#camp setting

word count - 2k

summary - june 1986. maggie’s life splintered with a single phone call and a hollow phrase: “passed away.” a funeral, a half-brother she never knew existed, and a summer at a camp she didn’t choose later, she’s drowning in silence and citronella. she wanted to disappear, maybe sketch by the lake—but then eddie munson showed up with a grin sharp enough to cut and a cigarette dangling from his lips. suddenly, quiet doesn’t feel so safe anymore.

i got sick and rewatched season 4 of stranger things and then dirty dancing annnnnnd now here we are. don't make fun of me. we'll see how long this lasts <3 ______________________________________________________________

June 1986. Camp Holloway. Upstate Maine. 

It was two weeks after her high school graduation when she got the call. 

“Margaret Quinn? My name is Janet; I’m one of the nurses at Saint Mary's General Hospital. I’m calling regarding your father, Robert Quinn. I’m so sorry to inform you that he passed away due to a heart attack at 5:53 this morning. We did everything we could.”

There was a whole lot of other conversation after those sentences, but if you asked Maggie what she heard after the phrase “passed away,” she’d tell you the nurse didn’t say anything else. She was awoken by the blaring scream of her home phone when she received the call. So early, Family Ties was still playing on the TV from the night before when she stumbled out to the kitchen. 

Her stomach still drops whenever she hears the opening credit song. 

The days that followed were a blur of people telling her how brave she was, pity casseroles that grew moldy in the fridge, family members she hadn’t heard from in years telling her how sorry they were, that he was too young, and a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach that still has yet to be soothed. Her uncle tried to talk to her about logistics, her grandma told her everything happened for a reason, and the girl who used to bully her in fifth grade wouldn’t stop telling her she’ll be there if she needs anything. After about the sixth time hearing “he’s in a better place”, Maggie shut down. 

She received a call from Claudia Henderson, a 39-year-old woman with a midwestern accent, claiming to be her father’s ex-fling from the 1970s, which resulted in the birth of her newfound half-brother, Dustin. After a lot of confusion, awkward phone calls full of Maggie choking back tears, and a finger prick for a DNA test, it was confirmed that Maggie did, in fact, have a half-brother. 

Within a week, Maggie (now going by Maggie Henderson) was packed and on a plane to Hawkins, Indiana, to live with her dead dad’s ex-hookup and her new 15-year-old brother, leaving her house, her last name, and life behind. She swore it’d be easier that way. 

New house. New family. New name. New Maggie. 

She couldn’t be that girl. She couldn’t be the sob story of the girl who never reached her full potential because her dad died, and she never left the shithole of a town because of it. She couldn’t be in that house anyway. Couldn’t walk past his bedroom, smell the hint of his aftershave in his bathroom, or see the chip in his “seasoned” coffee mug anymore. Hawkins wasn’t home, but then again, Maggie had a feeling she may never feel “at home” again. All that mattered was that no one knew her. Or her dad. 

Claudia tried. In her own strange and incredibly Midwestern way, Claudia tried. She left clean and folded towels on Maggie’s bed, bought the flavored water she liked without being asked, and didn’t press when Maggie came home visibly stoned.

Dustin, though, never stopped talking. He followed her around like a duckling with dimples and curly hair. He asked if she liked Star Wars or if she wanted to play Dungeons and Dragons, and Maggie just couldn’t bring herself to tell him to fuck off. 

She didn’t hate him. At all. And that was the worst part.

He was awkward, loud, too smart for his own good, and reminded her more and more of her dad every day. Somehow, this hormone-filled teenage boy didn’t treat her like a stranger when this grief-filled girl from Wisconsin came to live with him. He looked at her like he was proud to have a sister. 

So, when Claudia announced that they’d be spending a few weeks at Camp Holloway - some old campground in the middle of fucking nowhere, Maine, for “family bonding,” Maggie didn’t complain. She packed a duffle full of hidden joints, bought a new sketch book, and got in the car without a word. 

A sign with crooked letters and splintered wood that read “Welcome to Camp Holloway” was the first thing she saw, though nothing was welcoming about it. Pine trees loomed over her, hedges and oddly bright flowers flew past as they drove in. It smelled like pine, mildew, and something metallic, like she could smell the rust on the pipes before even setting foot into a building. 

The gravel crunched under the rubber sole of her boot as she stepped out of the car. She slammed the door shut, taking an inhale of the "mountain air” everyone keeps telling her she needs. She tucked a joint between her lips and lit it behind Claudia’s back instead. 

Maggie didn’t care if she saw, not really. Claudia wouldn’t do much more than shake her head and point a somewhat disappointed sigh in her direction. She let out puffs of smoke as they dragged their luggage to the cabin they were assigned to. It had a red-painted door, a crooked deck that made Maggie nervous, and it was so humid she’s sure a family of mosquitoes had declared dibs on her bunk first. 

After they settled, Dustin was already running off to the main lodge, backpack bouncing on his shoulder as he shouted something about a scavenger hunt with a cash prize. Claudia had left the cabin, telling Maggie she was off to find an extra quilt, but Maggie saw her eyeing the camp “sheriff” on the drive in. 

The cabin was quiet. Silent. Eerily and not peacefully quiet. The kind of silence where the sound of the home phone and her dad’s favorite song start to crawl up the walls of her mind like ivy. The lid on the shoebox she packed her grief into was rattling, shaking, and vibrating despite the concrete she poured on top of it. She stared at the lake from the shaky dock of their cabin, watching the sun reflect on the water and fish pop up for bubbles of air before eventually deciding to grab her sketchbook. 

She found a flat rock under a pine tree taller than the Empire State Building, the joint from earlier now stubbed out next to an ash mark beside her. She was already sticky with sweat, and she reeked of citronella, but the way the lake lapped at the rocks a few feet ahead was oddly calming. The silence near the lake was different from the silence of the cabin. It was peaceful, momentarily quieting the circus that was her mind, and was soon broken by the sound of a snapping branch. 

Maggie turned, expecting Dustin or maybe a counselor telling her she wasn’t allowed to be there, but instead, there he was. 

Long hair, curls crazier than hers, brown eyes so big he looked like a baby deer, and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth like he was born with it. He wore too many rings, one a skull and another a snake that wrapped up his index finger. He seemed rough around the edges in a way he didn’t control. His camp shirt was now a tank top, missing the sleeves and resulting in choppy edges of fabric resting on his shoulders. 

“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he said, voice softer than she expected. His tone was almost amused. 

“You didn’t,” she lies, flipping her sketchbook shut and hesitating before looking him directly in the eye. 

He sat down next to her without asking, long and lanky legs knocking softly into her knee with a barely audible “whoops”. 

“I’m Eddie,” he says. “You look like you wanna be here about as much as I do.”

Maggie didn’t say anything, her mind racing with what she should say, if anything. He looked out at the lake like she did, their breathing synchronizing within a few seconds. He didn’t press her to talk, didn’t sit too close, and most importantly, he didn’t look at her like her dad just died. 

“Maggie.” She eventually mumbles, eyes still fixed on the faux leather cover of her sketchbook. 

Eddie can’t help but crack the smallest of smiles, the corner of his lips upturning. “Cool…cool, cool, cool” 

They were silent again, chests rising and falling in synch. The only sound between the two was the gentle scratch of graphite against her paper and the cicadas humming in the trees. After trying to steal a few glances at whatever she was so focused on, Eddie finally broke the silence. 

“So…you wanna tell me what you’re running from or are we gonna skip to the emotional repression and awkward sexual tension that comes with summer camp?”

Her pencil stopped moving, and Eddie braced himself for a blow to the nose, already prepping for the feeling of her silver ring splitting his skin. But, to his surprise, she let out a breath that sounded something like a laugh. 

Maggie didn’t mean to laugh, not really. But the bluntness of his words, dry humor that was awfully similar to hers, and the fact that he didn’t make small talk all contributed to the breathy and brittle laugh that left her lips. She looked up from the page, and he was already looking at her, a strangely fond expression on his features. 

“Definitely the repression and sexual tension,” She nods. 

Eddie grinned. “Figured.”

Maggie looked back at the lake, letting his words hang in the air like they mattered. Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. “So…you’re into this whole camp experience?” she asks, already regretting the effort to make conversation. She always hated small talk. 

Eddie let out a dry laugh that was like hers, the only difference being the amount of life behind his. “M’here 'cause my uncle said the alternative was juvie or military school”

Maggie snorted, and Eddie lit up like she’d just offered him a fifty-dollar bill.  

“What about you?” he asked, and Maggie didn’t know where to start. 

She took a beat and let her silence do the heavy lifting. “Needed a rest” 

Eddie hummed in response, nodding as his gaze trailed back to the shimmering water. Neither believed her response, but neither said anything about it. And the fact that Eddie didn’t press made her feel an odd sense of safety. Almost like he didn’t care that she didn’t want to tell him, like he didn’t expect her to, and that was a change. They sat there for a while, not talking. Not needing to. The heat stretched over them, sticky and foggy, while the lake rippled lazily. Maggie kept her eyes on the lake or her sketchbook, anywhere but him. Part of her was waiting for him to leave, the other curious if he’d say anything else. 

“You don’t talk much, huh?” Eddie asks. 

Maggie blinked, somewhat caught off guard by how blunt he was. He didn’t tiptoe, didn’t use a careful tone, didn’t treat her like she was a piece of fine china. He just observed. She didn’t answer right away, keeping her eyes on a specific lily pad in the distance. 

“I do. Just not when I don’t want to.” She shrugs, now picking at the splintering skin of her cuticles. 

Eddie let out a chuckle, nodding. “Fair enough.”

Another stretch of silence. Eddie picked up a twig, starting to pick at the bark with his thumbnail like he needed something to do with his hands. Maggie could already tell he wasn’t good at sitting still for very long. 

“So, what do you do when you’re not busy bein’ scary and mysterious?” Eddie asked more questions, and for some reason, her stomach twisted. He didn’t look at her; he looked at his hands, and Maggie found herself already memorizing his side profile. Sharp jawline, bulbous nose, and cheekbones so high that they made her somewhat jealous. 

He turned to see her analyzing him when she started speaking. “Sketch. Smoke. Repeat”

“Sounds like my kinda girl” 

That earned a grin. And a sudden cold sweat on her palms, but he didn’t need to know that. 

Another beat passed. 

“You like music?” he asked casually, like he didn’t care about her answer. But the long hair, what seems to be two-day-old eyeliner, and the Metallica patch on his left back pocket gave him away. 

She hesitated. “Sure, who doesn’t?”

“Some people live in silence.”

Artsy. Maggie couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. 

“I like silence.” 

Sometimes. 

“I know,” Eddie nodded in response. Maggie wasn’t sure why he said it; it wasn’t rude or teasing. He said it like it was a fact, like he’d known her for years and this was something he’d heard a couple thousand times coming from her. 

They’re silent again. 

“I do a music thing,” He blurts, like he’s unsure he should’ve said it at all. “After curfew. My friends call it a jam night. I think the name’s awful but it’s fun. Good music, shitty lighting, very against all the rules”

“Who said I wanna break any rules?” Her brow quirked. 

Eddie didn’t say anything; they just stared at one another. Soon enough, Maggie couldn’t help it; there was a smile on her lips. A real, genuine smile. Eddie grinned, letting out a soft laugh. This one was nervous, like he was letting go of a breath he’d been holding. 

“B13,” He nodded again. “Midnight. Knock twice and say something that doesn’t make me regret telling you about this,” Eddie started to stand, wiping the front and back of his jeans to get rid of any dust. 

Maggie tapped her pencil against the page, letting out another brittle laugh. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Something cool, or have some strong opinions about Fleetwood Mac, either usually work”

______________________________________________________________

hot people read part two

i know eddie munson in the big 2025 is kinda crazy, but let a girl love her fictional dead boyfriends. i'm hoping to keep this going because i love this idea a lot but we'll see LMFAO

shoving the inspo in ur face <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine

word count - 2k+

summary - on their rock, every wall maggie built starts to crumble. smoke, salt and moonlight blur into something neither will be able to undo. a moment eddie can't believe he's been granted, and one that'll haunt them both long after the moon's gone.

They stayed on the water for far too long, a group of angry campers and their parents huddled outside the rental shed, waiting to get their hands on Eddie. 

As soon as they stepped on shore, he was swept up. Adults far too old to be acting the way they were, sharing their piece of mind on how he should run the boat rentals. He was whisked away before he could even process the fact that Maggie had left.

Eddie had no idea where she went, her absence painfully clear. Even if it was just a glare and silence so tense it made his teeth hurt, he knew when she was around. Felt it, sensed it.

By the time he broke away from the mob and calmed all angry parents, the dinner bell rang. His shirt clung to his chest, damp with both sweat and lake water. The fingers in the hand he touched her with still buzzed, arms ached from rowing and he swore he could still smell coconut sunscreen, an undeniable reminder of Maggie. 

Even hours later, she lingered. 

Eventually, the camp settled into its nightly after dinner hum — distant laughter near the mess hall, the crackles of Friday night bonfires and the steady buzz of cicadas. 

Eddie lingered outside the front door of the dining hall for far too long, cigarette burning down between his fingers, eyes drifting without meaning to. He told himself he was just digesting, smoking a cigarette and getting some fresh air, but, deep down he knew he was waiting, hoping even, just to happen to catch her leaving. 

He caught sight of her after the third cigarette to dwindle down to ash in his fingertips. He’ll kick himself later for wasting them but for right now all he’s focused on is the curls that’re bouncing farther and farther away. 

Maggie moved quickly, arms crossed and sneakers scuffing against the gravel that led toward the flat rock they found each other on. No jacket, no flashlight. Just her, the moonlight catching her ringlets and the stubbornly permanent set of her shoulders. 

Eddie hesitated — he always hesitated when it came to her — but his feet were already moving before he had decided. 

The path was quiet for the most part, the exception being the gravel crunching under his boots. He could see her silhouette ahead, small compared to the wide spill of trees and moonlight. 

Maggie climbed onto the rock, settling like a cat, legs tugged up to her chest and arms wrapped around them to secure it. The lake lapped ahead of her, black and silver and oddly looming. 

“You’re not as quiet and sneaky as you think you are” She breaks his thought pattern. “Walk like a damn elephant” 

Eddie froze mid-step, heart pounding like a kid who got caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “Elephant, huh? That’s new.”

Maggie didn’t look back, her chin resting on her knees. He followed her eyeline out to the water, moonlight reflecting off and now shining onto her profile.

He shifted his weight to the other foot, gravel groaning under him as he lowered himself to the rock a few steps away from where she was sitting. “Thought I was bein’ real stealthy” His voice is breathy, almost a laugh until he noticed she wasn’t smiling. 

“You weren’t.”

Eddie huffs something like a laugh before the silence settles between them, the only sound being the lake sloshing at the shore of rocks and sand. He leaned back on his palms, crooked his neck just enough to watch her without noticing—or maybe she did. 

“Y’know for someone who can’t stand me…you sure don’t run very far”

That earned him a glare over her shoulder. 

She sees he’s been staring. She doesn’t say anything about it. “Maybe you’re too dumb to take a hint” 

“Or maybe you’re too stubborn to admit you like the company” He grinned, crooked and unbothered. 

She scoffed like she always does when he says something that calls her out but she doesn’t wanna admit it. But, she didn’t move away when his knee brushed her. Maggie just hugged her legs tighter, gaze darting back to the dark water. 

For a while neither of them spoke, the night pressing with sounds of cicadas and distant shouts from the bonfire. Eddie’s knee stayed where it was, pressing gently into her leg. 

Maggie didn’t pull away. 

He tilted his head just enough so he could see her eyes again, voice softer this time. “So…why do you act like you hate me”

Maggie let out another scoff, rolling her eyes and continuing her stare at the lake like it’d answer the question for her. Her shoulders stiffened and her jaw worked like she was chewing on the words she refused to spit out. 

“Because it’s easier, ” she finally mumbled. 

“Easier than what?” 

Her nails dug into the flesh of her thighs, a restless back and forth motion. “Easier than dealing with you.”

Eddie lets out a chuckle so low she’s sure it’d bury her. “That’s a cop out answer, Houdini” 

She turned sharply towards him, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in the way that’s reserved solely for him. 

Bingo. 

“You wanna know the truth? You never stop fucking talking! You’re always staring at me! You-“ She broke off, teeth clamping down on the rest of the words before they could escape. 

He looked at her calmly, grin only getting wider and more infuriating. “Go on.”

Her breath caught in her throat, fury and something else sparking hot and heavy in her chest right behind her ribs. “You’re impossible”

Eddie didn’t flinch at the heat and venom in her words — he never did. If anything, his expression softened, smirk crooked in a way that only made her blood boil. “Yeah,” his voice is the same low tone, “I get that a lot.” 

She rolled her eyes so hard he could tell it hurt. Maggie turned back toward the lake like she could glue herself to it, keeping herself from looking at those infuriatingly soft grins coming from him. 

“Maybe that’s why you can’t stay away,” he just had to keep running his mouth. 

Her chest got tight and tingly. “Stay away? You follow my every move.”

“And you let me.” His grin is even wider, smug but quiet enough to be casual. 

Her head snaps back to glare at him. Curls brush her cheekbone, her eyes ignite and he can feel just how much he’s getting under her skin. 

“I don’t let you do anything.”

“Sure, Quinn.” He leaned in just a fraction. 

The warmth of him seeped through his jeans, the space between them seeming to thin into nothing. She could smell the packet of cigs in his pocket, lake water making his curls ruthless, stubborn coils dripping down to brush his collarbone. The smoke clung to him too. Tobacco and salt. A mix that should’ve been unbearable but wasn’t. 

His shirt was still a little damp from his day on the lake. The fabric clinging to the slope of his shoulders and narrow line of his chest. The collar was rumpled — half askew like he’d been tugging on it out of anxiety.

Moonlight caught the tip of his nose, the edge of his grin — crooked, cocky, infuriatingly handsome. He had that stupid look again. The one that made her want to shake some sense into him. The one that made her want to kiss him senseless.

Her jaw clenched again. 

She forced her gaze back on the water, pulse betraying her by pounding in her ears. 

Despite how much she didn’t want to, Maggie still felt him. The heat of his knee pressed against her, the steady rise and fall of his breaths, the way his fingers thumped against a rock rhythmically like he was holding back. 

What she hated the most? That she noticed it all. 

“You’re not very easy either, you know?” That earned another glare. “You’re stubborn, you refuse to listen to any idea that isn’t yours…you contradict every single thing you do, you—“

“Well, then why’re you always up my ass?” Her words are hot and fiery, clearly trying to dig under his skin and get him riled up. 

“Because,” He sighs, the annoyance she’s begging for nowhere in sight. He leans back on his palms, just to stare at her again. “You’re impossible. You don’t listen, you push back at everything I say…”

Her glare sharpens, prepping herself for the bite, one that’ll finally give her a reason to snap. 

“And, you’re gorgeous, Quinn.” He shakes his head like he hates himself for saying it. “Stupidly gorgeous—keep me up at night, make me want to impress you kind of gorgeous” 

The words crash into her like a shove, quick and knocking the air straight from her lungs. Maggie’s first instinct is to laugh — sharp and mean, the way she always did when she didn’t know what else to do.

But, it stuck in her throat. 

Her chest was so tight she felt like her lungs had collapsed, pulse thrumming so loud she swore he could hear it. What in the fuck was she supposed to do with that? With him sitting like he had all the time in the world, like saying it didn’t cost him anything when it cracked her in half. 

She could laugh. Shove him off the rock, tell him he’s insane, tell him to keep his mouth shut. 

Maggie could do what she always did — dodge, deflect, keep the wall high enough he’ll never be able to climb it. 

But she didn’t. 

She couldn’t. 

“Say something.” he whispered, and the softness in it nearly split her in two. 

She didn’t. 

She kissed him. 

His brain flatlined, white noise rushing in. She was kissing him — actually kissing him.

It wasn’t careful — it was a collision of teeth and weeks of holding back. Her teeth scraped his. Breath, hot and ragged between them. Her nose bumped his cheek, chins knocking. For a second he was sure she’ll pull away, call it a mistake and run, but instead she leaned in harder. 

Eddie reeled, heart stuttering before instinct kicked in and he kissed her back, desperate to match her wild rhythm. 

Maggie clutched his shirt, knuckles white, tugging him in like she hated herself for needing him this close.

 Her mouth, like every part of her was a contradiction — rough one second, then melting the next, lips parting with a shaky sound that made Eddie’s head spin. 

“Jesus.” he muttered against her lips, a sound of desperation she swallowed so quickly with another kiss Eddie’s sure he’s dreaming. She climbed into his space without meaning to, knees knocking his, her body curling to his like gravity had decided. 

He cupped her face as soon as she settled into his lap, thumb making small circles on the flushed skin of her cheek. A touch he’s been begging to have since meeting her. 

She whimpered at the small gesture, a soft and helpless sound that rippled straight through him. He groaned in response, gently moving his hand to her chin to deepen the kiss. He tilted her head back, tongues brushed, tentative and careful at first, then messy, tangled and desperate for more. 

The world shrank to the wet slide of her mouth and the dizzying press of her heartbeat against his chest. Everything else — the cicadas, the lake, the whole damn camp — fell away. 

Her curls tickled his cheek, lips slick against his, her breath sharp every time she pulled back only to slam right into him again. 

Maggie kissed him like she was running from herself — frantic, unpracticed, but god, so real. 

His other hand found her hip, finger splayed, feeling the tremble run through her as he steadied her. She gasped when he pressed lightly, but instead of pulling away, she surged closer, chest hitting his, frame small in comparison. He could feel her heartbeat hammering as hard as his, the sound pounding in his ears. 

When she broke for breath, Eddie didn’t let her get far. He chased her mouth, catching her bottom lip between his, sucking soft enough to make her whimper again. 

“Oh, Maggie Quinn, you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

She pulled back just far enough for him to see her — lips red and slick, eyes wide like she had no idea what she’d just done. But for once she wasn’t glaring. For once, she looked soft.

Then, she grabbed him harder, kissing him back like it hurt her not to. 

Her thighs shifted, brushing his and Eddie thought he might combust. He dragged her closer by the hip and she let him, sinking against him with the softest sound he’s ever heard. 

Neither cared how sloppy it was. Her hands were in his hair, tugging like she wanted to punish and praise at the same time. Eddie groaned, the sound spilling into her mouth and warming her from the inside out. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, half-laughing, half-begging. 

“Just…just shut up.” She shot back, sharp and shaky all at once, kissing him harder before he could finish the thought. 

Every instinct, every inch, every ounce of sanity she had left was screaming at her to stop while she still could. To shove him off, wipe her mouth, laugh it off and run while she still had time, but she couldn’t stop. 

What in the hell am I doing?

Every time she tried to stop, her chest ached like it might cave in, and she slammed her mouth back on his before she could really think about it. 

Eddie didn’t question. He was sure he was dreaming. He didn’t push or analyze for more. He just kissed her like it was the only thing he’d ever be good for. Like he was stunned he’d even been given the chance. His thumb stayed tracing her skin, warm and heavenly while she kissed him frantic, uneven, desperate. 

Maggie’s breath hitched when she felt his curls brush her cheek, when gravel dug into her palms as she braced against him, when the heat of his chest bled through her shirt. 

Everything was too much, all at once. God help her — she didn’t know how to stop. 

And she knew this was the one mistake she wouldn’t be able to run from.

read part eleven!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

word count - 1.4k

summary - dustin’s questions dig too deep, eddie shows up like he owns the room, and maggie’s left juggling secrets she can’t quite bury. a laugh, a stare, a few words too sharp — and suddenly the air between them is strangling.

“So, where’d you sneak off to last night?”

Maggie nearly drops her fork. Dustin says it so casually, like he’s asking her to pass the salt. She kicks him under the table as he takes a sip from his glass, eyes widening and brows raising. A silent way of telling him to keep his mouth shut since Claudia was across the table.

“Ow! Hey, what the hell!” Dustin grumbles as he goes to rub his shin. Maggie gives wide eyes again, hoping he’ll get the point but Dustin only rolls his eyes. “She’s three mimosas in. Nothing but Tom Selleck will pull her attention”

Claudia snorted at her magazine and took another sip from her glass, clearly not listening. 

Maggie hissed. “Shut up” 

“Why? You do something you’re not supposed to? Gonna get in trouble?” He used a teasing baby voice that made Maggie wanna smack him. She rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her toast but Dustin didn’t stop. “Or someone? Oh yeah, that’s it… totally did someone you weren’t supposed to”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” She glares over the top over her juice glass, hoping if she stares hard enough he’ll give it up. 

“Only when you get defensive,” Dustin smirked like he’d just cracked the case. “You’re so obvious it’s embarrassing, Mags”

Maggie’s jaw clenched, biting down hard enough to crack a tooth if Dustin said anything else. She focused hard on buttering her toast, like if she presses the knife hard enough it’d shut him up. 

Before she could bite back, a loud laugh cracked from the other side of the dining hall. Careless, free, familiar.

Her head snapped up before she could stop herself. 

There Eddie was sprawled out on the bench at the table across the room. Sunglasses still on despite being indoors, shoulder shaking as someone else muttered something in his ear. His hair looked worse than it did the night before, curls ruthless and standing up in wild tufts. He picked at the crust of his toast, grinning wide and lazy like nothing in the world could touch him. 

And then — like he could feel her — Eddie leaned back just enough to meet her gaze. His grin only grew. 

Maggie’s stomach lurched, heat crawling up her neck and blooming across her cheeks. She ducked her head so fast she nearly got whiplash, stabbing cold eggs she didn’t want with her fork. 

Dustin followed her line of sight, and when he turned back to look at her, his smirk was downright evil. “Ohh…” he whispered, dragging out the sound. “That’s where you went.”

Maggie kicked him in the shin under the table. Again.

“Ow! Jesus!” He yelped loud enough to make Claudia look up from her magazine. Maggie flashed her most innocent look, still keeping the top of her boot on Dustin’s toes as a threat. Claudia gave the two a suspicious look before eventually flicking her gaze back to the spread of Tom Selleck. 

Across the room, Eddie laughs again. This time light and airy like maybe he’d caught the whole thing. 

Claudia left for a 35 and older yoga class, Maggie’s picking mindlessly at the cold eggs on her plate and Dustin was in the middle of reenacting how some camp counselor tripped over a canoe last night. He did something dumb enough it actually made Maggie laugh. The sound was a sharp burst, unguarded and genuine and made her clamp her hand over her mouth.

“That’s not even how it happened,” She muttered, shaking her head and biting back a smile. 

“That’s exactly how it happened. I have a photographic memory, y’know?” Dustin grinned wide and toothy, chest puffed out. 

“Alright, encyclopedia brown” Maggie rolled her eyes but the breathy laugh and uncontrollable upturn of her lips betrayed her. 

And that’s when a voice slid into the space between them— low, warm, and dangerous in its simplicity. 

“It’s too bad this is my first time hearin’ your laugh, Mags.”

Her body snapped up, drawn tight like a bowstring. She didn’t have to look up from her plate to know who it was. The heat that crawled up her neck, twist in her stomach and gentle smell of tobacco told her all she needed to know. 

Eddie. 

Moseying his way down the aisle, sunglasses now resting on the collar of his threadbare shirt, his eyes bare and sharp despite the puffiness from last night's binge. His rings catch the light, dragging slowly across the tops of empty chairs, like the dining hall existed solely for his presence. 

“Don’t call me that” Maggie’s quick despite her pulse being a drumline in her throat. 

“That one calls you Mags, doesn’t he?” Eddie points to Dustin who’s giving him an equally annoyed and amused look. 

“That one has a name” 

Eddie looks to Dustin expectingly, hand gesturing out in front of the two. Maggie and Dustin roll their eyes at the same time, letting out a breath so similar it clicks to Eddie that they’re related. 

“This one’s name is Dustin.” He glares, butting his head between the two who were staring at each other so hard he questioned leaving, but he stayed for entertainment purposes. 

Eddie nods, clapping twice on Dustin’s shoulder as a greeting. “Well, Dustin here calls you Mags. Any reason why I can’t?”

“Yeah,” Maggie shoots back, eyes still on her plate. “Because you’re not Dustin.”

“Ouch.” Eddie says it like it’s nothing, like her words rolls right off him as he drags a chair out with a screech that makes her eye twitch. He drops into it without asking, fingertips already tapping against the white tablecloth. 

Dustin’s eyes ping between the two, brow raised but the look on his face is smug enough to be dangerous. “You two know each other?”

Maggie opens her mouth to spit something sharp enough to shut all this down but Eddie beats her to it, a wicked grin on his lips. “You could say that.” 

Dustin’s brow raises. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He leans in, nosy as hell.

Eddie shrugs it off like it’s nothing, but the grin he shoots Maggie is loaded. “Just means your sister’s good at pulling vanishing acts.”

Maggie barks a bitter laugh, all teeth. “Big talk from someone who couldn’t walk in a straight line last night” 

His grin falters for just a second. “Guess I still managed back to my cabin alright, huh?” 

“Managed what? You found your bunk without eating shit? Congratulations, trophy’s coming in the mail.” Maggie moves the cold eggs in her plate, every move clipped. 

Eddie’s rings gap against the table — sharp, metallic. His jaw ticks as he leans in, voice low. “You’ve got jokes now, huh? Funny considering you were the one asking questions you didn’t stick around to hear the answer to” 

Maggie freezes, seriously considering slapping him. 

Dustin looks between the two, totally lost. “Uh…what?” 

Maggie recovers fast, ignoring her brother's questions. “Must not have been a great answer” 

Eddie laughs once, humorless and cold. “Right. Easier to run than hear the truth, huh?” 

Her grip on the fork tightens. “Or…easier than sitting next to someone too drunk to finish a coherent sentence” 

“Careful, Maggie,” he bites, voice low and eyes hard. “You wanna talk about last night? Let’s talk. You stormed out like your hair was on fire after dropping that little bomb on me.” His voice sharpens with the words. “Don’t ask if you don’t wanna hear it, Sweetheart.” 

Her pulse roars in her ears, heart slamming against her ribcage. A mix of anger, frustration and something hotter — embarrassment maybe — all blooms in her chest, strangling the air out of her lungs. He says it like a dare, like every ounce of control she’s managed to keep meant absolutely nothing to him. Like he knows exactly where to stick the knife. 

“Thanks for the tip. Next time I know not to waste my breath.” She nods, short and pissed. 

She hates that he’s right. That his words taste like acid because she really hadn’t meant for it to matter. It was one stupid question she flung into the dark because the air between them was so suffocating. 

God, she was an idiot. 

“Do that.” Eddie leans back in his chair, a slow and deliberate move. His smile’s back but now it’s empty, lacking the usual warmth behind it. “Saves us both the trouble.” 

Dustin just stares, mouth open. “What in the hell is going on?”

Neither answer.

part eight is right here! <3

i didn't proofread apologies in advance <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight

word count - 3.5k+

summary - it’s supposed to be paddles and bickering. instead it’s sunlight, goosebumps and the weight of his hand on her shoulder. and, maggie can’t row hard enough to escape the softness eddie sees in her.

The silence stretched, broken by the steady and gentle drip-drip-drip of Maggie’s paddle. The water was calm, glassy and peacefully unaware of the war of feelings in her chest. 

She could feel him staring, snapping without turning around. “What?”

“Just thinking,” Eddie leans on his paddle, lazy like he had all the time in the world. 

“Huh, didn’t know you could do that.” 

He snorted. “Funny.” A beat passed. “Quinn?” 

Her grip faltered, the paddle jerking in the water when she nearly dropped it. She froze, shoulders locked, heat inching up the back of her neck and threatening to bloom further. 

Eddie’s voice was low now, almost curious but tiptoeing around the fact that he was. “On the waiver. You signed Maggie Quinn…not Henderson.”

Her throat closed. She’d written it fast, annoyed by his presence and clearly not thinking. Now, she was in the spotlight. The paddle shoved deeper into the water, harder than she meant, spraying her legs with the earthy scent. 

“Drop it.”

He didn’t. 

“I just thought Henderson was your last name. You wrote Quinn like you were used to it…is it your dad’s-” he cuts himself off, exhaling heavily to cover up the fact that he felt like a nosy idiot. “Did you change your last name?”

The air felt thinner, choking her along with the crushing feeling that came with him saying anything about her dad. The silence that came with Eddie waiting for her response made the sound of Dustin’s laugh that inched so close to her dad’s echo through her mind once more. 

She bit down on the feeling. Hard. Until it hurt. “I said drop it.”

Eddie watched her back because she still refused to turn around. The sharp set of her shoulders, the freckles that dusted them, the way her jaw worked, the soft curls at the nape of her neck.

His fingers flexed against the worn rubber of the paddle. “I just…” He hesitated, which was rare unless it came to her. “I just wanna know why you hide from it”

“Don’t start.” 

He leans back, watching her shoulder blades move with each pull of the paddle. 

Neither say anything else. The only sound being the bugs humming around them, the occasional shout from the group of kids near the shore and the ripple of the water. 

Then, out of nowhere. “Your draw stroke sucks,”

Maggie whipped around, brow furrowed and what seems to be a pout on her lips if Eddie looks close enough. “Excuse me?”

“Too wide,” He smirked, but it was softer than usual, not a knife. “You’re wasting your energy. Try-“ he reached forward, bracketing her hands with his, guiding her in the correct angle. “like this” 

The contact was brief but long enough for her to feel his hair tickle her skin and to smell the cigarette and coffee on his breath. It was quick, efficient but still made her chest squeeze. 

He leaned back before she could jerk her hands away, like he knew exactly where to push. Her next stroke was smooth, slicing clean through the water. Eddie let out a pleased hum, the sound making her hands hesitate before the next pull of the oar. 

“There you go,” his voice was soft, just loud enough for her to hear. “Natural.” 

Something in her eased, just a fraction, enough that when the wind blew and pushed stray curls into her eyes, she let out a laugh — startled, easy, unguarded — and he chuckled with her, unable to do anything else. 

The canoe glided smoother now, their strokes falling into a rhythm. Maggie hated the way it felt like they were working together. Hated even more that the silence between them wasn’t sharp — it was humming, low and restless like a live wire under her skin. 

Something flickered at the surface, breaking her focus on rowing. A dragonfly skimmed across the water, wings catching the sunlight and glittering electric blues and greens back at her. It hovered for a beat before darting off towards the cattails with a glint like stained glass. 

Maggie’s paddle slowed, following it with her eyes before it disappeared. 

“Careful,” Eddie muttered, voice low and amused. He leaned just enough to nudge the canoe back on course. “Keep starin’ at the bugs like that and you’re gonna hypnotize yourself…end up flipping us both.”

Her head snapped back towards him, lips twitching despite the scowl she tried so hard to summon. “What? Jealous of the bug getting more attention?”

The corner of his mouth curls, lazy, comfortable. “Depends…did the bug just make you laugh?”

Her throat betrayed her — a small, startled sound slipping from her lips before she smothered it with a scoff. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, paddle slicing clean through the water. “But at least I’m not sittin’ up there pouting like I’ve been sentenced to physical labor.”

“I don’t pout,” she snaps back quickly, her bottom lip sticking out to prove herself wrong. 

There it was — the sound he hadn’t expected. Eddie laughed, but not the usual sharp and bitter one he used to armor himself. This one broke loose softer, warmer, like she’d hit a string inside him he hadn’t realized was tuned so tight. He felt it hum in his chest even long after the sound faded. 

Christ, she was pretty like this.

Loose strands of curls stuck to her temples, sun kissing the freckles across her shoulders and nose, her face twisted up in that stubborn glare even while she smiled. Eddie’s fingers flex around the oar. He wanted to keep needling her, just to see what other expressions he could shake loose, but some part of him ached to keep his mouth shut for once — just to watch her exist in the sunlight like this. 

Soft. Alive. Visible. 

Maggie turned forward again, breaking the spell, but the faintest pull lingered at the corner of her lips. 

She thought he didn’t notice. But, she should’ve known better. 

The boat drifted a little as they fell quiet once more, the water bright around them. From the far shore, a blue heron lifted slowly from the reeds, wings stretching long and wide, its cry echoing across the lake. 

Without thinking, Maggie murmured, “Pretty.”

Her own voice startled her, fingers tightening on the paddle, as if she could shove the word back into her mouth. 

Eddie didn’t move. Didn’t smirk, didn’t poke or throw it back at her. He just looked at her, and for once, didn’t try to hide it. 

His chest felt tight, like if he breathed too loud he’d ruin the moment. 

She was always sharp edges and locked doors with him — fire and teeth and folded arms. Now, here she was in the sunlight, whispering about a bird like it had slipped out of the part of her she tried the hardest to bury. 

God she was soft. Softer than she’d ever let him see. 

And Eddie couldn’t decide if it killed him more to watch her claw the softness back into her chest — or admit how much he wanted her to keep it there. 

The silence stretched, heavy and dangerous. 

Maggie cleared her throat, snapping her gaze back to the water like the word pretty never left her mouth. She dug the paddle in hard, this stroke harder than the last one, as if she could scrub the slip from the air between them. 

Eddie let her pretend. For a minute. 

“Y’know,” he said, finally breaking the silence, his voice even softer than before. “you surprise me, Quinn.” 

She immediately stiffens. “Don’t call me that.”

“I like it better,” he admits, pulling the paddle in another lazy stroke across the water. “Fits you much better than Henderson.” 

He watched her jaw clench, she didn't answer. 

They floated in silence again, the lake carrying them forward, sunlight catching on every ripple. Maggie tried to focus on the horizon, the water, the rhythm, but she could feel his eyes burning into her — not sharp or mocking, just…there. Heavy. Warm.

Out of nowhere, she hisses under her breath, like his eyes were prying out secrets. Maggie stops rowing, rubbing a hand over her face, shoulders finally slumping. 

“I-uh,” She clears her throat, words flowing despite the way she tries to bite her tongue. “I changed it after he died.” Her voice was flat , like she was trying to sound simple. Removed. Disposable. “Figured it’d be easier. New name, new town, no one’s looking at me and thinking about him…and how he’s dead”

Eddie stilled, his paddle skimming the surface, sending little ripples out and away. He didn’t say anything, just let her keep talking. 

“I thought starting over would…make it hurt less?” She’s not even sure if that was the reason, all she knew is the words were spilling faster than her brain could catch. “Like if I cut the name loose, I could cut it all loose too. But, it didn’t work. It never works.” Her knuckles whiten around the oar, throat closing like she was allergic to the words themselves. 

Eddie’s chest tightened. She was still facing forward, refusing to look at him, but her reflection shimmered faintly in the water — mouth pressed into a line, eyes soft in a way she’d never let him see on purpose. 

“But now, it just kinda feels like…” she clears her throat again, hoping it’d stop her from feeling like she was drowning. “like I erased him…and I can’t get him back.”

He wants to reach out. Wants to touch her wrist, to place a hand on her shoulder, anything that’d make the weight feel easier. But, instead, he glues his feet to the wooden planks of the canoe and holds the worn rubber of the paddle like his life depends on it. 

Eddie let the silence sit for a beat before huffing, low, rough, layered. “That’s not how it works.”

She whips her head around, mouth opening to spit something fiery and eyes sharp but Eddie beats her to it. 

“You don’t erase someone by changing a couple letters on a piece of paper.” His tone was sharper than she expected, like he was pissed at the idea. “That’s not how people disappear. Not when they’re—“ he broke off, jaw clenching. “Not when they’re a part of you. You don’t get to scrub that out. Doesn’t matter how hard you try.” 

Her eyes stung, glaring at him while she searched for the words lodged somewhere behind her teeth. 

Eddie leans farther into the paddle, picking up the slack for the two of them. She could feel his eyes cutting into her profile again. She couldn’t look at him. “You miss him, yeah? That doesn’t just go away ‘cause the name changed. Henderson, Quinn, Houdini, Master of Puppets…doesn’t matter. He’s in you. Always gonna be.” 

The bluntness hit harder than any soft voice ever did, her eyes stinging and glossing over with tears. Her chest ached, something heavy but still lighter than it usually was. 

“You think you know everything, huh?” Her voice isn’t as firm as she hoped it would be, shaky and clearly wet with emotion despite the scoff she tried to use to mask it. 

Eddie’s features softened, something almost relieved. “Nah. Just know bullshit when I hear it. And hating yourself for wanting a fresh start? That’s bullshit.” 

Maggie blinked hard, willing the waterline in her eyes to vanish before the tears spilled. She hated crying in front of anyone — hated the idea of him of all people seeing her like this even more. 

“Doesn’t feel like bullshit,” she whispers, voice low and fraying at the edges. Her paddle jerks through the water like it had personally offended her. 

Eddie dragged his paddle slow and easy, keeping the boat steady while she fought herself. “Doesn’t matter how it feels,” his voice is firm, somewhat cold but not unkind. “Feelings lie all the time…doesn’t make ‘em true.”

She wanted to snap back. To argue and bite and spit fire but the words got tangled in her throat. 

He leaned forward a little, the boat shifting under his weight. “You didn’t erase him, Maggie. Not from you. Don’t think you ever could, even if you tried harder.”

That broke something loose in her. A hitched breath, sharp and unsteady like everything else she’d surrounded herself with. She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see, tears dropping into her lap as she did. 

But Eddie saw. Of course he did. He sat back slowly, forcing himself not to push further, not to reach out and brush his knuckles over the gentle skin of her arm like every instinct in him screamed at him too. His chest felt tight, wound up like if he let himself move, he’d give it all away. 

So he smirked instead, softer than usual, letting his paddle dip and drag back into the water. “Besides,” he added, lazy drawl creeping back into his words. “you’re too damn stubborn to let go of anything real.” 

Maggie let out a breath that was eerily similar to a laugh, the sound making Eddie’s palms sweat against the rubber of his paddle. 

The silence stretched again, but this time it wasn’t dangerous or tense. It felt…fragile. Like some sort of truce. And for the first time, the quiet didn’t feel like a noose around her throat. 

Of course, the lake itself interrupted — a fish snapped up to the surface with a wet plunk and a flash of silver before disappearing into the water again. The water rippled, rings spreading wide across the water.

“Bass,” Eddie says simply, jerking his chin in the direction of the interrupting fish. “Maybe a pike…hard to tell from here.”

Maggie’s nose scrunches in response, something like a laugh leaving her lips. “Nerd.”

He scoffs, shaking his head and pulling the oar again to keep them moving. “Hey, I know my fish, alright?” his grin returned, crooked and easy when she looked over her shoulder. “Used to skip class and sit out by the quarry…got good at tellin’ what was what”

“That doesn’t help your cause either,” Maggie’s voice is lighter than it usually is with him, like he’d chipped some part of her walls down just enough. 

She’d rolled her eyes at his comment but her grip on the paddle eased. Against her better judgment and just for a second, she pictured it: Eddie, lanky and scrappy, ditching class with a cigarette hanging from his lips and a rod in hand, waiting for a bite. The image shouldn’t have softened the knot in her chest the way it did — but it did. 

They drifted past reeds and lily pads, an odd sense of comfort washing between them. Dragonflies whirred, the sound bringing back memories like some sort of time machine. 

Without meaning to, Maggie muttered. “My dad used to take me fishing.” 

The words slipped out so quietly they felt stolen. She clamped her mouth shut, too late. 

But Eddie didn’t pounce, didn’t push, didn’t smirk. Just let out a low hum, thoughtful and clearly holding back other questions. “Figured,” he said softly, softer than she’d ever thought she’d hear him speak. “You hold the paddle like someone’s showed you before…not like Henderson back there, waving it like he’s sweeping the damn porch.” 

That earned a flash of a smile. A genuine one. 

Maggie’s paddle slipped sideways, canoe rocking in the wake of a motorized boat zooming past. The bow lurched and Maggie’s stomach immediately fell through her ass. 

Before any real panic could set in, Eddie’s hand was already there. 

Warm. Heavy. Fingers spread across her shoulder, thumb grazing just shy of her collarbone. The weight of it rooted her in place, steadier than the canoe itself.

“Easy,” he murmured, pitch low enough she swore it curled though each of her ribs. 

The boat leveled out. Her breath didn’t. 

Eddie didn’t move his hand right away. Maybe he should’ve —maybe it was the polite thing to do, the expected response, to pull back once she’d gotten her balance. But his palm stayed. Lingered. Just a moment too long. Long enough for her pulse to stutter and her skin to prickle with goosebumps despite the sun beating down on them. 

Her first instinct is to shake him off, spit something sharp about personal space and glare over her shoulder, but the words tangled in her throat. Instead, she sat as rigid as a board, trying not to lean into the warmth that spread from his touch like it was seeping into her bloodstream. 

His jaw clenched as he stared where his hand rested. He could feel how tense she was, how her breath caught and how the goosebumps rose. But she didn’t pull away. That killed him more than anything else. Because it meant that she felt it too—that same charge running through the both of them, hot and dangerous, the kind that keeps you awake at night no matter how much whiskey you drink. 

Then, she tipped her head. Just the slightest lean towards him, like her instincts slipped past her defense. 

Eddie’s pulse jumps again, thumb sliding higher to brush against the tender slope where her shoulder meets her neck. Her curls graced his knuckles, carrying the smell of coconut sunscreen, lake water and something warmer underneath it all — her. He didn’t mean to breathe it in, but the scent filled his lungs until he was dizzy with it. 

Her eyes were closed. Not in defense, not like she was bracing to bite back at him — but soft. Peaceful, almost. And fuck did it knock the wind out of him. 

His thumb circled the silky skin again, slow and reverent, feeling the flutter of her pulse beneath his fingerprint. 

He should’ve pulled back. 

He didn’t. 

Couldn’t. 

Not when she sat there letting him, not when she looked like this — like someone he’d never been allowed to see before. God she was soft. And Eddie thought it might kill him. 

Her pulse fluttered under the pad of his thumb, loud, traitorous. Too much. 

Maggie shoved the paddle back into the water, harder than she’d needed to, the oar cutting an angry line of ripples through the water. The ripples fanned out wide, breaking the fragile and somewhat safe stillness between them. 

“Keep rowing, Munson.” Her voice was tight, eyes refusing to look at him. 

Eddie’s hand slipped away slowly, deliberately and purposefully leaving a ghost of heat on her skin. He leaned back into his spot, dragging his paddle through the water in a lazy stroke like nothing had happened. 

But Maggie knew better. Knew he’d seen it — the way her shoulder loosened, the way her breath stuttered, the sudden race of her pulse. 

She knew he caught her slipping. 

She kept her eyes forward and on the water, jaw locked while she pretended the sun was the only one burning holes into her back. 

The canoe drifted on, another dragon fly hummed past, the wind continued to blow curls into her face and Dustin’s laugh carried somewhere from the far shore. The world went on. 

But Eddie was still there, close enough to feel him looking. Silent, steady, patient in a way that made her skin tingle. 

She dug her paddle back into the water once more, sharp and angry like if she rowed hard enough maybe she could outrun the way he made her feel. 

part ten here!

TYSM FOR READING! I LOVE YOU! any reblogs, likes, comments and even just reads are greatly appreciated. <3333

also! help a gal out?!

part one | part two | part three

word count - 2k+

summary - whiskey can’t quiet the noise in eddie’s head, but it gets close—until maggie shows up. dawn finds him standing in shattered glass and old ghosts, and her sharp words cut where the bottle couldn’t. neither of them means to bleed, but that’s what happens when the truth finally breaks through.

thank you for reading <3

______________________________________________________________

She slipped inside her cabin with a softer look than usual and not another word. He watched the hem of his hoodie brush the backs of her thighs as the door clicked shut, the sight making him oddly hot. 

Eddie stood there longer than he should’ve, staring at the wood grain with his hands shoved deep in his pockets like maybe if he didn’t move, he could hold onto the moment. 

It was pathetic, really. How fast he’d gone from a group of drunk and rowdy metal freaks to the doorstep of some girl's cabin, trying to memorize the way she sounded when her voice broke. Not just some girl. A girl with cherry lip balm, coconut sunscreen, and eyes that looked like they’d been carrying the weight of the world since she was born. And for a fraction of a second, she let him hold it with her. 

He scrubs a hand over his face, shaking his head with a graveling sound of  “Get your shit together, Munson” as he drops down off the patio of her cabin. But the more he tried to scrub her effects off, the stickier they got. 

He was drunk. He had to be. Sure, he hadn’t touched a beer, and the joint he shared with Maggie earlier had worn off hours ago, but he couldn’t be sober and this affected. Eddie kicked a rock with the steel-toe of his boot, watching it bounce a few steps ahead of him. He should go back to B13 or maybe his cabin to get some sleep, but Maggie’s voice and the look in her eyes made it impossible to stay still. 

“I’d slip away and no one would notice.”

Over. 

Over.

Over.

And over.

It was stupid. He knew it was. He didn’t even know this girl. Didn’t know her full name or favorite color, but he knew the ache. The ache in the pit of her chest that’ll never be soothed. 

Because he carried it too. 

Eddie shoved his hands into his pockets, quickly fishing out a cigarette and lighter in hopes of finding a buzz before the memories start to creep. Despite the smoke, they come anyway. 

Sharp. Uninvited. Not easily forgotten. 

He was six, the backs of his knees stuck to the vinyl seat of Wayne’s truck as he watched the flash of red and blue lights against his uncle’s face. A cop explained words Eddie didn’t understand until it came crashing back a few days after his tenth birthday.

Car crash. Drunk. Your dad. Your mom. Gone. Not coming back. 

Gone. Within seconds. 

For a while, he thought that if he was quiet or still enough, they’d come back. That if he sat still on the end of his bed, not breathing with his eyes closed and his mind focused hard enough, maybe, just maybe, his mom would push open the bedroom door and call him sweetheart. Maybe, just maybe, his dad would sober up and keep a promise that didn’t end up with Eddie crying into his pillow, waiting for headlights that never pulled into the driveway. 

Instead, he got Wayne. And thank God for him, but still. It wasn’t them.

The ache behind Maggie’s eyes was something he’d been walking with since he was old enough to tie his shoes. It never fully left, just shifted. Seeped into the spaces between songs, the cicadas in the backyard back home, and the feeling of coming home to an empty trailer. 

Maggie didn’t need to say it for Eddie to know. He felt it. Sensed it. 

He blew out a shaky stream of cigarette smoke, looking over his shoulder like maybe he’d see Maggie’s shades open and her figure in the window, any proof that she didn’t completely shut him out. He hoped his hoodie was still on her skin, holding her warmth, the sweet smell of cherry lip balm and salty-sweetness of summer. 

The thought cinched around his ribcage in a way he didn’t know how to handle. 

His boots dragged along the gravel as he walked back to his cabin, cigarette dangling between his lips, ash trailing down like a fuse burning slowly. By the time B13 was in his eyeline, his mind already had his hands around the half-empty bottle under his bunk.

Anything to sand down the jagged edges Maggie had left in him. Because, if he didn’t, he’d be back at her cabin doorstep by the time they called breakfast.

The screen door creaked, feet stopping immediately when his bunk mate stirred under the scratchy linen sheet. The cabin had its usual scent of mildew and pine, guitar abandon in the corner from the last time he’d picked it up. 

It was only a few seconds before the alcohol was burning his throat. Too harsh. Too warm. Too sharp. 

Some would say the same about him. 

Eddie let the bottle dangle from his fingertips, watching the liquid spin in the glass before letting his head fall back against the cabin wall. His eyes locked on the ceiling. The warped wood above his pillow, a rusted nail and the bunkbed creaked with every breath his roommate took. 

Eddie hated that it worked. That a few swallows of whiskey could dull the sharp edges and patch the cracks he had within himself. In an ideal world he’d stay away from the poison that hollowed his parents from the inside out.

But the apple never falls too far from the tree. 

The bottle got lighter by the minute, his body heavy and buzzing with warmth. The wood grain of the ceiling doubled and blurred, his head lulling to the side with shallow breaths. Eddie closed his eyes like letting the darkness in would make it easier to sit with. 

But all he saw was her. 

The look on her face when she closed the damn door. Not cold. Not angry. Tired. The kind of tired he recognized and knew too well. The tiredness that you felt in your bones and no amount of sleep could fix. 

He dragged in a breath that didn’t quite fill his lungs. “Fuck’s sake” He mumbled, voice hoarse. The bottle clattered when it hit the warped wooden floor and he winced, expecting his roommate to wake up but he didn’t, just rolled over with a groan and pulled the blanket up over his shoulder. 

Eddie stood. Slowly. But still too fast for his intoxicated state. The room tilted sideways and he caught himself on the wall with a bitter laugh. His eyes flicker to his guitar in the corner collecting dust. 

He didn’t pick it up, he just stared at it. Like it had betrayed him somehow. Like it should be doing something. 

“Yer’ useless too.” He grumbles, words slurred and tongue numb from the whiskey. Eddie rubbed a hand over his face before kicking it. Not enough to break anything but enough to make it fall with a dull thunk. The sound made his stomach churn.

Didn’t matter. It wasn’t gonna help anyway. 

Eddie decided air was what he needed…and a few more sips from the bottle. So he picked it up and let the screen door slam behind him, abandoning the idea of keeping his roommate asleep. 

The gravel under his feet was loud, too loud in the quiet and he swore that every inhale tasted like smoke and shitty memories. Without thinking he walked over to the tree line. 

He didn’t want to go anywhere. He didn’t want to be anywhere. 

Eddie finds himself at the flat rock he met Maggie, tossing his head back with the last swig before taking the bottle and whipping it into the dark. 

Glass exploded, shards flying with a sharp and satisfying crack. 

The sound echoed through the forest, loud enough to startle a bird sitting in a branch in the tree above him. The flap of wings and a “caw” sound came as Eddie’s chest heaved with ragged breaths. He waited for the rush in his head to quiet. 

It didn’t. 

Instead, the silence after the shatter pressed deeper. Heavy. Endless.

He ran a hand over his face again, palm scratching the stubble on his chin as another humorless laugh leaves his lips. Now, he has nothing to drink and so much glass to clean up the dirt looks like the stars above him. 

He crouched, picking up one of the bigger pieces just to have something to do with his hands. The piece was thin, sharp enough to cut him if he moved quick enough and part of him questioned what it’d feel like. 

Eddie dropped the shard nearly as quickly as the thought came and went. “Get a grip,” He rubbed his palms against the denim of jeans like he could scrape her out of his skin. 

The woods felt still. Too still. 

There was the kind of quiet that only happened after an argument. The kind where you both walk away without saying what you need and know that it’s not over. 

He should’ve gone back to his cabin to sleep and wake up with a hangover so bad it’d teach him a lesson. But, his boots drag him to the edge of the flat rock where Maggie once sat, his gaze fixed on how the sun is inching up.  

A twig snaps behind him. 

“You’re drunk.”

Eddie didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to, he knew who it was. 

The words hung in the air between them, cold like morning air before Eddie glanced over his shoulder. 

She’s standing a few feet back, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up her elbows like she’d been wearing it all night, and maybe she had. Maggie’s hair was a mess and her eyes squinted at the slow rise of the sun. The softness in her expression from earlier was completely gone now. 

“Thought I was alone out’ere” he mumbles, words slurred from the way the whiskey coated his tongue. 

“You’re loud,” she nodded towards the glittering shards of glass beneath the tree. “Kinda hard to miss the sound of you throwing a temper tantrum with a glass bottle” 

“Didn’t realize you were the noise police.” Eddie’s lips curled into a crooked grin, one that usually softened Maggie in some way. 

“Didn’t realize you were a drunk.” Her tone didn’t waiver. Maggie took a few steps closer, observing the way he swayed just enough and how his shoulders slumped. 

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie’s voice is as sharp as he can make it when he’s this wasted. 

Maggie didn’t answer right away, just stared. That flat, unblinking look that made him feel like a three year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar. 

“What?” he snapped, sharp and heavier than he intended but his tongue felt heavy and he was far from thinking about consequences. 

“Just wondering how far gone you are.” Maggie took a step closer. His tone didn’t make her flinch and her words caused him to let out yet another humorless laugh. 

“Far enough to not care what y’think” He slurs.

“That’s a lie” she said easily. “You just hate that I’m right.” 

Eddie turned full towards her as she finished, swaying a little as he pointed his attention on her. “Right about what?”

“That you’re a drunk.”

The word landed like a bomb —his smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before coming back sharper, sloppier. “You get off on sayin’ that? Yeh’ want me to start callin’ you names too, sweetheart? See how much you like it?”

Her eyes narrowed and she’d be lying if she said the petname didn’t make her stomach twist. “Go for it…you’ll still be the one slurring” 

“Slurring’s just so you don’t miss a word m’saying,” he shot back, grin returning again. Eddie took a few steps closer, close enough Maggie could smell the burn of his whiskey. “Think yeh’ just like listening to me” 

“Or maybe I’m wondering how one can still be so full of himself while smelling like a bar mat.” 

She’s quick. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh, loud and sudden. Maggie’s intention wasn’t to make him laugh, she hoped it’d hurt him or throw him off his game a little but yet here he was laughing with his head tilted back. 

“God, you’re mean to me.” Eddie shakes his head and puts a hand on his chest to show the effect of her words but there’s no sincerity in it.

“You make it easy.” _____________________________________________________________ read part five <3

YAAAAAY BIRD LEARNED HOW TO POST AGAIN!!! also posted and wrote this in the middle of taking driving school for my ticket LMFAO anyways! hope yall love these two as much as i do bc they're so fun to write.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

word count - 3.5k+

summary -  the problem wasn’t the lake. it wasn’t the canoe. it wasn’t the fact that dustin dragged her to do this in the first place. it's the way last night clings to her ribs like comfort food that doesn’t settle right. every glance feels like a reminder, a dare, a threat— and maggie’s not sure if she wants to fight or let it drag her under.

The lake glittered like a postcard, all sunshine and soft rippling. The kind of morning Maggie may have appreciated more if she wasn’t silently planning Dustin’s murder. 

He walked a few steps ahead, all gangly limbs and smug satisfaction as he marched towards the rental dock, practically buzzing with excitement. 

“You’re seriously making me do this?” Maggie scratched the back of her neck, kicking gravel as she followed. 

“Making you? Please. You should be thanking me!” He shot over his shoulder, giving her the same toothy grin. “Fresh air. Exercise. Bonding time…what’s not to love?” 

Maggie didn’t answer, already trying to come up with ways to fake a sudden injury when Dustin turned around with a look that made her suspicious. 

“Oh…and so you know,” He dragged it out just to see that vein pop in her forehead again. “Canoes. Not kayaks.”

Maggie groaned, eyes rolling so hard Dustin thinks they might get stuck. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Hey, you’ll survive” His smirk only widened. “Besides…you’re good at teamwork, right?”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed, but before she could threaten to push him into the lake, they reached the dock. The dock gave a long, aching groan under her feet, the kind of sound that made her imagine broken planks and cold water flooding her ankles. The lake smelled sharp and mossy, sun glaring so hard it made her squint. Every aspect screamed — nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

Leaning up against the rental shed, sunglasses perched, clipboard in hand, like the whole dock was his stage…Eddie Munson. 

Maggie swore the universe hated her.

For a second she thought she was hallucinating because there was no way karma had come to bite her in the ass this early in the morning. 

But then, he looked up. Even with the sunglasses hanging off his nose, she could see it — the grin was lazy, sure, but his eyes weren’t just sharp. They lingered, observed, catalogued… almost softer than she could stand. She hated how it made that soft curious ache flare up again. 

“Well, well, well,” Eddie drawled, voice dripping with something that made her gut twist. “If it isn’t Houdini herself.”

She’d rather drown in this lake than get into a boat with him. 

And Dustin? Dead. So dead he better start writing his will. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Maggie mutters through clenched teeth. “You did this on purpose, you little shit” 

Dustin blinked, all fake innocence and smiles. “What? No! How was I supposed to know he works here?”

“Because that’s your…thing! You know everything, you make it everyone’s problem,” She snapped, heat already crawling up her neck. “You’ve been scheming this since breakfast, haven’t you?”

Of course, he smiled like the damn cheshire. “Okay, one — I’m truly, truly flattered, Mags…I think that’s the first time you’ve complimented me” His words are dripping in sarcasm. “Two — if I did know, don’t you think I would’ve said something about it after that whole scene at breakfast?”

“Not if you wanted to watch me suffer.”

“Fair,” he said without missing a beat, then tilted his head towards Eddie like he couldn’t help but twist the knife. “But, at least you know the guy…makes canoeing less awkward, right?”

Eddie laughs, low, and rough. The kind of sound that snakes around her spine and sets her on edge. He was still leaning against the shed, sunglasses sliding down his nose just enough for her to see the spark in his eyes. 

And good God, it pissed her off — how good he looked standing there like he owned the sun, the lake, the damn air she was trying to breathe. That stupid grin, those stupid curls that needed more conditioner, and that damn lazy confidence that rolled off him like cigarette smoke.

It made her want to wipe the smirk off his face with her fist…or her mouth. 

The thought slammed low and hot in her gut, and she wanted to rip it out by the roots. She hated that he was the kind of boy that could give her a look and have her clam up, and she hated it even more that she let it happen. 

She’d rather eat glass than admit it. 

Soon enough, Eddie slapped a clipboard against her chest, pen dangling from it like a noose.

Maggie blinks down at it. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Standard procedure,” He says, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head, curls now pushed back so she could see his face. “Waiver. Liability. Says it’s not my fault when you flip the thing and drown us.”

She rolls her eyes, scanning the dense paragraphs. Assumption of risk. Drowning Hazard. Blah blah blah. Maggie shot Dustin another prickly glare before scrawling her name in angry strokes on the bottom line for the both of them.

She shoved the clipboard back to Eddie like she was throwing a punch. Eddie didn’t take it right away, staring at her for a moment longer like he was trying to see inside her mind. “Easy, Sweetheart. This is an agreement. Says right here you're trusting me with your life.” He points to where she scribbled her signature, snake ring thudding against the wooden board.

His voice wasn’t all sharp edges and venom this time — for half a second it almost sounded like he meant it. Too much. So much she had to snap her glare back up before he saw how it landed. 

Maggie’s stomach twisted. “It says nothing like that.”

“Mm.” He drags the pen across his own line, deliberately slow, letters sprawling out messy and careless. 

Maggie should’ve looked away. Should’ve glared at the water or at how Dustin looked like a nerd in his bright orange life vest, but she didn’t. She watched. 

Watched the way his letters dragged lazy and careless, each one dragging into the next like he couldn’t be bothered to pick up the pen. Her sharp, angry signature stacked above his messy scrawl. Black ink pressed together on the same thin line of paper.

Maggie’s looked like it was trying to prove something, all edges and fury. And his looked like he’d been laughing the whole time through, loose and loopy. Together, side by side, it felt…personal. 

The contrast made her stomach lurch — like the universe was mocking her with the reminder that no matter how far she tried to get from him, Eddie always ended up in her bubble. 

“If you think this is some kind of contract-“ Maggie starts but he cuts her off. 

“-between us?” he cuts in smoothly, all teeth and big brown eyes. “Yeah, kinda feels like it. I sign…you sign…we’re locked in. Kinda like a marriage license.”

Maggie barks out a laugh, too loud, too quick. It sounded more like defense than actual amusement. “I’d rather swallow knives, Munson.” As sharp as her words are, heat crawls up her neck and cheeks. And they both know it’s not just from the weather. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Houdini” He shot a wink and tossed the clipboard aside. It landed with a thud against the old oak countertop, the waiver still safe and sound despite his carelessness. 

“Alright!” Dustin clapped as if the waiver signing and the slam of the clipboard was some sort of welcoming ceremony. “Hell yeah…team Henderson-Munson reporting for duty!”

Dustin raises his hand for a high-five, the dopest look on his face as he grins to Eddie. Eddie snorted a laugh and clapped Dustin’s hand. It wasn’t the sarcastic kind Maggie expected  — it was warmer, easier, the kind that made her pulse quicken for reasons she could but didn’t want to name. 

Dustin turns to Maggie and she just glares. 

Then, she thinks of her dad. And how painfully similar Dustin is. 

She swallows thickly, blink hard and fast like she can shake the thought loose before it settles. The dock creeks under her shoes, sun flashing bright against the water. 

For just a second, Dustin’s grin — so wide, so certain — it flickers into someone else’s. Her dad’s. The same stubborn spark, the same upturn of his top lip, the same way he could bulldoze her walls just by refusing to take no for an answer. 

For a heartbeat she swore she could hear her Dad’s laugh echoing underneath Dustin’s.

Maggie forces her arms tighter around herself, like maybe if she squeezed hard enough she could hold the memory — or crush it before it swallowed her whole. If she lets the thought dig too deep, she’s not sure if she’ll be able to crawl out of it with both Dustin and Eddie watching. 

“Yoo-hoo” Dustin chirps, bumping his shoulder into hers with his padded life vest. His voice is teasing but softer than usual, almost like he could see her slipping into the pits of grief held in her mind. “Don’t zone out on me now, Mags. We’ve got bonding to do!”

Her mouth twitches, not a smile, but something close enough and she hates how well he pulls it out of her. “You’re relentless…you know that?”

Dustin beams. “Family trait”

Her throat tightens. Her eyes sting. She swallows hard, hoping neither catches it. 

Eddie’s voice slides in, smooth, low and curling through her chest like campfire smoke. “God, you two are adorable” He’s closer than she realized, paddle slug carelessly over his shoulder. His grin has sharp edges but there’s something warmer about it — something she doesn’t wanna name. 

He tosses a paddle towards her, not directly into her hands but just shy, so she has to reach out and snatch it before it clatters on the dock. She glares out of instinct but it’s not as cold. Doesn’t have the same bite it usually does. 

“After you, Houndi,” Eddie drawled. “Let’s see if you can back that attitude with a paddle.”

Her grip tightens around the rod, knuckles white. She’s not sure if she wants to swing it at his head or cling to it like it’s the only thing keeping her sane. 

The sun burned hot against her shoulders, probably burning her skin despite her slathering of sunscreen, the water glaring and glittering below. Maggie’s grip on the paddle was iron-tight, like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. 

Dustin clapped his hands once more, grinning like a game-show host. “Alright! Team Henderson-Munson, let’s launch! Mags, you’re in the front…Eddie you steer and I’ll keep us balanced” 

“That doesn't sound very reassuring,” she mumbles under her breath, but Dustin’s already dragging the canoe closer to the dock. 

Eddie crouched low at the stern, steadying the boat on the water with one hand. His rings flashed in the sun, veins ridging down his forearms as he held the canoe steady like it weighed nothing. A loose curl slipped free and into his line of sight, brushing his cheekbone but he didn’t bother brushing it back. 

Maggie’s stomach swirled, heat that’s not from the blaring sun making her cheeks hot. Absolutely not. No way in hell she was one of those girls ogling a boy over biceps and poorly conditioned hair. But yet here she was, clocking the flex and the stupid curl and how the sun made the veins stand out like a road map she’d never admit to wanting to trace with her tongue. 

Absolutely not. 

“Front,” Eddie said, nodding his head in the direction of the nose of the boat like it was a dare. “Point us where you wanna go, Houdini. I’ll make sure we don’t end up in Wyoming.”

“That’s not…there’s no water route—“ Dustin started, then thought better, already hearing the teasing that’s to follow.

Eddie’s bracing the hull of Maggie stepping on, palm still flat on the dock to steady the rock and sway. Maggie crouched, the docks boards pressed against her rubber soles before the canoe dipped, slick and unfriendly. Her throat pulled tight, a strained sound slipping her lips. She hates that Eddie heard. 

Hated even more that he didn’t smirk. 

“Left hand on the gunwale,” he said, voice quieter, the showman cadence now slipping off him. “One foot in the center…put your weight straight down. I’ve gotcha.”

She almost told him not to say that. But it always landed wrong — too close to the place that wouldn’t stay under the lid she forced on it. Instead, she clenched her jaw and did what he said. The canoe shifts, a soft lurch that makes her stomach drop. Eddie’s fingers close around her knee — quick, firm, a brace — then they were gone, like he was trying to prove a point. 

Goosebumps formed on her arms and she sat before her mind could start to spiral. The lake moved under them, like a thing alive, black-greenish blue and glassy. The bow bobbed, once, twice and then a third. Her breath caught. 

“See? A natural!” Dustin announces, wrestling himself onto the boat like a baby giraffe learning to walk in a life vest. The boat rocks like a damn cradle, Maggie’s eyes squeezing shut and Eddie snickering as he holds a little tighter. 

Eddie steps in last, the canoe shivering again. He went low, smooth, the muscles under his skin tightening as he kept them balanced. When he settles, the boat does too, like it was listening to him. Of course it does. Asshole.

The first few strokes were chaos. Maggie’s paddle smacked the surface like she had a vengeance, splashing mossy water back onto her bare knees. Eddie matched her rhythm at the stern with infuriating ease. Every move of his paddle was smooth and practiced, like he was born to make her look like a clumsy idiot. 

“Ease up, Houdini” He snickered lazily, his reflection glinting in the water. “You’re not punishing the water, you're gliding”

“I’ll glide when you quit talking” She pulled the paddle out of the water too hard, droplets flying and spraying back towards Dustin. 

“Hey!” he sputters, wiping lake water from his cheeks. “Precious cargo back here” 

Eddie chuckles, low and warm, his voice snaking in like it always does. “Can’t help it, kid. She’s pissed I’m better at this”

“You are not better!” Maggie twisted halfway around, eyes hard as stone, paddle balanced carefully across her knees. “You’re steering, that’s it. If we even were—“ 

“I’d still win” He cuts in smoothly, flashing teeth. 

Her jaw drops open, the urge to smack him upside the head with the paddle louder now more than ever. “You cocky son of a—“

The canoe wobbled violently, water slapping against the side planks as Dustin threw his hands out. “Enough!” 

Maggie snaps her head back forward, cheeks burning hot while Eddie settles the boat with a subtle lean, still smirking like the damn devil. 

“You two,” Dustin drags his hands over his face like an exhausted parent. “are insufferable to be around…have been since breakfast. I signed up for a relaxing and bonding canoe ride, not front row seats to…” He gestures his hands between Maggie and Eddie. “Whatever the hell…this is!” 

“There is no this” Maggie’s quick. 

“Oh, there’s definitely a this” Eddie’s quicker. 

“See?!” Dustin gestures again, like a judge passing a sentence. “You two can’t even bicker like normal people! There’s this weird…sexual tension but also like you’re gonna stab each other! You bicker, you glare, you—it’s exhausting!” 

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting another canoe not far off and his expression shifted into something dangerous. “I’m outta here” 

Maggie blink, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Dustin steals the paddle out of Maggie’s lap and waves it in the air until it gets the attention of another counselor on the water. “I’m out of here!”

“Dustin, sit down!” Maggie’s voice pitched high, arms frantically moving to hold the sides of the canoe. 

“This is insane,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head and leaning to counterbalance Dustin’s rocking. “You’re gonna flip us, Henderson—“

But Dustin was already shuffling toward the middle, knees knocking, shoes and life vest squeaking. The counselor in the other canoe paddled closer, confused but still obliging. 

“Sorry not sorry!” Dustin called, climbing awkwardly over the gunnel. “I value my sanity and you two are about to explode. Good luck, love birds!” 

And then he was gone, paddling away with an ass-kissing wave to Maggie specifically. She huffs, holding her middle finger up in the air, earning a snort from both Dustin and Eddie. 

The boats suddenly quieter, heavier despite the lack of weight from another person, like the water itself knew something had changed. Maggie grips her paddle tighter, trying to pretend her pulse hadn’t kicked up. 

Eddie dragged his paddle back over his lap, leaned back against thwart, and grinned at her with the patience of a wolf watching a rabbit trying not to bolt. 

“Well,” his voice curled around her ribs, his words swirling like the smell of his Lucky Strikes. “guess it’s just us you and me now, Houdini”

“Lucky me.” Maggie mumbles, her paddle wobbling in her lap. She didn’t sound half as sharp as she wanted.

part nine !!

in case yall wanted to check out where the inspiration/aesthetic came from for somewhere between the grief and the lake <3