#stranger things season 2

[elya-art16]

[nerdside]

Stranger Things s02e02 x s04e08 parallel

[stevesbipanic]

Look me in the eye and tell me Dustin Henderson didn't make a suspiciously Stevelike character the moment season 2 ended and brought it to the next session.

[authorgirl0131]

I just realized something.

Steve Harrington is older than Billy by at least a year.

That makes the situation from season two seem so much worse.

So, his thirteen-year-old sister goes missing, snuck out of her room and no one knows where she is. He has to go from one house to another like a pinball- and at one of those houses, a woman in her forties is clearly into him, a minor, but we won't get into that now other than that probably puts him on one hell of an edge- to this house that looks abandoned in the middle of the woods. He can see his sister in the window, briefly.

And then a senior steps out. Steve is a senior in high school, older than Billy, maybe even eighteen, and he has a past of being a playboy. Then, when Billy asks if Steve has seen his sister, knowing damn well she's in the house, Steve lies. And keeps lying.

Alarm bells intensify.

All he does is put Steve on the ground before he walks in. The house is a wreck, there's no actual adult in sight (if Joyce or Jim had been there, he probably would have cooled down. Jim would still raise alarm bells, but he's an actual adult, a parent, so he's better than King Steve Harrington,) and Max, who is thirteen, is the only girl in the house.

His thirteen-year-old sister went missing and he found her- needing to look for kids he knew she hung out with- in a decrepit house- home to Jonathan Byers, who still has a reputation as a creep and Billy isn't sure how deserved that reputation is- in the middle of the woods at night with a group of guys and a man older than Billy who has a playboy rep and who lied about her being there and actively tried to keep Billy from going inside.

Billy doesn't know what's going on. That's the situation he walks into.

Can you imagine? I would have freaked out, too.

Because he's a teenager from California, he knows that this situation is all kinds of suspicious. He knows that Max is a child in a situation with a billion red flags she may not be old enough to see. But he sees them. He sees that she's been out for gods know how long and no one knows where she is. He knows that this house looks like a drug house or an abandoned house from the outside and that there's clearly something incredibly weird happening in this house. He knows that King Steve is an adult who lied to him and tried to keep him from getting inside to talk to his sister. And that his very young sister is the only girl in the house.

All upside-down context removed, that's a horrifying situation.

[talesofliia]

Mike + choosing to stay by Will's side to make sure his best friend is looked after. ❤️‍🩹

[justsomerandomfanfic]

In The Summer Heat - Billy Hargrove X Female Reader

Title: In The Summer Heat

Billy Hargrove X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother (Mentioned), Billy's mother (Mentioned), and high schoolers (Mentioned)

Requested by: @fandom-princess-forevermore

WC: 2,856

Warnings: Set during either Season 2 or 3, mentions of true crime, mentions of missing people, mild cursing, brief fear, teasing, banter, flirting, nicknames, slight suggestiveness, injuries (cuts/bruises), blood briefly mentioned, brief mentions of heat stoke, slight/mini? angst, and fluff

The breeze that was gently blowing through your window was hardly doing anything to cool down your skin as it passed by. The summers in Hawkins, Indiana were hot and humid. Your mother had always said she wanted to move somewhere warmer. But the only place she could afford was Indiana, where it was already eighty degrees with high humidity. You hated the heat, and trying to distract yourself by reading one of your favorite books was doing close to nothing for you. 

And you were trying everything you could do to avoid the terrible heat getting to you; lighter clothes, window open, even a standing fan in the corner of your room, but nothing seemed to work. There was no escaping it. As much as you wished there was, you couldn't get away from the heat. It was impossible. You took another swig of the cold drink your mother brought up to you before she headed to bed, your hand wet from the condensation on the side of the glass. 

Pressing your wet hand on your forehead, you let the cold condensation cool you down somewhat, shutting your eyes briefly before you opened them back up again and wiped your hand on your shirt. Drying your hand, you grabbed your book again, flipping to the page that you were on, and re-reading the page that you had stopped on. 

Finally falling back into the rhythm of reading - or trying to, at least - you almost completely forgot about the heat until you heard a noise outside of your window. Snapping your eyes from your book, you stared over at your open window; your soft curtains only lightly fluttered in the practically nonexistent breeze. It was dark out. You could only see the tops of the street lamps from across the street as they lit up the neighborhood. Your mind began to race and your heart began to pound; a shiver ran down your spine. 

The many nights listening about true crime on the TV, and hearing about the missing people from the town on the radio, was making your mind race. Could you be next? Unlikely, but still…

A hand reached out from the darkness of the night outside your window, raising up and clutching onto the windowsill; your heart stopped. Your breathing stuttered, and your eyes widened in fear. You were frozen, stuck between fight and flight. As a head pops up, you let out a breath of relief. Your hand snapped up to press against your chest, your heart still racing under your palm.

Billy pushed himself up and over your windowsill, an eyebrow raised as he looked at your - then shocked - and then suddenly relieved expression. Once his feet hit your carpet, you huffed, shutting your book and setting it beside you; your full attention on the young, Californian man you delightfully called your boyfriend. Billy only tilted his head, a small grin growing on his lips. "Scared ya?" He taunted playfully, making you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up a bit more on your bed to fully press your back against your headrest. 

"Scared me? Nah, just startled me a little bit." You shrugged your shoulders, watching as Billy kicked off his shoes and made his way over to you; also dressed for the hot weather - somewhat. How the hell was he surviving in those Jeans? 

"I think being startled is the same as being scared, babe." His voice was low as he walked further into your room, with a slight hint of amusement behind his tone. And then you finally noticed it. The small cut on his temple. 

Your eyes widened as you frantically shuffled your legs, slipping off the bed less than gracefully, but you didn't care, your Billy was hurt. You stood in front of him, taking his face in your hands as you gently turned his head to the side to get a better look at the small scrape on his temple; it was no longer than an inch or so long. It was lightly caked with dried blood, not too much, but it still made your chest tighten at the sight of it. "Billy, what happened? Are you alright?" You asked anxiously, moving your eyes from the cut to his ocean blue eyes.

Billy just gave you his signature grin, though it didn't travel to his eyes; his hands coming up to take hold of your wrists. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." You pursed your lips, your eyes searching his for a moment, before you brought your attention back to the small wound. You knew something was up, but you didn't want to force him to tell you anything if he didn't want to. He would come to you and tell you when the time was right. So you didn't push, you didn't say a word, only nodding and making your way to your bathroom. You rummaged through your mirror cabinet, finding your small first-aid kit, before returning to your bedroom; and finding Billy already sitting on your bed. Billy wasn't expecting this... Well, he was - you’ve tried to clean up a lot of his injuries before, and you were always so- Well, he didn't really know what to think anymore. "Sweetheart, you don't have to do that-'' Billy started as you walked over to him, but you shook your head.

"If not for you, do this for me," You replied, interrupting him, "Please, Billy." You pleaded, only for him to purse his lips, staring down at your carpeted floor.

"Fine..." He muttered reluctantly, and you nodded, opening the box and gathering your supplies. As he waited, Billy looked around your room. Billy liked your room. It was neat, organized, and comfortable - very unlike the mess that was his room. You had a few posters on your walls, shelves covered in books, and a small boombox on your desk; overall your room really reminded him of you. Calming, and bright.

Looking back at you, Billy could see that you were concentrating very hard on the task at hand, the tip of your tongue peeking out from your lips. Taking out an alcohol wipe, you twisted your body to faced him, "This is going to sting a bit, okay?" Billy said nothing as you then cupped his cheek with one hand, turning his head ever-so-slightly, before dabbing the cut on his temple with the wipe. He shut his eyes, the stinging making him tense his shoulders as you applied gentle pressure to the wound; cleaning the dried blood. "I'm sorry..." You whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Do you have any other injuries?"

Billy opened his eyes, a slight frown forming on his face as you finished - the bandaid you had chosen for the side of his temple was fruit-themed. "No," He murmured, "Just my face." He said softly.

You didn't respond for a moment, staring at him, and Billy was worried that you could see right through him. You had such an ability, seeing right through him when no one else could. "Shirt off." You pursed your lips again, and Billy could only let out a chuckle, narrowing his eyes at you devilishly.

"Buy me dinner first, sweetheart." 

"Billy." You lightly scolded with a serious expression on your face. "Come on, please?"

With a huff, he stared at you, his smile dropping back into a - rather indifferent - frown. He continued to stare, hoping that you would drop it but you didn't budge. Letting out a deep sigh through his nose, he began to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Mentally, he felt relieved, it was too hot in your room. 

You felt your cheeks warm as your eyes drifted to his exposed upper half - even though you had seen him topless many times before, the butterflies still fluttered in your chest, despite the current situation - he then tossed his shirt to the corner of your bed. Your gaze then dropped, noticing the bruises that littered his side, crawling around to his lower back; they were purple and dark red. Your breath hitched, feeling your eyes burn as you reached out, but your hand shook before stopping short; overwhelming concern settling inside your stomach. 

"I'm fine," He spoke nonchalantly - though, seemingly frustrated with either himself or something - as if what you saw wasn't all that important, "They look worse than they are."

You chose not to say anything - fearing that if you did, that you would cry - grabbing the bruise paste from the first-aid case. You squeezed some of it onto your fingers, before gently rubbing it across his side, making sure to cover the bruises as much as you could. And for Billy, he was just watching you, noticing your lips were pulled into a thin line, and your brows were furrowed together, clearly concerned about him, as he sat silently on your bed. Billy felt his body become warm, and he doubted that it was from the unbearable summer heat. His heart pounded against his chest, threatening to break through his ribcage, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by everything - by how much you actually cared about him. For the most part, he was used to people not caring for him. But you cared. Even now, here with him, you were helping him, worrying about him. He'd never been treated this well since... California... When his mom was still around. 

Billy knew there was just something about you the moment he met you. Something about your eyes, that sparkle when you were happy, your hair that was always so soft, and your laugh - Billy couldn’t get it out of his head; it was difficult to explain, even to himself.

He was the new King of Hawkins High. Every girl he walked by swooned and giggled if he looked their way. Their attention made him feel powerful. He was known for being a womanizer and delinquent, the one that women seemed to flock to, who always got into fights, and picked on others. Yet, here he was, with you. 

You had just been another girl he wanted to use until he got bored of you; like he did with most - if not all - of the girls in Hawkins High already. He tried in the beginning to woo and persuade you into going on at least one date with him. But you declined each and every time. You just smiled up at him, politely rejecting every single one of his invitations. It never seemed to irritate you when he would come back and ask you again and again.

At some point, Billy stopped asking you, and you thought that that would mean that he would then just leave you alone. But, he didn't. Instead of asking you out, he'd just sort of flirt, and ask how your day was going whilst leaning against the locker beside yours. He didn't realize how often you'd cross his mind, but sometimes he would find himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, thinking about you. Wondering what you were doing, wondering when he'd see you at school again. There was an urge inside of him that he didn't understand, that he couldn't resist. It made him feel weak, pathetic, vulnerable, and completely in love with you. He wanted to hate it. He wanted to hate you, but he couldn't. 

The relationship between the both of you was odd at first, but grew quite beautiful. Billy found himself enjoying your conversations... He'd rather sit and listen to you rant and ramble about anything and everything than spend five minutes with anyone else. Your presence alone was calming, giving him a feeling of peace. There was this unspoken understanding between the two of you, something that neither of you had ever felt with anyone else before. 

He wasn't used to the feelings that he had for you. These feelings grew whenever he saw you or even thought of you. This intense sense of desire to protect, hold, and cherish you. It scared the hell out of him. It scared him because he didn't know how to handle it.

"Alright," You muttered, wiping your hands off with a tissue before crumpling it and tossing it in your small plastic trash can in the corner of your room. "Those should heal in no time." You finished, making Billy grin.

“Great-”

You snapped your eyes up at him, giving him a short look, “With time and rest.” You emphasized before collecting the first-aid supplies and packing them back away in the first-aid kit. When you turned your attention back to him, noticing the far-off look in his eyes as he looked down at you. That look in his eyes made your mouth suddenly feel dry. It was a look that you rarely saw on Billy Hargrove’s face - only when he was really deep in his thoughts. His brow furrowed slightly, his eyes holding an emotion that you couldn’t quite make sense of. It made your already warm face feel like it was burning from the intensity. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow, "What are you thinking about?" You asked softly, slowly watching as Billy's eyes rapidly blinked, gathering his thoughts, his lips twisted into a grin.

"I'm just thinking about kissing you," He didn't hesitate to answer, making you scoff out a small laugh, shaking your head at how adorably ridiculous he was being. 

"Well, I'm thinking you just might get a kiss," You played along, mimicking his grin, leaning towards him slightly, "But, you have to promise that you will rest for a couple of days."

Billy chuckled, looking up at your ceiling before looking back down at you, "Whatever you say, doc," He answered, amused, before leaning in, but you stopped him, pressing your pointer finger on his awaiting lips.

You gave him a look, "Promise, B," You raised your other hand, lifting your pinky finger out for him.

Billy narrowed his eyes at you, impatient, but willing to play along. He brought his hand up to yours, but the second you wrapped your pinky around his, Billy leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours; knocking you onto your back, and landing back onto your plush mattress.

You gasped, giggling against his lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he moved over you; his forearms pressed down on the mattress beside your head, your own arms looping around his neck. The kiss was languid, his mouth moving against yours as your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. He sighed against your lips, feeling the warmth seep through his chest once more. He didn't even realize how much he had missed you. Even though it had been less than two days since he last saw you. He missed your voice, your face, your taste; everything. He didn't want to stop kissing you, but at some point, he was going to have to come back up for air.

Slipping his lips from yours, Billy breathily sighed, digging his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, before laying down completely on you. "I missed you," He mumbled into your skin, smiling when you laughed lightly under him.

"I've missed you too," You replied softly, running your fingers through his curly blonde hair, "But, you got to get off of me, honey. It's way too hot for you to koala me right now."

"Don't wanna," He muttered stubbornly, pressing kisses where his lips were placed on your shoulder. "Can't make me."

You huffed, unable to stop your smile from growing, your hands wrapped around his upper back; your nails lightly scratching against his warm, bare skin. "Fine..." You breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper, "... But you owe me big time, Hargrove."

"Hmm... Sounds good to me," He hummed mischievously - you could feel him smirking, "I'm staying the night." 

"Really? That's a surprise," You remarked teasingly, "I wouldn't have guessed that."

Billy gently bit your shoulder in retaliation, causing you to let out a little shriek, muffling your own laughter as you slapped your hand over your mouth; not wanting to wake your sleeping mother three doors over. "I'm trapping you here now forever," He grumbled, though it was hardly a threat.

"Oh, poor me," You answered sarcastically, "Trapped under my ridiculously handsome boyfriend. Heat stroke. What a terrible way to go." You sighed out, closing your eyes; a smile on your face, "Tragic, really." You almost forgot about how uncomfortably hot you were, “Honestly, not the worst way to die…” You muttered, your eyelids fluttering as your fingers started to move absentmindedly against his back and shoulders, rubbing circles, and tracing shapes. Billy sighed contently, his muscles relaxing beneath your fingertips. Your smile softened as you felt his eyelashes flutter against your skin, "Rest, Billy," You told him quietly, "I'll be here when you wake up."

"You better be," He whispered, letting out a deep sigh before he closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

Glancing over at your book beside your head, you let out a small yawn, before turning your head to rest your cheek on Billy’s forehead, shutting your own eyes. You'd have time to read it later.

[myname1sca1]

I'm rewatching Stranger Things season 2 (as I should) and DAMN this scene is telling

I don't know about you guys, but Mike seems a bit too mad to be talking about El during this fight...

[inknopewetrust]

Oh, Baby, it’s Monday.

Summary: You and Eddie raise a baby… only you aren’t a couple and the baby isn’t real–but now it's the first week and things evolve. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader [WC: 8k] Warnings: Idiots in love, language, Billy Hargrove and Carol Perkins are assholes, only getting a part 3 aka “Halloween” if people want it (comments and reblogs help!) Quick Links: Masterlist | Part One

Mr. Allen's classroom was a sound box of squabbles and chaos when you walked through the doorway Monday morning.

Tommy Hagen was throwing his doll across the room to Billy Hargrove in the far left corner as girls giggled in gaggles at their desks and Steve was trying to plead with the teacher at his desk.

It was like walking into an inferno without any water.

Bilbo was clutched into your chest; falsely protected by the notebook and pencil case you carried. The doll was swaddled the best you could manage that morning and surprisingly, quiet for the last few hours.

"Would everyone please take a seat!" Mr. Allen called from behind his desk but Steve did not leave and the disorder did not quell.

As you dodged the flying baby, you walked down the aisle of desks and attempted to find yours except it was already occupied. Carol Perkins was sitting in it; her doll placed on top with a stain of spaghetti sauce in the middle of its onesie.

"You're in my seat," you told her, raising your eyebrows as she popped her gum loudly with arms crossed. She peered over to you with flippant eyes, cocking her head to the side, and sticking her neck further out. Carol was no better than Billy, Tommy, or the rest of them.

"What?" She ran her tongue teasingly over her lips and jostled her shoulder with a wink. "Don't wanna sit by daddy?"

They had all heard Eddie's joke in the cafeteria last week. Mama. It was harmless in Eddie's eyes compared to their own. Their minds were far from it—dangerous and begging for a way to make their tiny hearts feel better by putting others in situations they'd never want to see themselves in. No one called people ‘daddy’ unless they were quite literally five and talking to their father, so the sentiment behind it was crude and unwelcome.

You sighed, motioning to your desk, "Can I sit down? This is my desk."

"Sorry," She pursed her face with a comedic frown and the girls sitting around her laughed. Their high-pitched chuckles made your skin crawl. "See these," she waved her hand at the surrounding desks, "are for people who aren't freaks… you know which corner they sit in."

You stared at her, mouth slightly agape and processing what she had said. The problem with girls–high school girls–was that the image of who you grew to be mattered most to them.

"What are you talking about?" You scoffed, furrowing your brows at her. "This is literally my seat, Carol. You can't just kick me out of my seat–" you turned toward Mr. Allen, not wanting to be the person who tattles about menial things, but you didn't want to get in trouble for not sitting in the one assigned to you at the beginning of the year.

"You gonna tattle on me, little miss perfect? No wonder you and Nance are such good friends," Carol fluffed her voluminous red hair, "It doesn't surprise me that you get on well with Munson after she became friends with Byers… maybe you can go on double dates to the cemetery and listen to his pathetic band play at a run-down bar."

"You're such a b-"

You couldn't get the words out to defend Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie, or yourself because Eddie had walked into the classroom as she fluffed her hair. Before you could spit out the insult, he put a hand on your lower back and pushed you forward. The feel of his hand sent a jolt through your spine, your head turning to look over your shoulder only to find him shaking his head with pleading eyes.

"Don't play into that," he said as he sat down at the desk in the right corner. Eddie hooked his foot around the one beside him and positioned it next to his–out of order with the rest of them five rows forward. "Believe me," he rose his eyebrows knowingly, "they just want to get a rise out of you."

You slid into the seat next to him and laid Bilbo between the crease that connected the desks.

"They're assholes. All of them," you mumbled to which he responded with a nod, crossing his arms across his chest and observed the room before him. Mr. Allen looked like he wanted to pull, what little hair he had left, out of his head as Steve tried to persuade him to cut the assignment short. The baby flinging between Tommy and Billy looked ready to lose an arm.

Glancing over at him, Eddie had a cigarette tucked behind his ear that pushed his hair back. He was wearing a black leather jacket and an inconspicuous red t-shirt underneath. The same ornate jewelry he adorned every day littered his figure–a black hair tie on his right wrist. You were reminded of your father's comments from Saturday, looking away and focusing your attention elsewhere.

"I think I cracked it, the code on how to care for Bilbo," you said quietly. Eddie looked at the doll all swaddled in its yellow blanket and recognized it had been washed. The fabric was fluffy and begging to be touched.

"Yeah?"

"The swaddle helps, sure, but it's like… it can sense stress or something. We just have to be gentle and the tantrums won't last as long. The way you touch it has to be gentle."

"That's it?" Eddie appeared unconvinced but the conversation died when Mr. Allen got up from his chair, slammed the door closed, and told everyone to sit next to their partners. You met Eddie's eyes with the question lingering between you–how did he know you'd have to sit by one another?

Eddie leaned over, unintentionally making goosebumps erupt on your skin. You were thankful the weather was changing and you could wear long sleeves.

"Katie Yang has Allen before us. Told me that everyone complained and he makes everyone talk," he whispered.

Katie Yang was a savior. Katie Yang made Eddie's impulsive escape plan valid without reason. The senior Hellfire member had never even spoken to you before, but she had your back and didn't even know it.

"We will have to give them all our secrets?" You smiled and he caught himself glancing down at your lips as they grinned. "I'd rather they all have to walk through Mordor than come home to the Shire."

Oh, Eddie was fucked. Royally and utterly fucked.

"So," Mr. Allen clapped his hands together eagerly. He was excited to hear the tales of the weekend because for once, each one was connected to his assignment.

He gazed around at the pairs and saw the life draining from many of the eyes. Steve was still angered at his refusal to cut the project short, a couple of the girls were picking at the doll clothes, and the many of the guys kept to themselves.

"Who wants to share first?"

Allen paced at the front of the room. He knowingly prepared to choose the first set of eyes that diverted from his and those eyes were Tina Nicholls'.

"Tina!" He exclaimed happily and everyone looked toward her. "How was the first few days of parenthood?"

"Horrible, like everyone else says," she began twirling her hair like something out of a mean girl flick. Tina was too busy planning her Halloween party to care about the project.

"And Peter is your partner?" he pointed to the football player next to her and she nodded.

"Do you think it's horrible, Peter?"

"I mean," he sounded like he was strung out on cocaine, "it's fine, I guess."

"Any tips you'd like to share? How are you able to care for the baby if feeding and hygiene aren't options?"

Steve turned his entire body to face them. He was so far lost that he had no clear plan. For once, the entire room was void of wailing or gurgling or giggles and it was peaceful.

"We just kind of let it cry," Peter admitted, not sure if there was any other answer to the question.

Eddie tipped his head toward yours and you could feel the ends of his hair brush your shoulder.

"Bad parents," he scolded and you bit your lip to prevent the smile that was threating to overtake your face. It was so easy to smile at everything he said.

"Do you think letting it cry it out every time is a good strategy?" Mr. Allen asked in response and the two shrugged their shoulders.

"We're not parents, how would we know?" Tina retorted.

"First time parents don't know what they're walking into either. But, in the end, they make it work," he narrowed his eyes, "sometimes."

"But this baby is fake and only half the work of a real baby," Peter added and Allen nodded.

"Exactly, Peter. If you think this is hard–with a doll that's unpredictable–then imagine being real parents at your age. Many of you are adults or going to be adults within the year and just because you are eighteen, it doesn't mean you're ready to be parents."

Carol laughed from your former seat. "Could you imagine any of us as parents?" She garnered a few chuckles from the ones that follow her around school. Billy Hargrove in the other corner smiled at her when she turned around to look around the room.

"No, I can't," Mr. Allen shook his head at her, preparing to ask another group their experience.

"I mean," she shifted her body to swivel in the chair in your direction, "I don't want to be a mother because it would mess up my body," a whistle left Billy's lips and it perturbed you.

“Think of Hargrove as a dad!” She cackled and Billy let her joke. “That kid would be as buff as Arnold by the time he’s two!”

The way she looked in your direction made Eddie tense up beside you.

"Could you imagine miss perfect and the freak having a baby?"

It wasn't even two days ago that you realized you were attracted to Eddie in a romantic way and here the popular kids were, drawing attention to nothing more than an assigned partnership like it was a choice. You couldn't help the way your face fell. The laughter from the peers you had known since kindergarten invading every sense and it was new.

For Eddie, it wasn't. Hell, he had been crushing on the girl with her nose stuck in a book since the fifth grade and if he was going to let a group of nasty bullies prevent his dreams of sweeping you, that girl, off her feet he’d never forgive himself.

"You know, Carol," He steeled his face as he looked at her, feeling your eyes watch his every movement, "you've been fuckin' Tommy since the seventh grade. I'm surprised an 'accident' hasn't happened."

There was a brief second in time where Mr. Allen's classroom had become a vacuum in space. A pin could be heard dropping in the three seconds of silence that followed Eddie's words and the teacher himself was stunned into a wordlessness despair.

"Holy shit," Billy erupted in laughter and set the whole room off.

"Mr. Munson, Mr. Munson," Mr. Allen breathed in heavily but Eddie wasn't paying attention to him.

Eddie met your eyes and saw the twinkle return in them. He smiled not at his words that defend you from her attack, but at the way you looked at him. He prayed to those metal Gods that what he saw in them wasn't a fallacy; that maybe, somewhere in the glint, there was the spark that illuminated his fire.

"Mr. Munson, please don't use that language in class." Mr. Allen scolded him, looking away from the now red-in-the-face Carol as Tommy high fived the guys around him.

"Sorry," Eddie replied to him half-heartedly because he was still looking at you.

That response was the talk of Hawkins High for an entire week.

Eddie took Bilbo Monday night and returned him Tuesday morning, departing from you with a small 'good luck tonight' leaving your lips as he debated skipping science.

That brief, four-minute conversation centered around Bilbo and his gig at the Hideout lingered within him for the entire day. As he drove home, when he left in his van, as he drove up to the bar, and when he sat tuning his guitar with a stupid, lovesick smile plastered on his face—all of his thoughts were consumed by you. Little parasite.

"What's wrong with him?" Jeff asked Gareth as the other guitarist sat beside the curly-haired boy fiddling with the symbols of his set. Gareth glanced at Eddie with the answer to the master’s knowing grin.

"You ever been in love, Jeff?" Gareth questioned quietly and Jeff choked on air.

"Love? Eddie's in love? With who?" Jeff openly gawked with surprise finding its way onto his face. The junior had seen Eddie flirt with girls, even go on a few dates but never, in his life, had he seen Eddie Munson be a man consumed by love.

"Y/n L/n," Gareth snickered at Jeff's face.

"They're partners for that baby project! He's not in love."

"He scared the shit out of me on Saturday where he admitted it to my face. Spent the whole day with her and you notice him at lunch?" Gareth challenged Jeff. Eddie had been himself for the most part, however, as Jeff reflects, his attention was always being pulled away. Eyes diverted, head turned toward another table, not fully engaged beyond talk of D&D and the new Maiden album Aces High.

"He's half there and half in la la land."

Jeff wanted to play into it. "Hey, Eddie!"

Eddie stopped tuning, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall above the door before looking at his friends.

"What?"

"How's the baby project? Make you wanna be a dad?"

"No," Eddie cackled, "but it's fine. A lot better than last week."

"And Y/n?"

"What about her?" Eddie's eyes left Jeff’s for a split second to see Gareth smiling beside him and the secret, his secret, was out in the open. He should have never said anything. Eddie had just panicked in the moment that evening. "Seriously, man?"

"Sorry!" Gareth giggled holding his hands up in defense, "you were smiling like an idiot and he asked!"

"You gonna ask her out or just watch her every day at lunch?" Jeff joked and Eddie felt the guitar pick between his fingers become a bullet. He tossed the pick harshly in Jeff's direction but the boy dodged it.

"I don't watch her at lunch."

"Yes, you do," Gareth backed Jeff up. He got up from his stool and picked the pick off the floor. "You've been staring at her since Friday and yeah, you talk at school and spent one afternoon together but that's not gonna help you sway her interest. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure you’ve stared at her table the entire time I’ve know you!”

"Who said I was trying to sway her interest?" Eddie questioned, narrowing his eyes and leaning his head forward as he gripped the neck of his guitar. "What if I just want to be friends?"

"I'm sorry," Jeff stood up, shaking his head, "you blasted Carol Perkins in Allen's class for what? We get shit on all the time and you don't defend us like that! You did, however, defend her and if you wanted to be 'just friends' you would have laughed it off like it was nothing."

"I was being nice!"

"Yeah, nice to get in her pants!"

"Hey!" Eddie defended again, not realizing Gareth and Jeff were pulling the admissions out of him like stealing candy from a baby. "Don't say that!"

"It's true, though. Isn't it? She's a pretty nice girl… you know what they say about the quiet ones…" Gareth looked at Jeff conspiratorially.

Eddie bolted from the chair he had been sitting in and got in Gareth's face. His face angered and serious, the two knew Eddie played into the palm of their hand. Eddie teetered the line between social strata and confrontation—working for no physical confrontations so long as his jesting was allowed. He had been socked one to many times to know that a concussion would put him out of commission from doing what he enjoyed most.

"Don't fucking say that shit ever again."

"You love her, man," Jeff put his hand on Eddie's shoulder, drawing him back from Gareth, "or at least like her a lot."

Gareth provided a tight, hopeful expression in support. Eddie looked at both of them before turning around and pacing the small room.

"I doubt she would even say yes if I asked. Why would she go out with me? People at school are making fun of her because of this goddamn project so can you imagine if I somehow managed to date her? She'd be a social… pariah!"

"Oh, big words," Jeff mumbled.

"I can't put her through that! What kind of person would I be if I caused her to lose friends or have girls write rumors about her in the bathroom stalls?"

"If she lost friends by going out with you, those people weren't really friends," Gareth concluded.

"You see what's happening to Nancy Wheeler because she's hangin' around Jonathan Byers?"

"He’s zombie kids brother?"

"Zombie kid? Yeah, but that's not the point!" Eddie swiveled back to face them. "Wheeler has like three friends and ever since Barb Holland died it's like the world has gone crazy! If I asked Y/n on date, the world would simply implode."

"Then don't ask her on a date," Jeff sufficed. "Just use the guise of the project as a way to hang out. You did it on Saturday when you went to her house and now do it again but go somewhere else. Take her to the diner, or… or to the park or something!"

Eddie thought on it for a minute. It wasn't a bad plan, per se, but he didn't want his motivations to seem fake. He wanted to spend time with you, get to know you, and if you'd let him, wine and dine you until you realized he was a good guy and you'd give him a chance. Tomorrow was Wednesday and Tina had asked him in the hall that afternoon if he could supply her party on Saturday.

So, he had tomorrow after school; Thursday after school; and Saturday before time with you would run out.

He couldn't guarantee that you'd ever be partners again or that, depending on the grade, you'd be inclined to speak to him after project parenthood was over.

Eddie had to take the chance.

Eddie never showed at your locker Wednesday morning to collect Bilbo from you.

In Allen’s class, you had to discuss alone how the last day and a half had been by yourself because he missed third period, and by the time lunch rolled around, he wasn’t at Hellfire’s table. Every time you glanced at the table out of curiosity as to why, five heads whipped in the opposite direction.

They had been staring. Their gazes fixed upon you like a brilliant gem—the golden statue at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

“Why do you keep looking over there?” Nancy broke the silence that settled between the two of you as lunch took hold. She had that same lunch as before, picking off your tray when she got bored of her own food.

“Eddie’s not here,” you shot a look at her then the baby doll beside you. “He was supposed to take Bilbo.”

“Jesus,” she mumbled, “you sound like a real parent, you know that?”

“Well, Barb did always call me the mom of the group.”

Just the mentioned of her name was saddening.

That’s what brought the lull in the first place. Nancy mentioned that she and Steve visited the Holland’s last Friday and, conveniently, forgot to mention it. There was something in her eyes—guilt or sorrow—that existed ever since that night.

Everything felt like one big secret lately.

“Yeah, she did.”

“But I’m kind of pissed about it,” you glanced back at the table and this time, met Gareth’s eyes before he could turn away. “And they keep staring at me too. Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Nancy snorted a laugh, “maybe they’re concerned about having your attention.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” you scrunched your face in thought as you turned back to her. Nancy had a little smirk playing on her face.

“What?”

She didn’t say anything. Nancy just sat there, smirking into her food like a mad woman.

“What Nance?” You chuckled from pure nervousness. That feeling had been bouncing around inside of you for the last few days and the thought of its reasoning was excitable fear. You couldn’t stop looking for him when he wasn’t here.

“Nothin’…” she trailed off as she tilted her head onto her shoulder. Her big, stormy blues looking at yours with mischief. “There a reason you keep looking over there, though? Never did it before.”

“I told you,” you tried to keep your face as flat and firm as possible, “he’s not here. I have to spend extra time with Bilbo without prior notice and if he had any sense in him, he would have at least called and said he wouldn’t make it in today. I don’t think it’s fair, to be frank, that I have to allocate more of my time with—“

God. You were rambling.

“—Bilbo because that means he isn’t doing the same share of work.”

“And you’re sure it isn’t because you have a huge, fat crush on Eddie Munson?”

Nancy was far from quiet and the girls at the end of the table perked their heads up. Your heart skipped in little beats like a jumping horse.

“I-I don’t like Eddie in that way. He’s my partner,” you defended.

“Mhm,” she hummed, turning her own head to look at the Hellfire table and her investigative instincts told her she was right the moment she caught them all in the act. “The more you tell yourself that, it makes it more true. You’re just denying facts.”

“Nance! It’s not!” You cried, flashing your eyes at the girls at the end as if trying to convince them you weren’t hopelessly in love with the metal head. It made no sense for you to be the one defending your feelings to a girl torn between two very different boys and who also happens to be a year under you.

Why did she get to wear the big girl pants when you squandered in a rain puddle?

“Did something happen? Is that why they’re staring?” She questioned. Nancy was enjoying the way you squirmed because it reminded her of the gossip sessions Barb, you, and herself would have at sleepovers.

“No!” Your eyes blew wide, “nothing happened! I swear—Christ! What is wrong with everyone this week? First, Carol was a straight bitch in health, no one will stop talking to me about what he said to her, and two, you! Why do I have to be in love with someone to care about where they are?”

“So, you are in love with him? Who knew…”

And like fate, you were saved by the bell.

“I’ll take you home, alright?” Nancy stood, zipping up her lunch bag as everyone began to prepare for their afternoon classes. You still sat down, hands gripping the table to the point where your fingertips hurt.

Why was the admission that you found Eddie to be the perfect mix of charming and attractive so difficult?

“But we have to wait for the boys because I have to take them all home too.”

“What? Jonathan can’t?”

“Sick today. But you would have noticed that if you paid attention. Too bad,” Nancy smiled, “Eddie Munson is corrupting your mind.”

“Seems like Steve’s really blowing you off.”

Nancy’s car was actually her mothers. Borrowed for the week because Steve was entirely too consumed with Tammy Thompson, Nancy hadn’t even appeared jostled any time they were seen together. Sure, Steve still snuck up on her in the hallway and planted kisses on her rosy cheeks when he had a second, but the hair had stressed himself out to the point where he and Tammy were tied at the hip.

It did not help the situation to know that Tammy Thompson had heart eyes for the brown-haired beauty.

“He’s just busy,” Nancy leaned against the car with her arms folded across her chest as the two of you stared at the middle school.

Classes for the day had just been let out which meant within fifteen minutes, the smattering of little middle school boys would come bolting out of the school with backpacks barely zipped up and start a fight over who got the window seats. Bilbo was shut inside the car in the passenger seat. Just the sight of the doll made your mind filter back to the fact that Eddie never showed and you were stuck with the doll.

You didn’t want to believe that he had left you scorned when he promised to make this project as equal as possible. But the world wasn’t perfect and pretending that Eddie Munson wouldn’t flake on you halfway through the assignment appeared to be wishful, premature thinking on your part.

“Doesn’t it bother you that he’s spending all his time with Tammy? It’s bullshit if you ask me.”

“It’s for the project,” she bore her eyes into yours, “what’s the difference between Steve and Tammy and you and Eddie?”

“Steve’s your boyfriend, Nance, not Tammy’s.”

“Thank you for that reminder,” Nancy deadpanned, “I didn’t know I had a boyfriend.”

“I’m just saying,” you looked back to the middle school and no kids were coming down the walkway yet.

Maybe it wasn’t your business, but Nancy was your friend. Steve was a halfway decent guy most of the time and while you thought she could do better; it was her decision in the end. You hadn’t meant to put doubt in her mind, yet she gnawed on her bottom lip anxiously in the minutes that passed.

“Do you really think it’s bullshit?” She asked quietly as two sophomore girls passed the bumper of Karen Wheeler’s car. A bell sounded in the distance signaling the end of another day.

“Nance,” you sighed, putting an arm on the top of the car and letting your head fall into the hand that prepared to rest at the top of your head. “I didn’t mean anything by it… I just thought it was rude of him. It’s like you’re not a priority.”

“It’s been like that a lot lately,” she admitted to the ground; eyes downcast to her shoes. “He’s so,” Nancy let out a frustrated groan, “caught up in all of that,” she waved her hand in a circle at the high school building.

“That’s kind of the point of senior year, I suppose,” you shrugged, “but I know you, Nance, and I don’t think you’re happy. I know with everything that happened with Will and Barb and what not screwed a lot of things up…”

“I know, I know.”

“Don’t dwell on it, alright?” You felt guilt wash over you. Nancy’s face was drawn and sad when the thought of the weekend almost there and Halloween just on the other side of Friday should be exciting. “You still going as Joel and Lana?”

Risky Business. Her favorite movie.

Nancy nodded her head and gazed off into the distance. Little ant like shapes began to descend the walkway from the middle school. “Yeah and that reminds me,” she opened the driver's side door and fumbled in her bag for a second before pulling an orange slip from it.

“Tina was handing these out after class. Not sure if you got one,” she handed it to you and you read over the information quickly. “You should come. I know Halloween isn’t like, your favorite, but it could be fun. And if Steve’s an asshole I’ll be happy to have you there.”

“Oh?” You quirked a brow at her, “You want me to be a third wheel to the Stancy show?”

She laughed, a small smile threatening on her face. “No… it would be good for you.”

“To get plastered and smoke a little weed? My dad would lock me in my room if I came home smelling like that.”

“You can stay at my house,” she offered. Mike Wheeler’s loud yelling could be heard twenty feet away.

“What in the world would I go as? It’s a little late to be thinking of a costume now.”

“I don’t know…” she pondered and saw the group of kids barreling toward the car. “Maybe you could go as Sandy, you know, from Grease.”

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes at her as Lucas Sinclair’s feet came thudding toward the two of you and he tapped the trunk of the car first. “Because I look exactly like Olivia Newton-John…” you joked.

“Halloween doesn’t mean you look like them. You just have to embody the character. Get some leather pants… maybe a jacket too and I can get a red ascot for you.”

“Nance,” you complained but Dustin, Mike, and Will quickly followed and slapped their hands on the trunk behind you.

“What are you talking about,” Mike asked out of breath, hands clutching the straps of his backpack.

“Halloween but that’s none of your business,” Nancy told him and tipped her head toward the car, “get in. I have homework.”

You opened the car door for the boys because you had been leaning on it. A scramble of thank you’s, you forgot Bilbo was tucked in the front seat.

“Shit!” Mike laughed loudly and Nancy rolled her eyes, “Whose baby?”

“Y/n’s baby,” Nancy winked at you before slipping into the car and shutting the door; the conversation inside went silent for you. As you shut the door for the boys and walked around the side of the trunk, an eruption of metal music began to invade the parking lot of Hawkins High.

Eddie. Eight hours late to first period.

Groups of kids rapidly moved out of the way as the van sped into the lot. It nearly tipped on itself when the wheel hit the edge of a low concrete planter in its first turn. The sight of it peeved you. The entire day you spent hanging onto Bilbo when it wasn’t your job. Eddie left you hanging onto hope and didn’t help with the climb.

You opened the passenger door the second he pulled into the spot erratically next to you. His window rolled down, the music ceased with a press of a button.

“Don’t leave! Please, don’t leave!” Eddie begged but didn’t get out of his van. You folded your arm over the top of the car door and looked at him. You were still holding the orange invitation to Tina’s party. He had slight bags under his eyes like he didn’t sleep; his hair was barely brushed [per usual], but he had his entire body turned toward the window as he leaned out of it.

“Why shouldn’t I? You said you would take this seriously and it didn’t even take a week before you flaked!”

“I didn’t mean to!” He defended himself, voice a higher pitch than he would have liked. “I was hungover and there was no way I was going to stay awake the entire day so I stayed home. I meant to call but by the time I got up it was already eleven.”

“Who’s that?” You heard Lucas ask Mike as Lucas was the lucky one to get the window seat behind the passenger side.

“I don’t know. Maybe Y/n’s got a boyfriend now.”

“He’s like… dirty,” Lucas cringed and Dustin slapped the back of his head.

“I think he looks cool!”

“You got drunk on a Tuesday night?” You asked him, baffled he had the audacity to do such a thing but he had come to school stoned before—it really wasn’t out of the realm of ‘Eddie.’

“We had a few drinks after the show last night and it got away from me.”

“Well,” you grumbled, “it sounds like you have a problem there, Eddie.”

“I don’t have a problem! It was an accident, I’m sorry!” Never, in his eighteen years on the planet, had Eddie ever apologized to one of his peers. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I promise it wasn’t intentional. I know this project is important.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing that,” Eddie hated the attitude that slipped out with every word. It made the plan he spent all night mulling over feel less and less plausible.

“How’d you even know I’d still be here?”

“Lucky guess. If you weren’t I would have checked your house and if you weren’t there, I’d check Wheeler’s.”

You pursed your lips. “And you know where she lives because...?”

“Well,” Eddie snickered, “someone has to t-pee the rich kids every Halloween.”

Nancy’s head perked up at that.

“Let me make it up to you?” He looked hopeful and that bit away at your anger. The way his eyes pleaded, the frantic way in which he tried to show you that it truly was just an accident and he meant for none of it to happen.

“Maybe it is her boyfriend,” Mike said to Lucas who smiled cheekily.

“He looks so cool…” Dustin followed the comment as Will hummed in agreement. Through the windows of Karen’s car, Eddie could see Nancy Wheeler eavesdropping and a bunch of middle schoolers staring back at him.

“Those kids,” he pointed at them and they all looked away as if he hadn’t just made eye contact with each and every one of them, “they’re the ones in your locker.”

“What?” That hadn’t come out exactly right.

“The picture, in your locker,” Eddie clarified, “the Star Wars kids.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “yeah I babysit some of them.”

“We’re not babies!” Mike yelled at you from the back and Eddie laughed, his smile shooting an arrow through your heart. You hadn’t even noticed he saw the picture in your locker, let alone remembered it.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “You free right now?”

“I have homework… you know, from school today.”

“Then let’s do homework,” Eddie opened his door, hopped out of his car and extended his arm toward the front bench like a prince opening the carriage door for a princess.

“See! Look at him! Freaking wicked!” Dustin laughed and while you weren’t looking at him, you bet that toothless grin was adorable. Nancy shushed them but it didn’t stop Lucas from peering again.

“Is he new like MadMax?”

“No, I’ve seen that van before,” Will commented quietly. Nevertheless, you could still hear them. “I think he’s a drug dealer.”

Will wasn’t wrong—in the slightest—but before the boys could get any more curious about Eddie, you grabbed Bilbo off the seat and slung your bag over your shoulder while looking at Nancy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, keeping her lips together knowingly, “don’t do drugs.”

“See!” Will said and Dustin leaned back in his seat. You looked back at them and they went silent. Through the passenger window, Eddie was hanging onto the door with one hand and the other tucked itself into the pocket of his leather jacket.

“He your boyfriend, Y/n?” Mike questioned, “Nancy said you’ve been acting weird.”

“Oh my God,” you looked at Nancy again and she shook her head.

“I never said that.”

“Keep your noses out of my business, ‘Kay, twerps?” You scolded them to which they nodded, but Dustin’s devious smile meant it would never end. You shut the door as Eddie extended his arm again.

“After you, mama.”

For the first few minutes, Eddie didn’t even turn his radio back on. It was quiet—like the lingering silence that had fallen between you and Nancy not twenty minutes before. The only difference now was that it was just you and Eddie.

Just you and Eddie.

It wasn’t as though the silence was completely silent; the kind that made your ears ring and made you feel like you were underwater. The van itself was loud, in need of a tune or two, and his fingers tapped on the steering wheel and open window too. Bilbo laid between you on the van’s fuzzy seats. It smelt like cigarettes and weed, but the little tree that hung from the rear view mirror smelt like pine.

“So,” you watched the forests beside the school pass by quickly, “where are you taking me?”

He looked over, the hand that was resting out the open window came back in and ran over his chin. “You really wanna know?”

Pondering for a second, you decided that a surprise wouldn’t be so bad. Eddie was harmless—as harmless as a doe-eyed drug dealer could be—and never struck you as a guy that would intentionally put you in any danger. He was apologetic and soft spoken when he most needed to be.

“No. It’s fine.”

“You and Wheeler babysit those kids after school or something?” He asked to keep the conversation alive. He didn’t want the ride to the destination to be silent. Eddie wanted to know everything about you and silence defeated that purpose. “I see them ride their bikes to school sometimes.”

“Two of them I do,” you responded, watching as he nodded his head slowly and took in every piece of information you gave. “Nancy has a little brother, Mike, and the other one is Will Byers.”

“Right,” He felt a little embarrassed by the fact he had referred to the kid as ‘Zombie Kid’ to Gareth and Jeff even if you would never know of it.

“They’re good kids. They’re the ones who play D&D,” Eddie recalled your dad mentioning that, “Mike’s the DM.”

“You know more about D&D than you let on there, mama?” He smirked, stopping at the stop light like he was supposed to.

“They try to teach me every time but I can’t grasp it. I’m more of a monopoly kind of girl.”

“Monopoly girl…” he ticked.

“I think Bilbo has taken after me that way,” you joked and smiled. He loved the sight. “Pretty sure he’ll be a monopoly kid.”

“Over my dead body,” Eddie mumbled quietly, “I thought you said he wouldn’t grow old? Would never have memories?”

“Changed my mind…” you diverted your eyes to the front and watched the light. “You really were hungover?”

“As much as the kids at school like to brag about theirs, I wouldn’t openly admit that I was… still am a little bit,” Eddie laughed but knew the lingering effects of his overconsumption were long gone. “I didn’t mean to leave you high and dry there.”

The sincerity in his voice was hard to escape from. Like before, as he half hung out the window to convince you he was truly sorry, Eddie wasn’t wearing a mask. He wasn’t pretending to gloat about getting drunk after one of his shows and being a show-off by not coming to school the next day. It was a tone you had been catching often in his voice when he spoke to you. The same could not be said for the way he interacted with Hellfire or the rest of the lot at school… it was nice and non-combative against the world shaming him for being who he was.

“I believe you,” you told him as the light turned green, “Sorry for being a bitch about it.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Eddie scoffed in a second of disbelief, “you should be mad. I broke a promise that I made to you and being upset about it isn’t wrong.”

“I didn’t mean to imply you had a drinking problem or anything…”

“Hey,” you looked over at him. Eddie shook his head, eyes telling you it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s fine.”

You still felt bad about it because the comment wasn’t something you meant. People upset by things beyond their control often say things they don’t mean and the last thing you wanted Eddie to think about you was that you thought he was a burnout—one of those stoner drunks who would never graduate high school.

“Well, I still didn’t mean it.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. In his mind, he wondered if he should admit why he had even taken up the night that way. Gareth and Jeff had gone to school perfectly fine yet there he was, blocking out the sunlight with his sheets as it burned his eyes. The thoughts that ran through his mind pounded harder than the alcohol he gladly chugged.

But by some unimaginable force, you mentioned the two first.

“At lunch today, your Hellfire table kept looking at me.”

“O-oh?” He stuttered knowing the reason they were looking. In his drunken stupor, Eddie had engaged in some… flower-y language to describe his feelings about you.

“Do you know why?” A part of you wanted to think he did. That maybe he talked about you to them and what you saw in your mind wasn’t an illusion of your own making.

“Why they were looking at you?” Eddie stalled. He focused on the road ahead of him and was very thankful that the park Jeff had suggested wasn’t farther away. You nodded and gave a gentle hum.

“No, not really… maybe they thought you’d be mad I wasn’t there.”

“That doesn’t constitute staring at me for a half hour.”

“I’ll tell ‘em to knock it off tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about Gareth’s eyes drilling a hole through the back of your pretty little head anymore.”

Pretty.

It was passive but it was there.

You settled with his answer but a pit grew. There was no longer a part of you that wanted him to admit that he talked about you and their curiosity was what caused them to keep looking. All you wanted was that. Not a little, not some, but all of you. The rest of the ride was quiet and when he pulled into the small parking lot beside Hawkins Memorial Park, he grabbed Bilbo and opened his door.

“We have arrived,” he lowered his voice dramatically.

“The park?”

“No, it’s the Shire.”

“Funny,” you panned, grabbing your bag and getting out of the van where fresh, unpolluted air filled your senses. Eddie walked ahead of you and while your mind traveled to the idea that everything was awkward now, Eddie was thinking of how he was going to slap the shit out of Gareth when he dropped you off later. He stopped at a picnic table in the middle of the park beside a giant tree and set Bilbo down on the top.

“Tell me,” he said as he sat down, “How was the dear little Bilbo for you? He say he miss his dad because I missed him.”

He was trying to break that tension again. By doing so, it only made your heart feel more giddy. The effort; Eddie was trying.

“He talked a lot about you,” You followed his movement and sat across from him while unzipping your bag and taking out your calculus homework. “In the last twenty-four hours, he learned how to speak and sign at the same time so, we’ve got a pretty brilliant little guy right there.”

We’ve.

“And what homework did Clay assign?” He picked up the sheet as soon as you set it down. You didn’t complain when he took it.

Eddie technically had already taken the class. It was one of the only subjects he considered himself to be a true fan of—and it was probable that D&D played a large part in that. All the calculations and fanfare that surrounded it… it made classes like math easier.

“Chain Rule…” he trailed off, brain racking itself to remember what it was. He was rather good at math and English—it was science and history that always caught him in a fix.

“I’m lost in there,” you laughed, embarrassed that calculus was beyond your skill set, “I can’t tell which lines are which or where the graphs are supposed to go… it’s like the numbers flip the minute I see them.”

“Do you need help? I think I can manage this?” Eddie returned the sheet and touched the textbook that didn’t set aflame the moment his fingers skimmed the cover. His ring clad hand searched for the pages on the unit and he let out a “voilà” when he found it.

“Have you taken this?”

“A year ago but I’m not as bad at math as everyone thinks.”

“I never said I thought you were bad at math.”

Eddie glanced up from the book. The wind was blowing slightly, the leaves changing their colors around the two of you and it was picture perfect; straight out of a movie. John Hughes should have teleported there because you’d look amazing as the subject of his next film—not that Eddie would ever admit he had seen a Hughes film before. Only Rocky Horror and Evil Dead for him.

“Actually,” Eddie swallowed hard and you could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, “I had the privilege of sitting next to Harrington for that class.”

Steve too was good at math. He had taken it a whole year before you did. You remember him complaining about Clay when he asked to see your schedule in September.

“He hasn’t changed a bit.”

“No,” you shook your head, “still the same old hair. But not the best hair.”

“Don’t let Steve hear you say that,” Eddie laughed, two little dimples on the sides of his smile forming. “Who is it then? Who has the best hair?”

“You,” the moment it left your lips you couldn’t regret it. It was the truth. Eddie Munson had the best hair and it drove you insane. All you wanted to do was run your fingers through it and brush it carefully away from his eyes. “You have the best hair.”

He hoped you did not see the way his cheeks went red. Eddie never blushed, he was never flattered but it worked on him. Instead of letting it simmer inside of him, he dramatically tossed one side of his hair over his shoulder.

“Me? You’re just sayin’ that so I do your homework,” words that he had never said before.

“No,” you chuckled and the sound opened his heart. Cracked it right open. “It’s true! You do have very… nice hair for a guy.”

“For a guy…” he whispered and looked at you again.

“Yes, for a guy. Obviously dear little Bilbo has the best hair,” Bilbo left the spot on the table as you picked him up; jokingly caressing the plastic black hairs on its plastic head. Eddie rolled his eyes and tapped the textbook.

“Yeah, Yeah,” he said, “You wanna finish your homework by the time the sun sets or what?”

He didn’t want the sun to set and neither did you. When daylight ran out, it meant the day was over and even if you had only a few hours together because he missed the day, it would never be enough for what you both wanted.

It would simply have to do for now.

The clunky van parked in your driveway long after the sun had set. Eddie promised he’d take Bilbo for the night and the rest of tomorrow before leaving you with him tomorrow night. The doll hadn’t made a noise all afternoon and it turned out to be a miracle.

“Thanks for the ride,” you smiled gently at him as the only light that trickled into the van was that of the two sconces that sat on either side of your garage door. “And for the homework help.”

“Never thought I’d hear anyone say that,” he leaned his head back against the headrest and you gripped the door handle but didn’t pull.

“And thanks for sticking up for me the other day in class… I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said quietly. Eddie didn’t know what washed over him. He had slept all day and wasn’t overly tired, yet he could just close his eyes there, knowing you were next to him and not afraid of his presence. Even with the knowledge that your parents were just beyond the walls of the house was comforting. He was content. Maybe for the first time ever.

“But I do…” you murmured. His eyes scanned over you, your bag. He saw the little orange slip that you had been holding when he rolled up to Hawkins High earlier. Eddie knew it was the invitation to Tina’s party because she had handed one to him yesterday with the promise about dealing. No one talked to him outside of his circle unless they needed something. He only agreed because he needed the money, but now an idea sparked in his mind.

“You going to Tina’s party on Saturday?”

He saw your eyes flash surprise, “Nancy’s making me go. Third wheel to her and Steve.”

“And you’re going as…?” He wondered and you looked at your house as if you didn’t want to tell him.

“It’s stupid,” you said.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid.”

“Nancy picked it out.”

“Well,” he squeaked, “maybe it is stupid then but I won’t know unless you tell me.”

“Sandy, from Grease. It was her idea and I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m not even Sandy material.”

Eddie scoffed, head lolling forward in the direction of the house before turning back in you. His head was still flush against the headrest. “You are the epitome of Sandy, mama. Girl next door…”

“That’s Nancy,” you breathed out, “I think I’m a Frenchie who wants to be a Rizzo. Are you going?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding his head in a defined manner, “Don’t know what I’ll go as.”

“Think about it, let me know. We can laugh at ourselves before anyone else can.”

“Yeah, okay,” he replied with the reminder you claimed to be a ‘third wheel’ at the front of his mind. “You don’t have to be a third wheel though.”

“No?” You rested the top of your head on your backpack as your arms wrapped around it. You could sit here for hours just looking at him like this. “You know something I don’t?”

“I’ll be there so you can hang out with me.”

“Ah,” you let out a light gasp, “no more third-wheeling?”

“Nope.”

“Is that your way of asking me to go with you without wearing matching costumes?”

You don’t know where that question came from. It weaseled its way from the back of your brain and straight out of your mouth. But like he did with Jeff’s suggestion, Eddie took that question and ran with it.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “I’ll be going with Nance and Steve but you can take me home so long as you don’t get too high or get too drunk.”

He would go sober if it meant having you by his side for a second longer.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, mama.”

Nearly a week after Gareth was scared shitless by Eddie Munson knocking on his window at an ungodly hour, he kept the blinds closed to relieve himself of the embarrassment that it may happen again. Eight-thirty on a Thursday evening, he was reading his English book when three knocks sounded on his window and made him jump out of his skin.

He lifted those blinds with a fury and scowled at Eddie who was outside of his window once again.

“What the hell do you want this time?” Gareth screeched in a whisper at him.

“You’ll never fuckin’ believe it, man,” Eddie laughed as he gripped the windowsill with antsy fingers. “I think I’ve got my shot.”

“What? She actually agreed to go on a date with you?”

“Kind of, yes!” Eddie couldn’t really believe it. Neither could Gareth.

“You’re shitting me. No way did she say yes to you. She looked like she wanted to bolt from the lunchroom every time I looked over there.”

Eddie shook his head at Gareth, not caring if the kid believed him or not. “Oh, yeah, about that?” He rose an eyebrow and grew serious quickly. Gareth’s face fell.

“Don’t do it again, yeah? She caught on and thinks you guys are creepy. Don’t stare.”

“If she thinks we’re creepy, then why in the world did she agree to do anything with you?”

“I’m not the creepy one, Gareth the Great,” Eddie bounded off the window and spun around like a love sick fool with unsteady legs. “But I’ve almost got the girl and on Halloween, I’m gonna ask her on a real date. Like all that fancy shit and stuff… a real date.”

Part Three Here

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[gmaybe666]

desperately wanted to do byler pixel art and try illustrating a scene and i thought about trying with season 2, halfway through making this I remembered how emotionally scarring this season was, like I still have the scars …

[satellitebyers]

halloween, hawkins 1984

[elya-art16]

Game night with the party

[miwiromantics]

ok but uhh I don’t know if this has been pointed out but:

This.

And this.

Are the same right.

(Edit: I’ve been having this in my drafts for almost a year omg…anyways finally posted lol.)

[mybreakdowns]

mike wheeler nobody gets you like i do pookie

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he��s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

[starboygrove]

90s au billy hargrove <3

[talesofliia]

Mike: “[…] Maybe all of this is happening for a reason.” Will: “You really think so?” Mike: “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” Will: “What if he figures out we're spying on him? What if he spies back?” Mike: “He won't.” Will: “How do you know?” Mike: “We won't let him.”

Miwi 🥺