Work Text:
And if death is the last appointment
Then we're all just sitting in the waiting room
I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom
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Eddie laid there. Cold, alone, and frightened. Life was a bitch? Sure. But surely his death would’ve been swift?
Life’s still gonna kick me in the nuts right until the end, huh?
Distantly, he can still hear the surroundings of the Upside Down, of Dustin screaming for help, of vines squelching disgustingly around him, the sound of Nancy taking control, and someone else purely sobbing.
Who would even care that much to sound so distressed? Eddie thinks callously to himself. Even during his last moments, eyes, and limbs too heavy to fight anymore, he’s still as cruel to himself as ever. He’s just nothing. Just trailer trash. A freak.
He’d worn every insult, slur, and misgrievance on his sleeve since a small age. It was pure survival. Sure, he found himself through alternatives in this contemporary shithole – but nothing compared to the alternative of being just a small wounded child in his father’s eyes.
Oh god. Wayne.
He would never know.
His mind is truly supplying all the images to make sure his death would not be in peace. After getting absolutely shredded by bats, his mind would make the long walk with him – terrorising him the whole way.
How did Harrington make this look so easy?
Its just that. Harrington. Even in death, Steve is still permeating his brain. His stupid (beautiful) hair, his insufferable (incredible) jock personality, his dumb (earth shatteringly beautiful) smile still fills Eddie with some semblance of comfort.
He wishes that one last time he could just see Steve. But now, everything is darkness. Not black, just an abundance of absolutely nothing. It should be calming, he thinks. It is the first time Eddie has truly been able to experience what should be absolute bliss from his busy brain, but death has other plans.
“Don’t you dare fucking die on me, Munson” he distantly hears. "I refuse for you to die. Not on my watch" the voice contiues.
Too late.
The sounds of the Upside Down are slowly fizzling out, leaving a strange buzzing in its wake. Screaming and crying is replaced with distant shuffling, clothes ripping, and a tight pressure he can practically hear. His senses are slowing down and drifting away, and this should be it, right?
His mind is slipping further and further from his body – his soul leaving with it. ’86 is my year, he smugly thinks to himself.
At least he didn’t run.
Eddie Munson was good at running. From Chrissy. From Patrick. Hell, even if he was there for Fred, he could guarantee that he would’ve run. The only reason he didn’t run this time? He has no idea. Could not bet money on it. He has no fucking clue.
Something was keeping him here for this week from Hell, though.
His life has been filled with running. Running from the cops during drug deals. Running from his dad with the clippers (not his best work, he’ll admit). And running from life itself. Failing senior year three times now his mind supplies.
He’s only run towards two things in his life. Wayne, and those godforsaken mutant bats that make him jealous of their design. Could this work in a campaign? His mind supplies before usefully reminding him he’s on the brink of death.
“Help me get him up here” the voice rings again.
There’s no point. Leave me here.
Eddie knows that these are his last few minutes. He knows that they need to focus on getting the fuck out of this hellspawn wasteland of Vecna’s. on the bright side of dying, he’ll never has to see this shithole again.
The limitless nothing surrounding him is growing and expanding, taking over all of his senses until there’s nothing but a barren nothingness for Eddie to explore with his subconscious.
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The scent of cigarette smoke, cheap booze, and overflowing rubbish fills his sinuses up instantly.
A television set playing static in the background, slowly getting louder, and grating on his brain.
He can feel the itchy, matted, and sticky carpet underneath him.
It’s a house that hasn’t been home in a long time.
Beyond the static that’s scratching his brain he can hear distant shouting and glass breaking.
Before all the puzzle pieces come together, he knows he’s with his parents. He can almost imagine it. His mother laying limply in the bathroom corner, against the wall, simply trying to get her fix. His father shouting at her to be a good woman and get on with dinner. The fear that he associates with each and every one of these experiences grows tenfold in realising that he’s here.
He never made it to Wayne’s.
His plan must have failed.
Wait. Huh?
Before he can even question it, he can feel the welts of his father’s belt across his whole body, the burning sting lights his entire being on fire.
It feels wrong to be both terrified and comforted by these happenings.
And that wrongness is in good faith. He can hear the stomp of work boots coming towards him. The smell of cheap whiskey getting stronger. Before he knows it, he’s yanked up by his hair, and his eyes are finally open.
His father is pulling him into the bathroom besides his mother. She’s looking as frail as he remembers.
He remembers?
How can I remember?
The confusion on his face is clearly caught by his father.
“Look what you did Martha. Look at this fucking queer. You made him, and you did it wrong. Edward you good for nothing son of a bitch” his father all but screams. His harsh words bring Eddie back into his senses.
Before he knows it, his father is shoving him into the small sink and pulling him to look in the mirror. He’s eight. Just a small, malnourished, and pale boy looks back at him with unbridled fear that’s unparalleled to anything he’s ever experienced before.
“I’m not having no queer fucking kid going around with my name” his father bellows at his mother, “Edward fucking Munson, a dirty, disgusting queer”. She looks distant and gone. Her face is slowly falling – clearly whatever she’s taken has kicked in.
His father’s movements are fast and chaotic, unplanned and dangerous in a way Eddie knows to run from. But Eddie’s reaction is clearly anticipated as, before he can even wriggle his way out from between the counter and his perpetrator, his father’s deadly grip catches his shoulder and stops him.
“It’s about time we deal with this stupid fucking faggot, right Edward?” his father mocks with the usual look of anger, and alcohol intake, on his eyes. He grabs Eddie’s chin, forcing him to look up at the mirror, in time to see those infamous clippers come out the drawer again. His hair had only just gotten back to a good length since his father last tried to play barber with his curls.
The sound of the violent buzz of the clippers is the only thing he can hear anymore. The static of the television in the other room is now desolate and miles away.
Instead of watching and mourning the loss of his chin length curls, Eddie’s focuses on the olive-green bathroom suite of his parents’ trailer. The taps are dripping, a sound that has in the past lulled Eddie to sleep on the nights spent with his mother as she rode the high of whatever drug was in her system at the time. Now though? Its all but muted by the clippers.
He cannot even bare to look at his own reflection. Watching his dad mutilate the one part of Eddie allowed for himself. The one decision he’s made in this intoxicating and insufferable trailer.
As his father finishes up the jagged, aggressive, and uneven cut on Eddie’s head, he can feel the image begin to fade away.
That cannot be right?
He looks distantly to his mother, seeing her slip further away from her conscious, and suddenly he knows. He knows this day, and how it ends. The memories of flashing lights; of his father being questioned by police; of the neighbours of the trailer park peering curiously out through their curtained windows (a luxury they could never afford); he knows this day better than any other.
----------------------------------------
He doesn’t know how he got here. Just that he is. He’s sitting in his rundown van, outside Hawkins High.
“Look son, I know it’s shit, but you’ve still gotta go in. No point delaying the inevitable” a gruff voice grumbles out beside him. The voice itself sounds aggressive, but the gentle sombre that also follows means one thing.
He almost chokes on a sob. Its Wayne.
Wayne, whose been more of a dad than his actual father for the last nearly ten years. And he’s let him down.
“Boy, I can see you thinkin’ from here. Its not your fault, education is stupid, but I’m not lettin’ you make the same mistakes as I did.”
His comforting grumble reminds him why they are there today. A mandatory meeting with the school’s guidance counsellor. For almost a few seconds, Eddie has allowed himself to forget his situation. He already knew that he had failed his senior year, but Wayne’s comforting presence allowed him to forget for just a few moments that he was going to be stuck in this shithole again.
The thought crosses his mind that he could just drop out. But he would never do that to Wayne. He knows that their current situation is difficult financially – with Wayne taking on night shifts at the plant to make ends meet. And Eddie is going to get his diploma, and a job, and finally be able to help his uncle Wayne out, in a more legal way.
But the idea of stepping out the van makes his soul die a little further.
“C’mon Eds, lets get this over with, an’ then we can go out for burgers before my night shift” Wayne states, matter of factly.
“No Wayne, its okay. I can’t let you do that. We’ll just go home afterwards” Eddie replies, he previously train of thought linking nicely in to this conversation.
“Boy, we might not be as well of as those Carver's, or Harrington's, Hell, not even as good as most families in this town, but you’re my boy and sometimes we deserve a treat – even if you don’t think so” Wayne responds, with a shrug, as if this truly meant nothing to him, no skin off his back.
Maybe you’d be better off without me Eddie thinks cruelly. He knows that his uncle would never allow for him to think of himself like that. He had made that clear from day one, or night one more accurately.
Before he realises it, Wayne had clapped his hand over Eddie’s shoulder, and coaxed him out of the van. The small trek into the school felt cruel and unkind. A reminder that he would be stalking these halls for another godforsaken year. Every hallway is a desolate memory of the last four years, and his brain knows that he’s going to have to go through all this shit again.
Hawkins High was a desolate shithole – full of pretentious jocks, airhead cheerleaders, and obnoxious rich kids who think with daddy’s bank account (as if that could excuse the lack of brain). Every hallway is the same, uncanny and bland – certainly not a place for enrichment and fulfilment as advertised.
They slowly make their way towards the guidance counsellor’s office. Once outside the door, Eddie takes a deep breath, trying (at least) to calm himself for the inevitable.
“You must be Mr. Munson, its nice to meet you” she states, a pleasant smile on her face, despite the fact that its four o’clock on a Friday, and she’d rather be home by now; at least Eddie does. “I’m Ms. Kelley, Hawkins High’s school counsellor”.
“Uh, yes, that’s me” Wayne says after a beat, before remembering, “its nice to meet you too”.
After a moment of awkward silence, Ms. Kelley steps aside and allows for the men to enter her office. The small space is warmly lit, with two well worn chairs set out for them. Ms. Kelley’s perfect expression doesn’t even falter at the presence of them, simply keeping her contented and professional smile plastered on her face.
“Let’s get right down to it then” she states, smile unfaltering, sending a chill down Eddie’s spine. Wayne huffs out, clearly feeling the same way as Eddie about this.
She’s a guidance counsellor but she clearly cannot read the energy of the room Eddie thinks. He knows that this is a unkind thought, designed and orchestrated by his own emotions at his current situation.
Distantly, he can hear the overhead light buzzing distinctly. The fact that seems to be a potentially recurring theme crosses Eddie’s mind, before he even realises that he has no idea what that actually means.
"So, Edward’s situation is obviously worrying” Ms. Kelley starts, before she’s interrupted.
“Eddie” Wayne huffs, with an unimpressed expression crossing his face. A confused look takes over Ms. Kelley’s perfected neutral expression.
“Uh, yes, Eddie, sorry.” She responds, before schooling her face back to her pleasant smile from before. “As I said before, Eddie’s situation is very worrying. With this being his retake year, to see him fail again at his senior year has worried many of his teachers”.
Eddie grimaces, eyes falling to look at the ground rather than attempt to make eye contact, whilst Wayne’s expression still stays unimpressed.
“One teacher, Miss Click, said that Edw-Eddie’s attendance and performance in class should warrant him not being allowed to continue to get his diploma. Whilst frankly, if I make speak off the record, that’s rather harsh, she does unfortunately make a point” Ms. Kelley continues, he expression not changing. Her cheery room with warm lighting that’s clearly meant to be comforting is anything but.
Wayne scowls, and takes a moment before responding. “Look, I don’t know what this Miss Click’s problem is, but my Eddie says she’s been riding his ass for the last year, so excuse if I take anything she says with a handful a’ salt”.
Its this moment right here that Eddie takes a second to be entirely thankful for Wayne’s presence in his life. Taking a split second to pray to every god he can think of, he turns his attention up from the disgustingly worn carpet to see Ms. Kelley’s reaction.
She’s right though Eddie’s mind supplies. Maybe if he had gotten his shit together he could’ve tried to at least scrap his way in to passing.
Ms. Kelley’s expression surprisingly doesn’t change, but clearly takes a moment to consider Wayne’s response.
“That may be the case, but Eddie is expected to be just like the other students, and unfortunately that does mean actively paying attention during lessons – even if he doesn’t like any certain teachers. It’s just unfortunately monotony of high school. If he wants out, he can legally leave at any time, but if he wants his diploma Mr. Munson, he will have to work for it like every other student”. She finishes, schooling her face back to one of professionalism.Eddie wants the floor to open up and take him alive. Anything is better than being talked about like he’s not there.
“However, I would say that it is in his best interest to stay. He does good in this school, even if he doesn’t recognise that himself” she continues with a smile. This brings Eddie’s attention back.
What good has he done? He’s not a jock, Wayne’s not on the PTA, he can’t even financially help the school like half of the Loch Nora parents do.
“His Hellfire Club has managed to protect and entertain some of our more vulnerable students, giving them the confidence they need to get through high school. Its simple safety in numbers. Eddie gives them a chance to be themselves and meet like-minded individuals, and that is something we can only dream of in a school environment” Ms. Kelley states, like it’s a fact.
Its just Dungeons and Dragons, not witchcraft, sadly Eddie thinks.
Eddie chooses this moment to let his eyes drift over to Wayne, whose sitting next to him with a soft smile on his face. He’s proud?
“Look, at the end of the day, its Eddie’s decision, but just know that I would be disappointed to see him go” Ms. Kelley says, voice softening finally, it dropping from her professional stature.
“I want to stay. I want my diploma” Eddie finds himself saying. He doesn’t even quite realise its him, but he needs this. He’ll be dragged away kicking and screaming before this is taken away from him.
“Attaboy” Wayne states simply, looking over at him with a proud look taking over his face. The look is reminiscent of that night he came to him, finally ready to escape.
Somewhere above him, the buzzing of the light overhead grows more aggressive, and then he’s gone.
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His feet are sore. He realised far too late that he’s not wearing shoes. But the idea of going back to get some makes him sick to his stomach.
He’s trudging through the eery forest, praying he’s going in the right direction. He’s never had to come from this direction before, and it’s night time, and he’s scared. But he must keep going forward because he’ll be damned if he’s going back.
The woods creak and groan as he desperately makes his way through.
It’s just a little bit further.
He’s doing the right thing.
This will be over soon.
Please God, let this be over soon.
The wind whips around him so strongly he regrets not bringing a coat. He mentally adds that missing item to his list: shoes, coat, literally everything else. The November breeze is bitingly cold, and the woods are terrifying. There’s a faint cacophony of sounds that can only be described as generic forest sounds.
But its only a little bit further.
Up ahead, he can see lights appearing through the clearing, and the tension rolls off his shoulders. He’s not lost and he’s almost made it.
All he must do now is explain it all. And that almost makes him stop and question everything. Will he be home? Will he be happy to have Eddie over unannounced? Would he send him back to his parents’ father.
Eddie’s clearly not thought this through, but as he emerges from the forest, there he stands, in the adjacent trailer park – one which homes one Uncle Wayne.
Uncle Wayne, who always seems to be happy to see Eddie. Uncle Wayne, who helps Eddie no matter what. Uncle Wayne, who comes over and helps out when Eddie’s phone him scared, at just four years old, barely able to reach the corded phone on the wall, and asking for help because mommy won’t wake up and he doesn’t know where daddy is gone.
But now, Eddie doubts all previous history, and focuses on the fact that Wayne might send him back. He can’t. What’s Eddie going to do if that happens?
He can quietly hear Frank Sinatra buzzing through Wayne’s old record player – so he knows that he’s home. That’s one question answered, but it was no way near the scariest one.
It feels a waste to turn around and leave, but another rejection might be the nail in Eddie’s metaphorical coffin. If this night could get worse, that would certainly be the reason why.
After what feels like an eternity in his internal struggle, he finally caves and walks in the direction of Wayne’s trailer. The rusting blue of the trailer was harder to identify at night, but the faint lights and music from inside was a dead giveaway. He could faintly see Wayne moving around inside, almost frantically, as his shadow would suggest, but it was definitely him.
As frightened as he was about everything, Eddie knew he couldn’t stay outside all night, especially since Wayne would have to go to work in the morning. Slowly but surely, Eddie made his way up to the door of the trailer – regardless of his fear, he knew that it’s what he had to do. However, his internal contemplation was cut short by the front door suddenly opening, and a frantic looking Wayne looking down in shock at the small child littered with cuts and bruises and sporting the worst buzz cut he’s ever seen in his life.
“Son, what on God’s green earth are you doin’ here boy?” Wayne said, gently, as he took in Eddie’s appearance. The look of shock and worry was quickly overtaking his face, given Eddie’s state at the late hour.
Before Eddie could even think of a response, Wayne had already ushered him into the small trailer, and perched him down on the couch. Eddie knew he should be responding to his uncle’s question, but after everything that had already happened, he was beyond too numb to even think – let alone speak. Wayne seemed to realise this, as soon he was reapproaching Eddie, blanket in hand, wrapping him up. Without even realising, Eddie was vehemently shaking like a leaf, and Wayne, without question, took to caring for him. A feeling that little Eddie was completely unaware of.
“Oh boy, what did he do this time Eds?” Wayne asks, his voice gentle, in a calming way, that no parent or guardian had ever used on Eddie before. For the second time in this whole ordeal, Eddie found his body reacting without his mind being kept in the loop, as he began sobbing – subconsciously leaning in to Wayne’s space. To his surprise, Wayne encouraged this and pulled him in further.
The Frank Sinatra record was long forgotten, with the record now left to spin aimlessly, omitting a faint buzzing scratch in the corner of the room. After everything with his father this afternoon, Wayne’s presence was a comfort to Eddie. Sure, Wayne had always been a comfort on the bleak afternoons and weekends where he’d find himself at the trailer whilst his parents were either on a bender, recovering from a bender, or preparing for one.
“You’re safe now son. Don’t you ever forget that Eddie” Wayne whispers to him, before continuing, “You don’t gotta do anythin’ you don’t wanna. Stay here as long as you need.”
“Thank you uncle Wayne” Eddie sniffled into Wayne’s side, with the elder rubbing small, soothing circles into his back – lulling him in to a dreamless sleep.
When morning came, Eddie found himself in Wayne’s bed in the trailer, arousing to the scent of cooked breakfast – something Eddie had never experienced in his short life. Dragging himself out of bed, he found himself still in the previous day’s clothes, all starchy, sweaty, and covered in dirt and blood. Slowly but surely, Eddie padded himself out of the bedroom and into the main living area of the trailer when he spots it.
The pull-out camping bed in the middle of the room.
“Mornin’ kid. Did the bacon wake ya up?” Wayne muses, standing in the small kitchenette of the trailer. He’s dressed exactly as normal – jeans and a plaid shirt – a fact that Eddie finds comfort in. This revelation causes Eddie to approach Wayne and plaster him in a hug. He prays that it can say all that he’s thinking – without having to say the words.
It clearly does, as instantaneously, Wayne reciprocates the heartfelt gesture before patting Eddie on the head. After a few moments, Eddie’s death grip on Wayne lessens, and he moves to step away.
“Here, take this kid – make yourself comfy” Wayne continues – handing him a glass of orange juice, gesturing with it to the small dinner table with a second (mismatching) chair shoved in it’s general direction. Eddie does as he’s told, but it doesn’t fill him with the expected dread and fear that his father’s barked orders do. Eddie finds himself able to relax for what feels like the first time in years.
Soon, Wayne begins to plate up the meagre breakfast, notably giving the bigger portion to Eddie. As he approaches the small table tucked in to wall, he places the plate in front of Eddie with a small smile – one that is matched by Eddie instantaneously. He doesn’t realise it, but this is the first smile he’s given anyone in a long time.
The pair eat breakfast in silence – out of choice. This is the most comfort Eddie has had in so long; the first time he’d been able to forget what life for him was supposed to be like – that he doesn’t want to go back.
Soon enough, the silence is broken, but only with Eddie giving a small thanks for the meal whilst Wayne takes their plates to the sink. Eddie’s experiencing a lot of firsts today. First comforting presence, first relaxation, first time eating a meal and not feeling starving afterwards, first night’s sleep without screaming matches in god knows how long.
But bliss couldn’t last that long.
Wayne moves back to the table with a grim look on his face. “Listen kid, there’s a few things we’ve gotta talk about. I don’t wanna sprout them all on you but I think it’s important you know what’s going on right now”. Eddie feels that familiar panic rise in his chest and before he knows it, Wayne has an arm wrapped around him, moving him to the small couch in the middle of the trailer.
“First of all, do you want to know the good news or the bad news?” Wayne asks, a calming presence on his face, both not encouraging, but also not disconcerting. “I personally go for bad news first, always but-”
“Bad news first then,” Eddie says with a meek smile, “always.”
Wayne watches Eddie with intent. This small child is so endearingly kind, and life had to be a bitch to him. He is a child, he never asked for this.
“Alright then kid,” Wayne starts, turning himself fully to Eddie to give him his undivided attention, “there’s no easy way of sayin’ this kid. I’m assumin’ you ran straight here from your daddy’s, and I don’t blame you, but you need to know that life has changed pretty big for you.” Wayne starts, realising that he can’t quite believe he has to do this, but knowing he doesn’t trust anyone else to. “It seems that your mommy took something she oughta not have, and wound herself in a bad way. Whilst your daddy was givin’ you a world class haircut,” this garners a small laugh from Eddie, “your mommy got rather sick, the kinda sick you don’t come back from. And as soon as your daddy realised, I guess he took it out on you, right?” Eddie nods, barely understanding, and yet knowing exactly what Wayne’s saying to him. “And I guess the neighbours musta’ heard somethin’ and called the police. But they were too late. I’m sorry son, but your mommy’s not goin’ to be around no more” the tears begin in Eddie’s eyes at news he already had pieced together, but having it confirmed fills him with complicated emotions he can’t process right now.
“Obviously, your daddy is an asshole, and took it out on you, and so the cops took him away” Wayne continues, filling Eddie with panic, his chest tightening and rising rapidly. Wayne realises his error instantly, pulling Eddie into a side hug. “You’re safe now kiddo, I’m not letting you go anywhere you don’t wanna. If you wanna stay here, you’re more than welcome to. This will always be a home for you” Wayne states matter-of-factly, as if he’s telling you the sky is blue, the grass is green (or yellow on their side of town), or that two and two is four. “Is that somethin’ you want Eds?” Wayne asks calmly, looking the distressed boy dead-on.
“Please, Wayne.” Eddie chokes out quietly. Even if he knows that this isn’t viable at all. Wayne didn’t sign up to have a kid, a kid who will depend on him, in a one bed trailer no less.
“Good. I was prayin’ you’d say yes” Wayne chuckles. “Don’t you worry about anything – you’re safe now, I’ll sort out everything” Wayne says with a look of confidence that eases Eddie’s worry. “All you need worry about is that godawful trim, let’s tidy that up so that it’ll grow out nice again for ya?” He says with a gentle smile. Wayne may not fully understand Eddie’s personal style, or some of his interests, but he’ll be damned if he can’t give this boy what he wants, what he needs.
With this, Wayne leads Eddie to the little bathroom in the trailer, before digging out an old set of hair clippers out the drawer under the sink and getting to work sorting out his shithead brother’s handiwork. Before Eddie even realises it, his hair is even, and the experience is much calmer than anticipated. Wayne’s hands are gentle, taking him time, and making sure that Eddie doesn’t get hurt – an emotional whiplash compared to his father’s heavy handed and careless approach.
Wayne leaves the tiny bathroom briefly, before returning with a towel and some old clothes for Eddie.
“Go ahead and shower kid, take as long as you need. And when you’re done, we’ll head up to the Goodwill and get you some of your own clothes that aren’t this old man’s style.” Eddie laughs but finds himself utterly grateful and lucky for Wayne’s presence in his life. Before he can vocalise this, Wayne continues, “If you want, I can head up to your daddy’s and get some of your belongings to make your room more you?”
Eddie just notes and utters a quiet thank you to Wayne, before he closes the door and turns the shower on. Its an old machine, that whirs and makes a grating sound before the water works it’s way through the piping and into the shower. The buzzing from the machine feels eerily habitual, and Eddie stands under the spray contemplating the familiarity.
Did this shower always buzz?
He’s been using it for years, and he’s never once noticed it.
Wait.
And before he knows it, the withstanding nothingness is returning and its over.
------------------------------------
“What the fuck, Munson?” a voice immediately greets him. There’s no sweet, serene entrance, just immediately thrust into this consciousness. His senses are still lagging, but he still knows the script.
“Look man, half an ounce - its twenty. It’s always been twenty. So, either pay the twenty, or leave empty handed.” Eddie finds himself surprised by the response, but not because he’s being questioned, just that he knew what to say without even thinking, without feeling.
Before he knows it, his surroundings come to him. He’s under the bleachers of Hawkins High. It’s his second senior year.
He’s not failed.
Yet.
Way to be optimistic, Munson.
He looks over to the boy across from him, he’s standing over him – trying to look dominating, but failing miserably. He’s on the shorter side, but his temper is certainly bigger than him. He’s like an angry little chihuahua. Its undoubtedly one Tommy fucking Hagan.
“Whatever, man” Hagan hisses, before throwing the money in Eddie’s direction. Eddie wouldn’t normally make a show of checking over the dollar bills, but just for the entertainment of Hagan, he’ll make an exception. “it’s legit, man. Stop being a fucking freak and hand it over, Munson.”
Eddie reluctantly hands it over, praying that it’ll be the end of the interaction. It’s almost the end of the day, and soon he will be free from this shithole that extended him another year so willingly.
Hagan snatches the small ounce bag of weed right out of Eddie’s hand, before flipping him off and scurrying away like the little rat he is.
How people enjoy hanging out with him I will never know.
As soon as he came, Hagan left, and Eddie is alone, under the bleachers – and twenty dollars better off than he was ten minutes ago. He can hear a faint buzzing from the overhead speakers on the football pitch. That feeling is eerily familiar again – a familiar tug on his chest that he should be somewhere else.
What the fuck does that mean?
Eddie makes a mental note to think of what on earth he’s taken recently – moving to take stock of his metal black tin. Everything’s in there, except for the half ounce he just sold – so why does he feel so detached right now?
He figures it’s the stress. Miss Click’s been riding his ass again in History – especially after her claims that his paper on Metallica isn’t relevant to the significant events in American history of the last decade.
She’s wrong, he decides. He’s being creative, everyone else is just a sheep.
No matter how much he wants his diploma – especially since he was supposed to graduate last year, he won’t give up himself and conform. He shudders at the thought of being just another Hawkins High wannabe, a jock. It sends a chill deep down his spine that only one thing can fix. He manically digs through the tin to find the one cure to this train of though. As soon as his hand settles on the joint, he begins to furiously pat himself down in search of a lighter – but to no avail.
He's about to give up when one appears just in front of him, making him feel like he’s jumped about twelve feet in the air out of fright.
“Jesus H. Christ” he yelps at the figure in front of him, without realising who it even is.
“Just figured you might need a hand. What’s the point of a joint without a light?” The figure chuckles above him. It’s Harrington. Stupid fucking Harrington. With his stupid fucking gorgeous hair.
Reluctantly, he leans forward and lights the joint on the free flame, before leaning back and taking an unnecessarily deep hit – hoping that Harrington doesn’t notice the slight tremor to his hands.
“Mind if I join?” Harrington jokes, before plopping his entire being on the ground next to Eddie, not even waiting for an answer.
“Its your castle, King Steve, we’re all simply just your jesters” Eddie snips out, feeling stressed further by Steve’s presence, but oddly calmed by it at the same time.
“It’s just Steve now, don’t think I’ve been a king for a long time” Steve laughs, but Eddie can tell there’s more to this than Steve lets on. He thinks back to that fight between him and Jonathan Byers back in ’83. When people learnt that King Steve had ass handed to him by Byers of all people that was his first fall from grace. And then, getting dumped by Nancy at Tina’s Halloween party in ‘84? Yikes. Maybe it’s not been Steve’s year either.
“Alrighty then, Just Steve, care for a hit?” Eddie asks, amusingly as he holds out the joint, figuring if King Steve Steve wants to be here with him Eddie will just have to put on a show.
Apparently, this was the right way to go as Steve just smiles and takes the joint. Eddie tries desperately not to just oogle at him as his lips wrap around the joint.
The joint that was just in his mouth.
Before he knows it, Steve is handing it back over to him. “So, what are you doing down here?” Steve asks, as he lets out a plough of smoke.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy” Eddie says, before his brain even realises it. He braces for the inevitable punch, but it never arrives. Instead, he chances looking over at Steve to see a light blush creeping its way across Steve’s beautiful face.
“Tell you what, I’ll tell you my reason if you tell me yours”, Steve responds, and Eddie wishes his brain was clearer so he could determine if the Steve Harrington is flirting with him? Eddie simply giggles at Steve’s childish response before nodding for him to start. “Well my dad is a grade A asshole, and found out that I didn’t get in to any colleges, like, any. And, I don’t know man, I just needed a breather away from everything.” Steve says, and for a moment, Eddie doesn’t see King Steve or Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, but just another teenage kid with shitty parents. He knows its probably inappropriate to assume that Steve’s parents are shitty, but the way he talks about them, he can just tell. Maybe he has a sixth sense for shitty parents?
“Man that sucks” Eddie says, before he realises, “your dad sounds like an asshole. Not everyone is meant for college. Hell imagine me at college?” Eddie jokes, and Steve just smiles with a brief exhale of air that could be considered a laugh, possibly.
“Yeah, I guess so man. But like, God, sometimes it’s just so weird to see everyone else doing it, that I feel wrong or stupid or… I don’t know, like there’s something wrong with me” Steve mumbles back, probably saying it more to himself rather than Eddie.
“Sorry man, I’m just dumping my troubles on you, that’s not fair. I should just go.” He goes to stand before Eddie grabs at his jacket sleeve. Steve pauses momentarily, looking down at Eddie for an answer.
“No. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to” Eddie responds, “plus, I didn’t get to tell you my reason. It’d be pretty rude to not see that deal through. I may be a super senior freak, but I’m not an asshole… most of the time.”
This elicits a true laugh from Steve. He slowly goes back down, sitting closer to Eddie this time. “Go on then, Munson. Let’s hear it.”
“Well, if you must know” he starts, he’ll be damned if he can’t make Steve feel just a little bit better, “I was out here making money from everyone’s favourite little dickhead.”
“Jason Carver?” Steve asks, bewildered.
Eddie lets out a guttural laugh. He imagines the little WASP-y boy, a devout Christian, spouting bible verses and praising Jesus for his successes in his faith. “God no, but could you imagine?”
Steve laughs in response too, clearly also seeing the humour in the Junior’s antics. “Let me guess,” he starts, putting a finger to his chin in a mock pose of thinking, “…Billy Hargrove?”
“Hate to break it to you Stevie, but wrong again” Eddie bemuses, watching that blush reappear on Steve’s face at the nickname. God, he would never get tired of that.
Steve sits there for a moment in defeat, face puzzled as he clearly runs through everyone he can think of. Eddie can see the moment Steve figures it out, before he laughs and can barely get out his answer. “Not Tommy fucking Hagan?”
“Bingo Steve-o. Right on the money” Eddie smiles, finding himself pleasantly enjoying the conversation with Just Steve. “He such a little whiny baby about the whole ordeal that I always upcharge him” Eddie lets out before he realises his mistake, and instantly panicking. “Uh, not that, uh, I’d, um, he’s, er-”
“Don’t worry about it, me and him are no longer friends. Thank God.” Steve responds clearly seeing Eddie’s panic at the situation. Upon hearing Steve’s response, he clearly relaxes – all traces of panic gone from his face. “Plus, he really is a fucking pussy about it. Gets one tiny hit in and he’s going on about how utterly high he is, and how he can’t wait to try Special K when he gets his next payment from his pocket money.” Steve laughs, recalling the stupidity of his former friend. Eddie’s slightly surprised by Steve’s reaction to this, but considering this entire reaction, he feels he should’ve known that Steve and Hagan were no longer friends, or even associates.
Before he even realises it, he and Steve are giggling away, delightfully buzzed under the bleachers – completely unaware that the final bell has rung and they’ve been able to go home for the last twenty minutes.
Maybe it’s the fuzzy feeling all over, but the faint buzzing from the overhead speakers grows – as does his phantom pain that he can’t identify. And suddenly, Steve is gone – as well as his surroundings.
He’s back in the void.
Alone.
----------------------------------
He’d started off in that boathouse. Hiding under the tarp. And then with a broken bottle to Steve’s neck. It’s the first time he’s interacted with Steve properly other than the bleachers. Steve had graduated. Eddie had not.
Then it was the boat, with Jason hot on his trail. And with Patrick.
Then Skull Rock.
Then that godforsaken boat, with Steve Harrington shirtless after chucking his sweater at Eddie.
In just a few short days, everything he ever knew was changed by a couple of fucking freshman, a very chatty senior, and the man he’s definitely harbouring a major crush on.
But now is not the time for that.
Time moves so quickly it almost makes him feel sick. Events and trauma are coming at him so quickly he can barely process it.
And then there’s those fucking bats. And he’s screaming, trying to get them away; trying to preserve himself.
For what?
If he survives, he’ll just go to die in prison.
He might even see his dad again.
Oh God, he hopes he dies.
“Don’t you dare fucking die on me, Munson” he hears again. Why does anyone care?
He slips further into the nothingness that lulls him in. A void filled with peace, quiet, and no pain. Before he even realises it, he’s there.
And then he’s waiting. Just laying there waiting for it to happen.
“You are not supposed to be here.” Eddie hears. It’s quiet but determined. What the fuck?
He looks around, almost as if he is expecting someone here – but there’s no one.
“Hello?” he shouts, trying not to sound panicked, but clearly failing. Why can’t he just die in peace?
“You are Eddie Munson, yes?” The voice asks again, slowly building confidence.
“Yeah, and who the fuck are you?” He responds, maybe a bit cruelly, but goddamnit, he just wants this over. His mind has taken him all over the place in the last few days – from watching Chrissy snap into a million pieces on his damn living room ceiling, to fighting a tornado of demon, hellspawn bats.
Why can’t he just be gone?
Before he can get an answer, a small girl appears before him. She reminds him of himself at the age of eight – buzzed hair, afraid, but determined.
“My name is Eleven, but my friends call me El. And you are Eddie Munson. I have heard a lot about you.” She says, as if this is normal. And Eddie still has no fucking clue who she is. Is he supposed to know her? He scrambles his brain desperately trying to find any trace of her in his memory – but comes up short.
“I have been trying to keep you safe in your memories to save time” she starts. What? That was her?
“That was you?” he finds himself asking, without really thinking.
“Yes. I have been busy defeating One. But I am here to help you. You cannot go now; you are not done.” She says again. Who the fuck is One? Is that Vecna? God, they needed to really clarify what name they were sticking with.
“One? What about Vecna?” Eddie asks. He knows it’s a stupid question, but he’s dying so he doesn’t care.
“They are the same. I call him One, but you know him as Vecna. But you do not need to worry about him. I have ended his mind, whilst the others ended his body.” She states, her confidence growing with every word. With her mind? Eddie finds himself fixating on.
“As I said, you are not done” she says, a small smile forming on her face. Do the little twerps know her? How does she know him? Eddie finds himself asking. “You make Mike very happy, and he says that you are good. And friends don’t lie.”
Mike? She knew that little shit?
“Plus, Steve would also be very sad. I can feel it from here.” She states, matter-of-factly.
“Where is here, exactly?” Eddie asks.
Finally asking the important questions, Munson.
Wait.
Steve would be sad?
Was Steve the one crying over him? Why would he cry over him?
“You are currently in the void. I was keeping you here until I could get you back.” She responds, with almost none of it making sense to Eddie.
“What? Like a waiting room for death?” Eddie laughs, almost exasperated at this circumstance.
“That would be one example,” she says, a soft smile falling over her face as she watches Eddie process this information. “But now it is time for you to go back, we cannot stay here much longer. We shall see each other soon.” She finishes, approaching him and reaching her hand up to hold his cheek. Eddie stands stock still, he doesn’t know how to react, or even what to say.
And he’s too late because she’s gone.
As well as everything else.
----------------------------------
It’s the steady sound of beeping the he firsts hears. Its repetitive motion slowly becoming louder. From there, his other senses fill in. He can feel someone holding his hand, the smell of cleanliness filling his airways.
His eyelids are disgustingly heavy, but he’s here.
El did it.
He’s slowly coming back to his body, but it’s a tenuous exercise that feels exhausting and like its taking forever. But as he does so, his senses are developing. He can smell the hand sanitiser, feel the bandages, feel the cuffs on his wrists, and the sound of Steve Harrington reading to him.
The sound of Steve Harrington reading to him.
““Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”” Steve reads gently, softly, and pausing at all the right moments that makes his heart almost expand. Without even being able to open his eyes, he knows its Steve holding his hand.
“God, Munson, if you could see this now, see me reading The fucking Hobbit to you because Dustin said you’d like it,” Steve pauses, “I can’t even imagine how you’d react.”
“It feels like a religious experience” Eddie croaks out, eyes still closed, but suddenly finding his voice – even if it does sound absolutely fucked.
He hears what sounds like a book dropping before feeling the edge of his bed dip lightly. “That’s how you’re coming back to us?” Steve laughs wetly, “You fucking drama queen.”
Eddie feels like he’s fighting his entire body just to pry his eyes open, but when he does, the light is so violent he immediately snaps them shut.
Before he even realises it, Steve’s weight on the bed shifts and he can feel the light soften through his eyelids. He decides to risk opening his eyes again – just to see if he was right. Naturally, he is, and there in front of his is a very dishevelled Steve Harrington. He wearing sweats, and he’s somehow procured that damn yellow sweater, but the cherry on top is him wearing his vest.
“Hello big boy” Eddie croaks again, before Steve is carefully lifting up a glass of water for Eddie to sip from. It feels disgustingly domestic, and Eddie physically cannot get enough.
With the glass half empty, Eddie makes grabby hands towards Steve – temporarily confusing the younger man. However, he clocks on fast and goes to grab Eddie’s hand again.
“Hopper’ll be here soon to get those cuffs off” Steve starts with. And he’s right about the cuffs. Eddie thinks, before realising the elephant in the room. Hopper? “Yeah, I know, I had the same look on my face when I found out too don’t worry.” Steve laughs, squeezing Eddie’s hand in reassurance. “Whilst I’m at it, Nance managed to get you off the hook – apparently Carver going crazy on Chrissy and then getting the others was more believable somehow. I don’t really care, as long as you’re safe” Steve says, immediately blushing when he realises what he’s said.
“I would feel bad, but Carver’s an asshole, so I guess I don’t feel bad” Eddie says with a giggle. “How long have I been here?” He tentatively asks, afraid of the answer.
“Just over a week. Don’t worry, Wayne knows everything. And within about two hours of you being here, Dustin made a schedule for us to be able to keep you company” Steve smiles, knowing that he would never let Eddie wake up alone. “Wayne’s at work right now, feds put him up in a nice hotel whilst they finalise your new house. Don’t worry, Robin, Dustin and I managed to sneak in before your trailer was carted off for testing and managed to steal back pretty much all your possessions so you won’t have to start from scratch on that awful mug collection.”
Eddie breaks out in a huge smile. God damn Steve Harrington committing a little breaking and entering for little ol’ Eddie Munson.
“I’m corrupting you. First committing crimes, then reading The Hobbit. I’ll have you playing D&D with us in no time, sweetheart” Eddie says, and for once he doesn’t care about flirting with Steve Harrington openly.
Plus, Steve would also be very sad rattles around in his mind. Steve cared? Cared so much for Eddie. And what did Eddie do? Convince Steve to get back with Nancy Wheeler – who turns out to be a total badass – just to make sure his own feelings don’t come to the surface.
“Maybe so Munson” Steve smiles, squeezing his hand again, “but I’m okay with that.”
Before he even realises it, Steve is leaning in slowly – towards Eddie’s face. Just stopping a few inches from in front of his face.
“Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?” Steve asks, looking deeply in Eddie’s eyes, trying desperately to gauge his reaction.
“If you don’t kiss me right now, I’ll throw myself to the bats again” Eddie jokes.
Steve rolls his eyes, but moves in slowly, stopping just before Eddie’s lips. Even if it hurts like a bitch, Eddie lifts his hands as best as he can, albeit partially cuffed, and grabs Steve’s face – pulling him in the last little bit and kissing him.
Eddie knows he’s gross right now. Hair is definitely greasy, teeth unbrushed for more than a week, lips almost certainly chapped, and covered in bandages, but my god it’s the best kiss of his life.
And in this moment, he knows everything will be okay.
Because Steve Harrington is kissing him.
And the world didn’t end too, I guess.