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ellieellieoxenfree · 10 days ago

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furious thoughts on this pile of shit show while i suffer through the last three episodes:

why the fuck is everyone's response to any kind of Situation to record their friends? all of you are fucking psychopaths

cheum is such a horrible little cunt and why anyone gives her the time of day is beyond me. i thought mew was the character i wanted most to drop-kick into a volcano, but cheum might actually beat him in the holier-than-thou judgmental hypocritical insufferable why-does-anyone-put-up-with-your-complete-lack-of-redeeming-values rankings

ray putting conditions on sand to establish a relationship with his dad before he'll go to rehab was fucking gross, regardless of how he spun it. and then the little 'sike i just wanted to see if you'd do it' is a masterclass of selfish, manipulative behavior that's an entire naval fleet of red flags. the chemistry is undeniable but this relationship is a fucking dumpster fire. every time sand caves to one of ray's horrible bullshit demands, i lose any shreds of respect i had for him.

boeing and mew fighting over top reminds me of the story i once read about two brothers fighting over an unwrapped tootsie roll they found on the floor, only for one of them to overpower the other, pop it in his mouth, and find out it was a cat turd

papang is so good and i love him so much and buddy, you deserve better than being nick's half-hearted flirtation due to the fact that nick sucks a fat one

if one more person sucks mew's dick about what a Great Person he is i am going to rip my eyeballs out

oh my fucking god my fucking god i hate this show so much why is mew the uea of this show where everyone wants a chance at that void of personality and charisma that is the mew bussy. why are you all such gross manipulative sanctimonious whores who can't keep it in their pants and still act like you're morally justified. fuck's sake. the only person who's actually honest with themselves is boston and all you do is shit on him but at least he doesn't prance around on his high horse and sneer on the Commoners who keep tripping and having their dick fall into each other. at this point, his worst sin is his absolutely ratchet-ass taste in other people, both platonically and sexually, whereas the rest of you wouldn't know loyalty if it bit you on the ass and still sneer at boston being 'filthy.' physician, euthanize thyself.

ray throwing out his multiple bottles of liquor in a tiny trashcan without even bothering to empty them.............that's my new go-to imagery for performative tumblr activism

'oh boo hoo my dad hired you to help me go to rehab' eat shit, ray, fuck's sake. oh boo hoo i got lied to. news flash, fucko, you're a lying manipulative sack of crap so what's good for the goose is good for the gander. you've been taking advantage of sand this entire show, ignoring his boundaries, making a fucking nuisance of yourself by refusing to leave him alone, stalking his vacation, interfering in his hookups, calling him a whore, trying to force an unwanted family reconciliation, and on and on. the 'oh well you don't want me to get better because you still sell liquor' oh my god dude eat shit eat shit eat shit.

'my friends dumped me.' 'serves you right.' nick you are also a shit friend so shut the fuck up

ugh yet another unearned reconciliation EXTREMELY DISMISSIVE J/O MOTION. i am aggressively uninterested in boston/nick. this shit sucks to an unreal degree.

why will god not end my suffering and just wrap it up on topmew. either shit or get off the pot, both of you. there is not even remotely enough storyline to stretch this shit out to twelve episodes and this will-they-won't-they dithering has all the appeal of watching two thirteen-year-olds discussing which pair of earrings to buy at claire's for an hour

'we should just separate' YOU TWO AREN'T TOGETHER YOU DUMB BITCH

does this show want the world record for unearned reconciliations? yo and plug's 'oops i guess we're back together' had potentially even less screentime than the bullshit april/cheum reconciliation (i'll die mad about it, i have no idea why the two of them are together but that's the true only friends method of relationship writing), and now ray and sand are back on their pathetic codependent bullshit. truly a tragedy of epic proportions. these two belong in separate hemispheres until they both work out their mountains of individual issues.

if they're drinking beers in the bathtub when ray's supposed to be in rehab i'm just going to end my life

'i don't want you to drink too much' HE'S AN ADDICT YOU FESTERING FUCKHUSK DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW ADDICTION WORKS THERE IS NO 'OH THE ADDICT WILL JUST CUT DOWN ON THEIR DRINKING' HE NEEDS TO BE SOBER. S O B E R. AS IN, NOT DRINKING. holy shit this show is making me so angry bed friend is almost looking like a Fun Time.

boeing is back and mew is with him

in case i haven't said it in the past five minutes, i fucking loathe nick so much

hey what the fuck. what the fuck. 'let's get revenge on atom by tricking him into a quick fuck and then recording him secretly' what the FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE JESUS CHRIST WERE YOU ALL RAISED BY WOLVES

wolves are probably more civilized than this pack of assholes i apologize to the wild wolf population

good to see that ray has learned fuck-all and continues to drag sand along to clean up his messes when to me it feels like the entire point of court-mandated community service is that you do it yourself without running to your bangmaid to help you

every time top shows up i get one step closer to necking myself

'why don't you trust me' i am going to rip this man's throat out with my teeth

OH MY GOD YOU TWO SHIT OR GET OFF THE POT MY GOD IN HEAVEN YOU ARE SO FUCKING INSUFFERABLE

why is everyone so fucking concerned with getting top and mew back together. i hate mew's moms. 'well, if you really love him...' the dude is a known cheater and pump-and-dumper. what is this show's obsession with everyone's magic dicks that they just can't get over. they keep doing the same thing with boston. dick so good it makes a man crazy. maybe if y'all stopped fucking like you were the habsburg dynasty, you could be less tiresome. as near as i can tell, there's fewer than ten gays in the entirety of bangkok and you've banged all those cocks. please. jesus. you're not the british royal family. let go of the inbreeding.

incredible that it's been eleven episodes and i could not tell you a single concrete reason top gives the slightest shit about mew. if you held a gun to my head and told me to give just one reason, you'd have to kill me in one shot.

'you know i will not be able to forget about this easily' dude it's been your raison d'être since it happened, it's basically your entire personality along with being a smug sanctimonious cockbag

'i don't want to force you' okay not that this show has had basically every character bulldozing each other's boundaries or anything but w/e do you boo i guess

boeing is so fucking DULL i know they think they're spicing things up with his chaos agent nonsense but i am bored i am fatigued i am over it please just fuck off dude

OH MY GOD CAN WE PLEASE JUST HAVE ANOTHER NOTE THAT ISN'T CHEATING OR ATTEMPTED CHEATING. GO FIND A NEW DICK TO SWING ON. JESUS CHRIST. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. HOW IS THIS TWELVE EPISODES. HOW DID ANYONE ENJOY THIS RANCID STEAMING PILE OF GARBAGE. I AM ACTIVELY JUDGING ANYONE WHO ENJOYED THIS IN ITS ENTIRETY. GET HELP.

good to see ray is still drinking, so that rehab plotline was yet another big fat nothing

having to suffer through one last episode of this is making bed friend look even more appealing and bed friend had me actively contemplating suicide

oh jesus god 71 minutes why in the name of all that's holy

i hate ray

that's it. that's the comment. i am not even going to list out the reasons or context. fuck ray. dude sucks.

boeing, shut the fuck up

'do you still love him? you should kiss him' sand if you had the spine god gave cooked spaghetti you'd dump ray and then dump his body in the ocean but you won't because you're a fucking puss with no self-respect so

if this is some raggedy-ass attempt at a threesome i will end it i swear to god i will

god ray sucks so fucking much i was told sandray was the best relationship in this show and i'm not sorry but some of y'all need to take a mike's hard look at yourselves and get taste

like, truly, ray is such a rancid character. 'let me force you into making out with your ex so i can play personal pity party' go fuck yourself, dude. go shove a stick in the spokes of your bike wheel somewhere else because i don't feel like listening to you bitch and cry for another 65 minutes

'i don't like him being around you like this' OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH. STOP ENGINEERING YOUR OWN PROBLEMS AND THEN PLAYING THE VICTIM

of course this dumb bitch cheum is like 'i think moving in together is a great idea' i hope she gets hit by a car

ray continues digging to the center of the earth. i am tired.

'i can put your name back on our project' i hope cheum actually gets hit by a train

'what i want is a chance to be your friend again' boston could be the only character i give a shit about in this show but he pulls shit like this and i'm just like, why, dude? why are you constantly bending over backwards for people (including nick) who treat you like garbage?

i stand by nick being an asshole. i don't care. the show is like 'oh he stands by me he's supportive blah blah' no. what the show tells me i should think is not what it tells me in its writing. nick is just as much of a prick as everyone else and just because he has a weird codependence with boston's magic dick game does not make them a functional relationship or one i remotely root for. i am excited for boston to go to new york so he doesn't have to be in this pit of vipers and he can actually learn how to be a human being who is treated with more respect than what he gets now.

i keep harping on this same point, but it is insane to me that a show that is entirely built on people's messy relationships has given me not one iota of evidence to prove any of these people should be getting nasty with each other. it's not even 'oh they're bad for each other' (which they are), it's that the writing is doing nothing to establish the bonds and hoping a handful of talented actors (this is not everyone in the cast, fwiw) will be able to provide enough chemistry to cover for paper-thin narrative work.

and as soon as i unpause, i get a 'sweet' boston/nick scene, which might land if i gave the slightest shit about them as people. the cutesy scenes are actively insulting to my intelligence, like i've forgotten the entire show has been built on people betraying, cheating on, lying to, and being heinous to each other. this just feels like all of these dumbfucks have short-term memory loss and can't remember how wretched they were to each other five minutes ago.

nick: i could do animation in new york. i could work at pixar.

the amount of white-hot rage i feel at this 'oh the kids hate ray and they need sand' scene is incalculable. the gears of this raggedy writing are straining.

oh my god. are they seriously going to have a relationship heart-to-heart while ray is doing community service? fuck this show.

what is ray's fucking deal about boeing? this is honestly pathological and creepy. i think they're trying to make a point about ray's insecurity due to his deep-seated trauma but it's insecurity due to deep-seated trauma as interpreted by an alien who has never had exposure to human beings before.

creak creak creak go the gears of this idiotic manufactured boeing drama. this thing is so underwritten and badly paced and poorly planned i'm shocked it wasn't a lucasfilm production. this is dickensian levels of padding. was this dictated to a five-year-old who kept going 'and then what?' to avoid going to sleep?

can't type anymore, boston just ran into boeing at the club and my eyes rolled out of my head and ended up across the room

oh for FUCK'S SAKE this is so FUCKING STUPID

cheum seeing boston arrive and being like 'well now boston can prostrate himself for absolution in front of all of us' go fuck yourself you cow

like yeah boston's boeing makeout was the stupidest moment of this episode and that's saying something considering top and mew exist but that also is so clearly some more clumsily engineered writing to go Ooga Booga Boston Bad Slut Ooga Booga that i'm more annoyed with the writers than boston as a character

this is so fucking nasty. jesus christ. some real weather underground weatherfries shit, except, oops, the circle is one person and everyone else is virtuous and perfect and has never done anything wrong. i hope a meteorite hits the hostel.

i also hope someone drowns mew in the river like a kangaroo

sorry i said the stupidest scene of the episode was boeing and boston making out because of course they play truth or dare and of course sand is kissing top. whatever. who gives a shit. god is dead and life is meaningless.

'being with you gives me so much positive energy' bitch are you serious please say sike

GET FUCKED, MEW, GET FUCKED, I AM SO SICK OF YOUR BITCH ASS, I HOPE YOU DIE, I HAVE NEVER HATED A CHARACTER SO MUCH AS YOU, I HOPE TOP GIVES YOU SYPHILIS

the boston/nick breakup scene hit with the force of a light breeze so that was a big nothing

god why on earth do i have to fucking keep seeing top and mew. jesus fuck. no one likes them. their story has no narrative urgency. god damn.

i actually can't do it. i'm fast-forwarding through this scene because i'm so fucking sick of them.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA THE HOTEL IS ON FIRE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

normally i have a bad reaction to fires in media but also in this case i'm allowed to celebrate it as a treat

of course it wasn't even a bad one. both of them should have been burned alive, but i'm not getting anything i want in this show.

cannot believe they got seven minutes of screentime as opposed to boston and nick's, like, one. the narrative favoritism in this show is repulsive.

'and you must trust me' ray i wouldn't trust you to dress yourself without zipping your dick into the fly of your pants

'i want an easy but meaningful name' sand already has one but as usual you have to bulldoze over anything he has as an individual so you can smear your feces on every lampshade he owns

wow even in the post-credits scene and even when boston's a continent away these useless shithogs can't miss a chance to humiliate him

'don't worry if you're alone. we can be your friends.' i'm calling the cops to report a terrorist threat

in conclusion:

#i thought bed friend was one of the biggest abominations in bl but boy howdy this might be in fact THE worst show i've ever watched #regardless of genre or country #perhaps it's not the all-time worst but it's definitely top three at a minimum #everyone involved in this owes me reparations. watching this on 3x speed was still torture that violated the geneva convention #what absolutely irredeemable slop #i actively hate everyone in the cast a little more today #i am never trusting a single person's word on bl again because i was led to believe this had some kind of redeeming value at points #the redeeming value it might have had in the first few episodes was crushed underfoot and is nothing but a distant memory at best #i am physically angry about how awful this show was. how hateful and irresponsible and vicious and ugly.#boring and repetitive and shoddily assembled #what a truly revolting show. what a waste of my time.

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jo-harrington · 10 months ago

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Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

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