If this request motivates you at all-
Can we get a friends to lovers (?) with Michael Kelso x gn!reader where it’s like that scene where Jackie finds out that Hyde cheated on her, but instead of Jackie it’s reader. Later on Kelso finds reader trying to cry in silence, so he decides to try and cheer them up in his own himbo way.
The Playboy's Comfort (Michael Kelso X Reader)
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Summary: When you found out that Hyde cheated on you, you were left destroyed. When you need some help, you’re surprised by how comforting Kelso can be.
***
You knew what you were getting yourself into when you first started dating Steven. You knew about the alcoholic mom, the abandonment issues, all the things he tried to make unknown or seem unimportant by covering it with aloofness and weed.
But it was all so worth it once you got him to open up, past a friend level. He was sweet, in his own rough way. He let you wear his band shirts, saying so people knew you were his. But really, he just loved seeing you in his clothes. Your designated spot in the basement went from the end of the couch to his lap, because according to him, the view of the TV was better. But you knew it was because he liked being close to you. And you always sat in the passenger seat of his El Camino, even if someone else called shotgun. Everything felt perfect, except for one thing.
Steven seemed to have a problem with you and Kelso hanging out. It was fine if the whole gang was around, because then Steven could smack Kelso if he tried anything. You didn’t really understand the jealousy. Even though Kelso was always flirty, you two were just friends. But you just dealt with it. It was a little difficult, considering you and Kelso were close friends before you even started dating Steven, but you just went along with it. You didn’t want to start a fight over Kelso, of all people.
You were alone in the basement, waiting for your boyfriend to come home. He was working at the hotel during some kind of nurse convention. You both knew he’d be busy with it for the next few days, so he promised he would come home for his lunch break to spend time with you today. You were excited. Even though he made decent money from working in the kitchen, you saw him less than you used to. But today, he was stopping by the Hub, and you two would be enjoying crappy and greasy food soon.
“Oh, thank god you’re here.” A voice wept as someone busted open the door to the basement. It surprised you to see Kelso looking distressed. “You’ll never believe what just happened.”
“Kelso, are you okay?” You set the random comic you were reading down just in time for him to launch himself onto the couch, head in your lap. He curled up, looking scared. “What happened?”
He sighed, building up the courage to tell you what he just experienced. He mumbled something into your thigh.
“Say that again. I didn’t hear you.”
“... Fez had a sexy dream about me.”
You had to stop yourself from laughing. The sentence was so ridiculous, yet so believable.
“Oh?” That was all you could say without breaking down giggling.
“He said I was sponge-bathing him in a nurse’s outfit.” You exhaled through your nose to calm yourself down. But when you looked down, all amusement left. Kelso seemed genuinely traumatized. You sighed, combing a hand through his hair, which seemed to calm him down a bit. “Promise you won’t tell anyone. Especially Hyde. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”
“Kelso, it’s not that bad.”
“Y/n., I’m serious.” You rolled your eyes, but you supposed he had a point. Steven would hold this over Kelso’s head forever.
“Okay, fine. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Especially Hyde.” You continued stroking his hair.
“You’re the best, Y/n.”
***
It was the next day. You hadn’t seen Steven at all. He missed lunch with you yesterday and you never heard anything about a reschedule. But you knew that he was working today, so you decided to stop by. Maybe work was so hectic that he had forgotten that he was supposed to meet you for lunch. If all the nurses were like Kitty when she got a drink in her hand, you’d understand him missing your little get-together.
You went to the back of the hotel, where the staff parked. You knew he was here because you saw his El Camino in his favorite spot. God, how you loved that car.
You walked to the back door, about to open it, when it almost hit you in the face. You took a quick step back and saw Steven. His chef coat was balled up in his hands, and he was wearing his sunglasses. He looked surprised to see you.
“Hey.” He was uncharacteristically quiet.
“Hey, Steven. You missed our little lunch date and I haven’t really seen you, so I wanted to check on you. Are you on your break?”
“Uh, yeah, I am. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Oh, okay. Wanna sit in your car?”
“Sure.” The two sat in the El Camino. You could sense something was wrong with Steven, but you couldn’t think of what it could be.
“So…” You dragged the word out. Not getting the hint that you were waiting for him to talk, you got to the point. “What did you wanna talk to me about?”
He took a deep breath and took off his glasses. His eyes were red. But not the kind of red they would get after being in the circle. More glassy-eyed.
“I saw you with Kelso yesterday. And I heard you two talk about keeping a secret.” You thought back to yesterday and went through the conversation you had with Kelso. You suddenly realized that from an outside perspective, especially Steven’s perspective, that conversation could have been about something different.
“Steven, I swear, it’s not what you think.”
“I know.”
“Kelso was really freaked out about something, but he didn’t want me to tell anyone about it because it was really embarrassing for him.”
“I know.”
“But I promise, Steven, nothing is going on between us.”
“Y/n.” Steven’s voice was stern, but still soft. “I know. But…”
“But what?”
“I found out earlier today. But before I did, I was really angry.” He paused, sighing. “There was this nurse.”
You didn’t like where this was going. At all.
“What?”
“I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t even say it, but you knew exactly what happened.
“How could you, Hyde?”
He was taken aback by the sudden name change.
“Hyde?” Ever since you first started dating, you always called him Steven when you weren’t calling him some silly or sickly sweet nickname. Even when you two were fighting, you didn’t call him by his last name. “Wait, no. Y/n, please.”
“I can’t believe you would do this to me.”
“No, Y/n, it’ll never happen again. I promise.”
“How am I supposed to believe you?” He didn’t have an answer for that. You needed to get out of here. You suddenly hated being in his car. You hated the shirt of his that you were wearing. You hated him. “We’re done, Hyde.”
He reached for you as you opened the door.
“Baby, please.”
“Don’t.” There was finality and pain in your tone. His hand slowly drew back, and he let you leave.
***
A breakup was always hard. But this was more than that. Hyde was one of your first friends, you knew each other for over ten years. Dating him just deepened your bond. But now that was all shattered.
When you got home, you packed up all the things that Hyde had given you over the past year. You put on a sweater and threw the Led Zeppelin shirt you were wearing into the box, along with other little trinkets. Now all you had to do was give it to him. But you didn’t want to see Hyde. You couldn’t even bring yourself to go to the Forman’s house right now because you knew he’d be there.
So, you called Kelso.
Sure, he was part of the reason that led to you and Hyde breaking up. But he was still one of your closest friends. Plus, you knew everyone else was either busy or didn’t have a car.
“Thanks for helping me with this, Kelso.” You said, handing the box to him. He put it in his van and looked at you, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“It’s the least I could do. I feel really bad about being the reason you two broke up.”
“Oh, no, it’s not your fault.” He gave you a knowing look, which was weird because he wasn’t really aware of anything. “Okay, maybe a little. But he cheated on me because of an assumption.” God, you couldn’t even say Hyde’s name out loud.
“Well, getting rid of his stuff will help you get over him. Really drives home the point that you’re over. If Jackie did that the first time we broke up, we wouldn’t have gotten back together so many times.” You couldn’t help but snort.
“Yeah, that’s why you kept getting back together.”
“What can I say? People can’t get enough of me.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Feeling tired of standing, you sat on the floor of Kelso’s van. He sat next to you, drumming up a beat on his thighs with his hands. You looked behind you, to the box of Hyde’s things. It used to be yours and Hyde’s. Now it’s just Hyde’s.
Kelso was right. You and Hyde were really over.
“Oh, geez. Come here.” Kelso sighed, putting an arm around your shoulders to hug you. You didn’t even realize you were crying. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“But what if it’s not?” You sniffled. “I’ll still have to see him all the time. We’ve had the same friends since we were like seven. I’ll have to look at his stupid face and keep thinking about what he did.”
“I could beat him up if you want.” You laughed, despite the tears that kept coming.
“Kelso, I don’t think you’d get very far. You’ll come back with a black eye.”
“Yeah, probably. But it’d be worth it.” He rested his head on yours. “I really am sorry, Y/n.”
“I just wanna feel better.” Kelso hummed like he was thinking of something. He suddenly sat up straight, eyes darting to the box behind him before looking at you.
“I have an idea.”
***
“I don’t know about this Kelso, it’s still his stuff.”
“He cheated on you, Y/n!”
“You cheated on Jackie multiple times. I don’t exactly think you have the moral high ground on this.”
Kelso had taken you to Mount Hump. At first, you were threatening to jump out of the van, because how could he try to take advantage of you while you’re so vulnerable? But then he explained his idea on how to get you past Hyde and the breakup.
Throw everything he gave you off a mountain.
“Come on, Y/n, it’ll make you feel good.” Kelso set the box down on the ground and looked through it. He pulled out a bracelet and handed it to you.
“Aw.” You fiddled around with the bracelet before looking up at Kelso, who was waiting for you to do something. “I dragged Hyde to the mall one time, and I saw this bracelet in the window at some snooty shop. But I couldn’t afford it. Later that day, he pulled it out and put it on me. Apparently, when I was trying some clothes on, he went back to the store and swiped it for me.” It was one of the sweetest things he had given you, even though he stole it.
You threw it as hard as you could.
“Give me something else.”
“That’s the spirit!” Kelso handed you something else from the box. Not even looking at it, you threw it.
Soon enough, the box was empty, and you and Kelso were looking at the view.
“You know, it’s kinda weird to see something besides a bunch of panties here. But you were right, it did make me feel better.” You turned to Kelso and went up on your toes to hug him. “Thank you, Kelso.”
“No problem.” The squeezing hug he gave you felt so comforting, like he was taking the last of the hurt out of you. You heard him take a deep breath, and then he kissed the side of your head. Confused by the affection, you pulled away slightly. He looked a little startled, like he was scared about what you’d do next.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.” He answered quickly. “I’m sorry.”
���Don’t be.” He nodded. You didn’t really want to have a rebound this soon, especially with Kelso being that rebound. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t like the affection.
“Um… wanna get something to eat?”
“I’d like that.”
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THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 27
stranger things
eddie munson x reader
rated e
6.9k
spotify playlist
for @punk-in-docs
fem/witch/goth!reader, sweetheart!eddie, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, chasing, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, blood, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, running away, guns, fist fighting, everyone survives, suicide ideation, tags will be updated as needed
Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?
Weird weird?
He shrugged. He liked weird.
In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.
note: This was going to be the last chapter, but it's too long. I'm splitting it and posting what's completed. Expect a last chapter and epilogue. Thank you for sticking with me!
27
The doorbell chime made him start, which was stupid. An invasion wouldn’t start with someone ringing the goddamn doorbell. He stared unseeing at the den’s television while MTV went to commercial.
Also, he should be used to the noise. Steve’s house was a hub of activity, between the phone ringing and the doorbell going off and people talking.
Footsteps thumped overhead. He identified that as the man of the house himself walking to the front door. A moment later, multiple voices, all male, rumbled from the foyer. Several pairs of footsteps moved farther into the house.
Then your voice joined the mix. He couldn’t gauge your tone, other than you weren’t pissed. He turned down the TV volume and frowned at the basement ceiling when you kept talking. A male voice said something you replied to.
Eddie eased from the sectional couch and padded to the foot of the stairs. Of course, it didn’t gain him anything. The door at the top remained closed, muffling any conversation. He considered creeping up the stairs, but he didn’t know where the creaks hid in the treads.
He put a knee on the third tread and crawled forward to half-lay on the stairs. Now midway to the door, he could distinguish between the voices. Yours, of course, Steve’s every so often, then three others.
No one sounded defensive or upset, so that eased his mind. Somewhat.
Everyone kept talking, though. He racked his brain for what they could be discussing. It probably had something to do with yesterday’s visit. He hoped it wasn’t government officials who’d changed their minds about not dragging him to prison. Or worse yet, to some underground lab to conduct experiments on him.
What if they were here for you, though?
Maybe they’d figured out you had magic and wanted you to do stuff for them. While in their clutches, they’d take bio-samples from you. They’d clone you — was that even possible? — or make babies in petri dishes — that had to be possible — to grow a whole witch army and take over the world.
Of course, the thought of having a second you intrigued him. Would a clone kiss like you? Taste like you? Would she moan like you do when he sinks inside her? Would one of you sit on his face while the other rode his dick?
His cock grew heavy and hot in his borrowed briefs.
Jesus H. Christ, he chided. Fucking focus.
It was quiet. Too quiet. He strained to hear what was going on.
Soft footsteps shuffled near.
He shot off the stairs and turned towards the TV. He couldn’t be discovered hanging around near the stairs with a half-chub like a perv. And the sleep-pants did nothing to hide it. His gaze darted to the VHS tape storage cabinet by the TV.
That would work.
He careened around the scuffed coffee table. The loops of the cable-box controller tangled around his foot. Like Gandalf in the Balrog’s whip, he’d been caught.
He hissed, “Shit, shit, shit,” as he hopped to the cabinet, shaking his foot free.
The basement door opened. He grabbed the cabinet for balance. A drawer of tapes wobbled open. He shoved it closed. Tapes clattered. Whoever opened the drawer next was going to have to repack it. Whoops. But it was cool. Everything was cool. He checked his crotch. His half-chub had subsided.
“Eddie?” you said as you descended the stairs.
He faced you, propping an elbow on top of the cabinet.
You’d changed into those black jeans he liked. They hugged your thighs and ass. He willed his dick to stay soft.
“Hey, hi, what’s up?”
You gave him a curious look as you stepped down into the basement.
“You okay?”
He waved a hand in a general sort of way.
“Other than, you know, everything, yeah, I’m okay.”
You nodded, though he could tell you knew something was off.
He said, “I was going to pick out a movie.” He glanced at the stairs. “Is everything okay up there?”
You approached him like he was a cornered dog.
“Yeah, everything’s fine, but don’t freak out—”
“Freak out about what?” he asked, warning sirens blaring through his mind.
“The police are here, and they want to take your statement.”
He straightened.
“Statement about what?”
“The night Chrissy died.” You held up your hands before he could protest. “I just gave them my statement about my interactions with Jason Carver. Who is dead.” With eyes wide, you gave him a leading look and head tilt. “I know you’ve had interactions with Jason, too.”
He nodded along as the implication clicked into place.
“Yeah, I’ve had interactions with Carver.”
“You want to give a statement to the police about that night with Jason and Chrissy?”
No, he did not, yet if he didn’t, he’d never be free. Vecna would continue to ruin his life. While Eddie still wasn’t sure about the existence of an afterlife, he wouldn’t give that asshat the satisfaction.
He girded his metaphorical loins — why did everything circle back to his crotch? — and headed upstairs. You walked behind him, not crowding him, but close enough to be supportive. He wanted to look at you, really look at you, and confess his love again. Just in case this all fell apart. There wasn’t time — and he was certain if he did, he’d wuss-out. Compound that with the fact he couldn’t hold your gaze for more than a second, he’d definitely wuss-out.
Taking two steps into the living room, he froze. He must be hallucinating. Chief Hopper, the very one who’d been there at Dad’s arrest, who supposedly died in the Starcourt fire, stood by the dining table. Though there was considerably less of him around the middle, his hair was buzzed short, and he looked like he’d lost a fight with the Wolfman, there was no question it was him.
Chief Powell sat at the table, facing the room. Metal crutches had been propped against the table next to him. Eddie recognized the deputy who stood at Powell’s left. He couldn’t recall a name, but he’d seen the deputy around town.
Steve leaned a shoulder on the tall curio cabinet behind the table. It was a King Steve pose he’d observed many a time at school. The sling and bandages were absent, courtesy of you.
You stepped beside Eddie and took his numb hand. On instinct, he curled his fingers around yours.
Hopper stepped forward, expression calm and hands placating.
“You’re not in trouble, kid.”
If it had come from anyone else, he’d consider it a lie. For a cop, Hopper had been a decent one. He’d ignored Eddie’s underage drinking at the Hideaway. He’d issued warnings instead of speeding tickets.
You turned your head to whisper, “I won’t let them take you even if they try.”
He gave a minute nod before releasing your hand and marching to the table. If they tried to arrest him, he hoped he’d retained that undead speed. He pulled out the chair across from Powell to sit.
You went to stand by Steve, who gave you a warm look. If anything happened, Eddie knew Steve would protect you and vice versa.
Powell cleared his throat and pressed the Record button on the cassette recorder to start the interrogation.
“Chief Calvin Powell and former Chief Jim Hopper speaking with Edward Munson, Monday, March 31st, 1986.” To Eddie, he said, “Mr. Munson, you’re not under arrest. All we want is your account of what happened the night of March 21st.” When he nodded, Powell said as an aside, “Note Mr. Munson nodded in understanding.” He continued, “We have multiple statements from witnesses placing you at Hawkins High School during the basketball game that night. We also have several overlapping accounts attesting to Jason Carver threatening them at gunpoint at a later date.”
Eddie nodded again, wanting to say that didn’t surprise him. However, Dad’s warning to never talk to cops kept him silent.
“These folks stated Jason Carver said he’d sacrifice them for this town. They claim he’d wanted to break their bones. Does that sound like something he could do?”
Eddie glanced at you and Steve. If he followed Dad’s warning, he’d never get out of this. Of course, he didn’t have to give them everything at once. That would be out of character. He had to think like a DM and give them just enough to lead them where the party wanted them to go.
“Yeah, along with pinning all those murders on me,” he said.
Planting his elbows on a nearby chair back, Hopper said, “Sounds like he had the whole town fooled.”
He bobbed his head in agreement.
“I heard he hijacked a town hall meeting.”
Powell shifted in his seat.
“Mr. Munson, did Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your home the night of March 21st?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recall the time?”
“No, not exactly.” He glanced up in thought. “I guess after ten?”
“What were they doing there?”
“Said they wanted drugs.”
“Did you sell them drugs?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have drugs.”
Which he didn’t. Now.
“But they thought you had drugs to sell?”
He met Powell’s gaze and said, “I can’t presume to know what they thought.”
Powell sighed, frustration clear.
“Alright. Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham enter your house sometime after ten, looking to purchase drugs. Then what?”
“I left them in the living room.”
Just like he’d left Chrissy for Vecna to kill. Bait on a hook.
“To do what?”
“Get my cigarettes.”
He could do with one right about now.
“Why would you get your cigarettes?”
“Why does anyone get cigarettes?” He shrugged with a huff. “I wanted a smoke, and I forgot them in my room.”
“Then what happened?”
He rolled his shoulders as if uncomfortable.
“They began arguing.”
“About?”
“I don’t know. I was still in my room.”
“But you know they were arguing?”
“Yeah, Jason raised his voice at Chrissy.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I grabbed my cigarettes and came back to the living room.”
“Did you step in?” Powell angled his head. “Try to intervene?”
“No, it was too late—”
“Too late?”
“Look, he was yelling at her. She said something. Might’ve been his name, I don’t know. Then it got quiet, and then I heard a real loud thump. When I came out, Chrissy was on the floor.”
Instead of floating midair.
“Alive?”
“I don’t know, but she wasn’t moving.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I wanted to go to her, but Jason was…” He shook his head, remembering how intense Carver could get. “Jason was out of his mind.”
“What do you mean, out of his mind?”
“He was, like, in a rage. Scared the shit outta me.”
“How so?”
“He screamed and pounded on his chest.” He mimicked what he saw in his mind, knocking his fist against his breastbone. “His eyes were wild, like something else was behind them.”
“Something else?”
He blew out a breath. This was make-or-break in the story.
“I’m not religious or anything, but he looked… He looked fucking possessed.” He rubbed his forehead. “I know how this sounds, okay? I know this sounds crazy.”
It was quiet for a moment before Powell asked, “Did Jason Carver have the same reaction the night of March 25th at Lover’s Lake?”
“I don’t know. He and—uh…” He snapped his fingers as though trying to recall. “A teammate?”
“Patrick McKinney.”
“McKinney, yeah. They were in the water, coming after me.”
“Where were you?”
“In a fishing boat, trying to get away from them, but I lost my balance and fell in the water.”
“Did you see what happened to Patrick?”
“No, I was swimming away from them.”
Powell nodded in acceptance.
“Okay, back to March 21st: Jason and Chrissy. Jason was screaming, and Chrissy was on the floor.”
“Yeah, I wanted to go to her.” He looked at the table, muttering, “I wanted to save her. Get her away from him.”
He’d tried to do it. He’d shaken her shoulders and yelled for her to wake up, snap out of it, anything, but Vecna’s hold was too powerful. Whatever she’d needed to break the curse, he hadn’t had it.
“What did Jason do?” asked Powell.
“He came after me. He chased me out of the living room.”
“Where did you go?”
“I ran out of the trailer.”
“Did you go to a neighbor?”
“No, I got in my van and left the trailer park.”
“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”
He threw a glance at Hopper. He suspected Hopper would’ve taken him seriously, but that hadn’t been a possibility. Everyone thought Hopper was dead. Including himself.
“Like any of you would’ve believed me — the son of a convicted car thief, trailer trash, a super senior, a freak — over Hawkins’ golden boy, the captain of the basketball team.”
Powell and the deputy looked equal parts uncomfortable and insulted.
Good.
“So, yeah,” he said. “I ran and hid, and Jason kept chasing me.”
While you morons stood around with your heads up your asses.
“Why do you think he did that?” Powell asked.
“Probably because I saw him hurt Chrissy. I was the only witness. Get rid of me, one way or another, and no one would ever know what he’d done.”
Powell shared a look with the deputy, whose face was unreadable. Powell saw something there, though, and turned to him.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Munson. We’d appreciate it if you stayed in town until we conclude our investigation.”
“Yeah, sure, of course.”
He didn’t know where he’d go or how he’d get there. He’d hidden his van in the woods off Coal Mill Road. He needed to retrieve it, but not until it was safe to leave this house. Also, he didn’t know where Wayne was, or if he’d survived. The thought made his insides shrivel and tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.
Hopper clapped him on the back, knocking him into the present. The cassette recorder was gone.
“Glad you’re still with us, kid.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Powell arranged his crutches to stand. The deputy assisted, while Steve straightened to show them to the front door. Powell shuffled around the table, his right leg supported at an angle.
Eddie felt your concerned focus directed at him, but he couldn’t indulge himself. Instead, he watched Steve lead the police to the door. Something compelled him out of his chair and moving towards them.
“Hey, Hop,” he said.
Hopper faced him, heavy brow lifted in interest.
“Wayne— Have you seen— I mean, do you know if my uncle’s alive?”
Hopper contemplated the question for a second.
“No, but I think I know who might.” He jutted his chin in a reassuring way. “I’ll give ‘em a call.”
“Thanks.”
Hopper nodded before jogging to catch up with Powell and the deputy outside. He said something to Steve in passing that made Steve grin.
Once Steve shut the door, Eddie dragged his ass to the table and flopped into his chair.
“Jesus, fuck…”
You asked, “Want a beer?”
He rubbed at his eyes, saying, “That’s a good start.”
-
“Holy shit,” Robin said from her seat at the kitchen island.
You kept smearing melting butter on your toast. Steve grunted in front of the gurgling coffee maker. Eddie, who sat across from her, remained quiet.
You’d learned Robin said ‘holy shit’ about a lot of things.
“Guys,” she said with a flap of the morning newspaper. “Guys, look at this.”
Steve abandoned his vigil to see what Robin was holy-shit-ing about. You took a bite of toast and turned. His eyes widened when he read what Robin had pointed out.
“Holy shit.”
Eddie, chin in hand, hummed as he stared at the window over the sink. However, your curiosity had been piqued. You stopped beside Eddie, anticipating Steve sliding the newspaper in front of you. When he did, you swallowed and stared at the headline:
DEVELOPMENT IN LOCAL TEEN MURDERS
You scanned the article. It mentioned the nationwide Satanic panic and how citizens had been led to believe a local cult was sacrificing children to the Devil. The writer praised cooler heads, namely Chief Powell and his deputies, who continued to investigate despite the earthquake and subsequent volcanic fissure eruption.
Ah, you thought, that was how they were covering up the destruction near the closed nexus.
Chief Powell was quoted:
“There is irrefutable evidence Edward Munson is the victim of false accusations. This office has cooperated with federal investigators and spoken with numerous local, credible witnesses to determine such a conclusion.”
Despite police not identifying a person of interest, the writer insinuated the actual murderer might be amongst those who had advocated for hunting down Eddie. They speculated the public accusations against Eddie had been a diversion. While the police investigation remained ongoing, an insider let slip police were closing in on a suspect.
The writer went on to report neither local nor federal investigations uncovered any cult, Satanic or otherwise, in the area. Of course, citizens were welcome to report any cult activity to the sheriff’s office. The article ended with the newspaper promising to keep readers informed.
Holy shit.
“Eddie,” you said, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Read this.”
He blinked a few times before pulling his attention away from the window. With a concerned look, he glanced around the island.
“What?”
You pushed the newspaper in front of him and tapped a finger on the headline. He perused the accompanying article, eyes widening as he read.
To Steve, you said, “Better call Nancy.”
He nodded and dialed Nancy’s number on the kitchen phone. After a playful exchange with Mrs. Wheeler, during which Robin rolled her eyes, Steve’s manner turned serious. From listening to half of the conversation, you deduced Nancy had seen the article. He mentioned Dr. Owens, along with Jason Carver. Nancy said more about Jason, but you couldn’t make out her words.
Steve nodded as she spoke, though. When he hung up, you gave him an expectant look.
“The Feds found Jason Carver’s body. Or what’s left of it. His gun’s missing, but there were bullet casings nearby. Nance told Owens about Carver at The WarZone buying a gun, so that’s a lead for them.”
“It corroborates my story about him, too,” you said.
“And the Sinclairs’,” Robin said, leaning an elbow on the island.
After she’d returned to Steve’s last night, she told you, Eddie, and Steve about the police collecting statements from Lucas and Erica. Their statements had led to yours, then Eddie’s. Maybe others’. Who knows how many people Jason had terrorized after Chrissy’s murder.
You nodded as you pondered how many doors he’d knocked on before coming to yours. It was fortunate he’d found you before Mom. If he’d confronted her instead of you, she’d know all about you and Eddie. It’s funny how you’d been debating on introducing him that day. Eddie still had no idea.
Eddie slid from his stool, mumbling something about a shower. You watched him leave the kitchen. While you’d give him privacy, you first needed to tell him. It was an urge, like a hand pushing at the middle of your back.
He was halfway up the stairs when you reached him.
“Eddie, hang on.”
He stopped without turning to face you, hand on the railing.
“What?”
“The Saturday after Chrissy was killed…”
“Yeah?”
“Jason came looking for you.” When he said nothing, you continued, “I was out front planting—”
“Why’re you telling me this?”
“It’s called backstory.”
He turned his head enough for you to see his jaw around his hair, yet he remained quiet.
“He called me your girlfriend.”
“And I bet a whole bunch of other things.”
You sighed, though you remembered Jason’s accusations.
“That doesn’t matter. What matters was my plan for that day.”
“Plan?”
“I wanted to introduce you as my boyfriend to my mom when you picked me up. I was going to run it by you first, of course, but I wanted to.”
Voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, “Well, the pressure’s off now, isn’t it? They’re out of town for the foreseeable future, right?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Your mouth fell open as he stomped from view.
What an asshole thing to say. You’d been trying your best this entire goddamn time.
“I hope your shower sucks,” you snapped, climbing the rest of the stairs.
His bedroom door closed with a definitive click.
You went to your room and shut the door. If he wanted to be a little brat about it, let him. All you’d wanted to do was tell him the truth. You understood he’d had the worst week and a half in the history of the world. You’d cut him some slack, but you were no doormat.
Maybe it was too little too late, though, and maybe he didn’t need to know. You sat on the bed and wiped at your stinging eyes. Why did you have to bring this up now? Of all times? It was just… It was just that you wanted him to know you’d… Been serious about him? Remained serious about him? That you’d never been embarrassed to be with him?
But shit, he’d been the one who wanted to pause the relationship. If he hadn’t, you would’ve introduced him much sooner. Sure, your father wouldn’t have been supportive, but no one you’d ever associated with ever met with his approval. He hadn’t liked your friends in New York. You weren’t sure you liked your friends in New York anymore, either.
Mom would’ve been more open-minded, though.
Dammit, you needed to call them.
It would still be foolish to call from Steve’s house. You could call from the hospital’s payphone again. You thought you remembered one in front of Bradley’s. With all the extra people Steve had been hosting and feeding, you assumed he needed groceries. A visit to Bradley’s would take care of both issues.
You changed into street clothes and slung your purse over your shoulder before heading downstairs. Steve and Robin sat at the kitchen island, chatting between spoonfuls of cereal. It reminded you of hearing their voices in the middle of the night. It made you miss Eddie even though he was only upstairs.
Greeting them with a soft “hey,” you volunteered to do a grocery run. Steve fumbled his spoon when you asked for a shopping list. Milk sloshed onto the counter. He wiped at the spill with the hem of his t-shirt.
Robin watched him with exasperation before fetching a paper towel.
“That shirt’s going to smell so bad tomorrow.”
He snatched the paper towel from her hand, saying, “You’re going to smell so bad tomorrow.”
“Real mature, dingus.”
He aimed a goofy sneer at her.
After cleaning the spill, he finished the shopping list and retrieved some cash. Robin offered money, but you and Steve refused to accept it. With their hours at Family Video reduced, and Robin’s parents making her pay for her band equipment, it didn’t feel right. You and Steve weren’t hurting for money, in any case.
“Remember, we’ll be gone by the time you get back,” he said, handing you the list and money.
You nodded and pocketed both. They were volunteering at the school, which was kind of them. It was also convenient for you since you’d probably argue with Eddie when you returned. He’d acted like a brat and deserved a spanking like one.
“Maybe I’ll join you two tomorrow?”
“That would be awesome,” said Robin, perking up and scooping soggy Cheerios from her bowl. “You can make meals with me and Vickie.”
“Cool.” You gave her a teasing look. “I want to meet Vickie and hear all about you two in Band.”
Robin blushed, hands fluttering. An arc of milk and cereal splashed across the counter.
Steve laughed, “God, Robin!”
“Shit, sorry!”
With a chuckle, you wished them a good day and left the kitchen. You didn’t want to be the next thing they flung milk on. As you crossed the living room, you noted Eddie’s closed door. That was fine by you. He should stay in there and chill the hell out.
On the drive to Bradley’s, you mulled over what to tell your parents. You couldn’t say you wanted to stay because of your boyfriend, who they didn’t know existed, or that said boyfriend was the accused cult leader everyone in town had been hunting. You couldn’t say you hated Hawkins, but the thought of leaving right now made you want to cry. And you certainly couldn’t say you were bunking with the flirty clerk from Family Video.
Bradley’s half-full parking lot was a strange sight for a Tuesday. With the ads in the windows exclaiming Two For Tuesday, you expected a swarm of shoppers. Then again, half of Hawkins had fled less than a week ago.
You bought two cans of generic soda from the machine out front with a couple of dollars. That supplied plenty of coins to make a long-distance call. You carried the sodas to the car. They’d be nice with lunch. Which was a meal. And Robin had invited you to volunteer making meals with her and Vickie.
Volunteering was a decent excuse to stay.
You deposited the sodas in the car’s drink holders and rushed to the payphone. After paying and dialing the Cincinnati number, the line rang twice before Mom answered. She sounded relieved to hear from you and asked after your car. It took you a second to recall the lie you’d left on their answering machine. You replied the radiator leak hadn’t been bad and had been repaired.
“Then when should we expect you?”
You sighed.
“I don’t want to come down to Cincinnati.”
Incredulous, she asked, “You want to stay in Hawkins?”
Your father’s voice rumbled in the background.
“Yes, actually,” you said. “I’m volunteering at the school. With friends.”
“The same friends you’re staying with?”
You nodded with a “yes.”
In reply, you got the swish of Mom putting her palm over the receiver. Your father’s voice sharpened, though you couldn’t make out his words. Mom responded, yet it didn’t sound like that pacified him.
You closed your eyes, waiting for him to grab the phone from her. Shaking your head, you realized preparing to be berated was something a previous version of yourself would’ve done.
“Mom.” When she didn’t answer, you said, “Mom.”
“Y-yes, honey? What is it?”
“I gotta go — I’m in the middle of a grocery run — but don’t worry about me. Everything’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll call you again, alright?”
“Honey… Where—? Your father—”
“No. I don’t care what he wants to yell about. I’m fine here. I’m safe, I promise. Just…” You took a stuttering breath. “I love you.”
She sighed.
“We love you, too.”
Your hand trembled as you placed the phone handset on the hook. A nickel dropped into the return slot. You never make anyone’s life easier, Vecna had said, using Eddie’s voice. You left it. The next person might need it. Besides, it was only a nickel. You turned to rest your back on the sun-warmed brick.
You’d done the right thing by staying. You were doing the right thing. It was the difficult thing, but you’d faced tougher. You weren’t some spoiled little rich girl who ran away from the aftermath. Even if it hurt — and it probably would. Even if Eddie left you — and it appeared as though he might.
You couldn’t worry about that right now. There were practical things to do. You felt like Scarlett O’Hara as you told yourself you’d think about the aftermath later.
Inside Bradley’s, shoppers and clerks spoke in hushed tones. Beeps from the checkouts didn’t carry beyond the cart corral. The quiet helped you concentrate on Steve’s shopping list. Item by item, you filled your cart, having to substitute skim milk for 2%, whole-wheat bread for white, and a carton of eighteen eggs instead of a dozen.
Steve had written ‘12 eggs,’ like you could buy them individually.
You huffed a laugh when turning into the ransacked paper aisle. The shelves for the industrial-sized packs of toilet paper were empty. That left you stepping onto the lowest shelf and struggling for the last two packs of the expensive floral-printed stuff at the back.
At the checkout, the clerk issued a rehearsed apology for the shortages. With the volcanic fissures now closed and road crews fixing the damage, they assured you shipments would start coming again soon. They helped bag your order since there weren’t enough baggers. They apologized for that, too.
You waved away their apologies and thanked them for their assistance. Because you weren’t an entitled person who didn’t appreciate a favor when it was offered.
Once the car’s trunk was loaded, you headed back to Steve’s. You didn’t know what you were going to say to Eddie about this morning, or how to broach the subject. He’d been dealing with so much stress. You understood that. You didn’t want to be another stressor. He needed to talk to you — or someone. He couldn’t just bottle up his emotions and get snippy when someone wasn’t mindful of his unspoken wishes.
As you made the left onto Cornwallis, an older truck paused at the stop sign on your right and followed you. You hoped they wouldn’t get aggressive when you slowed to get your bearings. You still weren’t used to the neighborhood. Something about it kept screwing with your sense of direction. Maybe it was how all the houses were set back from the road and obscured with manicured shrubs.
You recognized evergreen bushes and the u-shaped driveway of Steve’s house. You put on your turn signal. The truck did the same. You frowned at the rearview mirror, but pulled into the driveway. If the driver was some irrational, as your father had put it, country bumpkin, you’d make them regret tailing you.
You parked beside the enclosed carport and stepped out of the car, leaving your keys in the ignition and purse on the passenger seat. The truck stopped a few yards away. Sunlight glinted off its windshield. The engine went silent.
You stayed inside the vee of your open car door and waited for the driver to reveal themself.
The truck’s door creaked open, window reflecting the greenery of the front yard. Dusty work-boots hit the driveway. Something about them struck you as familiar. You studied the truck as you racked your mind for why.
The truck door clapped shut.
You gasped, eyes going wide. It was Eddie’s uncle, Wayne. He had a black eye and a shallow scratch at the top of his forehead, but otherwise appeared unharmed. You pushed the car door closed and hurried to him.
“Mr. Munson, oh my God! I didn’t— I’m so glad you’re okay!”
With a wry note in his voice, he said, “It’s good to see you, too.”
You offered your hands, which he grasped in his rougher ones. Tears prickled at your eyes. You hadn’t realized how on edge you’d been about Wayne’s absence until he was there.
You squeezed his hands, saying, “Eddie’s going to be thrilled to see you.”
He squeezed back as his expression softened, yet hardly shifted.
“Is he here?”
“Yes, sir.” You nodded. “He’s okay. He’s been asking about you.”
Wayne hummed, sounding pleased. “After that girl was found… Well, I’m sure you know by now. And with the trailer park done split in two, I’ve been staying at the Motel 6.”
“Of course, that makes sense.”
“This Henderson boy said Eddie was in the hospital when I dropped by the school on Saturday, but then that eruption happened.” He gave you a knowing look. “Course, the hospital didn’t have a record of Eddie being there.” He harrumphed and gently released your hands. “Then this morning, Agent Stinson, the one that put me up at the Motel 6, paid me a visit and told me about my nephew recuperating here.”
You glanced at Eddie’s bedroom window.
“Please, come in,” you said, pivoting to show him inside. “I’ll take you to him.”
“I first have a favor to ask.”
“Sure, anything.”
“Will you help this old man get a few things from the truck?”
You grinned.
“Absolutely.”
He led you to the back of the truck. You gasped a second time in so many minutes. Three guitar cases lay in the truck bed. You put a hand on your tight chest.
“I didn’t want to leave ‘em with no one at home,” said Wayne.
He’d never given up on Eddie. Like you, he’d known Eddie was innocent. His days must’ve been horrible, full of waiting and dread. You couldn’t imagine the stares and comments he must’ve gotten at work.
“—fit the amps, but I know these mean more.”
You nodded, feeling like a bobblehead doll as you blinked back tears.
“Whoa, hey now, don’t cry.”
You tried to reply you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come.
Wayne put a strong arm around your shoulders, grounding you. His faded denim jacket smelled of tobacco.
The guitars were just objects and could be replaced, of course, but Wayne was right: they meant something. You’d bet Eddie had resigned himself to replacing them. Coming to terms with that must’ve hurt.
You shook your head at the good fortune, then gave Wayne a smile.
Now, Eddie wouldn’t have to go through that.
It took you a few tries, but you finally said, “He’s going to lose it when he sees you and these.”
“Eh, I reckon more for the guitars than me.”
You laughed as Wayne lowered the tailgate. He handed you the acoustic case and bossed around the two electrics. You closed the tailgate for him and led the way into the house. Television noise came from the open basement door.
In the living room, you and Wayne had a hushed conversation about leaving the guitars there. He wanted to surprise Eddie. You loved the idea and propped the acoustic against a sofa arm. Wayne added the electrics next to it before following you to the top of the stairs.
“Eddie?” you called.
“Yeah?”
“You have a visitor.”
“What? Who?”
You stepped to the side, giving Wayne access to the stairs. Eddie choked out something when Wayne was halfway down. You leaned on the doorframe, biting your grinning lip, waiting for their first exchange. However, it was quiet. You snuck a glance. Eddie’s arms were around Wayne, and Wayne’s around him. His fingers dug into Wayne’s jacket.
You closed the door to allow them privacy.
Taking a step towards the guitars, you remembered the groceries thawing in your car. That was unlocked. With the key in the ignition. And your purse in the passenger seat.
You dashed to the car and began unloading it. The kitchen counters filled with bags. Each trip obscured the counters until brown paper surrounded you.
By the time you finished stocking the refrigerator and pantry, Eddie and Wayne had emerged from the basement. Eddie’s excited voice came from the living room, making you smile. You padded to the doorway to watch the second reunion. Eddie knelt in front of the red guitar’s open case.
Wayne said to him the same thing he’d told you: he couldn’t abandon the guitars.
Wordlessly, Eddie nodded and stood. He hugged Wayne again, murmuring something into his shoulder. Wayne put a hand on the back of Eddie’s head and ruffled his hair as he replied. Eddie laughed with a sniffle.
You ducked your head and crossed your arms. If you saw him cry, you’d cry. Then Wayne would be stuck in a house of the emotionally compromised.
When Eddie and Wayne separated, you cleared your throat to make your presence known. Eddie beamed at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Wayne was more restrained, but he appeared just as happy.
“Mr. Munson, would you like to stay for lunch?” you asked.
“I’d like that, but I can’t. The plant’s understaffed, and I’m workin’ a double.”
Eddie wilted, but you didn’t want him to give up hope. He needed something to look forward to.
You asked, “Maybe on a day off?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at Eddie. “My Friday’s free.”
“Come for lunch,” said Eddie.
“Yeah, stay as long as you want. Stay for dinner.” Raising your eyebrows at Eddie, you said, “We can invite the rest of the party. Make it a potluck.”
“I think we better run that by Steve first.”
“Like he’ll refuse.”
Eddie conceded the point with an agreeable shrug.
To Wayne, he said, “Steve’s got cable downstairs. There’s at least one sports channel.”
“Well, I suppose that’s a good enough reason to return.”
Eddie barked a laugh and knocked his elbow against Wayne’s. He then turned to Wayne and perched his chin on the back of his hands, blinking owlishly.
“You mean my spectacular personality isn’t reason enough?”
Wayne said drily, “Your personality is a spectacle, alright.”
Eddie laughed again. Wayne’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips curved into a private grin.
After a moment, Wayne said, “Well, I best be off.”
“Thank you for coming by,” you said.
Eddie nodded.
“Thanks for everything.”
“Anytime.”
You heard the love in that one word. Eddie must’ve heard it as well, because his face softened. It was easy to forget his sharp smile and smart-ass remarks and big personality masked a tender heart.
As you thought it, you asked, “Do you have the phone number here?”
“No, ma’am.”
You hurried into the kitchen, found the pad of paper Steve used for the shopping list, and wrote the number. When you came out with a pad and pen, Wayne and Eddie stood in the foyer. You tore off the top sheet and asked for the motel’s number.
“Just in case plans change,” you said.
After trading numbers, you saw Wayne off. Eddie followed him down the front stairs while you remained in the doorway. Once in the truck, Wayne held up a hand in goodbye before reversing down the driveway.
As soon as Wayne’s truck was out of sight, Eddie brushed past you without meeting your eyes. You closed the door and trailed after him into the living room.
“You want to talk about this morning?”
“What’s there to talk about?” he asked, kneeling in front of the guitars and closing the red’s case.
“Well, geez, I don’t know.” You put your hands on your hips. “Maybe how you brushed me off?”
He laid the acoustic case flat and paused with his hands on top.
“I didn’t ‘brush you off.’ I didn’t want to talk about fucking Jason Carver, okay?”
“That wasn’t the point.”
“No, that is the point. He wouldn’t have targeted you if I’d left you alone from the start.”
You narrowed your eyes at his back. That was a crappy excuse. And still not the point.
“Why did you say it was good my parents had left town so I wouldn’t have to introduce you?”
“I don’t know, alright? Everything got screwed up.” His hands balled into fists. “I know part of it’s my fault.” He shook his head as his shoulders hunched. “I can’t undo it, so… It’s whatever.”
You huffed a breath through your nose.
“It’s whatever?” Letting your hands drop to your sides, you said, “Me being serious about you, about wanting my parents to know you, is not whatever.”
He muttered, “They wouldn’t have liked me, anyway.”
“Maybe not, but I’d make them respect my choice.” You tried to breathe with a too-tight chest. “Because I choose you. It sucks that doesn’t seem to mean a lot to you.”
You didn’t wait for a reply and headed into the kitchen. There were empty grocery bags to deal with. You folded and stacked them on the island while swallowing around the lump in your throat.
If Steve’s parents were anything like your own, there was a stash of empty grocery bags somewhere around here. You found a bag of bags in the pantry — something you’d missed a few times. Of course, you missed it. You’d missed plenty of things these past few days, evidently, but you wouldn’t cry over them. Not now. Not in Steve’s pantry. You added the new bags to the collection, then closed the pantry door.
You turned and startled at Eddie dawdling in the kitchen doorway.
“I choose you too, you know,” he said, fingers playing with nonexistent rings. “And it does mean a lot to me — that you’re serious about me. I’m serious about you, too.”
You nodded, voice constrained by the sudden stranglehold of too many emotions.
“I’m going to go upstairs now.”
You nodded again, though you didn’t like it.
He shifted from foot to foot before leaving the doorway. His faint footsteps disappeared from the first floor. All the while, you mentally screamed for him to come back. You didn’t need him to say more. He just needed to stay. Maybe to make lunch with you, though the idea of eating turned your stomach. However, you wanted to do something dumb, something mundane, with him, like make lunch and drink the cheap sodas you’d bought.
Instead, you trudged into the sunroom and flumped into one of the armless chairs.
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