Eddie grinned when Chrissy accepted the dragon, it wasn't a lie, his intention had been to win himself the blue one, but when the claw swung on its decent and grabbed the green one he had instantly thought Chrissy would like it. His grin didn't last long though, purely due to how it pulled at the still healing wound on his face, he had suffered some hopefully temporary nerve damage in his cheek but the smile was still in his eyes. He nodded before moving to sit beside her, leaving a gap between them and set his bag between his feet.

            He tries to push himself at first; heads backstage with his bandmates and attempts to revel in the success of the performance. This crowd had been their biggest one yet, and to hear it chanting their own bridge back at them during the interlude had been euphoric in a way that words can’t properly express. Still, as his brothers settle into the motions of drinking and chattering animatedly, Henry realises that he feels drained. Tired. Everything is bright and teeming with static. He just wants to lay in the dark and do nothing.

            ❛ Have a beer, ❜ Eddie says, offering him a cold can fresh from their cooler.

            ❛ Okay, ❜ Henry replies with a nod, though makes no move to pop the tab as he watches the young men he considers his family all fall into the motions. What’s wrong with him? Shouldn’t he be happy? The show was a blazing hit, yet all he wants to do is lie down. ❛ I’m— going to find the bathroom, ❜ he says, somewhat clumsy as he feels around for the door. Eddie gives him a look, brow slightly furrowed, though Henry makes himself scarce before he can question it.

            The numbers on his wrist itch.

            In the end, he winds up in the neighbouring VIP lounge. He doesn’t bother turning the lights on— instead soaks up the dark, his back pressed to the door as he draws in a deep breath through his nose and lets it out, staggered, through his mouth. Already, he feels a little better without the buzz lingering around him, surroundings minimal as he drags himself to the couch and all but collapses onto it.

            His head is noisy— noisier than it ought to be after he just performed like he did. He should be spent, should be content to drink and then sleep straight through the night, and yet he knows it won’t happen. It’s all too loud, too in his face, and he just needs it all to go away.

            Eyes screw tightly shut, fingers scratching above the bandage lining his right forearm. What was it Papercut so eloquently stated? ‘The face inside is right beneath your skin.’? That monstrous guilt… the guilt he should have expelled during the show, it mounts like a clot and screams. Scratch, scratch, scratch—

Particularly the living room, the place where he found Steve charred to a crisp.

When he eventually flops down on the living room couch, it's with an exhausted sigh and a hand immediately raising to nurse his aching forehead. He massages it gently, insistent little circles offered to his right temple, his eyes closed and longing for the sleep he's missed out on.

❛ Peter's asleep, ❜ he says belatedly, letting his hand fall and his head lean back against the couch cushions, ❛ ...I had to put him to sleep. He asked for his mother again; burst into uncontrollable hysterics moments later. ❜

                                        Winter Starters Pt. 2.

@scarednotscary​ asked: “Careful, if you fall we might not find you until spring.”

                 WALKING    ALONG    SIDE    CHRISSY    WAS    ODD    ENOUGH,    BUT    HE    WAS    used    to    being    odd.    Everyone    reminded    him    of    it    anyway.    Still,    though,    that    didn’t    stop    him    from    doing    what    he    liked,    liking    what    he    liked,    and    being    as    playful    as    ever.    The    last    bit    held    true    as    he    hopped    onto    an    edge.    It    may    be    a    little    slippery,    but    he    managed    to    keep    his    balance.    He    walked,    white    shoes    blending    in    with    the    snow.    Doe    eyes    glanced    at    the    female    here    and    there,    watching    her,    making    sure    he    kept    up    with    her.

                IT    WASN’T    UNTIL    HE    HEARD    HER    WORDS    THAT    HE    SLOWED    his    pace.    Eddied    scrunched    his    nose.    His    slow    pace    came    to    a    stop,    body    facing    her,    hands    stuffed    in    his    jacket    pockets.    He    shrugged    his    shoulders,    “    You    really    think    so?    I    think    everyone    would    be    alright    with    that.    ”    he    bent    at    the    waist    a    little.    A    poor    joke    probably,    but    he    once    again    shrugged.

He had hoped that his news would have been much nicer, but he wasn’t one to be gentle with words, especially to the ones that had the unfortunate encounter with the monster known as Vecna. He grips his arm tightly with his other hand at the memory of their fight that felt like years ago.

Aurelius would be on the list as well given the witch had managed to get away and survived by will alone. “Fair point, if it were a dream I’d have given news that he died and we’re all safe.”

Her flat voice made his heart hurt some. “One more fight awaits.” His voice sounded defeated mixed with anger. His inner monster swirled under his skin, itching to fight. “I hope the next time there is news, it will be much kinder.”

His fight with Vecna had been gruesome given he guessed the guy didn’t expect the younger to have magic and a vicious demon inside that was ready to tear apart anything and anyone to protect it’s host. While Aurelius was okay with the curse taking him before, the Obscurus within was not as willing. “One more fight. And Hawkins can go back to how it was... we may never, but Hawkins will..” I hope, he didn’t add for her sake. “For now.. 

               HE   DIDN’T   MEAN   TO   LEAVE   HER   LIKE   HE   DID.   FATE   had   other   plans.   He   and   Shelly   were   torn   from   this   world   before   their   time.   A   tragedy.   Eric   had   left   two   people   behind.   Sarah   and   Chrissy.   A   daughter   of   sorts,   and   his   beloved   little   sister.   Not   by   blood,   but   she   was   about   his   sister   as   one   could   be.   The   way   he   left   her   in   this   world   alone…   it   made   the   need   to   cast   this   vengeance   even   stronger.   They   took   him   away   from   her.   His   hands   clenched   tightly,   nails   digging   into   his   flesh,   feeling   blood   drip   from   his   wounds.   It   was   fine.   He   would   heal   in   a   matter   of   seconds.

@scarednotscary

Wayne had only been up an hour or so, long enough to shower and get dressed but not to do much else besides reading the evening paper. It was that time of day where it was far too early to worry about heading into work, but still not late enough in the evening to think about getting dinner together for when Eddie got home.

He was just thinking about switching on the TV for a bit when he heard a knock at the door, and his brow furrowed in uncertainty as he stood and went over to see who it might be.