the weather is so nice today and it's got me thinking about tcar a little extra đ„Č can't believe i was ever writing stuff this long on here lmao it feels like FOREVER AGO
omg omg omg I canât wait for tcar part 9 đ„č I miss eddie spaghetti and peach so much đ„čđ„čđ„č
THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | sunshine, sometimes
summary: the gang searches for peace of mind at lake lemon. after an enlightening conversation with steve, eddie unknowingly stirs up a storm. (17k)
pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader, mentions of past steve harrington / f!reader
tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, domestic bliss (road trip edition), newly established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, the gang's all here! TW probable typos, swearing, mentions of b*lly h*rgrove and toxic relationships, kissing, heavy petting, fingering, eddie coming in his pants (vol. 3), smut 18+
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You think itâs entirely possible that you made Eddie up in your head.
Sleeping next to you, painted in satin shades of pale pink and milky white, he looks exactly like a dream.
His curls are wild, spread across his face and cotton pillow in a chestnut-colored halo around his head. Soft snores billow from his rosy mouth in heavy, even breaths â a heavenly sound you think could lull you back to sleep all over again. His long lashes flutter against the flushed apple of his cheek, made a gentle strawberry shade from the ardor of his slumber. The soft color splotches the tip of his nose and the plush of his lips.
Eddieâs made of all the prettiest colors you wish you could paint. Maybe then heâd finally see himself the way you do. He possesses an otherworldly kind of beauty â one bordering on religious â something holy people used to sacrifice themselves for.
And here he is. In your bed and on your mouth, like a vivid ruby lipstick stain youâre not rushing to rub out just yet. Or ever, if you had anything to say about it.
âI can feel you staring, weirdo,â Eddie mumbles, slurred and heavy with sleep. The words come out muffled because his face is shoved into the pillow.
Youâre not as embarrassed at getting caught as you probably should be.Â
You could deny it if you wanted. His eyes are still shut. Youâve got every ounce of plausible deniability to defend yourself with, but for some strange reason, you donât feel the urge to. He was far too pretty not to be unabashedly examined, like a piece of art you could stare at for ages and find something new in every time.
âReally?â you hum in return, voice as quiet with leftover fatigue as your sleepy smile. âI didnât know my boyfriend had superpowers.â
The smile that tugs at Eddieâs mouth is absentminded but no less sincere. Itâs lopsided and rosy and full of all the love he has for you. He doesnât think heâll ever get tired of being called your boyfriend. He figures his chest will swell every time he hears the words â as long as they spill from your mouth, anyway.
âYou werenât supposed to know about that,â he teases quietly â eyes still shut, grin still pressed into the pillow.
âI can keep a secret,â you promise in a whisper. Your hand rises from beneath the fluffy comforter to spread across his cheek. Your palm settles warmly at his jaw as your fingers brush a few rogue curls from his forehead. âAs long as you give me a kiss for it.â
Eddieâs smile, weighed down by sleep and adoration, only widens at your words.Â
His button eyes are swollen as he blinks the haze of sleep from them. It feels a little like his heart has stopped when heâs able to see you clearly.Â
Itâs like heâs looking down a high-up cliff or staring into the deep abyss of outer space â a warm, empty, and lurching feeling in his chest that only comes from witnessing something so profound.
The profundity in question is you.
Itâs your wild hair and puffy cheeks and crooked smile. Itâs the way your swollen eyes twinkle with adoration at an ungodly hour of the morning. The way your honey voice seems to match the golden sunrise. Youâre an angel in the flesh â a divinely ethereal being wearing his Hellfire tee to sleep in.Â
The beauty you are takes him by surprise for all of half a second. It makes him forget how to breathe and makes his brain go all fuzzy. Itâs like heâs seeing you for the first time every time he looks at you.
âWell, as long as itâll keep you quiet,â Eddie huffs, feigning annoyance, as he lifts his head off the pillow to settle onto yours.Â
His plush lips press against your subtle smile a second later. Your mouths entwine something heavy, like maple syrup or marshmallow fluff â a kiss so full of sleep and distant longing.
But thatâs all it is. A kiss. Itâs nothing more than an innocuous peck that Eddie stamps upon your mouth. His nose smushes into the side of yours, and heâs gone as quickly as he came.Â
Your shut eyes flutter open again. They widen when Eddie ducks down for another sneaking peck. He lingers a few moments longer this time, like he canât quite get enough of you the same way you can never seem to get enough of him.
Your grin grows. You feel a bit like youâre glittering all over when Eddie settles back onto the mattress. But maybe thatâs just the rising sun peeking in flaxen shades from the window â or maybe itâs love sparkling like orange embers in your chest. Maybe itâs both.Â
Maybe loving Eddie feels pink and gold like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
Itâs just as easy, anyway.
âOoh,â you singsong with a smile as you prop yourself on your elbow. âTwo for one deal, huh?â
The boy shrugs one shoulder. His leadened lids fall over his chocolate syrup eyes when sleep threatens to pull him under again. He shifts against the mattress to get comfortable, though itâs much harder without you pressed against him.
âI gotta secret identity to protect, sweets. Gotta make sure we keep it under wraps and everything, you know?â The tired boyâs mumbles are followed by a hearty yawn that scrunches his sleep-ridden features.
âWell, you can pry this secret from my cold, dead hands,â you lilt quietly, leaning down to sprinkle a featherlight kiss to his flushed cheek. His skin is warm against your mouth, rosy with a good nightâs sleep.
âWell, except for Robin,â you whisper shortly thereafter. âI have to tell Robin.â
Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh.
âAnd Steve, too. Heâll be mad if I tell Robin and not him.â
âRight,â Eddie scoffs with a tired nod against his pillow.
You can tell heâs trying hard to stay awake for you. Heâd done this the night before, too â kept talking to you even though his body was threatening to shut down after a long day of school and road-tripping. Youâd called him out on it then, and he confessed that it hurt too much to stop talking to you. He said heâd rather be exhausted than miss you, even for the faintest fraction of a second.
A smile hints at the corners of your lips as you stare down at the boy. You duck down once more to brush a fleeting kiss to the warm apple of his cheek â there and gone again.Â
Eddie sighs at the heavenly feeling, then scrunches his features in annoyance when the mattress shifts beneath him.
âWhere are you going?â he grouses over the sound of your padding feet and the door creaking open. Heâs got one tired eye squinted when he rises to look at you over his shoulder. His untamed curls are as drenched with sleep as the rest of his softly swollen features.
You stand in the doorway and smile back at him. You donât look nearly as exhausted as he does. Thatâs only because you spent the better part of the morning ogling at him, of course, but he doesnât need to know that.Â
It wouldnât change anything, anyway.
Slumber looks too good on you. Itâs got you glowing like a pink and orange sunrise, grinning like the morning dew has kissed you. Itâs a very distinct part of your beauty that took Eddie several days of unabashed staring to understand. Youâve got a far-off kind of quality about you, dreamlike.Â
Youâre a nymph made of flower petals with unearthly eyes and angelic lips. Youâre a swan princess whoâs enchanted his imagination. His mind canât go anywhere without bumping into thoughts of you â like some romantic spell youâve cast upon him.
Still a bit grumpy with sleep and overcome with yearning, Eddie makes a mental note to add you to a future campaign. What better way to tell someone you love them than by making them your muse, solidifying them in the history of you forever?
âIâm gonna tell everyone that my boyfriend is basically the metalhead equivalent of Clark Kent,â you joke with a crooked smile that flashes your similarly crooked teeth.
The door creaks when it shuts behind you. Eddieâs chest aches with the empty feeling of missing you. The warmth of adoration lingers, however, as though youâd never left at all.
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Thankfully, no one had gotten Jason Voorhees-ed while you were sleeping.
You make your rounds about the cabin, peeking into darkened bedrooms and making sure everyone was where youâd left them. You knew Robin hadnât truly meant her words from the day before, about Ted Bundy or some equivalent creep stalking the woods of Lake Lemon. Sheâs sincere but in a blatantly irrational sort of way. Sweet but slightly insane. Sheâs an illogical genius that unintentionally gets in your head.
Youâre grateful to find that you hadnât woken up in the middle of slasher film, however. Youâre able to exhale a trembling sigh of relief as you walk into the kitchen.
Steve The Hair Harrington unknowingly keeps you company as you break out the supplies needed to make a couple of teenagers a sufficient breakfast. His soft snores fill the quiet cabin from where heâs sprawled out in the center of the pull-out couch in the living room. Heâs twisted in a thin white sheet and gripping a single pillow like his life depends on it.
He used to hold you like that, too. Like you were a buoy in an ocean and the only thing keeping him afloat. Heâd cage you in his arms with a grip that only seemed to intensify with his sleep. It felt like being suffocated almost. But in a good way.
The memory is glittering with reminiscence instead of soaking in heartache.Â
You donât miss being with Steve, nor do you miss the person you were when you were with him. You do miss the closeness of him, though â in the simplest, most human way. Also, you just really like taking the piss out of him and all his little idiosyncrasies.
With his sleeping form so near, everything you do feels so much louder in the quiet. The fridge closes too aggressively, the eggs crack too sharply, the cabinets close too harshly. You grimace with every noise you make, checking over your shoulder to make sure Steve hadnât heard from across the room.
He hadnât. âCause he tends to sleep like heâs hibernating.
He doesnât rouse when a humming car crunches against gravel when it pulls into the driveway outside â or when the bowl of pancake batter in your hands clatters to the countertop accordingly.
The milky white concoction sways in the container, splashing in pearly dots onto the gray granite. Youâre too distracted to focus on the mess. Your heart starts to race at the appearance of the sudden visitor with the irrational thought that Ted Bundy was strolling up to your doorstep like some kind of offbeat traveling salesman.Â
God, you need to stop hanging out with Robin so much. Or watching so many horror movies. Maybe both.
Because itâs only Nancy.Â
Itâs sweet, beautiful, lithe Nancy Wheeler and her beat-up Station Wagon.Â
Her curly hair is cropped at her shoulders, hastily combed through and pinned out of her face with a butterfly clip. Her pretty pink skirt swishes around her knees as she reaches for a leather satchel in the backseat. Her purple and white Emerson College tee is tucked into it, matching the same-colored Converse on her feet.
âHey,â she greets with a pretty wave and delicate smile when she catches sight of you in the doorway.
âHiâŠâ you respond, mixed with a breathy sigh of what should be relief.Â
Because she isnât Ted Bundy â or some local Lake Lemon serial killer. Sheâs far too pretty and far too kind to be either of those. But your heart still thrums something fierce against your ribcage when you look at her. Youâre still drenched with ice-cold fear when you know you should be relieved.
But despite your clammy trembling hands, you hold the door open for her.
She winces at the sight of Steveâs sleeping figure on the couch, ocean eyes widening at his freckled back peeking from beneath the thin sheet. Her footsteps become noticeably lighter as you lead her into the kitchen.Â
Itâs far too big for just the two of you. The open space is filled only with a distant awkwardness and the potent smell of sweet vanilla youâd dropped into the pancake batter.
âSorryâŠâ Nancy grimaces as she sets her bag on the dining table, as though her company was something she needed to be excused for. Her bushy brows pinch together, and her doe-eyes swim with apology. âI know I was supposed to be here last nightâŠâ
You shift your weight on your feet across from her, arms wrapping around yourself for further comfort. Sheâs just a few feet away from you, but the distance feels cavernous.
âYeah, isâ is everything, you know⊠okay?â
âYeah. Yeah, itâs justâ itâs dumb,â Nancy scoffs out a laugh, shrugging off your worry with ease. Her gaze flits to the ceiling. You can see smudged eyeliner around her eyes, like sheâs still wearing yesterdayâs makeup. âI got carried away with the school paper after school, and I didnât get home until late, and I⊠I figured I should just wait until morning to make the drive, you know?
You nod slowly in response â for a couple seconds too long, maybe â as you think of what else to say. âWell, was, uhâ was traffic okay, at least?â
âYeah. It was fine,â she answers and bites back a yawn. âPeople around here are amazing drivers, you know, so⊠It was a perfect, anxiety-free three hours.â
Her plush pink lips curl into a smile.Â
Yours follow suit, but the breathy laugh that spills from them feels much more forced.
âYouâre probably tired, huh?â you wonder, then ramble before she can answer you. âI could get Steve to move upstairs with Robinâ or Robin can come down here, and you can take the bed. Unless you wanna share with her, but fair warning, she does kick in her sleep, soâŠâ
A giggle spills from Nancyâs mouth. Itâs a soft, bubbly sound that squints the edges of her eyes. Her pointed chin tucks to her chest like sheâs trying to hide the gentle grin from you.Â
You canât tell if she finds your babbling amusing or endearing like Eddie does.Â
You quickly realize you donât care â youâre just proud that youâve made her smile. And, fuck, you canât even blame Steve for wanting her more than you because look at her. You should hate her, yet you canât take your eyes off her.
âNo, Iâm good. We can⊠deal with all that when everyone wakes up, I guess,â she dismisses with a shake of her head.Â
You vaguely catch her eyes darting past you to the tornado of breakfast behind you â a whirlwind of uncooked food, miscellaneous containers, and crumbled napkins. Itâs a mess only a gentle, well-meaning child could make. Thatâs what you feel like most days, anyway, so you guess it kind of fits.
âDo you want help with breakfast?â Nancy wonders when her gaze flits back to you.
You canât tell if sheâs asking to be kind or if she really wants to. You decline either way. âNo. Youâveâ Youâve been driving all morning.â
âAre you sure?â
âYeah,â you affirm with a wavering smile.
Her grin is equally sheepish. She falters, a tad bit awkwardly at first, before mumbling something and heading out the back door to explore.
A trembling sigh of relief shakes through your chest when the sliding glass door swishes shut behind her.Â
It gets better over time â the preliminary tension that settles like suffocating humidity between the two of you â but it never gets any easier. A forgive but canât forget sort of rigidity you canât quite smooth out.
You get only a few more minutes of uninterrupted solitude after Nancyâs gone. The last bit of peace youâre bound to have all day.
A door clicks open and shut again from down the hallway, followed by the subtle scuff of socked feet against carpet.Â
Your eyes widen softly when Dustin appears from around the corner, though you figure you really shouldnât be surprised. Of course he was the kid that woke up before the rest of his friends. You feel a bit like you should fix him a cup of black coffee while he reads the business section of the newspaper. Heâs far more mature than you were at fourteen.
âOh,â you hum quietly, a soft smile twitching at the edges of your lips. âMorning.â
Dustinâs swollen eyes squint at you. His gaze darts around the room, as wild as the chestnut curls on his head. Itâs strange not seeing him in his usual Thinking Cap. He looks a little foreign in his baggy blue Scooby Doo pajama pants and baggier yellow Camp Know-Where tee.
âWhereâs Eddie?â he wonders aloud when he turns back to you, like he canât quite fathom seeing one of you without the other somewhere nearby.
Your chest aches. You donât know why.Â
Well, you do, but you figure it shouldnât hurt as bad as it does.Â
Dustin was Eddieâs friend. He had zero obligation to care about you the same way. He didnât have to like you past his not-so-subtle admiration for your boyfriend, but it still hurts that he doesnât think youâre as cool.
âUh⊠Still sleeping. I think,â you lilt, voice as high and light as the salty breeze slipping past the slightly ajar backdoor.
âOh. Okay.â Dustin nods and doesnât say anything further. He doesnât seem as weighed down by the silence as you are. He peeks over his shoulder at Steveâs rousing figure on the couch and then at the pots and pans of food on the counter. His tired blue eyes fill with light when they flit at you again. âCan I help?â
Heâs suddenly aglow with a boyish sort of enthusiasm. His bushy brows raise and a smile pulls at his face, and you find it dreadfully hard to tell him no.
âSure. If you want to, butââ Youâre about to prattle on and on about how he shouldnât feel obligated to. That heâs a kid on vacation and can sleep in if he wants. That he shouldnât have to worry about helping you if he doesnât really want to.
But heâs already walking to the sink, flipping on the faucet so he can wash his hands.
Your aching heart swells with warmth.
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The rest of your friends wake up one by one.
Mike and El come out shortly after Dustin, the latter already dressed for the day. Sheâs a ray of sunshine compared to her grumpy boyfriend. His hair is a wild raven halo, and his cheeks are lined with indentions from the sheets. El hangs on his arm in a pair of jean coveralls, sparkling like the cerulean waters outside.Â
âWanna call Hopper?â you ask the blushing girl from where you scramble eggs at the stove.
She nods with her cheek smushed into Mikeâs shoulder, eyes wide and sheepish like sheâs embarrassed about wanting to talk to her dad. You donât blame her for it. You tend to call Hopper after most minor inconveniences.Â
Dustin mans the kitchen while you help her with the telephone. Heâs very meticulous about the cooking, like heâs got flipping pancakes down to a science. Heâs too good of a sous-chef for you to get mad at him for stealing from the stack every now and then.
Robin and Max are sitting at the dining table by the time you get back. Theyâre practically zombies, silent and grumpy, with their freckled features scrunched like they take offense to the early morning.
Lucas is the last of the kids to come out, though a part of you thinks it mightâve been intentional.Â
Heâs traded his pajamas for day clothes â Hawkins Tigers track pants and a fitted t-shirt. He idles in the kitchen for several long moments with his trembling hands balled into fists. You can tell he wants to sit next to Max. The thought of rejection keeps him from gravitating towards her, though. Instead, he stands at the counter next to Dustin and tries to hide his grieving.
Steve comes second to last â which is strange, because he was the first one there in a sense. The volume in the kitchen grows too loud for him to ignore. When he comes to the begrudging realization that thereâs no falling back to sleep, he decides to join the rest of you.
His feet trudge down the hall when he returns from the bathroom. The only remnants of slumber he wears are the sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt heâd thrown on sometime after waking up. His structured features are seemingly too sharp to be weighed down by fatigue.
âWhere are those little shits going?â he wonders in the place of any actual greeting. He eyes Mike and El as they depart through the sliding glass door. His bushy brows scrunch in confusion and distant worry â neither of which ever seem to leave him.
âProbably to talk to Nancyââ
âWhat?â Steve sputters, wide-eyed and gaped mouth. âNancyâsâ Nancyâs here?â
Your brows pinch at his shock. You scrape fluffy yellow eggs from the skillet into a large bowl, fit to feed a sizable family â yours of which has squeezed like sardines into this cabin. âWell⊠You did invite her, didnât you?â
âWell, yeah, butâŠâ he trails off, features twisted in puzzlement. His anxious hands prop against his sweatpant-clad waist. âWhen did she get in?â
âThis morningââ
His eyes fly open once more. His head whips over his shoulder, like he might see her standing there, then turns back to gape at you again. âAnd you didnât wake me up?â
You scoff a faint laugh at him. âWhy would I wake you up?â
ââCause heâs in love with her,â Dustin answers for him, mouth full of the pancake he grips in his right hand. âObviously.â
âShut up,â Steve squints at him with all the annoyance of an older sibling despite having been an only child all his life. His irked features relax when his cinnamon gaze flits to you. âWhere is she now?â
âUh⊠She went for a walk a while ago,â you answer absentmindedly, as though she hadnât been on your mind the whole time. âI think sheâs sitting out by the beach waiting for everyone to get up now, though.â
You and Steve share similarly narrowed eyes when you look out the kitchen window. The brunette girl sits at the square table outside the cabin. You can only see the profile of her pointed features as she smiles up at her younger brother and his girlfriend â a look so full of annoyance it can only be love.
âMaybe take it down a few notches before you try to talk to her, alright, Stevie?â Robin teases from the dining table.
âYeah,â Lucas lilts with a slow nod, obviously playful in his dogpiling. He leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, trying hard not to smile too wide. âYou look a little crazy right now, man.â
âItâs only âcause you little shits drive me crazy,â Steve defends in a monotone.
âGo tell her breakfast is almost done,â you advise with a sincere smile, though your eyes sparkle with mischief. âYou can use that as an excuse to talk to her instead of whatever bullshit you were about to make up.â
Steve nods with a flat face. âThanks, Peach.â
Dustin and Lucas help you transport the containers of food to the rectangle dining table â pancakes, eggs, sausage, and only halfway stale biscuits. Basically whatever leftover groceries you could find in the cupboards and the fridge.
Steve is too busy idling in one place to bother helping. With his eyes trained on the sliding glass door, itâs too apparent that heâs in his own head. Heâs trying hard to work up the courage to talk to a girl heâs known for years now.Â
As you sit in your seat at the table â beside Robin, across from Max, with a spare chair open for Eddie on your other side â you watch the fidgeting boy from over your shoulder. His pointed features harden slightly with his newfound bravery, his chest puffing with a wavering breath in. You watch him take a firm step towards the door, but heâs stopped in place by three bodies already walking towards it.
Nancy was already on her way back, with Mike and El at her side. Steve had been too late â too doubtful of himself, too frightened of the pushed-away problems heâd caused. Heâs forced to share awkward, trembling smiles with his first love and not a thing more.Â
You feel his heartache as if it were your own.
Eddieâs footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the spiral staircase when he finally comes down.
Your heart warms at the very sight of him, as though you were looking at the rest of your life in the flesh â wild hair, swollen eyes, wrinkled t-shirt, and all. Itâs too early to smile as wide as you do.
âMorning, Eds,â you greet, because everyoneâs too busy stuffing their faces or writhing in unrequited love to do it for you.
His lips curl into a soft smile, weighed down by fatigue but rosy with his love for you. The pink expression grows when he sees the full table and the seat you left open for him. âMorning, sweetheart,â he lilts in response.
âHow convenient,â Dustin squints from the head of the table, adjacent to Lucas and Eddieâs vacant seat. Heâs got scrambled egg clinging to the side of his mouth as he chastises, âYou show up right when breakfast is done.â
âSorry, Dusty Bun,â Eddie apologizes with a teasing inflection that would imply that heâs not actually sorry. His chair scrapes against the kitchen tile when he pulls it out from under the table. âItâs not my fault I have impeccable timing.â
Your eyes dart to the boy standing beside you. They dance across his sleep-ridden features as your lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile.Â
You know better than anyone that heâs only ever late to everything. The only time you can count on him being early is if thereâs a Hellfire campaign or when heâs coming in his jeans.Â
Eddie grows sheepish with the same understanding. His cheeks flush with a poorly hidden smirk as he sits down next to you. âDonât say anything, Peach,â he mutters quietly to you.
The table, now sufficiently full, seems to thrum with life. Whether theyâre picking at their food like Steve and Lucas, or stuffing their faces like Dustin and Robin, you canât help but smile softly at each of them.Â
They feel like family â like youâve upped and carried your home with you three hours away. Youâd forgotten what not being alone felt like before now. Your chest swells with a newfound life you didnât even know you were missing.
âUh, did everyone pack a bathing suit?â you wonder aloud with a bright smile on your face, a measly question to fill the silence and the sound of silverware against porcelain plates.
Everyone nods and hums soft âyeahââs with their mouths full â except for Eddie.Â
The boy beside you stills with his fork in front of his mouth. His dark eyes go wide as he looks over at you. âOh, fuck,â he mutters in the place of an answer. âI was supposed to pack a bathing suit?â
You find his forgetful disposition rather endearing. You can too easily imagine him standing in the middle of his bedroom, mouthing everything you told him to pack while counting them on his fingers. You can see his brows furrowing with a distant pout while he asks himself âwhat the hell am I forgetting?â
Youâre too in love to be annoyed with him â or ill-prepared.
âI packed trunks for you. Itâs okay,â you murmur in response, voice as quiet as the smile you look at him with.
Eddieâs chest aches. Itâs too warm to be his heart breaking â too fluffy and sticky and sweet. Itâs a burning sort of pain that can only be pure, unadulterated love.Â
âGod, you are the woman of my dreams, baby,â he confesses lowly, mostly to himself.
You only hear the words leave his mouth because heâs leaning in to kiss you. You donât meet him halfway, but instead grin softly at his efforts, which you know are bound to be interrupted. Â
âHey!â Dustin scolds through the bite of biscuit in his mouth. âNo kissing at the table!â
Robin licks syrup from the corner of her mouth, then concurs through her pancakes, âYeah. You wanna make everybody here puke or what?â
âOr what,â you answer the rhetorical question, meeting her deadpanned expression with a smile. You tilt your head to your shoulder and scrunch your nose. âPreferably, at least.â
âHow about everyone just keep their hands to themselves, yeah?â Steve advises in a monotone. His honey eyes flit around the table with a significant focus on you and Eddie and Mike and El. He waves his fork in his hand, still piercing the cooled piece of scrambled egg he hasnât eaten yet. âHow about that?â
âOkay, Hopper,â you scoff to yourself.
El snorts a quiet laugh from across the table, on Maxâs other side.
Steve flashes you an annoyed glance from across Robin sitting between the two of you. Despite his monotoned features, his eyes sparkle with an adoration for you he couldnât conceal if he wanted to.
He tries to, anyway.Â
âBite me,â he grumbles with narrowed eyes.
Eddie huffs dramatically from beside you. The sound gets your attention â makes you turn your head to look at him again â which is all he really wanted to do, anyway.
âStop flirting!â the boy grumbles, wide-eyed and chewing through his mouthful. âIâm sitting right here!â
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Eddie Munson was never supposed to believe in love at first sight. That stuff was for children, chick flicks, and over-played ballads â not metalheads whoâve never been loved before and have had to improvise all their awkward tenderness accordingly.
But then he met you. And he didnât love you then, but he knew something was different. Off. Metamorphosing, even.Â
It was different from love â whatever strange, foreign thing he was feeling way back when. It didnât hurt nearly as much, and it didnât feel like every single one of his atoms had been set ablaze. It was softer, warmer, a gentle familiarity in a stranger who just wanted to get high.
You sat down in front of him on that rotted park bench in the middle of the woods, and it felt like he was staring the rest of his life in the face. There was no falling head over heels like all the songs on the radio said thereâd be, but rather an âOh, hi, itâs you. I hope itâs always gonna be you.â
He feels that foreign, fluffy feeling in his chest even now as he stands on the shore in a pair of trunks you bought because you knew heâd forget his. He watches you wade into the cerulean sea with a lily sort of hesitance. Youâre so much smaller than the wide-open, but he loves you so much you seem swallow it all whole anyway.Â
Youâre a pretty little thing in a canary yellow bikini, sunshine incarnate. Your thighs are round and full. The pudge of your stomach is soft and tender. The scarred marks on your back and shoulders are like so many little kisses, each of which he longs to give you in return.
You possess an intimidating sort of beauty, one that Eddie found easier to admire from afar. You were entirely too captivating â warm and gentle like a summer rain dying to be danced in.
âStop being such a baby!â Robin calls from further in the water. Her sandy-colored hair is a darker shade from the salty sea and pushed back over her forehead and ears.Â
Her chapped lips curl into a pink smile as she looks up at you. Not even she could hide her admiration for your fantastical, demoniacal beauty.
âThe waterâs not even that bad!â the girl continues in half-hearted taunts. âJust run in!â
âItâs cold!â you insist, shivering when a brutal breeze brushes by. You tense and tighten the grip you have on yourself. Your arms are crossed over your chest in a feeble shield that does little to protect you from the water nipping at your ankles.
Robin cackles at your wincing.
Eddie mightâve defended you if he wasnât so lost in the eternal blue of you, more infinite than the water you stand in or the sky you idle beneath.Â
You look so soft in the golden sunlight, so diabolically angelic. Lithe, unholy, yet pure all the same. Built for sin but looking just like Heaven.
Eddie Munson wasnât supposed to fall in love. He wasnât even looking for it until it tripped him, ate him up, and spat him out. The universe does whatever the universe wants sometimes, he figures, and if you canât laugh at their stupid jokes, then thatâs on you.
âHoly shitâŠâ Eddie mumbles as the realization pierces him like a dull needle between his ribcage. That searing, subtle feeling of being in love.Â
Itâs frightening more than it is anything, really â the understanding that youâre diving into something that could ruin you, something youâre going to let ruin you. Thereâs nothing but a thin line between love and horror.
âHuh?â Steve hums with a cartoonishly scrunched nose and furrow to his brow.
He was the only one close enough to hear him. Everyone else was separate but still near, using every inch of their reserved space.Â
Nancyâs reading a book in one of the lounge chairs with El and Max sunbathing on towels close by. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are roughhousing in the water â no doubt irking Steve and his lifeguard-esque spidey senses. Robin, meanwhile, was still coaxing you inside.
Eddieâs head snaps in Steveâs direction. He squints through the wisps of gray smoke rising from the grill. âHuh?â he repeats like the idiot he is.
âYou said something.â The brunette boy responds. Not a question, but a statement of fact.
âNo, I wasnât,â Eddie sasses back despite having been caught red-handed. He shrugs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. âI was just⊠I was just talking to myself.â
âYeah. âCause thatâs not weird or anything.â
Eddie bites back a too-harsh jeer. He watches Steve flip a steaming burger on the tiny grill in front of him with a floundering sort of finesse. He scoffs out a laugh. âMaking fun of me isnât gonna compensate for you having absolutely no idea what youâre doing over there, you know?â
âHow hard can it be?â Steve wonders, bouncing his shoulders and gesturing with the spatula in his hand. âTheyâre burgers. Just flip âem before the burn, and theyâre goldenâ well, not golden, but⊠you get it.â
Eddie rolls his eyes at the boyâs blind optimism. Steveâs got all the trappings of a rich kid who never had a fend for yourself night where dinner was just chocolate milk, dry cereal, and pizza rolls. âI thought growing up in the suburbs, you wouldâve perfected the art of grilling by now.â
âYeah, well, I didnât exactly have anyone around that often to teach me, soâŠâ
Steve isnât exactly playing the woe is me card. Heâs just stating a fact that most everyone in Hawkins seems to know by now. It blows the wind out of Eddieâs sails, anyway.Â
Itâs hard to understand sometimes that Steveâs got his own thing going on â his own secrets with his own trauma he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. Eddie spent his whole life thinking that if he was richer, or if his house was bigger, or if the kids at school liked him more, he mightâve been happier growing up.Â
Steve Harrington is living proof that thatâs not always true.
Eddie walks a few steps closer to the grill. The smell of smoke and cooked meat pervade him instantaneously. He snatches the spatula from Steveâs hand, whoâs too off guard to dodge him.Â
His frizzy curls bunch at his shoulders when he tilts his head to the side, flashing the brunette boy a sickly sweet smile. âLet the trailer trash show ya how itâs done, Stevie.â
âFirst of all, donât call me that,â he retorts with a flat face, golden biceps crossed tight over the chest of his fitted tee. âAnd second of all, what the hell do you know about cooking?â
âWhen you grow up in a trailer park, you know how to make at least two things by the time youâre seven-years-old â pizza rolls in the oven and burgers on the grill.â
Steveâs honey eyes narrow. âI donât trust you not to poison us, Munson.â
âWhat? You think Iâm gonna poison a bunch of kids and my girlfriend? Thatâs, like, the lowest of the low,â Eddie defends with bubbly laughter sputtering from his mouth. He flips a smashed burger and lets it sizzle over the low flame before pointing the spatula in Steveâs direction. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eye. âBut you, Harrington? You should definitely be worried.â
ââŠGirlfriend, huh?âÂ
Eddie, visibly surprised by the lack of a comeback, glances over his shoulder at the boy. His fleetingly puzzled gaze gives way to a teasing pink grin. âYeah⊠Jealous?âÂ
It was a joke, but Steve starts to stutter over himself like heâs guilty of something. âWhat? No,â he argues between forced laughter. âWhy would youâ Why would you even say that?â
ââCause I actually had the balls to ask out the girl I like, and youâve been ogling at Nancy for an hour trying to figure out how to talk to her without coming off like a total creep.â
âThatâs not⊠I wasnât doing that.â
Eddie shrugs. âOkay.â
âI wasnât.â
âI said okay!â
âJeezâŠâ Steve concedes with a dramatic huff. âI have no idea what Peach sees in you, ya know?â
âMe neither, honestly,â Eddie confesses with a distant smile, grinning at the grill like he can see you in the wisps of thick smoke. âI always thought it was my strong arms and sparkling personality.âÂ
âSee, thatâs what Iâm talking about! You canât be serious about anything!â
âI can be serious about some things.â
âYeah?â Steve muses with raised brows and a smile that says otherwise. âLike what?â
Thereâs a million stupid jokes Eddie could make just to piss him off all the more. He swallows them all down in place of something more real. âI donât know⊠Peach is pretty cool, I guess⊠Donât really wanna fuck that upâŠâ
Steve nods, proud of the answer he wasnât expecting. âGood. Donât.â
âAnd what would you do if I did, tough guy?â Eddie jokes, narrowing his eyes at the boy beside him. âBeat me up?â
He answers without missing a beat. âYeah.â
âYou donât exactly have the best track record for that. Iâm pretty sure youâre on a world-record losing streak, actually.â
âI donât have to win,â Steve assures with a strange sort of sternness to his words.Â
Eddie is visibly shocked by the sudden seriousness, wide-eyed and confused.Â
The brunette boy sighs before explaining. âThat time I got into that stupid fight with Hargrove, it wasnât about trying to beat him, you know? I was trying toâ I donât knowâ I was trying to⊠keep him from hurting the people I cared about, I guess.â
âPeach?â Eddie presses with furrowed brows.
Steve shoots him a dumbfounded look, confused by the confusion. âShe didnât tell you about that?â
â...No?â
âThen, uh⊠Never mind.â
Steve closes in on himself all over again â an impenetrable brick wall with abs and a chiseled jawline. Eddie feels so suddenly left out, like there was some secret everyone was in on but him. He abandons the grill entirely.Â
âNope. No way. You have to tell me now.â
âI donât have to tell you shit, Munson,â Steve scoffs, side-stepping the wild-haired boy and taking his place in front of the grill. The burgers are cooked through now, perfectly seared and smoky. He plates them all like he wasnât on track to burning them. Eddie lets him do it.
âI swear to god, I will give you food poisoning on purpose, Harringtonââ
âItâs not my story to tell, alright?â Steve interjects the half-hearted threat.
âWell, I mean, it sorta is because you were just about to tell it, soâŠâ
The brunette grumbles something under his breath like a rolling storm cloud.
You and Robin watch the encounter from afar, both of you someways from shore. Now submerged to your shoulders in the sapphire water, youâre not nearly as cold as when you first stepped in. It feels as soft as silk now, sparkling around you like diamonds every time you kick your feet to keep yourself afloat.
A smile quirks at your mouth at the sight of the bantering boys â one you used to love and one you think youâll love forever.
Theyâre complete and utter opposites of each other. One golden, one pale. One broad, one lean. One with trimmed honey locks that shine golden in the sun, and one with long curls so dark they seem to reject all light entirely.Â
They both wear deadpanned looks of utter annoyance on their features, having no idea how close theyâre standing to each other.
âThe sexual tension is ripe between those two,â you confess to Robin, though itâs mostly for yourself.
âThink theyâre gonna kiss?â the brunette girl jokes as she blinks salt water from her eyes.
âI donât know⊠They mightâŠâ you observe quietly, squinting in the distance in a feeble attempt to read their lips. The conversation seems heated â well, as heated as it gets between two boys who think theyâre better off as enemies.Â
You long to understand what theyâre saying and mourn the fact that you donât.
âBet I can get them to kiss by the end of the night, though,â you answer more finally and with a glint to your eye â a result of your looming mischief rather than the glittering sun above you.
âPlease, donât say itâŠâ Robin grimaces.
âTruth or dare,â you singsong with a beaming grin.
The girl makes a pained sound at your words. She bubbles her freckled cheeks and squeezes her eyes shut tight. She ducks herself beneath the water in attempts to hide there, knowing there are some things you just canât run from.
 ËËË ê° âĄ ê± ËËË
You hold onto your love for Eddie like so many flowers in your hand.Â
Itâs a collection of wild things â honeyed daffodils, fluffy white daisies, and pretty pastel forget-me-nots. Their vivid green stems feel like stripes of hardened silk in your palm.Â
Maybe youâll shape them into a crown later, place them on top of your loverâs wild curls the next time you see him. You hope that isnât too long now.
Max was the one that wanted to go on a hike. Upon the other boysâ insistence of tagging along, she spat like venom in return â âNo boys allowed.â And, quite frankly, none of you were in any position to deny Maxine Mayfield of anything.
Robin hadnât even wanted to go until that moment. She complained she was too tired after a day in the water to spend an evening in the woods. The thought of making fun of Steve seemingly cured her.Â
âYeah,â she lilted with a smile, voice raspy from hours of nonstop laughter. She slid a cap over her drying locks, leaving it backwards and lazy on her head. She bounced her brows and walked backwards behind the group of you. âGo on your own hike, Stevie.â
âWe will!â Steve argued in return, like a child not easily left behind.
You canât be sure of what theyâre up to now. Nothing, maybe, or perhaps everything. You just hope Eddieâs missing you as much as youâre missing him â innocently, gently, childishly.Â
Maybe heâs seeing your face in the crystalline waves of the sea like youâre seeing his face in the satin petals of the flowers in your hand.
âHaving fun?â you ask Max over the subtle crunch, crunch, crunch of grass and leaves and twigs beneath your feet.Â
The redheadâs eyes widen at the suddenness of your presence â or rather, how slow sheâd been to register it. Noticing her languishing stride, she puts more pep in her step.Â
âTons,â she huffs.
You become a silent observer of Max Mayfield for a moment. You blink at the girl beside you â with pretty red plaits down her back and pale shoulders peeking from her tank top â and try to make sense of her. Itâs an impossible task.
âI canât tell if youâre being sarcastic or not,â you confess with a quiet laugh.
âIâm not,â she affirms with her own scoffed-out chuckle. She tucks a rouge wisp of amber hair behind her ear and averts her gaze to her beat-up sneakers. âItâs⊠actually been kinda fun so far.â
With a blooming feeling of relief and slight accomplishment, you nod in response. âGood.â
âI just wish the boys werenât here, though,â she admits with a distant girlishness, kicking a rock with the tip of her shoe. It clunk, clunk, clunks down the hill. She screws her freckled face. âTheyâre making it all⊠weird.â
âWeird how?â you press gently.Â
You donât want to push her so hard she closes up again, but you donât want to stay so quiet she thinks you donât care. Itâs tricky work, getting close to Max Mayfield â like digging through a brick wall with a plastic spoon.
âWeird as in⊠I donât knowâ theyâre making it something itâs not supposed to be, you know? Like, Dustin is cool, but thatâs because his girlfriend just dumped him and everything,â the girl rambles with a shrug. She lifts her arm to duck beneath a low-hanging branch, scraping her calloused palm against the wood as she goes.Â
Youâll hear a low thud moments later when Robin smacks her forehead against it. Sheâd been too busy explaining how to tell the difference between poisonous and nonpoisonous mushrooms to Nancy and El â the former only half as enthused as the latter.
âEl and Mike are always sneaking off to suck face, and Steve and Eddie keep ogling at you like theyâve never seen a girl before, and Lucas wonât stop asking me if somethingâs wrong, andââ
âHeâs just trying to check up on you,â you interject gently, letting the wound-up girl take a much-needed breath.
âYeah, well, itâs annoying,â she grumbles like a thundering rain cloud. âIâm trying to forget my problems, not talk about them.â
And, honestly, you think she might be onto something. Teenage girls are basically tiny pessimistic philosophers â your problems donât exist if you donât look at them, she tells you in essence. The logic is cynically sound to an unhealthy degree. Itâs a poison apple youâve plucked from the tree and eaten whole once.
âYou gotta talk about them eventually, Max,â you tell her. Not because you have, but rather because you havenât, and youâve seen where thatâs gotten you.
Max stops in her tracks. She turns ninety degrees to glare at you â arms crossed over her chest, bushy brows quirked like the right side of her lips. She looks bitterly amused at your words.Â
You cower beneath her icy blue stare. You know youâve said the wrong thing.
âOh, yeah? Like youâre talking about them, too?â she sasses with all her practiced teenaged apathy.
You falter. âYeah, well⊠Donât do what I do, alright? Do what I say.â
Max scoffs. It sounds almost like genuine laughter in its curtness, as though it were truly sincere. She shakes her head with a cynical smile. âFace itâ weâre both hopelessâŠâ
Her words leave you stunned, as though sheâd pierced you with the poison tip of them. Thereâs an edge to them that cuts you and leaves you bleeding as she walks on without you. The wind brushes your exposed skin, a reminder that the world is still going even though it feels like itâs frozen still.Â
Robin and El walk by you a moment later. The former rubs her aching forehead over the brim of the cap on her head. The latter is elbow-deep in a drawstring bag looking for a bandaid to give her.Â
Nancy, either poetically or cruelly, is the one who notices the splintered ache you are.
She smiles with her pretty pink lips and blinks at you with her stone-blue eyes. Sheâs as pretty as she ever was â with her bare, sun-kissed face and oversized cardigan pushed up to her elbows. Itâs hard to admonish someone who looks as sweet as she does.Â
Her attention alone is enough to heal you, like a dog licking a weeping wound. You hate her as much as you worship her. The loathing feels religious.
âWho are those for?â she questions innocently, motioning to the flowers in the limp hand hanging at your side.
âOh, uh, theyâreâ theyâre for Eddie,â you sputter in a mumble, suddenly aflame with embarrassment. You turn your red-hot cheeks away from her and look at everything but the girl in front of you. âItâs⊠Itâs stupidâŠâ
âI donât think so. I think itâs sweet,â she disagrees, grinning so sincerely it scrunches the sloped bridge of her nose.
âI donât know, I just⊠I felt a little bad about leaving him behind, soâŠâ
âHe did look a little like a sad puppy when we left,â Nancy confesses in a soft giggle.
You roll your eyes despite the lovesick smile on your face. âHe always looks like that when he doesnât get his way.â
âHe really likes you. I can tell.â
Your heart lurches at her words.Â
âWhat the hell do you know about him?â is first fleeting thought that scorches your mind. âHe isnât yours. You donât get to know him.âÂ
The misplaced anger is raging crimson, vivid enough to taste. Or perhaps thatâs just the metallic tang of your blood as you bite your tongue.
Your rage is engraved into your bones at this point.Â
It isnât fair, not to either of you, so you swallow it down.
âYou think so?â you wonder instead.
âOh. Totally,â she scoffs like sheâs never been surer of anything in her life.Â
Her sneakers scuff against the rough terrain of Lake Lemon as she starts walking again, towards the sound of trickling water. You follow behind her on instinct and watch her angled profile flit to the blue sky above you. Gray clouds start to gather in the distance, concealed by the green of towering trees.Â
âThe way he looks at you⊠Itâs really sweet.â
âBet it makes you miss Jonathan, huh?â
âI always miss him,â she answers without missing a beat, though she seems so suddenly forlorn. âEven though I know Iâm not really supposed to.â
âWhat do you mean?â you press with pinched brows.
She tilts her head and looks at you beneath her lashes. âWe, um⊠We broke up, actually.â
âOh. Shit,â you stutter, surprising even yourself because you hadnât meant to say the words out loud. It makes you that much more embarrassed at yourself. âIâ Iâm sorry. I didnâtâ shit. Iâm sorry.â
âItâs okay. You didnât know,â Nancy assures kindly, giggling and bringing you at ease again. She smiles so softly, like she isnât hurt by it all â by what youâve said or what she left behind in Jonathan.Â
You squint at her with a question on your tongue. How can you seem so happy after having lost a piece of yourself? you want so desperately to ask. How has that not ruined you entirely?
She sighs, still with a reminiscent smile. âI havenât really⊠you know, talked about it, soâŠâ
âAre youâŠâ you start, but trail off again. Your head whips from her to the rocky trail you descend down, trying to keep focused without tripping over yourself in front of her. God knows youâve done that enough for a lifetime. âAre you okay?â
Nancy thinks on your words more than you expected her to. âUh, yeah. I think so. I meanâ I guess thatâs what this trip is about, you know? Trying to be okay again.â
You nod in response. You figure thatâs why you ultimately asked Max to tag along in the first place, and why her friends had decided to join â those heartbroken and otherwise.Â
âSorry about that, by the way,â Nancy follows quickly with wet eyes and pinched-together brows. Sheâs waiting for you to condemn her, though youâre not entirely sure why.
âFor⊠what?â
âYou know, not telling you I was coming and⊠everything.âÂ
You wonder if she truly does mean everything or if itâs just a figure of speech. Nancy has a world of things to say sorry to you for â she knows this, most barbarically so.
âSteve told me it was normally a him, you, and Robin thing. He said you wouldnât be upset about it or anything, but I feel like⊠I donât know⊠like Iâve intruded or something?â
âNo,â you assure almost instantly because you know what non-belonging feels like. You donât want it to eat away at her like it did you. âIâm glad youâre here.â
âYeah?â the girl presses with a twinkle in her eye.
âTotally.â
She exhales a sharp chuckle through her nose. Itâs almost a sigh of relief â like your words have removed a hulking weight from her bony chest. âI was so scared things were gonna beâŠâ
âWeird?â you finish for her when she trails off.
Her sheepish smile matches your own. She nods. âYeah.â
âThat was forever ago,â you shrug, repeating the words youâve been telling yourself for ages now. It made everything much easier to stomach. You found it much safer not to feel any of it at all â to keep the hurt from touching you entirely.
Nancy nods. Her words leave her mouth, soft like a song and kissed by sorrow. âI know, but⊠Things wereâŠâ
She doesnât finish her sentence. She doesnât have to.Â
You were there for all of it. Most of the bloodshed was yours in the end.
âYeah,â you huff so deeply it deflates your tightening chest.
âIt was all just bullshit, you know?â Nancy says, shaking her head like sheâs detested by the memory. âSteve shouldnât have done what he did, but⊠It wasnât like I was raring to stop him.â
âIt wasnât your job. You didnât know meâ you never had to⊠defend me or whatever.â
âI know, but⊠I think maybe I should have.â
The two of you stop in place and share a look of distant longing. Not the kind you often give Eddie â not the kind full of puppy love â but rather one of acute understanding.Â
She didnât know you, and you didnât know her. You thought it was better off that way. Her presence was so often forced against your will. Like Pavlovâs Dog, you knew she only ever came with your inevitable heartache. Steve drifted to her like she had her own gravitational pull. He only came back to you when she was gone.
Jaded by heartache, you learned to hate her. The wrath ate away at you accordingly. And here she was â all your anger in the flesh â extending an olive branch and trying to make you whole again.
âWhoaâŠâ you hear Robin croon lowly in the distance.Â
Your attention leaves the piercing moment and darts over to her. She stands between El and Max in front of a leaning willow. She parts the weeping leaves with the palm of her hand and marvels at something further in the juniper you canât see.Â
You give Nancy a tight-lipped smile that doesnât quite meet your eyes â too weighed down by the heavy moment â but it isnât any less sincere. You walk away from her and towards the three others. It takes her a moment or more to follow you.
Past the swaying willow is a shrouded cove. The clear water is kissed by streams of sunlight poking through the fluttering leaves. It possesses a hearty smell of rain and wet grass, the very breath of spring.Â
Itâs a corner of the world that feels so pure, so untouched by the rest of the world. You can hear words hidden in the rippling water â âSwim with me,â it calls to you. âLet me cleanse you. Let me save you.âÂ
âSweetâŠâ Max hums to herself, apathetic as ever, though utterly unable to tear her eyes from the sight before her.
El nods, similarly mesmerized. âYeah. Sweet.â
Robin turns to you, smirking all cool in her backwards cap and baggy jeans and thumped forehead. She bounces her brows and beams. âBet the boys havenât found anything this cool.â
 ËËË ê° âĄ ê± ËËË
âHey, look!â Dustin shouts to the others, eyes squinted with the intensity of his grin. He holds up a shining red rock, made smooth from the water rolling over his feet. âIâm pretty sure itâs a gemstone! Like, a ruby or something!â
Heâs met with several unenthused gazes from the rest of the boys on shore.Â
Mike squints at him from where he sits next to Lucas in the sand, both of them equally mopey without their girls to bring them back to life. âYeah, Iâm pretty sure thatâs just a rock,â the raven-haired boy monotones.
Dustinâs smile washes away like the ebbing tide at his ankles. He looks back at the weighty thing in his hand and realizes that he doesnât actually know the difference. âOhâŠâ
âWhat do you think the girls are doing right now?â Lucas wonders aloud. He canât go more than five minutes without bringing them up, which Dustin has bitterly observed a number of times.Â
Heâs more worried about Max than anything, about her eagerness to get away from the boys â from him. He doesnât know what he couldâve done so wrong to make her pull away like she has. His chest aches with the uncertainty.
âTalking about us, probably,â Mike answers.
âThatâs a little sexist, Mike,â Dustin scolds as he walks back on shore, kicking up white sand behind him as he goes.
âWhat do you think theyâre doing then?â
âTalking about you,â the curly-haired boy retorts with narrowed eyes. ââCause youâre a dick.â
Mike squints an eye as he looks up at him, shielding his vision from the white sun. He flips the boy off with a pale, bony finger.
Eddie watches from a distance. He stands beside Steve in front of the bubbling white waves, though itâs not really by choice. Heâd much rather be standing next to you. He searches for you in the pearly waves and weeps because nothing compares to the real thing. Â
âWell, why donât we just find out?â he offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin.
âUh, because they said no boys allowed,â Steve answers like itâs obvious.
Eddie meets the boyâs furrowed brows with jettisoned ones hidden behind curly bangs. ââŠOkay?â
âAnd, I donât knowâ I kinda donât wanna get my face ripped off.â
âAnd what would poor Steve Harrington do without his pretty little face?â the wild-haired boy singsongs in response, face scrunched in feigned sympathy.
Steve squints. âYou know what? Please, leave. I encourage it, actually.â
Eddie grins wide and tilts his head to his shoulder. He blinks at the boy beside him with glittering chocolate eyes that match the frizzy curls billowing in the breeze. âBut then who would I annoy?â
âI donât know. Your girlfriend, maybe,â Steve responds in a monotone, grunting softly as he bends down to pick up a handful of rocks from shore. He flicks his wrist to skip them across the water. It becomes quickly apparent that heâs never done it before. Each pebble plops hopelessly into the salty sea. âAnyone but me, preferably.â
âBut you canât break up with me, so⊠thatâs an obvious bonus.â
âJesus ChristâŠâ Steve mumbles within an annoyed exhale. âYou are the most insufferable person on the planet, you know that, right?â
âTell me what happened with Billy, and Iâll leave,â Eddie challenges with narrowed eyes.
Itâs too good a proposition not to give any thought to. Steve thinks about it for a beat, then shakes his head and turns away. âYeah, no,â he concludes, skipping another rock that sinks to the bottom almost immediately.
âWhy?â
ââCause you annoying the shit outta me now is nothing compared to what Peachâll do if she finds out I told you.â
âAnd whatâs that?â
Steve shrugs. ââŠBe mad at me?â
Eddie scoffs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. âAnd that would just be⊠inconceivable, right?â
âI spent enough time pissing her off.â
âWhatâd you even do, anyway? Or is that another secret everyone seems to know but me?â
Steve shoots him another bitter side-eye. He tosses out another pebble. It bounces on the water once and then disappears beneath the surface. âI think these are questions for your girlfriend, Munson.â
âNo, these are questions for bros, Harrington,â Eddie jokes, shoving the boy on his shoulder. His touch is more aggressive than he realizes and it makes the disgruntled brunette stumble slightly to the side. âIsnât this the sort of things bros talk about?â
âOh, my godâŠâ Steve mutters to himself, shaking his head and wondering how he got here. What was supposed to be a trip with you and Robin has turned into him babysitting with Eddie fucking Munson.
âAm I not bro enough for you, Harrington?â
âThat word has lost all meaning nowââ
âCâmon, just tell me, man,â Eddie pleads with a newfound seriousness. âEvery time I almost get something outta her, she justâ she clams up, you know? I love her and everything, but fuckâ it feels like she only lets me know her so much. Itâs agony sometimes, dude.â
Steve doesnât mean to, but he melts.
Maybe itâs the foreign emotion heâs getting from the local freak, or maybe itâs the confession thatâs unknowingly slipped from his lips.Â
He sighs. Then shrugs. âIt was a long time ago. And I was a douchebag.â
Eddie snorts. âFigures.â
âDo you want me to tell you or not?â Steve bites.Â
Eddie curls his lips around his teeth, puts his mouth in a tight line, and stays silent.Â
The brunette boy continues. âI liked her and everything, but I also liked Nancy, you know? I really liked Nancy. I mean, Peach was a lotta fun, but Nanceâ she was the kinda girl you wanted to settle down with.â
Eddie feels his chest tighten, and the confessionâs only just started.Â
You were fun. The most fun heâs had in his life. Heâd kill to settle down with you, to have an entire future of fun. There was never any but with you â I love you, but itâd be a bad look to settle down with the town slut. Eddie wants all of you, the good and what everyone else has collectively decided is âbad.âÂ
He loves the sound of your laughter as much as he loves the sound of your moans.Â
He wants a lifetime full of both.
ââSo every time Nancy broke up with me, Iâd go back to Peach. And I wouldnât tell her about⊠about any of it. You know, that I still wanted to be with Nancy and everything. And thatâs⊠I think thatâs the worst part about it. âCause she thought there was a chance we would get together, you know? And I wanted her to think that, âcause I wanted her to always be there when I wasâ when I needed herâŠâ
Steve squints off into the blue â where the darker-colored water meets a lighter-colored sky. The white sun casts harsh shadows on his already chiseled features. His face scrunches into something sharper, whetted edges of held-back emotion.
âA part of me knew the only reason Peach stuck around was because she thought Iâd finally come to my senses and ask her out, you know? But I was⊠so far gone for Nancy back then itâs not even funny,â the boy confesses. He exhales a curt, cynical chuckle from his nose and shakes his head at himself.Â
âI knew I was gonna keep chasing after Nance, but I couldnât let Peach know that because I didnât wanna be... I donât know⊠alone, I guess? I needed someone to go to when my heart got broken., you know? But when I went back to Nancyâ over and over and over againâ itâs like⊠whereâd Peach go? Who didâ Who did she have to turn to, you know?â
Silence rolls in like the whispering breeze. It settles heavy like the gray rain clouds on the horizon.
Steve sighs like a strangling hand has finally let go of his throat. Like he can finally breathe again after saying all that out loud for the first time. Beside Eddie, the boy stands golden, grieving, and utterly changed. Steve towers over his old self in the memories he wishes he could get rid of and mourns the people he canât un-hurt.
And it fucking sucks.Â
What he did to you sucks. The person he used to be sucks. And it sucks that heâs changed too much to hate now. Where is Eddie supposed to put all the anger simmering in his chest and scratching at the back of his throat?
âAnd, yeah,â Steve suddenly concludes, flicking his wrist to toss another rock out to sea thatâll never see the light of day again. âThat went on for a while until she got with Hargrove, which was⊠a total fucking train wreck.â
Eddie doesnât know how to respond, so he just laughs â a short, sharp, and scoffing breath.Â
âWow,â he muses with his brows raised and hidden beneath his bangs. He shakes his head in complete and utter bemusement as he looks over at Steve, eyelids as heavy as the forced smile on his face. âYou guys are fucking assholes, you know that?â
Steve exhales sharply from his nose in place of a laugh. He shakes his head in agreement anyway. âBelieve it or notâ people can change, Munson.â
The wild-haired boy squints. âReally?â
âI did. Peach did,â he answers with a shrug, then averts his gaze entirely to mumble, âYou did, too, I guessâŠâ
The half-heartedly grumbled phrase feels almost like a compliment â more so when itâs spilling from the mouth of someone he used to hate but has grown to sort of tolerate on handpicked occasions.Â
Itâs great beauty, to grow and shift and become the person you were also meant to be. And what praise it is to be seen in your becoming.
From a brief distance, they hear a soft and relieved âFucking finally,â spill from Dustinâs mouth.
Eddie turns and finds you coming down from the trail. Well, you and the rest of the girls you ditched him for, but all he can really see is you.Â
Heâd missed you in a way he knows he shouldnât have. Not just because you were only gone for one measly hour, but because that one measly hour ate away at him as though it were eons.Â
He knows he shouldnât miss you so hard, but sometimes the absence feels strangely fulfilling. Itâs a reminder that youâre real and not some dream he made up in his head. A reminder that heâll meet you again because youâll always come back to him.
âHave fun?â you ask when heâs close enough to hear you. Youâve got one eye squinted to shield from the sun and also to conceal the beam threatening to take over your features.
âOh. Tons,â Eddie scoffs in a deadpan. âDidnât even miss you.â
âNo?â
âNot even a little bit.â
âWell, I didnât miss you either,â you confess in a similar lilt and with a similar grin that drips with honeyed adoration. ââS why I spent the whole time picking these flowers for you.â
You shrug and hold out your left hand, where a bushel of tiny flowers rests softly against the edge of your palm. Itâs a mixture of vivid colors â of greens, blues, purples, and yellows. Theyâre wild and beautiful and drenched in sun. A whole lot like the love he has for you.
The dull ache of his broken heart sears with warmth when you put it back together again.
Eddieâs toes dig into the sand as he fills the short distance between you. He curls his fingers around your elbows, takes you in his arms, and feels whole again. With a rosy smile and sparkling chocolate eyes, he groans, âOh, god, I hate you so muchâŠâ
Your cheeks hurt with how large your grin has grown, with how hard you try to hide it. Itâs not nearly as painful as the adoration burning wildfires behind your ribcage. âI hate you more, Eddie Spaghetti.â
Thereâs no need to admit youâre only joking.
The words are so obviously playful.Â
And both of you know what they really mean, anyway.
 ËËË ê° âĄ ê± ËËË
The heavenly cadence of spring rain sings a wild song on the old tin roof.
It began first as a few gentle taps, a sparse sprinkle that tricks your brain into thinking itâs not really there at all. Then the greying clouds gave way to darker, more ponderous ones. The soft drizzle became a roaring rain that fell all together, all at once.
A foggy grey covers the cabin and lulls its inhabitants to sleep. Swim-tired, sunkissed, and energy-spent â you all return to a sweeter sort of peace. The sudden exhaustion feels like rose petals. Itâs gentle, pure, and liquid smooth.Â
Robin clocks out first, and in record time. She stomps in from outside, terribly sunburnt and complaining relentlessly â before and after a cold shower. She shoves a burger in her face and passes out on the couch soon after.
Steve makes fun of her for it, but he goes right after her. He lays opposite her on the small couch, both of them fighting for room, even in their sleep.
Nancy went a lot more quietly, and only after the millionth time you assured her that she was more than welcome to take the bed. âItâs not like Robin has any plans of sleeping upstairs right now,â you joked, nodding your head over to the brunette girl who had her chin tilted backward and her mouth wide open.
You canât be entirely sure what the kids are up to now, but theyâve all returned to the bunk room. Itâs quiet, but not suspiciously so. You figure theyâre all either sleeping or fighting it, so you decide to give them privacy while you sit alone in the kitchen â waiting for Eddieâs shower to end and for Hopper to get off the phone with you.
âHaving fun?â the man wonders politely.
âMm-hmm,â you hum in response, cheek propped lazily against your fist as you lean over the granite countertop. Youâre too heavy with fatigue to do anything else. Your legs are sore and your skin is sun-drenched. Slumber all but sings your name like a siren out at sea.
âWhat about El? She doing okay?â
âYep.â
âYouâre watching her and Mike, right? Youâre not letting them go off alone?â
âYes, Hopper,â you singsong in an impatient-sounding sigh.
The man huffs out a laugh that crackles from the other line. âYou sound like you donât wanna talk to me, teacup.â
âIâm sorry. âM just tired. Running after kids all day is exhausting,â you confess in a series of barely intelligible mumbles.
âExactly. Thatâs why you wear protectionââ
âHopper!â
âIâm just saying!â Jim defends between a bout of gruff laughter. âI donât want you coming back from this trip and having a mini-Munson nine months later, alright? Thatâs all Iâm saying.â
You have a hard time placing his intention â if heâs truly being protective or if heâs just making fun of you. Heâs more than aware of Eddieâs secret, after all, so you coming home with a mini-Munson is virtually impossible. But, then again, no-parents-empty-cabin surely has its own lewd history.
You figure itâs a healthy mixture of both, and decide to take the piss out of him, too.
âOh, trust me, lurch. Thereâs gonna be a million mini-Munsons when I get back. What do you think Iâve been doing all this time, huh?â you argue with squinted eyes and a sudden fire behind your sunkissed lassitude. âPlease ignore the sounds of moaning and squeaking, by the way.â
A beat of utter silence passes.Â
The other line is perfectly mute. You canât even hear his breathing.
ââŠThatâs not funny,â Hopper grouses in a monotone.
âIâm not laughing,â you retort, giggling anyway. You couldnât hide them if you tried. Fuck, you miss annoying this man in person.Â
You collect yourself with a sigh and continue. âBelieve it or not, Iâm perfectly abstinent, okay? Iâm not some kinda fiend that⊠You know whatâ I donât want to talk about this with you, actually.â
Hopper exhales a sigh of relief when you cut yourself off. âGood. I checked out of this conversation about a minute ago.â
âIâm good. Elâs good. Everyoneâs currently sleeping, so⊠Thanks for checking in, lurch.â
âRemind me to ask for Harrington next time I call.â
âWill do.â
You hang up the phone with a smile and a plan to trek upstairs and tell Eddie all about it. Youâll sit on the bathroom counter and laugh about it with him while he finishes up his shower. Youâll leave out the million Munsons part, of course, because you donât want him to think youâre a total weirdo.
Eddie finds you first.
âMini Munsons, huh?â you hear the boy chuckle behind you.
Your heart lurches against your ribcage at his sudden arrival. You spin around to face him, features wide and gaping as you figure out how to worm your way out of this one. âI wasâ I was just kidding. Hopper was being annoying, you know? So I was⊠I was just fucking around with himâŠâ
Eddie meets your wild-eyed shock with a much cooler, pink smile. Itâs lopsided and wide and beautiful. Leaning against the wall, he bounces his shoulder and juts out his lip. âWell, I know thatâs your favorite pastime, so⊠I guess I wonât hold it against you.â
You know heâs joking, but you exhale the breath you were holding in relief anyway. âThank youâŠâ
He walks the short distance to meet you. His bare feet pad against the kitchen tile until heâs close enough to wrap you in his arms. He carries the smell of your body wash with him â a warm, floral, and sweet scent. His hair is damp and pulled back out of his face, dripping onto the neck of his t-shirt.
His palms are wide and lotion-soft as they smooth up your forearms. âUh⊠Everyoneâs asleep now, I think, so⊠You wanna go talk?â
He looks at you so sweet, youâre almost certain itâs code for something. Not sex, maybe, but something almost as gratifying. Itâs Eddie â he kisses you stupid like he was made to do it. Youâre more than happy to make out like teenagers until the rest of the cabin starts to stir again.
âSure, I do,â you answer with a shrug, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about you even though youâre beaming up at him like schoolgirl â some innocent being thatâs never been hurt before.
You let him lead you up the spiral staircase with that same giddy grin. You barely let him shut the door behind you before youâre pushing him against it.Â
You hear him gasp quietly when your arms wrap suddenly around his neck. Heâs tense when your body presses against his, like hugging a mountainâs edge. It takes him a moment or more to respond when you start kissing the breath from his lungs.
He finally relaxes with a soft exhale that fans against your cupidâs bow. His idling hands settle over your hips, fingers threatening to crawl beneath your cropped shirt when it rises to reveal a sliver of your skin. Youâd kill for him to touch you further, but his touch stays perfectly still. Youâre just glad heâs holding you at all.
He tastes like nicotine, soda, and summertime â clean, boyish, and nostalgic. Your tongue swipes gently over his plush bottom lip for more. You expect him to open up further for you, to let you explore the mouth you already know like the back of your hand. Youâre heartbroken when he pulls away from you entirely, missing him the second heâs gone.
Eddieâs grieving in a similar way. Itâs hard for him to part from you when you kiss him like no person on earth has ever been kissed.
He breathes out a soft laugh as he peers down at you. He grins crookedly with his freshly swollen lips. âNot that Iâm not enjoying this or anything, sweetheart, but when I said talk, I really did mean talkâŠâ
Your blood runs red-hot. âOhâŠâ you sigh like an idiot because you canât think of anything else to say. You feel like a total fool â spent ages denying the slut stereotype just to jump someoneâs bones the second you got them alone. Maybe they were right about you.
Eddie sees you second-guessing everything, watches you form a long-winded apology inside your head. He follows up quickly to quell your worry. âNo, itâs okayâ itâs kinda my bad, actually. I guess I shouldâve clarified.â
You muster a trembling smile when you step back from him. Youâre cold the second heâs gone. You have to fight back the shiver that crawls up your spine. âWell, you did say talk, soâŠâ
âYeah, but how often do I say things I actually mean?â
âSometimes,â you answer sheepishly, gazing at him from beneath your lashes in a sincere response to his half-joke. âI hopeâŠâ
I hope you meant it when you said you liked me, is what youâre really trying to say. I hope you meant all the nice things youâve said about me, âcause I donât think I could handle them never being real.
He seems to hear everything you donât say.Â
His rosy lips tug into a slow smile as he tilts his head to his shoulder. âWell⊠maybe when it comes to you, sweetheart.â
Your girlish smile returns to you â wide, innocent, unhurt. You like feeling this special. You like Eddie belonging to you in a way he doesnât to anybody else. Itâs a primal sort of possession, a borderline unhealthy one for someone who loves like itâs breathing.
âWhat did you wanna talk about then?â you wonder, then scrunch your nose with a distant wariness. âIt kinda seems serious now.â
âNo,â Eddie scoffs, walking away from you and towards the bed. âNot serious.â
The mattress squeaks under his weight when he flops down onto it. You want to scold him for being so rough with an obviously aged thing that doesnât belong to him. Youâre already gravitating towards him with an unrealized smile on your face.Â
You sit down beside him, far more gently than he had. You settle on top of the fluffy comforter and curl your legs behind you. Eddie lays on his side, propping his head up with one hand and using the other to trace the faded scars and beauty marks on your thigh.Â
His finger trails absentmindedly over your skin in a featherlight touch. Chills erupt over your skin, and he smiles to himself. Youâre still learning how to be touched so delicately.
âSpit it out, Eds. The tensionâs killing me,â you laugh with words youâll regret a second later.
âI donât know⊠I justâ I wanted to ask why you never told me about Steve,â the boy says with a nonchalant shrug, like the words donât suck all the breath from your lungs. Heâs too busy watching his finger dance across your skin to see the shock flood your features. âLike, I knew you guys hadâ a thing or whatever. But I didnât know⊠you know, the rest of it.â
Despite being unable to breathe, you try to muster a laugh. âThis sounds like a pretty serious topic, Eds.â
His wide-eyed gaze matches your own. His stare darts upward to meet yours. The chocolate of his irises are full with brooding. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Actually, he spent his entire showering thinking of ways to bring this up that would be the least painful for the both of you. But in true Eddie Munson fashion, he canât ever say the right thing.
âNo! No, itâ it doesnât have to be. I was just⊠It was just a question, you know?â he sputters hopelessly. He glances away and mumbles to himself, âA really dumb, stupid questionâŠâ
Despite the overwhelming urge to find the deepest, darkest hole and hide there, you canât tear your eyes away from the boy in front of you. Youâre not really looking at him, though, much too deep in your own head about the whole thing.Â
You canât stop thinking about what he mustâve heard â how he felt when he heard it. Did he think of you differently? Even for a fraction of a second, was he embarrassed at the very thought of you?
âAre you saying that⊠Steve told you about⊠all of it?â you ask slowly, terrified of the answer.
âUh, yeahâŠâ Eddie hesitates, equally as apprehensive. âHonestly, I think we were going a little insane with the girls aroundâŠâ
He exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh and flashes a smile that doesnât quite reach his eyes. It ebbs away a moment later.
âWhy would he do that?â you wonder with wide, wet eyes. The question is more for yourself than anything. You canât begin to understand why Steve wouldâve opened up about such a thing â to Eddie, of all people. Your Eddie.
âI asked him about Billyââ
âWhat do you know about Billy?â
âWell, he brought it up, butââ
âSo you spent the entire time talking about me?â The laugh that spills from your mouth is bitter, cruel.Â
Eddie, whoâs never known you to be either, chuckles emotionlessly back. âWell⊠No. It justâ It just came up, I guess.â
You smile despite the emotion swimming in your glassy eyes. It makes the boy cower inside himself, unsure which contrasting reaction to pay the most attention to. âMy relationship with Steve and Billy just⊠came up?â
âYeah. Itâs not a big deal, babeââ
âItâs not a big deal because they werenât your exes,â you bite like a snarling dog. âIf I spent the entire time talking about you, you wouldnât be too happy about it either, would you?â Â
Eddieâs eyes narrow in a challenging squint. âI didnât come up? Not one time?â
âYes!â you exclaim. The volume of your answer and its blurted sincerity take him by surprise. You wave your hands wildly as you ramble. âI told Nancy that I missed you and that I couldnât wait to see you and give you a bunch of stupid flowersââ
You motion to the makeshift bouquet sitting on the nightstand. They idle in a clear shot glass Eddie found in one of the cabinets. He couldnât stand not giving them a home.
ââWhile you were off with Steve, talking about everyone thatâs fucked me over!â
Your rage is as wild as it is brutal. Youâre painted red from the slaughter youâve been forced through. Itâs given you claws and teeth accordingly.Â
Like a stray dog that bites the gentle hand trying to feed it, youâve been so obviously mistreated. Eddie knew that before he knew you â âcause heâs got eyes, as well as a bleeding heart. Someone didnât love you the way you deserved to be loved, and now the memory turns you cruel.
âIt wasnât like that, okay?â Eddie presses with an urgency you can feel on his hand curling intently around your calf. His fingers tremble with sincerity. His dark eyes swim with it, too. âI justâ I wanted to learn more about you because you never tell me anything!â
âYes, I do!â you scoff.
âThen why do you never talk about Billy?â
âWhy do you care so much about Billy?â you cry with a broad, disbelieving smile. âWhy do I need to talk about him? He doesnât even matterâ he doesnât even exist anymore!â
âBecause something obviously happened! And if that thing is bothering you, I wanna be able to make it better!â
âThatâs what therapists are for, Eddie. Not boyfriends.â
âYeah, not any that you ever had,â he scoffs to himself before he can stop it.Â
You tense beneath his hand. He deflates with a sigh â squeezing his eyes shut and asking himself how the hell he manages to make the bad shit that much worse.Â
âSorry. Iâmâ Iâm sorry. I didnât⊠I didnât bring any of this up to hurt your feelings, alright? I just wanted toâ I donât knowâ I just wanted to talk about it, okay? Thatâs all.â
You can tell heâs being sincere. That he really did just want to talk about it, and that he really is worried about you, and that he really does want to make it all better. He wears it all over his face. His features are soft and blurred and utterly genuine.
You havenât yet softened your sharp, whetted edges. âYou said we didnât have to. That this trip was supposed to be fun.â
He flinches at the way you spit the words at him. Theyâre coated in vinegar, venom. It sinks into his skin and maims him accordingly. His bushy brows furrow, the corners of his mouth turn downward, and his eyes go glassy â a sad puppy indeed.
âYouâre not having fun?â he wonders in a wounded whisper.
His hurt becomes your own. It only makes your anger tower mountains over you. âNot anymore,â you answer lowly and through a tense jaw.
Eddieâs spent a lifetime screwing things up. Heâs spent a lifetime apologizing for them, too. This one aches worse than all the others combined. âIâm sorryâŠâ he mutters quietly.
Youâve never seen him this somber. This sad.
The broken look of your loverâs heartache cracks the hardened porcelain youâre made of. You let out the breath you were holding in a trembling, heavy sigh. âNo, donâtâ Donât apologize.â
âI feel like I shouldnât have brought it upâŠâ he confesses with his gaze cast downward.
You bring a hand to the one idling on your leg. You rest your soft palm over his bony knuckles. Your touch is much warmer than the iceberg you were just minutes ago.Â
âItâs okay. You were just curious. I shouldnât have blown up the way I did,â you concede. The softness heâs more familiar with finally returns to you. The corner of your lip quirks into a wavering half-smile as you joke, âBut if you want the entire list of guys that have fucked me over, itâs a reallyâ itâs really fucking long one.â
You laugh quietly at your joke.Â
But Eddie knows itâs not really a joke, so he stays unsmiling.
His touch is still soft, though. He takes to rubbing your calf again â a slow and measured up and down â a reminder that heâs still in your corner. âWell, you can tell me about it when youâre ready.â
âWhat if Iâm not?â you wonder, hesitant and testing the waters. âLike⊠What if I donât want you to know all that stuff?â
Eddieâs gaze flits away from yours as he ponders the question. He purses his lips to the side and nods to himself, visibly deep in thought. âThen Iâm good with not knowing,â he answers after a few, long moments.
âAre you?â
Again, he thinks.
âNot really. No,â he responds, still as honest as heâs always been with you. He grins lopsidedly and bounces his shoulder. âBut if it means I get to keep you, then⊠Yeah.â
You exhale a breathy laugh at his words.
Eddieâs wavering smile breaks out in a sheepish beam at the sight of your more genuine grin.Â
âCan I have a kiss?â he whispers to you, as innocent and mousy as a child.
Your hand gives his a reassuring squeeze. âYou never have to ask, EdsâŠâ you remind him.
You lean down to press your mouth against his. He tilts his chin to meet you halfway. Itâs chaste and lingering â a delicate peck that expresses all the swirling emotions neither of you could name if you tried.Â
âThere isnât anything about you that I wouldnât want to know,â Eddie confesses after heâs pulled away from you. The breath of his words fan across your cheek, heâs still so close to you. His deep galaxy eyes dance between both of yours. âYou know that, right?â
A smile tugs slow at your mouth. âNow, I do,â you nod in return, even though youâre not sure if you believe him.Â
He only says that because he doesnât know you â the deep, dark you that you try to keep hidden from yourself and the rest of the world. Heâd learn everything youâve been through, everything youâve done, and heâd hate you. He wouldnât be able to look at you the same.
You canât stand the thought of Eddie looking at you the way the rest of Hawkins does â with eyes squinted and twinkling with an admiral sort of disgust. So youâd rather him not know any of it at all.
Silence dances into the room as effortlessly as a spring breeze. The rainâs offbeat cadence taps hard against the sliding glass door across the room. You have the sudden urge to walk outside and stand it. You think itâd be easier to drown in the warm deluge than in your own thoughts.
Eddieâs rosy mouth turns slightly upward. Yours does, too, in anticipation of what heâs about to tell you.
âWanna fool around?â he wonders, if only to brighten the heavy grey mood.
The sound of your laughter is sunshine â a metaphor heâs been trying to write for years. âYou canât just say that every time weâre alone, Eds!â
âWhy not?â he challenges just to tease you.
âBecause you know we canât,â you answer with a soft sort of sternness about you. Your eyes are firm with sincerity, though they sparkle with mischief.
âWeâve been here almost two days, and I havenât got one whiff of Jason Voorhees, babe.â
âThatâs not what I mean,â you mutter, then whisper more quietly. âThereâs people downstairs.â
âWell, you can be quietâŠâ Eddie lilts, grin lopsided and pink as he rises off the mattress to lean closer to you. His breath fans across your chin, coated with nicotine and something sugary. He tilts his wild head to the side and raises his brows in question. âCanât you?â
âIâm not sure that you can, Eds.â
âDonât worry about me,â the boy assures, voice low and suddenly serious.
His warm palm travels up your calf, smoothing over your knee and curling around the side of your thigh. His touch is almost as all-consuming as his stare â deep chocolate brown, as infinite as a galaxy. You fall into them accordingly. You couldnât deny him if you wanted to.
You try, anyway.
âEddieâŠâ you start, a warning that trails off when he squeezes the buzzing skin of your outer thigh.
âLay down,â he urges. Itâs too soft to be a genuine command. It gives him ample opportunity to turn it all into a joke on the off chance you reject him completely.
You donât. You couldnât.
You find yourself slithering past him and closer to the headboard before you realize youâre doing it. Itâs like youâre made of magic, totally under whatever spell heâs unknowingly cast upon you. Your headâs swimming with his sorcery as you lie back on the pillows.Â
Eddie follows you, resting his body above yours. Itâs a comfortable sort of weight, heavenly even. He props himself up on his forearms so he isnât crushing you completely, though you wouldnât complain if he did.Â
You want him to ruin you, and then you want to thank him for it.
The untrimmed edges of his curls hang down over his face. They tickle your jaw when he kisses you with the ardency of someone who wants to swallow you whole. His tongue swipes against yours, slow and more aggressive than either of you expect. He sucks on your swelling bottom lip right after.
The gray world around you explodes with a burst of a thousand colors. You canât see any of them because the inner workings of your mind have been stripped away and replaced totally with Eddie. His nose nudging against yours. The taste of his mouth. The texture of his tongue. The warmth of his breath. His hand traveling down down down your body.
His palm starts at your cheek, cupping sweetly at your jaw so he can open your mouth wider for him. Then his touch trails down to your neck, taking a brief pitstop to feel the rapid thrum of your racing pulse, before falling to your chest.
You think he must be able to feel your pounding heart through your t-shirt when he cups your breast. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple in time with his tongue diving deep into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile when the combined efforts make you shiver.
His fingers smooth over your ribcage, then your stomach, and then your hips.Â
Itâs a touch featherlight, yet steady and earnest at the same time. His hand creeps slowly over the thin fabric of your shorts and settles between the warmth radiating between your thighs. He cups you gently through your clothes and kisses the breath from your lungs. Itâs like heâs trying to kill you.
You buck your hips slightly upward in a silent plea for more.Â
The boy above you has the nerve to pull away from you to ask, âThis okay?âÂ
His hair is mussed from where your fingers had entwined so intensely in his chestnut strands. His lips are rosy and swollen and wild. You get lost looking at him.Â
With dazed eyes trained on the pink mouth you so desperately want to kiss again, you nod like an enthusiastic child.
âCan I do more?â Eddie wonders through heavy breaths.
âPlease,â you hear yourself say, right before your hips cant against the subtle weight of his palm.
You watch with wide, unblinking eyes as Eddie brings his hand to his mouth. His pink tongue darts out to lick the pads of his middle and forefinger, leaving them glistening as he slithers them into your shorts.Â
His efforts to be easy with you are appreciated but virtually unnecessary. Youâre as slippery as satin for him, drooling in anticipation for him to make you feel good.Â
He slides two fingers into your trembling pussy with little effort. The fatty edge of his palm settles over your swelling clit. Your head tilts back against the pillow while you exhale a pretty moan.
With your eyes fluttered shut, you donât see the crooked grin tugging slow at Eddieâs mouth. âShhâŠâ he shushes, only half playful, before engulfing your mouth again and swallowing each of your gentle cries.Â
Heâs moaning with you, though, at the soft squelch your pussy makes when his fingers sink to the knuckle inside you. You feel the smooth metal of his rings on the outside of your cunt and the inside of your thighs.
And fuck, youâre so pretty for him â always so pretty for him â that it makes him forget about the ache of his stiffening cock. His yearning for you throbs like a heartbeat. He wants so desperately to fuck you, to really fuck you until heâs got you gushing all over his lap. But he figures he can settle for this for now.Â
But the way youâre moaning for him just now? It doesnât really feel like settling.
âYouâre so pretty,â he hums lowly, almost to himself. âHave I told you that?â
He has. Plenty of times within the few months heâs been able to do that without it being too weird. It feels like the first time heâs ever said it to you, anyway.
A breathy moan spills lightly from your lips, like a spring breeze coated in sunshine. Itâs the total opposite of the storm swirling outside the bedroom.Â
Your cunt involuntarily squeezes his fingers at the compliment â walls sticky, hot, and pulsing. You all but melt around the two digits he presses inside you.
He figures you must like the praise, which is great âcause praising you is the easiest thing on the planet.Â
âYou have such a pretty pussy, too,â he confesses in a gritty whisper.
You moan for him again, a muffled cry stuck in your throat.
âFeels so warm around my fingers⊠And youâre so tight, babyâ I donât know how Iâm gonna fit my cock in youââ
His words are as sinful as they are vivid.Â
Behind your shut eyes, you can see the vision of him on top of you. You can feel his sweaty body sticking to yours like glue â similar to the honey you leak for him while he fucks you.Â
If you try hard enough, you can almost replace his fingers for his cock. You know itâs nowhere near as pleasurable as the real thing, though.
The thought of him fucking you â making love to you â has you whining and writhing beneath him. Your hips jut upward, looking for pleasure and running away from it all at once. His fingers squelch as they push in and in and in. You drool impossibly more for him, drenching his fingers and his rings and the cotton sheets below you.
âYou could take it though, right?â the boy above you wonders, swollen lips quirked in a heavy half-smile. âYouâd take whatever I give you, wouldnât you, sweetheart?â
You hardly recognize him now. Not because heâs teasing you â because youâve gotten more than used to that â but because heâs so damn confident.Â
He talks to you with the finesse of a guy whoâs done this a thousand times, to a thousand different girls. Youâre the first, and you know this, but heâs ruining you like he created you.
You nod with a satin sigh.
The silent admission makes Eddieâs head spin.Â
He shouldnât have you in the first place, the metalhead freak he is, yet heâs got two fingers inside you and your permission to go further. And he wants to â god, he wants to â but heâs scared itâll drive him crazy.Â
Crazier than he already is for you, if thatâs possible.
âGet on your side for me, yeah?â he whispers to you, surprising himself with his newfound dominance.
Youâre too far gone to do anything but obey him.Â
You maneuver onto your side like he asked, feeling like your bones are made of melted honey. Eddie follows you. He keeps his fingers nestled deep inside your thrumming heat as he curls in behind you.Â
His stiff, aching cock is hard and heavy against your clothed ass. Despite the layers of clothes separating you, his warmth presses so intently against you. You clench around him at the feeling â tighter when his fingers begin to crook inside you. You tilt your head back and moan, rutting further back against him.
Eddie smushes his nose into your hair and hums a moan in his throat. His heavy exhale fans against the shell of your ear. He keeps working you open with his fingers, a slow and measured rhythm he maintains with the thrusts of his hips.
Heâs terribly sensitive, almost embarrassingly so. You drive him too wild for anything else. Even like this, without being inside you and with his clothes still on, he feels like he might explode.
Youâre much of the same. The pad of his thumb rubs mercilessly at your swollen clit as his fingers coax you towards a head-spinning orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure crawls up your throat, strikes you like lightning, and swirls in the pit of your stomach. You couldnât run from it if you tried.
It doesnât stop you from canting your hips back and forth â a feeble attempt to cope with the overwhelming pleasure Eddie gives you with nothing but his hand. With his pale arm caging your side and his lean body behind you, curling and melting with yours, you can only get so far.Â
All you can do is take it.
Eddie whimpers delicately in your ear as he humps your ass. He babbles in faint whines â things you donât think he realizes heâs saying.Â
âYouâre so hot, baby,â he slurs heavily, swollen mouth tracing the shell of your ear. âSo soft, too... Fuck... Keep grinding back on me like thatâ shit, yeah, just like that. âS gonna make me come in my fucking pants, baby.â
If you werenât drowning in the void of your own pleasure, you mightâve asked him to come. No, begged him to. âIt wouldnât be the first time,â you wouldâve assured him, only slightly teasing. But you donât do any of that because his fingers are shoved so far into you that you can feel them in your throat.Â
Or maybe thatâs just your impending climax choking you.Â
You couldnât form an intelligible sentence if you wanted to, either way.Â
Instead, you roll your hips back against his cock and act like heâs fucking you for real. The idea of it alone sends you catapulting into an orgasm. Youâre so far gone for him â for the freak of Hawkins â you let him ruin you while you fall for him like the rain pounding at your window.Â
Effortlessly, unapologetically, and over and over and over again.
Eddie dampens his boxers in the same way you drench his fingers. His twitching cock drools for you, more and more as he nears his peak. He hasnât felt anything as gratifying as grinding against you like this. Heâs bound to be a fucking goner the second heâs caught inside your snug pussy.Â
âCan feel you trembling for me, you know?â he continues to ramble, only half-aware of the sin spilling from his rosy lips. His thumb presses against the fleshy hood of your clit. Heâs barely moving it, but the pressure alone has you buzzing. âYouâre gonna cum so hard for me, arenât you? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?â
You bite back a cry â quite literally, with your teeth caging your bottom teeth â and lean your head back to bear your throat. You throw a hand back in search of Eddie. Your fingers twist in the mussed curls at the crown of his head.
âMm, Eddieââ you call in a muffled cry, overwhelmed and half-frightened by how good heâs making you feel. By how hard youâre about to cum for him.
âI know, baby. I know,â he coos sympathetically to you, crooking his fingers in time with his grinds against the plush of your ass. His cock starts to ache all over again, this time with hunger.Â
Through a breaking voice, he begs. âGo on and cum for me, yeah? Let me make you feel good, baby. Cum all over my fingers, babyâ I need it⊠I fucking need it. Iâm so fucking closeââ
You bury your face in the pillow when you cum, crying his name into the cushion for only the two of you to hear. You tense, thighs shaking and toes curling, as you gush around his fingers â like the pouring rain outside.Â
You drip mercilessly for him, a slippery mess between your thighs you know you should be ashamed of. You mightâve been, if it were anybody else.
Eddie stills behind you, though his fingers remain relentless. He coaxes you completely through your orgasm just as heâs reaching his own. His moans come out in gasps â choppy, sharp breaths through a swollen mouth. His aching cock spits in the confines of his boxers, several warm loads that cool too quickly.Â
He trembles through his high, trying to trek through its entirety but growing so suddenly sensitive.Â
You let him work you through yours. His fingers, now wrinkled at the pads, are frozen inside you while his thumb circles softly at your delicate clit. You twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your hand leaves his hair to grab his wrist, a silent plea that you canât take anything more.
And the two of you just lie there, for several long moments â sticky, blissed-out, and so intently pressed together. You let the heavy moment of your ebbing orgasms linger. You decompose together in the heavy honey of pleasure.
Itâs all so messy, but then again, everything seems to be.Â
His hair, his fingers, his boxers.Â
Your thighs, your bed, your heart.Â
Words. Life. Love.
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