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bunnithebard · 3 days

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Through The Walls

Chapter 3: Fade To Black

[Masterlist][Chapter 2][Chapter 4]

You were probably certifiably insane.

Or at least a little looney.

You had taken to wanting to buy "gifts" for your Cryptid Neighbor after the Treaty of Cookies (as you had taken to calling it, for some reason). It was like leaving food out for the feral cats (which you also did; there was an orange boy cat who was getting stupid enough to trust you and you were antsy for the day he let you pet him).

After cookies you had decided to leave a scented candle.

You had gone to Bradley's Big Buy and they had these cedar scented candles that smelled exactly like the forest on a warm day. It was silly, but you had grabbed two and a gift bag with a dumb card. You had sat in your car and stared at the flimsy cardboard with a picture of Garfield in a bow-tie. The inside was blank, but the cartoon cat reminded you of the feral cat you loved, so you had grabbed it without a second thought.

You clicked the pen you had stolen from work over and over, staring at the blank page and willing thoughts to come.

You sighed heavy through your nose, mumbling a quiet, "Fuck it" as you scribbled your name and phone number with the dumb message 'howdy neighbor'.

Shoving the card into the shiny blue plastic gift bag next to the cedar candle, you walked up to your Cryptid Neighbor's door and stared at your shoes. Was this weird? Probably… but they kinda felt like your first friend here in Hawkins. And you had been hanging out more with Nancy and her gang, so you, weirdly, didn't want your neighbor to feel left out.

Setting the bag down you stepped a few inches away, steeling your nerves and knocking three times before running to your apartment as fast as you could.

You had managed to open the door just as you heard theirs open and you swung yourself inside and shut the door with a loud 'BANG', startling yourself.

"Jesus Christ." You breathed, heart hammering in your chest. "Why the fuck am I like this?" You mumbled, shaking your head as you removed your coat and swung your grocery bag onto your couch.

"Shave And A Hair Cut"

You smiled, feeling your ears heat up and a giggle escape at the sound of yours and your Cryptid Neighbor's call and response song.

You skipped over and slid your hands against the wall, tapping "Two Bits" with the back of your knuckle.

You had lit up your candle that night and scooted a pillow over to the lower vent in the corner of your apartment. You knew it was connected to your neighbor’s room, and you often wondered about if you were to speak into it, if they would hear you. But you were too nervous to try.

Instead, you set the candle on a plate (so it wasn’t directly on the shitty carpet) and you laid your head on a pillow close to the vent. You could hear the muffled sounds of them moving, a few grunts and sighs. Then you heard them start to play on their electric guitar. They diddled around with a few chords, playing the start of a few songs–one you recognized as ‘Runnin’ With the Devil’ by Van Halen.

You smiled, rereading the same line from your book a few times before setting it down and letting yourself close your eyes and simply smell the woods from your warm candle and listen to the sounds of your Cryptid Neighbor as they strummed to unnamed songs.

Before you realized, you had fallen asleep.

When you awoke, it was with a start. Your arms slammed underneath you and pushed you up like you were doing a push-up. You took deep ravenous breaths, your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you stared unseeing at your surroundings. You blinked a few times, gulping sweet air before glancing over to see your candle still lit, flame flickering and dancing as you breathed towards it.

You groaned, sitting up and feeling your spine creak and your muscles groan at having slept on the floor for an odd number of hours. You rubbed your shoulders, leaning down and blowing out the candle. Wisps of grey smoke meandered around you reminding you of watered-down camp fires and wishes on birthdays.

The music had stopped, you glanced at your window and saw the sun was up.

Your neighbor was probably asleep.

You sighed and picked up your candle plate, setting it onto the dresser top next to your TV.

You rubbed between your eyes, pushing into the sockets with a groan as a migraine started to form. You pulled the black out curtains over top of the sheer ones, dousing the room into darkness before you slumped onto your twin bed over the covers, too exhausted to pull them out from under you.

You were within the veil of mostly asleep but not quite awake when you heard something.

It sounded familiar, like the ghost of a voice you recognized.

It was low, sultry almost, and rang out in a question. The words were muffled, like from under water, and you waved one of your hands behind you as if a bug was buzzing in your ear and you tried to swat it away.

"You there?" You thought you heard, but you just groaned lowly into your pillow, willing your mind to rest.

"Shave and a Haircut"

Your eyes snapped open and you looked to the vent–well, where you think it was considering it was dark as fuck with the blackout curtains drawn.

"Hello?"

The voice called out again and you let out a surprised squeak, crawling from your bed and grunting when you hit your knee against your bed post. You switched on the lamp that was next to your dresser and stared down at the vent, holding your breath.

You heard the drip of your bathroom sink and the wind outside whisper through the trees and then–

"Are you okay?"

The voice was male, low and throaty and colored with concern.

You dropped to the floor, wincing when you hit your bruised knee again and you knelt so your face was next to the vent. "...Hello?" You made a face at the sound of your croaky voice, still cloudy with sleep.

There was another pause.

"Hi." This time he was shyer, voice softer, and the dulcet tone sent a shiver down your spine. Your face heated at your reaction.

"Huh-hi." You stuttered. Hitting your forehead with the palm of your hand. What the fuck dude??

"Are you okay? I thought I heard you screaming." He tapered off towards the end, unsure but still worried.

You felt like melting. He was checking in on you. Like a friend. Maybe this strange dynamic you've concocted within the absurdity that was your mind went both ways a little. Maybe he cared cause he felt the weird connection, too?

"Yeah, I-I'm okay. Just uh… just had a nightmare." You bit your lip, staring at the vent and wondering if you should ask. 'How were the cookies?', 'Did you like the candle?', 'I promise I'm not creepy, do you believe me??'.

"... Thanks for the candle."

You hiccuped. Blinking owlishly at the vent.

A smile spread across your lips and you laid down fully on the floor. "Did you like the smell?"

A beat. You heard him grunt and sigh, "Yeah. It's woodsy. I haven't been in the woods in a while, so it was nice."

You kicked your feet giddily, "I'm glad." You felt like you were a teenager talking to your crush, "Did you like the cookies? I got them from some weird block party."

He chuckled and your eyelids fluttered shut. God the sounds he made were gorgeous.

"You tellin' me you let me eat weird cookies?" His undertone of teasing made you grin.

"I mean, they were from a weird block party, they themselves weren't weird." You paused, picking at your nails nervously, "But I could make you weird cookies if you want."

He snorted and you muffled your laughter with your hands, "If you can manage to make anything in this rinky dink oven, I'd be thoroughly fucking impressed."

You smirked, "That a challenge?"

There was a moment of silence and you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Hell yeah it is."

You had to look at the Better Homes And Garden magazines that were in the hospital waiting room to try and find a cookie recipe. All of them were a few months old, so the best sugar cookies for Easter were what you were aiming for. The icing looked the easiest, you were just debating what to shape them as, since they were supposed to be weird.

You also had to stop back at the store on your way home for the rest of the ingredients and to buy a cookie sheet. You had pulled a double so you were exhausted, but you were too fucking excited to make these damn cookies to try and sleep just yet.

As soon as you walked into your apartment you knocked on the wall with your customary rhythm and Eddie answered.

You felt elated at learning his name.

You had repeated it in your head all night long. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Your phone rang and you ran to it, letting your grocery bag fall to the floor next to your tiny kitchen counter.

You put the headset to your ear and blinked nervously, "... Hello?"

"Hey."

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You bit your lip and leaned your hip against the counter top. "You made me a vandal." You giggled, twisting your finger around the rubbery cord.

He chuckled and your stomach flipped. God you need to get laid if just the sounds of this man's voice got you going.

"I didn't make you do anything, sweetheart."

You dropped your head back and silently mouthed 'oh my god' into the air. Really really needed to get laid.

You pulled the phone back to your ear and hummed thoughtfully. "'Twas you who challenged me to a cookie duel, thus I was forced to rip a page out of the Better Homes and Gardens magazine in my work lobby. Therefore: you are the problem, not me."

He laughed loudly, a throw your head back kind of laugh that tickled your insides and made you want to make him do it again.

"I offer to the lady that if your cookies are acceptable, then the vandalism will be worth it and none are to be blamed and I shall be celebrated as the one who brought deliciousness to the realm." He had taken on a hauty British accent. You giggled madly.

"Alright alright, Lord Butthead–are you ready to have the most okayest cookies ever?"

Your phone bill would be astronomical.

You both talked for hours about anything and everything. Whatever nonsense popped into each other's brains became the topic of conversation.

You had asked what his favorite marsupial was and he said kangaroo cause it was the only one he could remember, but he does think he's seen a picture of one in boxing gloves. Did you see Rocky? Nah, I don't really like action movies, but I know enough to know that he punched a bunch of meat and ran up some stairs. What kind of movies do you like then? All kinds, I really like B-rated sci-fi or horror because they tend to either have really cool props and plots, or really bad and either way makes for a fun time. What was the craziest thing you did as a kid? One time I set off fireworks in the locker rooms. Holy shit did anyone get hurt? Nah, but they never caught me!

A stream of consciousness that you never wanted to end.

And the cookies were turning out pretty good, too. The oven took forever and a half to pre-heat, and the cookie sheet barely fit, but you managed not to burn them. Eddie had given you a well-earned golf clap and you bowed telling him you were doing so as you did it.

"How weird we talking Sweetheart?"

You giggled under your breath, holding the phone between your shoulder and cheek while you squeezed a pastry bag. "Let's just say I'm really amused by the dumbest things and I apologize for nothing."

"...

"Did you bake a bunch of dick cookies?"

You cackled, proud of the veins you put on some and the icing that ran down the balls like they had just cum.

"And a vagina one! But that one is more because it spread out too far when it was baking." You tried to defend yourself between giggles.

He chuckled on the other end and you bounced excitedly, finishing up a few more penises before moving onto the vagina. "Now remember when you eat my vagina, start with the clitoris!"

You squeezed your eyes shut and dropped the icing to the counter, "I actually want to die, why did you let me say that, out loud, with my dumb mouth?"

Eddie was gasping on the other line, unable to form a sentence through his laughter. You scowled, picking up the piping bag to finish the damn vagina cookie.

"I bet this one tastes the best too! So yuk it up all you want, mister, but," you but your lip, "My vagina will taste delicious!"

You dissolved into giggles alongside Eddie.

Your face hurt from smiling.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

He caught his breath, sighing dramatically into the phone and humming softly, "You know what sweetheart, I'm really excited to taste your vagina cookie."

You felt your face heat up and you ducked your chin to your chest, biting your lip to stop from smiling. "Fucking better be, this tiny ass oven sucks."

He barked out another laugh. "I am excited. No one's ever made me cookies before."

You looked at the phone, eyebrows furrowed. You brought the phone back to your ear, "You're kidding. Really?"

"Yup!" He popped the p, "You're the first." He groaned and it sounded like he was laying down, you heard a bump against the wall you shared and you figured there was a couch or something there.

You hummed, smiling softly. "Well, I'm honored, and I really hope you enjoy my bag of dicks."

He snorted.

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][NEXT CHAPTER]

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #kas!eddie munson x reader #stranger things

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bunnithebard · 5 days

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I need some more Eddie smut that involves dorky roleplay. Bring on the helpless elf princess and her rugged knight. I need it to be bodice ripper levels of horny and totally absurd.

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bunnithebard · 7 days

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Happy Pride!

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bunnithebard · 8 days

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Through The Walls

Masterlist

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: You’ve been in Hawkins for almost a year now. It was nice, an escape from painful memories and a way to start fresh. After so long isolating yourself, you decide that it’s time to make friends, get to know someone so you’re not so alone. One of those friends happened to be your Cryptid Neighbor.

General Warnings: Mentions of suicide attempts, domestic abuse, stalking, graphic depictions of violence, and smut. I will try and tag each chapter accordingly, but please please, PLEASE tell me if I miss one!

CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1: Silent Scream

Chapter 2: Children of the Grave

Chapter 3: Fade to Black

[More to come...]

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #Stranger things Eddie Munson #kas!eddie munson x reader #kas!eddie munson #kas!eddie #eddie munson au #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader

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bunnithebard · 9 days

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fucking sucks ass that detective is a subtype of cop or always some type of law enforcement. a detective should be someone who is a master of disguise, a weirdo, socially maligned, and hated by the police. he should solve the cases using his ultra specific knowledge about geography, linguistics, human biology, and cigar ashes

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bunnithebard · 9 days

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Through the Walls

Chapter 2: Children of the Grave

WARNINGS: Mentions of Suicide Attempts

[Masterlist] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 3]

Eddie Munson had lived.

Sort of.

After the earthquake, he had woken up changed. He remembered dying. He remembered the pain, burning in his stomach and neck–his whole body engulfed in a tortuous fire that followed him into the darkness. He remembered Dustin, his arms secured around Eddie and tears falling onto his blood-stained cheeks as he faded into the ether.

He remembered floating.

A void of nothing.

His mind was quiet, finally, and he simply existed in this realm of nowhere; no longer feeling pain, or sadness, or hatred, or love.

Numb to the world he floated in, no cognitive thoughts to register if he was in heaven or hell.

Until milky blue eyes were cast into his view and he was face to face with Vecna.

His body had been broken, his hands blackened with decay that spread like ink in water up to his biceps. His stomach was mottled with gray scars of similar quality, drops of paint on watercolor paper as it bled over his parchment pale skin like marks of death. His nails turned to claws and his canines became pointed and deadly. He was himself but estranged from who he used to be. He looked in the mirror and his pale skin was sickly, the whites of his eyes yellowed with death, and the scars on his body tattooed in rotting black so he couldn't forget his sacrifice. But with his sacrifice he had become a puppet.

Like a window he watched through his eyes as Vecna controlled the body of what he had become. He attacked his friends, sucked blood from them and reveled in the flavor of their essence. He fought against them instead of for them, and he screamed inside his mind, trapped by a body that no longer belonged to him and moved by the whim of Vecna.

He had been broken all over again, but this time in his soul instead of a physical death.

Eleven had been able to save him. She expelled the curse of Vecna and he was himself once again, body unfamiliar and life no longer his own, but he was free.

At least, he had been until the government showed up.

Once Eleven had defeated Vecna and the fissures to the Upside-Down closed and all seemed calm and secured, a secret government organization descended on them and went into overdrive on keeping their horrible secrets buried.

He just so happened to now be part of said horrible secrets.

They poked and prodded him, studied his blood and his DNA. They found that he was still human, at least to a certain degree.

He was no longer able to gain nutrients from human foods. His stomach rejected everything he tried to eat. He had been starving for a while until they found that, curiously, he got some nutrients from red meat. Eventually thay found that the meat wasn't what his new body craved, but the blood within it. He was able to survive off the blood of any mammal (poultry not so much). Human blood, the scientists found, happened to be the best for him as far as nutrition went.

Some more fun parlor tricks of his new body: his heartbeat was so low it was almost undetectable. It pumped through him lazily, which they couldn't explain why, but they could relate that to why he was so fucking cold. His internal temperature ran an icy 57 degrees. When they tried to raise his temperature they found he got burned, or ill, if faced with too high of heat. For shits and giggles they tested how he was affected by the sun and the answer was: bad.

He didn’t burn up like Dracula, thankfully, but he broke out in some sort of hives/rash. They equated his condition to a sun allergy.

It was annoying as fuck everytime they stuck him in the sun because he got so damn itchy he wanted to wrip his skin off.

They were also completely befuddled by his healing.

He could heal in the blink of an eye–his skin knit together like roots from a plant overlapping and twisting until they secured back into place like he had never been cut in the first place. The scientists told him that for a being with such a slow heart rate and cold internal temperature it was impossible for him to be able to heal so quickly.

He told them it was also impossible for him to be alive, yet here he was.

They shut up about how ‘impossible’ he was after that.

For three years he was in that horrible laboratory. For three years they took biopsies and samples, poked him and forced him into experiments to test his new capabilities. For three years he was alone, tortured, looked at like an animal.

He tried to kill himself.

But he healed too quickly and his blood coagulated too fast.

They finally let him go after a few more repeated attempts, as long as he promised to show up at the rebuilt Hawkins lab every two weeks for check-ins and bloodwork, as well as to talk with a government mandated psychologist. They paid for his shitty apartment, his ‘food’ that they delivered every week, his electricity, his water, his cable, he got an allowance so he could buy whatever the fuck else he wanted. The catch?

He couldn’t be seen by anyone.

Outside of the others that knew about the Upside-Down, of course.

He ran with that deal.

Sure he was bored as fuck most days and ached for the times that he could hang out with his friends, but at least he wasn’t in that damned laboratory.

And it had been fine.

For a while.

Until you moved in.

He knew he wasn’t the only one in the shitty motel turned apartment complex, but you moved in directly next to him. You would be able to hear him as he moved around, to know he existed.

It felt kinda nice.

He could hear you too, moving at the same hours of the night he did. He heard you puttering around, getting ready for something before leaving for a while, coming back after enough time to constitiute that you had a job. After getting back you’d clang pots and pans, probably cook something, then turn the TV on for hours on end.

It was like having a roommate.

It was comforting.

Then he saw you for the first time.

It was late, as per usual, but you had stayed in longer so he figured it was one of your nights off work. He didn't know what compelled him, but he had glanced through his curtain to see you standing in front of your apartment, holding a cigarette and staring up into the sky mindlessly.

You were beautiful.

The moonlight shined so brightly on you, bathing your face in its ethereal glow and lighting you up like an angel. You wore baggy sweatpants and an oversized hoody, hair scrunched up on top of your head like a tumbleweed. But god damn you were gorgeous.

Then you had turned to look at his window and he hissed, sliding the curtain shut as fast as he could with a cold sweat breaking out over his brow. He heard the crunch of gravel as you walked back inside your apartment. He closed his eyes and listened to you breathing. Concentrating enough he was able to make out the calm flutter of your heartbeat against your chest. It soothed him.

He had pushed his bed around so it was up against the wall that connected both of your apartments. He had let his hand caress the wall, blackened fingers with clawed tips gliding over the plastered surface. He shut his eyes and hiccuped down a sob, pretending he was running his hands across your back.

God damn he was so lonely.

And he watched you.

You were so achingly tempting. He could smell you through the wall: your blood, sure, but also your natural scent wafting through the vents floating around him and bathing him in an aura of you. Flowery and earthy, it reminded him of petrichor. There were soft undertones of stale chemical cleaner which led to him figuring you probably worked at the hospital, hence your horrible work hours.

For almost a year he observed you. Your routine of watching the sky on days off, even if it was rainy. You would don your galaches and an umbrella and smoke a joint while looking at the moon and stars. Your eyes were haunted, glossy with memories as your vision went in and out. You looked like you had scars, something you were trying to hide.

He could tell because he was the same.

No matter how much he tried to forget, to push into the recesses of his memories and blacken out that time using weed and booze, he would always remember Chrissy, his death, Vecna, the lab. It was embedded in him, woven into the fibers of who he had become. His soul–his very being–was tarnished just as his body had been. Used and abused.

Knocks sounded on his wall, lazy and off beat.

He squinted, trying to name the recognizable tune.

His eyes widened and he bolted upright from his seat across from the TV he had been mindlessly observing. He slid his hand over the wall reverently, his lips quivering and his heartbeat feeling like it was picking up. He felt warm.

“Two Bits.”

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] [NEXT CHAPTER]

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie munson x reader #kas!eddie munson #kas!eddie #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie munson #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #Mentions of suicide

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bunnithebard · 9 days

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Through the Walls

A/N: So sorry about the radio silence!! But I'm going to double post to try and make up for the long break so those that are interested in where this little blurb goes can still enjoy my ramblings! Thank you dearies!

**Just a reminder that I'm moving from my other account (bunni3thebard) to this one, so that I can have more independence from my random trash account that's just an amalgamation of memes I enjoy lol–also, I can't remember who made the page break bats, so if you may know send me their name and I can at them accordingly. I just saved it on my phone one day cause I thought it was neat!**

Title: Through the Walls

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Chapter 1: Silent Scream

[Masterlist] [Chapter 2]

Your neighbor was a cryptid.

At least, you were convinced they were.

You knew someone lived there because of the lights that would come on and off, and the shadow figures moving behind the curtains. Not to mention that the walls were thin as fuck, so you heard them watch TV and play guitar and listen to metal music obscenely loud during the midnight hours.

But even though they kept the same crazy hours you did, you've never seen hide nor hair of them.

You started to make theories about what kind of person they were. Like that they were a burn out whose parents paid for everything for them so they didn't work, just farted around all day–hence the 4am jam sessions.

Another theory that had struck you one night while working a double at the Hawkins ER was that they were a drug lord and had to keep odd hours to evade the police.

But you wrote off that theory since you'd thought it up while sleep deprived after an 18 hour shift.

You entertained the idea of a squatter, but then why would they have electricity?

You had finally come to the conclusion that you were lonely as fuck and you obsessed over the identity of your mysterious neighbor because you were long deprived of human companionship and thus you hyperfixated on a superficial meaningless thing to distract yourself from being alone.

Or maybe they were Mothman…

Thankfully the grocery store kept late hours on the weekend, and that's where you found yourself on your free Saturday night. You'd woken up naturally around seven pm, even though your alarm was set for nine, and decided to putter around your house until your alarm went off so you could feel like you were properly lazy.

You sat contemplating cereals for a few meandering seconds, sure your eyes were blinking at an astronomically slow pace. You'd smoked a bowl to help you sleep and felt like it hadn't completely left you. You just hoped your eyes weren't red.

Grunting, you shoved both boxes into your cart and turned to move on to the next aisle when you crashed into someone else's cart. "Shit." You hissed below your breath, rubbing your stomach where the handle of the cart had roughly jabbed into you.

"Damn, sorry about that!"

Looking up you met the soft face of a brunette woman who looked about your age with her hair pulled back into a messy bun and long-sleeve black shirt falling off one of her thin shoulders exposing her bra strap. She gave you a sheepish smile and you shrugged.

"No harm no foul, although if you do it again I'll take it personally and make no bones about it: I will cry." She snorted, making you grin in triumph.

"Don't worry. I don't make it a habit of accosting people in the grocery store." She pulled her cart back from yours.

You hummed, "Good to know I'll be a one-and-done hit-and-run."

Her smile was cute. She had a strong jaw with a petite nose that scrunched up adorably as she grinned.

"I'm Nancy." She'd offered her hand.

You hesitated.

It had been a while since you'd earnestly interacted with someone outside of transactional exchanges, like for work or buying things or paying bills. People were messy. Maybe it was the paranoia from your past–trauma you couldn't shake that clung to you like a second skin–but you'd been wary of making friends on the off chance your name gets around and spreads to corners of places you didn't want it to go.

It was ridiculous. Narcissistic in a way.

So you ground your teeth and mustered a smile hoping it looked genuine and shook her hand.

You stood outside staring at the moon for a while dressed in nothing but a size 8XL shirt you snagged from Wal-Mart cause it was soft. You knew you should smoke inside, no telling when someone might rat you out to the cops, but the moon was full and the stars were bright. You weren't used to how clear the sky was in comparison to the city, even after a year.

Your eyelids fluttered, vision hazy as the weed worked its magic.

Nancy had invited you to some neighborhood get-together next week that was popular in Hawkins. Said she hadn't seen you around before and was surprised you'd survived a year without becoming the talk of the town. You blew out a heavy stream of smoke, humming to yourself thoughtfully.

But that had been the point, right?

Keep a low profile, stay hidden.

Sighing, you took another deep drag of your joint, holding the burning breath as tight as you could. You watched the stars dance in your vision before you finally exhaled.

God you were fucking lonely, though.

You scrubbed at your head, mussing up your hair. Curiosity was easy to take hold in your high state, so you peered towards your neighbors apartment and saw a shadow in front of the curtains. You squinted, eyeing the light blue fabric for a while since your vision was blurry. You could've sworn you saw a sliver of it be pulled aside with tentative fingers. You blinked slowly, sighing heavy through your nose and mumbled to yourself, "Fucking bigfoot in there for sure."

Turning back around to your apartment door you sucked in the last bit of the joint and dropped the roach to the ground, bending over to squish it with a rock to make sure it was out. Standing with a groan, you walked barefoot back to your front door. You were like, 90% sure the complex was just repurposed from an old Motel 6, but it was cheap and they sprayed for bugs every Tuesday, so you didn't complain.

It was small, enough space for your bed with a loveseat to watch your shitty TV that sat on top of your dresser and a micro kitchen they built in the corner next to the door for the bathroom. There was no kitchen sink and the fridge was half-size, but you were one person so you didn't quite care enough to complain. You did wish the fridge drawers were a bit bigger so they didn't catch on all the food packages you shoved in there.

Maybe it was because you were high, or lonely–or maybe a combination of the two–but you slid your hand across the wall that connected your apartment to your cryptid neighbor's. Then you tapped the starting notes for "Shave and a Haircut". You waited a breath, not sure if they had even heard it.

But then there it was: "Two Bits".

You grinned, giggling like Scooby Doo as you danced over to your bed, throwing yourself down with a bounce on the cheap twin.

Since you had smoked, sleep came easy. You were lulled into dream after weird dream courtesy of Miss Mary Jane. There was one where you went grocery shopping with Bigfoot and another where you went on Jerry Springer because you were pregnant with Mothman's baby.

You were curious what kind of cryptid your neighbor was.

The neighborhood block party was, for all intents and purposes, a Hawkins bash.

Apparently it was a pretty regular affair every few months: a potluck with a few dad's who wheeled their grills to the end of a large cul-de-sac to cook up some burgers and dogs, some artsy fartsy mom's who made crafts for the younger kids to do, and sparklers and poppers for the older kids to get into mischief with.

There were maybe fifteen to twenty adults and a smattering of an equal number of kids.

You had brought a shitty box of cookies from a bakery a few blocks away from the hospital since you couldn't cook anything on your extra small stove. You also had switched shifts with Beverly–fucking ray of sunshine she was, grunting and groaning about working on a Saturday night, but you had taken her Sunday so she could get bent–so that you could be here, at this lovely affair.

You were starting to have regrets.

You watched a few pre-teens wave sparklers around in glee, making to poke and prod one another with the burning end. You wondered if you should step in, knowing that there were some second degree burns waiting to happen, but a random mom came over and grabbed each kid's wrists in warning. You slunk away to the food table.

You set your meager contribution down and turned to eye all the adult women, trying to find your potential petite new friend.

They all had their hair done up in that style where their bangs spiraled out in delicate feathering with the ends curled towards their shoulders. Some had simple ponytails decorated with hair bands and colorful scrunchies. You ran your fingers through your hair self-consciously; you hadn't done anything, merely brushed it and hoped for the best as you donned your nicest pair of jeans and a thrifted Van Halen '79 tour shirt. You figured since it would be outside the party would be a casual thing, but the dresses and blouses these housewives wore made you think you were a little unprepared for the mandatory 'Sunday Best' dress code.

You fiddled with the ends of your shirt.

You contributed to the sacrificial neighborhood potluck, maybe the Gods will be pleased enough to let you leave without seeing Nancy.

You turned to make a break for it and nearly bowled over the brunette in question.

Cookies were not a good enough sacrifice.

Her smile was bright and her blue eyes lit up at seeing you. "Hey, you made it!" She went in to hug you and you tensed, locking your arms to your side in the world's most awkward exchange of physical affection.

She gave a nervous smile and pulled away, "Sorry, too soon for hugs?" Her chuckle was used to try and break the tension and you were grateful as you laughed along.

"No, it's just–I uh… haven't really hung out with anyone for a while, so I guess I'm just getting back into the swing of how friendship works." You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck.

Her eyes sparkled at your admission of seeing her as a potential friend. She grabbed your hand and pulled you over to a small group that hung around the edges of the block party.

The first one you noticed was a taller Hispanic man with the most beautiful hair you had ever seen in your life. It was lustrous and hung past his hips, swaying gently with his movements. He smiled, eyes half-lidded but sweet, giving you a gentle nod as Nancy motioned to the group, giving your name.

"This is Argyle," she pointed at the man with the incredible hair.

"Robin," next was a thin, lanky woman with messy dirty blonde hair that hung a little past her chin. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and a charming crooked smile. She wiggled her fingers in a sweet hello.

"Steve," the man next to Robin was broad-shouldered with a just as square jaw line. His eyes were slightly turned down at the ends, giving him this sweet puppy-dog stare matched with a megawatt smile. He had some random freckles and moles that decorated across his face and the visible areas of his arms that made him look a lot younger. He nodded to you, giving a weird wink that you were sure was supposed to come off as charming, but was mildly unsettling.

"And my husband, Jonathan!" The last guy had a small upturned nose with a low brow that was covered by messy strands of mousy brown hair. He gave a shy smile, nodding to you while bouncing lightly. Over his shoulders he had a baby vest strapped to him and a very crabby looking baby facing outwards. Their face was scrunched up, looking more like a potato than a child, and they had wispy brown hair that was stuck up wildly like their head had been rubbed with a balloon.

Nancy smiled proudly, tickling the cheek of the child that gave a low, annoyed hum for an impressively long amount of time. "And this is Eliza, my daughter."

You gave a pinched smile, waving awkwardly. "Hey."

"'Sup Brosephina," Argyle smiled, offering you his fist. You chuckled, tapping yours against it lightly. "A pleasure to aquaint with you." He stuck his hand back in his pocket, the other holding the neck of a Pabst.

"An enjoyable aquaint with you as well." You rocked awkwardly onto your heels.

Argyle's smile grew and he nodded, "Right on." He laughed.

"Hi," you looked over to Steve who held out his large hand in greeting. You shook it, noting that he was gentle when shaking yours, but gave a squeeze before he released you. His smile was adorable, but he was definitely trying to flirt. You were curious if it was just an unconscious thing, or if he was actually putting in effort. "Nice to meet you."

You gave a soft nod in reply, but before you could fully pull your hand away, Robin shot forward and grabbed it giving you a few firm shakes, "It's really good to meet you, I think I actually saw you a while ago–my girlfriend's daughter broke her arm and I remember you gave us all strawberry Jell-O before we left."

Your eyes widened and you pointed at her with your other hand, "Oh yeah! Dotty! She was freaking adorable. How's her arm?"

Robin's smile was glowing and she squeezed your hand tightly, "She's good, her whole class signed her cast and when she got it off she begged to keep it even though it smelled like old shoes."

You barked out a laugh, unknowingly squeezing Robin's hand back, "Hell yes, that's awesome. A trophy of her triumphs! I recommend a pantyhose sock full of cat litter, it helps a ton with the shoe stink."

Robin's eyes widened and she gave a dramatic gasp, "That's freaking brilliant, oh my god, thank you!"

Jonathan snickered, "You got chronic stinky feet?" He teased, eyes glimmering as he bounced his daughter.

You smirked, dropping Robin's hand and leaning into your hip, "Maybe, or maybe I've learned a thing or two from working with older nurses. But I could also have insanely stinky feet, and now you know my shame."

Everyone laughed and you felt your smile grow, your shoulders relax, and you let yourself feel like you belonged.

You didn't feel so alone anymore.

The block party ended up not being bad. Although, a guy named Andy Barker had tried to hit on you when you went to grab a hot dog ("You like 'em long and juicy, huh"–barf) even though his wife was within eyesight. Nancy had warned you that they often did that: flirt with other people in front of each other to get their partner jealous.

It was absolutely insane, small towners were bonkers.

You had snagged a bag full of cookies for the road, not including those from the bakery you had gone to as they were a little rubbery and sad. Argyle gave you a high five.

"Choice snack Brochacha, need a muchie master to inspire your partaking in said chocolate chunks?" You blinked a few times, unsure of what in the hell he was trying to say.

Jonathan snickered, leaning over to translate, "Do you want some weed with that?"

Needless to say: Argyle was your favorite.

Pocket a little heavier with two freshly rolled "Blunts of Friendship", as Argyle called them, and a couple of sandwich bags full of pilfered cookies, you walked up to your door with a smile.

You had made friends.

It was nice, this feeling. You hadn't been able to know companionship, even platonic ones, in such a long time it was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Maybe not all the weight, but it was lighter and it felt good to breathe with a little less paranoia pushing you down.

You jiggled the keys into your lock but stopped, turning ever so slightly to look at your neighbor's door. It was a gawdy yellow with a plaquard of gold painted numbers reading "2D" decorating it. The paint on the numbers and the door was chipped in places and faded from natural weathering. You didn't see any shadows in the window and the light wasn't on. It wasn't surprising since the sun was still, technically, out.

It was sunset, the sky lit up by a golden-amber glow that slowly sunk into the royal purple of the evening as it met the horizon. Night would fall soon.

You weren't sure what compelled you, maybe the giddy feeling that came from making new friends, or from having a really good day, but you strolled over to the door and stared at it, feet placed only a few inches away. Looking down at the bags in your hand, you placed one of them against the wall next to the door and sighed.

Nerves were starting to eat at you and you looked at your apartment door that was about ten feet away, then back to 2D's. Sucking in a deep breath for strength, you gathered your bravery and knocked on the door three times before booking it to your door: 2C.

Slamming your door behind you, you kept the lights off and took deep gulping breaths. That was the fastest you'd ever run in your life, you're sure of it.

You slunk to the floor, splaying your legs out in front of you as you caught your breath, thumping your head back against the wood of your own gawdy yellow door. You shut your eyes.

You don't know why in the fuck you decided to dong-dong-ditch some cookies for your cryptid neighbor.

Maybe it was because you had developed a weird relationship with them in your head: mysterious being that occupies the shitty motel-esque apartment next to you that may know your struggles because they keep the same weird hours you do. You had put too much thought into them and they became a being you considered a friend in the fantasy of your mind.

You wanted to include them in the block party.

You had sat there for a good ten minutes, breath caught, and you didn't quite know what to do with yourself now. You didn't want to go to sleep–no matter how fucking tired you were from staying awake during the day–but you were at an impasse of not knowing where to go or what to do.

And that's when you heard it.

"Shave And A Hair Cut".

The smile that spread across your face pushed the apples of your cheeks up so high you could see the tops of them in your vision. You laughed softly, bringing your hand up to the wall and replying.

"Two Bits".

[NEXT CHAPTER]

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