Weird RP Blog

@deadboxfortoys

Eddie sat with Mathew, flexing his hand, opening it, rolling his shoulders back. The two had been hunched over and practicing a B minor chord religiously, the late afternoon bleeding into nighttime. Eddie checked his watch and winced a bit, stretching his arms up, back releasing with a sound crack. He looked over to the young boy, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna hafta-"

A head peeked around the corner, interrupting Eddie's train of thought. Mathew's perfect suburbanite mother, Mrs. Curtius, smiled at him, his stomach clenching in response. His skin crawled with discomfort, despite the back of his mind reminding him that the Curtius family was among the small handful of people in Hawkins who didn't shun him completely. He swallowed, a meek smile geared toward the kind woman standing in the doorway. She smiled softly at her younger son before looking to Eddie, her voice chipper. "Hello, Eddie. We know it's getting late...but you both have been working so hard, I have my amazing lasagna in the oven, if you'd like to stay for dinner?"

Eddie fought a wince, opening his mouth to deny the woman, looking forward to his usual night of cartoons and frozen dinner with Wayne as their TV played old westerns as the soundtrack of their meal. Mathew spoke up enthusiastically, eyes pleading towards Eddie, hands clasped tight below his chin. Eddie nearly melted on the spot, his icy resolve dissolving with a simple bat of the boy's eyes. "Oh, please stay, Eddie! Mom makes the best food!" Eddie felt a twang of bittersweet nostalgia, recalling his own years as a boy and how much he looked up to his Uncle Wayne. Eddie stomped down the lingering thoughts of self-flagellating comments piercing through his mind, reminding him he was the last male figure the young child should look up to.

Lips curling into his mouth as he chewed slightly on the bottom one, he sighed softly, nodding slightly. "I can stay. Thank you so much." His tone was rehearsed politeness, careful not to upset the family for fear of severing one of the few connections he had to the outside world. Eddie and Mathew took turns putting away their instruments and washing their hands. The mouthwatering scent of basil and tomato permeated the house, causing Eddie's stomach to rumble in hunger, eliciting a giggle from the younger boy. Eddie leaned on his cane, using his free hand to ruffle the young Curtius boy's hair, a teasing grin on his face. "Think that's funny, kid?"

The two were in a teasing match all the way to the table, Eddie covering the wince of pain from his stiff muscles in his chuckles, not wanting to worry the boy. The pair were taking a seat when Eddie heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, his stomach twisting as he heard a voice that had haunted him in the hallways of Hawkins High years ago, his heart sinking to the floor.

“Eric, dear! What happened? I thought you weren’t coming home until next weekend.” His mom shot up from where she had been about to serve Eddie a much too large portion of lasagna under the guise that he was a “growing boy,” even though the chances of Eddie growing anywhere but sideways at this age were small.

Mrs. Curtius went to hug her elder son, but it was an awkward, uncoordinated interaction that gave away that she and Eric probably didn’t hug that much. Eric peeled his eyes away from staring dead at Eddie like he was some ghost at the end of the dinner table to instead look down at something very interesting on his shoes.

Eddie stared at his plate and picked at his lasagna, too scared to let Mrs. Curtius know he struggled severely with stomach issues due to all the pills he was pumped full of. He discreetly pocketed one of his pills to assist with his digestion, sneaking it in with a drink of water. He began to eat, his mouth pleasantly surprised by the absence of his usual frozen TV dinner. He tried to contain his excitement as a rare soft smile formed, and he turned to Mrs. Curtius. Licking his lips to chase the high of the tomato sauce yet again, he spoke, cheeks a soft pink. "This meal is delicious, Mrs. Curtius. Thank you."

At Mrs. Curtius' mention of Eric attending Hawkins with Eddie, Eddie's back straightened. He nodded slightly, a mumble leaving his lips as he tried to focus solely on the meal in front of him, his tone devoid of emotion as the sour feeling in his gut threatened to ruin his meal. "We've met." He allowed the conversation to continue around him, muscles twitching at the side of his mouth as Mathew egged on his brother before bragging about his own lessons. It was true, the kid was talented. But also a little conceited. Eddie nearly chuckled at Mathew's face, the pride evident...until Eric piped up.

It was pretty evident by the way Eddie was staring him down with his haunting dark eyes and his clenched jaw that he would never willingly sit down at a dinner table with Eric, but if his mom noticed the palpable tension between them, she did a good job of completely ignoring it in favor of whatever gleeful fantasy she was performing for herself day in and day out.

His eyes zeroed in on his plate, trying to fight back the overwhelming wave of bitterness coating his tongue at the fact that Eric had become someone. Done something. At college, making something of himself. Eddie enjoyed his job teaching, and was beyond grateful for it...but it was never lost on him how much he despised Hawkins or how much time and events he had missed in his absence. He would never regret going to the rehab in Chicago to relearn to walk or having time away. However, he constantly felt the floor pull out underneath him every moment he was reminded that he was frozen in time and left behind. By Dustin, by Mike, by Gareth...Jeff.

He stabbed at his lasagna, now taking a note from Eric's book, and more so, picking at his food to try to ease his stomach before taking another bite. He smiled and nodded in accordance with Mrs. Curtius' questions or comments, as well as chuckled at Mathew's complaint over not being able to see the new slasher. All but 100% sure he was in the clear from his stomach issues before he felt the very same treacherous organ drop to his feet, acid burning his throat. He struggled to stand quickly; the movement was clunky. His voice was weak as he turned to find the restroom, his gait clumsy. "Excuse me a moment."

Eddie raced as much as he could before entering the bathroom, shutting the door, and running the water in the sink in an attempt to cover up his retching. He got down to his knees as fast as possible with his weaker leg, the action making him wince as sharp pain shot up from his knee to his hip. His clammy hands gripped the toilet seat as he released the contents of his stomach, his skin aflame as his stomach twisted and turned in discomfort. When all was said and done, he was heaving over the toilet, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his nails bit into his palms. He lay there, slumped against the wall in defeat, his body screaming out.

“Will you pass me the salt, dear?” His mother asked politely like if she smiled enough it would drown out the sound of retching that was poorly masked by running water.

Eric passed her the salt in silence, his appetite now completely gone as he continued to push food around on his plate for his mother’s amusement. His little brother looked from his mother to Eddie’s plate, probably contemplating if she had attempted to poison Eddie like he’d seen in that James Bond movie he’d watched at a friend’s house without his mom’s approval.

5 minutes turned to 10. Eric tried to puncture the silence by giving some bland description of how college was going. A fabricated tale that failed to mention his drooping grades, of course. His mother hummed with all the interest of a polite stranger making conversation she had no intention of remembering.

When Eric ran out of white lies, the silence resumed, possibly even more deafening than before.

15 minutes bordered on 20, and Eddie’s seat was still empty.

“Eric dear, would you go check on Eddie? Ask if he’s alright.” It wasn’t posed as a question despite the grammatical structuring of her sentence indicating that. Eric didn’t even get to object or make a protest, his hesitance was enough to earn him a don’t-test-me look from his mother. So with a silent sigh, he pushed his chair up and dragged himself down the hallway to the bathroom where he knocked once on the door, annoyed.

“Munson? Did you fall in?” he asked. He sighed, cursing himself when all he could hear was the running water on the other side of the door. Had he passed out? Eric knocked again, a little more earnest.

Eddie attempted to lean against the toilet, pulling himself up to no avail. His muscles trembled, his pain echoing in the effort as he hissed and plopped down to the floor again. His eyes stung as he attempted again and again to stand, his hip shooting pain down to his knee, the tingling that lingered an uncomfortable reminder of his health issues.

It was then that he finally heard the knock, Eric's voice clear through the door. Eddie's cheeks burned as he glared at the door, his stomach swirling as acid threatened to rise up out of his throat. Life must have truly hated him. He'd probably broken a mirror or some stupid shit. His bad luck was beginning to give Everest a run for its money. Wiping at his stinging eyes to clear any possible tears, Eddie allowed his voice to ring out clear despite his pain. "Just a sec."

“Uh, sure…” he managed to sputter before forcing his feet to move. Mathew’s room was only the door next to the bathroom, so he was quick to run in there and get it. When he returned Eric hesitated, hand still hovering near the doorframe, like stepping any closer would make him part of this. Eventually he slid the cane in through the crack in the door. He felt like he was witnessing something he was not supposed to see. Somehow, this was much different than watching Eddie be humiliated in a situation at school created specifically to humiliate him by some bully. There was no real orchestrator behind this, yet Eric had a feeling that witnessing this made Eddie feel a lot more embarrassed than all those times at school had.

“Do, uh… do you need help getting up? Or-… I can just-” he cut himself off, back turned against the wall next to the bathroom door to allow Eddie some privacy. The running water from the faucet was still going, and despite filling the silence, it somehow made it seem more deafening.

It had been a long while since Eric last saw Eddie; he didn’t remember him having trouble walking then, but maybe he had, and Eric just hadn’t noticed. He wondered what had happened, if it was an accident or some illness.

Eric's voice sounding over the water, broke him out of his trance, squeezing his heart as he gripped the sink with his right hand, silver rings clinking against the cold porcelain. "No, no. I've got it. Just-gimme a minute." His voice was gruff from all the acid earlier. It didn't help that alongside his current bout of sickness, his voice was already gruffer than before, what with the added time his body had begun attacking him and causing him to often struggle with digestion, leading to horrendous damage to his vocal cords.

Fingers clawing into the icy material, he leaned to the right to assist with his getting up. A bare left hand was on his cane, ready to support his weight. Hissing air came from between his teeth as his hip pinched and screamed as he stood slowly. Heaving breaths escaped his lungs as he stood for a moment before cupping a right hand beneath the ongoing water, bringing some up to his mouth to swish before spitting it back into the sink. Turning off the faucet, he opened the door.

Once Eddie finally emerged, Eric couldn’t hide the shock on his face. It's not like he hadn’t been looking at him in the dining room, but it was as if Eric's mental image of him melted away under the harsher light in the hallway, revealing a much different person entirely. His eyes were like dark wells that threatened to swallow you if you stared too long. The baby fat was gone, taking away the puppy dog look Eric had been so peeved by in high school. The smile on his face had a sinister, Cheshire-like crookedness. Eric opened his mouth, but not a word came out, his eyes flickering to the scars as Eddie leaned in. Once again, Eric wondered what on earth had happened to him.

Eddie nodded his head with a weak smile at the older Curtius, raising his hand briefly. He cleared his throat before speaking, clearing it slightly to only sound slightly worn. Mind wiped baren of thoughts he had previously, he fell into the role of 'dopey but kind high school burnout'.

"Hello, sir. I believe once or twice."

Eric's horrendously guilty lie tripped out of his mouth to Eddie's ears, making the older metalhead's lips twitch as his mind caught the strange tone.

Why was he so anxious to leave?

Eddie watched with a slightly tilted head, his fingers twitching at the exchange. So foreign, so nuclear 'Americana'. It nearly would've struck him with amusement if Eric hadn't muttered those fateful words.

Eddie's eyes met Eric's in a snap, an increasing twitching behind his eye accompanying the rising heat in his body, his smile sharp and cloyingly sweet. His tone of voice didn't match, nearly monotone as it escaped his lips, his knuckles white on his cane. "Yes. I'm driving him on my way home." Eddie's eyes were piercing daggers into his former peer, his anger palpable as his bones and mind pulsating in nerves and pain protested the responsibility and company.

Eric’s eyes darted from the anger that seeped from Eddie to the suspicion from his father. Despite Eddie not seeing what was so terrifying about Mr. Curtius, it spoke volumes that Eric would debase himself to beg Eddie for help like this; it seemed desperate even. Eddie had absolutely no obligation to save his ass here, and if he hadn’t been his absolute only option, Eric would probably have gotten rid of his company as soon as possible. But compared to his father, Eddie was apparently the lesser evil.

@deadboxfortoys

Eddie sat with Mathew, flexing his hand, opening it, rolling his shoulders back. The two had been hunched over and practicing a B minor chord religiously, the late afternoon bleeding into nighttime. Eddie checked his watch and winced a bit, stretching his arms up, back releasing with a sound crack. He looked over to the young boy, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna hafta-"

A head peeked around the corner, interrupting Eddie's train of thought. Mathew's perfect suburbanite mother, Mrs. Curtius, smiled at him, his stomach clenching in response. His skin crawled with discomfort, despite the back of his mind reminding him that the Curtius family was among the small handful of people in Hawkins who didn't shun him completely. He swallowed, a meek smile geared toward the kind woman standing in the doorway. She smiled softly at her younger son before looking to Eddie, her voice chipper. "Hello, Eddie. We know it's getting late...but you both have been working so hard, I have my amazing lasagna in the oven, if you'd like to stay for dinner?"

Eddie fought a wince, opening his mouth to deny the woman, looking forward to his usual night of cartoons and frozen dinner with Wayne as their TV played old westerns as the soundtrack of their meal. Mathew spoke up enthusiastically, eyes pleading towards Eddie, hands clasped tight below his chin. Eddie nearly melted on the spot, his icy resolve dissolving with a simple bat of the boy's eyes. "Oh, please stay, Eddie! Mom makes the best food!" Eddie felt a twang of bittersweet nostalgia, recalling his own years as a boy and how much he looked up to his Uncle Wayne. Eddie stomped down the lingering thoughts of self-flagellating comments piercing through his mind, reminding him he was the last male figure the young child should look up to.

Lips curling into his mouth as he chewed slightly on the bottom one, he sighed softly, nodding slightly. "I can stay. Thank you so much." His tone was rehearsed politeness, careful not to upset the family for fear of severing one of the few connections he had to the outside world. Eddie and Mathew took turns putting away their instruments and washing their hands. The mouthwatering scent of basil and tomato permeated the house, causing Eddie's stomach to rumble in hunger, eliciting a giggle from the younger boy. Eddie leaned on his cane, using his free hand to ruffle the young Curtius boy's hair, a teasing grin on his face. "Think that's funny, kid?"

The two were in a teasing match all the way to the table, Eddie covering the wince of pain from his stiff muscles in his chuckles, not wanting to worry the boy. The pair were taking a seat when Eddie heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, his stomach twisting as he heard a voice that had haunted him in the hallways of Hawkins High years ago, his heart sinking to the floor.

“Eric, dear! What happened? I thought you weren’t coming home until next weekend.” His mom shot up from where she had been about to serve Eddie a much too large portion of lasagna under the guise that he was a “growing boy,” even though the chances of Eddie growing anywhere but sideways at this age were small.

Mrs. Curtius went to hug her elder son, but it was an awkward, uncoordinated interaction that gave away that she and Eric probably didn’t hug that much. Eric peeled his eyes away from staring dead at Eddie like he was some ghost at the end of the dinner table to instead look down at something very interesting on his shoes.

Eddie stared at his plate and picked at his lasagna, too scared to let Mrs. Curtius know he struggled severely with stomach issues due to all the pills he was pumped full of. He discreetly pocketed one of his pills to assist with his digestion, sneaking it in with a drink of water. He began to eat, his mouth pleasantly surprised by the absence of his usual frozen TV dinner. He tried to contain his excitement as a rare soft smile formed, and he turned to Mrs. Curtius. Licking his lips to chase the high of the tomato sauce yet again, he spoke, cheeks a soft pink. "This meal is delicious, Mrs. Curtius. Thank you."

At Mrs. Curtius' mention of Eric attending Hawkins with Eddie, Eddie's back straightened. He nodded slightly, a mumble leaving his lips as he tried to focus solely on the meal in front of him, his tone devoid of emotion as the sour feeling in his gut threatened to ruin his meal. "We've met." He allowed the conversation to continue around him, muscles twitching at the side of his mouth as Mathew egged on his brother before bragging about his own lessons. It was true, the kid was talented. But also a little conceited. Eddie nearly chuckled at Mathew's face, the pride evident...until Eric piped up.

It was pretty evident by the way Eddie was staring him down with his haunting dark eyes and his clenched jaw that he would never willingly sit down at a dinner table with Eric, but if his mom noticed the palpable tension between them, she did a good job of completely ignoring it in favor of whatever gleeful fantasy she was performing for herself day in and day out.

His eyes zeroed in on his plate, trying to fight back the overwhelming wave of bitterness coating his tongue at the fact that Eric had become someone. Done something. At college, making something of himself. Eddie enjoyed his job teaching, and was beyond grateful for it...but it was never lost on him how much he despised Hawkins or how much time and events he had missed in his absence. He would never regret going to the rehab in Chicago to relearn to walk or having time away. However, he constantly felt the floor pull out underneath him every moment he was reminded that he was frozen in time and left behind. By Dustin, by Mike, by Gareth...Jeff.

He stabbed at his lasagna, now taking a note from Eric's book, and more so, picking at his food to try to ease his stomach before taking another bite. He smiled and nodded in accordance with Mrs. Curtius' questions or comments, as well as chuckled at Mathew's complaint over not being able to see the new slasher. All but 100% sure he was in the clear from his stomach issues before he felt the very same treacherous organ drop to his feet, acid burning his throat. He struggled to stand quickly; the movement was clunky. His voice was weak as he turned to find the restroom, his gait clumsy. "Excuse me a moment."

Eddie raced as much as he could before entering the bathroom, shutting the door, and running the water in the sink in an attempt to cover up his retching. He got down to his knees as fast as possible with his weaker leg, the action making him wince as sharp pain shot up from his knee to his hip. His clammy hands gripped the toilet seat as he released the contents of his stomach, his skin aflame as his stomach twisted and turned in discomfort. When all was said and done, he was heaving over the toilet, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his nails bit into his palms. He lay there, slumped against the wall in defeat, his body screaming out.

“Will you pass me the salt, dear?” His mother asked politely like if she smiled enough it would drown out the sound of retching that was poorly masked by running water.

Eric passed her the salt in silence, his appetite now completely gone as he continued to push food around on his plate for his mother’s amusement. His little brother looked from his mother to Eddie’s plate, probably contemplating if she had attempted to poison Eddie like he’d seen in that James Bond movie he’d watched at a friend’s house without his mom’s approval.

5 minutes turned to 10. Eric tried to puncture the silence by giving some bland description of how college was going. A fabricated tale that failed to mention his drooping grades, of course. His mother hummed with all the interest of a polite stranger making conversation she had no intention of remembering.

When Eric ran out of white lies, the silence resumed, possibly even more deafening than before.

15 minutes bordered on 20, and Eddie’s seat was still empty.

“Eric dear, would you go check on Eddie? Ask if he’s alright.” It wasn’t posed as a question despite the grammatical structuring of her sentence indicating that. Eric didn’t even get to object or make a protest, his hesitance was enough to earn him a don’t-test-me look from his mother. So with a silent sigh, he pushed his chair up and dragged himself down the hallway to the bathroom where he knocked once on the door, annoyed.

“Munson? Did you fall in?” he asked. He sighed, cursing himself when all he could hear was the running water on the other side of the door. Had he passed out? Eric knocked again, a little more earnest.

Eddie attempted to lean against the toilet, pulling himself up to no avail. His muscles trembled, his pain echoing in the effort as he hissed and plopped down to the floor again. His eyes stung as he attempted again and again to stand, his hip shooting pain down to his knee, the tingling that lingered an uncomfortable reminder of his health issues.

It was then that he finally heard the knock, Eric's voice clear through the door. Eddie's cheeks burned as he glared at the door, his stomach swirling as acid threatened to rise up out of his throat. Life must have truly hated him. He'd probably broken a mirror or some stupid shit. His bad luck was beginning to give Everest a run for its money. Wiping at his stinging eyes to clear any possible tears, Eddie allowed his voice to ring out clear despite his pain. "Just a sec."

“Uh, sure…” he managed to sputter before forcing his feet to move. Mathew’s room was only the door next to the bathroom, so he was quick to run in there and get it. When he returned Eric hesitated, hand still hovering near the doorframe, like stepping any closer would make him part of this. Eventually he slid the cane in through the crack in the door. He felt like he was witnessing something he was not supposed to see. Somehow, this was much different than watching Eddie be humiliated in a situation at school created specifically to humiliate him by some bully. There was no real orchestrator behind this, yet Eric had a feeling that witnessing this made Eddie feel a lot more embarrassed than all those times at school had.

“Do, uh… do you need help getting up? Or-… I can just-” he cut himself off, back turned against the wall next to the bathroom door to allow Eddie some privacy. The running water from the faucet was still going, and despite filling the silence, it somehow made it seem more deafening.

It had been a long while since Eric last saw Eddie; he didn’t remember him having trouble walking then, but maybe he had, and Eric just hadn’t noticed. He wondered what had happened, if it was an accident or some illness.

Eric's voice sounding over the water, broke him out of his trance, squeezing his heart as he gripped the sink with his right hand, silver rings clinking against the cold porcelain. "No, no. I've got it. Just-gimme a minute." His voice was gruff from all the acid earlier. It didn't help that alongside his current bout of sickness, his voice was already gruffer than before, what with the added time his body had begun attacking him and causing him to often struggle with digestion, leading to horrendous damage to his vocal cords.

Fingers clawing into the icy material, he leaned to the right to assist with his getting up. A bare left hand was on his cane, ready to support his weight. Hissing air came from between his teeth as his hip pinched and screamed as he stood slowly. Heaving breaths escaped his lungs as he stood for a moment before cupping a right hand beneath the ongoing water, bringing some up to his mouth to swish before spitting it back into the sink. Turning off the faucet, he opened the door.

Once Eddie finally emerged, Eric couldn’t hide the shock on his face. It's not like he hadn’t been looking at him in the dining room, but it was as if Eric's mental image of him melted away under the harsher light in the hallway, revealing a much different person entirely. His eyes were like dark wells that threatened to swallow you if you stared too long. The baby fat was gone, taking away the puppy dog look Eric had been so peeved by in high school. The smile on his face had a sinister, Cheshire-like crookedness. Eric opened his mouth, but not a word came out, his eyes flickering to the scars as Eddie leaned in. Once again, Eric wondered what on earth had happened to him.

@deadboxfortoys

Eddie sat with Mathew, flexing his hand, opening it, rolling his shoulders back. The two had been hunched over and practicing a B minor chord religiously, the late afternoon bleeding into nighttime. Eddie checked his watch and winced a bit, stretching his arms up, back releasing with a sound crack. He looked over to the young boy, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna hafta-"

A head peeked around the corner, interrupting Eddie's train of thought. Mathew's perfect suburbanite mother, Mrs. Curtius, smiled at him, his stomach clenching in response. His skin crawled with discomfort, despite the back of his mind reminding him that the Curtius family was among the small handful of people in Hawkins who didn't shun him completely. He swallowed, a meek smile geared toward the kind woman standing in the doorway. She smiled softly at her younger son before looking to Eddie, her voice chipper. "Hello, Eddie. We know it's getting late...but you both have been working so hard, I have my amazing lasagna in the oven, if you'd like to stay for dinner?"

Eddie fought a wince, opening his mouth to deny the woman, looking forward to his usual night of cartoons and frozen dinner with Wayne as their TV played old westerns as the soundtrack of their meal. Mathew spoke up enthusiastically, eyes pleading towards Eddie, hands clasped tight below his chin. Eddie nearly melted on the spot, his icy resolve dissolving with a simple bat of the boy's eyes. "Oh, please stay, Eddie! Mom makes the best food!" Eddie felt a twang of bittersweet nostalgia, recalling his own years as a boy and how much he looked up to his Uncle Wayne. Eddie stomped down the lingering thoughts of self-flagellating comments piercing through his mind, reminding him he was the last male figure the young child should look up to.

Lips curling into his mouth as he chewed slightly on the bottom one, he sighed softly, nodding slightly. "I can stay. Thank you so much." His tone was rehearsed politeness, careful not to upset the family for fear of severing one of the few connections he had to the outside world. Eddie and Mathew took turns putting away their instruments and washing their hands. The mouthwatering scent of basil and tomato permeated the house, causing Eddie's stomach to rumble in hunger, eliciting a giggle from the younger boy. Eddie leaned on his cane, using his free hand to ruffle the young Curtius boy's hair, a teasing grin on his face. "Think that's funny, kid?"

The two were in a teasing match all the way to the table, Eddie covering the wince of pain from his stiff muscles in his chuckles, not wanting to worry the boy. The pair were taking a seat when Eddie heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, his stomach twisting as he heard a voice that had haunted him in the hallways of Hawkins High years ago, his heart sinking to the floor.

“Eric, dear! What happened? I thought you weren’t coming home until next weekend.” His mom shot up from where she had been about to serve Eddie a much too large portion of lasagna under the guise that he was a “growing boy,” even though the chances of Eddie growing anywhere but sideways at this age were small.

Mrs. Curtius went to hug her elder son, but it was an awkward, uncoordinated interaction that gave away that she and Eric probably didn’t hug that much. Eric peeled his eyes away from staring dead at Eddie like he was some ghost at the end of the dinner table to instead look down at something very interesting on his shoes.

Eddie stared at his plate and picked at his lasagna, too scared to let Mrs. Curtius know he struggled severely with stomach issues due to all the pills he was pumped full of. He discreetly pocketed one of his pills to assist with his digestion, sneaking it in with a drink of water. He began to eat, his mouth pleasantly surprised by the absence of his usual frozen TV dinner. He tried to contain his excitement as a rare soft smile formed, and he turned to Mrs. Curtius. Licking his lips to chase the high of the tomato sauce yet again, he spoke, cheeks a soft pink. "This meal is delicious, Mrs. Curtius. Thank you."

At Mrs. Curtius' mention of Eric attending Hawkins with Eddie, Eddie's back straightened. He nodded slightly, a mumble leaving his lips as he tried to focus solely on the meal in front of him, his tone devoid of emotion as the sour feeling in his gut threatened to ruin his meal. "We've met." He allowed the conversation to continue around him, muscles twitching at the side of his mouth as Mathew egged on his brother before bragging about his own lessons. It was true, the kid was talented. But also a little conceited. Eddie nearly chuckled at Mathew's face, the pride evident...until Eric piped up.

It was pretty evident by the way Eddie was staring him down with his haunting dark eyes and his clenched jaw that he would never willingly sit down at a dinner table with Eric, but if his mom noticed the palpable tension between them, she did a good job of completely ignoring it in favor of whatever gleeful fantasy she was performing for herself day in and day out.

His eyes zeroed in on his plate, trying to fight back the overwhelming wave of bitterness coating his tongue at the fact that Eric had become someone. Done something. At college, making something of himself. Eddie enjoyed his job teaching, and was beyond grateful for it...but it was never lost on him how much he despised Hawkins or how much time and events he had missed in his absence. He would never regret going to the rehab in Chicago to relearn to walk or having time away. However, he constantly felt the floor pull out underneath him every moment he was reminded that he was frozen in time and left behind. By Dustin, by Mike, by Gareth...Jeff.

He stabbed at his lasagna, now taking a note from Eric's book, and more so, picking at his food to try to ease his stomach before taking another bite. He smiled and nodded in accordance with Mrs. Curtius' questions or comments, as well as chuckled at Mathew's complaint over not being able to see the new slasher. All but 100% sure he was in the clear from his stomach issues before he felt the very same treacherous organ drop to his feet, acid burning his throat. He struggled to stand quickly; the movement was clunky. His voice was weak as he turned to find the restroom, his gait clumsy. "Excuse me a moment."

Eddie raced as much as he could before entering the bathroom, shutting the door, and running the water in the sink in an attempt to cover up his retching. He got down to his knees as fast as possible with his weaker leg, the action making him wince as sharp pain shot up from his knee to his hip. His clammy hands gripped the toilet seat as he released the contents of his stomach, his skin aflame as his stomach twisted and turned in discomfort. When all was said and done, he was heaving over the toilet, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his nails bit into his palms. He lay there, slumped against the wall in defeat, his body screaming out.

“Will you pass me the salt, dear?” His mother asked politely like if she smiled enough it would drown out the sound of retching that was poorly masked by running water.

Eric passed her the salt in silence, his appetite now completely gone as he continued to push food around on his plate for his mother’s amusement. His little brother looked from his mother to Eddie’s plate, probably contemplating if she had attempted to poison Eddie like he’d seen in that James Bond movie he’d watched at a friend’s house without his mom’s approval.

5 minutes turned to 10. Eric tried to puncture the silence by giving some bland description of how college was going. A fabricated tale that failed to mention his drooping grades, of course. His mother hummed with all the interest of a polite stranger making conversation she had no intention of remembering.

When Eric ran out of white lies, the silence resumed, possibly even more deafening than before.

15 minutes bordered on 20, and Eddie’s seat was still empty.

“Eric dear, would you go check on Eddie? Ask if he’s alright.” It wasn’t posed as a question despite the grammatical structuring of her sentence indicating that. Eric didn’t even get to object or make a protest, his hesitance was enough to earn him a don’t-test-me look from his mother. So with a silent sigh, he pushed his chair up and dragged himself down the hallway to the bathroom where he knocked once on the door, annoyed.

“Munson? Did you fall in?” he asked. He sighed, cursing himself when all he could hear was the running water on the other side of the door. Had he passed out? Eric knocked again, a little more earnest.

Eddie attempted to lean against the toilet, pulling himself up to no avail. His muscles trembled, his pain echoing in the effort as he hissed and plopped down to the floor again. His eyes stung as he attempted again and again to stand, his hip shooting pain down to his knee, the tingling that lingered an uncomfortable reminder of his health issues.

It was then that he finally heard the knock, Eric's voice clear through the door. Eddie's cheeks burned as he glared at the door, his stomach swirling as acid threatened to rise up out of his throat. Life must have truly hated him. He'd probably broken a mirror or some stupid shit. His bad luck was beginning to give Everest a run for its money. Wiping at his stinging eyes to clear any possible tears, Eddie allowed his voice to ring out clear despite his pain. "Just a sec."

“Uh, sure…” he managed to sputter before forcing his feet to move. Mathew’s room was only the door next to the bathroom, so he was quick to run in there and get it. When he returned Eric hesitated, hand still hovering near the doorframe, like stepping any closer would make him part of this. Eventually he slid the cane in through the crack in the door. He felt like he was witnessing something he was not supposed to see. Somehow, this was much different than watching Eddie be humiliated in a situation at school created specifically to humiliate him by some bully. There was no real orchestrator behind this, yet Eric had a feeling that witnessing this made Eddie feel a lot more embarrassed than all those times at school had.

“Do, uh… do you need help getting up? Or-… I can just-” he cut himself off, back turned against the wall next to the bathroom door to allow Eddie some privacy. The running water from the faucet was still going, and despite filling the silence, it somehow made it seem more deafening.

It had been a long while since Eric last saw Eddie; he didn’t remember him having trouble walking then, but maybe he had, and Eric just hadn’t noticed. He wondered what had happened, if it was an accident or some illness.

@deadboxfortoys

Eddie sat with Mathew, flexing his hand, opening it, rolling his shoulders back. The two had been hunched over and practicing a B minor chord religiously, the late afternoon bleeding into nighttime. Eddie checked his watch and winced a bit, stretching his arms up, back releasing with a sound crack. He looked over to the young boy, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna hafta-"

A head peeked around the corner, interrupting Eddie's train of thought. Mathew's perfect suburbanite mother, Mrs. Curtius, smiled at him, his stomach clenching in response. His skin crawled with discomfort, despite the back of his mind reminding him that the Curtius family was among the small handful of people in Hawkins who didn't shun him completely. He swallowed, a meek smile geared toward the kind woman standing in the doorway. She smiled softly at her younger son before looking to Eddie, her voice chipper. "Hello, Eddie. We know it's getting late...but you both have been working so hard, I have my amazing lasagna in the oven, if you'd like to stay for dinner?"

Eddie fought a wince, opening his mouth to deny the woman, looking forward to his usual night of cartoons and frozen dinner with Wayne as their TV played old westerns as the soundtrack of their meal. Mathew spoke up enthusiastically, eyes pleading towards Eddie, hands clasped tight below his chin. Eddie nearly melted on the spot, his icy resolve dissolving with a simple bat of the boy's eyes. "Oh, please stay, Eddie! Mom makes the best food!" Eddie felt a twang of bittersweet nostalgia, recalling his own years as a boy and how much he looked up to his Uncle Wayne. Eddie stomped down the lingering thoughts of self-flagellating comments piercing through his mind, reminding him he was the last male figure the young child should look up to.

Lips curling into his mouth as he chewed slightly on the bottom one, he sighed softly, nodding slightly. "I can stay. Thank you so much." His tone was rehearsed politeness, careful not to upset the family for fear of severing one of the few connections he had to the outside world. Eddie and Mathew took turns putting away their instruments and washing their hands. The mouthwatering scent of basil and tomato permeated the house, causing Eddie's stomach to rumble in hunger, eliciting a giggle from the younger boy. Eddie leaned on his cane, using his free hand to ruffle the young Curtius boy's hair, a teasing grin on his face. "Think that's funny, kid?"

The two were in a teasing match all the way to the table, Eddie covering the wince of pain from his stiff muscles in his chuckles, not wanting to worry the boy. The pair were taking a seat when Eddie heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, his stomach twisting as he heard a voice that had haunted him in the hallways of Hawkins High years ago, his heart sinking to the floor.

“Eric, dear! What happened? I thought you weren’t coming home until next weekend.” His mom shot up from where she had been about to serve Eddie a much too large portion of lasagna under the guise that he was a “growing boy,” even though the chances of Eddie growing anywhere but sideways at this age were small.

Mrs. Curtius went to hug her elder son, but it was an awkward, uncoordinated interaction that gave away that she and Eric probably didn’t hug that much. Eric peeled his eyes away from staring dead at Eddie like he was some ghost at the end of the dinner table to instead look down at something very interesting on his shoes.

Eddie stared at his plate and picked at his lasagna, too scared to let Mrs. Curtius know he struggled severely with stomach issues due to all the pills he was pumped full of. He discreetly pocketed one of his pills to assist with his digestion, sneaking it in with a drink of water. He began to eat, his mouth pleasantly surprised by the absence of his usual frozen TV dinner. He tried to contain his excitement as a rare soft smile formed, and he turned to Mrs. Curtius. Licking his lips to chase the high of the tomato sauce yet again, he spoke, cheeks a soft pink. "This meal is delicious, Mrs. Curtius. Thank you."

At Mrs. Curtius' mention of Eric attending Hawkins with Eddie, Eddie's back straightened. He nodded slightly, a mumble leaving his lips as he tried to focus solely on the meal in front of him, his tone devoid of emotion as the sour feeling in his gut threatened to ruin his meal. "We've met." He allowed the conversation to continue around him, muscles twitching at the side of his mouth as Mathew egged on his brother before bragging about his own lessons. It was true, the kid was talented. But also a little conceited. Eddie nearly chuckled at Mathew's face, the pride evident...until Eric piped up.

It was pretty evident by the way Eddie was staring him down with his haunting dark eyes and his clenched jaw that he would never willingly sit down at a dinner table with Eric, but if his mom noticed the palpable tension between them, she did a good job of completely ignoring it in favor of whatever gleeful fantasy she was performing for herself day in and day out.

His eyes zeroed in on his plate, trying to fight back the overwhelming wave of bitterness coating his tongue at the fact that Eric had become someone. Done something. At college, making something of himself. Eddie enjoyed his job teaching, and was beyond grateful for it...but it was never lost on him how much he despised Hawkins or how much time and events he had missed in his absence. He would never regret going to the rehab in Chicago to relearn to walk or having time away. However, he constantly felt the floor pull out underneath him every moment he was reminded that he was frozen in time and left behind. By Dustin, by Mike, by Gareth...Jeff.

He stabbed at his lasagna, now taking a note from Eric's book, and more so, picking at his food to try to ease his stomach before taking another bite. He smiled and nodded in accordance with Mrs. Curtius' questions or comments, as well as chuckled at Mathew's complaint over not being able to see the new slasher. All but 100% sure he was in the clear from his stomach issues before he felt the very same treacherous organ drop to his feet, acid burning his throat. He struggled to stand quickly; the movement was clunky. His voice was weak as he turned to find the restroom, his gait clumsy. "Excuse me a moment."

Eddie raced as much as he could before entering the bathroom, shutting the door, and running the water in the sink in an attempt to cover up his retching. He got down to his knees as fast as possible with his weaker leg, the action making him wince as sharp pain shot up from his knee to his hip. His clammy hands gripped the toilet seat as he released the contents of his stomach, his skin aflame as his stomach twisted and turned in discomfort. When all was said and done, he was heaving over the toilet, eyes stinging with unshed tears as his nails bit into his palms. He lay there, slumped against the wall in defeat, his body screaming out.

“Will you pass me the salt, dear?” His mother asked politely like if she smiled enough it would drown out the sound of retching that was poorly masked by running water.

Eric passed her the salt in silence, his appetite now completely gone as he continued to push food around on his plate for his mother’s amusement. His little brother looked from his mother to Eddie’s plate, probably contemplating if she had attempted to poison Eddie like he’d seen in that James Bond movie he’d watched at a friend’s house without his mom’s approval.

5 minutes turned to 10. Eric tried to puncture the silence by giving some bland description of how college was going. A fabricated tale that failed to mention his drooping grades, of course. His mother hummed with all the interest of a polite stranger making conversation she had no intention of remembering.

When Eric ran out of white lies, the silence resumed, possibly even more deafening than before.

15 minutes bordered on 20, and Eddie’s seat was still empty.

“Eric dear, would you go check on Eddie? Ask if he’s alright.” It wasn’t posed as a question despite the grammatical structuring of her sentence indicating that. Eric didn’t even get to object or make a protest, his hesitance was enough to earn him a don’t-test-me look from his mother. So with a silent sigh, he pushed his chair up and dragged himself down the hallway to the bathroom where he knocked once on the door, annoyed.

“Munson? Did you fall in?” he asked. He sighed, cursing himself when all he could hear was the running water on the other side of the door. Had he passed out? Eric knocked again, a little more earnest.

@deadboxfortoys

Eddie sat with Mathew, flexing his hand, opening it, rolling his shoulders back. The two had been hunched over and practicing a B minor chord religiously, the late afternoon bleeding into nighttime. Eddie checked his watch and winced a bit, stretching his arms up, back releasing with a sound crack. He looked over to the young boy, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna hafta-"

A head peeked around the corner, interrupting Eddie's train of thought. Mathew's perfect suburbanite mother, Mrs. Curtius, smiled at him, his stomach clenching in response. His skin crawled with discomfort, despite the back of his mind reminding him that the Curtius family was among the small handful of people in Hawkins who didn't shun him completely. He swallowed, a meek smile geared toward the kind woman standing in the doorway. She smiled softly at her younger son before looking to Eddie, her voice chipper. "Hello, Eddie. We know it's getting late...but you both have been working so hard, I have my amazing lasagna in the oven, if you'd like to stay for dinner?"

Eddie fought a wince, opening his mouth to deny the woman, looking forward to his usual night of cartoons and frozen dinner with Wayne as their TV played old westerns as the soundtrack of their meal. Mathew spoke up enthusiastically, eyes pleading towards Eddie, hands clasped tight below his chin. Eddie nearly melted on the spot, his icy resolve dissolving with a simple bat of the boy's eyes. "Oh, please stay, Eddie! Mom makes the best food!" Eddie felt a twang of bittersweet nostalgia, recalling his own years as a boy and how much he looked up to his Uncle Wayne. Eddie stomped down the lingering thoughts of self-flagellating comments piercing through his mind, reminding him he was the last male figure the young child should look up to.

Lips curling into his mouth as he chewed slightly on the bottom one, he sighed softly, nodding slightly. "I can stay. Thank you so much." His tone was rehearsed politeness, careful not to upset the family for fear of severing one of the few connections he had to the outside world. Eddie and Mathew took turns putting away their instruments and washing their hands. The mouthwatering scent of basil and tomato permeated the house, causing Eddie's stomach to rumble in hunger, eliciting a giggle from the younger boy. Eddie leaned on his cane, using his free hand to ruffle the young Curtius boy's hair, a teasing grin on his face. "Think that's funny, kid?"

The two were in a teasing match all the way to the table, Eddie covering the wince of pain from his stiff muscles in his chuckles, not wanting to worry the boy. The pair were taking a seat when Eddie heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, his stomach twisting as he heard a voice that had haunted him in the hallways of Hawkins High years ago, his heart sinking to the floor.

“Eric, dear! What happened? I thought you weren’t coming home until next weekend.” His mom shot up from where she had been about to serve Eddie a much too large portion of lasagna under the guise that he was a “growing boy,” even though the chances of Eddie growing anywhere but sideways at this age were small.

Mrs. Curtius went to hug her elder son, but it was an awkward, uncoordinated interaction that gave away that she and Eric probably didn’t hug that much. Eric peeled his eyes away from staring dead at Eddie like he was some ghost at the end of the dinner table to instead look down at something very interesting on his shoes.

Eddie stared at his plate and picked at his lasagna, too scared to let Mrs. Curtius know he struggled severely with stomach issues due to all the pills he was pumped full of. He discreetly pocketed one of his pills to assist with his digestion, sneaking it in with a drink of water. He began to eat, his mouth pleasantly surprised by the absence of his usual frozen TV dinner. He tried to contain his excitement as a rare soft smile formed, and he turned to Mrs. Curtius. Licking his lips to chase the high of the tomato sauce yet again, he spoke, cheeks a soft pink. "This meal is delicious, Mrs. Curtius. Thank you."

At Mrs. Curtius' mention of Eric attending Hawkins with Eddie, Eddie's back straightened. He nodded slightly, a mumble leaving his lips as he tried to focus solely on the meal in front of him, his tone devoid of emotion as the sour feeling in his gut threatened to ruin his meal. "We've met." He allowed the conversation to continue around him, muscles twitching at the side of his mouth as Mathew egged on his brother before bragging about his own lessons. It was true, the kid was talented. But also a little conceited. Eddie nearly chuckled at Mathew's face, the pride evident...until Eric piped up.

It was pretty evident by the way Eddie was staring him down with his haunting dark eyes and his clenched jaw that he would never willingly sit down at a dinner table with Eric, but if his mom noticed the palpable tension between them, she did a good job of completely ignoring it in favor of whatever gleeful fantasy she was performing for herself day in and day out.

@deadboxfortoys

Eddie sat with Mathew, flexing his hand, opening it, rolling his shoulders back. The two had been hunched over and practicing a B minor chord religiously, the late afternoon bleeding into nighttime. Eddie checked his watch and winced a bit, stretching his arms up, back releasing with a sound crack. He looked over to the young boy, a soft smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna hafta-"

A head peeked around the corner, interrupting Eddie's train of thought. Mathew's perfect suburbanite mother, Mrs. Curtius, smiled at him, his stomach clenching in response. His skin crawled with discomfort, despite the back of his mind reminding him that the Curtius family was among the small handful of people in Hawkins who didn't shun him completely. He swallowed, a meek smile geared toward the kind woman standing in the doorway. She smiled softly at her younger son before looking to Eddie, her voice chipper. "Hello, Eddie. We know it's getting late...but you both have been working so hard, I have my amazing lasagna in the oven, if you'd like to stay for dinner?"

Eddie fought a wince, opening his mouth to deny the woman, looking forward to his usual night of cartoons and frozen dinner with Wayne as their TV played old westerns as the soundtrack of their meal. Mathew spoke up enthusiastically, eyes pleading towards Eddie, hands clasped tight below his chin. Eddie nearly melted on the spot, his icy resolve dissolving with a simple bat of the boy's eyes. "Oh, please stay, Eddie! Mom makes the best food!" Eddie felt a twang of bittersweet nostalgia, recalling his own years as a boy and how much he looked up to his Uncle Wayne. Eddie stomped down the lingering thoughts of self-flagellating comments piercing through his mind, reminding him he was the last male figure the young child should look up to.

Lips curling into his mouth as he chewed slightly on the bottom one, he sighed softly, nodding slightly. "I can stay. Thank you so much." His tone was rehearsed politeness, careful not to upset the family for fear of severing one of the few connections he had to the outside world. Eddie and Mathew took turns putting away their instruments and washing their hands. The mouthwatering scent of basil and tomato permeated the house, causing Eddie's stomach to rumble in hunger, eliciting a giggle from the younger boy. Eddie leaned on his cane, using his free hand to ruffle the young Curtius boy's hair, a teasing grin on his face. "Think that's funny, kid?"

The two were in a teasing match all the way to the table, Eddie covering the wince of pain from his stiff muscles in his chuckles, not wanting to worry the boy. The pair were taking a seat when Eddie heard the familiar chime of the doorbell, his stomach twisting as he heard a voice that had haunted him in the hallways of Hawkins High years ago, his heart sinking to the floor.

“Eric, dear! What happened? I thought you weren’t coming home until next weekend.” His mom shot up from where she had been about to serve Eddie a much too large portion of lasagna under the guise that he was a “growing boy,” even though the chances of Eddie growing anywhere but sideways at this age were small.

Mrs. Curtius went to hug her elder son, but it was an awkward, uncoordinated interaction that gave away that she and Eric probably didn’t hug that much. Eric peeled his eyes away from staring dead at Eddie like he was some ghost at the end of the dinner table to instead look down at something very interesting on his shoes.

It's kinda like a game.

He makes up the most ridiculous stories about himself to see how much shit those guys are willing to buy just to get their dicks wet. Sometimes, Eddie doesn't even tell them his true name.

He hooks up with a fair number of guys, makes up tons of different stories about himself, them laughs about it with Chrissy when he gets back home the following morning.

"One day, you're gonna meet someone who you'll really like, but you're so busy being an idiot that you're not even gonna notice until it blows up in your face," Chrissy tells him, but Eddie just shrugs.

He's just having fun, he means no harm. If he meets someone he likes he'll be honest, he knows he will.

Eddie meets Steve in Boston, and they click.

Steve is hot, a little on the preppy side but he makes it work somehow. Eddie is half hard from the moment Steve approaches him and asks if he could buy him a drink, so of course he accepts.

He tells Steve his name is Matt, that he's in the city visiting his sister who's just given birth to his first nephew.

Eddie's been living in Boston for five years. He has no sister or brother.

They chat for a while until Eddie asks if Steve wants to go somewhere more private. They go back to Steve's apartment, and they don't even reach the bedroom before they're both naked and panting into each others mouths.

It's hot and desperate, but also kinda tender and maddening. Steve lets out the most beautiful sounds every time Eddie thrusts just right inside of him and his pretty face is flushed pink as he gets closer and closer to his climax, his fingers turning white from how tight he grips the headboard.

When Steve cums, it's with the wrong name on his lips, and Eddie's insides run cold because, for the first time, it feels wrong.

Anyways I imagining a situation where. Eddie gets upset about how he had to repeat the year every now and again, and so Steve tries to cheer him up by saying some things like "Well at least we get to graduate together now, right?"

And call Eddie sentimental and a love sick fool but it does help him feel better about it for a little bit. And Eddie doesn't believe in faith but this has got to be the closest to it that hes experienced.