his appearance, now. 

“Oh, Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie sighed, taking a step towards Steve. “You’re just as awful as I thought you were.”

“Oh, really?” Steve said, taking another step forward to meet Eddie. “Back atcha.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck off.”

There was another loud crack of thunder as both of them shoved the other at the same time, causing them both to stumble backwards until they each hit one of the metal pillars extending down from the plant. 

A flash of light. A quick, searing pain. Then, they each dropped to their knees and fell into the mud. 

-

It felt like a sudden hangover, and a bad one. Eddie opened his eyes and cringed at the feeling of mud under his fingernails and up his arms. 

For a moment, he’d forgotten how he ended up on the ground. It felt like he was somewhere different, and he wasn’t sure why. He sat up, extremely disoriented, and then focused on a similar crumpled heap across from him. It took a second for Eddie to make out Steve’s features in the dark, but then his head angled upwards, their eyes met, and everything got a whole lot more complicated. 

“Steve…” Eddie began, speaking slowly. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Why the hell do you look like me, man?”

The man across from him had the same features Eddie had come to know in his own reflection - the same style, same hair, same everything, but no - that didn’t make any sense. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” the man replied. The man, who answered to Steve, but couldn’t possibly be. No, Eddie was dreaming. He’d done some hallucinogenic and forgot and now he was tripping. That had to be the case. 

They both stood up, mirroring each other, and for a moment Eddie thought that maybe that’s all this was. Some trick of the light. Maybe, there was a mirror at the power plant for some reason, and he was just staring at himself. Sure, the other guy responded to him, but he couldn’t think about that.

He waved at himself, but the guy across from him didn’t wave back. There went the mirror theory. 

It was still raining, but it had lightened up quite a bit. The two men took a few tentative steps towards each other, their eyes adjusting. 

“So, this is…I mean, we are…” Eddie fumbled over words that didn’t make sense. 

“What kind of weird cult shit did you do to me?” Steve accused, his voice rising. “Did you drug me? Sacrifice me to the devil or something?”

“Dude, are you fucking serious right now?” Eddie groaned, throwing his head back. “I didn’t do shit.”

“Then what happened?” Steve snapped. “How did we - Like, you’re seeing this too, right?”

“Yeah, I’m seeing it.” Eddie finally took a moment to look down, noticing a vastly different wardrobe than the one he remembered putting on. 

Including a green vest. 

“Holy shit,” Steve said. It was weird hearing his voice with Steve’s words. 

The idea of saying it out loud - dude, we switched bodies - seemed too batshit insane to consider. So, naturally, Eddie did what he knew best. 

“No. Nope. Not happening.” he shook his head and took off towards his trailer. 

“Hey. Hey!” Eddie’s own voice echoed behind him, followed by footsteps that got louder and louder as Eddie desperately tried to get away. He didn’t even look back until he was safely in his trailer again, the feeling of home making him feel slightly more at ease. “Dude, we gotta figure this out.” Steve followed him in, of course. 

“Why? Why do we have to? Why can’t I just shower and go to sleep and hopefully wake up from this nightmare?”

“Because I don’t think we’re gonna wake up,” Steve said with a shrug. “And because if you shower right now you’re gonna see my dick, and so I think we should, like, talk first.” Eddie barked out a bitter laugh.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Harrington. Would you feel better if I bought you dinner first?” He continued to walk down the hall to his bathroom, where first aid supplies were still strewn about, and that’s when he caught himself in the mirror.

Sure enough, Steve Harrington stared back at him. He looked a little worse for wear with his hair wet and disheveled and streaks of mud on his face, but no amount of dirt could change the pretty boy Steve was and always would be. He nearly spat at the image. Eddie’s familiar figure joined him in the bathroom, where they stood shoulder to shoulder and stared at themselves for an absurd amount of time. It was the closest they’d ever been to each other for more than a few fleeting seconds, but they were too stunned to do anything about their proximity. 

“Okay, so…” Steve said, watching Eddie’s mouth move as he said it.

“I’m you,” Eddie responded, finishing the thought. 

“And I’m you,” Steve finished. Their eyes stayed focused on their reflections for a while longer. How long exactly, it was tough to say. 

“So, what the fuck do we do now, then?” Eddie asked, finally breaking his gaze to look at Steve - er, himself, he guessed. 

What did they do now? That was certainly the question. 

____________________________

Steve had gotten used to weird shit happening to him, but this was a whole new world of weird. 

“I guess…” Steve searched for a plan, but he had no semblance of one. His head was completely empty. Probably because I’m using Eddie’s head, he thought to himself. “I should call Robin and tell her I’m not coming back to work.”

“You mean I should call Robin, since I am you now apparently.” Steve scoffed.

“You’re not me, alright? You just look like me, for some reason,” he argued. “Maybe we should call Dustin.”

“Yeah, because he’s soooo happy with us right now,” Eddie responded. “What do we say when he asks us what happened? We did the thing he told us not to do, and now we’re facing the consequences.”

“Consequences?” Steve repeated. “No, no. On any other day, in any other town, we would have done what we did and nothing would have happened. This isn’t a consequence, this is just my goddamn luck.”

“You’re acting like this is just any regular day for you,” Eddie complained. “Do you body swap with your enemies often?” Steve shot him a glare. The actual answer of, no but I’ve had a bunch of other weird shit happen, was on the tip of his tongue. If only Eddie knew what was really going on in Hawkins. Steve thought Eddie probably had his head up his own ass too much to notice, anyway. “Fine. I’ll call Robin.”

“Don’t say anything I wouldn’t, okay?” Steve warned, suddenly terrified at the power Eddie had to do some damage if he wanted to. 

“Don’t worry, I know exactly what to say.” Eddie went to his phone and dialed the number to the video store. “Hi, Robin. It’s me, your coworker, Steeeeve Harrington.” 

Great start. Jesus. 

“Dude,” Steve whined, nudging Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t sound like that.”

“Yeah, I’m still at Eddie’s,” he continued on the phone. “Dustin’s okay. Can you finish my shift?” Huh. After the playfully performative introduction, Eddie seemed to actually act normal on the phone. “Great, thanks a bunch.” Just when Steve thought they were in the clear, Eddie tagged on a final line. “See ya later, Sweetheart,” followed by a bunch of kissing noises. 

Steve wrestled the phone from ‘Steve’ and slammed it against the receiver. 

“What the hell was that?”

“That -” Eddie said with a grin, “- was fun.” Steve’s eyes narrowed as anger began coursing through his veins. Anger, mixed with fear. Fear of this guy he hated, who now had full control of his life. 

“If you mess with my life, Munson, I swear to god -”

“What?” Eddie cut him off, barely fazed. “What are you gonna do? Get me back? Harrington, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m already the school freak, nobody gives a shit what I do.” 

He had a fair point. Steve scrambled to think of a way, any way, he could get under Eddie’s skin the way Eddie was under his. 

“You have Hellfire,” he blurted out. Steve knew from Dustin just how much Eddie loved that stupid club. Based on Eddie’s reaction, Steve had made the right call. “I could tank it,” he continued. “Give up your title as dungeon manager or whatever.”

“Dungeon Master,” Eddie corrected him through gritted teeth. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” Steve insisted. “If you mess with me, I’ll mess right back.”

They stared at each other, knowing that each of them were serious. 

“Fine,” Eddie agreed. “I will play nice.” He stuck his hand out in front of him for Steve to shake. Steve hesitantly did so, not sure if he believed a word out of Eddie’s mouth. 

He was right to be mistrusting. Eddie had the fingers of his other hand crossed behind his back.

_____________________________________

[sidekick-hero]

✨ fic writing review 2023 ✨

tagged by my homies (and as always fashionably late to the party): @judasofsuburbia @steddieas-shegoes @steddieasitgoes and @thefreakandthehair 💜💜💜💜

rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

words & fics

263,365 words published

40 fics published

Finished 3 multi-chaptered fics

top 5 fics by kudos

You know I'm a show off (I would let you get some): Pure, self-indulgent smut. My love letter to Steve Harrington's, well, everything. He's a goddamn tease in this and Eddie is along for the ride. Quite literally.

Louder: While laying in bed, the two of them can't help but overhear their upstairs neighbors going at it rather loudly. Eddie turns to Steve after a while, and asks, You wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance? And that they do.

I’m tired of asking to settle the debt: my first ever steddie fic, written for Lex first seasonal challenge. 5 times Eddie warms Steve's hands and that one time Steve returns the favor.

Run Boy Run: Another self-indulgent smutty piece. I'm a passionate runner, and so is Steve in this one. Turns out, he had been running towards Eddie all along.

 Will you cleanse me with pleasure?: The obligatory monsterfucker, pardon me, monster love making fic. Eddie is a lake monster with way more appandages than Steve can handle. Or can he? 

fandom fic events in 2023

@thefreakandthehair's holiday challenge (2022) but finished 2023: I’m tired of asking to settle the debt

lex's spring challenge: Catch me like the falling rain

Steddie Big Bang with @legitcookie: Suitcase of Memories

Kinktober: we tangle endlessly like lovers entwined (also Eddiemonth), on the tip of my tongue, on top of my thighs, tell me it's love, tell me it's real and wear me like a locket around your throat (last two with @yournowheregirl)

steddiemas and steddieholidaydrabbles: I want you to want me,  let the impulse to love and the instinct to kill entangle to one, we were meant to be (we live happily in my fantasy) and  tangled with what I never said

lex's winter challenge (upcoming)

STuad fic exchange (upcoming)

Reverse Big Bang (upcoming)

continuing wips into 2024

The next chapter of hold me close (I’m shaking apart) in which Steve asks Eddie if he wants to experiment. Eddie wants so much more, but he takes what he can get and tries to not let it break his heart.

Pickup Note, a collab with @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party about Steve joining Corred Coffin as a sub drummer. Inspired by Kei's fanart HERE and HERE.

Dear Future Self: Eddie is in love with Steve, who has become a fast friend after saving the world together but he's too afraid to make a move. Good thing his future self decides to help things along.

Take your time (I wanna cross some lines): Steve wants to try something new: getting used by strangers. He asks his best friend Eddie to watch over him while he's doing that so he can feel safe. But who watches over Eddie's heart?

History throws its shadow over the beginning: B-side to @legitcookie and my very first collab, I wore his jacket for the longest time. It's the same story, but told from Eddie's POV.

Closing Time with @legitcookie: After the worst date in a long while, Steve decides to take home the cute bartender who cheered him up.

Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang

tagging (with ZERO pressure): @legitcookie @yournowheregirl @starrystevie @scarcrossdlvrs, @henderdads, @stevethehairington, @starryeyedjanai, @cranberrymoons, @steddielations, @maxinemaxmayfield

Thank you to everyone who read my stuff and let me feel loved and cherished by liking, reblogging and commenting on them. It's been such a wonderful experience to be part of this fandom and I wouldn't want to miss it in the world. Here's to hoping for many more fics to come in 2024 💜🥰

[steddie-fanfic-recs]

November Paramedic

by BackyardOwl

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Character: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Gareth (Stranger Things), Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Lucas Sinclair, Robin Buckley Additional Tags: Minor Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Awkwardness, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Paramedic Steve Harrington, Lust at First Sight, Sexual Tension, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Mess, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Good Friend Gareth (Stranger Things), Good Friend Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Eddie would disagree on the "good friends" part but it's true, POV Eddie Munson, Masturbation, Rimming, Anal Sex Words: 25,661 Chapters: 7/7

Summary

Eddie has had his fair share of fantasies, but none of them involved fucking a paramedic. Until two years ago. That's when the "sexy men at work"-calendar got added to his porn stash and orgasms as he knew them changed forever. All the men in the calendar are hot, but none of them hold a candle to the paramedic. He's got this look in his eyes, this slant to his mouth. Like he knows he's the hottest guy in it. And everything is fine. Everything is great. Eddie's been single forever and he has no idea where he's headed in life, but he's fine. At least until he's collateral damage in a bar fight after a gig, and none other than his sexy November-paramedic arrives to treat his wounds.

[skepsiss]

Master Writing List of My Works

I've seen other people do this and it seems like a good idea. You can follow my Ao3 where more of my works are posted, but for the ones available on Tumblr I will list them below.

Skepsis_Ree on Ao3

Art, Photos, and Moodboards

Stranger Things

Steddie

Mini Fics. These are asks that people have sent me. You can send me a prompt and I'll write you Steddie stuff.

The Last Strange Thing [Monster reference guide] [The art for the fic!] Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 [FINISHED] // Welcome to the apocalypse. The demo-infection has taken hold of the world, and humans are a rare thing these days. Still, people hang on to civilization in pockets across North America and beyond. Hawkins is one such place.  Steve Harrington is a scout who runs missions for Hawkins, and on one of those missions, he becomes separated from his scouting partner, Robin. He has to find his way across Indianapolis in an infected world, meeting one very important individual on the way, Eddie. The two of them must trust one another in order to journey across Indiana, while perhaps finding something softer to nurture with one another along the way.

Long Road Ahead Pt1  Pt1.2   Pt2    Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 // A Five part (maybe six?) series about Steve and Eddie getting together. Steve really struggles with the possibility of him being queer and doesn't know how to deal with it. Each part alternates between Eddie's POV and Steve's POV; lots of yearning, miscommunication, a pining with a happy ending.

Join the Party // One Shot, AU Where Steve and Eddie have been friends since childhood and I guess no Upside Down shenanigans (yet?). Hurt/comfort with confessions. Written from the period of them at 10 (ish) to 18 (ish).

Heart Beat City // One shot. A character piece on Eddie as he has some of his faith in happiness returned to him. Eddie thinks pretty firmly that love and kindness are not a real thing--at least not for him, but that changes when he meets Steve. Poetic and moody, optimistic ending.

House to Ourselves // Series of one-shots. Steve and Eddie are finally living together after a long courtship. They get every other weekend to themselves when Steve’s ex-wife takes the kids for 2.5 days. That means sex… definitely sex.

Because I Want You // Part of the adult AU, one-shot series. Steve and Eddie have been broken up for 9 years. It just so happens that they both have 3-year-olds, and they end up in the same daycare, allowing them to reunite. It’s bittersweet in a lot of ways, mostly because Eddie feels so guilty for how things ended with Steve in their previous relationship. This story is about them trying to get back together.

Modern Problems, Modern Solutions Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 [FINISHED] // Modern AU. Eddie's POV and his judgy, budgie, anxiety-filled self-denying for a long time that he has a crush on Steve. I wanted to explore what being an awkward teen was like (again) and how the personality dynamics would work between Steve and Eddie if they were in more modern times. A story full of miscommunications set in 2015 ish. This mini-series is finished, and it has a happy ending. Enjoy the very soft end for the boys.

Basketball Shorts // PWP. Explicit, 18+. Eddie and Steve are in an established relationship, and Eddie asks Steve to wear his old basketball uniform. They fantasize together about what it would have been like to date in high school (and how hard it would have been not to sneak off to bone).

Tooth and Nail Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 // Uuhh, it's kinda sad guys. Prompt was to write something where Eddie is the one that is in denial about his queer-ness and Steve is the one who makes him question his sexual identity. Full request here. This is hurt comfort and miscommunication riddled; read some realness and slowburn towards romance. Part 4 onward is pining time with Eddie trying to figure out his feelings.

Stories of Youth (microfic) // A short (480 words) fic written for the steddie microfic month with the prompt "Suck." This is fluff and just a little window into the sweetness (and eternal horiness) that is Steve and Eddie in a relationship.

His People Chapter 1: His People // This story is more about Eddie than anything. Exploring the idea of Eddie coming back very "monstrous" from the Upside Down, and he doesn't have a lot of memories on how to be human. He does learn quickly though that the people around him do love him no matter what. This was written for Eddie Month with the Oct 13 prompt "Monster."

Chapter 2: Like. Lust. Love. // Eddie relearns what attraction is, and acts on the memories he has of himself and Steve... or what he thinks are his memories of him and Steve.... (angst, drama).

The Audacity - Corroded Coffin Lyrics only Written in Sung/Spoken form // A limerick that I wrote as if it were a song written and performed by Corroded Coffin. Angry, but also very f*ck the establishment.

The King - A Corrded Coffin Song (Accompanying art) // An imagined metal ballad written by Eddie Munson. (Think Iron Maiden's "Run to the Hills"). It's about Steve and his father, but also Vecna, and Eddie vs Hawkins. It's multi-layered and I thought it felt equally tragic and love-filled.

Time // Just a one-shot of them maturing and being in a 2-3 decade relationship. Romantic and fluffy, less than 700 words.

Through Leagues and Miles Pt1 // Eddie and Steve meet up again after 7 years. They're proper adults now and Eddie is living his dream of being a rockstar, while Steve has just started to go back to school to become a teacher. They were only supposed to be meeting up for a reunion with The Party, but one thing leads to another, and well... maybe acting on that crush from 7 years ago is worth it.

"Newly-wed Game" // Just this silly little "Newly-wed Game" post I added to. For some reason, it has 4,000 notes.

Reflection Steve's Part Robin's Part Nancy's Part Eddie's Part [FINISHED] // This is a 4 part mini-series about the Fruity Four. It's 1989 and Steve, Eddie, and Robin are visiting Hawkins over winter break. Nancy has invited them all over for a little Christmas get-together, and we read from the point of view of each member of the crew across 1 event. I wrote these pieces to be read in any order, so... enjoy some Steddie, vague Ronance, Vickie x Robin, and just the Fruity Four being... fruity. Dialogue prompt "You Remember That?" for Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge.

It's Snowing In Hawkins // This is all fluff. Steve goes over to visit Eddie during a heavy snow in Hawkins and gets roped into helping him build a snow fort. Both of them have been inching toward a romance for months now, and Steve adores how innocent and young their relationship feels. It’s the start of something real tonight, and it makes Steve feel brilliantly happy. 

Before the Fire - Steddie Microfic // Wrote for December's prompt "pine" (508 words). Steve and Eddie are around a fire and Eddie is trying to cheer Steve's up because 'someone' is missing and Steve is beside himself with worry. Eddie is pining, but Steve seeks him out for comfort.

The Cock Tail Club [18+ explicit] // Society thinks poorly of Alphas who prefer to be with other Alphas. That is why underground bars like The Cock Tail Club exist. Where one lonely Alpha can meet another and hit it off for the night. Eddie is doing just that, and of course, he finds wild, satisfying release… and maybe a bit more than what he bargained for.

Stranger Things

Not steddie. Things like stobin etc.

Survival of the Sister [Link to art] // Max is a young knight who has lost everything to the darkness of the Upside Down. The last thing she can lose is her life. She puts it all on the line to save her family, friends, and Hawkins. Fate has another idea for her as she struggles to recall her happiest memories that will bring her back to life and toward Lucas, who is desperately searching for her. Overall, it is a short, emotional piece about Max fighting back death with sheer willpower and then getting to relish in being reunited with Lucas.

We the Youth (1987) [Link to art] Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five [FINISHED] // A five-part, mini-series that is 100% complete and being posted during the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang 2024. This Stobin-centric story is about Robin learning how to love herself (with the help of her very queer life)! The first part of the story focuses on Robin losing her job and seeking comfort from her best friend, Steve. After moving to New York after graduation to work for a year before college, Robin has "lost her path" and isn't sure what she wants anymore.

Each chapter focuses on a different kind of love, and how difficult it is to find a place to belong when you're a young adult. (Especially when you're a young, queer adult in the 80s). The story has a happy ending though! So please enjoy this lovely platonic Stobin tale and the importance of having people in your life who love and support you.

[jo-harrington]

As Above, So Below - Chapter 4: Malum Malus

Previous Chapter: Chapter 3 - Crucible

Summary: The past haunts you, tempts you, but now you need to come to terms with it before it ruins your chances to save Hawkins from the Darkness.

Word Count: 16.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing Inspired, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Death and Injury, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Major Character Deaths, Grief, Mourning, Yearning, Discussion of the Upside Down, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Smut, Sexual Tension, Ambiguous Sexual Identity, Unspoken Confidence in Sexual Identity, Psychological Manipulation, Dub-Con, Non-Verbal Consent, Vaginal Fingering, Grinding/Humping, Groping, Sexual Activity with Multiple Partners, Bloodletting, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Wow what a weird month. Remember when I said I wanted to get 2 chapters out in October? Wild. Gonna stress the importance of reading the warnings in this one. We dive into some…dicey territory especially at the end. Do not give into the temptation. Or do. That's kind of…exactly what this chapter is about. (But seriously read the warnings.)

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also.”  - Robert Louis Stevenson, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

October 11, 1987

You were filled with a horrible sadness.

Worry.

You were alone...together alone.

He'd banished the others so he could focus on this...disgusting undertaking, but he'd put an obvious distance between the two of you purposefully. So he could do as he wished without your pitiful interference.

You knew this would be good for him: a singular focus, a task, a distraction. The end result would bring him to the light...but deep down you were worried he would be tempted further off the path as he forged through the darkness to get there.

"Be careful," you reminded him as the infernal red lightning flashed overhead. "You don't know what this will do."

"This will change things," he hissed excitedly. "It'll be different. It'll be perfect."

"Please." His hunger, his desire...it was palpable and overwhelming, saturating your surroundings. "Just...wait."

"It's just a little grave robbery," he chuckled darkly and closed his eyes. His form grew, large and imposing, and his hands reached for the heavens. "Everything will work out. You'll see."

"It's forbidden. Unholy."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at the challenge.

"You'll be here," he reasoned. "If anything goes wrong...you'll be here to fix it. You'll fix everything. Everything will be better. Soon."

He threw himself at the ground and drove his claws into the dirt, reaching...reaching...until the both of you shouted in pain at the resulting surge that tore through the Upside Down.

That tore through you.

You fell to your knees as you felt it pull at your heartstrings, as it ripped through your limbs, and you prayed...you prayed that everything would work. Because if it didn't...it would kill you.

And Eddie would be lost.

"You'll see," he sounded desperate now as he willed his little experiment to succeed. "Triumph over God. Over fate. We'll be together. Forever. Finally."

October 12, 1987

Deep below the Vatican laid the skeletal remnants of the Sanctuary of the Knights of the Holy Order. It was no longer in use--hadn't been for over a century--but it was there. Waiting. Kept as a reminder that mistakes had been made and lessons learned.

It had been a barracks, a place to train and rest, and mostly, a place to reflect and pray. To know oneself was to know God, because He lived inside them all. Through Him, they could overcome any challenge they faced.

Challenges that, occasionally, lived inside as well. Conflict between what was Good and what was Right.

Because the Sanctuary had also been a dungeon. A prison. A lab.

The Friars had been tasked to maintain the Sanctuary in those early days, to create weapons to aid in the fight when the Heavenly powers fell short. But in order to defeat something, you had to understand it. Creatures of Darkness had been captured, imprisoned, studied.

All of the books about the supernatural that you’d studied in your adolescence only existed because of the Order and the Friars of the Sanctuary.

But it was soul-splitting, hardening labor, and though the intentions were good…they were unethical. Unholy. But wasn’t that the way? Terrible things done in the name of goodness…were considered good no matter how terrible they were.

It wasn't until the Napoleonic Wars--when the Knights had been the worst kept secret in Europe after the conquest of the Papal States, as they did the bidding of the insidious Emperor--that everything changed. When Pope Pius VII returned from his banishment and saw that the Knights had been used for the bidding of one over the good of all, he reformed the Order.

All the dark deeds done in the name of good were buried. All of the research and experiments stopped.

And the Sanctuary closed its doors for good...

...except to you.

Where all the other Knights were anointed under the light of the moon, under the watchful eye of heaven, and were gifted with a blessing...your forefathers...you...were banished to the depths to make your vow.

That had been your first stop after you'd left Hawkins, so you could take the Oath properly.

You'd been led down the dusty winding staircase and made to explore the dank hole that still carried the stench of corruption and failure. You'd shined a light over the centuries-old dusty tomes, touched bones of saints, and viewed the body of your ancestor--the one who had turned down the offer of penance, the one who had killed his Pope--unnaturally preserved and kept on display.

He was a reminder, for your family and your family alone, of what would happen should you fail your life's purpose.

What a jarring experience, to speak the vow and then have your hand cut open to pour blood onto the knife still embedded in his heart.

They'd left you then, the Knights who'd brought you there, once they were sure you had taken the first solid steps on the path fate had in store for you. They clapped you on the shoulder, offered the briefest of congratulatory words, and then left you to, once again, crawl and climb through dark, unfathomable depths.

In hindsight, it was just a load of shit.

But for the briefest moment, you felt right. This had been the right choice, a birthright rather than a curse, and your determination would guide you to your ultimate goal.

It was a transcendent, euphoric experience akin to the moment you had realized you loved Eddie. You felt reborn once again.

Emboldened by this newfound confidence, you took the winding pathway back and you explored. The temptation was too strong. You read the tomes, you slashed through the air with a forgotten old sword inscribed with the Oath of the Order.

And you giggled as you pushed an old door open and found what you thought was an apothecary of some sort. You shined your flashlight over a set of shelves that was stacked with dusty old specimen jars labeled in antiquated script.

Your thoughts had immediately turned to Eddie; how the two of you had spent several hours making old pasta sauce jars look dusty and crusty and filled them with cornstarch, water, and food coloring for his Halloween campaign.

Venenum. Bilis. Sanguis.

You had intended to take a closer look when you kicked a jar that had been on the ground. Old and misshapen, it rolled into the shadows and you followed it. Several yards, until it hit a solid object and stopped.

The light of your flashlight hit the label first, Phlegethos Sanies, and you reached out to grab the jar.

Then you dragged the beam of your flashlight up and up, further and further.

Until you came face to face with a hulking skeleton with a horned skull.

A minotaur.

Chained to a chair, its head tilted back and jaw opened wide in a perpetual silent scream.

It was an unexpected sight and in your shock, your finger brushed the dusty, withered limb, and you saw.

Saw the atrocities committed all those years ago, heard the endless whines and screams that echoed against the stone, felt the pain that surged through every single creature that had been set upon that chair. That had been cursed to live out their final days in this place. In the name of Good. In the name of Heaven.

Your joy suddenly diminished and dread flooded you.

You already knew that the Sanctuary brought anything but sanctity to those who entered its depths, but to see it...to experience it in such a way--

"Go," the spirits warned. They amplified everything that you had felt less-than in the two short decades of your life and made you aware that while you were here as a Knight, you were very much other. Just like them. "You don’t belong here. Go. Before they get you next."

--would last with you forever.

That memory was what flashed before your eyes now as Steve threw Billy's unconscious body into the folding chair in the garage. As he and Robin wound rope around his body, and then latched handcuffs to his wrists. As they argued between each other and then spat accusations at you.

"He was dead!"

"How the fuck is he back?"

"What did you do? How did you do this?"

Mary Victoria stood beside you resolutely, and spat sharp words right back at them.

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” She leaned closer to you and muttered under her breath. “Did…did you do this? It’s fine if you did I just…need to know if I need to kick someone’s ass if they come after you.”

“I didn’t,” you reassured her numbly.

“Ok good. Good. We can work with this,” she nodded.

You tried to feel a little proud of her. She was dealing with all of this madness with more strength and composure than anyone had given her credit for.

Did she get a little—

“Shut the fuck up Harrington, stop pointing fingers.”

—enthusiastic? Yes.

However, you had yet to check on her, and if your state of mind was anything other than WHAT it was at that very minute, you would have dragged her out of this room so she wouldn't have to bear witness to what followed.

Because you could feel that it would not be pretty; feel it in the very marrow of your bones.

Watching a man crawl from a grave...to see him reach out to you before he collapsed...and then to have to haul him back to wherever it was you had come from...had been a draining task.

Especially when you did your best not to touch his skin.

The others didn't seem to have that hang up though, as they manhandled him, seemingly debated one another over what the rest of his life might look like locked up in this garage.

"How are we gonna keep him here forever? He's gonna need food, water, clothes."

"Maybe he'll just wake up and be normal?"

"Hargrove? Normal? Pfft."

"Do we need duct tape? Just in case?" Robin asked warily, her hand going to her mouth so she could chew on her thumb nail in contemplation. "He was pretty strong last time...with the Mind Flayer and everything."

"I don't think we need to worry about that," you finally spoke up, ready to get the show on the road. "Resurrection takes a lot out of you; it'll take a good amount of time for him to wake up, let alone be strong enough to do any harm."

Of course you were immediately proven wrong as he gained consciousness with a strangled gasp and coughing fit. Everyone jumped as they startled.

"What the fuck! What the fuck!" Robin backed as far from him as she could.

"Maybe you're not the expert on this that you think you are," Steve accused harshly.

"Alright he's awake now. What do we do? Douse him in holy water? Just start asking questions?"

"Can you guys shut up," Dustin hissed from the door to the garage. "Before we wake someone up. That someone being Nancy. You know she's gonna be pissed off when she finds out about this."

"Respectfully," Mare spat. "Fuck Nancy. Who put her in charge here? I'll fight her."

"Yeah we have a literal zombie tied to a chair," Steve scoffed. Unexpectedly, your curiosity was piqued and your mind began to race. "There aren't rules for this."

"Funny you say that," you took a step forward, closer to Billy, whose head hung limply as he took calculated breaths. As if he'd never taken a breath before now.

"What, there are rules?"

"Yes and no. More like...guidelines." You waved a hand dismissively. "And I meant...more your use of the word zombie. The origin of...zombie...is--"

"Listen, you gave us a lesson in vampires and resurrection last night too. But does it really matter?" Robin questioned.

You paused and looked around the garage.

Four faces stared at you expectantly, as though they were simply waiting for the next thing to happen. No silly lore, no story, no explanation of what would come next. Dustin and Mare looked curious enough, but it had been a long day and a longer night. They didn't have the patience.

For a moment, you were transported again.

Reminded of another life. Other lives.

One lonelier, so much lonelier. Twenty-some-odd years spent so obviously separate from everyone else, mostly silent as decisions were made for you; thoughts and opinions and words buried deep that would never matter because your fate was already written. And then another, where you were seen and understood. Your silly stories were shared and embraced. Appreciated and loved. Not just by one person, by many...but because of one person.

It had been years since you had walked away from it...but had taken just as long, it took until right this second, to resign yourself that you might never have it again.

You shot a tight, apologetic smile at the others and then crouched down in front of Billy. You gently called his name.

"Can you hear me?" You asked. "Billy?"

He groaned and raised his head weakly, his bloodshot eyes slightly unfocused until they landed on you. He fought against the restraints for a moment, but you held your hands out to try and calm him.

"Don't...we have you tied up, but don't be afraid. It's just a precaution. You're safe here."

His shoulders heaved for a moment but he relaxed.

"Good. Now...we have some questions. Do you know where you are?" You looked at the others and then back at him. "Do you know who you are? Recognize anyone here?"

He stared at you.

"Billy?"

Just kept staring.

"This is going nowhere," Steve sighed.

"No, no, it's disorienting," you explained. "Give it a second. How long has he been dead for? Two years? Almost three?”

“His body doesn’t look like Barb’s.” Robin noted. "Or Heather’s or Chrissy’s or—”

“Ok now you want to hear what I have to say?" you snarked, and you almost apologized when Billy's lip quirked the slightest bit. Then it was gone.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

So there was something inside--someone--with a sense of humor.

You thought back through what you'd seen in Max's memories.

Billy wasn't...he wasn't a joker. Could he be? With friends and people he felt safe with, sure. Would he laugh at the expense of people he saw as lesser than him? As a way to bolster his own confidence? Yes. And could you say that the people in this room were definitely ones he would target for his own sense of security.

But this wasn't that.

Those empty eyes--abyss-like with blown pupils--stared at you still as you shifted, they followed you...and you froze. It was microscopic, barely noticeable if you hadn't been looking right into his eyes.

You'd seen that before.

The demogorgon. How it had followed you. Disinterested in the hunt, in Wayne. Specifically gunning for you.

It had reached for you. Just like Billy did before he collapsed.

"Kas?" you questioned, and without even looking, you could sense everyone else in the room stiffen. The air grew tense; a shift in the mood. "It's you in there right? How are you doing that?"

He blinked.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps.

Not an answer, per se, but enough of one.

"That's a neat trick," you goaded, hoping to maybe get a little more than just a blink. "Can you do that to all of them? Or just this one? The empty ones."

No reaction this time.

You stood to your full height and he watched. Watched as you paced, so purposefully. In a human body once again, instead of a demogorgon, but akin to a predator tracking its prey.

In those dark depths, there was need. Hunger.

But you had a need too. Kas was challenging you, had been, and you needed to win.

You were suddenly determined to get something from this revelation. Could you get him to bend? Get him to break? Reveal his hand unintentionally.

Victory so sweet you could taste it.

"You don't like me, do you? Is that why you're sending your pets after me?" Billy blinked, his eyes widened. "You want me? You have me. It's ok, you don't need to talk. I can still hear you loud and clear."

"Uhhh..." Dustin timidly piped up from the door. "Maybe this isn't a good idea, if...if Kas really can see everything--"

"It's fine," you dismissed.

Mary Victoria huffed beside you.

"Listen, you might as well talk," she said to Billy, to Kas. "Give us something. You're not going anywhere, and it's not like we're gonna break your knees or anything."

It was a joke. Of course it was a joke, it was how she dealt with stressful situations. But...it got you thinking.

"I mean, we could," you whispered.

Robin, Steve, and Dustin all reacted harshly, admonishing you, asking if you'd lost your mind. And maybe you had. For a brief moment, the memory of the minotaur's skull, mouth open in a perpetual scream, flashed before your eyes.

But triumph was too tempting.

So you locked that memory away. Used it as a motivation even. Worse things had been done for lesser causes. This was...

What was it?

What were you fighting for anymore? For Hawkins? For Eddie? For yourself?

...this was war.

"I mean he's tied up," you gestured to him. "Just like Mare said. Might as well."

"I don't know what you are besides...absolutely bonkers," Robin dismissed you, then looked to Mare. "But aren't you a nun? Aren't you supposed to...not...commit sins or something."

"I'm a novice," Mare shrugged. "I'll say a few Hail Mary's, it'll all be ok."

"That's...it's still Billy's body," Dustin tried to reason with you. "We're not here to torture him."

"Why not, maybe he can give us answers?" Mare disagreed.

"No!" Steve immediately tried to step between you and Billy, especially as he saw your hand reach for the knife on your belt. "No torture. That's not gonna give us answers; that's just gonna hurt him."

"What do you care?" you scoffed.

"He's a person. He's innocent."

Anger burned through you at the hypocrisy. Sure Billy was innocent when you wanted to take control of the situation, but they had no problem tying him up because of the potential danger.

"Billy is a vessel," you explained through gritted teeth. "A vessel for Kas. Just a suit. He isn't in there. Do you know that? None of you want to hear my explanations...fine. But just trust me...there isn't enough of Billy left spread across the entire universe for him to be in there. But Kas is. And we need answers. So I'm gonna get them."

"Then you're gonna go through me," Steve challenged you.

"Through us," Robin agreed and stepped beside him.

You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists.

"We don't have time for this."

"What if it's just a big misunderstanding," Dustin interjected again. "What if he's trying to get a message to us."

"What kind of message?" Mare questioned curiously.

"Fat fucking chance," you scoffed. "He's killing people. You said it yourself, he wants out. He's hungry. What's he gonna do if he can get to this side? Boom. Feast."

"No, Henderson's right," Steve agreed but you wouldn't be stopped.

"You were all for hunting him down a few hours ago."

"We were going to hunt the undead. The ones attacking the town."

"One chance at guessing who sends them to attack the town in the first place."

"Maybe he's just trying to get information from us in return? To make a plan?" Robin suggested.

"Yeah," Steve snapped his fingers at Robin in agreement. "Maybe that's all it is. He wants to get a message out. Wants to communicate and get information and make a plan but he chose Billy Hargrove and he's having a rough go of it. So why don't you just...do that thing? Jump into his mind. Talk to him that way. Like you did with Max."

"M-Max?"

The tension in the room broke and everyone looked at Billy.

Something changed.

You watched the transition happen, as one pupil constricted, then the other.

"M-m-Max," he stammered.

As his cheeks flushed. As Kas gave up control...and something else gained it back.

"No," you shook your head, unwilling to accept defeat. You pushed through Steve and Robin, and dove for Billy. You grabbed the sides of his head and looked directly into his eyes.

You clawed your way in. Desperately. Savagely. As though something deep inside of you yearned for it. And you knew you could do it, because he did it.

You became Billy Hargrove, for the briefest of moments.

You had met him once.

Met was a generous term.

A halloween party Eddie had dragged you to, one where Billy had behaved abysmally and then got too drunk to know up from down. You had seen him slip in the kitchen, heard the thunk when he hit the floor, and it had only been your intention to go and see if he needed help.

But when you touched his skin...the hollowness you felt there...it shook you.

A man fully living shouldn't have been hollow in that way.

Eddie had warned you after the encounter to stay as far away from Billy as you could, some irrational fear of the danger he might bring. But your fear of that hollowness had been enough to make you agree. 

He was dangerous...a man...and, you thought, a beast.

After you'd had enough time to process it though--after you'd encountered more people and gained life experience--you had come to an explanation. You likened it to scratches in wood, deep divots that had been carved out of his being, either by sadness or cruelty, his own or others you couldn't know. 

He was not hollow, it was just that someone had taken a little too much of him than his being could withstand giving.

You'd met plenty of people like that in your travels. Untouched by the supernatural, simply...irreparably damaged by the fact that they were too human to keep going.

Pair that with what you'd seen in Max's head, and it was no wonder he'd been an easy target for Vecna's dark ambitions.

It was why you had been wary of touching him when he collapsed on the grave. If he was already empty before he died...what would you find?

Now though...you had touched him. Dove into the depths of his mind, in a different way than you had with Max. You didn't just brush the edge of his mind to search his thoughts, you needed to be amongst his very being.

And lo...nothing again.

In fact, less than nothing...worse than nothing.

You were empty...empty...dying. Your limbs felt heavy and weak.

Then you realized.

You weren't breathing.

You took a deep breath and it felt like your lungs had expanded for the first time in centuries. They were stiff and crackling. Even so, the dank, stale air felt like a relief to breathe.

After several breaths you took stock of yourself. Not dying anymore. Living. Again.

You looked down at yourself; you still had some visage that was your own but when you clenched your hands, you couldn't feel. You watched your fingers move, willed them to do so, but couldn't feel the movement.

You wondered if it was a side effect of the resurrection. What did the dead feel after they died? Their spirits, you knew. Their bodies, a mystery.

Until Billy.

What a curious thing though...

He had already been emptied so thoroughly before he died. What was left to put back so he could return to the land of the living? What had come out of the grave with his body? What had Kas scratched from the bottom of the proverbial barrel to put back into him to get him to rise again?

You observed your surroundings then. You were in a desolate hallway, dark and filled with doors. They were all open, broken, and hanging off their hinges. Abandoned. Empty. Akin to something twisted and surreal that Dali might have imagined.

Suddenly footsteps echoed behind you--in front of you? Direction didn't exist here--and you spun to try and find the source.

There.

An open door with a faint light shining through it. You caught the slightest glimpse of a clawed hand grasping the door jamb before it disappeared within.

Fight or flight activated, you were quick to the chase.

Kas was here. He was still in here.

The ground beneath your feet was uneven, unstable. With no sense of self, you kept faltering, and you knew you couldn't continue to exist in this place for very long.

There were no physical limitations here, however. So you could cross great distances much faster than in the real world, and you reached the door much quicker than you might have in the real world.

You were gonna catch him, confront him, kill him right here and now.

But when you crossed through the threshold, you found...yourself.

Not a reflection; an actual duplicate of you.

All of your sense of urgency and anger dissolved.

And in its place, confusion took over.

She looked worn and disheveled. Clothes ripped. Split lip. Legs shaking as though it took all the effort in the world to stand.

Both of your eyes widened at the recognition of one another but before either of you could say anything, that clawed hand wrapped around her waist and tugged her through a tear in the ether. Her mouth opened in silent protest, her hand reached out, and she was gone.

And so was Kas.

The frustration returned and you let out a roar of expletives, ready to tear the room apart.

Only for a faint sound to capture your attention.

Across from you was another doorway...another room with brighter light this time. Almost blinding. Sun shining through an actual window.

You slowly crossed the distance and found a familiar figure crumpled on the floor, breath shallow, ropes around his wrists. He weakly tried to get to his feet and you did nothing but watch.

Your focus had been so singularly on Kas that you didn't realize that Billy would be in here too. A remnant. A revenant. His spirit torn...just like your own mirrored visage had been.

You rushed to help him, and when you did, you glanced through the window and saw yourself again. Bigger this time. Time frozen. Eyes locked.

Strange.

In your arms, Billy stirred.

"Who..." he spoke weakly, head resting on your shoulder. "Where..."

"It's ok," you reassured him, your conflicting emotions forgotten temporarily. "It'll be ok."

You summoned the strength inside of you, hoping you could access your body out there from...whatever you were in here, and you poured the healing light into him, until he could stand on his own.

Until he could scream.

"Max!"

You wrenched your hands away as you were thrown back into your body. Steve and Robin grabbed you as you backed away and Billy started struggling against the restraints again.

"Max, Max,” his voice got clearer and stronger. “Where is she? Is she safe?”

He grit his teeth and closed his eyes and pulled at the handcuffs. To everyone's surprise, the metal gave just the tiniest bit.

"We really should have used the duct tape," Robin muttered.

"Billy, everything's ok," Mary Victoria stepped around you and attempted to soothe him. She shot him a gentle smile and held her hands out in front of her to show she meant no harm. "Max is alright. She's at home. Safe."

He took a few deep breaths, eyes darting between hers, before he relaxed. He hung his head again.

"I don't...don't..." He made a whining noise. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Mare repeated. "What don't you know?"

"She cried over me. But I don't know her. Who is Max?"

Mare whipped around to look at you and you sighed wearily and shook your head. You didn't even know what to think at this point.

Clearly everything you knew was wrong.

"What do you remember then Billy?" she asked.

"I..." his brow furrowed in concentration.

Contemplation.

"Don't," you spoke up and his gaze shot to you, then to your knife, and back. You shrugged Robin and Steve off of you and held your hands out just like Mare did. "Don't strain yourself. It'll happen when it happens."

He nodded and wet his lips.

"I remember...Max hurt me too," he began. "Before. I scared her and she hurt me. Why did I do that?"

"What else?" Robin asked.

"The...I think he was here." Billy nodded over to Steve. "And I hurt him. I'm...I'm sorry..."

"Shit, never thought I'd hear Billy Hargrove apologize," Steve muttered in disbelief.

"Shut up Dingus."

"The beach. And a woman. A room...a diner. Silly Billy."

You'd heard that before too...an echo of the human parts of Billy that had been present in '84, despite the great gouges inside of him.

"She called me her Silly Billy."

"And you," he nodded towards you, and then his eyes got stormy. "And Eddie."

Mare looked to you again.

"Eddie, that's your..."

"My boyfriend, yeah," you nodded. "Halloween a few years ago. Eddie...roughed him up a little bit. Why would you remember that though?"

"Because it hurt," Billy strained, his voice hoarse. And despite the hoarseness, there was a clarity there. An understanding that you simply couldn't fathom he possessed given his state. But he did. And you know it was because Kas made him aware, and that simple fact burned you.

"What else would he let me remember?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know...a lot of things."

"About Billy?"

"...no."

There was a pause and the mattress glub-glubbed as Mary Victoria shifted on the waterbed.

"About Eddie?" she asked, peeking down at you as you laid on the floor.

"No," you responded truthfully, startled that it was probably the first time he wasn't on your mind. "About Kas."

She sighed.

"Listen, maybe you need to let this Kas thing go," she offered. "Focus on fixing things here first. That was your plan right? To help get Hawkins back on its feet."

"I can only fix things here if I stop him," you replied. "Otherwise he's just gonna make them worse again. And he knows it. That's why he's after me now."

"After you?"

"You heard me before, when he was...possessing Billy. He's sending things after me. To kill me, probably. One of the vampires--"

"I thought you said they weren't vampires."

"--and then a demogorgon when I was out visiting Wayne. And now...now Billy himself."

"Why?"

"I'm a thorn in his side, why else?"

"Could be anything else," Mare offered. She was quiet for a moment, then she continued. "Maybe you think he wants to stop you. What if Dustin is right? What if he needs you? What if he needs your help too?"

"Then he could ask! What are these games, just ask for my help. Simple as that." You watched as she gnawed at her lip. "What is it?"

"I don't...I don't know. I have a theory. Maybe. I just need to think through it for a little bit. Let it bubble like a stew. Could be something; is probably nothing. But maybe this...this is all he can do. He's calling, you're just not listening."

You stared at each other for a moment, and she looked incredibly unsure of herself. You could sense the words that were coming next. Forget it, forget I said anything and you stopped her before she could.

"Maybe you're right," you admitted with a sigh. "I know I was quick to jump on the let's kill Kas train of thought. But can you blame me? There are rules. And he's breaking them."

"He probably doesn't know them."

"You're right, probably not. But neither do you." It was your turn to feel apprehensive now. Guilty. Instead of defensive; you turned into a bitch when you got defensive. "How are you doing? I haven't checked on you really. I'm sorry."

"You've only been a fucking mess yourself," Mare sniffed judgmentally and then winked. "Can't really blame you though. I'm...handling it."

"Not overwhelmed yet?"

"Most certainly overwhelmed," she disagreed. "But not enough to quit."

"Good."

"You can make it up to me next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah...you're not getting rid of me that easily."

"And what if I die here Mare?" The words escaped your mouth instinctually before you realized they had, and you both froze. You especially, your mind going a million miles an hour. "I mean..."

What did you mean?

What did you mean?

"You know, this whole thing...this whole curse is supposed to end in fire for me anyway," you shrugged. "It could happen any time and this...Hawkins is personal. I know I'm not being as careful as I would any other time. I mean, look at me already. What if I die here?

"What if...what if your theory...whatever it is...is wrong? What if everyone is wrong and Kas just needs to be stopped and I'm not strong enough and I die?"

You said it all in one breath and heaved by the time it was all out.

"Are you afraid?" she asked after a beat. "Of death?"

"Not enough to stop doing this dumb shit, apparently."

"You said you wanted...wanted to break this curse...for Eddie."

"I do."

"So are you afraid of dying? Of leaving him? Is that why you're telling me?"

"I'm afraid..." you paused. "I'm afraid I've brought you all this way and I'm gonna leave you to fend for yourself. I'm afraid that I'm gonna leave Hawkins worse off than I found it. I'm afraid...I'm afraid of leaving him alone because losing me will hurt him more."

She reached out a hand and you met her halfway to grasp it. Tightly. Desperately.

And you thought...you thought she'd do what she had been doing. Thought that she would offer some comfort or some words of wisdom to make you feel better.

He's in Heaven and he's waiting. He's waiting for you.

"What if he isn't in Heaven?" she asked, face entirely serious. She gripped your hand tightly. "What if he's in Hell? And all of this...is for nothing? You do all of this...you break your curse...and you're still alone?"

You could hear them then, a thousand years of your bloodline screaming what should have been the answer in your ears. Your grandfather. Your father. Fuck, even your grandmother who had no curse upon her but spent her life and all her goodness to prevent your damnation.

And then you thought of Wayne…his words. The way you tried to deny them.

“Shit, what's a guitar gonna do, or snacks, or...or a t-shirt? When he's stuck in Hell?"

Your throat tightened, but the response was easy.

"I guess I'll see him in Hell then."

You'd never seen him cry before.

Well, you had.

But not here. Not in this place.

Seeing the blood drip down his cheeks shook you to the core.

"Was it not enough?" he sniffed pathetically. "Why wasn't it enough?"

What could you say to that?

There would never be enough.

Not until you could save him. If you could ever save him.

How could you fill an empty cup...when the pitcher was empty too?

He roared when he didn't receive an answer, startling you.

"What did you expect to happen?" you asked wearily. Even if you couldn't help him, you could attempt to alleviate his woes. Just like you always had. That was your purpose: a balm to his soul, a buffer. "You couldn't control the others at the beginning."

"And I can't control them now either, can I?"

"They're willful."

"Aren't they."

"But so are you." He scoffed, but you continued. "And you're cunning. You have a plan."

"You have plans. Plans that fail, if you haven't noticed." He slashed at you with his claws, lashing out, but you appeared on the other side of him instead.

"You just need to try again," you offered sagely.

"And what good would that do?"

That was when the tide changed.

You'd been through if before but...there was no before that was quite like this. Something was so minutely different this time that you didn't realize it until it was too late.

His mind raced, his mouth raced faster, as he voiced his thoughts and put them forth into this dastardly dimension. If things were better, it would have reminded you of all the times he voiced his harebrained schemes. All of the silly little plans he had for the two of you.

Instead, they began to take shape, dark tangible things that you simply couldn't keep up with. Couldn't put to sleep as fast as they were brought to life.

Further and further into temptation--desperation--he went, and the more you tried to hold him back, the more he resisted.

You thought it was him, succumbing to the darkness once again. Drifting over the edge but then the realization came.

It was you.

"Why are you still here? Why? You act like you're here to help... but you're a burden. You've...you've ruined it. Ruined everything! I have to fix it. I have to."

He slashed again and you could suddenly feel it. For the first and only time. You felt it carve through you. Not painfully, not really. But the space where he would have run you through...disappeared.

You disappeared.

You'd done it on purpose before. Countless times. Disappeared into the void of him. Back where you belonged. But this time...this time he made you go. He dispelled you.

How long had it been, how long had you tried. How much had you given to him, to sustain him, with no hope of ever getting it back. He took from you. Took and took and took. It could have been a day or an eternity.

Suddenly there's no possible way to cling onto this reality, to hold him back from careening over the edge into darkness. Because you found yourself falling as well.

Lost.

You tried to do it on your own for so long, but now it was truly the end. You'd always known it would come. You'd worked so hard, you hoped you could save him before it came to this.

You needed her now...just as much as he did.

Lost.

You reached out one last time as his shoulders heaved, as the thick red tears ran rivers down his skin. Fingers brushed over his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips.

A farewell.

You melted into him one last time; you'd wait until you were well enough to return, whole once again.

You could rest now. What a relief.

Lost.

October 14, 1987

Having an alliance with others was a strange concept to you.

Although you did most of your work alone, it was not out of the realm of possibility to have a partner from time to time. Partner. Singular. They were few and far between, though. And for all intents and purposes, in Hawkins, that was Mary Victoria.

Your right-hand-man, your conscience when you were led astray, responsible to make sure the other didn't get killed.

Now, suddenly, there was a whole team that had your back. Mare, obviously...but Steve, Dustin, and Robin too.

It felt like an episode of the Brady Bunch.

Was this what it felt like to have siblings?

"Friends," Mare rolled her eyes when you made the comment to her. "They're called friends."

For an entire day, you all lurked around the Harrington's with the acute knowledge that you had a shared secret and that you'd have each other's backs any time someone potentially came close to finding it out.

Steve was the main person to run out to the garage whenever someone needed something. It was his house, after all; no one questioned it if he wanted to roam around at will or if he wanted some areas off limits.

Food was the next hurdle; Claudia did a great job working with limited supplies to feed an entire house of friends and neighbors. But sneaking an entire extra helping was challenging. Dustin was often the person to keep his mother distracted while extra bits of mashed potatoes or casserole were scooped onto a plate. And then you and Mare brought the food out to Billy, taking turns feeding him and keeping watch.

You all had agreed that you needed to keep him tied up and in the garage. It was just too risky, especially with Kas potentially lurking somewhere deep in his mind.

But Billy barely said anything when you went to visit, barely even acknowledged someone else was there short of opening his mouth for a bite of food.

Mare wondered, at first, if that meant Kas was back. It didn't take much for you to realize that no, Billy was the only one in there. He was just...disinterested. Disoriented.

Recollecting the mismatched pieces of a puzzle that he had no idea how to put back together.

He had moments of recollection sometimes, as he began to shuffle those pieces around. He'd make...parts of a picture, but not enough to discern anything truly useful. He'd ask about people sometimes. Mostly about Max. Ask if he could see her, which Steve harshly declined.

"Not a chance," he scoffed. "You think I'm gonna let him near Max? Any of those kids? After everything they've been through? Over my dead body."

"Maybe it'll help," Mare suggested. "With the memories. To see his sister. For them to talk."

"You wanna know the first time I knew Billy was Max's brother? Hmm?" Steve put his hands on his hips and looked at her expectantly. "When he beat the shit out of me, could've killed me. Max had to knock him out with a tranquilizer to get him to stop."

"Holy shit."

"So no, even though he seems innocent...different, he's not getting near those kids."

And then Billy would go nearly catatonic once again, back to shuffling the pieces around until he could make sense of himself again.

Another meal. Another bout of silent chewing and half-present responses. Another opportunity for Mare to try and coax him out of his shell.

"It takes time," you explained.

"How much time?"

"I...I don't know. Enough."

"Well," Mare sighed and loaded up a spoon to feed him. "Guess we're just gonna have to help him get there." From that point, she always tried to get a response out of him.

Mainly, by making airplane noises as she fed him.

"It's funny," she defended.

"It's infantilizing," you chuckled from your place at the door.

"I mean...it's still kinda funny," she shrugged, sending another biplane full of pot roast and veggies onto the next mission in Billy's digestive tract.

"We don't need funny. We need him to see he can trust us." You looked past her at Billy then, realizing that he might have been sick of being spoken about as if he wasn't just sitting there. "You can trust us, you know? When you're ready."

He just blinked at you.

"Maybe...maybe to start feeling alive again, he just needs to hear our life stories too," she sat up straight and cleared her throat. "Hi Billy. My name is Mary Victoria. I was born in a small town in Nebraska--"

And on it went.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two whole days.

You bounced around different topics, trying to get Billy to react to something. Anything. California, sports, the supernatural, politics, action movies, musicals. And he did. Sometimes there were just sighs or a huff that sounded adjacent to a laugh. No rhyme or reason to what it was he reacted to. Just...a reaction.

Better than nothing.

“…and then Mr. Perkins said 'nobody waves anymore' and Steve joked 'it's because we're not near the ocean.' And I thought it was funny," Mare put her hand on her chest. "But Robin just rolled her eyes."

Billy made a long-suffering sigh as he chewed his creamed spinach.

"I know, it wasn't funny," you agreed with him, then you glanced over at her. "It wasn't funny."

"It was! I like corny jokes!"

"Obviously."

"Do you think they're dating?" she asked, suddenly, out of left field. "Robin and Steve?"

"Uhhhh."

You didn't really know how to respond to that. Billy, the most reactive that he had been in the past few days, scoffed. Or sneezed maybe.

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, they seem close," she shrugged. You narrowed your eyes at her. "He's cute. I wouldn't put it past him to have a girlfriend or something. End of the world and all...and there's this...I don't know it's gonna sound silly."

"What is it?"

"Ok, disclaimer, I'm not going crazy." She pointed at you in warning. "Remember that. I just...whenever they're around each other, there's this string. It isn't there. I don't see it. But it's...I just know it's there. I notice it with a lot of people, actually. Especially here."

Interesting.

"What kind of answer do you want?" you asked her and leaned back in your chair. "The one you want to hear or the long one?"

Mare groaned and rolled her head back.

"Knight Lesson 102," you offered her. "Or, more fitting, like...Nun Graduation Revelation."

"But moooommmmm." She stomped her feet a little. "Can you do a worse job of reminding me that I'm not supposed to feel any kind of...attraction towards anyone. Married to God and all of that."

"You didn't take your vow yet."

"Whose. Side. Are. You. On!"

She clapped to emphasize every word.

"Long answer first," you began with a laugh. "Everyone here has a connection that spans what the eye can see. Those strings you feel, did you also feel them between Steve and Dustin? Robin and Nancy? Hell, even between us and them now, those bonds are forming.

"The Moche civilization in Peru believed that your life-force flowed through you and into others the more you shared yourself with them. And vice versa. Through conversation, through dance, through love and friendship. You make connections with everyone you meet and become a complex web of the people whose lives you touch. It's what gives us empathy."

"So that means I'm still connected with my douche ex. Great."

"Yes and no. Yes, because he's left his mark on your life and you wouldn't be you without him. But also no because you both severed that tie a long time ago."

She seemed to accept that answer.

"What about Robin and Steve then?"

"Do I think they're dating?" You asked for clarity and she nodded. "I don't know, how could I? But you can sense their bond is stronger than others, right? I thought they were siblings when I felt the connection between them. I think they just...will walk through life on a shared path for a very long time."

"Sounds like fate," she snorted. "Or soulmates or something."

"Soul..." Billy rasped, the unexpected sound causing you both to jump.

He jolted in his chair against the restraints, coughing and spitting and gagging. The convulsions lead to all manner of bodily sounds emanating from him.

"What the..!" Mare exclaimed. "What's happening to him?

"I don't..." You shook your head. "I don't know."

The anticipation was the worst. In fact, you anticipated the worst. You had thought, initially, that it was Kas trying to jump back into his body, and you could be ready at the very least. Ready to confront him, ready to jump back into Billy's mind in order to grasp Kas with your own two hands.

But you didn't anticipate nearly enough.

The food came up first. Days worth of food. It wasn't Exorcist-adjacent pea soup; it was undigested, save for chewing, and mostly whole. It spewed from his mouth violently and you both backed away as chunks landed near your feet.

"What the fuck dude!"

"Can you heal him or something?"

"I can try."

"Yes, please, try. Jesus fucking Christ."

You took a step forward, hand already outstretched so you could take a hold of him, but he spewed the last bits of foot and bile, right in your path and you jumped before it could hit you.

The dirt was next. He choked on it before he erupted.

Dust, then pebbles, then thick clumps of wet earth. It clatters and splats all around you. You dodged a hailstorm of bits and pieces, the likes of which would put the blast of Mount Saint Helens to shame, and then watched in horror as a slow, constant flow rolled and dripped from his mouth. Like magma.

Tears flowed down his cheeks and he spat to clear his airway, only for more gravel to be expelled.

"Are we sure he isn't the Antichrist or something?" Mare grabbed your arm, and pulled you back to her. To protect you or herself, you couldn't be sure.

"That isn't a thing." Although you couldn't be sure of that either.

"Then how do you explain all of this? What the hell is happening?"

You didn't know. It was beyond you.

You tried to race through everything that you'd read and heard of and seen. Dream interpretation and superstitions and cautionary tales. Your mind conjured images, interpretations of God vomiting angels and expelling them from Heaven and into Hell, another of Him spewing dirt to create the Earth itself, and a third of Zeus freeing his siblings from the belly of the dreadful Kronos.

Let alone the symbolism. You didn't have time to analyze all of it.

If you had a hundred years, if you could stop the flow of time, maybe you could come up with some idea of what this was and how to stop it.

"Help me!" He sobbed around mouthfuls of dirt and dust. "Please."

Instead you needed to act, react, as fast as you could.

"Help him!" Mary Victoria screamed.

You took the steps forward again to try and use your healing power to stop this, but you recoiled for the briefest of seconds, as Billy's eyes dilated again and blood began to leak from his dear ducts.

Kas.

But Billy wrenched his eyes shut and screamed, deep and guttural and painful.

"GET OUT!"

You didn't hesitate to take two fingers, slot them into his forehead, jamming his third eye chakra.

"Sleep," you commanded.

And his eyes rolled back in his head as his body stilled.

You left your fingers there, as the last little bits of dirt dripped from Billy's mouth and bounced down his chest and to the ground. You tried to feel him, heal him, but you felt...

Nothing.

His body was still, you couldn't fathom where the dirt and the Earth came from. There was no supernatural cause. The fragmented pieces of him remained as intact as they could be; he, for all intents and purposes, was whole. Even the connection to Kas in his mind had been severed, you felt no pathway leading to the Upside Down or its Master.

Strange.

You wondered if it had anything to do with his resurrection, if somehow the act of crawling from the ground had caused something to settle within Billy that he needed to regurgitate to finally and fully return to life. Maybe if you touched the wet earth that had been expelled from him you could feel some kind of psychometric evidence of its origins. And know what had caused it. The way God could feel Abel's blood scream from the earth after it was spilt.

Was this how Kas had resurrected all of them? Had their rebirths been just as violent?

Frantic footsteps made it to your ears then, voices clamoring over one another at the door. You and Mary Victoria turned as the knob jiggled and Dustin and Steve's voice overlapped with another.

You expected a shitstorm. An argument.

You expected Nancy.

You steeled yourself for her. Expected her. Hardened your heart so that you didn't burn with the sting of her venom.

But as the door was thrown open, all you saw was betrayal in a pair of innocent eyes.

"What on Earth," Claudia stared at the scene before her, horrified, her attention unable to fully land on one thing, "is happening here?"

And you didn't know what was scarier.

Everything you had just witnessed.

Or her disappointment.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Ok so maybe I'm not but you don’t need to leave.”

“I think it’s better if I do.”

“No one asked you to go. You don’t have to do this self-sacrificing thing.” Mary Victoria snorted.

“This isn’t self-sacrifice,” you retorted. Hands on hips, you turned to her. “Or have you not read the Bible. Exile. It’s kind of a thing.”

Claudia was…concerned.

Disappointed, yes, that you all had kept Billy a secret. But concern was the main reaction once you’d all sat down to explain how he came to be in the Harringtons garage.

And alive.

She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t yell. She wasn’t angry.

She wrung her hands and her voice wavered as she formulated questions and responses. Her eyes kept sliding over to Dustin, who would take her hand in his and reassure her.

It’s ok mom. We have a plan. Don’t be afraid.

Claudia looked to everyone for confirmation. To Steve and Robin, even Mare. But when she got to you, her eyes only held betrayal.

You were good at what you did. Probably, no one had really ever told you that you were shit. Cursed? Yes. A snarky bitch, a meddler, a loudmouth, etcetera etcetera. But bad at defeating darkness? Never.

You knew you could protect innocents. But what was the point if you didn't...protect innocence.

And that’s when you decided you needed to go. To give them some space without your bullshit.

“Self imposed.” Mare rolled her eyes. “Like an asshole.”

“It's really not the insult you think it is,” you explained. “I’m just going to stay with Wayne. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to take Billy on a drive and maybe knock a few marbles loose—”

“Careful. He doesn’t have that many marbles to begin with.”

“—then we can continue the work on your Knight lessons ok?”

"And save Hawkins?" she followed up and you shot her a strained smile. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"Stick close with the people we trust," you nodded towards the group of your friends who had congregated at the door to witness your temporary exodus. "Don't let them do anything to Billy, and most importantly, keep yourself safe."

"I thought you'd be back tomorrow."

"A lot can happen in one night."

You threw your bag into the backseat of your car and Mare pulled you into a hug.

"You be careful too, ok? No going out after curfew, even if you see something shiny luring you out into the woods," she cautioned.

"I'll be f--"

"You're incapable of staying out of trouble. And I know if you're not careful you're gonna get yourself killed. It's like you're tempted by danger or something."

"Who's the mom now," you joked.

"Shut up."

And then you were off. Back across Hawkins to Wayne and Lover's Lake.

You forewent the radio this time, opting to drive in silence and listen to the whistling wind and any potential wing flapping. The whole radio feedback misfiring happened twice more since the little mishap with Sympathy for the Devil and you decided that 3 strikes so music was just off the table for you for the foreseeable future. And as much as you'd like to have listened to Fats Waller crooning on that old mixtape Eddie made you, about how dark and stormy it was inside this heart of mine, you listened to the distant thunder as an actual storm moved in instead.

"Great," you muttered and stepped on the gas a little faster so you wouldn't have rain pelting you in the face, thanks to your non-existent windshield.

That was gonna be a bitch to fix.

The windshield, probably part of the frame. On top of the air conditioning was already long gone and the heat on its last leg. Power steering had gone out once as you were driving through the Rockies. That had been fun to find a place to fix.

You were just old enough to remember your grandfather bringing the car home, brand new. Of course at that time you didn't understand. You just liked standing on the bench seat with your hands on the steering wheel going vroom vroom. The whole family took a drive.

It felt like such a normal memory in comparison to...literally the rest of your life.

Then a few weeks later, he was gone. And so was your dad, replaced by your father.

Nonna wore a set of black robes that first year--from which, came the tasseled cord belt that hung from the rearview mirror--to mourn her husband and son, and then to dedicate herself to your salvation. And Mom had been the one who started taking the car out for joyrides to escape from her bleak reality instead. She’d taught you how to drive, taught you how to question your faith--question yourself--in the car.

It was a strange, contradictory symbol of destiny, denial, and devotion.

And then when you skipped town, temporarily dodged your fate, the car became your problem.

Your problem that was now navigating broken streets and taking detours to avoid another fissure that seemed to have opened up overnight.

That wasn't there a few days ago...

In fact several streets seemed to be inaccessible when they'd just been clear just the other night. And the further you got in your detour, the worse it got, until the road seemed to literally shake and split right beneath your tires.

"What the fuck," you muttered as you swerved around a crack that was actively forming beneath you. "Why do I feel like I've jinxed myself? A lot can happen in one night. Fuck me."

Your headlights flickered and thunder cracked overhead.

And as you rounded another bend, your car, quite literally, died.

It was like a wave, a tangible spark, an electrical overload. The headlights flickered, and the radio turned on of its own volition and wavered to an ear-splitting screech that almost, almost sounded like your name, and then it died. Everything died. An audible power down of the electrical system before your engine sputtered out and your car rolled to a stop on the side of the road by some trees.

You turned the key in the ignition. Once, twice, stepped on the pedal. Nothing.

Until your right hand began to tingle. Burn.

You wrenched your hand off the key and used your other hand to press down into the space between your life and head lines, trying to massage out the pain. It felt...beyond your being. It felt heavy. There was something in there. A weight. Could you dig it out? Dig a hole into your hand and dig the hot burning thing out?

You were a fan of horror movies, of action movies. Media was one of the few indulgences that you were allowed to have growing up. Books and movies instead of friends. Breaks in between learning about real life fantasies and terrors to entertain yourself with made up ones.

It made things a little boring sometimes, sure. You always knew when a jumpscare was about to happen. Could tell when the plot was about to reach a climax. You'd ruined a few movies for Eddie and the guys before. Even spoiled one for your own father on the rare occasion he'd been around.

So it almost felt too predictable that the broken ground just a few yards away from you began to split further. As the smoke emanated from it. As the gate began to pulse and glow ominously, in time with the heavy, burdensome pain in your hand.

As a clawed hand slithered over the edge.

"Well shit," you cursed through gritted teeth. You kicked open the door and rounded on the trunk. You fumbled with the latch with one hand, threw it open and then dug. You'd already fucked around with your weapons the other day when you and the others went vampire hunting and then they'd all been thrown back in haphazardly.

You needed a stake, a knife, something.

"Least if I die here in Hawkins, I don't need to get another car."

A crucifix got tucked in the waistband of your jeans. The revolver loaded with silver bullets shoved back there too--what gun safety?--and you'd managed to shove the blade of a knife between your teeth to hold for a second, when you were assaulted by a cacophony of sound.

Wings flapped heavily, a jarring screech that made your blood run cold, and then the laughter.

It was taunting you.

Heavy footsteps dragged on the pavement, one after the other. Closer and closer.

"Are you hiding from me?" the reedy voice cooed patronizingly. "That's cute. You can't hide. Not when I can feel the fresh blood coursing through your veins."

There was a deep inhaling noise; slightly slurred, like a breath taken through clenched teeth. Then a loud flapping and suddenly the voice was on the other side of the car.

"Delicious."

Your eyes scanned over the contents of the trunk, thoughts swirling as you wondered how you could cause the most damage and buy yourself the most time.

If it was cruel irony that your car would die and you'd be attacked in the middle of the forest after you told Mare that a lot could happen in one night, then this was just some kind of karmic intervention.

The jar of peppers.

You knew it was a weird, unfamiliar thing that she'd just latched onto because she wasn't used to it and it seemed funny, but superstition was real. And a jar full of peppers, garlic, vinegar and holy water--maybe some other mystical whispers from 20 years ago thrown in if you were lucky--would surely do some damage.

You were almost sad Mare wouldn't be here to see it in action.

You grabbed it and shuffled closer to the edge of the trunk, as close as you could to peek to the side and witness him stalk closer to you.

A smug, elongated smile and demonic black eyes just like the others had. His skin was grey and stretched over his bones, and the tattered remnants of a sweater vest and chinos, of all things, adorned his body. One clawed hand was pulled back, as if ready for an attack as he got close enough, as were his wings.

And most prominently, a scar stretched across one cheekbone.

"Oh Fred," you taunted around the blade in your mouth. "I'm not a cheap date."

You shuffled to the side swiftly and threw the jar at him. It shattered upon impact with his head and doused him in the spicy, spiritual mixture, sizzling and burning his skin. Watching it filled you with a sense of triumph; finally, the slightest bit of an upper hand on Kas, who you were sure was behind this whole mishap.

He definitely was.

Fred was not as fragile as Barb had been though, and he already started to heal once the shock wore off, so you knew you had to act fast to finish him off.

Bloodthirsty, the revolver was in your hand before you could stop it and you let off one shot after another. They ripped through him, tore chunks from torso and his wings until you heard the click click click of the empty barrel.

You thought--you hoped--the handful of bullets would be enough and maybe you'd get lucky and puncture his heart.

Unfortunately you were not lucky. It wasn't even luck. You were not a good shot to begin with--as demonstrated by the fucking crossbow--and even if you were pretty ambidextrous, you favored your right hand. Which, thanks to the heavy nagging pain that coursed through it, meant you were at a disadvantage.

Still, Fred faltered and roared in agony as his body expelled the bullets. He tried to flee, but you wouldn't let him. His wings flapped uselessly when it came to flight but he still used them he propelled himself through the trees, with you close on his heels.

Thunder boomed overhead as you ran and it soon began to downpour. The dirt became mud and your sneakers slid as you pivoted and turned, struggling to keep up with him.

Despite being wounded, he would have the advantage. You were only human, despite your abilities. And you were a human that hated running. So all he had to do was flap his wings a little harder, or scurry up the trunk of a tree...and you'd lose him.

You slowed your pace and came to a stop, then noticed...your surroundings seemed familiar.

You wiped the rain from your face and looked around. The trees were less dense here; actually, several had been knocked down entirely, trunks covered in deep scratches and splinters. The forest floor covered in dead leaves. And there was one tree that looked...magical in and of itself. With moss and mushrooms and an assortment of sticks and...yarn.

A shelter against the elements, almost.

You jumped as something brushed against your leg and then you laughed to find a tiny little face looking up at you, entirely unamused at your antics. Big green eyes, whiskers twitching, grey fur damp with the rain; her tail flicked back and forth curiously. This was her kingdom, after all; why were you here?

"Hello," you muttered and wracked your brain for a minute. You'd met this cat before, early on in your relationship with Eddie; he'd taken you out here to meet her and her kittens, to feed them like he did with the other resident cats of Forest Hills. You'd made a joke, thanks to all of the downed trees, that she was some elusive cryptid.

"Don't need to knock down any trees when big, scary metalhead Eddie Munson is bringing you Chicken of the Sea, huh?"

"You wanna get married or something?"

"Fuck you Munson."

Your heart ached at the recollection, at the sweet innocent declaration that...that would never come to pass.

"Lucy," you cooed, basking in that memory. "Queen Lou."

You knelt down and offered your left hand in greeting, but she swiftly dodged and pressed her head into your right hand. The heavy pain and throbbing dissipated almost immediately as she nuzzled and purred. But the pain in your heart remained.

"You out here by yourself?" you asked. You looked around in realization; the trailer park must not have been far off. "Or did you come back here to see what the commotion was? Sorry about that."

Lucy lavished in your attention for a few moments, enjoying your scratches behind her soft, damp ears and then she startled. She turned, hackles raised and you were suddenly on alert too. Wings flapped wetly overhead and she bolted to chase after whatever creature fled.

"Shit," you muttered and began to follow. You might have joked that she was a monster but she was most certainly just a tiny little kitty. Definitely not equipped to fight an...undead bat thing.

But damn, she was quick.

The trees got more and more sparse until you were in the condemned remnants of the Forest Hills Trailer Park itself.

Fuck, it was bleak.

Out of all the damage you had seen in Hawkins, the aftermath of two "earthquakes," this was the worst.

Most of the buildings looked intact just...abandoned. Doors left open and swinging, laundry left to rot on the line. The brightly colored remnants of FEMA markers spraypainted on the sides of the trailers were especially vibrant against the grey sky. The ground was uneven and cracked, great plates of earth tilted this way and that to compensate for the thick, cavernous crack that carved through the center of the park. Soil was overturned and cursed smoke bled into the sky, though the rain kept it from rising too far.

You wondered if the veil between this world and the Upside Down was the thinnest here. This was, after all, the place where Vecna first punctured his way through with his Curse.

A hiss gained your attention and you kept going, following Lucy despite the dread getting larger in your chest. Further into the park until it opened a cavernous maw that bore your heart to the world as you found yourself in front of the Munson's half-destroyed trailer.

The frame of the trailer was shorn apart, walls and siding jagged as the origin point of the gate started in what used to be the living room. Wayne had confided in you, about Chrissy; how he'd found her body, mangled in a way that would forever be burned behind his eyelids.

You hadn't realized at the time that Chrissy had been the vampire from the square. The one who had tried to carry you away. Would it have taken some weight off his mind to know she was...alive? If you could call it that? Did he already know? Or would it add insult to injury knowing this was a worse fate for her?

A soft brrr and your eyes zeroed in on Lucy sitting on the counter in the kitchen, the open mouth of the trailer exposing it to the elements. She watched you for a second before she jumped off the counter and disappeared down the hall leading to Eddie's room.

It was then that the ghosts decided to appear.

You crawled up the side of the trailer, on the half-demolished porch steps and into the kitchen. There the two of you stood, huddled next to the stove, arms around each other as you waited for the water to boil for hot cocoa and marshmallows; so stupidly affectionate after making up from one of a dozen dumb fights. The ghosts disappeared as you passed, and suddenly there was no pan on the stove. There wasn't even a stove anymore. The wall of mugs gone. Even the doors on the cabinets were half-broken.

You continued down the hall, where you could hear your own fists pounding on the side door on that fateful night. After you crawled from the Earth after the tunnels collapsed, the only place you knew you'd find comfort was here. Was with Eddie.

Was that why Kas had chosen to resurrect Billy in such a way? To mirror your own ascent, crawling from Hell? Born anew?

The phantom of Eddie ran out of his bedroom and opened the door for you, and you collapsed against him sobbing. You watched as he held you, soothed you, wiped the dirt off your skin and promised it would all be ok. And as he kissed your forehead, they were gone.

There shouldn't have been electricity, it should have been the first thing FEMA cut off...but a light flickered in the bathroom.

On and off and on and off and on.

On. Off. On. Off. On.

On and off and on and off and on.

You stared at it, felt your throat get tight.

You blinked, hard, and the bulb over the sink exploded.

It wouldn't misfire anymore.

If only you'd have investigated that a little further, just to save yourself the heartache that awaited you in the bedroom.

Because as soon as you stepped over the threshold, you became overwhelmed. This was where you spent so much time together, why wouldn't the ghost be active and abundant here?

Sitting on the floor by the stereo listening to mixtapes. Sleeping, talking, writing, laughing. There was one of you pacing at the foot of the bed. One of him running through the door with a bag of McDonalds French fries for you to share. A set of you in the bed, limbs intertwined, whispering words of devotion as your bodies became one.

You stared at them the longest, eyes burning because you refused to blink.

Once you did they would be gone and you would be alone again. Alone with the person you hated the most in the world: yourself.

The you in your mind would always have her Eddie, but the you here would never have him again.

You ached to be back there.

What you wouldn't give to be back there, back there with him. Turn back the clock and say damn Hawkins, damn destiny, damn the world. You would sooner rip out your own heart than follow Gabriel to the tunnels that night in November of 84. The words, the oath, the fire, the dirt. Why did you go there when you could have come back here?

You could hear Gabriel's stupid voice echoing in your head, words that he'd repeated too many times after you'd ask him why, when, how you could come back to Hawkins, back to Eddie.

"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret. Worldly sorrow brings death."

"Then I would rather die," you hissed now, aloud, as you watch the ghosts reach the pinnacle of pleasure and melt into each other. A great, glorious being with two heads and four arms, four legs, and one heart.

You held the tears at bay for as long as you could until you shut your eyes. The ghosts began to evaporate around you, whispered words faded into the din of the rain outside, until it was silent.

Until you were alone again.

You didn't want to open your eyes again, didn't want to face reality again, but when you did...you found a pile of cassettes on the ground.

You kicked them, gently, nudged them with your toe. Almost as though you expected them to disappear too.

And when they didn't, you knelt down and looked through them.

You should have been looking for Lucy. And further still, you should have been trying to find Fred before he healed too much and disappeared back through the gate, if he hadn't already. But curiosity got the better of you.

But no one was here to judge you. Wayne wasn't here to catch you snooping, wanting the last little remnants of Eddie that you could latch onto before you walked away and left the trailer to rot. Sure, you had asked Wayne and you could ask him more, but it was the little things that he didn't know, the secret things that were only between the two of you, that you hungered for again.

So you moved around his room and dug through the little piles of abandoned objects, blew off layers of dust, and scraped the tiniest bit of psychometric energy off them and directly into your heart.

Eddie screamed "this is music" when Robin called his tapes shit, that he needed real music. How many times had he said that to you when you'd attempt to put one of your tapes in?

A loaf of bread that, now, was just a moldy, desiccated mess. But a brush of your fingers over the plastic brought an Eddie sitting on the floor quietly tinkering away on an original song and getting hungry for PB&J.

Postcards and posters and random bits ripped out from magazines all scattered across his dresser and then tucked into the side of the mirror...two tickets.

Ozzy Osbourne with Special Guest Metallica Tuesday April 8, 1986 7:30PM Market Square Arena

Tears built up in your eyes as you ran your fingers over the faded ink.

The tickets being handed over to Eddie and Jeff who then started screaming on the sidewalk in front of the box office, how Eddie refused to let Jeff keep his ticket.

"Nah man, I'll keep them safe. With my life."

Talking about it to Wayne once a week, how they'd have to miss a set at the Hideout but it was ok. How often did you get to see Ozzy and Metallica?

Him practicing songs from the new album every night in front of the mirror, every night for 3 weeks since its release all while staring at the tickets and his eyes drifted up to...

You frowned, and concentrated.

Eddie's eyes drifted up from the tickets to...

You moved your hand off the tickets until you touched the glass of the mirror; something had been there.

Eddie walked into his bedroom in a daze, clutching a tiny piece of paper in his hand. No...not paper. It was stiffer...card stock. There were tears in his eyes, but a smile on his lips.

You gasped and pulled your hand from the mirror. You immediately dug into your pocket and pulled the same piece of cardstock, the one you'd fumbled with at Rick's when you didn't want Wayne to know you were snooping. It had come from here.

No.

It had come from you.

You hadn't tried to pick emotions from it before, hadn't tried to lift memories, but now you were primed for it. Images flashed before your eyes.

Of you standing in front of a drugstore Christmas card display debating yourself for the perfect one, agonizing as you sat at the little desk in a motel room wondering just what to write. Could you tell him where you'd been? How much you missed him? Beg him to wait for you, again? To keep waiting?

In the end you knew you couldn't say anything, just a heart.

Of Eddie eagerly opening the card, recognizing your handwriting and the little butt-shaped heart you drew inside. Of his hope that he poured onto the paper that you hadn't abandoned him, hadn't forgotten him. He'd just have to wait. He'd wait forever. And every day he'd kiss his fingers and strum the strings of his beloved guitar and then press those same fingers to the cartoonish little mug of hot cocoa on the front of your card.

Wayne had said he'd taken things that meant the most to Eddie when he left...t-shirts, books, his guitar...and not the concert tickets...but your card.

You thought back to a card of your own. Sent to you from your father at Christmas. The beautiful drawing of the Loch Ness monster and his pathetic "Merry Christmas, From Dad" written inside. How irrationally angry you were that he would send you a card, after he'd said such terrible words to you, after he tried to force you to accept fate when he realized he was on the path to failure. You'd ripped the card up.

Now, in this moment...staring at the card that Eddie cherished, one that you'd cowardly sent without even signing...you felt some kind of understanding with your father. For the first time, truly, in your entire life. How much you would give...for a normal life for your loved ones.

And you knew how much stronger than you Eddie was, how patient he could be...how much more love that he had to give. How much more trust and faith he had.

Tears dripped on the card and you quickly wiped them away with the cuff of your jacket.

You were loath to do it, but you shoved the card back in the corner of the mirror where it belonged. You kissed your fingers and pressed it to the front of the card, and for the briefest moment you could feel the Eddie that lived deep inside you smile.

You cleared your throat and went back to digging and you noticed, there on the bed, a book.

Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide

Pages were randomly sticking out of it. Just like the books that had been at Rick's. You helped yourself as you began flipping and your thoughts fondly turned back to your own long sessions ahead of Halloween, when Eddie had convinced you to join Hellfire for one night only. Character creation and the mechanics of the game. He'd told you stories of monsters and villains like Xanathar and Vecna and...

"Wait," you paused. "Vecna."

Sure, Dustin had told you that Vecna was Henry Creel. But you'd never questioned the origin of the name. Villains gave themselves dumb names all the time. Like Batman's Calendar Man or Mad Max's Lord Humungus.

You flipped frantically, page after page after page...eyes scanning over unfamiliar words haphazardly. You didn't care about hit points and spells and experience, you needed to find one thing.

One thing that was on the tip of your tongue, the corner of your mind, you knew you knew it but you didn't know where...until now.

The Sword of Kas

"When Vecna grew in power," you read aloud. "He appointed the most evil and ruthless lieutenant to serve as his bodyguard and righthand. That henchman was the vampire lord Kas. For a long time Kas faithfully served the lich but legend says that the destruction of Vecna was brought on by Kas and the world was made brighter thereby. Son of a BITCH."

You picked up the book and threw it across the bedroom, where it crashed into a lamp and fell to the floor.

You backed out of the bedroom and back down the hall, into the kitchen. The wind whipped heavily outside and you knew you needed to find Lucy and leave...go back to the Harringtons and demand an answer but...how could you face the reality outside of those walls?

You needed a minute...to process all of it.

You stood over the sink, stared at the scummy drain and the basin filled with half-decaying leaves that had blown in.

Your heart was pounding, ears ringing, and your left arm started hurting, hand stiff and tingling where you clutched the edge of the counter; it could have been a heart attack but it could also have been everything that you'd been told since coming to Hawkins had been...what...a lie?

And here you were after a week and you had to start from square one again.

"It's ok, it's ok," you clenched your eyes shut and muttered to yourself. "It's not starting back at square one. You already know some things. So what? So what? So what his name isn't really Kas; you never knew someone named Kas in town anyway, did you really think that it was a real name?

"Of course you did. So why did they lie? The kids...Dustin...he must have come up with the name because...duh vampire. Makes sense. But then why wouldn't they tell you who Kas really was?"

You opened your eyes and stared into the sink again, then off to the side, sliding your eyes along the grout lines to help you calm yourself.

You were like a ticking time bomb of emotion. The...anger and sadness and mourning and need...all churning in your body. You were being selfish; these people, your former neighbors, had seen a lot. And here you'd come into town with your...Knight of the Holy Order spiel, spouting off how you'd be here to help and so far everything had truly...truly not worked in your favor.

"It's because I'm not trustworthy." You clenched a fist and hit the counter. "I know that."

What had you done? But...kill one of their friends and do whatever you wanted, go wherever you wanted...kept secrets. That's why you left the house earlier because you needed some space. And so did they. You being right under their nose, fucking up every step of the way, wasn't gonna do anything to earn their trust.

"And if they just trusted me, then I could help."

"And who's going to help you?" came a soft voice behind you.

You jumped and turned and saw her, hanging upside down from the jagged edge of the roof. Her hair cascaded down in a curtain to the floor, all perfect golden curls with a copper tint.

"Hello angel," she said in a long, breathy, drawn-out taunt, and then in a feat of impressive acrobatics, swung her body off the roof, flipping herself to stand upright.

She was a cheerleader after all.

"Nice to finally meet you too," you greeted calmly. "Chrissy."

She looked different than she had in the square, less bat-like, less creature-like, unless that was just your imagination now being so close to her. A strange mix of unsettling monster and conventional beauty. Her limbs were still long and a little in-human, but her pallor was less...dead. Her wings dragged along the ground behind her as she took one step towards you, then another. Her demon-like eyes, just like Fred's, stuck on you as you backed along the counter.

She grinned, all pretty, pouty lips and sharp, deadly teeth.

You mentally calculated how you could defend yourself if she decided to attack you here. The knife you had...fuck it was somewhere. Had you dropped it when Lucy had shown up? Regardless, all you had left was the crucifix tucked into your jeans and...yourself. Your powers. The thunder and lightning and rain still falling outside would be an easy conductor for a some kind of defensive play if you needed to.

The gate...also was an option. Crack the earth open further and swallowed her whole. But that wasn't a route you truly wished to explore just yet.

"You're thinking naughty things," Chrissy sing-singed. "Mean things. I'm not gonna hurt you. Not like the others want me to. Why do you want to hurt me?"

"You've hurt a lot of people," you explain. "Your master has."

"Master," she closed her eyes and stopped in her tracks for a moment. "He likes that. Master of Puppets, I'm pulling your strings. Yeah he likes that."

"Yeah? Nice to know he's happy."

"See?" she held her hands--claws--out to you. "We both want him to be happy. We can work together."

"Did you lose the ability to understand sarcasm when you died?" you snarked at her. Her smile dropped and her cheeks twitched. "He's a monster. He's a villain. He's killing people."

"He doesn't like what you're saying about him."

"Tough."

"You should be nicer, after all he's done."

"I'm not nice," you spit at her.

You'd shuffled to the edge of the kitchen but when you turned to try and make a getaway down the hall, you were immediately stopped by a solid wall of muscle. Clawed hands grabbed your biceps and pushed you away, then a mouth full of jagged teeth roared in your face, spittle and blood spraying you thoroughly.

If Chrissy felt more human and Fred more monstrous, Patrick was somewhere in the middle. His jaw was still slightly dislocated, from Vecna's curse or his own lack of care while feeding, you weren't sure. He was lithe and long, like a dancer, and he was strong. He turned you back to face Chrissy, and gripped your arms tightly; you could feel his claws puncture your jacket, your skin, deep enough you were sure he drew blood.

"You can't run," he hissed. "Don't run."

"Don't fight it," Chrissy continued, desperately. "Why do you fight it? He just wants you--"

"Wants me dead," you finished for her.

"He wants you," Patrick repeated, grip getting tighter. "He needs you."

Chrissy lunged for you then, one claw coming to your throat, the other gripping your jaw. You closed your eyes and tried to focus; you needed to get them off of you, needed to...expel them. You listened to the rolling thunder outside, trying to ignore the raspy hissing breaths in your ears.

If you could just...time it right...you could strike at least one of them with lightning.

You listened to the rumble and thought about an ocean...and...sea monsters.

You thought about Odysseus crossing the strait of Messina and encountering Scylla and Charybdis. A decision similar to yours right now; an adventure led astray that led to an impossible decision. Which path could he take that would cause the least damage? Which path could you? Strike Patrick and surely Chrissy would snap your neck; strike Chrissy and Patrick would tear out your throat.

Shit, even Odysseus had a fig tree to cling to.

You wracked your brain, tried to stay calm.

Until Chrissy's hands turned gentler, filled with care. Her thumb caressed your chin, then your cheek. The claw around your throat loosened, and she cupped your face in both hands.

"I feel what lurks," she hissed, breath fanning across your skin. "In your lusting heart."

"I hope you have a heart, because I'm gonna drive a stake through it," you spat at her.

Her fingers pressed into your face, punishingly, and then went soft again. She chuckled, deeply; not like the simpering giggle she'd given before. Something raspy from within her chest.

"You're funny." Chrissy continued, but there was a rumble in her voice now. Deep and dark and secret. "Denial...not just a river in Egypt. How's that for a joke? Why did you come here? Why did you come back?"

It wasn't Chrissy anymore.

"It's personal," you told her.

"Isn't it? It's just between us."

It was Kas.

Except Kas wasn't Kas anymore he was...something. And your mind bent trying to make sense of just who was on the other side of Chrissy's mind.

You felt her get closer to you and Patrick's grip on you tighten; the metaphorical rock and hard place that you'd been considering closing in on you. Your decision gone; you'd have to destroy them both.

But Chrissy's fingers kept up their gentle ministrations. Over your cheeks, then your brow, down the slope of your nose, over your lips. And if you ignored the rasp of her claws along your skin, you could almost imagine another set of hands. Doing what they always did. Soothing your thoughts, bringing you joy and comfort and love.

And surrounded by all of the memories, all of the ghosts that lived in the walls of the trailer it was overwhelming. A tear trailed down your cheek as you thought of him.

"Shhhh" she whispered, her own mouth close to yours now. She kissed away the tear as it rolled nearby. "Don't cry. How long?"

"It's personal," you repeated, but your mind flashed to the ghosts in the bed earlier, the memory of the two of you on a rainy October afternoon just like this one.

You hadn't thought of...another person like that since Eddie. You'd only ever thought of him after you were gone, and especially after he was. It was a self-imposed abstinence, but...well shit you were grieving. For yourself, for him. Your goal wasn't...pleasure...it was...Heaven. And heaven only ever was where he was, so if he was dead, so was your pleasure.

You knew that wasn't what Kas meant.

"Three years?"

But maybe it was.

"It's personal."

"I told you, it's just between us. How personal can it be?"

You grit your teeth, and turned your head away as best you could. The hands moved down your face, to your neck, fiddled with the remnant of Barb's bite. There was a growling between Chrissy and Patrick, but Kas continued.

"You want to be here."

"I don't."

"In Hawkins? Yes." The chuckling returned. "Yes you do."

The thumb ran slowly over the bite and you shivered, each ridge tender. There was a soft tsking noise, and then kisses up your cheek.

"I'm sorry." A lick over your skin, tongue flicking at the end. "But you're lying to yourself. You want to be here. You've been thinking about it since you set foot in the city limits; you're practically screaming it. Broadcasting it for all of Hawkins to hear. You're home."

"I..." Where was the lie in that? You had thought it, the minute you'd driven in town. You were home, in Hawkins. It was your home in a broad sense. This trailer was home. Eddie was home.

You hiccuped and scrunched your face up.

"Shhh," came a soothing sound, kisses over each of your eyes, just like Eddie would when you were upset.

"Get out of my head."

"I'm not in your head. I'm here. With you." You could hear the little grin in his voice. "But you're here, with me. You give a little, I give a little. A little back and forth. A partnership; we're both familiar with that aren't we? It's been a while...but it's just like riding a bike."

The hands moved...down...down...to the button of your jeans. Soon they were open and down further still, claws rasped against skin and cotton.

"I can give you everything you want. Everything you left behind."

There was that chuckle again, from Patrick this time, who pulled you closer against him, your back along the length of him. You could feel every limb accommodate the differences in your physiology. Vampire and human, unholy and divine. He began moving against you, length hardening into a prominent ridge against the softness of your rear. And Chrissy along your front, leaving sweet kisses and caresses, her fangs dragged over your skin intermittently as Kas continued his little speech, made his offer.

"But that means I get what I want too."

But which one was Kas? Were they both Kas? Were...

You couldn't think, the hands shifted just enough to play with your folds. You'd already been thinking of pleasure and Eddie, everything you'd lost and everything that could have been waiting for you. You were only human, of course you were going to respond.

It was a physical reaction...only a physical reaction, but...a little pleasure never hurt.

You nodded and fingers dipped, played with your clit, dragged your slickness up from your weeping, wanting hole to make it as sweet for you as they could.

Your head rolled back and rested against Patrick who had started breathing heavily behind you, huffing and heaving, a whispered so good, so sweet, as he used you.

"Ah but you already said it," there was a smirk. "I want you? I have you."

You had said that, hadn't you?

You thought of...god you could hardly think, but you thought of that last lazy morning together before you left. You late to work, Eddie late to school. He was behind you, face buried in your neck, fingers buried in your pussy as you both chased a high. A game of just enough but not quite too much followed by luscious words that helped get you to the edge together. He always told you how sweet you were. He liked to...

Fingers curled within you but bent in an oddly inhuman way that still abused your clit and brought you further along. You inadvertently clenched as the claws scratched and stung, and they both froze and hissed for a moment.

"Mine," they said in tandem, and then the movement became harder.

Rocking bodies, thrusting and bucking, fingers sliding in and out of your tight slit, palm grinding on your clit both delicately and punishingly, until a single tear became a river, and the storm outside emanated from you instead. You clenched your hands as Chrissy chased your high, as she pushed you over the precipice, as she stopped focusing on your channel and only focused on working your pleasure out of you for as long as she could. Legs weak, you arched away from Patrick and he chased you as well, pistoned his hips against yours until his own release followed.

You heard a distant clang of something falling to the floor, and your eyes snapped open.

And it was like a switch was flipped.

Patrick pulled you against him and Kas was gone; only a monster remained. A hungry one. And those fangs that had roared in your face just minutes easier buried themselves deep in your neck, the good side. They ripped into you and pulled, mouthful after mouthful of blood. It was a punishing kind of pain, especially with the remnants of an orgasm still coursing through you.

Chrissy was next, the gentleness in her gone, her hand, still slick, grabbed your chin yo keep you steady and with a feral grin she dove in and tore through the partially healed bite from Barb to take her own fill.

Their arms held you still while your body got weaker.

In your hazy mind you wondered if it had all been a trap. If Kas had wanted to take you out this way, obstacle removed by way of temptation.

You thought you heard your name.

There was a rumble and an unholy screech and before everything went dark, Chrissy and Patrick both ripped themselves away from your neck. Your blood splashed on the floor and dripped from their sharp mouths as they hissed at something.

But you couldn't keep your eyes open.

You were lost.

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”  ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Next Chapter: Via Domus