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xxforestfairyxx · 8 months

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The Time Before

2,592 words

an: This is my first time writing, so please be kind!

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of smoking, mentions of disease, hospitals, cats (?), angst, sadness (Let me know if I missed anything!)

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Wayne Munson classifies his life into two parts. The separator is that one fateful night that his young nephew was dropped at his front door in the middle of the night by a teary-eyed mother who offered a promise of her return. This marker leaves two pieces; the time during Eddie, and the Time Before.

The Time Before is not something that Wayne likes to talk about. The Time Before was so far away now it didn't seem real. If he thought about it too much, he would question if he hadn't just dreamed up the whole thing. But no; it was real. All of it.

He had a child, Lisa. Lisa was now just another memory from the Time Before; what seemed to be someone else's life. Someone else's child. She was happy: little blonde pigtails springing from the sides of her head, soft cotton clothes so small he couldn't believe that any human could start out that tiny. He could still remember the smell; god, the smell. It was baby powder and springtime. That's the way he remembers it. He was so careful about smoking around her, too; he didn't want her to smell like an ashtray. He would only smoke outside when she wasn't there so that the smell of tobacco wouldn't stick to her clothes or hair.

Lisa's mama was a one-night escapade; the kind of thing that's great in the moment and never happens again. After getting home from 'Nam in the early 60s, he and his buddies indulged in the nightlife that they missed out on during their stints. He never even knew her name. But when the baby was left on his doorstep with a small bag of supplies and a note for explanation, Wayne worried. He had never planned on having kids. He didn't know if he could give this little girl the life she needed. But he tried.

He had no idea what he was doing, but as she grew he realized that he must've done something right. She was talkative by the time she turned three; ever the conversationalist. He beamed as he realized she got that from him. In fact, she got most of her traits from him; her musky blue eyes, her eagerness to move, her inability to sit still. He knew that was going to be a problem once she started school, but goddamnit, he didn't care. In his eyes, she could do no wrong.

It lasted five years. Five years of trips to the park. Five years of ice cream runs. Five years of little grabby hands that were telling him, 'Pick me up, Dad, please?' Five years of her short little giggles that were so contagious that even after she dumped all the baking flour onto the floor and made a snow angel, he couldn't be mad. He was never mad at her for long.

But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Wayne knew that. But he always thought that he would be the first to go. That it would last longer than it did.

When Lisa woke him up for the third time crying in the night, he thought it would be fine. He convinced himself it would all be fine. She had been sick for the past three days. It looked like a typical cold; she was running a fever, coughing, sneezing. But it had gotten worse in the last few hours; she was waking up to puke. She had so far thrown up three times in the last hour. She was complaining that her stomach hurt. He was trying to get her to calm down and go to sleep. But she kept crying, saying her stomach hurt.

When he ran into her room for the third time that night and flipped on the light, he knew something was really wrong. Her hands we clammy as they grabbed at him, holding onto his arm tightly, and her skin... a sinking feeling grew in his chest as he realized that her skin had grown jaundiced and pale. The small girl would shake in his arms every time she coughed, sobs racking through her body as she moaned and clutched her stomach.

He knew he had to do something. She was getting worse by the second, drifting away in his arms. He wouldn't let that happen. He scooped her up in a blanket and brought her out to the car, laying her on the front bench seat next to him and holding her as close to him as possible. She had stopped crying by the time he had pulled out of the driveway, her breathing shaky and forced. He knew he was repeating the words, 'Don't worry, Lisa, you're gonna be okay. Daddy's got you, don't worry, you're gonna be okay,' but he couldn't actually hear himself. It all felt so far away, and the sound of her labored breath seemed to ring in his ears.

He was thanking the lord that there was no one on the roads because he was pushing his truck as fast as it could go. he was desperately clinging to the small girl as he tried to remember the way to the hospital.

As they pulled up to the emergency room and he threw the truck into park, he knew. He could feel the loss. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was too late. But he was determined that it wouldn't be true. It wouldn't end that fast. He already had her backpack at home, and he was planning on surprising her with it next week. She was set to start school in two weeks, and he had bought all the school supplies he thought she would need. The backpack was blue, her favorite color, with little stars and moons all over the whole thing. It already held a pencil case filled with colored pencils and erasers, a lunchpail that matched the backpack, and three Dr. Seuss books that he was gonna start reading to her. Maybe she would even start reading them.

But all his hopes were thrown out the window the minute that he walked into the emergency room. He watched as his little girl was put on a stretcher, her tiny body not even taking up half of it. She looked so frail as the doctors and nurses wheeled her down the hallway, the fluorescent lights stinging his eyes. Everyone poked and prodded at her as he ran alongside, holding onto her hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her limp hand. He couldn't even hear what the nurses were saying, he just kept telling her, 'It's gonna be okay, baby, I'm here.'

He was sitting in the waiting room, watching the clock on the wall. The doctors came out two hours later.

His vision seemed to blend together until everything was just one big mush. He couldn't hear. He doubled over in his chair, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. Lisa was gone.

They told him it was Viral Hepatitis. Two Words, Six syllables that took his baby girl away.

He had waited too long. He knew it. Maybe if he had just taken her ten minutes sooner, maybe if he had just driven a little faster, maybe if... maybe if... maybe if...

He mourned not only his little girl but the things that she never got to do. She would never go to school. Never drive. Never have another birthday party. Never make friends.

He lost so many experiences with her. He would never get to see her grow up. He would never get to go to a father-daughter dance. He would never get to give her suitors the if-you-hurt-one-little-hair-on-her-head-you-will-never-be-heard-from-again speech, never get to move her into her college dorm, never get to walk her down the aisle.

~~~

After Lisa died, Wayne decided to have her cremated. He knew he had to get out of that house, the reminders of her everywhere. He couldn't stand the idea of not being able to visit his daughter, so he thought he could take her with him and visit her anytime. He might even bury her little urn somewhere close, just out of respect for the dead.

He cleaned out the house, packing all of Lisa's things that he wanted to keep into a small box. He took all the pictures off the walls and his clothes, loaded them all up in his old pickup truck, and made the dive all the way to Indiana.

~~~

Even though he had started off strong in the new trailer, he couldn't seem to adjust. He didn't eat, didn't go outside, and didn't sleep. Every time that he wore himself down enough to pass out on the couch, he would only get about 2 hours before having another set of dreams about Lisa. He would wake up in cold sweats with tears running down his face. And the worst part? He couldn't even remember the dreams. Just the fact that they were about her.

He was miserable in this new town. He didn't even think about looking for a job for the first two weeks, but as money started to disappear, he had to look through the Help Wanted section of the newspaper.

He'd also decided that after Lisa, he needed something else to take care of. So he got a cat. He didn't know why he needed a cat; a dog would have been a lot more sensible. A dog can watch over you and protect you; maybe he could've even trained it to go hunting with him. But he decided to buy a cat. It was a tiny black ball of fur that he named Flopsy because one ear flopped down like a Bunny rabbit while the other one stayed up.

That cat was one of the best things that ever happened to Wayne. When he felt lonely, it was almost like she could sense it. She would curl up in his lap or on his chest and lay there, just keeping him company, as he watched the television.

~~~

It wasn't even six months later when there was a knock at the door. He had just finished a cigarette (he had since thrown out the rule of only smoking outside) and was finally starting to nod off when a sharp knock at the door brought him back to consciousness and he went to answer it.

In those six months, Wayne had tacked down and managed to hold on to a job at the mechanics shop two miles down the road. He was good with cars, his entire childhood was spent with his father, who was the most professional (and honestly-priced) mechanic in the entire state of Georgia. His father had taught him and his brother, Alfred, whom they all called Al, everything there was to know about cars, and it was one of the only things the man could remember the ins and outs of to this day.

When he pulled open the door, his eyes immediately danced over the figures outside. It was so dark out that he couldn't see their faces, but he could tell that one was a woman, just shy of his own height, and a small boy, at least ten, huddled behind the woman's leg. When his vision finally adjusted to the dark of the night, he recognized the face of Vivianne, his brother's wife.

Al Munson was a screwy guy, as Wayne used to say. He and his brother were polar opposites. Their father always used to say that Al had less sense than God gave a goose, and he was just about right. Al had landed himself in jail five times before he was even eighteen, and it only got uglier from there.

Al had started to mess around with Vivianne when they had just graduated high school. And she was so blind to his actions that she stayed with him, even at the advice not to from her soon-to-be brother-in-law. They had a baby a few years before Wayne, but he was still fighting in Vietnam at that time and hadn't heard anything about a child until now.

When Vivianne sat down at his kitchen table, her face covered in tears and snot, she explained that Al was going to put her in the ground. She knew it. It had been a long time coming (Al wasn't always the most even-tempered guy) but it wasn't until she had the baby that she started taking his abuse seriously.

"I don't care about what happens to me anymore, I've made my bed and now I have to lie in it. But I couldn't stand to see that little boy get left alone with his father. He would kill him, I'm sure he would."

Wayne recognized what she needed before she even asked. "I'll take him."

He didn't think about his answer; he didn't think about all the things he'd need to do, he'd need to buy a bed and clothes and food that was healthy and be able to keep a watchful eye on a new child. But somewhere deep in his heart, he wanted to take care of a kid. He thought that if he could make a difference in even one child's life, he should. For Lisa.

Vivianne left the trailer with the promise to return soon (one Wayne never believed would come to fruition), and Wayne went over to the couch and sat by the young boy. Flopsy, the cat, had taken an interest in the kid and was sitting up next to him, staring at him. The child seemed nervous, holding his bag in his lap and sitting straight up in his seat, which couldn't have been easy due to the plush cushions on the couch that seemed to want to swallow you up every time you sat down.

"Her name's Flopsy," Wayne announced, picking her up and placing her on his lap. "Do you want to pet her?" he asked softly, looking at the boy. He made no reply, just slowly moved his hand over her soft head. Flopsy immediately started purring, and the sound startled the boy, making him snatch his hand away. "No, no, no, that means she likes it. She makes that noise when she's happy," Wayne tried to explain, but the boy's fears of the cat had returned.

They sat in silence for a long while, the only thing making noise being Flopsy, who was meowing softly to be fed. Wayne eventually got up from the couch, walked to the kitchen, and refilled her food bowl. She seemed content, and he moved on to the next problem at hand: where the boy was going to sleep tonight. Wayne had an extra room where he had stored some junk when he first moved in and never got the chance to clean it out, but there was no extra bed in there. He was also not going to make the kid sleep on the couch, so he went into his own bedroom and took the sheets off the bed, replacing them with fresh ones. He cleared his side table ashtray, while he was at it, and a few empty coffee cups that he brought to the sink.

"You can sleep in there tonight, and tomorrow, we'll go out and buy you a bed and some sheets, okay?" Wayne explained to the young boy, pointing a thumb to his bedroom. The child turned to him, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he had arrived, and asked in a meek voice, "How long am I staying here?" Wayne didn't know how to answer this question. To be quite honest, he didn't know. He didn't know if Vivianne was ever going to come back and collect this kid, or if Al would come to take him. Technically, Wayne had no guardianship over him, so Al could come anytime he wanted to. Just the thought of that happening made Wayne shiver. "I don't know, kid. But it'll be good for you to have your own bedroom in case you do stay or if you come and visit," Wayne decided. The child nodded his head slowly, his small mop of curls bouncing along with him.

"What was your name again, kid?" Wayne asked, looking at him, hoping he would answer the question.

"Eddie."

#wayne munson #eddie munson #eddie munson drabble #wayne munson drabble #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #wayne munson headcanon #wayne munson oneshot #wayne munson imagine #xxforestfairyxx's the time before

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xxforestfairyxx · 8 months

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The Time Before - The Early Days

masterlist here

1,962 words

an: I'm so glad people are enjoying this series. It's crazy to me that I'm garnering this much support in so little time. I really appreciate you guys!

If you have any requests for the next part of this series, please let me know!

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of abuse, Eddie's dad being an asshole

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Eddie had been with Wayne for two weeks so far and had not said more than two syllables at once to the man. Wayne thought him shy in the beginning, but this passed even shy.

After a trip to Hawkins' local Mattress Emporium, they returned to the trailer with a twin-sized bed, mattress, blankets, sheets, and a few extra pillows. Eddie hadn't replied when Wayne asked him which sheets he wanted, just shrugged his shoulders.

During his time in the Munson trailer, Eddie had tried to make himself as small as possible. He wouldn't answer any of Wayne's questions on what he wanted, just shrug his shoulders so Wayne would have to make a decision.

The boy was so quiet he spooked Wayne. He wouldn't even hit the creaky floorboards. It was like he wasn't walking, just floating. Wayne couldn't believe that Al, his bull of a brother, could have raised a child such as this one. But then again, he strongly doubted that Al had much to do with raising the boy.

Once the room was finished and Wayne had set up the bed for him, the boy rarely if ever appeared out of his bedroom. He only appeared to be fed or to use the bathroom. Wayne felt as if he was still living alone, with the addition of another cat-like being who didn't seem to like him.

At first, it was like reopening the wound that losing Lisa had made in his heart. Many nights were spent thinking of ways he could make the boy like him, make him more talkative. But Wayne realized that the most he could do was to leave the child alone. After spending ten years with Al, anyone would go practically mute.

~~~

The first night that Wayne seemed to make any sort of breakthrough with Eddie was after dinner. The boy had been living in the trailer for about three weeks at this point, and dinner had been an almost silent affair, per usual. The only sounds that were made were either from Flopsy begging for food or Wayne replying to her, trying to get her off the kitchen chair next to him. Eddie ate his spaghetti and meatballs in silence, taking turns staring at the cat or down at his lap, never at Wayne.

But after dinner, Wayne was on the couch, nursing a beer and watching Mama's Family. This had become his new tradition, every night he would prop himself up in the living room, most nights falling asleep there. Eddie had retreated to his room, per his regular evening routine, and Wayne expected to watch TV for a few hours alone and then go to bed himself. But he only got through the theme song and opening credits before he heard a door creak open down the hall. Eddie and his mop of curls bounced their way around the corner and into the living room.

He silently sat down on the couch next to Wayne. He looked up, shocked now that his nephew, the ghost of a boy, was finally sitting next to him by choice. "Hey, kiddo," Wayne said, ruffling his hair gently. He didn't flinch, didn't move. Wayne had to hide his surprise by taking another swig of his beer, averting his eyes to the television.

All was calm in the Munson trailer, quiet for the night.

~~~

Eddie spent five weeks with Wayne before his father came looking for him. He showed up at the trailer while Wayne and Eddie were playing a round of cards at the kitchen table, but as soon as Wayne pulled open the door and revealed his brother, Eddie scampered back into his bedroom silently. "Wayne. Long time no see, brother," Al said, pushing past him into the small trailer. "Don't 'brother' me, Al," Wayne said through gritted teeth. Over the past few weeks that were spent with Eddie, he learned a thing or two about what his brother liked to do with his half-smoked cigarettes and rodeo belt. Al looked back at him, a mocking smile plastered over his expression. "What's got your panties in a twist, huh?" he asked. "What do you want, Al? Money? Is that it?" Wayne said, scoffing. "Jeez, where'd your manners go? Aren't you gonna invite me in? Give me a tour or a cup of coffee? I love what you did with the place," he replied, looking around him. The false admiration was dripping from his voice. "Al, when have you ever been welcome in my house? What do you want?" he said, putting a hand on his hip. "I think we both know the answer to that question, Wayne," Al finally said, dropping the smile from his face. Wayne tried his hardest to not let his eyes wander to Eddie's door.

"Why do you want to take him? You know you don't care about him, Vivi told me. She told me everything, Al. You act like he's a burden for you. He's happier here," Wayne said. Al took on a menacing stance. "You better quit sticking your nose in places you don't belong. It got you in trouble once, don't think it won't again. Besides, last time I checked, that boy is my son. Not yours," he gritted, making sure to stand a few steps closer to his brother than was comfortable. Wayne sighed. As much as he hated his brother, he was right. Eddie was not his son. Even just thinking that felt like stabbing a hole clean through his chest. He had to give the boy back, as much as his mind yelled at him that it was a horrible idea. Al wasn't backing down. "Fine. Let me go get him," Wayne decided, walking down the hall to Eddie's room. He knocked on the door. "It's just me, kid. Promise," Wayne offered, and soon the door was opened just enough for him to slip through.

Eddie stared up at his uncle with glassy eyes. "I'm sorry, kid. You're dad's gonna take you home tonight, okay?" Wayne said. He quit looking into the boy's eyes because the sight of it was bound to make him tear up. "But this is home," the small child spoke. Wayne sighed. "I know. And I promise, you're gonna be home soon, okay? Give me a little while to sort it all out, and then I'll bring you home, okay?" He promised. "Why don't you go pack up your stuff."

With that, Eddie packed his clothes and toothbrush into his small backpack. Wayne stood in the corner, watching the child solemnly. Once Eddie had finished, he spent one last ditch effort. "Please, don't let him take me," he pleaded quietly. Those six simple words almost broke Wayne entirely. "Kid, I've gotta. But I swear on my life that you'll be here soon, okay? Real soon. Promise," he said, squatting down to the boy's height. He was utterly surprised when the boy wrapped his arms around Wayne's neck, hugging him for the first time. Wayne hadn't been hugged by a child this small since Lisa was with him. He spent a few moments in shock, before wrapping his arms around the boy and enjoying the embrace.

Eventually, the pair let go and Wayne walked Eddie down the hallway. He watched a shift happen in the boy; it seemed like all the joy and talkativeness had disappeared from his body once he had walked within 5 feet of his father. At the same moment, Al started on his berade of the child, immediately pointing out what was wrong with him. "Boy, who let you keep your hair this long? Your mama? I ain't gonna be seen with no hippy of a son. Stand up straight, too," he complained as they walked out of the trailer door and into the night. Eddie quietly obeyed his every direction. Wayne was silently thanking his stars that the boy was as compliant as he was. It would be easier for him that way. Al had always gotten along better with people he could boss around.

Wayne finally understood why the boy was so quiet; he could barely get a word in edgewise with how much Al reprimanded him.

Watching his nephew walk out the door without even having a chance to say goodbye felt like a kick in the stomach. He was suddenly winded and tired and decided to sit down on the couch, flipping on the TV. Before he got the chance to change the channel, he caught the end of Mama's Family.

"That's what family is all about. Doing things that make you miserable," the laugh track cued.

Just that simple phrase, just two sentences, was the last nail in the coffin for Wayne. He felt his waterline brimming with tears, and quickly changed the channel, wiping his eyes.

When he couldn't move on from the thought of his nephew, all alone with his brother, he got up and walked down the hallway into Eddie's room. He sat down on the bedspread, which was spaceman-and-alien-themed after Eddie couldn't make a decision at the store.

~~~

Six months later, Wayne was woken up at three o'clock by the telephone ringing. He answered and was met with the voice of the police. "Mr. Munson?" the voice asked. "Yes, that's me," he replied, trying to rid his voice of sleep. "We have your brother, Alfred, in custody. You're the closest living relative of his son. Would you be able to come and get him?"

Wayne didn't waste a second. He said yes without hesitation.

Within five minutes, he had tugged on a pair of work jeans and was in his truck, reversing out of the trailer park. It took him 15 more minutes to pull into his brother's driveway, the house illuminated by the flashes of red and blue emitted by the police cars. Wayne pulled himself out of the truck and jogged over to the police officer. "Hello? I'm Mr. Munson, I've come to pick up Alfred's son," Wayne explained. The officer shook his hand. "Jim Hopper. Chief of Hawkins Police. We've got the kid sitting in one of the squad cars. He's a little freaked out right now. I mean, we all are. In all my years working here, never have I worked a case with as much gore as this one," he explained. Wayne must've had a look of confusion on his face because Chief Hopper elaborated. "You are aware that Mrs. Vivianne Munson was considered a missing person for a few months. We found traces of her blood and flesh in the house and a bag of her body parts buried in a field close by. I mean, his fingerprints were all over everything." The moment after he explained, Wayne was sorry that he ever let his brother take that boy away.

He gathered himself as Hopper walked him over to his nephew. The boy was sitting in a squad car, the door open, his feet hanging outside. He looked wildly different than the last time Wayne had seen him. His father had shorn his lovely curls down to his scalp, and he sported dark rings underneath his eyes. He stared at the ground, his hands clenched into fists. "Eddie?" Wayne called, shoving his hands into his pockets. The boy didn't make eye contact with him, or anyone else for that matter. He just got up from the car, walked past Wayne, and got into the passenger seat of his truck. Hopper and Wayne shared a look, until Wayne shrugged and walked back to his truck.

"He took her," Eddie muttered quietly. "What was that, kid?" Wayne asked, his eyes focused on the road. They had been driving for some odd time by now, and the truck had been silent thus far. "He took her. From me," Eddie repeated, louder this time. Wayne didn't know what to say. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and focused. "Yes, he did, son. He did. He's gonna pay for it, too, okay?" Wayne explained. The boy finally looked up at him. "It won't bring her back, will it?" he asked. The man looked over at him for a sheer minute and saw his eyes gloss over with tears. Angry tears. Hot, burning drops that trickled in steady streams down the boy's cheeks.

He cried quietly, almost silent, until they pulled up at the trailer and Wayne patted his back. He was sobbing at that point, cries racking through his entire frame in the passenger seat. He held his face in his hands, letting the tears fall into his palms.

"Listen. My Pop wasn't good to us either, you know? But guess what; I made it through. I know you can too. Hell, if I can, you most definitely can, kid. You got more spunk and courage in your little pinky than I've got in my whole body, hmm?" Wayne explained once the boy had stopped crying. "You can make it through, Eddie, I know you can. You're better than your past. You're better than this." This would be a phrase that Eddie would hear from his uncle many times in the coming years.

Eddie, only eleven years old, looked up at Wayne with huge, glossy eyes and a twinkle he had only ever seen in Lisa, and that was when he knew. He knew it would be the last time he ever let that boy go.

#wayne munson oneshot #wayne munson drabble #wayne munson imagine #wayne munson headcanon #wayne munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things headcanons #xxforestfairyxx's the time before

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xxforestfairyxx · 8 months

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The Time Before - Wayne's Time in 'Nam

part 1 here

Photos not mine

997 words

an: hey! I'm so happy that people are enjoying this writing! Originally I was thinking about just making this a drabble/blurb, but with the addition of this, it will hopefully be a series! Thank you so much for your support, it means the world to me!

I had to actually do considerable research for this one, so I hope it's accurate. If there are any war buffs reading this fic (I doubt it, but if you by chance are) please let me know if I got anything wrong!

warnings: mentions of war, mentions of death, PTSD, Vietnam War

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Wayne never planned on fighting in Vietnam. He himself never liked fighting and once he was back in the US he wasn't a fan of the war.

But back when he was freshly 18, starry-eyed, and eager to impress his Pop, he enlisted.

The year was 1958, the war was only three years old, and it seemed so interesting. Fascinating, if you will. A young Wayne packed his things in a gray duffel bag that he then slung over his shoulder. He can still remember what he was wearing when he left home; a red and black plaid button-down that he still wears today, a pair of blue jeans, a pair of cargo boots, and a jacket that was draped over his arm. By the time he returned to the United States, this fashion would be so far out-of-date it made his head spin.

Most of his buddies went with him, wearing practically the same clothes as him, the same combed-back hair, the same hopeful look plastered on all their faces. That look would not be there when they returned (if they returned at all). But none of this was a worry to either Wayne or any of the five guys that went with him; Joey, Billy, Tucker, Jack, and Arthur. Tucker and Wayne had known each other the longest out of any pair in the group: they were next-door neighbors for their entire lives. Growing up in Redmont, Georgia, a town of under 1,000, everyone was practically your neighbor.

Tucker and Wayne were inseparable. Both of their mothers used to say, 'You'd think those boys were sown together at the hip, with all the time they spend together.' It was true; their entire lives were spent with each other. As kids, that meant skipping rocks in the creek and climbing trees. As teenagers, they shotgunned beers that they had stolen from Al, Wayne's older brother (he had a friend who made fake IDs, and good ones at that), jumped fences to irritate the chickens in their coop, stole cigarettes from their fathers' pockets and coats, and generally spent their days causing as much trouble as they could think up.

They all were shipped out to basic training in California first. Some of the guys were split up between different platoons, but they all saw each other often enough. These seemed minor inconveniences to them; they were ready, excited, and filled with energy.

The strictness of the rules and regulations was nothing new to Wayne, either. The high school had the strictest administration, it was said, in the entire state of Georgia and possibly the surrounding states. Their football was compared to basic training, and most of the guys had been on that team in high school, so they were not phased by anything that the Army decided to throw at them.

But once they were shipped out to Vietnam, the excitement quickly subsided. Over time, each man came to learn the price of war. The price that they each had to individually pay.

Wayne spent five years in 'Nam, fighting alongside Tucker. They were rumored to be the most indestructible duo on Vietnamese soil. But five years seemed to be Wayne's unlucky number.

He still has nightmares about the war. He used to say, 'You don't realize the price you have to pay when you're going to war. It's all fine and dandy when you enlist, and even through basic training. You don't think about the fact that in five years' time, you're going to be holding your dead best friend, his head in your lap, eyes wide open and staring right at you, somewhere in the Vietnamese wilderness with shots still coming at you.' Of course, that was when he still talked about the war at all.

After Tucker passed away, Wayne left Vietnam. He was twenty-three by that point and was sick of fighting. The effect of the excitement had worn off long ago, but once Tucker was gone, it felt hopeless. He was homesick, endlessly tired, and was done with combat.

Of the six that shipped out, only four returned; Wayne, Joey, Billy, and Jack. They finally reunited in 1965 after they had all returned to the US, deciding to indulge in the spoils of war. They traveled as a band, a crew, a group, a lineup. You didn't see one without seeing the other three close behind. They were like this for many years afterward until they scattered across the country; Wayne moved to Kansas and soon started to take care of Lisa, Jack married a young girl named Francine and they settled down together in New Hampshire (to have a whopping six children throughout their marriage), Joey stayed single, moved to Kentucky and still visits Wayne often, and Billy moved to Florida and started a family with a nice woman named Becky.

When the infamous 'make love, not war' protests started to pop up around America, Wayne found himself supporting the cause. He had never gone to war because he hated the other side or loved fighting; he had gone because everyone told him to go. Because it was all so new and shiny, and because he wanted to impress Pop. Because all of his friends were going, and because he wanted the glory. But in reality, he always felt bad when he was over there. There was always a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the destruction that people suffered at his hands. The main reason he stayed was because of Tucker. Tucker made it nostalgic. Fighting with Tucker reminded him of being a teenager and hopping Mr. Luschogi's fence to tip his cows in the middle of the night. It felt mischievous and a little dangerous, and it gave him a huge adrenaline rush. But without Tucker, he didn't get to keep those blinders on. He saw, plain and simple, that he was hurting people. And that was never what Wayne signed up for.

#wayne munson oneshot #wayne munson drabble #wayne munson imagine #wayne munson headcanon #wayne munson #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things headcanons #stranger things #eddie munson st4 #st4 vol2 #st4 vol1 #xxforestfairyxx's The Time Before

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xxforestfairyxx · 6 months

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The Time Before - Vivianne Peretti

masterlist here

1,469 words

an: hey! this one's been in my drafts for a super long time, sorry about the wait! I hope you enjoy!

cw: mentions of abuse, fighting, aggression, characterological self-blame (CSB), weird age gaps (Let me know if I missed any!)

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"Your mama was one of the most beautiful girls on earth. Or at least, we all thought so back in high school. She was from California, and she had the prettiest blonde hair. When she first moved out to Georgia, she had brown, mousy hair. But she said that she hated it so much she was gonna dye it blonde. And that's what she did.

"All of us boys used to go crazy over her. She was so new and interesting and had so many stories to tell about California that we all fought over talking with her. And when prom season came around; whew! You should have seen how many guys asked her.

"We were fascinated by her. She was always hip and cool and into the newest things. While the rest of us were playing sports or doing clubs at school, she was listening to rock n' roll records and partying with her friends. She's where you get your spunk from. And your taste in music. If she could see you now... my god, would she be impressed," Wayne said. "Really?" Eddie asked. "Are you kidding me? Having a son like you? She would be talking you up left and right, kid.

"Your mama always wanted kids. She once told me she wanted to have four boys. Can you imagine? Four? As much as all of us guys were crazy about her, she was crazy about kids. And she loved you. I know that much. Don't ever think she didn't, kid. She always loved you.

"When that woman knew what she wanted, she knew. And there was nothing you could do to change her mind about it. That's what your daddy liked about her so much. She was strong-willed and stubborn, just like him. But you know what happens when you put two strong-willed people in a room together..."

~~~

The year was 1967, and Vivianne was trapped.

The boy she had loved, the boy who spent four years of his life waiting for her, the boy whom she had married, the boy who had given her a child, had suddenly turned on her.

In a violent rage, Al had slapped her across the face. She couldn't even remember what they were fighting about; it was something small, something about dishes. She justified it to herself; she had egged him on, not stopping the argument when she saw his knuckles turn white while clenching the kitchen countertops. She hadn't stopped when the arguing turned into yelling, or after it kept escalating until boiling over. She hadn't stopped, she informed herself. She was at fault for this, not him. Besides, it was just one time.

But after the weeks passed and it didn't stay a one-time occurrence, she slowly began to recognize the shift that took place in Al. It happened right after their son, Eddie, was born. Eddie. She adored him. In her eyes, the sun and moon rose and fell at the mercy of this child. Her child. She coddled him, spending every waking minute with him attached to her hip or in her arms. She saw to it that he never cried, never was unhappy, never hurt, never was scared, and never felt sad.

She watched Al become bitter towards her and the baby. He began to pick fights with her over small things. The fact that the bed was unmade, that the kitchen table had crumbs on it, that the dishes hadn't been dried yet. He pestered her and followed her around, criticizing her every move. His requests were unrealistic and absurd; but when she chose to tell him that he would become irrationally angry.

At first, she chalked it up to both new-parent-nervousness and some jealousy over how much time she was spending with the baby. She figured that Al was used to all of her affection; late-afternoon love-making and morning chats in bed. Long drives out to the middle of nowhere, just for the hell of it. But now there was a baby to take care of, things to do, chores to be handled. Al was holding down a job at the mining company ten miles north, and the time he had at home was not spent wrapped up in his wife's affections.

Maybe he was nervous about taking care of the baby. It was new to him. Yes. That was it. Stress and nervousness were the factors that fueled his violence. Maybe if he were less stressed, he would be less angry all the time. She resolved to be a model wife; to live according to the rules of the white picket fence and the sundresses with aprons layered on top. She wanted so badly to be one of the women who had a pot roast waiting in the oven when her husband got home; to keep the house perfectly clean, to straighten his tie and kiss him on the cheek before he left for work in the morning.

And she tried. Oh, how desperately she tried. For a while, she even wore sundresses and aprons. But after the rain fell on the clothesline and the pot roast settled too long in the oven and burnt; she received the same reaction from Al; the yelling, the screaming. Every word that he said rang true in her mind. Then came the Big Anger.

She started to classify his rage into two sections; Little Anger and Big Anger. Although they shared certain qualities, they were very alike. Little Anger consisted of screaming and yelling. Big Anger was when Al began to throw things or hit. Unless she could calm him; which she usually couldn't, Little Anger would morph into Big Anger. There was yelling; then a fist through the wall. There was screaming; then there was a vase chucked at her head.

For two years, this continued. For two years, Vivianne was so stuck on thinking that she still loved the man she used to, that this was still the same man, that she let herself get beat up. She didn't even try to fight back, because she knew that it would do nothing but make him more angry.

The worse the abuse seemed to get, the more Vivianne retracted herself. She had a small place in her mind; a getaway paradise for when it all became too much. She imagined herself in the life she wanted to live; a small, perfect family of three, living in a house in a nice neighborhood with a big backyard where Eddie could run around.

Eddie. After two years of abuse, Eddie was her breaking point. It only happened once. It only had to happen once. When Al smacked the small boy over the head, citing the fact that he had knocked over a can of beer that was hovering dangerously close to the edge of the coffee table anyway, Vivianne saw red. After cursing her husband out and successfully ducking the punches he threw her way, she decided it was time. Time to set her and her son free. She didn't think she could ever stand to see her baby cry like that ever again.

That night, curled up in a rocking chair with a crying Eddie in her arms, she promised. 'I'll get you out, baby. I promise, okay? It may take me some time, but I'll get you safe. I love you too much, baby,' she cooed while pressing her cheek against his head.

~~~

As the years passed, she watched the abuse continue. Al started to hand it out regularly to both her and Eddie. With each passing day, the cracks on the surface of her heart deepened. She couldn't stand to hear another yelp or cry of pain from her little boy. She cared more for him than she did the heavens above, and she knew that watching this happen was slowly killing them both.

Right before Eddie turned ten, she confided in the only plan she could think of; Wayne. Wayne was Al's younger brother, whom she had known when they were in high school. She was actually closer in age to Wayne, and she knew now that she should have gone with him instead of with his older brother. But she had wanted Al. She couldn't, even now, put her finger on exactly what had drawn her to Al. Was it is bad reputation? The maturity she felt when telling other freshman girls that she was dating a senior? The reason escaped her.

But she knew now that Wayne was her last chance to get her child out of this. Her time had passed; she had made her bed, and now she must lie in it. But Eddie? She couldn't bear it. He had so much more life to live, and so many gifts to share with the world, that wouldn't happen or be released if he was stuck here. She had already kept him here too long because, selfishly, she wanted to hold him close to her. She wanted to hug and kiss him and tuck him in at night. But it became clear to her that it would hurt him more to stay than it would hurt her to leave.

So, in the middle of the night, she packed his things into a small backpack, carried him out to her car, started up the engine, and sped quietly off to Hawkins, Indiana.

It was a short drive; she and Al had taken up residence just 20 minutes outside Hawkins because they liked the scenery when they first bought the house. Now, it was a decrepit and lonely wood; but when they first moved in, it felt full of life.

That was how she felt. Once she had been beautiful and hungry to live; now she, too, was decrepit. The years of stress and abuse had aged her. She looked and felt older, she didn't read or play with her son any longer. She was now only doing the things she needed to do in order to survive. This thought made tears brim in her eyes as she drove down the dark and winding roads into Hawkins, her son asleep in the backseat.

When she first had him, she imagined a happy life for him. One where he could do anything he ever dreamed of doing, one where he was free. Now, she saw, that her son would never be free. These shackles in which she had borne him would live in his heart forever. He could never truly have complete serenity in his life. Her heart ached with guilt, feeling as if she had done this to him. If she hadn't stayed with Al or even if she had married someone else, his life could have been different. Both their lives could have been different.

~~~

She pulled into the trailer park, the soft rain pattering the car roof. She turned off the engine and sat in the front seat for a while, staring at the darkness that enveloped the world in front of her. She took a deep yet shaky breath, opened her door, and entered the dark, cold night.

There was a chill in the air as she slung Eddie's backpack over her shoulder and shook him gently. "C'mon, Eds, up we go," she said, taking hold of both of his hands and walking him out of the car. The small child was only partially awake, yet knew to follow his mother as she tugged his hand softly to the wooden stairs of his uncle's trailer.

As they waited quietly at the front door, she ran her hands through the small mop of curls on his head. They may have been the same, but they could not have looked more different. She, with her blonde wavy locks, and him with deep brown curls. She, with ocean-blue eyes. He, with eyes so brown it looked like they went on forever. Now those eyes looked onto hers with a deep, intense curiosity. His eyes asked all the questions his voice did not; Where am I? What are we doing here? Where are you going to go? Are you going to leave? "It's all going to be okay. Promise," she said, sticking out her pinky. He hooked his own pinky into hers and the promise was sealed.

Looking older and tired than Vivi had remembered, Wayne opened the door begrudgingly. He took the sight before him in. The two shadows of his past were now on his doorstep. Eddie had taken refuge behind his mother’s leg and was watching the man as he chatted with his mother. He welcomed them inside, and Vivianne coaxed Eddie into the doorway with her. "I'm sorry, he's shy. Eddie, say hello to your uncle," she spoke in a very soft, comforting tone. Eddie waved slightly at the older man, who chuckled and waved back. Vivianne squatted in front of Eddie, handing him his backpack that was still over her shoulder. "Uncle Wayne and I are gonna have a talk, okay? Why don't you go and sit on the couch?" she said. He agreed, walking skittishly over to the brown leather couch.

"Wayne, I know this is a lot to ask. I understand I'm coming to you with a lot of stuff. But I am truly afraid for him. Al's gonna put me in the ground. I know he's going to. And I have to live with the mistakes that I've made. But goddamnit, I will not let him touch my baby. If I leave him with Al, his fate will be as good as sealed. I don't think that I could ever forgive myself for that," Vivi explained, tears following the words, as she sat at the table across from Wayne. "I know you have a life, Wayne, and that this is probably the last thing you need, but just for a few months. After I'm gone, you can put him in an orphanage or in foster care or whatever you want to do. Just let me die with the hope that he's safe, okay?"

Wayne barely stopped to think before he agreed. Something deep inside of him compelled him to say yes, to keep the small boy sitting on his couch safe.

Upon the soil of his daughter's grave, he could plant a new seed, a seed that would this time flourish into a tree, sprouting its branches up toward the sun.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #wayne munson #wayne munson drabble #xxforestfairyxx's the time before

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