Hello, I'm your secret admirer.

It’s been three weeks of dating Steve, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to this. Especially what pokes the small of your back, or the way it stretches you out in a way you didn’t think was possible. Your hips shift on their own, letting the hard length of fit between the apple of your ass only covered by a thin pair of cotton panties.

The immediate flutter in your stomach at the feeling of him so close has your teeth digging into the fat of your bottom lip. Wiggling your hips again, he slides between your thighs, the tip of him tapping against your already swollen clit. A quiet moan slips from between your lips at the feeling, your body begging for more.

Steve’s grip on you tightens, his breathing coming out quick and sporadic. The blunt ends of his nails dig into the soft fat of your sides, grunting as he meets the next roll of your hips.

“Honey.” He murmurs, voice still thick with sleep, nudging the back of your ear with the tip of his nose.

“Good morning.” You whisper with a hidden smile, spreading your legs a little more, whimpering when his already leaking tip pushes your panties to the side for a fleeting moment.

“Fuck.” The word comes out of his mouth in a hiss, his hips searching for that angle again.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing this early, tough girl? hmm?” He chides, gripping your curves holding you in place, doing it with more force this time.

His name slips breathy from your lips, your leg hitching over his hip, giving him full access to you.

“So needy already.” He murmurs a little cocky in your ear, using the length of himself to push your panties to the side, groaning at what he finds. “So wet.”

“Want you.” Pushing your hips back with a whine, you relish in the way the tip of his cock starts to split you open.

“Always want you, baby.” He hums, reaching up to cup your breast in the palm of his hand, fitting himself half way in.

Your walls are greedy, sucking him in the rest of the way, and with a slow grind of your hips, he bottoms out. A string of curse words are whispered along the curve of your neck, followed by a sharp nip of his teeth.

“Oh my god.” Tilting your head back in a loud moan, he takes full advantage of the newly exposed skin.

His fingers pinch at your sensitive nipples standing at attention for him. Littering open mouthed kisses up to the soft spot behind your ear, he sucks hard enough for you to shiver. Steve sets a slow pace, pulling himself almost all the way out letting you feel every inch and ridge of him before snapping his hips, burying himself to the hilt.

The sound of his name, followed by short gasps every time he pushes the air out of your lungs fills the empty space of your apartment. He feels bigger in the morning, the stretch of him rolling your eyes in the back of your head with every thrust. The blunt ends of your fingernails dig into the tanned freckled skin of his forearm, finding the strength to meet the quick roll of his hips.

It should feel impossible to want more, but it’s all your body screams for. As if he can read your mind, his long lingers find their way to your clit begging for his attention. Using the pad of two fingers, he rubs quick circles on the bundle of nerves, earning such a loud moan of his name he thinks your neighbors heard. So he keeps it up, needing them to know who’s making you feel this good.

“Gonna cum for me, tough girl? Gonna give me what I want?” He whispers against your ear before taking the lobe of it in the heat of his mouth.

Jaw going slack, all you can do it nod, the tightening flutter of your walls telling him you’re close.

“I can feel it, you’re gonna make me cum too. Want that?” He adds a third finger to your pulsing clit, hips setting a punishing pace.

“Steve — god — I want it.” You whimper, trying to chase the high that’s on the cusp of breaking you into a million pieces.

“Where? Where do you want it, honey?” he grunts, his body surrounding you, losing himself in the feeling of your silk.

“I-inside.”

His hips stutter at your words, a deep growl rumbling from his chest sending another wave of arousal coating him. You’d be embarrassed at the sounds of just how wet you are if he wasn’t claiming you like a man possessed.

“I’m gonna —“ the second half of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue for a moment when he keeps himself deep, grinding on that spot only he can find. “Steve, I'm — I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it with me.” He moans, twitching inside of you, letting you know he’s just as close.

All you can manage is a nod, pressing your ass as tight against him as possible, pushing him impossibly deeper, snapping that tight rope in your gut sending you tumbling over the edge.

“That’s it baby, you’re so good, so good for me.” He says the last part through gritted teeth.

A guttural moan rips from his throat spilling himself inside of you, filling you to the brim. He keeps pumping his hips like he’s trying to make sure none of it escapes moaning ‘mine’ over again turning possessive.

He doesn’t stop, until he physically has nothing left to give, wrapping your limp body in his arms, slipping out of your walls that beg him to stay. The two of you lay there trying to catch your breath, a small giggle escaping from between your lips.

“What?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Good morning.” You smile snuggling yourself deeper into his chest, basking in the feeling of him dripping out of you and onto the sheets.

Trinity and Mel stare at you.

“Abbot,” you add.

“You can call Jack Abbot?” Trinity asks you, something almost teasing in her tone.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting on your feet. “Unless you wanna walk?”

“Oh, no. Please, call Abbot,” she tells you.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Mel says, smiling a soft, encouraging smile.

“Okay, I’ll just-” you point over your shoulder and step away, digging your phone from your purse. His contact is easy enough to find. You stare at it, your finger hovering over the screen.

You’ve had his number saved for a few weeks now. He’d given it to you after a rough shift, finding you by your locker and typing it into your phone himself with an urge to “call if you need anything.”

And you just… haven’t. You’ve pulled up his contact countless times. Looked at his name there as he’d typed it; Not Dr. Abbot. Just ‘Jack.’

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to just hit the call button. He’s your attending, and sure he’s flirty with you, but he’s a little flirty with almost everyone. And ‘call if you need me’ is just a thing people say. At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself lately.

You suppose tonight you’re testing to see if he really meant it. If you’re not totally alone in wanting to get more of him somehow.

You press the button and hold your phone up to your ear, looking to see if Trinity and Mel are watching you. They are. Mel gives you a thumbs up.

And then you’re turning back around, because after only three rings, the line clicks, and a low “hello?” slides through the speaker.

“Hi!” you say, wincing at how awkwardly it comes out. “Um, it’s me. Are you busy?”

Jack ignores your question. “What’s going on?”

“Me and Mel and Santos are out and no Ubers are taking us. You know, Trinity’s actually a pretty good singer. Anyways, I was wondering if you could come get us? It’s totally fine if not, I mean, it’s warm, so we could walk-”

“How drunk are you?” Jack asks you, not judgemental or accusing, just curious.

“Just enough to let myself call you,” you say quietly. “Not enough to not know what I’m doing.”

“Okay,” he says. “Tell me where you are.” Like it’s that simple for him to drop whatever he’d been doing just because you asked him to. Like whatever he heard in your voice was convincing enough. Almost like he didn’t need any convincing at all.

He shows up only a few minutes later, pulling up to the curb right in front of you and leaning over to open up the passenger side door.

You wave at him. He wiggles his fingers back and nods at you, urging you to get in beside him.

Trinity and Mel climb into the backseat, chatting quietly between each other.

You watch as Jack pulls away from the curb, listening to Mel’s directions back to her place. Watch as he turns up the AC when he catches you fan yourself, an arm reaching over to aim the vent towards you.

“Thank you,” you say.

And when he turns his head to quickly wink at you, it’s hard to come up with anything else.

He drops Mel off, and soon enough it’s Trinity’s turn.

“You gonna be okay?” Santos asks you, more suggestive than anything, once Jack’s parked.

Only, Jack takes her seriously. He twists around in his seat to look at her and say “I’ve got her.”

You sink into the passenger seat, embarrassed and delighted.

She salutes him and climbs out of the car. And then it’s just you and Jack.

“Is it okay?” you start, a sudden nervous flutter in your stomach. “That I called? I mean, I hope you weren’t busy, or-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, that same low, patient but sure voice as on the phone. “I gave you my phone number. I want you to use it.”

“Oh, okay. Good. That’s good.”

Jack has the hand not holding the steering wheel resting on the centre console. He shifts his over just enough that his knuckles brush your arm once, twice, before pulling away again.

“Good,” he agrees with a little nod.

And before you can say something else, he’s parking outside your building. You only just realize then that you hadn’t been giving him any directions to get there.

You look at him, his black t-shirt tights across his shoulders, his hair curling around his ears. Then, there’s his fingers squeezing the steering wheel, his knee bouncing.

He’s nervous, too, you think. Or affected, at the very least.

It’s what makes you brave enough to say: “Do you want to come up?”

And Jack, turning his head to look into your shining, shy, hopeful eyes could never say no to you. Not even when he probably should.

He lets you lead the way to your door, a hand hovering behind your lower back in case you stumble. You fumble with your keys until he takes them from your hand and unlocks your door for you, holding it open with an outstretched arm that you have to duck under to walk inside.

It’s only when you bend down to take off your shoes that you feel the lingering effects of the alcohol, your vision a little fuzzy around the edges, your head swimming and focused all at once. Because every thought is about Jack.

Jack, standing in your living room like he was meant to be there, like the space just miles itself around his presence. Jack, leaning down to help you slip your shoes off when he catches you struggling, a warm hand on the back of your leg, letting you use his shoulder for support.

When he straightens up again, he’s much closer than before. You suck in a breath, eyes dancing across his face. His do the same, before settling on your mouth.

Your chin tips up the slightest bit, like you’re making room for him, inviting him, and Jack nearly accepts it. But you’ve been drinking, and this isn’t anything new for him. It’s not spur of the moment. He’ll want you the same tomorrow, more even.

So when he leans in, and you let your eyes slip closed, he doesn’t let himself kiss your mouth, but presses his lips softly to your cheek, then to the hinge of your jaw, before pulling away.

“You should get some rest,” he tells you.

You nod, a hand coming up to your cheek like you’re keeping his touch there a little longer. “Will you- do you wanna stay?”

“Sweetheart.”

“We don’t have to do anything, it’s just late, and-”

“I’ll stay,” Jack tells you.

You lead him to your bedroom, and if you thought his presence in your living room was something, this is entirely more destabilizing.

Where there’s an alternate reality where he’s in here for more. Where he’s leaning over you on the mattress, where his smell is etched into your sheets. And maybe it isn’t so far fetched, not with how he looks at you.

How he’s taking care of you tonight.

To that point, Jack goes into your dresser and picks out some pajamas for you once he finds the right drawer, setting them on the edge of the bed. He’d assumed you’d go into the bathroom to change.

Instead, he watches you reach for the hem of your top. His eyes widen slightly as you lift it, exposing your stomach. He turns around before it gets above your chest.

Jack’s meant to be a strong man, but the sight of your bare skin—skin that’s new to him—makes his heart stutter. Makes him weak.

“I have a spare toothbrush in the bathroom,” you tell him, prompting him to turn back around to find you now changed. “And I have some sweatpants if you want to change. They might not fit you, but-”

“I’m alright,” he says. Really, he’s thinking similarly to you. Thinking about a world where his toothbrush lives beside yours and he’s got a spare change of clothes here already.

And when you settle into bed after brushing your teeth, Jack’s prosthetic leaning against the nightstand, facing him with your cheek pressed into your pillow, that world doesn’t feel so far away.

“Thank you for coming,” you whisper, eyes fluttering sleepily.

The Hawkins Theater buzzed with noise around you; sticky floors, neon lights, kids shouting near the arcade machines, but all you could focus on was Eddie leaning lazily against the hallway wall beside you, cigarette smoke still clinging faintly to his jacket.

“You’re staring,” he murmured.

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

You rolled your eyes, but he grinned anyway, smug and impossible.

Jonathan had dragged you there with Nancy and Steve after one of their “investigating weird shit” days. Except Jonathan barely spoke to you anymore during those outings. He and Nancy walked ahead together whispering constantly, heads bent close enough to touch, and Steve fought for his own girlfriends attention like a kicked puppy.

You noticed everything.

The way Jonathan looked at Nancy when she wasn’t paying attention.

The inside jokes you weren’t part of.

How he always seemed more awake around her. Meanwhile, you’d become background noise.

A girlfriend in title only.

So maybe that was why you kept finding excuses to talk to Eddie lately.

Because Eddie looked at you directly. Like he was interested, like he noticed when you entered a room, and maybe you were angry enough to let that matter too much.

“You wanna know something?” Eddie asked quietly.

“What?”

“You keep looking at them like you’re trying not to set something on fire.”

You followed his gaze automatically.

Jonathan was laughing softly at something Nancy said. That ache returned immediately.

Sharp. Familiar. Humiliating.

“I think he’s cheating on me,” you admitted before you could stop yourself.

Eddie’s expression shifted.

Not joking anymore.

“You know that for sure?”

“No.” You swallowed. “But I think he wants to.”

The words tasted awful out loud.

Eddie stared at Jonathan for another second before muttering, “He’s an idiot.”

You laughed weakly. “You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t have to.”

And God, maybe you were lonelier than you realized, because that almost hurt worse.

…

After that, Eddie started appearing everywhere.

Leaning against your locker after class, sliding into the seat beside you during lunch, waiting outside the arcade while you pretended not to notice him immediately.

At first you thought he was messing with you.

Most people in Hawkins treated Eddie like trouble wrapped in denim and chains.

But Eddie looked at you like he understood something ugly sitting inside your chest.

And the worst part?

You understood him too.

“You know Byers is gonna kill me eventually, right?” Eddie asked one afternoon while walking you home.

“You’re assuming he’d notice.”

The bitterness slipped out before you could stop it.

Eddie glanced sideways at you carefully.

“Huh.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” His voice softened. “I just… don’t think you should talk about yourself like you’re invisible.”

You looked away immediately.

Because lately, invisible was exactly how you felt.

…

The sneaking around started accidentally.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

A ride home after Hellfire ran late. A cigarette shared behind the school gym.

Long conversations in the trailer park while music played softly from Eddie’s room and Wayne slept down the hall.

You kept saying it wasn’t serious. Nothing you’d done with Eddie was physical.

You kept saying Jonathan already emotionally left first anyway.

But guilt still crawled beneath your skin every time Jonathan kissed your forehead distractedly before running off to meet Nancy again.

Because despite everything, Jonathan still trusted you.

And you were starting to hate yourself for breaking that trust even while your heart broke too.

…

One night after a party, everything finally snapped.

You found Jonathan and Nancy alone in the kitchen talking quietly while everyone else crowded the living room.

Nancy’s hand rested on his arm.

Jonathan looked at her the way people looked at stars.

Your stomach twisted painfully. Neither of them noticed you standing there. That somehow hurt most.

You left without saying goodbye.

And twenty minutes later Eddie’s van pulled up beside you while you walked home alone down the dark road.

“Jesus Christ,” he said through the open window. “You look miserable.”

“Thanks.”

“Get in.”

You should’ve said no.

Instead you climbed inside.

The van smelled like gasoline, old leather, and Eddie’s cologne. Music played softly through blown-out speakers while rain started tapping against the windshield overhead.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Then finally Eddie said quietly, “You love him that much?”

Your throat tightened.

“Yeah.”

“And he still makes you feel like that?”

You stared out the window. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice sharpened instantly. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Blame yourself because some guy can’t figure his own shit out.”

You laughed bitterly. “Easy for you to say.”

“No, actually, it’s pretty easy in general.” Eddie leaned back against the seat. “If I had a girlfriend who looked at me the way you look at Jonathan, I wouldn’t even know other girls existed.”

That shouldn’t have affected you as much as it did, but after months of feeling unwanted, Eddie’s attention felt dangerously comforting.

The silence between you shifted.

He noticed it too. You could tell by the way his breathing changed slightly.

“You should go home,” he murmured.

Probably.

Instead you kissed him.

It happened fast. Messy. Impulsive.

The second your hand touched his face, Eddie made this startled sound against your mouth like he genuinely hadn’t expected it.

Then suddenly his hands were in your hair and he was kissing you back hard enough to make your heartbeat stumble.

It felt wrong. It felt reckless.

It felt unbelievably good.

Teeth clashing together, knocking against each other with soft taps. His tongue wet, massaging over your own.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathing hard, reality crashed back immediately.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

Eddie stared at you wide-eyed for half a second before laughing softly in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s about the reaction I was expecting.”

Guilt flooded your chest instantly.

Jonathan.

Jonathan, who still held your hand.

Jonathan, who still said he loved you even if it sounded distracted now.

Jonathan, who might actually be innocent while you were here kissing Eddie Munson in the front seat of a van.

“I’m a terrible person,” you said quietly.

Eddie’s expression softened immediately.

“No,” he said. “You’re hurt.”

“That doesn’t make this okay.”

“No,” he admitted. “Probably not.”

Rain hammered harder against the roof.

Inside the van, everything felt small and overheated and impossible to undo now.

Eddie looked at you carefully.

“You wanna know the really messed up part?”

“What?”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

You laughed weakly despite yourself.

Then Eddie started grinning too.

And suddenly both of you were laughing quietly in the middle of this awful complicated mess because honestly, what else were you supposed to do?

…

By December, sneaking around with Eddie Munson had stopped feeling shocking.

That was probably the worst part.

At first, every secret meeting had made your stomach twist with guilt so sharp you thought you might actually confess just to make it stop.

Now it felt normal.

Dangerously normal.

You’d tell Jonathan you were studying with a friend, then end up tangled in blankets in Eddie’s trailer while Black Sabbath played low through his speakers, your legs thrown over his shoulders in a deep mating press, taking you in a way Jonathan could never quite do for you.

You’d sit beside Jonathan in class the next morning while Eddie burned holes into the back of your chair from two rows over, grinning to himself because nobody else knew where you’d been the night before.

Nobody knew.

Not Nancy.

Not Steve.

Not even Robin, and she somehow knew everything.

Especially not Jonathan.

And honestly?

After a while, you stopped feeling as bad about that as you probably should have.

Because Jonathan still looked at Nancy like she hung the moon.

He still disappeared for hours with her chasing supernatural disasters while you sat at home pretending not to notice.

Half the time he barely touched you anymore unless you initiated it first.

Meanwhile Eddie looked at you like he couldn’t help himself.

Like every room improved the second you walked into it.

It became addictive.

…

Eddie hovered over you on the mattress, curls falling into his face while his hand stayed planted beside your head, trapping you between him and the tangled blankets in a way that made your pulse feel unsteady.

One thigh rested over his broad shoulder, the other wrapped around his hips. His body forced your thighs open, body trembling with uncontrollable need.

His fingers settled deep inside, scissoring them slowly, letting the burning stretch take over.

The closeness alone was enough to make your thoughts blur a little, the smell of cigarette smoke still clinging faintly to his hair, the cold rings brushing your skin whenever he moved, the way he looked at you like he found this entire situation unbelievable in the best possible way.

Months ago, you used to leave the trailer feeling guilty.

Now you just never wanted to leave at all.

Eddie tilted his head slightly, watching your expression shift.

“There’s that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one where you remember you snuck around with me for months.”

You groaned immediately. “You are never letting that go.”

“Absolutely not.” His grin widened. “You know how insane that was from my perspective?”

“Oh, here we go.”

“No, seriously.” Eddie laughed quietly. “You’d walk into Hellfire meetings holding Jonathan Byers’ hand, then show up at my trailer three hours later looking at me like that.”

Your face burned instantly.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanted to climb me like a tree.”

You shoved his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh louder.

“You’re unbelievable. You are inside of me right now, this couldn’t wait?”

“And yet,” Eddie said smugly, leaning closer again, “still your favorite bad decision.”

The space between you disappeared again after that.

Not rushed.

Not careless.

Just magnetic.

Your hands slid up into his hair while Eddie buried his face briefly against your neck with a groan dramatic enough to make you laugh softly.

“Don’t laugh,” he muttered.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You made me wait months, sweetheart. I earned dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your heartbeat stumbled anyway when he looked back at you.

Because teasing aside, Eddie still had this dangerous habit of looking at you too sincerely when things got quiet.

Like underneath all the jokes and flirting, he still couldn’t fully believe you chose him.

His fingers quickly became replaced with something bigger. He sheathed himself all the way in, not satisfied until his pelvic bone ground against yours.

His thumb brushed lightly along your jaw.

“You know what I think?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“I think part of you liked that I noticed you.”

The teasing tone was gone now, replaced by pure confidence and a little bit of power. That made it harder to answer.

You swallowed, because he was right.

Jonathan used to notice you once.

Then somewhere along the line, you became something familiar. Expected. Easy to overlook.

But Eddie noticed everything.

When you were upset.

When you were pretending not to be.

When you walked into a room.

When you looked at him too long.

Even now, his attention felt intense enough to make your chest ache a little.

“You looked at me like I mattered,” you admitted through strangled breaths.

Eddie’s expression changed instantly at that.

Softer, amost angry on your behalf.

“You do matter.”

The words hit harder than they should have, and he drilled in deeper with a brutal force. For a second neither of you moved, Eddie holding you there, letting you feel him pulsing inside of you.

Rain rattled against the windows.

The trailer creaked softly around you.

And Eddie just stayed there close enough that you could feel his breathing, looking at you with an intensity that made everything else feel very far away.

Then his grin returned slightly.

“Still think Byers was blind, by the way.”

You laughed despite yourself.

“There’s the ego again.”

“Massive ego,” Eddie agreed proudly before leaning down to kiss your forehead this time, slower and gentler than before. “Can’t help it. I won.”

The pace picked up again, a conversation far too deep for an act meant to be completely casual melting into pleasurable moans and deep grunts.

The mattress creaked, filling the small room with an unavoidable heat.

…

“Your boyfriend’s gonna figure this out eventually,” Eddie said one night.

You were sprawled across his mattress while cigarette smoke curled lazily toward the trailer ceiling. Outside, rain hammered softly against the windows, wet marks adorning your skin where clothes hid the evidence.

Eddie sat beside you tuning his guitar absentmindedly.

“He hasn’t so far.”

You didn’t even bother to put your shirt back on, perfectly comfortable laying spread in only your underwear.

“That’s because Byers is too busy staring at Wheeler.”

The words should’ve hurt more, instead you just rolled your eyes.

“That obvious, huh?”

“To literally everyone except him.”

You laughed quietly. Months ago that conversation would’ve made your chest ache, now mostly it just exhausted you.

Eddie noticed immediately.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

You looked over at him.

The dim light softened the sharp edges of his face. His rings glinted silver as his fingers moved over the guitar strings lazily. The same fingers that had been knuckle deep inside of you just moments before, completely drenched with the arousal he pulled from my core mixed with the slick saliva from his messy mouth.

His dirty mouth becoming something softer after, always carrying a simple conversation, and somewhere along the line, Eddie had become easy to be around.

Too easy.

“You know what’s weird?” you murmured.

“What?”

“I thought I’d feel guiltier than this.”

Eddie stopped playing.

The room went quiet except for the rain.

“Do you wanna?”

You considered it honestly.

Then shrugged.

“Not really.”

That should’ve sounded horrible.

Maybe it was horrible.

But after months of being ignored, overlooked, and quietly replaced emotionally, your guilt had slowly burned itself out.

Jonathan still technically belonged to you, but his heart didn’t. Maybe it hadn’t for a long time.

Eddie set the guitar aside carefully.

“You ever gonna break up with him?”

The question hung heavy between you. You stared at the ceiling.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

You frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” Eddie leaned back against the wall behind the bed. “You just don’t wanna be the bad guy.”

That hit too directly.

Because maybe he was right.

If Jonathan officially left you for Nancy, then at least your heartbreak could stay clean.

Simple.

But this?

Sneaking around with Eddie for months while pretending everything was fine?

That made you complicated too.

Messy.

Selfish.

Eddie watched your expression carefully.

Then quieter, “I’m not judging you, sweetheart.”

“You should.”

“Nah.” He gave a crooked smile. “I like complicated girls.”

You snorted despite yourself.

“Your standards are concerning.”

“Very.”

The tension eased after that.

It always did with Eddie.

He had this irritating ability to make terrible situations feel lighter without pretending they weren’t terrible.

That was part of why you kept coming back.

With Jonathan, loving him had started feeling lonely.

With Eddie, even silence felt full.

…

The secrecy became routine.

Thursday nights at the trailer park.

Quick hidden conversations after Hellfire meetings.

Eddie’s hand brushing yours under tables while Jonathan sat three feet away completely oblivious.

Honestly, that part started becoming thrilling too.

Not because you wanted to hurt Jonathan.

But because for once, somebody was choosing you in secret instead of choosing someone else right in front of you.

“You’re staring again,” Eddie murmured one afternoon in the school parking lot.

You blinked. “At what?”

“Me.”

“I am not.”

He grinned immediately. “You totally are.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet here you are.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying not to smile.

Eddie caught your wrist before you could pull away.

The touch lingered.

Your pulse skipped instantly.

God.

That still happened every time.

Eddie’s expression softened just slightly as he looked at you.

Not joking now.

Not flirting.

Just… looking.

“You know,” he said quietly, “you laugh more now.”

Something about that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

Because he was right.

You did.

Even with all the lying and sneaking around and emotional disaster of your life, you laughed more with Eddie than you had in months with Jonathan.

Maybe that should’ve told you everything already.

…

The closest Jonathan ever came to figuring it out happened in January.

The three of you were at Family Video helping Steve reorganize tapes while Robin complained loudly from behind the counter.

Jonathan reached for your hand absentmindedly while talking to Nancy.

You froze immediately.

Because Eddie was standing across the store watching.

For one horrible second guilt came rushing back hard enough to make you nauseous.

Jonathan squeezed your hand lightly without even looking at you.

Automatic.

Distracted.

Like habit.

Then Nancy said something and his attention snapped right back toward her.

Your chest went cold.

Across the room, Eddie saw it too.

The hurt.

The realization.

Jonathan let go of your hand a second later without noticing your expression at all.

But Eddie noticed.

Of course he did.

Later that night, you showed up at the trailer without calling first.

Eddie opened the door already smirking. “Miss me?”

Instead of answering, you kissed him immediately.

Hard enough to shut him up.

Eddie stumbled backward laughing against your mouth. “Whoa, okay—”

“You were right.”

“That narrows absolutely nothing down.”

“About Jonathan.”

Eddie’s grin faded slightly.

You looked away.

“He doesn’t love me anymore.”

The words hurt less now.

Mostly because you’d already mourned the relationship while still inside it.

Eddie’s face softened.

Slowly, carefully, he reached up and brushed hair away from your face.

“You deserve somebody who actually sees you,” he said quietly.

And maybe that should’ve scared you more than it did.

And maybe it did.

After that night, something shifted, not between you and Eddie, that had already shifted months ago. No, the change happened inside you.

Because Eddie’s words kept echoing in your head every time Jonathan forgot to call. Every time he canceled plans because Nancy “needed help.” Every time you caught yourself sitting silently beside your own boyfriend feeling lonelier than when you were actually alone.

You deserve somebody who actually sees you.

The problem was, Eddie did see you.

Too much, maybe.

And lately that was starting to scare you.

…

“You’re distracted,” Jonathan said one afternoon.

You nearly laughed out loud at the irony.

The two of you sat together in the Byers living room while Will and Joyce argued softly in the kitchen. A movie played on the television, forgotten background noise neither of you were really watching.

Jonathan had barely spoken to you for twenty minutes.

Now suddenly he noticed something was wrong.

“I’m fine,” you answered automatically.

He studied you for a second like he wanted to believe that.

Then Nancy called the house phone, and just like that, his attention vanished again. You watched him smile at the sound of her voice.

Watched him lean forward unconsciously like hearing Nancy Wheeler speak required his full concentration.

Something inside you finally went numb.

Not broken.

Not shattered.

Just… done.

You stood quietly, grabbing your jacket.

Jonathan looked up distractedly. “You leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

There it was again, that guilty little crease between his eyebrows, like part of him already knew he was losing you.

You almost wanted him to fight for it anyway.

Instead he just looked tired.

And suddenly you couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at you the way Eddie did.

“I’ll call you later,” Jonathan said.

You both knew he probably wouldn’t.

…

Eddie was waiting outside some building on the outskirts of town when you arrived.

Leaning against the brick wall, cigarette glowing between his fingers, leather jacket damp from the cold.

The second he saw your face, his expression changed.

“What happened?”

You crossed your arms tightly. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

You looked away.

Eddie sighed softly, flicking the cigarette onto the pavement before stepping closer.

“He with Wheeler again?”

You hated how easily he guessed. You hated even more that you nodded.

For a moment Eddie didn’t say anything.

Then quieter, “C’mere.”

The words were so gentle they nearly undid you. You let him pull you against his chest without protest.

His arms wrapped around you instantly — warm, solid, familiar now.

You remembered when touching Eddie used to feel dangerous, now it felt like relief.

“You know what’s really messed up?” you mumbled against his jacket.

“What?”

“I don’t even feel sad anymore.”

Eddie’s hand slowed against your back.

That got his attention.

“I just…” You swallowed hard. “I think I stopped missing him before we even ended.”

The confession sat heavy between you both, because neither of you had said it out loud yet.

Not really.

You and Jonathan were still technically together.

But it felt more like a memory than a relationship now.

Eddie tilted his head down slightly, trying to catch your eyes.

“You gonna tell him?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Eddie repeated skeptically.

“I know.”

He studied you carefully.

“You’re afraid.”

“Obviously.”

“Of hurting him?”

You hesitated.

Then whispered, “Of him not caring.”

That made Eddie visibly flinch.

His jaw tightened immediately like the idea genuinely upset him.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “He really did a number on you, huh?”

You tried laughing it off.

It came out shaky instead.

…

The next few weeks became unbearable in a different way.

Not because of Jonathan.

Because of Eddie.

Because somewhere along the line, the rules between you had gotten blurry.

This was supposed to be casual. Revenge, maybe. A distraction. Something reckless to numb the ache Jonathan left behind.

Except Eddie started memorizing things about you.

Your favorite songs.

How you took your coffee.

Which movies made you cry even when you pretended they didn’t.

And worse?

You memorized things too.

The exact sound of his laugh when he was genuinely surprised, the way he got quieter when he was tired, how he always handed you the last bite of whatever he was eating without even thinking about it.

It stopped feeling temporary.

That was the problem.

…

“You’re staring again,” Eddie said one night from across the trailer.

You blinked. “Shut up.”

He grinned lazily from the couch. “Nah, seriously. It’s getting weird now.”

“You’re literally wearing a Dio shirt and leather pants indoors.”

“And?”

“And you look ridiculous.”

“Yet deeply attractive.”

You rolled your eyes.

But Eddie caught the tiny smile anyway.

He always did.

The trailer felt warm despite the snow outside. Music played softly from Eddie’s cassette player while Wayne worked the late shift.

You sat cross-legged on the floor flipping through one of Eddie’s campaign notebooks absentmindedly.

Then you found it.

A sketch.

Messy pencil lines of your face tucked between pages of monster designs and campaign notes.

Your chest tightened instantly.

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“You drew me?”

His expression changed the second he realized what you found.

For once in his life, Eddie Munson looked caught off guard.

“Uh.”

You stared at him. “When?”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Couple weeks ago.”

“A couple— Eddie.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

But his face had gone slightly red.

Which somehow made it worse.

You looked back down at the drawing.

The detail startled you.

He’d drawn you carefully.

Like he’d spent time on it.

Like you mattered enough to study.

Something dangerous twisted low in your stomach.

“This,” you said quietly, “doesn’t really feel casual anymore.”

The room went still.

Eddie looked at you for a long moment without joking this time.

Then finally:

“No,” he admitted softly. “Guess it doesn’t.”

The silence after Eddie admitted it stretched painfully long.

Outside, wind rattled weakly against the trailer windows. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once before everything went quiet again.

You stared down at the sketch in your hands.

Eddie stared at you.

Neither of you seemed to know what happened next, because feelings complicated things.

Feelings turned this from something reckless and temporary into something capable of hurting people.

And maybe the worst part was realizing you didn’t want it to stop anyway.

“You should’ve told me,” you said softly.

Eddie let out a short laugh. “Oh yeah, because that conversation would’ve gone great.”

You looked up.

“I mean it.”

His expression shifted immediately at your tone.

“I know.” He leaned back against the couch cushions, running a hand through his hair. “I just… didn’t think you wanted this to be serious.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again, because months ago he would’ve been right. Months ago Eddie had been escape. A distraction. A way to feel wanted while Jonathan slowly drifted toward Nancy.

But now?

Now Eddie was the person you looked for first in crowded rooms.

The person you wanted to tell things to. The person who noticed when you were upset before you even spoke.

And that terrified you a little.

“You know what the really pathetic part is?” you murmured.

Eddie frowned slightly. “What?”

“I think I started falling for you while I was still trying to convince myself I loved Jonathan.”

The confession hung heavily between you both.

Eddie looked stunned for half a second.

Then something softer settled into his expression.

Not smugness.

Not victory.

Just tenderness so genuine it made your chest ache.

“Sweetheart,” he said quietly, “there is literally nothing pathetic about choosing someone who actually makes you happy.”

Your throat tightened immediately.

God.

Jonathan used to make you feel like this once.

Seen.

Important.

But somewhere along the line, loving Jonathan had started feeling like waiting outside a locked door hoping someone might eventually let you in again.

With Eddie, the door had always been open.

You just hadn’t realized how badly you needed that.

…

The breakup finally happened three days later.

Not dramatic.

Not explosive.

Honestly, that almost made it sadder.

Jonathan stood beside you outside the school parking lot, shoulders tense against the cold while students passed around you pretending not to eavesdrop.

You’d rehearsed this conversation all night.

None of the words sounded right anymore.

“I think we both know this isn’t working,” you said quietly.

Jonathan looked down immediately.

That told you everything.

No confusion.

No shock.

Just resignation.

Like some part of him had been expecting this too.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment.

The simplicity of it hurt more than yelling would’ve.

You crossed your arms tightly.

“I didn’t want us to end like this.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “Me neither.”

But neither of you knew how to fix it anymore.

Maybe you never really could’ve.

You studied his face carefully, searching for the devastation you’d imagined for months.

It wasn’t there.

He looked sad.

Guilty, maybe.

But relieved too.

And strangely enough?

So did you.

After a long silence, Jonathan finally said quietly, “Is there someone else?”

Your heart stopped.

For one horrible second, you thought he somehow knew.

You thought about Eddie waiting for you at the trailer later tonight.

About hidden kisses and secret smiles and months of lying.

About the few times he’d have you half heartedly, and all you could think about while he shoved your face into the mattress was how much deeper Eddie could reach. Then, when it became more the physicality, how much sweeter Eddie would talk to you.

Your stomach twisted.

But Jonathan looked tired more than suspicious.

And suddenly you realized something awful:

He was asking because he hoped there had been someone else, because then maybe this wouldn’t entirely be his fault either.

You swallowed hard.

“No,” you lied.

Jonathan closed his eyes briefly.

Then nodded.

“Okay.”

That was it.

No screaming.

No accusations.

Just two people quietly acknowledging they’d already lost each other a long time ago.

When Jonathan finally walked away, you expected heartbreak.

Instead you mostly felt empty.

And underneath that emptiness:

Relief.

…

Eddie answered the trailer door already smiling.

“You’re late.”

You stared at him silently for a second.

His smile faded immediately.

“What happened?”

“It’s over.”

The words came out smaller than you expected.

For a moment Eddie just looked at you.

Carefully.

Like he was trying to figure out whether to comfort you or celebrate.

Then finally he asked softly, “You okay?”

And somehow that question broke you more than the breakup itself.

Because Jonathan hadn’t asked.

Not really.

But Eddie always did.

You laughed shakily, wiping suddenly burning eyes before tears could actually fall.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I am.”

Eddie stepped aside quietly to let you in.

The trailer felt warm compared to the freezing air outside. Music hummed softly from the radio while a half-finished campaign map sat spread across the table.

Normal.

Comfortable.

Homey in a way you hadn’t expected it to become.

You set your bag down slowly.

Then Eddie reached for your hand.

Not rushed.

Not secretive.

Just open.

Like he wasn’t afraid anymore.

Your chest tightened painfully at the difference.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles, “this means I can finally flirt with you in public now.”

You laughed through the lingering ache in your chest.

“That’s your first thought?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he grinned softly, pulling you closer, “you still picked me.”

The Hawkins Theater buzzed with noise around you; sticky floors, neon lights, kids shouting near the arcade machines, but all you could focus on was Eddie leaning lazily against the hallway wall beside you, cigarette smoke still clinging faintly to his jacket.

“You’re staring,” he murmured.

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

You rolled your eyes, but he grinned anyway, smug and impossible.

Jonathan had dragged you there with Nancy and Steve after one of their “investigating weird shit” days. Except Jonathan barely spoke to you anymore during those outings. He and Nancy walked ahead together whispering constantly, heads bent close enough to touch, and Steve fought for his own girlfriends attention like a kicked puppy.

You noticed everything.

The way Jonathan looked at Nancy when she wasn’t paying attention.

The inside jokes you weren’t part of.

How he always seemed more awake around her. Meanwhile, you’d become background noise.

A girlfriend in title only.

So maybe that was why you kept finding excuses to talk to Eddie lately.

Because Eddie looked at you directly. Like he was interested, like he noticed when you entered a room, and maybe you were angry enough to let that matter too much.

“You wanna know something?” Eddie asked quietly.

“What?”

“You keep looking at them like you’re trying not to set something on fire.”

You followed his gaze automatically.

Jonathan was laughing softly at something Nancy said. That ache returned immediately.

Sharp. Familiar. Humiliating.

“I think he’s cheating on me,” you admitted before you could stop yourself.

Eddie’s expression shifted.

Not joking anymore.

“You know that for sure?”

“No.” You swallowed. “But I think he wants to.”

The words tasted awful out loud.

Eddie stared at Jonathan for another second before muttering, “He’s an idiot.”

You laughed weakly. “You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t have to.”

And God, maybe you were lonelier than you realized, because that almost hurt worse.

…

After that, Eddie started appearing everywhere.

Leaning against your locker after class, sliding into the seat beside you during lunch, waiting outside the arcade while you pretended not to notice him immediately.

At first you thought he was messing with you.

Most people in Hawkins treated Eddie like trouble wrapped in denim and chains.

But Eddie looked at you like he understood something ugly sitting inside your chest.

And the worst part?

You understood him too.

“You know Byers is gonna kill me eventually, right?” Eddie asked one afternoon while walking you home.

“You’re assuming he’d notice.”

The bitterness slipped out before you could stop it.

Eddie glanced sideways at you carefully.

“Huh.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” His voice softened. “I just… don’t think you should talk about yourself like you’re invisible.”

You looked away immediately.

Because lately, invisible was exactly how you felt.

…

The sneaking around started accidentally.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

A ride home after Hellfire ran late. A cigarette shared behind the school gym.

Long conversations in the trailer park while music played softly from Eddie’s room and Wayne slept down the hall.

You kept saying it wasn’t serious. Nothing you’d done with Eddie was physical.

You kept saying Jonathan already emotionally left first anyway.

But guilt still crawled beneath your skin every time Jonathan kissed your forehead distractedly before running off to meet Nancy again.

Because despite everything, Jonathan still trusted you.

And you were starting to hate yourself for breaking that trust even while your heart broke too.

…

One night after a party, everything finally snapped.

You found Jonathan and Nancy alone in the kitchen talking quietly while everyone else crowded the living room.

Nancy’s hand rested on his arm.

Jonathan looked at her the way people looked at stars.

Your stomach twisted painfully. Neither of them noticed you standing there. That somehow hurt most.

You left without saying goodbye.

And twenty minutes later Eddie’s van pulled up beside you while you walked home alone down the dark road.

“Jesus Christ,” he said through the open window. “You look miserable.”

“Thanks.”

“Get in.”

You should’ve said no.

Instead you climbed inside.

The van smelled like gasoline, old leather, and Eddie’s cologne. Music played softly through blown-out speakers while rain started tapping against the windshield overhead.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Then finally Eddie said quietly, “You love him that much?”

Your throat tightened.

“Yeah.”

“And he still makes you feel like that?”

You stared out the window. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice sharpened instantly. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Blame yourself because some guy can’t figure his own shit out.”

You laughed bitterly. “Easy for you to say.”

“No, actually, it’s pretty easy in general.” Eddie leaned back against the seat. “If I had a girlfriend who looked at me the way you look at Jonathan, I wouldn’t even know other girls existed.”

That shouldn’t have affected you as much as it did, but after months of feeling unwanted, Eddie’s attention felt dangerously comforting.

The silence between you shifted.

He noticed it too. You could tell by the way his breathing changed slightly.

“You should go home,” he murmured.

Probably.

Instead you kissed him.

It happened fast. Messy. Impulsive.

The second your hand touched his face, Eddie made this startled sound against your mouth like he genuinely hadn’t expected it.

Then suddenly his hands were in your hair and he was kissing you back hard enough to make your heartbeat stumble.

It felt wrong. It felt reckless.

It felt unbelievably good.

Teeth clashing together, knocking against each other with soft taps. His tongue wet, massaging over your own.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathing hard, reality crashed back immediately.

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

Eddie stared at you wide-eyed for half a second before laughing softly in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s about the reaction I was expecting.”

Guilt flooded your chest instantly.

Jonathan.

Jonathan, who still held your hand.

Jonathan, who still said he loved you even if it sounded distracted now.

Jonathan, who might actually be innocent while you were here kissing Eddie Munson in the front seat of a van.

“I’m a terrible person,” you said quietly.

Eddie’s expression softened immediately.

“No,” he said. “You’re hurt.”

“That doesn’t make this okay.”

“No,” he admitted. “Probably not.”

Rain hammered harder against the roof.

Inside the van, everything felt small and overheated and impossible to undo now.

Eddie looked at you carefully.

“You wanna know the really messed up part?”

“What?”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

You laughed weakly despite yourself.

Then Eddie started grinning too.

And suddenly both of you were laughing quietly in the middle of this awful complicated mess because honestly, what else were you supposed to do?

…

By December, sneaking around with Eddie Munson had stopped feeling shocking.

That was probably the worst part.

At first, every secret meeting had made your stomach twist with guilt so sharp you thought you might actually confess just to make it stop.

Now it felt normal.

Dangerously normal.

You’d tell Jonathan you were studying with a friend, then end up tangled in blankets in Eddie’s trailer while Black Sabbath played low through his speakers, your legs thrown over his shoulders in a deep mating press, taking you in a way Jonathan could never quite do for you.

You’d sit beside Jonathan in class the next morning while Eddie burned holes into the back of your chair from two rows over, grinning to himself because nobody else knew where you’d been the night before.

Nobody knew.

Not Nancy.

Not Steve.

Not even Robin, and she somehow knew everything.

Especially not Jonathan.

And honestly?

After a while, you stopped feeling as bad about that as you probably should have.

Because Jonathan still looked at Nancy like she hung the moon.

He still disappeared for hours with her chasing supernatural disasters while you sat at home pretending not to notice.

Half the time he barely touched you anymore unless you initiated it first.

Meanwhile Eddie looked at you like he couldn’t help himself.

Like every room improved the second you walked into it.

It became addictive.

…

Eddie hovered over you on the mattress, curls falling into his face while his hand stayed planted beside your head, trapping you between him and the tangled blankets in a way that made your pulse feel unsteady.

One thigh rested over his broad shoulder, the other wrapped around his hips. His body forced your thighs open, body trembling with uncontrollable need.

His fingers settled deep inside, scissoring them slowly, letting the burning stretch take over.

The closeness alone was enough to make your thoughts blur a little, the smell of cigarette smoke still clinging faintly to his hair, the cold rings brushing your skin whenever he moved, the way he looked at you like he found this entire situation unbelievable in the best possible way.

Months ago, you used to leave the trailer feeling guilty.

Now you just never wanted to leave at all.

Eddie tilted his head slightly, watching your expression shift.

“There’s that look again.”

“What look?”

“The one where you remember you snuck around with me for months.”

You groaned immediately. “You are never letting that go.”

“Absolutely not.” His grin widened. “You know how insane that was from my perspective?”

“Oh, here we go.”

“No, seriously.” Eddie laughed quietly. “You’d walk into Hellfire meetings holding Jonathan Byers’ hand, then show up at my trailer three hours later looking at me like that.”

Your face burned instantly.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanted to climb me like a tree.”

You shoved his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh louder.

“You’re unbelievable. You are inside of me right now, this couldn’t wait?”

“And yet,” Eddie said smugly, leaning closer again, “still your favorite bad decision.”

The space between you disappeared again after that.

Not rushed.

Not careless.

Just magnetic.

Your hands slid up into his hair while Eddie buried his face briefly against your neck with a groan dramatic enough to make you laugh softly.

“Don’t laugh,” he muttered.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You made me wait months, sweetheart. I earned dramatic.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your heartbeat stumbled anyway when he looked back at you.

Because teasing aside, Eddie still had this dangerous habit of looking at you too sincerely when things got quiet.

Like underneath all the jokes and flirting, he still couldn’t fully believe you chose him.

His fingers quickly became replaced with something bigger. He sheathed himself all the way in, not satisfied until his pelvic bone ground against yours.

His thumb brushed lightly along your jaw.

“You know what I think?” he asked softly.

“What?”

“I think part of you liked that I noticed you.”

The teasing tone was gone now, replaced by pure confidence and a little bit of power. That made it harder to answer.

You swallowed, because he was right.

Jonathan used to notice you once.

Then somewhere along the line, you became something familiar. Expected. Easy to overlook.

But Eddie noticed everything.

When you were upset.

When you were pretending not to be.

When you walked into a room.

When you looked at him too long.

Even now, his attention felt intense enough to make your chest ache a little.

“You looked at me like I mattered,” you admitted through strangled breaths.

Eddie’s expression changed instantly at that.

Softer, amost angry on your behalf.

“You do matter.”

The words hit harder than they should have, and he drilled in deeper with a brutal force. For a second neither of you moved, Eddie holding you there, letting you feel him pulsing inside of you.

Rain rattled against the windows.

The trailer creaked softly around you.

And Eddie just stayed there close enough that you could feel his breathing, looking at you with an intensity that made everything else feel very far away.

Then his grin returned slightly.

“Still think Byers was blind, by the way.”

You laughed despite yourself.

“There’s the ego again.”

“Massive ego,” Eddie agreed proudly before leaning down to kiss your forehead this time, slower and gentler than before. “Can’t help it. I won.”

The pace picked up again, a conversation far too deep for an act meant to be completely casual melting into pleasurable moans and deep grunts.

The mattress creaked, filling the small room with an unavoidable heat.

…

“Your boyfriend’s gonna figure this out eventually,” Eddie said one night.

You were sprawled across his mattress while cigarette smoke curled lazily toward the trailer ceiling. Outside, rain hammered softly against the windows, wet marks adorning your skin where clothes hid the evidence.

Eddie sat beside you tuning his guitar absentmindedly.

“He hasn’t so far.”

You didn’t even bother to put your shirt back on, perfectly comfortable laying spread in only your underwear.

“That’s because Byers is too busy staring at Wheeler.”

The words should’ve hurt more, instead you just rolled your eyes.

“That obvious, huh?”

“To literally everyone except him.”

You laughed quietly. Months ago that conversation would’ve made your chest ache, now mostly it just exhausted you.

Eddie noticed immediately.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Liar.”

You looked over at him.

The dim light softened the sharp edges of his face. His rings glinted silver as his fingers moved over the guitar strings lazily. The same fingers that had been knuckle deep inside of you just moments before, completely drenched with the arousal he pulled from my core mixed with the slick saliva from his messy mouth.

His dirty mouth becoming something softer after, always carrying a simple conversation, and somewhere along the line, Eddie had become easy to be around.

Too easy.

“You know what’s weird?” you murmured.

“What?”

“I thought I’d feel guiltier than this.”

Eddie stopped playing.

The room went quiet except for the rain.

“Do you wanna?”

You considered it honestly.

Then shrugged.

“Not really.”

That should’ve sounded horrible.

Maybe it was horrible.

But after months of being ignored, overlooked, and quietly replaced emotionally, your guilt had slowly burned itself out.

Jonathan still technically belonged to you, but his heart didn’t. Maybe it hadn’t for a long time.

Eddie set the guitar aside carefully.

“You ever gonna break up with him?”

The question hung heavy between you. You stared at the ceiling.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

You frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

“You know.” Eddie leaned back against the wall behind the bed. “You just don’t wanna be the bad guy.”

That hit too directly.

Because maybe he was right.

If Jonathan officially left you for Nancy, then at least your heartbreak could stay clean.

Simple.

But this?

Sneaking around with Eddie for months while pretending everything was fine?

That made you complicated too.

Messy.

Selfish.

Eddie watched your expression carefully.

Then quieter, “I’m not judging you, sweetheart.”

“You should.”

“Nah.” He gave a crooked smile. “I like complicated girls.”

You snorted despite yourself.

“Your standards are concerning.”

“Very.”

The tension eased after that.

It always did with Eddie.

He had this irritating ability to make terrible situations feel lighter without pretending they weren’t terrible.

That was part of why you kept coming back.

With Jonathan, loving him had started feeling lonely.

With Eddie, even silence felt full.

…

The secrecy became routine.

Thursday nights at the trailer park.

Quick hidden conversations after Hellfire meetings.

Eddie’s hand brushing yours under tables while Jonathan sat three feet away completely oblivious.

Honestly, that part started becoming thrilling too.

Not because you wanted to hurt Jonathan.

But because for once, somebody was choosing you in secret instead of choosing someone else right in front of you.

“You’re staring again,” Eddie murmured one afternoon in the school parking lot.

You blinked. “At what?”

“Me.”

“I am not.”

He grinned immediately. “You totally are.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet here you are.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying not to smile.

Eddie caught your wrist before you could pull away.

The touch lingered.

Your pulse skipped instantly.

God.

That still happened every time.

Eddie’s expression softened just slightly as he looked at you.

Not joking now.

Not flirting.

Just… looking.

“You know,” he said quietly, “you laugh more now.”

Something about that made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

Because he was right.

You did.

Even with all the lying and sneaking around and emotional disaster of your life, you laughed more with Eddie than you had in months with Jonathan.

Maybe that should’ve told you everything already.

…

The closest Jonathan ever came to figuring it out happened in January.

The three of you were at Family Video helping Steve reorganize tapes while Robin complained loudly from behind the counter.

Jonathan reached for your hand absentmindedly while talking to Nancy.

You froze immediately.

Because Eddie was standing across the store watching.

For one horrible second guilt came rushing back hard enough to make you nauseous.

Jonathan squeezed your hand lightly without even looking at you.

Automatic.

Distracted.

Like habit.

Then Nancy said something and his attention snapped right back toward her.

Your chest went cold.

Across the room, Eddie saw it too.

The hurt.

The realization.

Jonathan let go of your hand a second later without noticing your expression at all.

But Eddie noticed.

Of course he did.

Later that night, you showed up at the trailer without calling first.

Eddie opened the door already smirking. “Miss me?”

Instead of answering, you kissed him immediately.

Hard enough to shut him up.

Eddie stumbled backward laughing against your mouth. “Whoa, okay—”

“You were right.”

“That narrows absolutely nothing down.”

“About Jonathan.”

Eddie’s grin faded slightly.

You looked away.

“He doesn’t love me anymore.”

The words hurt less now.

Mostly because you’d already mourned the relationship while still inside it.

Eddie’s face softened.

Slowly, carefully, he reached up and brushed hair away from your face.

“You deserve somebody who actually sees you,” he said quietly.

And maybe that should’ve scared you more than it did.

And maybe it did.

After that night, something shifted, not between you and Eddie, that had already shifted months ago. No, the change happened inside you.

Because Eddie’s words kept echoing in your head every time Jonathan forgot to call. Every time he canceled plans because Nancy “needed help.” Every time you caught yourself sitting silently beside your own boyfriend feeling lonelier than when you were actually alone.

You deserve somebody who actually sees you.

The problem was, Eddie did see you.

Too much, maybe.

And lately that was starting to scare you.

…

“You’re distracted,” Jonathan said one afternoon.

You nearly laughed out loud at the irony.

The two of you sat together in the Byers living room while Will and Joyce argued softly in the kitchen. A movie played on the television, forgotten background noise neither of you were really watching.

Jonathan had barely spoken to you for twenty minutes.

Now suddenly he noticed something was wrong.

“I’m fine,” you answered automatically.

He studied you for a second like he wanted to believe that.

Then Nancy called the house phone, and just like that, his attention vanished again. You watched him smile at the sound of her voice.

Watched him lean forward unconsciously like hearing Nancy Wheeler speak required his full concentration.

Something inside you finally went numb.

Not broken.

Not shattered.

Just… done.

You stood quietly, grabbing your jacket.

Jonathan looked up distractedly. “You leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?”

There it was again, that guilty little crease between his eyebrows, like part of him already knew he was losing you.

You almost wanted him to fight for it anyway.

Instead he just looked tired.

And suddenly you couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at you the way Eddie did.

“I’ll call you later,” Jonathan said.

You both knew he probably wouldn’t.

…

Eddie was waiting outside some building on the outskirts of town when you arrived.

Leaning against the brick wall, cigarette glowing between his fingers, leather jacket damp from the cold.

The second he saw your face, his expression changed.

“What happened?”

You crossed your arms tightly. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

You looked away.

Eddie sighed softly, flicking the cigarette onto the pavement before stepping closer.

“He with Wheeler again?”

You hated how easily he guessed. You hated even more that you nodded.

For a moment Eddie didn’t say anything.

Then quieter, “C’mere.”

The words were so gentle they nearly undid you. You let him pull you against his chest without protest.

His arms wrapped around you instantly — warm, solid, familiar now.

You remembered when touching Eddie used to feel dangerous, now it felt like relief.

“You know what’s really messed up?” you mumbled against his jacket.

“What?”

“I don’t even feel sad anymore.”

Eddie’s hand slowed against your back.

That got his attention.

“I just…” You swallowed hard. “I think I stopped missing him before we even ended.”

The confession sat heavy between you both, because neither of you had said it out loud yet.

Not really.

You and Jonathan were still technically together.

But it felt more like a memory than a relationship now.

Eddie tilted his head down slightly, trying to catch your eyes.

“You gonna tell him?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Eddie repeated skeptically.

“I know.”

He studied you carefully.

“You’re afraid.”

“Obviously.”

“Of hurting him?”

You hesitated.

Then whispered, “Of him not caring.”

That made Eddie visibly flinch.

His jaw tightened immediately like the idea genuinely upset him.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “He really did a number on you, huh?”

You tried laughing it off.

It came out shaky instead.

…

The next few weeks became unbearable in a different way.

Not because of Jonathan.

Because of Eddie.

Because somewhere along the line, the rules between you had gotten blurry.

This was supposed to be casual. Revenge, maybe. A distraction. Something reckless to numb the ache Jonathan left behind.

Except Eddie started memorizing things about you.

Your favorite songs.

How you took your coffee.

Which movies made you cry even when you pretended they didn’t.

And worse?

You memorized things too.

The exact sound of his laugh when he was genuinely surprised, the way he got quieter when he was tired, how he always handed you the last bite of whatever he was eating without even thinking about it.

It stopped feeling temporary.

That was the problem.

…

“You’re staring again,” Eddie said one night from across the trailer.

You blinked. “Shut up.”

He grinned lazily from the couch. “Nah, seriously. It’s getting weird now.”

“You’re literally wearing a Dio shirt and leather pants indoors.”

“And?”

“And you look ridiculous.”

“Yet deeply attractive.”

You rolled your eyes.

But Eddie caught the tiny smile anyway.

He always did.

The trailer felt warm despite the snow outside. Music played softly from Eddie’s cassette player while Wayne worked the late shift.

You sat cross-legged on the floor flipping through one of Eddie’s campaign notebooks absentmindedly.

Then you found it.

A sketch.

Messy pencil lines of your face tucked between pages of monster designs and campaign notes.

Your chest tightened instantly.

“Eddie.”

“Hmm?”

“You drew me?”

His expression changed the second he realized what you found.

For once in his life, Eddie Munson looked caught off guard.

“Uh.”

You stared at him. “When?”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Couple weeks ago.”

“A couple— Eddie.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

But his face had gone slightly red.

Which somehow made it worse.

You looked back down at the drawing.

The detail startled you.

He’d drawn you carefully.

Like he’d spent time on it.

Like you mattered enough to study.

Something dangerous twisted low in your stomach.

“This,” you said quietly, “doesn’t really feel casual anymore.”

The room went still.

Eddie looked at you for a long moment without joking this time.

Then finally:

“No,” he admitted softly. “Guess it doesn’t.”

The silence after Eddie admitted it stretched painfully long.

Outside, wind rattled weakly against the trailer windows. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once before everything went quiet again.

You stared down at the sketch in your hands.

Eddie stared at you.

Neither of you seemed to know what happened next, because feelings complicated things.

Feelings turned this from something reckless and temporary into something capable of hurting people.

And maybe the worst part was realizing you didn’t want it to stop anyway.

“You should’ve told me,” you said softly.

Eddie let out a short laugh. “Oh yeah, because that conversation would’ve gone great.”

You looked up.

“I mean it.”

His expression shifted immediately at your tone.

“I know.” He leaned back against the couch cushions, running a hand through his hair. “I just… didn’t think you wanted this to be serious.”

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again, because months ago he would’ve been right. Months ago Eddie had been escape. A distraction. A way to feel wanted while Jonathan slowly drifted toward Nancy.

But now?

Now Eddie was the person you looked for first in crowded rooms.

The person you wanted to tell things to. The person who noticed when you were upset before you even spoke.

And that terrified you a little.

“You know what the really pathetic part is?” you murmured.

Eddie frowned slightly. “What?”

“I think I started falling for you while I was still trying to convince myself I loved Jonathan.”

The confession hung heavily between you both.

Eddie looked stunned for half a second.

Then something softer settled into his expression.

Not smugness.

Not victory.

Just tenderness so genuine it made your chest ache.

“Sweetheart,” he said quietly, “there is literally nothing pathetic about choosing someone who actually makes you happy.”

Your throat tightened immediately.

God.

Jonathan used to make you feel like this once.

Seen.

Important.

But somewhere along the line, loving Jonathan had started feeling like waiting outside a locked door hoping someone might eventually let you in again.

With Eddie, the door had always been open.

You just hadn’t realized how badly you needed that.

…

The breakup finally happened three days later.

Not dramatic.

Not explosive.

Honestly, that almost made it sadder.

Jonathan stood beside you outside the school parking lot, shoulders tense against the cold while students passed around you pretending not to eavesdrop.

You’d rehearsed this conversation all night.

None of the words sounded right anymore.

“I think we both know this isn’t working,” you said quietly.

Jonathan looked down immediately.

That told you everything.

No confusion.

No shock.

Just resignation.

Like some part of him had been expecting this too.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment.

The simplicity of it hurt more than yelling would’ve.

You crossed your arms tightly.

“I didn’t want us to end like this.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “Me neither.”

But neither of you knew how to fix it anymore.

Maybe you never really could’ve.

You studied his face carefully, searching for the devastation you’d imagined for months.

It wasn’t there.

He looked sad.

Guilty, maybe.

But relieved too.

And strangely enough?

So did you.

After a long silence, Jonathan finally said quietly, “Is there someone else?”

Your heart stopped.

For one horrible second, you thought he somehow knew.

You thought about Eddie waiting for you at the trailer later tonight.

About hidden kisses and secret smiles and months of lying.

About the few times he’d have you half heartedly, and all you could think about while he shoved your face into the mattress was how much deeper Eddie could reach. Then, when it became more the physicality, how much sweeter Eddie would talk to you.

Your stomach twisted.

But Jonathan looked tired more than suspicious.

And suddenly you realized something awful:

He was asking because he hoped there had been someone else, because then maybe this wouldn’t entirely be his fault either.

You swallowed hard.

“No,” you lied.

Jonathan closed his eyes briefly.

Then nodded.

“Okay.”

That was it.

No screaming.

No accusations.

Just two people quietly acknowledging they’d already lost each other a long time ago.

When Jonathan finally walked away, you expected heartbreak.

Instead you mostly felt empty.

And underneath that emptiness:

Relief.

…

Eddie answered the trailer door already smiling.

“You’re late.”

You stared at him silently for a second.

His smile faded immediately.

“What happened?”

“It’s over.”

The words came out smaller than you expected.

For a moment Eddie just looked at you.

Carefully.

Like he was trying to figure out whether to comfort you or celebrate.

Then finally he asked softly, “You okay?”

And somehow that question broke you more than the breakup itself.

Because Jonathan hadn’t asked.

Not really.

But Eddie always did.

You laughed shakily, wiping suddenly burning eyes before tears could actually fall.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I am.”

Eddie stepped aside quietly to let you in.

The trailer felt warm compared to the freezing air outside. Music hummed softly from the radio while a half-finished campaign map sat spread across the table.

Normal.

Comfortable.

Homey in a way you hadn’t expected it to become.

You set your bag down slowly.

Then Eddie reached for your hand.

Not rushed.

Not secretive.

Just open.

Like he wasn’t afraid anymore.

Your chest tightened painfully at the difference.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles, “this means I can finally flirt with you in public now.”

You laughed through the lingering ache in your chest.

“That’s your first thought?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he grinned softly, pulling you closer, “you still picked me.”

Just as you're about to knock, the door swings open and there's a man on the other side. He's not the same one who you've seen pick Eddie up from school. The one in front of you has got to be his dad because the resemblance is uncanny.

You step to the side as he steps out onto the porch, Eddie following behind. Neither of you seem to be paying you any mind, caught up in whatever conversation they'd been having before the door was opened.

"I told you that I need to go away for a while." Eddie feels like he should have expected this because Alan's always been a coward.

"But you can't leave. The talent show is next weekend. The guys and I have been working really hard." He's teary-eyed now and you wonder if you should just leave. You've already seen way too much.

Eddie doesn't know why he cares so fucking much. Alan has never been a father to him, especially since Elizabeth passed away. Maybe because he always feels like people are leaving and that it's all his fault. Everything is always his fault, it seems.

"If it sounds anything like you do when you play in your room, I'll pass. Take care, kid." Alan gets into his car and Eddie chases it, calling after Alan, begging him to stay. He doesn't get very far and stands in the middle of the road, sobbing as he watches the car get further and further away.

This is just like Alan, always running away from his problems and he doesn't care who he hurts in the process. Now he's not only leaving his son, but he's leaving him in the care of his brother who never signed up for this. He agreed to take in the two of them after Elizabeth passed, but he guessed he should have known this kind of this would happen.

When Eddie turns in your direction, you immediately look away, knowing that he's probably going to hate you even more because you saw something you weren't supposed to. You should just go home and come back some other time but instead of heading towards your bike, you're making your way to him.

You stand in front of him, your own eyes welling up as you look at his tear-stained cheeks. You set your backpack on the ground and stay standing, waiting for him to make the first move.

He doesn't know what he's doing but he finds himself stepping closer, wrapping his arms around your waist as his buries his face into your neck. It feels so natural to him, like he's done is a billion times. And the shocking thing is that you hug him back, even rub your hands up and down his back as you let him cry.

He'd never let himself be so vulnerable with one of his peers, but there's something so comforting about you. You're not laughing at him like the others would have. You're just here, letting him get it all out without a single bit of judgement.

"Do you want to get some ice cream?" You whisper and his ears perk up at that.

"I don't have any money," he sniffs as he pulls back to look at you. He looks as you with those brown eyes, you know that they're going to get you in trouble.

"Don't worry about it," you wave it off. "My treat."

You and Eddie pull away and grab your bikes, agreeing to a race that he totally didn't let you win. And as you make your way towards town after letting Wayne know that you're leaving, Eddie decides that maybe you're alright.

You can find more of the “I Think I Like This Little Life” verse here!

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But Eddie hadn't let you feel empty for a single second. Though he had a baseline energy that could normally be only describe as “erratic”, he’d surprised you by taking his sweet time.

Your clothes weren’t immediately torn off upon entering his room, instead he had noticed the tremor in your hands when you first sat on the edge of his mattress (whether from nerves or low blood sugar, you weren’t quite sure) and hadn't made fun of you or been annoyed or even called the whole thing off. Instead, he had taken your hands in his, kissing your knuckles one by one until your breathing slowed. When he finally kissed you, it wasn't sloppy or rushed. It was deep and deliberate, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

And when things had gotten heated, his focus had been entirely on you. He hadn't just dived in - he’d actually asked what you liked, or didn’t. What felt best - be it a position or technique. He wasn’t happy with “good” or “fine” - no, no. He wanted your eyes to roll back in your head and for his name to be a whimper on your lips.

Eddie had watched your reactions with a hungry kind of fascination, adjusting the angle of his hips, the pressure of his hands, guided by the noises you made and the way your back arched off the mattress. He had held your gaze through it, his eyes blown wide and dark, murmuring praise that actually felt genuine. When you fell apart more than once - he was right there to catch you, whispering how beautiful you looked, how good you felt, making sure you knew that this wasn't just about him getting off.

The ceiling of his trailer was still swimming in your hazy vision, the faint yellow glow of the streetlamp outside cutting through the gaps in the blinds to stripe across the walls. Your chest was heaving slightly, heart rate just beginning to slow down to something resembling a normal rhythm, but your brain was still floating somewhere in the stratosphere. You felt boneless, thoroughly blissed out in the best possible way, and entirely ready to pass out exactly where you were.

You needed to leave, as neither of you had discussed anything about you spending the night, but maybe he would let you breathe for a second instead of immediately kicking you out of his home.

A moment later, you felt the mattress dip gently as Eddie shifted his weight. You braced yourself for the request for you to leave, for the cold shoulder that usually followed a hookup when a partner decided their part of the bargain was done.

Oddly, it didn’t come.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" Eddie’s voice was a low rasp, thick with post-sex haze, but laced with a gentleness that made your chest tight. He didn't wait for an answer before he reached out, his fingers - not rough or demanding, but achingly soft - brushing a few stray hairs away from your sweaty forehead. His eyes were locked on yours, scanning your face like he was looking for any sign of distress.

You blinked, trying to clear the fog. "Uh, yeah," you managed to get out. "I'm... yeah."

He smiled, a crooked, genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Good. Fuck, you’re amazing."

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks - not just the flush of sex, but something shyer. You weren't used to… what was this? Pillow talk? Post-sex praise? Whatever it was, you weren't accustomed to being looked at like you were something precious - rather than just a body to occupy space for a few hours.

"Stay here," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple that felt far too reverent for the grungy trailer park setting. "Don't move a muscle."

You watched as he climbed out of bed, unashamed of his nakedness as he padded across the room. Usually, this was the part where they disappeared to the bathroom to pee, and you started hunting for wherever the hell your bra had gone off to. But Eddie returned with a clean, soft washcloth he’d obviously wetted in the sink.

The warmth of the cloth was a shock against the sensitive skin between your legs as he gently cleaned you up. He didn't rush or treat it like a chore to get out of the way so he could sleep. He wiped away the sweat and your combined releases with a care that bordered on worship, eyes never leaving yours, checking in silently to make sure the pressure was okay, that you weren't too tender.

"Okay?" he whispered, his thumb brushing your hipbone where he’d left a rather impressive hickey not twenty minutes prior.

You nodded, overwhelmed by the simple intimacy of it. "Yeah. It's... Nice."

He huffed a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss your knee. "Just nice? I'm aiming for at least 'pleasantly pampered'."

"Pleasantly pampered, then. Absolutely,” you corrected with a small smile.

"Good. That's the goal."

To your surprise, after he tossed the cloth into the hamper, Eddie didn’t help you look for your clothes. He simply climbed back into bed, pulling the duvet up over both of you before gathering you into his arms. His skin was warm against yours, his heartbeat steady under your ear as he began to draw intricate patterns on the bare skin of your back. The sweetness sent a pang of emotion through your heart. You’d known him for a few years by this point, but you absolutely hadn’t expected all this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice cut through your thoughts a few minutes later, and you glance up at him. “Lost you for a minute there.”

"I'm, uh, not used to…” you cut the words off before you could embarrass yourself.

Eddie stiffened slightly against you, his hand pausing its rhythm. "Used to what?"

"Being... Treated like this." You hesitated, but the safety of the dark and the lingering haze of the endorphins made you brave.

“What’d you mean?”

You exhaled. “It sounds kinda pathetic to say it out loud.”

“Try me.”

"Just, I don’t know. Like I matter. Most guys... they hang around long enough to get what they want and that's it. Either they’re kicking me out or they’re leaving. They don't care if I'm okay after. They don't ask if I liked it. During or after. And it’s fine, I mean, nature of the beast, right -“

Eddie pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his brow furrowed. The playfulness was gone from his face, replaced by something that looked a lot like disappointment.

"What do you mean, 'they don't ask'? How is that even possible? You're... You’re incredible. Why wouldn't they want to know if they actually made you feel good?"

You shrugged, suddenly feeling exposed under his intense scrutiny. You’d absolutely said too much. Eddie didn’t sign up for a sob story when he’d invited you over, so why the hell were you dumping all this shit on the first decent guy you’d been with in ages (or maybe ever)? Damn, you knew how to ruin a nice moment.

“I dunno. I'm just... Not the type they care about."

Eddie let out a sharp, disbelieving breath, shaking his head against the pillow. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And I've heard a lot of stupid things from the idiots in this town."

He reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear with a seriousness that made your breath hitch. "You are definitely the type to care about. If those guys made you feel like you weren't, then they're idiots."

"You don’t have to say stuff like that just because you fucked me, Eddie,” you whispered.

“I’ve known you for what, five years? So would it make you feel better if I’d say that even if we hadn’t just had sex, angel?”

"I -“ you thought for a moment, then shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I'm just not used to someone like you."

"Someone like me?" he echoed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ooh - a freak? Or maybe a - gasp - metalhead?"

"Well yes. But also no," you said, tracing a tattoo on his arm. "Someone who actually gives a shit. Someone who makes me feel like... Don’t like, but like I'm the only girl in the world when we're… Not that I’m gonna hold you to that, since this was a one-time thing, but you know what I mean.”

Eddie’s expression softened, the disappointment draining away into something warmer. He leaned in and kissed you, cutting off your words with a slow, deep press of his lips that left you dizzy all over again.

"Well, how about you try and get used to it," he murmured against your mouth. "Because I plan on making you feel that way a lot more often. If you’ll let me."

He settled back against the pillows, pulling you tighter into his side before you could protest. "Now," he said, his tone shifting back to that lighter, teasing cadence, though his eyes remained serious. "Did you eat today? You came over straight from work, right?"

You blinked at the sudden subject change, but you knew better than to try and deflect him by now. "Uh, yeah. But I had something from the vending machine, so I’m fine.”

Eddie let out a long-suffering sigh, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "A vending machine snack? That’s not real food, babe. That's cardboard with artificial flavoring."

"Hey, it sustained me for our activities,” you defended weakly.

"It like seven at night and I wore you out pretty good," he shot back, grinning to show he was teasing. "I'm making you a grilled cheese. Don't argue."

“I should probably go home -“

“No.”

“What do you mean no? Where are my clothes?”

“Do you really need them?”

"I'm naked, Eddie."

"And you're beautiful," he countered without missing a beat, leaning in to kiss you, quick and sweet. "I’ll get you one of my shirts to wear if you’re suddenly feeling so bashful. Then it’s dinner time.”

He started to get out of bed again, the energy returning to his limbs now that he had a mission of selecting you a shirt and then preparing you dinner. After rummaging through his dresser, he dramatically draped a Dio tshirt over your head so you looked like a ghost before you properly put it on.

"You're seriously making me food right now?" you asked, watching him hunt for his boxers on the floor.

"Starvation is a terrible aftercare strategy," he said, stepping into his boxers and then jeans and buttoning them with practiced ease. "I'm multitasking. I can be a rockstar in the sack and a short-order cook. I'm a man of many talents."

You laughed, the sound bubbling up out of you without permission. It felt good. Oddly real.

"Extra cheese?" He asked, heading toward the small kitchenette, his hair a wild mess around his shoulders.

"Yes please," you called out.

"You got it, princess."

You sat there for a few moments, listening to the sounds of him moving around in the tiny kitchen - the clinking of the frying pan, the opening of the fridge, the hum of the stove. It was all so domestic. Sweet. Everything you had convinced yourself you didn't need out of a quick fling, wrapped up in a package of leather and tattoos and a heart that was way too big for his own good.

You pulled his t-shirt over your head, the soft fabric smelling like him, and settled back against the pillows, listening to him mutter to himself about the butter being too hard for his liking, following by some absentminded humming to a song you’d have to ask him about later.

Thoughts flooded your head in his absence. You weren't used to being taken care of - in or out of the bedroom, much less treated like something fragile and valuable. But as Eddie walked back into the room a few minutes later, holding a plate with two perfectly golden grilled cheese sandwhiches, glasses of lemonade, and a please look on his face, you felt like you could probably get used to it.

"Eat," he commanded gently, setting the food on the nightstand and crawling back under the covers with you.

You took a bite of the sandwich he brought you, the cheese stretching perfectly, and looked at him. He was watching you, eyes soft and small smile playing on his lips.

“Good?”

"Delicious. Thank you, Eddie," your words came out as a whisper.

"Don't thank me," he said, pulling you closer. "Just lemme take care of you. That's all I want."

The smell of melted butter and toast filled the small room, mixing with the lingering scent of sex and Eddie’s leather jacket draped over the chair. You took another a bite of the grilled cheese and hummed in appreciation. It was simple, but exactly what you needed.

Eddie was still watching you with a satisfied expression, leaning back against the headboard, his own sandwich half-eaten in his hand.

"You really weren't kidding about your cooking skills,” you mumbled around a mouthful. “Probably would’ve come over a lot sooner if I knew how great the room service was.”

Eddie laughed a moment before his expression shifted. The playfulness faded into something more intent, though his eyes remained warm. "I've been thinking."

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Sweetheart, you wound me,” though his grin belied his amusement at your response.

You paused, sandwich halfway to your mouth as you thought about what he’d originally said. The phrase I’ve been thinking rarely led anywhere good in your experience. "What’ve you been thinking about?"

"Us." He set the plate back down on the nightstand and turned his body toward you, one leg bent up on the mattress so he was facing you fully. "I don't want this to be a one-time thing. Like, I really don't."

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. "Okay," you said slowly, trying to gauge where he was going with this. "I... I had a good time too. I think I’m free on Thursday, but I have to get up early on Friday for a -“

"No, I mean... I want to see you. Exclusively." He rushed the words out, like he was worried if he didn't say them fast enough, he'd lose his nerve. "Like, take you on actual dates. Or pick you up from work sometimes. Bring you dinner when you've had a shitty day. I want to be the guy you call when you need something. Not just a release. Though I can give you that too."

Your eyebrows shot up, surprise rippling through you. You weren't expecting him of all people to want to lock this down after one night. Most guys in Hawkins were allergic to labels, treating "relationship" like a dirty word.

"You want to be… Exclusive?"

"Yes," he said, simple and direct. "If you'll have me, that is."

You stared at him, a little stunned. It was ridiculous, really, how much you wanted to say yes right that second, but your brain was still trying to catch up with your heart.

"Eddie... We literally just hooked up for the first time like two hours ago. Isn't that a little... Fast?"

He let out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Why? Because I know what I want, and I think you do to?" He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "We’ve known each other for years, baby. I don't need to periodically hook up with you for like six months to know that I want something a bit more permanent.”

“Friendship and hooking up are two different -“

“I don't wanna share you.” The words came out in another rush, and a bolt of adrenaline shot through your veins. It wasn’t like Eddie owned you - but the fact that he wanted to slap a label on the two of you made you feel pretty good. “I don't want you going home with other random guys who don’t know how to make you feel the way you deserve."

You felt your cheeks heat up, his intensity washing over you. It was flattering, overwhelming, and more than a little terrifying. "I just... I don't know, Eddie. It's a lot to process."

"Is it?" He challenged, his voice dropping an octave, his eyes flashing with something dangerous and mischievous. He shifted closer, his hand landing on your bare thigh under the covers, his fingers tracing circles into your skin. "Or are you just used to settling for less? Because I think I can be pretty persuasive when I put my mind to it."

Your breath hitched as his hand slid higher, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Fuck, you still hadn’t tracked down your underwear from wherever he’d thrown it after stripping it off of you hours ago.

"Eddie..."

"Let me convince you," he murmured, leaning in until his lips were hovering just above yours. "Show you exactly what you'd be saying yes to."

Before you could formulate a proper response - before you could even tell him that you were already pretty convinced - he moved. In one fluid motion, he pulled the duvet back, exposing your legs to the cool air. He didn't give you a chance to cover up or shy away as he slid down the bed, hands gripping your hips and tugging you toward him until you were lying flat on your back, your legs falling open instinctively under his touch.

"Eddie, wait, I'm -“

"Shh," he hushed you, his breath hot against your inner thigh. "Just let me take care of you, baby.”

Eddie didn't bother to waste time with teasing or dragging it out. Before you could protest, he buried his face between your legs with a groan that sounded like relief, like he’d been starving and you were the only thing that could nourish him.

The first touch of his tongue was electric. He licked a long, slow stripe up your center, gathering the wetness there and moaning like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted. Your hips writhed against the mattress, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as the sensation overwhelmed you. He held you down, his strong arms wrapping around your thighs, large hands splaying across your stomach to pin you in place.

"You taste so fucking good," he mumbled against you, the vibration of his words sending shockwaves through your core. "I could stay here all night. Want me to try, baby? I’ll do it.”

Without waiting for an answer, he dove back in, his tongue delving deeper, exploring you with a thoroughness that bordered on obsessive. He wasn't just trying to get you off - he was worshipping you. He was learning every fold, ridge, and sensitive spot. Relishing each gasp and whimper he could pull from your throat. He alternated between broad, flat strokes that had you seeing stars and pointed, precise flicks against your clit that made your toes curl. Eddie’s tongue speared into you, and your inner walls clenched instinctively. Pressure began to build low in your hips, and you ground yourself against his face, seeking friction.

You reached down, fingers tangling in his wild hair to pull him closer, needing more. He moaned at the sensation, which only aroused you more.

"Eddie, p-please," you gasped, head falling back against the pillows.

"Tell me yes," he demanded, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. His chin was shiny with your arousal, his lips swollen and red and eyes blazing with lust. "Tell me you'll be mine, and I'll let you finish."

You whined in protest, your hips rolling futilely against the air, seeking the sensations he was currently denying you. "That's... That’s cheating."

"All's fair in love and war, sweetheart," he grinned, wicked and unrepentant. He leaned back in, pressing a hot, wet, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, but not moving his tongue. Just holding it there, teasing you with the promise of more pressure. "Say yes."

"You're impossible.”

"I'm persistent," he corrected, flicking his tongue once, hard, against the bundle of nerves, making your legs shake. You were so close to the edge. "Come on, gorgeous. You know you want to. We're so good together. Say. Yes

Then he did it again, a slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, curling it just right, before pulling away entirely. His ringed hands flexed against your thighs, continuing to hold you open for him. It was clear he was barely holding himself back, and his wish to stay between your legs all night was likely not an idle threat.

“Please, baby.” His breath fanned over your center, and what little composure you had snapped.

You let out a sound of pure frustration, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. "Okay! Okay, yes! Yes, I'll be your girlfriend!"

"Good girl," he growled, and then he finally stopped teasing.

He attacked your clit with renewed vigor, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it in tight, rapid circles. Your back arched off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat as the pleasure crested, sharp and overwhelming. He didn't let up, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as he wrung every ounce of pleasure out of you. He let your thighs clamp around his ears, not complaining for a moment as your hips rode his face.

It was honestly unlike anything you’d ever felt. It was intense and all-consuming, a white-hot rush that started in your toes and shot up your spine, detonating behind your eyelids in an explosion of stars. You heard yourself crying out broken versions of his name, and possibly some iteration of a litany of curse words as the waves crashed over you, leaving you gasping and trembling in their wake.

He worked you through it, because of course he did. His movements slowed as you came down, gentle licks and kisses to help you ride out the aftershocks. When he finally pulled away, he looked wrecked. His hair was a disaster, his lips practically bruised, and his eyes were glazed over with a mix of lust and adoration that made your heart stutter as your own vision cleared.

Eddie crawled slowly back up your body, pressing kisses to your stomach, chest, and neck, until he was hovering over you, bracing his weight on his arms. He dipped his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on him, musky and sweet, and the sheer eroticism of it made your head spin. Not something you thought you’d ever be into, but there was a first time for everything.

"Don’t you taste good, sweetheart?" he murmured, nipping at your bottom lip.

"You're dangerous," you brought a hand up to cup his cheek gently.

"I'm yours," he corrected, turning his head to kiss your palm. "Exclusively. Remember?"

"I-I remember," you said, a smile finally breaking through the haze. "Gotta say. I think I'm going to like having a boyfriend who takes his job this seriously."