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Eddie Munson remembers what it was like growing up. He never had much money.
Really, he never had any money at all.
It was honestly a bit ironic. His name, his birth name , was Edwin. ( A very dumb name, he knew already and he did not need yet another person to laugh about it and call it stupid. Kindly, shut up. ) And Edwin, of course, had to mean “ Rich Friend” . It was as if the universe was just having a constant laugh at him about it.
He didn’t have money growing up. His parents didn’t want him so he grew up in his uncle Wayne’s little trailer. Not that he was ungrateful, he’d spent some of the best years of his life in that little trailer. But it was small, and his uncle was getting old by the time he was a tot’. They didn’t have the means to take care of themselves properly.
When he was in high school he began to deal drugs, but he didn’t make nearly enough to sustain them.
After he graduated, after the many extra years he spent in high school, he left. He didn’t want to be any more of a burden to his uncle and he decided he would rather chase his dreams. He lived in his van and sent letters to his uncle when he could. With all of the many little trinkets he’d saved up over the years and the guitar that Wayne had saved to buy him for his 17th birthday. He would work small jobs at bars and stores and really anywhere that would employ him. He lived from paycheck to paycheck until he finally found a record label.
Or rather, they found him .
He remembered the exact show. It was in a small dive. It was dingy and smelt of alcohol and vomit. He had gone about two weeks without a gig, he was running out of money completely, but they paid him all right. And he got free french-fry baskets and unlimited refills ( he quickly found out that unlimited only goes so far. Remember kids, read fine print. And maybe don’t eat seventeen bins of the supposed free fries. It’ll cause a stomach ache. )
He was wearing dyed black jeans that looked like they were supposed to be ripped but really they were just “ well-loved” as some people say. He had his hair; loose and wild, in desperate need of a wash to hydrate his dying curls. His battle jacket was pulled on and just under, was his old hell-fire shirt.
He didn’t know what got into him that day but there was something about that show. Maybe he missed home. Or his Uncle. Or the friends he made, (Gareth, Chrissy, those stupid freshmen that stuck to him like a goddamn plague.) But as he played; it was like he spiralled into a fit of rage. There was this passion that blended into whatever it was he had been playing. And by some miracle, a rather kind talent agent was out having a drink. That was how his dreams came true.
After that, he got his music signed. Records flew from store shelves and he became a soaring success. A year in- he was touring and meeting fans. ( Actual fans! He had people who adored his music! People who adored him! He couldn’t believe it; people loved him! )
Two years in- he was on magazine covers and doing interviews. ( For some deluded reason, people wanted to know more about him. As if, he was this amazing, cool figure that kids could look up to. One that children would look up at and point to, to say “I want to be just like him when I grow up!” And maybe, slowly, he did become that person. But, he didn’t see that. )
In his third year after being signed by the company, he had much more money than he could think to use. He never had much money growing up. You would think that there were hundreds of things that he needed, that he could finally get. But, he just didn’t see the point.
Of course, he spent it buying things for himself. But not all that much.
He made a point to buy clothing second-hand or from smaller shops. It didn’t cause even a dent in the wealth he was accumulating. He bought himself a house, a humble bungalow in a small area. He spent, at least, a hundred dollars on eyeliner each year. He made a point to get groceries from a local marketplace. But none of that really cost that much in the long run.
By the fifth year, he didn’t know what to do with any of it anymore.
He gave to friends, making sure they could live comfortably and then some. He made sure Wayne would have a nice place to grow old in, with just about anything he could possibly need. And despite his insistence that he could do it himself, Eddie made a point to buy his groceries for him each and every weekend.
He found himself donating to various organizations and after that, he still had more money and not much else to give to.
That was when he founded his own organization. One that funded underprivileged families and helped kids in bad situations find safe environments.
The Munson Foundation .
As it turned out, it felt really fucking good to help people.
He found a new passion as he worked his ass off to run it, pushing it to the forefront of his attention. Of course, his music was still important. It was his original dream, the one that sent him off on this whole adventure. The one that got him where he was. But it wasn’t his only one anymore.
He continued to produce album after album, writing each song like he was running out of time. He still appeared on magazine covers and still did meet n’ greets and interviews. He still made time for that love of his. But he found himself in love with helping people. He found all these families and children so much less fortunate than he was as a kid.
He had so many memories of being younger, many of those were good but then there were the bad memories. The flashes of himself as a kid, wondering if they had enough to pay the bills that month. As a teenager wondering if there was anything he could do to pitch in. As a young adult, selling drugs as an art form so that he could let his uncle rest.
He could never afford the same nice toys as other kids, never get new clothes as the seasons turned, and never know if there would be fresh food on the table.
Those days felt like the end of the world to him. But here, he found kids and their parents, their siblings, and their guardians, who all seemed so much worse off than he was. He remembered the suffocating feeling, the growing pains, the bleeding heart of it all.
He remembered wondering if it was all worth the burden he put on his uncle.
He never wanted anyone to feel like that. Not a kid, not a teenager, not an adult, no one should have to feel that way.
He was about twenty-nine when a man came in. He was a few years younger than Eddie, maybe two or three and he had what Eddie could only think was his kid by his side. He was about four, with scruffy hair that needed a good wash and shoes that ripped and frayed at their core.
That was when Steve Harrington walked into his life.
He was somewhat arrogant but he’d come to ask for help.
He was obviously new to parenting, without a clue how to go about it. And he was alone in it, the kid’s mother had left after he was born.
He was also new to the idea of not having money, as it seemed. He was closed off at first but as days turned to weeks, turned to months, they found themselves more comfortable with each other.
It was one night when Steve decided he needed a day, he left Teddy with a babysitter and the two of them had gone for a night out.
They found themselves in a movie theatre. On the opening night of a new film and the entire room was empty. There were a few older gentlemen seated in the back, and some teenage girls chattering up front. But aside from that, it was just them.
As it turned out, all of the many people who chose not to be there that night, were much smarter than them. They were practically falling asleep in their seats by the time the first real plot beat came up. It was Steve’s idea to leave; go to the nearby bar.
By the time they left, the streets were brightly lit and the sky was made of many hues of pink and orange meshing together. In that light, Eddie couldn’t help but notice how nice Steve looked.
He was smiling brightly, talking in this animated way as he walked backwards. He stumbled once or twice but caught himself each time. He had on a loose gray shirt under red flannel, his glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose and he had a little hoop piercing on one of his ears.
But something about it was such a beautiful scene. Maybe it had something to do with the way he looked like an excited puppy as he spoke. With a wide grin that made it look like was the most important thing in the world at that moment. Or maybe it was the way he kept making gestures with his hands. All innocent in nature but they kept drawing Eddie’s attention back. To how big they were, to the veins running up their backside, to the callouses decorating his fingertips.
They slinked into the bar, Eddie avoiding recognition like his life depended on it. He grabbed a booth in the back as Steve went to order drinks. He came back with a pair of beers in hand and settled across from him.
They made awkward small talk— “ How’s, er- how’s little Teddy settling?” he smiled sheepishly.
Steve offered his own small grin. “He’s doing good. I- Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.” His chattiness from earlier in the evening seemed to dissipate into whatever this was.
“Ah- no problem. It’s all good.” he went back to sipping the beer he was nursing after that.
It was a bit of awkward silence after that, until they started to bleed into a more pleasant, more natural conversation.
And eventually, as their faces flushed and they drank through their first, then second, then third drink, they found themselves quite enjoying each other's company. More than enjoying, really.
And before long, Eddie’s sober thoughts returned. However less reluctant in his mind.
He thought of how pretty Steve was so flushed, rosiness invading his pale skin. His usually put-together hair started to look more like a big mop on his head but it was charming how he ran his hands through it, completely oblivious to how it only made him more handsome. How his lips seemed to match the tint of his face and how they looked so soft from where he was seated at the table.
Subconsciously, he slide over just a bit, trying to get a closer look.
But thinking this way, without the other ever knowing, even in his drunken state; it felt wrong. He couldn’t think this way.
And then, it became clear that the man across from him had no such reservations. By how, without warning, he felt a socked foot slide up his calf. He looked across, finding a smug yet questioning gaze in front of him. And he smiled . He felt the foot raise slowly and when came just to his thigh, the riverbank broke.
Eddie pushed himself from his seat and found his lips crashing against Steve’s.
It was like the world around them dimmed, and at that moment, it was just them. The two of them were alone in that shaded bar.
Eddie lifted himself onto his knees, shuffling over Steve’s lap and he didn’t stop for a second to breathe. Not until he truly could not last any longer. And with his eyes half-lidded, as he looked down, he found someone so beautiful whose eyes were filled with want.
He felt Steve’s thigh move subtly as he seemed to put his shoe back on.
And as the world filled with people once more, they found themselves craving that same escape. Eddie placed down a spare fifty from his bill, haphazardly. Moments later they found themselves disappearing into the night, hand in hand.
The next morning, Eddie awoke in his own bed, dazed. He found a warm body laying by his side. Panic shot through him briefly but as he saw a pretty, unconscious smile, he decided he would deal with it later. That it didn’t matter at that moment.