#x codependent reader

The trailer park in Hawkins is a far cry from the neon haze of Los Angeles. At six years old, you don’t know much about the world, but you know this place feels like it’s holding its breath. The air smells like dust and gasoline, and the trailer you and your dad moved into creaks like it’s complaining about you being here. He’s gone most of the time—either at the plant or passed out in some bar across town. When he’s home, you tiptoe. You’ve learned to be quiet, to shrink yourself down so you’re not “annoying.” Annoying means yelling. Annoying means his hand slamming against the table. So you stay small, stay silent, stay out of the way.

The first few days in Hawkins, you don’t leave the trailer. You sit by the window, peeking through the crooked blinds, watching the world outside like it’s a movie you’re not allowed to star in. The trailer park is a patchwork of rusted metal and faded dreams, but there’s one trailer, just across the way, that’s different. It’s got a scrappy charm—wind chimes made of bottlecaps, a patchy lawn with a single daisy poking through. And there’s a boy. Lanky, all elbows and knees, with a buzz cut that makes his head look too big for his body. He’s always out there, kicking rocks or strumming an imaginary guitar, head banging to music only he can hear.

You don’t know his name yet, but you’ve seen him watching your trailer. His eyes linger on your door like he’s waiting for something to happen. You don’t know why, but it makes your stomach twist—not in a bad way, just… different.

Eddie’s POV

There’s a new kid in the trailer park. I've been watching her place for days now, ever since I saw the beat-up truck pull in and a guy with a mean scowl unload boxes. She’s gotta be my age, maybe a little younger, but she hasn’t come out yet. It’s weird. Most kids would be running around by now, poking their noses into everything. But her door stays shut, like she’s hiding from something.

Uncle Wayne says to give it time. “Not everyone’s as loud as you, kid,” he teases, ruffling my hair. But I’m itching to know who she is. The trailer park’s boring as hell—same old faces, same old fights. A new kid? That’s like finding a rare vinyl in a thrift store bin. I’m not gonna let this chance slip by.

It’s day four when I finally see her. She’s sitting cross-legged on the cracked pavement outside her trailer, drawing with chalk. Her hair’s a mess, falling in her face, and she’s got this pastel pink shirt that looks too clean for this place. She’s sketching flowers—big, loopy ones with petals that don’t quite match. I grin. Time to make my move.

“Hey!” I call, jogging over, my sneakers kicking up dust. She jumps, her chalk skittering across the pavement. Her eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights, and for a second, I think she’s gonna bolt back inside. “Whoa, easy. I’m not, like, a beast or anything. I’m Eddie. Live over there.” I jerk my thumb toward my trailer.

She blinks, clutching her chalk like it’s a lifeline. “I’m… Y/N,” she mumbles, barely loud enough to hear. Her voice is soft, like she’s afraid it’ll break something.

“Cool name,” I say, plopping down next to her. She flinches a little, but doesn’t run. Progress. “Whatcha drawing? Flowers, huh? Kinda boring.” I grab a piece of chalk—bright red—and start scribbling a bat with jagged wings and beady eyes. “Check this out. Way cooler, right?”

She stares at my bat, then at her flowers. “I like flowers,” she says quietly, but there’s a tiny spark in her eyes, like she’s daring me to argue.

“Fair enough,” I grin. “But you gotta admit, bats have style. They’re, like, the rebels of the sky.” I add lightning bolts around my bat for effect. She watches, her lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile.

We draw for a while—her with her soft, pastel swirls, me with my demons and lightning. It’s weird how we don’t match at all, but it works. She’s quiet, but not in a stuck-up way. More like she’s waiting for the world to prove it’s safe.

Reader’s POV

Eddie’s loud. Not mean-loud like your dad, but bright-loud, like he’s bursting with energy and can’t keep it all in. At first, you’re scared he’s gonna laugh at you or push you around like the kids back in LA did. But he doesn’t. He just sits there, drawing his weird bats and talking about music and monsters like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s… nice. You didn’t know nice could feel like this.

Days turn into weeks, and Eddie becomes your shadow—or maybe you’re his. You start spending more time at his trailer than yours. His uncle, Wayne, is gruff but kind, with calloused hands and a smile that makes you feel like you’re not invisible. He makes sure there’s always food—spaghetti, sandwiches, sometimes just cereal—but it’s more than you get at home. Your dad’s either gone or drunk, and you’ve learned not to bother him. Wayne doesn’t mind you hanging around. He even sets an extra plate sometimes, like it’s no big deal. You think he’s collecting strays—you and Eddie both.

Eddie and you do everything together. You build forts out of old blankets, pretend you’re knights fighting dragons, or listen to his scratched-up records. He loves this band called Black Sabbath, and even though the music’s loud and scary, you like how it makes him light up. He says you’ll get it one day. You’re not so sure, but you nod anyway.

Eddie’s POV

Y/N’s different. She’s quiet, yeah, but there’s this strength in her, like she’s holding up the world and nobody notices. I notice, though. Her dad’s a piece of work—never around, and when he is, I can hear him yelling from across the park. Makes my blood boil. My dad’s no prize either, always in and out of trouble, leaving me with Wayne. Maybe that’s why me and Y/N click. We get it. Shitty dads, shitty luck. But we’ve got each other now.

School’s a drag, but it’s better with her around. The other kids are jerks—preppy little shits who think they’re better than us because we’re from the trailer park. They call us trailer trash, snicker when we walk by. Y/N just ducks her head and pretends she doesn’t hear, but I see how it stings her. I wanna punch their smug faces, but I hold back. For now.

Reader’s POV

School’s hard. The kids here aren’t like Eddie. They’re loud, mean, always pointing out your frayed sneakers or the way your clothes don’t quite fit. You try to ignore them, but it’s like they can smell you don’t belong. Eddie doesn’t care what they think. He struts around like he owns the place, even when they laugh at his buzz cut or his ripped jeans. You wish you could be that brave.

One day at recess, you’re on the swings, finally feeling free for a second, when Tommy H., this preppy kid with a perfect haircut, shoves you off. You hit the ground hard, sand stinging your palms. A rock slices your knee, and blood trickles down your leg. You’re dazed, trying not to cry, when you hear Eddie’s voice, sharp and furious.

“Leave her alone, you asshole!”

You look up, and Eddie’s on top of Tommy, his small fists flying. Tommy’s bigger, but Eddie’s relentless, all wild energy and rage. The other kids are shouting, some cheering, some screaming for a teacher. You’re frozen, heart pounding, watching Eddie fight for you. Your cheeks burn, not from the fall, but from this new feeling swelling in your chest. Nobody’s ever had your back like this. Nobody’s ever cared enough.

The teacher finally pulls them apart, dragging you all to the principal’s office. Eddie’s got a split lip, but he’s grinning like he just won a war. You’re still shaking, blood drying on your knee, but when Eddie grabs your hand, you feel steadier. You sit side by side in the office, his fingers tangled with yours, sticky with dust and a little blood. He doesn’t let go, not even when Wayne shows up, looking tired but not mad.

Eddie’s POV

I’ve never been so pissed. That jerk Tommy had it coming, pushing Y/N like she was nothing. Seeing her in the sand, blood on her knee, something in me snapped. I didn’t think—I just swung. Felt good, too, until the teacher yanked me off him. Worth it, though. Y/N’s okay, and that’s what matters.

In the principal’s office, she’s clinging to my hand like I’m her lifeline. Her eyes are big, scared, but there’s something else in them—trust. It makes my chest feel weird, like it’s too full. Wayne shows up, his work boots still dusty from the plant. The school couldn’t get ahold of her dad, which doesn’t surprise me. Wayne just looks at us, me with my busted lip, her with her bloody knee, and sighs.

“Proud of you, kid,” he says quietly, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You did right by her.”

Y/N’s still holding my hand, and I squeeze it back. The principal’s droning on about consequences, but I don’t care. The whole town can hate us, call us trash, whatever. I’ve got Y/N, and she’s got me. That’s enough.

From that day on, we’re inseparable. Hawkins can throw whatever it wants at us—bullies, shitty parents, all of it. Doesn’t matter. We’re a team now, and I’ll always have her back. My Y/N.