#1988 pickup | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eiightysixbaby · 11 months ago

Text

i’ll be home for christmas

PART THREE: No Place Like Home For The Holidays

previous part || series masterlist || next part

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 7.3k

summary: eddie arrives back home, battling with the things that have changed in his absence. you have a heartfelt conversation with jonathan, and try your best to get out of your funk. the annual christmas eve party rolls around again, and it’s going to change everything.

cw: switches between past and present, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’, angst, jonathan being the best bff in the world.

December 25th, 1988.

The airport was shockingly empty, most folks at home with their loved ones in celebration of the holiday. Eddie’s eyes scanned the building as he walked, rolling his small suitcase full of his belongings behind him. His free hand clutching his guitar case as he walks along. He’d packed everything he could over the last few days, though he truthfully didn’t have all that much. Honestly, he was grateful for the light load. The mental burden he was carrying felt excruciating enough on its own.

It had been a teary goodbye with Wayne, Eddie promising to call and Wayne promising to come visit whenever he could afford to spend the money. Eddie assured him he’d be paying for his plane ticket whenever he wanted to come out, and not to worry.

The conversation he’d had with you the previous night wouldn’t leave his head, your tears as your voice screamed at him was a scene that played on a loop in his mind. Sleeping was no use; the second he’d gotten home he’d laid in bed and cried, every moment of the night spent tossing and turning and thinking about you. As hard as it was, though, he wanted you to be able to move forward and be fine without him. He hadn’t meant to hurt you so badly and he hoped that in time you’d see that, too.

He blinks a few times, forcing the sleep from his eyes as he sits on a cold plastic seat, waiting for his gate to board. His foot taps aimlessly on the shiny linoleum floor, his hands wrung together between his knees as he sits hunched over in thought. The clicking of heels takes him out of his daze, his head glancing upwards to catch the person that walks by. From behind, it looks just like you — the girl even has the same coat as you. His heart thumps in his chest as he cranes his neck to get a better look, his legs ready to stand and chase you down and hold you tight. But then, the figure turns around, and he catches sight of a face that isn’t yours. He slumps back onto the seat, exhaling a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in. Maybe this was all wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t do this. And then:

“Flight 157 to Chicago now boarding, please report to Gate 2A,” a voice comes over the loud speaker, sounding crisp and nearly robotic.

Eddie sighs, wiping his clammy palms on his jeans before he stands, turning and walking to his gate. He steps onto his flight, sinking in his seat and glancing out the window at the snow that covers the Indianapolis airport. The last glimpse he’ll get of Indiana for who knows how long.

He pulls out his Walkman, slipping the headphones over his ears and sinking into the music as the plane takes off. This is goodbye.

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

The airport is bustling with people; strangers from god knows where coming to visit god knows who for the approaching holiday. Eddie weaves his way through the crowds, pushing his bags on a cart that serves as an easy way to part the seas of travelers. Doors are held open for him by a passer-by as he exits the building, pulling his hat down further over his ears as he braces for the cold chill of the Indiana air.

Stepping onto the concrete outside of the building, his eyes squint slightly as he scans the pickup lane for a familiar vehicle. He doesn’t spot one at first, standing on his tip-toes and peering around the heads of other people, trying to find who he’s looking for.

And then, he sees Wayne leaning out the driver side door of his truck. A hand is held high in the air, waving with a stoic smile on his face. Eddie runs. He doesn’t care if he looks silly, doesn’t care if he bumps someone on his way, he runs to Wayne. His bags sit a few feet away on their cart, but he’ll grab them in a moment. Right now, his arms pull his uncle into a tight hug, his body easing up when he feels Wayne patting him on the back.

“Missed you, son,” Wayne says, pulling back to look at Eddie with the vaguest hint of tears in his eyes.

“Missed you too. Don’t go crying on me now, old man,” he says, laughing when Wayne tugs his hat off to ruffle his already-fluffy hair.

“Go get your bags, let’s go on home.”

Home. Eddie loves the sound of that.

•

“I feel like I’m broken, Jonathan,” you stress, setting your coffee down on the table. “Everywhere I go, everything I do, my mind is just like… laser-focused on Eddie. It’s pathetic,” you shake your head, curling your lips inward.

“Hey, stop. It’s not pathetic,” he reassures, reaching out a hand to cover one of yours. “You just… miss him. It’s normal.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” you retort, sorry for snapping at him but unable to control the bubbling frustration. “I should be able to move on, it’s been a fucking year just about!” you say, raising your voice and grabbing attention of other patrons in the cafe. Your eyes avert Jonathan’s gaze, looking down at a stray thread from your sweater in embarrassment. “I saw a van that looked like his. A van! A vehicle — a common, average vehicle and it sent me into a spiral the other day. Something that stupid shouldn’t make me feel like I’m losing it.”

“Sunny, come on, you’re so hard on yourself,” he says, his honey eyes sympathetic as they try to break through to you.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m always such a downer, it has to get annoying to deal with. You’re always left to pick up my pieces.”

“Don’t say that, you’re not annoying,” he cuts in, brows furrowed.

“Oh come on, Jonathan. You can be honest with me,” you insist, turning away from him.

“I am being honest. Do you remember what I told you last Christmas? When you told us all that he’d left?”

Do you remember, he asks. As if you could ever forget.

December 25th, 1988.

To be honest, you were surprised you’d even managed to get yourself to Steve’s house. You drove here on autopilot, a robot operating your vehicle instead of a person — navigating the snowy streets with ease only because you know this town like the back of your hand. You sit in your car in the driveway for what feels like a century, trying to steady your breathing. You had wanted to prepare yourself — to have a plan when you walked in and to break the news calmly to everybody. Though now you’re realizing that may not be possible, with the way you feel like you can’t even speak at all. Your chest is tight, your breathing erratic as you finally walk up to the large front doors, pushing one open without so much as knocking.

The conversation inside lulls, everyone excitedly looking to see who’s arrived. You’ve never seen a group of faces change expressions so quickly, Nancy hopping up off of the sofa to run to you. In a split second, you’ve drained all of the holiday cheer from the room. Tears run down your face like they had been all night, your body slumping into Nancy’s when she collects you in her arms.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on? What happened!?” she asks, trying to stay calm for your sake but concern creeps into her voice anyways. You can’t blame her, you know you look a wreck.

No one else dared move further than simply standing from their seats, not wanting to crowd you. It’s like everyone knew a bomb was about to drop.

“I-it’s, it’s E-Eddie,” you sob, having at least enough mental clarity to realize you need to finish that sentence before they think he died on the way here. “Eddie left… h-he left Hawkins, he f-ucking left,” you choke, your voice raw as you get the words out. You’re bawling into Nancy’s sweater, tears and snot surely soaking the wool as she holds you impossibly tighter.

“What?” Steve asks, “What… what do you mean?”

“He’s going to Chicago, he’s… not c-coming back,” you cry, heaving between words as you try to fill your lungs with air.

The whole room freezes, everyone looking at each other with no idea what to do. As sad as they all may be, each and every person realizes how much worse this is for you. And you know it. They all know what you had with Eddie was special. Was.

You look up at them, watery eyes scanning the room and taking in their mutual devastation. Dustin sits back down on the couch, his head in his hands as he absorbs the information. His role model, the big brother he never had, gone.

And then you look at Steve, watching the way he starts to pace the floor. His closest male friend since Tommy, left for another state. Another person leaving his life.

Your eyes scan over the rest of the kids, over Robin, Jonathan, then circling back to Nancy. Their upset makes it worse for you, and your stomach twists in knots over the fact that you had to be the one to tell them this news. You, in the midst of your anguish, had to break it to all of them. Too caught up in your own feelings to break the news gracefully, it makes you want to vomit.

That’s when you’d pulled yourself away from Nancy, out of her gentle grasp, and hurried down the hallway to one of Steve’s bathrooms. You heard the concerned calls of your name as you shut the door behind you but it didn’t matter, you couldn’t take watching everyone process the information. You brace your hands on the vanity counter, fingers gripping the marble as you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes and lips look puffy, snot drips from your nose — it makes you feel pathetic. You watch as your whole body shudders when you inhale, trying so hard to calm yourself down, at least so you can go back out there and actually talk to your friends without heaving on the floor.

A knock on the door makes you wince.

“I’m fine,” you croak. “Just give me a minute.”

“It’s Jonathan,” his soft voice says from the other side. “Can I please come in?”

You weren’t expecting him to come chasing after you, out of all of them. It’s not unwelcome, just unexpected. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it and pulling the door open a crack. Jonathan slips inside, his slender body fitting right through the narrow opening you’d provided.

“I’m sorry,” you start. “I know I need to explain everything more and—”

“Don’t. That’s not what I’m here for. No one’s rushing you out, it’s okay,” he soothes you, his voice as gentle as always.

For some reason, his comfort only makes you cry harder, and he immediately accepts your form with open arms. You don’t typically get this close to Jonathan, he’s shy and introverted and you can confidently say you’ve never shared a moment this raw with him. His chin rests atop your head, holding you against his chest as you tremble.

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, Sunny.”

“How do you know that?” you sniffle, mouth gummy as you talk.

“Because we’re all here for each other. We’re all here for you. I know you and Eddie were… close,” he says, debating on his last word before speaking it softly.

“He kissed me,” you say — blurting it, really.

“What?”

“Like a week ago. He kissed me. And now he’s gone.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but it’s okay with you. You don’t know what he could say that would make any of it better. ‘I’m sorry’? You don’t want to hear that. The kiss with Eddie was the best kiss you’ve ever had. I’m sorry would just make the grief of him being gone feel more real. He just holds you a little bit tighter, sighing into your hair.

“If you could… keep that between us, for now…” you say, realizing you don’t think you can handle questions from the group about that just yet.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

It’s silent for a few moments after that, neither of you saying a thing. But then he speaks up again.

“Listen,” he says, pulling away from you slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he looks at you. “I’m here for you, if you need anything. You can vent, scream, cry… it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t as close with Eddie as you were, or as Dustin was, or Robin… the point is, I’ll be okay through this. I’ll miss him, of course, but I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried about,” he pours all of this out at once, his eyes flicking back and forth between each of yours, studying your face. “I just want you to know you can tell me anything, always. I promise.”

Your lip wobbles, your eyes glassy as they stare back at him. You realize, then, just how much Jonathan observes. He might be quieter, more reserved, but he notices everything. His tone of voice tells you he knows more than he might share out loud.

“Thank you,” you say, impossibly quiet. “Thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it, but…”

“No, you don’t even need to thank me. I just want you to promise me that you won’t hide away and bottle this all up.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Present Day: December 21st, 1989.

You kept that promise, confiding in him when the weight of it all felt too heavy to hold. He kept his word, listening every single time you needed him to. You’re suddenly upset with yourself for even doubting his honesty, his willingness to support you.

“Of course I remember. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude,” you sigh. You pitch your voice deeper, then, mocking him. “Don’t apologize, Sunny, you never need to apologize,” you tease, knowing exactly what he’ll say before it can come out of his mouth.

“Wow, am I that predictable?” he laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

You just nod, laughing a little bit with him.

“You know, you’re still the only person I’ve ever told about the kiss.”

“I know. I definitely would’ve heard about it from one of the girls if word had gotten around,” he says, smirking.

There’s a pause. The humor of the moment is gone.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, sensing the shift.

“I just… it’s getting closer and closer to the day he left. And I don’t know how I can handle knowing it’s been one full year. I just want things to be easy again,” you sigh, chewing on your bottom lip. You don’t want to meet Jonathan’s eyes, feeling like you’ll cry if you see the sincerity you know will be there.

“I know it’s hard. And I know Christmas isn’t going to be easy for you this year. But just… take it a day at a time. A minute at a time, even,” he says, calm and steady as always. “Even though this year has been hard for you, you’ve gotten through it. You’ve made it through every single hard day. You can get through the holiday, I promise,” he gives you a gentle smile, the creases at the corner of his eyes showing how genuine it is.

His words bring the tears you had tried to warn off to your eyes, sending a couple droplets running down your cheeks.

“Are you sure I can do this?” you ask. “Will it get better?”

“I know you can do this. And I think it will.”

You stand, your chair squeaking against the floor as it pushes out. He stands with you, knowing what you’re going for without words. He pulls you into a tight hug when you round the table to his side, his hands rubbing your back in a way that soothes you.

“Thank you for everything, Jon,” you sniffle, your face smushed against the thick knit fabric of his sweater.

“Of course. ‘S what I’m here for,” he says, resting his chin on your head before placing the softest, most chaste kiss to the top of it.

It’s nothing but platonic. Simply a comforting gesture, you’d never question otherwise. You pull away after a moment of letting him hold you, the strange feeling that someone had been watching you creeping up your spine.

•

Pulling in to Forest Hills Trailer Park had simultaneously made Eddie’s heart sing, and made him feel like he was going to vomit. He was excited, so excited to be out of Chicago, but he’d be lying if simply leaving that city eliminated all of his worries. There’s a lot of… baggage in Hawkins. He left for a reason. It’s scary and inviting and anxiety-inducing and wonderful all wrapped into one package.

Wayne helps him unload his stuff, and Eddie nearly cries when he steps into the trailer again. The bedroom is all made up for him, his old posters and flags still hung on the walls. Like Wayne always knew he wasn’t truly gone for good, or maybe he just didn’t want to fully let him go. A knock comes on the open door, making Eddie turn from his spot on the floor where he unpacks his suitcase.

Wayne stands in the doorway, holding Eddie’s Garfield mug — his favorite — in his hands.

“Made you some coffee, figured you might need it,” he says, and Eddie accepts the warm mug gladly.

He looks at the paint on it, Garfield’s nose chipping away a bit, and there’s a crack on one side, but it’s Eddie’s. It’s home.

Unpacking doesn’t last long, he gets through one suitcase of clothes before deciding everything else can wait. His dresser drawers are packed full once more, having been largely empty save for some of Wayne’s things. Sitting cross-legged on his floor, he takes a moment to just absorb every detail of his room. His Slayer flag, that he’d left here in favor of taking his Corroded Coffin one with him. His spare amps, his old sketchbooks and a box of D&D dice. The stupid handcuffs he’d stolen as a teen, and then had a few good nights with. Chuckling to himself, he stands. His heart longs to see more of Hawkins, to see what’s changed since he left, if anything at all. He puts on his coat and a hat, grabbing the keys to his van that he surprisingly missed way more than he had thought he would.

“I’m going in to town, just want to walk around a little bit. Take everything in. You wanna come?” he asks his uncle, slipping his shoes on in the doorway.

“Nah. Go on by yourself. I’m sure you could use the time to get readjusted.”

Eddie nods, giving Wayne a soft smile and receiving a softer one in return. He tosses his keys in the air once, catching them with a metallic clank before he’s out the door. Wayne had taken great care of the van, as good of care as you can take to a shitbox vehicle, and as Eddie slips into the tattered driver’s seat he lets out a sigh. His hands run over the steering wheel, putting the key in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life.

He missed this. He truly missed this.

It’s funny how you can be away from a place for so long, yet still remember every detail like it’s engraved in your brain. Sure, a year isn’t that long in retrospect, but still. The way Eddie drives the streets of the small town with complete ease, never second guessing a turn and knowing where each stop sign is makes him smile a little bit. He drives past your apartment complex, taking in a deep and shaky breath as he glances in its direction. The realization hits him that he has to face you, face everyone, for the first time in a year. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna do it, but he’ll figure it out.

For now, he pulls his van into a parking spot beside the curb in the center of town, stepping out and waiting for that signature creak of the van’s door as it opens, which doesn’t come. Dammit, Wayne. Keeping her in good condition.

To be honest, Eddie knows he’s taking a bit of a risk walking through town. He could run into you, he could run into one of the kids, or Steve or Robin or anyone. He could be spotted by Mrs. Wheeler or Hopper. All of whom would spread word that he’s back in town. He’s flying by the seat of his pants here, so to speak. If he runs into someone he knows, he’ll figure it out. If he runs into you, well… he’ll probably shit himself. But he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

The streets and shops of downtown Hawkins are perfectly decorated for the holiday, a sight he knows you always loved to see. He hopes it still makes you happy, to see the town wrapped in red and green and silver and gold. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walks the snowy sidewalks, a cleanly shoveled path guiding his way. It’s snowing lightly, a few flakes clinging to his hair and melting on his coat. It’s so unlike the hustle and bustle of Chicago, and while those busy streets were exciting for maybe a week, he grew weary of them after that. There’s less of a sense of security in a city that large, whereas Hawkins’ small population and quaint streets feel stable and safe. Maybe he took that for granted, maybe he thought he was more unstable here than he really was.

He passes Melvald’s, peeking inside and sure enough catches Joyce Byers passing off a large paper bag of goods to a customer. He keeps on walking, smiling to himself nonetheless over seeing a familiar face. He passes RadioShack, The Hideaway, the record shop. All places he has memories tied to, and they come rushing to him in a flood of varying emotions. Nervous butterflies flutter in the pit of his stomach, his whole body adjusting to being back home as he walks.

The coffee shop is up ahead, he can see the sign dangling above the door. He turns to glance in through the windows as he approaches, but he does a double take at what he sees. Stopping dead in his tracks, his shoes scrape against the pavement. It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, every ounce of oxygen punched from his lungs. He swears his head is spinning, or maybe the world is spinning. Every single moment of heartache and yearning over the last year has led him here, back to Hawkins. And now, for the first time in months, he’s finally looking at you.

His mouth hangs open slightly, tunnel vision directing him right to you, where you stand approaching Jonathan. He’s undetected, neither you nor the other man have noticed him. The first thing he notices is that you’re crying, he can see the puffiness of your face and the way its features contort. It reminds him all too much of the way you looked the night he left you. A twinge of pain prods deep in his gut; seeing you cry has always been one of his least favorite things. He watches as Jonathan pulls you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and squeezing you so close to him.

That’s weird, he doesn’t remember you ever being so close with Jonathan. He usually just kept to himself, for the most part.

And then, something happens that makes his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach. Words he can’t hear are exchanged between the two of you, and then Jonathan’s face tilts down, and a kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

He just kissed you. What the fuck. This can’t be happening.

Eddie knows he’s been gone a while, but he certainly hasn’t been gone long enough to forget the different dynamics in the friend group. He’d certainly remember if Jonathan kissed you frequently a year ago.

Are you…. with Jonathan?

Nausea creeps up his throat as he stands there, alone in the cold. He watches his own breath leave his mouth in icy puffs as he stands there gawking. You and Jonathan begin to pull out of the hug, and he kickstarts himself to move the fuck away before you both catch him staring like an absolute buffoon.

It all makes sense, he thinks to himself as he staggers away. It all makes fucking sense.

Of course you’d distanced yourself. Of course you wouldn’t want to talk to him on the phone if you were dating Jonathan. Of course the general topic of you was awkward for your other friends to talk about, because they didn’t want to tell him what was going on! Heading quickly back in the direction of his van, he feels blindsided, his mouth gone dry. He really thinks the contents of his stomach might see the light of day once more as his mind races with thoughts. You don’t want him anymore, you don’t need him anymore, you have Jonathan. And he can’t even be mad, because he wanted you to do better than him. He wanted you to find someone else.

If he could kick his own ass, one year ago, he would.

The urge to cry overwhelms him, but the tears won’t come. It’s like he can’t think straight, too many thoughts yet no thoughts all at once. How can he face you — admit his feelings to you and tell you that he doesn’t think he’s stopped yearning for you for even a single moment of the last year — when you’re with Jonathan? He can’t. That’s not right, and it’s not fair. It makes him sick to think about.

He doesn’t take the time to admire the Christmas decorations anymore, doesn’t take note of the shops he passes that he hasn’t seen in a year. He just hurries to his vehicle, and starts driving towards the only place he can think to go right now.

•

Knuckles rap impatiently on Steve’s door, bone against the wood over and over. Eddie’s not in any mood to wait, needing to know when and why and how this all happened. Why no one bothered to tell him you started dating a mutual friend. This isn’t exactly the way he wanted to announce his arrival back in Hawkins, but oh well. He didn’t make a great departure, who cares if his return sucks too?

He can hear shuffling from inside the house, Robin’s voice coming closer to the door.

“I’m getting it, Steve, holy shit!” she calls, the door knob twisting and the whole thing pulling open.

Eddie stands there, watching her face as she processes the fact that it’s him in front of her right now. He really missed her face.

“Oh my god,” she says, standing there blinking at him like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Eddie!? EDDIE!” she yells, her eyes going impossibly wide. “Guys, Eddie’s here!” she screams into the house, eager, before attacking him in a bear hug.

The voices of Steve and Nancy shout “What?” in perfect unison, before their figures appear in the doorway.

“Eddie?” Nancy says, laughing in disbelief as she does, followed by Steve’s half-confused half-amused “Dude!?”

He doesn’t even get the chance to say anything before Nancy’s surprisingly strong grip is yanking him from Robin, her tiny frame squeezing him as tight as she can. Eddie’s heart swells, tears finally threatening to spill from his eyes. The pure happiness of seeing his friends again overwhelms him, but it rivals the sick feeling that resides in his stomach after seeing you with Jonathan. It’s a strange juxtaposition of feelings, and he feels like he might crack.

Steve yanks him away soon after, giving him a firm, welcoming hug and a pat on the back. “I fucking missed you, man.”

Eddie gives him a soft smile as he’s ushered into the large house, Robin’s mouth moving a mile a minute.

“Okay, so what the fuck is happening right now? Are you back for good? When did you get here? Does anyone else even know you’re here?” she bombards him with questions, her arms flailing as she talks.

“Rob, Jesus, slow down,” Eddie says, and he can’t help but laugh lightly. “Yeah, I uh, I think I’m back for good,” he says, letting the information sink in. “Wayne knows I’m here, but that’s it other than you guys.”

Everyone stares at him, sensing the feeling that something’s not quite right. It must be radiating off of him.

“Okay, so… what’s wrong? You haven’t cracked one of your usual jokes and you’re like, mysteriously quiet,” Steve speaks up, and Nancy shifts awkwardly where she sits beside Robin.

Eddie takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know if he truly wants the information he’s about to receive. But not knowing doesn’t help him, either.

“Why didn’t you guys tell me Sunny started dating Jonathan?”

The room goes silent, varying expressions on his friends’ faces. Nancy’s eyebrows raise as she lets his words roll through her head, Robin turning to give her a confused look. Steve’s mouth opens and closes and opens once more.

“I’m sorry… what?” he asks, amusement tugging on the corner of his mouth. Nancy giggles a little, and Robin nudges her with her elbow.

“Sunny… and Jonathan. I literally just saw them at a coffee shop and he kissed her on the head so please don’t try to make me feel crazy—”

“Woah, Eddie, slow your roll there,” Robin butts in, holding up her hands. “Sunny and Jonathan aren’t dating. Or, if they are, it’s news to us, too.”

He blinks. The skin between his brows crinkles as he stands there, dumb and silent.

“But… then why did he, when did… why did he kiss her?”

“They’ve gotten really close, but just… platonically. It’s not anything else,” Nancy says, trying to reassure him with a soft smile.

When he doesn’t seem convinced, she keeps going. “Eddie. We wouldn’t lie to you. I mean, you’re back in Hawkins. What good would lying do? If they were together you’d be bound to find out eventually.”

He thinks about this, and then decides to pull his head out of his ass. He’s seeing his best friends for the first time in a year and instead of being thrilled he’s being difficult.

“No, you’re right, Wheeler. As always,” he smirks a little. “I really fucking missed you guys,” he adds, a lump forming in his throat as he smiles at them.

“We missed you so much, Eddie,” Nancy says, the other two echoing the sentiment.

“Not to ruin the moment…” Robin cuts in after a pause. “But, uh… how are you going to tell Sunny that you’re back?” she asks, hesitance clear in her tone.

“I, uh, I’m gonna be honest. I don’t really have a plan. I don’t know how much she even wants to see me.”

Three heads nod at the same time, sharing glances as they consider the subject at hand. “She really misses you, Eddie,” Nancy says, her eyes getting softer, sympathetic. “We aren’t the only ones who did.”

“She does?”

“Yeah… did you not know?”

“Okay, to be completely fucking fair right now, I love you guys but I haven’t been able to speak to her once since I’ve been gone,” he says, trying to defend himself even a little bit. “I haven’t heard one thing from her… I— I really didn’t know what to think.”

“It’s been hard,” Steve says, and the look in his eyes shows Eddie how true that statement is. “She’s been… kind of a wreck without you.”

This statement loads in his brain, his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach.

“It’s been worse lately, I think with the holiday coming up it’s just reminding her of last year. She’s been like, a completely different person. We never wanted to tell you over the phone and worry you…” Robin adds, her bright eyes flitting nervously around the room.

Eddie nods, lips pressing in a flat line. “So, what do we do? How do we do this? I want to make this Christmas so, so much better for her than the last one.”

There’s a pause, before Nancy speaks. “I have an idea,” she says, nodding decisively. “We have to keep it a surprise.”

This year, Eddie isn’t going to fuck things up. This year, he’s going to get his girl.

Present Day: December 22nd, 1989.

The Wheeler home is immaculately decorated for Christmas. Faux-candles flicker in each of the windows, delicate white lights lining the roof. You watch as the perfect wreath on the front door slides out of view, replaced by the face of Mrs. Wheeler as she greets you.

“Please, come on in,” she welcomes you, offering to take your coat and your scarf. “The girls are in the kitchen already.”

You thank her, letting her leave to hang up your garments, slipping off your boots before you head straight back to your friends.

“Sunny!” Robin says cheerfully. Her hair is pulled back into a tiny ponytail, her hands already busy gathering ingredients for the cookie dough.

“Hi, guys,” you smile. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“It’s no problem at all. Rob and I were just starting to get everything ready,” Nancy assures you, coming over to give you a quick hug.

You welcome it gladly, inhaling her sweet perfume as you lean in close. You were happy to be here, hoping that maybe it would help you feel a little bit lighter; give you some of that holiday cheer you’d been searching for. You were less optimistic on the front of it helping you not think about Eddie, but you could still hope. After your conversation with Jonathan the day before, you were trying to be a little more hopeful about everything. Key word trying.

“So, what kind of cookies are we making?” you ask, moving to wash your hands in the sink.

“We’re thinking classic sugar — obviously — peanut butter, and maybe those ones with the raspberry jam?” Robin says absentmindedly, eyeing a recipe as she pours cups of flour into a bowl.

“Raspberry? The only people who ever eat those are Steve and… Eddie,” you say, slowly turning off the tap.

“Oh, uh, yeah well. You know how much Steve likes them, we should be nice to him this year,” Robin rushes out, a nervous lilt hinting in her voice.

“Okay…” you say, catching the piercing look Nancy gives her girlfriend.

Unbeknownst to you, the girls, Steve, and Eddie had come up with a plan for Eddie’s grand entrance at the party on Christmas Eve. They weren’t going to tell you — or anyone else — that he was back home, wanting it to be a surprise. Mostly, they just didn’t trust anyone else not to spill the beans to you.

Robin and Nancy had previously talked about making the third kind of cookie for Steve and Eddie, but, well… Robin wasn’t supposed to tell you that. They were going to make them without you, so as not to make you suspicious. But, sometimes Robin’s brain works on autopilot. She looks as though she wants to grab the words out of thin air and stuff them back down her throat.

Thankfully for them, you don’t overthink it. You don’t really have a reason to. Choosing to move right along, you ask them what they need your help with so you’re not standing there aimlessly all afternoon. Nancy hands you a rolling pin to roll the dough out once Robin’s finished mixing it, and you get right down to it.

The three of you make quick work of the whole process, you rolling out the dough and Nancy cutting shapes into it as Robin mixes up the icing. The longer you’re there, though, the more the energy starts to feel… off.

They keep looking at you weirdly, for starters. Staring at you a little too long, looking like they want to tell you something but they never do. It’s nothing you can’t brush off, but it just feels different in a way you can’t explain.

You’re all singing along to Christmas music, laughing and dancing around the kitchen when the phone rings.

Nancy pulls the phone off of the wall, cradling it between her shoulder and her ear as she attempts to continue icing a few cookies. “Hello?” she asks into the receiver.

Her eyes go wide, then, her casual demeanor slipping away as she fumbles to hold the phone fully with one hand, backing closer to the wall.

“Uh, hi. I’m with Robin and Sunny right now. This isn’t really a good time,” she says, stressing the last part a little too hard and making you look over in her direction.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“It’s, um, it’s just Steve.”

“Oh! Can I talk to him for a second? I have something I’ve been meaning to ask him,” you say, walking over to her.

She hesitates for a moment before slamming the phone back on the hook without a word, pressing her lips into a thin line. “He had to… go. Sorry,” she says, furrowing her brows. Robin looks up at her with an arched brow, and you’re simply stood there with your mouth slightly open, utterly confused.

Nancy forces a tight-lipped smile on her face, feigning coolness, as she walks back to the counter to continue decorating the cookies.

“Okay. What is going on?” you break the silence. They’re acting strange. Like, really fucking strange.

“What?” they both ask in unison, only heightening your suspicions.

“You guys are acting so weird. And why did you just hang up on Steve like that?”

“I…. it… it wasn’t Steve. It was Eddie that called,” Nancy admits, and you don’t miss the way Robin shoots her daggers. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I just didn’t want you to start thinking about him. I want this day to be fun for you!” she covers, skirting around the fact that Eddie is very much in Hawkins and was calling about something regarding the party.

“Oh…” you say, thinking this over. “It’s okay, Nance. I can handle the truth,” you continue, not angrily.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied, it was silly of me,” she admits, shaking her head a little. You can sense Robin’s posture relaxing beside you. She’s still being a little weird….

You don’t want to press the issue, simply telling Nancy it’s fine and continuing on with your work. It does make you think about Eddie, but then again, when aren’t you thinking about him? Nothing has truly relieved you of the weight of his loss, and it’s certainly not Nancy’s fault that he called at a bad time.

The cookies are completed within the next few hours, the girls behaving much more calmly than they were before and during the phone call. You’re tired by the time all of the sugary treats have been put aside in tins, and you’re more than ready to go home and sink into your warm bed. Tugging your coat back on, you prepare yourself to face the cold.

“Thank you guys so much for inviting me over, I had a lot of fun today,” you smile, making them return the expression. “Honestly, it’s the first day in a while where I’ve felt kind of… normal.”

Nancy squeezes you in a hug, rubbing your back with gentle hands. “I’m so glad to hear it. We’ll see you at the Christmas party, then?” she asks as she pulls away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys then. Steve better eat all of those damn raspberry cookies, since we made a huge batch just for him,” you joke, and Robin laughs a little too hard before Nancy elbows her in the side.

You pause in the middle of tugging on your second boot, glancing at them with piqued interest. You guess they’re both just weird today.

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Fluffy white flakes fall down around you, landing on the fuzzy surface of your black coat as you step out of your car. Popping open your trunk, you start gathering the presents you’d brought for everyone. Steve’s front door opens, light from the inside of his home illuminating the darkening driveway as he steps out, jogging down to you.

“Hey, let me give you a hand,” he offers, squeezing your shoulder.

“Okay, thanks,” you smile, your cheeks and nose already chilled from the cold weather.

“You excited? You always love my Christmas Eve parties,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh a little. Easing the ache in your chest.

“Of course I am,” you assure him, even if you don’t know if you really mean it.

Between the two of you, you’re able to carry all of the presents inside — a blur of red and green and gold, pretty bows and shiny wrapping paper, stumbling through the front door. Everyone has already arrived, except for Robin and Nancy. You’re sure they’re scrambling to get all of the cookies in the car along with their gifts.

Max helps you lay the presents around Steve’s tree, a tall and sparkly thing that makes the living room feel more warm. You can feel yourself defrosting, the ice caging in your heart melting slowly as you try to soak in the Christmas spirit. After another minute the girls burst through the door, Nancy carrying two tins of cookies with gift bags hanging from her arms. Robin follows closely behind, carrying the third tin of baked goods and as many presents as she could stack on top of each other.

Steve’s hurrying over to them in an instant, scolding Robin for not asking for his help. He eases their load, bringing the cookies into the kitchen where you offer to plate some of them. Jonathan’s mixing up a spiked eggnog, passing you a shot glass half-full to give it a taste test. The hustle and bustle feels good today, or at least as good as it can.

Everyone’s starting to settle in, chatting amongst one another with a type of giddiness that only comes this time of year. You see the snow still falling outside from the large windows, thankful to be warm by the fire.

You’re about to pour yourself a drink when there’s a knock on the door, stopping everyone in the middle of their conversations.

“Sunny, can you get that?” Steve asks you nonchalantly, laying out a spread of mini-sandwiches on the kitchen island.

“Who else are we expecting?” you ask, looking around you at your friends.

“Can you just grab it, please?” Steve tries again, making himself look as distracted as possible.

“Okay, okay, I’m going! Jesus,” you mutter the last part to yourself, crossing your cardigan over your chest as you hurry towards the door.

Who it could possibly be, you have no idea. The usual group was here. Maybe a parent, dropping by to say hello? You pull the door open, a rush of frigid air whooshing past you. You aren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but you know who you weren’t. The person on the other side of it stops you dead in your tracks, your heart honest to god stopping for a moment. You stand there, staring at each other in heavy silence for what feels like a century before you finally speak.

“Eddie?”

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem @svbrbnlegends @eddiesxangel @munsonzgf @hereforshmut @eggo-segual @joannamuns9n @lavendermunson @leenameh @micheledawn1975 (closed)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #i’ll be home for christmas

274 notes · View notes