#bat.eds

You’d noticed him around three months ago. He had pranced in, mop of curls bouncing with every step he took. He was pretty to look at, although extremely eccentric, and you gathered that’s most likely the reason why your eyes had drifted to him in the first place.

But what held your gaze was how it was extremely obvious that he was coming there to see you.

You had only joined Hawkins High for your senior year, trying your best to avoid as many people as possible. You weren’t exactly the most friendly — Curse your awkwardness in social situations — But despite your quiet demeanour and sarcastic humour as a defence mechanism for your nerves, you had caught his eye years ago.

He’d thought he’d lost his chance to speak to you when you had graduated, but seeing you working here had felt like some sort of sign. He didn’t believe in God, but somebody had taken pity on him, and he would forever be doing penance for that.

The small, rusted bell above the door chimes as the hinges squeak, announcing a customer has arrived. You don’t bother looking up from your magazine, knowing already who’d be stupid enough to come in at 8:02am. 

You can feel a set of eyes on you as he wanders across the various aisles of cables and antennas, watching your chest press against the wooden counter. The only sound that fills the store is his heavy footsteps and the occasional turn of your page.

He feels like a pervert. The shame creeps up on him continuously when he finds himself staring, observing every small move you make. It’s the only thing that gratifies him, even though it’s just a reminder that he can’t find the courage to actually have a conversation longer than three sentences.

You sigh upon hearing him halt, never tearing your eyes away from the bold images in front of you. If he isn’t going to make a move, then maybe you can find some confidence from somewhere. “Can I help you, Eddie?”

Crash.

“Uh…” he lets out slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. He takes a quick peek at the mess of display tapes he’s knocked over, cursing internally at his body’s reaction to hearing you speak his name. “Clean up on aisle five?”

You try not to smile, tilting your head down further to hide your amusement. “Better put those hands to good use then.”

Eddie tries to ignore the sexual meaning he takes away from your words, burning red as he drops to his knees dramatically to quickly to stack the shelf again. He tries to organise them, but the current state of his bedroom proves that he’s already no good at that. You can hear him curse from your position behind the desk, despite him uttering it under his breath.

“Just leave it,” you announce quickly, worried you’d put far too much pressure on him. You’d only meant it as a joke, not expecting the boy to actually fold in half and bend to your commands. It’s a little too much power to hold, something you’d never experienced before. “I get paid to do that, so…”

“Right,” he lets out, trying to smoothly saunter up to the counter. He ends up whacking his knee into another cabinet on the way there, earning an actual physical laugh from you this time. He feels proud, despite knowing deep down that you’re really just laughing at his pain. If a fool is his part to play, then he’ll play it with an award-winning performance. “Anyways, uh, I’m here to…” He scans the shop, desperately looking for an excuse. “Guitar strings. Want ‘em. Need ‘em, actually. Pesky thing...”

He trails off with an awkward laugh, watching your eyebrows raise in amusement. You let him ramble on about the importance of his music and how sacred it is, unable to find your voice after initially greeting him. It’s something you’ve always struggled with. The sole reason you had graduated with decent grades but not a single person to celebrate that achievement with. You wanted interaction, but with the students of Hawkins High already making assumptions about your quietness, it was hard to do so.

Eddie notices your silence after a minute or two, cheeks reddening from his mouth’s persistence. He tilts his head, a grin widening on his face when you match his smile. “Yeah… and you definitely don’t get paid enough to deal with idiots like me.”

“You’re not an idiot,” you state almost immediately, words coming out a little raspy. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say in response to so much attention from one person, but luckily your brain makes that decision for you for once. “Kind of chatty, but that's okay.”

“Usually my voice can lull a thousand people. I’m like a siren, truly.” He gets another laugh from you, one that’s snorted and entirely unattractive. To him? It’s the most beautifully raw sound he’s ever heard. He decides then and there that he’s already in love with it. “Guitar strings? Yes?”

You falter, suddenly coming back down to reality from the cloud he’d ascended you to. Of course, the essential thing he’d ‘come in’ for. Even though you know it’s just a rouse, you can’t help but feel bad when you break the news to him.

“You… know this is an electronics store, right? We don’t sell anything, like, remotely close to guitars.” You watch his smile evidently drop, although he manages to somehow keep the corners of his lips upturned. There’s a flash of rejection that passes over his eyes, a look that has your heart squeezed impossibly tight. Eddie is the only person who’s remotely considered approaching you, other than the band of jocks that occasionally took a dig at your shy nature. In light, he was the only person who’d been kind. You didn’t want to let that go. 

You can see the tops of his thighs twitch, the only part of his legs visible from where you’re standing. It’s enough to alert you that he’s going to leave, and although this is your first time conversing something other than ‘Enjoy your purchase’ or ‘Have a nice day’, you found yourself oddly connected to him.

So much so, that you offer the only thing that comes to your mind.

“W-We do sell amps though!”

Eddie Munson finds himself the new owner of a glossed amplifier a few moments later, covering the empty hole in his wallet where his cash should be with a forced smile. He’ll have to explain the lack of groceries to his uncle later. Something a lot better than wanting to impress a person he finds attractive.

“Aaaand here’s your receipt. You can return it within ten days if there’s any issues. Company policy, and all that fine print stuff…” You don’t finish the rest of your trained response, deciding he’s probably bought enough things in here over the last few months to know what you’re going to say. He simply nods, patting the large speaker awkwardly on the desk.

“Forgot how big these things are,” he begins, smoothing his palm over the dials and buttons as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress another laugh. He lets out a low whistle, and you ignore how your neck begins to flush with heat at the sound. “Like, wayyyy too big. Huge. Enormous, even-”

“You already have an amp, don’t you?” You finally put him out of his misery, watching his nose scrunch in embarrassment before he pats the speaker again, this time a little more forcefully.

“...Yeah.”

You open the till. “Okay, give it back. I’ll refund you-”

“W-What? No- No no no, I can take it. I don’t wanna get you in trouble, or anything- I’m a bad influence but not this bad.” He rushes out, hands waving in front of his face in frantic motions. You reach forward bravely, taking a hold of them to still his movements.

His breath hitches.

You strain your neck to look behind him, gazing over the empty parking spots out front on the street. They’ve been barren since last night. “I don’t see your van outside. There’s no way I’m going to actually let you carry that.” You chuckle along with your words, watching Eddie blink rapidly at you.

“You know my van?” He asks out of disbelief, but there’s a hint of a teasing tone to his words. He doesn’t mean to. However, there’s a natural charm and cockiness to him that never seems to cease. You kind of like it.

The sound of the register opening distracts him from his shocked stare, coins jingling within the metal. You count out the bills he’d handed over, sliding them across the counter with another timid grin.

“Being off the radar means I do a lot of observing,” Eddie gingerly reaches up to swipe the money, short-circuiting when his fingers envelop yours, unmoved from where you had originally laid them down. “Like what car you drive, and the new patch on your jacket, and the fact that you’ve been in here five times this week already.”

This time, Eddie blushes. A full-on rosy tint that spreads across his cheeks like the first brush stroke to an empty canvas. It paints him beautifully, mentally applauding yourself for finding comfortability in talking to him. It’s a personal success you can celebrate later.

“I… didn’t realise you could see me.” He admits honestly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he takes a quick glance around the store. His body physically turns to spy his multitude of hiding spaces, ones that he’s thought were somewhat decent. He hides his dismay well.

“You’re kind of hard not to look at,” Eddie nearly contracts whiplash at your response, eyes wide and mouth agape at your somewhat confession. Him? Lanky, scrawny, non-showered, freaky nerd Eddie Munson? You giggle at his obvious starstruck expression, deciding to take another leap of faith. You lean forward over the counter with the cash in hand, fingertips tracing the waist of his jeans as you stuff the bills into his front pocket. “See you same time tomorrow for those guitar strings?”

Eddie nods, body numb and on auto-pilot as he backs out of the store. His parted lips soon pull together to produce a grin when he reaches the door, green notes protruding from his pocket like some sort of ‘mark’ you’d left on him. He tries not to let his mind wander too far at that idea, for his own sanity.

“It’s a date.” He mutters eagerly, despite knowing that a ten minute conversation at your workplace is the worst romantic idea he’s ever come up with.

A storm continues to brew above Hawkins, both physically and metaphorically. You hadn’t expected your start to ‘Adult Life’ to be easy, already struggling to find a job in the two years since you had graduated high school. But then Family Video came along, and so did Robin and Steve.

And with their friendship came even more friendships, with people that you never thought you’d be trying to save the world with. Like Eleven, and Dustin Henderson, and Mike Wheeler, and Eddie Munson.

“Uh… Do y’want some water?” His voice is soft, almost timid, as though he’d been afraid of asking such a simple question. In all honesty, he had. The night had been filled with being pulled underwater and fighting monsters in an alternate universe, a sight that had been far too much for you to handle. The nausea of seeing Steve bleed out and creatures roaming in the sky had been pushed to the back of your head, adrenaline kicking in to fight for survival. But then reality had come flooding back once you’d climbed up and flipped yourself onto Eddie’s mattress, and you’d thrown up less-than-delicately from the steps that lead up to his trailer.

Eddie shuffles on his feet after not receiving a response, riddled with nerves. His ring-clad fingers are stuffed into the damp front pockets of his jeans, frizzy hair still matted to his forehead from the spontaneous swimming. He cracks under the tension, his usual awkwardness seeping through the silence. “I was gon’ offer you something stronger buuut…”

“Water’s fine,” You manage, throat burning as you produce the words. Too much lakewater, you conclude, trying to ignore the bitter taste that mixes with your saliva. Your head turns slightly, catching eyes with him for the first time since you’d heaved on his front lawn. “…Thank you.”

Eddie knows he’s an egotistical man, but he can’t recall a moment where he’s felt prouder than this. He salutes, limbs waving about as he spins on his heels and exits quickly, the faint sound of his fingers drumming along the walls growing quieter as he moves towards the kitchen.

You hear the faucet run, glad to be met with something other than the deafening silence you’d both been sitting in for the last hour.

The offer for you to spend the night had just been out of politeness, not really much thought put into it other than wanting to keep the few friends he’d made tonight, adding to his very short list.

But when you had jumped at the chance, a little too eagerly, Eddie had found himself holding his breath since the minute the last person walked out of his trailer.

He inspects the glass once, twice, ensuring there’s no stains or marks. Once satisfied, he repeats his journey until he’s stood in front of you once more.

He all but shoves the glass towards you, water spilling over the edges and trickling down his fingers. “S-Sorry—“

You smile.

He stops breathing.

You pry the glass from his fingers, taking small sips of the cool liquid. It eases the burn, if only by a little, now feeling a lot more comfortable in the plaid pyjama pants and black tee he’d kindly lent to you.

Your body no longer feels as though it’s on fire, able to relax in your own skin. Relaxation brings peace, and you take a moment to dive back into reality. The rain disappears from your line of vision for the first time since you’d sat here, now observing the bedroom you were in.

Eddie is shuffling by the bed, patting at his duvet and pillows until he’s certain they’re plump enough. He’s rolled the blankets back, a silent way of telling you that the bed is welcome for you at any time.

He busies himself next by digging through his dresser, skimming over various clothing items until he finds a set of pyjamas for himself.

He briefly lifts his head to find a private place to change, only to catch eyes with you.

An anxiety ripples through his body, his usual defence mechanism kicking in almost immediately.

“You know, most people stand outside the window when they want to stare at someone getting changed.”

A scoff leaves your lips, slight amusement dancing across your face as you stand from your position slowly. Your knees crack under the new movement, dulling the ache that had started to form. “I’m pretty sure I saw you catching a glimpse when I was in the shower.”

He raises a finger in protest, although the words die on his tongue. “That… was by accident.”

“Sure,” You let out slowly, dragging the word as you wander over to the bed. You glance down at the duvet, keeping your gaze on the cotton sheets as you think over what to say next. You don’t want the conversation to die, especially now that you’ve found the confidence to hold it. “…You okay with this?”

Eddie watches you gesture down to the bed, eyes widening before softening again. It’s not like anything dirty was going to happen, he knew that. But still, the thought of having anyone in his bed other than himself was a new adventure, one that he wasn’t sure how to express his emotions on.

So of course, he results to comedy.

“As long as you don’t mind the jet-engine snoring I let out.” He watches your skin crease beneath your eyes, the corners of your lips upturned in the most failed attempt of hiding a smile. He grins in return, a wide and beautiful act that has your heart skip a beat.

He was good at distracting you. Whether it was his voice, or his good looks that grabbed a hold on you first; Eddie Munson was your saviour tonight, and you’d wondered why you’d never found the time to properly get to know him before.

“I don’t remember it being that bad,” You give him another small smile, hands reaching down to peel the blankets back. He watches your every move, eyes never shifting. The clothes in his hands slip an inch within his weakening grip. You finally sit on the mattress, sweeping your feet under the duvet still held in your hands. “Back in my senior year, you fell asleep in the cafeteria that one time. It was loud, definitely, but it wasn’t annoying.”

It takes a moment for your words to kick in, his body stuck frozen in front of you. You use that time to sink further into his bed, now lying horizontally as your eyes stare up at him. He’s always been the centre of attention at school, even if not for the best of reasons— But he hadn’t expected you to have remembered something small like that.

Sure, you’d been in his original senior year, but Eddie had had a lot of defining moments. Getting caught smoking, drug deals with a teacher, a few hook-up rumours that made him the butt of a never-ending joke. But that particular one was tame, a memory that you’d only hold onto if you were really paying attention to him.

In those few seconds of revelation that maybe he hadn’t been viewed as a freak by everyone in Hawkins, he looks at you differently.

He no longer sees a weak person in desperate need of mummy and daddy, or a tissue box and a trip to the counsellor’s office to unload those childhood traumas. Instead he saw you, just you. A person who had risked their life tonight to assist him and his new friends in trying to save the world.

Behind all those layers, maybe, you were just like him.

“I need to change.” Is the only thing he’s able to blurt out, cringing internally at how he’d left your previous statement hanging.

You simply nod, seemingly unbothered by his lack of response to your trip down memory lane. “I can close my eyes.”

A part of him nearly scolds you for the idea, knowing full well that anybody would want to take a peek at him, just to ridicule his body and spread rumours of how his skin was somehow red like the devil’s. Or that’d contracted some sort of disease.

But then he remembers the moment of revelation he’d just had about you. He thinks back on how he’s trying not to judge you.

He looks at your face, closed eyelids on display, and undoes his belt buckle.

You hear the clank of metal hit the floor, ears twitching out of sensitivity. You’re curious, of course, but keep to your promise of no peeking. There’s a few shuffles, floorboards creaking as he shifts from foot to foot, the scratch of fabric rubbing against his damp skin.

And then the bed dips beside you, warmth radiating your side.

You keep your eyes closed, trying to ignore the way your breaths both hitch from finally crossing the line you’d both been working up to over the duration of the evening.

Eddie stammers, body laid out taunt and straight, suddenly overly aware of how much space he might be taking up. “I can take the couch. Trust me, I’ve spent one too many nights curled up on that thing after getting high and it’s really not that bad—“

“I-I don’t wanna be alone.” You finally admit the words you both knew deep down were true, spoken aloud and sealing the deal of fate between you both.

The subtle movement of his feet shifting back off the bed halts, before settling back into their previous spot.

Eddie slowly rolls onto his right side, now facing you and your closed eyes again. Your breathing is even, despite a few shakes every now and then. “Promise me you’ll stay?”

“Fuck…” He lets out under his breath, so quiet he’s sure you’ve probably not even heard him. His head nuzzles into the pillow until he’s comfortable, curly locks of hair tickling at his cheeks as his hand presses into the small space between your respective pillows. “Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “I promise.”

You sigh contentedly, shifting slightly until you too find a comfortable position. Eddie closes his eyes, trying to ignore the nightmares that already threaten to carve themselves into the backs of his eyelids, ready to play a never-ending repeat of the night you’ve both just endured.

As if by instinct, your finger brushes against his own, both of your hands trapped within the tiny gap. Another hitch of breaths fills the room, adventuring your hand further until it envelopes his. His rings are warm, conducting his body heat, which brings you an odd sense of comfort.

He feels you trace the intricate designs of the jewellrey, unable to open his eyes, much like you. He doesn’t complain, nor push you away. Instead he turns his palm upwards, ignoring the stutter in his heart when you press your own palm down firmly against his. Your fingers interlace, and he listens carefully until your soft breaths turn to even gentler snores.

Eddie Munson opens his eyes, watching you sleep throughout the night until the sun peeks through his curtains and they strain from a lack of rest.

He never often found himself scared. But that night, he swore to protect you.

“We should go outside.” His voice breaks you from your staring, trying to ignore the burn in your cheeks that arises from the thought of him catching you. It’s embarrassing enough to feel this  way about a friend, the last thing you need is for him to question you on how long your eyes linger on him.

Still, you smile, shaking your head. “It’s raining, dumbass.”

He cocks his head. “I… know?”

Abruptly, he stands. Limbs flail as he catches his balance, offering both hands out for you to take. He bows with the action, heart spiking when he hears you giggle at his ridiculous behaviour. You don’t reply, his head tilting up with yet another confused expression. “Rain. Me and you. Together.”

He’s glad you finally take the lead by grabbing his hands. The softness of your palms contrasts his calloused fingertips, worn and torn from years of plucking guitar strings. He grins as he rubs the pads over the backs of your hands, wiggling his eyebrows in hopes of convincing you further, even though he knows you’ve already consented to getting involved. You always do.

“Can I at least borrow a jacket so I don’t catch the flu?” You chuckle, blinking away the surprise when he leans down to peck your knuckles. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he lets your contact drop, wandering over to his overfilled closet to fish for something that doesn’t smell. He falls short immediately, giving you another sheepish smile as you wait expectantly. “Uh… Just a second-”

He spins, frantically searching every corner of his room for something he can lend. You watch with a teasing smile, pulling at your bottom lip with your teeth until it begins to ache. “Think I might have to introduce you to the idea of ‘washing clothes’-”

“Aha!” He booms, pacing across the room towards his desk. He rips his leather jacket from the chair tucked under it, teeth on display from his proud smile. He drapes it over your shoulders, not even waiting for you to finish putting it on. He’s already on his way to the front door, hopping from foot to foot, pulling on his Rebok’s. “Last one out there has to do a dare!”

“What are you? Five?” You chuckle as you push your arms through the holes, enveloped in warmth and a faint scent of drugstore cologne to drown out the weed. It makes you roll your eyes at his lifestyle, but at least he’d made an effort to cover it up due to your displeasure with it.

You just wanted him to be safe.

He doesn’t reply, as to be expected, and you wander out to the living room to see the door ajar. You call his name softly as you venture towards it, words dying to the loud pour of rain that hammers against the metal roof. 

You’re soaked to the bone the minute you step out into the cold air, gasping at the chill that rolls along your spine. There’s a dim glow from the streetlamps dotted around the trailer park, but they do nothing to illuminate the whole street.

Instead, patches of gravel and muddy grass sparkle under dingy yellow spotlights, casting the residential lot like a backdrop for some sort of low-budget school play.

You can’t help but laugh as you catch a glimpse of Eddie’s frizzy hair, matted to his face by the rain, weaving between the shadows and circular lights. He joins in, the sound echoing amongst the open space as he stands in the centre of one of the patches of artificial brightness.

“You’re missing out on all the fun,” he states, watching fondly as you make the short walk over to where he’s stood. Your arms clutch your chest, tightening the jacket as far as you can around your body. It keeps your shirt somewhat dry, unlike his which has soaked through so thoroughly that you can see the tattoos imprinted on his pale flesh. “That’s better. High definition. Y’know my eyesights not the best, sugar.”

Your hands move without a conscious thought behind them, the tip of your finger tracing the intricate designs through the wet cotton of his Hellfire shirt. His breath hitches, sucking in a deep and pleasurable sigh he almost lets out at the smallest of touches. He’s always been starved of that. You find it soothing, how one person can be so inevitably perfect.

Untouched and pure, despite the things that have tainted his life.

“You still owe me that dare…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. Droplets of water hit and run down your face, but you never tear your gaze away. Even when his eyes inevitably drop down to your neck, staring at the way it drips below the collar of his jacket and onto skin he could only dream of seeing.

Eddie manages to pull his mind to a somewhat sane place, dipping his tongue from his mouth to swipe over his bottom lip, wetting it even more than the rain had previously been doing. Once again he offers out his hands, ignoring your brave comment about how desperate he is to hold them. You’re not sure where the sudden confidence comes from, but the blush that creeps up his neck is enough of an indication that you’re doing the right thing.

He leads you into a dramatic sort of waltz, walking you both left and right as he holds a set of your clasped hands into the air. The other resides down to your waist, softly gripping the warm skin under the layers of fabric. You both erupt into fits of giggles as he attempts to spin you, feet tripping over each other’s. Hair catching in the other’s mouth. Eyes strained from joyous cries.

You’re not sure when the moment slows, but you invite the sensualness of it when you do. Swift strides become slow sways, chests pressed to one another as though letting go would lose one another forever. And maybe it would, with the way sinful words dance on the tip of Eddie’s tongue as he stares into the glimmering irises that gaze so lovingly back at him.

He leans down, just a little, until your noses brush and you can feel his breath fan gently across your lips. You can sense the thundering patter of his heartbeat, almost certain that yours is just easily as noticeable. It’s no match for the rain that continues to streak down both of your faces, dripping along the bridge of your noses until it tangles and mingles in a dance of its own. It splatters down onto the zipper of his jacket, before soaking into his shirt that sticks like a second skin to his abdomen.

“I dare you to kiss me.” He confesses, leading your dance onto a metaphorical line that he’s just itching to cross. He begs silently for no rejection, tilting his head with that doe-eyed look that has your thighs pressing together. The friction dissipates immediately, wet skin sliding furiously past each other. The ache settles, leaving you flustered and slipping out of the control you had previously held on him.

You fight for it back.

“I thought you already dared me to dance in the rain.” Your words tumble out gracefully despite your nerves, so close to his face that he physically feels the vibration of every syllable you speak. He hums with a cocky grin, too drowned in both rainwater and admiration to let his anxiety ruin the moment. For once, he chooses to be the hero. He chooses to be brave.

“I never uttered those words,” he spins you again, smile widening when you gasp out a laugh in surprise. “In fact, I don’t think I said anything at all-”

“So don’t,” you mutter, losing yourself in the overwhelming bliss of dominance when his eyebrows furrow softly in confusion. “Don’t say another word.”

Your lips connect with a fierce power, a mixture of lust and love that brings a hazy ache to your head. The taste of rainwater is evident on his lips, sliding down onto your tongues which intertwine without a moment to spare. He savours that taste, along with a burst of mint and vanilla from your chapstick. It’s rejuvenating, much nicer than the dreadful mix of coffee and marijuana that he knows is evident on his breath.

Nonetheless, you never complain. How could you? You’re kissing your best friend, the one person who makes this dull town slightly more interesting. The guy who allows you to feel overjoyed about getting out of bed in the mornings.

The kiss is bruising, your lips swollen and decorated in his spit when he finally pulls away, disappointed that the rain mixes and eventually washes it away. It doesn’t stop him from straying his gaze away from your lips, overwhelmed with emotion and the new knowledge of how your lips feel and taste. 

“I’ve never kissed anyone like that before.” You utter a confession of your own, watching his eyes light up even brighter under the hazy glow of the streetlamp. He wants to tell you how he truly feels, serenade you with a sweet song of how he’s loved you since you first became friends, as perverted and obsessive as he knows it is.

But he doesn’t. Instead, in true Eddie fashion, he rambles whatever idiotic and overly-confident nonsence comes to mind.

“Oh yeah? I guess you’re somewhere in the top ten of my list-”

“Tell it to the rain, virgin,” you jokingly insult, with no real malice behind your words. You manage to wriggle out of his grip despite his obvious discontent to your action, letting him watch your ass in those tight, wet jeans as you saunter back up to his front door. “You gonna warm me up in the shower, Munson, or what?”

Eddie makes a b-line for the trailer at a speed like no other, kicking off his shoes haphazardly until they end up strewn across his lawn. He’s far too preoccupied to collect them. 

The Rebok’s collect water for the majority of the night, soaked through and through. 

They’re rendered unwearable when he shamefully retrieves them the next morning, back scuffed with scratches and neck bruised in bites. He tips them over, letting the water drain, smiling as remaining droplets seep from the fabric and throw themselves onto the cobble stairs.