#dear teddy

The lobby is empty when Eddie reaches the bottom. He pushes out through the door, into the cold night air.

It’s begun to rain. Just a light drizzle falling from the pitch black sky, not a star in sight. Eddie’s head snaps left and right, but there’s no one around apart from a couple getting out of a taxi, likely returning from their own Thanksgiving dinner. The guy holds his hand out to his partner, smiling lovingly at her as she slips her fingers into his and steps out of the car. When he presses a kiss to her cheek something lurches in Eddie’s chest.

He shouldn’t drive. He’d knocked back three large glasses of wine with dinner, and the rain is beginning to pick up intensity. He should ask the driver of the now empty cab for a ride.

But he’s never been one to make good decisions.

The Viper peels out of the parking lot, tires screeching against the wet road. The wipers struggle to keep up with how hard the rain now falls, a downpour that has puddles already forming, water splashing up over the sidewalks as he speeds through the town.

Eddie white knuckles the steering wheel, his foot pressing down harder on the gas. If a cop sees him now he doubts he’d be able to talk his way out of trouble, even if it’s Hopper that catches him. He’s speeding, driving recklessly, and he’s definitely had too much to drink. But he won’t slow down.

He has to get to you.

Eddie’s furious. How could everyone keep this from him? Steve, Robin, Wayne. None of them deemed it necessary to tell him that your mom had died? Wayne had hinted that you’d had a rough time. Eddie assumed maybe it was because of him, or maybe you’d had a bad break up with that douchebag you’d been dating - Jim, or Jake. Whatever his name was.

But this was huge. This was too much. He should’ve known. Someone should have told him.

Because no matter how angry he’d been, no matter how much he’d convinced himself that he didn’t care about you at all, Eddie could admit now that it was all a lie. He did care. He’d always cared. And if he’d known what you’d been going through he would have put all that bullshit aside.

He turns onto your street, taking the corner a little too fast. The back end of the car swings out, and he curses, fingers slipping over the steering wheel, but he manages to keep it under control. The engine roars as he speeds through the quiet cul-de-sac.

He knows this street well. The small, simple houses, set back a short distance from the road, all with neatly pruned front yards and perfect white fences. He’d driven down this road so many times before. In his beat up van, with you sat by his side, your feet propped up on the dash while the two of you sang along to Metallica or Dio.

The neighbours used to frown, peering out from between their curtains, shaking their heads disapprovingly at the loud rattle of his engine and the louder music that blared from the speakers.

“You two are gonna get me in trouble one day.” Your mom used to say. But it was always accompanied with a fond smile. She thought it was funny.

She’d always liked Eddie.

It had surprised him when he first met her. He’d prepared himself for a bad reaction. It wasn’t unusual for his friend’s parents to screw their noses up at his clothes and his hair and his tattoos. Like he was nothing but trailer park trash.

But on that first day of your junior year, and the first day of Eddie’s second senior stint, when he knocked on your front door to give you a ride, your mom opened the door with a beaming smile.

“So you must be the famous Eddie.” She’d grinned.

And just like that, Eddie was accepted. Your mom never minded him hanging around. Always happy to have him over, inviting him for dinner and sending him home with extra for the nights when Wayne was working overtime at the plant.

She’d drop you off at The Hideout on the nights he was playing, waving to him from her car and calling “good luck!” through the open window.

When he failed to graduate again, she’d been there. Letting him spill the tears that he didn’t like to shed in front of Wayne, and hugging him close like he was her own son. She’d always treated Eddie good.

And now she was gone.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie pulls up in front of your house, bumping against the curb. There’s a car he doesn’t recognise on the driveway. It must be yours. Had you driven to Steve’s? You shouldn’t have driven home, you’d been drinking too. But it wasn’t Eddie’s place to tell you what you could and couldn’t do. He realises he doesn’t have much of a place in your life at all.

What was he doing here? He’d come all this way in a blind haze, driven only by his need to see you. Guilt gnawing away in his chest, his heart ripped to shreds by the thought of just how much you had suffered. While he was none the wiser.

He was here now. But what was he going to say exactly?

Eddie sits and stares at your front door for longer than he would care to admit. Rain pounds on the roof of the car, running in fat droplets down the window that fogs up with his anxious breaths. His pale reflection stares back at him. A ghost trapped in glass, distorted by the rain until it’s features blur into something unrecognisable, almost unhuman.

Beyond that white face Eddie can see that the lights are on in your living room. A faint amber glow seeping through the gaps in the curtains. The rest of the house is in darkness.

Everything is so familiar, and yet not.

Eddie knows how the gravel of the path would feel crunching beneath his boots. He knows it takes exactly twelve steps from the gate to your front door. He knows the smooth texture of the doorbell beneath the pad of his calloused fingers, and the exact tune of the two notes that ring out when it’s pressed.

But beyond that front door is a mystery to him. It makes him anxious, the thought of seeing inside.

He’s not sure what would be worse. To see that you’ve changed the decor, proof that your life has progressed without him. That you’ve developed your own taste and style, that you’re adult enough now to have an opinion on boring shit like floor boards and lampshades.

Or would it be worse if you haven’t changed a thing? Living in a time capsule, a tomb of another life. One where your mom was still alive and you still called Eddie a friend.

He might not get far enough to see. There’s every chance you’ll slam the door closed in his face, if you even answer it at all.

With no clear plan of what he’s going to do or say, Eddie forces himself to get out of the car. He’s soaked by the time he walks the twelve steps to your porch, his curls sticking to his face and neck like wet noodles, his skin erupting into goosebumps despite his winter coat. The doorbell is smooth and cold. He presses, and it chimes. A shrill, sharp sound that cuts through the hum of the rain falling. Eddie finds himself taking a hesitant step back. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have come here. Or at least he should have prepared what to say before he -

The lock clicks. Eddie holds his breath.

You pull the door open just a crack. Enough to peek your tear stained face through the gap. Mascara runs in dark smears down your cheeks, the lipstick you’d carefully reapplied after dinner smudged and messy.

“Eddie?” You whisper, voice strained.

“Uh.. yeah. H-hi. So I don’t-“ he stammers awkwardly.

He doesn’t get a chance to finish. You cut him off with a sob, face screwing up in anguish, more tears pouring like the rain that lands on his shoulders. It hurts. Eddie feels his heart splinter again seeing you like this. Because this time your tears don’t feel like a victory. He hasn’t won some petty war of words, he can’t sit back and feel smug. This is real, unfiltered pain. Raw grief, bubbling up and spilling over the surface. Making you cry so hard that you’re gasping for breath.

It’s like Eddie’s body has an instinctive response to your distress. While his head is reeling and his mouth is opening and closing uselessly, his hands are slipping out of his pockets. His arms are opening wide. Inviting you in.

Eddie staggers backwards when he catches an armful of you, the two of you stumbling off the porch steps while he struggles to keep you upright. Your arms wind tight around his waist, fingers gripping fistfuls of his button up, your face pressed against his neck. The rain is so cold but your tears are warm on his flesh. Shivers ripple up his spine. He holds you closer, still not really thinking. One hand on the back of your head, fingers curling into wet hair, the other arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry. M’so so sorry.” Eddie whispers. He murmurs the words against your scalp over and over, his eyes now stinging with tears of their own. His shoulders shake in time with yours, the two of you clinging to one another in the downpour, sobbing noisily.

Your breaths are rasping, a terrifying sound, like you can’t draw in enough oxygen.

“Hey. Hey, honey please. Just take a deep breath.” Eddie pleads. The pet name comes more naturally than he would care to admit.

Cupping your jaw he encourages you to look up at him. Your eyes are puffy and tired, lips swollen and cheeks wet. You look so desperately sad that it makes Eddie’s chest seize tight.

“I’m - I’m sorry.” You gasp.

“No. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Eddie says quickly, wishing he could come up with something better to say. Something more reassuring. He wipes at your face with his thumbs, a fruitless attempt at drying your cheeks. He only succeeds in further smudging your make up, the steady stream of tears you shed and the torrential rain dousing you.

“I didn’t mean to - I know we’re not, like.. and I’m-“ you stammer anxiously, cringing and attempting to pull free of Eddie’s arms.

“It’s okay.” He says again. He holds you firmly, refusing to let you wiggle free.

“I came here to see you.”

“Why?” You whisper. Your bottom lip wobbles, and Eddie traces his thumb across your sad pout in a move that’s far too familiar. But you allow it anyway.

“They told me. Rob and Steve. They told me about…”

Eddie finds that he can’t finish that sentence. Can’t speak it out loud.

“Can we - can we go inside?” He murmurs.

“You’re soaked.”

You blink rapidly, tilting your head back to the sky, like you hadn’t even noticed the rain before he mentioned it.

“Y-yeah. Come in.” You reply. Eddie lets you turn back to the house, but keeps his arm looped around your shoulders as you walk side by side up the path and through the doorway.

Once inside, Eddie finally lets you go, closing the door gently behind him.

The hallway is almost in total darkness, the faint light spilling through the living room door just enough for you both to see. You’re shivering, rain dripping from your hair, your dress clinging even closer to your body now that it’s weighed down with water. You don’t even have shoes on.

“I should… I’ll get us some towels.” You say quietly.

Eddie nods. His tongue feels like dead weight. He doesn’t know what to say.

So he watches silently as you make your way up the stairs, a trail of wet footprints left on the worn beige carpet. Overhead he can hear your footsteps, the familiar squeak of the bathroom door when you push it open.

While you fetch the towels Eddie kicks off his boots, sliding out of his coat and hanging it up on the rack by the door. Then he lingers, not wanting to traipse water through the rest of the house. More tears burn in his eyes, and he realises it’s the smell of your home that’s got his chest hurting. It’s exactly the same as it was, that unnamable scent that distinctly belongs to this place. It should be comforting. There was a time when coming here felt like sinking into a warm bath after a long, arduous day. Safe and soothing. But those times are long gone, and it’s been a long time since Eddie’s been somewhere that truly feels like home.

A moment later you return, a large bundle of towels in your arms.

“C’mon.” You whisper, nodding your head to the living room.

“I’ll light the fire so you can warm up.”

Eddie follows you.

The living room remains almost entirely unchanged. The floral couch and matching armchair in the same positions, facing the fireplace with its cherry mantle. Atop it sits your mom’s collection of chintzy ornaments; little figurines with hand painted smiles that you’d always insisted were creepy. But they’re still here, grinning away like they’re welcoming Eddie back. In between them all is a small frame, silver, engraved with little teddy bears and rattles. It holds a photo of you as a baby, a little round cheeked thing reaching up the camera with chubby fingers.

You lay one towel over the couch, wrapping another around yourself. The last one you leave for Eddie. He drapes it over his shoulders, reaching up to squeeze the worst of the moisture from his hair while he takes a seat.

He watches as you crouch in front of the fire, stacking the logs just so. You fumble with a book of matches, your shaking fingers trying and failing to light one.

“Shit.” You hiss under your breath.

“Here. Let me help.” Eddie says softly. He moves to you, crouching by your side and taking the match book from your icy fingers. He lights one on the third try, holding it in place until the flames begin to catch and spread.

“Maybe we should stay here for a minute? Until we’ve warmed up.” He suggests.

You nod, moving to sit cross-legged.

Eddie matches your pose.

The flames grow and dance higher, crackling and pops the only sounds breaking the silence. Eddie steals a furtive glance at you, watching your face become illuminated by the glowing light, the amber flames reflected in your eyes which stare forwards, vacant and unblinking.

Should he say something? He probably should. But if he opens his mouth he’ll say the wrong thing. It feels like he always does.

The wine has left his mouth dry and sour. There’s a headache blooming in his skull, forming at the base and making his neck hurt. Eddie shifts a little, rolling his shoulders back to alleviate the tension in his muscles. You startle at the movement, like you’d forgotten he was even there.

Eddie holds his breath. Watching your eyes flit back and forth, mapping out his face, an expression he can’t read on yours. For someone who is used to having thousands of eyes on him when struts across stages in stadiums, he feels oddly scrutinised by the two that watch him now. There’s an intensity in your gaze that makes his stomach churn, more of that familiar anxiety building within him.

“Why did you come here Eddie?” You ask softly. It doesn’t sound like an accusation, your tone isn’t combative. You sound genuinely confused.

“I… you were upset.” He says.

“That’s never mattered before.” You reply.

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat.

“This is different. I wasn’t about to.. I didn’t know that..”

Eddie clenches his fists in his lap, knuckles turning white. Frustrated at his inability to just get the damn words out.

“You didn’t tell me.” He says finally. A whiny quality to his voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your mom?”

A pregnant pause follows.

You look down at your lap, twirling a loose thread of the towel around your finger. Winding it tighter and tighter.

“I don’t know.” You admit finally.

“There were times when I thought about it. I even got your number from Wayne, picked up the phone ready to call you and tell you everything. But I just couldn’t do it.”

“I- I wished you’d called.” Eddie whispers.

“I would’ve been here. I swear, I would’ve been here for you. All the shit that’s happened, it wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“I think maybe that’s it.” You say sadly.

“I don’t know what I was more afraid of. You telling me you didn’t care and slamming the phone down. Or you dropping everything to come back to me.”

“What? Why would that have been a bad thing?” Eddie asks.

You sigh deeply, swiping at a rogue tear that slips free.

“Because I didn’t want to be a burden to you again. You’d made it pretty clear that I asked too much of you. I thought if I called you I was just.. proving you right in a way. That I needed you.”

Eddie winces. He didn’t realise he’d made you feel like that. Not for the first time he wishes he knew exactly what had happened, what was said that drove this wedge between you.

“I’ve always wanted you back in my life Eddie.”

You whisper the words like a secret. Still avoiding Eddie’s gaze and staring blankly into the fire.

“I missed you. But I didn’t want you to come back just because you felt sorry for me. I didn’t want to be an obligation. I wanted you to come back because you wanted to, or not at all.”

Your admission burns. Like Eddie had thrown himself head first into the fireplace, letting the flames swallow him and melt his skin from his bones.

He’d missed you too. He can admit that to himself now. Beneath all the anger and the bitterness, the hurt ran deeper. He’d missed hearing your voice on the phone, missed the private jokes your shared that no one else understood, missed the warmth of you hugging him tight when he finally got to see you in person again. Eddie had spent all the years apart denying that longing, locking those feelings away tightly in a chest in his mind. Being around you now felt like Pandora’s box had been kicked open. All the scary, painful things he’d been hiding from breaking free to makes themselves known.

“Sorry.” You mumble, shuffling yourself away from him a few more inches.

“I shouldn’t have said all that. It’s not fair.”

You say sorry so easily. Eddie still can’t make himself do it.

But he can move closer, closing the distance you created. Stopping when his arm is pressed to yours, knees nudging against one another in the warmth of the fire.

“You don’t have to apologise.” He whispers.

“And for what it’s worth, I’m not here because I feel sorry for you. You’re not a burden. I’m here because I want to be.”

When you dare to look up at him your expression is so filled with hope that Eddie feels his eyes sting, and he has to blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. If you notice you don’t comment. But you do offer him a small smile which he returns. He slips an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer in a familiar gesture. You rest your head on his shoulder, and Eddie settles with his cheek pressed to your hair, not minding that it’s still wet and cold.

“Do you want to talk about her?” He says softly.

“Y-yeah. I think so.” You reply quietly.

————————————💌———————————

The two of you stay like that for a while. Huddled close in front of the fireplace, clothes drying and skin warming. You both shed a few tears when you fill Eddie in on the parts of your life that he regrettably missed. Moving home to Hawkins after college. Your mom’s sudden sickness. The panicked hospital visits, the solemn faced doctors, the treatments that came too late to work. It took just months for her to go from her usual vibrant self to a shell of the person she was before. Then her body succumbed, and you were left alone.

At some point you grow uncomfortable on the floor, limbs stiff and tired. Eddie moves with you to the couch. He’s not able to let go of the closeness, it feels wrong to let you sit at the opposite end of the sofa. So he pulls you gently until you get the message, leaning back against him with your head on his chest, his arms a safety net for you to rely on. The conversation continues into the early hours of the morning. Brighter topics, memories you shared of your mom, and your time together in this house that’s not felt like a home in so long. While the rain continues to pour outside, and the fire slowly dies, the two of you drift off to sleep, the towels draped over your laps like blankets.

————————————💌———————————

You come to with a full body shudder. Blinking slowly you squint in the faint light that’s beginning to break through the curtains, your eyelids feeling heavy and sore. The fire has long died out, the living room air now chilled. The faintly damp clothes and towel draped over you don’t help either, your skin erupting into goosebumps.

But your back feels warm. Something solid and hot beneath you. With a quiet groan at the ache in your limbs you turn onto your side, your cheek brushing soft material and a row of small smooth buttons. The body you’re using as a pillow shifts, an arm sleepily draping around your shoulders and pulling you in tight. You twist your neck, looking up and seeing just who it is that’s snuggling you in their sleep.

The realisation dawns, and all the memories of the night before come rushing back at once.

You fleeing Robin and Steve’s apartment. Eddie showing up on your doorstep in the pouring rain. The two of you whispering in the quiet, holding each other close like the old days.

But these aren’t those days anymore. And despite all the progress that you might have made last night, you’re sure Eddie won’t be happy to wake up with your head on his chest.

He grumbles when you pull away from him, hands reaching for you but too weak from sleep to keep you there. You scramble back to the end of the couch, putting distance between you, your skin prickling and missing his warmth instantly.

He screws his face up as he wakes, dark eyes peeking open and glancing around the room in confusion.

“Wha- where..?” He rasps.

“Uh.. good morning?” You reply, your own voice groggy.

It seems that your voice is enough finally shock him awake. His eyes grow wide, head raising from the arm of the couch just enough to look down at where he lays. To look at you, arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, your teeth chattering when you give him a nervous smile.

Eddie jolts upright, pulling his legs back away from you quickly. Creating space. Space is good. Space feels normal.

“What’s the time?” He asks with a frown. He tilts his head, his neck clicking audibly.

“Almost eight.” You say, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Eddie nods. His hair has dried to a frizzy mess, backlit by the morning light like a halo. He grunts as he raises his arms, shoulders clicking when he stretches. His shirt has come untucked at some point in the night, and it rises with his movement, exposing a sliver of pale flesh and dark hair above the low waistband of his jeans. You feel your cheeks burn, eyes hurrying to look anywhere else.

It seems he shares in your awkwardness. Likely just as embarrassed as you are at your outpouring of emotion last night, and the fact that you’d slept curled up together when just days ago you could hardly stand to look at one another.

“I should-“

“Do you-“

You both cringe.

“S-sorry. You first.” You insist.

“I uh - I was gonna ask if you need to head to work? ‘Cause I can get out of your hair if-“

“No.” You say too quickly.

“I mean, I don’t have work. The shop’s closed today.”

“Right.” Eddie nods.

“Do you have plans?”

“Not really. I was supposed to stay at Rob and Steve’s last night. We were just gonna have a lazy day, watch movies and stuff.”

“Cool. That’s.. cool. I guess I should get going then.”

Your heartbeats quickens. You’re panicking. You don’t want him to leave yet, you realise.

“I don’t have to go now. It’s still early. You could stay for a bit, if you want to?”

If Eddie hears how pitifully hopeful your tone is, he’s gracious enough to not comment on it.

“Yeah. I could stay for a while.” He says, much to your relief.

“Shall I make us breakfast?” You ask as you stand from the couch. You pull down the hem of your dress where it’s risen, the material still a little damp.

“Sure. Sounds good.” Eddie smiles.

“You can take a shower if you want, while I get started? I could throw your clothes in the dryer.”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Eddie follows you into the hallway, hovering at the bottom of the stairs.

“Do you remember where everything is?” You ask quietly.

He nods in response.

“Okay. Well there’s more towels up there. Just leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll grab em in a minute.”

Eddie watches you walk down the hallway, disappearing through the kitchen door.

————————————💌———————————

Upstairs Eddie grabs a new towel and slips into the bathroom. The light hums when he tugs the pull cord to turn it on, the extractor fan rattling to life and whirring softly. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. Deep shadows cast in the hollows beneath his eyes, tired and bloodshot. His hair is a frizzy mess, sticking up in awkward angles. His pale skin appears sallow in the unforgiving fluorescents. Quite frankly, he looks awful. It makes him embarrassed to think you saw him like that.

Eddie turns away from the mirror and fiddles with the shower dial until water splutters out, giving it a few minutes to heat up. As steam gradually fills the room and fogs up the mirror he strips out of his clothing. He folds the items up, about to put them outside the door like you instructed, but his underwear gives him pause. His cheeks heat up at the thought of you touching them, and embarrassed, he decides to hang them over the radiator rather than let you dry them. With the towel looped around his waist Eddie opens the door just a crack. Thankfully there’s no sign of you outside. He leaves his clothes on the worn carpet and retreats back into the bathroom.

The shower feels like heaven. The water pressure might not be great, but it’s enough to do the trick, the almost scalding heat warming his skin and easing the ache in his muscles.

He helps himself to a squeeze of your shower gel, hoping that you won’t mind. Vanilla scented bubbles foam up on his limbs as he scrubs at himself with his palms. It smells familiar. The same brand you’ve used for years.

Your shampoo and conditioner is cheaper than the stuff Eddie’s got in the bathroom back at Wayne’s but it’ll do in a pinch. He lets the conditioner soak in, his fingers combing through the slick curls like his stylist taught him.

When he’s done Eddie dries his body quickly, then wraps the towel around his head to soak up the worst of the moisture from his hair.

It’s then that he realises he’s butt naked in your house, and has nothing to put on, save for a pair of still slightly damp boxers. He steps into them, holding one hand in front of his crotch for some semblance of modesty as he opens the door. He’s about to call out to you, when he notifies a new pile on the floor. A pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. You must have left them out for him.

The pants don’t fit him quite right, but they’re better than walking around in his boxers. The t-shirt is just right though, and the realisation of why makes Eddie’s chest hurt. It’s his.

Or at least, it was once. A faded image of Iron Maiden’s Eddie wrapped in bandages adorns the front, the fabric soft and loose with age. Eddie gave this to you one summer back in high school, something for you to sleep in at the trailer when you’d both smoked too much to drive. You wore it home the next day, and Eddie never bothered to ask for it back. He liked seeing you in it.

It hangs a little looser on him now. He’s lost some weight recently. Not much, but enough that he had to buy multiple new pairs of jeans before the last tour, the old ones hanging dangerously low around his hips. Eddie kind of liked how they looked, a little slutty, letting the barbed wire tattooed on his v lines peek out when he moved. But he also knew the fans loved seeing his ass in tight black denim, so he relented and gave the people what they wanted.

Eddie swipes a palm across the mirror, tugging the towel off his head and giving himself a once over. He doesn’t look so much like a rockstar now. His curls damp, cheeks flushed from the heat in the bathroom, baggy t-shirt hanging around his neck. He looks younger. Almost like his old self, the version of himself that frequented this house. For some reason it makes him smile.

Eddie leaves his grinning reflection behind. He makes his way downstairs, bare feet sinking into the carpet, the fibres soft between his toes.

He can hear humming from the kitchen, and the smell of something sweet cooking. His stomach gurgles loudly. In spite of the feast he’d eaten last night he’s hungry again. The pang in his stomach is unusual, Eddie never has much of an appetite these days. Living off black coffee and coke.

When he pushes open the door to the kitchen, Eddie finds you standing with your back to him. You’ve changed too, velvet dress replaced with a fluffy charcoal sweater and black leggings. You stand at the stove, hip cocked to one side, and Eddie can’t help but notice the way the fabric of your pants hugs tight to the curve of your ass. It’s the second time he’s caught himself checking you out in the last 24 hours. He needs to get a grip.

Eddie clears his throat. You jump, spinning and clutching your hand to your chest.

“Jesus! I didn’t hear you come in.” You gasp.

“Sorry.” Eddie smiles.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“S’okay. I guess I’m not used to anyone else being here now.” You say. You pause as though surprised by your own words, remembering why you’re used to being alone. Eddie watches your face flash through a range of emotions in real time. Sadness, then embarrassment, then a brave smile to cover the misstep.

“Anyway, I just made coffee. Help yourself. Breakfast is almost ready.” You say brightly.

Eddie nods.

“You want a cup?” He asks.

“Please.”

He moves to the cabinet above the sink, relieved to find that’s still home to the mugs. None of them match. An eclectic collection, some floral and chintzy, some bearing bright brash logos of vacation destinations, a few plain white with chips on the edges. Nestled at the back there’s two that are hand painted. Eddie reaches past the rest to those.

One is white with a red handle, a wobbly attempt at the old Hellfire Club logo painted on one side. The other is deep navy like a night sky, with little bats and stars dotted all over.

His and yours.

You’d painted them sat side by side at the same table that still stands in the centre of the kitchen. Hunched over the shared paints, reaching across each other to clean your brushes, or to admire one another’s handiwork. Your mom had paid to get them both glazed as part of your Christmas gift one year.

Eddie places them carefully on the countertop. He fills both from the freshly brewed pot, then chucks two heaped teaspoons of sugar in his. When he’s done he slides your cup along to you. You glance away from the stove for a moment, a small smile playing at the edges of your lips.

“Still think mine’s better than yours.” You say.

“Yeah yeah.” Eddie grins, rolling his eyes.

“My talents lie in music sweetheart. You’re the Picasso.”

You giggle softly, bringing the mug to your lips and blowing on the steaming liquid before you take a sip. You nod your head towards the table.

“Sit down. I hope you’re hungry.”

Eddie’s belly growls in reply.

“Starving.” He grins, patting his stomach.

Eddie sips his coffee while you bustle around, putting plates and cutlery down on the table. You return from the stove a minute later, one hand holding a bottle of syrup, the other balancing a stacked plate of pancakes.

“Bon appetite.” You say as you take your seat.

Eddie lets you take a couple of pancakes first, then loads up his own plate. They smell incredible, the ripe blueberries you’d mixed in bursting when he begins to cut into his stack.

When the first bite hits his tongue Eddie groans, his eyes rolling back.

“Good?” You grin.

“So good.” Eddie replies through a mouthful.

“I can’t remember the last time I had blueberry pancakes.”

“Seriously? But they’re your favourite.”

“Yeah, but no one makes em as good as you.” Eddie says.

You seem pleased by the compliment. The stack of pancakes are quickly demolished, the kitchen quiet, but it’s a comfortable silence for once. Eddie’s cutlery clatters against his plate as he chews his last mouthful, his lips sticky with syrup and his heart full. You reach across to grab his plate, but he dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

“I’ve got it.”

“You don’t have to do the dishes.”

“S’fine. You cooked, I’ll clean.” He says.

He moves to the sink, filling it with warm water and dropping in the crockery with the pan you used. As he drizzles dish soap over them you fill up the mugs, leaving his coffee on the side for when he’s done.

“Do you have any plans for today?” You ask, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Nah. I don’t really make any plans these days, unless Steve asks me to hang out.”

“So what do you do all day?”

“Just laze around at Wayne’s.” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Doesn’t that get boring?”

“A little. But.. I think boring is good for me right now, y’know? I needed a break from the crazy.”

“Is that why you came back? Everything was getting crazy?”

“Kind of. It’s just a lot. M’always busy. Get on a flight, play a show, spend a day talking to journalists who ask asinine questions hoping to get a good headline, get on another plane, play another show. Rinse and repeat.”

Eddie begins to stack the washed dishes, cringing when he realises how ungrateful he sounds.

“I’m not complaining.” He says quickly.

“It’s everything I ever dreamed of, obviously. It’s just hectic.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Even if you were complaining, I wouldn’t judge. I can imagine it’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah, it is sometimes.” Eddie nods.

“Are you glad you’re back?”

Eddie pauses, staring down into the sudsy water. At first he’d resented his forced return to Hawkins, feeling like he was being dragged back to a hell he’d escaped from. But it wasn’t so bad now.

“I wasn’t.” He admits.

“But I’m learning to enjoy it. It’s good to spend some time with Wayne and to catch up with people.”

“Even me?” You tease.

“Especially you.” Eddie smiles. He’s caught you off guard, your brows raising and eye growing wide.

“M’glad you’re back.” You say quietly.

“It’s good to see you.”

“Bet you didn’t think so at first.” He says.

“No, I definitely didn’t.” You laugh.

“But this is… nice.”

“Mmm. It is.”

Eddie dries his hands on a tea towel, then takes a swig of his coffee. You sip your own, watching him over the top of your cup, a small smile on your lips.

“If you’ve got nothing to do today did you wanna come with me to Steve and Rob’s?” You ask.

“Do you think they’d mind?”

“Course not. Your clothes should be done soon, and then we can head over?”

“Okay. Sounds good.” Eddie nods.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie swaps back into his dry clothes, then you each take your separate cars back to the apartment complex. Eddie’s impromptu sleepover last night was an accident, and he realises with a heavy dose of guilt that Ludo has been left home alone for far too long. He makes a pit stop at home, grateful that the poor pup has had no accidents of his own, and that he doesn’t seem to hold his absence against him. Eddie lets him out into the backyard while he changes into more relaxed attire, then gives Ludo a quick cuddle with the promise of an extra long walk tomorrow before heading back to Steve’s.

He’s nervous on the drive over, and feels a little bad that you’ll already be there, likely fending off awkward questions from your friends about what transpired last night. You both agreed it was for the best not to tell them that Eddie had stayed over. Just that he had been to check on you, and you’d reached a comfortable understanding, making the first tentative steps in rebuilding a friendship.

Robin opens the front door with a smile much to Eddie’s relief.

“What took you so long?” She asks as he kicks off his shoes.

“Sorry. Had to go check on Wayne’s dog. The poor thing had been shut in since yesterday.” Eddie explains.

“Why?” Robin says, her brows arching.

“Didn’t you go home last night?”

Dammit. Eddie’s put his foot in it straight away.

“N-no totally, I did yeah. I mean that… what’s that look for?” Eddie stammers.

Robin gives him a wry smile and rolls her eyes.

“Whatever dude. Just hurry up because Steve is insisting that he doesn’t want to watch Candyman even though he’s definitely not scared, so I need you to pin him down while I put the tape in.”

Eddie is relieved that Robin has glossed over his slip up. When he walks into the living room you’re already on the couch curled up next to Steve, munching from the bowl of popcorn resting on his lap. There’s no awkwardness despite what transpired the night before, like everyone’s happy to forget about it and move on. Eddie takes the empty spot beside you, feeling his chest warm when you throw a sweet smile his way.

The rest of the day passes peacefully. The four of you watching movies and eating sugary snacks, the only disruption coming when Steve and Robin start bickering over who ate all of the cherry jelly beans. It feels like the old days again, like you’re all still just teenagers hanging out, before life got in the way and put distance between you. The conversation is easy. No sly jabs, no mean words exchanged. Eddie’s happier than he’s been in a long time.

————————————💌———————————

It’s around the time that Steve calls out for pizza that Eddie begins to notice it. He reaches for his glass of Dr Pepper on the coffee table, his hand shaking as he extends it. Even when he brings the glass to his lips the tremors continue, and he struggles not to spill the soda down his chin.

“You good?” You whisper, brows knitting with concern.

“Yeah.” He says quickly.

“Probably just too much sugar and not enough proper food.” He says. You smile and nod, happy enough with his excuse.

“M’just gonna go have a cigarette.” He mumbles.

“I don’t think that’ll help.” You grin.

“Probably not.” He smiles back. When he stands he feels his head rush. He’s quick to grab his jacket from the hallway, before slipping out onto the balcony. He fumbles for the bottle in his pocket, shaking a pill into his palm and dry swallowing it.

He hasn’t taken anything since yesterday. He’d kind of forgotten all about the little orange bottle, not feeling the itch beneath his skin when he goes too long without reaching for it. But now his body trembles, and it’s not from the cold. He lights a cigarette, hoping that the pill will enter his blood stream quickly, just so he can go back to feeling normal again. The grey cloud he exhales rises and he watches it dissipate.

Eddie hates when it gets like this. He’s not an addict or anything, despite what his bandmates might say. He could give up taking drugs whenever he wanted, the thing is that he doesn’t want to. The buzz is enjoyable, a thrilling little hum in his veins that sharpens his senses. And he’s got stuff that does the opposite, that helps him mellow out, relaxing his aching body enough that he can actually get a decent nights sleep. But when he neglects to top up and his body starts to react to the loss it scares him a little. Eddie’s mind is strong enough to go without, he just wishes that his racing heart and shaking limbs would get the memo.

When he steps back inside his friends are non the wiser. They pay him little attention as he takes his seat again, and he does his best to focus on the movie playing on the small television, sitting on his hands to hide the way they still tremble.

By the time the doorbell buzzes Eddie’s struggling to keep it under control. Something’s a little off. Everything is too sharp, like when you turn the contrast up too high on the TV. Colours are brighter, the warm lights in the living room making his head hurt and forcing him to squint. Every sound echoes in his skull: he flinches when Steve closes the front door too hard, and Robin’s excited cry at the food arriving slices through Eddie like a blade. The smell of the pizza grosses him out, greasy dough and heavy cheese that seems sour to him. His stomach growls, but he can only force down one measly slice before he thinks he might hurl.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You whisper. Your hand pats Eddie’s arm affectionately, but the sensation of your skin on his grates like sandpaper. You do your best to hide the look of hurt when he snatches his arm away.

“S-sorry. Guess I’m not feeling too good.” Eddie says.

“Oh god, I hope you didn’t catch a cold or something from sleeping in wet clothes.” You whisper, careful to keep your voice low enough that the others don’t hear it.

“Maybe I did. S’fine though, I think I’m gonna just head home. Get some rest.”

“Are you alright to drive? I can take you?” You offer.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Thanks though.”

Eddie makes his excuses to leave, surprised that Steve and Robin don’t push him too hard to stay. He realises why when he gets back into his car. Catching a glimpse of himself in the rear view Eddie grimaces. His face is ashen and palid, sweat beading on his forehead and sticking his bangs to his skin. Beneath them sit tired eyes, the dark circles beneath deeper now. Maybe he really was sick. It kind of feels like he’s got the flu, the way his body is running hot despite the chill in the air.

Eddie squeals out of the parking lot, speeding through the quiet Hawkins streets. He’ll be fine once he gets home he tells himself. He’ll chug a glass of water, maybe smoke a joint to settle the nausea. Take an ambien to help him sleep. When morning comes he’ll be back to normal.

————————————💌———————————

Outside the house Wayne’s truck sits in the driveway. Eddie curses under his breath. He forgot that his Uncle was due back tonight. He probably won’t get the chance to sneak out to the backyard for that joint unless the old man is already asleep. The ambien will have to do.

Eddie lets himself in the front door, creeping slow and quiet. Ludo doesn’t rush to greet him, probably already asleep on his bed. Eddie’s heading that way too, his foot on the bottom stair when a voice calls from the living room.

“That you Ed?”

“Y-yeah, it’s me. How was your trip?” Eddie calls back.

“It was good. Can you come in here for a sec?” Wayne asks.

Eddie sighs, white knuckling the banister.

“Uhh, can we catch up tomorrow? M’sorry, I’m just not feeling too hot so-“

“Now Eddie.” Wayne says firmly.

Dread prickles up Eddie’s spine. He wasn’t used to that tone from his Uncle. It was reserved for times when Eddie had fucked up and got himself into some kind of trouble.

He forces himself to stand up straight despite the pain in his stomach, running his hands over his clammy face. With his best everything is fine smile in place, Eddie steps into the living room.

Wayne sits in his armchair, posture stiff and face serious. Ludo is curled up on one end of the couch. At the other sits Chief Jim Hopper.

Eddie hesitates in the doorway, his eyes flitting between the two men. Wayne remains stoic, while Hopper shoots him a sympathetic look. It reminds Eddie of the face Wayne makes when he’s “not mad, just disappointed”.

“What’s uh… what’s going on?” Eddie asks as casually as he can.

“I was hoping you might be able to tell us.” Wayne says gravely. He shifts in his chair, reaching into his pocket for something. He leans forward, placing the object on the coffee table amongst the stacks of fishing magazines and empty coffee cups.

It’s a small orange pill bottle.

Shit.

It had been a few days, enough time for you to calm yourself and return to your usual routine. There were moments of anxiety that had punctuated your week, spying a mess of curls turning the corner of an aisle in Melvald’s, or hearing a rasping deep laugh behind you when you pumped gas.

Both times on closer inspection you realised the culprits were total strangers, people who vaguely looked or sounded like the man you were trying to avoid. The threat of bumping into his was a continuing lingering fear, but you did your best to push it to the back of your mind and put on a brave face.

Robin had been coy when it came to details on Steve’s night out with Eddie. She had grumbled that he’d come home late, so steaming drunk that he had to call out sick of work the next day. But other than that she offered you no information, and you knew better than to ask.

————————————💌———————————

It’s a bright but chilly Saturday afternoon. Each time the front door swung open a gust of icy wind blows in, ruffling the pages of paperbacks displayed on the front table, and making your toes curl up in your thick knit socks.

It was busy but manageable, just a handful of early Christmas shoppers looking for gift ideas. You make polite small talk with the customers, wrapping their purchases in crimson tissue paper, while Robin works diligently in the cafe. Between orders she sneaks to the front of the store, leaving a steaming cappuccino for you by the register, the top dusted with cinnamon and sugar in the shape of holly leaves.

The tinkling bell sounds again, signifying the arrival of another customer. When you look up you’re greeted with Steve’s crooked grin, his arms weighed down by heavy shopping bags.

“You look like you’ve been busy.” You smile.

Of course Steve was shopping early. He loved Christmas.

“Yeah. I’ve got most of the kids sorted already, and I found the cutest sweater for Rob. Wanna see?” He asks.

You glance over your shoulder, checking that the girl in question is still too busy to come over. It appears she hasn’t even noticed Steve’s arrival, her back turned while she steams milk and pours espresso shots into tall glasses.

“Yeah show me.” You whisper, pulling the sleeve of Steve’s jacket until he gets the hint and comes behind the counter with you. He puts the bags on the floor, ducking down to rifle through until he finds what he’s looking for. He stays crouched, holding up the sweater so you can get a peek. It’s a beautiful argyle knit, deep umbers and rusted orange, against a backdrop of soft cream.

“Pretty.” You comment, reaching out to stroke the soft fabric.

“She’s gonna love it.”

“I hope so. You know how fussy she is.” Steve says with a roll of his eyes.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie’s leather jacket is no match for the chill of Hawkins in late November. He shivers constantly as he wanders along the busy streets, side stepping bustling families with shrieking kids and the usual old people who shoot him filthy looks.

He’d decided to get out of the house, bored stiff of just sitting around at Wayne’s. He’d already thumbed through most of his old books that lined the shelves in his room, spending hours at a time losing himself in this familiar far off worlds, only breaking occasionally to sneak to the far end of the back yard, a joint clamped between his teeth.

Eddie was on his way to Henrietta’s. It was a familiar haunt for him back in his teenage years, one of the only stores in town where he could browse without a security guard or store owner breathing down his neck. Henrietta was nice, a sweet old lady with grey curls that stood out around her head like a frizzy halo. She was always happy to see Eddie, letting him spend as long as he liked perusing the shelves, even if he had no intention of buying. Money was tight, but she didn’t seem to mind him hanging around.

It had been your favourite place too.

He just hopes that stepping through those doors won’t have more unwelcome memories flooding back.

On the way he stops in at a menswear store, somewhere flashy and expensive, purely for the Hawkins elite. The price tags would have once made Eddie’s eyes water, but now they seem like pocket change. The watch strapped around his wrist likely cost more than the store’s entire inventory.

A stuck up assistant sucks her teeth when Eddie walks in, her manicured fingers already hovering over the phone, the cops likely on speed dial. All it takes is one flash of the platinum card in his wallet for her demeanour to entirely change.

“How can I help you sir?”

“That’s an excellent choice sir.”

“This colour would look divine on you sir.”

After trying on a few coats Eddie finds the one. Slim fitting in a deep charcoal, the wool thick and luxurious when he strokes his ringed fingers over the sleeves. He cuts the tags off there and then, shoving his leather jacket into the bag that the assistant hands him.

With his new purchase wrapped around him Eddie leaves, heading west along the main row of shops in Hawkins’ centre.

Much like everything else in the town, Henrietta’s looks unchanged. The dark brown wood of the store front shines under a fresh coat of lacquer, warm fairy lights strung along the top of the window, illuminating the display below.

Eddie pushes in, the tinkling bell greeting him like it always did, the comforting scent of paper and espresso filling his nostrils. He takes in a deep breath through his nose, a smile on his face as he turns to the counter, hoping that despite her age Henrietta might still be working. It would be nice to catch up with her.

————————————💌———————————

“Oh shit.” You say under your breath.

“What?” Steve says, looking up at you in confusion.

You don’t reply, too stunned by the sight of Eddie standing in the doorway.

Steve rises to his feet, a quiet “oh” mumbled when he spies what’s got you so surprised.

“Hey Ed.” He says brightly, awkwardly waving.

“Hey Steve.” Eddie replies. His tone is pleasant, but there’s a deep frown on his forehead.

“What are you uhh.. what are you doing here man?” Steve asks.

“I was just out shopping. Thought I’d stop by here and pick up a couple of things.”

Eddie takes a few steps closer, and you tense.

“Why are you here?”

It takes you a second to realise that the question is directed at you. You swallow the lump in your throat, sending Eddie a firm glare and tilting your chin up in defiance.

“I work here. Obviously.” You say coldly, gesturing to the counter that you’re still stood behind.

“Actually, she owns the place. Her and Rob I mean.” Steve says, trying to ease the tension.

“Owns it?”

“Yes.” You snap.

“Henrietta retired last year and moved to Tampa to be with her kids. Me and Rob bought the place from her.”

“How’d you afford that?” Eddie asks, his nose wrinkling.

“Excuse me?”

“Oookay.” Steve says, sliding round the end of the counter and putting himself between you and Eddie.

“Let’s all play nice, okay?”

“What the hell is he doing here?” An irritated voice calls from the back.

Steve shakes his head in dismay as Robin stomps from the cafe into the store.

“He’s just shopping Rob.”

“Not in here he isn’t.” She says, folding her arms across her chest.

“Jesus H Christ, do you treat all your customers like this?” Eddie says snidely.

“Only the ones that aren’t welcome.” Robin retorts.

“Rob, maybe you should go back to work.” Steve says softly.

“No way. Not until he leaves.”

“There’s no need for it to be like this.”

“There’s every need Steve! He’s clearly only come here to upset her.”

“I didn’t know either of you worked here.” Eddie snaps.

Robin snorts a sarcastic laugh.

“Of course you didn’t.”

“Actually Rob, I never told him. So he really didn’t know.” Steve says.

“For god sake Steve!”

“Guys!” You bark. All eyes turn to you, like they’d forgotten up to now you were even here.

“It’s fine. I literally don’t care. If he wants to shop in here it’s fine.”

The truth was you’d rather Eddie went straight back out the door and never returned. But the few customers sitting in the cafe were beginning to pick up on the tension, looking your way with wide eyes and whispering to each other. It wasn’t good for business.

“Okay, great.” Robin says with a fake smile. Sarcasm drips from every word.

“Do you need some help? We’ve got a big range of picture books, they should be just your speed Mr Super Senior.”

“Robin!” Steve gasps.

“What?”

“That’s too much. Come on.”

“Oh grow a pair Steve.”

“Hey!”

As Robin and Steve begin to bicker between each other you glance Eddie’s way. He’s staring at the floor, fists balled tight at his sides, lips pressed together in a thin line. Even after all this time you can still read him as easily as the books that surround you. He’s hurt.

You shouldn’t care. Eddie’s been cruel to you, made it obvious he has no interest in patching things up. But looking at him now, seeing him trying to keep it together after Robin’s words clearly touched a nerve, it’s hard not to care.

You hate the tension. Hate that when you see him now your body sizes tight in panic, teeth clenched and heart aching. Surely it could be better than this? Not like it was before, but better.

Walking around the counter you approach him slowly, a whisper of his name finally having him look up at you.

“What?” He says sourly.

You tilt your head towards the door.

“Can we talk outside? Just for a minute?”

You brace yourself, waiting for him to tell you to fuck off. Instead, to your surprise he sighs and nods his head. Your friends watch on in shock as you slip out the door behind him.

————————————💌———————————

A brisk wind blows along the street, nipping at the exposed skin of Eddie’s neck and having him pull his new coat tighter around him. You shudder slightly, the thin blouse and cardigan you wear offering little protection. There would have been a time when Eddie would have pulled his leather jacket out of the bag and draped it around your shoulders. But not now.

You move to stand with your back to the store’s window, leaving enough room for the odd passerby. You’re so close, closer than you’ve been in years. Just a few inches further and Eddie’s arm would brush against yours. The thought has his face growing warm for some reason, and he’s grateful that you’re both staring out across the street rather than looking at one another.

“So.” You say, blowing out an anxious breath.

“This is kinda awkward, huh?”

“A little.” Eddie mutters.

He wishes you’d just get on with it. Spit out whatever it is that you want to say to him so he can get the hell out of here.

“I’m.. I’m sorry.”

Out of all the things Eddie expected you to say, that was the last. He looks at you in surprise, but you keep your gaze locked on the florist over the road, as if the bouquets of dahlias and hydrangeas required your upmost attention.

“About in there, I mean. That was a little intense.”

Eddie shrugs.

“Yeah well, I already knew Robin hated my guts. So it’s not really a surprise.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” You say quickly.

Eddie raises one eyebrow.

“She’s mad at you. But she doesn’t hate you. I think she was just surprised to see you in there, that’s all.”

“I didn’t come in there just to piss you both off if that’s what you’re thinking.” Eddie snaps. It seems he can’t help but lash out around you. Defensiveness being his new default state.

“I didn’t think that.” You say quietly.

A pause follows, one that’s so uncomfortable Eddie can hardly bear it. He’s about to give up altogether on the idea of the two of you talking and just take off when you finally speak again.

“I didn’t know. About you being home. Wayne really didn’t tell me.”

“Okay.” Eddie replies. He’s still not convinced.

“I don’t want you to be mad at him, thinking he set it up. Because he didn’t. And I wouldn’t have come over if I’d known.”

“It’s fine. Whatever.”

Eddie hears you suck in a sharp breath. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, sees the tight press of your lips and the clenching of your jaw. You exhale shakily, as though trying to will yourself to remain calm.

“Look Eddie. I get it okay? You don’t want to be around me. I can’t say I’m thrilled about all this either. But if you’re back here for a while, then maybe we’ll both have to come to terms with the fact that we might bump into each other. Do we really have to make it more difficult than it already is?”

Eddie can feel you looking at him. He stays staring down at his boots, encrusted with the sludge from the street where salt has been spread in preparation for the plummeting temperatures. He taps his toes, ignoring your question.

“Steve still hangs out with you. And the kids will be back for winter break soon. I think it’ll be easier for everyone if we can at least be civil.”

“Did you really pull me out here to lecture me?” Eddie bites out.

“No.” You retort quickly.

Another deep breath, and another big sigh.

“God, you’re so-“

“So what?” Eddie hisses.

“So mean!”

Eddie flinches at the way your volume raises. He feels his blood pressure steadily rising, anger igniting in his chest.

“Mean?” He sneers.

“Are we back in high school? Grow up princess.”

“I need to grow up? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m trying Eddie. I’m trying to act like an adult and have a reasonable conversation with you. You hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care.”

The tremble in your voice and the tears pooling on your lash line would suggest otherwise.

“You don’t have to like me.” You admit quietly, sounding defeated.

“But we just don’t have to fight, right? Aren’t you tired of it? It’s exhausting.”

You’re not wrong there, Eddie thinks. His body buzzes with the tension, pulled taut like a string about to snap. He’s had a headache since he’s been back in Hawkins, a dull pain in his skull that just won’t shift. He can’t relax, can’t will his jaw to unclench, the anger and hurt rotting away in his chest sapping all of his energy.

Eddie doubts it will ever stop hurting. He can’t imagine being around you and not feeling that sting, like salt being pressed into a wound. It makes him want to lash out, to inflict more damage on you to keep you away.

But you’re right. It’s exhausting.

“Fine.” He grumbles.

“I can do civil.”

You look at him in disbelief. It takes a moment for his words to register. You don’t relax, not really, but your arms uncross, eyelids fluttering rapidly to blink away the tears.

“Okay.” You whisper.

For the first time since stepping outside, Eddie really looks at you.

In fact, it’s the first time he’s properly taken you in since his return to Hawkins. You’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth like you always did when you were nervous. A bad habit you’re yet to break. Your shoulders are rounded, like you’re trying to make yourself smaller, leaning back slightly like you’re anticipating Eddie to blow up at you again. He hates to admit that it saddens him a little, seeing just how uncomfortable you are in his presence.

He’d agreed to be civil. For the sake of his remaining friends if no one else. And maybe a little for his own sanity. So he gives it his best shot.

“How’d you end up with Henrietta’s store?” Eddie asks.

You look at him in confusion. Eddie swears he can see how hard you’re overthinking his words, searching for hidden snark in his tone or a curl of his lips that isn’t there.

“Um. Well, I took a job here when I came back from college. Just a temporary thing, y’know?”

Eddie nods for you to continue.

“But I liked it, so I stayed. Then Henry said she was gonna retire, and she asked me how I felt about taking over. I figured I could make it work, so I said yes.”

“Oh. Cool.” Eddie says. His tone sounds flippant. Dismissive.

“I mean, it’s nice you kept it open. It would’ve been a shame for it to shut down.” He hastens to add.

“Yeah.”

God, Eddie’s always hated small talk. So fake and stilted. He hates it even more now, an extra layer of awkwardness heaped on top considering the fact you could barely look at one another as you spoke. He’s doing the best he can, but this is never going to work.

“I should uhh - I should get going.” Eddie mumbles.

“Wait!”

You grab hold of Eddie’s arm. Only lightly, your fingers retreating just as quickly as they’d curled around his forearm. But it’s enough to send a jolt through his body, like you’d branded his bare skin rather than just touched his sleeve.

“Sorry.” You cringe.

“It’s just, you came to shop, right? You can still come in and have a look around if you want.”

“Are you sure your guard dog will be alright with that?” Eddie asks, only half joking. He’s not entirely convinced that Robin won’t tear his head clean off if he dares step back inside.

“It’ll be fine.” You reply with a small knowing smile.

“Her bark is worse than her bite.”

————————————💌———————————

The bell above the door rings quietly to announce your entrance. Steve is still lingering behind the desk, but Robin has thankfully retreated back to the cafe. She sends a glare Eddie’s way as he follows you in, but offers no comment, too busy wiping down a spill on the counter to come over.

“You guys good?” Steve asks. His eyes dart anxiously back and forth between you and Eddie.

“All good.” You reply. You force a smile that feels more like a grimace.

You turn to face Eddie, who’s still lingering sheepishly by the door.

“Um, we haven’t changed the layout much. Newer stuff’s at the front, second hand is over by the cafe, so you might wanna…”

“Got it. I’ll stick to this section.” Eddie says.

“Do you still read a lot of fantasy?” You ask quietly.

Eddie does his best to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I don’t actually get the chance to read much. But yeah, I still like fantasy.”

“Okay. Well our section for that is just over here.” You say, leading Eddie a little further into the store.

“There’s something I think you might like.”

You reach up to a shelf just above your head, fingertips dancing across spines while you search for what you’re looking for. You pull a book down and pass it to him.

Eddie takes the paperback and looks down at the cover.

Outlander.

“Have you read it?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty good.” You say with a smile. Eddie turns it over to read the blurb.

“I’ll leave you to it, but just let me know if you need a hand with anything.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Eddie mutters.

You walk away, leaving Eddie holding the book in hands that for some reason won’t stop shaking.

“There’s something I think you might like.”

What does that mean exactly?

Did the thought just occur to you now? Or did you read this book and think of Eddie? Did you imagine his reaction to the same passages your eyes passed over?

He can’t help but wonder how often you think of him, if he pops into your mind at the most random moments like you do in his. He wonders if you do your best to shove him out, force his memory back into a box in the deepest recesses of your brain.

Or maybe you let the thoughts linger.

Eddie realises he’s just been staring at the book in his hands. He shakes his head, does his best to look over the rows and rows of books, but quickly realises he’s not taking any of it in. He grabs a couple of random paperbacks, building a pile without so much as looking at the titles. Then he sucks in a deep breath before heading to the counter.

“Find anything good?” You ask.

Eddie nods, suddenly mute. His tongue feels like a dead weight in his mouth.

You take the books from him. The tips of your fingers brush his ever so slightly in the process. They’re icy cold from being outside, but the touch still feels like it burns. Eddie shoves his fists into his pockets.

You tell him his total, and Eddie throws a bill onto the counter, not wanting to risk touching you again. Your hands shake while you count out the change, coins slipping through your trembling fingers and clattering noisily onto the floor.

“Shoot. S-sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He says quickly.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t need it.”

“Are you sure? I can-“

“Nope. It’s all good. I’ve really gotta get going.”

It’s taking all Eddie has to not bolt for the door.

“See you around. Bye Steve.”

The boy who had been lingering by your side watching the awkward interaction unfold snaps out of his thoughts at the mention of his name.

“Uhh, yeah. Bye Ed. See you soon?”

“Sure.” Eddie mumbles, snatching the paper bag of books off the counter, cursing himself for the way his hands are now shaking too.

Before you can say anything else Eddie turns and half runs for the exit. He shoves his way out into the icy cold air, cringing when the door slams closed behind him. He moves on autopilot, his feet carrying him down the street with no particular direction in mind. He just needs to be away from here, away from you. Somewhere he can fish out the plastic container in his jacket pocket, and let sweet chemical bliss dull his senses and drown out the noise in his head.

————————————💌———————————

“Sooo…” Steve whispers.

“That was awkward as hell.”

You don’t reply. Silently you crouch down, picking up the handful of change you’d dropped. A penny has rolled just out of reach beneath the counter, and you strain to reach it.

“C’mon.” You whine quietly. Your voice wobbles, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes.

“Honey?” Steve says above you.

You slip forwards. Your forehead connects with the lower shelf of the counter, only a small knock, but the shock is enough to make you lose the composure you’d been desperately clinging to. You choke out a sob.

Steve looks around. The store is empty, and thankfully too so is the cafe, the few customers having finished their drinks. Robin looks over wearing a worried expression.

Steve jogs out from behind the counter. He flips the sign on the door to closed and spins the lock.

“It’s okay honey. It’s just us.” He says softly as he walks back to you.

The two of them let you get it all out, sandwiching you in a tight hug while you cry.

————————————💌———————————

He’d almost forgotten how comforting it was. To lose yourself in another place, another world that existed entirely in black ink on paper, coming alive in his mind as dark eyes eagerly scanned the pages.

Eddie’s been living in a fantasy world of his own for a while now, just one that’s become real. He can’t remember that last time he sat and read, devoured book after book in peaceful solitude. Not much about his life for the last few years had been peaceful. His life was so exciting, everything he’d ever dreamed of, he hadn’t needed to escape to some make believe place like he did as a kid in Hawkins.

But it brings him that familiar comfort now. Curled up on the end of the couch in Wayne’s living room, a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him, his nose stuck in a book. So distracted by the world he’s losing himself in that he doesn’t even register the sound of the front door opening, and the scurrying of paws tapping on the floor that follows. It’s not until Ludo comes bounding into the living room and launches himself onto the couch beside him that Eddie comes back to reality.

“Hey! Ooof- okay boy, easy.” He chuckles, lifting his paperback higher as the excitable pup clambers onto his lap.

“You’re not allowed on the couch.” Eddie says with a smile. Still he makes no effort to push Ludo off, instead rewarding him with a scratch behind the ears that has his back leg thumping rhythmically and tail wagging so fast it’s a golden blur.

“Don’t matter how many times I try to tell him that, he still thinks he owns the place.” Wayne chuckles. He’s leaning in the doorway, smiling fondly at his nephew.

“He’ll probably be asleep on you in a minute. He should be tuckered out after that walk.”

As if on cue the pup yawns, finally settling at Eddie’s side. He curls up with his chin resting on Eddie’s thigh, eyelids already drooping.

“I’m sure you won’t be far behind him.” Eddie teases. Wayne scoffs and lowers himself into his armchair.

“What’cha readin’?” Wayne asks.

“Just some stuff I picked up today.” Eddie says. He tilts the cover in his Uncle’s direction. The older man narrows his eyes, no doubt struggling to see the title without his glasses.

“You went into town?”

“Yeah. I uh - I stopped by Henrietta’s.” Eddie replies.

A look of panic flashes on Wayne’s face. He’s quick to rearrange his expression into something more neutral, but Eddie doesn’t miss it.

“It was fine.” Eddie says quickly.

Seemingly relieved Wayne sinks back into his chair.

“You didn’t see her then?”

“I did.” Eddie says, his tone bordering on defensive. Did Wayne just assume you were incapable of being around each other without fighting?

“I saw her. We even talked a bit. It was fine.”

One of Wayne’s grey eyebrows raises.

“What did you talk about?”

He’s trying to act casual. Wanting to probe without pushing his nephew too far. Eddie decides it’s best to leave out the awkward details.

“Not much. We just both agreed things would be easier if we tried to get along. So that’s what we’re gonna do.

“That’s good.”

Eddie hates the hope he can hear in Wayne’s voice.

“It’s not - we’re not ever going to be friends again.”

“Well, agreein’ not to be at each others throats is still a step in the right direction.”

Eddie mumbles something vaguely affirmative, turning his attention back to his book. A not so subtle hint that the conversation was over.

Wayne doesn’t seem to care. He lets his head drop back against the chair, his eyes closing. Within minutes Eddie can hear soft snoring.

He tries to pick up where he left off, his eyes scanning the paragraphs on the pages in his hands. But he’s distracted.

His mind drifts, as it does all too often now going back to the same old topic. He can’t focus on the characters or the plot of his novel because he’s reminded that you had picked it out for him. Your hands had touched the very cover that he now holds. You’d read these same words, imagined the same places and people. And you’d thought of him.

The sensation that fills Eddie is one he hasn’t felt in a long time. That fluttering in his stomach, something tentative but hopeful. It makes his palms begin to sweat.

It’s like he’s waiting to read the reviews of Corroded Coffin’s debut album all over again. He’s sitting by the phone in Wayne’s old trailer, anticipating a call from the label that said they’d give the demo tape a listen. He’s back in his junior year of Hawkins High, glancing anxiously down the hall at Rosie Howard while she reads the note he’d left in her locker.

The creatures in his stomach feel more like moths than butterflies. Tiny, delicate insects, left languishing in the dark for so long. At the first hint of light they unfurl their fragile wings. Stirring. Searching for something more.

Eddie’s just not sure what.

————————————💌———————————

“Eddie?”

There’s a quiet knocking on the bedroom door. It’s enough to pull Eddie from his slumber. He stretches out across the sheets, joints clicking in protest.

“Can I come in son?” Wayne calls from the hallway.

“Sure.” Eddie replies groggily. He pushes himself upright, regretting it instantly when the room spins around him like a carousal. The harsh light that spills in when the bedroom door opens has him wincing.

“Sorry. Didn’t realise you were sleepin’.” Wayne says. His eyes dart to the clock on the bedside table. It’s 2:47 in the afternoon.

“S’fine.” Eddie says. He reaches for the glass of water beside the clock, gulping it down eagerly in the hope it will alleviate his cotton mouth.

“You feelin’ alright?”

No is the honest truth.

Earlier in the day Eddie had been hit by a sudden wave of anxiety, seemingly caused by nothing. One moment he’d been minding his business, half heartedly plucking at the strings of an old acoustic guitar he’d brought with him in case inspiration struck.

The next thing he knew his heartbeat was quickening, reaching a furious pace in his chest that made his ribs ache. His hands began shaking, discordant notes twanging when his fingers wouldn’t steady.

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t experienced before. He had moments like this, times when his thoughts would race through his mind so quickly he couldn’t make sense of a single one, so much noise in his head it was deafening. In the few weeks he’d been back in Hawkins he’d managed to stave it off, but today it had caught up with him. He’d swallowed a handful of pills in the hope they would work their usual magic, have him relaxing enough to breathe normally again. But he must have passed out.

Wayne is still looking at him with concern. Eddie realises he hasn’t answered.

“M’okay.” He lies.

“Just had a headache.”

“You want me to get you anything to take for it?” His uncle offers.

Eddie shakes his head. The room tilts again, and he grips the sheets tight between his ringed fingers.

“Did you need something?” Eddie asks.

“Just wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving.” Wayne replies. He lowers himself to sit on the end of the bed.

“Sure. What’s the plan?”

“Well, I had been thinking we’d host here. Just somethin’ small, Liz and her mom and us two.”

“Sounds good.” Eddie says.

“Only thing is, Liz’s sister’s invited us to go there. She lives just outside of Chicago. Her daughter’s got engaged and she wants the whole family there to celebrate. ‘Course the invitation’s been extended to you too, but I didn’t know if you’d fancy it, bein’ around a lot of people you don’t know.”

“Oh. Well, I mean that’s nice I suppose.” Eddie mumbles.

“But I don’t really think it’d be right, me gate crashing a family get together.”

“You wouldn’t be gate crashing. You’re my kid, so if I’m part of the family you are too. But it’s alright, we can just do somethin’ here the two of us, like we used to.” Wayne says.

“No, don’t do that. You should go. I can just hang out here.” Eddie protests.

“I ain’t leavin’ you alone on the holidays.”

“You won’t be. It’s cool, honestly. I’m sure Steve’s not gonna see his parents, so I could just do something with him.”

“Are you sure?” Wayne says, worry etched on his features.

“I’m glad to have you home kiddo. I don’t like the thought of running off and leavin’ you like that…”

“I’m a big boy.” Eddie grins.

“I’ll be fine for a few days. You should go.”

“Well alright then. S’long as you’re certain.”

“I am.”

Wayne smiles, patting Eddie on the shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to it. Don’t sleep the whole day away.” He chuckles.

“I won’t.” Eddie says. He stands up to prove the point, hoping Wayne doesn’t notice the way he sways on the spot.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie pops two Tylenol on his tongue, swigging orange juice directly from the carton to wash them down. Thankfully Wayne’s not around to chastise him for the bad habit.

Shuffling into the living room, Eddie smiles to himself when Ludo jumps up from his spot on the couch, bounding over with his tale wagging.

“Hey buddy.” Eddie says softly, stooping down to pet the top of his head. When he’s done he picks up the phone, punching in Steve’s number and lumping down in Wayne’s chair with a groan. Ludo sits at his feet, and he keeps one hand running through the silky hairs of the dogs back, scratching between his shoulder blades.

It only takes a couple of rings before his call is answered.

“Hello?”

“Steve! Hey man.” Eddie says, breathing a quiet sigh of relief that Robin hadn’t been the one to pick up.

“Hey Ed! What’s up?”

“Nothing much man. How’re you doing?”

“M’good. Just unpacking some groceries.”

“Wow, exciting day, huh?” Eddie says.

“Yeah yeah, well we can’t all be rockstars.” Steve laughs.

“Although I can’t imagine you’re living the rock n roll lifestyle right now either.”

“Oh I for sure am. Just woke up from an afternoon nap.”

“Easy there grandpa.” Steve teases.

“Anyway, what can I do for ya?”

“I wanted to know if you had any plans for Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, we do actually! Just a small thing, y’know. I think my parents are in Aspen, and Rob’s are visiting family out west somewhere. So we’re hosting. It’ll be just the two of us, and, uh…”

Eddie frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sure that your name is about to escape Steve’s lips, given the way he’d awkwardly trailed off.

And Eddie’s right.

“Sorry.” Steve whispers.

“You don’t have to be sorry bud. I - I think it’s.. nice, that you guys are all still close.” Eddie lies.

“Hmmm. Yeah, it is. So, um.. what’re you doing? For Thanksgiving I mean.” Steve says, clearly eager to move pass the misstep.

“I don't have anything planned right now. Wayne’s going away with his lady friend.”

“You should come to us then!” Steve says.

Eddie hesitates. It’s what he’d called for, obviously. But now he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea.

“Look, I get it.” Steve follows up quickly, sensing Eddie’s trepidation.

“It’s awkward as hell. But it seems like you made some progress the other day, right? Like I know she was upset after but she said you guys talked and-“

“Wait.” Eddie interjects.

“She was upset after?”

The line goes quiet for a moment.

“Uhh.. well, she cried. But only a little!”

Eddie feels his stomach drop. He’d made you cry again? It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. But he’s still surprised, given that he thought the conversation went as well as could be expected.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t rude to her or anything.” He protests weakly.

“No, I know man! She didn’t say you were. In fact she said it was good, that you’d agreed to be civil. I think it’s just a lot, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Eddie sighs.

“Yeah it’s a lot. But if I join you guys for Thanksgiving is that just gonna upset her more?”

“I think it’ll be fine. But I could ask her if you want? Casually, obviously. Just float the idea by her?”

Eddie presses his lips into a thin line. Steve having to ask you for permission to invite Eddie over made his face feel hot with anger once again. But the thought of making you cry made him feel worse, much to his surprise.

“Yeah, okay.” He agrees.

“Cool. I’ll call her now and let you know.”

“Steve. That’s hardly casual.”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re probably right. I won’t call her now. But uh, I should go.” Steve says, totally unconvincing.

“Do not call her now Harrington!” Eddie pleads.

“I won’t. Scouts honour. But I’m going, bye Eddie!”

There’s a final chuckle through the phone before the line goes dead. Eddie rolls his eyes as he hangs up the receiver.

————————————💌———————————

For approximately the twentieth time today, Eddie wonders if he’s made a mistake.

Standing outside Steve and Robin’s building, staring up at the apartments while the light November drizzle dampens his curls to a frizzy mess, he realises it’s not too late. He could jump straight back in his car, head home to Wayne’s and call with some excuse. A stomach ache or something similar. Steve would obviously know it was a lie, but Eddie doubted his friend would call him out on it. He could drink the bottle of expensive red he’s clutching to himself and fall asleep in a drunken haze.

He’s just curling his fingers around the keys in his pocket when a voice from behind him makes him jump.

“Have you buzzed them to let you in? It’s apartment 3B.”

Eddie spins.

He hadn’t heard you approach. You linger just a few steps away from him, adjusting the straps of your tote that hangs over your shoulder.

You’re dressed more appropriately for the weather than the last time he saw you. A deep burgundy trench pulled tight around you, the belt cinching your waist. Your lipstick matches your coat perfectly, and Eddie only realises he’s staring when your lips pull into a wry smile.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah. Yep, all good. I uh - I hadn’t buzzed yet. I know which apartment though. I’ve been here before. Only once, but -“

Eddie cringes at the sound of his own rambling.

“So I heard.” You reply, raising one eyebrow.

You’re teasing him. It doesn’t anger him like it might have done before. Instead he feels those moths stirring in his stomach once more.

“You're not scared of going in are you?”

“No.” He says quickly.

“Although I did wonder if this was all a ruse for Robin to poison my food.”

When you laugh Eddie can’t help but grin too. It’s something he’s not heard in so long, he forgot just how much he liked the sound.

“You’ll be fine.” You smile. You hold up your keys, the door buzzing and clicking unlocked when you swipe your fob. When you pull open the door you wait, tilting your head in invitation.

“C’mon. I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Walking side by side up the seemingly endless stairs to the apartment, Eddie can’t help but steal a few quick sideways glances at you. He’s a little confused by your playful attitude tonight.

When you’d asked for civility and Eddie granted it, he’d expected there to still be a heavy dose of awkward in your interactions. Some stilted conversation, avoidance of eye contact. Keeping each other at arms length, while maintaining a fragile politeness, like talking to a vague acquaintance.

But you seem to be doing your best to be friendly. It’s something that Eddie couldn’t have ever imagined just a few weeks ago. He supposes he should try his best to meet you halfway.

“I didn’t know you like red wine.” You comment, beating him to it.

“Oh, uh yeah. Kind of developed a taste for it.” Eddie shrugs.

“Good thing you brought it. I’ve got some Chardonnay in my bag, but we’ll need a lot of booze to cope with the diva that is chef Steve.” You laugh.

“Steve’s cooking? I just kinda assumed Robin would be.”

“Oh god no. She might be the master baker in the cafe, but Steve’s in charge of the kitchen at home. He’s a nightmare too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Whatever you do don’t offer to help him. He’ll just end up barking orders at you, then he’ll get fed up when you don’t do things just how he likes, and he’ll take over again and shoo you away.”

You stop outside the apartment door, slipping your key into the lock.

“You’re telling me that Stevie, who’s never been accused of being highly strung in his life, is a dictator in the kitchen?” Eddie asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Hard to believe, I know.” Your voice drops to a whisper as you crack the door open.

“He’s usually so chill.”

“Totally chill. An ice queen you could say.” Eddie whispers back.

Your head tips back as you bark out a laugh. Eddie chuckles too. His eyes linger on the creases at the corner of your eyes and he feels a warm sensation in his chest.

Robin appears at the end of the hallway. Eddie’s smile disappears in an instant.

“Did you guys come together?” She asks. Eddie’s unsure if her tone is just one of disbelief, or disapproval.

“No. Bumped into each other outside.” You reply, stooping down to unbuckle your shoes. Eddie tucks his bottle under one arm, unlacing his boots with one hand and giving Robin an awkward wave with the other that she promptly ignores.

“Are they here?!” A voice calls from the kitchen.

“No Steve. I’m just standing in the hallway talking to myself.” Robin replies.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious. Come stir the gravy, I need to baste the turkey one more time!”

Robin rolls her eyes and walks away.

“Told you. He’s a diva.” You grin.

“I think I can cope with that. It’s Rob I’m worried about. She didn’t exactly look thrilled to see me.” Eddie murmurs.

“It’ll be alright. Give me that so you can take your coat off.” You say politely, gesturing to the bottle. Eddie hands it to you, slipping off his jacket and hanging it up. You tuck the red into your tote, the two bottles clinking softly as you readjust, trying to hold the bag on one arm while slipping the other out of your coat.

“Wait, let me help you too.” Eddie says. He moves behind you without thinking, pulling gently at your sleeve to free your arm.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“S’okay.” Eddie whispers.

He helps you slip free of the garment, the ghost of your perfume caressing his senses when slides the fabric off your other shoulder. He can feel the heat of your body beneath his palm, but in spite of it he swears he catches you shiver. You hug the tote close to your chest as though it were a shield. Beneath your coat an emerald green dress hugs close to your body, tight at the hips with a neckline scooped just low enough that Eddie can spy a hint of cleavage.

“You look nice.” He says, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

You look up at him with wide eyes, apparently as surprised as he is.

“The uhh, the dress I mean. It’s a pretty dress. Nice colour.”

God, why does he stammer so much around you?

“Thank you.” You reply quietly. Your response is perfectly polite, but you seem uncomfortable.

“You good?” He asks.

You nod, but there’s something in the air now that he can’t put his finger on. He’s made a misstep somewhere along the way, it’s obvious from the way you avoid his eyes now, walking wordlessly down the hallway. Eddie sighs to himself. He hangs your coat, then braces himself for what he’s sure is going to be one painfully uncomfortable dinner.

————————————💌———————————

You weren’t kidding when you said that Steve is a nightmare in the kitchen. He bounces from one side to the other like a pinball, muttering curses under his breath when the oven begins to beep at the exact moment that the water the potatoes are cooking in boils over, hissing noisily on the hob.

You sip from your glass, stifling a laugh as best you can. Eddie opens his mouth, on the verge of offering to help his friend when he catches your eye.

You give a small shake of your head, and he remembers your warning.

While it’s funny watching Steve fuss in the kitchen, wearing a god awful frilly pink apron, it does have a draw back. Namely, Eddie is left with just you and Robin, the three of you sitting around the tiny dining table. It seems you’re over whatever upset you in the hall, and Eddie appreciates that you’re trying to facilitate conversation, but it’s proving pretty difficult when Robin doesn’t even want to acknowledge his existence. He sits quietly, sipping his Merlot, hoping that Steve is nearly finished cooking.

“Have you told Dustin and the rest of the kids that you’re back?” You ask.

Eddie shakes his head.

“No. I don’t know if I’ll still be here when they’re back for Christmas, so I don’t want to get their hopes up for no reason.”

Eddie swears he hears Robin scoff quietly, but he lets it slide.

“It’d be nice if you stayed.” You reply.

Eddie looks over at you, seeing embarrassment dawn on your face.

“For the kids, I mean.” You add quickly.

“It’d be a nice surprise for them.”

You hurry to swallow down a large gulp of wine, averting your gaze to the kitchen.

“How’s it looking Stevie?” You call.

“M’now about to carve the turkey. Come grab your plates.” He grins.

————————————💌———————————

“I’ve got to hand it to you man, I didn’t know you could cook like that.” Eddie says. Across the table Steve smiles proudly, wiping the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin.

“Thanks. I do all the cooking around here, so I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“You don’t like to cook?” Eddie asks Robin. It’s the first time he’s dared speak directly to her all evening. She had at least kept her death glares to a minimum since they sat down to eat, and Eddie’s hopeful now that a full stomach and a few glasses of wine will be enough to soften her.

The girl shrugs.

“I spend so much time in the kitchen at work, it’s kind of the last thing I want to do at home.” She says, her tone lacking it’s usual bite.

“Makes sense.” Eddie replies.

“Do you cook much? Or have you got a personal chef who does everything for you?”

Eddie tenses, but when he looks Robin’s way he finds her with a playful smile on her face. She’s joking.

“I wish.” Eddie chuckles nervously.

“I’m useless in the kitchen. But there’s no chef, I pretty much live on takeout when I’m home.”

“How is that even possible? If I so much as look at fast food now I have to spend an extra three hours in the gym. And you haven’t put on a pound since high school.” Steve grumbles. He pats his belly for emphasis.

“Steve shut up. We all know you’ve still got abs.” Robin teases.

“I won’t do after that.” Steve says, gesturing to his empty plate.

“Oh, so you don’t want dessert then?” You grin.

“I didn’t say that. Although I definitely need a few minutes.”

“Alright. Well I’ll make a start on the dishes.” You stand and begin to stack the plates, but Steve is quick to snatch his away from you.

“Stop. Honey you’re our guest, you don’t have to-“

“That’s nonsense Stevie. I’m hardly a guest, I’m here all the time. Now pass me your plate. In the meantime you can dig out the UNO cards.”

“No! Can we play anything other than UNO? You always beat me.”

“That’s why I want to play it.” You giggle.

You lean across the table, scooping up Eddie’s plate and heading into the kitchen.

“I’ll go give her a hand.” Robin says, pushing her chair back.

“I’ve got it.” Eddie says quickly. Both Steve and Robin give him a questioning look.

“Is that a good idea Eddie?” Robin asks. It startles Eddie to hear her use his first name, rather than snarling Munson like it’s some kind of curse.

“Seriously, it’s fine.” He says softly.

“If you hear smashing plates then you can intervene.”

“Well if you insist on throwing things at each other please start with this.” Robin says, holding up the chintzy floral gravy boat.

“Hey! I like that.” Steve protests.

“I gotta side with Rob on this one Stevie. The gravy boat will definitely be the first victim.” Eddie laughs.

He makes his way into the kitchen, arms stacked with the extra crockery.

The kitchen is tiny. You’re stood with your back to him already filling the sink with hot sudsy water. You jump when his elbow knocks against you.

“Sorry.” Eddie whispers.

“Just wanted to put these down here.”

“Oh. It’s okay. You don’t have to help you know. Just go relax.”

“It’s fine, I want to.”

Eddie’s not sure why he’s being so weirdly insistent on helping you clean up. Just a few hours earlier he was debating on running away, avoiding being around you at any cost. But now he feels compelled to be closer. He doesn’t want to upset you, it’s more like he wants to test the waters, to see how much you can both cope with.

“You wash and I’ll dry?” He suggests.

“Sure.”

It’s less uncomfortable than expected, to be so close to one another, side by side in the cramped kitchen. Neither of you speak, but it’s a comfortable quiet. Just the sloshing of the water, clinking of plates when you pass them to Eddie, laughter and murmurs coming from the living room.

There’s something in the back of Eddie’s mind though. That same thought that’s been puzzling him all night. It seems safe to ask given that you’re getting on better.

“I was kind of surprised you’re here tonight.” Eddie says softly.

You continue to scrub at the pan in your hands, not looking up when you answer.

“Didn’t Steve tell you I’d be coming?”

“Yeah, he did. I guess I just figured you’d be at your mom’s. What’s she doing for the holiday?”

Your hands freeze. Eddie feels the tension instantly, your body stiffening beside him.

“What?” You whisper.

“I - I just.. you usually spend Thanksgiving with her, right?”

When Eddie dares to glance over at you he finds you staring down into the sink, like you’re searching for an answer in the murky water. Your hands are shaking, and the pan slips free of your fingers, plopping loudly as it falls and splashing water onto your dress.

“Are you okay?” He asks. His heart is beginning to quicken, that familiar anxiety growing. He’s fucked up for sure, but he doesn’t understand how.

“S’cuse me. I need to go to the bathroom.” You say suddenly. You turn and hurry out of the kitchen, leaving droplets on the linoleum floor from your soaked hands.

Eddie watches you go. He debates following you, an urge to check that you’re alright, an apology forming on his tongue for whatever he did wrong.

But he decides against it. It would probably make things worse. So he finishes tidying up, doing both the washing and the drying in total silence.

When he wanders to the living room Steve and Robin are already sat on the couch, the cards shuffled and waiting. Eddie lowers himself into an empty chair.

At some point someone must have lit a candle to mask the smell of the food. Saccharine sweet smoke dances from the flame, artificial pumpkin and caramel filling Eddie’s nostrils. It doesn’t help his already churning stomach. He runs a palm over his face, breathing deeply through his mouth, willing the nausea to dissipate. His palm comes away damp, slick with the sweat beading on his forehead.

“You didn’t leave her to finish the dishes by herself did you?” Steve teases.

“No. I - she.. she went to the bathroom.” Eddie says.

“Oookay… so why do you look like a kicked puppy?”

Eddie grimaces.

“She seemed upset.”

“What did you do?” Robin says accusatorially.

“I didn’t do anything!”

She’s up and out of her seat in an instant, unsatisfied with Eddie’s denial. Eddie holds his breath, Steve chewing his lip nervously as Robin heads into the hallways and knocks on the bathroom door.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Steve says.

“Don’t worry.”

Eddie wishes that it were that easy.

The ever changing current of your mood was making him dizzy. Every time he made progress with you, it was rapidly undone. One step forwards and three back.

Hushed voices drift in from the hall. Eddie strains his ears but it’s no use, he can’t make out the words being exchanged. But he can hear all too clearly the sound of the front door opening and closing swiftly, and then a set of quick footsteps coming back in his direction.

“You’ve got about five seconds to tell me what the hell you did Munson.”

Great. Back on a last name basis.

“Has she gone?” Steve asks.

“Yes she’s gone.” Robin snaps. Her eyes are locked on Eddie, burning with a fury more intense than any of the other recent confrontations.

“Guys, I swear. I didn’t mean to upset her. I don’t even know what I did. We’ve been getting along better, I thought we were cool, y’know? I was just trying to make conversation.”

“What. Did you. Say?” Robin spits through gritted teeth.

“I just asked why she wasn’t at her mom’s! They always spend the holidays together, it was just a harmless question!” Eddie says desperately.

How was he the bad guy yet again? Why was it always his fault, there was no way that he could have known such an offhand remark would have you reacting so badly.

Robin’s face falls. Her anger replaced with a look of confusion.

“You - you asked about her mom?”

“Yes! What’s the big deal?”

“Oh, Eddie.” Steve says softly. He rises from the couch, walking over to rest his broad hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie jerks back.

“What the hell is going on?”

“You don’t know.” Robin whispers.

“I thought Wayne would’ve told you. I’m sorry man.” Steve says.

“Can you guys cut all this cryptic shit out? I’m so sick of everyone keeping shit from me then getting pissed when I don’t know about it!” Eddie half-shouts, waving his hands in the air.

“She’s dead Eddie.”

“What?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to look confused. He turns to Robin, finding her on the verge of tears, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Her mom died two years ago.”

It’s like the carpeted floor beneath him gives way, sending Eddie into free fall. He shakes his head, struggling to make sense of how the evening could have taken a turn like this.

“N-no. That’s not-“

“It’s true Ed. I’m sorry.” Steve says.

“You didn’t tell me! You didn’t think I needed to know that?”

“Like I said, I assumed Wayne would have told you. And I figured you didn’t bring it up because, well you never want to talk about her at all. So…”

“So, what? You guys thought I knew and I just never acknowledged it? Do you think I’m that much of an asshole?!”

“Eddie, just calm down.” Robin pleads.

“No. No, fuck that.” He jumps up from the chair, too much nervous energy coursing through his veins. He needs to move, he needs to go somewhere, needs to do something. Instead his stomach turns again and he finds himself doubled over, hands pressed to his knees, breathing too quickly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Steve says soothingly, rubbing his back.

“She didn’t tell me.” Eddie says weakly.

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Eddie.” Robin sighs. She crouches down in front of him, pushing his bangs back from his clammy forehead with a gentleness he’d assumed she would never offer him again.

“You weren’t talking. You haven’t talked for years.”

“I know Rob! But this - this is huge. She should have called, I would have come back, I would have been here.”

Eddie can picture it all so clearly. How devastated you would have been, how you would have fallen apart from the pain of it all. He should have been here. He should’ve been holding the pieces of you together, comforting you, at your side while you navigated your grief.

Instead he was thousands of miles away. Clueless, and convincing himself he hated you.

“Eddie, you need to calm down buddy. Just breathe a little slower. Rob, get him some water.” Steve says.

“No.” Eddie protests. He forces himself upright, stumbling from the living room and heading for the front door.

“Eddie, please come back.” Robin calls.

“Just sit down for a minute.”

But he’s already shoved his feet into his boots. He slings his coat over his shoulders, digging for the keys in the bottom of his pocket.

He opens the door, then realises he doesn’t know where he’s going.

“Where does she live?” He asks.

He glances back. Robin is now crying, and Steve’s eyes are welling up too.

“She’s still in her mom’s old place.” He whispers.

Eddie nods.

“Thanks for dinner.” He says dully.

Then he’s gone.

All played in rapid succession, he sees himself with a handful of ways to deal with Wayne’s discovery.

He could run. Turn heel and flee. Get back in the Viper and disappear.

Eddie doubts neither Wayne or Hopper could run after him, given their respective ages and the way that his Uncle’s joints creak every time he gets out of his chair.

But Hopper’s car is outside, so there’s every possibility that he’d follow in that. Eddie would like to think that there’s enough of a friendship between his Uncle and the Chief that Hop wouldn’t throw Eddie’s ass in jail, but it’s still a possibility. Even if he doesn’t, where is Eddie going to go? Sure he could jump on a plane and hide out back home in LA, but it seems cruel. Wayne is his only family. He can’t leave things like that.

He could lie. Tell Wayne that it’s all a misunderstanding. The coke and the weed he can’t really explain away, but maybe his uncle hasn’t found those yet. If it’s just the pills he’s concerned about Eddie could say they’re prescribed, from a real doctor and not some stoner out by the lake.

The look on Wayne’s face tells Eddie that it’s a stupid idea. He won’t believe him, not without some kind of proof, and Eddie has none.

He could come clean.

He could admit it all, although he’s hesitant to even admit it to himself.

That he’s been using for years, unable to function without something to bring him up and then something else later to bring him back down. Where would that leave him? He’d face the same pressure here as he does from his bandmates back home. Wayne would want him to quit. To talk to a shrink, or worse, join some sad group of junkies where they all sit around and talk about their addictions, while a pious douchebag tells them that God forgives them, and they should let his love into their hearts.

Eddie’s never believed in God. He doesn’t need some made up man with a cloak and a beard to save him.

“Sit down Eddie.” Wayne says, breaking him from his thoughts.

With no decision made on what to do or what to say, Eddie moves on autopilot.

He nudges Ludo gently aside on the couch, taking a seat and letting the pup rest its head on his lap. At least the dog doesn’t judge him. Just licks at his hands until Eddie’s trembling fingers begin to scratch between his ears.

“You’ve got some explainin’ to do boy, so you’d best start talkin’.”

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. Sweat beads along his forehead, his stomach cramping painfully. His knees bounce, poor Ludo’s head jiggled in time with Eddie’s anxious tremors.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He admits quietly.

Wayne sighs. His fists are clenched in his lap, and Eddie knows that it’s taking all of his Uncle’s willpower not to lose it. He’s never been an angry man, not one for shouting and screaming, or hurling things across the room in a temper. That had been Eddie’s dad’s style.

“How long?” Wayne says bluntly.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders.

“A few years.”

“Anyone else know?”

“Gareth, Jeff, all the guys. Our management team.”

“And they never tried to stop you?”

“Th-they did. They wanted me to check into some rehab facility, but I wouldn’t.”

“Is that why you came home?” Wayne asks, his voice thick with emotion.

“So you could keep usin’ without them knowing?”

“It wasn’t just that.” Eddie insists.

“I really did just wanna spend time with you.”

“Bullshit.” Wayne snaps. Eddie flinches.

“You used me Ed. Doin’ all this shit under my roof, right under my goddamn nose.”

“M’sorry.” Eddie whispers.

“Sorry ain’t good enough. Not this time.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Nothin’. I don’t want you to say a word. You’re gonna listen.” Wayne says. He grabs the empty pill bottle and tosses it into Eddie’s lap.

“It’s gone. All of it.”

“W-what do you mean?” Eddie says, his panic spiking.

“I found it all and I flushed the lot.”

“Why were you going through my stuff?”

“You don’t get to take the moral high ground here!” Wayne barks, pointing a finger at Eddie’s face.

“I went into your room to grab your laundry, and like a goddamn idiot you left your bedside drawer wide open. It was all right there. I didn’t believe it at first, I didn’t think you could be so stupid.”

Wayne pauses, massaging the deep frown lines on his forehead.

“Then it all started to make sense. You suddenly comin’ home after all this time. The way you’ve been - drinking whisky like it’s water, all the naps in the middle of the day, the constant headaches. You lied to me Eddie. You lied to my face.”

Eddie can’t meet his uncle’s face now. He stares down at the floor, the floral pattern of the carpet seeming to dance before his eyes. Guilt threatens to consume him. He’s never seen Wayne so angry, so bitterly disappointed. All he’s ever wanted to do is make Wayne proud, repay him for all the years he sacrificed to give Eddie a better life.

Instead he’s a failure.

Eddie hates himself for it, but as much as he feels awful about lying to Wayne, he’s also worrying about what the hell he’s supposed to do now that his entire stash is making its way through the sewer pipes of Hawkins.

Half a bottle of Adderall remains in his pocket. It won’t help him sleep tonight, and at most he’s got enough for the next couple of days. But without anything to balance it he’ll be a jittery mess.

Eddie needn’t have worried about taking them. Wayne’s next words make it clear he won’t get the chance.

“You got anymore I should know about?” His uncle questions.

Eddie could lie, but what’s the point? He’s sure Wayne isn’t above making him turn out his pockets. He’s has already proven himself untrustworthy.

Reluctantly he hands over the bottle. His uncle takes it between two fingers, holding it out as though it were filthy, disgust written all over his face. Without saying a word he leaves the room, and a moment later Eddie hears the sound of the downstairs toilet flushing.

He shrinks back into the couch when his uncle returns. Ludo whines, upset by the obvious tension. At the other end of the couch Hopper shifts. He’s been quiet up to now, a silent observer of Wayne’s fury and Eddie’s cowardice.

“You uhh.. you happy for me to chime in now?” The cop asks.

“Please.” Wayne says with an exasperated sigh, lumping back down in his chair.

Hopper clears his throat, turning on his seat to face Eddie.

“Listen kid, I know you’re probably pretty pissed with us right now.” He says.

Eddie says nothing. He doesn’t have the energy to be pissed. He’s tired, he feels sick, he’s scared.

“We just want what’s best for you, hard as that might be to believe. So we’ve gotta talk about what happens next.”

“You gonna take me in?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Hopper asks in surprise. He shakes his head.

“No. I don’t see how that’ll help anyone. M’not here as the chief, I’m here as a friend. I know what you’re going through and I wanna help you.”

Eddie scoffs.

“How would you know what I’m going through?” He sneers before he can stop himself.

“Watch your mouth boy.” Wayne growls.

Hop waives his hand dismissively, as if Eddie’s disrespect doesn’t bother him at all.

“C’mon now kid. You and I both know it’s no secret I’ve had my issues in the past. The whole town knows about it, though most of them are too chicken shit to ever bring it up.”

There’s an element of truth to his words. Eddie’s heard all the rumours, about how the Hawkins Chief would show up for work hungover or half-cut most days, no one daring to question him because of his volatile temper.

“I couldn’t function without something to get me through the day. I was drinking until I blacked out every night. Snorting lines in the fucking cruiser on my way to work just to wake myself up enough to drive straight. Christ I can’t tell you how many times I emptied some low rank dealer’s pockets and the shit never made it into evidence.”

“I thought it was fine. I convinced myself I had it all under control. I wasn’t an addict, I wasn’t a junkie. That’s the lie we tell ourselves, right? That we’re different. That we could stop at any time but we just don’t wanna. It’s all bullshit. Thinking that way almost cost me everything.”

“You probably don’t remember, it was way back when you were still in school. I wrecked my cruiser.”

“I remember.” Eddie says quietly.

“You hit a tree out near Lover’s Lake.”

Hop nods.

“Right. Official report was that a stag ran out in front of me and I crashed swerving to avoid it. How anyone fell for that crap I don’t know. There was no deer. The road was clear, conditions were perfect, and I was out of my damn mind. It’s a blessing and a curse, the way people on the force used to cover for me. But I knew after that it couldn’t carry on. I radio’d Powell and he came to pick me up. Wrote out that bullshit about a deer on the crash report and had to hold my hand just to get me to sign it, I was shaking so bad. When he drove me home he told me it was the last time he’d ever lie for me. He told me to sort my shit out, or do everyone a favour and find a way to kill myself that didn’t mean I might also kill someone else in the process.”

Eddie winces. Hopper just shrugs.

“Sounds harsh, but it was what I needed to hear. I’d been a selfish asshole for too long. Everyone covering for me did me no favours. Real friends don’t lie to you like that Ed. You’re probably mad at your friends back home for pushing you to go to rehab, but let me tell you they’re the best damn friends you’ll ever have. Because they care about you enough to not stand by and let you wreck your life.”

“Do your other friends know?” Wayne interjects.

“The ones here?”

“No.” Eddie whispers.

“I… I’ve been lying to them too.”

“First step’s admitting it kid.” Hopper says, patting Eddie firmly on the shoulder.

“You gotta long way to go, but even this is progress.”

“What am I supposed to do now?” Eddie says. He looks up at Wayne, the old man’s face blurring behind the tears that pool on his lash line.

“You gonna make me go to rehab?”

Wayne scoffs.

“No.” He says, shaking his head.

“I ain’t sending you off to some place with a bunch of strangers, where you could talk your way out of it and then just go back to doing the same stuff as before. I’m gonna keep you here where I can keep a close eye on you. There’s gonna be a lot of rules Eddie, and you’re gonna stick to em.”

“Like what?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

“You will not leave this house.” Wayne says solemnly.

“If me or Jim aren’t with you then you will not set foot outside the front door. I’ve cancelled my shifts at the plant for the next few weeks so I’ll be here all the time. And Jim’s takin’ your car keys.”

Eddie doesn’t bother arguing. He knows this is a battle that he won’t win.

“You’re in for a rough few weeks.” Hop says with a grimace.

“Going cold turkey is hell on Earth kid. You’re gonna feel like you’re dying, and you’re gonna hate us for it. But once we get you out the other side of it we can begin the real work.”

“Which is what?”

“There’s a group. It’s a little ways outta Hawkins, just a few towns over. S’where I went when I got serious about staying clean. I still go now once a week. Once you’re ready I’ll be taking you with me.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Can’t I just get clean here and then leave it at that?”

“No way. You need a support system, one that’s better equipped than just me and your old man. It ain’t as bad as you’re picturing, trust me.”

Eddie’s not sure that he does trust Hop. But he’s been left with little other choice.

His stomach twists, another wave of nausea washing over him. Eddie’s eyes widen in a panic, a ringed palm clamping over his mouth. He half runs half stumbles to the bathroom. His knees crash painfully against the floor, and he lifts the lid of the toilet just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the same bowl that Wayne had just flushed his lifeline down. Eddie wretches and gags, his shoulders heaving and tears streaming down his face.

A hand comes to rest on his back.

“S’alright son. You’re gonna be alright.” Wayne says, his voice softer than it’s been all evening. He rubs soothing circles between Eddie’s shoulder blades.

“You’d better get used to your head being in a toilet kid.” Hopper says from the doorway.

Eddie opens his mouth to tell him to piss off. He doesn’t get the chance when his stomach turns over again.

————————————💌———————————

Hell is real.

It’s real and Eddie’s in it.

Hell is this bed that he hasn’t left for days, with the exception of a handful of bathroom visits where he’s needed his Uncle’s arm around his waist just to keep him upright.

Hell is the sweat soaked sheets sticking to his skin, his body burning up despite the shivers that jolt through him violently, his limbs convulsing in seizure like movements.

Hell is the bucket on the bedroom floor that Wayne is forced to empty frequently. The last time Eddie managed to eat and keep it down was when you made him blueberry pancakes. His favourite.

Now even water has his stomach feeling like it’s turning inside out. Eddie’s weakened by dehydration and hunger, his throat burning and mouth constantly sour. He sleeps in small bursts, drifting off for what feels like only minutes before the pain has him waking.

Everything hurts. His bones ache. His head throbs. His eyelids are like sandpaper scraping with every blink.

For the first few days Eddie had the strength to put up a fight.

Hopper had been forced to stay, it took both him and Wayne to keep Eddie in his bed, to keep him from breaking out of his room. He made it out only once, pushing past them both and sprinting to the stairs, practically throwing himself down them. He scrambled to the front door, yanking with all his strength at the handle but it refused to budge. It was locked. Eddie was in the process of rummaging through the pockets of Wayne’s coat that hung nearby in search of keys when footsteps thundered down the stairs. Hopper slammed into him, sending him crashing sideways to the floor. All the air was punched from his chest, sharp pain shooting through his shoulder. The chief took his arms and dragged him up back up the stairs, Wayne doing his best to hold onto Eddie’s ankles and dodge the kicks that were aimed his way. It was a miracle they managed to get him back to his room at all, let alone with no one sustaining any serious injuries.

Eddie screamed until his throat was raw, hurling abuse at the two men with no real idea of what he was saying. He cursed them out, called them every vile name he could think of, blamed them for his pain, for the fire that burned in his veins. They never said an unkind word back. Took all the vitriol and hatred without complaint.

Then came the bargaining.

Eddie begged. Threw himself at Wayne’s feet and wept. He was going to die, he was sure of it. He couldn’t do this. He needed something, anything, just enough to dull the ache. He swore he’d quit, but he needed to taper off. If Wayne would just call Rick, let him have a handful of pills, a joint, Christ even just a shot at this point would do.

He never gave in.

Wayne sat at Eddie’s bedside while he sobbed and pleaded, shedding a few tears of his own. He wiped at the crepey skin beneath his eyes quickly, not wanting Eddie to see.

It was like Eddie was a child again. Home sick from school with some fever or bug. Wayne wiped at his clammy forehead with a damp cloth, held a glass of water to his lips when the violent shaking of Eddie’s hands meant he couldn’t do it himself. He murmured quiet soothing words in that raspy drawl of his, wrinkled hands clasping tight to Eddie’s when the boy cried out in pain. He must have hardly eaten or slept himself in those days.

Liz came by to drop off meals. She never came into Eddie’s room, a fact he’d later be grateful for. It was hardly an appropriate first meeting. But sometimes Eddie heard her voice from the hallway, Wayne slipping out for just a moment to talk to her.

Eddie was ruining his uncle’s life, he was sure of it. In the brief moments where the pain subsided enough for Eddie to have a semblance of clear thought he felt disgusted and ashamed. All these years he’d been masquerading at having his shit together. Playing some fantasy game, convincing himself that he was capable of being independent, of making good decisions. He was a rockstar, a hero and role model to thousands. He was a good man.

No.

He was just a fraud.

When the worst days finally pass Eddie sleeps. He has no idea how long he’s out for. Wayne periodically wakes him, having to shake his shoulders roughly to rouse him from unconsciousness. He pours water down his throat, tries his best to spoon a few scoops of mushy cereal into Eddie’s mouth. Then he lets him sleep again.

————————————💌———————————

On a random Wednesday morning Eddie finally makes it out of bed. Tired and aching, but no longer in constant pain, he shuffles along the hallway to the top of the stairs. Worried that his wobbling legs might give out and send him tumbling down, he chooses to sit on his butt and slide down the steps one at a time. The last thing he needs is a broken neck.

It takes most of Eddie’s strength to pull himself up when he reaches the bottom, both hands gripping the bannister tight for support as he hauls himself to his feet.

Ludo, having heard his grunts of exertion, comes scampering down the hall, circling Eddie’s legs excitedly. Eddie bites his tongue, not wanting to snap at the poor pup for almost tripping him up.

He begins to make his way to the kitchen taking baby steps, the linoleum floor cold beneath his bare feet. He pokes his head around the doorway, finding Wayne sat at the kitchen table. A steaming mug of coffee held between his hands, the older man stares out of the window at the dull grey sky and empty branches, all the trees having long shed their leaves.

“Looks like it might snow.” Eddie croaks.

Wayne flinches. Coffee sloshes over the side of his mug and puddles on the table top.

“Jesus Christ Eddie. I didn’t hear you comin’”.

“Sorry.” Eddie mutters. He approaches the table and pulls back a chair, lumping down into it and sighing in relief.

“S’a good sign you’re up and about.” Wayne comments.

“How’re you feeling?”

Eddie pauses. He stares out of the window himself for a moment. A few lonely flakes begin to drift down.

“M’alright.” He says finally.

“My head hurts. But not as bad as before.”

“That’s good. You hungry?”

Eddie nods.

“Starving.”

“Thought you might be. Let me fix you somethin’.”

Eddie wishes he had the strength to do it himself. But in the past couple of weeks he’s got used to having to accept help. He watches in silence as Wayne moves around the kitchen, putting two slices of bread in the toaster and pouring another mug of coffee. He chucks four teaspoons of sugar in it, then slides it over to Eddie with a small smile.

“Figured you needed a little boost.”

“Thanks.” Eddie mutters. The warmth of the cup is pleasant in his hands, and his mouth begins to salivate when the familiar comforting scent reaches his nose. He takes small sips, his eyes rolling back when the first drops hit his tongue. Maybe that’s why recovering addicts drink so much coffee, he thinks to himself. After so long without anything rushing in his bloodstream the sudden hit of caffeine makes his heart beat faster. It’s the closest he’ll get to a mind altering substance again.

Eddie eats the two slices of toast that Wayne passes him. They’re gone in seconds. Wayne hands him two more slices, and Eddie soon polishes those off too.

“Can I have more?” Eddie asks, crumbs falling from his full mouth.

“I think you’d best take it easy son. You ain’t eaten much for a while, don’t want to overdo it.” Wayne says.

“Give it an hour or so. You keep that down and I’ll make you more.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t want to be reminded about all the time he’s spent recently with his head in the toilet bowl or a bucket. Hopper had been right about that.

Eddie leans back in his chair, the last of his coffee gone. He feels a little better now, a full stomach lifting his spirits. The room has stopped spinning, and his limbs no longer feel like deadweights he has to drag around.

Eddie breathes in deeply. Something sour hits his nose, a gross musty scent that has him shuddering. With a considerable amount of horror he realises it’s himself that he can smell.

“Oh god.” He groans.

“I stink.”

Wayne chuckles.

“I didn’t like to mention it, but yeah you do.”

“Do I look bad?” Eddie asks.

“Awful.” Wayne says. He pats Eddie on the shoulder.

“Nothin’ a shower and a comb through that mop of yours can’t fix.”

“Okay.” Eddie says, preparing himself mentally for the task ahead.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower now. Sort myself out a bit.”

Wayne nods.

“Just shout if you need help. Don’t go hurtin’ yourself.”

“I’ll be careful.” Eddie says, his chair legs scraping across the floor. He’s needed help with almost everything lately. He draws the line at showering with assistance.

Eddie could have maybe done with asking for help to get back upstairs. Climbing them feels like scaling some great mountain peak. Eddie’s sweating by the time he reaches the top, his steps heavy as he drags himself to the bathroom.

He keeps the water cool, worried that if he fills the small room with steam he might pass out. Sweat and grime runs from his pale skin, trickling down the drain. If only he could wash his guilt away so easily.

As he massages shampoo onto his oily scalp, doing his best to unpick the tangles with his fingers, Eddie’s thoughts turn to his friends.

He didn’t think to ask Wayne if you’d called. Had you, and Steve, and Robin been wondering about his sudden disappearance? He hopes to god that you don’t all think he’s left without a proper goodbye. He’s not sure he’d be forgiven.

He equally hopes that Wayne hasn’t told them to truth.

Eddie knows at some point he’ll have to be honest. It’s gone too far now, he can’t keep up the lies. But how exactly do you start a conversation like that? It’s hardly something you can drop in casually.

“Oh my day was great thanks. By the way I’m a fucking addict.”

It was probably the kind of topic that required a serious sit down. The thought makes Eddie feel sick. Imagining you all sitting awkwardly in Wayne’s front room, or maybe Steve and Rob’s place. Gathered and waiting, all confused and anxious about what he had to say. You’d all be looking at him expectantly. He’d choke. He knows he would. He stumble and trip over his words, humiliated beyond belief. He doubts he’d be able to say it without crying, which is pathetic. Just a privileged rich boy whining about how much of a stereotype he’s become.

Eddie screws his eyes closed in frustration, pressing his fists to them until bright colours spark behind his lids. The shampoo has begun to seep into his eyes and it stings, but he doesn’t turn to the stream of water and rinse them clear. There’s something about the pain that feels earned.

The worst part is he feels like he’s got no reason to be in the situation he now finds himself. It might be more understandable, sympathetic even, if he’d suffered some great tragedy - the drugs a kind of self medication. Those were the kinds of people you felt sorry for. Ones who used to escape, to hide from their pain, to block out the real world.

Eddie used for fun. Life had been one big party, until it wasn’t. Until he was the only one left standing at the end of the night, a hanger on trying to keep the celebration going when everyone else has long since had enough.

How many times had he woken in the morning somewhere unfamiliar, surrounded by people he couldn’t name? How many times had he cut up lines on a sticky table in an anonymous green room, just to be the only one snorting them, everyone else looking on with a mixture of disgust and pity? How many times had his friends had to roll him onto his side in his bunk, stuffing pillows against his back because they were terrified he’d choke on his own vomit in his sleep?

It was no kind of life. It was a joke.

And Eddie was the punchline.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie steps out of the shower, smelling cleaner but still feeling dirty. He reaches for his toothbrush, but he startles and it clatters into the sink.

There’s a stranger in the mirror.

The pale face that blinks back at him is someone he doesn’t recognise. Someone who quite frankly scares him.

He’s lost more weight. Enough that his cheekbones are sharp and sunken, the line of his jaw like a razors edge. His collarbones protrude, his ribs visible beneath the dark ink across his chest. His skin is almost grey, dull and dry, his lips pale and chapped.

Eddie realises then that he does know this person. He’s seen him once before.

Back in the trailer that he grew up in, he’d been maybe seven or eight. Eddie had been snooping. He knew Wayne had a couple of medals from his days in the military, days he preferred not to reminisce on. There was some snot nosed little twerp in Forest Hill’s, Harry or Henry, who remembers? He didn’t believe Eddie when he said that his uncle used to be more than just an ex-trucker turned plant worker. He’d called Eddie a liar.

So Eddie was searching for proof. The medals had to be somewhere, they weren’t the kind of things you threw out. While Wayne worked the late shift Eddie tore through their home. Emptying drawers and cabinets, balancing on wobbling stools to reach the highest shelves.

He never found the medals. After a while he forgot what he’d even been searching for in the first place. There was a manilla envelope stuffed in the bottom of a shoebox in the back of the closet. It wouldn’t have caught his attention if it wasn’t for one small detail. It had Eddie’s name on the front.

Edward Alan Munson written in tiny typed letters.

It never occurred to Eddie not to open it. It had his name on it. So it must have been his.

Inside there were pages upon pages of notes. Descriptions of an address he could only vaguely remember, some apartment in Lafayette. Eddie couldn’t read the big words, but some smaller ones stood out.

Dirty.

Empty fridge.

Lice.

Eddie flipped through the pages with a frown on his face. His dad’s name appeared a lot on those pages. His mom’s too.

At the back there’d been a photograph. A grainy black and white square. It was of a boy. Younger than Eddie, and smaller too. He was stood wearing only a dirty pair of baseball shorts, the drawstring pulled tight to keep them up around his narrow hips, the fabric too long and hanging past his knees. The boy’s chest was thin and fragile, every bone threatening to break through the skin. He was covered in bruises, the clear shape of fingerprints visible on his thin arms. The boy’s head looked too big for his body some how, like a lollipop balanced on top of a stick. His hair was matted and wild, dark eyes glancing up at the camera with a tearful expression.

Eddie had snapped the folder closed and stuffed it roughly back in the envelope. He locked it away in its shoe box and slammed the closet door. Then he sat in silence in the living room, staring at the blank TV screen until the outside light faded and his uncle finally came home.

Eddie never told Wayne that he’d seen it. And he never went looking for it again, not even when he was older and able to read the big words.

He didn’t want to know what they said.

The little boy from the photograph stares at Eddie now, trapped behind misted up glass. He’s taller and his hair is longer. There’s tattoos now where before had been bruises.

He still looks terrified.

It rattles Eddie. Is this who Wayne sees when he looks at him now? The tiny, trembling boy who’d been handed over to him by CPS, a child he hadn’t even known existed until they called out of the blue and said Wayne could take him or he’d go in a foster home.

Wayne had worked so hard. Eddie doesn’t remember much of those early days, too young to take much of it in, but he remembers being so frightened, living somewhere new with someone he didn’t know. Wayne had been patient and gentle, never pushing him too far. He gave Eddie the kind of love he hadn’t known before, and waited for the little boy to realise it wasn’t conditional. It wasn’t about to be taken away. He was safe.

In a daze Eddie dries himself and walks back to his room to dress in clean clothes. When he steps inside the bed has been stripped, the sheets replaced and pillows fluffed, the window open just a crack to let in fresh air. Tears sting Eddie’s eyes. Even all these years later Wayne was still taking care of him. He was still trying to make sure that Eddie knew he was loved and safe.

He heads back down stairs. His Uncle is loading the dirty bed linens into the washer, stooped over as he chucks in a heaped scoop of Tide.

“Wayne?” Eddie whispers, his voice cracking.

His uncle turns.

Before he can say a word Eddie crosses the utility room, throwing his arms around the older man’s shoulders. He chokes on a sob, pressing his face against Wayne’s shoulder so the soft cotton of his shirt can catch his tears.

“Oh. Ed, it’s alright. S’okay son, I’ve got ya.” Wayne says softly. He wraps Eddie in a tight embrace. It feels like his arms are the only thing holding Eddie together.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie cries.

“I’m so so sorry. For everything.”

“I know.” Wayne whispers.

“I know you are. And I forgive ya, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry anymore, alright? We’re gonna figure this out. It’s what we do. No matter what shitty hand we get dealt we deal with it together.”

Eddie cries harder. It was so easy for his uncle to forgive him. Eddie’s not sure he deserves it. He’s caused a lot of pain. Hurt a lot of people. He’s got a long way to go before the weight of guilt crushing his chest will begin to lift.

————————————💌———————————

The following days are quiet. Eddie begins to feel a little more normal, his body over the worst of the withdrawal. He can eat now without his stomach churning, and he sleeps okay despite not taking anything to knock him out.

Wayne continues to stay off work. It’s nice to have his company. Eddie and him talk, really talk, for the first time in a long time. Hours spent with Wayne in his chair, Eddie on the couch, endless cups of coffee sipped as they reminisce on old times. Eddie fills Wayne in on the details of his life the last few years. Still editing the stories a little - there was no need for his uncle to know the full extent of the debauchery. But he tells him the good stuff, about sold out shows and award ceremonies, all the kids who line up outside arenas and hotel rooms just to get a glimpse of him. How he’d felt a sense of pride for the first time, when nervous gawky teens with bad hair cuts and denim jackets emblazoned with patches would tell him that he inspired them, that they made music because of him. Wayne looks proud too.

Wayne fills in gaps for Eddie too. Tells him about meeting Liz for the first time, when they’d both been reaching for the last box of Raisin Bran on the shelf at Melvad’s, and had joked about two old people staring a brawl in the aisles for some cereal. How Wayne let her take the box and thought that would be the end of the interaction, until they stood beside one another in the checkout line, and every time Wayne raised his head she was smiling at him. Then in the parking lot her Volvo was next to Wayne’s truck. Like a true gentleman Wayne helped her load her groceries into the trunk and cracked a joke about swiping the cereal when she wasn’t looking. She’d laughed. Then to his surprise she handed him her cellphone number. The rest was history. Wayne seems almost embarrassed, shy about his obvious love for her. Eddie thinks it’s cute. Tells him as much just to watch his uncle blush like a schoolboy. Wayne promises she’ll come meet him soon, how she’s always asking about how he’s doing. But they’ll wait until Eddie’s ready. He appreciates the patience.

————————————💌———————————

One morning the phone rings, right as Eddie drains his second mug of coffee.

“Get that for me, will ya Ed?” Wayne asks, busy trying to wrestle a very excitable Ludo into his harness so they can go for a walk.

Eddie picks up the receiver.

“Munson residence.”

“Eddie?”

His heart skips a beat.

It feels like an eternity since he’d heard your voice.

“Oh. H-hi, yeah it’s me.” He says.

“How are you feeling? Wayne told me you were sick.”

Eddie clears his throat. From across the room Wayne flashes him a puzzled look, mouthing “who is it?”.

Eddie waives his hand dismissively.

“Uh yeah. I’ve not been feeling to great for the last few weeks. But I’m doing a lot better now.” He says.

He hears the quiet sigh of relief you exhale.

“That’s good. I’ve been worried about, we all have. Steve said he hadn’t heard from you either.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really been up to talking to anyone, y’know?” Eddie says. He winds the cord tight around his finger, the tip beginning to throb from trapped blood flow.

“What was wrong?” You asks.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. It was the question he was hoping you wouldn’t ask.

“Sorry.” You say quickly.

“That was rude, I shouldn’t… it’s none of my business.”

“N-no, it’s fine. I just… it… god.” He stammers.

“Teddy? Are you sure you’re alright?”

The nickname hits like a hammer blow. A sucker punch straight to the chest, Eddie feels his organs sting as though his ribs had cracked and punctured them. He hasn’t been Teddy in years. That name had been yours alone.

“I’m okay.” He whispers.

“But it’s just hard to explain over the phone.”

You pause. Eddie can hear you breathing softly.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Eddie glances up. Wayne is still stood by the door looking at him expectantly. Ludo whines by his feet, nudging his wet nose against his master’s leg insistently.

“Um.. yeah. That would be good. Do you think you could ask Steve and Rob to come too?” He asks. Might as well rip the bandaid off.

“Okay. Are you free tonight? Maybe we could come by after work.”

“Tonight is good.” Eddie nods.

“Alright. Well Rob’s here obviously so I’ll tell her. And I’ll give Steve a call. Shall we say seven?”

“Yep. Perfect. I’ll uh.. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay. See you later Eddie.”

He hangs up the phone silently wishing that you’d called him Teddy again.

“Everythin’ alright?” Wayne asks.

Eddie nods and wipes his clammy palms on the front of his shirt.

“I should have asked first I guess, but is it alright if my friends come over tonight?” Eddie asks.

“You’re a grown man Ed, you ain’t got to ask my permission for that.” Wayne says softly.

“I know. But it’s your house, and I know I’m not supposed to leave at the moment, so I didn’t know if-“

“Eddie.” Wayne interrupts.

“It’s okay. It’s really okay. Do you want me to make myself scarce later or stick around?”

“I… could you stay?” Eddie asks. If the conversation takes a turn for the worst he’d like to have Wayne around as a shoulder to cry on.

“‘Course I can. I can give you some space when they get here, but I’ll be around if you need me.” His uncle smiles.

“Thanks Wayne.” Eddie says. The older man nods, a look in his eyes that tells Eddie he understands that he’s thanking him for more than just this small act of kindness. Eddie’s grateful for everything.

While his uncle is out walking the dog Eddie takes a long shower. He still doesn’t look great, skinny and paler than usual, the bags under his eyes that persist despite all the sleep he’s been getting. But he’s determined to look as good as he can, wanting to prove to his friends, and maybe to himself that he’s really getting better. That in-spite of what he was going to have to admit to tonight, he was moving in the right direction, taking care of himself better than he ever has before.

It feels nice to spend time on himself like this. Eddie’s leant into the whole grungy rockstar thing for a while now. It’s not like he’s unclean or anything. But no one expected him to be prim and polished.

If he slept in his eyeliner then it always looked better the next day, smoky and smudged around his dark eyes.

His jeans were always full of rips and holes, hanging low on his hips so that the band of his boxers showed, or on the days when he didn’t bother with anything underneath the dark hair that sprouted beneath his navel peaked over. That really drove the groupies wild.

His curls were his signature - frizzy and wild. A sleazy gossip mag had once described him as ‘As untamable as his hair’.

Eddie took the headline as a compliment.

Now he piles his conditioned curls into a topknot, letting the product sink in. Pale flesh glows salmon pink beneath the steaming water, every inch of skin scrubbed with a sudsy loofah. He stays beneath the stream until his fingers and toes prune, only then rinsing his hair and stepping out.

He squeezes dollops of expensive curl cream into his palms, combing it through with his fingers, twirling and defining every strand. Brushes his teeth until his gums are sore. Rubs cream on his face that some model ex-hookup had encouraged him to buy, a French brand he couldn’t pronounce filled with ingredients that sounded like they were out of a sci-fi novel.

By the time he’s finished Eddie’s skin glows, his curls hanging perfectly without a hint of frizz. He sprays Dior Fahrenheit on his neck and then his wrists, rubbing them together even though the girl in the store tutted and said he “really shouldn’t do that”.

In his room he agonises over what to wear. It’s stupid, he knows that. He’s only seeing his friends not dressing for some big interview. But he still feels the pressure to make the right impression. If his words don’t do a good job of conveying just how serious he is about his recovery, then he wants his image to help out. In some ways it makes sense, so much of Eddie’s life these past few years has been about image. Staying relevant, staying cool, looking good without looking like he tried too hard to look good. Image wasn’t everything in Eddie’s business, but it was a bit portion of it. First impressions count, and Eddie needs this new version of himself to strike the right chords.

Clean laundry begins to make a pile on the bedroom floor, each item discarded because it’s not right. The button up is too formal, stiff and awkward. The plain white t-shirt seems too heavy a contrast to his usual all black uniform, like he’s trying to prove that that he’s pure and innocent when he’s far from it. Band shirts feel too casual, like he’s not taking this seriously enough.

After the best part of an hour, he settles on something that feels like it might do. A thin black Henley and simple black jeans, slashed at the knees but otherwise unripped. He has to tighten his belt more than usual to keep them up around his narrow hips.

When he makes his way downstairs Wayne is reading the paper in his armchair. He peers over the pages, and perhaps sensing Eddie’s anxiety he offers a small nod of approval.

“You look nice.” Wayne says.

Eddie sighs in relief.

He’s made one error though. Getting ready so early means he has nothing to do now but wait. Eddie glances at the clock on the wall. It’s a little after twelve. He’s got almost seven hours to wait before you arrive.

He picks up his tattered copy of The Two Towers. The words jump and dance across the page. He rereads the same paragraph four times without taking any of it in before he gives up and throws the paperback aside with a huff.

He drinks a coffee. Then another. And another.

By two o’clock his hands are shaking. Eddie decides that laying off the caffeine might be a good idea.

He paces back and forth across the living room, until Wayne finally tells him to stop because “you’re making me dizzy wanderin’ around like that.”

He watches TV, but not really, staring at the screen vacantly as the unconvincing actors play out their melodrama, or a guy with a wonky fringe and big teeth gets all the answers wrong on Jeopardy!, even the easy ones.

Wayne calls him into the kitchen just before six. Pushes a plate of baked ziti his way and tells him to eat up. Every mouthful sticks in his throat. Eddie manages a quarter of the meal. He shoots Wayne an apologetic look.

“S’alright kid.” His uncle says softly.

“I wouldn’t have much of an appetite either. I’ll stick it in the fridge, you can heat it up later if you want.”

Half an hour. Just thirty minutes until you all arrive. Until Eddie has to face the music.

He slips into the backyard. Ludo follows, and Eddie halfheartedly tosses a ball for him to fetch while he chain smokes three cigarettes. The one habit he hasn’t kicked. Dizzy from the nicotine, or maybe just the lack of clean oxygen Eddie heads back inside, brushing his teeth once more and squirting more aftershave on his neck to somewhat mask the smell of smoke.

Downstairs the doorbell rings. Eddie nearly drops the bottle into the sink.

He moves to linger at the top of the stairs. He can hear you all: your voice soft as you greet Wayne, Steve exclaiming in excitement at Ludo, whose claws tap on the wooden floor eagerly, no doubt thrilled to have visitors who will make a fuss of him.

“Ed!” Wayne shouts.

“Everyone’s here!”

“Coming!” Eddie calls back.

His palms are clammy as he grips the bannister. He hasn’t felt this nervous since god knows when. It’s like Corroded Coffin’s first arena show all over again, when he’d been so terrified that he threw up in the green room just moments before walking onstage.

But that got easier. It was second nature now. Eddie could walk out to thousands of strangers without batting an eyelid, not a hint of fear because he knew he could handle it. He was made for it. And if he could handle that, then surely he could do this.

Eddie descends the stairs imagining that he’s walking through a venue. This isn’t Wayne’s hallway, it’s backstage of Madison Square Garden. The family photos that line the walls are posters for Corroded Coffin’s biggest headline tour to date. The scuffed wooden floor beneath his feet is actually grimy linoleum, sticky with spilt beer and the blood, sweat, and tears of all the icons that came before him. There’s no plywood door before him, it’s a heavy draped curtain, that will part and reveal his adoring fans, all waiting on the edges of their seat to see Eddie do what he does best. To see him perform.

No one screams when Eddie steps into the room. There’s no rapturous applause, no dazzling lights, no pyrotechnics.

The living room is quiet. His adoring crowd is just three of his close friends, all sat in a row on the couch, accepting mugs of tea from his uncle. There’s no spotlight on Eddie, just the amber glow cast from the sconces, and there’s sure as hell no flames being spat up into the air.

“Hey Ed.” Steve smiles.

Eddie says nothing. He does nothing. Steve’s smile fades to a look of concern.

“You alright son?” Wayne whispers.

This is one performance that Eddie won’t master. The reviews will be terrible - “Corroded Coffin frontman blows it on stage!” He’s forgotten his cues, can’t recall the lyrics that he wrote himself, his clumsy fingers won’t play the right chords. He just stands there in silence.

“Hey.”

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder. Eddie looks at Wayne in bewilderment. His uncle’s pale eyes are kind. Always so kind.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

Eddie nods. Let’s himself be guided to his uncle’s favourite chair. You and Robin and Steve all watch, concern etched on your faces.

“You want me to stay?” Wayne asks.

“No.” Eddie whispers. He shakes his head.

“M’alright. I’ve got it.”

“Okay. I’ll be upstairs.” Wayne says. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once before leaving.

Robin looks over to Steve. He shares her confused expression, giving a tiny shrug of his shoulders.

“Eddie?” You say quietly.

“Are you alright?”

He nods.

Steve leans forward.

“Can you uh… can you say something man? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“S-sorry.” Eddie whispers. He clenches his fists on his lap, his knuckles turning white.

“Are you still sick? Because no offence but I really don’t wanna catch anything.” Robin says. Steve digs his elbow into her ribs.

“Hey! Asshole, what was that for?”

“Rob shut up.”

“You shut up!”

“I’m not sick.” Eddie says, cutting off their bickering.

“At least… I don’t have anything you can catch.”

“Wh-what?” You ask, voice tight with panic.

“What’s wrong Ed? What’s happened?”

Eddie realises too late the mistake he’s made, sees the tears already welling in your eyes and the way your tea threatens to slosh over the side of your cup from the shaking of your hands. You think he’s ill. Really ill. Like your mom.

“No! No it’s not like that.” He says quickly.

“I promise. I’m not sick, there’s nothing wrong with me, I swear.”

The tension drops from your shoulders but only slightly.

“Are you sure?” Robin says hesitantly.

“Because you look kinda… rough.”

Eddie winces.

“I’m sure. It’s… it’s hard to explain.”

“Take your time.” Steve says. You and Rob nod in unison.

Eddie kind of wishes that the seating arrangements were different. It does feel somewhat like an interview now, the three of you sat in a row staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to hurry up and spit it out.

“I… I haven’t been entirely honest with you guys. About why I came back to Hawkins.”

No one says anything. Eddie takes it as his cue to continue.

“I um, I kind of got myself into trouble back home. With the band and stuff. They weren’t happy with something I did, something I was doing. So they wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do. I came here so I wouldn’t have to do it.”

Steve tilts his head. The action reminds Eddie of when he’d tried to teach Ludo a new trick. He’d given Eddie a similarly confused look, like he didn’t understand why Eddie kept saying “shake” over and over while lifting his front paw.

“Ed, I’m sorry man, I’m really trying to follow you here. But uhh… you’ve lost me.”

Eddie sighs. He looks down at his lap, pulling a loose thread at the edge of the rip by his knee.

Time to rip the bandaid off.

“Drugs. I’m talking about drugs Steve. I’ve been using for years, a bunch of different stuff. We all did it at first, it was like.. part of the lifestyle, I guess? It was fun. Until it wasn’t. Everyone else grew up and moved on and I just stayed in one place. I couldn’t give it up like they could. I thought it was just because I didn’t want to. That’s what I told myself. But I had a problem. I… I have a problem. That’s why I came home. The guys wanted me to go to rehab, and I refused. I came here to get away from it all, I told them I was coming home to get clean. I lied. And I’ve been lying ever since. I lied to you guys, I lied to Wayne. I fucking lied to myself. And then shit hit the fan and Wayne found out and I couldn’t fucking run from it anymore. He wouldn’t let me. Yeah I’ve been ill, but it was all self inflicted. I had to detox, quit everything all at once even though I thought it might kill me. That’s why I’ve not been around the last few weeks. That’s why I look like shit. But I’m clean now. I swear, I’m totally fucking clean, I haven’t even been drinking. I’ve given it all up and I’m sorry. I’m just really fucking sorry.”

Eddie’s not sure when he started crying. All he knows is that one minute his face was dry, and the next tears were rolling down his cheeks, trickling down his throat and wetting the neck of his shirt. His chest heaves, deep sobs tearing from his throat, his shoulders shaking with the force of them. He buries his face in his hands and weeps, still mumbling apologies between gasps for breath.

Beyond the sounds he makes there is silence. No one says a word. Eddie can’t bring himself to raise his head, can’t bring himself to look at his friends. He’s sure from your silence that you’re all disgusted with him. His apologies aren’t good enough. He’s done too much damage to be forgiven.

The couch creaks as someone stands. Footsteps pad softly across the carpet. You’ll leave. You’ll all leave him here crying like a child and feeling sorry for himself.

Whoever it is that’s stood doesn’t leave. They drop to their knees beside Eddie and wind their arms tight around his shoulders. Eddie breathes in, catching the cinnamon and jasmine of your perfume. Your cheek rests atop his curls and you squeeze him tighter, your voice trembling when you speak.

“It’s okay Teddy. It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie cries harder. Someone else holds him then, their arms folding over yours.

“You don’t have to say sorry Ed.” Steve says, his voice thick.

Robin sniffles as she too joins the fold, her hand rubbing soothing circles over Eddie’s back.

“But we forgive you.” She whispers.

“If that’s what you’re worried about, then we forgive you.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Eddie sobs.

“You do.” You murmur. You tuck your head down until your face is pressed to his neck, your breath hot against his skin.

“You do deserve it. We’ve got you Teddy. Okay? We’re not going anywhere.”

The four of you stay like that for a while. Even though your knees must ache, and it must hurt Steve’s back to be stopped over awkwardly. No one pulls away. No one leaves. You all just keep holding the fractured pieces of Eddie together.

When he exhausts himself, having cried all the tears he has left, Eddie sniffs and sits up. He blinks, your blurry faces becoming clearer. You’ve all been crying too. Mascara streaks down your face. Robin’s cheeks are flushed, and Steve’s eyes are watery and bloodshot.

Your palm is warm on his cheek. Your thumb gentle when it sweeps away the tears that linger.

“M’proud of you.” You smile.

“Everyone keeps saying that. I don’t feel like I’ve done much to be proud of.” Eddie mumbles.

“Well you have.” You insist.

“It takes a lot to admit that you need help Teddy. It’s brave to hold your hands up and say you’ve made a mistake.”

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

“None that can’t be fixed.”

“And it’s not like you’ve done anything that bad.” Robin says.

“I just told you I’m addicted to drugs Rob.”

“So?”

Despite everything Eddie manages to give her an incredulous look.

“I’m serious! So you’re a musician who messed around with shit and got in over his head. It’s a tale as old as time.”

“Does anyone else find it crazy that Rob’s not totally freaking out over this?” Eddie asks.

“Alright. Look, I know I’ve given you a hard time before. But I’m not a total asshole. This is different. You’ve fucked up and you’ve admitted it. Taking drugs doesn’t make you a bad person Eddie.”

“Yeah.” Steve nods.

“And you said you’re clean now, so like… is that it? Like you’re cured?”

“Nah, it’s not as simple as that.” Eddie grimaces.

“Hop says I’ve got to join a support group.”

“Hop knows?” Steve says.

“Yep.”

“Huh. Makes sense I guess. He’s been there done that.” Robin shrugs.

“What’s the group for? Is it like therapy?” You ask. You’re still crouched at Eddie’s side, your hand having dropped from his face to curl protectively around his own.

“I think it’s kind of similar to AA? I don’t really know.” Eddie admits.

“Either way I think it’s gonna suck.”

“Maybe. But it might be good in the long run. To talk to people who understand what it’s like.”

Eddie makes a sound that’s vaguely affirmative. He’s still not convinced the group will be useful, but he’s got little choice in the matter.

“Do you feel any better now that you’ve told us?” You ask.

“Yeah, kinda. I still feel pretty crappy. It’s like… I know we’ve all just reconnected, y’know? And I don’t want to undo that.”

“You haven’t.” You say quickly.

“What kind of friends would we be if we turned our back on you over something like this?” Steve chimes in, patting Eddie’s shoulder.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

It’s a far better reception than Eddie could have anticipated. His friends were taking the news relatively well. Unlike Wayne’s quiet fury when he’d discovered the truth, none of you seem to hold it against Eddie that he’s been dishonest.

He still feels awful. Shame like a grimy layer on his skin that refuses to be washed away. But it was reassuring the hear that none of you resented him. Even more reassuring that you don’t seem to be treating him any differently now. With the secret no longer weighing him down Eddie can relax. Once the tears have dried and the topic has been sufficiently mulled over it takes no effort at all for the group to slip back into easy conversation. Steve recounts a disastrous first date that will definitely not lead to a second. Robin imitates an annoying customer who complained when her extra hot latte was too hot to drink, her voice high pitched and screechy as she waves her arms dramatically. All the while Eddie laughs, the feeling unfamiliar after so long wallowing in misery. The levity is much needed. He wishes that he could stay in this moment for a while longer, the four of you giggling on Wayne’s couch like the good old days, when you were all just kids and your problems were no bigger than passing Algebra 2.

Eventually though the realities of adult life kick in. Steve yawns, stretching his muscular arms high above his head.

“I should probably get going.” He says.

“I’ve got 9th grade volleyball first thing in the morning and those kids are feral.”

“And I should get going because Steve’s my ride.” Robin smiles.

You all head into the hallway, retrieving heavy winter coats and tugging on boots.

“You coming?” Steve asks.

You shake your head in reply.

“Not yet. I just wanna catch up with Wayne before I go.”

“Okay. See you soon.” Steve says, pulling you in for a quick hug.

“See you in the morning.” Rob smiles.

“I’ll swing by Melvald’s first thing. D’you want a croissant or a bear claw?” You grin.

“Oooh definitely a bear claw.” Rob calls as she heads out the door. Eddie waves them both off then shuts it behind them.

When he turns you’re still standing by the bottom of the staircase, trailing your fingers over the polished oak.

“Wayne’s probably fallen asleep.” Eddie chuckles.

“But I can go get him if you-“

“No it’s okay.” You say quickly.

“I might have told a teeny tiny lie.”

“Which is?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I can catch up with Wayne anytime. I actually just wanted a moment to talk to you. Alone.”

“Oh. Oh yeah?” Eddie says, feigning as much nonchalance as he can manage. In reality his heart is hammering in his chest.

“Well uh.. shall we go sit back down?”

He watches as you reach into your pocket, retrieving a packet of Camels and a lighter.

“Actually Ed, do you mind if we go outside?”

“When did you start smoking again?” He asks, realising that his disapproving tone is highly hypocritical given his earlier admission. He’s just surprised is all. You kicked the habit back in college, claiming it was a waste of money and you hated the way the smell lingered on your skin.

“I know it’s not great. I don’t do it much, just when I’m stressed out.”

You don’t offer further explanation, just turn and walk down the hall to the kitchen. Eddie grabs his leather jacket and stuffs his feet into a tattered pair of sneakers, not bothering to lace them. He follows you out the back door into the yard.

Snow has begun to fall, starting as a light flurry but now coming down harder. It begins to settle on the lawn, the green turning white beneath a fine blanket. Ludo dashes past you both, running in circles on the lawn, his jaw chomping at the air to catch the flakes as they fall.

Eddie quickly puts up the long unused sun parasol and positions it over the rattan chairs on the patio so you can shelter from the snow.

“What’s got you so stressed?” Eddie asks, clamping the filter of his own cigarette between his teeth.

He watches and waits while you light yours, the sparking lighter illuminating your face for a moment in the dark. You exhale a large cloud on a sigh.

“I’ve been worried about you, duh.” You say with a halfhearted smile.

“I had a feeling something was up. Wayne was so vague whenever I called, just saying you were unwell and you couldn’t speak to me right now. I was starting to think that maybe… I don’t know. Maybe that you’d changed your mind.”

“About what?”

“About us. Being friends again. Things were kind of heavy last time we hung out, and I thought it might have scared you off.”

“Hey.” Eddie says softly.

“Don’t - don’t think like that. I’m glad we’re talking, I really mean that. I’m not about to disappear on you again.”

You nod, still smiling, but it doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I’m serious. Look at me.”

Eddie reaches across the small patio table to take your free hand, his fingers curling around yours that are ice cold. You finally raise your head.

“I’m not going anywhere. And even when I do, when I’m better and I can go home, I won’t walk out of your life again. So long as you’re happy to have me in it I’m gonna be here.”

Eddie’s relieved when your smile becomes more genuine. You twist your palm to face up, interlacing your fingers.

“Thanks Teddy.” You whisper.

“I meant everything I said earlier too. M’here for you. If there’s anything I can do to make life easier for you while you’re recovering then I’ll do it.”

“I know.” Eddie says. Because he does. He knows without a flicker of doubt that you’ll support him. It’s what you’ve always done, been the person that sticks by him through thick and thin. The past few years were a blip, a mistake that can be undone. He’s hopeful that eventually it will be like they never happened at all.

This feels like before. When you’d both sit outside the trailer, chain smoking and just talking. The topic of conversation never really mattered. He was just happy to have you around.

Eddie doesn’t want the moment to end. If he stays out here the spell won’t be broken, but eventually your trembling becomes too much to ignore, and truth be told he’s freezing his ass off too.

“C’mon.” He says, still holding your hand and using it to pull you to your feet.

“We’ll freeze to death out here.”

Back in the kitchen the snow that’s landed on your shoulders begins to melt, soaking into the fabric of your coat. Ludo leaves a trail of wet paw prints on the floor as he pads his way back in. Eddie reluctantly releases your hand. He searches through the cupboards, pushing aside packets of dried pasta and cans of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Hot cocoa?” He asks, waving the tin at you. Your face breaks into a bright grin.

“Got any mini marshmallows?”

“Of course. I’m not an animal.” He laughs.

With two steaming mugs in hand you return to the living room. Eddie sits at one end of the couch, you at the other. Ludo curls up on the ground by your feet.

It’s quiet as you sip your drinks. Eddie watches through the window as the weather outside worsens. The wind has picked up, flurries of snow swirling in the dark sky. It lays thickly on the ground now. An idea forms in his mind. One that he should probably keep to himself, but he can’t resist speaking it aloud.

“It’s really bad out there.”

“Mmm.” You nod.

“S’gonna be a nightmare driving home.”

“The roads will be icy.” He comments.

Over the top of your mug he sees your eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sure.” You say.

“And it’s dark.”

“It is.”

“Seems pretty dangerous to drive home in that.”

You laugh then.

“Teddy, it sounds like you’re about three seconds away from singing Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

“I’m just concerned for your safety, that’s all.” He smiles.

“Well what do you suggest as an alternative?”

Eddie shrugs.

“You could stay.”

He holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable rejection. You’ve always been the sensible one. You’ll be sweet about it, smiling and shaking your head, insisting that you really should leave.

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” You sing softly.

“Think of my lifelong sorrow.” Eddie sings in reply.

You laugh, kicking your foot out across the couch to nudge him.

“You’re so corny. But alright. I’ll stay.”

Eddie sighs with relief. He could pretend that he’s only glad to keep you here because the conditions outside are so bad. But he knows it’s just another lie. He wants you to stay because… well he’s not really sure. It feels comforting to know you’ll be near.

Eddie creeps up the stairs, careful to keep his footsteps light. You follow behind him, the two of you tiptoeing past Wayne’s room where soft snores grumble from behind the door. Eddie shows you to the other guest room, although you know where it is.

“Your executive suite Madame.” He whispers.

“Why thank you kind sir.” You reply as you breeze past him.

“I hope Madame finds everything to her liking. We have the finest Egyptian cotton sheets and a beautiful scenic view.” Eddie grins, gesturing to the faded floral covers and the window that overlooks Wayne’s front yard.

“It certainly is wonderful. Can I expect room service at this fine establishment?”

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly.

“If you wake me up before you go I suppose I could be persuaded to make you a coffee.” He smiles.

“I doubt you’d want me waking you that early.” You tease.

Eddie thinks he wouldn’t mind seeing as it’s you.

“I’m sure I’ll live.” He says.

Eddie grabs a clean pair of sweats and an old shirt for you to sleep in. He lingers in the doorway after you take them, tapping his fingers nervously on the frame.

“Well uh - let me know if you need anything. S-sleep tight.”

“You too Teddy.” You say softly.

————————————💌———————————

With the door closed you undress, slipping into the soft cotton sweatpants and pulling the shirt over your head. Eddie’s aftershave lingers faintly on the collar, mixed with the scent of detergent and softener. You pull the fabric up to your nose, breathing it in deeply, allowing yourself just a moment to bask in it in private.

You tell yourself that it’s for no reason other than to feel close to him, to enjoy this renewed connection between you both. Deep down you know that’s not true. A feeling stirs in your chest, one that you’ve ignored for years.

Your heart had been filled with longing and hope until that fateful evening in New York. Then it was trampled over, left bruised and hardly beating. Eddie might as well have aimed a revolver square at your chest and fired.

But you held your share of the blame. You saw the weapon in his hands. You let him press the barrel to your chest, cold metal kissing your skin. You had trusted that he wouldn’t pull the trigger.

You’d been wrong.

For years you nursed the wound. A gaping hole between your ribs, the surrounding skin charred and smoking. It got better with time but never fully healed. You’d carried the reminder ever since like a scar. Every mention of Eddie’s name, every time you heard his voice on the radio or saw his face on the glossy cover of a magazine, the carefully woven stitches keeping you together were plucked and snapped. Your heart bleeding out all over again for a boy who didn’t care.

As you lay in bed and stare up at the popcorn ceiling you wonder if it will ever be addressed - this elephant in the room. Things with Eddie were good now, better than you could have ever imagined just a few short months ago. Was that enough? Could you continue like this, rebuilding a friendship without ever acknowledging the thing that destroyed it in the first place. Whether or not you could remained to be seen. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. Eddie had enough going on without you picking at old wounds.

The spare bed is comfortable, the mattress plush and the sheets soft and warm. But sleep won’t come to you. You toss and turn, growing increasingly frustrated. Reaching over to the bedside table you pick up your Casio, pressing the button to illuminate the small screen. 12:34.

You’ll have to be up in just a few hours, heading home to change and brush your teeth before you visit Melvald’s and then go to work. You groan, burying your face in the pillow. It’ll be busy with only a couple of weeks left until the holidays. You’re already dreading all the stressed out Christmas shoppers, their snow caked shoes tracking wet dirt across the floors, the way they’ll huff and puff when you tell them that there isn’t enough time to order in that title before the 25th, or how their kids - hyped up on sugar and Christmas spirit - will run amuck in the cafe.

By the time your watch reads 01:10 you give up on sleep. You tentatively step out onto the landing, hoping you can sneak downstairs for a cup of tea and a cigarette without waking anyone. Wayne still snores in his room, a low rumble with the occasional grunt. Beneath Eddie’s bedroom door warm light spills out. Curious, you walk over and press your ear to the door, wondering if he’s still awake or if he’s just fallen asleep with the light on.

“You can come in.” A voice calls softly from inside. You flinch and take a step back, shame making your cheeks hot.

When you peer your head around the door you find a sweet sight.

Eddie is sat upright, pillows stuffed behind his back against the headboard. He holds a book in one hand, the other stroking the top of Ludo’s head, the pup fast asleep beside him. You’re momentarily thrown by the fact that Eddie is shirtless. Swathes of new ink adorns his skin beside the familiar tattoos. The black widow on his chest now sits on a fine web that stretches over his collar bone, an intricately detailed moth spreading its wings across his other pec.

“Can’t sleep either huh?” He whispers.

You shake your head and avert your eyes away from his skin. Stepping inside you close the door quietly behind you.

“What are you reading?” You ask. Eddie holds the paperback up so you can see the cover.

The Twin Towers.

“Of course.” You smile.

“Am I that predictable?” He grins.

“How many times have you read that series now? You know there’s other books right?”

“I lost count after twenty. No one compares to Tolkien sweetheart, you should know that.”

Your belly turns over at the name.

“Nerd.” You tease, hoping Eddie won’t catch the wobble in your voice.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“You can come read it with me if you want. S’long as it’s not too nerdy for you.”

You silently will the butterflies in your stomach to settle.

“I don’t mind nerdy.” You whisper.

“Scoot over.”

Eddie does as he’s told, moving to the right side of the bed so you can slide in next to him. If he sees the way your hands shake as you pull back the covers then he’s too polite to comment.

You whisper apologies to Ludo, your jostling of the mattress waking him. His tail wags but his eyelids remain droopy, and he’s asleep again in seconds.

Beneath the sheets your bare feet brush Eddie’s leg.

“Jesus H Christ!” He whisper shouts.

“Your toes are like ice!”

“Are they?” You grin, pressing them harder against his calf. Eddie swats at you with the book, but he still pins your feet in place and traps them between his legs.

“Might as well warm them up.” He grumbles, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips.

“I don’t understand how you’re not freezing.” You say, nodding to his exposed torso.

“This guy’s like a hot water bottle.” He grins, patting Ludo’s head.

“Now get comfy, I was just getting to a good bit.”

You shuffle closer and pray that your thumping heartbeat isn’t audible. You rest your head on Eddie’s shoulder, his skin smooth against your cheek.

“Is this okay?” You ask, your voice hardly above a breath.

“Y-yeah. It’s okay.” He says softly.

Eddie clears his throat and shuffles through the pages until he finds his place again.

“Suddenly there was a great shout, and down from the Dike came those who had been driven back into the Deep. There came Gamling the Old, and Eomer son of Eomund, and beside them walked Gimli the dwarf. He had no helm, and about his head was a linen band stained with blood; but his voice was loud and strong.” Eddie whispers.

“‘Forty-two, Master Legolas!’ he cried. ‘Alas! My axe is notched: the forty-second had an iron collar on his neck. How is it with you?’

‘You have passed my score by one,’ answered Legolas.

‘But I do not grudge you the game, so glad am I to see you on your legs!’”

You can’t help but smile. You always loved to listen to Eddie reading aloud, the way his face became so animated, his voice changing for each character.

“‘Welcome, Eomer, sister-son!’ said Théoden. ‘Now that I see you safe, I am glad indeed.’” He continues.

You exhale a pleased sigh, your body warming with Eddie’s so close. Much like the puppy that lays across his lap, your eyelids grow heavy as he continues to read.

“‘Hail, Lord of the Mark!’ said Eomer. ‘The dark night has passed, and day has come again. But the day has brought strange tidings…”

————————————💌———————————

Something cold and wet presses to your cheek. Grumbling in protest at being woken, your bleary eyes blink slowly as they adjust to the daylight that spills through the curtains. Hot breath fans across your face, a lolling pink tongue tickling you when it sweeps across your cheek. You giggle, scratching the excitable pup on the back of his neck as he turns his attention to Eddie, who until now had been sleeping peacefully beside you. Ludo clambers to sit on his chest, whining when he doesn’t immediately wake to make a fuss of him.

“Jesus Ludo.” Eddie groans.

“You’re crushing me.”

Eddie sits up and pushes the dog aside.

“Does he always wake you up like that?” You say through a yawn.

“Pretty much.” He chuckles.

Eddie’s hair has turned into a frizzy nest in the night, errant curls sticking up at all angles. He rakes his fingers through the mess, shooting you a shy grin.

“How bad is it? Scale of one to ten.” He asks.

“Hmmm. I give it a six.”

A knock has both of your heads snapping to the door. Ludo jumps down from the bed, whining and scratching at the wood in hopes of escape.

It opens before either of you can say a word. Wayne pokes his head in, smiling when Ludo scurries out. He looks up, his calm expression replaced with one of horror when his eyes meet yours.

“Oh! Jesus Christ, uh.. sorry about that.” He stammers, clamping his hand over his eyes.

“Wayne, what are you covering your eyes for?” Eddie asks.

“I wasn’t expecting to see a young lady in your bed of course!”

“For shit’s sake, she’s dressed.” Eddie hisses, his cheeks turning scarlet. You feel your own grow heated, wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

“Oh, right well that’s good. I mean, it’s none of my business really what you kids get up to, but-“

“Wayne. Please, I’m begging you to stop talking.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going. I only came in to let the dog out so he could go potty. But I was gonna put some bacon on too. You wanna stay for breakfast darlin’?”

“Um, thanks Wayne but I have work this morning so I don’t know if I have time…” You say, looking over to Eddie’s bedside table and catching sight of his alarm clock.

“Shit! It’s 8:55?” You exclaim, throwing yourself out of the bed. You squeeze past Wayne and run to the spare room that you were supposed to sleep in.

“What time does the store open?” Eddie calls.

“9!” You shout back, your arms getting tangled in the sweater that you desperately tug on.

Fully dressed you’re about to run straight down the stairs to go, when you realise that you should probably at least say goodbye. You peck a quick kiss to Wayne’s cheek and give Eddie a wave.

“Sorry I’m running off like this.”

“S’fine.” Eddie smiles.

“Just drive safe okay?”

“I will. See you!”

As you hurry out the front door, a thick layer of snow crunching beneath your feet you pray that Robin won’t be too pissed that you’re late and you didn’t get her breakfast.

Wayne leans in the doorway giving Eddie an amused look.

“What?” The younger man grumbles.

“Nothin’. Just didn’t expect her to stay over that’s all.”

“It was snowing pretty bad last night, so it seemed safer than her driving in the dark. That’s all.”

Wayne shrugs.

“Eddie you don’t have to make excuses. I don’t care, you’re both grown adults. Just as long as you’re both being - ahem - sensible about things and-“

Eddie cuts his Uncle off by throwing a pillow square at his face.

“Please stop. We slept. That’s it.”

“Alright, I believe ya.” Wayne says, his tone suggesting that he absolutely doesn’t. By his feet Ludo whines louder now.

“I’m gonna take the boy out so he doesn’t pee on the carpet. Breakfast’ll be ready in twenty.”

Eddie throws himself back with a groan.

The space beside him is still warm, the pillows baring the faintest hint of your perfume. He silently prays that his Uncle will let this go, not getting the wrong idea and reading too much into things. But maybe Eddie is the one who needs to get his head straight. Because he has to admit that it was nice to have you here last night. The way you’d fallen asleep so quickly with your head resting on his shoulder, your body curled up against his when he finally discarded the book and turned off the light. He’d slept well himself, better than he can recall for a while, with his arm thrown over your waist and your face tucked against his chest. Every quiet breath you exhaled had soothed him. The softness of your skin making his heart beat just a little harder.

Yeah. Eddie definitely needed to let that go.

Away from the house and from Wayne’s view, the tears you’ve been holding back are allowed to spill. The road ahead blurs, the sobs you choke on drowning out the sound of the radio.

Fucking Eddie Munson.

How was it that he still had so much power over you? After all these years without him, convincing yourself that you didn’t care about him, not one little bit. But it was a lie. That much was obvious when you felt your heart soar hopefully in your chest at the sight of him. Only to have it crushed seconds later.

It had been naive to expect a different reaction. You might not know much about the person Eddie was now, but you did know who he was before. And he had always been stubborn.

Over the years of your friendship you’d had a few disagreements, little arguments over stupid things that didn’t really matter. They were resolved quickly enough. But it was always you that made the first move. You were always the first to apologise, to say sorry for your wrongdoings. Only then would Eddie admit to his.

It was the kind of thing you don’t notice when you’re friends with someone. A bad habit or small flaw in their personality that glasses tinted rose with love allow you to overlook.

It was only once you were out, once your friendship with Eddie had been shattered beyond fixing, that you admitted to yourself that he could be a little selfish.

You knew you had your own share of flaws. A touch too clingy, a tendency to lean towards possessiveness over those closest to you. But whenever there was a difference between the two of you, you would always let it go before Eddie. You were the first to cave, the first to grow sick of the distance, the silent treatment and tension having anxiety screaming in your chest. You’d say sorry because you missed him. Because you needed him.

Could you do the same now?

You didn’t see what you had to apologise for.

Maybe you’d become as stubborn as him. And the years of separation, all that time spent replaying his cruel words over and over in your head had hardened you to the idea of reconciliation. Eddie would have to grovel on his knees for even a chance at forgiveness. And it seemed clear now that it would never happen.

He didn’t miss you. He didn’t need you.

He’d made it abundantly clear all those years ago, and he’d made it equally clear this evening that he still felt the same way.

“I thought I’d finally got rid of you.”

You slow to a stop at a junction.

Had Eddie always wanted to be rid of you? It’s not the first time that the thought had crept into your mind, spreading like a poisoned vine. It reached out to all the older memories, the happier memories, and strangled them in its clutches, tainting everything.

You’d spent a lot of nights in the weeks and months after New York contemplating just how long Eddie’s contempt for you had gone unnoticed.

Maybe it began in California, and he rolled his eyes every time a new letter from you arrived.

Maybe it started earlier than that. Was he secretly resentful of your presence the summer before he left, when the two of you had been inseparable? Blisteringly hot days spent splashing in the cool waters of the lake, and firefly lit evenings grilling burgers on Wayne’s old barbecue. Late nights lying side by side on his lumpy mattress, talking in hushed whispers about all the opportunities that lay ahead for you both.

What about all the years before? Eddie had been your best friend since your freshman year. Taking you under his wing, your protector as you navigated the unforgiving halls of Hawkins High, his brash personality and couldn’t give a fuck attitude shielding you from the cruelty of your peers. He’d always seemed so genuine. You were drawn to him because with Eddie, you got what you saw. He didn’t pretend. Or so you thought.

Did he dislike you, even then?

The driver of a truck behind you leans on his horn and you jump, snapping out of your thoughts. In the rearview you can see him cursing you out, waving his fist.

“Sorry” you mouth back. Your fingers wrap around the indicator, but you’re still unsure of which way you’re going.

Home was left.

The thought of returning to that empty house filled you with dread. The lights off, the rooms chilly. No one waiting there for your return.

You push your blinker up and turn right.

————————————💌———————————

It doesn’t take you long to arrive in the lot situated behind the apartment complex. You pull up beside Rob’s Honda Accord, the paintwork scraped from a collision with a bollard just a week after she bought it.

You buzz yourself in, the key and fob she’d given you dangling from the same ring as your own house keys. The elevator is still out, so you trudge slowly up the stairs, feeling the burn in your thighs when you finally reach the third floor.

When you push open the front door open you’re greeted with the signs of life you so miss in your own place. The warm glow of the lights from the living room at the end of the hall, Robin’s raspy cackle carried through along with the hum of the TV. The smell of something spicy flows from the kitchen, plates and cutlery clinking in accompaniment.

“Is someone at the door?” You hear Steve say.

Robin shuffles to drape herself over the edge of the couch, her neck craned to get a clear view down the hallway.

“Yeah! We’ve got company.” She says brightly, flashing you a toothy grin.

Steve appears a moment later. A frilly apron is knotted around his waist, all pink gingham and embroidered flowers. It had been a gag gift from Lucas and Max, but he insisted on wearing it whenever he cooked.

“Hey hon! I just made enchiladas. You want some?” He says.

“No, it’s okay. I-I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced. I don’t wanna put you guys out if you’re about to eat-“

“It’s fine! I made plenty. I’ll get you a plate.” Steve smiles.

You kick off your shoes and saunter into the living room.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at Wayne’s tonight?” Robin comments.

“Yeah.” You say with a shrug, dropping down beside her on the couch.

“Why aren’t you?”

Avoiding her gaze, you try to focus on the television set across from you. The screen becomes unfocused, distorted by more tears. God, you’re so sick of crying over him.

“Oh. Hey, babe it’s okay.” Robin coos, her arms sliding around your shoulders in a tight embrace.

“Steve!” She calls.

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re gonna need that bottle of wine!”

————————————💌———————————

Despite the growling of your stomach you don’t manage more than a few mouthfuls of Steve’s enchiladas. The food feels like it’s getting lodged in your throat, the cheap wine you gulp swirling in your anxious stomach and making you queasy.

“I - I can’t believe it. Why would he be so - so… mean?” Steve says.

Beside you Robin scoffs.

“I can believe it. Munson’s an asshole Steve, this is hardly new information.”

Steve shuffles awkwardly in his seat. He’d always felt more torn between you and Eddie. He was never anything but a perfect friend to you, but you knew that Eddie and him had stayed in touch, even if it was infrequent. Steve felt loyalty to you both.

Robin on the other hand had no issues in taking sides.

Of course she’d once cared about Eddie, and considered him a close friend. They had a lot of in common, a pair of chaotic and energetic goofballs who bounced off of one another. But when she’d heard the details of what transpired between you and your former best friend, the line was drawn. It was all Steve could do to keep Rob from calling Eddie and cursing him out.

“Alright. I know some.. stuff has happened.” Steve says hesitantly.

“But it’s been years. And you two were so close. I guess I just figured that if the two of you met again, you’d get it all worked out. Maybe he’d feel differently. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Well he clearly doesn’t feel any different.” Robin snaps, not realising her words feel like a dagger slicing at the soft flesh of your belly.

“He could’ve just been in shock, y’know? A knee jerk reaction?”

“Stop making excuses for him Steve!”

“I’m not! I’m just thinking-“

“You are though!”

“Guys please!” You beg. Your voice wobbles again.

“I don’t want you two to fight about it.”

Robin sinks back in her seat. Steve reaches over and affectionately pats your knee.

“Sorry honey. I know this probably isn’t helping.” He says sheepishly.

“It’s okay.” You sigh.

“I’m sorry for coming over here and just dumping this all on you.”

“Don’t be silly, we’re your friends.”

“Your best friends.” Robin adds.

“And we’re here for you, always.”

You force a small smile. Robin tops up your glass.

“I’ve got to drive home.” You protest.

“Nope. You’re staying with us tonight. We’ve got a pint of mint choc chip in the freezer, and dingus over here has been bugging me to try some weird new face mask recipe.”

“It’s not weird! It’s got oats for exfoliation, and honey for-“

“So-“ Robin grins, interrupting Steve’s protests.

“You can be his guinea pig instead of me. We’re gonna eat ice cream til we feel sick, and watch whatever movie you want, and then you’re sleeping in my bed and we’ll stay up gossiping.”

“Not without me I hope.” Steve whines.

“Of course not dingus, there’s room for you too. Now go get the ice cream.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve smiles, giving a mock salute that finally pulls a giggle from you.

The two of them have the tension leaving your knotted shoulders, all your anxious thoughts dissolving to a distant memory.

You’re safe here. Happy. Far from anything that could cause you pain.

As Steve roots around in the freezer, the telephone on the kitchen wall lets out a shrill ring. He straightens, waving the tub of ice cream triumphantly as he picks up the receiver.

“Hello?”

Steve’s smile fades, his brows darting up in surprise, almost lost under the wild waves of hair that hang over his forehead.

“Oh. H-hey man. S’good to hear from you. It’s been a while.” He says.

Robin’s face twists in confusion, but you know exactly who’s on the line without having to ask.

“What did he want?” Robin asks suspiciously a few minutes later. She’d taken the ice cream from Steve while he talked on the phone, her bowl now licked clean, while your own scoop has turned to a soupy mess, churned up by your spoon being anxiously stirred through it.

Steve grimaces when he takes his seat.

“He told me he was back in Hawkins for a while. Asked me to meet him for a drink tomorrow to catch up.”

“Are you gonna go?”

“I said I would, yeah.”

“Steve!”

“Rob, come on. What was I supposed to do? He’s my friend.”

“She’s your friend!” Robin bites back, pointing a finger in your direction.

“Please, both of you. Don’t start bickering again.” You plead.

“It’s fine. Steve, I think it’s good. You should go. You don’t have to choose between us. Can we please just stop talking about it and watch a movie?”

Robin’s cheeks turns rose, her expression guilty.

“Sure, whatever you want.” She says softly.

“Sixteen Candles or Pretty In Pink?” Steve asks.

“You know I love Jon Cryer.” You grin.

Robin groans. She’s too slow to dodge the cushion that Steve tosses at her face.

————————————💌———————————

The clock on Robin’s nightstand tells you it’s a little after midnight. She snores softly on your right, falling asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow. On your other side Steve is still, his breathing quiet and slow.

You wish sleep would find you too. It’s a little cramped, three bodies squeezed into a queen, but it’s not the lack of space that’s keeping you awake.

You can’t get your brain to be quiet. A never ending rollodex of thoughts spinning in your mind.

Despite your best efforts, you can’t get the image of Eddie from earlier out of your mind. The disgust on his face, the venom in his tone. It had been a long time since you’d been on the receiving end of it, and it was every bit as painful as the last time.

With a quiet sigh you turn, shuffling awkwardly to roll onto your other side. You’re careful to not wake Robin or Steve, but when you face the other way you’re surprised to see Steve’s mossy eyes open and looking at you.

“Can’t sleep?” He murmurs.

You shake your head.

“I thought you’d already drifted off.”

“Nah. Too much on my mind.” He says.

“I know the feeling.”

Steve gives you a small smile. Under the duvet his hands search for yours, bringing them up to his chest and swallowing them beneath his broad palms.

“I won’t go. If you ask me not to, then I won’t.” He whispers.

“Stevie, I would never ask you to do that. It’s not fair.”

“I kind of feel like I’m betraying you.”

“You’re not.” You insist.

“If anything, to not go would be betraying E- him. You’re friends and he wants to see you. He probably won’t be here for long, so you should make the most of it.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, clearly thinking it over.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“For what?”

“For being so understanding about it. I know it’s hard for you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” You lie.

“Besides, I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

“Why?” Steve asks.

“Because you let me show up here unannounced and fed me. Shared your ice cream with me, let me pick the movie. Not to mention, thanks to you my face is now softer than a baby’s butt cheek.”

Steve lets out a soft chuckle that fades into a deep yawn.

“Wanna cuddle?” He says softly, looking at you from under rapidly drooping eyelids.

“Sure.” You whisper.

Steve lifts one arm, making space for you to shuffle in closer, your face pressing against his chest. His t-shirt is soft and warm against your cheek. It smells like detergent and a little of his lingering cologne, all musk and spice. His arms fold around you in a gentle cradle, large palms sweeping over your back in a soothing motion.

The slight jostling is enough to rouse Robin. Still half asleep, she too rolls over.

“Let me in.” She murmurs, her voice all rough and raspy with sleepiness. The point of her chin nestles into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, her slim arms holding you tight and pulling her in until she’s plastered against your back.

You’d spent your share of nights like this over the last couple of years.

When it had been really bad, being sandwiched between your best friends, with the heat of their bodies and the soothing thump of their heartbeats was the only time that you could calm enough to sleep.

It had been a while. The nights got easier, filling your days with enough to distract you and tire you helped. But it was still nice to have this comfort. To feel safe and secure between them. With Robin snoring softly in your ear, and Steve’s deep breaths ruffling your hair, you could finally let yourself relax enough to drift off too.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie had reached his limit. After only a day he knew he couldn’t sit around and stare at the same four walls, feeling himself slowly going insane while the hours trickled by as slow as molasses.

He needed to get out.

Not out of Hawkins. That wasn’t an option right now.

But he needed to leave the house. Find some way to entertain himself, now that he was cut off from the fun and debauchery of his lifestyle back home.

He rents a car.

A Dodge Viper, sleek and black, with an engine that made an obscene amount of noise. There was a time when Eddie would have scoffed and rolled his eyes at seeing someone driving around in such a vehicle like this, question just who exactly the driver was trying to impress. But his derisiveness would have just been a cover for bitter jealousy.

Besides, he somewhat enjoys the envious stares and judgemental sneers as he cruises through the streets of his home town. Eddie Munson, the loser, the freak, was now more successful than any of these small minded people could ever dream of being. The car felt like driving around in a gigantic middle finger.

Eddie makes his way over to the lake house. The roads are unchanged, familiar in a way that barely requires concentration as he crosses the town and heads to the outskirts. He has so many memories of following these roads: the windows down in his beat up van, the wind flowing through his hair while Metallica blared from the speakers. You sat in the passenger seat, singing along and -

No. Stop it. Eddie shakes his head.

He has no idea why the thought even popped into his mind. He never took you with him to Rick’s. Didn’t want to risk you being caught with him if he was pulled over with enough stock in the vehicle to land him a felony.

It was an intrusive thought. A memory from some other ride to some other destination attempting to bleed into the forefront of Eddie’s mind.

Gritting his teeth, Eddie’s knuckles turn white as they grasp at the steering wheel.

He needs to stop thinking about you. To find a way of shaking you off since you’d crawled back into his subconscious like some kind of parasite.

Luckily, Rick should have just what he needs.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie’s relieved to find that Rick is still living in the same place. Even more relieved to discover that he is still the go to guy in Hawkins and the surrounding small towns.

When Rick opens his front door, Eddie’s greeted by the pungent earthiness of weed, a large cloud exhaled in his face through grinning lips stretched across a pale face.

“Eddie fucking Munson.” Rick drawls.

“Long time no see man.”

“Hey Rick. How’re you doing?” Eddie asks.

Rick nods slowly, taking another large hit from the joint hanging between his fingertips.

“All good brother. Always good. Come on in.”

Rick’s living room is exactly as Eddie remembers it. Sunlight filters through the half drawn blinds, illuminating the constant haze in the air. Takeout containers litter the floor and the table, a few even discarded on the couch that Eddie has to nudge aside to take a seat. The only change appears to be the TV which has had an upgrade, the screen big enough to rival Eddie’s back at home. Fast Times at Ridgemont High plays on low in the background, and Rick shuts it off as he shuffles through the room, his slippers dragging along the unvaccuumed carpet.

Rick’s always moved slow. He somewhat reminded Eddie of a sloth he’d seen once on a field trip to a zoo. Rick smoked all day, enough to put lesser men in a catatonic state. It made every movement of his languid and drawn out, and he often had this dopey smile on his face, like that lazy creature Eddie had seen hanging in its enclosure, scratching its round belly with clawed fingers.

But Eddie knew better than to underestimate Rick. Sure he was a pretty chill guy most of the time. But the assault rifle propped up by the front door, and the handgun carelessly discarded on the coffee table was a reminder that he wasn’t someone to be messed with.

Rick lumps down in the armchair across from Eddie.

“I can’t believe it. I’ve got a fucking rockstar in my living room.” He says.

“It’s good to see you man.”

“You too. It’s been too long.” Eddie replies with a smile.

“I take it you’re not here looking for work?” Rick chuckles.

“Nah man. Just as a customer.”

“Not just a customer brother. A friend. You and me, we got waaay back.” Rick drawls, as if Eddie didn’t know their own history.

“We sure do.” He replies.

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping in. I wasn’t sure who was selling for you these days, or if you were even still in the business.”

Rick waves his hand dismissively.

“I’ve still got a good operation. But the kids these days man, they don't care about it in the same way you and I did. They only care about the cash. S’better if you come straight to me man. I’ll give you the good shit, and I won’t rip you off like those little fuckers will try to.”

Eddie forces a smile. He’s not about to tell Rick that he was only ever in it for the money too. It’s not like most normal kids dream of dealing. Sure, being able to dip into your own supply was fun, and it beat slaving away at some shitty store in the mall every weekend. But Eddie had only turned to Rick in the first place because money was so tight at home.

“Thanks man. I appreciate it.”

Rick smiles, tossing the butt of his finished joint into an overflowing ashtray. He immediately reaches for another tucked over his ear. The paper sizzles when it’s lit, Rick inhaling a large pull before leaning to pass the joint to over.

Eddie takes it with a small nod. The weed in California was decent, it wasn’t like Eddie couldn’t afford the best around. But just like taking a swig of coffee brewed and poured by his uncle, the taste of Rick’s best strain was a home comfort for Eddie. He exhales a pleased sigh, letting the smoke twist and unfurl in front of his face.

“So what brings you back to Hawkins?” Rick asks.

“Thought I’d take a bit of time off. Catch up with some old friends.” Eddie says. The same old lie. It gets easier every time he tells it.

“Thats what it’s all about brother. Keep your friends close.” Rick’s eyes close, his head nodding like he’s imparting some deep wisdom.

“I’ll bet your girl is happy you’re back.”

Eddie chokes as he takes another hit, spluttering and coughing like it was his first time all over again.

“M-my girl?” He wheezes.

“That one you used to hang out with all the time. She’s still living here ain’t she?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you knew her.”

“I know everyone and everything Ed. I’ve seen her around a few times.”

Eddie blinks rapidly, staring across at Rick in confusion.

“Does - does she come here? Like, she buys from you?” He says.

Why does he care? Why does the thought of you coming here alone fill Eddie with anxiety. You’re not his responsibility anymore, he shouldn’t give a shit where you go or what you do.

“Nah.” Rick leans over to take the joint back.

“I’ve seen her in that store she works in, y’know?”

“Y-yeah.” Eddie lies. His heart still rabbits in his chest, but it’s a little calmer now he knows you’re not one of Rick’s regular customers.

He wants to ask which store Rick’s seen you in, just so he knows where to avoid. But he’s not about to explain to Rick why he doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to talk about the fact that you’re not his girl anymore.

Not that you ever were. Of course not. You were just a friend.

“So. What are you looking for?” Rick asks, a thankful change of subject.

“What have you got?” Eddie says.

“Everything man. You name it, I supply it.”

“Okay. Well I guess then weed, coke, benzos. A-and some quaaludes.”

Rick raises his brows.

“That’s quite a shopping list brother.”

Eddie shrugs.

“S’alright. I’m not judging. But don’t ask me for any heavier shit. I don’t sell smack to friends. That shit’ll mess you up man.”

“I’m not into that.” Eddie replies.

It’s the truth too. He’d been offered it plenty of times, had a lot of friends who loved it, swore that nothing else compared. But despite the swathes of ink adorning his skin, Eddie had a thing about needles. He’d even passed out the last time he’d had blood drawn. Not that Rick needed to know that.

“Glad to hear it. Gimme a sec and I’ll get you sorted.” Rick says, stumbling a little as he rises from his chair. Eddie watches as he shuffles around the room, rummaging through drawers and bags.

Rick tosses the bags of weed and coke onto the table, along with four bottles of pills.

“S’that enough?”

Eddie clears his throat.

“Uh. Maybe a couple of more of the benzos?. And the ludes.” He says hesitantly.

“Sure thing.”

Rick adds two more bottles of each. Eddie pulls a thick wad of bills from the pocket of his jeans, holding them out to the older man.

Rick tuts, flicking through the cash. He pockets a little over half, handing the rest back to Eddie.

“That’s too much man. Really.” Eddie says.

“I told you I’d give you a good price. I’m not about to screw over a friend.” Rick says nonchalantly.

For some reason, his choice of words has Eddie’s stomach twisting.

“You wanna hang for a bit?” Rick offers.

“I should probably be getting back.” Eddie says.

“But thanks. I’ll come see you again soon.”

“Not too soon I hope.” Rick laughs.

“Not that I don’t wanna see you. But that shit should last you a while.”

Eddie fakes a smile as he attempts to stuff his purchases into the pockets of his jacket.

He knows it won’t be long before he’ll be having to make another trip out to the lake house.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie feels calmer on the drive back into town. It’s not from the weed, he’d barely had a few tokes. But knowing that he was stocked up once again was a relief, even if it was the exact opposite of why he’d been forced to come back to Hawkins in the first place.

Eddie wonders what his friends would say, what Andy would say. If his bandmates and manager knew that they’d sent him away to get clean, cast him aside like he was dirty, sick. Yet here he was, as well connected as he had been back in California. His pockets rattling from the multiple bottles of pills inside.

Eddie lets out a deep breath, trying to calm the resentment and fury that was building in his chest. He knew deep down his friends just cared about him. But their judgement was hard to take.

They’d all done shit, all experimented and partied hard in the early days. Pills passed around like candy, swallowed down with expensive liquor, line after line cut up on tables in green rooms and dingy club bathrooms.

It was fun. They’d all just been having fun.

But then Jeff’s girlfriend, now his fiancée, had pestered him to cut back. And once he did, the rest of the band slowly fell in line too.

“We just need to calm down a bit, yeah? We don’t play so good if we’re wasted.” Gareth had insisted.

It was bullshit.

Eddie played better with a little something buzzing in his veins. Coke seemed to sharpen his senses. It was like he felt every single vibration of the guitar strings echo through his body, his voice sounding clearer and stronger, filled with more passion. Why would he want to give that up?

And the pills were nothing to be concerned about. Shit, half the country was being prescribed the same stuff by doctors. The benzos levelled Eddie out. Helped him relax after a show when his hands were still shaking with adrenaline, coaxed him into peaceful sleep when the various other substances in his bloodstream left him feeling wired.

Eddie didn’t need to get clean. There was nothing wrong with him, he didn’t have a problem. He liked drugs, so what? He was a fucking rockstar.

He’s too distracted by the bitter thoughts swirling in his mind to notice the speedometer of the Viper slowly creeping up. Trees and familiar road signs flashing past him in a blur.

It’s only when blue lights illuminate his rear view mirror does he realise he’s hit 70 in a 45.

“Shit.” Eddie hisses through his teeth. His foot hits the brakes, the car rolling to a stop as he guides it into a pull-off.

Eddie rolls down the window. Sucks in a deep breath of fresh air and checks his reflection in the mirror.

He looks fine. Normal. His eyes aren’t blood shot or anything. Maybe a hint of red around the edges, but nothing that he can’t pass off as exhaustion. There’s no reason for the cop to suspect anything. He’ll write Eddie a speeding ticket and be on his merry way. Hell, if the guy’s a Corroded Coffin fan Eddie might be able to charm his way out of the ticket, sign an autograph and get himself off scot-free.

The cop car has pulled in behind him, the door slamming closed and gravel crunching under heavy footsteps. Eddie peers his head out of the window, dazzling rockstar grin in full force, ready to talk his way out of trouble. His forced smile changes to something more genuine when he sees who’s approaching him.

“Well shit. I thought you’d be retired by now.” Eddie laughs.

Hopper appears to do a double take, clearly surprised to see Eddie behind the wheel.

“I’m not that old kid.”

“Of course not. You look as young as you did the day I first met you. Total spring chicken.” Eddie says with a chuckle.

Hopper comes to a stop beside the open window, his hands on his hips. He’s doing his best to keep his stern, authoritarian composure, but Eddie can see the wry smile that pulls at his lips.

Hopper had always gone easy on Eddie. He seemed to have a bit of a soft spot for him. Wayne and Jim went way back, growing up in the small town together, occasionally drinking together at the old dive bar downtown on nights that the two of them weren’t working. It afforded Eddie a little more protection.

As a kid, if Eddie was pulled over or the cops busted a party he was selling at, he always hoped that Hopper would be the one to deal with him. He usually got away with little more than a slap on the wrist, when most other officers would have been glad to send him off to juvie.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you back here.” Hopper comments.

“I’m only visiting.” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Back to see Wayne?”

“Yeah. And some friends.”

Hopper raises one thick brow, his head tilting in the direction of the road Eddie had just been flying down.

“Catching up with Rick?”

Eddie gulps. He hopes Hopper doesn’t catch it.

“Yeah. Just wanted to see how he’s doing.” He says smoothly.

“Hmm. You’re gonna keep your nose clean while you’re here, right kid?” Hopper asks, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course. Scouts honour.” Eddie says. He gives a mock salute, relieved when the cop lets out a reluctant chuckle.

“Good. I don’t wanna have to be hauling your ass down to the station.”

“Well I am catching up with old friends after all. I’m sure Callaghan would be delighted to see me.” Eddie grins.

Hopper shakes his head as he laughs.

“Get outta here Munson. And watch your speed. S’a nice car. It’d be a shame if you wrecked it.”

“You got it Hop. Won’t happen again.” Eddie says with a wink.

Eddie watches through the rearview mirror as Hopper makes his way back to his car. The Viper roars to life when he turns the keys, and he’s more careful this time as he pulls back onto the road, keeping a watchful eye on the speedometer.

Eddie smiles to himself as he heads for his uncle’s home. Wayne, Hopper, his bandmates back out west - he’s fooled them all.

This is going to be easier than Eddie thought.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie slams the door of the cab closed behind him. He opted to leave the Dodge back at Wayne’s, knowing he’d be in no state to drive by the end of the night.

Hopper might have gone easy on him earlier, but Eddie wasn’t about to push his luck. Getting caught driving drunk wasn’t on his list of things to do.

Much like everything else in Hawkins, The Hideout remains unchanged. The whole town is frozen in time, like a snapshot from Eddie’s memories come to life.

He lights a cigarette and takes in the building in front of him. The same paint on the bricks that was long overdue for a touch up, large flecks of black peeling away to reveal the rusted red beneath. Years of posters and flyers stapled on top of one another on the notice board, the tattered pages rustling with the breeze. A few more lights have gone out on the sign, so now from a distance it reads “Th Hi ed t”. Flickering blue bathes Eddie’s pale face, the buzz of the electric a comforting sound.

He doesn’t feel anxious about coming here. The Hideout felt like a second home to him. It was one of the few sanctuaries he’d found in this hell hole of a town, one of the only places he’d been able to be himself.

And he owed a lot to this place. George, the owner, had believed in Corroded Coffin from the very beginning. Letting them play week after week, even if the same old drunks got tired of hearing the same old songs. There was always a space for them on the tiny stage here.

Eddie hopes George is still running things. He had been a few years back, when Eddie had last seen him. He spotted him in the crowd at a show in Indianapolis, beaming with pride and cheering for the small town boys who did good and got out. Eddie had him pulled from the throng of bodies and brought side of stage to watch, even embarrassed him by telling the crowd how Corroded Coffin owed so much of their success to George.

Eddie pushes through the front doors. Immediately greeted by the smell of spilt beer and stale cigarette smoke, the air thick with it. Just like the exterior, things inside haven’t changed much. The same tables and wobbly stools, beer mats stuffed under the uneven legs to steady them. Bare bulbs hang from sporadic spots on the ceiling, so dim that most of the room remains shrouded in darkness.

The stage is the exception, George’s pride and joy, where he focuses most of his profits to give the bands that play here the best experience. Expensive lighting rigs and smoke machines, stacks of amps and speakers for those just starting out who might not be able to afford their own.

A few pockmarked teens are tuning up, cheap guitars strung loosely over thin shoulders, their spines hunched and faces self-conscious. Eddie feels a glimmer of pride looking at the bunch of misfits. Maybe they’ll get lucky, just like he did.

Eddie veers left to the bar. The place is still fairly empty, so he has no trouble finding an open spot to lean against. As he rests his forearms on the sticky surface, he notices the only change in the decor.

The wall behind the bar is newly decorated, a fresh coat of deep navy paint, still glossy and smooth. Above the shelves of liquor bottles are posters, kept pristine behind panes of glass in wooden frames. Some are old. Hand drawn flyers that teenage Eddie had created when he should have been studying. He’d make copies in the school library, keeping an eye out for Miss Rowe, who would hiss at him in that half whisper half shout when she caught him wasting paper on anything other than school work. There’s modern posters too: glossy prints from Corroded Coffin’s headline tours, and multiple magazine clippings detailing their meteoric rise to fame.

Eddie smiles to himself, touched by the level of pride George clearly still feels. He thinks back to the gold records that sit in home, the ones he’d never got around to hanging on the wall. Maybe Eddie will send one George’s way. It would make a great addition to his collection.

Eddie’s pulled from this thoughts by a booming voice.

“No fucking way!”

He looks up, seeing a figure blur past him, rushing around the end of the bar to grab him and pull him in for a tight hug.

“I can’t believe it!”

“You’d better believe it.” Eddie laughs, clapping George firmly on the back. The old man pulls back to look at him, still holding on to Eddie’s arms as if to reassure himself that he’s really here.

“I never thought I’d see you back in this place again.” George grins.

“I couldn’t come home and not come here.” Eddie replies.

The small commotion of George’s greeting catches the attention of the rest of the bar’s patrons. Heads turn to see what the fuss is all about, brows darting up and an echo of excited whispers filling the room.

“That’s Eddie Munson!”

“No way.”

“It’s not really him.”

“It is! Look, he’s here!”

Within seconds the two men are surrounded, the few customers gathering around them, all clammering for autographs and photos.

“Alright, alright! Give the man some space.” George says, shooing away the crowd.

“It’s fine, honestly.” Eddie smiles.

“I’m meeting a friend but it looks like he’s not here yet, so I’ve got some time to hang out with everyone.”

“Okay. You want your usual while you wait for him?” George asks, now back behind the bar.

“Please.”

Eddie reaches in his pocket, and George tuts at the sight of his wallet.

“You drink for free.”

“That’s awfully kind of you George. But how about some drinks for my new friends?” Eddie says. He slaps a thick stack of bills down on the bar, enough to have George looking giddy with glee.

“Yes sir.” George says, snatching up the cash.

“Drinks are on Eddie Munson tonight ladies and gents!”

Cheers ring out. Eddie turns to face the small crowd with a grin. Now this was a welcome home befitting a rockstar.

————————————💌———————————

Word gets out quickly that the frontman of Corroded Coffin has returned to his old haunt.

Within an hour the bar is packed, everyone desperate for the chance to speak to Eddie. He soaks up the attention, basking in it, wishing that the people in Hawkins who looked down on him for years could see him now, getting a heroes welcome.

Eddie sits at a small table to the right of the stage, listening to the band who aren’t half bad. The lead singer sheepishly announces that they’re going to play Bloodline, a single from Corroded Coffin’s debut album. Eddie lets out a loud whoop, the whole crowd following suit. He feels a little sorry for the kids on the stage. This is likely the first full house they’ve ever played to, but most of the eyes in the room aren’t on them. They’re on the charismatic, curly haired metal head sat sipping his third Bud light of the evening.

Two girls are leant up against Eddie’s table. A pretty blonde and a pretty red head, the kind of girls who would have never given him the time of day if he wasn’t famous. Not that Eddie cares. He loves the flirtatious whispers, smokey lined eyes dragging across his broad shoulders, the way they both giggle and bite their lips whenever he speaks. Christ, if he was sticking in Hawkins for a while he might need to get his own place, even if it was just temporary. Eddie knows either one of them would go home with him in a second if he asked. Maybe both. But he couldn’t exactly take them back to Wayne’s.

Eddie’s just debating on whether or not he should call around the hotels in Hawkins to get a room for the night, when the door to the bar swings open once again. Across the room Eddie catches a glimpse of tousled brown waves, his friend’s head turning back and forth as he scans the packed room with a frown on his face.

“Steve! Stevie!” Eddie bellows above the din. The girls jump at his shouts.

Steve turns to the call of his name, grin shining bright when he catches sight of Eddie. He eagerly pushes through the crowd while Eddie jumps up, grabbing a spare stool and dragging it to his table.

Steve pulls him in for hug, broad arms squeezing tight. The two girls slip away, looking disappointed and murmuring to themselves, but they’re the last thing on Eddie’s mind now.

“It’s so good to see you.” Steve grins when he pulls back.

“You too Stevie. C’mon, sit down.”

Eddie waves over to the bar, pointing to Steve. George gives a thumbs up, and within seconds another bottle of beer arrives to the table.

“Cheers.” Eddie says, clinking the neck of his bottle to Steve’s.

“To being reunited!” Steve says.

The boys sip their drinks. Eddie turns his chair, adjusting his position so his back is to the rest of the room. He doesn’t want anymore interruptions now, his full attention on the friend he’s missed more than he cares to admit.

“So come on then, ask me the question.” Eddie grins.

“What question?” Steve asks.

“What I’m doing back in Hawkins. It seems to be the first thing everyone says to me.”

“Then you must be sick of answering it.” Steve laughs.

“I’d rather ask how long you’re staying.”

“You trying to get rid of me already Stevie?” Eddie teases.

“God no. I’m hoping you’re back for good.”

“I’m definitely not sticking around forever. But I’ll be here a while.”

“Will you stay until Christmas? Because the kids will all be home from college.”

Eddie pauses, sweeping his finger up the side of his beer, smearing the condensation. He hasn’t given much thought to the upcoming holiday.

“I’m not too sure. I’ll probably be here for Thanksgiving. But I’m still figuring some stuff out.”

Steve frowns.

“What kind of stuff?” He asks.

Eddie shrugs.

“Nothing important.”

“Eddie. You’re pouting.”

“I am not!”

“You totally are. And you’ve got that look in your eyes, all sad like a kicked puppy. Has something happened?”

“No.” Eddie says, just a touch too quickly. Steve raises one brow in suspicion.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Better than fine, everything’s all good. It’s just been a hectic few years, y’know? Me and the guys decided it’d be good to take a few weeks off.”

“Makes sense.” Steve replies. Although he doesn’t sound completely convinced.

“I bet Wayne’s glad to have you home.”

“Yeah he is. He - wait. How did you know I’m staying with Wayne?”

Steve squirms in his seat.

“I - I uh.. well-“

“She told you didn’t she?” Eddie says flatly. Steve winces.

“She did mention it, yeah.”

“When?”

“Um, yesterday? She was kinda at my place when you called.”

It feels like a punch in the gut. You must have gone straight to Steve when you left Wayne’s house. Eddie gets a sour taste in his mouth when he thinks about what you might have told him.

“Do you see her a lot?” Eddie asks through gritted teeth.

“Sort of, yeah. We’re still close.” Steve admits.

Eddie’s head snaps up at that.

“Are you..?”

“No! No not like that.” Steve says, blushing furiously.

“We’re just friends.”

It’s funny, Eddie used to say the same thing.

“It’s fine man. Whatever, you’ve known her a long time too.”

“Yeah, but… I mean it’s a little awkward. I feel bad, like I’m doing something wrong by keeping in touch with you both.”

“You’re really not.” Eddie says, forcing himself to give Steve a reassuring smile.

“Anyway, enough about her. Tell me about you. What’s new in Steve Harrington’s life?”

————————————💌———————————

The two boys spend the next few hours catching up. The conversation is easy, like no time at all has passed.

Eddie fills Steve in on recording sessions, antics on tour, and various hookups with models and actresses that Steve seems suitably impressed by. He leaves out any details about the arguments with his bandmates, and their attempted intervention.

In turn Steve tells Eddie about his own life. His job coaching gym back at Hawkins High, the apartment he shares with Robin, his turbulent love life. There’s a few moments when your name slips all too easily past Steve’s lips, the beginnings of stories that he quickly cuts off, like he’s remembering who’s in his company. Eddie supposes this is something he’ll have to get used to. You living on the outskirts of his life. Now just a friend of a friend, someone who’ll be mentioned in passing from time to time.

A collection of empty bottles builds on the table, beer after beer knocked back, slipping down easy like they’re water. It has little effect on Eddie, but Steve is clearly out of practice. By the time George calls last orders Steve is swaying on his stool, his cheeks flushed and speech slurred.

“I think it might be time for me to get you home big boy.” Eddie laughs.

“Mmm. Wanna go bed.” Steve mumbles.

“Alright then. I’ll get us a cab.”

“Pee.” Steve whines.

“What?”

“M’gotta pee.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the bathroom. Can you stand?”

Steve slips sideways off of his stool, stumbling heavily and almost tipping over. Eddie just manages to catch him before he crashes into the now empty stage.

“Easy there big boy. C’mere, I’ve got you.” Eddie says. He drapes Steve’s arm around his shoulders, his own securing Steve’s waist. Steve’s still as broad as ever, in fact he’s damn heavy. By the time Eddie manages to half carry him into the tiny bathroom he’s beginning to break a sweat.

Unfortunately, the bathrooms haven’t changed since Eddie was last here. The same old lewd graffiti scribbled on the walls, the faucets still leaking, and the air still thick with the stench of piss.

Eddie guides Steve towards the dirty urinals, keeping one hand in the centre of his back while he pees, his friend still swaying slightly.

“Better?” Eddie asks as Steve rolls up his zipper.

Steve nods. But his eyes suddenly grow wide and panicked, his hand clamped over his lips as he dives into the only stall.

Eddie winces as Steve empties the contents of his stomach.

“Jesus Christ Harrington, you’re a mess.” He says fondly.

He only gets a weak groan in response.

Eddie lets Steve carry on getting the worst of it out. In the mean time he digs into his pocket, pulling out the small vial that had sunk to the bottom. He taps the powder onto the back of his hand, snorting it quickly and wiping the residue from under his nose.

“What’re you doing?” Steve slurs. Eddie finds him slumped against the stall door, frowning.

“What’s it look like?” Eddie laughs.

“I’d offer you some, but I think you’re done for the night, don’t you?”

Steve shakes his head in disbelief.

“I - I didn’t know you did that.”

“Why do you mean? You’ve seen me.. we’ve literally done it together before.”

“Yeah, when we were dumb kids. And only once or twice. D’you normally just carry that shit around with you?”

There’s something in Steve’s tone that has fury flaring hot in Eddie’s gut. He doesn’t sound angry, or even disappointed. It’s concern, but Eddie hates how misplaced it is. Why is everyone always so damn worried about what he chooses to do? Like he’s some idiot incapable of making good decisions.

“It’s just a little coke Stevie. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Eddie snaps.

“I’m not. S-sorry. Was just surprised, s’all.”

Eddie’s annoyance disappears as quickly as it ignited. Now Steve is the one who looks like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s nothing to worry about, okay?” Eddie says, patting Steve on the shoulder.

“Okay.” Steve whispers.

“Fuck man, the room’s still spinning.”

“Then let’s get that cab.”

————————————💌———————————

The journey back to Steve’s apartment is quiet.

The driver’s clearly not in the mood to make small talk. He’d initially refused outright to give them a ride, taking one look at Steve’s green tinted complexion and no doubt imagining having to scrub vomit stains out of the seats. He’d changed his mind when Eddie waved a couple of extra twenties in his face.

Despite the chill in the air, Eddie rolls down the back windows. Steve sits with his chin resting on the edge, breathing slow through his nose and occasionally moaning.

It’s clear when they pull up that Steve is still in no state to get himself home. The cab driver waits outside with the meter running, while Eddie tries his best to usher Steve into the building and up the stairs.

At his front door, Steve decides that his legs can take him no further. He slumps to the floor, looking up at Eddie pitifully.

“Give me your keys bud.” Eddie whispers.

Steve’s head thumps against the wall behind him, his arms hanging loose and useless at his sides.

“Jesua H Christ.” Eddie mutters. He squats to pat Steve down, reaching in all of his pockets and finding nothing but his wallet, a few balled up receipts, and a chapstick.

“Steve. Steve, where the fuck are your keys?” Eddie hisses. Steve’s head flops, his eyelids half closed.

“Don’t fall asleep Stevie. You’re almost in your bed. Just tell me where your keys are.”

“Mmm. Dunno.” Steve yawns.

Eddie sighs. There’s only one option left.

He knocks on the apartment door, hoping that it’s enough to wake Robin but not the rest of the neighbours.

“Shhhh. Rob’s asleep.” Steve whispers.

“I know that. But how the hell else are you gonna get in?”

“She’s gonna be so pissed.”

Eddie’s sure she probably will be, just not for the reason Steve’s thinking.

A moment later there’s a clinking on the other side of the door, the sound of the chain being taken off and keys turning in the lock. A bleary eyed Robin swings open the door, her hair mussed from sleep, cheek still indented with marks from her pillow.

“What the fuck?” She mumbles, glancing down at Steve who’s now attempting to crawl through the doorway.

Her eyes raise to Eddie’s face.

For a second, Eddie is hopeful.

He’d loved Robin. They were friends. Good friends. Kindred spirits.

But he knew without her ever having to tell him that she’d taken your side. Her silence had spoken volumes. It’s been years since they’d talked, and Steve avoided mentioning her almost as much as he did you. But he still hopes that maybe she’d be glad to see him. That the old cliche was true, about time being a great healer. Maybe she’d see him and forget all of the bullshit lies you’d fed her, and she’d welcome him back with open arms.

Instead, Robin scowls, her arms folded tight across her chest.

“What the fuck is going on?” She snaps.

“He’s lost his keys.” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Seriously Steve? Again?”

“M’sorry.” Steve whines. He’s made it as far as the living room, laying face down on the floor.

“Let me help you get him into bed.” Eddie offers.

“I’ve got it. You’ve done enough.” Robin hisses. She attempts to close the door in Eddie’s face, halted by his hand pressing flat against the wood.

“Rob, c’mon. He can barely stand, you’re never gonna be able to lift him yourself.”

“I’m okay.” Steve says, his voice muffled by the threadbare carpet his face is pressed into.

“You’re really not buddy.”

“Fine! Whatever, just make it quick.” Robin says.

If Eddie thought Steve was hard to carry before, he’s almost impossible to move now. He’s given up on even attempting to drag himself to bed, just a dead weight that Eddie takes hold of beneath the arms and slowly pulls down the only other corridor.

“Which room?” Eddie wheezes.

Robin doesn’t say a word, just juts her chin towards a door on the left. She steps around Eddie and Steve, thankfully opening the door so Eddie doesn’t have to struggle with it. He manages to clear the last few feet, using all of his strength to push his friend up onto the bed. Steve groans weakly and rolls onto his side.

Robin pushes Eddie aside, bending down to sweep Steve’s hair back from his forehead.

“I’ll be right back. M’gonna get you some water okay?”

Her tone is so much softer, all her earlier annoyance replaced with something gentle and quiet. It’s a lot closer to the Robin that Eddie remembers.

When she stands upright, her face hardens again. She glares at Eddie expectantly, and he takes it as his queue to go.

“I’ll see you soon Stevie. Hope you feel better.” Eddie whispers.

“Bye Ed.” Steve mumbles in reply.

Back in the living room, Eddie gets a chance to take in the apartment that he was too distracted to appreciate before.

It’s small. The entire living room and kitchen could fit into one of Eddie’s guest rooms. But it’s sweet. An odd mismatch of the roommates personalities and interests.

The walls are an eclectic mix of vintage movie posters and sports pennants, the shelves weighed down with vinyls and books. The single bulb that Robin’s turned on in the kitchen illuminates the open plan space with a warm amber glow, and the air smells faintly of patchouli.

It stirs a memory somewhere deep in the recesses of Eddie’s mind: he’d been in Robin’s room at her parent’s place once, and she’d had incense burning on her bedside table. She was using it to mask the smell of cigarettes, you and Eddie and Steve huddled up by her bedroom window, laughing and blowing the smoke out to the street below.

“You can go now.” Robin says coldly.

Eddie sighs.

“Robbie. C’mon-“

“No. Don’t you Robbie me. Don’t try and talk to me like we’re friends.”

“We are. Or at least, we were. Why do you hate me so much?”

Robin slams the glass she’s holding down on the kitchen counter, water spilling over the edge.

“Is that a real question?”

“Look, I know she must have told you some stuff.”

“She told me everything! So are you really that surprised that I’m not happy to see you?”

Eddie’s not about to admit that he’s hazy on the details. Whatever everything entails is a mystery to him.

“I just thought that-“

“That what? If you stayed away for long enough we’d all forget what an asshole you are? Give me a fucking break.”

“Steve seems to be cool with it.” Eddie mumbles.

“Yeah well Steve’s more forgiving than me. He likes to see the good in everyone. But as far as I can tell, you’re just as much of a fuck up now as you were then. You’ve been back in town for how long? A couple of days? And you’ve already had one of my best friends showing up at my door in tears, then you drag the other back in here so drunk he’s half comatose.”

You’re like a black hole Eddie. You won’t be happy until you’ve sucked everyone else in and pulled them down with you. Robin hated him. Wayne looked at him with all too obvious disappointment in his eyes. You’re like a poison, creeping through the veins of people he loves, infecting them with the hatred you still carry for him.

“Yeah well, next time you’re with your best friend maybe you should ask her about her own part in all of this mess. If you want to think I’m an asshole then I can’t stop you Robin, but if you want to know the root cause of all this drama you should look a little closer to home.” Eddie sneers.

“Get out.” Robin whispers, the muscles in her jaw twitching from how hard her teeth grind together.

“Gladly.”

Eddie turns on his heels, hurrying down the narrow hallway. He slams the door hard behind him, loud enough that a neighbour across the hall screams out curses in response.

“Took your sweet time.” The cab driver mutters when Eddie clambers into the back seats once again.

“What the fuck do you care? You’re getting paid anyway.” Eddie bites back.

The driver tuts but thinks better of replying. They drive in stilted silence, Eddie stewing furiously, glaring out the windows at the darkened town, hating how every landmark reminds him of you.

————————————💌———————————

He was already in a bad mood. It seemed to be his natural state these days.

His first night sleeping in Wayne’s house was uneasy. Eddie usually had no problem with sleeping somewhere new, he was used to it by now - grabbing hours of rest wherever he could. Be it in cramped bus bunks, or on velvet couches in venue green rooms. Sprawling hotel beds with expensive linens, or in the rooms of strangers he’d stumbled home with for the night. These days he slept pretty much anywhere but the king size bed in his own home.

But he’d tossed and turned most of last night. The pills knocked him out cold for a while, had him entering that deep, dreamless space that was quiet and black. But the effects didn’t seem to last so long anymore.

It was the early hours when he woke, drenched in sweat, Ludo’s body like a furnace pressed to his. Eddie kicked off the sheets, mumbling an apology to the pup that huffed at being woken. He’d fallen asleep in his jeans, so he shucked them off his legs, peeling his tattered tshirt off of his chest and tossing it aside. Eddie debated reaching into the nightstand. If he swallowed a couple more pills he could be out until a decent time. But he knew he had a dwindling supply. It might be a while before he could get hold of Rick, if the guy was even still running things around here. He was just another on a long list of people that Eddie had left behind, letting them fade to a distant memory.

So he suffered through it, only falling asleep for what felt like a few short minutes at a time, his brain too noisy to shut off, even in unconsciousness.

When the sun finally began to rise, a golden glow seeping in beneath the curtains, Eddie was greeted with a cold nose pressed to his cheek. Peeking his eyes open, he found Ludo standing over him on the bed, hot breath panting in his face.

Realising he was awake, the dog jumped off and ran to the door, scratching at the wood and letting out quiet whines.

“Alright, alright.” Eddie grumbled. His head throbbed, and his mouth was as dry as cotton. He pulled his jeans back on, fumbled for the pack of smokes and lighter he’d left in his jacket pocket, and headed out to face his first full day back in Hawkins.

————————————💌———————————

Wayne was off for the day. He didn’t need to work at all, not really. Eddie’s contact might have been infrequent, but his assistant at least remembered to send a monthly cheque to his Uncle, far larger than his wages at the plant would have been if he’d worked overtime seven days a week. Despite that, Wayne still chose to work a few hours a week.

“To keep me out of trouble.” He chuckled, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs Eddie’s way.

Eddie pushed them around the plate, only a few small forkfuls making their way into his mouth. He never had much of an appetite these days.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Truth be told, Eddie was bored shitless. His time was usually filled, a jam packed schedule that his poor assistant fought thanklessly to keep him to. Interviews and appearances, signings and shows. Without them, the hours seemed to drag, time moving slow as treacle.

At least Wayne seemed to have given up on the idea of forcing Eddie to talk, even if he knew it was only a temporary truce. While his Uncle pottered around the house and the garden, Eddie wasted away on the couch, the TV just background noise as he stared at the ceiling.

That’s what he’d been doing when he heard the front door open, Ludo barking like he stood any chance of warning off an intruder. Eddie heard two sets of voices, his uncle and a woman. He’d pushed himself to his feet, expecting that he’d finally be meeting the woman who was more than just a friend to his uncle.

Instead he sees you.

You, crouching in Wayne’s hallway, one hand stroking Ludo’s ears, the other clutching at a bulging grocery bag.

It’s been years. Yet you’re still unchanged. Hair the same length and colour as before, your face as familiar as the day Eddie last saw you. Those eyes with long lashes that used to flutter at him when you’d beg him for a ride in his shitty van, or narrow at him when he was acting like a dick. They now stare at him, unblinking, your face frozen in surprise.

Deep down Eddie knew that there was a chance he’d bump into you. He knew you’d moved back to Hawkins, Steve had mentioned it on one of their infrequent phone calls, before Eddie swiftly changed the subject. But he honestly thought the chances were slim. That despite it being a small town, Hawkins was big enough that he’d be able to avoid you. It wasn’t like he had many plans to go out and socialise.

Yet here you were, walking into his uncle’s home like you owned the place.

This must have been planned. There’s no other explanation. Wayne probably called you, told you that Eddie was back with his tail between his legs, the soft hearted old fool no doubt anticipating some happy reconciliation between you both. And you’d agreed. Probably just to rub it in Eddie’s face how happy you were without him, and to see if the rumours that chased him were true. Was Eddie Munson as big of a fuck up as everyone claimed?

“What is this?” Eddie spits.

Your shocked expression twists into something else, something dark and mean. You rise to your feet, matching Eddie’s glare with one of your own.

“God dammit.” Wayne mutters under his breath, rubbing his hand across his pinched brow. He turns to face Eddie with pleading in his eyes.

“We have dinner together on Tuesdays. I forgot because of.. well, y’know, everything that’s goin’ on.”

“Right.” Eddie drawls, making it clear that he doesn’t believe it.

“It’s the truth. Listen, I don’t know what went on with you two, and I can’t say that it don’t bother me somethin’ rotten, but I didn’t set this up to upset you both if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” Wayne says firmly.

“I - I can go. If it’s gonna be a problem.” You say quietly. Hearing your voice feels like a dagger sliding between Eddie’s ribs.

“No.” Wayne replies.

“Of course you can go if you’d rather. But our Tuesdays are tradition, and I’d like you to stay.”

You pause for a moment, glancing between Eddie and Wayne.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Fantastic.” Eddie mutters. He turns on his heels and heads into the kitchen.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie begins to rifle through the various cupboards and cabinets. He’s already found a glass, and now he’s looking for something to fill it with. What he really needs is sitting upstairs in his unpacked bags, but unless he wants to raise suspicion, a drink will have to do.

Wayne raises his eyebrows when he sees Eddie pouring a heavy glug of bourbon, but he says nothing. He’s carrying the grocery bag for you now, setting it down on the counter and unpacking the contents.

“Mac n cheese?” He asks you.

“Yep.” You reply. Eddie takes another sip of his drink as he watches you linger in the doorway.

“Well come on in then darlin’. You ain’t gotta stand there.” Wayne says, clearly desperate to move past the awful tension.

You take a deep breath, as though steeling yourself for some momentous task, then cross the kitchen to stand at Wayne’s side.

“Is Liz coming?” You ask as you wash your hands in the sink.

“Nah. Visiting her momma.” Wayne replies.

“How’s she doing now?”

“A little better. Docs got her on some new meds and they seem to be workin’ alright.”

“That’s good.” You smile.

You shake the excess water off your hands, then turn as though looking for something. Your eyes land on the tea towel, looped over the oven door handle next to Eddie.

Seeming to think better of approaching him, you brush your hands on your wool skirt, the material darkening at it soaks up the moisture.

“How was work?” Wayne asks. He nudges Eddie aside with his elbow, putting a couple of pans on the stove.

“It was good. Pretty busy today.”

Eddie wonders where you’re working now. The skirt and blouse combination is pretty nondescript. He assumes it’s probably some dead end office job, boring as hell. He’s not about to ask.

He drains the last of his drink, quickly refilling the glass.

“Easy son.” Wayne murmurs, low enough that you won’t hear.

“S’fine. Quit worrying.” Eddie whispers back.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, the sudden scraping of the chair legs over the floor making you jump. Eddie leans back, the picture of calm composure, when inside he feels like he’s vibrating with anger.

You and Wayne are making idle chit chat, clearly used to one another’s company. You have no issue finding what you need in the kitchen, pulling out knives and chopping boards as if you were in your own home. This must be routine for you. Tradition, Wayne had said. Eddie has no right to be upset, but somehow it still feels like a betrayal. He just doesn’t know which of you he’s more angry with.

You’re browning bacon lardons in a pan, the fat sizzling and hissing, when the phone rings. The panic on your face is obvious and immediate.

“S’cuse me.” Wayne says.

“Better get that.”

He heads into the living room, and Eddie is left alone with you.

You’re quick to turn your back to him, nudging the bacon around with a wooden spatula, staring down at the pan as though the task requires your total concentration.

Eddie’s not about to interrupt you. He has no desire to make conversation with you.

He fishes in his pocket for his cigarettes, pulling one from the carton and tucking it between his teeth. When he sparks his lighter your head snaps in his direction.

“Wayne doesn’t smoke in the house.” You say curtly.

Eddie rolls his eyes, aiming the cloud that leaves his lips your way.

“Since when?”

“Since he moved in here. You should go out in the backyard, that’s what he usually does.”

“I’m good here.” Eddie says, catching the way your jaw clenches at his response.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, turning your attention back to the food.

Eddie strains to hear Wayne in the other room, but can’t catch anything. This phone call had better wrap up soon.

“What are you doing back here anyway?”

So that’s how it’s going to be. You’re going to just come right out and ask, sticking your nose into Eddie’s business when it’s not wanted.

“Just thought I’d pay my uncle a visit.” Eddie shrugs, tapping the ash of his cigarette into his now empty glass. The possessive nature of his words is as subtle as a brick.

“Why? You’ve never visited him before.” You press.

“Do I need a fucking reason?” Eddie snaps.

“I wanted to come back so I did.”

You turn around with your arms folded, leaving the roux you’d been working on simmering behind you.

“How long are you here for?”

“Why is that any of your goddamn business?”

“Jesus Eddie. I’m just trying to make conversation. You don’t have to be such a douchebag!”

“Don’t I? Christ, I’ve only been back in this shithole of a town for one day, and the person I wanted to see least of all turns up on my fucking doorstep. So how do you expect me to act?”

“Your doorstep? This is Wayne’s house!”

“That I fucking paid for!” Eddie hisses.

You laugh, but it’s humourless and cold. At your feet Ludo whines softly, upset by the tense voices that are increasing in volume.

“Oh right, I forgot. Eddie Munson, the big shot rockstar with more money than sense comes rolling back into town and we’re all supposed to just - what exactly? Kiss the fucking ground you walk on?”

“I don’t need you to do anything but stay the hell away from me. I thought I’d finally got rid of you, yet here you are like a thorn in my goddamn side.”

“F-finally got rid of me?”

Your voice wavers, a sure sign that Eddie’s words have hit their target. You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, but it’s too late. Eddie saw how it wobbled, that little sad pout that used to make his heart ache. Now it feels like a victory.

“What’s going on in here?” Wayne says gruffly. Eddie has no idea when he reappeared in the kitchen, or how much of the argument he heard, but it’s obvious he’s not impressed.

“Darlin’, you alright?” He asks.

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“I - I’m really sorry Wayne. I have to go. S-something’s come up. I’m sorry.” You stammer, before fleeing into the hallway. Wayne hurries to follow you, tripping up as Ludo gets beneath his feet, both of them chasing into the hall.

Eddie can’t make out the words that are being exchanged, your voices kept too low for him to hear. But he can hear the whine in your tone, the way you sniff and gulp as though fighting back tears.

Good. You should feel bad.

Who the hell did you think you were? Digging Eddie out in what was essential his own home, talking to him like he was a piece of shit. You didn’t know anything about him anymore, you knew nothing about his relationship with Wayne, and he didn’t appreciate you implying that he’d been neglecting it.

A moment later the front door closes. A stormy faced Wayne walks back into the kitchen, pulling back the chair opposite Eddie and lowering himself into it. He remains silent, looking across at Eddie expectantly.

“What?” Eddie grumbles. He shifts a little in his seat, feeling small under the Wayne’s heavy stare. It reminds him of those times he’d got himself into trouble as a kid, for skipping school or that one time he got caught shoplifting candy from the grocery store.

“I want you to tell me what happened.” Wayne says.

“She was being a bitch.” Eddie snaps with a shrug.

“Edward Munson!” Wayne barks. Eddie can’t help but flinch. It was rare for his uncle to lose his cool.

“I raised you better than to talk about a woman like that. When you’re under my roof you’ll watch your mouth.”

“Don’t you care about what she said to me?” Eddie whines. He knows it sounds pathetic, like he’s some snot nosed little kid telling tales. But why does Wayne seem to care more about your feeling than his?

“I can imagine that she didn’t have much good to say to you. And when she’s calmed down some, I’ll talk to her about it. I don’t need the stress of you two bein’ at each others throats every time you’re around each other.”

“Why would we have to be around each other? You’re not seriously gonna invite her back while I’m here?”

“Eddie.” Wayne sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Listen kid. I love you, you know that. Might not say it as often as I should, but it’s true. I think of you as my son. Findin’ you on my doorstep all those years ago was the best damn thing that ever happened to me.”

Eddie’s stomach churns. The guilt eating away at him from the inside.

“But I care about that girl. And you used to care about her too. I’ve always treated her like family, and I ain’t about to change that any time soon. She’s been through a lot over the last few years. So don’t ask me to turn my back on her.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” Eddie asks, hating himself for caring even just a little bit.

“That ain’t for me to tell you. If she wants to explain it all to you then she will.”

“I doubt it. We’re not exactly on good terms. Obviously.”

“And why is that?” Wayne asks.

Eddie scoffs.

“Come off it. Don’t act like she hasn’t filled you in, told you a bunch of lies to make herself sound like the victim.”

“She hasn’t told me a damn thing. That girl hasn’t said one bad word against you.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and Wayne grits his teeth.

“You know she tried avoidin’ me? When she first came back to Hawkins. I heard she was back, kept expectin’ her to come around like she always did when she was home. But she stayed away. After a few weeks I bumped into her on the street. Damn girl looked like she’d seen a ghost, tried to duck down an alleyway just to hide from me. And so I asked her what was goin’ on.”

Eddie leans forward in his chair, curious about the explanation you gave.

“All she told me was that the two of you had a fallin’ out. It was pretty obvious she was upset, but she wouldn’t give me any details. Just said that the two of ya weren’t talkin’ anymore, and she thought that I’d be mad at her. I told her I wasn’t, and invited her over for dinner. We started makin’ it a weekly thing. But she’d still never tell me what happened between you.”

Wayne sighs deeply, a sad, small smile on his lips.

“I figured you’d work it out at some point. I always thought that you two would.. y’know.”

“That we’d what?” Eddie asks.

Wayne shakes his head.

“Don’t matter. I just thought you’d find your ways back to each other is all. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her to stay tonight. Guess it was just me hopin’ it’d help.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think there’s any chance of things working out.” Eddie says bitterly.

“What are you so mad at her for in the first place?” Wayne asks.

“What could have happened for the both of you to still be holdin’ onto it after all this time?”

Eddie falters for a moment.

“Well.. she- I-. We had a fight. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Christ Eddie. You don’t even know what you’re mad at her for, do you?” Wayne says, disappointment written all over his face.

“Yes I do!” Eddie snaps, feeling that familiar wave of self righteous anger wash over him.

“You don’t know how hard I tried. She’d send me all these letters, guilt tripping me for being so far away from her as if I could help it. Always wanting me to call or write her more like she didn’t know how busy I was and how hard I was working! And I fell for it, I let her make me feel like I was the bad guy. So I planned something nice for her. Invited her to a show, paid for her fucking plane tickets, put her up in a fancy hotel. And she was so damn ungrateful. Brought her stupid fucking boyfriend with her and spent the whole day sulking and acting weird. So we had a fight. And then she told me she never wanted to hear from me again. So I don’t fucking care, I don’t want to sit here and listen to how good of a friend she once was to me, or hear about how hard she’s had it. It’s not my fucking problem!”

Eddie’s chest heaves, barely having paused for breath through his rant. Poor Ludo had run to hide in the living room, unused to raised voices.

Wayne continued to look disappointed, almost resigned.

“Alright.” He says finally.

“I ain’t gonna push the pair of you to do anythin’ you don’t wanna do. But, if she wants to, she’ll still be comin’ over here on Tuesdays.”

“So what do you expect me to do when she’s here?” Eddie snaps.

Wayne shrugs.

“I’m sure you’ll find some way to keep yourself busy. You’ve still got friends here, right? Maybe you can catch up with them, just so the two of you don’t cross paths.”

Eddie ponders on it for a minute.

Did he still have friends in Hawkins?

He knew the kids were all away at college, his little sheep scattered across the country. And his bandmates were still back in L.A. But there was Steve, and Robin. Sure he hadn’t kept in touch with them as much as he should have, but maybe they’d be glad he was back in town.

He still had the number for their shared apartment, tucked away in the back of his notebook that he scribbled down lyrics in.

If he was here for the long hall, he might as well not spend it in total isolation.

“Fine.” Eddie says, pushing back from the table.

“I’ll finish up dinner.” Wayne offers.

“I’m not hungry.” Eddie replies, turning his back on his uncle and slipping out to head back to his room.

It was his dream come to life, living on the road, getting on stage every night to have thousands of adoring fans screaming their lyrics back him.

His lyrics.

The words that Eddie wrote, that he’d let pour out of his very soul, and they touched people enough that they’d travel for hours just to spend a small moment in time in his presence.

The finer details of the tour are fuzzy. He was already in the habit of a line along with this morning coffee. Another in the middle of the day just to keep him level. One more bump just before going on stage.

But even with the coke casting a hazy vignette around his memories, he always remembers the way he felt. Like he was a giant, with the world in the palm of his hand. His for the taking.

So naturally, he’d wanted you there to celebrate. To share in all that he’d become, and all that he still had ahead of him.

It never occurred to Eddie that he’d been a bad friend. He never considered your relationship neglected. He was busy, and you might have been too, but not in the same way. Eddie thought you understood what his life was now. He thought you’d be happy for him.

That’s why he’d sent you the tickets. One for you, and one for a friend. You’d probably bring that girl from college - Eliza. He’d paid for the flights too, first class, only the best for his longest friend. He felt proud that he’d been able to do that now, show you the finer things in life. Things the two of you could have once only dreamed of experiencing.

It was a kind thing for him to do. He was a good person.

But you’d had to go and spoil it all.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie had been so excited to see you. To show you all the joys that his life had to offer. He’d made an effort, planned the whole day out. Made excuses for every interview and appearance, for once his schedule was clear until the show. He knew you’d never been to New York before. He wanted to show you Times Square, maybe take you to Central Park if there was time.

But most of all he wanted your attention. Rapt and undivided.

He met you in the lobby of the hotel. He’d paid for a suite there, with two rooms, for you and Eliza. He was staying there himself, sick of sleeping in a bunk and wanting to sprawl out on a king size bed with expensive sheets.

Eddie walked out of the elevator, the soles of his heavy boots thumping rhythmically on the polished marble floor.

He saw you sitting on a velvet couch. So unchanged, from your hair to your face, down to the outfit that you wore. A dress he’d seen a hundred times before, thrown over a tattered Metallica shirt that had once been his. It made his lips pull into a broad grin to see you there, still unaware of his presence. Your knee bounced, the excitement and anticipation spilling out of you.

“There’s my best girl.” Eddie called out, not caring about the annoyed look sent his way by the prissy receptionist.

Your head snaps up, eyes brightening when they land on him. You’re off your seat in an instant, half running across the tiles, converse squeaking as you approach and throw your arms around his neck. Eddie chuckles as he pulls you in for a tight embrace. He presses his face against your cheek and breathes in deeply. You smell different. It catches him off guard. A new perfume, something citrusy and sweet.

But your smile is still familiar, practically stretching from ear to ear when you pull back to look at him. Eddie wants to focus on it, but he’s distracted. There’s some guy standing beside the two of you, too close. Just lingering there.

Eddie frowns and glances his way. He’s wearing a beat up denim jacket, covered in patches, not unlike the battle vest that had been Eddie’s armour all through high school. Dirty blonde curls hang down over his shoulders, frizzy in a way that tells Eddie he doesn’t bother with conditioner. He’d once done the same, until he had a team of stylists to guide him.

The guy smiles awkwardly.

“Can I help you man?” Eddie asks, tone blunt, bordering on rude. He shouldn’t snap at fans, knows this guy probably just wants an autograph, but he’s kind of ruining a special moment.

“Uh - no. Well, I guess. I was just gonna say it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” Denim jacket replies.

Eddie briefly shoots you an apologetic look.

“Thanks. Nice to meet you too. You want me to sign something? Or do you want a photo?” He says, trying his best to be polite, when he really wants to tell the guy to piss off.

You giggle.

“Eddie. James isn’t a fan. Well, I mean, he is. But he’s not trying to get your autograph. He came here with me to meet you.” You explain brightly.

Realisation dawns on Eddie’s face as he glances between you and James. You step back from his embrace, reaching down to tuck your hand into James’.

You’d brought him with you. You were together.

Eddie couldn’t explain the sudden twisting of his insides, the hot flare of anger that rose in his chest. He’d eventually brush it off as just annoyance at having to share you attention with someone else. Another guy, who was apparently important to you.

“Oh. I see.” Eddie says through gritted teeth. He manages to extend a hand to James to shake.

“Have you guys checked in yet?” Eddie asks, glancing behind you to see if you’d left any luggage over by the couch.

“We have.” You reply.

“And the room’s okay?” Eddie asks, feeling more than a little smug. Judging by his outfit alone Eddie guesses that James wouldn’t have been able to afford something like that.

Before you can answer, your boyfriend cuts in.

“Oh yeah the suite was awesome, thanks man. Although we actually got the hotel to move us into a different room.”

“Why?” Eddie snaps.

“I thought you’d like the suite. I paid extra for you to have a city view.”

“It was beautiful Eddie, thank you!” You interject quickly.

“Yeah, we’re not trying to be ungrateful. It’s just both the rooms were twins y’know? So we got put in one with a king.” James says with a wink. It makes Eddie’s blood boil.

“They said it wouldn’t cost you any extra.” You explain.

“I don’t care about that.”

You flinch at Eddie’s tone. He instantly feels guilty.

“It’s fine,” he says, calmer now, “I’m just happy that you’re here.”

“Me too. I’ve missed you so much.” You smile.

“I’ve missed you too sweetheart.” Eddie replies. James’ face dropping at your nickname makes Eddie feel like he’s won something.

————————————💌———————————

The feeling is short lived.

The excitement that Eddie had felt at finally getting to spend a day with you wanes quickly. He’d expected you to bring someone with you of course, but he figured it would just be a friend. Someone who wouldn’t be too much of a distraction.

But James is a fucking problem.

As the three of you wander around the city, James refuses to let go of your hand. Every time you and Eddie begin to catch up, James interjects. When Eddie reminisces about your lives back in Hawkins together, you keep stopping to fill your boyfriend in, explaining the in-jokes that Eddie wishes you would keep just between the two of you.

By lunch time, Eddie’s in a foul mood.

The three of you stop by a quaint little cafe, sipping coffee and munching on sandwiches over small talk which is becoming increasingly strained. Eddie knows you’re feeling uncomfortable with the tension. You do your best to facilitate the conversation, but Eddie’s responses are becoming shorter and snappier, James’ too. He’d nabbed the seat beside you at the table before Eddie could, and now he was having to feel the heat of the glare your boyfriend keeps sending his way.

“So, what’s the plan for later rockstar?” You say.

Eddie sips his cappuccino. When he lowers his cup you laugh softly, leaning over the table to swipe the foam off his top lip with your napkin. The casual intimacy of the gesture makes Eddie’s heart soar, and James’ expression turns thunderous.

“Well, I’ve booked us a table at a nice little Italian place for dinner.” Eddie grins.

“Apparently they do the best carbonara in New York. It’s her favourite.” Eddie says to James.

“I know.” Your boyfriend says through gritted teeth.

“Then we’ll have to head to the venue. We’re not on until nine, so there’ll be time to hang out backstage, I can show you around.”

“I’m so excited!” You exclaim, practically bouncing in your seat.

“What time is the table booked for?” James asks.

“Six-thirty. Why?” Eddie retorts sharply.

The man across the table lets out an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms wide above his head.

“I’m pretty beat. Long morning of travelling and all that. So if we’ve got nothing else planned until then, I figured we might as well go back to the hotel and relax. You tired babe?”

You eyes have dropped to your empty coffee cup, your mood immediately more reserved.

“A little.” You whisper.

“Well that’s sorted then. You’re cool with that, right Eddie?”

It’s a test. If Eddie protests he’ll make himself look like an asshole.

“It’s fine.” He says bitterly, waving the waitress over to bring the bill.

————————————💌———————————

Eddie had been fuming by the time he was back in his hotel room alone.

Fucking James. What the hell did you see in that prick anyway? He was like a poor man’s version of Eddie, a cheap knock off.

Eddie was determined not to spend the rest of the day playing the third wheel to the pair of you. So he hatched a plan.

It wasn’t his brightest idea. Marissa was hot sure, Eddie had hooked up with her a few times when he’d made his way through this area. She was a little clingy for his liking, a little too intense. After the last time he swore that he wouldn’t call her again, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

But he knew that she’d answer if he did. Was he using her? Maybe a little, but he couldn’t find it in him to feel guilty.

He makes his way back into the lobby. You and James are there once again, waiting on the same couch. As Eddie approaches you spot him and begin to stand, waving awkwardly his way.

“Eddieeeee!”

You jump at the screech.

Marissa is hurriedly making her way to him, wobbling in her stilettos. The tiny dress she wears rides up more with every step, barely covering her ass by the time she’s close enough to throw herself against Eddie’s chest. Before he can even greet her she’s pressing her glossy lips to his. Her mouth tastes of sharp vodka already, which would explain why she’s not embarrassed to shove her tongue down Eddie’s throat in front of a room full of people. He doesn’t care, happy to lean into it and grab her waist tight.

“That was quite the greeting.” Eddie purrs, turning on that Munson charm that worked like a treat on every girl he set his sights on.

“Well I’ve missed you.” Marissa grins.

“I’ve missed you too.” Eddie lies, licking his lips to remove the remnants of cherry gloss.

He can see you over Marissa’s shoulder. One hand still clasped in James’, the other clenched in a fist at your side. The disappointed look on your face makes Eddie feel smug. He shouldn’t feel good about upsetting you, but it was nice to know his plan was working. If you wanted to rub your new boyfriend in his face, then he could play that game too.

Eddie guides Marissa over to where you’re waiting, keeping a hand on her lower back to steady her as she takes tipsy, uneven steps. The introduction is awkward, your replies stilted and forced, not that Eddie’s date seems to notice. She’s too busy trying to chew on his neck.

————————————💌———————————

After a painfully tense cab ride, you arrive at the restaurant.

It’s another opportunity for Eddie to show James up. The place is flashy and expensive, and Eddie makes a big show of telling you that he’s covering the bill, insisting you order whatever you want when you gawk at the prices on the menu.

The waiter brings over the champagne that he orders, Marissa gulping glass after glass like it’s water. You sips yours slowly, eyes locked on the girl sat opposite you. They glint meanly, and Eddie knows you’re judging her. It wasn’t your usual style, your typically sunny demeanour replaced with something stormy and bitter. You’re jealous.

And boy does it make Eddie feel good.

Marissa refuses to behave during the meal, just as Eddie had expected. She’s sloppy drunk by the time the empty appetiser plates are cleared, the waiter popping the cork on the second bottle. Her hand has been squeezing Eddie’s thigh beneath the table, pink manicured nails digging into his flesh, rising higher and higher until she’s brushing over the tent that’s beginning to form in Eddie’s slacks.

“Excuse me. I’m gonna go use the little boys room.” Eddie grins, rising from the table.

Neither you or James respond.

Eddie’s been in the bathroom for all of a minute, wiping the reside from beneath his nose when he hears a knock at the door. Just as he’d expected, he finds Marissa leaning in the doorway when he opens it, and she’s quick to push inside. He kicks the door shut behind her. His date might be wasted, but Eddie knows she’s game. He hasn’t even finished undoing his belt, and she’s already bent over the sink, her tiny dress rucked up around her waist, panties dropped around her ankles.

When Eddie finally returns to the table he’s delighted to see that you and James are bickering. You look furious, eyes wild and teeth bared, and your boyfriend appears to be seconds from combusting. Your hissed whispers cease when you spy Eddie and his date heading back to the table. You won’t meet his eye, but James does, staring him down while his knuckles turn white around the cutlery he grips.

The rest of the dinner passes in near silence. Eddie pays for the bill, and you offer a quick thanks, already halfway out the door as though you can’t leave the place quick enough.

At the venue things don’t improve much.

Eddie knows you were annoyed by the little show he’d put on, but he figured you’d be over it by now.

But your mood is downright frosty, only thawing when you see the rest of the band waiting in the green room. You hug them all tight, talking animatedly with them and smiling genuinely. It only serves to highlight how much Eddie feels he’s been missing out on, you haven’t been like that around him all day. His jealousy is reaching a fever pitch.

Marissa is passed out on the couch, all of Eddie’s bandmates fawning over you and your stupid boyfriend. He’s left on the outside, too busy stewing in his anger to join in the conversation.

So he distracts himself in the only way he knows how.

Swigging Maker’s neat from the bottle, disappearing into the bathroom to cut up line after line. By the time Corroded Coffin are due on stage Eddie’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest, his head swimming in a haze of his own making.

The show is a blur. God knows if he played well or not. He can’t remember and he doesn’t care.

He wishes he could remember what came after. But there’s a black hole filling the space where his memories should be. He stumbled off the stage, and then there’s nothing.

All he knows is that he wakes up alone the following morning, with a splitting headache and a busted lip. When he finally drags himself out of bed and down to the bus, he’s greeted with tension from his bandmates and the crew. He doesn’t see you, doesn’t even bother to ask the front desk if you checked out.

It arrived a couple of weeks later, when he was finally home.

The last letter you would ever send him.

You can’t bear being in the store any later, and certainly never on a weekend. Too many bodies crowding the aisles, rambunctious children throwing tantrums over candy their parents refuse to buy, or elderly customers taking their sweet time browsing the in the dairy section like the decision between whole milk and half and half was really all that difficult. It always set your nerves on edge, teeth grinding impatiently as you pushed your cart slowly behind some shuffling shopper.

But this morning the aisles are near empty. Not a soul to get in your way as you drop a packet of dried macaroni into the basket dangling from your arm. You run through the list in your head.

Pasta - check.

Cheese and bacon - done.

You swing by the bread aisle on your way to the checkout, stopping to peruse the selection of pastries at the end, still warm from the oven. A croissant makes its way into your basket, with a pain au chocolat for Robin too. The rich smell of buttery pastry and bitter dark chocolate makes your mouth water as you hurry to approach the cashier.

There’s only one checkout open. The one you usually avoid. It seems that Joyce isn’t working today, a sullen faced teenager scanning the items of the only other customer in the store at a sedate pace. You huff out an impatient sigh and do your best to keep your gaze straight ahead of you.

You’re not going to look.

You won’t look.

“One of these is broken.” The teenager says in a bored voice, pointing to the carton of eggs he’d been about to scan.

“Oh! Do you mind if I go grab some more?” The woman ahead of you asks.

The kid just shrugs.

“Excuse me, sorry, I won’t be a minute.” The woman says as she turns to face you. With the most polite smile you can muster you nod and step out of her way. For god sake, you’re going to be late.

Stepping aside for her to pass, your body turns just enough for the rack of magazines to flash in the corner of your eyes. Your stomach drops with the realisation that you've seen the very thing you’d been trying so hard to ignore.

His curls are the same as they always were. Wild and uncontrollable. It’s his face that seems to have changed so much. Gaunt and unnaturally pale. The bright flash of paparazzi lenses casts him in a harsh glow, a smattering of white highlighted under his nose.

One ringed hand is raised, an attempt to block the cameras view of his scowling face. The other hand clings to the waist of the pretty little thing walking beside him, her pupils blown and lips stretched into an almost manic smile. She’s an actress, you think, although you can’t recall any movie of hers that you’ve seen. You’d overheard some customers gossiping about her last week. Apparently she was going off the rails.

The headline screams at you in large white letters from underneath the photo.

Eddie Munson hits an all time low! Bandmates sick of out of control behaviour!

“Excuse me.”

The voice behind you makes you jump. Mumbling an apology you move out of the way of the woman, new carton of eggs in hand. As she finally finishes packing her bags and it’s your turn to empty your basket onto the counter, you do your best to focus on anything other than what you just saw.

The boy scanning your items is called Matt, at least according to his name tag.

“How’s your morning going?” You ask as brightly as you can manage.

Matt grunts in reply and shrugs his shoulders.

So much for pleasant small talk to distract you. You stand in silence, waiting for Matt to tell you your total. You shove the bills into his waiting hand and haul your tote bag up onto your shoulder.

“Do you want your receipt?” He asks in a monotonous tone.

But you’re already halfway to your door, cursing under your breath that even all these years later, Eddie Munson still has the power to ruin your day.

————————————💌———————————

By the time you get to the shop Robin has already arrived. You lock the door behind you, inhaling deeply, letting the familiar scent calm your nerves. The bitterness of freshly ground espresso beans, the comforting smell of smooth new pages mixed with those yellowed with age.

The newer items sold the best, kept the doors open and paid the rent, but you still had a soft spot for the second hand section towards the back of the store. Those worn covers and cracked spines, like scars on skin, but not a sign of mistreatment of pain, just a reminder of those who held them before, lovingly thumbing their way through the pages.

A delivery of preloved books always held more excitement for you. You loved spotting messages written on the inside covers, loved finding them dated from before you were born. So much history held in those pages, and they still had life yet, ready to be selected and adored by someone new.

You hear clattering from the kitchen out the back. By now Robin will be arranging the days offerings onto trays for the display case. Delicately piped biscuits, muffins bursting with ripe blueberries and cherries. There were pastries too of course, golden brown and shining from the egg wash. You still made your daily trip to Melvald’s. Robin insisted sweet treats tasted better if you hadn’t had to slave away over them yourself, although you were inclined to disagree. She was an excellent baker.

“Well hey there beautiful. You come here often?”

Robin leans in the doorway, flour dusted apron knotted around her waist. You scoff but smile, squeezing past her to dump your stuff in the tiny space that serves as both stock and break room.

You retrieve the paper bags from your tote, and Robin grins, making grabby hands at you until you hand over her breakfast.

“How’re you doing?” She asks through a mouthful of pastry.

“Fine.” You reply, pulling your croissant apart and popping a small piece in your mouth.

“Just fine?” Robin raises her brows at you questioningly.

“He was on the cover of Us Weekly again.”

Robin snorts derisively.

“What’s he done now?”

“God knows. I didn’t bother to read it.” You say with a shrug.

You’d learned the hard way not to flick through those glossy pages.

You stopped collecting any magazine that made mention of Corroded Coffin immediately after you and Eddie cut contact. But you still kept the habit of flicking through them in the store, some pathetic need on your part to know how he was doing. But it wasn’t good for you, to see just how fine Eddie was without you in his life.

It only got worse when it seemed that maybe he wasn’t so fine after all.

Every week there were new stories, brawls in bars and rumours of infighting within the band. Suggestions that he had a problem with “illicit substances.” You made yourself sick worrying about someone who was no longer your problem to worry about.

Steve and Robin had to stage an intervention of sorts. Since then you’d gone cold turkey, had avoided any mention of Eddie Munson for a little over a year.

“Well that’s good.” Robin says proudly. She pats your shoulder affectionately.

“Come on. I need to do the displays.”

“Yeah, just a sec. I’ve got to put some stuff in the fridge.” You reply, pulling the cheese and bacon from your bag.

“You going to Wayne’s tonight?” Robin says, nodding at your groceries.

“Well it is a Tuesday.” You shrug.

While his nephew may now just be a ghost in your past, Wayne Munson had remained a constant in your life. You loved him like he was your own family, and since your return to Hawkins, Tuesday nights had been reserved for him. You cooked dinner in his kitchen for the two of you, with enough leftover to keep him going for a few more days. It wasn’t like he needed you to do it, he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, and he had Liz now. But those weekday evenings held a special place in your heart. You loved curling up on the couch in his living room after dinner, sipping cheap wine while he nursed a whiskey, Ludo’s head resting on your lap. You’d laugh, and reminisce, and it felt so safe.

Even if the photos on his mantelpiece made you wince.

You hear a bang on the shop floor, followed by Robin spewing curses.

“Did you just hit your head again?” You call.

“Yes! Because someone isn’t out here to help me!” Robin shouts back. You stifle a giggle and close the fridge, already forgetting all about Us Weekly.

————————————💌———————————

The day had felt long, but pleasant.

A steady stream of customers kept you busy, having you searching your shelves for specific titles, while Robin kept her head down in the café, making endless lattes and espressos.

You lock the door with a small smile on your face. The money in the register was good today. There’d been a few months after you and Robin had taken over the store that it looked like the people of Hawkins might not adapt to the change in ownership. But your hard work was paying off, and things were looking positive. The sour start to your day seemed like an eternity ago, and you drive to Wayne’s place with the windows down and the radio up. Even the rain had stopped, a week of constant downpours giving way to sunshine.

Ludo greets you like always, barking his head off as you approach the front door. It’s unlocked, which thankfully saves you the job of digging around in your purse for the key. You have a hard enough time as it is wrestling your door open, trying to keep hold of your bags while nudging one very eager golden retriever back gently with your foot.

“Hey baby, just gimme a second.” You say, shushing his whines as you kick off your shoes. You’re so distracted you don’t notice the unfamiliar boots by the door.

You drop your bags to the floor, sinking down on your knees to let Ludo cover your face in kisses. You’re busy scratching behind his ears when a shocked looking Wayne appears at the end of the hall.

“Shit. I forgot you were comin’ kid.” He says.

“Hello to you too!” You laugh.

“It’s Tuesday. Don’t tell me you’re losing your marbles already old man?”

Wayne shakes his head, still not cracking a smile.

“No, it’s not that. I uh.. I’ve been a bit distracted. I meant to call you and explain.”

Your hand in Ludo’s fur freezes. He grumbles, nudging his cold nose into your palm insistently.

“Explain what?” You ask, feeling your stomach drop. You can’t remember the last time you saw Wayne look so serious. Something was wrong.

“Who was at the door?” A voice calls from the kitchen.

A voice you know all too well.

A voice you never thought you’d hear again.

Wayne grimaces, and the situation becomes all too clear.

Another figure appears beside him in the doorway. Long legs clad in ripped black denim, thin, bare arms that cross over his chest. Dark eyes glowering, a scowl on his lips.

Eddie Munson in the flesh.