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It had been a slow day today, with the occasional middle-aged man coming in for a record or a group of rowdy teenagers that didn’t even buy anything. Snooze-worthy boring. Oh, and a woman came in to scream in his face for letting her kid buy such “vulgar and demonic” music, calling him The Devil and other things not meant for children’s ears. Eddie took it with a resigned stare, droning out. None of it was original. Just the same old shit. And in the end, she got her refund, and he got to wave the middle finger at her back as she left. Win-Win.
Eddie felt himself wasting away by the second, watching the clock and counting the seconds till lunch. Something he’s been doing a lot ever since he started visiting Steve Harrington at ‘Scoops’. Especially after their (sort of) date the other day. Okay, so maybe he was the only one who thought of it as a date, but a guy can fantasize. Eddie ‘The Pathetic’ Munson would be a better-suiting title.
He even found himself missing his back-and-forth with Robin and their silent understanding of each other. In all hindsight, he should’ve known she was like him, but quit assuming stuff like that in a town as dangerous as Hawkins.
The presence of another person snaps him out of his thoughts and he looks down at the kid in front of the counter, who’s ghostly pale and mesmerized, staring at Eddie. Eddie brings his hand away from his mouth where he had been biting his nails, seeing how the little customer watches the movement.
“May I help you?” He watches in amusement as the boy flounders and nods, holding out a broken cassette tape. David Bowie. Huh.
“I need a replacement for this. It belongs to my brother, and he was letting me borrow it, but I—accidentally stepped on it.” He seems unsure of his story, but Eddie shrugs, already rounding the counter to the tapes they have.
“You are in luck, my friend. I have the exact one right... here!” The Metalhead smiles, holding it up. The boy cracks a shy smile, taking the tape with a careful grip, as if it might break any second. Eddie swears he’s familiar.
“You wouldn’t be Will Byers, would you?”
Eddie almost winces as he watches, (possibly) Will, gives himself whiplash to look at him, eyes full of fear, and even paler than earlier. “W-what?”
“Hey, I do not judge, if you are. Just hard not to recognize you after... everything.”
“Yeah.” Will’s gaze cast down at the ground, fidgeting with the tape in his hands. He looks so goddamn sad and lost that Eddie can’t help but feel he needs to help this kid. Like a lost little sheep. “Uh, so you’re a fan of Bowie, right?” Eddie spins on his heel and heads straight for his destination, knowing this place inside and out by now. “Do you have these?” He holds up the albums Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders. Will seems thrown off but nods, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he swore he saw an eye roll. “Of course.”
The older cracks a smile and does what he’s best at, performing. “Ah, yes, of course. Silly me. I’m obviously an amateur and you’re the master... but! I bet you haven’t heard this one yet.” He displays the Tonight album next. Will squinted at it and shook his head. “I haven’t.”
“Hah! See? Knew I’d find one.”
“You don’t... think David Bowie is weird?”
“Well, yeah.” And Eddie finds he has to backtrack when the boy shrinks in on himself. “He is weird. But that’s the whole point, right? I happen to think being strange is awesome. Metal, in fact. Much better to be a weirdo and stand out than fit in with the crowd and be boring.”
They both take in the brief silence that follows and Will reaches to rub at his neck. “My brother said something similar. But… what if you don’t want to be noticeable? What if you just wish you were normal and didn’t like the things you do, and—and would do anything to go back to the way things were but they can’t—“
Oh, boy, he’s spiraling. Eddie hovers near Will, awkward and hopeless. “Woah, none of that, please. My expertise is not on how to comfort a crying kid.”
Will huffs, wiping his face. “I’m fourteen.”
“Your point? Listen, you can’t help that kind of stuff, man. You could shove it all down and be miserable and be what everyone perceives as normal. Or you can let your freak flag fly and own that shit.
It’ll suck sometimes, sure, but we weirdos have a duty to throw the normies off, right? Stick it to The Man and whatnot. With great power comes great responsibility.” Somewhere along that whole nervous monologue, Eddie must have done something correct because the ghostly boy cracks his first proper smile, teeth and all. Success.
“Did you just quote Spider-Man?”
“I’m a nerd. What can I say? So, Bowie? Yes, no, perhaps so?”
“Yes, duh.” Will reaches his hand out for it but stops halfway and adds a small “please”. Eddie wants to pinch his cheeks like some old granny. Jesus Christ, he’s getting too soft.
He pulls the cassette away and grins, “Nuh-uh, you won’t have it until you take that back.”
Will splutters, brow pinching, but he still has an amused glint in his eyes. “What?”
“Step one to being a weirdo, young padawan, being unapologetically yourself. No cute please unless talking to your mom. Do you want this, or not?” And to tease him a bit, he waves the tape around, flaunting his height.
“Fine. No sorries! Now give me—” Will lunges and Eddie lets out a yelp. In the attack, the little shit steps on his foot, accidentally (maybe). Even so, ouch. The album slips from his fingers and Will catches Bowie, basking in his triumph before noticing Eddie’s grimace. “Are you okay?”
“All good. I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in ya.”
“There’s a lot of things people don’t know about me,” he replies, quick. Eddie blinks at him, well isn’t this kid full of surprises?
“I’m sure. Now, how do you feel about metal...?”
Almost an hour later, Will is pushing a handful of new albums to listen to toward Eddie on the counter. Eddie places them in a bag as Will gets out his money. As he takes and counts it over, Will regards his rings curiously. “I like your rings, and—and your entire style. I think it’s cool.” He’s so genuine and shy that Eddie can’t stop himself from melting. The older fans himself, batting his lashes with a mock bashfulness.
“Gosh, I am blushing. Just for that—” Eddie gives Will half the amount back. “You get a discount. ‘Cause it so happens, flattery is my weakness. Shh, don’t tell anyone.” A lie. Eddie was going to do that, anyway. He puts his finger against his lips in a shushing gesture, adding a wink, and all Will can do is nod, wordlessly pocketing the money and taking the bag with a tight-lipped smile.
“Thank you, um…”
“Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, at your service.” Will wrinkles his nose but grabs his hovering hand and shakes it. “Is that what people call you?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay, kid. I’ve learned to own it.”
“Well, I’m Will ‘Zombie Boy’ Byers. But I prefer Will the Wise.” Eddie’s eyes widen and he finds himself buzzing with delight. “You play D&D?” The boy nods and Eddie pulls his hand away, twiddling his skull ring and shifting from foot to foot, suppressing a smirk. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Will the Wise. Until next time.”
With that, Will does an awkward little wave and turns to leave, and just as he’s walking out, Eddie calls out. “And kid! If anyone gives you trouble or you ever wanna talk about being different, my metaphorical door is always open.” They both share a look of understanding and Will nods with a smile. “See you later, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. I’ll come up with a better title for you.”
“Looking forward to it.”