#i'm never fast with these | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

momotonescreaming · 11 months ago

Text

Teenage Dream - Part 4

AKA - the Jeff and Eddie have crushes on jocks series Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Jeff let his body sag as soon as he shut his bedroom door behind him, relaxing against the wood, hard and smooth behind his back. Tossing his bag in the general direction of his desk, not caring where it lands, and flopping over his bed. Still in his jeans and leather jacket, not caring in the moment.

He was finally alone.

No one watching him, no one judging him, he was finally free to relax. To think, and to feel, and to let his wandering mind loop back to Chrissy. She had talked to him. Had borrowed a pen and learnt his name. It felt impossible, a meet-cute from one of those rom-coms his mom watches. She was cute, and was right there. It felt like the start. A change. Something new. It only took until his senior year.

Even if it didn’t lead to anything — Chrissy talking to him — it still happened. The head cheerleader acknowledged him, talked to him, and was kind. She didn’t sneer, or call him a freak, or call him the wrong name. Chrissy wouldn’t, she would never — but the fear was there. Of course it was. They came from very different worlds.

Sighing, sounding entirely too wistful about it, Jeff is tempted to just continue laying there. Melt into his mattress, denim and leather digging into his skin, mind wandering. Let all the energy seep out of his body. But he knows that if he doesn’t get up now, he never will, and wearing his leather jacket to bed is going to kill his muscles. The buckles digging into his skin in the most uncomfortable places.

So he gets up, grunting at the effort, taking off his jacket and swinging it over the back of his desk chair. Lets the momentum carry him to the pile of semi-clean washing he has dumped on the floor by his laundry basket, kicks off his jeans and changes into a pair of grey sweatpants.

Absently wonders if Chrissy would let him drape his jacket over her shoulders, to keep her warm. Smelling of leather and cologne and very faintly of weed. Of Jeff. Like a distorted letterman jacket.

And then Jeff’s standing in the centre of his room, alone, sighing into the stagnant air. There’s no way that’ll ever happen. Dust swirling through the room like little cyclones, twisting and floating around him like thoughts of Chrissy.

He wanted to keep it to himself, his meeting with her, but now it all feels a little too much. The silence ringing in his ears. Buzzing under his skin. Itching and clawing its way out. Sighing, breaking the silence, Jeff goes to sort through his tapes. If he’s going to lose his shit thinking of Chrissy, at least he won’t do it in silence.

Flips through them, focusing on the sound of the plastic cases clicking together as he decides. Eventually settles on a Dio tape — one he had bought on a trip to Bloomington with Eddie. Puts the tape in his stereo, listening to the familiar sounds of the machine, as it clicks the tape on.

Lets the sound of Stand Up and Shout wash over him, as he flops back onto his bed. Laying askew, feet hanging off the edge and his head resting below his pillow. Whatever. Good enough.

The music is familiar, easy, washes through him and scratching that itch in his brain in a way that other music didn’t quite achieve. The guitar, the drums, the speed, the energy. The slow shit, modern ballads and all that was just noise. Didn’t hit quite the same. Didn’t fill the empty spaces in his brain. Each to their own, but metal was something else.

What does Chrissy listen to, Jeff wonders. Does she listen to pop, new wave, does she venture in to rock? Does she have favourite bands, sounds she can’t get enough of? Or does she listen to whatever’s on the radio? Does music move her the way it does Jeff? Or is it just something to kill the silence. What does she listen to when she works out? Does she strap on a walkman as she goes for a run?

If Jeff made her a mixtape, would she listen to it? Would she try and see what Jeff sees? Would it make her think of him?

He’d include a lot of the more chill metal songs, he thinks, ease her into it. Songs with melodic instrumental sections. A sick guitar riff so he could brag that he learnt how to play it by ear. Songs about community, and of finding yourself. Songs that hit Jeff to his very core. Songs about love.

He hasn’t wanted to admit that to himself, say that word — love. It feels strong, too much, but the emotions swirling in Jeff’s chest feel too strong for just like. It wasn’t just a passing fancy, thinking she was cute, or hot, or nice to look at. She was kind, and sweet, and Jeff was falling into infatuation. He wanted to date her, to hold her, to give her flowers and watch her cheer. He wanted to make her a mix tape and introduce her to metal.

Gareth once said that if your crush got an ugly haircut, and you still liked them — it was love. If your crush got an ugly haircut and the feelings faded away — it was just a a crush. Just like.

If Chrissy dyed her hair green and shaved half of it off he’d still think she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. It wasn’t just her looks (hot as she was), but her personality too. In the library she was nice to him. She smiles and waves at people. Compliments them. She was like no other.

So yes, Jeff thought she was hot, but he was trying so hard to be normal about it. Trying not to drool over her like those skeezy jocks from the wrestling team. Trying not to let his thoughts stray into territory it couldn’t come back from. She was taken. She had a boyfriend, who she loved — if their interactions around Hawkins High were anything to go by.

She blows Jason kisses from across the hall, she holds his hand as they walk through the parking lot, he holds open doors for him and she giggles.

The perfect couple. Couldn’t be Jeff, as much as Eddie tries to hype him up about it. High School is only the start, yes. Teenage relationships don’t always last, yes. But cheerleaders don’t dump their popular jock boyfriends for DnD nerds in metal bands.

He’d go to college, meet some jock girl there who doesn’t look past him, and that’s when his life would start. Him and Eddie, getting out of Hawkins. Finding people who liked them back. Because who was Jeff kidding, his type wasn’t nerds. It was jocks, and preps, and girls who were everything he wasn’t. At least Eddie was in the same boat. Made it better, knowing he wasn’t alone.

That while he was sighing over Chrissy in her cheerleading skirt, Eddie was drooling over Steve Harrington in his basketball uniform. That while he was daydreaming about holding doors open for Chrissy, about walking through Hawkins hand in hand — Eddie was dreaming about being wined and dined by Harrington, about flowers, and being swept up into his arms.

The pair of them, absolutely pathetic. Sighing, Jeff gets up to turn the tape over. Flops back down on his bed, continuing to ignore bis bag thrown onto the floor, on the homework he needs to do. He really can’t be bothered. He’s got time, he rationalises, he’s fine. He can do it in his free period tomorrow. Chrissy won’t sit with him again, he’s not that lucky. He can sit down at his same table, and work. Churn through his worksheets, draft his English essay.

So now what. He could listen to more of his tapes, try not to think about the songs he’d pick out for a mixtape. He could pick up his guitar, practice, run through songs to clear his mind of thoughts of her.

Or, he considers. He could call Eddie. See if he’s home.

He thought he wanted to keep this to himself, something special, just for him — but Jeff feels like he’s loosing his mind a little bit. He can’t stop thinking about her and he feels ridiculous. Like a hopeless romantic. A horny teen. A pathetic nerd.

Maybe talking about it will help. Quiet his mind, clear his thoughts.

He does have his own phone in his room. He’s an adult now, he said, and his dad had agreed. He needed that little bit of privacy. Security. Space just for him to talk with his friends without being interrupted. And thankfully his mom had agreed with his dad, in the end. Considering how much both his parents used the phone — and how annoying his shithead younger brothers were about it — the private line was needed.

Jeff did not want to talk about crushes, and sex, and Eddie’s big gay crush where his family could hear.

Fuck, he’s calling Eddie, isn’t he. Dialling the Munson’s number entirely on instinct, Jeff picks the phone off his bedside table and adjusts his position on his bed so he’s not tangled in the cord. He listens to the phone ringing in his ear, and tries not to fidget with the cable, stretching it out.

“Munson,” A gruff voice answers, cutting off the ringing of the phone.

“Hey Uncle Wayne,” Jeff greets the older man, hearing him scoff a laugh down the phone. He’d been calling him for as long as he’s known Eddie. The man didn’t seem to mind, and Eddie himself thought it was hilarious, so Jeff kept doing it. Calling him just Wayne felt weird. Mr Munson even weirder. So Uncle Wayne it was. “Is Eddie in?”

“Sure is,” Wayne replies, voice deep but humour evident even through the tinny phone speakers. “I’ll grab ‘im for ya.”

He assumes Wayne puts the phone down, or holds it away from his face as Jeff can faintly hear Wayne call out for Eddie. It sounds like he’s yelling through the trailer. Or over Eddie’s loud music. Probably is. Speaking of — Jeff leans off his bed to turn the volume down on his stereo. “Boy! Jeff’s on the phone.”

A rustling, a mumbling noise, and then Eddie is breathing into the phone. “Now what can I do for you, my dear Jeffrey.”

“Role reversal,” He replies, manoeuvring himself back down onto his bed. “I’m the one losing my shit today.”

“Damn,” Eddie replies, and Jeff can tell he’s smiling, even through the phone. Eddie has always been expressive — physically, verbally, emotionally — and Jeff had known him long enough that he was confident in his ability to read his best friend. “Already? Let me get comfy then.”

He huffs a laugh, an exhale of air directly down the speaker, and listens to the sounds of Eddie getting comfy, rustling papers, the screech of a chair against lino floor. He’s sat right at the trailer’s little dining table, right across from the kitchen. Always piled high with coupons and letters and other odds and ends the Munson’s hadn’t sorted through yet. It was nice, knowing exactly where he was, knowing that he knew him that well.

Eddie lets out a noise of satisfaction as he sits down, like he’s just taken a drink of ice cold water on a hot day. Jeff snorts as Eddie continues. “Now lay it on me, Jeffster, why are you losing your shit?”

“So you know how I go to the library in my free period?” He starts, laying the scene. Rustling his sheets as he props himself up on his bed.

“Like a total nerd, yes,” Eddie says immediately, although Jeff can tell he’s joking. Can hear it in his voice.

“Says the guy on his third senior year,” Jeff jokes back, entirely without malice. He hears Eddie bark a laugh, as he continues. “But anyway, it was crazy busy for whatever reason and I heard someone ask if they could sit with me because I was at the only empty table, and…”

Jeff lets the words drag off. Plays up the drama, the suspense. He wouldn’t consider himself a dramatic person, not all that outgoing, but Eddie brought it out in him. Made him braver. More willing to put on the act. Fake it ‘til you make it.

“And?” Eddie prompts, dragging out the word.

“And it was Chrissy Cunningham.” Jeff finishes, and he can feel himself smiling. Cheeks flushing, lips pulling back over his braces.

Eddie fucking shouts down the phone, not moving it away from his face to muffle the sound any, and Jeff just laughs. Absently wonders if Wayne is listening in. Can hear Eddie shouting. He probably can. He’s probably used to it.

“No fucking way dude,” Eddie replies, practically giddy with it. Jeff can hear the squeak of the chair underneath him. Can easily picture Eddie rocking in place, smiling like a demon, perched with one leg up on the chair, leaning on the table. "You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“No shit!” Jeff replies, laughing along with Eddie. “She sat at my table the whole period. Right across from me.”

“I told you! I fucking told you!” He replies. “Did I not fucking tell you?”

“You did in fact tell me.” Jeff sighs, knowing he was going to admit that Eddie was right and he was going to be so insufferable about it. He quickly continues before Eddie could say anything else. “But it’s not going anywhere, so calm down. She’s taken.”

“I will not calm down.” Eddie adds, still giddy. “This is a big moment for freaks like us. Was she nice? Did she know your name? Come on man, enjoy it. Embrace it.”

A pause, silence, as Jeff breathes down the phone before continuing. “She was super nice. She was kind, and looked cute when she giggled. Didn’t know my name though, I had to introduce myself.”

“Well they can’t all be winners,” Eddie comments, grunting as he shifted position. “Five bucks says Harrington doesn’t know my name either.”

“You know what,” Jeff replies, thinking it over. “I’ll take that bet. Henderson has absolutely mentioned you to Harrington before. If they really are as close as he says they are. He’s gotta have told him he was going to Hellfire with you.”

“Oh it’s on, Jeffward.” Eddie says. “Money on the table, shake hands, it’s on.”

Part Five

Tag List @goosesister @scarlet-malfoy @mavernanche @manda-panda-monium @yoriposts @grtwdsmwhr @panicatthediaz @m-owo-n

#stranger things #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #chrissy cunningham #steve harrington #steddie #steve/eddie #jeffingham #jeff/chrissy #My Writing #I've never written anything so fast i'm honestly amazed at myself #Teenage Dream

453 notes · View notes