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spacebabesuki · 27 days ago

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Begin Again (Hellcheer Christmas AU) ❄️

Word Count: 6k. Themes: Second chances, rekindled connections, stuck in a snowstorm. Format: One-shot Vibes: Christmas magic and nostalgia

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This one got the most votes from everyone, hope y'all like it! <3

The train screeched to a halt, jolting Chrissy Cunningham from her foggy, half-conscious state. Her head rested lightly against the frosted glass of the window, and she blinked at the blizzard outside. Snow pelted the panes in relentless waves, erasing the world beyond into a blur of white. Faint, skeletal trees loomed in the distance, bent under the storm’s fury. A snowstorm. How fitting. How poetic.

The loudspeakers crackled to life with a sharp hiss of static, breaking the tense silence of the cabin. A weary, apologetic voice cut through the noise: “Ladies and gentlemen, due to severe weather conditions, we are unable to proceed at this time. Please remain seated or move to the central cabin for updates. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

Chaos erupted almost immediately. Frustration echoed through the narrow aisles. Parents snatched up their children with rushed, frantic movements, while the sound of suitcases crashing into one another filled the air. Passengers shouted for answers, demanded movement, but the only thing moving was the panic spreading among them. There was no Santa Claus here. No Christmas joy. Only the cold, the storm, and the collective desperation to be somewhere—anywhere—other than this stranded train in the middle of nowhere.

Chrissy, however, remained still. Motionless. While the storm raged outside and the cabin roared with anger and confusion, she didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She may as well have been invisible.

It was Christmas Eve. Nearly six o’clock. But Chrissy felt no rush, no urgency, no longing to be anywhere else. The chaos that consumed the other passengers seemed absurd to her, like she was watching a scene in a play she didn’t belong to. People clamored to reach their families, desperate to be home for the holidays.

But Chrissy had no family left to return to. Alone. Completely alone.

Her dad had died six years ago, a sudden heart attack ripping him away. He hadn’t been old, just gone, leaving her with memories of a flawed man who had loved her unconditionally. Her mother might as well have been gone too, siding with Jason during the divorce and severing their bond with cold silence.

No apology, no goodbye. Just absence.

And Jason—God, Jason Carver. The ink on the divorce papers had barely dried. That was why she’d packed everything and left. The chapter was closed, but the wounds still stung. She never wanted to see him or his family again. Ten Christmases of enduring their shallow cheer had been ten too many. A decade of fake smiles and hollow traditions had nearly broken her.

But now, at twenty-seven, she was free. Truly, terrifyingly free.

Yet freedom didn’t feel like victory. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into an abyss she had no idea how to navigate. The question wasn’t just where she would go—it was how. How do you rebuild after losing everything? How do you start again when all you’ve known is rejection, pain, and loneliness?

She would figure it out. Somehow.

The storm battered the train, snow slamming against the windows, but Chrissy sat motionless, untouched by the chaos. She had nowhere to go, no one waiting for her. She was alone.

The shouting, crying, and frantic arguments around her grew unbearable, suffocating her. She couldn’t take it anymore. Rising abruptly, she ignored the staff’s pleas to stay seated.

"Excuse me," she muttered, pushing through the crowded aisle.

No one noticed her as she pushed through the chaos. The train, completely stalled and battered by the storm, groaned under its weight as she reached the door between cars. She forced it open and stepped through, escaping into another carriage.

The dining car was dark, silent, and empty. The power had gone out, plunging the space into shadows. It was untouched by the panic she’d left behind—still, almost otherworldly.

Finally, she could breathe. Alone.

Chrissy sank into a booth and exhaled shakily. The windows rattled under the storm’s relentless fury, but the quiet enveloped her. For the first time in hours—maybe days—she felt some semblance of peace.

She closed her eyes, her head pounding with the weight of the last years. A picture-perfect marriage. A spotless home. A carefully curated life as Jason Carver’s perfect wife—he, with his glossy hair and hollow charm, perfect at company parties but a stranger in every other way.

Chrissy had suffocated in that life. She’d left, despite the guilt, despite the sting of her mother’s accusations. She hadn’t ruined anything, she knew. You can’t ruin a life that doesn’t feel alive.

And now, here she was—back on the road to Hawkins, where it all began. The small town she hadn’t seen in ten years, where ghosts of her childhood and teen years lingered.

She was going to visit her father’s grave, sit in silence, and wish him a Merry Christmas, hoping for answers she knew wouldn’t come.

Chrissy sank into a window seat, the cold glass against her temple. Outside, snow fell relentlessly, but here in the stillness, she could finally think. The storm howled, muffled by the train's quiet hum. For once, she welcomed the solitude.

The cabin door groaned open, snapping her from her thoughts. Irritation flared—another passenger, she assumed, or worse, a train attendant ready to send her back into the chaos. She shrank into her seat, hoping to go unnoticed.

The footsteps approached—slow, heavy, deliberate—and then stopped. She tensed, her breath catching in her throat. A heavy sigh followed, and Chrissy instinctively squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to remain unseen.

But then she heard it—the unmistakable sound of heavy boots on the floor, the faint creak of leather. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in ten years, one that belonged to only one person. Because in her unbearable life, she had never met anyone else who wore leather jackets like he did.

It was too familiar. Unsettlingly so. The tension in her chest doubled, her pulse racing in disbelief.

No. It couldn’t be. Coincidence? Or maybe she’d finally lost her mind.

And then came the voice.

“Chriiissy Cunningham.”

Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. The way he said her name—drawn out, theatrical, and teasing—that voice she hadn’t heard in ten years crashed over her like a tidal wave. Only one person ever called her that. Only him.

Every syllable was soaked in memories she had fought to bury, ones that now clawed their way back to the surface. It felt like time itself had collapsed, leaving her trapped between past and present, unable to escape either.

Frozen, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. A long moment passed, heavy with anticipation, before she finally turned. Wide eyes locked on the figure just a few feet away, and her breath hitched all over again.

That voice. Unmistakable. Teasing. Theatrical. With just enough grit to send her stomach into freefall.

“Eddie?” Her voice trembled as it left her lips. “Eddie Munson? Oh my God, is it really you?”

“The one and only,” he said, his grin crooked and unmistakably familiar.

He was taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader, his presence commanding the space in a way that was both comforting and exhilarating. His dark hair, longer now, spilled past his shoulders in tousled waves, with a few strands tucked behind a black beanie. That grin—mischievous, lopsided—hadn’t changed, but his eyes held a new softness, a depth she hadn’t noticed before.

A faint beard traced the sharp line of his jaw, adding a ruggedness that only made him more striking. Snow dusted his leather jacket, and the glint of silver rings on his fingers caught the dim light. They were fewer now—subtler, more refined—but still unmistakably Eddie.

Everything about him screamed his signature style—black sweater, jeans, boots, and jacket—but now there was an effortless confidence about him that felt new, almost grounding.

He had aged almost unfairly well. Ten years wasn’t much—he wasn’t even thirty yet—but somehow, he seemed more settled, more at peace. More him.

“I thought I was losing my mind two minutes ago when I saw that pretty blonde hair,” he added, breaking the silence with his voice and that giant smile—the smile—that only appeared when he was with her, a smile that hadn't seen the light of day in ten years.

Chrissy froze, too stunned to respond.

“So you recognize me by my back?” Her voice was light, almost giddy, in a way she hadn’t heard in years. A genuine smile spread across her face, her body warming with excitement despite the storm outside.

“I’d recognize you anywhere.”

Her mouth dropped open, then closed, stunned. Happiness. She hadn’t felt it like this in so long. Eddie Munson, without even knowing it, had the power to make her smile in an instant, and she finally understood what that feeling meant.

But as quickly as the happiness came, a wave of sadness followed. So much time had passed. Ten years. More. Years spent thinking about him, especially when her mother had forced her to leave Hawkins and marry Jason.

Chrissy’s chest tightened. It had been over a decade since that day in the woods, the almost-kiss on his trailer couch. And now, here he was—like no time had passed, but somehow carrying the weight of all those years between them. She stood, her knees weak, and for a long moment, they just stared at each other.

“You…” Chrissy struggled to find her words, her smile still spreading across her face. “What are you doing here?” The smile was a mix of shock, surprise, and happiness, leaving her completely lost in the moment.

She was so bundled up, feeling overheated despite the snowstorm, her cheeks flushed with emotion. Eddie Munson stood before her, his eyes soft and warm in a way she hadn’t realized she missed. He looked at her with the same mix of shock, surprise, and pure joy reflected in her own gaze.

They stood frozen in the dimly lit cabin, the storm raging outside, but within the space between them, everything felt still, the light in their eyes brighter than anything around them.

He shrugged, his grin softening. “Heading to Hawkins. Uncle Wayne’s too old to fly, so I figured I’d make the trip this year.” His eyes scanned her face. “And you? What brings you back to our slice of hell?”

Chrissy hesitated, shifting her weight. “I… I’m visiting my dad’s grave. He passed away a few years ago.”

Eddie’s expression softened, and he nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that. Your dad was… he was a good guy.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “He was.”

“You good?” He did it again—tilting his head slightly, his eyes soft and concerned, just like he had in that forest over ten years ago. The only person who didn’t just look at her but truly saw her.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling for real this time. “Better now.”

His body stiffened at her words, as if they’d hit him like a punch. He wasn’t that awkward teen anymore, but hearing better now from Chrissy Cunningham, after all this time, felt like a gift he didn’t deserve. It made him feel like that lost, invisible Munson again—the one who spent years watching her from the hallways of Hawkins High, aching for any sliver of attention. If he had heard those words back then, they would’ve broken him. Hell, they almost did now.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken memories. Eddie shifted, breaking the moment. He gestured to the seat across from her. “Mind if I sit? Or am I interrupting your peace and quiet?”

Chrissy shook her head quickly. “No, it’s fine. Please, sit.” She fought to keep her voice steady, but deep down, she was eager for his company.

After ten years of bad memories, Eddie Munson had always been part of the good ones. And now, here he was—like a Christmas miracle, a gift she hadn’t known she needed.

He slid into the seat, his long legs stretching out, the space between them feeling smaller with each passing second. He pulled a flask from his bag and set it down on the table between them.

“Figured I’d hide back here. It’s crazy up there.”

She laughed lightly, though it was laced with nervousness. “Same. I couldn’t deal with all the yelling.”

Eddie unscrewed the cap of the flask, revealing whiskey, and took a swig before holding it out to her.

“Want some?” Eddie gave a small, apologetic smile, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the canteen. "Sorry about that. I don’t usually drink, but I’ve been on a plane for hours, then a train, and now… this."

Chrissy chuckled softly, her eyes softening with understanding. "It's alright. I get it. We all have our days."

He paused, his voice taking on a lighter tone. "Just don’t let me be a bad influence on you, alright?"

She chuckled, warmth spreading in her chest. "I promise."

She hesitated but then took the flask. The whiskey burned as it slid down her throat, offering relief from the tightness in her chest.

“We shouldn’t be drinking on the Lord’s day,” she joked, passing it back to him.

“Yeah, well, He should’ve thought twice before trapping us under a snowstorm this cold,” Eddie quipped, his voice teasing and theatrical, making her laugh again.

Chrissy’s gaze fell to his long legs, stretched out and nearly three times the size of hers, making the seat feel too tight and the heat too intense. Their knees almost touched through her pantyhose and leg warmers. She glanced at his large hands, the silver rings gripping the canteen.

And in that moment, Eddie Munson, now 29, couldn't shake the feeling of being that awkward teenager again—suddenly aware that his lips had just been where hers had, on the neck of the flask.

“So,” Eddie broke the silence, his voice soft but steady, “what’s life been like for Chrissy Cunningham?”

She let out a humorless laugh, setting the flask down, and met his eyes with a small, almost sad smile. “You really want to know?” she teased, a tiny frown curling on her lips.

"Of course," he replied, his tone sincere.

His dark eyes locked onto hers, his gaze so intense it made her heart race, and for a moment, nothing in the world could slow it down.

Chrissy exhaled, her breath fogging in the cold air. “Well, I got married. To Jason Carver.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, though he said nothing, his gaze steady on her face.

“And I got divorced,” she continued, her voice quieter. “Yesterday, I finally signed the papers.” She swallowed, trying to push past the sting of the words. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t what I thought it would be. What everyone told me it should be.”

Eddie nodded slowly, his expression softening. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah.” She gave a small, bitter smile. “But now I’m… I don’t know. Starting over, I guess. Trying to figure out what I actually want.”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving hers. “And what do you want?”

Chrissy hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the canteen, almost brushing his. They both glanced down, the air between them thick with unspoken words. She felt the heat of his presence, the closeness, making her heart race. They both swallowed hard in unison, as if the same weight had settled between them.

Finally, Chrissy spoke, her voice soft, laced with vulnerability.

“I want to be a writer. I always have. But... I don’t know if I can. Maybe it’s too late. I spent so much time in a marriage I knew was wrong, and now... I’m just...” She trailed off, her breath shaky, unable to finish the thought.

Eddie’s face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Hell yeah, you can do it. That’s awesome, Chrissy.”

She laughed, the warmth creeping into her cheeks. It had been so long since she’d known what support felt like. "Thanks. We’ll see."

“Seattle’s a great place for writers,” Eddie said with a side smile, his voice light but sincere. “I live there now. Lots of rain. Lots of coffee shops.”

He winked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile in return, the sound genuine, something she hadn’t felt in years. A small moment of support, something so simple, yet it felt like a lifeline. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down, embarrassed by how much she needed that.

“If you need an old friend to help you start again…” he added, his voice soft but carrying that familiar warmth she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much.

Chrissy’s heart fluttered. She laughed softly, her cheeks flushed with something that felt like hope, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years. “I might just take you up on that. Starting over sounds a lot easier with a friend like you."

Eddie's smile softened. “You’re never alone, Chrissy. As long as my heart is still beating around here... you'll always have someone to count on, if that means anything.”

She opened her mouth, but the words caught, and for a moment, she felt a lump form in her throat. Her eyes watered, and she blinked hard, trying to hold back the emotion threatening to spill over.

"That… that means a lot," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't even tell you how much that means to me."

Her hands trembled slightly, and she wrapped them around the canteen, finding comfort in the simple action. The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was soft, like a quiet understanding that lingered in the air. She looked down, taking a slow breath to steady herself, then met his gaze once more.

Afraid of letting the mood turn too sad, Chrissy blinked several times to clear the moisture from her eyes, trying to shake the lump in her throat.

"So..." she paused, her voice lighter, trying to bring back a bit of fun. “Seattle? That’s amazing. You always loved music!”

“Still do,” Eddie said, his grin softening. “Still do.”

She raised an eyebrow, repeating the question he’d asked her earlier. “How was life for Eddie Munson?”

“I work as a sound tech and songwriter in a studio…for grunge bands. I do the hard work, and the pretty boys get to sing it,” he said with a wink.

Chrissy chuckled, shaking her head. Her gaze lingered on the rings on his fingers—two on one hand, three on the other—and a question she couldn't shake crept into her mind. Is he married? The doubt gnawed at her as she waited for him to speak, but he only mentioned his job. The thought lingered, making her swallow hard, discomfort tightening in her chest at the uncertainty.

"What about…marriage? Kids?" she asked, her voice a little quieter than she intended.

Eddie’s expression grew wistful. “Nope. Just me and my guitar. Had a few girlfriends, but nothing stuck.”

Chrissy’s gaze drifted back to his hands, focusing on the ring on his wedding finger.

She bit her lip, then asked cautiously, “The ring…?”

“Oh, this?” Eddie held up his hand with a laugh. “No, it’s not a wedding ring. Just... you know me. I like my rings.”

A wave of relief washed over her, though she wasn’t sure why. A smile tugged at her lips, and suddenly, she felt like laughing, like running out into the snowstorm. Her voice grew stronger as she looked at him.

And Eddie was already looking at her in that way—the way only he could. The same way he had looked at her in that forest ten years ago, mouth slightly open, eyes unblinking, as if trying to capture every detail of the moment.

She looked like an angel frozen in time. The soft glow of her white blouse against the dim cabin light, her flushed cheeks offering a warm contrast to the cool air. Her blue eyes sparkled with a kind of innocence that seemed untouched by time, framed by her long, blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her pink lips, slightly parted, held a quiet mystery, as if she were about to speak but hadn’t yet decided. Her nose, delicate and slightly upturned, completed the perfect symmetry of her face.

Eddie couldn’t tear his eyes away, unable to blink, almost desperate to memorize every detail.

“Why are you looking at me like this?” Chrissy whispered, her voice trembling slightly, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“Just memories.” Eddie murmured.

The air between them was thick, charged with a tension neither of them could ignore. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, neither could look away.

Chrissy tried to break the gaze, but every time she moved, she felt his presence, that intoxicating scent of him drawing her in like a magnet. The snowstorm outside felt miles away as her heart raced, her thoughts spinning back to memories long buried.

She could still remember the last time he’d looked at her like this— that night in the trailer when they had shared a joint and almost kissed. And now, standing in front of him, it felt like time had looped back to that moment.

“You’re still incredibly pretty, you know,” Eddie said suddenly, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "God damn, I’m not kidding. It seems like every time I look at you, you get even prettier. Fuck.” He took another sip.

“Eddie…”

Chrissy’s cheeks burned, her breath catching in her throat. She looked away, struggling to hide the heat rising in her face. That smile, the one that made her skin tingle, was threatening to appear.

“I’m just saying what’s true,” he replied with a grin. “I used to think about you, remember your face, and wonder, damn, no way someone could be that beautiful. It must’ve been in my head. But fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t used to being looked at this way—like she was worth noticing. Her ex husband had never looked at her like that, never spoken to her with such tenderness. But here, now, Eddie’s eyes held her with such sincerity, making her feel something she hadn’t in years—vulnerable, alive, beautiful.

Still, as she looked at him—strong, confident, now an adult man—it made her breathe in deeply and feel something she hadn’t in so long. And oh... he smelled so good, like a masculine fragrance that...

Her chest tightened, and she had to look down to hide the way her heart was hammering. There was a warmth inside her that she hadn’t felt in years, and she didn’t know how to respond.

Her voice barely above a whisper, she finally said, “I… I don’t know what to say.”

"You don't need to say anything. Why do you feel like you need to?" he laughed. "I'm just saying you're so fucking pretty, it's surreal. So just accept it."

Silence. He looked at her…adorable, like a doll, like an angel, her cheeks flushed, turned pink, as she smiled, blushing shyly. Fuck…so pretty.

"Every time I wanted to remember you, I..." he said, drinking the whiskey with force. "The sky, the green trees, anything beautiful made me think of you." He laughed, his lips still on the bottle. But what he really wanted to say was, we were getting married in my head all the damn time.

"You... you thought about me... all these years?"

"Oh please," he said softly, a slight edge to his voice. "Do you think I have forgotten...Do you think I have forgotten about you?"

"Hey!" Her eyes widened. She'd heard this before on the radio. "That's a song! What's the band's name? I hear it on the radio!"

“I know,” he laughed. “I wrote it. Like I said, I do the heavy lifting in the studio, and the pretty guys sing.”

She opened and closed her mouth again, as if she wanted to believe for a second that he had written that song with her in mind. She didn’t need to believe it—because it was true. Of course, it was about her.

She shook her head, laughing.

“Oh, Eddie…”

He was even more handsome, more charming as the years went on.

“You haven’t changed much, have you?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, his grin softening. “But not where it counts.”

Silence filled the air as they both stared at their hands.

She hesitated, then asked softly, “So... how long has it been since you last went to Hawkins?”

“Ten years,” he admitted. “My uncle used to visit me in Seattle every Christmas because he knew how much I hated Hawkins.”

He gave a sad smile, the weight of his words sinking between them. The memories of how Hawkins talked about him, gossiped about him, were still fresh.

Her eyes softened, and he caught the hint of sadness there—sadness for him. He never deserved that, she thought. He’s so sweet. Always has been.

“So... yeah,” he said, trailing off before turning the question back to her. “And you?”

The look in her eyes when he asked said it all. He could almost guess her answer.

But on the other hand, she loved that he wanted to talk to her. There was something about his voice, his presence—it made her feel... something she couldn’t quite put into words. Familiar. Safe. Like life could always be this way—simple, warm, and good.

“Well,” she said softly, “the last time was six years ago. Then my dad passed, and my mom came to live with me.”

She exhaled a heavy breath, and Eddie’s chest ached for her. Life had clearly been hard for her these past few years—he could see it in her face. Poor Chrissy, he thought. She never deserved any of it.

To Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham had always been a dream girl. And dream girls? They belonged in dream worlds.

Any guy lucky enough to have her should know that. But Jason Carver obviously didn’t.

Chrissy broke the silence again.

“I’m still... not myself since the divorce. Actually, it’s been ten years,” she admitted. “So now I’m here. I came to visit my dad—the only one who ever really supported me. But he’s gone, so...” She laughed bitterly. “I guess I’ll just stop by his grave to say, ‘Merry Christmas, Dad,’ and then spend the next few days at a hotel. Renting anything during the holidays is impossible."

“But...” she added softly, her voice wavering, “I don’t know. I kind of hoped I’d feel at home in Hawkins for a few days. At least before I start searching for a new home somewhere in this big country. It’s kind of cool, starting over anywhere I want. But also... terrifying.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the end, and Eddie’s chest tightened again.

He wanted to invite her to stay with him and Uncle Wayne. It wasn’t the trailer anymore—Eddie had used the money from the songs he’d written and produced to buy Wayne a proper house. But even so, the thought of asking her to stay felt outrageous. She’d never accept. Not Chrissy. She deserved so much better than he could ever offer.

So he stayed quiet, took another long sip of the warm whiskey they shared, and let its heat burn away the words he didn’t dare to say.

She took a deep breath. Silence.

“Can I have another sip of that?” she asked.

“Yep, go for it.”

He handed her the flask, grinning as he watched Chrissy take a long drink. Her face scrunched up slowly in reaction to the burn, a mix of discomfort and determination.

“Rookie,” he teased.

She laughed, the sound soft and genuine, filling the quiet space between them.

๑

An hour later, the train was still stopped. The muffled shouts of frustrated passengers echoed faintly from another car, but in theirs? It was a different story.

Their empty carriage, devoid of anyone else, was anything but quiet. The air was filled with noise—slurred words, loud laughter, and the clinking of the nearly empty flask as they passed it back and forth.

They were drunk. Drunk and laughing, talking nonsense, and feeling freer than they had in years.

“Oh my god, Munson, you’re such an idiot!” She laughed until her stomach hurt, barely remembering the last time she’d laughed this hard.

“Me? You’re the one who said the stupid thing first!” He slapped the floor, laughing. They weren’t sitting in the seats anymore; instead, they were on the floor, side by side, leaning against the train as they watched the snow fall fiercely outside.

“Oh, my belly hurts,” she gasped between fits of laughter, her face red from the joy. Her hat had fallen to the floor, along with the first layer of coats, slowly discarded as the warmth from the alcohol and their happiness filled the space.

And then, there was that comfortable silence after the laughter—the kind of silence that felt happy, with the last echoes of laughter fading away. His joyful laugh, the one she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much.

Jason had never laughed at her jokes like that. But Eddie did. She thought about it for a moment, how strange it was that he thought she was funny. Because Jason never did.

Chrissy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, watching Eddie. She smiled softly, and then it hit her... how beautiful he looked when he smiled like that—throwing his head back, laughing like a little kid.

That wave of joy from the alcohol hit her with full force, and she threw her arms wide, her heart racing with an energy she hadn’t felt in years.

“I want... you know, have you ever felt like this?” She laughed breathlessly, her voice a little wobbly from the alcohol and excitement. “I want to do everything. I feel like I’ve been trapped for ten years. I want to see the world. I want to live—I want to do everything I’ve never done, everything I haven’t done in so long. I want to dance!”

Eddie looked at her, a playful glint in his eyes, his lips curling into that familiar grin. He shook his head, still laughing, clearly tipsy. “Ah, stop.”

“What?” She tilted her head, still smiling.

“Dancing’s easy.”

“Yeah, right.” She raised an eyebrow, skeptically, but the laughter in her voice was undeniable.

“No, seriously,” Eddie said, his tone suddenly softer, more sincere, as if he meant it. He locked eyes with her for a moment. “It’s easy. Come on, now, right now.” Without missing a beat, he jumped to his feet, his movements slightly unsteady but full of energy. He held out his hand to her, the gesture so simple yet so meaningful.

She looked up into his face—those familiar eyes full of mischief and something deeper, something softer, something that made her chest flutter. A warm, light flush spread across her cheeks, and a rush of emotion flooded through her. She felt her pulse quicken as she stared at him, unsure of what to do next but desperately wanting to be near him.

She finally took his hand.

“You’re drunk,” she said, her voice breathy, her lips curling into a smile. “You don’t dance.”

“That's true, but!” Eddie grinned, his eyes twinkling with that familiar spark. “But we’re going now. Come on, get up.” He gently pulled her to her feet, his hand in hers, still gloved. His smile was wide and inviting. Chrissy stumbled slightly, her balance off, and she laughed, the sound light and carefree.

She glanced down at her gloved hand, still holding his. The soft fabric of her glove blocked the full contact she had wanted, and a tiny thought flickered in her mind. She could feel his warmth through the fabric, but it wasn’t the same. She wondered, briefly, why she’d taken off her hat but kept the gloves on.

But that fleeting thought vanished as Eddie pulled her closer, grinning like a kid. She couldn’t stop smiling, the joy bubbling up inside her, her cheeks burning with a rush of happiness.

“We don’t even have music,” she said, her voice almost teasing, yet soft.

Eddie winked at her. “Of course we do.”

He fished around in his leather jacket pocket and pulled out his old Walkman, the one he’d been listening to all day. The last tape still inside: Perfect Day by Lou Reed.

Chrissy’s eyes fell on the tape, and she burst into laughter. “Oh my god, this is the world’s most depressing song!”

“We can change its meaning,” Eddie said, his voice teasing, but his smile was warm, and there was a certain (a lot of) affection in the way he looked at her.

She took a deep breath and let out a laugh that felt freer than anything she’d experienced in years. Eddie helped her up gently, and she wobbled slightly, her body still adjusting to the warmth of the alcohol.

Eddie chuckled, watching her with a bright, excited energy.

She practically bounced on her feet, as if she couldn't hold back the joy bubbling up inside her.

"Oh wait!" Chrissy exclaimed, realizing her hands were still gloved.

She slid the glove off, eager to feel his skin against hers. He waited patiently, then gently held her soft, delicate hand in his with the most careful touch, as if she were made of porcelain.

The moment her fingers brushed against his, she felt a shiver run up her spine, a quiet electricity that she tried to ignore but couldn’t. His hand was warm, his grip steady, and for a moment, she just stood there, holding his hand, letting the connection linger.

She had never been touched like this before—her small hand inside his large, calloused one, worn from playing guitar. She felt the cold of his rings against her still-warm skin, but she didn’t need to worry, because his hands would warm hers in place of the glove.

Chrissy felt a chill in her stomach, the kind she hadn’t felt in years. Her cheeks tingled, and she lowered her gaze, trying to steady her breathing. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest, her body warm—but it wasn’t just the alcohol.

He handed her one of the headphones, keeping the other for himself. They both giggled, their faces flushed, as they fumbled with the tangled wires, trying to figure out how to share the music.

The scene was ridiculous and adorable—two tipsy, clumsy souls trying to make it work.

Eddie paused for a moment, and without warning, he gently asked for permission with a glance. She nodded with a soft smile, her heart fluttering.

When he slid his hand around her waist, it sent a sharp shiver through her, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks as the familiar cold sensation returned to her stomach.

The way he pulled her closer, his chest pressing gently against hers, made her body feel alive in a way she hadn’t expected.

She wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of his body or the proximity between them, but she could feel the heat from his skin through the layers of clothing they both wore. He felt solid, real, and comforting.

Her breath hitched as she unconsciously rested her free hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm.

Without saying a word, Eddie pressed play on the Walkman. The soft, familiar tune of Perfect Day by Lou Reed filled the small space between them.

The world outside seemed to vanish as they stood there, bodies close, swaying slightly to the music.

Chrissy’s heart raced again, but this time it wasn’t from nerves—it was from something new, something deep inside her that had awoken in this quiet, intimate moment. She looked up at him, and the connection between them felt so real, so full of promise.

The music played softly in the background, but in the small train carriage, everything around them seemed to be silenced. They were there, without haste, without words, just moving gently.

She could feel the rhythm of the music in the air, but their feet stayed still. It was as if time had slowed down, the snow falling outside creating the perfect backdrop for the moment, stretching out like a peaceful dream.

Chrissy looked up at Eddie, her body still warm from the closeness between them, and found him with his eyes closed. There was something vulnerable in the way he stood there, so near, yet so lost in the music and her presence.

When he rested his chin on top of her head, she felt a soft shiver, as if every strand of hair that brushed her skin was a delicate touch.

The intimacy of the moment deepened with every passing second, and she almost wanted to close her eyes too, but at the same time, she wanted to take in everything—the warmth of his body, the sound of the music, the peace of it all.

Suddenly, Eddie opened his eyes, and the moment they were sharing was broken. He realized she was looking at him, and their eyes met, almost instantly. He gave a slight start, a little embarrassed, and tried to cover it with a cough, shifting awkwardly as if trying to pretend he hadn't been caught in the act.

But just then, as the music picked up in tempo, Eddie grinned and, with a playful glint in his eyes, spun her around, making her laugh brightly. The sound was infectious, a burst of pure joy that made her heart race.

He pulled her back into him, their bodies pressed together, and they stood there for a moment, looking at each other. She couldn’t stop smiling, but as their faces drew closer, she lowered her eyes, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.

Only Eddie Munson could take the world’s most depressive song and turn it into a soundtrack for one of the happiest moments of her life.

She sighed softly, the music coming to an end, Lou Reed’s voice still lingering in the air, singing You just keep me hanging on.

Chrissy couldn’t help but wonder how five minutes had passed so quickly.

She didn’t want it to end. It was the feeling you get when something good is about to slip away, and you try to hold onto the last moments with desperation. That’s exactly how she felt as she laid her head on his chest.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” she whispered, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.

She could feel his chest, hard yet comforting against her cheek. The sound of his heartbeat was like music in itself, a rhythm that calmed her, wrapped her up in warmth.

“It’s the whiskey,” he replied softly, his breath brushing her skin as he chuckled lightly.

She could feel the vibration of his laughter against her face, still resting so close to him, and for a moment, she wished she could just melt into him—become part of him. To feel the happiness he brought her, all at once. To lose herself completely in that warmth, that lightness, that safe feeling she hadn’t known in so long.

“This is…so good,” she murmured, not sure if she said it aloud or just thought it.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the comfort of him, not wanting to let go.

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his chest so comforting. If she could, she would stay there forever, lost in that feeling. It felt like discovering happiness for the first time.

As the snow fell outside, and the warmth from the alcohol buzzed in their veins, Chrissy couldn’t help but think about how everything felt both incredibly fleeting and so incredibly real. The song, Perfect Day, had always felt like a bittersweet anthem—a reminder of everything she’d lost.

She had spent so many years, maybe too many, replaying moments in that forest, moments with Eddie that seemed to belong to another life. And now here they were, in this tiny, frozen world inside the train, laughing, dancing, like the years hadn’t even passed.

And yet, a quiet sadness tugged at her heart. She had spent the last decade replaying those memories, wondering why her life had only consisted of small, fleeting moments of happiness—moments that always slipped away too soon.

But tonight? Tonight was different. She was here, with him, laughing, feeling something she hadn't felt in years. Chrissy could almost feel hope swelling in her chest, mixing with the sadness, the thrill, the fear. She didn’t want to let go of this moment, this perfect, improbable night.

One hour with Eddie Munson was better than ten years of her life, just like that afternoon in the woods ten years ago was better than much of her life.

She knew, deep down, she’d spend the next ten years remembering this night—this song, this dance, the warmth of Eddie beside her.

The thought made her chest tighten.

But then, a thought lingered. Unless.

What if her life could be more than small, fleeting moments of happiness?

What if it could be more than just memories? What if, somehow, it could be a happy life?

A real life, with him in it, in all the ways she had always dreamed about, but was too afraid to imagine?

She looked up at Eddie, his wild eyes full of softness and something deeper, something real. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late for her to find out.

Her heart fluttered with the possibility.

The song ended, and she knew she should pull away, but neither of them moved, still wrapped in the moment.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered softly, and she laughed loudly, loving how he always managed to make her laugh, no matter the moment.

"You're such a fool, it's only 7 p.m.!" she teased him between giggles, playfully hitting his chest.

They both laughed, the sound echoing in the space between them. Then, the music shifted, a new song beginning to play softly.

"What’s this song?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity.

"Have no idea," he replied, just as she smiled at him, her heart lighter.

"Dancing feels so good. I should've danced more," she whispered slowly, her voice trailing off against his chest.

"I would have taken you to dance all the time if I had the chance," Eddie whispered so softly she almost didn't hear it. "And I don't even dance."

Then, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with a new light. Eddie quickly looked away, a little embarrassed.

"Sorry, I’m drunk," he mumbled, regretting his words immediately.

He regretted it, but then again, when it came to Chrissy, it always required courage. For the last 10 years—or, I mean, much more than just 10 years—he had never had the courage to tell her she was beautiful or that he liked her. He never had the courage to ask her out. After that almost-kiss on the couch, after that afternoon in the forest that he couldn’t decide whether was real or just a figment of his stoned mind, she left.

And for the next ten years, despite a string of one-night stands and fleeting relationships, he always thought about her. Chrissy Cunningham—how is she? Even though he tried not to think about her after the news of her marriage in 1988, the last he’d heard about her. And now, like a gift from destiny he doesn’t even believe in, she's here, in his arms... like a Christmas gift, like a dream.

Courage, Munson, courage, he told himself again.

He looked at her, her eyes bright and full of life. Her hand was still resting on his chest. He knew this might be his only chance to have her this close.

"It’s not obvious?" he whispered.

"What?" she asked, confused.

“That I’m crazy about you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I have been for over 15 years."

Her mouth parted in surprise, her heart racing. She slid her hand over his chest, their faces so close now that he could feel her breath on his skin.

He wasn’t sure if she was pulling away or if she intended to touch him differently—maybe his face. But he’d never know because, in that moment, the lights flickered on, and the sound of the train’s engine filled the air.

They jumped, startled, as the train started moving again, the world outside suddenly rushing back into focus.

The sudden change in atmosphere caught them off guard. Their moment was interrupted when a train worker entered, looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you two doing here? You need to get to your seats now."

They scrambled, rushing to gather everything scattered on the floor, disoriented and panicked. The train worker was shouting at them, ordering them to fasten their seatbelts and make their way to their seats.

The train was battling a snowstorm, and everyone needed to buckle up. In the chaos, they didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye, not even a glance exchanged between them.

They had tickets for different sections, and all of them were full, so they couldn't sit together. Chrissy was pulled away, dragged into another car, and Eddie was ushered to his own, separated from her.

But with every passing second, Chrissy couldn’t help but glance back, her heart aching. If it weren’t for the snowstorm shaking the train, she would have run after him, desperate to find him again, to not let this moment slip away.

She felt an invisible pull, a longing to go back to him, to hold onto whatever fleeting connection they’d shared.

Eddie sat alone in the cold silence of his seat, staring out of the window, lost in thoughts... How she lingered like a tattoo on him, permanent, forever etched into his soul, nothing could erase her. How she haunted all over his what-ifs.

He thought about how, from the moment he was young, he knew he loved her.

For him, she was love—everything about her was what love meant.

He knew she’d curse him for the longest time, that he’d spend his whole life chasing shadows in mundane places, wondering if he would ever see her again, wondering if she would ever feel the same way. He always knew she’d come back to him, even though, deep down, he knew this was just another cycle they couldn’t break.

And now, like every time before, he had lost her again.

The minutes dragged on, the clock ticking down the final hour of the ride. Chrissy couldn't stop looking back, her heart pounding. She had no idea which car Eddie was in—this train was so big, so full of people.

The chaos of the train stopping when they arrived in Hawkins only made things worse. Everyone rushed to grab their luggage and get off. The line at baggage claim was long, and her anxiety made it feel like she couldn’t breathe.

She wanted to jump out of the line, to run, to find him. She didn’t know what she was doing; she just needed to see him again. Her hands shook as she grabbed her bag, pushing past people, ignoring the complaints and shouts as she cut through the line. She didn’t care. She needed to move, to find him.

The moment she stepped off the train, the cold air hit her like a slap, and she stumbled, disoriented by the blizzard that had taken over.

Snow fell in thick sheets, making everything around her blurry and indistinct. The chaos around her—the crowd of people, the loud voices, the luggage being pulled off—only added to her growing panic.

She looked desperately from side to side, her eyes scanning the sea of faces, searching for him. Where was he?

Her heart raced. Over a hundred people were exiting the train, and with each passing moment, she felt more and more lost in the storm. It was dark. The night was swallowing her up. And through it all, she kept looking, hoping, praying she'd spot him.

Where is he? Is he looking for her too?

The thought buzzed in her mind, but it was quickly drowned by the chaos and the storm around her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep her focus. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, or why she was so frantic, but something deep inside urged her to keep moving.

Then...oh.

There he was.

Eddie Munson…

Clad in all black, standing against the sea of white snow, carrying his black suitcase in one hand and his guitar case in the other. The storm had swept his hair in wild directions, and only the red tip of his nose peeked through the strands. His gaze was low, distant, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

For a moment, everything else faded. The noise, the snowstorm, the confusion. All she could see was him.

It was just him. It was always him.

"Eddie!" she screamed.

He stopped, his heart leaping in his chest. He’d been looking for her, but when their eyes met, he froze in shock.

After everything he had confessed, he thought she'd want to distance herself. But there she was, standing in the snow, her eyes searching his with an intensity that matched his own.

And without thinking, without hesitation, she ran.

Her boots sank into the snow with each step, but she didn’t care. She had no idea what she was doing, but there he was, and that was all that mattered.

"You... you weren't even going to say goodbye?"

The hurt in her voice made his chest tighten. Her words hit him like a wave, soft but full of pain.

The snowstorm whipped around them, their hair flying in all directions, making it nearly impossible to keep their eyes open, but neither of them looked away.

"I didn’t want to say goodbye," Eddie said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I can’t say goodbye to you again. I can’t keep saying goodbye to you all the damn time, Chrissy Cunningham." He paused, his gaze softening. "But I know... I know there’s no other way."

The hurt in his face was clear—his nose red, but not from the cold. It was the kind of pain that went deeper, a sadness that weighed heavily on him.

She sighed deeply, her breath a cloud in the cold air. "I don’t want to say goodbye either, Eddie." Her voice broke, raw and vulnerable, her eyes never leaving his.

Their hearts pounded in their chests, fast and loud. Neither of them knew what to do, standing in the middle of the crowd, in the midst of the storm. The world rushed around them, yet they remained frozen, caught in their own moment.

"Come with me, Chrissy," he said. "Not just for Christmas, not just for now... but... come with me."

Courage. He had courage. He was finding it now.

His voice sounded desperate. The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the instant they did, fear gripped him.

Eddie regretted it, terrified of pushing her away with the intensity of his feelings. He opened his mouth to apologize, to say something less bold, but before he could, he saw her nod.

It wasn’t just a nod. It was as if she was agreeing to everything. To him. To the future. To the unknown. Yes…YES.

She gave him a big smile, the biggest in the world... and he... he smiled right back at her, the prettiest one that made her stomach flutter with butterflies.

They only broke the moment when hurried people brushed past them, their busy paths interrupting the stillness.

"Are these your things?" Eddie asked, looking at the heavy suitcase in her hand. She nodded. "Let me carry it for you," he said, his voice warm, but she just laughed again, the sound lifting his heart.

"Thank you," she smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest, not used to this kind of gentleness.

"Oh my God, it's freezing," Chrissy laughed, her teeth chattering slightly as they started walking, lost in the rhythm of their own steps.

"I'll keep you warm," Eddie whispered, his voice soft but sure, as if he would never let her feel cold again. "Can I?" he asked, his gaze meeting hers with a tenderness she hadn't expected.

She nodded without a second thought, her heart doing an excited leap in her chest.

She felt his hand—the one not holding their things—brush lightly against her cold fingers.

She hadn’t realized she’d forgotten her gloves, but the moment his skin touched hers, the chill melted away.

Eddie’s fingers gently caressed hers, a warmth spreading from his touch, so steady and comforting.

“There you go, ma’am,” he said softly, his grin playful as he blew warm air onto her frozen hands.

She laughed, the sound ringing out, a mixture of joy and surprise at how simple, yet intimate, this moment was.

“C’mon, before you catch a cold. Uncle Wayne left me a car this morning. He’s gonna love you.”

Eddie’s joy was overflowing, his excitement clear in his voice as he walked, nearly stumbling with happiness.

"Shit, sorry," he quickly apologized after bumping into a passerby, his enthusiasm getting the best of him.

Chrissy couldn’t help but laugh at how contagious his energy was.

Her first real Christmas. Her smile was wide and genuine, a blend of excitement and anticipation—this was real, this was hers. A Christmas filled with warmth, love, and the promise of something she had never experienced before.

"Do you like roast turkey? Uncle Wayne makes the best," Eddie asked, grinning at her with that spark of pure joy in his eyes.

"Yes, I love it!" she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

The feeling of happiness was so new, so refreshing, she couldn’t help but feel like a little kid again. This Christmas was going to be perfect.

They walked together through the snow, Eddie's smile wide and genuine, and Chrissy’s laughter ringing out in the cold air.

And as they moved forward, hand in hand, it felt like she could spend the whole night here, the whole life here—right here, with him.

Eddie's hand in hers felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if they had always been meant to find each other here, now, in this fragile, beautiful moment.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his face soft and full of longing, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite describe, but she knew it was everything she had ever wanted.

"I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

And in that moment, the snow fell around them like confetti, a celebration of what was to come.

Eddie's words, his touch, everything about this night felt like destiny weaving them together.

Her breath came out in clouds, but all she could think about was the way Eddie’s hand fit perfectly in hers, the way their laughter filled the air, the way everything felt so beautifully, effortlessly right.

And just as the chaos of the world outside seemed to swirl around them, she realized something: She wasn’t afraid anymore. She wasn’t afraid of love, of the unknown, or of the future. Because with Eddie by her side, everything felt... safe. Everything felt like it was going to be okay.

And as their hands intertwined, stepping into the snow, they both knew: this was just the beginning.

They kept walking, the world around them a blur of snow, light, and Christmas cheer, and Chrissy’s heart swelled with a love she had never known she was capable of feeling.

She had spent the last ten years believing that love only broke, burned, and ended. But on Christmas Day, amidst a snowstorm and a stalled train, in this whirlwind of snow and light — she watched it begin again.

The end.

I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you liked it, let me know <3

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