Sans titre

That was the first sentence Eddie Munson had ever uttered to your humble person. You were eating your lunch in peace, staring into space as per usual when he suddenly spoke to you. You blinked. You looked around to make sure he was indeed talking to you. He snorted.

“Yeah. You. I’ve been watching you for the past five minutes and you haven’t stopped staring at me all this damn time. What ? Got a problem with my face, Gazer ?”

Gazer ? You blinked again and chuckled awkwardly before you tried to defend yourself. “I…No. Not at all. I just…I wasn’t staring at you I swear. I was just—”

“Yeah ?” He interrupted you. “Well from where I’m standing. It kinda looked like you were. And I don’t like people staring at me. It ain’t cool.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole when everyone at your table was suddenly staring at you. You pulled your cap down over your face in shame and begged for a reprieve of this moment of sheer embarrassment. And as if you had been heard, a voice raised behind you.

“Munson. Cut it out.” One of the school monitors spoke up and Eddie huffed—but still complied. He sat back down with an angry thud and his arms crossed over his chest. Once the monitor was gone though, he glared at you.

“Don’t think this is over. I’m onto you, Poker Face. One more weird look from you and I’m breakin’ out the tinfoil helmet, got it ?”

You were speechless. You hadn’t meant to be staring at him. It was just that sometimes you had episodes of complete absence and you just started staring into space. It wasn’t your fault. You swear you hadn’t meant it. But before you could apologise, he was gone…You stood up as well and walked towards the exit. You REALLY didn’t want to run into him again.

…

The next time you saw Eddie, it was two days later—during a fire drill. You were standing on the grass near the edge of the baseball field, biting your nails and trying not to look like a lost idiot in a sea of yelling classmates. Your class was grouped loosely together, but you’d instinctively drifted off to the side, head down, eyes fixed on the trees past the fence. Until someone bumped your shoulder—deliberately. You blinked and turned. There he was. Eddie Munson. Same wild hair, same jean jacket, same permanent scowl. He stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, tilting his head like he was trying to figure you out.

“You doing it again.” He finally told you.

Your throat went dry. “Doing what ?”

He gestured to your eyes. “Staring. Spacing. Whatever the hell it is. Just…do it somewhere else, alright ?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Where else were you supposed to do that ? It’s not like the fire drill had been your idea. “I wasn’t looking at you.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Sure you weren’t, Poker Face.”

You frowned. Why wouldn’t he just leave you alone ? You had apologised. Multiple times. “Why do you keep calling me that ?”

Eddie tilted his head again, then shrugged before taking a step forward. “Because you’ve got this…blank look. Like you’re just…trying to win at an invisible game of poker in your head.”

You took a small step back. “I just…sometimes I space out. It’s not personal. I swear. I wouldn’t be staring at you if I could help it. I really just space out and you happen to be in my line of vision often when that happens for some reason.”

He blinked. The hardness in his eyes flickered for a moment. “…You for real ?”

You nodded, pressing your lips together, embarrassed again. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It just happens.”

“Huh.” He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Well. You should tell people that.”

“I tried to tell you,” you muttered and looked away.

He didn’t respond for a second, then replied with a slight wince, “…Yeah. Right. Sorry. Guess I kinda jumped the gun on that one.”

You looked—really looked—and for a split second, he looked…sheepish ? Before you could say anything else, the principal blew a whistle, yelling for everyone to get back inside.

Eddie gave you one last look and finally smiled. Then he playfully ruffled your hair and told you: “Still think Poker Face fits though. But I ain’t upset anymore and I accept your apology. We cool, Gazer.”

And then he walked off. You were stunned by the unexpected exchange and it took you a second to get back inside…only to have one of the monitors tell you something that you really didn’t expect…

That night:

You were already sitting when Eddie strolled in the detention room. He froze. He really didn’t expect you to be there. But he then dramatically dropped into the seat beside you with a groan that was louder than necessary. The teacher at the front—Mr. Keller, who clearly didn’t want to be there either—glared briefly, then returned to his newspaper.

Eddie leaned over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So…” he whispered conspiratorially. “Was it you ?”

You blinked at him. “Was what me ?”

“The fire,” he insisted, like it was obvious. “You started it ? I’ve heard of love burning bright, but damn, Gazer.”

Your face dropped. “What ?”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m just saying, if this was all some Bonnie-and-Clyde way to get my attention, it worked. You even got us detention together. Real smooth.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Eddie. It was a toaster short-circuiting in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Oh, sure,” he said, nodding solemnly. “But was it a metaphorical toaster ? That’s the question.”

You groaned, dropping your head onto the desk. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Flattered.” He shot back with a smirk.

You turned your head just enough to glare at him sideways. “You do know why I’m actually here, right ?”

Eddie blinked at you. It was his time to be surprised. But it quickly turned into amusement. “…Because you’re a criminal mastermind ? No ? Enlighten me.”

You sat up, arms crossed. “Parker. In biology. Said I was ‘ogling’ you during class. Then he told the teacher I was your stalker.”

Eddie stared at you—dumbfounded. “Wait—what ?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. Apparently, I’ve been ‘following your every move’ and ‘writing your name over and over in my diary.’ Which is funny, because I don’t even own a diary.”

He leaned back slowly in his chair, eyebrows raised. “Wow. So you’re my stalker and a pyromaniac. What a résumé.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Eddie.”

He put his hands up. “Kidding. Jeez.” Then, after a beat, “Parker’s such a dick.”

You blinked. He actually agreed with you. That was unexpected. He almost seemed to be feeling sorry for you…

Eddie then sighed and tilted his head towards you. “Alright, Gazer. Poker Face. Whatever. For real—I didn’t think you were, y’know, actually stalking me. I just thought you were…weird.”

“Thanks,” you replied dryly.

“But not in a bad way,” he added quickly and looked down—playing with his rings. “Like…you’re weird the way I’m weird. Which is probably why I reacted like a cornered cat.”

You eyed him skeptically and Eddie drummed his fingers on the desk, suddenly fidgety. “Look, I’m not great at the whole…being nice thing. But maybe I shouldn’t have called you out like that in the cafeteria.”

You stared at him. “Is that an apology ?”

He winced. “It’s the Eddie Munson Special™ version of one.”

You cracked the tiniest smile despite yourself and he grinned—proud of himself for making you slip. 

“You’re smiling. See ? We’re bonding.”

You rolled your eyes and looked away. “I still don’t like you.”

He smirked and nodded. “Even better. All the best friendships start with mild hatred.”

You rolled your eyes again…Right. As if…

The next morning:

You’d barely stepped into the building when you heard the whispers.

“That’s her.”

“No way. Eddie Munson ?”

“I heard they did it in the chemistry closet.”

Your stomach dropped before you even made it to your locker. You could already feel it—the way people’s eyes clung to you, half disgust, half fascination. The cliques didn’t even try to lower their voices. You saw Parker leaning against a locker with his smug little smirk, whispering animatedly to a few wide-eyed girls.

And then you reached your locker.

Spray paint. Sloppy, red, and dripping.

Devil’s Whore.

You froze. Your mouth went dry. Someone behind you giggled. You didn’t even turn to look. For a second, it was like everything slowed down. Your ears rang. Your fingers curled into fists.

I didn’t even do anything.

I didn’t even touch him.

You wanted to scream. Instead, you just stood there—glued to the floor.

“Hey.”

You turned—Eddie. He’d just rounded the corner, binder under his arm, chewing the end of a pencil. His eyes landed on the locker and he immediately stopped chewing and straightened up.

“What the—” He stepped closer, his voice sharper. “Who the hell did this ?”

You said nothing. Couldn’t. You were still frozen in place. Eddie looked at you. Really looked. And his usual teasing, cocky expression faded fast. You shook your head just a little, lips pressed together. He turned towards the hallway, eyes scanning the nearby faces like a wolf catching scent.

“Who the fuck wrote this ?” he barked and slammed his hand against the tagged locker. “Huh ? Parker ? Was it you, you little rat-faced shit ?”

Parker laughed. “Man, don’t look at me. I just heard what everyone else did. Gazer over here’s been—”

Eddie was already moving. He was about to deliver a punch that would hopefully rearrange the idiot’s brain right. But you quickly grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t. Please.”

He looked back at you, jaw clenched so tight it ticked. “They don’t get to do this to you.”

“They already did.” Your voice cracked. You hated that it cracked. The hallway was starting to go quiet. Too many people watching. Too many grins. But you didn’t want Eddie to get into trouble. He already had more than enough on his plate.

He finally glared at the students watching and raised his middle finger at them. “Anyone else wanna say something ? Huh ? Step right up. Come on. I’ve been dying to use my evil powers on all of you assholes.”

Silence. Everybody eventually looked away.

The bell rang.

Later, in the hallway outside the front office, Eddie leaned against the wall as you sat beside him on the floor. A janitor had painted over your locker in rushed, messy brushstrokes.

“You know,” he spoke up, “if we had slept together, I guarantee you’d remember it.”

You shot him a look.

He smirked. “Too soon ?”

You huffed. “Way too soon.”

Silence…Then—

“…You’re strong,” he complimented you suddenly, the teasing gone. “Most people would be crying in a bathroom stall right about now.”

“I wanted to,” you admitted. “Still might.”

He nodded once, slow. “I guess I’ll wait outside the stall today, just in case.”

You smiled and he smiled back at you. He then nudged his foot against yours.

“Come on. Let’s go. I suddenly got the urge to go to class.”

You were surprised, but smiled nonetheless and nodded before standing up and he smiled back at you before following you.

A few days later…

You were halfway through stabbing a sad excuse for a salad when she approached.

Marcie Winters.

Cheerleader. Always smelled like strawberries and money. She sat down across from you like you were already friends.

“Hey,” she said, all faux-sweetness and sugar-coated venom. “You don’t mind if I sit here, right ?”

You blinked. “Uh…”

You were pretty sure she had never talked to you before…She didn’t even wait. Just plopped down with her friends and leaned across the table like she was about to share a secret.

“So,” she started, voice dropping to a whisper. “How big is he ?”

You stared at her with a confused expression. “W-What ?”

She smiled innocently. “Munson. You know. Big.”

Your stomach turned.

“I mean,” she continued, totally unbothered, “people say he’s crazy in bed, like wild. I just figured you’d know.” Her smile widened. “Unless the rumor was just fake and you didn’t actually—”

“Are you serious right now ?”

She blinked at your defensive tone, as if you were the one being unreasonable.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” you told her truthfully. “That was a lie. Someone made it up. And even if I did, why would I ever share such an intimate information with you ?”

Marcie pouted. “That’s a shame. I kinda liked the idea of him being as much a freak in the bed than in his everyday life.”

You stood up so fast your chair scraped loudly against the floor. But before you could say something that would land you in another detention, a familiar voice rang out behind you.

“Wow. Really classy, Marcie.”

You froze.

Eddie.

He’d shown up with a half-eaten bag of chips in one hand and a “do not test me” expression that was usually reserved for people who tried to touch his guitar without asking.

Marcie scoffed. “What ? I was just curious. Jeez.”

Eddie stepped between you and her, putting himself squarely in her line of sight. “You wanna know how big I am ? Why don’t you ask your boyfriend ? I hear he’s got a measuring tape and plenty of insecurities he’s trying to hide. Sooo…instead of asking the poor girl embarrassing questions, how about you take care of your own backyard for once, hmm ?”

The lunchroom snorted. Someone two tables over even clapped.

Marcie’s jaw dropped in shock before she scoffed. “You’re disgusting.”

“No,” he quickly answered, popping a chip into his mouth. “I’m selective. And you didn’t make the cut.”

She was silenced and stormed off with a huff. You were still standing there, wide-eyed.

Eddie turned to you and his gaze grew concerned. “You alright there, Gazer ?”

You blinked before sighing and huffing a bitter laugh. “Why are you always showing up right when things get really humiliating ?”

He grinned. “Maybe I’ve got a sixth sense for it. Or maybe,” he said, lowering his voice as he leaned just a little closer, “I don’t like when people talk shit about someone I like.”

Your heart skipped and your eyes widened significantly. “You like me ?”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked at the shock on your face. “I was kidding. Don’t flatter yourself, Poker Face. I just hate Marcie.”

He walked away, tossing the empty chip bag into the trash, but not before glancing back—just once—to make sure you were smiling.

You were.

A few days later…

You were nose-deep in a history book, fully zoned out when—

Tap.

You jolted so hard you knocked your pen across the table.

“Jesus—!”

Eddie was crouched behind your chair, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Hi,” he said sweetly.

You slapped a hand to your chest. “Eddie. You can’t just do that—”

He didn’t move. Still crouched. Still smirking.

“I’ve been here for five minutes,” he informed you. “You didn’t even notice me creeping up. I could’ve been a serial killer.”

You snorted. “I wish you were. Then maybe I’d have peace.”

He gasped—mock hurt. “Gazer. Wounding me.”

You glared at him and turned back to your book, trying not to acknowledge the fact that your pulse was still hammering. But then—

Poke.

Your eyes went wide. His fingers had poked your ribs. Right under your arm. You stiffened.

“Oh ?” Eddie exclaimed, leaning closer, mischief radiating off him like heat. “Was that a reaction ?”

You gave him a warning glance. “Don’t.”

He wiggled his fingers again. “I’m looking for it. The tickle spot. I know it’s there.”

You tried to use the back of your chair as a shield against the assault. “I will kick you in the shin.”

“Promises, promises,” he sing-songed.

You glared at him and tried to focus back on your page, ignoring how close he was now, chin resting on the back of your chair. But he poked your side again and you yelped—actually yelped.

“There it is,” he grinned, triumphant. “Bullseye.”

You shoved your book closed and gave him a half-hearted glare, cheeks warm. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be ?”

“Probably,” he admitted with a grin. “But I like bothering you more.”

You huffed and stood up to walk out. You then sat cross-legged under the old tree near the edge of the field, unmoving. Your eyes were fixed somewhere off in the distance—nowhere, really—and then you just went into one of your weird spacing out episodes.

From the path, Eddie spotted you.

At first, he thought you were ignoring him. Then he realized that you weren’t.

He slowed as he approached.

“Hey…” he said softly, crouching in front of you. No reaction.

He waved a hand near your face. “Earth to Poker Face.”

Nothing.

He paused. This wasn’t the first time. He’d seen it happen before, but never quite this…deep. Instead of pushing, Eddie exhaled through his nose and lowered himself into the grass beside you. He sat close—but not touching—watching you out of the corner of his eye. You were still breathing slow. Calm. Peaceful, even. His gaze wandered. And then he saw it—your hand, resting lightly against your thigh, fingers relaxed. Something stirred in his chest. He looked around for any potential witnesses but no one seemed to be around at this hour.

Left. Right. No one watching.

His tongue poked out briefly as he wet his lips. He looked at your face again, searching for any flicker of awareness.

Still nothing.

So slowly—ever so slowly—he reached out. His hand hovered for a moment over yours like he was afraid you’d burn him. Then, inch by inch, he slipped his fingers between yours. His palm pressed against yours with the lightest pressure.

You didn’t pull away. He wasn’t sure that you were even aware that he had decided to hold your hand. So he stayed like that. Sitting beside you, hand in yours, heartbeat skipping like a stone across water.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves above.

He looked at you again—studying the curve of your eyelashes, the calm in your brow, the stillness that always made people whisper, what’s wrong with them ? But not him. He didn’t think anything was wrong with you. He thought you looked like someone who just…lived in a different kind of quiet. And maybe, for once, he wanted to know what that quiet felt like. So he stayed. Just sat there. No jokes. No jabs. Just some guy with his hand in yours, hoping maybe when you came back to the world, you wouldn’t let go.

A few moments later…

You blinked slowly and the haze lifted. Your fingers twitched and tightened slightly around a warmth you hadn’t expected. Turning your head just a little, you saw him—Eddie, eyes closed, head tilted back against the tree trunk, breathing steady and calm. He was asleep. His hand still held yours, fingers loosely intertwined. You hesitated for a moment, the instinct to pull away warring with something deeper. Then, instead of moving away, you shifted closer, letting your shoulder rest against his. The grass was cool beneath you, the sky above muted and gray, but in that instant, the quiet felt safe.

You closed your eyes.

The soft rise and fall of his breath was soothing to you. Minutes stretched and slipped by. And somewhere between the crunch of leaves and the distant chatter of classmates, you both drifted into a peaceful nap—side by side, hands still touching, shoulders leaning in.

…

The moon hung low and silver, casting long shadows across the empty field when you woke up. You stirred first, eyes fluttering open to the chill night air. Your heart jumped when you realized you were still pressed up against Eddie’s shoulder—and your hand was still in his. You jerked awake, coughing softly to cover your sudden fluster. Quickly, carefully, you slipped your hand out of his grasp, trying not to disturb him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, voice barely audible in the quiet.

Eddie stirred too, blinking slowly as he registered where he was and who was beside him. He smirked, eyes half-lidded in that trademark devil-may-care way.

“’S fine,” he mumbled, stretching one arm above his head like it was the most natural thing in the world. The two of you then stood up and started walking towards the school ground exit. The street was empty, quiet but for the wind rustling through the trees and your slow footsteps on the pavement. Eddie shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

“…You wear that cap a lot,” he noted casually and gestured to the one you were wearing. “Like, a lot a lot.”

You looked down quickly, fingers twitching with the urge to adjust the brim again.

“Yeah,” you acknowledged. “I know.”

He let the silence stretch, giving you the chance to fill it if you wanted to. You did.

“It’s not just because I like it. It’s sort of…a shield.”

Eddie raised a quizzical eyebrow at you. “A shield ?”

You nodded. “From people. From their eyes. I have a…habit. Sometimes I space out and stare. It makes people uncomfortable. Makes them think I’m doing it on purpose.”

Eddie tilted his head, quiet now.

You kicked a rock on the sidewalk. “So I wear the cap low. It gives me something to look at. Lets me hide a little. I know it’s weird.”

Eddie was quiet for a second longer, then replied with a shrug, “That’s not weird.”

You glanced at him and he looked away.

“I mean,” he shrugged again, “people stare at me all the time. But I guess it’s only cool when they do it.”

You smiled, surprised by his reassuring words.

He looked ahead again, a breeze lifting his curls. “So what, the cap’s like—your armor or something ?”

You nodded. “…Kind of, yeah.”

He smiled. “Well, I dig it. It’s got that mysterious ‘who is she under that brim ?’ vibe. Very mysterious and dramatic.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Thanks, Munson.”

He was quick to retort. “You’re welcome, Poker Face.”

And with that, the silence returned. You both kept walking, your cap tugged low and your secret out in the open. Eddie glanced down at his hand—still swinging loosely by his side—and suddenly stopped walking. You paused too, watching as he wiggled his fingers, the silver of his many rings catching in the streetlight.

“You know…” he began, quieter now, “these aren’t just for show.”

You tilted your head. “They’re not ?”

He held up his hand, turning it side to side, letting each ring glint like a tiny spotlight.

“Most people think it’s just part of the whole… metalhead, freak-show image. And I mean, yeah, sure—some of it is. Gotta look cool when you’re scaring preps and failing math.”

You let out a small chuckle. He smiled faintly, but didn’t drop his gaze from his fingers.

“But I started wearing them when I was like… twelve. Found one in a pawn shop. Cheap as hell. Felt heavy. Solid. Like I had control over something.” He glanced at you now, his face more serious as he continued. “It was stupid, but I used to think if I had rings on my fingers, no one would notice they were shaking.”

Your breath caught and your eyes widened slightly. He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Still do it. If my hands are bare, I feel…I don’t know. Off. It’s stupid really.”

You were quiet for a beat, then replied softly, “That’s not stupid.”

He looked at you again. You hesitated, then tugged your cap a little higher—just enough for your eyes to meet his. Eddie held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary. You didn’t look away this time. His lips quirked up into something real.

“Well then,” he said softly. “Guess we’ve both got our special armor.”

You hesitated just a moment—then, without a word, your fingers reached out and intertwined with his. The weight of his rings pressed softly against your skin. Eddie’s eyes flicked down to your hands, then back up to your face, surprised but not pulling away.

“If…you ever feel like your hand is shaking…you can just…hold my hand.” You suggested and for a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, Eddie’s usual smirk softened into a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks, Poker Face. I think I’ll take you up on that generous offer.”

You chuckled. “Actually, the name’s Y/N.”

He gave you a dumbfounded look. “Yeah, I know. But I prefer Poker Face or the Gazer.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “…Wow. Thanks a lot, Munson.”

But you then both burst out laughing as you kept walking hand in hand.

The next morning:

You were walking towards the front steps of Hawkins High with a bounce in your step. The memory of yesterday still lingered—your hand in Eddie’s, the quiet promise you’d made. For once, school didn’t feel so unbearable.

Then you saw them.

Eddie leaning against the side of the school, talking to Marcie Winters—her laugh shrill and fake, her manicured fingers grazing his sleeve. He handed her something small—probably another drug deal—and for a moment, it was normal.

Until she looked up and spotted you.

Smirk.

Without hesitation, she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. You froze. You knew she had probably done that to make you jealous. However, your stomach didn’t twist with jealousy. It twisted with rage. You stormed forward, every step harder than the last. Eddie pulled back, clearly startled, but before anyone could speak, you ripped your cap off and slapped Marcie across the face with it.

Whack.

Gasps echoed from nearby students.

“YOU NEVER KISS ANYONE WITHOUT PERMISSION, BITCH !” you shouted, fury lighting up your face.

Marcie stumbled back, stunned, hand flying to her cheek.

“AND YOU GOT A FUCKING BOYFRIEND !” you continued, voice cracking from the emotion bubbling out of you after years of staying quiet. “LEAVE EDDIE ALONE !”

Silence. Eddie stood frozen, eyes wide, half in shock and half in awe.

Marcie sputtered, “Wha—are you crazy ?!”

You didn’t even give her the dignity of a reply. You turned your back on her, shoved your cap back on, and looked to Eddie. Eddie blinked. Then grinned.

“…Holy shit.”

He then looked down at Marcie on the ground, then back at you, then at the students around with this look of ‘have you seen that shit ?’.

You barely registered Eddie grabbing your hand. One second you were standing your ground in front of a gasping crowd, and the next, you were running away from the scene. He tugged you through the hallway, laughing breathlessly as you ran past lockers and students to finally slip into a dark, musty janitor’s closet. The door shut with a quiet click. You stood in the darkness, the scent of mop water and dust in the air, your chest heaving from the sprint—and from what you’d just done.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you whispered, pulling your cap low again. “I didn’t mean to—I just saw her, and then she kissed you, and she has a boyfriend, and I just—shit, Eddie, I shouldn’t have—”

Your voice was rising, a full-blown panic ramble—Until he grabbed your face and kissed you.

Full stop. No warning. No build-up.

Your breath caught in your chest and your pupils started dancing around in their eye sockets as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Your heart exploded in your chest and your hands flailed up and down in the air like a headless chicken.

When he finally pulled back, he was grinning like you’d just lit the world on fire.

“That,” he breathed, eyes gleaming, “was the sexiest, most badass thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You blinked, stunned into silence.

Eddie leaned in again, forehead resting against yours, breath warm. “You really just smacked Marcie Winters with your damn cap, Poker Face ?”

You stammered and tried to justify yourself. “…It-It was the only weapon I had.”

He barked a laugh, squeezing your hand tightly. “You’re fucking insane. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t look away. Not this time. “…You’re not mad ?”

He scoffed. “Mad ? I’m in love.”

Your lips were still tingling from the kiss. His words—I’m in love—echoed in your head like a dropped match in a room full of fireworks. You blinked. And then—

Gone.

The janitor’s closet faded. His voice, the heat of the moment, the nearness of him—it all softened into static as your mind slipped.

Eyes open, but not seeing.

Still. Silent.

You were staring into nothingness again.

Eddie tilted his head. “Hey…?”

No response.

“…Shit,” he murmured under his breath, the playful spark in his eyes softening instantly. “You’re doing the thing again.”

He didn’t try to shake you. Instead, he sighed and crouched a little lower, gently resting one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hand—the one still warm from his grip.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, “I got you.”

He glanced at your face. You looked calm. Peaceful, even. Like you were off somewhere far away where none of this mess existed. After a beat, he slowly moved to sit on the floor beside you, shoulder brushing yours again—just like that day in the grass.

“I’ll wait,” he whispered. And he did.

Suddenly, your lashes fluttered. The mop bucket and dim fluorescent light above came back into focus. The weight of the air shifted. You blinked, head turning slowly, and saw Eddie sitting next to you on the floor—elbow resting on his bent knee, eyes watching you carefully.

“…How long was I out ?” you asked, your voice still distant, like you’d just woken from a dream.

“Just a couple minutes,” he replied with a smile. “Not too bad.”

You looked down at your lap. Embarrassment started creeping in again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice firmer this time.

You looked up at him with wide eyes when he cut you off and he smiled. He shrugged, fiddling with one of his rings absentmindedly. “I mean…I get it now. You weren’t ignoring me. Or zoning out ‘cause I’m boring.” He smirked a little, but it faded quickly. “You’re just built different, huh ?”

A pause.

Then he asked. “Is it scary ? When it happens ?”

You hesitated. Then nodded. “Sometimes.”

Eddie leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling like he was thinking hard about something.

Then, “Well…for what it’s worth ? You don’t look weird when it happens. You just look like you’re somewhere important. Like your brain’s off doing spy shit and forgot to bring the rest of you.”

You laughed, startled and warm. “Spy shit ?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You probably know all the secrets of the universe and just can’t tell me ‘cause I’d freak out.”

He nudged your shoulder gently. “Anyway, I’ve decided I’m gonna be your handler now. Like, your official lookout. You space out, I keep you safe. No questions asked.”

You tilted your head. “And what do I do for you ?”

Eddie grinned. “You hold my hand when it shakes. We’ve already got a deal, remember ?”

You smiled—small, shy, and utterly real. “…Okay.” Then you let out a small chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. “We should…probably get back to class though.”

Eddie groaned dramatically, tilting his head back against the wall like you’d just told him finals were moved to today. “Ugh, why ? We just committed a public slap. Shouldn’t we be fugitives by now ?”

You stood slowly, brushing dust off your pants. “You can go full fugitive if you want. I still have homework due.”

“God,” he sighed, getting to his feet and stretching his arms overhead, “you’re such a nerd.”

You shot him a dry look beneath your cap. “And you kiss nerds. So what does that make you ?”

He paused. Then grinned, stepping a little closer, his nose brushing yours. “A nerd lover, apparently.”

You blinked—then smacked him lightly in the chest with the back of your hand. “Let’s go, Romeo.”

As you reached for the doorknob, Eddie gently caught your wrist. “Hey…seriously.”

You turned back before he continued.

“Thanks for what you did. With Marcie. No one’s…ever done something like that for me before.”

You felt your throat tighten—but managed a quiet, honest: “Anytime.”

And with that, you slipped out into the hallway. Whispers were already crackling through it like static—students leaning in close to each other, nudging shoulders, darting glances. You didn’t need to hear the words to know what they were about.

You were walking beside Eddie Munson. And he was holding your hand.

You felt it then—that rising heat under your skin, the old instinct to shrink, to disappear, to pull the cap lower and pretend none of it was real. So you looked down. Your hand in his. His fingers tangled with yours.

Slowly, gently, you opened your hand—leaving it there for him, but giving him the choice.

If he wanted to let go, he could.

For a second, nothing happened.

And then—

His fingers tightened.

He didn’t let go. Instead, he laced your fingers together more firmly and lifted your joined hands a little—almost like a dare to the hallway around you. You looked up at him. He was already looking at you.

“Poker Face,” he whispered under his breath, leaning in just enough so only you could hear, “I’d rather be holding your hand than pretending I’m not.”

The whispers got louder.

But suddenly, they didn’t matter.

Not when his thumb brushed the back of your hand like it was second nature. Not when you realized he hadn’t even looked at them. Not once.

Just you.

Always just you…

You smiled and dared to stare into his eyes.

He smiled as his eyes met yours. “Welcome back to Earth, Y/N.”