Eddie,
Dear Eddie,
Eddie fucking Munson,
Yeah. Hello. It's me. Steve Harrington.
Jesus. This is so weird.
Max just got out of the hospital today. It's surreal to think that it's been six months since Spring Break and she's only getting out today. The doctors said there's gonna be a long road ahead of her but that's okay, right? What's important is that there's a road ahead of her.
Anyway, the day Max got Vekna-ed Vecna-ed (Dustin just corrected my spelling. I think Vekna sounds better.), she wrote us letters. Just in case she… bites the dust. When she woke up, she told us we could read it if we wanted. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I burned it the moment she woke up. She told me (Just me specifically) that I should try it. When I asked who I should write to, she smiled and started humming a Metallica song. Which is fucking wild that I even knew that she was humming Disposable Heroes.
Robin told me I wasn’t good at dealing with my grief. That instead of letting the wound heal, I just let it scab and hurt. Which— I hate the word grief. Because I hate grief, you know?
You don’t know this, but Barbara Holland died in my backyard and Nancy… Nancy still mourns her to this day. I don’t think she’ll ever stop mourning her. A few months back, we talked. Dude, I know what you’re going to say and No, we are not getting back together. I let her smash bottles of beer in my empty pool. We cried and screamed until we were both exhausted. I asked her this question that’s been running through my mind for months now.
What the hell is grief?
Nancy smiled at me. She told me that she had a hard time trying to learn what grief is, that at first she thought it was anger and disappointment and hatred. But she told me (after a few minutes because Nancy also loves dramatic pauses. I think you guys have that in common), that it’s actually just love. Just love. With no place else to go.
And you know what? Fuck that. She’s the smartest person I know but she was wrong. Fuck that.
This grief I have for you, it can’t be love right? How could I love someone I barely even knew? It’s nothing but disappointment that I couldn’t have done more. It’s nothing but pure fucking rage that you didn’t fucking listen to me when I told you to run. It’s nothing but hatred from the fact that you did this when you could’ve lived.
I don’t care if you felt like a coward. You should’ve been a coward because at least you would still be alive. I wouldn’t be writing this letter if you were alive.
I hate you. I goddamn fucking hate you for every decision you’ve made that night.
But Eddie…
Eddie, I need you to get up and tell me what to do. I am begging you to get up and tell me what to do. I don’t care how you do it, just do it. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do without you. Which is fucking ridiculous, because I didn’t know you. But I need you here. Right now.
We’re done with the Upside Down forever. We’re done with it. Everyone’s moving on, moving forward. And I… I still sleep with your vest. How could I be sad over something I never even had in the first place?
Robin’s giving me weird looks. She’s telling me that I could talk to her about anything. I know. I know I can. But I wanted you to be the first to know. Apparently, I am gay. Maybe half gay because I like both. Fucking Eddie Munson, you’re dead and you’re still giving me a sexuality crisis.
I think… I think I am mourning the fact that we could’ve been friends, and if I am being delusional, maybe even more. Dustin won’t stop talking about you these days. I think it’s his way of keeping you alive. If I’m being honest, I hate it. Because I am falling in love with a memory.
I… I miss you. I wish there was a way I could send this to wherever you are, so you could write back and tell me that it’s going to be okay. That someday I would forgive myself for everything I did and did not do, that someday it wouldn’t hurt this much anymore.
Max was right. I’ll write more in the future.
I wish you were here.
Sincerely,
Yours,
Fuck you,
Steve Harrington.
06/13/86
—
Steve laughs as he carefully closes the old letter— stained with tears and age, some crumpling and tearing on the edges— and slips it back to the envelope. The envelope is yellow at the edges, showing its true age.
“God, I was so mad.” Steve says, his hand finding the cold headstone. His fingers tracing the name inscribed on the marble. After a few years, after the town of Hawkins eventually forgot everything, the Party got Eddie a headstone in the cemetery. It’s a funeral ten years too late, but it brought closure to everyone that needed it. Wayne, included.
“You want me to read my newest letter?” Steve asks the empty space. Steve takes the newer envelope from the picnic basket he packed, opening it carefully and taking a deep breath.
“Dearest Eddie,” Steve smiles at the stone. He thinks of Eddie, the only image he always conjures when he misses him. He thinks of Eddie, hair wet and face grimy from having fought bats for a person he barely knew. He thinks back to that Eddie, big brown eyes and teasing smile.
He looks down at the letter and continues reading, “I am writing this letter before I go visit you. Spring has been good to us. I’ve been trying to plant more and I think it’s going great. Dustin’s been bugging me to get some exercise. Can you believe that? He said it’ll be good for my old bones. Or some shit like that. He’s still a disrespectful little shit. I do find joy over the fact that Edward is a jock. Dustin Henderson? Has a jock kid? It’s the best thing in my life. El loves joking about it. We’re just thankful the kid doesn't have powers.”
“The Byers-Wheelers are doing pretty good too. Will sent us this really funny picture of Mike in a tutu as the twins practice beside him. It feels like only yesterday Will came out to Robin and me. You remember that right? I think I wrote it in one of my letters. Will still tells me that you and him could’ve been really good friends, and I believe him.”
“The Sinclairs are planning to travel across the country this Summer. We did have a few laughs when the “Winnebago” dream came up. Elena’s going through a rebellious teenage phase, and I just think it’s funny that she stole their car to drive to me. She really is her mother’s daughter.”
“As for Argyle and Jon, last I heard they were in Montana. They’ll come back down for the holidays, but they live their lives on the down low. Aside from Jon’s very active instagram account, they do write through emails. Robin and Nance are in Europe right now. They wanted me to come, but you know I can’t leave Arwen. She could be forty and married, and I’d still stay by her side. She has this concert coming up, and I want to stay and make sure it goes well.”
“I still think it’s funny that I adopted her at a random adoption office, because it still feels like she chose me rather than I chose her. Sometimes, I still let myself be delusional. If I squint hard enough, I could see it. With the way she plays the guitar, or the way she talks nerdy with her uncles. It’s like you were right there when she was growing up, right there beside me, helping raise her. Now that Arwen’s older, she understands it now. Why I never got married.”
“It’s been 36 years since you left. It doesn’t feel that long ago. I know you know this already, but sometimes I still reach out for your vest at night. It doesn’t smell like you anymore, not at all. I still remember it though. Like cigarettes and weed and the damn forest. Sometimes I’ll get a random whiff of something similar in public, something remotely close, and I’ll smile. Because I just know that’s you, being a creep and checking in on us.”
“In the hundreds of letters I’ve written in the last few years, I don’t think I’ve ever said it.”
Steve chokes as he reads the next few lines, “I think I’ll be okay, Eddie. I am sorry it took me this long to say it, but I hope you’re resting well now. I think we’ll meet again in a few more years, maybe another 20? What’s another 20, right? I can wait. When we meet again, we can spend an eternity together if you’ll have me. We’ll do everything we want to do. Just… wait for me, okay, Eds?”
“I’ll be back soon. Love always, Steve.” Steve slowly closes the letter, slipping it back to the envelope.
Steve sits in silence. Just listening to the birds chirp, just basking in the sunlight.
“Dad!” Steve turns to see Arwen climbing the hills, waving her hands as she jogs over to him.
“Hi, peanut.” He greets her when she’s finally close enough.
“Hi. I am sorry to interrupt.” She looks at the headstone with pain before turning to him, “Are you almost done? We have to be back to Indianapolis by four.”
“Yeah, I think I am done. I can come back some other time.”
Arwen helps him up, his knees creaking with age, “Give us a few more minutes, hm? I’ll follow you.”
Arwen nods, smiling before turning to the grave, patting it gently like it’s an actual person, “I promise to visit some other time, Eddie. I’ll play you this new song I’m writing.” She kisses Steve’s cheeks before running back to the car.
“I wish I could stay longer. But she’s got that concert thing. There won’t be an actual concert if she’s not there.” Steve chuckles.
“See you later, Eds.” Steve lifts kisses his fingertips before pressing it on the headstone.
The trees shake with a gust of wind. He smiles, letting his eyes flutter shut as he feels the wind against his skin.
Steve opens his eyes, waving at the headstone one last time.
Edward Joseph Munson
1965 - 1986
All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
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