ALI MUNSON ~ Fangirl & Writer {20+} She/Her

August 1994

You’re kissing your best friend in the back of a car like some teenager. His hands - his large and strong hands - caress underneath your jawline. The beaded dress you wore tonight chews at your chest that houses your racing heartbeat.

In a different circumstance you would probably be in your bedroom kissing your insanely hot best friend. His hair touches your shoulder, as he leans further into you because you might as well be melting into the back seat. Your fingers find the open space along the neckline just past the fabric. It was a complete accident, but now that you’re there. His skin is soft despite all the damage he does using his body like a machine all these years.

You really grew up. The both of you. When you were young, the thought of sex was so new and so thrilling. You would have thought that by now you wouldn’t be so tingly.

Following New York, you dreaded it, but you went back to your every day humdrum life. Filing paperwork at your job at an unreasonable rate. Introducing the new hires to their trainees. Johnathan Byers, someone you bumped into from time to time in high school, has taken over the desk that once housed Steve Harrington. Steve has gone all mid-life crisis, before his new baby is even born. But, his new career path involves him being around children rather than an office filled with adults. He’s getting his teaching certificate. Nancy’s a homebody for the most part, but supports Steve and earns a fair amount of money working as a candy stripper in the hospital.

You wish you could follow in Steve’s footsteps, and chose the path you really wanted to take. Working alongside a group of men, who frankly don’t know you exist other than your quickness when it comes to picking up their coffee orders, isn’t a perfect life for you. All of your dreams take you farther away from this place. Farther into the world. You’re tired of reading about the places you want to see in books. You want inspiration for your own writing portfolio.

The sleeve of your terribly thought out dress drops, and Eddie lets out a soft hum. It’s suggestive, and you pull back from the kissing touching down on earth once more.

Eddie’s lips are shiny from the gloss that used to coat your lips. Red flushed cheeks, and a saucy little smirk - you’re nearly too far gone to say ‘no.’

“Eddie,” you say in a tone that reads as a warning.

Eddie groans selfishly, and rests his head against the nape of your neck, “I know - I know.”

“If we’re going to be together, I want the romance,” you rest against him. “We had sex, and one date. It was great. But, we agreed-,”

“It was backwards,” he finishes for you, but the temptation of your nude and tender skin being right there. Eddie places a few hot and heavy kisses to your neck just under your jaw and then nipping at your earlobe.

In the heat of the moment, he finds your weakness. Your one spot that could make you fold, and actually become the backseat. Even though your legs are gelatinous and are like overcooked spaghetti by now, you swing your leg across his body planting yourself on top of him. He’s hands find the thickest part of your thighs on instinct.

“You,” you kiss him soft, and then speak your words against his lips, “you are a bad boy.”

“So, punish me,” he smirks against yours.

“Okay,” you kiss him one last time, before sitting up and swinging your leg back over to him to reach for the passenger side door’s handle.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie pathetically and embarassingly whimpers as your heat leaves his body, but not without a trace. The scent of your perfume consumes him. It lingers and teases him.

You appreciate the sentiment, but you can’t - not yet, “Eddie, if we’re going to do this. We’re going to do this correctly. We agreed to this.”

“Dates and romance,” Eddie recalls to himself more than to you. If this was any other girl, Eddie would have called off the relationship. The way he did things was fast and messy, and maybe that’s why he is the way he is. He hasn’t been serious about someone in a very long time. And, if you wanted to wait then that would be just fine with him.

“Good night, Eddie,” your kiss sears a permanent mark upon his lips. One that he will continue to think about later on in the night, and until next he sees you.

“Good night,” he says to you, as you leave out the car door.

Closing the car door behind you, Eddie is yet again left to himself to cool off the heat in his belly (and his jeans). This time he melts into the backseat of the car.

In the front seat, however, his driver adjusts his hands onto the steering wheel. He clears his throat, and finally peaks through the mirror at his frazzled employer.

“Home, sir?” Christopher speaks so formally, even after Eddie insists that he relax. They’re friends, or how Eddie likes to consider him. Perhaps he’s had enough clients before him, that Christopher remains professional to prevent stepping on any toes.

“Please, Christopher.”

-> <-

Gareth hugs a bowl of chips and is watching something on the television when Eddie comes home. It’s likely his party ended early and unsuccessfully, otherwise he would be in his bedroom with her by now.

The keys jangling the lock startle him only a moment because the sound of the keychain is familiar. It’s Eddie, of course, coming home from his date. This girl he’s been obsessed with - Gareth has never seen her and nor does he know her name. But, he can smell her on him. She marks her territory well.

Plus, Eddie’s flushed and floating around the house like a lovesick puppy.

By the state of his mis-buttoned top, and the deep shade of lipstick staining his neck, Gareth could only assume the date went well tonight. Whenever Gareth asks, Eddie shrugs him off or says he’s too tired to talk at that moment.

Gareth doesn’t care, and is determined more than ever to know who exactly his friend has been seeing. Such secrets could never hold up against his constant questions, and the wall Eddie’s built will eventually fall as Gareth chips away at the weaker points.

“Good evening?” Gareth’s shirt had risen, and a piece of popcorn sat happily in the dust of the boy’s bellybutton.

Eddie tosses his keys on the coffee table, before sinking into the chair beside the sofa. Really, sinking. The exhaustion hits firstly on his feet, and knees. Joining them, is his back. When did he get old enough to have joint pain?

“What are you watching?” Eddie aims the conversation elsewhere.

When Gareth sits upright, the popcorn that he’s been collecting falls onto the carpet beneath him. There was a time that he and Eddie shared everything, and when everything turned into virtually nothing Gareth silently worried that Eddie’s past might be biting again.

“How was your date?” He redirects back.

“Good,” Eddie one-words. “Is this the one with the huge explosion over the bridge?”

“What’s her name?”

“Turn it up?”

Gareth mutes the volume, “give me something, Munson. You’re drying me up.”

“You want me to get you wet?” Eddie scrunches his face at the thought.

“You know what I mean.”

“I- I don’t know-.”

“Eddie,” Gareth interjects, “you and I are the single men in this band. We had a pact. We’re supposed to be out on the town - living it up.”

“Gareth-,”

“You’re sinking on dry land!” Gareth emphasizes, “come on, man. Forget the girl, and let’s go out!”

Eddie snorts, “this - this isn’t just some girl. Okay? You’ll understand when the right woman turns your head.”

“Right woman? You sound like you’re getting married,” his friend anchors his hammer and chips hard at the hole he’s already made.

Another agreement, but this one’s a more silent pact, when the time comes that you and Eddie would sit down together with Gareth to tell him yourselves about the relationship. It was only right. Gareth asks too many questions for Eddie to ignore. Going to a club to play wingman? Not on Eddie’s to-do list anymore. That was fun for a time, but out of all the people Eddie’s been with you’re not one he’s going to mess around with.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” Eddie stands on his aching feet to head around the corner for his bedroom. “I’ll send you the invites.”

The wall begins to tumble, and Gareth drops back into his warm and cozy space on the couch. A confident smile curls onto his face.

-> <-

Eddie signs an autograph with a fan, and happily takes a photograph with her. She thanks you for taking the picture, and wishes you both a great day.

“Do you ever get use to it?” You walk beside him.

Warm wind kisses your cheeks, and dusts your arms while you slowly make your way around the pier. Seagulls fight over a meal left by someone just beside a trash can - because putting the food in the trash was clearly too much to handle.

The smell of the ocean isn’t something you’re used to. Actually, you didn’t know the ocean had a smell at all. The closest you came to the ocean was the lakeside, where Gareth kissed you. When you read about the ocean in your books, everyone always describes the smell as “salty,” but you would call it ‘freeing.’

All the problems in your day-to-day, roll off your shoulders as the waves hit the shore. You ingest the air like you’re breathing for the first time, and you’ve just won a million dollars. If you could, you would bottle the smell and save it for a rainy day.

And to think, Eddie gets this every day.

“What?” Eddie strolls along side you with his arms at his side.

You scoff at how normal taking pictures with random people has become to him, and he softens his furrowed brows.

“Oh,” he nods his head down at the wooden pier, “I guess I do. But, who knew? Right?”

This is very public for him and you to be out mid-day. But, as you hear a camera snap invasively around you in the distance, Eddie swears nothing will come of the images they print. He’s talked about your friendship in interviews. The relationship you share with the band, and how you’re practically the fifth member that they never see.

If you’re printed, you’ll hug a small column in a corner page and they’ll caption the image about Eddie hanging out with friends. You just have to play the part.

“I’m proud of you,” you wish you could pull his hand into yours as you say this, but the image would earn a larger spot in print. “Not just with the band, but you’ve become someone to look up too. You know? You could write this all down and sell life inspiring books if you wanted.”

Eddie’s turn to laugh at the idea of him writing, “I don’t have the writing gene.”

You stop in your tracks, “all the music you write? Come on.”

The boy twists and freezes at a safe distance in front of you, “that’s different.”

“You’re a story teller,” you encourage.

Eddie thinks, before he says, “I like your stories better.”

The afternoon gets warm enough that you and he decide to head to his home, only a short distance from the pier. You’ve yet to visit him there.

The furnishings were a lot warmer than his Indianapolis estate, but that was an entirely different time in his life. Not one of his favorites, and you don’t cross his boundaries. He’s not fond of looking back on that time.

Lower ceilings cozy up the home, despite the amount of bedrooms and bathrooms he has wrestled in here. You don’t want to imagine the cost, but the fact he has grass in his backyard says enough. You try to appreciate the decor - no doubt done by an interior decorator because Eddie’s idea of decorating is an old milk crate with a lamp on top - but, you are whisked into his arms as soon as the front door clicks shut.

Eddie spins you around to plant a searing kiss across your lips. One that burns, and begs for more. You’re considerably winded and wobbly at the knees.

Surprisingly, Eddie pulls away as though the smooch was only a soft peck and he drops his hands away from your back. He begins to walk to the sofa room to the right of the home, before turning on his heel.

“Do you want a tour?” Eddie offers.

You’re nearly stunned to the floor, and you don’t miss that sly smirk slapping across Eddie’s face. His brow kisses his hairline, and his gaze drops as you sway your way over to him because if he’s playing some sort of game with you then you’re playing harder.

If not for Gareth standing in the kitchen by the fridge with a glass of water, you might have just broken your rule about waiting. Eddie would kill him if he knew that.

“Hey!” Gareth beams ear-to-ear, “I didn’t know you were in town!”

Gareth places his glass onto the counter-top and rounds the center island. The sun has tanned his skin, and his hair. But, otherwise he still looks the same to you. The hug is familiar, and trying to be less awkward. As the years pass, you and he are still steadying on neutral ground.

That doesn’t mean that Eddie, who still hasn’t told his friend that the girl he’s seeing is the same one he had years ago, isn’t a tad bit thrown by your friendliness towards each other. He kind of misses the tension. Or, Eddie has just been caught with jealousy that he doesn’t like to admit out in the open.

As you explain to Gareth the need for a getaway weekend, you happen to be shifting around to the backyard. The tour that Eddie promises is now being taken over by his bandmate. He follows along in the background, while Gareth points to the lemon tree in the backyard. You pluck a couple in the promise to make them lemonade.

“Why doesn’t she stay in the spare bedroom?” Gareth suddenly turns to Eddie in midst of the tour.

There were two spare bedrooms on the property. Gareth took over one of them when he moved in. When his ex lived with him, the other spare room was converted to a closet and a glam space for her. It has since been renovated back into a serene space for the band to do some writing when they’re not working on extra projects. There’s a bed underneath the instruments, and Eddie wouldn’t hesitate to make room if you wanted to stay there instead of your motel room.

Yes, Eddie did insist he put you somewhere far more comfortable. You had told him the while the offer was kind, you could as easily get a motel for the weekend and then you could meet somewhere mutual for a couple of dates.

Perhaps, coming to the house today, you had other intentions. You’re letting yourself feel for the first time in a long time, and with someone you’ve known forever. The boldness you once felt in your gut is cut short by Gareth, who Eddie could have sworn wasn’t at the house when he left this morning. The boy is usually an early riser despite his slutty little habits when he’s out partying late. He resets with a hearty breakfast, and works out in the garage they’ve transformed halfway into a gym.

Usually, Eddie can hear him running on the treadmill. Not this morning, or so he thought. Eddie was quick to leave and quite floaty too. Can anyone blame him. He was on his way to see you!

“I did offer,” Eddie stumbles over his tongue trying to find reason for you not to stay at his home, rather than the motel you chose.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” you spare him. “You only have so much . . . space.”

“We have a lot of space,” Gareth snorts, “next time you’re in town, just stay with us. Alright?”

You peak at Eddie, before agreeing, "that's very generous. I'll consider it next time.

-> <-

[August 1994 . . . again]

August 1994 . . . again

A private dinner in the back of a restaurant with candles, and soft classical music. There’s no one, but you and Eddie. Eddie dresses in his usual flare, but he picks out the best t-shirt and slacks he owns adding his own touch of jewelry.

Los Angeles hasn’t changed him too deeply. He misses the lower costs of everything back in Hawkins, but not the people (aside from the select few - his uncle and such). He’s adjusting quite nicely after living here for some many years.

Still, his escape is Indianapolis - with you. Wherever you are, that’s his happy place. Something he hasn’t told you yet, but he’s fairly certain you know.

He stares at you in the flicker of the lights prepared to ask you to marry him right then and there. The years he’s spent staring at his best friend, accepting that you couldn’t possibly want him the way that he wants you. That he needs you. You’re his oxygen. His gravity. His sole light in pitch blackness. He’ll follow you anywhere.

You catch him staring over your glass of water, and your mouth curls upward until he can see your cute dimples pushing your cheeks out. He watches as your cheeks rosy.

“What?” You break him away from his thoughts.

Eddie lays his palm out across the table for you to take, and when you do he begins to trace the lines of your palms like he’s memorizing each part of you.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world right now,” he hums out loud. “You look so beautiful tonight.”

You hide your face with your other hand, as you redden even more. What a sap! The joy spread across your face is real. You cannot contain that little giggle you get when you’re thrown by what someone’s said. Eddie can’t get enough.

Not just about you, but the drive you have. The passion. You seek more from the world than just what was taught to you by the education system. The way you have such an imagination for people, and the words you write down on paper. You still hold that close to your chest.

“I know it’s our last night,” Eddie reminds you of the impending flight ahead of you tomorrow, “I don’t want to end the night without asking how you’re feeling about us? Are we heading in the right direction?”

The plates are empty, and the meal has been eaten. Eddie’s even paid the check. You just can’t help, but never want to leave this room. The moment you do, you’re headed back to the hotel to wait for your flight early the next morning. There wouldn’t be any time to see him tomorrow. You want to spend all the time you can right now - uninterrupted.

Eddie’s posed question hangs in the air. You appreciate his drive and his ambitions. The commonalities between the two of you are terribly similar, and the only doubts in your mind are the distance. Would it be too much? But, Eddie assures you that he’ll do everything he can to drop everything and to come see you.

The privacy of your life would become interrupted in chaos, but again Eddie assures to keep your relationship as private as you would like. He won’t speak your name in interviews, and if they ask he can be the single bachelor that consumes their wet-dreams.

And, he would come to visit soon. Wayne’s going to do backflips once he finds out you’re the girl that he’s told him about over the phone.

All that aside, you do really like Eddie as a friend and as a man you’re very interested in. Friendships be damned. You’re already deep into this, exploring new boundaries and new emotions. You’re lucky to have a friend like Eddie, and you’d be even luckier as a girlfriend.

“We’re headed in a good direction,” Eddie wants you to drive the conversation, because if he has it his way - he’s finding the first ring he sees and sliding it on your finger. You continue, “I’d like this to be more - official.”

The word slips of your tongue, and Eddie swears he could be doing backflips right now.

“Can I call you my girlfriend?” Eddie asks officially.

You nod, “yeah, you can call me your girlfriend.”

“Yes!” Eddie childishly fist pumps the air.

A snort escapes from your mouth, and you lean back in a laugh as Eddie ‘smoothly’ slides out his chair from underneath him to get to your side of the table as fast as possible. You gather yourself well-enough to accept as many short and sweet pecks Eddie will give you.

“Hey, Eddie?” You ask.

He hums.

“Is Gareth home tonight?”

The home is silent. No sign of life. Eddie scans the main rooms, before giving you the approving thumbs up. Gareth is not home. There’s no telling what he’s up to tonight, except Eddie’s fully aware he’s picking up women at the bar. Eddie’s hoping that Gareth and whatever woman would end up at her house, instead of their shared home.

Eddie flicks on a couple lights, and helps you take off your shoes at the door. A real gentleman, he takes them to his room with you trailing behind holding his free hand.

You’re jittery. Yes, you’ve had sex. But, that was a very rushed and heated affair that wasn’t planned. That wasn’t thought out. Tonight you were prepared. Showered and shaven. You painted your nails and toes, before you left for your flight this weekend.

Eddie’s bedroom, unlike the one he grew up in, was clean. You could tell right away that the decor was not his idea by the clean lines, and tactful display spacing. But, he was in here somewhere. The style reflects your Eddie.

You hum at the thought. Eddie’s yours. You’re his. This is picture perfect. Two childhood friends finding each other in their adulthood, but perhaps the affection has always been there. There’s always been something pulling the two of you together, even when you’re apart.

Eddie places your shoes in an open space near a short bookshelf filled instead with old records he refuses to give up. They’re from his bedroom back home. You recognize some of the covers. Some of them probably still hold your finger prints.

“I know it’s not the trailer, but-,”

“It’s wonderful,” you opt to make a joke, “there’s not even a stain on your sheets.”

This amuses him, and he snorts out a laugh.

“I do my laundry once a week, now.”

“Do you? I’m so proud,” you throw out playfully.

The way you look tonight could put a man on his knees - Eddie’s knees to be precise. He’s not just talking about the way you dressed up for tonight. Your beautiful satin dress, or how you chose to accessorize with those pearly pieces. The way your hair hangs along your face, and the style you chose to place it in. Eddie’s been anticipating you for a long time.

It’s there. You’ve been there. Since Eddie could breathe, all his life he’s wanted to be a musician. He’s made a mission to practice nearly every day, and even when he’s ready to throw in a towel you’re there to tell him to keep going. You stay up late at night encourage him to play another note. Play another song.

Even though you deny it, you have some pipes on you as well. Soft, and sweet. You add a balance to his roughness.

“What?” You meet his gaze.

Eddie takes a couple of heavy steps forward, “come here.”

In a flash, his lips find yours in the softest most passionate kiss you’ve ever experienced. You’re floating. His strong hand holds you from the back of the neck, and caresses your cheek. The fabric of his shirt becomes scrunched between your fingers. You dance along the muscle of his belly over his shirt.

A soft sound - barely a whimper - escapes your mouth and Eddie can feel his cock rising through his jeans. Your hands drop to his belt, and he nearly leaps through the ceiling how hot your nails graze his skin on your way down.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie groans the expletive.

You stare up at him sweetly, as you touch your knees to the carpet. He helps you unbutton his pants, and lets them fall away. Quicker than he likes to admit, Eddie's shirt also becomes a memory. It lands lazily somewhere in his room.

Intimacy best shared between you and him goes uninterrupted, and with no consequences following the next day. There’s been several hookups that you find yourself lonelier during and after. The taxi rides home feeling nauseous, not from the hangover, but the knowing you’ll never see them again. Some might find you lame for this, but you crave that connection.

You stroke his hard cock in your hands. He leans his head back - hair dropping around his shoulders. Base to tip, you slide your tongue around the muscle listening to Eddie moaning above you. Hearing his harmony, you guide yourself along playing just the right notes.

“Oh, shit - my fault, my fault,” Eddie jerks back when you gag around him, “you good?”

You giggle, wiping the spit away from your lower lip when you tell him, “yeah, you’re just big.”

Eddie practically crumbles, “you really know how to stroke a man’s ego, huh?”

Helping you to your feet, Eddie’s got more planned for the night than just letting you suck his cock. He needs you. He needs this. Tonight. Now.

Eddie’s never been a selfish lover, and that could be said by any of his past experiences with women. This life he’s lived has given him enough of a chance to explore himself - explore other people. He’s a lover, or a giver if you will. And, to be honest, if you’re not done then neither is he.

Unzipping your dress, he presses kisses to each shoulder as the straps of your dress slide away. Carefully, he unzips you. Savoring each hot honeyed touch, Eddie feels the moment the fabric puddles to the floor. You step from the pool, and further into him. Chest to chest. Skin to skin. You breath hotly against him. Drunken by his touch. He guides you to his bed. The Gods must have favored you when they created you. Your skin is like butter. Soft. Plump. He just can’t get enough holding onto you.

You moan out his name, and he whispers something explicit in your ear just before your legs hit the wood frame of his bed. He toys with your lace underwear between his fingers.

“You wear this for me?” He licks the skin beneath your ear. “All for me, hm?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you’re drunk off lust. Hardly, audible or awake.

Eddie nips your earlobe, “good. That’s my good girl, hm? You wanna be good for me? Good to me?”

The sensation in your lower belly tingles harder at every lustful word that leaves your man’s mouth. You can hardly keep your head on straight. Dizzily, he spins you around and you land onto the bed on your butt. His eyes are dark, and glazed over. This is a different Eddie - you’re Eddie, but different.

You spread your legs for him to get more than comfortable between. He begins his assault by placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, then to your cheek and finally swallowing you whole by the mouth.

This is what you get for sleeping with a rockstar, hm? He’s like a professional or some shit. You could get used to this.

Your hands find their way into his hair, and make purchase grabbing onto him there. He groans deeply, and you take note. Finding his sweet spots, you mark down exactly where he likes to be touched just as he does to you.

It’s Eddie’s turn to drop to his knees in front of you. Kisses lowering down the scape of your body, your eyes roll into the back of your head completely entrusting him. His hands find their way around your body, stopping at your neck, your breasts and your belly. The night is long, and he plans to take things as slow as he can - getting the most out of hearing you call his name.

When he gets even lower, to where your underwear encases you from him, Eddie becomes animalistic and perverted. He dares inhale. Memorizing your scent. You arch your back and lift your hips sickeningly, as he begins to peel your underwear down your legs.

The last time this happened, Eddie was quick. He didn’t savor what was in front of him.

“God,” Eddie swallows, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You stare down at him, “you promise you’re not just saying that because you get to see me naked?”

Eddie sits up at this to meet your face. Large hands caress your cheeks to keep you from looking away.

“I swear on everything,” he means what he says, “you’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Eddie,” you run your thumb across his wrists, “I hope you mean that. You’re my best friend, and I-.”

It feels weird saying you love him now. There’s a different weight to those words, and you shouldn’t just say them to say them. He knows his you feel about him. So, you shouldn’t have to say them out loud. This isn’t just your friendship. It’s something different, something more.

You’ve built the foundation, and you’ve got all the right materials. It’s time for you two to build the house. A house takes time. Labor. Love.

You’ll get there.

“I love you,” Eddie means what he says, and he doesn’t care if he’s not playing by the rules. Wearing his heart right out on his sleeve, nothing can be hidden from you there, “too.”

You press your lips to his in a passionate flame. Friendship to lovers, and to forever with him. There’s no where else to go. And, if he was crazy enough he’d ask you right then to marry him.

Eddie asks against your lips, “can I make you feel good, now?”

One more searingly passionate kiss, and you bob your head up and down answering his much anticipated question. Eddie laughs joyously and hisses. This wouldn't be the same with any other person, and you take a moment to appreciate how safe you are to be yourself around Eddie.

Laying back onto the pillowy sheets, you accept how different things would become between you. This new chapter would have discovery after discovery. Tonight even would be one of the first. What makes Eddie tick? What brings him pleasure.

You arch your legs high enough that you can hook your arms underneath to hold yourself there, and stare down at Eddie. With your brow pinched in the center, Eddie can sense your tense.

“Don’t fart on me now.”

Laughter bursts from you, the tension eases away from your face. Your Eddie, the one that could never take life too seriously is still here in this room with you.

“Actually-,” Eddie doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I swear, you’re so obnoxious,” you swat at him.

Eddie tuts, “hands on your knees, now. I’m trying to eat.”

Eddie nips at your thigh. The mood shifts back to sensual, as he dives deeper into his favorite part of the night - pleasing you. He takes his time. Thighs are his favorite part. Something to hold onto. Something soft.

He kisses hotly just above your pubic area where the hair begins to grow. Instead of worrying about if you've shaven enough, your mind goes white. Blank. His tongue has found your most intimate space.

To say you haven’t been anticipating this part of the night all night would be a lie. Eddie’s been so patient and respectful of your boundaries since you began to explore your new found relationship. You were terrified to tell him you weren’t ready for sex, after you already had sex.

Most men would have run. But, not Eddie. He agreed you two had been carried away that evening, and he was willing to slow down for you. Anything you wanted, Eddie would do just to have you. You’re worth it.

You gasp out loud, and your body twists. Eddie’s tongue flicks your clit. He’s figured you out. Mapped your territory. Your toes clench as he runs his mouth over and over that spot that makes you squirm. He throws his hands up against your thighs, as your knees come down.

Eddie looks at you. Really looks at you. The way your stomach tightens, and your back arches. Your nipples peak. Mouth slack, and your head drawn back.

“Please,” you shutter and tremble in your trance.

Eddie slicks his fingers against your pussy, before daring to slide them inside you tight and warm entrance. Stretching you with two of his slender and strong fingers, you drop your head against his bed and arch your back towards the ceiling.

"You're a mess for me? Hm?" Eddie's dirty talk has you clenching. "Come on, baby. Let me see what you can do?"

The mess you've made. Damp. Wet. You can't help, but tremble under his touch. No one has ever spoken to you so sweetly, and so demanding. Eddie drills his fingers deep and scissors the sides of your gummy walls. Swiftly, he returns his mouth over your clit like a dog being brought to water for the first time.

Your shaking hands reach out to grab hold of stability landing on his head. Yanking his hair, Eddie groans darkly at this. Sweet, sweet music drips from your lips as your orgasm washes over you. You’re putty in his hands.

“Holy, shit. You’re good at that,” you pant.

Throwing your arms back over your head, you don't have a moment to recover because Eddie's on the hunt. He towers over you - powerful and strong. His body is unreal and thoroughly handsome, and covered in tattoos. There's still more to add, but that's a question for later.

Eddie tugs his cock when he says, “you’re so hot when you cum. We’re so doing that again.”

Chewing the inner corner on your lip, you take this as a cue to slide back onto his king sized mattress. There's plenty of space, and you're sure to be covering every corner. If not tonight, then the next time he sees you he'll be sure to cover more land.

Eddie searches for a condom in the dresser, while you adjust comfortably against his sheets. Neither of you discussed protection, but you appreciate the respect he has to do before he asks.

“Oh, my god,” you can’t help but giggle lamely, “when did you get a tattoo on your dick?”

You hadn’t noticed the ink on his cock when you were down there earlier because you were a bit preoccupied. The piece is so small that you missed it earlier.

“You like them?”

“Them?”

A matching pair of stars seemingly placed randomly on either side of his cock. That couldn’t have felt pleasant when he got them. Who would even do a tattoo like that? You didn’t even know that part of the body could be tattooed. It’s kind of hot.

“I had a couple moles down there, and I thought why not highlight them,” he beams proudly of this accomplishment.

You let out a short breath of air, “sure. Why not highlight your dick moles?”

“You think they’re hot,” he smirks, while wrapping his cock in a condom.

You shake your head, “I think you’re hot. Come here!”

Eddie crawls his way into bed with you. Pressing his lips against yours again, he slows down to savor the moment. This moment right now. He’ll never want to forget this day.

As he aims his cock to your pussy, he promises to be good to you across your lips. He tells you just how much he cares about you, and that he’ll never hurt you.

This moment now, he slides his cock inside of you stretching you to fit him. Your mouth goes slack, and short hot breaths fall from your lips.

“You’re good,” you nod.

He pumps his cock in short bursts filling you out. Groaning out expletives, he thrusts once more deeply filling you fully. The sounds coming from your mouth are foul, are messy and are all the same beautiful. It’s him. He gets to make you feel this way. He gets to make you feel good.

You wrap your legs around him, and hug your arms underneath his arms and around his back. Unintentionally, you scratch him with your nails. This only makes him fuck you harder. Skin slaps explicitly against one another, as he drops his hips back and forth.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers nasty words in your ear, “taking my dick like that.”

Your head falls back, and Eddie swoops in like a vampire to mark you up. To make sure that everyone knows you’re taken. That you’re his, and only his. No one else could make you scream like he does.

“Oh, my God,” you squeeze your thighs, “I’m gonna cum!”

Eddie smirks wickedly at this, and replies, “cum on my cock. Drench my dick.”

Boldly, Eddie switches angles. He takes your legs in a rough hold and he sits straight up almost leaning back before thrusting harshly inside of your pussy. You cry out, and he smiles wickedly. Rubbing your clit with his thumb, you’re completely done for. A second orgasm takes you trembling and folding into a pile of mush.

Eddie grunts out swears, before coming to completion himself. God, he’s such a mess for you. He drops your legs gently, but can’t come to leave you for a moment savoring how warm you are. How close you feel to him.

Eddie grabs the base of his cock, and leaves you exhausted and spent. While, he pulls himself together - removing the condom to throw it away, and cleaning off his cock - he notices you haven’t moved much. Your chest rises and falls, your eyes are on the ceiling.

“You still alive?” He returns from the bathroom, “do you need anything?”

You hold up a single finger, “gimmie a minute. I’m just - processing.”

Eddie laughs out loud, and slaps the meat of your thigh. You smile, while shaking your head back and forth.

Feeling fabric at your feet, you look down at Eddie. He has your underwear and he’s sliding them on you, one leg at a time.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” he’s got a clean shirt and a pair of pajama pants that would fit you.

You accept his help, and while he searches for clothing you head to the bathroom to freshen up. He’s got a shirt and shorts for you when you come back to the room.

The night ends when you’re tucked into bed together, and he’s stroking lines into your back and he’s kissing the top of your head just like old times. So, in a way, you’ve accepted that there has always been something there.

Both of you have just been too stubborn to admit it.

-> <-

[August 1994 . . . for the last time]

August 1994 . . . for the last time

Gareth comes home unexpectedly in the middle of the night with a girl. You don’t stir, but Eddie does as light pours in through the crack in the bottom of his door.

Eddie holds you tighter, and drifts off to sleep as his roommate mutters something about being quiet to not wake him. Too late for that, and in fact most nights he pulls this crap Eddie will at least wake for a moment.

In the morning, Eddie wakes first. So, he dozes. He drifts. You’re resting comfortably against him, and he doesn’t want to bother you at all. This, and that his roommate will be somewhere in the house (if he’s awake). He’s not wanting to go out there are explain anything without talking to you first.

The sun kissing his windows, and pushing through his curtains is making him hot. He has to pee too. Your snores are cute. He’s missed them. The way you curl your arm and tuck it under your chin. You look like you’re dreaming really hard about something.

Eddie notices the first signs of you waking up when you inhale a large gulp of air, and you wipe the drool from your mouth hoping no one saw that. He did, and he thinks you’re cute.

This right here is what it’s like being the richest man in the world. You uncurl yourself, and you stretch your feet under the blanket before getting comfortable again.

Eddie makes his move to kiss your head to bring you closer and closer back to earth from dream land. You’re not much of a morning person, and you tend to have one of the sourest expressions on your face when you do open your eyes. He’s missed your cute grumpy face.

There it is.

You’re glaring. Not on purpose. But, you are staring him down trying to figure him out. You’re awake, but barely. And, your breath stinks. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Good morning,” his breath is probably rotten too.

“‘Morning,” you’re grouchy, but you’re trying not to be for him.

The two of you roll and snuggle in bed together until the urgency of needing a bathroom becomes too great. You use his bathroom, and borrow an extra toothbrush to freshen up. Eddie takes a separate bathroom down the hall, while hoping he doesn’t run into Gareth.

Upon his return, you’re much more awake than before (but barely), so he bring up the situation you’re in.

“Gareth’s home,” Eddie holds your hands.

Your eyes widen, “seriously?”

“He came home last night,” he tells you, “I don’t want you sneaking out of here like a secret though.”

You blush just then. Cheeks reddening with delight.

“I’ll make you some breakfast, and if he wakes up,” Eddie shrugs his shoulders, “I’ll talk to him.”

“We’ll talk to him,” you agree.

Eddie nods his head, and pulls you forward into a hug. He’s never been a super physical person in his previous relationships, but with you he’d never let you go if he had the chance.

“Let me brush my teeth, and we can go out there together,” he rubs your back.

You wait for him to brush his teeth, and when he returns with his hair tied to the top of his head (which has you weak by the way), you leave the bedroom together.

While you grew up, Eddie’s never been much of a chef. Frozen tv dinners were his speciality. Here in the kitchen, watching Eddie whisk together eggs and chopping up potatoes, and not burning anything - you admit it’s sexy. A different version of your Eddie. There’s pieces of him still laying around the house. He’s got his old D&D book on the bottom shelf of that record holder, and the living room holds some display pieces from the Lord of the Rings. You wonder if they’re real. With his money, you can almost guarantee they are. You don’t ask letting your curiosity stay curious.

“Did you sleep okay?” He leans across the counter to you, while the food cooks behind him.

You nod, “your bed is much more comfortable than the motel.”

“Next time you visit, you’re staying here,” he wags his finger at you.

“If I do that you wouldn’t let me leave the bed,” you blink lowering your gaze to his mouth where his stubble has become fuller since last you saw him.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Eddie leans over the counter top searching for your lips.

You oblige, and meet him in the center of the island you’re sat at. If he wasn’t cooking (and his roommate wasn’t somewhere in the house), you might just let him have you a second time right here in this kitchen.

The man warns you he’s coming back for more, and turns around back to the stove to toss his potatoes before they burn.

Nearing the end of the hallway, unbeknownst to you with all the noise from the stove, Gareth lingers at the smells coming from the kitchen. Eddie’s not an early riser unless there’s company. And, just like Eddie, Gareth has a guest. A guest that was trying to sneak out early, and yet they wouldn’t make it to the front door without everyone knowing who was in his bed last night.

Gareth tells her to wait in the hallway, while he investigates the situation in the kitchen. When he does round the corner, your head swivels to him. You’re drinking tea from one of Eddie’s favorite mugs, that Gareth could have sworn was off limits to anyone but Eddie. All appears normal aside from you in Eddie’s clothes. He could have sworn the spare bedroom was empty last night. But, he can’t be too surprised. You two used to sleep next to each other all the time growing up. He was your safe space away from your mom and all.

A moment in your eyes sheds worry, and you signal for Eddie to notice Gareth’s presence coming towards them. That’s new. His brow crinkles in the center of his face.

“Good morning,” Gareth finishes off more like a question. “You sleep here last night?”

Taking a swig of your tea, you answer with a bob of the head. Eddie awaits for Gareth to ask for any details, or answer his suspicions. But, Gareth is much too occupied with a secret of his own that’s standing in the hallway.

“Gareth,” Eddie serves food in equal portions on two plates, leaving the rest for Gareth who would eat later in the day. “We should talk.”

Gareth sweats, not for what Eddie would say, but rather he wonders if she’s not doing her hiding too well.

“What’s up?” His voice cracks.

You look to Eddie for his guidance during this conversation. Nerves chill up your spine, and you can only hope that Gareth takes this well.

“You know that girl that I’ve been seeing?” Eddie rounds the center island putting food in front of you. Food you’re much too nervous to eat until this conversation is over.

“The one that won’t put out?” Gareth swears explicitly.

Your nose scrunches in disbelief, “excuse me? So what if I won’t put out?!”

You cover your own big mouth, but the damage is done. Eddie’s laughing over your head and rubbing a hand over your spine. This was not the gentle conversation you wanted to have with Gareth, yet here you are. Everything is laid out in the open.

Gareth hasn’t said anything yet, and you’re far too embarrassed to look at him with your head buried in Eddie’s shirt. You don’t see that he processes your words slowly, and swallows thickly. At first, he’s angry for Eddie not to tell him what’s been going on and he demands to know for how long. But, those feelings sizzle out and a plotting grin spreads ear to ear.

“That’s great!” You sit up blinking rapidly at the boy, “No, I mean I’m very happy for you two. It’s like perfect right? You’re best friends, and everyone assumed you would end up together anyway.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at the fumbling mess in front of him, “Gareth.”

“What? I’m happy - really!” He begins to back away from the kitchen. “This is just great news. Nothing else could top it, right?”

Gareth steps back enough that he runs directly into his secret, who’s grown tired of waiting for him to solve whatever issues he has with his roommate.

“I’m sorry, Gareth,” she pecks a pink smudge on his cheek, “my boss just got this really good scoop, and if I don’t go then they’ll give the air time to Monica. She’s been after my job for weeks.”

Gareth knows about Monica. A sour faced thirty-year-old know-it-all. He’s heard all about her disruptions.

“Chrissy?” Your jaw is damn near on the floor, “Chrissy Cunningham?”

“This makes us even, right?” Gareth gulps.

Eddie stares at the blonde in his hallway. Clearly, in the time waking up this morning to this conversation, Chrissy’s had more than enough time to put herself together. Her big hair has more volume than anyone’s ever seen. Cheeks plump with rouge. And, lips a scorching vibrant pink that pops from her pale complexion. She’s televisions hottest news reporter.

“Aren’t you like … married?” You try not to sound rude, but you’re not sure how else to ask.

Chrissy sighs knowing her story is going to be passed on to the next girl in line. This wasn’t the plan to stay, and meet his roommate for the first time since high school (and his girlfriend too).

It’s her fault for being at the bar a few weeks ago with her friends for that bachelorette party. They dared her to take a body shot from him to win points to some cheap ten dollar prize at the end of the night. Not knowing she already knew him until she tapped him on the shoulder, her heart leapt to the sky realizing she knew who he was. And, as the night went on and drinks kept flowing - well, Chrissy took the invitation to come back to his house for an after party. Again, and again this arrangement became more like a coincidental favor of sorts.

More and more, she liked Gareth and when she expressed this to him a while back, he couldn’t help that he too felt the same for her. They’ve been exclusive only a week or so, and the couple would agree they’ve been blissful.

“Not since the accident,” she doesn’t wear her wedding band anymore. At first she did, but she removed the memento with butter around a year and a half ago.

Jason Carver passed away from a car accident a few years ago, and the burial was short. He didn’t have many friends, and those he did have were from high school. Those boys ditched him as fast as they could post graduation.

Chrissy was a widow before the age of twenty-five. But, she’s since moved forward with her life after she took the time to realize why she married him in the first place. Convenience. Ease. It was the thing to do after high school. She even found out she was pregnant that evening, and planned to tell him that night.

Jason wasn’t the only one who died that night, but Chrissy decided to keep that to herself. No one knows. Not even her own family.

“I’m sorry,” immediately you feel guilt for asking, but she waves off those feelings.

“I’m doing much better now,” she explains that she sold the property that Jason invested on to build their home, and she took all the money into herself to move away from Hawkins. The city loves her blonde hair, her icy skin and her commercial smile. She’s perfect for the camera.

Quickly, the money began flowing. Her experience with journalism was slim to none, but she didn’t have to try to fit in. She learned the moves. The ropes to get in the best stories. And, her wealth was evidence to her success.

“It’s nice to see you again,” her eyes were aimed for Eddie, but she meant to say this to the both of you. “You both look well.”

“Thank you, as do you,” Eddie spoke for the pair of you, as a comforting arm rests on top of your shoulder. “There’s plenty of food.”

“I should run, but we should catch up. All of us - dinner on Friday?” Chrissy offers as a suggestion.

“Actually, I’m just visiting. My flight’s in- shit!” you’re beyond late for your flight. The airport is too far away for you to race back to your motel, and get to the airport on time. “I missed my flight!”

“I could arrange a private jet-,”

“Edward Munson!” You scold him for throwing his money around.

“Oh, here!” Chrissy hands you her cell phone to use to get in touch with a travel agent.

Spending time pacing around Eddie’s kitchen to living room, you run your thumb along your top teeth for comfort. The agent is trying every air line with no such luck. It is the weekend after all, and most people are probably smart enough to book their flights early. And, they don’t miss their flights either.

“Thank you, for trying,” you speak into the phone, “you too. Have a nice day.”

Clutching the phone to your chest, you huff out a frustrated sigh. Gareth’s the only one inhaling breakfast at the table. The other two sit cross armed, and stare with glazed eyes awaiting your verdict. You shake your head and puff out your cheeks.

“Nothing,” you confirm. “I’m so getting fired tomorrow.”

“Call your boss? Maybe he’ll understand,” Chrissy offers hope, but to no avail. Your boss is the worst piece of garbage, and even if you claim a family member’s fallen ill and is sinking into the grave he’ll still find a reason to can you.

You have to face the music sooner or later, and since Chrissy’s offered you her cellphone, you call your boss. It’s Sunday. He’s probably out golfing or making someone’s day more difficult than need be.

As you try to explain to him what happened, you can hear him counting the minutes you’re wasting. He’s unconvinced and unsure why he’s kept you in the office so long if you can’t do something as simple as showing up for work.

He uses some profanities, and offers you a few derogatory words that depict women being lazy and useless before relieving you of your position. It hurts to know you were never valued, and that he truly is as sleazy as they come. Your second thought is what are you going to do now. Getting that job was such a huge accomplishment, and although the pay was poor - it was pay.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Eddie comes to your side as the phone falls back into your lap. “There are better opportunities out there.”

You lean your weight onto him, while he rubs a flat hand along your spine.

“What am I going to do?” Your eyes brim with tears that fall slowly.

Chrissy pipes up, “I’m sure my company is hiring. You could do like assistant things? Coffee runs?”

You throw her a sad smile, “thanks, Chris.”

She hasn’t heard that nickname since high school, and it warms her deeply. The two of you hardly spoke if at all since then. That probably had to do with Jason being - well, she wouldn’t speak ill of the dead. He and Eddie never got along, and since you were almost always with Eddie or Gareth for that matter, she never got a chance to get ahold of you.

“You can stay here for the night at least until you get a plane back home,” Eddie offers, “It’s no private jet, but I want to help.”

You want to decline. In fact, what you’d like to do is go back to your motel, draw a nice bath and drown yourself inside. You couldn’t leave Robin with the bills. That’s cruel and selfish. And, Eddie would cry. Wayne too.

Oh, Wayne! He’ll be so excited when you finally tell him that you and Eddie quit being ridiculous and got together. Okay, so you’ll stick around for Wayne.

Chrissy’s phone goes off in your hands, and you hand the telephone over to her. She takes the call in the other room.

Gareth finishes his last bite of food, and finally joins the conversation after a large gulp of water.

“Stay here tonight, I really don’t mind,” he says, but warns, “the walls aren’t thin, but do know I stay up late at night. And, if I walk past your door. I'll hear everything.”

“Ugh! Get a porno mag like a normal man,” Eddie scolds.

You snicker for the first time since you got canned moments ago. A joyous bubble rests in your chest. No matter what you have your boys, just as they have you. You appreciate the offer, and you chose to stay. Only for one night.

In the midst of a period of silence, where Chrissy’s conversation can be heard from the next room as bubbles of work jargon, Eddie stands up a little straighter from where he comforts you.

“If you’ve got Chrissy, why were you trying to get me to go to the bar the other night?” Eddie shakes his head at his friend.

Gareth checks to see if Chrissy overheard this question, and you sit up out of your head for the first time since the phone call with your boss.

“He did what?” Your brows furrow.

The boy at the dining table snorts, “buddy, I just needed to know how serious you were about this chick. You weren't telling me anything!”

“Calling a woman ‘chick’ real classy, Gareth,” you mumble grumpily.

Gareth shrugs his shoulders, and before he could dig himself an even deeper hole that he wouldn't get himself out of even if someone handed him a later, Chrissy comes back into the room after she ends her phone call.

“What’s real classy?” Chrissy tosses her head from either side of the room.

“Gareth was trying to get Eddie to pick up women yesterday,” you tattle.

“Oh, Gareth!” Chrissy's hands rest on her hips ready to scold the young man.

“Nice, now I’m in trouble!” Gareth grouches.

“You said I wouldn’t put out,” you smile wickedly, “now we’re even.”

Eddie holds his hand out for you to slap down a high five.

“Good job, baby,” he praises. “That’s my girl.”

-> <-

[August 1994 . . . this is actually the last one]

August 1994 . . . this is actually the last one

Chrissy dials a few numbers, and throws heads together. She pulls her boss for a meeting, and reminds him that she pays his bills just as much as he pays hers. If she goes, the company would tank and would he want to risk that?

“I got you a job!”

Gareth didn’t expect Chrissy in the afternoon, or really at all. And, really she would have been more subtle about the whole idea. She was just thoroughly excited at the idea of rekindling your friendship with her.

You were resting on the couch with a bowl of ice cream, and sorrowed thoughts. To get you out of the room, Eddie promised you the ice cream and a movie together. He was rubbing your feet while you sacrificed potato chips into your bowl of ice cream instead of using a spoon like a normal person. You insisted the salty chip to the sweet creamy treat paired better than they did on their own.

When Chrissy came in with a fire under your butt, you were sure you heard her incorrectly. She must have been joking because in less than twenty four hours Chrissy has done the impossible.

“And you can stay with me,” she beams, “I’ll even introduce Robin to my art friends. She’ll thrive in the city!”

Moving to Los Angeles? Really? The cost of living was insane here, and there’s no way you would be able to even afford groceries on a salary doing - er -

“What’s the job?” You jam your chip in your ice cream and forget about it.

“They need someone to be my boss’ monkey,” she corrects herself, “I mean it’s assistant work. You’ll be doing whatever he needs.”

“Whatever he needs?” You cringe.

Chrissy shakes her head, “not like that. My boss is tough, but he’s easy enough to get along with. He’s like a - a -.”

“Rottweiler,” Gareth finishes her sentence that clearly has come up before in their conversations.

She nods, “yes!”

Gareth nabs the ice cream away from you, while your attention is elsewhere. Personally, a chip scoop seems reasonable enough to him.

“I don’t know, Chrissy,” you’re not really a Los Angeles person.

“You’ll be closer to Eddie most days out of the year, and you’ll be putting your foot in the door with some very influential people. You still write don’t you?” Chrissy hopes.

“Yeah, but it’s just a hobby.”

Even with a degree under your belt, you don’t ever use it for anything to push yourself forward. You thought your last job would be the key to enter the journalist workforce. But, you turned into an assistant. A walking piece of ass for the men to gawk at.

“Please, I stole your journal once. You’ve got incredible talent!” Chrissy scoffs at your modesty.

“You stole my journal?”

“Sorry, high school. I didn’t read that much,” she blabs. “Something about prom, and afterwards you and Gareth- that’s not important! I mean it’s not like Eddie and I didn’t- you know!”

You didn’t know, actually. Peaking to the end of the couch, Eddie rubs a sore spot on his forehead avoiding your gaze.

“Oh, shoot,” she huffs. “I said too much again. It was just like once.. or twice. I didn’t have money for weed and Eddie-.”

“Chrissy,” Gareth says softly to rip her from her trance. “That was high school. Everything is fine.”

While Gareth comforts her, you pop the bubble on this sweet moment for them by nailing Eddie with a pillow. It smacks him in the shoulder, and drops to the floor. Eddie stares bewildered, before you shout;

“You’re such a whore!” You snicker at his foul behavior. “You let girls suck you off for weed?”

“I- I was a horny teenager! What do you want?” Eddie grabs his shoulder. “You got a strong arm.”

“So, it’s like we’ve all done each other,” Gareth cringes at his thought spilling from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Why on earth would you say that?” You scrunch your face up.

“I haven’t done her,” Chrissy points out.

“I’d be okay with that!” Eddie and Gareth speak over each other.

“You’re both whores,” you roll your eyes. “Perverts.”

Chrissy rounds the conversation back to you. You, who has yet to decide to take the job or not. Firstly, you would give Robin a call that would uproot her entire life. She would give up so much. Would she even want to live out here?

You’d be so far away from home, but Chrissy’s right. This could do big things for you. Or, you could get stuck under another man’s thumb. You’re given the week to decide. A whole week to stir over your decision.

Robin takes the news heavy. Moving out to Los Angeles would cost far too much on her budget. She appreciates the offer, but an “introduction to Chrissy’s art friends” isn’t exactly employable.

The time goes by slowly, and most of the time you’re alone with your thoughts. There’s a lot to do in the band, and Eddie can’t play house with you the whole time you’re here.

He’s sat in an interview where they throw question after question about music, until a curveball is thrown in. Something about the music is more romantic than usual, and she wants to know who’s the love inspired by.

Gareth chocks it up to the experiences they’ve had with romance their whole lives, and even people that they surround themselves with. He points out that Jeff and his wife have been happily married and committed to each other, that they have a beautiful child together.

But, that’s not what the interviewer wants to know. She wants the details of Eddie Munson and his tendency to sleep around.

“Are you, or are you not romantically involved? You seem happier.” She leans forward in her chair, her blouse tightens to her chest. An unprofessional move if he’s ever seen.

Eddie lets himself smile when he says, “honestly, I’m just beyond proud of these boys. We really came out with an album to be proud of.”

The interviewer drops the invasive question, although he knows this won’t be the end of all. Eventually, your pictures would be leaked and appear more romantic than you want. You’re not ready for all of that - to be linked to Eddie as his girlfriend. After that, you’ll never get a break.

That, and he loves the privacy you have together. His own island. His slice of untouched heaven.

You appreciate that he leaves the deciding factor to show off your relationship in public up to you. The paparazzi you’ve heard of can be cruel and unforgiving. They’re stalkers that get paid to photograph your every living move. You’d never be able to go to the grocery store without them biting at your ankles.

Eventually, yes you’d be willing to step into the public as Eddie Munson’s girlfriend. You want to go to his shows, and his award ceremonies to celebrate along with him. The shiny dresses and big hair are a bonus.

Eddie doesn’t talk about your relationship publicly, but in the comfort of his home where you rest on his furniture as though you’ll never leave (not that he wants you too), he makes the decision to call Wayne since he won’t be seeing him until Thanksgiving. And, he would rather not get an earful then.

“Hey, Wayne,” Eddie gives you a thumbs up because his uncle is at home, and on the other line.

Suddenly you’re more nervous than you thought you would be. Taking deep breaths, you let the men catch up on life and specifically what Eddie’s been up too. You tap your toes on the linoleum of his kitchen waiting for the telephone to be handed to you.

“Remember that girl I was telling you about?” You can hear Wayne chuckle on the other line, and start rambling on about something. “Y-yeah, she’s here with me now. I’d like you to talk to her if you’re up for it.”

Eddie mutters ‘yes’ about a dozen times, no doubt he’s answering to one of Wayne’s many life stories about treating women with respect. Or, that he should really consider settling down and having kids soon if he’s going to do that. Eventually, Eddie’s able to pull the phone from his ear and hand him over to you.

“You can do this,” Eddie whispers, “he loves you.”

Taking the phone, you take one last deep breath before pulling the phoniest confidence you could muster.

“H-hey, uncle Wayne!” You cringe unsure if that’s how he would want a girlfriend of Eddie’s to speak to him.

You pull the phone from your ear, as Wayne lets out a cartoonish yell and begins blabbering on about how thrilled he is that you two finally got together.

For a while, you stay on the phone listening to Wayne give you endless amounts of relationship advice that doesn’t really apply to you. The point being that he’s happy for you and Eddie, and you better be at Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. He wants to see this new couple in person with his own old eyes - his words.

You say ‘goodbye’ and hand the phone to Eddie, who gets another earful of relationship advice. The way he smiles into the phone call warms you. He gets comfortable listening to his uncle yammer on about the many things Eddie’s heard before, but lets Wayne continue with his stories.

Before they hang up, you catch Wayne demanding Eddie ‘be good to that girl.’ Then, finally Eddie hangs up the phone and turns to face you. You smile, and let your mouth hang open to speak, before Eddie tackles you into his arms.

A warm bed awaits you.

-> <-

[to be continued]

His rusty, barely running, van was parked right where Cornwallis and Kerley met.

The thick air in the confined space smelled of bergamot, weed, and old cologne.

Music played softly from the outdated radio.

In the driver's seat, he fiddled around with the plastic bag in his hand, reaching over the girl, more specifically you, in the passenger seat.

Your legs were propped up on the dashboard and he shoved them down, opening the glove box and rummaging around in there.

“Well excuse me,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

The girl in the backseat pressed one hand on the driver’s seat, the other on the passenger’s seat, for support. “This is crazy shady,” she said, tone worried. “I mean, a van at the edge of the woods? Illegal substances? We’re just asking for something bad to happen,” she rambled, speaking a million miles a minute.

Any sane person wouldn’t have understood a word she just spewed out. Fortunately for you and the driver, you had been friends long enough to understand what seemed to be a foreign language.

The boy in the driver’s seat flashed a triumphant smile after his ring covered fingers wrapped around his black lighter. He shut the glove box and turned around to face the paranoid girl in the back. “Relax, Robin,” he calmly said. “No one ever comes down here,” he reassured her. “Besides, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Robin closed her eyes and let out a sigh through her mouth. “No, I want to,” she clarified. “It’s just, how many more times can we get caught with weed before we’re arrested?”

You’d been caught more times than you could count.

Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, was so sick and tired of seeing you three in his office three times a week.

If he had a penny for every time he’d seen you three, he would have enough money to move to another state and pick up a new job. Far, far, away from you and your friends.

It was now your turn to face Robin. “Well if it makes you feel any better, Eddie has like, hard drugs on him right now so they’ll for sure let us go as he’s seen as the true criminal.”

Eddie immediately turned his head towards you, eyes wide and mad. He specifically told you not to tell Robin because he knew she’d flip. “I swear I’m gonna-” he began to threaten you through clenched teeth.

“What?!” Robin exclaimed. “Eddie I told you-”

“It’s just coke!” He shouted back at her. “It’s not that big of a-”

“Uh…no, it’s pretty big,” you interrupted. “Like, what? Three, four bags?” you egged on, a small smirk playing at your lips.

“Eddie!” Robin shouted, eyes wide in horror.

“I’m selling it to someone after this!” Eddie reasoned.

Robin squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the seats of the van tighter in her hands. “Holy shit,” she breathed out. “You’re like, seriously a drug dealer. Like, the real deal.”

Eddie blinked, blank expression. “I thought that’s been established.”

You and Robin had known Eddie ever since you got into middle school, which was a few years ago.

He was a year older than you both, making him a junior while you two were stuck as sophomores.

Eddie was…odd.

Peculiar, even.

But, that did nothing but spark your interest.

You were never one for conformity and neither was he.

You and Robin had been friends since elementary school, and when middle school rolled around and she joined band, she met him. Someone older with slightly more experience, knowing how to navigate middle school, and high school once you got there.

Naturally, you were introduced to him as well, and as if it happened over night, you three became a friend group.

Three of the biggest outcasts of Hawkins High had a stronger bond than the popular kids and their romantic relationships.

“I know,” Robin agreed, slowly opening her eyes, releasing her firm grip from the seats. “I just never thought you were serious.”

Eddie scoffed, turning around to face forward, and pulled a freshly rolled blunt out of his bag, putting the tip of it in his mouth and lighting the other end.

He inhaled slowly, eyes closed. You watched him intently as he pulled the blunt from his lips, exhaling the smoke, filling the air with the aroma of cannabis.

Eddie opened his eyes and passed the blunt over to you.

You’d done it one too many times to count and expected to go just as the other times.

Your fingers grazed over his, accepting the substance. You put the end of the blunt into your mouth and inhaled.

“Oh shit!” Eddie exclaimed, turning to you. “I forgot to tell you-”

The smoke you inhaled into your lungs was strong. Burning.

You pulled the blunt away from your mouth and coughed, perhaps dramatically, and shook your head.

“What- The- Fuck-” you managed between coughs.

Robin raised her brows, eyes darting between an Eddie who was hiding his smile, and you, who was choking. “That’s never happened before,” she noted.

You scowled at Eddie and he gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he apologized. “Forgot to tell you it’s stronger than usual.”

“No shit.” You coughed again.

He stuck his fingers out. “Here,” he said, taking the killer blunt out of your hands. “Don’t inhale so much,” he explained, putting it up to his mouth again, showing you how to do it properly.

He handed it back to you and you tried again, this time, only coughing a bit. You passed it back to Robin who stared at it momentarily before inhaling and exhaling the smoke, coughing and pressing her brows together. “Keep it,” she said, handing it back to Eddie.

He accepted it and offered it to you. You shook your head, clearing your throat.

Whatever he did to that, was going to cost you in P.E.

You sighed, your body relaxing, as you leaned back in your seat, wrapping your arms around your stomach. Your eyes stared out into the dark woods.

Robin yawned from the backseat and propped her head on the side of your seat, hooded eyes wandering your face. Eddie was busy smoking when Robin started mumbling along to the song on the radio.

“It’s gotta be a strange twist of fate.”

“Telling me that heaven can wait.”

“Telling me to get it right this time.”

You shut your eyes in annoyance, Eddie doing the same.

“Robin,” you groaned. “Shut up, please.”

Robin continued to sing, you and Eddie sharing an annoyed glance.

There was a problem.

A major problem.

The timeline had reset and with it, your memories.

Meaning, you knew absolutely nothing about what was going to go down for the next six years.

You just started over completely on a blank canvas, right back at the very beginning.

But the same exact story was not about to be told.

We’ve already been there before.

This was new.

A new branched timeline.

And with it, a new story, though one constant remained.

Henry was determined to fix what you broke.

No matter the cost.

“Dude,” Eddie groaned, tossing his head back against his seat, Robin’s voice off key with the song. “For my own sanity, I’m begging you to stop.”

Robin ignored it and you buried your face in your hands with a sigh, as she thumped your seat, singing along.

You, Robin, and Eddie had been friends for so long and hung out far too much that you started to feel incredibly close.

So, Robin signing was more annoying to you than anything else on the planet and neither you nor Eddie were ashamed to let her know.

Though, she didn’t give a shit, so it didn’t matter.

Your face was still buried in the palms of your hands when suddenly, the mix of Robin’s slightly slurred words and the radio began to fade out.

Your ears started to ring slightly and a sense of impending doom bloomed in your chest.

You couldn't put your finger on it, but you felt like something was about to happen.

Like…whatever was about to occur would change the trajectory of your life.

Eddie noticed the way your body tensed. He could only assume it was because of the weed. The boy glanced over to you, taking another drag from the blunt, smoke seeping out of his nose and mouth. “You alright?” he asked.

You didn’t look his way, eyes shut as you nodded, moving your hands to rest in the palm of your lap. “I just feel like…” you trailed off, heart beating a quicker rhythm than before. “I don’t know,” you sighed, unable to explain the way you were feeling. “You ever get that gut feeling that something really bad is about to happen?” you asked, eyes still closed.

Eddie hummed, Robin’s singing gradually growing worse as the song came to an end.

“I had a bad feeling about you skating down that handrail the other day and what do you know? You ate shit,” Eddie said, taking another drag and looking over at you with an amused smile.

You finally opened your eyes, turning your head to him with a deadpanned expression. “I did not eat shit.”

Eddie raised his brows. “Oh, really?”

You nodded affirmatively. “Really.”

Eddie hummed, putting out his blunt in the ashtray on the dashboard, the smoke dying out in an instant. He reached over to you, grabbing your wrist gently with his ring clad fingers. He lifted your arm, looking down at your elbow. “What’s that?”

You looked down, his hand still on your wrist. A bright pink bandaid was clinging to your skin. “I fell.”

“Yeah, off the handrail,” he laughed.

And truth be told, you did.

Your friend group was out late one night in downtown Hawkins. You thought it would be a great idea to try and skate down the handrail outside of the library, and when you reached the end of said handrail, you did in fact ‘eat shit’, Eddie’s words.

Colorful bandaids were all over your body. Elbows, knees, and even one of your hands.

He let go of your wrist and you crossed your arms, giving him a playful eye roll as you turned your head away from him to look out the window into the woods.

The song came to an end, and unfortunately for Robin, the radio decided that Olivia Newton-John wouldn’t be on an endless loop. Robin leaned forward, resting her chin on your seat. “I’m hungry,” she complained.

Eddie hummed, leaning his head back on the seat in an awkward position to face Robin. “I could eat.” He glanced over at you. “You hungry?”

You didn’t respond because you were busy.

Busy looking out into the woods and trying to figure out what exactly it was that you were seeing.

Eddie shifted, leaning forward to follow your line of sight. He didn’t see anything and tapped your shoulder gently. “Hey, you okay?”

You sat frozen, eyes narrowed. “What is that?” you asked.

Eddie leaned forward over the center console as Robin leaned further into the front of the van, looking past your shoulder.

The woods were dark, desolate, empty, and oddly eerie despite growing up around them your entire life.

Robin rested her hand on your shoulder to keep herself balanced. “Uh…I mean Eddie’s window is, like, dirty as shit so I can barely see anything…” she trailed off, earning a side eye from Eddie. “But I don’t see anything.”

You turned around in shock, now looking to Eddie for confirmation that you weren’t losing your mind. “You see it too, right?”

Eddie leaned forward some more. “Where?”

You tapped your finger on the glass. “There.”

Eddie’s eyes scanned the woods. Branches swayed against one another, the leaves dancing as they fell from the wood. “I mean, the wind is pushing the branches, but I don’t see anything else.”

Eddie noticed the way your breathing had shifted. You were tense.

Scared.

Something in the woods was scaring you.

Something in which neither he nor Robin could see.

Eddie stared at you momentarily, watching as you sat almost entranced by what was lurking in the woods. “Do you see something?” he asked, growing worried.

You swallowed hard before nodding. “Yeah,” you said just barely above a whisper.

Eddie hesitated, brows pressing together as his heart hammered in his chest. “What do you see?”

How were you meant to describe it?

It was tall, lengthy, and fleshy.

Almost…like a human.

It was a habitual biped just like one. It had two arms, two legs, just like people.

Except…

Its face.

“I- I don’t know,” you faltered, voice wavering. “It’s like a person but…no face.”

Eddie’s face fell but his fear didn’t last long because Robin smacked the back of his head so hard that his entire head jolted to the side.

“Ow!” he yelled, rubbing the part she hit. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“Look what you did to her!” Robin yelled back. “You’re making her hallucinate with the weed!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, turning the car back on, the engine starting. “I’m not making her do anything! It’s not my fault she’s a lightweight!”

Before putting the van in drive, Eddie handed you a bottle of water. “Here, drink this.”

You didn’t move, you appeared to be frozen in time as you stared at the nonexistent monster out the window.

Eddie sighed, tapping the bottle against your hand gently. “Hey,” he said softly, making you finally look at him. “There’s no monsters out here, it’s just us.”

“I mean, Eddie might look like a monster but I promise he’s not,” Robin reassured you.

Eddie pulled his lips into a tight line. “Right…” he trailed off. “Anyway, drink this. I’m gonna make a delivery super fast and then we’ll grab dinner.”

You accepted the bottle, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that something…or…someone was watching.

“No!” Robin exclaimed. “I don’t wanna go make a drug delivery!”

“You’re not even making it,” Eddie groaned. “You’re waiting in the car a few blocks down.”

Eddie put the van in drive as Robin ridiculed him for ‘taking two innocent teenage girls on a drug run’.

As his van drove down the street, away from the woods, something did emerge from the dark trees.

That monster you saw just moments ago.

You saw it before your friends did, as if you somehow tapped into the future, but they didn’t get the chance to witness it, for Eddie Munson had driven away just seconds before the monster appeared.

Eddie’s van pulled into the diner parking lot, after he had dropped off some drugs to a buyer.

You climbed out of the passenger’s seat, shutting the door behind you after your sneakers landed on the pavement.

Robin and Eddie were convinced that you were high out of your mind, given that you saw a monster without a face.

Because…monsters with no faces did not exist.

You didn’t feel all that high, maybe a little calmer than normal despite what you saw and how you felt, but you assumed that maybe it was just Eddie’s mysterious weed. He was a weird guy after all, so who knew what he did to the weed you smoked.

Robin sighed dramatically, cracking her neck and back before yawning and closing her door. “Thank the universe that this stupid diner is still open.”

Eddie shut his door and locked the van before putting his keys into his pocket, walking up to the door with you, and Robin already following suit. He held the door open for you and motioned for you to go inside with that usual charming smile of his.

You thanked him and waltzed right inside, Robin passing by Eddie as she walked in. “I hate this diner,” Eddie said, following behind Robin.

She gasped dramatically and quirked a brow. “But they have the best milkshakes in all of Indiana!”

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, they’re alright.”

Inside was warm, and the smell of fried food filled your nose, suddenly making you hungry. The diner was empty for the most part, just a few people at the bar with cups of coffee, presumably on break from their night shifts.

The waitress at the front led you three over to a booth, Robin rambling on and on about why the diner on the edge of Hawkins was so good.

You sat down in the booth, Robin sitting beside you, closer than necessary with her knee against yours, though you didn’t mind.

Personal space with someone you knew since elementary school had practically become nonexistent. Robin was attached to your hip, always touching you in one way or another.

She cracked open her menu, eyes scanning over the options. “I just don’t get it. This place is amazing. Why do you hate it so much?”

Eddie rubbed his eyes with his hands. “I don’t know,” he laughed awkwardly, moving his hands away from his face and opening his menu. “I have this really vague memory of going on a date…” he trailed off, looking up at the ceiling and blinking in thought. “Not date?” he thought out loud, trying his best to remember. “I dunno. Point is, I have this weird memory of being with a girl here and I thought it was all going well but turns out she wasn’t really into me.”

Eddie shrugged, unbothered, and looked over the menu. “Chocolate milkshake!” he exclaimed, easily distracted.

You glanced up at Eddie with a raised brow, Robin doing the same.

Robin laughed, shaking her head. “When did you go out with a girl?”

Eddie hummed in thought, not bothering to look up. “Uhhh…I dunno. Vague memory as I said.”

“Must’ve been a dream. You’re women repellent in a human form.”

You laughed loudly, shaking your head. Eddie looked up with an exaggerated shocked expression. “How dare you!”

Robin shrugged, setting her menu down. A few moments later your waitress came by and took your orders, returning in a few minutes with water and milkshakes.

The bell above the door rang and you and Robin both glanced up. Robin’s face contorted into one of disgust while yours was slightly confused.

“What?” Eddie asked, glancing between you and Robin.

Robin leaned across the table, eyes still locked on the targets. “Okay, don’t make it obvious, but if you look behind you, you’ll see that Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler just walked in together.”

Clearly, Eddie hadn’t heard what Robin said first.

Or he just didn’t care because he instantly turned all the way around from his spot in the booth, looking up above the wooden back part. His chains rattled loudly as he did so, which caught the attention of both Harrington and Wheeler who turned around, making direct eye contact with Eddie.

You instantly sank down in your seat, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment.

Eddie turned around to face you and Robin, nodding his head. “Holy shit it is them!”

Robin practically jumped over the table, shoving his shoulder. “Dude!” she whisper shouted. “Shut up!”

Harrington and Wheeler followed this waitress to their table, passing by yours.

You were still sunk down in your seat, covering your face as if to block out sunlight that wasn’t even present.

The two glanced over at your table in either confusion or disgust, maybe both, who knew.

Robin’s head dropped as Eddie smiled at them, giving them a casual, “Hi,” with a dorky head nod.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Robin grumbled once the two were out of ear shot and at their table.

Eddie shrugged. “Embarrassment is a social construct in which I do not partake in.”

You moved your hand away from your face and sat up straight, glancing over your shoulder to see Harrington and Wheeler paying you and your friends no mind. “We know,” you grumbled, turning back around to face your friends.

Eddie sipped on his milkshake, not a care in the world. “What do you guys think they’re doing hanging out together? Didn’t know Wheeler liked people like Harrington, then again, she does seem like a priss.”

Robin groaned, throwing her head back. “She’s such a priss!” she agreed. “They’re probably together. They’d make a good couple, the priss and the asshole.”

Your expression dropped slightly. “Can we not talk shit about two people that are, like, less than ten feet away from us?”

“Okay, fine, maybe Wheeler doesn’t deserve it,” Eddie agreed. “But Harrington? I don’t give a shit if he can hear me. I can’t stand that guy.”

And you honestly couldn’t either. You had no idea why someone like Nancy Wheeler would be hanging out, or in a relationship, with him.

Then again, you didn’t really care because the thought of Steve Harrington rarely crossed your mind.

He was irrelevant to you as you were irrelevant to him.

“No, no, Nance,” Steve sighed, running his hands down his face. “You’re not listening to me.”

Nancy smiled awkwardly, shifting in her seat. “I am,” she insisted. “You’ve been having weird dreams, so what?”

Steve groaned, leaning closer over the table and lowering his voice as if anyone around could hear him. And maybe that was because the person he was talking about was just a few feet away. “They’re not just any kind of dreams.”

Nancy sighed, sipping on her drink slowly, stalling as she figured out what to say. Once she decided, she removed the mug from her lips, setting it down gently. “Steve, I really don’t understand,” she said honestly. “Why are you so bothered by them?”

“Because it’s not normal,” Steve said with an odd look in his eyes that Nancy couldn’t quite place. “I’ve never once looked at her a day in my life and now she’s all I see when I close my eyes at night.”

Nancy pulled her lips into a tight line as she shrugged. “Maybe you’re just falling for her, I don’t know.”

Steve’s jaw dropped in almost a look of disgust. “Gross!” he exclaimed. “I would never ever, ever, and I mean ever, under any circumstance fall in love with that Henderson girl!”

Nancy’s eyes widened. “Well you’re the one who keeps dreaming about her!”

“I don’t even know if they’re dreams.”

Nancy quirked a brow. “What?”

Steve sucked his teeth, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest as he bit his lower lip, staring at the table. He blinked, tone now coming out far more leveled. “I can’t explain it but it just feels so real. Like…it’s happened before…?”

Nancy stared at Steve a little dumbfounded. To her knowledge, Steve had never once had a romantic encounter with you of all people. Sure, he was ‘King Steve’ of Hawkins High and messed around with nearly every girl on campus, but you? Never. “Sounds like you just have a crush on her.”

“Can you stop?!” Steve almost shouted. “She’s so weird!”

By now, he was lucky that you and your friends had gone outside, because with how loud and defensive he got, you would’ve for sure heard him.

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Weird how? Weird because she doesn’t give a shit what other people think?”

It was halfway true.

For the most part you didn’t care what anyone thought of you, unless of course Eddie was embarrassing you in the middle of the diner.

Steve’s face twisted into one of disgust. “I mean, she’s such a nerd. She likes those weird comic books and Star Wars. She skates and hangs out with Buckley and Munson, who are both in band. Munson plays that weird D&D game so by association I assume she does.”

Nancy stared at Steve extremely unamused as he ranted on and on about how ‘weird’ you were.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, remembering something. “The other day, I saw her bump into a chair and apologize to the chair. Who the hell does that?”

Nancy scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re genuinely so ridiculous,” she sighed. “I mean, you’re totally helpless.”

Steve raised his brows. “I’m helpless?” he repeated as if the words left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“Yeah,” Nancy said as if it were obvious. “You’re so judgy.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not judgy. She’s just…too much,” he decided. “I don’t like too much. I like simple.”

Nancy looked out the window and away from Steve, unable to converse with him much longer before she lost her mind.

Steve followed her line of sight and watched as Eddie and Robin sat on the pavement. Robin was rambling about something as Eddie nodded along.

You were riding your skateboard in the parking lot, landing a kickflip with ease.

Your board rolled down the concrete and stopped in front of Eddie who stood up instantly.

Nancy and Steve couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever he said must’ve been the funniest thing in the world because you bursted out laughing which made him flash you that typical charming smile of his.

Steve narrowed his eyes as he watched you back away with one foot on your board. You gave Eddie a thumbs up and he flashed you one back.

Robin dropped her head as she shook it, already knowing what dumb shit you were about to do.

You pushed yourself off of your board, riding straight towards Eddie at lightning speed.

Within seconds, you were hurdling towards Eddie. Before you crashed into him, he managed to wrap his arms around you, picking you up off of your board as it rammed into the wall of the diner.

You giggled as he spun you around, setting you onto the ground.

Steve slowly turned his head to face Nancy who had a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

Nancy looked over at Steve with the faintest smile. “Don’t you ever wish we had that?” she asked softly.

Steve glanced out the window again. “Had what?”

Now Robin was standing, ruffling Eddie’s hair as he tried to swat her off, making you laugh.

“Real friends,” Nancy finished.

Later that night, you were fresh out of the shower and a book in your lap. You twirled a highlighter in between your fingers as you bit down on the pen between your teeth.

You were in the middle of annotating your book when sound of your door flying open startled you, causing you to jump.

You looked up and your eyes landed on your little brother holding a pizza box half the size of him in his hands. “Hi!” he exclaimed with the brightest smile.

You sighed, relaxing your tense shoulders. “Hey, Dustin,” you breathed out.

Dustin waltzed into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He kicked his shoes off and jumped into your bed with his pizza box.

You watched him intently, slightly annoyed that someone as small as him could make so much noise.

He sat crisscrossed at the edge of your bed and you put your highlighter and pen into your book and closed it, placing it beside you. “I brought you the last slice!” he exclaimed happily, opening the pizza box to reveal a soggy piece of sausage and pepperoni pizza.

He and his friends were in Mike’s basement for ten hours playing D&D, having pizza for dinner. Dustin was thoughtful enough to bring you the last slice.

You gave your little brother a soft smile and accepted the pizza, taking a bite as he placed the box carelessly on the floor.

“Dustin!” you scolded him.

He immediately put his hands up as if he had been caught committing a crime. “I’ll pick it up when I leave!”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “How was your D&D campaign?” you asked curiously.

Dustin rambled on and on about it, talking about a demogorgon, Will, fireballs, cast protection, and a million other things you didn’t necessarily understand much about.

“I don’t get it,” you admitted.

You were a nerd to a certain extent. Your little brother and Eddie were super into Dungeons and Dragons, so everything you knew about the game was due to their rambles. They invited you to play on multiple occasions, and you hadn’t. You weren’t entirely interested in the game, but you loved to hear about their campaigns.

Dustin groaned as his palm met his face. “Basically, the demogorgon, it may or may not have gotten Will. We couldn’t find the dice.”

You hummed and went to take another bite of pizza.

“What about you?” Dustin asked, leaning in. “You go smoke again?”

You froze mid bite, eyes wide. “No!”

Dustin laughed and pointed a finger at you. “Yeah you did, didn’t you?”

You swallowed the food in your mouth and rolled your eyes. “Go to bed. It’s a school night and I'm exhausted,” you yawned.

Dustin jumped out of your bed, grabbing the pizza box off of the floor. “Yeah cause of all that pot you smoked.”

Your eyes widened and you reached for a stuffed bear on your bed and threw it at him, right as he left, shutting the door behind him.

You missed.

You groaned seeing his shoes left carelessly on your bedroom floor.

The next morning, you rode your skateboard down to Hawkins High, your brother following close behind on his bike, making a turn to the middle school.

In the parking lot, you met up with Eddie and Robin before being forced to go your separate ways to get to first period.

You tossed your skateboard onto the ground of the crowded hallway, skating your way towards your locker.

Your eyes widened slightly as you made eye contact with Principal Higgins.

You scrambled off of your skateboard, reaching to pick it up off of the ground. You cleared your throat, scratching the back of your neck as you looked everywhere but at him.

“Henderson,” he said, and immediately you knew you were about to get in trouble again for riding your skateboard in the hallways.

“Yes, sir?” you asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible, though it didn’t matter because he already saw you.

“You want to keep that skateboard?” he asked, a stern look on his face.

You glanced down at your board, random stickers scattered all across the bottom and some random drawing Robin made with a sharpie back in the sixth grade looking right back at you.

“Yeah,” you nodded as you slowly walked past him.

“Keep it off the ground,” he scolded you for probably the millionth time that semester.

You held the skateboard up in the air, the wheels facing the ceiling. “Sure. Yeah," you mumbled, walking past him.

“Wheels up!”

You rose the board higher, not even bothering to look back at him. “Like that?”

“That’s it,” he called after you.

You smirked as you rounded the corner, tossing the board back onto the ground and riding it down the end of the hallway to your locker.

Upon arriving at your locker, you kicked your foot off of the board, leaving one on top. You twisted the code into your lock and opened it up, shrugging your backpack off of your shoulders to empty out some textbooks you wouldn’t need until later.

You zipped up your backpack, slinging it back over your shoulders.

You grabbed your walkman and clipped it to your jeans, headphones dangling around your neck as you shut your locker and kicked your board up, catching it with ease. You turned around to walk away when you had to do a double take.

Because Steve Harrington was across the hallway leaning against his locker staring right at you.

You immediately, on instinct, gave him a dirty look.

He must’ve realized he was staring because he jumped slightly, eyes going wide as he looked away awkwardly.

You rolled your eyes and walked away to your first class.

Unfortunately for Steve, Nancy had seen the entire encounter and wasn’t going to let it go. “I don’t know if you knew this, but you were totally staring at her like a creep,” she teased.

Steve rolled his eyes, turning to face Nancy as she opened up her locker. “I was not staring.”

“Hmm…” she hummed, narrowing her eyes as she clutched her textbooks close to her chest. “You were and she caught you, but okay.”

Steve huffed, watching as students passed down the hallway.

It was kind of hard to not stare at the girl he had been dreaming about cuddling on the couch and watching Star Wars with.

Which was odd because why the hell would he even be watching Star Wars? He hated that nerdy crap.

You went on about your day as usual, sitting in the back of your math class with your headphones glued to your ears as you read a book instead of doing boring algebra, meeting Eddie and Robin in the halls during passing period before heading to your history class and trying not to fall asleep learning about things you already knew about.

When lunch rolled around you were excited to go skate around in the parking lot while Eddie and Robin ate on the hood of his van.

You went to your last two classes, some random elective you found more interesting than it should’ve been and then P.E. where some jock nearly took you out on the basketball court.

After school you stopped by Hawkins Middle to grab your brother, which was when the next odd thing happened to you.

The kids were filing out and you stood by the bike racks, standing on your tippy toes to see through the sea of middle schoolers to find your brother.

Soon enough, your eyes landed on him and his friends, one of them actually not within sight.

Him, Mike, and Lucas made their way over to the bike rack. You smiled and greeted them. “Hey, guys. Say, where’s Will?” you asked.

Lucas shrugged, taking his bike off of the rack. “Didn’t show today.”

Your brows pressed together as you watched Dustin’s little fingers wrap around the handlebars of his bike. “Didn’t show is an understatement,” he said. “The chief came in and started asking us a bunch of questions.”

Your eyes widened, realizing that Will didn’t just not show because of a stomach bug.

He was missing.

“Yeah,” Mike sighed. “We wanted to help look but he told us to stay out of it.”

“He said it wasn’t some ‘Lord of the Rings’ book,” Lucas added.

“He meant ‘The Hobbit’ but, whatever,” Dustin said, earning an eye roll from Lucas.

You pulled your lips into a tight line, trying to find the right words to say. “Well…” you trailed off, clutching your skateboard a little tighter. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe you guys should stay out of it.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes at you, already getting snippy. “If Eddie or Robin went missing, would you stay out of it?”

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, because deep down you knew you’d ignore every red flag and do everything in your power to find them.

“That doesn’t count,” you deflected.

“Yes it does,” Mike sassed. “And you saying that tells me that you would.”

You rolled your eyes. Your little brother’s friends, especially Mike, made you more mad than they should’ve. You didn’t know what it was, maybe it was his sass, but he irked your soul.

Eddie and Robin teased you for having beef with a middle schooler, but they just didn’t get it.

“Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are, Wheeler?” you asked, eyes narrowed at the kid.

Lucas snorted as he laughed, pointing his finger at you. “Sometimes I like you more than Dustin.”

Dustin’s hands shot up. “Hey!”

You smiled softly. “Okay, but all jokes aside, don’t do anything stupid,” you said. “Even though Mike is annoying beyond repair, I’d like for all of you shitheads to be safe. Can you guys do that?”

They all nodded.

Not because they weren’t going to look for Will.

But because while they looked for Will they’d take extra precaution to not get caught up in some deadly shit.

That same night, while you were sprawled out on Eddie’s bed while he played guitar, Robin rummaging through his cassette tapes, Dustin was having conflicts of his own.

A desire to tell you the truth.

He went out with Lucas, Mike, and Dustin to find Will, only to stumble across some oddball girl around their age with a buzz cut in a t-shirt way too large to fit her small frame.

The three boys, and the random girl, were down in Mike’s basement. While the girl was getting changed into dry clothes, Lucas tried to get his friends to wake up and realize the gravity of the situation.

“She’s probably a psycho,” Lucas reasoned with the boys.

Dustin’s eyes lit up in fear. “Like Michael Myers…”

“Exactly!” Lucas exclaimed. “We should’ve never brought her here!” he reasoned.

“So you just wanted to leave her out in that storm?” Mike asked a rhetorical question. Something in his heart was telling him to stay, telling him to protect her at all costs.

She could barely speak and was found right where Will went missing. He wanted to step up and keep her safe.

“Yes!” Lucas replied. “We went out to find Will, not another problem.

Dustin was beginning to side with Lucas. “I think we should tell your mom,” he suggested, thinking that perhaps telling an adult would be the best option.

“I second that,” Lucas nodded, body becoming less tense as someone else in the room finally agreed.

Mike scoffed, becoming more and more agitated. “Who’s crazy now?!”

“How is that crazy?” Lucas challenged.

“Because we weren’t supposed to be out tonight, remember?” Mike reminded his friend.

“So?”

“So, if I tell my mom and she tells your mom…” he trailed off. He turned his head towards Dustin. “…and your mom,” he continued.

“Our houses become Alcatraz,” Lucas finished, realizing that Mike may have had a point.

“Exactly,” Mike said affirmatively. “We’ll never find Will.”

The group was silent for a moment, taking it all in.

Suddenly, a lightbulb popped up above Dustin’s head. “What if we told my sister?” he suggested. “She’s basically an adult, she’ll know what to do.”

Lucas and Mike looked at each other. Lucas shrugged, not seeing it as being a bad idea.

Mike disagreed. “First of all, she’s not an adult. Second, we promised her to stay out of it. What if she snitches because we went out when we weren’t supposed to?”

Dustin gave Mike a dirty look. “She would never do that!” he said, becoming defensive. “On top of that, we technically promised to not to not get caught up in deadly shit, which we didn’t.”

Lucas sucked his teeth. “I don’t know, man,” Lucas sighed. “I’d rather her be mad at us for five seconds than to not tell her. Maybe she’ll know what to do.”

Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open and out walked the mysterious girl with a shaved head that the boys met in the woods.

The boys turned to face her and Dustin immediately walked over. “Should we tell my sister about you?” Dustin asked, making the girl’s eyes widen.

Not because she was completely ignorant to family dynamics, which the boys had assumed because she seemed to not understand most things such as the concept of friendship.

But…

Because of something else.

Dustin’s sister…

She knew more about it than her silence led on.

“Don’t worry, she’s totally cool,” he said. “Except for that one time she chased me around the house with a knife, but we were little kids.”

Mike walked over and smacked Dustin’s arm. “Stop it! You’re scaring her!”

“How?!” Dustin defended himself. “I’m just telling her!”

Mike groaned and rolled his eyes. “We’re not telling your sister,” he stated bluntly. “The more people involved, the worse. Alright?”

Dustin put his hands on the back of his head as he began to pace. “Oh, no,” he breathed out. “I tell my sister everything, I can’t not tell her, Mike!”

“We'll, you're going to have to. She can’t know.”

And so that night, Dustin acted completely out of character, ignoring you at all costs as to not accidentally slip up.

The next morning, Nancy Wheeler and Barbara Holland walked down the halls of Hawkins High, reviewing chemistry flash cards before Steve snatched them out of Barbara’s hands, earning a “Hey!” from Nancy.

They stopped at the middle of the hallway, Tommy H. poking his finger at Barb’s ear. She furrowed her brows and rubbed her hand along the spot he touched.

She was starting to have second thoughts about Nancy hanging out with “the cool kids”. Somehow, her best friend had been dragged into the wrong crowd, becoming friends with Steve, Tommy H., and Carol.

“I think you’ve studied enough, Nance,” Steve said, looking through her flash cards.

“Steve,” she tried to reason.

“I’m telling you, you know, you got this,” he encouraged her. “Don’t worry,” he said, turning his attention to his new friend. “Now, on to more important matters. My dad has left town for a conference and my mom’s gone with him,” he said with a cheeky smile and raised brows. “Because, you know, she doesn’t trust him,” he rambled on.

Steve never actually saw two people be in love. His parents were never really there and he believed they never truly loved each other.

He never wanted that in a relationship. He always wanted something built on trust and true love, something for his kid, or kids, to look up to.

Hence why he, the most popular guy in Hawkins High, was still single.

He was looking for ‘the one’, which was ironic given he had screwed around with nearly every girl on campus.

“So, are you in?” he asked Nancy.

“In for what?” she asked, genuinely confused.

Carol rolled her eyes. “No parents? Big house?” she asked with raised brows.

Then, it hit Nancy. “A party?” she mumbled.

“Ding ding ding!”

“It’s…Tuesday…” Nancy trailed off.

She wasn’t used to this. The spontaneous acts, the parties, the sneaking around. That wasn’t Nancy Wheeler.

“Oh, my God! It’s Tuesday!” Tommy H. mocked her.

Steve hit Tommy H. in the chest, but his snickering continued.

“Come on,” Steve went on. “It’ll be low key. It’ll just be us. What do you say? Are you in or are you out?”

“Umm…” Nancy trailed off, pulling her textbooks closer to her chest.

Before she could respond, Carol spoke up. “Oh, God,” she grumbled, eyeing someone who had just walked in up and down. “Look.”

The group turned their heads.

“Oh, God, that’s depressing,” Steve added, looking straight ahead.

Jonathan Byers was hanging up Will’s missing poster on the bulletin board.

Nancy watched with a soft expression. She couldn’t imagine what it could be like to be in Johnathan’s shoes. Missing brother and no leads, as far as most people knew. “Should we say something?” she suggested.

Right before Carol went to speak, their eyes landed on the front door again.

Your backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, your hand holding the strap in place. In your other arm was your skateboard. Your walkman was attached to your hip, your headphones blasting a random song as you hummed along.

You halted, looking over at Jonathan who was hanging up the missing poster.

You only spoke to him on the rare occasion that you crossed paths while Will and Dustin were hanging out at the Wheeler house.

Now would be the time to talk.

Your expression softened. Your fingers hit the pause button on your walkman as you put your headphones around your neck. “Hey,” you said.

The boy turned around and looked at you with wide eyes, almost shocked that you were speaking to him. “Hey,” he replied, gripping onto the side of his bag.

You swallowed hard, finding the words to say. “I’m…I’m really sorry,” you apologized. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

Jonathan nodded, eyes never meeting yours. He looked down at his shoes. “Yeah…” he muttered.

Your heart ached. “If you ever need anything, I’m here,” you shrugged, nodding affirmatively.

While you couldn’t make Will magically come back and solve all of Jonathan’s problems, you could be a shoulder for him to lean on for support.

His eyes finally met yours and he gave you a small smile. “Thank you.”

You rocked back on your heels awkwardly, wanting to say more, but running out of things to say.

Oddly enough, he broke the silence first. “What are you listening to?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Your headphones,” he said, pointing at them.

Right.

Duh.

Idiot.

“Oh!” you laughed awkwardly, reaching for them as if they weren’t there.

As if it were fabricated in his mind.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Uhm, Cydni Lauper. Time After Time.”

Jonathan hummed with a small nod. “Is that your favorite song?” he asked curiously.

You smiled like a dork as you nodded. “Yeah.”

You weren’t sure what it was, but there was just something about the song that drew you in. It felt oddly familiar and reminded you of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You supposed it was the Cyndi Lauper effect.

“What do you listen to?” you asked.

Jonathan blinked, his lips curving upward. “Oh, uh…usually the same stuff these days. I like the Clash.”

Your eyes lit up. “No way, me too!”

Jonathan’s smile grew. “What?!” he exclaimed, practically jumping out of his shoes. “I- I love The Clash!”

“What’s your favorite song?” you asked curiously.

He told you, followed by naming nearly every single song they released, clearly unable to just pick one, which made you laugh.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, the popular kids were staring you both down.

Carol fake gagged. “Of course they’re talking.”

“They’re probably banging,” Tommy H. joked.

Steve snorted, earning a stern look from Nancy, making him shrug. “It was funny,” he said.

Nancy shook her head with an eye roll, walking away, Barbra following. She saw something in Steve most people didn’t.

He was actually a good guy beneath his popular jock persona.

But it was times like that she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be around him.

Not to mention, the way he spoke about you at the diner. She didn’t know you very well, but she never once went out of her way to speak poorly of you.

She also thought you were a little weird, but she never said anything. Most people were odd anyway. She just figured you two wouldn’t make the best of friends.

You walked into your last period, physics, tossing your skateboard and bag to the ground. You pulled out a pencil and a notebook, ready to take notes.

As you were opening your notebook, Steve Harrington walked in, taking his usual seat in the desk beside you.

You’d been seated by each other the entire semester thus far and never spoke a word.

Perhaps you assumed he was a douche bag like the rest of his friends.

Perhaps he assumed you were weird like the rest of your friends.

Regardless, a word was never spoken.

Not until today.

Your psychics teacher was perched on the edge of his desk with a bright smile on his face. As soon as the bell rang, he began his lecture.

“As we all know, we’ve been going through these chapters fairly quickly,” he began. “We’ve covered many important topics so far and now it’s time to show what you know with a group project.”

The classroom was full of groans and hushed whispers.

Everyone dreaded projects, especially group ones.

You subconsciously began to look around the room, wondering who could be in your group. You didn’t necessarily know anyone in your class.

Your teacher got the class to quiet down, continuing with instructions. “Groups will simply be you and a partner. Your task is to design and build an experiment demonstrating one physics principle that we’ve studied this semester and it’ll be due as your final. You must demonstrate a measurable physics phenomenon, create a hypothesis, collect your experimental data, build your experiment, and present what you find at our end of the year science fair.”

The class began to groan loudly, already not wanting to participate, though, your interest was immediately sparked, a million ideas already running through your genius brain.

Someone in the back raised their hand, the teacher calling on them. “I’m lost,” they admitted, numerous students nodding along. “What are we supposed to make?”

“Good question,” your teacher said. “I’m encouraging everyone to get as creative as possible, however I’m expecting to get projects such as laser experiments, electromagnets, pendulums, solar ovens, things of that nature.”

Your teacher climbed off the desk, grabbing a stack of papers and beginning to pass them out. “There’s more instructions on your packet here, as well as your groups. I would personally spend this class period reviewing instructions with your partner, deciding when to work on it outside of class, and maybe coming up with a few ideas on what to create. I’d also ask any questions now if you have them.”

He dropped a packet onto your desk and you flipped through the pages, ending on the last page where the groups were listed.

You found your name and your heart dropped when you found the second name.

You and Steve Harrington were paired together.

You dropped your head down, eyes shut. “Lord, if you can hear me, please strike me down now,” you muttered to yourself.

Beside you, Steve’s brows were pressed together as he skimmed the pages, not understanding a single thing. He ended up on the last page and froze when he saw you two were paired together. “Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me,” he groaned.

You side eyed him as he looked over to you, eyes narrowed.

You shot up out of your seat, him following suit.

You both made your way up to the front of the classroom, making your way to your teacher’s desk. Immediately, you both started speaking over one another.

“Mr. Parker, I can’t-”

“This just isn’t going to work-”

“He doesn’t even listen!”

“She’s just going to bully me the whole time-”

“He’s an idiot!”

“She’s the weirdest person I’ve met!”

“I’d rather work alone-”

“Can I just have a new partner?”

Mr. Parker’s eyes were wide as he looked between the two of you. “Guys, guys,” he said, getting you both to stop talking. “One at a time, I don’t understand.”

“I can’t work with him,” you spoke up instantly.

Mr. Parker raised his brows. “Why?”

You scoffed. “What do you mean why? Look at him,” you said, motioning a hand to him.

“What the hell?!” Steve exclaimed. “You know what, I don’t want to work with you!” he fired back.

“Good because I don’t want to work with you either!”

“Okay,” Mr. Parker sighed, lifting his hand up to get you and Steve to stop. “Let’s not be cruel to one another, alright?”

“He’s an idiot,” you deadpanned. “I can’t put up with that, Mr. Parker.”

Mr. Parker pulled his lips into a tight line. “He’s not an idiot-”

“He is and you know it,” you interrupted. “Please, tell me, what’s his grade in the class?”

Mr. Parker gave Steve a sheepish look as the poor boy’s shoulder’s slouched. “Look,” Mr. Parker sighed. “I split people up so that they’ll succeed. If I were to put him with another student, I’m afraid it wouldn’t do as well. I want you all to pass the class and you’re my brightest student, Henderson. I mean, you’re in a class full of juniors as a sophomore. I think Harrington could learn a lot from working with you.”

You groaned. “No, please, Mr. Parker,” you begged. "You're my favorite teacher, don’t do this to me.”

Mr. Parker gave you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I think you’ll find a lot of value in this.”

You stared at him for a moment, taking a deep breath. You shook your head slowly. “I’m disappointed in you,” you grumbled before turning on your heel to go back to your desk.

“That’s your favorite student?” Steve deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest.

Mr. Parker smiled with a shrug. “Well maybe if you weren’t such an asshole, you’d find her much more pleasant.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Me? An asshole?”

He wasn’t even shocked that his own teacher called him an asshole. He was the cooler teacher on campus, awfully young too. He had just turned twenty three a few weeks ago and every student on campus adored him.

Mr. Parker nodded. “You. An asshole.”

“How? She’s the one calling me an idiot!”

Mr. Parker hummed. “Well…you kind of are, but…”

“Dude!”

“I’m joking!” Mr. Parker laughed, leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the wooden desk. “Want my advice?” “Get a new partner?” Steve asked with hope.

“No,” Mr. Parker chuckled. “Be nice.”

Steve’s face twisted into disgust. “Be nice?” he repeated, earning a nod from his teacher. “She’s so weird,” he grimaced. “Like, totally, unusually weird.”

“Funny. Weird nerd is passing the class while popular jock is failing miserably.”

Steve ran a hand down his face. “Why does she have to be my partner? You can’t pair me up with another one of these nerds?”

Mr. Parker hummed and tapped his chin in a fake thought. “Uh…No. I like seeing you and Henderson suffer."

Steve groaned and threw his head back. “You’re a terrible teacher. You might just be an even worse assistant coach.”

Mr. Parker gasped, clutching his chest. “What the hell?! You’re benched Harrington!”

Steve rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk, knowing damn well he wasn’t benched. He was a starter and no one could take that away from him.

At least not yet.

He sighed as he plopped down in his seat, glancing over at you with a confused look.

You had one foot in the chair you were sitting on, the other firmly on the ground as you scribbled in your grid notebook. You completely ignored the fact that Steve was sitting beside you.

Steve sat up in his seat, looking over to see a grid paper with a sketch of…something, he didn’t know what the hell it was.

You had some bullet points on the side and now it looked like you were sketching some kind of analog meter.

“Uh…” Steve finally spoke up, reaching for his pen and spinning it around in between his fingers. “Care to explain what you're doing?”

You didn’t look up, pencil still dragging led along the paper. “Something.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffed. “Couldn’t have ever guessed that,” he said sarcastically.

“Even if I told you what I was doing,” you began, eyes still fixated on what you were scribbling. “You wouldn’t comprehend what I was telling you.”

“Try me,” Steve challenged.

“Sketching out a variable oscillator with a tuning dial that continuously changes frequency,” you said, still not looking up.

Steve blinked. “Visible what now?”

You sighed, putting your pencil down and finally looking up at him. “Variable oscillator,” you corrected.

Steve nodded. “Right. Yeah. I- I know what that is, yeah.”

You raised your brows as you nodded slowly, not believing him. “For sure.”

“Do you have a prediction?” he asked.

“Hypothesis,” you corrected.

“Yeah. That.”

You sighed, already growing annoyed. “Certain frequencies can produce more robust resonance in conductive materials and could potentially have the ability to amplify weaker electromagnetic signals.”

Steve blinked. “Oh…yeah. I get it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Uh huh.”

Steve shifted awkwardly, clicking his pen a few times. “So…” he trailed off. “Like…what exactly are we doing?”

You tilted your head slightly. “I thought you understood?”

“Uh, I do,” Steve said as if it were obvious. “I just, you know, wanna make sure that we’re all on the same page here,” he said, shifting in his seat awkwardly.

You laughed, shaking your head. “A variable oscillator is basically a machine that creates a signal that repeats, but you can alter how fast it does. It can be used in music and all kinds of technology, but I’m thinking for the sake of the project, we use a radio as it’s far more simple,” you explained. “So in this case, the variable oscillator changes the frequency as you tune the radio into different stations.”

Steve nodded along. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpanned, earning a glare from Steve. “Anyway, we need to get supplies and get started as soon as possible to make sure everything’s good to go before the science fair. I have some stuff at home I think we can use, but I don’t have everything, so I made a list,” you said, turning your notebook so he could see.”

Steve’s eyes skimmed over the page. “What the hell,” he muttered, eyes looking up at you. “How do you just know what materials you need to build this thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean, this is just the main stuff that I can think of off the top of my head. I’m probably gonna swing by the library and see what books I can find on radio engineering to see what else we need.”

Steve raised his brows, slightly impressed by you.

He knew you were a nerd, but now he was thinking you were a genius.

He nodded along. “Sounds good. So, uh, when do you want to meet up?”

You hummed. “I guess tonight? After school you go pick this stuff up, I’ll gather stuff from my house and some books from the library?”

Steve sucked his teeth, looking down at the ground. “You see, I totally would but my friends are coming over tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, deciding to just do everything yourself. “Okay, I’ll just do it myself then.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve reasoned. “We could meet up earlier at my place and then you could stay with us after and work on it by yourself,” he offered.

Your nose scrunched as you shook your head. “Hard pass,” you said dryly, making his face contort into one of confusion. “You know, telling me to stay at your house while all your friends are over to work on something you should also be contributing to is ridiculously ignorant.”

Steve threw a hand up. “How is that ignorant? I’m being considerate and letting you stay to finish the project.”

You raised your brows in disbelief. You couldn’t fathom the nerve of this guy. As much as you’d totally want to stay and do work alone while his friends were over, Mrs. Wheeler invited you and Dustin, as well as Mike and Lucas, over for dinner. “You really are an idiot,” you scoffed. “And for the record, you cannot build what we’re making in one night, dingus.”

Steve put his hands up in defense. “Okay, nerd.”

You rolled your eyes for probably the twentieth time that day and grabbed all your stuff, notebook, pencil, backpack, and skateboard.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked.

“Away from you,” you snapped.

“Okay,” he teased with a smile as you walked towards Mr. Parker’s desk to show him your idea. “My house. Five. Don’t be late.”

You flashed him a sarcastic smile and thumbs up. A chair slid across the ground as you pulled it up to Mr. Parker’s desk, tossing all your stuff down.

You smiled, turning your notebook around to show him. “Check this out.”

Mr. Parker smirked, leaning over his desk to look into your notebook. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Immediately, he was impressed, not even batting an eye at your ambition.

Within the confines of the lab walls, the lights buzzed in a way that would be unsettling to most, but it was oddly familiar to the girl with a shaved head.

Her knees were pulled to her chest as she sat in the cold metal chair, looking down at a photograph on the metal table.

A man, much older than her, someone she learned to refer to as Papa, rested a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to find her,” he explained, looking down at the picture.

A picture of a baby girl, newborn at that.

“She would be much older now,” the man explained. “A teenager. Do you think you can handle it, Eleven?”

Eleven stared down at the picture. “Bad?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “No, no,” he clarified. “She’s just…been missing for years. We need to find her and bring her back.”

Eleven blinked, eyes still fixated on the baby. “Here?”

“Exactly,” he nodded. “We need to bring her back home. So can you find her?”

Eleven swallowed before nodding and as soon as she did so, she was attached to machines, a blindfold covering her eyes as she searched for the missing person.

Within seconds, she entered the Void.

Muffled talking could be heard from around her as she slowly opened her eyes.

In the distance, someone was hanging upside down off of a bed, music playing softly from a radio. An X-Men comic was covering their face.

Her feet slowly carried her closer to her bed, and the closer she got, the more she could make out the faint hums of the person on the bed.

The polish on their nails were chipped, rings wrapped around their fingers as it drummed against the pages to the beat of the song.

Just then, the sound of a door flying open against the hinges made Eleven gasp.

Suddenly, a boy with curly hair entered the scene, slamming the door shut and running before jumping on top of the bed.

“Dustin!” the person lectured, dropping the comic and sitting up straight.

The boy, now known to Eleven as Dustin, smiled. “Sorry,” he apologized, your name falling from his lips right after.

You rolled your eyes, moving to sit more comfortably. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop barging in here? Can you knock?” you lectured.

Dustin shrugged. “Nothing bad has ever happened. I mean, you’re in high school now and still sleep with stuffed animals,” he said, picking up a little teddy bear off of your bed.

You groaned, plopping down on your back. “I hate high school,” you muttered. “Being a freshman sucks.”

Dustin giggled. “But you’re so cool now! I can’t wait to go to high school!”

You shrugged. “It’s only cool if you’re popular,” you said. “Anyway, what are you doing in here? What do you want?”

“Oh!” Dustin exclaimed. “I wanted to tell you about the insane campaign we had today at Mike’s! We ended up right back where we started!”

You raised a brow, still lying on your back, but turning your head to face him properly. “What?”

“I know!” Dustin said excitedly. “Our party ended up in a time loop, so now we have to go through everything all over again.”

“That’s stupid,” you chuckled, turning your head to look back up at the ceiling.

Dustin shook his head adamantly. “Nuh huh. Do you realize how cool that is? Do you realize how many possibilities that opens for us?”

You shrugged. “Okay, but like, what if it just loops again?” you asked. “How do you get out of the loop?”

“Well, we have new perspectives and knowledge, so we could get it right this time and break the loop,” Dustin explained.

You pursed your lips in thought. “Still stupid.”

Dustin scoffed, throwing his hand up. “How is that stupid?!”

“Is that not going to tell the same exact story, but now you make all the right decisions so nothing bad ever happens? That’s, like, ridiculous plot armor, dude.”

“That’s not true,” Dustin disagreed. “If we go down a new route, new information occurs. A new story is told, but sure the basis of the story is the same.” Dustin leaned back to lie down beside you. “I see this as an absolute win.”

Eleven stood there in shock as she watched the girl she was tasked to find.

You seemed…

To be everything she wanted.

Free.

Happy.

A real human being with a life outside of the confines of a lab whose walls hummed too loudly with lights that strained the eyes.

And that was the day she told her first lie.

She said she hadn’t found you when she knew exactly where you were.

It's time to vote!

Remember, all decisions will impact the story!

It will strengthen certain friendship dynamics, relationship dynamics, and even shape you, the reader!

All actions will have consequences, whether that be positive, negative, or both. In some chapters, there will be hints at what might occur if you chose to go down a certain route, so pay close attention!

Choose wisely!

Also, for all polls, the choices that don't win will be featured in a non-cannon, 'What If...? chapter, where I'II briefly explain what impact that decision would've made on the story.

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Chapter 39 - ??? (Coming soon...)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Eleven when Dustin mentioned his sister that she totally didn’t find in the Void a year ago because Brenner is totally not looking for her

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Eddie is sunk into the couch beside you, one leg folded beneath him and the other outstretched in front of him. You're tucked up into his side and his arm is slung along the back of the couch behind you. The TV's droning on loudly, trying to keep Eddie's attention— which it is doing much more successfully than it’s keeping yours. His fingers brush against your shoulder back and forth gently when he sighs. "You hear that?"

You shake your head, not even bothering to open your eyes. "I don't hear anything." 

He chuckles, turning to peek over at the hallway. "That's the problem."

You laugh softly, shifting underneath the blanket he had pulled over you about twenty minutes ago. "They're fine."

"Last time they were this quiet, we had to call plumbers." You roll your eyes at his words, but you're smiling. Then you hear a creak down the hall, followed by loud whispering and a giggle that gets shushed. Eddie leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes. "Called it." 

Roan comes out first, followed by her older sister. "We made stuff." Alice says happily, clutching a large, stiff paper against her chest.

Eddie sits up, jostling you slightly until you sit up. "Oh shit." He chuckles. "Is this a gallery opening? Should I get dressed up?"

Roan rolls her eyes, just like you would, climbing up onto the furniture with you. "You're fine, daddy."

Alice steps closer to the couch, "this one's mine." 

You take the paper, smoothing it over your lap. It's bright, painted in long, thick brushstrokes. There's a big house you assume is yours and four figures out front. One is taller than the rest, with wild brown hair all around his head. 

Eddie leans, peering over your shoulder. "Why do I look like I'm seven feet tall?"

"Because you are tall." Alice shrugs.

Eddie goes to object, you nudge his side. Then you look at your daughter and smile, "Tater, it's very beautiful." 

She softens, shifting over to sit in your lap. "We had to paint somewhere that makes us feel happy." 

Roan, who is practically vibrating from her perch on the couch arm, suddenly shoves something into Eddie's hands. "I made you something." 

Eddie raises his brows and looks down at it. The dish is small, the edges are lumpy, it's painted a deep red and has fingerprints pressed into the sides of a clay, fired into permanency. He turns it over carefully, "what is this?" He asks.

"It's an ashtray." Roan smiles, proudly. "For your cigarettes." 

Eddie glances at you holding Alice and then back down at the small lumpy dish in his hand. He runs his thumb along the pinch pot indents. "Ro." He says, his voice softer now, "this is really badass." 

Her whole face lights up, "you like it?"

"I love it." He grins.

"There's a spot right there, so it doesn't roll!" Roan explains, pointing to a deep grove on the rim. 

Eddie just nods as he listens, letting his eyes scan over the red paint. "Did you sign it?"

She just nods and flips the dish, showing the big uppercase, R. MUNSON, scratched into the unpainted bottom. He smiles and nods, wrapping his arm around Roan as he pushes himself up to stand. He chuckles and jerks his head towards the hallway. "Let’s go put this somewhere safe." 

You follow them down the hall with Alice, rubbing her back as you clutch her painting in your own hands. Roan keeps talking about everything— the kiln, the glaze to paint with, and about how hers was the best one in the entire class.

Eddie lets you all into your bedroom, clicking the lamp on his side of the bed on. The room lights up in a soft and warm glow. Holding Roan on his hip, he clears a space on the nighstand, pushing his lighter out of the way. Then he places the ashtray down right beside that lamp. Right where he reaches every single night. "There." He says softly. 

Roan grins. "That's where you're gonna keep it?!" 

"Yeah." He nods. "So I can use it before bed." 

Alice frowns, leaning against you. "Mine can't go on the nightstand." 

"That's because yours is a painting, Tater." He says, already opening the drawer, tugging out a roll of tape. He tears off a strip and smiles, reaching for the painting in your hand that he hangs right above his side of the bed. "There. Now I've got both of my girls art right with me." 

The first time he’d ever laid eyes on one had been at a friend’s house. He’d been invited to stay the night, eat an actual homemade dinner for once, and, if only for an evening, pretend he came from a normal, loving family instead of a broken one.

The memory itself was hazy.

He remembered Mrs. Miller standing in the kitchen, bowls, pans, and vegetables scattered across the countertops while she prepared a meal he’d long since forgotten.

“It’s a type of squash,” she had explained after Eddie had asked about the strange green vegetable in her hand.

Even at fifteen, Eddie hadn’t been ashamed to admit that Mrs. Miller was prettier — codeword for hotter — than most of the other moms he’d met. She didn’t smoke, took impeccable care of her skin, and always did her makeup in a way that perfectly suited her face.

Unfortunately, that was about where his ability to think like a respectable human being ended.

Because to the mind of a perpetually hormonal fifteen year old boy, watching her perfectly manicured fingers curl around a long, thick zucchini while she carefully rinsed it beneath the tap had been enough to send his imagination into a spectacular downward spiral.

Now, nearly eight years later, that long-forgotten memory chose the absolute worse moment to resurface as you dragged him to the farmers market for the first time since you’d started dating.

It was perverse, Eddie knew that.

But he couldn’t stop his traitorous brain for imagining you sprawled across his bed while he—

“So, I was thinking,” you murmured as you picked up a zucchini, turning it over in your hands to inspect every side before placing it back and reaching for another, “maybe we could try that new recipe I told you about?”

“Mm-hm.”

Eddie’s dark brown eyes remained fixed on your hands.

Perfectly manicured. Your nails were painted almost the exact shade Mrs. Miller had been that day all those years ago. The cheap ring he’d won for you at the fair a few weeks earlier rested neatly around your ring finger, glinting softly beneath the morning sun while it occupied the place of the real one he hoped to give you someday.

He barely registered a word you were saying.

His mind was too busy replaying the same crude, intrusive fantasy his fifteen year old self had invented nearly a decade ago — only now, instead of Mrs. Miller, it was you.

If he were being honest with himself, it wasn’t fair — not to you, anyway. The way his brain so effortlessly pieced together those vulgar little fantasies featuring you, him, and the stupid, utterly tasteless vegetable still resting in your hands.

It didn’t help that you put the one in your hand back and picked up another — longer, thicker at one end than the last.

Eddie was already going to Hell anyway. What was one more reason to add to the ever-growing list?

“What do you think?”

“About what, babe?”

“Should we take one or two?” you asked absentmindedly, leaning over the crate to inspect the rest.

When no answer came, you finally tore your attention away from the vegetables.

Eddie stood frozen. His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes still hopelessly glued to your hands as a bead of sweat rolled from beneath his bangs, tracing the curve of his cheek before disappearing beneath his jaw.

“Eds?” you asked, brows knitting together. “Are you okay?”

It took his brain a second too long to catch up.

“W-what?” Eddie ignored the crack in his voice, tugging at the collar of his shirt as he forced out a nervous laugh. “I’m fine. Perfect. Why?”

“Because you’re being…” You trailed off, lowering your hands to rest against the edge of the wooden crate. “We can make something else if you don’t wanna try this recipe.”

“No!”

Your head jerked back slightly at how quickly the word flew out of his mouth, catching you completely off guard.

“…No?”

“No,” he corrected a little too quickly. “No, it’s fine. I wanna… try it.” He nodded to himself, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. “Sounds great.”

“…Okay.”

You returned the hesitant nod before turning back to the display.

“What about this one?” you asked, lifting another zucchini in his direction. “Does this one look good to you?”

If Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn you were actively trying to send him into cardiac arrest. The innocent, expectant look I your eyes while you waited for his opinion. Your pretty fingers curled around the vegetable, long, thick, and somehow capable of short-circuiting every functioning part of his brain.

Eddie swallowed hard, wetting his lips as he desperately tried to shove away the increasingly inappropriate images his imagination insisted on conjuring — you lying beneath him, gasping for air and whimpering for more while he had his way with you.

A strained chuckle slipped past his lips.

His ringed hand found the back of his neck, blunt nails scratching absentmindedly at the roots of his curls.

“Y-yeah,” he managed. “Looks great, sweetheart.”

You studied him for another second, confusion flickering across your face before deciding not to question it.

Turning to the vendor with a polite smile, you held up your selection.

“Just this one, please.”

Eddie had been unusually quiet for the rest of the time the two of you wandered through the farmers market, little more than the occasional mm-hm’s or sure, sweetheart slipping past his lips whenever you asked or said something.

You’d tried more than once to get some sort of reaction out of him, but the drive back to the trailer had been much the same — just the wind howling through the cracked windows and the faint buzz of the radio filling the silence between you.

By the time he’d parked the van in its usual spot outside the trailer, you’d long since given up trying to figure out what had gotten into him for him to be acting this weird, quiet, fidgety and worried.

A deep sigh escaped him as he switched off the ignition with a flick of his wrist. Before you could stop him, his free hand had already stolen the plastic grocery bags from yours while the other pushed the driver’s door open.

You quietly followed him inside, slipping your shoes off beside the front door before making a beeline for his bedroom.

It had been one of the hottest summers you’d ever lived through, and there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were staying in the sticky clothes you’d worn to the farmers market.

Which only made Eddie’s already impossible situation infinitely worse when you emerged a few minutes later wearing nothing but one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing your thighs while your panties peeked out beneath it.

He stood frozen in the kitchen. One hand braced against the tiled countertop while the other lifted a cold bottle of beer to his lips in long, desperate swallows.

The bottle stopped halfway there when you leaned up to press a quick kiss against his cheek before reaching for the grocery bags beside him.

His heart hammered violently against his ribs as he turned just enough to watch you carry everything over to the sink.

While you hummed softly — like you always did whenever you cooked — you began unpacking the bags, absentmindedly placing the fresh produce into the sink before turning on the tap to rinse it all.

Eddie’s dark brown eyes immediately locked onto your hands — small, perfectly manicured, pretty. They curled effortlessly around the vegetables as you washed them beneath the running water.

And suddenly he was fifteen years old all over again.

He barely noticed the quiet, strangled sound that escaped him, nor the way his eyebrows pinched together as though he’d physically hurt himself.

You noticed, though.

“Eds…” you began gently, immediately turning to face him. “I’m serious. What’s wrong?”

Your voice sounded distant somehow, nearly drowned out by the frantic pounding of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears while his gaze stubbornly refused to leave your hands.

“N-nothing,” he managed after several painfully long seconds.

“Bullshit.”

You set the zucchini back on the counter beside the rest of the freshly washed vegetables before turning to face him completely.

“You’ve been acting weird all day.”

A quiet sigh escaped you as you leaned back against the counter, folding your arms across your chest. Concern pulled your eyebrows together while your eyes carefully searched his face.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

That finally earned a quiet, humourless laugh from Eddie, snapping him out of whatever miserable and sticky spiral his brain had trapped him in for the last hour.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lowered his eyes to the floor and forced another long swallow of beer down his throat.

“Not this, sweetheart.”

The crease between your eyebrows only deepened at the three little words.

“Is it…” You swallowed hard, your own gaze falling to the floor. “Did I do something? Did I say something to upset you?”

“What?” Eddie’s head snapped up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Are you crazy? No.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed with another dry swallow as he set the beer bottle down on the counter.

“You haven’t done anything, sweetheart.”

“Are you sure?” you asked quietly. “‘Cause you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for almost two hours now.”

Heat immediately flooded Eddie’s ears, spreading across his cheeks and down his neck the longer he entertained the idea of telling you what had been tormenting him since the farmers market.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s just—”

When he finally opened his eyes again, he found you exactly where you’d been moments earlier, staring back at him with nothing but quiet concern and patient expectation.

His right eye twitched, his lips pursing as he thought — very hard — about whether putting your relationship on the line was worth dropping a bomb like this.

Not to be dramatic, or anything.

“This is gonna sound so unbelievably fucked up.” He rubbed a hand down his face with a groan. “And I just… don’t want you to think differently about me.”

“I’m not gonna think differently about you, Eds.” You offered him a small, reassuring smile. “I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.”

“Yeah, but this…” A humourless laugh escaped him before dissolving into a sigh.

His eyes drifted to the half-forgotten beer bottle sitting on the counter. Curling his fingers around its neck, he brought it back to his lips for another long, desperate sip while carefully choosing the words he was about to say.

“Remember Mrs. Miller?”

“Uh… That’s Ryan’s mom, right?” you asked, the concern in your eyes slowly giving way to confusion.

“…Yeah.”

The heavy silver rings on his fingers clinked softly against the glass as he adjusted his grip before taking another sip.

Then he fell silent again, simply blinking at you and silently begging — praying — that you’d somehow learn how to read his mind before he had to embarrass himself any further.

“I was, uh… fifteen.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your eyebrows immediately knitting together as your imagination sprinted to places it absolutely shouldn’t have.

“Did— Jesus Christ, Eddie…” Your face paled. “Did she—”

“I saw her washing a zucchini,” he blurted, cutting both you and your rapidly spiralling thoughts off before they could go any further.

Your mouth fell open before slowly closing again, confusion quickly replacing the sick feeling that had settled in the pit of your stomach only half a second earlier.

“…What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded weakly, biting down on his bottom lip. “Yeah. That’s… that’s it.”

Your gaze flickered from Eddie to the zucchini resting beside the sink, then back at him again.

“I am so confused…”

And then it clicked.

Really, it should’ve been obvious.

The awkward silence. The fidgeting. The way he’d barely looked you in the eye all morning.

It was the exact same way Eddie got whenever he was hopelessly turned on in public and trying — usually unsuccessfully — to pretend he wasn’t.

Your eyebrows shot up, your mouth slowly falling into a tiny, stunned circle.

“Dude...” you breathed, eyes widening. “Did the zucchini—”

“Make me horny?” Eddie finished miserably, his milky cheeks burning a furious shade of red. His hand flew to scratch at his chin as he looked anywhere but at you. “Yeah. Well… not so much the zucchini as the thought of—”

He immediately cut himself off, his eyes widening in horror as the heat spread from his cheeks down his neck and across his chest until he was fairly certain his entire body had burst into flames.

Honestly, considering the conversation the two of you were having in his childhood kitchen, spontaneous combustion would’ve been a preferable outcome. It certainly sounded quicker than surviving whatever the fuck was currently happening.

“The thought of what?” you asked quietly.

“Oh, you know.” He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes until tiny bursts of colourful galaxies exploded behind his eyelids. “Please, sweetheart. Don’t make me say it out loud.”

Somewhere between the cupboard and the fridge, the small clock continued ticking, each second growing louder and louder in Eddie’s ears while his stomach slowly sank into the abyss.

He could’ve sworn the kitchen had shrunk beneath your stare. The deafening silence hanging between the two of you only made the tiny room feel even more claustrophobic.

You, on the other hand, were traying to process… well, all of it.

There was something about the confession that made your head spin. Maybe it was the way Eddie refused to meet your eyes, shame and lingering arousal warring across his flushed face whenever his gaze darted to literally anything else. Or maybe it was the undeniably taboo image he’d accidentally planted in your head — a tiny seed of Japanese knotweed, invasive and seemingly impossible to get rid of no matter how hard you tried.

“Please don’t break up with me,” Eddie mumbled suddenly, the word tumbling out so quickly they were almost impossible to make out.

You blinked at him.

“What?” A small, disbelieving laugh escaped you as you shook your head. “Eddie, slow down. I’m not breaking up with you.” Your eyebrows knitted together at the ridiculous thing he’d just said. “What the hell?”

“You’re… not?”

He sounded so unbelievably small when he asked it, like he’d genuinely convinced himself you were about to break up with him over something so ridiculously insignificant.

Incredibly weird, yes. But insignificant nonetheless.

You pushed yourself away from the sink and crossed the small kitchen until you were standing right in front of him. Your hand rose to cradle his cheek, your thumb brushing slow, comforting circles over the skin that had long since turned a deep shade of red.

“Of course not, silly.” You smiled softly. “You being weird if one of the may things I love about you.”

“Even when I…” Eddie sighed, pursing his lips. “You know.”

“Imagined fucking me silly with a zucchini, of all things?” you finished for him, unable to stop the quiet laugh that escaped.

The two of you simply looked at each other for a long moment, neither willing to be the first to break the silence that had settled between you.

Then, despite your best efforts, a proper, belly-aching laugh bubbled out of your chest — not mocking, just pure, disbelieving amusement.

“You’ve been freaking out all day over a zucchini,” you managed between laughs.

Eddie groaned loudly, accidentally knocking your hand away as he dragged both palms down his face.

“I know,” he groaned, drawing the words out in misery.

You laughed again, softer this time, before slipping your arms loosely around his waist.

“I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

“There’s no need to be, baby,” you whispered.

His arms hesitantly wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest.

Against his better judgement, though, his eyes drifted back to the godforsaken zucchini still sitting on the counter. Just lying there, mocking him.

You followed his gaze almost absentmindedly, and the conversation replayed itself before you could stop it.

Mrs. Miller, his first serious crush. The way he’d stared at your hands at the farmers market. The images he’d so reluctantly admitted had been running through his mind all afternoon.

Your smile slowly faded.

“Oh.”

Eddie frowned at the quiet sound.

“What?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, your eyes lingered on the zucchini just a little too long.

Your cheeks slowly warmed as your own imagination helpfully recreated everything Eddie had just confessed to.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your hand immediately flew up to cover your face as you tore your eyes away from the counter, while Eddie’s gaze darted between you and the offending vegetable.

And then realisation finally dawned, and his pupils widened.

“Did you just–”

“Shut up,” you cut in immediately.

The words barely left your mouth before a strangled scoff escaped him, quickly dissolving into genuine laughter. Not the awkward, nervous chuckles he’d been forcing out for the last ten minutes.

A real laugh. The kind that bent him against the kitchen counter while tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon!” you protested, unable to hide your own smile. “This isn’t funny!”

“It absolutely is, sweetheart,” he managed between laughs, tightening his arms around your waist. “Here I was, panicking all day while you…” He shook his head in disbelief, an impossibly smug grin spreading across his face. “You’re just as bad as me.”

“No, I’m not,” you argued, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. “This is entirely your fault.”

Finally getting his laughter under control, Eddie looked down at you with a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So,” he began innocently, “the idea of me fucking you silly with a zucchini doesn’t turn you on?”

Instead of answering, you swallowed hard and immediately tried to slip out of his arms.

Unfortunately for you, Eddie had recovered enough to anticipate the escape. His grip tightened around  your waist just enough to keep you exactly where you were.

“I’m not—”

“Oh, c’mon, sweetheart.” One hand slipped beneath your chin, gently tipping your face back towards his. “Didn’t you just tell me there was no reason to be embarrassed?”

Eddie’s heavy, ringed hand felt almost cool against the embarrassed heat that had spread across your cheeks.

A quick swipe of your tongue across your bottom lip was the only thing you could manage beneath his unwavering gaze.

His other hand slowly traced its way up your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake until it settled at the nape of your neck, gently urging you impossibly closer. His lips were warm and soft against yours as he captured your mouth in a slow, lingering kiss.

When he finally pulled away — barely a second later — his half-lidded eyes were already fixed on you. your lips remained parted, still glossy from the kiss, while your wide eyes searched his face helplessly.

Then, ever so slowly, his fingers tightened just enough around your jaw as he guided your gaze back towards the zucchini resting innocently on the counter.

“Look at it, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Can you picture it?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly as something beneath your skin began to buzz at the low timbre of his voice.

“I bet you’d be so good for me, hm?” he continued quietly, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses. “Letting me have my way with you? Use you however I want?”

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat refusing to settle while Eddie’s words slowly melted your thoughts into complete incoherence, painting a sinful picture you’d been trying so desperately to ignore.

“Eds—”

“Or am I reading this all wrong?” he murmured, pressing another soft kiss just beneath your earlobe before tightening his grip ever so slightly when you instinctively tried to turn towards him.

“I…” Air caught in your throat, your mind hopelessly overwhelmed by the image of Eddie taking exactly what he wanted from you.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” His voice dropped another octave. “Use your words.”

Squirming gently in his hold, you managed to coax him into loosening his grip to turn and face him. Your eyes were wide, shimmering beneath the warm kitchen light with something he couldn’t quite put a name to.

“Do you…” You swallowed, searching his face as you tried to summon the courage to voice the thought aloud. “W-wanna try?”

Instead of answering, Eddie closed the remaining distance between you.

His mouth found yours again — more desperate than before, hungrier, the kiss stealing whatever little composure either of you had left. You barely had time to reach before his lips parted yours, drawing another startled sound from the back of your throat as your eyes fluttered closed.

And just like that, there was only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

He filled every corner of your mind until nothing else remained, leaving you wonderfully thoughtless and completely stupid in the palm of his hand.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you melted into the kiss, his free hand rising to cradle your jaw while his thumb brushed slowly along the corner of your mouth.

When he finally pulled away, you could do little more than stare at him. His gaze lingered over your face, quietly taking in every detail — the shine clinging to your lips, the way your lashes trembled as you blinked, and the unmistakable dazed look swimming in your eyes.

Eddie’s fingers curled around the elastic band of your underwear. He swallowed hard, completely transfixed on the ridiculously large wet patch staining the fabric as he slowly pulled it down your legs before it disappeared into his back pocket.

Without a word, he grabbed your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the cool tilted countertop. Your legs fell open in clear invitation, and Eddie stepped between them just as easily, his hands skimming up your thighs to settle possessively on your hips. His thumbs rubbed maddening circles against the bare skin as he drank in the enticing picture in front of him.

“Beautiful,” he rasped.

Slowly, he claimed your mouth again, swallowing the breathy sighs the touch of his slick tongue elicited.

Eddie groaned low in his throat as you drew him in closer, your silky leg sliding against the back of his.

Breaking away, he trailed biting kisses along your jaw, your throat, pausing to lave attention on the sensitive hollow of your collarbone. Nimble fingers found the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up.

“Lemme see you, sweetheart,” he urged raggedly.

The fabric fell on the ground and he immediately dipped his head, taking one of your hard nipples in his mouth, biting you before soothing the sting with his tongue.

Eddie broke away from your chest, the sudden reminder interrupting the haze of desire. His gaze darted to the discarded zucchini.

“Hang on,” he whispered softly. Retrieving the vegetable, he licked his lips as his eyes fixed on yours. “Are you sure?”

You could only nod at him, too embarrassed to say it out loud.

He nudged your legs apart, pressing the broader end teasingly against your entrance. It felt smooth and cold against your slick heat as he pushed it slowly, watching your pussy fighting the intrusion,

“Eds—” A broken whimper fell from your open mouth as your eyes fell down to his hand between your parted legs. “It’s t-too big.”

“Shhh.” He placed a soft kiss at your temple, drawing sweet nothings on your thigh with his free hand. “It’s okay baby. You can do it, I know you can.”

Eddie eased the thick zucchini in and out, stretching you deliciously.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Relax for me.”

His other hand slipped between your legs, fingers circling your swollen clit. Your breath hitched, walls fluttering around the slick, taboo intrusion.

Gradually, he increased the pace, working you open. Whimpers spilled from your parted lips, echoing obscenely in the quiet kitchen.

“Fuck. Look at you. Taking me so well.”

Eddie’s eyes were impossibly dark as they stayed fixed on the filthy slide of the squash pistoning in and out, mingling with the wet sounds of his fingers stroking you.

“Ed-Eddie!”

His breathing quickened as he worked the glossy zucchini in and out of your leaking pussy, completely under the spell of the sight of it disappearing into your gripping heat. Your broken moans spurred him on, his hand picking up the pace and fingers pressing harder against your clit.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Take my fucking cock,” he moaned. He punctuated each word with a sharp thrust, revelling in the slick sounds and broken moans filling the small kitchen.

Your inner muscles began to quiver, and Eddie redoubled his efforts, curling his fingers just right and angling the long, thick vegetable to hit that hidden spot that always drove you wild.

“Now,” he commanded huskily, giving you permission to let go.

Your toes curled and your hips buckled for more as your body tensed, teetering on the brink. With a final twist of his wrist, he sent you hurtling over the edge.

“Fuckfuckfuck!”

Your slick pussy convulsed around the thick squash, a ragged cry tearing from your throat.

It was absolutely mesmerising, the way your walls fluttered and clenched, milking the intruding veggie, and arousal pulsed hotly through his veins at the display.

He gentled you through the aftershocks, slowly withdrawing the slick squash. Eddie quickly set it on the counter, and turned you in his arms. He sealed his mouth over yours, drinking down your blissful sighs.

“Fuck,” he praised raggedly when you parted. His eyes blazed with unquenched need as his eyes locked onto yours. “You’re absolutely incredible.”

Eddie’s breath hitched as your shaking hands found his zipper, freeing his straining cock. He bit back a groan at the first brush of your fingers, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“I w-want more,” you whimpered, voice strained.

At your breathless plea, Eddie’s fingers replaced yours and he surged forwards, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke.

“A-ah!” You cried out, back bowing at the feeling of Eddie’s balls slapping against your ass.

He set a punishing pace, hips slamming against yours, lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the tiny kitchen.

Overwhelmed, you clung to him, blunt nails desperately scoring lines down his back. He pounded into you with abandon, the force rocking your head against the cupboard behind you. pleasure and pain mingled through you with each merciless thrust, the line between the two blurring just like your eyes when you tried to look at Eddie from under your lashes.

“This what you needed, sweetheart?” He rasped, slamming in particularly hard. “To be fucked like the fucking whore you are?”

“Mm-hm!”

You were lost in sensation, drowning in a sea of ecstasy, skewered deliciously on his thick cock. Distantly, you registered his pleased rumbles, the telltale tightening of his thighs, and then you’re coming apart at the seams all over again, muscles seizing, vision whiting out, pussy gushing until Eddie’s fucking drenched.

Eddie chuckled darkly at your incoherent babbles, hammering into your spasming walls.

“A fucking zucchini not enough for you?” He chuckled again, giving you another particularly hard thrust. “You need to be filled up too, hm? Fucking take it then.”

His rhythm faltered, losing its steady cadence as he teetered closer to the edge.

With a guttural groan, Eddie buried himself to the hilt and stilled, pulsing deep inside you. His release seemed endless, painting your pussy in his white, sour trailer trash cum. Through it all, he held your gaze, branding the moment into his memory.

A breathless chuckle escaped Eddie when the post-nut clarity finally hit him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his forehead against yours. “I can’t believe you actually let me do that.”

You let out a tired laugh, your fingers lazily combing through the damp curls at the nape of his neck.

“I can’t believe I let you do that either.”

Silence settled comfortably between you, broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing, the ticking clock and the old fridge humming in the corner.

Your eyes drifted to your right — the zucchini still sat there exactly where Eddie had left it.

Eddie followed your gaze, eyes fixed on the remnants of the creamy ring your pussy had left around it.

“We should probably throw that one away.”

“What?” Eddie looked ridiculously offended. “Why?”

You slowly looked back at him.

“Seriously?”

“I mean—”

“Eddie.”

“I’m just trying to reduce food waste, sweetheart.”

You covered your face with both hands as another laugh escaped you. Rolling your eyes affectionately, you reached over and nudged his shoulder.

“I’m making pasta tonight,” you said at a failed attempt to change the subject.

“With zucchini?”

“Don’t forget to call Wayne this time.”

“He made an impression on you, right?” Eddie smirks and leads you back inside.

Inside the house, Rick is ready to lock the deadbolts back into place. He looks back over his shoulder.

“I got one guest bedroom, kids, and tons of canned food. Darling, check the pantry for dinner.”

You march into the kitchen and yank open the pantry door. It’s stocked like a fallout shelter: stacks of green beans, peaches, and Spam. Your eyes lock onto a label with a little cartoon chef on it.

“You’re well prepared for a guy who sells drugs for a living,” comments Eddie, who followed you.

You pull out several cans of Chef Boyardee, beans, and mushrooms. "Fuck you, Rick."

From the living room, Rick doesn't even look up. "I love you too, darling."

Eddie grabs a can opener, and you arrange the ravioli and vegetables into a baking pan. By the time you collapse onto the couch, Rick has rustled through a drawer and placed a baggie of green and a pack of rolling papers onto the coffee table.

"I know, the ravioli tastes like cardboard," Rick says, pulling a lighter from his pocket. "The condiment is on me. Improves the flavor profile immensely."

"Now that," Eddie grins, his eyes lighting up as he leans forward to grab the papers, "is the best business proposal I've heard all day."

Twenty minutes later, the living room is a hazy, weed smelling cloud. You’re sitting crosslegged on the couch, comfortably high, eating a ravioli casserole that actually tastes amazing. Eddie is sprawled on the couch beside you, a joint loose between his fingers.

Rick snaps a tape into the VCR and hits play. The TV flickers to life and cheesy intro music of some B-list horror movie fills the room.

Eddie blows a smoke ring toward the ceiling, staring at the wall of ammo cases and medical kits. "Alright, Rick. I gotta ask. Why the hell are you so ready for this? Normal drug dealers have a stash, sure, but you're running a whole military surplus here."

Rick takes a drag, his gaze drifting to the flickering TV screen. The Reefer edge leaves his voice for a second. "Let's just say I spent a year in the jungle back in '69. Uncle Sam taught me a lot of things. Hawkins isn't much different lately. Just colder."

The heavy mood doesn't stick around long, mostly because the movie is hilariously bad. Every time a character makes a stupid decision, Eddie yells at the screen.

"Oh, sure, go into the dark basement alone, you absolute dunce!" Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. "She deserves to get eaten at this point. Where is her common sense?"

"Says the guy who looted a vending machine during a rescue operation," you point out, scraping the last bit from your plate.

"Guess who’s going to beg me for it later?" Eddie pulls out a Twix bar out of his vest pocket and dangles it right before your nose. Rick snorts. You go for the bar and share it.

By the time the credits roll, the high is wearing off and the exhaustion is setting in. You yawn, leaning your head against the base of the couch.

Rick stands up, stretching his back, and points a finger toward the back hallway. "Alright, kids. Movie night is over. I'm going to lock down and activate the traps." He waves a hand dismissively at the two of you. “Go fuck each other."

Eddie blinks, a look of surprise instantly forming on his face as he looks at his boss. "Do you mean go fuck yourself?"

In perfect, effortless unison, both you and Rick respond without missing a beat:

"No."

The back bedroom of Rick’s hasn't seen many guests; the linen is probably from '82. There’s only one bed—a queen covered by a faded quilt.

Eddie closes the door behind you and looks around like a second bed may still miraculously appear. He stands there for a second, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright," he says, clearing his throat. “As a gentleman... you have the bed to yourself. I'll sleep on the couch in the living room."

You roll your eyes. "Eddie, you spent a third of last night on watch, and the morning hacking through zombies. You look like you’re about to collapse. You need a good night's sleep."

"Oh, so you're concerned for my wellbeing now?" He steps closer, playing cool, but his shoulders drop a fraction with relief. "I'll be fine."

"Get on the bed, Munson. There’s enough room."

"Fine, thank you." He kicks off his sneakers, leaves them by the door, and begins pulling his Metallica shirt up. Underneath, his skin is pale, accented by the large tattoos tracing across his chest.

He glances at you, his eyes dropping to what you're wearing. "Sorry, I should’ve asked Rick for something to sleep in... what's the dress code for the zombie apocalypse?"

"Comfort," you say simply.

Eddie pulls the shirt off completely. You reach down and unbutton your cargo pants. They’re still smeared with dried zombie blood from the arcade parking lot. You slide them down your legs and step out, standing there in just your panties and Eddie’s oversized cotton tank top. The hem falls just past your hips.

Eddie freezes. His hands stop on his belt loop, his eyes fixed on you. The playful, bantering mood completely evaporates from the room, replaced by a sudden, intense proximity.

He takes a slow step toward you, his eyes darkening as he traces the line of his own shirt hanging on your shoulders.

“Did you want to kiss me in the garage?” You ask. You desperately need a piece of control after the absolute blur of the last two days.

"I've wanted that," his voice drops into a gritty register, making your pulse spike faster than it did when you were fighting zombies. "I've wanted it since the second I saw you running by the school."

You don't back away. A small smile touches your lips, and you give him a slow, single nod. "I may have, too. Since the Sinclairs’."

Eddie doesn't need another hint. He bridges the remaining distance between you, his ringed fingers coming up to cup your jaw, his palms warm against your face. He leans down and kisses you—deep and tender, but full of a heat that has been building since you first crashed into his life.

Your hands arrange themselves on his shoulders without thinking, and you respond, matching his pace, wanting the rest of the world to just disappear.

Between kisses, Eddie’s lips linger against your jaw, his breathing heavy in the quiet bedroom. He pulls back just an inch, his thumbs gently tracing your collarbones, heat radiating off his skin.

You rest your palms against his bare chest, feeling the steady, rapid thud of his heart. The silence outside is disturbing now, especially after what they just announced through the speakers.

"I have a really bad feeling about that curfew, Eddie," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. "The military taking over... it never means anything good. They aren't here to save us. They're here to contain this."

Eddie sighs, a long, rough sound. He leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "I try not to think about the big picture. Honestly? It fries my brain. I'm just focusing on my next mission. My only mission right now." He opens his eyes, looking directly into yours with total sincerity. "Which is taking you home safely. Tomorrow. No matter what."

The sincerity in his gaze cuts right through your feeling of doom. You nod again, pulling him down onto the bed to lose yourself in him for the rest of the night. May the rest of the world burn outside the bedroom door.

Eddie traces the neckline of his top on you with just the tips of his fingers. “May I…”

“Please.”

He pulls the top off and waits a second before touching your breasts gently, as if you’re made of glass. You are not. You roll your hips over the zipper of his jeans, rubbing against him through the thin fabric of your panties. He jerks as if he touched a live wire, but settles back, allowing you to grind against the growing bulge in his pants. Eddie cups your breasts gently, brushing your nipple with his thumb.

Only now do you realize how much you needed an outlet. You press hard against him, the buckle of his belt touching your clit every time you mock-ride him.

“Baby,” he begs, pants catching in his throat. “Don’t make me do the laundry again, I have a condom. If you let me.”

You lean down to kiss him instead of answering, and he uses the momentum to flip you over, locking his eyes onto yours.

“Yes, Eddie.”

You reach down to his belt and unbuckle it. Eddie gets off you for a second to shimmy out of his tight jeans, digging a condom out from the selection of candy bars in his pockets.

He kisses you again, then trails down the sweet spot on your neck, your jawline, and your collarbone before latching onto your nipple. He pulls back just enough to ask, “Ready?”

“Very ready.” You reach down to stroke his cock. It’s hard as rock, yet covered in the silkiest skin. The thought of it inside has you arching your back as a sweet wave rolls up your body.

Eddie pulls your panties down, guides your knees apart, and parts your lower lips slightly.

“Ready indeed,” he murmurs, trying to sound funny and confident, but the sight of you wet and glistening for him makes his breath hitch.

Eddie dives in with his tongue, no teasing, licking at your entrance and thrusting his tongue in until you moan, probably too loudly, and grab his hair. He sucks your clit until you’re right on the edge, begging him breathlessly, “…need you inside.”

“Just a sec, I got you.”

Eddie fumbles with the condom a bit too long, and you writhe impatiently. “Eddie…”

Finally, he rolls it onto his cock, which is already leaking, and rubs the head over your swollen folds. He catches your gaze as to make sure you’re fully present, then thrusts in. Your hips buck enough to lift him, and the sound you make probably reaches Rick in the other bedroom.

“That’s good, sweetheart? Like this?”

He drags long, deep strokes in and out, building the pressure inside you right back to the edge.

“I'm not going to last, baby, want it too much, you feel so good.” He moves faster and sharper, his cock feeling even harder than before. “But I can go again.”

“Don’t last.” You flip him over again, riding him hard to chase your release while reaching down to rub your clit. “Let go.”

“Allow me, please.”He braces your hips, locking you in place, thrusting up while rubbing your sensitive bud with his thumb.

You feel yourself going to come any second and try to steady yourself, planting your palms firmly against his chest. Your eyes flicker open for a second to see Eddie underneath you, his hair spilled over the pillow, eyes closed and lips parted with a moan, and you completely fall apart on his cock. His eyes snap open as you squeeze him, his pupils blown, droplets of sweat clinging to his temples. Eddie grips your hipbones, thrusts a few erratic times, and pulses his release into the condom.

You collapse onto him, boneless, spent, and finally at ease.

The next morning the house is full of the smell of burnt butter and cheap maple syrup. You and Eddie take over Rick’s kitchen, whipping up a massive batch of pancakes from an old box you found in the back of the pantry.

Rick shambles into the kitchen, looking like a corpse himself before he gets his first cup of coffee. He slides onto a stool, eyeing the stack of pancakes Eddie proudly flips onto a plate.

"When I told you to go fuck each other, I didn’t mean scream like foxes all night," Rick grunts, digging in.

“Don’t shame me over having a good time,” you say, refusing to take the blame.

Eddie leans against the counter, crossing his arms. He looks between you and Rick, with a curious grin playing on his lips. "Alright, I gotta know. What’s the actual story between you two? Because 'boss and employee' does not cover whatever this vibe you guys have going on."

You instantly feel your cheeks burn. You look down at your plate, suddenly very interested in a piece of pancake, your usual sharp banter completely failing you. You get uncomfortable, shifting your weight.

"It's not what you may think," you mumble, looking at Rick for help, but he just chews his breakfast, totally unbothered. You swallow hard and look back at Eddie. "When I was younger, like, way too young, I got into some really heavy, bad shit. Hard drugs. It was getting ugly."

Eddie’s smirk goes away, his eyes turning attentive and quiet.

"Rick met me as a customer," you continue very quietly. "And instead of letting me ruin my life, he basically dragged me out of it. He convinced me to quit the hard stuff. Told me if I needed an edge off, to just stick to weed or a trank here and there. He gave me the truck job to keep an eye on me. He saved me, honestly."

Eddie looks at Rick with a new level of respect. Rick just shrugs, wiping syrup from his three days of stubble. "She was too young and reckless. I wasn’t exactly good with myself, and looking out for someone else helped me to avoid going down the rabbit hole of my own shit. Now stop getting emotional in my kitchen, kid, it's gross."

The curfew is off, and you two cruise to the trailer park for fresh clothes before heading back toward Hawkins High to finally retrieve his beloved van. Eddie’s hand constantly crawls to rest on your shoulder or waist. You’re not sure what to think of last night. Did you just want to feel something different than dread, or was it something bigger?

When you pull into the school lot it looks drastically different. The terrifying chaos of the night when you reevaluated your life is long gone. There are no living or dead people around, but the evidence of what happened is everywhere.

You both step out of the Ford, shutting the car doors carefully not to make a sound. Dark, rusty blood stains smear across the asphalt, sometimes trailing off into the shadows. A lone textbook lies in a puddle, its pages completely ruined. Your stomach ties in a knot at the thought that just days ago, this was just a normal school full of annoying kids, and now it’s a graveyard. Eddie stands by his van, staring at the ground, with fists so tight his knuckles turn white. You place a hand on his arm, sharing the moment of silence, before he unlocks the van.

“Did they shoot them all?” You ask without looking him in the eyes.

“I don’t want to find out. I hope someone made it out. Those who were not…infected.”

You both stare at a bow of green and orange, probably from a cheerleader’s hair, sitting abandoned on the blood-streaked asphalt.

"Alright," Eddie says, swallowing the lump in his throat. "We move in tandem. You follow me to the town border, then you signal me. We swap, and I follow you to your house, and we check if it’s safe together. But you can stay with me, uncle Wayne wouldn’t mind considering everything."

“I could stay at Rick’s too, but I need to check on my family, or at least let them know I’m fine.” You return to your car, and suddenly it feels very empty without Eddie in the passenger seat.

The drive to the edge of Hawkins is tense. Eddie leads in his van, and you follow close behind in your convertible. But as you approach the main highway out of town, the van’s brake lights flare bright red.

The road is completely blocked by military barricades, razor wire, and massive camouflage trucks.

Pulling up right next to the blockade are three vaguely familiar faces climbing out of a Beamer, having tried to do the exact same thing.

"Munson?" Steve yells, stepping forward, his eyes wide. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Before Eddie can answer, a heavily armed military patrol steps forward, raising their rifles. "Turn the vehicles around immediately! No one enters, no one leaves Hawkins. This is a federal quarantine zone. Turn around or we will open fire!"

“Hey! Our friend is wounded! And you stupid assholes blocked the hospital!” Steve argues, but the soldiers rack their weapons in unison.

They quickly surround the three of them, and two figures in heavy hazmat suits step forward to take Robin away.

“I’m not bitten, I just need stitches,” she begs, her voice shaking, pressing what appears to be a bra to her bleeding shoulder, but they are completely silent.

One of the soldiers offers a cold, flat reassurance. “We blocked the hospital to protect the patients. They have medics on the base. You will be ok.”

Steve tries to push past them to follow her, but he only gets hit hard in the chest with the back of a rifle, stumbling backward onto the gravel.

"Get back in the car, we need to let Hopper know!" Nancy yells, pulling Steve back toward the Beamer before things get even more violent.

The realization hits you like a physical blow. You're trapped. You're completely locked inside a hot zone full of monsters. Tears, hot and angry, sting your eyes. As you climb back into the convertible, you finally break down, the terror of the last forty-eight hours catching up to you all at once.

Eddie is jogging over and sliding straight into your passenger seat. He pulls you into his arms, letting you cry against his vest.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Eddie says fiercely, lifting your chin. "Look at me, bun. We are going to sort this out. I promise you."

He looks out the window at Steve, Nancy, and Robin, who are back in their car, looking like they are already plotting their next move.

"Pull over," Eddie calls out to them, his voice grim but determined. "I need to get her out, or at least contact her family."

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, swallowing down the remaining tears and forcing your breathing to steady. "I'm not a damsel in distress, Eddie. I just panicked for a second. I am fine."

Eddie is dumbfounded by the sudden change in your mood. He brings up how you said you could stay with Rick instead of his trailer, and the bright flicker in his eyes fades slightly. "I know you're not. You're the toughest girl in this miserable town."

Steve taps heavily on your car window, interrupting the moment. "Hey, we can't stay out in the open here. There is a gas station a mile back. We need to figure out our next move, and whatever it is, I need gas."

The drive to the gas station is short. Eddie pulls the van right up to the pump, and you park close by. The place looks entirely abandoned at first, but the peace does not last. Steve steps out of his Beamer with his nail-studded bat clutched in his hand and starts pumping fuel, and then a low, guttural groaning echoes from the convenience store.

Half a dozen zombies appear behind the automatic glass doors that slide open as the creatures approach. Their eyes are bloodshot and their flesh is starting to show decay spots as they sprint toward the cars.

"Incoming!" Nancy yells, instantly raising a heavy shotgun. She pumps the weapon and fires, the blast tearing through the chest of the lead zombie.

Steve steps up right beside her, swinging his bat, cracking the skull of another monster, but there are too many. You pull your gun and shoot one. Eddie groans, “I’m an idiot,” and draws his machete, hacking at the reaching arms of the horde. You shoot again, trying to prove to yourself and to Eddie that you can hold your own.

Suddenly, another group of zombies swarms from the side of the building, completely surrounding Eddie’s van.

"Eddie, get in!" you scream, ducking as Nancy fires another deafening round over your shoulder.

Eddie looks back, his eyes wide with agony as his beloved vehicle is completely overrun and blocked by the creatures. He realizes there is no way to clear them out without getting bitten. "Son of a bitch!" he roars, before sprinting back toward your convertible, but the zombies chase him closely.

From the opposite side of the gas pumps, a loud, chaotic spray of gunfire cracks through the air.

"Move your ass, Munson!" a voice bellows.

You spin around to see Tommy H in the window of a lifted pickup truck, spraying an automatic rifle. He is not a good shooter, his aim wild and reckless, but the volume of bullets acts as perfect cover fire, keeping the horde at bay. His cheerleader girlfriend is behind the wheel, and they apparently need gas too.

With Tommy's cover fire, Eddie finally makes it to your passenger seat.

"Thanks, man!" Eddie yells over the noise, slamming the car door shut.

Tommy waves a hand dismissively as he rolls the window back up and crashes the heavy truck straight into a group of zombies. That allows Steve just enough time to unhook the Beamer from the pump, rescuing whatever small amount of fuel managed to get into the tank.

Your convertible and Steve's Beamer screech out of the parking lot, leaving the gas station behind. Nancy sits in the front seat of the BMW reloading her shotgun, Steve’s usual easy attitude completely stripped away by the weight of Robin being taken by the military. You drive without any direction, simply following the BMW, while Eddie’s hand fidgets anxiously with his chain.

“Hopper might know more,” Eddie mutters.

“Let’s catch up at Dustin’s and make a plan," Steve says when the cars finally pull over down a safe stretch of road. "We also need to get the word out about what is actually going on here."

Series Masterlist

P.S. I had the idea to completely lock down the town to trap the characters about two months ago, and I swear the Duffer brothers stole it and traveled back in time to write Season 5. (In reality, I thought up the lockdown first and only started watching Season 5 after, but I'm still suspicious). Please, comment to keep me fueled , this one is labor intensive.

dividers by @sister-lucifer & @saradika-graphics

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@jestthejoker-12

It was a date. Sort of. As close to a date as you could get in the Upside Down, really. You would soar through the skies of the mirrored Hawkins and find new places to explore. You always felt Eddie’s arms tighten around you, and his wings flutter the slightest bit, when he found the perfect spot to stop.

Tonight, that was the Harrington residence.

It felt strange, as you toured through, seeing as this house was your friends’ base of operations in the right side up. You could hear their phantom conversations, like they were waiting in a room just beyond. Only they were a whole dimension away, instead of several physical feet.

“Come on, the liquor cabinet is not gonna raid itself,” Eddie urged you across the threshold with a too-wide, fanged smile.

You were only too happy to oblige.

Here, in the Upside Down, with him--anywhere in the world, in the universe with him--you couldn't think of a better place to be.

You found records, video tapes, and an album full of Steve's baby pictures that had the two of you questioning if there were albums of Eddie's own baby pictures somewhere here. Preserved by the stoppage of time.

"You just want to see my butt," he snorted. "Jokes on you, angel. You can see it any time you want." He started working the fly on his jeans and you laughed and slapped at his hands.

"We are not fucking in Steve's house, ok?"

"But it isn't even his house!"

It was at that opportune moment that you could hear the phantom echo of Steve and Mary Victoria bickering across the void. You shot him a look that said I told you so.

"You sure?" He asked with a pout. "Because I can be pretty convincing."

"I'm serious!" You laughed and kept going. "Come on, you wanted to snoop.Maybe Steve's dad had...I dunno, a secret family, or something."

You continued onwards and explored an office, and a little crafting room with moldy, vine covered projects all half-done. There was an unsettling feeling in your stomach when you reached the patio doors, and before you could even glance outside, you were hit with a vision of carnage. Of a body being dragged across the pavement and into the empty swimming pool.

This was where Barb died.

You shook the feeling and retreated.

"Eddie?" You hollered, looking for your boyfriend. "Where'd you go?"

Half his body darted over the banister from the landing upstairs and he grinned.

"I found the jackpot!" He announced. "Come up here, sweetheart. You're gonna love it."

His excitement was infectious and you raced up the stairs as quickly as you could, following his voice down the hall, until you found yourself at a familiar door. Eddie threw it open and held out his arms.

"Ta-dah!" He exclaimed. "Isn't it cool?!"

It was Steve's parents bedroom, the very room you and Mare called home during your stay in Hawkins so far. There weren't many differences between the two worlds, despite the obvious decrepitude and several years as time struggled to move here. So it took you a moment to realize what it was Eddie was presenting you with.

Until you noticed the subtle shift of the sheets on the bed.

"Oh no," you muttered.

"It's a fucking waterbed!" He practically skipped before he jumped on the mattress. It warped and undulated under his weight. "I remember the commercials at 2am for these. God, it was like my ultimate dream if Corroded Coffin ever hit it big. Come on, baby, feel the motion of the ocean with me."

You stepped towards the edge of the bed and watched as he wiggled and giggled as the bed wobbled beneath him. The motions of this bed had made you feel sick to your stomach that first night, enough that just watching it was making you feel a little queasy right now.

But that smile on Eddie's face...as though he'd forgotten that he was stuck here for just a moment...was enough to convince you.

You leaned forward and rested a shaky hand on the mattress; you tried to climb onto the bed, but it shifted beneath you and sent you careening forward into the musty sheets.

"Here, sweetheart, lemme help you," Eddie offered, and his hands were at your waist immediately, hauling you up towards him. "I think I've got the hang of it."

And before you knew it, you were not just settled on the bed, but in his lap. Not only that but you could feel the hardness of another surprise beneath you.

"Ah so this was just a ploy to get me to fuck you on a waterbed," you laughed.

"No, this was a ploy to get you to fuck me in Steve's house," Eddie insisted. "The waterbed is just a delightful plus. Did my trick work?"

You hummed, feigning deep consideration.

In truth, now that you were here, with him, and you weren't plagued by impending danger...the waves were not that bad.

"I don't know," you mumbled. "I might need some additional convincing..."

"Well, don't you remember," Eddie leaned closer and let his lips brush against yours, claws scraping your stomach as he ran his hands under the hem of your shirt. "Additional Convincing is my middle name."

“Just like that, pretty girl. Just— fuck— like that,” Eddie pants above you. His camera pointed directly at the area where you’re connected. Watching the way the plump of your ass ripples with every thrust.

“Eddie,” you whine, your voice almost overshadowed by the sound of your ass meeting his thighs. His hand settles on your rear, kneading and pressing the pads of his fingers into the skin. He moves the camera up. The lens trailing your quivering body in your uniform, your soft hands clutching at his comforter and your face pushed sideways into his bed.

“Yeah? Whose dick are you taking, pretty girl? Who’s making you feel good, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, his voice broken up by groans and ragged breaths. He damn near forgets about the camera entirely when your pretty cunt tightens around his dick. A broken moan echoing behind the camera.

“You, fuck, it’s yours,” you breathe out, nearly overshadowed by the squelch of your pussy. You let out a cry when Eddie’s hand suddenly comes down on the flesh of your ass, his rings leaving behind a sting.

“Uht uht, say my name,” he orders, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches you try to hide from the camera. He fucks you a little harder until a mumbled string of his name over and over again comes from you. “Yeah, baby, it’s me.”

♡ Eddie Munson would eat this shit up like it was made for him.

♡ He’d throw the shot back a in a wild, theatrical way, head tipped back and pretending the alcohol actually burned on the way down. That manic grin already splitting his face.

♡ The water would hit right after, cold and sudden, splashing across his face and dripping down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt until it clung to his skin. He'd blink and brace himself for the oncoming slap. He'd been slapped before but never by a girl- never by you.

♡ The second your hand cracked across his cheek- hard, open-palmed, the sting blooming white hot and immediate- something filthy and dangerous would ignite low in his gut.

♡ Eddie wouldn’t flinch away. He'd lean into it. A low, rough sound would tear out of him, half-laugh, half-groan, and his cock would make a heavy, unmistakable twitch in his tight jeans.

♡ He would lick the water from his lips slowly, tasting cheap whiskey, his eyes half-lidded and darker than they had any right to be in a crowded bar.

♡ He would want another one. Harder. He wanted to feel that sting again, maybe while you had your hand fisted in his hair, maybe while he was buried balls-deep in you and growling for you to hit him again, to mark him, to give him something to feel tomorrow.

♡ The metalhead in him would want to make a scene, to scream and laugh and turn it into a show- but the darker thing uncoiling in his chest wanted to drag you into the back alley, pin you against the brick, and see how you sounded when he gave you a matching slap… or when he let you slap him again while he fucked you rough and filthy until you both forgot your own names.

♡ Eddie would discover that this new kink is really going to get in the way of how he thinks about you from now on.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Steve Harrington would be the last person anyone expected to actually enjoy it.

♡He’d swagger up to the bar with that easy, practiced charm, all smooth hair and cocky little smirk, like this was just another Tuesday night and he was doing you a favor by playing along.

♡ He would knock the shot back clean, head tilted, cool as hell for all of two seconds.

♡ Then the water would hit. Cold. Sudden. It would splash across his face and dripped down his neck, soaking into his nice polo and dripping through the thatch of hair on his chest.

♡ His hands would twitch like he wanted to fix his hair on instinct, but before he could, your palm would crack across his cheek.

♡ The sting would bloom hot and sharp, and Steve Harrington- King Steve, Mr. Cool, the guy who always had a line- would let out a low, surprised sound that was way too close to a moan. His whole body jolts. Heat flooding low in his belly, sharp and electric, and he would feel his cock twitch hard in his jeans, thickening against the denim in a way that was impossible to ignore.

♡ The slap would have done something to him. Something he hadn’t seen coming. The sting mixed with the burn of the shot and the cold shock of the water, and suddenly all he could think about was how good it felt.

♡ It would make his pulse hammer and his skin feel too tight. It made him want to lean into it instead of pulling away.

♡ He'd blink, cheek still throbbing, water dripping from his jaw, and that signature Harrington smile curved slow and a little dazed across his face.

♡ But his eyes- fuck, his eyes would be darker, locked right on you behind the bar. He'd flirt before he could stop it, voice a little rougher than usual, still catching his breath.

♡ “Jesus… you always hit that hard, or am I just special?” He'd rub his cheek with the palm of his hand, savoring the sting. His gaze would drop to your mouth for a second before dragging back up, and he'd lean in over the bar, close enough that you could see the flush creeping up his neck.

♡ “If that’s the house special, I’m gonna need another round. Maybe two. And, uh…” He'd flash that crooked, charming grin, the one that usually got him whatever he wanted, even as his free hand subtly adjusted himself under the bar. “You got a break coming up? Or do I gotta keep letting you slap me ‘til you say yes to letting me take you out after your shift?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Jonathan Byers would be the picture of wide-eyed, stoned-out-of-his-mind overwhelm.

♡ He wouldn't even really wanted to do it. Argyle would talk him into it with some rambling speech about “expanding his consciousness through wet chaos,” and Jonathan- already three bowls deep and floating somewhere soft and hazy- would just nod slowly and let himself be led to the bar.

♡ He would take the shot like it was medicine, slow and careful, eyes already glassy and a little unfocused.

♡ The second the water hit his face he'd blink, slow and deliberate, like his brain was buffering. Droplets would cling to his lashes and slide down his cheeks while he just… stared. Big brown eyes, red-rimmed and dilated, locked somewhere in the middle distance like he was trying to remember how his own face worked.

♡ Then your hand would connect with his cheek. The sound would crack through the bar asJonathan’s whole body jolts. His eyes would fly wide- huge, glassy, almost panicked in that soft, overwhelmed way he got when he was this high.

♡ A tiny, startled sound would slip out of him, half-gasp, half-whimper, and color would flood his face instantly.

♡ The sting would feel hot across his skin and, because he was stoned as hell, it felt like it traveled everywhere at once. His pulse would kick hard.

♡ For a long second he just would just stare at you, eyes still wide and swimming, water dripping from his chin onto the front of his shirt. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

♡ “…Whoa,” he'd manage, voice quiet and a little slurred, thick with surprise. His cheek was still pink from the slap, and he couldn’t seem to look away from your face even though every instinct was screaming at him to disappear into the floor.

♡ “That was… um. That was really loud. In my head. Like, inside.” He'd swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, and his gaze dropping for half a second to your hand before flicking back up, shy and dazed. “Didn’t think it’d feel like that. The… the sting part.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Billy Hargrove would laugh like the slap was the funniest fucking thing he’d seen all week.

♡ He’d slam the shot back without hesitation, that cocky, shit-eating grin already plastered across his face like he owned the whole damn bar.

♡ The water would hit him square in the face and he'd barely flinch- just shook his head like a wet dog, blond curls flinging droplets everywhere.

♡ Then your hand would crack across his cheek, sharp and loud. Billy’s head would cock to the side… and he'd laugh. Deep, rough, genuine laughter that rumbled out of his chest as he turned back to face you, tongue swiping slowly over his bottom lip like he was tasting the sting.

♡ “Shit, sweetheart,” he'd drawl, voice low and rough with amusement, eyes already dragging down your body like he was undressing you on the spot. “You got a mean little hand on you. I like that.”

♡ He wouldn't even bother hiding the way the slap had affected him. His jeans are already tighter, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim as he leaned forward over the bar, invading your space with zero shame. “Most girls just bat their eyelashes. You? You try to knock my teeth out. That’s cute. Real fucking cute.”

♡ “Bet you fuck mean too. Or maybe you just like it rough. Either way…” He'd lick his teeth, still grinning like an asshole. “I’m free after close. You, me, the backseat of my Camaro. I’ll even let you slap me again if you ask nice.”

♡ You wouldn't ask nice. You would grab the bar gun and blast him with another full spray of cold water, right in the face and down the front of his open shirt.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Hopper would watch the whole thing from his usual spot at the end of the bar, arms crossed over his broad chest, a low, rough chuckle rumbling out of him every time one of the kids took their turn.

♡ Eddie would be making a goddamn production out of it. Steve was getting all flustered and trying to flirt his way out of the sting. Billy laughing like a lunatic and running his mouth. Even Jonathan, glassy-eyed and pink-cheeked, looked like he’d just been hit by a truck in slow motion. Hopper would shake his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, cigarette burning low between his fingers.

♡ “Jesus Christ,” he'd mutter to himself, amused. “Bunch of idiots.”

♡ Then one of those little shits had pushed the shot glass in front of him and said it was his turn.

♡ Hopper would raise an eyebrow but wouldn't argue. He'd knock the shot back in one smooth motion, the burn familiar and easy. The water would splash across his face and he'd barely react, just blinked once and wiped his jaw with the back of his hand like it was nothing. He was already half-smirking again, ready to tell everyone they were dramatic as hell-

♡ Then your hand would connect with his cheek. The crack was loud. Sharp. And it landed different.

♡ Hopper’s head turned with the force of it, but he wouldn't laugh. Wouldn't make a sound at first. The sting would spread hot across his face, spreading down his neck and straight into his chest like lightning. His breath would catch. For a second the whole bar seemed to go quiet in his head, the noise fading under the sudden, heavy throb of his pulse.

♡ Slowly, he'd turn his head back to look at you. His eyes darker than they’d been a second ago. Jaw tight. The smirk was gone, replaced by something heavier, more focused. He wouldn't rub his cheek. Wouldn't say anything clever. He'd just stare at you from under his brow, water still dripping from his stubble, chest rising and falling a little too controlled.

♡ “...Huh,” he'd finally rumble, voice low and rough, like gravel dragged over concrete. His gaze would drag over your face, then lower, lingering on your mouth before coming back up. “That one felt different.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Robin Buckley would be a disaster from the second Steve and Eddie started daring her.

♡ “Bet you won’t,” Steve had grinned, nudging her with his elbow while Eddie cackled behind him, already half drunk and egging her on like the chaos junkie he was. “Come on, Buckley. One little shot. One little slap. What’s the worst that could happen?”

♡ She’d protested the entire way to the bar- rambling about how this was probably some kind of toxic masculinity ritual, how she didn’t need to prove anything, how her face was too delicate for this nonsense- but somehow she still ended up standing in front of you with a shot glass in her hand and two idiots cheering behind her like this was the Super Bowl.

♡ “Okay, fine, whatever, let’s just get this over with before I change my mind and die of secondhand embarrassment,” she'd mutter, mostly to herself. She'd throw the shot back too fast, grimacing at the burn, then braced herself.

♡ The water hit and she squawked- actually squawked- hands flying up like she could block it after the fact. “Cold! Why is it always cold?! That’s just cruel, that’s-”

♡ Your hand cracked across her cheek before she could finish.

♡ Robin’s eyes would go huge. Her whole body would jolt like she’d been electrocuted. The sting would bloom sharp and hot across her face and, because she was already flustered and running on pure adrenaline and whatever liquor she just shot back it went straight through her in a way that made her stomach flip and her thighs press together before she could stop it.

♡ Her face burned- partly from the slap, partly from the way her body had reacted to it, and partly because she was now staring at you like a deer caught in headlights while her brain short-circuited.

♡ “Oh my god,” she'd blurt, voice way too loud. “Okay. That was- wow. That was a lot. Like, a lot a lot. My face is on fire and I think my soul just left my body for a second and- did you see that? Did everyone see that?”

♡ She would ramble, hands gesturing wildly, still half-dazed from the sting and the water dripping down her neck. Her cheek throbbed and every pulse of it sent another confusing little spark low in her belly that she was absolutely not going to examine right now. Especially not while you were standing right there looking at her like that.

♡ She 'd finally manage to meet your eyes again, cheeks flushed bright pink, glasses slightly askew. “I- uh. Hi. Sorry. That was… you have really good aim. Not that I’m, like, complimenting the slap or anything, because that would be weird, right? That would be super weird. I’m not into that. I mean- not that there’s anything wrong with being into that! People are into all kinds of things! I’m just- I’m gonna stop talking now.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Nancy Wheeler wouldn't just do the shot. She would watch the others go through it with that sharp, analytical look she got when she was already three steps ahead of everyone else.

♡ Eddie turned it into performance art. Steve got all flustered and horny about it. Billy was a dick. Robin spiraled into a six-minute ramble. Jonathan still looked dazed and pink-cheeked from whatever the hell had just happened to him. Nancy would take it all in like she was collecting data.

♡ Then she'd turn to you behind the bar, calm as anything, and flip the entire game on its head. “Can I do it to him instead?” she'd ask, nodding toward Jonathan like this was the most reasonable request in the world. Her voice was steady, almost polite, but there was steel underneath it. “The slap. I want to be the one who does it.”

♡ You wouldn't say no. Jonathan’s eyes would go wide all over again- still glassy from being stoned, still riding the high of his own turn- but he wouldn't have time to protest before Nancy was already moving.

♡ She'd take the shot herself first, quick and clean, barely reacting to the burn. The water would splash across her face and she wouldn't even flinch, just blinked once and pushed her wet hair out of her eyes with clinical precision.

♡ Then she'd turned to Jonathan. He'd barely had time to say her name before her hand cracked across his face- hard. Really fucking hard. The sound would split through the bar louder than anyone else’s had, sharp and final. Jonathan’s head would snap to the side with a stunned noise, eyes flying even wider, one hand coming up to his cheek on pure instinct.

♡ The sting would be brutal. His already flushed face would go darker, and he'd swayed a little on the stool, clearly feeling every bit of it through the haze of whatever he’d smoked.

♡ Nancy wouldn't pull back right away. She'd stood there with her hand still raised for half a second, breathing steady, eyes locked on him with that intense, unblinking focus she got when she was in control of something. A small, satisfied flicker would pass across her face- there and gone so fast most people would’ve missed it. But it was there. The tiniest curl at the corner of her mouth. Like she’d needed that. Like she’d been waiting for the excuse.

♡ “Better,” she'd say quietly, almost to herself. Then she'd looked back at you, cool and composed again, like she hadn’t just slapped the shit out of her ex in the middle of a bar. “Thank you. That was… clarifying.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

♡ Argyle would be the one person who managed to break the entire game without even trying.

♡ He'd wander up to the bar when the others started daring him, all loose limbs and easy smiles, already somewhere in the clouds.

♡ “Aight, bet,” he'd say with that slow, California drawl, like this was just another Tuesday activity. He'd take the shot without any fanfare, just tipped it back and let out a soft “whoa” at the burn, nodding to himself like he was tasting fine wine instead of bottom-shelf whatever.

♡ Then the water would hit. It'd splash across his face and he'd immediately start laughing- that low, warm, rolling laugh that came from somewhere deep in his chest. He'd shake his head like a dog, waves flinging water in every direction, and when he'd finally looked up at you his whole face was dripping. Big brown eyes wide and shiny, water clinging to his lashes, a few drops sliding down his cheek and onto the front of his Hawaiian shirt. His mouth would still be curved in this soft, genuine smile, like getting blasted in the face was the funniest and most wholesome thing that had happened to him all week.

♡ He'd look like a wet puppy. A big, harmless, stoned off his face wet puppy who had no idea why anyone would ever be mean to him.

♡ Your hand would already be halfway raised for the slap. It just… stayed there. You wouldn't do it.

♡ Argyle would blink at you through the water still dripping off his face, completely oblivious to the internal crisis he’d just caused. The bar noise would fade for a second as you stared at him- this tall, gentle stoner with the softest eyes and the most unfairly adorable post-water expression you’d ever seen. Your palm would itch with the muscle memory of every other slap you’d given tonight, but looking at him like this? It felt wrong. Cruel, even.

♡ He'd tilt his head a little, still smiling, water running down his jaw. “…You good, dude?” he'd ask, voice low and easy, like he genuinely cared about the answer. “Your hand’s kinda just chillin’ up there. It’s cool if you don’t wanna, y’know. No pressure. That water already felt like a whole spiritual reset anyway.”

♡ He'd just stood there looking at you with those big, damp eyes and that little half smile, like whatever you decided was perfectly fine with him. The slap never came. You lowered your hand without even realizing you’d done it.

♡ Argyle’s smile would widen just a fraction, soft and grateful. “See? Told you it was all good,” he'd say, already starting to back away like the whole thing had been a nice little moment between friends instead of a failed bar ritual. “You got a kind soul, man. I can tell. Most people woulda smacked me anyway. You didn’t. That’s… that’s really nice.”

♡ He'd give you one last easy nod, water still dripping from his hair, before he drifted back toward the group like nothing had happened-like you hadn’t just been completely disarmed by a six-foot stoner who looked like a sad golden retriever after a bath.

♡ You'd stand there for a second, hand still tingling with the slap you never gave, wondering how the hell Argyle had managed to win the game without even playing it.