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chilwe1l · 8 months

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why we broke up - Charles Leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

wordcount: 6.7k

summary: a series of letters outlining why y/n and charles' relationship ended.

warnings: not proofread (i'll do it when I wake up it's nearly 4am I want to sleep so badly rn soz) the timeline is a bit confusing, break up happened end of 2022ish & letters are late 2023

note: requests are open, send me some!!! first proper charles writing (woooo) I think that this could be better than it is but i'm going round in circles re-reading it and i've given up at this point. hope u like it anyway :) feedback is greatly appreciated!!

Charles slammed the car door to a close. He swung his backpack across one shoulder and stared blankly into the tinted glass windows of the Mercedes. It was too dark outside to see his own tired reflection in the window but he could muster up a mental image of the dark circles adorning his under eyes. They made his face look sullen and tired and no matter how many brightening creams his team supplied him with, they just wouldn't budge. The driver of the car closed the trunk, placing Charles' suitcase onto the pavement next to the black car. Charles placed a hand upon the drivers shoulder, 'merci.' His polite gesture was met with a simple nod of the head. Summer break had finally begun and Charles was glad to be away from the restraints of the red Ferrari, even if it was only a few days before his usual training programme resumed. The first half of this season had been tougher than any he'd ever experienced before. It was no secret amongst the world of Motorsport that the Ferrari was under-performing. It was a matter that dwelt on his mind morning, noon and night and occasionally managed to infiltrate his 8 hours of sleep. The car engine rumbled and the vehicle trundled along the quiet street until its' headlights were nothing but a mere spark in the darkening distance. Charles stretched an arm towards the grey suitcase, lifting it by the handle and began to make his way up the stairs to his apartment in the grand complex.

He rummaged in his backpack for his key, delving through what seemed to be an endless supply of cereal bars - he was sure Andrea had placed the stash in his bag, his journal, water bottle and wallet. He wasn't entirely sure if he had even packed his keys before he left Monaco 4 weeks ago. Charles sighed before his knuckles rapped 3 times in succession against the wood of his front door. The quiet shuffling of feet could be heard before the light inside his apartment flickered on. The front door opened revealing his half-asleep girlfriend. Her expression reflected neither surprise or expectancy at the sight Charles. She was dressed in her pyjamas; a pair of soft towelling yellow shorts and one of Charles' black hoodies he had abandoned at the back of his wardrobe a number of months ago. Charles felt almost bad for waking her up. 'No key?' she yawned, ready to return to the bedroom. 'Hm' Charles responded, placing a swift kiss to the top of her head. She returned to bed silently, leaving Charles to stand alone in the doorway. He had been feeling inundated with tiredness daily for over a fortnight but despite this he was unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. He made his way over to the sofa, lifting an ever-growing pile of letters from the coffee table and placing his sock clad feet in their place. He skimmed through the letters, reading his own name and address printed in bold typed letters over and over again. His attention piqued at a cream-coloured envelope with an unfamiliar scrawl adorning the front. The envelope felt thicker than any other letter from the pile.

His fingers tore through the seal, first pulling out a thin sheet of white paper with a scrawl matching the envelope.

Dear Charles,

I hope this letter reaches you. I live in the apartment you put up for sale a little over a year ago. These 6 letters, all addressed to you have been arriving at my doorstep for over the last 5 months. I haven't read them but i have taken the liberty of compiling them into one envelope in the hope that i would be able to pass them onto you at the first chance I got. After asking around, I discovered that the nice old lady on the floor above my (your old) flat keeps in contact with your mother and she very kindly provided me with your new address. I was unable to contact the sender until 4 weeks ago as a return address was not provided until the final letter arrived. I have since sent a reply, informing them that you no longer live in this complex and that I would try my best to pass these letters on to you but I am yet to receive a reply.

All the best,

Marc.

Charles tossed the note to the left of him and felt his breath hitch when his eyes were met with a familiar penmanship decorating the envelope. Charles racked his brain for a possible reason his ex-girlfriend would contact him. He was fully aware their relationship had ended on bad terms and the words she had used to inform him that she no longer wanted anything to do with him hadn't found their way out of his mind since Y/N had uttered them.

Y/N. Letter one.

Dear Charles,

It's been 6 months since we broke up. I've decided that the only way i can truly move on from us, from you is to get it all out of my system by writing it all down. All of the reasons that lead to us ending up the way we did. I'm not sure if i'll ever send this letter to you. If i do decide to send this letter, don't feel compelled to read it. I don't mean to be selfish in doing this and so I don't expect a reply from you. I'm doing this for myself. I need closure and I think this is the only way I'll get it.

I haven't heard anything about you since the break up, I've tried my best to keep away from anything involving you. Knowing Ferrari however, you've probably had your fair share of heartbreak away from me. My grandpa, the one who lives in Italy (you met him at Maranello in 2019) still watches every race. He doesn't mention you when I phone him anymore but I know that he thought the absolute world of you and I'm sure he still sits in front of his television in Tuscany cheering you on.

It seems as though the more I try to forget about you, the more I seem to remember. No matter how many times I am told that the pain I feel isn't permanent, I still can't manage to shake the notion that I will be walking around this earth with this gaping hole in my heart for all of eternity.

When I deleted social media it felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders and I regret not having deleted it sooner. After everything that happened I think I deserved some privacy from your world.

I moved out of Monaco as soon as I could and I ended up back at my parents house for a few months. During those months I think I managed to drive everyone in that house crazy. I was all over the place.

I am trying my best to relearn who I am as an individual. For the entirety of my adult life it's been 'Y/N and Charles' and when it became just 'Y/N' it's like I had no personality of my own. I know that's my fault for being so reliant upon you. I suppose when you fall in love at a young age you become restricted if that person is your sole focus. I'd like to think I'm becoming more myself as time goes on. Evidently there's still a part of me that needs to understand it all and for that reason I don't yet know how many letters I will write. I don't know if I'll ever send them and I don't know if it's fair to drag you back into this hell, you've probably moved on by now but I think it's time I put myself first and stop trying to protect the good memories I had of our relationship.

Yours, Y/N.

Y/N Letter two.

Dear Charles,

Do you remember Silverstone 2021? You qualified 4th and then came second in Sunday's race and I was so proud of you. I've always been proud of you. I was ecstatic when we left the track that evening and I never would've expected that in the following hours you would turn so sour.

You were leading that race from lap 1 to 49 and then Lewis ended up in first. I know that you were disappointed not to win but you truly were amazing. We went back home to Monaco on Monday evening and we didn't look at each other once the entire flight. I think you slept on the sofa on Monday night. The fight we had on Sunday night was quite possibly the worst fight we ever had. I think it might be the worst argument I've ever had with anyone.

We went out on Sunday evening to celebrate, some random club that Pierre wouldn't stop pestering us about. I knew you weren't exactly exhilarated at the idea of going out but I said it would be good for you. In truth I didn't want you to go out clubbing either, I would've much preferred it just to be us in our hotel room but you've always been so harsh on yourself and so I thought that a change of scenery would be good for you. You dragged me along with you, of course. We rarely went anywhere without each other back then. We'd both agreed not to drink too much, a noble suggestion that we deserted the moment my lips touched the first shot glass. We started drinking vodka cranberries at the bar and I soon became a giggling mess, desperate to spout off about how much I loved you to anyone who would so much as look in my general direction.

The club played awful music, at least that's what i thought. Typical of Pierre to choose such a club. You always said i was a snob when it came to music, considering you loved almost anything with a half-decent beat to it. You took my hand despite my drunken complaints in relation to the song playing and we danced. I think we even managed to score a few side-glances from disgusted onlookers with how close we were. And then Pierre brought those girls over to where we were dancing. He's always had a knack for finding pretty girls on a night out. One of them wouldn't stop staring at you. I don't even think you noticed it but I did. You being you, polite as always slowed our dancing to acknowledge our new company and from that point onwards, she didn't remove her hand from your bicep until we were vacating the building early the next morning.

I tried so hard to keep my cool. I don't like overreacting but I was slowly getting riled up. I never thought of myself as a particularly jealous person until that night. The more she twirled her shiny strand of blonde hair around her finger and feigned amusement at any remark you made, the more I began to lose my head. Nothing you said that night was as funny as she made it out to be. When I complained yet again about the music in an attempt to win back your attention you told me to stop being boring and you started to dance with her. I wish you hadn't done that. I suppose I was being ridiculous but I was irritated at you for inviting me on a night out only to abandon me at the first chance you got. I didn't utter a word in the taxi ride back to the hotel. You picked up on my silence when we got into bed and asked what was wrong with me. I told you that I didn't like how you'd started to ignore me and how i felt second best next to a girl you'd just met and you scoffed before calling me moody. That sent me spiralling. The alcohol was wearing off and I felt like I'd shrunk. I felt small.

I woke up late the next morning, you were practically ready to leave for the airport, sat at the end of the bed pulling your shoes on. You didn't try to wake me up until the very last moment which obviously led to an argument. We ended up missing our flight back to Monaco and i lashed out at you in the hotel lobby. I remember Sebastian was there, he heard everything. I was so embarrassed and I knew you were embarrassed of me too.

You walked out of the hotel to find somewhere quiet to make some calls and probably to get away from me. Seb took me to get coffee in the hotel. There was no use in me pretending everything was fine between us Charles, he'd practically just watched me have a meltdown in public and you'd brushed me off. I told him what happened and he listened, he didn't make me feel stupid and he didn't invalidate the way I felt like you had done.

I've always liked Sebastian. He's got an outlook on life that I wish I can someday develop. When you joined Ferrari it was blatantly obvious how good of a mentor Seb was for you. He was always there for the both of us, despite him not owing me a single thing. He seemed to be the voice of reason in our relationship, always ready to help us pick up the pieces and apologise to each other after a petty disagreement. He said something to me about how you weren't really angry at me but just displacing your feelings of disappointment about the race and I was an easy target. I'm not sure if i believed him when he said that but I nodded and sipped the latte nonetheless. I apologised when you came back with new flights to Monaco arranged and you brushed me off for a second time that morning. You left me to feel small yet again.

I bumped into Sebastian in August. I was visiting Germany and I stayed in the Rhine valley for a week. We were both at a castle built in the 1100's. I was alone and he was with his family and we ended up on the same tour. He knew that you and I had broken up but he seemed to be the only mutual friend of ours who didn't look at me in complete and utter pity. That trip to the Rhine was my first solo trip after endless moping at my parents house and I loved it. I always loved travelling, especially with you Charles.

When we eventually returned to Monaco on Monday evening, we were still giving each other the silent treatment. It would've been clear to anyone who looked at us that we were arguing. Where you would normally collect my suitcase from the conveyor belt at the airport and then lift it effortlessly into the boot of the taxi, you instead merely stood back and observed me struggle to hold up it's weight until the taxi driver stepped in to assist me. You sat in the passenger seat at the front of the taxi conversing in french much too fast for me to fully comprehend, leaving me alone in the back to sit in silence like a petulant child.

When we arrived at our apartment complex you took the staircase two steps at a time, leaving me alone waiting for the lift. When I got inside you were sat on the sofa staring mindlessly at your phone, both of us waiting for the other to make the first move. I was ready to retreat to the bedroom and have a shower in a futile attempt to forget about the previous events of the day but you decided to bite first by asking me what makes me so paranoid.

I asked you to drop it, I was tired and we both needed time to diffuse but you just kept pushing.

"No Y/N we need to talk about it" Charles said following her into the bedroom.

"We can talk later, now's not the time Charles" Y/N replied, rummaging through her open suitcase in search of her shampoo and conditioner.

"Would you prefer for me to find a hotel lobby for you to scream at me in?" Charles probed, satisfaction evident in his tone. Y/N sighed, dropping the cosmetic bag she held to the floor and rose to her feet.

"You embarrassed me Charles. You dragged me to some club only to ignore me for the majority of the night and let another women smother you as if your girlfriend wasn't right next to you."

Charles looked slightly taken aback for a moment, if Y/N blinked she would've missed the softening of his facial features. Charles took a deep breath, his face returning to it's stoic state. "You're embarrassed? Think about how I feel. Having to deal with a girlfriend who throws a fit the moment I go near another woman. You're paranoid Y/N and everyone knows it."

Y/N's lip quivered and she shoved past Charles' body, making a bee-line for the bathroom where she slammed the door closed and let an abundance of sobs escape her mouth.

You left home that night and didn't come back until 5am, god knows where you'd been. You thought I was sleeping and you leaned across the bed to kiss my forehead. I thought that was your way of calling a truce but you ignored my attempts to speak to you for the next week and a half. You invited your mother to our house for dinner one Wednesday and suddenly you were back to normal; you pulled out my chair for me at the dinner table and re-filled my glass of wine periodically. You even spieled off some story about how grateful you were for my support at Silverstone and how you could barely wait for me to accompany you to Hungary. We went back to normal after that. At least until the next time I got 'paranoid'.

Yours, Y/N.

Y/N. Letter three.

Dear Charles,

I must've told hundreds of people that you were the best boyfriend ever. I even believed it myself at times, especially at the start. We did everything together at the start, as most couples do. I went to all of your races, I probably would've followed you to the ends of the earth if you'd so much as asked. Maybe I was just naive.

You stopped inviting me to your races eventually. You were convinced I would be 'bored' and you wanted to protect me from the inevitable hate I would receive just from standing within 5 metres of you. At least that's what you told me. The last ever Grand Prix I went to was in Turkey and from that point onwards I watched avidly from our Tv screen.

When you first stopped inviting me, you still at least made an effort to keep in touch with me. You'd be away from home for weeks at a time and I'd wake up to flowers at the front door and text messages from you with a multitude of updates about how the weather might end up working in your favour and you would confide in me about how you were nervous about qualifying. Little by little, the flowers stopped arriving and I would wake up to nothing but an alarm blaring from my phone. I would send you text after text, only to receive a perfunctory reply hours, sometimes even days later. I felt so alone. Our friends would be invited to your races and I would be left to sit alone at home.

Of course, there was no way I could miss your home race, Monaco. I'm sure if you'd tried hard enough you would've been able to concoct some excuse as to why I mustn't attend the race. I always loved watching you race Charles.

I followed you around the paddock like a lost puppy until you passed me off to Pierre's girlfriend at the time. She asked me about my 'busy work life' and that's when I realised that I was nothing but a hindrance to you. You stopped inviting me to your races because you didn't want me there. I had no busy work life. I had to lie, to convince her that what you'd supposedly been telling everyone was true and that my absence from the paddock was my choice.

My social life was dependant upon you and since you'd began to neglect me, my social life became totally non-existent. I felt so alone. You abandoned me and I didn't know what to do with myself.

Maybe you wanted me to be more independent. I wouldn't know as you failed to mention it to me. You failed to mention many things to me. There were times when I had no idea of when you would return home. I felt like a ghost in our home when you were there. You passed me in the living room as if I were a stranger and when I inevitably confronted you about the lack of attention you paid me, you blamed your rigorous schedule and spoke of how tired you were. I wish you would've been more honest with me. You know I would've done everything I possibly could've to fix whatever you thought was wrong with me. What made me so inadequate in your eyes?

Yours Y/N.

Y/N. Letter four.

Dear Charles,

Often I find myself reminiscing on our time spent together. The highs of our relationship delude me into thinking it was worthwhile to put up with all of the poor treatment i became accustomed to by the end. I know that I deserved better than what you had to offer me, you're not supposed to fight for your partners' attention but I was desperate to be needed by you.

I wish I could go back to the day we met. I truly believe that the love I felt for you back then was the most intense love I will ever feel. I can't imagine putting myself through all of that for anybody else. I would relive our beginning in a heart beat but I'm not entirely sure I would be able to survive the last 9 months of our relationship. I felt as though I was drowning and you were watching me every step of the way.

Us meeting one another felt like fate. I started an apprenticeship at your mothers' hair salon in the summer of 2015. My parents had put some money aside when I was a child and had been adding to it here and there. They planned to let me decide how I would spend it when I was old enough to inevitably desire some wild cultural experience. I'd always wanted to travel through South America and I'd been learning Spanish throughout my Highschool career to accommodate this. Somewhere along the line my Spanish teacher had convinced me to pick up French alongside Spanish. He said it wouldn't hurt to have another language under my belt. I loved learning French and that's how I ended up in Monaco that summer, working for your Mother. You showed up at the salon one evening, just as I was tidying up ready to close. You thought your Mother was the only person left in the shop and came in complaining about how long your hair had grown and how you could hardly see. When the realisation hit you that your Mother wasn't at the salon, you were about to leave (all while apologising profusely) but I offered to cut your hair for you. I took longer than i usually would cutting your hair because I enjoyed your presence and by the end of that haircut I knew you were going to be my person. We didn't go a day that summer without speaking to each other and your mother told me you'd visited the salon more times once I started working there than you had in your entire life. She quickly began to catch on to our blossoming relationship.

Just as most things are, it was so simple in the beginning. I stood by you through thick and thin. No matter what I do, I can't seem to get over you. I can't bring myself to hate you even after everything you put me through. I feel an awful lot of things when I think about you but hate has never been one of them. I wish I had the capacity to hate you. I think moving on would be so much easier if I could separate the person you became from the person you were when we met 8 years ago.

Yours, Y/N.

Y/N. Letter five.

Dear Charles,

I'm not sure when you realised that you no longer loved me but I am certain it was months before I realised. You did a brilliant job of pretending you were still in love with me until you no longer felt obliged to continue.

It must've happened in stages. I could probably create a timeline if I wanted to pinpoint the day you fell out of love with me.

You used to be so romantic Charles, I don't mean grand gestures, I know that's not you whatsoever. You planned everything out so perfectly, you would always consider my feelings and anticipate my reactions. You could read me like a book and maybe that's how you knew exactly how to break my heart and taint all of the good memories I have of you.

I loved pointing out how easy it was to make you laugh. I used to feel so accomplished when I could muster a genuine laugh from your lips. I can't count on my hands the number of times my Mother would place us at opposite ends of the dinner table during a family get together, just to prevent us from whispering increasingly inappropriate things in an attempt to get the other to fall about in fits of laughter. I wonder when I last made you laugh like that, before your face turned stony and your laughter became cruel and demeaning.

I kept hoping that you would fall back in love with me. I would kiss you each night with passion greater than the night before, willing your heart to return to me.

At times it seemed as if our parents had more hope for us than we did. I ended up losing count of the number of times your Mother brought up the idea of marriage to you. I hope you knew that I would've said yes. There was a time when I could think of nothing better than sharing every waking moment with you. My Father took it upon himself to periodically remind you to ask for his blessing and each and every time you would nod your head enthusiastically while your cheeks shone crimson. My Dad was genuinely devastated when he heard we broke up. I think he'd convinced himself that we were going through some lovers tiff and we would be back to normal if we worked through it. He believed that until I showed up at his door step with my life packed away into a suitcase and tears staining my cheeks.

After a while, you became so accustomed to the lies you were spewing to me and to everyone else. Before I left Monaco once and for all, I knocked on Arthur's door to return a book he had let me borrow approximately 3 years ago. If we were still together now I'm certain that he would never have seen that book again, it would've sat lost in our bookcase with the pages down turned from the amount of times I'd re-read it. I had been dreading seeing Arthur all morning, I wasn't prepared to have an awkward encounter with your younger brother. I hated the idea of him treating me differently, we were practically siblings after all those years. I didn't know what version of events you had told your family until Arthur opened the door and embraced me as usual. It was then that I came to the realisation that you had told them nothing of our breakup at all. That was the last time I saw Arthur, I miss him.

I miss all of your family, a lot. Arthur and Lorenzo treated me like a sister and I never once felt out of place with them around. I hope they're well.

Yours, Y/N.

Y/N. Letter six.

Dear Charles,

I haven't mentioned the biggest element of our breakup yet, despite it haunting every aspect of my being.

There were times when I felt like I wasn't good enough for you and like you deserved more than me. I found it difficult not to compare myself to other women, particularly those prevalent in the world of Motorsport. Sometimes I would watch your eyes linger on another girl and compile a mental list of how she was better than me. You were right, I was paranoid. Can you blame me? I became so paranoid that you were no longer interested in me. I was paranoid that someone better would come along and you would forget about me. I was paranoid that one day you would come to all the conclusions that I had and you would cheat on me. Maybe that's what drove you to do it. My constant insecurity pushed you to it. My paranoid mind pushed you to it. They pushed you to commit the greatest betrayal of them all.

You being unfaithful really should've been the last straw and now I look back I don't know why it wasn't. I hate myself for running back into your arms at the first chance I got and I hate myself for validating all of your utterly pathetic excuses. I hope you never have to come to understand the reality of how shit it feels be cheated on. How shit it feels to wake up to an abundance of text messages from people who you know have no real interest in you or your well being, patronising you and telling you how sorry they are. How shit it feels to have tabloids publishing the ins and outs of the love of your life's affair and providing comparisons of me and the girls you took to bed. It felt like my world was crashing down around me and it felt like I'd caused it.

I cried my eyes out when Pierre's girlfriend sent me the article. You even had her fooled. She sent me the link and said something about the tabloids having it out for you, that you were one of the good guys and never in a million years would you even think about cheating on me.

But I knew that the article was telling the truth. I remember seeing you in person for the first time since I found out about your escapades and I knew that no matter how much you denied it, you had still slept with another woman.

I will never forgive myself for going back to you. I had some urge to prove how deserving I was of your love. I wanted to show you that I was good enough for you and convince you that I was the only woman you could possibly need.

I never would've dreamt about doing that to you Charles.

Yours, Y/N.

Charles stared blankly at the sixth letter that he held between this thumb and index finger. He'd read each of the letters, once and then twice. Not once had Y/N spoken of how she was doing at this moment in time. He wished she had. He wanted her to be okay. His journal only had a few empty pages remaining and Charles tore them out without a second thought. Throughout their relationship Y/N had repeatedly told Charles that writing down his thoughts and feelings would help to clear his head and help him to sort through his problems. Charles had always laughed when she'd told him that, why would he need to write down how he felt when he had Y/N around. She always listened to him and she always had a way of making his problems seem smaller. Charles had finally decided to take her advice two months after she had left Monaco. Once he was sure she wasn't coming back, he finally confided in the pages of the journal.

Y/N had told him she was leaving him for good in November, that she'd had enough and couldn't put up with their turbulent relationship for a moment longer. Charles had shrugged her off, a common occurrence at that point in the relationship. He viewed Y/N's threats as empty, he knew she would be back in his arms by the end of the week and so he had given up on apologising for his wrongdoings and instead he would leave the apartment and allow her to wallow. He would return home early the next morning, to Y/N sleeping in his bed and they would both return to their lives as normal, until he made yet another mistake and the vicious cycle would continue. Until it didn't.

He stormed out of the apartment at 11 O'clock on that chilly November morning and had been playing FIFA at Joris' house since. Before he had left, Y/N had begged and begged him to listen to her, she had accused him of no longer loving her. The argument was no different the the hundreds of arguments they'd been having for the past 9 months, yet this time the moment he walked out of the front door, something clicked in Y/N's racing mind. It was like an internal threshold had been reached and when Charles returned home at 3am, his bed was empty. He awoke at 9am to pure silence. He winced at the sunlight illuminating the bedroom, the curtains hadn't been drawn. Y/N's wardrobe stood with it's doors wide open, displaying a metal rack housing only empty hangers. The shelves of the cabinet in the bathroom were bare and the oak bookshelf in the hallway only exhibited Charles' trophies and sporting accolades. Any trace of Y/N had been erased from their shared apartment overnight.

Charles was sure she would come home. She always did.

Charles. Letter one.

Dear Y/N,

I was surprised to see that you'd taken the time to write to me. Getting through those letters was challenging for me but I hope that writing them helped you to sift through any confusion you have regarding the end of us. I hope writing them provided you with the closure you said you needed. It feels wrong to address you so formally.

A lot has changed for me since our relationship ended. I have a new girlfriend, Camille. She's French and has just completed her masters in History. I met her parents 8 months ago. I remember thinking that your father was the most intimidating man in the world when you introduced me to him. Now I know I was wrong, Camille's father is definitely scarier than yours. It's funny, I know that you would like her if you were to meet in different circumstances. She's very easy-going.

Lorenzo and Arthur are both doing well. Lorenzo has a new girlfriend. They remind me of us when we stared dating. I hope their relationship stays that way forever. Arthur started racing in formula 2 at the start of this season. My family misses you. They don't say it but i can tell that they do. Maman was so disappointed when we broke up. I was convinced she was going to drag us back together and make us work it out. She always said you were a very special person, someone that I should hold onto. I'd been keeping the family ring in my pocket for months but I never did find the right time to propose to you. I really wanted us to be together forever.

I used to love our clashes, I always thought that it proved we had a spark, a real connection. We could debate for hours on end about the smallest and most insubstantial things with such a passion and still kiss each other goodnight after all that bickering. Me and Camille don't argue much. You were always so opinionated and I suppose at times I felt threatened by that. I think at times you knew me better than I knew myself. It's scary when someone is able to predict your next move and so I would deflect. I blamed you for things out of your control and I'd lie to you and our friends and family to regain some control.

Near the end of our relationship I found myself complaining to our friends that you were too controlling. I felt like i couldn't breathe when you were around. You always had an opinion on everything. Now I can look back and say that all of those comment you made, despite being infuriating for me at the time were just your way of looking our for me. I am sorry for being so combative when you were trying to help me.

I don't like to think about Silverstone 2021. Coming second should be a good memory but it's not and it never will be. I never intended to take my frustrations out on you that night. My failures aren't down to you, they never were.

I think we could've tried harder to piece together the broken fragments of our relationship. I know that I definitely could've tried harder. If I would've listened to your complaints and not mindlessly ignored them, we'd probably still be together now. I hear about couples having problems who distance themselves for a period of time; distance makes the heart grow fonder. I suppose that's what I was aiming for when I stopped inviting you to my races. I soon discovered that distance wasn't for us though. I struggled to to cope without you at times, even if I didn't show it. Maybe it wasn't healthy, how much we relied upon one another. I suppose we'll never know now.

I've been finding it harder to sleep this season. When I used to struggle to fall asleep you would always sit with me on the sofa, make a pot of chamomile tea (i still hate the taste but drink it nonetheless) and read to me. Now when I'm home I spend most nights on the sofa. The chamomile tea Camille makes isn't as warm as when you were here, it doesn't consume my tiredness like it used to.

I think that I've always found it hard to switch off from racing. Even when I manage to fall asleep now, my dreams get ambushed by obsessions about the need to be better. My obsessions were somewhat tamed when you were around, I felt more peaceful knowing that you didn't care where I came in a sprint race or whether i qualified p1 or p20 on a Saturday. It was just a Saturday to you and you didn't hold a plethora of expectations for me. You seemed proud of me no matter what. I don't know why I started to push you away. All my life, all I've known is racing. It's been the only constant in my life for as long as I can remember, that is until I met you. When I met you, it felt like I had unlocked a part of myself that I didn't know existed and I found that terrifying. I let myself fall in love with you, even though I was completely and utterly terrified.

I don't want to create any excuses for betraying you the way I did. I'm sorry Y/N. I hope you know that you were never a burden to me. You didn't drive me to treat you in the way I did. You weren't paranoid, when you felt me slipping away from you, I was but it was never your fault.

Yours, Charles.

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chilwe1l · 8 months

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EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED — CL16

# charles leclerc x fem!bartender!reader

# in which y/n flatters never backs down from her brother’s dares, and this time jamie might’ve just brought forevermore into her life

“NO, HE COULD BE A SERIAL KILLER.”

it was the umpteenth time jamie’s hearing was met with the same excuse his sister had come up with to swipe away and reject another guy from her almost inexistent love life.

LOUIS HAWTHORNE, 27 firefighter, manhattan / new york, allergic to cats

“he’s allergic to cats, how disappointing is that.” y/n sighed, looking at her ginger cat. “right bo — hey, please get off my book right this instant!” she harshly whispered at her pet, mostly because she didn’t believe in unnecessary yelling.

what she believed in was that a masterpiece written by louisa may alcott that describes the growth of women with divergent personalities and yet still facing similar difficulties in their womanhoods, shouldn’t be destroyed by a bratty feline’s perfectly manicured claws. bodhi vocalized her dismay of being called out to her owner very clearly, yet the feline only earned groans of annoyance back, “i don’t care, stay away from my classics, you spoiled kitty.”

setting her phone down and opening one of her classics, and favorites, y/n sat down on her crimson couch and made herself comfortable to reread little women for the thirteenth time, accompanied by a mug of lichee-lavender tea. she loved this book and y/n could go on forever on why this is the most brilliant piece of art to describe women and their greatness but also their faults. each and every woman could identify with whichever sister they wanted, y/n personally related to amy the most.

much like amy march, y/n was a perfectionist with big dreams and high expectations but never admits it because she’d feel foolish saying it out loud. the young woman was a hopeless romantic, yearning for the right one and yet realistic enough to accept that it might never happen — the whole true love thing, commitment. she was always overlooked for being true to herself, too much or never enough for someone, but y/n learned to live with that.

call her pathetic but that book will forever be her favorite, regardless of anything anyone has to say about it.

minutes of being in her home, said woman’s younger brother had made himself homely, a mug in his right hand as his left stroked bodhi’s ginger fur. yellow-hued were the lights in the living room, dimmed so that y/n could read comfortably, even more so with the purring of her pet. after a previous night of seemingly endless working, relaxation was necessary.

“you’re extremely boring.” jamie whispered deep into her reading, almost being forgotten. his green eyes closed in tiredness, the tranquility of his sister’s home calming him just as much as her, but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

“and you were uninvited.” y/n clapped back, adjusting her light gray blanket around her legs, careful with her mug.

just when the elder sister believed he had fallen asleep and would leave her to her tranquillity, jamie had decided to be his mischievous self again, knowing his sister couldn’t resist proving him wrong and would unwillingly fall into his trap, “wanna hear my genius theory as to why exactly none of those men interest you?”

y/n slammed her book shut and pinched her eyes as her chest huffed out a sigh, “why, oh why, jamie?” the young woman entertained. truth be told, y/n enjoyed her brother’s ways of annoying her just a tiny bit, his dares and their shared laughter after all the adrenaline was fun and she missed those when he was off to be his great self.

“‘cause you’re too picky.” the brunet laughed whilst his sister merely glared, then opening his phone to nonchalantly text his mates before setting his attention back to the woman before him, “would you mind telling me why you swiped away on mika from three profiles ago merely because he is unemployed?” his eyebrow raised.

bodhi had long fled the scene, allowing the siblings to come up with their usual daring natures that deep into the night. apart from their hushed conversation, the entire apartment was silent, the occasional scratch on the floor or purring coming from the feline interrupting.

“you wouldn’t get it.” y/n mumbled, sipping from her gradually cooling tea.

“no please, i beg you to enlighten me.” jamie frowned further, “because i know you, y/n and romance is something you take very seriously and yet are so deprived of merely for the cause of your pickiness — or is it something else that drives you away?”

she couldn’t believe her twenty two year old brother was calling her desperate and lonely or was she imagining it? of course it was a silly joke in between siblings, that’s how it always was, and yet y/n couldn’t help the deep sting in her heart at the realization. nonetheless, the young woman pretended to be nonchalant at his remark and sarcastically laughed it off.

y/n’s lips twitched downward after her empty, unrequited laughter, deep down she knew precisely what the cause for her pickiness was but would her younger brother understand that? he knew her almost as well as the young woman knew herself and jamie flatters was a very understanding type of man but he didn’t feel the heartache she felt at times whenever she’s feeling herself falling for a man and is majorly disappointed when it doesn’t work out, when they don’t want her as much as she wants them.

tragedy strikes when a romantic gives up on romance.

“your mouth is doing that lopsided thing.” he sighed, his body moving away from the loveseat he occupied, instead joining y/n on the crimson couch, resting his hand on her arm as jamie looked into her eyes.

“look, take this as a grain of salt for i am not the romance expert and certainly don’t take relationships as seriously as you do,” jamie paused, then gave his sister a slight smile, “but love is something experimental, you have to try it out to, y’know, find the one and that’s what you lack.”

y/n chuckled at her brother, her blanket dropping from her lap as she sat up and engulfed jamie in a tightened hold, “look at’ya, being all the wise.” the young bartender then set her novel and mug down on her wooden coffee table.

the brunet picked her phone up again, then gently laid it on her covered lap, “how about we try again?” jamie suggested, his eyes glinting mischievously, “but this time you have to give the first guy who appears on this —“ he tapped her phone twice, connecting their eyes for emphasis, “a chance to at least introduce himself properly, then you decide if he’s worthy of your precious time.”

the flatters siblings laughed as quietly as they could. y/n thought about his offer, deep down knowing jamie was daring her to do it, and being the determined elder sister she was, y/n flatters went back to the app and swiped louis away, awaiting the new profile.

CHARLES LECLERC, 25 dedicated racing driver, monte carlo / monaco, middle child, cries at romantic comedies

y/n chuckled quietly at the fun facts he stated in his profile, yet couldn’t help but be impressed at his accomplishments. from what her sports loving brother told her, racing needed a lot of dedication and passion, and if that was indeed true, y/n would love to get to know charles better.

jamie startled her by yawning, hiding his smirk behind his arm as he told her goodnight and went off to the guest bedroom, leaving her in the dimmed and quiet room all by herself and her thoughts. y/n wasn’t the spontaneous kind, she overthought the outcomes and possibilities of her actions for she couldn’t handle the disappointment of failing. the young woman liked being sure of what she was doing, especially in the department of romance, where disappointment and loneliness always won in the end.

perhaps that was her problem though, exactly as jamie described. she needed to get out of her head and live by her heart, follow her instincts, and while her head warned her to stop being so foolishly hopeful and come to her senses, her heart wanted her to try it out with — charles, or dating generally but charles would be a great start.

before y/n could even process what was happening, the phone in her hand vibrated with a new message from the one and only man she and accepted to talk to.

charles leclerc ‘bartender’ guess my favorite drink then if you’re so good at your job

y/n flatters i’m merely employed not a mind reader???

charles leclerc your boss might have to reconsider… 🤨

y/n flatters hey, who said i didn’t take the challenge??

y/n flatters but guessing by your hobby, which is pretty hardcore, and your very striking first impression i guess you like vodka with lime just to be extra

y/n flatters let’s throw a couple of mint leaves in there too, you know, for the ladies, cause you like to charm but you probably like to mix some weird extra ingredient into it too

y/n flatters i say you’re into caipirinhas or moscow mules

charles leclerc perhaps you should consider the fbi 😧

y/n flatters was i right????

charles leclerc the explanations were a bit unnecessary but yeah, moscow mule it is

y/n flatters oh my, i’m so freaking good

y/n flatters my boss should give me a raise, i’m showing her this!!!! charles you’ve saved me!!!!!

charles leclerc always a pleasure ;)

charles leclerc but i like my moscow mule kind of sweet, which you missed and therefore also missed a part of my personality, i’m hurt…

y/n flatters cry about it :)

charles leclerc i will, matter of fact. what bad example you set for women, the protectors of earth

y/n flatters since…?

charles leclerc 21st century, love ;)

y/n flatters i’ll do you one better then, what’s my favorite vehicle if you’re so good at your hobby

charles leclerc which is also my job…

y/n flatters uh oh, something’s at stake here…

charles leclerc what would that be? 🤨

y/n flatters your reputation, never really watched racing sports but i’ll make sure twitter knows, bet they know who you are 😄

charles leclerc cruel???

charles leclerc also offended that you don’t watch f1

y/n flatters well no, the only name that crosses my mind is lewis hamilton

charles leclerc huh

charles leclerc i have to change that immediately…

y/n flatters you know, i’ll get into f1 if you guess my preferred vehicle correctly

charles leclerc car brand?

y/n flatters no, i live in boston

charles leclerc hey, i can’t guess uber right??

y/n flatters very funny, i’ll have you know i was born and raised in london 😒

charles leclerc ah! buses it is, then

y/n flatters you.

y/n flatters ?????

y/n flatters you’re actually right what the fuck

charles leclerc ;)

y/n flatters how. you could’ve said anything

charles leclerc to be honest, i grasped at straws right then

charles leclerc the traditional double decker buses came to mind and i could only hope and pray

charles leclerc now i’ve got a new fan ;)

y/n flatters sure buddy boy ! :))))

charles leclerc you wound me…

y/n flatters awww :’(((((

charles leclerc definitely an older sister

y/n flatters what the fuck stop that

charles leclerc sorry, just so painfully obvious 🤓

“hey.” a whisper alarmed her as her brother stepped into the room, rubbing his eyes clad in his sleeping clothes he’d left at his sister’s apartment. y/n glanced at the nightlight clock dimly glowing on her coffee table, shocked to read almost three in the morning. had she seriously been talking to charles for that long? hadn’t seemed so.

the darkness in the corner of the living room hid jamie’s light smirk of triumph, “was i interrupting anything?”

y/n, not wanting to admit her brother had made her night slightly better by daring her to be more extroverted and less anxious, grasped at excuses to throw at him, only to forget anything when her phone dinged in her hand once more.

charles leclerc still there or did i scare you away?

“uh,” was all she could muster. her brain was complete focused on the racing driver’s message, entirely forgetting about her younger brother as the corner of her lips twitched upwards. at the sound of a throat clearing, y/n redirected her attention back to her brother, smiling sheepishly.

jamie rolled his eyes and dragged his fatigued body back into his room, sock clad feet rubbing against the wooden floor loud enough to make bodhi vocalize her annoyance out loud. the young woman took a moment to gather herself from the complete shock of her night being turned upside down that quickly, accidentally spilling her cold tea all over her shirt in the haste of standing up.

she gasped, shit, chest heaving with adrenaline and yet the smile remained on her face. usually, the bartender would scold herself, mutter a bunch of profanities under her breath, but that night she merely chuckled at her clumsiness as she entered her sunset hued room, where bo slept right in the center of her messily made bed, to get changed into her nightgown.

y/n flatters all men tend to scare me, you’re not special

charles leclerc huh, first time i hear that

y/n flatters took your virginity ;)

charles leclerc in a way, you did indeed, love

y/n flatters kidding, my brother reminded me of something called nighttime though and i spilled cold tea all over myself

charles leclerc i’ve got that impact on people ;)

y/n flatters you drive cars around in circles, bet ya wee your trousers anytime a woman gives you attention

charles leclerc ah, you got me, starshine

charles leclerc how about you get a good night’s sleep and i make sure you haven’t died by morning

y/n flatters ever the romantic 😫

charles leclerc anything for you, starshine

charles leclerc but on a serious note (for once), i hope you do sleep well

y/n flatters on a serious note (for once), you too charles thank you for entertaining my delusions tonight

charles leclerc i loved to, try not to dream of me ;)

y/n flatters ruined this brief moment of sincerity

charles leclerc sleep well mon étoile ;)

y/n flatters did you just call me a toilet in french?

charles leclerc reeeest y/n! 😤

y/n flatters you too, charles ;)))

419 notes · View notes

chilwe1l · 1 year

Text

You're Dating Charles Leclerc And This Is Your Camera Roll :

541 notes · View notes

chilwe1l · 1 year

Text

to be on a boat with ben chilwell 🫠

29 notes · View notes

chilwe1l · 2 years

Text

he’s so fucking hot i’m actually going insane i need him so so bad

143 notes · View notes

chilwe1l · 2 years

Text

you made me hate this city

summary: It was just a stupid bet. A way to prove Jason and his asshole friends wrong, to finally get under the blonde's skin. It was never supposed to end with Eddie falling in love, nor with him laying on your doorstep with bruised knees, begging for your forgiveness.

tags: Eddie x fem!reader, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, ice queen/social outcast reader, Hopper!reader (goddaughter), reader is 18+ (impli. twenties), fluff, humor, angst, happy ending tho ofc

☆ word count: 17K+ (i stg it's worth it) ☆

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

Winters in Hawkins were unbearable.

Eddie's fingers - dry skin cracking by his knuckles, pink lines marred by green veins poking out of his skin - shakily held up the lit joint to his chapped lips, allowing him to inhale deeply and let out a slow drag of smoke. Much like his muted breaths, the white whisps of air curled upwards in lazy swirls before dissipating into the night air, providing a momentary release from the cold.

The freezing temperatures embraced Eddie just as quickly afterwards, making him grumble in discomfort, swearing under his breath for how long Jason and his group of friends were taking to finish the damn baseball game. The heat provided from his van was rather weak - the heater having blown a fuse a week ago which he had yet to fix - and his jean jacket did little to provide any additional warmth as he grasped the lapels of the jacket and pulled it closer towards his body.

God, where were those assholes?

As if fate had been listening to his internal monologue, Eddie soon heard the crunching of snow beneath several pairs of feet accompanied by the recognizable rowdy chatter between the basketball players. Leading the group as usual was Jason Carver - the blonde's signature smug expression replaced by one of annoyance - followed by his two best friends, a brunette and a redhead who were practical carbon copies of each other (muscular airheads with big egos and loud voices). Not that Eddie could really distinguish between the basketball players at Hawkins High. They all tended to come from the same pool of people.

Tall, fit, conventionally attractive, white males from cushy upper class backgrounds.

Unfortunately, that also meant jocks were one of his most profitable clients. Hence why Eddie had dragged his van and stash of goods half-way across town during winter break in the freezing cold. Having waited a staggering twenty minutes with nothing more than a jean jacket to keep him company, he was simply looking forward to finalizing the deal and to be able to drive back home to fall underneath the covers.

"You got the goods, freak?" Nate, the tall brunette, yelled out in advance, clapping his meaty hands together. Eddie had to actively suppress an eyeroll - no matter how many times he regularly dealt with them, they'd never even gone so far as to call him by his real name. Wordlessly kicking open the back of his van, he pulled off the green tarp overlaying the interior to reveal a hefty amount of weed, neatly packaged in plastic containers and paper bags.

"What'd you want?" the metalhead asked, voice monotone and face straight - completely immune to their presence at this point. The transaction was, after all, a regular routine at this point so as to make Eddie's reactions automatic and reflexive. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as he could.

The basketball player standing next to Nate, a slim redhead named Oliver, cut into the conversation whilst brushing falling snowflakes off of his varsity jacket with a frown.

"Give us everything, son of satan."

"Everything?" Eddie raised his eyebrows, unable to hide his surprise. Jason only clicked his tongue at that, left hand coming up to swiftly comb through his hair - the blonde was on edge, that was as clear as daylight to see.

"Yeah, jackass, just give us what you got. I'm throwing a massive party and my parents are in California for another two weeks so I need all you got."

"That'll be $1,500." Eddie slowly said, eyeing the blonde up and down, expecting the man to pull out of the deal at any moment. Instead, the jock only let out an exasperated sigh, dropping his duffel bag to the floor before digging out a wad of cash.

"That's a shit ton of money you're blowing on weed, Carver." Oliver commented, slapping his friend's shoulder.

"Not enough money to impress (Y/n) though, apparently." Nate added from the side, causing both him and Oliver to crack up at the expense of a fuming Jason, the blonde's fists clenching tightly by his sides.

"Fuck off, would you?" the blonde shrugged his friend's arm off of his shoulders quickly, eyes burning with annoyance and betrayal. Eddie knew he wasn't supposed to be listening in on their conversation, his brown eyes still focused on the stack of notes in his hands as his fingers combed through each bill one by one. But his ears perked up at the mention of your name and he couldn't help but listen in closer as Jason's teammates laughed even harder at their leader's expression of fury.

"I'm telling you. Your daddy's money and status may get you everything you want, but not even you can win over the ice queen of Hawkins High." Nate drawled, with Oliver nodding eagerly behind him.

Jason only rolled his shoulders forward at that, unclenching his jaw with a frustrated sigh.

"Well how the fuck was I supposed to know that she was going to throw her drink on me and call me a 'blonde bimbo in ugly basketball shorts' just cause I asked her out?"

The chuckle that escaped from Eddie's lips was dangerous, but he couldn't help but let out a short laugh at the recollection of your comment, subjecting himself immediately to the harsh gazes of the three jocks. Jason in particular looked offended at that, cracking his knuckles and flashing the metalhead a stinging glare.

"You think that's funny, Munson?"

Counting up to the last thousand - damn, Jason really had handed him $1,500 on the dot - Eddie looked up at Jason with a sly smile, shaking his head lightly side to side.

"Meh, just a little. Doesn't matter though. You got the cash, I got the weed." he replied before stepping to the side, signaling for Nate and Oliver to begin shoving the packets of weed into their duffel bags. Whilst they did so, Jason slowly walked forward towards Eddie, an egotistical swagger to his steps.

"What? You think you can do better, freak?

"Asking girls out? Eh, maybe." Eddie decided to goad the blonde further, enjoying the delicious cruelty of being able to toy with the fragile ego of the star basketball player. Watching how Jason's neck strained at that comment, adam's apple bopping up and down.

Suddenly, the angry expression on Jason's face melted away into a wide grin, a new delightful idea seemingly having popped into his mind.

"Tell you what, freak. Let's wager a bet." Jason's tongue dragged across his lower lips slowly, his eyes were glinting with a certain kind of danger Eddie couldn't quite place. "You think you're such tough shit, that you're so much better than me - why don't you go after (Y/n)? If you can somehow get the infamous ice queen to say yes to a date, you win."

"And what exactly would I win?"

"I'll pay double the usual for all our dealings. Heard through the grapevine your shitty trailer home's overdue for a fix, no?"

Oliver and Nate cackled behind Jason at that comment, igniting fiery hatred in the metalhead's veins. Jaw feeling stiff, he forced himself to sit up straight, staring right back at the jocks.

"... That, and you leave me and my friends alone for the rest of the year."

"For that price, you'll have to have her say yes to prom too!" Oliver yelled out from the side, to which Jason nodded.

"Get her to say yes to dates and then prom, and then we'll say you win. I pay double, you can fix your shitty dump you call a house, and we'll stop bothering you and your band of freaks. Deal?"

It was no different to staring the devil in the face, devious and cruel smirk matched with voice dripping with venom as the blonde extended one hand forward. Eddie stared at it for a few seconds, contemplating his decisions: his uncle had tried to be sly about money problems but winter was only getting colder, and now that he had Dustin, Lucas and Mike in the group, he did want the bullying to stop against his group.

Swallowing his doubts, Eddie quickly shook Jason's hand, never once breaking eye contact.

"Deal."

-------------------------------------

First week back from winter break.

Eddie has been agonizing over how to even approach you. He's only spoken to you once before.

Actually, that may be an overstatement, he thinks, now looking back.

Eddie was being blocked from accessing his locker as a group of cheerleaders gossiped in the hallways, each of them blatantly ignoring Eddie's quiet pleas for them to move. When he coughed loudly and tried to wiggle through the crowd, the two head cheerleaders by the front shot him a nasty glare, the blonde one even going so far as to look him up and down and smirk.

"Thought I smelled trailer trash. Piss off, freak."

"I'm just trying to get to my locker, Joanne." he'd deadpanned - normally, he would've just walked away by now but he really needed to get to his fucking locker for that damn history textbook.

"Well we're too busy catching up about the rager Dianne went to last week in Idaho, so you can wait, okay?" the other head cheerleader, a petite raven haired girl named Sandra, snapped. That elicited a crowd of giggles to erupt amongst the group, and Eddie sighed again, running a hand down his face in exasperation.

"Look-"

"Didn't know this was the hangout spot for superficial barbies skipping their geometry classes." you sneered, coy smirk dancing on your glossy lips. The group of girls instantly froze at the sound of your voice, causing even the two head cheerleaders by Eddie to straighten up in fear.

"What'd you want, (L/n)?" Joanne stuttered out, the low pink flush in her cheeks clearly marking her embarrassment and fear. Eddie watched in awe as you simply stared the cheerleader down, dissecting the girl's layers with one glare and a low chuckle under your breath.

"For you and your fake friends to leave, obviously. What, too dumb to even figure that out?"

"Y-you can't make us leave! You have no authority to command so." Sandra blurted out, eyes darting away to the floor when you redirected your fiery gaze at her. Eddie had to admit, you were kind of terrifying - sharp eyes drawn forward, head held high, fingers gripping tightly onto the straps of your backpack.

"Is that so?" you questioned, stepping one step closer to the crowd of cheerleaders, all of whom instinctively backed up against the wall. Pink tongue tracing your lower lips, you cocked your head to the side in feigned interest. "I guess you only ever listen to the authority of Joanne's boyfriend, huh, Sandra? When he's leaving hickies on your neck and blowing off dinners with Joanne for you?"

"You did what?!" Joanne screamed out in anger at her best friend, causing Sandra to begin running in the opposite direction. Sensing a battle brewing between their two leaders, the rest of the cheerleaders deserted the hallway, leaving you and Eddie alone in the aftermath. You rolled your eyes, shoving away the last cheerleader evacuating the scene before Eddie's left hand reached out to grab your wrist.

"W-wait." he stuttered out, hesitant. You looked down at his hand with a cold glare, before staring back up at him in annoyance.

"What."

"Thank you for standing up for me. I mean, no one's ever talked back to the popular kids for me before. It's really cool of you." he rambled, hands fidgeting by his neck, not being able to quite meet your gaze upon feeling chills run down his spine at your icy demeanor. Your only response to his comment was to aggressively shake off his hand, recoiling from his touch as if you'd been burnt.

"I wasn't doing any of that for you, Munson. They were in the way to my Chemistry class."

Turning on your heel, you disappeared into the foreground before Eddie could muster up a response.

The rumors were true, he realized. You were exceptionally beautiful - it was no wonder that you were rumored to be scouted by the cheerleaders by third period on your first day (had you not literally dumped an iced coffee over their leader when she'd approached you during lunch). Even when you were snarling at him, arms crossed in a defensive posture and chilling orbs glaring daggers into his eyes, he couldn't help but feel warmth rise to his cheeks from being able to gaze at your face up close.

But Eddie wasn't able to focus on your features much - the dip of your neck leading down to the valley of your breasts, your glossy lips and bright eyes, jaw and cheeks carved by the harsh sunlight - when you'd snapped at him and turned the other way.

Staring down at his now empty hands, he shrugged. You were indeed, an ice queen.

Cut to the present, Eddie's hiding behind the door of his own locker, peeking out at the hallway every few seconds to watch you shuffle through your own belongings. Headphones around your ears, Walkman tape bouncing alongside your side as you pull down a stack of books from the top shelf, your skirt rides up ever so slightly to bunch at your waist.

To any passing stranger, you may even look sweet at the moment - soft body hugged by the green fabric, knee high socks, lipstick cautiously being applied by the small mirror taped to your locker door.

But Eddie knows better. The whole school knows better, with the way everyone makes a point to avoid you. Cheerleaders stop walking and turn the other way, the jocks avoid your gaze and keep as long of a distance from you, and even the nerds and band geeks make sure to walk with their head down and mind their steps to not bump into you.

"What are you looking at?" Dustin suddenly jumps in, face few inches from Eddie, causing the older boy to straighten up in surprise and hit his head against the wall. Clutching his head where it's beginning to bruise, he makes it a point to glare at the curly haired freshman, who only flashes him an innocent smile.

"Ouch, what the hell, Henderson?" Eddie grumbles.

"You got that 'I'm lost in my thoughts' look on your face. And I was just curious as to what could be so interesting to have you staring off into space."

"It's nothing." Eddie quickly blurts out, practically slamming his locker shut and leaning against it with a faux grin, cool relaxed posture with his arms crossed. Dustin doesn't buy that, only frowning in disbelief, before leaning to the side to peek towards where Eddie was staring.

The only person really visible is you, thumbing through your notebooks, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Holy shit, were you... staring at (Y/n) (L/n)?" Dustin semi-shouts out of shock, forcing Eddie to practically grab the younger boy by the front of his t-shirt and yank him backwards, narrowly avoiding the curious look you throw behind your back upon hearing your name be shouted out.

"Keep your damn voice down, geez." Eddie swears, heart thrumming with anxiety. Dustin's face only quirks up in semi-annoyance, his left hand coming up to slap across the senior's chest.

"Why were you staring at her?"

"I was not staring at her." Eddie weakly responds. It's a total lie and they both know it, with Eddie unable to even look Dustin straight in the face.

"Listen, I know you're crazy and your whole thing is going against the grain - which I think is awesome, don't get me wrong. But getting involved with her? That's a death wish, man. She's fucking scary." Dustin shudders, shaking off faux chills as you slam your locker shut and shove past a group of cowering teens, not even sparing them a second glance.

Cursing internally, the metalhead swallows his comments and forces out a grin.

"Relax, man. I'm not getting involved with anyone."

----------------------------------

Eddie finally gets the courage to talk to you on a rainy Friday afternoon. The parking lot's deserted and the sky's a murky gray, harsh showers slapping against dulled windows fogged up from the cold.

Tucking his roleplaying notebook underneath his left arm, carefree smile on his face from the fantastic D&D session he's just had, he almost walks past where you're leaning against the wall without acknowledging that you're alone.

You're so good at that, Eddie realizes: blending into the background, simultaneously being so eye-catching and beautiful to catch his attention, whilst also exuding an uninviting aura that makes his brain immediately divert his gaze elsewhere.

Tapping your converse shoes against the cement floor, your head is drawn downwards with your eyes narrowly focused in on a hardcover book Eddie can't read the name of. The entire hallway's deserted and Eddie realizes that now's the best time - more than ever - to make his first move.

"Hey. (Y/n), right?" he starts out, waving for your attention and flashing you his most charming smile. It doesn't even leave a dent on your face: lips still in a straight line, your head not even picking up to stare at him.

"What do you want?" you drawl out, flipping a page with your thumb. He fumbles on what to say next, not used to having to speak to someone who won't even look at him - at the very least, he thinks, when jocks are jeering at him or cheerleaders are insulting him, they flash him a dirty glance.

"Tutoring." is the first thing that leaves his lips and that does the job of causing you to still and look up at him with your eyebrows raised, mocking grin on your face.

"Tutoring? You do know that I'm barely passing all my classes, right?" you spit out, unimpressed. Stranded, Eddie's hands fly up in mock surrender, voice edged with nerves as he forces out a laugh.

"Yeah uh, no, I meant like... I could tutor you."

You chuckle at that - a dry, bitter sound that makes him cringe - perfectly manicured fingers curling to point accusingly at his figure.

"You, Eddie Munson, repeat senior - tutoring me? Yeah right. Fuck off, won't you?"

Licking his lips, Eddie takes in a deep breath, ready to try and persuade you again when the loud honking of a car cuts in. Looking over your shoulder, he can see the faint outline of a truck and a man sitting by the front of the driver's seat, shouting your name. He can't make out much about the man's features - the glass windows fogged up and obscured by the pouring rain - and you brush past Eddie with ease, shoulders colliding with his.

"Well that went well." Eddie sarcastically comments under his breath.

Maybe this bet isn't going to work out, he bitterly thinks, kicking a small pebble in his way.

Then it's Monday. And thank god for Ms. Rogers of his American History class - because she announces a new group project, and the pairings just so work out to pair you and him together. Eddie has to conceal the rush of joy and relief when he sees his name hastily scrawled next to yours on the whiteboard, keeping his face straight and outwardly disinterested when he sits down next to you.

"Hey there, partner." he jokes, sliding his chair closer to the table. Your gaze remains fixated on your nails, your only acknowledgment of his presence being the rolling of your eyes. "How's life?"

"Life is life, Munson." you spit, harsh gaze shifting a fraction to cast him a dirty glance. It makes him feel small, goosebumps rising across his skin from the way your lip snarls and your voice tightens.

"Right, well, now that we're project partners we'll probably be seeing a lot of each other. Do you wanna meet up after school to discuss the basics?" Eddie trails off slowly, cautiously trying to survey your reactions.

He's silently bracing for another cruel remark - or maybe a disinterested eyeroll, coupled with a middle finger to his face - but to his surprise, you huff out a quick sigh and unclench your jaw.

"Fine. The library at 3.30."

"Oh actually, I was wondering if we could do later because technically we're supposed to have a Hellfire campaign tonight-"

You hold one hand up to his face, forcing him to shut up, before throwing him an annoyed glance.

"Do I look like I care? Reschedule."

All other arguments die in his mouth when the teacher begins to talk, signaling for everyone in the class to fall silent and redirect their attention to the front of the classroom. Eddie shifts to look forward, but he can't help but quickly glance at you from the corner of his eyes.

You look agitated, teeth biting down on the end of a yellow pencil, grinding down onto hard wood. Shoulder tensed, body braced forward as you lean onto your propped up arms. Eddie realizes then that he's never seen you relaxed. Or seen you smile, or hell, be anything other than aggressive and tense.

The thoughts of the bet with Jason re-enter his mind, which he's quick to scrub away in an attempt to pay attention. Above all, he supposes, he'd like to at least pass this fucking class so he's not a fourth time repeat senior.

The end of the school day arrives in a flash, it seems, with him anxiously jumping up and down on the balls of his feet outside the library whilst waiting for you to appear. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he then feels a warm hand on his back, twisting around clumsily to see your non-amused expression staring back at him.

"Come on, Munson. I don't have all day."

The first half an hour is painfully awkward. Eddie keeps on throwing jokes - "if I have to read another passage about a dead white man, I think I'm going to die myself" - and thoughtful compliments - "that's a really good idea, (Y/n), thank god we were paired together or else I would've failed" - but you don't seem the least bit deterred. Sitting at least five inches away from him, shoulders hunched over as your gaze remains fixated on the stack of papers strewn over the table surface. There's a permanent frown on your face, pulling down and wrinkling your features, coupled with an unwavering silence.

Eddie wonders what it'd be like if you smiled instead.

"So what do you think? I reckon pretty much everyone's going to do the easy topics - the ratification of the constitution or the fight for independence. So maybe it'd be better if we did something different, like maybe how the two party system emerged?" Eddie suggests lightly, leaning back on his seat, flashing you a hopeful smile.

You don't even look up at him, shrugging your shoulders.

"Sure, whatever."

"If you think there's something else we could do, I'd love to hear it." He's practically begging you to speak at this point, considering he's been the one filling the silence in the room for the past half hour.

"Don't have any ideas."

"You sure?"

"YES! Jesus christ, Munson, are you deaf?" you snap, looking up at him angrily.

"Alright, god, I'm sorry that I'm trying to include you in OUR project." he retorts, feeling his patience run dry. "You know-" He lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I've been nothing but nice to you the past few weeks-"

"Why is that?" you press, voice suddenly quiet.

"W-what?"

His breath catches in his throat when you make full eye contact with him, yellow embers reflecting in your orbs from the light bulbs hanging overhead.

"I'm confused as to why you've been so nice to me lately, Munson. What's your end game?" you question, slamming your book shut. Eddie blinks at you silently like a fish out of water - what the hell is he supposed to say to that? It must look awfully odd from your point of view, he realizes, for you two to go from strangers to him trying to talk to you all the time.

But what's he supposed to say? "Jason Carver and I fought and we got into a bet that I could seduce you and bring you to prom because you're this notorious ice queen."

Yeah right.

Exhaling quickly, he just cocks his head to the side and feigns calmness.

"Maybe I just wanted to get to know you better."

"Me, seriously?" you scoff, clearly not believing him.

"Yeah! Look, I... I know what it's like for people at this shitty high school to not take you seriously or to make you feel like a complete outcast. I figured you could use a friend! Because no offense, I have the Hellfire Club, but I've never seen you with anyone but yourself."

He's being pretty sincere with that statement, and it seems to come through as you raise your eyebrows slowly in response, unreadable expression on your face.

"You've been... watching me?"

"Not in a creepy way! Just consider it, like, one outcast looking out for another."

It's the slightest change, a reflex that lasts for less than a second, but he catches the end of your lips twitch ever so slightly to indicate a grin. It disappears just as quickly it appears, but he catches it nonetheless, and it makes hope blossom in his lower abdomen.

"... Alright." you surrender, gaze slightly softer, voice no longer aggressive and defensive. It's impossible for him to conceal his joy at that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Munson. I suppose I could be a bit nicer to you. But-" you poke him on the side with a spare pencil. "No promises. No pushing me into anything. We're hardly acquaintances, let alone friends. But I suppose if we need to work together on this stupid project together, we might as well get along. Okay?"

Eddie nearly pulls a muscle with how fast he nods in affirmation.

"Okay."

---------------------------------------

Tuesdays and Thursday evenings are from then on reserved for after school meet ups to work on the project. You're still characteristically you - full of mean comments, sassy eyerolls, judgmental gazes and all. But he does notice that as time goes on, you're snarling at him less and loosening up ever so slightly.

He's yet to seen you smile, however, though he's gotten close a couple of times. Like when he slipped on a banana peel whilst walking out the library with you last week or when yesterday, he made a dumb joke about a horrendous illustration of Thomas Jefferson in the textbook.

On a windy February afternoon, you two end up staying a bit later than expected. Eddie leaning against the wall, sitting on the carpeted floor with his legs crossed as he pours through five heavy leather bound books, you're hunched over a shitty desk lamp and a cup of coffee as you highlight passages from a textbook. Neither of you have cared to check the clock or have registered the fact that it's been a full two hours since the librarians notified you two that they're heading out.

"I think my brain's melting." he complains, slipping down the wall slowly in a dramatic fashion. You shoot him an amused glance, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth.

"Tough luck, devil boy. We've still got a lot more to read."

Eddie groans, rubbing his eyes with his metal ring clad fingers.

"I know, but it feels like we've been reading boring books in this stuffy room FOREVER now!"

The two of you pause at that, it suddenly dawning on both of you that the rest of the library seems oddly... dark. And quiet.

"Shit. What time is it?" you ask aloud, standing up so quickly that you topple your chair over. The nearest clock - hanging behind a row of oak bookshelves - indicates that it's nearly six thirty pm.

Far, far, later than anyone would be at school.

It's a scramble to dog-ear pages, organize the books in their relevant places and to shove all your belongings in to your respective bags before racing down the hallway to the front doors, which of course, are locked.

"Well, I guess we're gonna die here." Eddie remarks, dropping his hands from the front doors with a sigh. You slap him across the shoulder at that, though this time the action's more playful, more tongue in cheek.

"Relax, Munson. All we need is a phone, do you think the front office's phones still work?"

"Yeah. I would know, because they made a call to my uncle this morning to complain that I came in an hour late to first period."

"Classic Eddie." you comment, to which he visibly stiffens and stares down at you with awe. "What?" you press, confused at why he's suddenly looking at you like that.

"You said my name. Not Munson, not devil boy, not an insult."

To his quiet surprise, you seem to get embarrassed at that, eyes dropping to the floor as you shift nervously on your feet.

"I mean, that's your name, right? But if you prefer I call you like Munson instead I ca-"

"No, no." he lets out a gentle laugh, and a thought passes by your head like a bullet train that you really like it. It's soft, it's melodic, it's sweet: taste of sweet potatoes coated in cloud sugar on your tongue. "I really like hearing you say my name. Say it more."

Your lips quirk up again, signaling a potential smile, but it's not fully realized. But your shoulders do drop in a more relaxed manner, and you flash him an ambivalent glance.

"Sure."

After using a spare hairpin in Eddie's pocket to pick the lock to the front office, you jump over the counter to slide over the surface and reach the phone behind the desk. Eddie makes a joke about how you'd make an excellent spy - to which you throw him a dirty glare and signal for him to shut up - before you make a phone call. To whom, he doesn't know. But it's clear that you care for this person, as your voice becomes lower and less agitated.

"Hey. Yeah, sorry for worrying you. I was staying late with my project partner for American History and then... we lost track of the time and now we're locked in. Do you think you could come over and get us?" you pause, Eddie supposes it's to allow the person on the other line to respond. "Alright. Sounds good. See you soon."

"Who'd you call?" he quizzes, curious as he helps you slide off the desk, allowing you to grasp at his shoulders to jump off securely. He chooses to ignore the way his skin tingles with electricity when your soft hands grip at his skin, heat wrapping around his upper body.

"My godfather. But it'll probably take another half an hour for him to arrive so we should probably camp out by the front doors till then."

There's a good five minutes of uninhibited silence after that as you two sit by the front entrance. You're sitting across from him leaning against the lockers: one leg straight, the other propped up by your chest as you rest your arms on your knee and twist your body to look out the window. Eddie's sitting a few inches away from you, legs crossed, toying with the rings on his fingers.

It's not a tense silence, but it is boring.

"I didn't know you had a godfather." Eddie decides to say, looking up at you cautiously. "That's cool."

"Cool, huh?" you quip, tearing your gaze away from the window. "Not many people think that. Most people think it's fucking weird that I live with my godfather instead of my biological parents."

"Well most people are assholes and idiots. Don't listen to them." he argues, lacing his fingers together.

"That's true." you agree, nodding ambivalently. "What about you? You and your uncle? You two live by the trailer park, right?"

Neither of you delve into too much personal information - the conversation's restrained to surface level things, before somehow melting into a heated discussion over music. It turns out that you're a huge music fan, front pocket of your bag overflowing with cassettes, notebooks crumpled by the weight of your walkman and headphones.

"Listen, I can appreciate a good Billy Joel song and all, but Black Sabbath is god." Eddie insists, uncrossing his legs and gesturing frantically with his hands.

"Oh, please, Eddie! You're just saying that because your exposure to Billy Joel has primarily been Uptown Girl. He has some serious deep cuts, like you can't tell me that you're able to listen to Vienna without getting emotional."

"Hey, you can get PLENTY emotional to Black Sabbath."

"Really?" you quip, poking him in the shoulder, forcing him to fall back down on his heels. You're fully smiling at this point, eyes light and wide, lips outstretched into an actual grin. He really likes this sight, he thinks. The light even seems to hit you differently when you smile - carving shadows down your jaw, glittering light kissing your hairline, halo around your hair.

"Really. Pinky promise." Eddie argues, poking his pinkie finger out at you. You stare down at him, fully amused, shaking your head sideways at his antics.

"I'm not gonna pinky promise you shit." you mock, crossing your arm.

"Aw, come on." he leans in teasingly, backing you up against the lockers. He doesn't realize it, but your breath hitches in your throat at the action, as it hits you that he's so close that you can count the individual freckles adorning his cheeks and smell the mixed scents of pine, fresh rain and weed emanating from his jacket.

You both break away from your respective positions at the sound of the front doors unlocking, with a very unimpressed look on Hopper's face as he links back the keys to his belt and raises his eyebrows at you.

"Are you sure it was the project that made you late and not being with your boyfriend?" he drawls, forefinger outstretched to gesture between the two of you. You stand up so quickly you practically stumble forward, stuttering your words - you're so mortified, you can't even look at Eddie.

"Jesus, dad, NO! He's just a friend."

"Friend, huh?" Eddie teases, elbowing you on the side, to which you elbow him back harder (making him groan out in slight pain). He watches as the police chief's blue eyes narrow in on his figure, dissecting him with a single glance, before returning to stare at you. It registers in his mind that Hopper's eyes soften when they land on you, a small grin appearing on his aged face.

"Alright then. Good to see you've made friends, (Y/n)." he comments. You roll your eyes, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Speaking of which, Eddie needs to get going. Right?" you rush out, practically shoving Eddie forward. Eddie nods awkwardly, shooting the older man a (what he hopes is) charming smile before winking at you.

"Right. Thank you, sir, for saving us. (Y/n), I'll see you next Tuesday for the final bits of the project?"

"Yeah, see you."

The moment you hop into the front seat of Hopper's truck, you can practically feel the intensity of the the rush of thoughts in your godfather's mind, his heavy gaze alternating between the road and your anxious figure shifting against the leather seats.

"So... this Eddie. Your friend, huh?" he starts out, quiet.

"Just drive, Hop, jesus." you say out loud, leaning your head against the window, rubbing your temples in a soothing manner as if to cure a headache.

"Not commenting on it, sweetheart. Just saying it's nice to see you open up and make friends."

"A friend, dad. One. Singular." you correct, to which he just waves off your comment with a blow through his lips.

"Still. Maybe this'll help you adjust a bit better. You have been adjusting alright, right?"

He pulls over into the driveway of his house, hands lingering over the steering wheel as he glances over at you worryingly. Hopper's always been a protective godfather, never intrusive but often keeping a close watch on you from the background. You don't blame him for worrying, considering the whiplash of a turn your life's taken in the past few months.

Leaving your parents in New York, packing two bags of clothes before hitchhiking across the country to come all the way down to Hawkins to live with your godfather. Your 'real' parents are practically dead to you, hence why you've chosen to call Hopper 'dad', and you consider El to be your real life little sister.

You figure you're already asking so much of him: to take you in as his non-biological daughter, to provide you a place to sleep and eat, to pay for your schooling as you catch up on two years of high school you took off in New York. All of this, combined, has led you to be less than transparent about how you've been adjusting at your new school.

In fact, Hopper wouldn't even know anything about how you don't really have friends if it hadn't been for Mike and his big mouth, and El's sweet concerns being expressed to Hopper.

"I'm doing okay, dad. Seriously." you assure him, patting down on his hand, squeezing it comfortingly.

When your bedroom door finally closes behind you that night, it dawns on you as you're staring up at the ceiling - you've made a friend.

For the first time in a while, you fall asleep filled with joy and giddiness.

------------------------------------------

"Do you wanna come see my band play tonight?"

Eddie asks you on the final day of your project, closing your locker door for you, peering up at you with his doe like eyes. Your mind's been swimming with anxious thoughts all day - you're afraid that the only thing keeping your friendship afloat with Eddie is the project, which is due to be turned in today, and you're not sure what's going to happen once it's done.

So it's actually kind of a relief to have him beg you to see his band perform tonight, relief that you can't help but spill out into a small grin reflected on your lips.

"Corroded Coffin's playing tonight?"

"Yeah! And it's gonna be radical. Some of my other friends are gonna be attending too, so you won't have to show up alone."

"Aren't minors not allowed in seedy bars?" you tease. "Your friends are like, all freshman boys."

"Hey, I have friends that aren't Henderson or the other kids! Seriously, Steve and Robin are cool adults in their twenties and they will be there too."

"I don't think imaginary friends count." you continuously tease, walking away from him, as he follows right behind you.

"They're NOT imaginary! I swear, they're real people with real jobs and hobbies." Eddie pouts, looking like a kicked puppy. It's adorable, really, and you can't help but chuckle at his sad expression.

"Alright, alright, I'm joking! Sure, sounds good. When and where is it?"

"The downtown bar by the bookstore off the 45. Door's open at 7, but realistically we won't be playing till like 8.30 so feel free to come by then. I'll tell Steve and Robin to wait for you outside. They're cool, I promise."

You can't help but bite your bottom lip at that, anxiety gnawing at your chest.

"Are you sure? I just... I don't know if I'll get along with your friends, that's all. I mean, it took us like forever to be friends ourselves." you comment dryly.

"Pfft, you'll get along with them super well, don't worry! You're cool, they're cool, that's all you need."

All protests die in your mouth when he smiles at you like that, so you sigh and surrender to his demands.

"Alright, fine."

The bar's packed and loud, you think, flashes of yellow and red light emitting from the dingy entrance as you cross the road towards the establishment. There's already a line of people outside but there's two people in particular who stick out like a sore thumb amongst the crowd of black and edgy looks - a girl and a boy around your age, mid-playful argument.

The guy meets your gaze and then waves you over, soft smile on his lips. He's quite cute, you think - not your type, but there's an undeniable charm to him, wavy chestnut brown hair, soft features and slight muscle definition to his thighs and arms. The girl's grinning at you and she's also pretty, short brunette bob framing her lively face quite nicely.

They're also dressed more for the park than a metal concert, but you suppose you haven't done much better (throwing on just a t-shirt and jeans over a pair of sneakers).

"Hey! (Y/n), right?" Steve asks, as you nod in response, slightly intimidated at the presence of these new people.

You do vaguely remember Hopper mentioning a guy named Steve once over a phone call with Joyce, but other than that you don't know too much about him. But Steve seems really nice, welcoming you into the group instantly, gently pulling you towards the two of them and away from the rest of the hectic crowds.

"I'm Steve. Nice to meet you. And this is Robin, my best friend and eternal pain in the ass."

"Cap your ego, Harrington. Don't listen to him, besides, us girls have to stick together, right?" Robin quips, pulling you against her and winking at you. You can't help but giggle at that, what with the way Steve's face then scrunches up into a haughty frown.

It turns out that they're a delightful pair to be around. Robin's sarcastic, witty and funny, and her no-bullshit attitude and dry sense of humor pairs nicely with Steve's slightly egotistical, flirty and outgoing nature. And with a bit of alcohol dancing on the tip of your tongue, you find yourself loosening and completely comfortable by the time the band comes out to play.

The music is loud - so loud that it reverberates through your body, so loud that it feels like the whole building shakes with the booming of the speakers - but it's also delirious and addicting, jumping up and down in a sea of people to the ear-splitting music.

The three of you stay long past after the show's wrapped up, leaning against the counter of the open bar with dopey smiles on each of your faces.

"Holy shit, my dad's gonna be so mad that I'm this tipsy." you comment, leaning onto Robin's shoulders for support.

"Really?" she teases, amused.

"Seriously. And the fact that he's the police chief probably isn't going to do me much favours."

"Hopper's your father?" Steve asks, surprised. He remembers in the back of his mind Hopper mentioning that he's taken in another kid a while ago, but he hadn't pressed the older man for details.

"Godfather, actually, but he might as well be my dad. Considering I left my shitty biological parents in New York."

"To shitty parents." Robin announces, raising her glass of whiskey into the air. Steve and you clink your glasses with hers in agreement.

"To shitty parents."

"Looks like someone's had a lot of fun." Eddie comments from behind you the moment you down the shot, your head slow to catch up with his presence before it hits you all at once.

"Eddie!" you squeal out, dropping the glass onto the counter and spinning around to envelope him in a fierce hug. He's wholly unprepared to catch your embrace with the speed and force with which you wrap your arms around his waist, causing him to stumble backwards.

"You were amazing! Like seriously, your guitar solo was the best part of the whole night." you gush and Eddie's glad that the harsh lighting of the bar is able to mask the slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

"Aw, thanks. Did Steve and Robin treat you alright?" he asks, looking up at his friends.

"More than alright, we nearly stole your girl." Steve teases, to which Eddie only scowls, waving away his friend's suggestive teasing.

"Alright, Harrington, keep it in your pants."

Robin and Steve continue to smirk at Eddie, making exaggerated lovesick expressions and throwing kisses at the two of you, none of which you're catching because your head is still buried against Eddie's chest. Eddie has to subtly - but fiercely - tell his friends to cut it out, gesturing with his hands and throwing nasty glares their way.

"Fuck, I really need to sober up though." you mumble, straightening up, stumbling ever so slightly on your feet.

"Yeah, and I'm beat. Wanna split a cab, Buckley?"

"Sure do, Steve. See you two kids around." Robin slyly adds, quickly exiting right after Steve to leave you alone with Eddie. It's clear what they're trying to do, but Eddie can't really bring it to himself to care when you tug at his sleeves, still tipsy and tired.

"Can we drive out somewhere cold and empty? If I go home now, Hopper's gonna be real mad about my alcohol consumption. Even if I'm over 18, that man is... protective."

Eddie chuckles, nodding, brushing away a stray strand of hair from your eyes.

"Alright then. Guess we're driving to the park."

On the way out to his car, his left hand resting on your back as he guides you into the front seat, Eddie meets Jason's eyes from across the road. The jock is leaning against his car, nursing a beer bottle in his right hand, whilst his group of friends rustle and joke around with each other by the gas tanks.

An unshakable feeling of disgust rises up in Eddie's throat, heart clenching at the way the blonde's eyes shift down at you, then on to Eddie's hand on your back, and how then a semi-impressed grin spreads on Jason's lips. The blonde ever so slightly nods at Eddie, as if confirming their bet, before returning to his conversation with his friends.

"Eddie?" you call out his name, breaking him out of his trance. "Everything alright?"

He's being paranoid, he tells himself. He hasn't even done anything yet, if anything, he's nowhere near "winning" the bet - you're just friends, that's all this is, leading you back to the car and helping you sober up by a park.

"Yeah. All good." Eddie forces out, faux grin and all. There's an odd bitter taste filling his lungs, but he breathes out slowly, reminding himself that he's not doing anything bad.

He's just a friend, taking another friend, to the park.

Sitting on the swing set, his fingers trail down the linked metal chains, small smile on his face as you childishly swing back at forth with your legs kicking out in front of you. It's your way of sobering up, you insist, and he can't complain - it's clearly making you very happy, the smile on your face permanent. It's a nice sight, a rare sight, one that he's keeping tucked in to the crevices of his mind for later.

"Be careful." Eddie chastises, watching you soar higher and higher towards the night sky. "I don't want you to break a bone or something. Think Hopper would be even more if you break a bone than if you show up a bit drunk."

Slowing down your movements, you scoff, but there's still a lazy smile on your face indicating that you're not really mad.

"I hate it when you're right." you mumble, drawing a loud laugh from Eddie's lips, head thrown back and all.

"I'm always right, (L/n)." he challenges, knocking his swing into yours.

"Sure, Munson. Except the times you're not. Which is almost every time."

"Almost."

Silence settles over the two of you again, the creaking of metal as you both lazily swing back and forth being the only sounds in the night, pale moon marking the shift into midnight. Eddie's fiddling with his rings absentmindedly, not really sure what to say or why he suddenly feels nervous sitting next to you, until you pick your head back up and speak.

"Thanks."

"For what?" he's confused and surprised.

"For inviting me. For letting me meet Steve and Robin, you're right, they're really cool. And like, I don't know. Thanks for being my friend, I guess." you look down immediately after finishing your sentence, hot embarrassment coursing through your veins, Eddie's soft stare too much to bare all at once on top of your heartfelt confession. The confession that tugs at Eddie's heartstrings, guilt pouring over him in waves.

"Yeah, so-"

"It's just crazy to me, you know?" you interrupt. "That you'd want to be friends with me. That anyone would want to be friends with me. I know I was a bitch when we first spoke. And uh, maybe I still kind of am. But you just... you're different, Eddie."

You pause for a tender moment, legs spreading as you shift your swing closer towards his, so that your knees are brushing against his and you can place a warm hand down onto his lap.

"I feel like you really see me. Not this whole 'ice queen' bullshit or whatever people are saying at school. The real me, the person behind all the walls and defences raised up. You kept on trying to get to know me even when I was pushing you away and being cruel to you. And it was thanks to that that we ended up becoming friends. So... yeah. Thank you, Eddie. Sincerely."

It's hard to shake off the shame now coating his lips, his skin burning and feeling sticky underneath your pure, innocent gaze and soft touch. He forces a smile, fingers uncurling from the metal chains of the swing to pat down on your warm hand, trying his best to maintain the neutrality of his voice.

"Y-yeah. No problem, I guess."

-------------------------------------------

Things shift after that night by the swing set.

Despite the history project having ended, he ends up seeing you even more regularly than before. It's because you end up taking a part-time job at Family Video after befriending Steve and Robin, and also because you start intermittently dropping by to watch his band pratcitce after school or swing by randomly to Hellfire Club sessions, at the insistence of El wanting to see Mike.

At this point, all of Eddie's friends know who you are. It was comedic at first, to see how Gareth nearly choked on his tongue and refused to make eye contact with you in your presence, and how all the freshman boys - Dustin, Mike and Lucas - pretended to be interested in a bunch of random sheet music thrown around the room to avoid having to look at you.

"Relax, kids, you can stare at her." Eddie had to say, laughing as he placed an arm around your shoulder. "Stop scaring them, (L/n)."

You just scowled at that, shrugging off his arm and sighing dramatically.

"I'm not trying to do that! It's just my reputation preceding me. I'm not as mean as I seem, I promise." you emphasized, turning to address the boys face to face. "I'm just here because Eddie promised to let me play for a 'taster' session of sorts."

"You're... joining Hellfire?" Dustin meekly asked, being the first out of the three to gain enough courage to look up at you. To his surprise, you didn't scowl or flip him off, if anything, you looked quite approachable and friendly standing next to Eddie, who was smiling at you with so much pride.

"Not sure if I'm necessarily joining, but... this meathead won't stop talking about this damn game so I wanted to see what all the hype was about."

The other boys loosened up after seeing how relaxed Eddie seemed to be around you, mock hurt on his face as he dramatically clutched his chest, stumbling backwards as if he'd been shot.

"You wound me with such harsh words! Now I can't promise that I'll go easy on you when we start playing."

"Why would that matter?"

"Duh, I'm the dungeon master, so everything you can do in the game is basically up to me. Or what you roll on the dice, but mainly up to me."

"That hardly seems fair." you commented, flashing the young boys a look of disbelief. "Is that really how this works?"

"Yeah, which is why we basically always have to gang up against him." Lucas replied, drawing a genuine laugh from your lips. It was the final straw to break the tension in the room, everyone loosening up and welcoming your new presence in the group.

"Sounds good, freshies. Us against Eddie, we can definitely take him." you winked at Eddie, rolling your shoulders forward. "Watch out, Eds."

It's late spring now, verging on summer. Eddie's lost count of the amount of time you two have spent together, be that in between periods at school (skipping classes together by the bleachers) or sneaking into the cinemas without paying on a tipsy game of truth or dare.

Eddie catches himself fully lost in your presence - watching your hair flip in the wind behind you whilst he drives with his window down, surveying how your delicate fingers toy with the fabric of your jacket when you're deep in concentration, counting your slow breaths as you lean against him in a darkened parking lot out of exhaustion - until the illusion is shattered for him by way of remembrance.

It's a bet.

But it doesn't matter, not really, he'd always tell himself. You two are still friends. And Eddie's not forcing it, being friends with you is natural, spending time with you is something he genuinely wants.

It's a hollow way of consoling himself, but it's the only way he's able to justify continuning to hang out with you and to slyly avoid Jason or his stupid best friends' constant pestering about how the bet is going.

"We're still just friends, Carver." Eddie gritted through his teeth, skillfully stepping past the blonde to get to his van. Jason didn't seem to like that response, one hand reaching out to grab at his wrist and yank him backwards.

"Listen, freak. I'm impressed, not gonna lie, that you even managed to become friends with her. But the bet was over dating her and getting her to go to prom. It's now, what, end of April?" the jock chuckled, tapping his two front fingers against the expensive watch around his wrist. "Time's running out. That said, I lose absolutely nothing if you lose the bet so actually-"

The blonde pulled away, victorious grin on his pink lips. He looked like a coy predator playing with his prey, smug cruelty rolling off of him in waves.

"Yeah, don't make a move. I'd love to win this bet."

Looking down at where Jason's filthy hand was wrapped around his wrist, Eddie roughly shook off the basketball player's grasp, glare fuelled by the heat of a thousand suns.

"I'm going to win the bet, Carver. Don't get too cocky."

"Did you see what Nate did yesterday?" you question him in the present. Eddie's lying down on the carpeted floor of your bedroom next to you, legs bent in a 45 degree angle, hands supporting the back of his head. You're lying down with your feet propped up on your bed, your eyes meeting his in a sly manner.

"Not really, why? What'd he do this time?"

"He tried doing a backflip during the lunch period and broke his left wrist. Cried like a little bitch about it, too."

The image of the tall, overconfident jock wailing like a child makes Eddie snort.

"That's hilarious."

"It's what he deserves too. He's a total creep." you shudder, remembering how he tried to hit on you on your first day of school. "Though, he did cry a bit more when I sprained his fingers because he tried to grab my ass on my first day."

"He did what?"

"Yeah, I know. Real fucking creep. Don't know why he bothered, either, the jeans I was wearing that day were super ugly."

"I highly doubt that." the comment slips out of Eddie's mouth unconsciously, piquing your curiosity enough for you to shift your body to the side to stare at him with confusion.

"What'd you mean?"

"Oh! Just like..." Eddie scratches his neck, avoiding your gaze. "I highly doubt that the jeans you were wearing were ugly. Just like, I don't think anything you could wear could be ugly."

You sit up at that, legs crossing underneath.

"You calling me pretty?"

"Well, uh-" he stumbles over his words, cheeks flushing vibrant pink as he begins to rattle off in an incoherent manner. "Yeah, I mean I always thought that but yeah you are. Objectively speaking. But also like I think you're pretty, is it hot in here suddenly or-" his hands fly up to the collar of his hellfire club shirt, pulling at the sides as if to let in cool air.

"Are you serious?" you sound shocked, in disbelief, which only confuses Eddie in return.

"Of course I am. Why... would I lie about that?"

You shrug, bringing a juice box to your lips.

"Figured if you thought I was pretty we wouldn't still be friends. That's a compliment you give to someone who's attracted to you, not someone who's just your friend."

"Oh." Eddie then comments, pausing ever so slightly. "Who says I'm not attracted to you?"

His daring question lingers in the air for a few baited breaths, the atmosphere in the room shifting in the microseconds it takes for that sentence to leave his lips and for him to suddenly shift closer to you.

"... I'm attracted to you too." you choke on your words, it barely being a whisper, but Eddie catches it nonetheless. His left hand comes to rest on your cheek, eyes staring right into yours that you think he must be able to see through your soul.

"Can I kiss you?"

You don't think you can speak. You're left to nod quietly, hoping that it's enough. And it is. The force with which he kisses you - he blames it on the months and months of pent up adoration - backs you up against your bed, your legs falling backwards as your back meets the soft mattress. He practically crawls on top of your lap, kiss messy and deep, strands of curly hair clouding your hazy vision.

When it's done, fresh air filling your lungs instead of the intoxicating scent of Eddie, muted taste of beer and mint chapstick dancing on your lips, you two stare at each other with wide eyes before bursting into a fit of nervous laughter.

"So... what now?" you question lightly, hands still gripping his forearms.

"Let's go on a date? Arcade after school on Friday?" he suggests.

"We already do that every week, doofus."

"I know, but this time it'll be different. I'll hold your hand and buy you dinner afterwards."

You pretend to think about it, humming quietly before nodding with a wide smile.

"Deal."

You fall asleep in his embrace that night, face squished against his upper chest, body rising and falling alongside your slow breaths. But Eddie can't sleep. The euphoria he's feeling is underlined with sickening guilt, a gnawing clawing sensation in his stomach, a harsh whisper in the back of his mind that none of this is real.

He's lying to you.

But what he feels for you isn't a lie, he reasons, so it's fine. He's driving himself insane with these internal arguments, subconsciously pulling your sleeping figure closer towards himself as his fingers clutch onto your waist tighter.

Burying his head into your hair, inhaling deeply, he attempts to quiet his thoughts. It'll all be over soon. Graduation is looming. He's just got one more part of the bargain to hold up - asking you to prom. It'll be over soon, it won't get worse....

Right?

------------------------------------------

"I'm really glad she's dating you."

Hopper comments two months later, looking over from the driver seat of his truck as Eddie jumps up straight upon being addressed by your godfather. The two men have spent countless times together - whether it be Eddie lounging on the couch in the living room whilst waiting for you or Hopper knocking on Eddie's trailer door to ask why you still haven't come home - but it never stops Eddie from getting a bit nervous around him.

He wants to make a good impression on the police chief for numerous reasons, but above all, because he's your father. Your only parent at this point. So even if it's something as casual as hitching a ride from Hopper the day Gareth had to borrow his van, Eddie's still a bit on edge when he's sitting in the passenger seat next to Hopper.

Upon seeing the younger man's eyes widen in surprise, Hopper chuckles, the sound a low rich baritone.

"Have to admit, the day I picked her up from school that day you two kids got yourselves locked inside and she called you her new friend... I felt that there was something more to that word. Friend. And despite your, um, questionable activities-"

Eddie flushes with embarrassment at that.

"You've always been good to her. And it's doing her wonders, I can tell. She went from this isolated, broken shell of a person to... Someone with friends her age. A job. Someone who smiles and laughs and says yes to spontaneous plans. I know it's not all you but you've been a big part of that so thank you." Hopper grumbles out, coughing awkwardly, not used to such heartfelt confessions. It makes Eddie feel even worse, almost making him want to sink into his seat.

"It's no big deal." Eddie forces out, voice strained and almost breaking because he's choking on recurrent waves of shame, guilt twisting like sharp veins around his chest and squeezing his heart. His mind is still foggy and reeling from the guilt when the truck finally pulls up by his trailer, and you come barreling from the inside of his trailer to hug Eddie.

"Didn't know you'd be here." Hopper comments, crossing his arms. You roll your eyes.

"I think I'm allowed to come over to visit my boyfriend, dad."

"Mmhmm, just make sure you're home by eleven."

"Midnight."

"Ten thirty."

"Eleven thirty."

Hopper pretends to be annoyed, sighing deeply, but he still smiles and ruffles your hair before leaving.

"Fine. See you then, kiddo."

Your legs thrown over his lap half-hazardously, Eddie can't really focus on the VHS tape you've generously 'rented' from your workplace - "Please, as if I'll get in trouble. The only employees are me, Robin and Steve and our boss basically never comes by." - as another character gets gruesomely killed on the screen.

"You're not watching the movie." you complain half-way through the movie, putting down the popcorn bowl to stare incredulously at your boyfriend. He only smiles in response, shaking his head sideways, symmetrical face framed by his long curls.

"Can't focus. You're too pretty." he offers, and you chuckle at that, his whining tone and pleading eyes melting your heart. You clamber on top of him, legs caging his body in between your thighs, as your hands come up to cup his cheeks.

"Aw.... Thanks, babe. But you really don't have to tell me that every day."

"I'd tell you that you're pretty every day just to see you smile like that." he admits softly, boyish grin on his lips and mischievous glint in his eyes. You open your mouth to respond with a sassy comment when someone knocks on the door loudly, accompanied by a furious set of even louder knocks.

It's your sister, El, jumping up and down anxiously before her eyes fall upon your familiar figure.

"El, what's wrong?" you question immediately, climbing off of the couch and rushing to cradle your younger sister's face in your hands. She doesn't look physically harmed nor does she look particularly upset, just anxious to see you.

"I'm bored and Mike canceled on me last minute." she complains, stretching her arms out over her head. "I heard from dad that you were here and I wondered if we could like... hang out. We don't have to, if I'm intruding I can-"

You look at Eddie with a pleading gaze, but you honestly don't even need to convince him, as he's already fluffing up the pillows and shaking off the popcorn crumbs from the blanket strewn over the sofa.

"Nonsense, nonsense! You're totally welcome to join us. Just be careful with your sister - sometimes she screams really loudly at the jump scares." your boyfriend teases, winking at you. El giggles at that and you send the metalhead a harsh glare.

"I do not."

"You totally do, babe. But it's okay, I still find you hot."

"Is there popcorn left?" your younger sister then questions, wiggling out of your grasp to stare at the television with eyes full of wonder.

"I'll make more, why don't you two get comfortable." you quickly suggest, knowing Eddie's kitchen like the back of your hand. You take the quiet moments which follow to admire how Eddie interacts with El, your vision only slightly obscured from behind the counter.

El's rattling off about something you don't really understand but Eddie seems totally entraced by her, delighted smile and eager nodding, gently encouraging your younger sister to continue her story whenever she gets nervous that she's talking too much. Your sister looks wholly relaxed in his presence, shoulders lax and fingers thrumming gently against a cushion she's holding against her stomach.

When he makes a dumb joke and El laughs, the warmth blossoming in your chest worsens. You feel lightheaded, stomach filled with love, eyes glazed over in pink hue. You almost drop the popcorn packets on the floor when you realize what this is.

Love.

You love Eddie.

You're not surprised, concealing the smile on your face as you turn away and pop the paper packet into the microwave. Eddie's your first real boyfriend. First friend turned lover, first friend in Hawkins, the person who introduced you to your new group of friends - Steve, Robin, and now Nancy and Jonathan as they swing by Family Video ever so often.

It was inevitable then that you'd fall in love with Eddie.

It's all you can think about for the rest of the night, in between stupid jokes thrown in by Eddie and comments of awe and shock muttered by El in between mouthfuls of popcorn, until she's practically falling asleep on your lap. Checking your watch, you realize that it's nearly 11:30 anyways, so you'd better get home.

"Do you think you could drive us back?" you question quietly, whispering as you gesture to El's sleeping figure. Eddie nods, turning off the television and gently pocketing his car keys as you lightly shake your sister awake and strap her into the backseat. She mumbles incoherently, asking sleepily where you two are going, to which you only shush her and assure her that Eddie's just driving you two home.

The conversation in the car is light and spare - it's late at night, El's still sleeping in the backseat, and unbeknownst to each other, you both have a lot on your minds.

Eddie's fixated on how much he likes you, how much he's scared of losing you and how it's almost been two months of dating you. You're transfixed on the realization that you love Eddie, the tall metalhead who loves his guitar and D&D, the boy with copious jean jackets and an oddly obnoxious charm that broke down your walls brick by brick. The constant wondering if he feels the same, the worries that you're overthinking it, layered with the euphoric rush of adoration and infatuation makes you almost sick with joy.

When the familiar outline of your house comes into view, Eddie piggybacks El into your house as you open up the front door for him, allowing him to gently tuck your sister into bed before you close the door. You accompany Eddie back out to the driveway, fingers anxiously twitching by your sides as the confession sits on the tip of your tongue. It's burning your mouth to keep it in, heart beating at a million miles per minute.

"What's on your mind, princess?" he gently asks you, the sour expression on your face giving you away in a moment's notice that you're clearly deep in thought. But nothing could've prepared him for what you said next.

"I love you." you blurt out. "I actually, wholly, undoubtedly love you."

Eddie freezes at that, grin falling ever so slightly, eyes wide and unblinking. You take it as a bad sign, fumbling over your words desperately as you try to salvage the situation.

"I-I know that might be kind of quick because we've only been dating for two months, but if you think about it we've been friends for almost like three quarters of a year, so it's not-"

"No, no." your boyfriend quickly reassures you, hand cupping your chin to stop your talking and to focus your attention on him. You realize that up close, you can better make out his features in the dark: he's smiling brightly, eyes fawning and voice gentle. "It's not quick. I realized I loved you many weeks ago. Was just waiting for you to catch up." Eddie adds, winking at you.

You laugh at that, nodding eagerly, tension dissipating from the night air in an instant. The boy then kisses you gently under the pale moonlight, his tongue slipping in to trace your bottom lip when you moan out in surprise, the strength and passion with which he presses into your mouth catching you off guard.

Eddie's kissed you a million times at this point, but this time it feels different to you. It feels like a million unsaid "i love you"s wrapped into one, delicate touch burning golden tattoos alongside your skin as his hand dances up your waist, pleasant melodies ringing in your ears even when you pull away to catch your breath.

"So... you love me and I love you, I guess." you breathe out into the cold air, affirming reality for yourself by speaking out loud.

"Yeah." Eddie replies, licking his lips to chase the aftertaste of your cherry lipgloss.

"Two people in love. How romantic." you joke, smiling.

Eddie doesn't respond to that, only pressing another shaky kiss to your lips before bidding you goodnight, his knuckles turning white with the strength with which he grips the steering wheel on his drive back. His anxiety has snowballed past its tipping point, his head a toxic warzone of jumbled thoughts, nauseous feeling causing bile to rise up to his throat that Eddie needs to pull over to the side mid-drive.

His heart feels like it's being crushed.

He can't stand it anymore - the lying, the secrets, the way you look at him like he's the only thing that matters in this cruel world. And now, it's undeniable. The truth is staring him right in the face.

You said you loved him.

And fuck, he loves you.

It's gone too far. He's fallen too deep. He's sinking into a bottomless pit and he's dragging you down with him.

And for what? Eddie bitterly ponders, smashing his hands down onto the steering wheel with anger. A stupid bet with a jock?

He needs to call it off.

He makes a beeline to the locker room the next morning, frantically tearing through the school hallways in search of Jason. Unfortunately, the best he can do is to run into Oliver and Nate post-shower, flicking each other with wet towels before Eddie coughs and demands their attention.

"Where's Jason?"

"Pissed off the coach so he's doing another lap. Why, backing out of your bet like a pussy?" Nate teases, drawing a howling laugh from Oliver. Not that Eddie cares. It just frustrates him because first period starts in a few minutes and if he's late one more time for chemistry, he knows it's another detention slip being put into his hands.

"Just tell Carver to meet me by the bleachers during lunch. It's important. And yes, it's about the bet."

Eddie thanks god that you don't share any classes with him today. He doesn't think he could stomach it, looking into your innocent eyes and letting you kiss and hold him softly when he doesn't deserve your love.

He feels as if he's in a trance the whole day, going through the motions of life, eyes empty and mind buzzing with static as he nods along to one lecture after another.

The only thing to jolt him awake is when, in between his second and third period, he hears a familiar set of voices whispering from inside the janitor's closet. It's Dustin, Mike and Lucas, with Dustin clearly pained and tired whilst the other two boys whisper frantically amongst themselves.

Privacy be damned, Eddie opens the door and flicks on the light, jaw clenching with anger the moment the small space is enveloped in bright light and he sees the shiny black bruise blossoming on Dustin's forehead.

"What the hell happened?" Eddie quickly questions, closing the door quietly behind him. He's far too tall for the enclosed space, head awkwardly brushing up against the ceiling, his limbs stretching into mops and cleaning supplies, but he can't give a shit. His veins are coursing with anger, worry tightening his chest as he surveys the extent of Dustin's injuries - the curly haired boy only sighing and refusing to meet the senior's gaze.

"Jason Carver happened to him." Lucas cuts in, voice also tense and angry.

"We were hanging out by the entrance and Dustin decided to stand up to Jason and his teammates for bullying us and, well.. he didn't like Dustin's smart mouth." Mike comments quietly.

"So what, that bastard punched you?!" Eddie exclaims, hysterical.

"He didn't punch me, relax. He just knocked me up against the wall and I happened to slam my head against a brick out of place."

"A BRICK?" Eddie screams, causing all of them to cringe at the sudden loud noise. "Shit, Henderson, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, seriously! I mean, just another Monday, right?" Dustin tries to joke, flashing the older boy a reassuring grin. But it does little to quiet Eddie's fury and guilt, not being able to protect his fellow Hellfire Club members in their time of need.

Lunch time rolls around achingly slow, Eddie munching on his homemade sandwich quickly whilst waiting for Jason to show up by the bleachers. The blonde makes his appearance a full ten minutes into lunch, striding across the green fields in large steps with a scowl on his face.

"What's so important you had to cut into my lunch time, huh?" he growls, clearly annoyed.

"I'm calling the bet off."

"Huh?"

"The bet. I'm fucking over it. I don't care about the money. You win, okay? Now let me out."

Eddie attempts to shove past the blonde but it's like walking into a brick wall, Jason's left hand flying up to Eddie's chest to stop him from walking away before shoving him backwards.

"You're backing out now? When prom's just around the corner and you've already got that bitch riding your dick? I'm surprised, freak." he cruelly comments, cocking his head to the side in fake interest.

"Yeah, I'm out. Now let me go."

"I'm just surprised, that's all. Thought you'd stick by the bet, especially with what happened to that twerp this morning. What's his name, Justin?"

"It's Dustin." Eddie grits, fists clenching by his sides.

"Yeah, whatever. You want to give up the money we bet on, cool, whatever. But a part of our deal was that I'd - along with my friends - lay off of your band of freaks. If you want to call off the bet, that offer is also taken off the table."

Jason's words hang in the air, metaphorical black smoke filling Eddie's lungs and restricting his airways. He feels like he can't breathe, hands clawing at his skin, heart beating at a million miles per minute whilst he mulls over the blonde's words.

All he can focus on is the panicked and scared looks on Lucas and Mike's faces, and the shiny bruise on Dustin's forehead. And Eddie's being given the choice for them to not be bullied for the rest of the whole year, to finally not be terrorized every time they walk into school.

"Still want to call off the bet?" Jason mocks, extending a hand forward. "Shake my hand and it's over."

Eddie stares at the blonde's outstretched hand in silence.

He doesn't shake it.

-----------------------------------------

You can barely sit still, the low humming of Billy Joel flowing from your record player barely settling your nerves as you shift back and forth between your bed and the full length mirror in your room, criticizing every stray hem of your dress. There's a quiet set of knocks against your door and you yell out that you're not ready yet, expecting it to be Hopper.

"It's me!" El announces. "I can help you get dressed, if that's okay?"

Dropping your dress onto your bed, you open the door with a large smile, the excited and eager expression on your younger sister's face too sweet to reject. She sits on your bed with her legs dangling off, watching as you hold up different fabrics up to your chest and ask for her approval. After a several tries and pleas for you to "spin around", you two settle on a nice baby blue doll dress with a sweetheart neckline.

"Can I try doing your mascara?" El then asks quietly, pointing to the mess of makeup littered on your vanity. You laugh, nodding, closing your eyes quietly as her shaky hands attempt to carefully brush through your lashes with the wand. To your delighted surprise, she's a master at it, even going so far as to blend out your eyeshadow perfectly when you hand over your brushes to her.

"What shoes are you wearing?" she asks immediately after that, practically bouncing with excitement.

"I'm starting to think you're more excited about me going to prom than I am, El." you tease, opening your closet and pulling out a pair of sparkly white heels.

"Oh, I can't help it!" she gushes. "It's like all the romantic movies I watched, they always end with the girl and the boy going to prom. It's so romantic." she dreamily sighs, landing on your bed with her back on the mattress.

"Does that make me the protagonist?" you joke, strapping on your heels as you lean down towards your feet.

"Duh. And it makes Eddie your love interest."

"Very handsome, very charming, love interest, I'd like to add." Eddie suddenly cuts in, standing behind your door with a smug smile on his face. It fades into a soft, adoring grin when he sees you in your dress, dolled up and pretty yet still so naturally you. He hopes you can't tell that he loses his cool at the sight, voice slightly strained and tips of his ears flushing pink. "You look absolutely gorgeous, princess."

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself." you comment, throwing him a flirtatious wink. It's no lie, he cleans up well - the suit is a little awkward on him in some places, but the clean cut look makes his jaw stand out more, lean muscle straining the fabric perfectly.

"Shall we get going, my dear love interest?" you joke, offering one arm forward. El scrambles off your bed to hold open the door for you as Eddie wraps one of his arms around yours, nodding.

"We shall." he puts on a horrible posh accent, making you laugh at his antics. Hopper asks - no, practically demands - to sneak in a couple polaroids of you two together before you're burning with embarrassment and desperately shoving Eddie out the door, calling out to your father that you'd be back by midnight.

By the time the two of you pull up to the gymnasium, the party's already started. You're buzzing with anticipation and nerves when Eddie gently helps you hop off of his van, eyes burning with so much adoration that you can't even meet his gaze without melting.

"Bet you that the punch is gonna suck." he whispers into your ear, the flashing lights overhead blinding your eyes ever so slightly.

"Meh, that's why I did this."

You hike up the skirt of your dress to reveal a bottle of vodka strapped to your thigh, Eddie watching in awe as you twist off the red metal cap and pour him a shot into a red solo cup.

"God, I fucking love you." he moans, practically whining it against your lips. You smirk.

"I know."

Eddie's not thinking of anything but how beautiful you look - so carefree, hands thrown up in the air, bubbly laughter erupting from your throat when he dips you or tugs you towards the food stand - that he doesn't even register Jason and his boys' persistent gazes throughout the night. It's only when you declare that you need some fresh air that he's broken out of his lovesick trance, his jacket finding home on your shoulders as you two lean against the wall of the school building.

"Having too much fun?" Eddie teases, knocking his shoulders against yours.

"Definitely. That, and the three shots of vodka and all the pizza grease is melting my brain."

"Ditto."

Eddie's shoulders tense when he hears sets of footsteps approach, accompanied by the drunken yellings of Jason and his friends. Hands flying to your waist, he pulls you upwards, unreadable expression on his face.

"Let's go back inside." Eddie suddenly hurries out, clearly panicked. You frown, confused.

"We literally just came outside."

"I-I know, but uh, let's go-"

"MUNSON!!!!! There's the man of the hour." Oliver screams, cupping his hands together to amplify his voice across the parking lot. Eddie freezes in place, trapped, as you scowl and cross your arms over your chest.

"Piss off, asshole." you bark back, stepping in front of Eddie protectively.

"Oh, got your little bitch fighting your fights now, impressive. You trained her well, freak." Nate drawls, practically tripping over his words with how drunk he is. Eddie can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears, panic settling in.

"Don't talk about her like that." he manages to choke out, standing up on shaky legs. But he falters under Jason's gaze, green with envy and red hot with anger, as the blonde steps forward in front of his friends.

"Come on, freak, you can drop the act now. You've won the bet, fair and square."

"What bet?" you stumble backwards in shock, frantic eyes flying to Eddie, who is now suddenly refusing to meet your gaze. "Eddie, what's going on?"

"Ah right, of course little miss ice queen would be confused! Let me break it down for you, sweetheart." Jason practically shouts, clapping his hands together with a gleeful smile. "Back in December, your little boyfriend and I waged a bet. This loser thought he could do a better job asking out girls than me, so I said that if he could get your prissy ass to say yes to a date and to prom, he'd win."

"What?"

Eddie doesn't have the courage to look at you. He's sparing himself the trouble of having to see the crestfallen look on your face, of having to actually see for himself the way your hopes come crashing down into a pile of rubble, to be standing in the aftermath of his destruction.

"We're all impressed that he managed to succeed." the blonde jokes, his two friends eagerly nodding from the back. "Guess we underestimated your abilities, freak." Jason reaches forward and punches Eddie in the shoulder, knocking him back against the wall.

"(Y/n), I can explain-" Eddie starts out lowly, but you're not willing to hear any of it. He can see it in your eyes: in a moment's notice, you've pulled back up all your defences, warmth and kindness disappearing behind your walls as your voice drips with venom.

"Fuck off, Munson."

The laughter of the basketball players continuously rings in Eddie's ears as he chases after you, desperately trying to catch up to you as you run across the parking lot.

"Please, just hear me out-"

"NO." you announce firmly, spinning on your heels and staring up at him with burning hatred. You've never stared at him with anything other than fondness and warmth the past few months. It's then gut wrenching that the fury with which you're glaring at him now - the lack of any kind of kindness or playfulness in your eyes - is unprecedented.

"You know, I knew this was too good to be true." you start, voice shaky. "God, you have no idea how many fucking times I found myself thinking throughout the course of our relationship - no, even when we were just fucking friends - that I didn't deserve this. That there was a reason no one wanted to be my friend. But I was a fucking idiot, because-"

You choke on your words, a sob hanging by the edge of your lips, but you bitterly swallow it down. You'd be damned if Eddie gets your tears on top of everything else.

"Because I thought this was my reward. I was thinking, finally, after all these years of suffering, I could get something nice. New friends, new family, a boy who liked me for who I was... But I realize now that I was nothing more than a joke to you. A sleazy bet with the sleaziest douchebags in school."

"(Y/n)-" Eddie tries again, he can feel you slipping through his fingers and it's breaking him, heart aching to just have you in his arms again. But all you do is shake your head sideways, gritting your teeth as you shrug off his jacket and throw the fabric against his chest.

"Don't fucking talk to me again. If you even so much as look at me, I'll ask Hopper to step in."

"At least let me drive you home." he quietly mutters. "You don't even have a car."

"Save it. I'll take the bus."

Eddie stands there staring at his jacket in his hands, your perfume still lingering in the fabric as he watches hopelessly you walk away into the dark woods.

"Fuck." he breathes out, tears stinging his eyes.

He's fucked up. Really, really badly.

------------------------------------

Steve and Robin both glare daggers into Eddie's back as he shuffles through the aisles of Family Video, both of them pretending to be busy when he'd first entered the store and muttered a quiet "hello." They're pissed at him, for good reason, of course, but it's awkward to know that his friends (who are also your friends) have all turned on him.

It's even more awkward having to make excuses as to why you're no longer showing up to band practice or to D&D sessions to the oblivious freshman and his other friends like Jeff and Gareth, who always looked forward to your sarcastic comments and humorous quips to pass the time.

"Just this, please." Eddie says, throwing a VHS tape of Evil Dead onto the counter. Both Steve and Robin stare down at the tape, then at Eddie, before resuming their conversation behind the counter as if they've never seen him. Eddie rolls his eyes, suppressing a deep sigh.

"Come on guys, this is childish. This isn't even for me, this is for Gareth."

"Then why didn't he come here and rent it himself?" Robin interrogates, tone harsh and dry.

"Got held up doing house chores by his mom. Just scan this damn thing, I'll pay, and I'll be right out of your eyesight, okay?" Eddie's practically pleading at this point and Robin sends Steve a knowing look, forcing the other boy to jump off of his seat and begin to mindlessly scan the tape.

"That'll be $2.50."

In between the painfully awkward and silent transaction, Eddie's looking at everywhere but his friends' faces. Their silent frustration, disapproval and disappointment is too heavy to bear, alongside the heavy guilt and crushing depression he's been experiencing the past two weeks since prom.

"Why'd you do it?" Steve blurts out mid-handing off the tape to Eddie, causing Robin to slap her best friend across the shoulder for his outburst.

"What?"

"I just, I don't get it. It doesn't make sense. I saw - we both saw -" Steve gestures to Robin, sending her a warning glare. "How you looked at (Y/n). How you spoke about her. How much you loved her. What'd you even bet for?"

Pocketing the tape into his back pocket, Eddie sighs slowly, contemplating whether or not to tell them the truth. But hell, he's got nothing to lose at this point, he figures.

"Happened over a weed dealing. I was just talking shit, really, because Jason's ego was bruised after being rejected by (Y/n). We bet over me being able to successfully ask her out to a date and then to prom. If I won, the conditions were that Jason would buy for double - and I knew that Wayne was tight on money, and the trailer's been long overdue for a fix. And he also, uh... said if I won the bet, he'd stop bothering me and my friends."

Eddie doesn't notice it, because he's staring down at his hands whilst rambling, but Steve and Robin exchange a sympathetic glance as Eddie continues to pour his heart out.

"I tried pulling out a million times. But for one reason or another, I could never do it. I was a coward, don't get me wrong, but... when she told me she loved me, I knew it'd gone too far. I was so intently committed to breaking the bet off, consequences and money be damned, but then I saw Henderson had a bruise on his face from Jason roughing him up." Eddie swallows nervously, throat feeling prickly and dry. "I couldn't back out of it then. I didn't want any of the kids to get more hurt when I could prevent it."

"Oh, Eddie..." Robin says quietly, placing a warm hand on his arm. He only shakes her off though, forced grin pulling his lips apart.

"It's whatever. Point is, regardless of good intentions or bad circumstances, I was a fucking coward. And a liar. And an asshole. I broke her heart and I deserve all the bad things in the world for that."

"Does she know any of this?" Steve presses, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"No. I haven't spoken to her since prom. Never even so much as drove past her home. Pretty sure Hopper would shoot my tires flat if I tried, anyways." Eddie weakly jokes.

"You should tell her. If not for you, than for her. She deserves to know the truth."

The metalhead only sighs at that, shaking his head lightly in denial.

"She already knows the truth, Steve."

"Not the bet, but the reasons behind the bet. Your feelings through out the whole thing. How you tried to pull out but you couldn't. I mean the whole truth, Eddie." Steve insists, unwavering.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with this loser." Robin dryly comments, flicking Steve's forehead. Steve scowls at that, sending the brunette girl a playful glare before turning around to stare at Eddie.

"Seriously. Let her know the truth. It'll both do you good."

"If I were you though, I'd bring chocolates as a peace offering or something, because I did hear that Hopper got a new rifle last week." Robin adds, swinging her legs off the counter as Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Gee, thanks, Buckley."

"Don't sweat it, Munson."

"....Thanks." Eddie quietly whispers, genuinely touched by his friends' advice. Their words continue to replay in his mind like a broken record on his drive back home and out of the corner of his eyes, Eddie continues to see a phantom outline of you. Sitting next to him, singing from the driver's seat, hair being ruffled from the open window.

You're still haunting him, he still can't stop thinking about you. Mulling it over, he realizes that the least he can do is to try. Try and talk to you, to iron things out.

He just hopes you're willing to listen.

---------------------------------------

Eddie doesn't think he's ever felt this nervous before.

Standing by your front porch, throwing small pebbles at your bedroom window late at night, hoping that you notice the odd sounds and look outside. It's weird - a part of him is screaming at him to run away, that this was a mistake and that he should run into his van and drive home right now. But there's another part of him, one which is stronger and louder, reminding him that he has to explain himself to you.

He sees you lean out your window with a confused expression on your face, eyes scanning the night sky and trees before landing on his figure. You roll your eyes and slam your window shut, forcing him to escalate his plan.

The next time Eddie's knocking on your window he's precariously balancing on the slippery roof tiles, gripping onto your windowsill for dear life and hoping you have enough mercy in your heart to let him in. You're still scowling when you open your window back up, but this time there's a hint of care and worry in your eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing? You got a death wish, Munson?" you hiss, careful to not wake anyone else in the house.

"Well you weren't going to let me in the normal way, so I had to do the next best thing." he weakly offers, fingers turning white. "Are you going to let me in so I don't die, then?"

You click your tongue, swearing under your breath.

"Just because I don't want to attend your fucking funeral." you warn, stepping back and letting him climb in through your window. He practically falls onto the floor face first, limbs awkwardly tumbling forward, his left arm catching his fall ever so slightly in an effort to save the bouquet of flowers and chocolate from getting crushed.

"H-here." he shakily offers them by thrusting the items into your hands, which you cautiously take before throwing it behind you on the bed.

"Thanks. You can leave now."

"Wait, wait, wait-" he rushes to block off your access to the door before you can push him out the bedroom, making you stomp your feet in frustration.

"What, Eddie? I'm fucking tired, it's a Wednesday night, for fuck's sake."

"I know you don't want to talk to me. But it's fucking killing me that you don't even know the whole story. Please, hear me, out. Just five minutes, and if you still want me to leave, I... I will."

You should be laughing at his face. You should be your usual coldhearted self, uncaring smirk lacing your lips as you shove him out the front door and throw the flowers and chocolate back onto his chest. But you can't find it in yourself to do so.

Damn Eddie Munson and his handsome face, you think. You also can't deny the lingering affection you hold for him, and fuck... you have missed him. Greatly. The amount of times you've cried in the past two weeks is a testament to that.

The worst harm's already been done, you think. Might as well hear him out.

"Fine. You've got five minutes." you say, and you can see his face light up visibly with joy and relief.

"Thank you. The bet, listen, it... it happened during a drug deal. Jason was pissed that you'd rejected him and I was just trying to push his bottoms and toy with his fragile ego by boasting that I could probably be better with girls than him. He knew that I was having money issues and the trailer needed to be fixed, so he cut me a deal. If I got you to say yes to a date, then he'd start paying double for our weed dealings." Eddie rushes out, speaking so fast that he has to catch a deep breath in between.

"Then I added I wanted him to stop bothering me and my friends at school. Especially now that I got the freshman kids to look out for, I just wanted his word that he'd stop bothering them all. In return for that, however, it was additionally agreed that I'd also have to get you to say yes to prom."

"That's... oddly sweet of you. Kind of." you mutter, thoughts running a million miles per hour at the revelation. You figured that the bet was just a joke to exploit you. Not something Eddie agreed to in an effort to protect his uncle and his friends.

"It's really not, because I hurt you. I knew from the beginning that this was wrong. I had this persistent, sick, stabbing sensation in my stomach all throughout our friendship that this was wrong. I tried to lie to myself that I hadn't done anything bad yet, because we hadn't even started dating, but I knew it was only a matter of time before we became real. And once that happened, I..." he chuckles sadly, gaze lowering to the floor.

"I liked the illusion of us together too much to pull back. The bet was always lingering in the back of my mind, sure. But I liked you too much. I love you too much. So I ignored it. Even if it was fake, it felt real whenever I got to hold you and kiss you."

He runs a quick hand through his hair before resuming.

"And then the night that you told me you loved me, I panicked. It was like I was finally awake, like icy cold water had been dumped over my head and I saw what a fucked up mess I'd gotten us into. I told Jason the next day that the bet was off, but... he held the end deal of our bargain over my head. The part about no longer bullying my friends. And Dustin had gotten a black eye that morning from a rough altercation with Jason and I... I didn't end up backing out of the deal because of that. But I tried to get out. God, I tried many, many times. Maybe not as strongly as I should've, but there were numerous times where I tried to get out of the deal." Eddie affirms, pleading.

"So... all of that. All the lying, all the secrets, all the play pretend... was it worth it?" you whisper out loud, hands clutching at your sides as you hug yourself and look up at him.

"Yes." Eddie responds automatically, confident. "Because it meant I got to have you. And I never faked my feelings for you. Not even once. That was all, always, genuine."

You're left to stare at him in silence, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you reflect over his words, Eddie taking in shallow breaths as he carefully surveys your reaction. He can't read your mind right now, he so badly wishes he could see what you're thinking because your expression is kept tight and neutral through it all.

"Do you... still want me to leave?" he whispers quietly. You don't speak, you don't nod nor deny him, you just continue to stare at him with a blank expression.

It's enough of an answer for him.

"You do, huh?" he chuckles, the sound as hollow as his heart. "It's fine, I uh, knew you wouldn't want me again after this. But you... you deserved to know the truth. Again, I'm so sorry for hurting you. I love you though. And I never lied about that."

He's hoping that you're going to stop him from leaving. That this is going to be the breakthrough moment in those romantic films, where you cut him off from speaking with a fierce kiss and whisper forgiveness against his lips, pinning him against the door.

But you don't even twitch. You just silently nod, unreadable expression on your face, and let him brush past you and walk down the stairs silently.

Eddie's heart stills feels heavy, grieving the loss of you and your love. But his shoulders feel ever so lighter, knowing that he's done the right thing by apologizing and explaining himself. He still feels like shit, he still thoroughly plans on smoking at least two packs when he gets back to his trailer, but he feels like he can breathe a tiny bit easier now.

"Wait."

Your voice suddenly rings out from behind him, your front door hanging open behind you as you've clearly ran through the house in a rush. Eddie jumps up in surprise, bewildered that you've chased him down the stairs.

"Y-yeah?" he stumbles out, pulling away from his van door.

"I forgive you. Sort of, I mean, it'll take a while for me to get over it and to fully trust you again but I... I still love you. Do you still love me too?" you whisper, doubtful.

Eddie almost wants to laugh at that question: that you'd even think for a second that he's spent any moment of the past two weeks being anything but in love with you.

"Of course I do, princess. Never stopped."

"Then that's all that matters."

This kiss tastes and feels totally new. Salty tears, mint toothpaste, your shaky fingers grabbing his as Eddie pulls you in impossibly close.

He's trying to memorize every aspect of you, having been starved of your presence for too long, committing every single aspect of you to memory. How you taste against his lips. How your body fits right against his when he places an arm around your waist. How your hair tickles his neck from this angle, moonlight shining a halo around the crown of your head.

You try to pull away a few times to catch your breath, but he doesn't let you, your giggles being swallowed by another needy kiss.

Eddie doesn't ever want to lose you again. Not even for a second.

a/n: if anybody actually read to the end of this story... thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. This story has been a true labor of love, sweat and tears and countless hours of work. Whilst I was re-editing this I realized I kind of don't like how it turned out but I worked so hard on it and I already announced I was gonna post it so here it goes, I guess.

I've had this concept of a social outcast x Eddie reader with a enemies to lovers trope thrown in for a while so I'm just glad that I got it out my system. Totally nervous and completely unsure of how this will be received (my longest fic to date) but it's out now. Thank you for reading ❣️

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chilwe1l · 2 years

Text

anonymous roses

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Hawkins High had a time-honored Valentine's Day tradition for the students to send the object of their desire a rose. Sure, it was a popularity contest, but it was cute. This was your senior year and your final attempt to send Eddie Munson a rose.

wc: 4.1k

a/n: i remember writing a little blurb about this like a month ago and finally got around to writing it! Enjoy

February 13th, 1986

For a limited time, the vibrant yellow and green colors that painted the halls of Hawkins High were covered by Pepto-Bismol pink and crimson red. Even the giant tiger logo at the end of the hall had little paper hearts covering his eyes. Cupid had struck the student's hearts just in time for Valentine’s Day.

You stood in front of the school with a large grin on your glossy lips as you admired your handy work. The art club had the displeasure of decorating the halls of Hawkins High every year for the Hallmark holiday, but you loved it with every fiber of your hopeless romantic heart. Your eyes looked lower, your heart beginning to race as you saw the table in front of the doors. ‘Hawkins High Roses’ was written in pink bubble letters and taped onto the red plastic tablecloth.

It was an honored tradition at the high school. Every year the students would send their crushes a red rose, some were bold enough to write a note expressing their love while others remained anonymous. It was all a popularity contest, just like everything else in high school. Chrissy Cunningham needed two of her friends to help her carry all the roses she received in class to her car last year. You? You never received one from a secret admirer and you’ve never had the honor of the poor freshman passing them out calling your name and handing you a wilting red flower.

You wanted this year to be different, it was senior year and it was your last chance to send a rose to the boy who captured your heart back in middle school. The sounds of muffled bass entered your ears, your fantasy dissipating like clouds in your mind. Trying to be casual, you clenched your hands around the black straps of your backpack and turned around.

Eddie Munson stumbled out of his van, tossing the remains of his cigarette on the pavement. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and joined the freshman kid he adopted as he got out of the passenger side. Your knees felt instantly weak at the sight of the lanky boy with long wavy brown hair that shone in the sun.

You’d had a crush on him since the sixth grade. Sitting with your class during the Hawkins Middle School talent show. You were looking up at the ceiling, counting the tiles while the mundane eighth-grade acts went on. Nothing seemed as interesting until the sound of metal music perked your ears. You lurched forward in your seat, your wide eyes staring at the band on stage. One look at the boy with the shaved head and it was like the heavens opened before you.

Eddie and Dustin walked past you, talking amongst themselves. The smell of his cheap cologne filled your nose and intoxicated all your senses. “Shit,” you whispered, burning heat rising to your face. Once he passed the flower table, you knew what you had to do.

“This is my year,” you announced to your friends during art class. You tightly tied on your apron while your brushes sat underneath the sink head. Jeff stood next to you, his arms folded against his chest, his eyebrow raised.

“To do what?” he prompted.

Ducking your head, you turned off the water and grabbed your brushes. Jeff followed you all the way to the back of the room to your spot. Sitting on your stool, you looked up at him with a shy smile. “I’m going to send Eddie a rose this year,” you whispered to your friends.

There was a small silence that lingered. Gareth leaned to the side to look at you without his easel obstructing his view. “You said that last year,” he snickered, Looking at you, and then his eyes fell on Jeff who tried his best not to break out into a fit of giggles.

“And the year before that,” Jeff chimed in, jokingly counting on his long fingers.

“And the year bef-”

“I get it,” you cut in gruffly, waving your brush at them and letting the leftover water hit them in the face like a cat and spray bottle. Gareth and Jeff knew all about your crush on their leader, they teased you at every opportunity but never once revealed your secret. Gareth was the one that formally introduced the two of you during your freshman year.

“Eddie this is Y/N, she agreed to help with the new Hellfire Club logo,” he introduced in the quiet art room.

The metal head loomed over you, his beautiful face adorned a small smirk. You clutched your sketches tightly to your chest, afraid of what he’d say about your art. “H-hi,” you greeted, internally cursing yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looked you up and down before a small crooked smile appeared, “Hi,” he greeted smoothly.

“This is my senior year, my last chance to tell him how I feel. This is it,” you sighed as you hunched your shoulders and looked at your blank canvas.

You managed to chicken out every year, ignoring the rose table and carrying on harboring your crush on Eddie. Your sophomore year, you stood with the red info card in your hand, getting ready to scribble the senior's name when you had the intrusive thought about him laughing in your face. You shoved that card in your back pocket and let your moment with Eddie slip away. Your heart was crushed when you realized he was graduating.

Fate had stepped in and brought him back the next year, sitting next to you in your sixth period history class. You promised yourself you’d send him a rose, you had to because he spoke confidently to his friends about graduating. When February of ‘85 rolled around you panicked and told fate that they were wrong, he would never like someone like you. He’d laugh at the card telling him you sent it and throw the rose away. Your fear won last year.

But fate was a frigid bitch, and you got the opportunity to stare at your long term crush during third period. Third time’s the charm or whatever that saying was, you had to send Eddie a rose. Time was ticking.

February 14th, 1986

You stood nervously in front of the frilly table, picking at the strings of your pink sweater. “Turn it in now and it’ll be delivered during third period,” the girl told you kindly, handing you a red info card and a stubby yellow pencil. Your heart pounded as you stepped away from the crowd and leaned against the brick pillar, looking down at the card that would seal your fate. A small spot for the sender, the receiver, and even a small box for a note were staring at you, taunting you. “I can’t do this,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head in defeat.

You went to put the card back when a strong grip around your wrist pulled you away, “Chickening out?” Gareth snickered as you turned to face him, “send the stupid flower, y/n.”

“What if he laughs at me?” you sighed as he let you go.

“He won't.” There was a shift in his expression as he spoke, his features had softened and his lips dipped into a small frown. “He’s never gotten one before,” he informed you before walking away, hoping his words would be enough to convince you.

It was enough. His words echoed in your mind as you wrote down his name and slipped it into the box before your brain could tell you not to. For you, it was hard to believe he’d never received one—there just had to be other girls pining after him and not just you in this town. He deserved the most expensive flowers from the best shop in Hawkins. Eddie Munson deserved the world and a silly high school tradition would be a small effort to prove it.

After the fear went away, you felt excited to be the one to give him his first rose. You got lost in your daydreams that morning, running through every scenario of how he could react. Would he smile? Effortlessly twirl it and press it to his nose, wondering about its sender? Your thoughts followed you all the way to third period, sitting and waiting.

Eddie came in a few minutes after, uttering a false compliment to your disgruntled teacher, and sauntered to his desk beside yours. “Hey,” he greeted you as he took a seat, instantly slouching and stretching out his long legs.

“Hey,” you grinned, sitting up a little straighter.

The anticipation started to eat at you, your eyes couldn’t stay focused on your notes or the chalkboard, instead, they drifted off towards the door. When the door finally opened, you clenched your pencil a little tighter and bit back a gleeful squeal. The room instantly filled with the smell of the freshly cut roses that lay on the cart, the poor freshman interrupting the teacher. The wrinkly old woman scowled and huffed out a few words before allowing him to pass out roses.

You shifted slightly in your seat to get a better view of Eddie. You continued to smile bashfully to yourself as the names were called one by one. Some got four and others got two while Chrissy managed to get fifteen. There was one rose left on the rust covered cart. This is it, you thought while you held on to your pencil for dear life. Eddie just sat there, doodling mindlessly in his notebook.

The freshman looked at the card, his eyes narrowed, then went wide, then narrowed once more as if he was checking to be sure. “Eddie,” he cleared his throat, “E-Eddie Munson.” The brunet’s head snapped up, yet his face was unreadable. The kid took the flower and skittishly walked over and passed off the flower. Eddie rolled his eyes at the kid's behavior and leaned back, his brown eyes studying the red petals. “There was no sender name…sorry.”

That’s right. You didn’t put your name on it. You had hoped to save a little of your dignity if he decided to crush your hopes and dreams. It was easier this way, or so you had hoped.

You could finally breathe once the stem connected with his calloused fingers. “Alright, shows over… where were we?” Your teacher intoned, turning her back to the class and picking up where she left off. You began to relax, allowing yourself to rest your elbows on your desk with your chin resting in the palms of your hand.

Taking another daring glance, you saw him twirl the flower between his fingers and let the petals fan out. He didn’t look angry, which soothed your nerves but he didn’t crack a smile either. He looked stoic, his low eyebrows were the only thing giving you some kind of hint as to what he was thinking. His body still remained relaxed, his limbs splayed out. He must have hated it. Disgusted at the fact someone would give in to the capitalistic holiday. Your shoulders slumped in defeat and tears of embarrassment had begun to well in your eyes. Good thing you didn’t put your name on the card.

Eddie’s mind was a mess. He’d seen how this day played out for the past six years, he didn’t mind though. Not getting a silly little rose never bothered him, he was used to girls avoiding him in the hall and on the street. A couple of older girls that came to see him at the Hideout offered him some attention but it was never as innocent as someone giving him flowers. After six years someone finally sent him one just to mock his lack of love life.

The flower was burning a hole in his hand, he carried it with him to lunch and spun it in his hand while he slowly ate. Hellfire sat around and stared at their leader in awe. “Should we ask?” Mike whispered to Dustin who sat just as confused beside him. The curly haired boy shrugged, unsure of what to do and even more unsure of how Eddie would react.

“So, Eddie,” Mike coughed, sitting up straighter in his seat. Timid eyes flickered to his half-eaten mystery meat. Eddie’s brown eyes slowly left the soft petals and looked unamused at the freshman. “You, uh, got a rose.”

Eddie leaned further back in his chair and threw his head back, pressing the rose to his nostrils. “That’s right,” he sighed deeply. “Someone decided to play the ol’ prank on me.”

Gareth and Jeff shared a glance from across the table.

“Who would prank you?” Dustin asked with nervous laughter, eyes shifting to the other guys. They all remained silent in fear, Eddie could spring from his seat at any moment and cause one of his famous scenes. He slapped Mike’s shoulder gruffly and gave him a stern glance.

“Y-yeah.”

The metal head started to laugh, shaking his head at them. He sat back up and gently placed the rose next to his tray. “Do you see any maidens willingly lining up to have a shot at little ol me? No, boys—I didn’t think so.” Because who would send Eddie the freak a rose willingly?

“Was there a name on the card?” Lucas chimed in, earning nods of encouragement from his friends.

Eddie grinned mockingly, “No.”

Another glance passed between Jeff and Gareth, their confused expressions communicating silently. “There really wasn’t a name?” Gareth whispered to himself. It was meant to be a thought, unheard by their leader, but Eddie’s ears had heard the boy. Eddie leaned forward and cocked his head, striking fear into him.

“What do you know?” He grumbled.

“N-nothing,” Gareth stuttered, feeling like he was about to break his middle school promise with you. You had shoved him against the bike rack after you let it slip that you liked Eddie and pointed your house key at his face, telling him to swear on his mother that he would never tell another soul. He kept tight-lipped, even when he became one of Eddie’s closest friends he never even gave him a hint.

“You know something about this,” Eddie motioned towards the flower. “Who played the joke on me?”

Eddie stood up and placed his hands behind his back, looking up to the ceiling as he sauntered around the table to cause tension within the group. “Gareth, Gareth, Gareth,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Isn’t it a rule in Hellfire Club to not keep secrets?”

“But that’s only in the game.”

“Shut up!” he huffed. “It applies here, so start talking.” Eddie walked over and clapped a hand on his shaking shoulder.

Jeff looked on with wide eyes. He’d seen Eddie riled up before, but it was never like this. He looked flustered and frustrated by the entire ordeal. It was just a silly Valentine’s Day tradition, there were more serious things that Eddie got this way over. “Eddie,” Jeff said calmly. “It wasn’t a joke.”

The calm in his voice managed to alleviate Eddie’s anger. His head whipped down at him, “Leave,” he said, shooing the others away. The freshman scattered, leaving Jeff and Gareth to deal with the wrath of Eddie Munson.

“Who sent the rose?” he asked, calmer this time as he took his seat.

“I can’t-,” Gareth said meekly.

“Did you send this to me out of spite because I wanted that guitar solo?” Eddie narrowed his eyes and clenched his fist.

“It was Y/N Y/L/N,” Jeff blurted out quietly, hoping not to alert you at the other side of the lunch room.

“Y/N,” Eddie repeated. He knew you. The girl in the art club, the one with the sunny disposition and dried paint lingering on her fingers. You didn’t speak often, but when you spoke even a couple of words he felt like smiling.

He remembered a few days ago when you were standing on the old wood ladder that looked like it was about to collapse under you.

You were hanging up one of the Valentine's Day banners while your helper chatted to a girl. “Andy, can you hand me the tape?” you called from above, your voice strained. “Andy?” you repeated.

You glanced down and saw him, one wrong move to collect the tape from the stool next to you and you’d be falling to your death. “Jesus, Andy!”

A hand tapped your leg. “Here,” the smooth voice said. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Eddie walked to the other side of the ladder to face you, ring-clad hand holding up the roll of tan-colored tape. His beautiful brown eyes met yours and you had to grip the top of the ladder a little tighter.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you said happily.

“You’re welcome, anything I can do to help the neglected clubs of Hawkins High,” he chuckled as you fixed the banner.

You laughed in response and cautiously descended the ladder before standing next to him. “Does it look ok?” you asked, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand.

Eddie looked at you as a comforting heat spread through his body. “It looks good,” he answered. He never once looked at the banner; just you.

“Shit,” he whispered, looking at his friends with the softness in his eyes returning and a rose colored blush rising to his cheeks. He regretted how he acted towards his friends. “I’m sorry. I just… no one-”

“It’s all good man,” Jeff smiled reassuringly and patted his back.

“She sent me one because she wanted to… because she likes—me. That’s what we’re agreeing on here?” Eddie needed just a sliver of confidence before his next question. The two guys nodded. “Has she ever?” his words trailed off, they were all beginning to feel so foreign. He never gave a girl flowers or went on a proper date. He felt so unsure of himself.

“No,” Gareth told him. You had never received a rose either.

A moment passed while Eddie’s thoughts collected together to form a plan. What did teenagers do on Valentine’s Day? “Boys,” Eddie put a hand on each of their shoulders and pulled them in, “I’m gonna need some help.”

The sun finally started to set, meaning the day was almost over and you could start putting the shame of sending an anonymous rose behind you. You had your Walkman’s headphones covering your ears, the mixtape of sad love songs on repeat while you painted the bouquet of dried flowers that sat on your desk.

Your eyes watched your paint filled brush add texture to your painting, but your mind was louder than the music potentially ruining your eardrums. All you could think about was Eddie staring mindlessly at your flower. Not one smile, not one frown or vocalization. He didn’t even look at you the rest of the day. It felt like he was avoiding you.

You didn’t hear the chipper doorbell ring. Your mom’s heels clicked along the wood as she clasped her string of pearls while she hurried to the door. She was met with a very nervous Eddie holding a dozen roses of varying colors. “Mrs. Y/L/N?” he asked.

She nodded, eyeing his ripped jeans and leather jacket. Instantly she knew who he was because she had spent hours listening to how Eddie said this and how Eddie did that. “You must be Eddie Munson,” she smiled brightly.

He nodded sheepishly, “I was, uh, around and wanted to leave you these…for Y/N.”

Your mother giggled and stepped aside, “She’s in her room if you’d like to give them to her yourself.”

Eddie wanted to shake his head and run for the hills, his hands had a death grip on the dethroned stems of the flowers and his feet felt like cement. “Sure,” he gulped. After getting the directions he made his way up the stairs, heart pounding against his ribs.

Swallowing the nerves, Eddie knocked once then twice then once more for good measure. After getting no response he slowly opened the door and cautiously stepped in. Your back was turned as you worked on your still life. A small smile tugged on his lips, you looked comfortable in the oversized sweater that looked like a painting in itself. He tapped your shoulder.

“I don’t want anything, mom. You and dad go have fun,” you huffed without turning around, your hand skating across the large canvas.

Eddie tapped again and took a step back as you ripped the headphones off your head and whipped around to look at him with annoyance. “I said I- Eddie,” your voice instantly softened. Your heart’s desire stood there in your room with roses pressed against his heaving chest.

Suddenly you jolted at the realization, standing up from your chair and intertwining your fingers over your lap. “Hi,” he breathed.

“W-what are you doing here?” You asked. Never in your wildest fantasies would he be here.

“Your mom let me in,” he told you, pointing back towards the door. “I wanted to tell you thank you for the rose.”

You ducked your head, “You found out,” you said sadly, “did Gareth tell you?” You should have known one day the fluffy-haired kid would crack.

“No!” he gasped, “I forced it out of them. Jeff was the one who spilled, I wasn’t very nice about it. I thought someone was playing a prank on me.”

A prank? Your chin lifted abruptly. “Eddie I would never,” you reasoned, taking a step closer to him. “I’ve been wanting to send you one since freshman year,” you confessed, “I’ve just never had enough courage to do it.”

It was Eddie’s turn to duck his head out of shyness, a boyish smile appearing on his lips and his rosy cheeks lifting closer towards his eyes. He looked at you through his lashes, he would have started dreamily swaying side to side but his train of thought stopped him. “Really?” he squeaked out.

You nodded, “Mhm,” you smiled shyly and scratched your head with one of your hands. “I have a crush on you… I’ve had a crush on you since middle school.”

A silence filled your bedroom, the smell of roses and acrylic paint creating an odd scent in the air. He looked at you and you looked at him, everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. “Wow,” was all Eddie could manage to say, his mind running rapidly. You liked him.

“Why are you here?” you managed.

He presented you with the flowers, “I wanted to return the favor—I wasn’t sure what color you liked so I got them all,” he said quickly. You took them in your hands and looked at the variety of flowers staring at you. Beautiful yellow, pink, red, and white roses were organized beautifully and tied together with a red ribbon. Tears of relief and joy prickled at your eyes.

“They’re beautiful, Eddie,” you said with a waiver in your tone.

Eddie stepped closer and let his hands cover yours, the bouquet between you being the only thing that prevented him from coming closer. “Thank you, Y/N, for the rose. No one’s ever done romantic shit like that for me before.”

You stood on your tippy toes and quickly kissed his cheek, causing his face to redden even more. “You deserve it,” you smiled.

His eyes looked down at the flowers before looking back up, “I also wanted to know if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day? I was sure you had a date or something.”

You looked around your lonely room and your painting set up. You bit your lip and shook your head, “No,” you laughed, “I do not.” You felt him come closer so you let the flowers fall at your side and allowed him to put his hand on your hip.

“I’m sure everything’s booked up but maybe we can grab something from the diner and watch the stars or whatever,” he retracted his hand, regretting his ideal valentine's date.

You smiled widely and nodded in response, instantly missing his touch. “I would love that.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

It made your smile grow wider. Your heart nearly exploded at the contact of your lips meeting his, they were softer than you thought and they fit yours perfectly. His free hand found your cheek and yours found the side of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. The flowers fell to the ground with a soft thud and you wrapped your arms around his neck while his arms found your waist to draw you in. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie,” you said breathlessly as you finally pulled away for air.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he muttered before reclaiming your lips.

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