a/n: i apologize in advance for this. literally cried listening to a house in nebraska by ethel cain thinking about eddie. sooo..now you guys have to be sad with me! love u guys #bringeddiebackplsplspls
The cemetery was quiet except for the wind rattling the bare branches above. You sank to your knees in the dirt, hands pressed against the cold stone of Eddie’s grave. The letters of his name felt impossibly heavy under your fingers, like they carried the weight of every laugh, every kiss, every time he made you feel safe in a world that wasn’t.
You stared out across the fields beyond Hawkins, the trees swaying in the fading sunlight. You know, I still wait at the edge of town, praying straight to God that maybe you’ll come back around. You thought of him leaning against his van, that crooked grin, cigarette hanging from his fingers, and how alive he had made everything feel.
The ache in your chest tightened. I cry every day and the bottles make it worse, ’cause you were the only one I was never scared to tell I hurt. You had tried to keep busy, to fill the emptiness, but nothing touched the hollow he’d left behind.
Your eyes fell to a small photo you’d carried with you, worn at the edges, of the day you met. And I found photographs of our school, on the day we met. I thought that you were so beautiful. It was love, I guess. You could almost hear his laugh in your mind, feel the brush of his hand against yours as though he had never left.
The shadows stretched long across the cemetery. And you might never come back home, and I may never sleep at night. But God, I just hope you’re doing fine out there. I just pray that you’re alright. You pressed your forehead against the stone, letting the wind carry your grief across the sky, hoping somehow it would reach him, wherever he was.
Even in his absence, Eddie was everywhere—the hollowed-out arcade, the empty streets of Hawkins, the corners of your own heart—and you ached in every small, unspoken way for the boy you had loved and lost.
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