Sky!!

You laid sprawled over Eddie's bed, stomach down and feet kicked up into the air in they're usual position as you picked at your nails. School had just let out for Spring Break, and you were ecstatic, especially after the day you had. It felt ridiculous that just one day of peace was impossible for you in Hawkins High, and as much as you tried to brush off snarky comments and being shoved in the hallway and look forward to the break, it bothered you. But the waiting was over. Two weeks of doing nothing but smoking weed and Eddie, your best friend in the entire world. There wasn't any way anything could bother you then. You were sure of it.

Eddie sat on the other side of the bed, rolling up for your second smoke of the day, bringing the joint up to his mouth and licking the edge gently to seal it.

Eddie introduced you to the wonderful world of marijuana when you two were twelve and thirteen. The memory of sitting in the woods behind Hawkins Middle, heart pounding as the paper burned between your fingers. Hesitation took over your body as your eyes flickered to Eddie, crouched down a couple of inches from you. You remembered the way he studied your face for doubt, and his hand gently taking the rolled cylinder as he sensed that you weren't sure.

"No, give it back." You protested. "You said yourself—no one comes out here. I'll be fine."

Truthfully, you had no idea if you were lying, but you were sure of one thing: the trust you had for Eddie. The part of you that screamed it was an awful idea, and that even though you were an outcast, you weren't a rule breaker flew out of the window the moment Eddie said he had to show you something.

He reluctantly stretched his arm back out towards you and allowed you to take it from his hand, and with one deep breath, you swallowed and let courage take over instead. With cautious movements, you brought it up to your mouth.

You had no idea how important that moment would be. Not only for the fact that now, being a senior in high school, you couldn't live a day with out it, but Eddie had implanted himself so deep into your life that day that you were sure nothing could dig him back out.

As he finished rolling, the two of you moved in sync. You sat yourself up and moved closer towards him, the bed squeaking and dipping lower under your weight as you rested against the wall. Eddie crossed his legs and placed the tray on the the comforter below him, routine settling in as his hands wrapped around the kitchen lighter.

Your shoulders dropped once you settled into a comfortable spot on the bed. Muscles that you couldn't even tell were tense relaxed—something about the familiar ritual alleviated your anxiousness in a way that you could only blame on Eddie.

School measured up to be exceptionally worse than usual. You shuddered at the thought of having to explain the large F on your chemistry test to your parents, even though in hindsight, it was completely your fault. Reruns on TV dipped into your study time the weeks leading up to the test, and as you tried to make up for your procrastination one day in advance, you'd convinced yourself to surrender your hopes of getting a good grade. It was future yous problem, and unfortunately, future phased into present, and you had to deal with the consequences. You hoped you could put it off for a couple of days, or maybe attempt to fake your moms signature again.

You didn't realize the way you stared deep into Eddies comforter until the sound of him clearing his throat snapped you out of it. You blinked, head jerking up and a short hum leaving your throat.

"Are you going to babysit that the entire time?" The corners of Eddies mouth twitched into a teasing smirk as his eyes darted down to the burning paper between your fingers.

Your brows drew together briefly before you extended it. He took it between his own fingers carefully and led it to his lips.

"What's up?" The tone in his question came out raspy as he held the smoke in his throat. It filled the air as he exhaled.

"Rough day." A dry laugh withdrew from your throat, though there was a lack of humor behind it. The lingering smile slowly dimmed as you exhaled a sigh.

Eddie arched a brow in curiosity, a spark of concern gleaming in his eyes as he stared back at you. An indication of reluctivity and worry fell evident in his question, "Do you… wanna talk about it?"

You shrugged casually, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs. You paused, eyes running over the bleach stains on your pants you'd acquired from washing them wrong. "Not really. It's nothing new, just same ole' school stuff."

An understanding smile tugged at Eddies lips. Part of the reason you and Eddie clicked so fast was because you both understood how it felt to be perceived in a negative light by your peers. Conformity felt like the only way to fit in, and sure, you'd tried it for a while, but with every small slip up, the gossiping would resume. Eventually, you just learned to live with it. Eddie had dealt with it his entire life. Before you, he'd never fit in anywhere.

The burning cylinder between your lips heated up as you inhaled it deeply, smoke building up in your lungs and burning your throat, causing a raw cough to escape your throat; your face turned a deep red as you fought for air, eyes squeezing shut, head shaking side to side as you try to gain your composure.

"Ah, c'mon, you're being a baby." Something felt consoling within Eddies mockery, as if every time he did it, it was him subconsciously saying that he sees you. Most friends that you'd attained throughout the years strayed away from playful insults, instead focusing on the more favorable attributes.

But not Eddie. Eddie saw everything. Eddie knew everything.

A final cough cleared your throat, eyes rolling as an amused smile danced across your face, "Not my fault you have shitty weed."

Eddies arms crossed dramatically and a scoff left his mouth, but despite being "offended", a hint of amusement flickered across his face. "Well, I always provide it, and you haven't once contributed to our smoke sessions, so I wouldn't complain."

Your gaze met his as the words left his mouth, eyes running up and down his frame as a smug expression dragged across your face, "And that's how it'll always be, because you love me. I'm also broke, so there's that."

Brows raising, Eddie protested light-heartedly, "I am, too."

A gentle deflated sigh left Eddies parted lips, shoulders dropping. You watched as his lips pressed together and curled into an almost-smile, eyes darting back up to meet his stare.

"But yeah, it'll always be like that. Because I love you." Eddies head cocked to the side and lines settled near his eyes as he grinned sarcastically.

Even though they weren't rare, every time those three words left Eddies mouth, your stomach erupted into a sickening flutter. It was strange—the love you had for Eddie never fit in a specific box. He was your lifeline—your justification for your heart beating. You'd always joked that he was your platonic soulmate and the universe sent him down from some ethereal planet to save you.

Suddenly, an enthusiastic gasp sounded from beside you, followed by Eddies hands coming together in a loud clap.

"I have news. Really exciting news." He shifted slightly and leaned over slightly, his posture faltering.

"Oh, yeah?" The question left your mouth as your head dipped low, anticipation and a bit of skepticism filling your voice. Truthfully, you'd doubted heavily that he was about to spill anything revolutionary. Half of the things Eddie said to you made you question how he'd made it past the seventh grade. It was a big reason why you loved him, though—not because you felt better or smarter in any way, but because he was never afraid to be his true, authentic, embarrassing self around you.

"I…" Eddie started, dragging the word out. You watched as his hands slapped the bed repeatedly to mimic a drum roll, earning a playful scoff.

"Oh my god." You muttered under your breath, the words coming out as more of an exhale than a sentence.

"…have a date." Eddie straightened his back as a vain expression painted itself across his face, arms crossing across his chest smugly.

Involuntarily, your smile faltered for a brief moment, and you blinked twice slowly—for some reason, you couldn't pinpoint where the shock of his confession came from. Eddie had crushes on people before, mainly students at school who'd he never really spoke to, so it shouldn't have been a surprise once Eddie finally did find someone who was romantically interested back. Still, your chest burned an unfamiliar feeling—Jealousy? Envy? Anger? It didn't make any sense. You ran his words through your head again and again, and every time, it was as if the words "Eddie" and "date" didn't quite fit together.

Then came the guilt. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as you wondered why you didn't feel happy. Eddie was your best friend, your better half, the one thing in this sick world that could ground you and bring you back to reality.

Eddie had crushes before. What was different about this one?

You thought that maybe it could be coming from a place of protectiveness. The memory of having to console Eddie over being asked out as a joke flashed across your eyes. You remembered the way his eyes puffed up from sobbing into his pillow right before you'd cautiously shuffled into his room. You remembered the anger you felt then—the way you'd marched over to her at recess, face red as fury pumped through your veins. It was the first and only time you'd laid your hands on another person.

That anger felt different to the feeling you felt boiling over in your chest. Your stomach twisted as he continued.

"She doesn't go to our school. She's home schooled, if you can believe it. I thought that only the Amish home schooled or something. We met at the music store. She was looking through a stack of records and I bumped into her like one of those cheesy romance movies you like so much." Eddies rough hand nudged your bare arm, skin burning under the playful gesture.

You could only blink, your brain attempting to process the information he was spilling out with that goofy grin slapped on his face. The way your chest burned fought harder than your silent reasoning you repeated desperately in your head. It was bound to happen eventually, and you'd been on a couple of dates, too. Eddie deserved happiness. You couldn't shake the guilty feeling that lingered with the burning in your chest. The entire thing seemed ridiculous—feeling such a strong physical reaction towards something so simple.

"Are you listening?" Eddies voice cut through your spiral like a knife.

You glanced up at him, eyes glossed over with something behind them that he couldn't quite recognize. You didn't mean to look at him like you were just told your mom died, but you couldn't stop it before it was already done. The realization that he noticed how off you were acting made you ball your fingers into fists. You shoved them into your lap quickly and exhaled a sigh to cover it up, because how do you even explain that?

"Yeah, of course I'm listening." A weak smile flashed across your face, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. The feeling of your heart crashing against your chest, thumping harder than you'd ever felt it before, drew all of your attention away from Eddies articulation, and the only thing running through your head now was the silent hope that he couldn't tell you were lying straight through your teeth.

Eddie somehow always knew. Most of the time, it felt as if Eddie could implant himself into your thoughts and dissect every single one like they were his own.

But not this time. Maybe he was too distracted going on and on about the date, or too excited to notice the way your demeanor changed the moment the words left his mouth. And what felt the most ridiculous was the fact that both instances seemed the worst—Eddie noticing or the fact that he didn't.

Eddie insisted on bringing you home, even though you repeatedly reassured him that you'd be fine walking. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Eddie to drive you home, but truthfully, being around him made it extremely difficult to think—and God, you had so much thinking to do when you got home.

You didn't have the energy to argue though, really, even if a nice stroll through Hawkins sounded nice to the alarm blaring in your skull.

Only an hour had passed since Eddie dropped his news on you, and still four hours until curfew. Usually, you'd stay with him from the moment that the school bell rung to early hours in the morning, but after spending the past hour obsessing over every interaction he described in detail with, what he described, his dream girl, you couldn't do it. Half of the time you'd spent concocting some reason to go home. The excuse was bullshit, of course, and something about the way Eddies brows drew together made it obvious that he knew you were full of shit. But you didn't care. Not really. You were freaking out, and you knew that being alone gave you the only shot to shut your brain up.

The passenger door swung open and you crawled into the van like it was habitual, and in some way, it sort of was. You'd spent so many hours in Eddies dingy van that the smell and the stains on the seats were a part of you. The two of you fell into the same routine every time—Eddie would make an effort to open the passenger door for you, mumbling something about being a perfect gentleman to get a rise out of you, you'd both make your way into your seats, and Eddie would remind you to rummage through the glove box and pick a cassette. Music always brought the two of you together, and blasting metal in the van so loud that you couldn't hear yourself think slowly became your favorite part of your day.

But that didn't happen. For the first time ever, you silently clicked your seatbelt and let your head fall and rest on the back of the seat.

Eddie followed into the van, taking his time (as always) to climb into the drivers seat. The engine roared to life as he turned the key. Something heavy lingered in the air, causing your stomach to twist violently. You wondered if he felt it, too, or if it was just another day for him.

As you stared up at the vehicle ceiling, you could feel Eddies eyes on you, scanning your expression with concentration heavy on his face. You blinked, and looked to your left to catch him in your peripheral. The outline of his fingers loosely on the steering wheel caught your attention. He obviously wasn't in a rush, and although you recognized that there wasn't anything wrong with that, you wanted him to rush, and something about how impatient you felt made you feel shameful.

"You alright?" Eddie asked, his voice dipping low in concern.

Here you were, bringing down the mood and sulking in his passenger seat, instead of enjoying the start of spring break like you'd spent weeks and weeks planning.

"Yeah, just really tired." The words sounded off as they left your mouth, your face crinkling up awkwardly. You lifted one shoulder and let it fall in a small shrug.

Eddies gaze lingered on you for a couple seconds too long before he stared back out the windshield. You knew that he knew something was wrong, and you also knew he'd ask about it later—but Eddie wasn't the type of person to pry, and for that, in that exact moment, you were eternally grateful.

The drive home fell uncomfortably quiet, the only sound coming from the rumble of the van engine and the same repeating clink that you'd begged him to get checked out months ago. You remembered the way he argued about mechanic pricing and time. The reminder almost earned a smile from you, lips twitching at the corners. You chewed on your bottom lip and your eyes burned as they stared out of the window.

Although the air around you both stayed consistently quiet, your brain wouldn't shut up. You didn't realize you could feel so many emotions at once—confusion, frustration, guilt. It all coated the inside of your stomach and stuck like it was permanent. But it couldn't be permanent. You couldn't feel like this around Eddie forever. You wouldn't allow it. Besides, at least if you could recognize or name the feeling, you could talk to him and maybe get to the bottom of it together. But how do you tell your best friend, the person that you'd trust your life with, that you're not happy for him? How do you willingly hurt him like that?

The other option it to ignore it. You could sleep it off and if things feel the same in the morning, you could pretend like the burning in your chest doesn't exist. That's it, you thought, pretend. It felt like the only logical way.

The brakes squealed and the van halted to a stop in your driveway. Staring through the windshield, you'd never been more happy to see those cream colored shutters—but somehow, that feeling made you feel sick to your stomach. On a normal day, when Eddie would drop you off, the two of you would sit in the van and soak up as much time as possible, smoking or passing the time with theories about people at school. You'd even kept one of your favorite body sprays in the back seat to hide the marijuana scent when you finally did decide to begrudgingly sloth up the porch stairs. If you were in your driveway before curfew, technically, you weren't breaking any rules. Eddie came up with that conclusion a year and a half ago, and the two of you absolutely ran with it, treating it as if it were scripture. You remember the way your parents tried to fight it, arguing about school nights and education being a more important thing to focus on, but after a couple of weeks, they just let it slide. It wasn't worth the fight, and to be fair, you were always able to come up with a valid counterargument.

The seatbelt clicked as you unbuckled it, and it shot back into the retractor quickly. Instinctively, you paused and breathed a sigh out of your nose. Moving even an inch felt like it was confirming something that you were deathly afraid of, and if society would allow it, you were sure that you'd stay right there in that van forever, living out the rest of your days sitting in the thick air surrounding the two of you.

But you had to go inside, eventually, and if it wasn't for Eddie, that process would've been painfully prolonged.

"Do you want me to walk you inside?" His voice cut through the quiet like a sword, shaking you out of your thoughts.

As your eyes shot over towards him, you felt your body immediately retreating, gaze faltering the moment it landed on his. Instead, it landed on the rings lining his finger. Under the flood lights shining through the windshield, they sparkled, silver and white light blinding you. Somehow, it felt better than struggling to look him in the eye.

"I think I've got it. If you come with me, you may never get home." A dry, humorless laugh left your throat, a lingering weak smile flashing as you glanced up to him.

"Why does that have to be a bad thing?" And there it was again, the sinking feeling—the pit in your stomach and that goofy smile that somehow made even the worst situations okay again.

You felt like you were about to choke, your throat constricting and only allowing a couple of words out. The defense in your voice startled you, though, and you could see the change on Eddies face as you spoke, "It doesn't. I'm just tired."

Eddie blinked twice, an almost stunned look on his face. It wasn't that you sounded mean per say, but unless you were joking back and forth, your tone always sounded gentle to him.

"Yeah, okay. Go get some rest. Will you call me in the morning?"