NEON

Big black boots, eyes like a cat. Fishnets, teased hair. A lacy dress that hangs just above your knees. Accessories galore. 

Maybe you spent too much time reading through your magazines, taking mental pictures of what each hardcore woman was wearing - leather, teased hair, studs, spikes…

Your outfit looks good, as bold as it may be. Fuck, who cares? Misty is on your side, you have a date tonight, and your parents…

“Well, it sure is something,” your dad shrugs as you come downstairs. Your mom, however, is sputtering as she rests her hands on her hips. She ponders, lips on a slant, questioning if she went wrong, if this is a phase, or just some upcoming trend that she doesn’t quite understand yet.

“I like it,” your dad compliments with a shrug, newspaper in hand. He, for once, folds the thing shut as he makes his way over to you, dumping it down on the coffee table. Firm hands find your shoulders, and a stern question is asked.

“Do you have a date for tonight?”

“Ah…” escapes your lips without you realising. Now, your mom is making herself present, standing beside your father still with a brow raised. “You know, we’d like to meet him.” 

“Well, uh… he’s not… I’m…” 

“We’re not saying now, just soon, maybe?” she questions. “After all, if this is really how you feel, phase or not, then I’d like to know who has been occupying my daughters free time.” 

Your painted lips purse in hesitation, uncertain on how to reply. Eddie is far from family-orientated, given that his parents are out of the question, and his Uncle is barely around. Hell, you’ve not even met the man, nor been back to Eddies place, despite him sneaking into your room. Maybe that’ll change soon? 

“I’ll see what I can do,” you respond. “He’s not really… from a good upbringing, but he’s a good man,” you continue, attempting to paint a good light on Eddie.

Crossed arms cover your mothers cheap blouse. “Can’t be that good if he encouraged you to quit cheerleading.” 

A long sigh falls from your lips, and your father instantly defends you, his hands falling from your shoulders. The two begin a light bicker, going on about hobbies, school, and the things that you actually want to do.

A honk of a horn from outside draws your attention away, and you’re quick to say goodbye before ushering our the door. On a night like this, curfew isn’t really a thing. Originally, you’d have a night over at Mistys, or vice versa, nattering on about things like magazine articles, crap on the music channels, or whoever was currently taking your fancy. 

Now, however, there’s a man standing outside his shabby van, passenger door open, a small box in hand. Eddie is grinning ear to ear, almost giggling as he watches you dart across the lawn, eager to get away.

“What’s so funny?” you question.

“Nothing!” he instantly replies. “Just not seen you run away from your house that fast before,” he smirks. “Here-”

Eddie’s eyes gesture down to the box in his hands, displaying a matching pair of corsages. The flowers are dark, but not black - flowers of red, blue, purple, and green dance around in the shape of a wristband, and a matching broach. It’s clearly cheaply made, with hot glue visible under some of the petals, and glitter dotted around in random places. 

“I couldn’t find anything that suited our image,” Eddie explains as he opens the box, picking the flimsy accessories out. “So, I had to make my own,” he smirks, biting back a laugh. “Pretty tack, right?”

Warmth floods your stomach as you look over them, admiring the dedication he’s put into the pieces. “Eddie, I-” your words fall flat as you pick up your wristband, tacky as ever, but with so much love and dedication woven into each flower. 

“Can I?” Eddie questions as he looks at you, gesturing to the corsage. You nod, and allow Eddie to wrap the corsage around your wrist. It thankfully goes with your dress, given that you showed Eddie the garment only a few nights ago. 

“Here,” you say as you take his part, and pin it to his blazer. Only now do you realise what he’s wearing. 

A black blazer, with a deep red handkerchief peeking out of his left pocket, now with the corsage pinned to it. The red of his handkerchief matches his shirt, the top buttons open, tucked into a pair of flared back jeans. He’s not short of accessories, with a few earrings dangling down from his hair - tied up in some sort of messy updo. A bun, but not quite a bun, with his bangs still hanging wildly above his brows.

Eddie smirks. “Keep your mouth open like that, and something will fly in,” he says with a laugh, and only then do you realise your expression. 

“Eddie,” you say his name with a sigh. “You look incredible,” you compliment. Eddie goes to twirl his hair as he blushes, but swiftly realises its up for the night.

“I’ll just have to twirl yours instead,” he says as he plays with it. You let out a laugh, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. His hands meet your waist, and with his eyes focused on yours, he praises you.

“I’m lost for words,” Eddie explains. “I’ve been questioning this entire time how to compliment you, but my words fail me,” he says with a sigh.

“That is already a compliment,” you respond with a smile. 

“-No, but really, Princess. Beautiful, incredible, breathtaking - all of those words mean nothing when I lay my eyes upon you,” Eddie continues, his heartbeat thumping rapidly beneath your palm, still upon his shoulders, the sound beating throughout his entire body.

A deep sigh escapes your lips, accompanied by the sweetest of smiles. “Thank you, Eddie,” you say. Your smile turns goofy just as Eddie’s does. Somehow, both of you seem excited about tonight - excited to go to this stupid school dance, far from the norm, goofing around and dancing together without a care in the world. If only you knew what was in store for you, back at the start of the school year.

A deadbeat boyfriend who ditched you for a shitty party. A cheer group who couldn’t give a fuck about you. A best friend who was questionable, but supportive at the end. New fashion uncovered. More music discovered. Even a few games of Dungeons and Dragons have been played.

“Princess?” Eddie calls out, bringing you back to the present. “Have you been drinking already?” he asks, to which you swiftly shake your head. 

“Not at all, sorry,” you respond.

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh. “No problem, I have plenty to give,” he says with a wink. “My lady,” he gestures with one hand, directing you into his passenger seat. You allow him to assist you up, sitting in a familiar space. Eddie shuts your door before scurrying around his van, and eagerly clambers in.

“There’s booze beneath your seat,” he says with a laugh. “Don’t worry. I haven’t had any. Wouldn’t risk my Princess’s safety.”

Your eyes fall to the floor as Eddie starts the engine, his cassette continuing wherever it left off. With two hands, you fish out a cupholder. In it lies two slushies, ever-so-slightly melted. One blue, one red. 

A smirk graces your lips as you pick the cupholder up, and rest it on your lap. “Did you already put vodka in these?” you question. 

Eddie looks at you with a massive grin, a laugh falling from his lips. He’s already started driving to the dance, but encourages you to take your pick. After choosing one, the straw meets your lips, and you grimace at the first sip of it. “You barely mixed these!” you wince, to which Eddie swiftly says, “sorry!”

—

A short while later, barely two songs on his cassette, and you’re already at the school. There are people being dropped off in limousines, stiletto heels meeting the uneven school ground, barely able to walk in them. Baby blue seems to be the in-colour this year, and you wince at the sight of it. 

“That bad, huh?” Eddie questions.

“Yeah, I don’t mind the colour, but I don’t get why its popular.”

There’s a short pause, and Eddie raises a brow as he responds. “I meant the slushie, not what colour people are wearing.”

Your eyes meet his, and you both let out a laugh. “The slushie is fine,” you respond. “I just… I don’t know. They’re all out there looking like Easter eggs in one big basket, and I’m… well,” you gesture down to yourself.

Black, black, more black. Some dark colours, too. Fishnets. Accessories. Big hair. The lot.

“So am I,” Eddie says with a shrug, now taking the spare vodka slushie from the cupholder. He takes a long gulp, barely flinching at its cold, yet melted taste. “We could make out own basket, although I don’t think the Easter bunny will like our eggs.”

“Doesn’t the bunny lay the eggs, though?” you question. Both of you raise a brow, uncertain of the lore. 

Eddie shrugs, his lips around his straw. “Who gives a shit?” 

You let out a laugh, followed by repeating his words. After a long, deep gulp of your drink, you decide to finally get a move on. Eddie interrupts you, shuffling out of his van to run around it, and open your door for you. “My lady,” he says once more as he offers you his hand, his slushie in the other. You take it, and allow him to escort you down the single, scary step. 

“We need to finish these before we go inside,” you comment, and both of you rush to down your drinks, no longer affected by brain freeze as the cold has long since gone. Eddie makes haste to lock his van, and swiftly offers you his arm, encouraging you to latch your nerves onto his frame. “We’ll be fine,” he reassures you. “And if we’re not, then I’m sure you can lay a few punches instead.”

“Shit-” you curse under your breath as you take Eddies arm, both of you walking into the hall. “I forgot about that.” 

“I didn’t,” Eddie smirks. “Nobody is going to mess with you tonight, huh?”

“Very funny,” you sigh, despite knowing that Eddie only means well. The hall finally comes into both of your line of sights, and it’s just as corny as you imagined it. Tinsel hangs from the walls, silver and blue, along with the random decorations dotted about. The disco ball is rolling, which is probably the only cool thing in here, given that they’re playing some corny music that you don’t recognise. The floor is already full of people, awkwardly dancing, cups of punch in hand, wishing they were elsewhere.

Your pursed lips smack in annoyance, eyes squinting from the spotlights dancing around the room. “This is hell,” you whisper to Eddie, who seems to be on the opposite end of your emotional scale.

“Really?” he questions. “Free food,” Eddie gestures to the long table, covered in a shabby cloth, spotted with a random assortment of finger food. At the end of the table lies a large punch fountain, and you have to stop Eddie before the idea comes to his mind.

“We are not wasting booze on that,” you sigh. Eddie sighs too, “but it’d be so fun!” 

You pause for a brief moment. “Wait?” you question, and look up at him. “You snuck some in?”

Eddie grins from ear to ear. “Course I did,” he chuckles. “Enough for us, but I’m certain some of the Jocks have already spiked that punch bowl.” 

“How do you know?” you ask.

Eddie shrugs. “Just a hunch.” 

—

Barely half an hour into the dance, and you two haven’t done much. Eddie has had his fair share of the free food, unphased by anyone who expresses their disgust at how much he can wolf down. A single cup of punch is already running through you, with a few splashes of Eddie’s boozy flask in it. You think it’s rum, but you’re not too sure. As much as you’d like to ask, he’s currently scoffing another pasty, followed by briefly wiping his hands off on his jeans before grabbing you.

“They’re here,” Eddie mumbles with food between his cheeks. You gaze around the hall, and to your surprise, the rest of his DnD squad are here! Of course, you follow Eddie to say hello, barely holding onto his hand as he runs over.

Dustin is the first to greet him, the two gripping onto each other in a deep hug. Greetings are exchanged, including one with a timid young girl who you recognise as “El.” Eleanor, maybe? Strange, but that’s not the strangest thing that you’ve seen here in Hawkins. 

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Lucas says, directing his words to Eddie. The man shrugs, then gestures to you. 

“Got to spoil the Princess before we leave this Hellhole,” Eddie explains. You nod along. You really can’t wait to get out of this shithole, despite willingly being here for some silly celebration. 

Brief chatter fills the air, their Hellfire conversation barely audible to you as Kate Bush fills the air. You give Eddie a nudge and inform him you need to use the restroom, and that you’ll meet him back here.

Quickly, you make your way to the restrooms, ignoring the glances and comments that curse your path. Once in the stall, you begin to question what you’re doing here. As wonderful as it is being with Eddie, you can’t help but feel watched. The Jocks, the Preps - Everyone, even your mutually weird friends in the Theatre department seem to have their gaze on you.

Why?

Is Eddie Munson really that much of a deal? To you, he’s been nothing but wonderful. A kind, patient man, who has encouraged you out of your shell. Sure, your parents and friends seem uncertain of him, but you’re certain that, once they meet him, and his explosive personality, that they’ll be on board. He makes you happy, after all, and that’s the most important thing.

Still, why are their eyes on you? Why is it anybody's business? You had your glance, now look away. Weirdos exist. Rockers exist. Freaks exist, and we will continue to exist! 

You repeat those words in your head whilst finishing up, and make your way out of the stall. After drying off your hands, you head out of the restrooms, only to lock eyes with none other than Britney. 

For once, she doesn’t say anything. If anything, she averts her gaze, but you stand tall. You pause in front of her, and gloss over what she’s wearing - a daffodil yellow dress with white heels, completely clashing with her tone. Air blows from your nostril as you smile, and move on, biting on your tongue to hold back a laugh. Was that all it took? Standing up to her a few weeks ago? She hasn’t spoken to you since the incident, let alone looked your way. Good.

—

Returning to the hall, you instinctively look over at the buffet table, only to find your loose canon of a date isn’t over there, for once. He’s not at the punch bowl, either, and your fists bunch up anxiously as your eyes gloss around, questioning where he is. 

A light hand meets your lower back, soft enough to prevent you from flinching. “Sorry,” Eddie exhales as his gaze meets yours. “I was talking to the guys about boring nerd stuff.” 

“Phew,” you exhale. Your eyes meet the floor, chest tensing up, clammy hands meeting Eddies. He questions if you’re alright, and you can’t hold back your expression. Shaking your head, you respond. “Not really. I just don’t feel like we fit in here, you know?” 

Eddie smiles whilst nodding in agreement, “of course, we don’t!” he exclaims, seeming rather proud at that.

You wish you had his confidence. Self-doubt doesn’t seem to affect him, at least, not when he’s in public. His hands gently cup your cheeks, and he smiles tenderly as he looks at you. “We don’t fit in here. So what? We’re out of here soon! Might as well make the most of it, and I’m not just talking about the free food,” he says with a wink.

You can’t help but laugh, your hands coming to rest atop of Eddies. The groove of Madonna clears from the speakers, surprisingly to be filled by Van Halen. You quirk a brow, seeing as this is the only track so far that has really been your cup of tea.

“Wicked,” Eddie nods as the song begins playing. “Wanna dance? We can leave if you really hate it,” he says, taking your hand in his, and giving it a light tug. He’s surprisingly eager to dance, for whatever reason. Van Halen or not, you’re nervous. The dance floor is filled with awkward couples, unsure if this is their groove, or not.

For you and Eddie, however, it really is your groove.

You subconsciously give Eddies’ hand a squeeze, and despite the heavy pit in your stomach screaming at you, you decide to take the leap, and allow Eddie to lead you over to the dance floor.

Within an instant, a space has emptied around both of you, not wanting to linger around two freaks dancing to their type of music. Eddie guides your hands, resting them on his shoulders, whilst his hands politely find your hips. 

“Do you like this track?” he questions, and only then do you stop to really listen to it. 

“Oh-” you sigh. “Why can’t this be love? Yeah, I like this one!” 

“Good,” Eddie says with a wild grin. He waves in time with the music, peacefully ignoring any strange glances that face his way. He ensures that your eyes remain on his - at this moment, its just you and him, two freaks enjoying a song together. 

The chorus comes into play, and Eddie is barely biting back a smile, causing you to question the mischievous glisten in his eye. “What is it?” you finally ask.

Eddie finally cracks, letting out a chuckle as he holds you closer, your arms shifting from his shoulders, to his neck, beneath his thick layer of curls. They’re soft, dancing over your fingertips, and you have to bite back the urge to grasp up into them.

“I may have tempted the DJ with a swig of my flask to put this song on.” 

You pause, and allow his words to re-run through your mind. “Flask?” you question, to which Eddie reaches inside the inner pocket of his blazer, and hints at the silver flask hidden within it. A shocked gasp slips from you, followed by another one as you ask another question.

“Why did you choose this song?”

Eddie’s back straightens, but his hands remain on your waist. His eyes wander around the hall, searching for that confident spark that he needs, but it’s been within him this entire time. He looks at you lovingly, whilst his hand comes up to gently hold onto yours. A gentle kiss is placed on your knuckles, mere inches from the corsage that Eddie shabbily put together, coated in hot glue and cheap glitter, but made with far more love than any other corsage in this room. 

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me after this,” Eddie begins, his eyes looking down at your knuckles. He rubs his thumb over them, silver rings lightly bumping against yours. “We’ve spent… what? A good few months together. We’ve been through all sorts of crap, total fuckery, the good and bad times.”

Eddie pauses again, still softly swaying side to side with you. The second choruses fills their air, and Eddie forces himself to look at you as he says his next words. “Princess, I’d be honoured if you’d, at least for tonight, make me your King, and enjoy the night with me.” 

That sickly pit within your stomach spins and twists like a wild storm, barely able to keep your vodka slushie down. Yes, you’ve always felt like this, but you assumed Eddie didn’t feel the same. He’s a gentleman, a wild thing who sparks something deep within you. But this? Those feelings? This song? 

Why can’t this be love?

You find yourself pressing your lips to his without thinking. It’s alarming, at first, catching both of you off guard.

Eddie removes his hand from yours to cup the back of your head, and you return your hand to his shoulders, soon grasping the back of his neck, not needing to stand on tip-toes to kiss him thanks to your chunky boots. 

There’s something about the way that he kisses - soft lips, light curls brushing against your forehead, a firm hand at the back of your waist. Gentle, needy, loving, tender.

Eddie’s lashes flutter as his gaze meet yours, both of your lips rosy from the kiss. He smiles, grins, ears to ear, enamoured at the sight of you. The song comes to an end, but Eddie isn’t done yet. “Are you fed up of being here?” he questions.

“What do you mean?” you ask, worried about the worst.

“I mean, do you want to get out of here, and go elsewhere?”

You let out a laugh. “Absolutely,” you agree with a nod. “As long as it’s with you.” 

Eddie takes your hand in his, the dancefloor starting to re-fill with regular people who want to listen to pop, probably still wincing from the sight of you two kissing. “You’re so corny,” Eddie says with a smirk, and tugs you towards the exit.

“That’s rich coming from you. I didn’t pay the DJ to play a song,” you respond, following him as he guides you to the exit.