#jason x eddie x chrissy

[bananahoneycomb]

jason x eddie x chrissy idea:

Jason has had a fixation on Eddie since middle school. He is actually afraid of him not only for the obvious reasons that he's been taught to be afraid of Eddie, but Jason was a little guy and Eddie was tall and loud. He has nightmares. In high school that carries over even when Jason gets his growth spurt. Thing is it's not all fear, even if that's all he recognizes. Something something the fear and arousal reactions are so similar. It's part of why he always rises to the occasion if he things Eddie is asking for trouble.

Anyway, alt S3. Jason and a friend of his we never have seen are messing with Eddie but then that guy is flayed and there is chaos. Jason gets hurt and expects Eddie to bolt and leave him to die. Nope. "Man, I'll break your nose maybe but I'm not going to leave you to die. Would you have left me?" Jason likes to think not, but he's not sure.

After getting patched up Jason is in Church that Sunday before school starts up. There is a sermon (maybe the lost lamb one?) that just makes him sit up and fully believe 'it's a sign!' because now he is going into school with the mission of becoming friends with Eddie Munson (maybe telling himself he's going to show everyone he's just a lost sheep or something equally Jason like). Everyone is confused. Chrissy comes around fast though. Another odd trio for Hawkins high.

However, Jason picks up on Eddie and Chrissy having feelings for each other and gets jealous but it's really double jealous. Dreams of fighting Eddie again and like the scary dreams from when he was a kid but they turn to kissing. He picks a fight with Eddie. Eddie is like what the hell? we've been good! Jason calls Eddie on his feelings for Chrissy and Eddie won't deny it. Jason shoves. It turns to a scuffle and someone gets pinned. Jason kisses him, freaks out. Eddie comforts him but Jason runs.

Eddie is worried so gets Chrissy. They find Jason. Jason assumes Eddie told her and that's how Chrissy finds out. They both hug him and cuddle pile each other until they all fall asleep. When they wake up Jason is spacey and asks them to kiss each other. After being nervous they do. Then Chrissy kisses Jason. Then Jason pulls Eddie close and stops short but Eddie kisses him.

*

This whole thing came into my head why I was fixing a toilet so if it's shit that's why

[zephrr]

With my last post being said....

CHRISSY AND JASON ARE BOTH SO MADLY IN LOVE WITH EDDIE. (REALLL)

[spacebabesuki]

He would absolutely treat her like a princess, and you cannot change my mind

[ambrossart]

Out of the Loop

summary: eddie went home with someone after prom, and gareth is determined to figure out who it was.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 11k warnings: language, new relationship, eddie's girlfriend is gareth's arch nemesis, silly childhood rivalries, eddie being happy and stupidly in love, jason being an overprotective ass, chrissy being an adorable little cupcake, the reader is chrissy's best friend, the unnamed freak is named grant in this series

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

On Monday morning, Gareth peddled to school like a man on a mission.

Nothing was getting in his way today, not his mother, who had accidentally washed his Hellfire Club shirt with all his little sister’s dance clothes,

“You know what, honey, I think it looks better this way…”

not his sister, who had been hogging the bathroom all morning because she couldn’t get her hair right,

“Look, you don’t understand the pressure I’m under right now. Becca Singer is finalizing her birthday party guest list today. I have to look my best if I wanna make the cut.”

not the weatherman, who was painfully misinformed when he called for clear, sunny skies today…

and certainly not the piece of crap Chevy that just cut him off in the middle of the crosswalk.

Gareth swerved out of the way and kept on peddling. The rain pelted his face in a spray of ice-cold bullets.

Behind him, the driver yelled, “Hey, watch where you’re going, you little shit!”  

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because Gareth was sitting on a goldmine of information right now. It was truly the scoop of the century. Eddie Munson—that’s right, Eddie “the Freak” Munson—had gone home with somebody after the senior prom.

Who was this mysterious (not to mention incredibly lucky) woman? A curious cheerleader desperate to defy her clique? A rich girl trying to piss off her dad? A shy bookworm who wanted to act out the plot of her favorite romance novel? Who? Who? Gareth’s head was spinning! The question hungrily devoured the rest of his weekend (something Gareth wasn’t too proud to admit, of course, but hey, Sundays were always uneventful days for him). He had to get to school quickly and consult his most trusted sources.

He found Jeff and Grant sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Grant was eating the school’s hot breakfast while Jeff sat with his head in his hands, lamenting the sorry state of his love life.

“Tara’s still not talking to me. I’m pretty sure she’s gonna dump me for Patrick McKinney.”

Grant put down his fork. “Wait, you two were dating?”

“No…” Jeff heaved a quiet sigh. “But if we were, she’d definitely dump me for Patrick.”

Grant frowned, sympathetic yet envious of his friend’s plight. “Man, I wish Meg would stop talking to me. She had me on the phone all night yesterday. I think she wants me to be her boyfriend or something.” Grant cringed at the thought. He didn’t have the strength to put up with her. He’d barely survived prom. 

“You don’t like her?” Jeff asked.

“Not really,” Grant answered. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty and all, but as soon as she starts talking—”

Gareth slammed a wrinkled piece of notebook paper onto the table. The loud bang echoed through the entire cafeteria, making a few students gasp and flinch in their chairs. Jeff and Grant didn’t move in the slightest. This was typical Monday morning behavior for Gareth.

“What’s with the pink shirt?” Grant asked, unfazed. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Gareth said. They had more pressing matters to discuss. He sat down and folded his hands in front of him, his blue eyes clear and focused. He wasted no time getting straight to the point: “Who’d Eddie go home with after prom?”

Jeff and Grant exchanged a subtle, secret glance.

“How do you know Eddie went home with someone after prom?” Jeff asked.

“Because I called him that night.”

“Why’d you call him?”

“Because I’m a good friend, unlike some people.” Nobody had called him asking how his night went. Gareth sat home alone on Saturday night, eating popcorn and watching old sci-fi movies in his basement, while the rest of his friends had a blast at prom. It wasn’t fair. “I wanted to check in on him because I figured he might be a little depressed after getting rejected by Chrissy. Because let’s be honest here, there was no way that Chrissy was ever gonna dance with him. You all agree with me, right? I’m not just being a dick here. Like, yeah, I know Eddie’s riding high right now because he thinks this year is his year and everything, but… yeah, he was aiming a bit too high with that goal.” 

“Can you get to the point, please?” Grant said. “My breakfast is getting cold.” 

“Well, multitask, man!” Gareth grabbed Grant’s fork and threw it back onto his tray. “What, you can’t listen and eat at the same time?”

Grant rolled his eyes and went back to his breakfast. Gareth carried on with his story:

“So anyway, when I called him on Saturday, I expected him to sound all mopey and depressed, but he wasn’t. Yeah, Eddie wasn’t depressed at all. In fact, he sounded oddly… happy, but also a little bit distracted. You guys see where I’m going with this, right?”

“I hate that I do,” Grant said, struggling to enjoy his food.

“Well, that’s when I started getting suspicious. See, I could tell I didn’t have his full attention, and that’s just so unlike Eddie because he’s normally really good at maintaining proper phone etiquette. Weird, right? So then I got curious and I started listening, and… and I can’t be sure, but I think I heard a girl talking in the background.”

“Maybe it was just the TV,” Grant said.

Gareth shook his head. “No way… I know the difference between a TV voice and a live human voice. Someone was definitely with him.”

“Well, did you recognize the voice?” Jeff asked.

“No, I couldn’t hear well enough.”

Grant’s eyes narrowed. “And yet you’re sure it wasn’t the TV…”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t the TV, you guys. Wake up and smell the coffee! Eddie brought a girl to his house. He brought a girl to his house. She was with him in the room while he was on the phone with me. I could hear her talking. Then Eddie started acting really weird, said he had to go, and rushed me off the phone.”

“Gross,” Grant muttered, sickened. “Yeah, these are details I did not need.” 

Gareth’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Wait, do you guys think he slept with her?” and that was more than Jeff could handle.

He buried his face in his hands and said, “Please stop. I don’t wanna go to class with these images in my head.”

Grant shrugged. “Maybe it was just a one-night stand.”

Jeff threw him a sharp, side-eyed glare. 

“Just saying,” Grant finished, smirking.

“No, I seriously doubt it,” Gareth went on, completely unaware. “Eddie’s not really a one-night stand kinda guy… not by choice, anyway. No, I think this might be the real deal, you guys, ‘cause listen to this: I went to go see him yesterday. Eddie wasn’t home.”

“So?”

“So I think he was with her. I called him last night and asked him where he was all day. He said he was out running errands.” Gareth scrunched up his face at that, doubtful. “Since when does Eddie run errands? So I said, ‘What sort of errands were you running?’ He said he had to swing by the drugstore. I said, ‘Well, what did you need at the drugstore?’ but he wouldn’t answer that. Yeah, he was being awfully mum.”

“Mum?” Jeff repeated to himself, mystified by his friend’s bizarre word choice.

Grant said, “He was probably annoyed that you were digging around in his business. I know I would be.”

“Oh yeah, he was definitely getting annoyed,” Gareth said. “Then he cut the conversation short and told me he was stepping out for the night. That’s when I knew this was serious. Eddie doesn’t just ‘step out’ on a Sunday night. He hardly goes out any night. If he’s not with us, he’s sitting at home and playing songs on his guitar. Yeah, he was definitely with her last night.”

Grant sighed, hoping they’d finally reached the end of this long-winded story. “Well, I guess you cracked the case then, Gareth.”

“But that’s just it, I haven’t!” Gareth said. Grant let out an exhausted moan. “I still don’t know who this girl is. You guys swear you didn’t see Eddie go home with anybody after prom?”

Another secret glance.

“Nope,” Jeff said. “I didn’t see him go home with anyone that night.”

Gareth nodded, disappointed but not yet defeated. “Yeah, I thought you might say that. That’s why I made this.”

He gestured toward the piece of paper on the table. Jeff picked it up and read it over. Then he passed it to Grant so he could do the same.

“Okay, what exactly am I looking at here?” Grant asked.

“It’s a list of suspects,” Gareth said, a proud smile on his face. “Yeah, last night I compiled a list of every girl I’ve ever seen Eddie interact with at school, and then this morning I whittled that list down to what I think are the most likely suspects.”

“Not a very long list,” Jeff said.

“Really?” said Grant. “I was gonna say it’s too long.” 

They shared a little chuckle over that. Gareth glowered at them, unamused. He didn’t appreciate them making little jabs about their Dungeon Master’s love life, stagnant as it was.

“You know,” Grant began with ominous deliberation, “I can’t help but notice there’s a name missing from this list.”

Gareth's head snapped back in surprise. “Who?”

“You know who,” Grant said. Beside him, Jeff was holding in a grin.

A disturbing chill crept up Gareth's spine. Then—

BAM!

Your name cracked down from above like a fiendish lightning bolt, striking Gareth and making all the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. For a second, he could see your name so clearly. It loomed before him, ugly and terrible, festering with puss and crawling with maggots, getting pecked savagely by vultures and other scavengers. It made him retch with disgust.

“Oh, very funny…”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Grant said, “there’s no denying that she’s a likely suspect.” 

“In fact,” Jeff continued, “some might say she’s the most likely suspect.” 

“Yeah, maybe back in middle school,” Gareth said, “but Eddie hasn’t so much as looked at her in years.”

Except for that one time, he thought, remembering the mournful look on his friend’s face that day.

They were all eating lunch when your laughter suddenly sprang up from the other side of the cafeteria, obnoxious and shrill. Eddie glanced your way and his eyes darkened with such hollow sadness. It was as if someone had died.

But that didn’t mean anything, Gareth decided, so he shoved the memory away.

“All right, look, I’ll admit we lost him briefly for that one summer. I dunno how she did it, but somehow she got her claws in him real deep and he was completely under her spell. I won’t deny that. But then Eddie woke up and saw her for what she really is—an ugly green hag! At first, she appears as this beautiful, enchanting woman, but underneath that guise, she’s a wretched old witch who thrives on torment. Yeah, Eddie got over her a long time ago,” and Gareth refused to waste another thought on it.

He snatched the paper from Grant and laid it out in front of him. “Now, here’s what I’m thinking: if we split this up among the three of us, we can get through this list by lunch and then confront Eddie with our findings.”

“Yeah, we’re not doing that,” Grant said.

Gareth frowned. “Why not?”

“Because we already know who it is.”

Gareth’s eyes widened in surprised anger. “I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT! I knew you two were messing with me this whole time. Sitting there with your smug little faces. Making your little jokes. You know what, screw you guys, I don’t even want your help anymore.”

He stuffed the paper back into his bag, climbed to his feet, and stomped off.

Over his shoulder, Jeff said, “Shoulda gone to prom, man.”

Gareth paused, dejected. “Well, no one would go with me…” He pushed through the double doors and was gone.

Afterward, Grant picked up his milk carton and took a few slow slips.

“You know what,” he said thoughtfully, “Gareth should’ve asked Y/N to prom.”

Jeff chuckled to himself. “Well, she did need a date… Shit, should we have just told him?”

“No,” Grant said. “No, this is something Gareth needs to see with his own eyes.”

Now Gareth, his resolve reignited and burning brighter than ever, was prowling the senior locker area with his suspect list in hand. 

Let them keep their secrets, he thought. I don’t need their help. A lot of help they would’ve been, anyway. Yeah, I can solve this mystery all on my own.

And he would. 

Gareth was a fantastic investigator, you see. He could win a game of Guess Who? in less than five turns and had a lifetime record of fifty-three wins and only fifteen losses (such losses were unavoidable when you drew an easily guessable character like Anita. Ugh, Anita… with those rosy cheeks and annoying blonde pigtails. His little sister beat him in only two moves after that unlucky draw). Now Gareth would apply those same deductive reasoning skills to this. Ask careful, complex questions. Gather information. Cross those ladies off one by one.

There was only one problem: the girls at Hawkins High weren’t exactly forthcoming about their personal lives, especially when it involved Eddie Munson. In fact, most girls denied ever having spoken to the guy. 

Claire Dunnock, the most recent inductee into the popular clique, was being especially difficult.

Her blue eyes shifted back and forth anxiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, and then leaned forward to make sure none of her new friends were eavesdropping. Claire had to be very careful. One misstep and she would slide all the way back down the social ladder. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

Gareth sensed her unease. “Hey, relax,” he told her, “I’m not here to ruin your reputation, okay? This conversation stays between us. You have my word.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Claire said. “I wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak.”

“Hey, that freak is my best friend,” Gareth said. “And you and I both know that’s not true, Claire. I saw you get into his van that one—”    

Claire seized him by the arm and hissed, “Shut up!” Her eyes blazed with fearful, self-protective rage. “Look, that was a year ago, okay? I was a stupid junior who didn’t know any better. Eddie and I had a class together. I guess I got a little curious, but that’s it. We hung out once and I never spoke to him again.” Loosening her grip, she said, “Besides, he was nothing but a big disappointment, anyway.”

Anger flared in Gareth’s chest. “All right, that's it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you slander my friend.” 

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” Claire said. 

Gareth didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Look, just answer my question, okay? Did you go home with Eddie after prom or not?”

“Of course not,” Claire answered, practically cackling at the thought. 

(Why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)

“I went to prom with my boyfriend. I was with him all night. Ask anyone.” Claire swung her locker door closed, put her hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrows impatiently. “Are we done now?” She walked off to join the rest of her friends. 

Gareth glared at her back, his insides boiling with indignation and righteous fury.

You got curious and Eddie got his heart broken. Again. 

He crossed out Claire’s name with his pen. 

Two suspects down. Eight more to go. 

He tucked his pen behind his ear, turned, and suddenly the hallway froze over! Okay, that didn’t actually happen, but a bitter wind did blow. Gareth felt it on his face as soon as he saw you step out from around the corner. 

Coincidence? 

Doubtful.

You were wearing blue jeans and a Fleetwood Mac shirt. Yeah, you would like Fleetwood Mac, Gareth thought, scoffing. As usual, you were walking side by side with Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend since elementary school. She was smiling and laughing at one of your jokes. Laughing out of politeness, probably. Why you two were friends, Gareth would never know. Chrissy was sweet like cotton candy and you were so… so…

(evil, pure evil)

rotten to the core, like moldy fruit.

“I swear,” you said with a groan, “it’ll be weeks before your mom lets me into the house again. God, she’s such a prude. How was I supposed to know she was gonna invite the whole family over for Sunday brunch? At least I was dressed up for the occasion.”

Chrissy looked at you in baffled amusement. “You were still wearing your prom dress.”

“And it was a very nice prom dress. Your grandma even complimented it. She said it made me look like Madonna.” You weren’t too thrilled about that comparison, but who were you to pass up a free compliment? “Now your mom, on the other hand… man, if looks could kill… I probably would’ve choked on one of those blueberry scones she was serving, which were a tad overbaked if I’m being honest.”

Chrissy went to her locker and fiddled with the padlock for a second before opening it. You stood patiently beside her, the wall clock barely within view. 

It was a quarter past eight, you noted with a frown. Was Eddie here already or…? 

While hanging up her pink backpack, Chrissy said, “Yeah, she definitely had some colorful words to describe you last night.” 

You turned your attention back to her. “Your mom called me a slut, didn’t she?”

Chrissy didn’t answer at first. She was busy unloading her homework. While she was doing that, one of her fellow cheerleaders snuck up behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and gave a cheerful, heartfelt hello. Chrissy hugged her and asked how her weekend was. The two chatted casually for a minute and then the girl went on her way. Never so much as glanced at you. 

“Umm, I believe she used the word harlot,” Chrissy said to you afterward. 

“Oh, she got biblical, huh?” Great, you thought, as if that woman didn’t despise you enough already. “You know, I don’t understand your mom. First I’m too fat to be your friend. Now I’m too much of a slut. That lady needs to pick a lane and stay in it… and then drive herself right off a cliff.”  

Chrissy threw you a friendly glare.

“Just kidding,” you said. “You know I love your mom. She keeps me grounded. Without her, I might develop a healthy self-esteem, and we all know how dangerous that is. Yeah, that might lead to confidence and success… perhaps even lifelong happiness.” 

Ignoring you (or pretending to), Chrissy started digging through her backpack again. “Dammit,” she said under her breath, “I think I left my pencil case at home.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Jason has a pencil for you.” You smiled inwardly—a willful, wicked smile. “Then again…”  

Chrissy pushed her locker closed, grabbed both your hands, backed you up against the lockers, and brought her face really close to yours. “Shut up,” she whispered in half-hearted anger, a rosy blush blooming on the apples of her cheeks. 

You took one look at her and busted out laughing. Chrissy started laughing, too. 

“I hate you so much,” she said, and released you. 

“I know,” you replied affectionately. “But see, this is why the whole situation with your mom is so funny to me. I’m the one who’s still a virgin, yet somehow it’s me who gets labeled the…” 

You spotted a familiar face down the hall. 

“Gareth?” You leaned toward him, squinting. “What are you doing in the senior locker area?”

The sound of your voice made him flinch. “Nothing,” he said, acting strangely defensive for some reason.

That’s when you noticed the piece of paper in his hand. You gestured toward it with your chin and said, “What’s that you got there? Is that a love letter? You finally asking someone out on a date? Will you go out with me? Check yes or no. Who’s the lucky lady? Wait, aren’t you a little young to be dating?”

Gareth hid the paper behind his back and glared at you. “We’re the same age.” 

“And yet I’m a senior and you’re a junior. Hmm, how did that happen?” You tipped your head and smiled at him. “You’ve got company, by the way.” 

“Huh?” Gareth stepped back and—

A hand landed on his shoulder, closed around his flannel shirt, and spun him around. Gareth jumped back, swallowing a scream. He was now standing nose to chest with Ben Jabruski, outside linebacker and two-time defensive player of the year. Eric Kordell stood beside him, smaller but no less intimidating. His brown eyes gleamed with feral, territorial aggression. 

“Get outta here, freak,” Eric said. 

Gareth squared up to him, unafraid. “Last time I checked this was a free country.” He wrenched his shirt out of Ben’s grip, careful not to tear his favorite flannel. It was a Christmas gift from his mother. 

While he was distracted, Eric reached out and ripped the paper out of Gareth’s hand. 

“Hey, give that back!” 

“What’s this?” Eric asked. He opened the paper and studied it for a minute. His expression went from amused to curious to downright furious. He crushed the list in his fist. “Why’s my girlfriend on here?” 

“Oh…” Panic shot up Gareth’s spine. He took a step back and let loose a nervous chuckle. “Oh… you must be Claire’s boyfriend. You know, I heard you two had a lovely time at prom.” 

He turned on his heel and took off running down the hallway. 

“Bye, Gareth!” you said, fluttering your fingers as he passed. Then you looked back at Chrissy with a smile. “God, I love that kid…”

You went to your locker after that, ignoring all the busy little voices, the occasional odd glance and stifled giggle you received from the other students. Chrissy followed with her first-period textbook cradled in her arms. 

“Just ignore them,” she told you. 

“I already am,” you said… but then you saw Sarah, Sally, and Stacy huddled around Stacy’s locker. Talking about their hair. Talking about their clothes. Stirring their black cauldron of boiling bones and animal guts. Sarah looked at you, whispered something to Sally, who passed the same message on to Stacy, and all three of them tittered gleefully at your expense. 

“Just ignore them,” Chrissy said.   

“I will,” you said, but first—

You whipped around and burst out: “So which one of you got knocked up after prom? My money’s on you, Stacy.” 

Chrissy, dismayed but secretly delighted, tugged gently on your right elbow. Before going with her, you tossed Satan’s mistress (AKA Stacy Raab) a snide little wink. Stacy rolled her eyes in disgust. 

“Stop it,” Chrissy said. 

“They started it.” 

“I know… but stop it. You’re better than that.” 

At the end of the hallway, you spotted Chance Gallagher standing in front of his open locker, wearing the same green letterman jacket that he wore when he asked you to prom six weeks ago. Chance closed his locker and caught your eye for a moment. Then he gave you a small, apologetic smile. 

What was he apologizing for? For asking you to prom, getting your hopes up, and then humiliating you in front of the entire senior class? You weren’t sorry he did it. In fact, you were glad he did it. Yeah, you wanted to go up to him, shake his hand, and thank him for being such a spineless little worm. If he were a decent guy, your night might have gone differently, and you were quite pleased with how your night went. So thank you, Chance. Thank you for being a complete scumbag. Maybe I should write him a thank-you note. 

Smiling, you turned back around. As you did, you stole another quick glance at the clock on the wall. 

Eight-nineteen… 

You sighed. 

… and now eight-twenty. 

“He’s running late, huh?” Chrissy said. You looked her way and she flashed you a sweet, teasing smile. “I know you’re waiting for him.”

A small flush of heat tickled your cheeks, threatening to set your whole face on fire. Resisting it, you grabbed your padlock and started spinning the dial: three turns to the right, one full turn to the left, another quick turn to the right, and

“Are you nervous about seeing him?”

you missed the last number and had to start all over again. 

“Kind of,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

Chrissy shook her head, her smile growing brighter and brighter. “Nope, it’s totally normal and absolutely adorable.” Giggling, she hugged her book tightly to her chest. If her hands were free, she probably would have hugged you instead. “I’m so happy for you. I really, really am. I swear, I feel like my heart’s about to burst right now.” 

“Well, you should probably see a doctor about that.” 

Chrissy stuck her tongue out at you. You did it right back, popped off your lock, and pulled on the handle. The locker door swung outward, squeaking on its hinges, and almost smacked Chrissy in the face. “Hey!” she said, laughing. She stepped back, skipped around you, and planted herself comfortably on your left side.

“So did you see him last night?” she asked, practically beaming. 

“Nope.” You slipped off your messenger bag and hung it on the hook. 

Chrissy squinted at you suspiciously. “Why do I feel like you’re lying right now?” 

“I’m not lying,” you told her, only to be betrayed by your blushing face. “I didn’t see him last night… technically it was this morning.” 

Twelve-o-two, to be exact. That’s when you saw the headlights flashing through your bedroom window blinds.

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.  

“What? He just stopped by to say goodnight.” You smiled softly to yourself. “It was kind of romantic, actually.” 

“Uh-huh,” Chrissy said, laughing at you. “And how long did you two say goodnight?”

“Only for an hour… and a half.”

It was raining last night. You couldn’t invite Eddie into the house, so you two hung out in his van for a while. A very long while. W.A.S.P. was playing on the stereo. Eddie had found the cassette tape while cleaning out his van that afternoon. He was very proud of this accomplishment. It was adorable. He had you listen to a few of his favorite songs, asked you about your day, told you about his, and during “Cries In the Night,” he leaned over the center console and kissed you. Everything after that was a bit of a blur. The last thing you remembered was the horn blaring. You had accidentally pressed it with your elbow.  

“Oh my god,” Chrissy said.

“Stop saying, ‘Oh my god.’ You sound like my mom.”  

She had said the exact same thing after confronting you about it in the kitchen this morning. Turns out, the car horn had woken her up. Then she caught you creeping back inside through the front door. It was an awkward breakfast, to say the least. 

Chrissy poked your shoulder playfully. “That’s how it starts, you know. Late-night visits. Long, drawn-out goodbyes. You two are gonna be inseparable this summer.” She breathed a long, lovesick sigh. “Jason and I used to be like that.” 

“You’re still like that.” 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. 

“Speaking of…” You saw Jason Carver coming down the hallway, his pants ironed and creased, white collared shirt tucked in, a brand new Rolex glinting on his left wrist (an early graduation present from his father, apparently). He looked like a Ralph Lauren catalog model. “Is it weird that I’m picturing him naked right now?”   

Chrissy hid her face in embarrassment. “I swear to God, if you say anything…” 

“What am I gonna say to him? ‘Thank you for deflowering my best friend’? ‘I heard your penis is rather pleasing’? I don’t wanna talk to him about that. I don’t even wanna think about that.”

Prior to this weekend, you couldn’t even imagine Jason Carver having genitals. You always figured he was like a Ken doll down there. Nothing but smooth plastic.

Chrissy looked at you, mortified. “Why do I tell you anything?”  

“I have no idea,” you said. Then you checked the clock again. 

Eight twenty-three. 

Where the hell’s Eddie? you wondered, starting to get a little worried.

Jason’s arrival reclaimed your attention. 

“Hey, guys,” he said in that smooth drawl that made all the girls swoon. 

You expected to find him standing with his million-dollar smile, but he wasn’t. No, today Jason seemed different—humble, approachable, perhaps even a little shy. It was as if he’d reverted back to his ten-year-old self. Little Jason Carver, who could barely dribble a basketball. The boy who stammered when he introduced himself to the rest of the class. The boy who sat down next to you, smiled, and said he liked the character on your favorite shirt. The boy who talked to you every day. Encouraged you. Defended you. The boy you caught staring at your best friend way too many times to be a coincidence. 

Then you looked at Chrissy and she seemed younger, too. A blushing, fidgeting ten-year-old who always forgot to stand up straight. She got so excited when Jason offered to walk her home from school. He even carried my books!

Back then, your happiness for them had been counterfeit, complicated, but not anymore. Yeah, now you could say you were genuinely happy for both of them. 

This was still awkward as hell, though.

“Hey, Chrissy needs to borrow a pencil,” you blurted out, breaking their amorous trance.

A soft pink flush rose to Jason’s cheeks. “What?”

“Just ignore her,” Chrissy said, struggling to keep a straight face. 

Meanwhile, you punched Jason on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t forget about our deal, buddy.” 

“I haven’t,” he told you. “I’ll buy your lunch, as promised. It’s the least I can do.” 

“What if I want two lunches? And a whole plate of cookies?”

“Then I guess I’m buying you two lunches and a whole plate of cookies.” 

Jason smiled at you… but then his demeanor changed, hardening like armor. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You blinked at him. “Am I okay?” you repeated slowly, a little taken aback. “Well, I did wake up with a strange tattoo on my wrist. It’s like a crucifix, except it’s upside down. Weird… Also, I can’t be sure, but I think I might be dealing with a Rosemary’s Baby scenario. Yeah, I’m definitely gonna be giving birth to the Antichrist in about nine months. Buy something black.” 

Jason’s eyes widened in confused horror. 

“Oh my god, I’m kidding!” you said. “Eddie was a complete gentleman. He even asked for permission before he impregnated me with his hellseed. Naturally, I gave him the green light because… well, have you seen his face? It’s kinda perfect.” 

Chrissy put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Jason didn’t appreciate your joke. 

“Come on, be serious.” 

“I am being serious. Believe it or not, I actually find him insanely attractive. He’s like a discount version of Eddie Van Halen, and I can’t afford the real thing, so…” 

“So you actually slept with him?” Jason sounded disappointed and ashamed. He reminded you of your father. 

No, worse than your father.

“Well, no, I was kidding about that. I mean, I did sleep with him, but not in the way you’re assuming. And are you seriously gonna judge me for having sex? It’s been a while since I’ve been to church, but I’m pretty sure the bible condemns hypocrisy. You might wanna reread those sections. I think you’ll find them very enlightening.”

Jason ground his jaw in irritation. “Stop making jokes!” 

“I don’t want to,” you said finally, your voice breaking, “because then I’m just gonna get really, really mad like I’m doing right now, and I don’t wanna be mad at you, Jason. I was having a really good morning until you showed up.” 

By now, Chrissy had stopped laughing. Her shoulders drooped and she looked at you with a sick, sorry expression. 

Jason said, “Look, I just think you’re undervaluing yourself, okay? You can do so much better than that—”

“Oh, please don’t do that. Don’t try to talk to me like you’re my friend.” 

“I am your friend.” 

“Then be my friend, Jason. Stop trying to ruin my happiness!”

The school bell dinged and students began making their way to class. Jason went, too. Didn’t even bother saying goodbye. Chrissy told you not to worry about him. “Jason’ll come around eventually.” Then she smiled, waved goodbye, and ran to catch up with him. 

You weren’t half as optimistic as she was. 

This is gonna be a huge problem, isn’t it? 

You groaned, dreading it. 

Behind you, another wave of students came rushing down the hallway. Brittany Wirth was among them. You knew because you could hear her shrill voice piercing through the dull chatter around her. She was ranting about prom, complaining about the flowers, complaining about the food, about the music, about—

“YOU!” 

You flinched and turned around, thinking she was talking to you. 

What you saw made your eyes light up with glee. Brittany Wirth had Eddie Munson pinned up against the lockers, and she was jabbing him in the chest with her index finger. 

“You, sir, are a total asshole! Do you have any idea how hard I worked on that event? I was planning it for months, planning it to perfection, and then YOU had to go and make it all about yourself, as usual.” She stepped back and huffed, exhausted. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.” 

“I’m a little proud of myself,” Eddie replied candidly. 

Brittany shot him a deadly glare. “Oh, shut up!” She swept her hair off her shoulder and walked away.

You stopped her as she passed. “You know what, Brittany, all things considered, I thought it was a very successful night.” 

Brittany’s jaw dropped and got stuck like that, locked in befuddled rage. Not a single sound came out, but you could tell she was trying to speak. Was this it? Had it finally happened? Did Brittany Wirth actually crack? She worked her lips unsuccessfully for a minute and then closed them again, steaming in her hatred, screaming internally like a boiling teapot. She brushed past you and continued on her way. 

Then you heard Eddie approach you.  

“Did I really make the night all about me?” 

His question made you giggle. “A little bit.” You turned around with a smile, glad to see him, relieved to see him. “I still had a good time, though.” 

“Well, that’s all that matters,” Eddie said, but there was something in your eyes that made him frown with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, and blinked that silly little worry away. “Jason’s just being… well, Jason.” 

“I take it he doesn’t approve of me.” 

“Yeah, you’ve really got him clutching his bible. He thinks you’re gonna drain my blood and sacrifice me to the devil.” 

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyes widening in false astonishment. “Well, he just spoiled our next date.” 

“Oh, really?” you replied, giggling. “Well, I guess that explains why I’m still a virgin.” 

Eddie winced, looked down at his shoes, and grinned bashfully. “Okay, I walked right into that one.”

“Yeah, you did,” you said; and God, it drove you crazy seeing him get so flustered.

Kinda like last night, you thought, startling yourself, and immediately shooed that dangerous thought away. Now was not the time for that, young lady. You still had a full day of school to get through. Somehow.

“You’re late,” you said.   

“Yeah, I uh…” Eddie brought his hand to his face and started rubbing it. “I got pulled over for speeding.”

You gasped. “No, you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Prove it.”

Eddie pulled a folded-up piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to you. You opened it and immediately busted out laughing. 

“Oh, wow… going fifty-five in a forty-five.” 

“Eh, they went easy on me… I was going at least sixty.” 

“Wow…” 

“Yeah…” Eddie said, tilting his head. “The one time I’m in a rush to get to school.” 

His brown eyes sought yours and settled there for a moment, his lips curling into a tender, captivated smile. You smiled back helplessly, feeling girly, feeling giddy, feeling like you were probably grinning like an idiot right now. Embarrassed, you pressed the paper to your mouth in a vain attempt to hide it. When that didn’t work, you thrust the ticket back into Eddie’s hand and turned away, pretending to pull books from your locker. 

You felt along the spines like someone fumbling around in the dark. What class were you going to again? History? English? French? 

No, you weren’t even taking French.

You spoke to Eddie in a frazzled voice: “Well, since you’re not in handcuffs right now, I’m assuming they didn’t find anything when they searched your van, huh?” 

“Luckily, no…” 

“Good thing you cleaned out your van yesterday.”

“Mhm…” Eddie said, his voice seeming much closer than before.

Your roaming fingers slowed, then stopped, sliding all the way down the stack of books. With one more step, his presence had consumed you, making you blind and deaf to everything else, everything except Eddie. You could feel him standing next to you, leaning into you, his left hand outstretched and resting against the locker beside you. His voice sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Find what you’re looking for yet?”

You gazed into his eyes and got lost in them. “… I can’t remember what class I’m going to.”

You laughed at yourself sheepishly, senselessly, and saw Eddie crack a small smile: half amused and half… something else, something that brought you back to last night—that quiet, rainy night. Sitting in the dark and listening to music. Eddie humming softly beside you, drumming his right hand on the steering wheel, watching the tiny droplets race down his windshield. You sitting in your seat nervously. Fidgeting restlessly. Running your fingers over the plastic cassette case on your lap. Pretending to take interest in it while secretly watching Eddie out of the corner of your eye. Waiting for him to kiss you. Hoping he’d kiss you. Catching him staring at you with that smile… the same smile he was giving you now… right before he leaned in and…

“Ahem.” 

Another student appeared behind you, tapping her foot impatiently. “Uhh, can I get to my locker, please?”

Eddie drew away from you, embarrassed and a little frustrated, and took two giant steps back.

The girl assumed his place without a word, opened her locker, hung up her backpack, her jacket, grabbed her textbook and notebook, snatched a few pens from her bag, and closed her locker again. Before leaving, she motioned between you and Eddie and said, “So is this like a thing now?”

You caught Eddie’s eye for a second. “Uhh, yes,” you said while he fought back a huge smile.

The girl shook her head as if dizzy. “Weird,” she said, and left. 

Afterward, you turned to Eddie with a puzzled frown. “Wait, is it weird that I’m dating you or that you’re dating me? I need to know where I rank in this relationship.”

“Maybe you should ask her.” 

“Maybe I will…” 

Giggling, you stepped past him, spotted your locker neighbor at the end of the hallway, cupped your hands over your mouth, and shouted, “Hey, Carmen!” but you never got a chance to finish. Eddie had grabbed your hand and dragged you back to him, pulling you into his arms, putting you right where he wanted you, intending to pick up exactly where he left off.

The second bell rang before you could even feel his breath on your lips. Eddie closed his eyes tightly, as if pained. 

“I really hate that I have to be in school right now.” 

“Me too,” you said, staring up at him, your heart still pounding in your chest. “We should probably get to class.”  

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tighter against him. “Or we could just, y’know, skip first period altogether… since you don’t know where you’re supposed to be anyway.” 

He swooped down and placed a few chaste kisses along the side of your head. Blushing, you buried your face into his chest. 

“Are you trying to get me to cut class, sir?”

“No, just giving you options.” 

“Mhm,” you said, giggling. 

While you contemplated his offer, you traced your hand over the button pocket of his denim vest, feeling the fabric, flicking each of his treasured pins one by one: Judas Priest, Accept, Mercyful Fate. You found the W.A.S.P. pin last and focused on it, teasing it with your finger. 

“And then what?” you asked, lifting your head to look at him. “We go back to your van and finish what you started last night?” 

Eddie’s eyes brightened in surprise. “Finish what you started, if I remember correctly.”  

“Was I the one who started it?” You frowned, pretending not to remember. 

Meanwhile, your hand had drifted up to the collar of his leather jacket. You nudged it out of the way and started tugging along the neckline of his shirt, revealing a faint pink bruise on the base of his collarbone. Eddie winced as your finger brushed over it. You smiled softly, remembering how his breath hitched when your lips made the first budding mark, how he cursed and moaned while you planted all the others, his hands slipping underneath your shirt and sliding across your skin. 

“I may have gotten a little carried away…”   

“Yeah, you definitely did,” Eddie said, smiling at you.  

“I just really like W.A.S.P.”

“Do you?” 

“Mhm…”

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he laughed. “Well, I still have the tape in my van. We can go listen to it right now if you want.” 

You bit your lip hard, unable to answer right away. God dammit, what had you gotten yourself into? You weren’t seriously considering his proposition before, but now…

“Go to class, please.” 

Now Ms. Kelley had come out of her office and was sweeping away the last few stragglers, you and Eddie included.

“I know we’re all a little sluggish this morning, but let’s start this week off strong, okay? There’s still another month before graduation. Don’t lose your focus now.” She looked at you and Eddie tiredly. “You two. Class. Now.”   

You sighed as you saw your window of opportunity close. Eddie peeled himself away from you and started down the hallway.  

“See ya later,” he said over his shoulder. 

“Bye,” you said back, hiding your disappointment behind a smile. 

Upon returning to your locker, you grabbed your textbook—the right textbook—and wedged it in the crook of your left elbow. While hunting around for the matching notebook and folder, you heard Eddie’s voice behind you again, catching you completely by surprise.

“Oh, wait,” he said hurriedly, “I forgot to tell you something.” 

“Hmm?”

You turned around and felt Eddie’s hands cup the sides of your face, drawing you in for a soft, sweet kiss. You closed your eyes, savoring it. A moment later, he broke the kiss and pulled away.   

“See you in third period,” he said, departing with a smile. 

It took you a second to recover from that. When you finally did, you clutched your textbook to your chest and smiled uncontrollably, tears brimming in your eyes, your heart racing, stomach fluttering, face glowing with pure, radiant joy. 

Under your breath, you whispered, “I hate so much that I have to be in school right now.”

Gareth, on the other hand, was glad to be in school today. Admittedly, his morning had gotten off to a rough start, but things were finally starting to look up for him, and now he felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough. 

Maybe. 

Hopefully.

But he didn’t wanna jinx it. 

In first period, Gareth snuck into the library and talked to Matilda Gunn: salutatorian, captain of the debate team, and the third name on Gareth’s list (his new list, of course; the original list was long gone, probably lying in a trashcan somewhere).

Matilda, anyway, was sitting at the back table and studying for her upcoming physics test. Matilda preferred studying in the library over her study hall class because she couldn’t stand the sound of her neighbor chewing and slurping his nails. She wasn’t too happy when Gareth pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. She was even less happy when he brought up Eddie Munson. 

“First of all, I’m offended that you would even think I would associate with that moron. I hate the guy. He ruined my GPA. Stupid group projects… God, I hate them!” Enraged, Matilda tore a random leaf out of her notebook and ripped the poor thing to shreds. Gareth watched her do it, horrified, and hoped there was nothing important written on that page. “You know, if I’d known he was gonna slack off like he did, I would’ve just done the whole thing myself. But no… I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I gave him the easiest task and he couldn’t even do that. He said he forgot about it. Said he was busy working on a campaign or something.”

“Yeah, he gets like that sometimes,” Gareth said. “Like last month, he spent the whole weekend learning ‘Master of Puppets.’ Have you heard that song?” 

Matilda shook her head, her eyes glazed with boredom. 

“Well, doesn’t matter. It’s a very hard song to play. That’s all you need to know. And Eddie became obsessed with it. He locked himself in his room all weekend and practiced over and over and—” 

Matilda pressed her hand to her temple and hissed, “Listen, junior freak, I don’t give a shit about Eddie Munson and his fucking guitar. Okay? Second of all, I didn’t even go to prom on Saturday. I was studying all weekend, studying for this test, and if I don’t get an A, I’m gonna hold you personally responsible. Now get lost.”

Gareth lurched back in his seat and felt his mouth go dry. 

(Once again, why were high school girls so needlessly cruel?)   

“Okay,” he said in a small voice. “I’m, uhh, sorry for bothering you.” 

He got up to leave. 

“Wait,” Matilda said with a sigh; then after a moment of careful, painful deliberation, she put out her hand. “Gimme your stupid list.”

Gareth held the list against his chest, protecting it. “You’re not gonna rip it up, are you?” he asked, observing the tattered remains of her last victim. “Because I’m getting kinda tired of writing all these names out.”

And some of those girls had really long names.  

“I’m not gonna rip it up.” Matilda’s voice was strained with frustration and fatigue, but there was still some warmth hiding in there, dimly glowing beneath the cold black coals of her heart. “I’m gonna help you narrow it down, okay? Otherwise, you’ll never figure it out.” She motioned impatiently with her hand. “Come on, hurry up.” 

Gareth handed her the list and she looked it over for a minute, vaguely amused.  

“Not a very long list,” she said while uncapping her highlighter with her teeth. 

“Well, Eddie’s very picky.” 

As he should be, Gareth thought. That man deserved the best.

(much better than you) 

Matilda snorted under her breath. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, bent her head, and began marking up the list with her highlighter. Her hand was calm and controlled, each movement deliberate, precise, as to be expected of an advanced test taker. “Okay, she has a boyfriend… she, I’m pretty sure, has a girlfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend… boyfriend… she’s been out of town for a funeral… and she… doesn’t even live in this state anymore.”

She crossed off the last name and slid the paper across the table. 

Gareth gaped at it, speechless. “You just eliminated everyone.” 

Matilda shrugged. “Like I said, not a long list.” 

It was a major setback, the kind of setback that made you want to tear the whole thing to pieces, cut your losses, and give up. Gareth seriously considered it. He almost did it while sitting in his second-period class. 

But then an angel appeared. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel named Olivia Kent.

She peered over his shoulder during class. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked, sitting with her chin on her palm. 

Gareth considered lying, saying he was working on his assignment or something, but in his current state, he didn’t have the heart to deceive anyone, especially not Olivia, who was so innocent and kind.

“I’m trying to figure out who my friend went home with after prom.” 

“Oh? Who’s your friend?”

“Eddie Munson.” 

“Oh...” Olivia giggled a silly, unaffected giggle. “Yeah, he had quite the night.” 

Gareth turned around in his seat. “You were at prom, Livvy?” 

“Mhm! It was a lotta fun.” 

“And you saw Eddie there?”

“Sure. I saw him lots of times.” 

“Did you see him leave with anybody?”

“Sure did… I saw everything.” 

“You saw everything?” Gareth sat back, awestruck, and felt tears come to his eyes. This was it. This was finally it. This was the breakthrough that Gareth had been waiting for. An eye witness—a star witness—had emerged at last, willing and eager to cooperate. “Oh, Livvy, you beautiful, beautiful, heavenly creature, tell me everything.” 

“About what?”

“About prom, Livvy.” 

“Oh, you wanna hear about prom?” Olivia shrugged, smiled, and said, “Okay! Philip Cuthbert asked me. I didn’t think he was going to, but then he totally surprised me! I wore a frilly pink dress and matching pink heels. Phillip wore a dark blue tux and a black bowtie. I think it was black, but it might’ve been blue, too. Then Philip got me one of those really pretty flower bracelets… What are those called again? Oh, right, corsages! Anyway, we took pictures on the front lawn of my house, then we took pictures at his house, and then we took more pictures in front of City Hall. I don’t normally like taking so many pictures, but I didn’t mind so much in this case. It was a special occasion. Phillip said I looked very pretty. He was really nice to me all night. He held my hand. He bought me dinner. He got me some cake. I actually ate two slices of cake that night, but don’t tell anybody, okay? I was only supposed to have one. And then we danced and drank punch and we danced again—”

Gareth put his hand on top of hers, making Olivia blush and look at him in doe-eyed wonderment. “Livvy, I’m glad you had such a fun time at prom, but since class is gonna be ending soon, do you think you could speed things up and get to the part where you saw Eddie? Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Olivia said, smiling. “I saw him talking to Chrissy.” 

“Yeah, he went there to ask her to dance. I told him it was a terrible idea, but he refused to listen to me.” 

“Yeah, that was a bad idea. Why would he do that?” 

“Because Eddie’s a hopeless romantic.” 

“Really?" Olivia frowned, considering it. “He doesn’t seem like one.” 

“He hides it behind a mask of cynicism, and he hides it very well.” 

“Oh,” Livvy said, mystified by the concept. “Well, I guess that explains why he got up on stage then.”

“Wait, Eddie got up on stage?” 

Damn, Gareth thought, that’s actually really impressive. 

“Mhm! He gave this long speech and everything. My friends said it was really weird and embarrassing, but honestly, I thought it was kinda sweet. Super embarrassing, but sweet. It was kind of like a… hmm… well, I guess you could call it a love confession. I don’t remember what he said exactly, but it was really adorable, and normally I wouldn’t use that word to describe Eddie—you know, ‘cause he’s so mean and scary-looking—but at that moment, he really was adorable. Kinda like a puppy. And then he played Journey and—” 

Gareth’s head rocked back. “He played Journey? Eddie played Journey? Eddie doesn’t like Journey. Nobody likes Journey. Nobody except…” 

(you)

Gareth’s eyes widened. His stomach plummeted to the floor. Then he shook his head and the thought was gone. 

“Okay, maybe it’s just a coincidence,” he said. “Maybe the DJ suggested Journey. Do you remember what song it was, Livvy?” 

“No, I don’t. Sorry, I’m not very good with song titles.” 

“Was it ‘Separate Ways’? ‘Any Way You Want It’? ‘Don’t Stop Believin’’? ‘Faithfully’? ‘Open Arms’?” 

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like Journey, you sure know a lot of Journey songs.” 

And for someone who seemed like such an airhead, Olivia Kent was shockingly observant. Gareth was rather impressed. He couldn’t help but tip his head to her. Touché, fair lady. 

“I think it was the last one,” Olivia said. 

“‘Open Arms’?” 

“I think so.” 

“So Eddie played a sappy love song,” Gareth concluded while rubbing his chin. “Makes sense.” 

“Mhm… and it must’ve worked ‘cause she left with him right after.” 

“You saw the girl who left with him?”  

“Yep.” 

“You saw her face?”

“Of course I did. She walked right past me.” 

“And did you recognize her?”

“Uh-huh!” 

“YES!” Gareth pumped his fists excitedly. He almost leaped out of his chair and kissed her, he was so happy. “Who was it, Livvy? Tell me who it was!”

Olivia sighed. “I don’t remember.” 

“What?” Gareth’s heart shattered. “But you just said you recognized her.”

“I did recognize her face, but I don’t remember her name… Sorry, Gareth, I’m not very good with names.” 

“You’re not good with names,” Gareth repeated softly, beside himself. “She’s not good with names. She’s not good with names. My star witness isn’t good with names.” 

He laughed madly to himself, feeling dizzy and delirious, feeling like the whole room was spinning like a turntable. A turntable playing Journey. Journey! Of all the bands in the world, Eddie, why Journey? Why? Why?

Meanwhile, Olivia rested her cheek against her palm and smiled at him. “You have really pretty eyes. Do you want my number?”  

Gareth paused, considering it. His face turned bright red. 

“Yes, Livvy. Yes, I’d love to get your number.” 

“Cool!” She scribbled it on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to him. “Call me sometime, okay?” 

So now Gareth was strolling away from his third-period class with a laminated hall pass in hand, Olivia Kent’s phone number in his pocket, a massive pit in his stomach, and Steve Perry’s annoying voice in his head. 

Journey. 

Eddie had requested Journey.  

It wasn’t a coincidence, was it? 

Gareth walked past Mr. Prichard’s math class, stopped, and backpedaled a few paces. He pressed his face against the glass and peered inside. 

Eddie was sitting at his desk with his assignment out and textbook open in front of him. He had his pencil in his hand, but he had yet to write a single answer. He was just tapping it against his notebook while he stared absently at the chalkboard, stared with a faraway look in his eyes. Gareth knew that look. It meant Eddie was lost in thought, usually about D&D or whatever new song he was learning, but today Gareth had a sneaking suspicion that Eddie was thinking about something else—or rather someone else. 

But not you. Please, God, not you. 

You were sitting behind him and quietly working on your assignment, just working on your assignment, and that caught Gareth a little off guard. If you had gone home with Eddie (as Gareth begrudgingly suspected now), shouldn’t you have been acting a little… happy? excited? Shouldn’t you have been staring at the back of his head with a dumb, lovesick expression? Daydreaming and doodling about him in your notebook? Naming your future children and planning your destination wedding?

Gareth expected to feel something when he peeked into that classroom. A change in energy. A shift in the natural balance of the universe. Call it whatever you want, but there should have been a noticeable difference in the air, right? Right?  

But there wasn’t.  

Everything was totally normal. 

You and Eddie were acting totally normal. 

And that filled Gareth with an exhilarating sense of relief. 

It wasn’t you. Thank God, it wasn’t you. 

Gareth backed away with a smile. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have seen the exact change in energy he had been waiting for. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have seen Eddie turn around and start talking to you. He would have seen you smile and blush and tell him to go back to his assignment (even though you didn’t really want him to go back to his assignment). Then he would have seen Eddie turn back to the front, try to do his work, give up, and turn around again five minutes later. 

But Gareth didn’t stay. Instead, he continued down the hallway in blissful ignorance, pulled out his list, ripped it up, and tossed the pieces into the trash. 

If it wasn’t any of them and it wasn’t you, there was only one logical conclusion. 

“She doesn’t go to school here, does she?”

Gareth forced this treasonous charge onto Eddie as soon as he arrived at the cafeteria. He had found his target sitting at his usual place at the head of the table. The seat of high honor. Eddie’s chair. The king’s chair. Gareth, a once-honorable and faithful soldier, slammed down his tray, leaned forward, pressed his palms into the table, and looked Eddie Munson square in the eye. Unblinking. Unflinching. Unyielding against his Dungeon Master’s powerful, intimidating aura.  

A moment of tense silence passed. Jeff and Grant looked at each other and immediately stopped eating. Jeff put down his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Grant screwed on the lid of his soup thermos and set the container aside. There was no telling how long this would take. Gareth had a talent for prolonging his inevitable demise. It was like watching a slow hanging. 

Oh, but what a show it would be. 

“Who is she, Eddie?” Gareth thrust out his finger accusingly. “Huh? Is she a teacher? A townie? Some drunk chick you picked up at the bar while drowning your pathetic sorrows away?” 

“Yikes,” Jeff said, cringing. 

And Grant said, “That is quite the allegation.”  

Indeed it was, and Eddie didn’t seem to appreciate the open assault on his character. His brown eyes sharpened into a steely glare. They reflected Gareth’s destruction like a black crystal ball. Doom. Doom. Doom. 

“Get your finger outta my face,” Eddie said, and that was all he needed to say.  

“I’m so sorry,” Gareth said, and fell back into his chair with a thump. His heart thudded in his chest while the color slowly returned to his face. That was as close to death as Gareth had ever come. It was a miracle he’d survived. He bent his head and capitulated: “I sincerely apologize for my previous statement. It was malicious and rude, completely unbecoming of my position.”

Grant squinted his eyes curiously. “And what is your position, exactly?” 

“I’m Eddie’s best friend, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Jeff echoed, snickering. 

Grant, wryly amused, said, “Uhh, I’m pretty sure Scottie’s his best friend.” 

Eddie, having dropped his tyrannous facade, was pretending to listen while absentmindedly picking through his snack bag, his thoughts elsewhere, eyes elsewhere. But where, Gareth couldn’t say. He had strained his neck to see who Eddie was looking at, but it was impossible to tell with so many people in the cafeteria. He could have been looking at anyone, anyone, anyone except you.

“He’s right,” Eddie murmured. “Scottie’s my best friend.” 

Gareth shrugged, unconcerned with such trivial technicalities. “Well, then I’m your second best friend, Eddie, and since Scottie’s in prison right now, I have to step in and assume the role in his stead.” 

“Ah, the interim best friend. So that’s the imaginary position you gave yourself.” 

“Oh, shut up and eat your soup, Grant.” 

“I will eat my soup,” Grant said, “and I’ll enjoy it while you continue to embarrass yourself.” 

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Gareth grumbled nonsensically. He stabbed a piece of broccoli with his fork, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It tasted like dirt. “I’m having a really horrible day.”   

“Well, that’s too bad,” Eddie said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Mine’s actually going pretty well.”

Another cryptic response. Gareth simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know,” Jeff began, “speaking of Scottie—” 

Gareth flung down his fork angrily, sending a spear of broccoli whizzing past Grant’s left shoulder. 

“Oh, come on, just tell me who it is already! Enough with the hints and the coded language. I swear to God, you’re driving me crazy, Eddie! You’ve been torturing me for days with this mystery. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t think about anything else. As your friend, I’m begging you to stop. Please, for my sanity, stop.” 

Eddie popped a pretzel into his mouth and chewed. “I’ve been torturing you?”

Grant said, “He’s been torturing himself, honestly.” 

Jeff nodded, seeming on the verge of laughter. “Yeah, he made a list and everything.”

Eddie grimaced. “Wait, there’s a list? Why is there a list?” 

“Because you’ve driven me to madness, Eddie!” Gareth blurted out in blind white rage. “I hope you’re happy because you’ve driven me to complete madness! Who were you with on Saturday? Don’t even try to deny it because I heard a girl talking in the background. It wasn’t the TV. It was a girl. A living, breathing girl. I know you were with her that night, and I know you were with her yesterday.” 

“I wasn’t with her yesterday,” Eddie replied, his eyelids heavy with annoyance. “I already told you, I was out running errands.” 

“Oh, you’re sticking with that story, huh? Okay, Eddie, let’s assume you were out running errands. Let’s assume you spent your whole Sunday exactly as you said. You got up bright and early, stopped by the drugstore for God knows what, and then spent the rest of the day by yourself at home, cleaning out your van.” 

“I did clean out my van yesterday. That’s how I found my lost W.A.S.P. tape.”  

“Oh, which album?” Grant asked. 

“The Last Command,” Eddie answered, a soft smile touching his face. 

Wait, was that another clue?

“Nice,” Grant said. “That’s a solid album.” 

Eddie nodded, agreeing, but now there was a distant glimmer in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Gareth couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was as if his friend was lost in a cherished memory. 

What significance did this W.A.S.P. tape hold?

Was there any significance? 

These questions twisted Gareth’s mind into a pretzel. 

And speaking of pretzels, Eddie had set down his snack bag and stopped eating. Weird. He now sat with his arms folded over his chest, fingers drumming impatiently against his right bicep. His wandering eyes kept going back to the clock. Counting down the minutes. What had him so restless all of a sudden? What was he waiting for? His next class? English? Was that significant? Eddie hated English. He dreaded English. He complained about it every day because it meant he had to see— 

Eddie pushed off the table and stood up. Gareth climbed up from his chair, too. 

“Where are you going, Eddie?” 

“Dude,” Jeff said, looking up at him. “You need to calm down.” 

“Otherwise,” Grant went on, “you might get demoted to third best friend.”

The two of them dissolved into laughter. Gareth didn’t even hear them.  

“It’s happening,” he muttered. “Something’s happening.”

“Yeah, you annoyed Eddie so much that he had to leave to get away from you.” 

But that wasn’t it. Eddie wasn’t fleeing for the exit like a coward. No, he was marching straight through the middle of the cafeteria like a lone soldier charging through the battlefield. Charging to victory or to death. He was infiltrating the enemy’s stronghold, impervious to their hostile glares and raised eyebrows. Even Jason Carver himself, who had begun to get out of his chair, could not stop him today. Eddie was a man determined, a man determined to get to

(of course)

you. 

He wedged himself between two basketball players, pushed his palms into the table, and greeted you with a charming smile. You gazed up at him in sweet surprise. 

“Hi,” you said. 

“Hi,” he said back. “You wanna skip next period?”

Chrissy’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” she said while you blushed, buried your face in your hands, and giggled. 

Gareth, dumbstruck, slumped back into his chair with the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth. 

That bitch, he thought. That Journey-loving bitch, she actually did it. 

Grant regarded him with an impressed frown. “You know, you’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would. When did you figure it out?” 

Gareth sighed. “Second period.” 

Eddie just had to play Journey.

There was a moment of solemn silence after that. Then Grant unscrewed his soup thermos and lunch resumed as usual. Jeff took a bite of his sandwich. Gareth, now resigned to his grim fate, stuck his fork into his meatloaf and cut himself a modest slice. The meat looked dry and grey. What a horrible new world he lived in. 

But, he supposed, there was something to look forward to. 

“I got Olivia Kent’s number today. I think I’m gonna ask her out this weekend.” 

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

unfortunately, i no longer do taglists. if you want to stay updated on my fics, you can follow me and/or subscribe to my posts. thank you!

[hellcheer-heaven]

He and Chrissy sleep very well in fact.

This has probably been done before, but I still wanted to make it.

[bellofthemeadow]

Harrington!reader, Steve’s little sister. Popular, a cheerleader, first time senior and Chrissy’s best friend. But she has a secret that only her best friend knows. She’s had a crush on Eddie Munson since middle school. She’s afraid to tell him, thinking there’s no way he’d be into her. Until one day in the cafeteria, Jason Carver calls Eddie a freak. She confronts him, and punches him in the face, breaking or spraining her hand/wrist. Guess her little secret is out, and she may never be popular again.

OF COURSE MY DEAR ANON! I am so sorry it took forever to address this request! I have just started my final year of Uni, and with four seminars and graduate applications, I have not had any time to write consistently! But this idea was too enticing to pass up, so thank you very much for sharing it! For those waiting on other fics, I am slowly but surely getting back into the groove of writing more consistently so it should all come out sooner rather than later (hopefully) and I always welcome more fics or one shot ideas! Thank you to y'all for bearing with me, I APPRECIATE ALL OF YOU SO SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️

No warnings excpet for some violence (against Jason Carver so thats fine I think) and some heavy make out session

Word Count: 5.3K

Masterlist

Hit Me Baby One More Time

You had gotten your first taste of popularity on your very first day of middle school, a couple of years ago. That entire week leading up to it had been filled with fear and stress about what people would think of you. Overwhelmed, you had spent the last few days of your summer agonizing over your outfit choice, turning your daily fashion show into a reluctant performance for your big brother, Steve. Despite his huffs and puffs, he had reassured you that everything would go smoothly, but you couldn't help to worry. Eventually, you ended up settling on a cute white dress that reached just above your knees, paired with a soft baby pink cardigan. You had hoped it would be enough to get some of the right kind of attention that Steve always talked about.

In hindsight, you realized that you might have been a tad dramatic as when lunchtime had rolled around, a group of girls had approached you, giggling with excitement. "Are you Steve Harrington's sister?" they had asked-whispered with bright envious eyes. You slowly nodded, and with elated giggles, they ushered you over to their table, where the popular crowd was hanging out. It turned out your brother had quite the reputation, and while you knew he was popular, you hadn't fully grasped the extent to which the name Harrington would impact your social life. For you, Steve was just the idiot older brother who used Farah Fawcet's hairspray to keep his dumb hair in place – But to everyone else, it seemed that Steve was a pretty big deal. So, you were, it seemed, a legacy, and the rest, as they say, was history. And that very day, you also ended up meeting your future best friend, Chrissy Cunningham, who you would grow to love with all your heart.

Five years had come and gone, and now, you were finally well-established into your senior year, ready to graduate in the spring. And while it was true that your older brother might have facilitated your initial entry into the realm of popularity, you had since etched out a distinctive name for yourself. As your brother moved on to new chapters in his life (namely an underpaid job at family video), your own journey through high school took a markedly different path. In fact, your popularity had continued to ascend, like a rising star in the night sky.

Though the Harrington name may have laid the foundation, you had meticulously built upon it, brick by brick. You had cultivated your own unique persona, and it had become a force to be reckoned with in the hallways of your school. No longer living in the shadow of your brother's glory days, you had emerged as a charismatic figure in your own right.

You had become The Harrington sibling who truly counted, especially after the dramatic showdown between Steve and Billy Hargrove during his own senior year. In the aftermath of that clash, your brother's social standing had taken a considerable hit, with much of his social credit being seized by the mullet-wearing bad-boy. The Harrington name, which had once been associated with Steve's swagger, now conjured images of a radiant, saccharine smile, cheerleading outfits, and a personality as pinky-sweet as bubblegum.

While Chrissy indisputably reigned as the queen of Hawkins High, some believed it was only because you had no desire to claim that throne—a belief rooted in truth as you had no interest of being the queen of anything, especially Hawkins High as beyond Chrissy, you harboured little affection for the other members of the popular clique. Whether it was Jason Carver and his cronies or the remainder of the cheer squad, you couldn't help but find them increasingly vapid.

Nestled at the popular table right in the heart of the bustling cafeteria, always donning Hawkins’ green cheer outfit, a nagging sensation of inauthenticity always clung to you. Hitching deep into your soul, making you feel like the fraud you’ve always believed yourself to be as although your elevated social status had smoothed your journey through high school, ensuring a constant stream of party invitations, a steadfast companion, and even a few favors from teachers who were drawn to your preppy smile and sunny disposition, it all felt like a facade, far removed from your true self.

You’ve always known how deep inside, there were facets of who you really were that you couldn't openly share with anyone but Chrissy. She alone knew of your profound love for fantasy and science fiction novels. Nothing brought you more joy than retreating home to dive headlong into the mystical realms crafted by H.P. Lovecraft or to lose yourself once more in the pages of your well-worn copy of "Frankenstein." Yet, these passions remained concealed beneath the veneer you projected: the princess of Hawkins High, painted in shades of pink, sweet, and deceptively perfect.

The idea of letting those hidden, nerdy passions of yours see the light of day felt like a risky bet, one that could potentially leave you feeling incredibly alone at Hawkins High. The thought of losing friends and having nowhere to sit during lunch was a constant source of worry. You had faith in Chrissy's unwavering support, regardless of your social standing, but you couldn't bear the idea of burdening her. She was just so kind, always forgiving even to those who didn't deserve it, and you didn't want to be the one responsible for pulling her down.

As a result, the decision to keep these aspects of your identity hidden weighed heavily on your heart. It felt like an unspoken loneliness, a sacrifice you were making to preserve the fragile balance of the life you'd carefully constructed in high school. Hawkins High had its own intricate ecosystem, and you were very much a part of it. Your place within that system was delicate, and you couldn't afford to disrupt it, fearing that it might set off a chain reaction that could destabilize everything. You had no intention of being the one to upset the frail high school biome of Hawkins High.

Now, however, your situation was far from ideal as you found yourself sandwiched between Carly and Tina during lunch, and today, they were even more exasperating than usual. There seemed to be some sort of fallout from Tina's last party, something involving a boy, and now the two girls communicated exclusively through snarky remarks, making the tension rise with every snip from either girl. A brewing headache was beginning to claw at your temples as you were waiting for the explosion to erupt sooner rather than later.

What was happening in front of you wasn’t any better as you were given a front-row seat to the somewhat uncomfortable sight of Jason Carver deeply engrossed in a passionate kiss with Chrissy. She appeared to be on the brink of embarrassment, her attempts to gently push Jason away carried out with shy reluctance. "Jason, please," she implored, her manicured hand finding its way to his chest, a plea in her eyes. "Not in front of everyone..."

In response, Jason merely rolled his eyes dismissively. "Come on, baby," he insisted, his voice low and unconcerned. "No one's even paying attention to us."

You couldn't help but scowl, unhappiness etching your delicate features as you watched the uncomfortable display unfold before you. Finally, you couldn't take it any longer. You cleared your throat and loudly exclaimed, "Hey, Chrissy?" All eyes turned to you, and you continued, "Do you think we could slip away from lunch a bit early to go over the routine we've been practicing for the upcoming game? I really want to make sure I've got it down perfectly before tonight's match."

Chrissy's sigh of relief was almost audible, and you could sense her gratitude. In contrast, Jason huffed unhappily, clearly irritated by the interruption. He muttered something about leaving you girls to your conversation before he got up and headed to chat with one of his buddies at the far end of the table.

You and Chrissy shared a quick, wordless girl-to-girl conversation. All the words you needed were conveyed through a bombastic side-eye from you and a subtle nod of your head toward Jason. Chrissy responded with a playful roll of her eyes and a slight shake of her shoulder, silently agreeing with your sentiment.

As your eyes shifted away from Chrissy, they unexpectedly locked onto the deep brown ones of Eddie Munson. Two distinct emotions surged from deep within you. One was a rush of excitement as the warmth of your crush enveloped you, causing your face to flush as red as a ripe apple under his gaze. But in an instant, that crush felt almost crushing when you realized that it wasn't you that Eddie was looking at, but rather Chrissy's high ponytail that had captured his attention.

Eddie and Chrissy. Chrissy and Eddie. ChrissyandEddie. It was an undeniable fact that the guy you had the most enormous crush on happened to be utterly smitten with your best friend. It felt almost tragically comical, if you were being honest with yourself. Throughout high school, countless guys had mustered the courage to ask you out, but you had dismissed them all without a second thought. Football jocks, band nerds, potheads, music fanatics – none of them could hold a candle to Eddie Munson in your eyes.From the very moment you first crossed paths with Eddie during your freshman year, your heart had been irreversibly, completely, and utterly captivated by the charismatic and outspoken boy. You were utterly unprepared for it, not like you were out there seeking Cupid's arrow to pierce your heart. You had simply been an unsuspecting victim of one of its whims, but the exquisite pain that followed was worth it. At least, you hoped so.

Thanks to Eddie's recurring attempts at redoing his senior year and your placement in advanced classes, your worlds intersected more than once. One particularly unforgettable encounter unfolded in Mrs. Allen's math class, where the teacher had a peculiar notion that pairing the class's worst student (Eddie) with its best (you) would somehow work magic. You were left a bit shy and entirely tongue-tied in his presence, but Eddie had an uncanny talent for leaning in close and delivering a barrage of side-splitting, utterly inappropriate observations about Mrs. Allen that left you snorting with laughter. For a glorious three months, Eddie was your math partner in crime, and during that time, you dared to believe that something more could evolve from your interactions. If only you could string together coherent sentences without tripping over your words.

However, as fate would have it, the teacher eventually grew tired of her seating arrangement, deciding it was high time to shake things up. This twist in your high school narrative resulted in you and Eddie being separated, an alteration you weren't particularly thrilled about. The new arrangement effectively put a damper on your burgeoning connection.

It was in the midst of this seating shuffle that Eddie tossed a rather loaded question your way, catching you off guard. "Your friend Chrissy," he began, as you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. "Is she still with that Carver douche?" Your gaze faltered as you met his, a nod escaping your lips as a wave of disappointment surged within you. Inwardly grappling with the sting of unspoken heartache, you found yourself clutching the hem of your cheer skirt almost desperately. Without another word, you retreated to your newly assigned seat, a sense of melancholy lingering like a shadow and bitter disappointment coating your tongue.

Even now, your gaze would involuntarily flicker to Eddie whenever you found yourself in the same room. Often, he'd be engrossed in conversations with his bandmates or his D&D group, leaving you on the outside looking in. It was a conflicting sensation, feeling his presence so near yet so far away. If only you could gather the nerve to strike up a conversation with him, but you hesitated. After all, you were the popular girl, the one who played by the rules, and good girls weren't supposed to mix with people like Eddie, no matter how much you desperately longed for it. Perhaps during math class today, you thought, you might find a plausible excuse to approach him. Maybe something as simple as asking about the homework or...

"And what the hell do you think you're staring at, Freak!?" The sudden hush that swept over the cafeteria was palpable as every head turned toward Jason, who had abandoned your table and was now striding purposefully toward the one where Eddie and his friends were seated. A chill coursed through your veins, causing your face to pale. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the unfolding drama as Eddie rose from his seat. While he appeared outwardly confident, the telltale clenching and unclenching of his hand betrayed the nervousness bubbling beneath the surface. It was clear to you that what he was displaying might just be a facade of bravado.

"Did you dribble that orange ball a few too many times, Carver?" Eddie sarcastically chimed in. His words hung in the air, an open challenge that seemed to stoke the flames of Jason's anger. In a fit of rage, Jason lunged forward, grabbing Eddie by the front of his well-worn jeans jacket. The cafeteria held its breath, anticipation hanging heavy in.

 A gasp escaped your lips, a sharp, involuntary intake of breath as the dramatic confrontation unfolded before your eyes. Abruptly, you shot up from your seat, causing Chrissy to turn around in surprise. She sent you an uncertain look as you started to stride toward the two boys. It was as if you were possessed by a force stronger than yourself, you couldn’t let whatever was happening continue – you had to do something!

"Don't try to bullshit me, freak!" Jason's voice reverberated through the cafeteria, anger and scorn dripping from his words. "I saw you looking at Chrissy. You think you can just lay your eyes on her, you freak? She isn't yours; you're nothing but trailer trash! Don't you ever dare to look at her again, alright? Or I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget!" Jason was so close to Eddie's face that his spittle sprayed across the other boy's features. He shoved Eddie backward, and it was at that moment, as you were making your way between the mass of students that had clustered around Jason and Eddie that you felt a surge of red-hot anger like nothing you had ever felt before.

"Do I make myself clear, freak?" Jason continued, his voice dripping with malice. "Or do I need to send my boys to deal with you and your pathetic group of losers?" Eddie looked incensed, but he cowered under Jason's menacing threat.

"I...wasn't...looking," Eddie enunciated each word through gritted teeth, avoiding Jason's eyes. Jason burst into fake laughter, glancing around at the onlookers.

"Does the freak have a crush?" he taunted, his voice cruel and derisive. "That's hilarious. You honestly think you'd have a chance with Chrissy? Be realistic, freak. What is it now, twice repeating your senior year?" Eddie's face turned a deep shade of pink, shame washing over him as Jason's taunts struck at his insecurities. His shoulders sagged with each insult, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Everyone knows anyway that the only way a freak like you could ever get close to a girl is when you and your little cult of Satan practice some sacrifices," Jason continued, his words laced with venom. "I'm even surprised they let people like you in here. Everyone knows what kind of trash your dad was, it ain't surprising that the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree…”

You pushed your way through the crowd, determination propelling you forward. Without a second thought, you strode purposefully toward the back of Jason. Eddie's surprised gaze locked onto you as you confidently approached them.

You extended your arm and lightly tapped Jason on the shoulder, effectively cutting off his rant mid-sentence. The abruptness of your action prompted Jason to whirl around to face you, his typically handsome features now contorted into a repulsive mask of anger. It was a stark contrast to the carefully cultivated "cool-guy" image he often projected. But deep down, you knew this enraged countenance was his true face, hidden behind the facade. In fight or flight mode, you recalled your brother Steve's advice about fighting, which you had stored away in your memory, "Sis," Steve's voice echoed in your mind, "when you throw a punch, put your entire body behind it."

And that's precisely what you did. With every ounce of your body weight, you thrust your fist forward directly into Jason's face. The cafeteria was filled with a sharp crack, echoing through the room, followed by a collective gasp from everyone present. An eerie silence descended upon the cafeteria.

Jason lay sprawled on the floor, a violent stream of blood gushing from his nose, while you clutched your hand close to your chest. Tears welled up at the corners of your eyes. No one had ever warned you that hitting someone would hurt like an absolute nightmare! It ] wasn’t like that in the movies!

Your gaze landed on Eddie, and you noticed a peculiar expression take over the young metalhead’s face –  His brown gaze held something unfamiliar, a look you had never seen throughout the time you had been admiring him from afar. I was as though he were seeing you – like he was attempting to decipher the mechanics of your very being. It caught you off guard, this intensity in his stare, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

“YOU BITCH! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!!!” Jason roared from his sprawled position on the ground.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze away from Eddie, you redirected it toward the fallen boy who cut a rather pathetic figure at your feet. Curling your lip in disdain, you adopted your most haughty tone and huffed, "You, Jason Carver, are the problem here!"

Jason, still sprawled on the floor with a nosebleed, glared up at you, his anger palpable, "You little—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you cut him off with a stern gesture. "Save it, Jason. You had this coming."

A stunned silence blanketed the cafeteria, every eye fixed on the unfolding confrontation. It was as if time had frozen, and the entire room held its breath in rapt attention as Hawkins' princess unleashed her verbal assault on the school's reigning king.

In that moment, you felt like you had the entire cafeteria in a chokehold, and you were determined not to let this opportunity slip away, not after what Jason had put Eddie through. Gathering your resolve, you continued, your voice dripping with disdain, "Do you honestly believe you can bully and belittle people just because they don't conform to your narrow definition of 'normal'? Well, I've had enough of your toxic attitude! You, my dear Jason, are the most insufferable idiot I've ever had the displeasure of encountering in my entire life! And I am done catering to whatever you and your dumb friends say!”

Jason struggled to get up, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. Turning back to Jason, you crossed your arms and delivered your final message with authority. "Consider this a warning, Jason. Mess with Eddie or anyone else again, and you'll have me to answer to."

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" Principal Higgins' thunderous voice pierced through the otherwise eerily silent cafeteria. In an instant, your confidence evaporated, leaving you feeling pale and exposed. You were caught off guard, unable to process what to do or say.

Before you could even react, a familiar, warm hand firmly grabbed yours, yanking you along as they sprinted in the opposite direction, forcefully pushing people out of the way. It was a grip you knew well, and you didn't hesitate to follow Eddie as he practically dragged you toward the exit of the cafeteria.

The scene you left behind was nothing short of chaotic. The entire school stood in a collective stupor, mouths agape in disbelief. Jason Carver, his face an alarming shade of red, appeared on the brink of an aneurysm as he struggled to regain his composure. Principal Higgins, in his authoritative fury, barked orders at the bewildered students, demanding answers and an immediate end to the commotion.

As you reached the exit and the clamor of the cafeteria began to fade, you couldn't help but let out a giggle of exhilaration. Eddie continued to lead you, now behind the school building and into the dense woods that bordered the campus. The farther you ventured into the secluded forest, the more you appreciated the sudden escape from the madness. Eventually, Eddie brought you to a worn-out picnic table, the wood weathered by years of exposure to the elements. Eddie finally managed to catch his breath. He exhaled heavily and asked, "What the hell... hfff... was that?!"

You leaned against the picnic table, still catching your own breath, and grinned at Eddie. "That, Eddie, was me finally giving Jason Carver a taste of his own medicine. That douchebag had it coming!"

Eddie let out a loud surprised laugh while still trying to catch his breath, his eyes still wide from the unexpected turn of events. "Well, I've gotta say, sweetheart, that was quite the show back there. You really let him have it, you got a mean hook princess." A warm flush of pride swept over you as you soaked in Eddie's praises. How long had you waited to hear him say something like that—to acknowledge you and gaze at you as if you were the most wonderful girl in the world? It was a feeling you had been yearning for so long, and if you were to die right now, you would die happy!

Eddie's warm, chocolate-coloured gaze landed on you, and it felt as though it softly swept over every inch of your being. He spoke, his voice filled with curiosity, "I don't think anyone was expecting Hawkins' princess to come to the defence of the 'freak.' You know they won't let you forget this, right? Why would you risk all that for little old me, Harrington?"

You let out a sigh, the weight of his inquisitive gaze pressing on you. As you closed your eyes briefly, you grappled with the emotions that had been swirling within you since the first time you had laid eyes on Eddie. A small smile crept onto your lips as you slowly opened your eyes, fixing them on the boy of your dreams. "You're worth it, Munson."

Eddie drew in a sharp breath, taking three steps closer to you. His large, warm hands, bearing tiny scars from playing the guitar, gently swept across your cheeks as he gazed intently into your eyes. "Do you mean that, Harrington? Because there's no going back if I kiss you right now—it's you and me, the princess and the 'freak.' You won’t climb back from that fall.”

You glanced at your right hand, the knuckles scraped and the skin raw, with a slight swelling on your wrist. "I think it's a little too late for that anyway," you sheepishly admitted. Eddie smiled warmly, his eyes filled with admiration, before gently taking your hand in his two larger ones. He slowly brought your bruised knuckles to his mouth, planting a soft kiss on each of them, causing your breath to hitch.

"Who knew that the princess of Hawkins High was Indiana’s future boxing champion," Eddie softly joked, his voice laced with affection. "I just feel bad for this pretty, soft hand – all bruised and battered to protect me, like the prettiest knight in pink armor coming to my rescue." You couldn't help but swoon at his words as Eddie continued to softly kiss your hand, his gaze slowly lifting to meet yours, his eyes filled with… Love? Tenderness? A girl could dream.

A warm smile curved across Eddie's lips, and he leaned in, capturing your mouth with his in a searing kiss. As you both savored each other, Eddie's hand slowly wrapped around the base of your neck, holding you close to him. As you were trying not to faint from the sheer pleasure this moment was bringing you, a flash of remembrance rushed through you, snapping you back from your trance and causing you to break the kiss and catch your breath. You whispered softly against Eddie's lips, "What about Chrissy?"

Eddie nuzzled your face with his nose, his lips brushing lightly against your skin. "What about her?" he retorted playfully. "I mean... I thought... I thought you had a thing for her," you admitted meekly.

Eddie smirked against your cheek. "If I did, I wouldn't be kissing you right now, right?" His voice held a teasing edge as he continued to shower your neck with tender kisses.

You closed your eyes, feeling a mix of contradicting emotions – wanting to keep going to feel more of him, wishing him to stop playing with your heart because you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. "I mean it, Eddie... I don't want to be your second choice."

Eddie stopped his ministrations and returned to your face, holding your gaze with his. "You were always my first choice, Eddie," you confessed, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. "And I don't think I could handle being your backup plan."

Eddie's whispers were tender as he wiped away the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks. "Nononono, sweetheart. Don't cry, please," he implored softly. "You were always my first choice." His words held a reassuring sincerity that began to soothe your racing heart. But you wouldn’t be so easily swayed, as much as you loathed Jason Carver, you had witnessed first hand how Eddie seemed enraptured with Chrissy.

You huffed in disbelief, but Eddie insisted, urging you to meet his gaze. "No, it's true. Hey, look at me," he gently encouraged. "I never thought I would ever have a chance with a girl like you. You know, you're like my dream girl, right?" You gave him an uncertain look, still wrestling with your doubts. "You always stare at Chrissy, though. And you did ask me if she was still with Jason, remember?"

Eddie released your cheeks and took a step back, embarrassment tinging his cheeks as he used a piece of his shaggy hair to shield himself from you. "I wasn't looking at Chrissy. You're always with Chrissy, so I was looking at you," he admitted, his voice tinged with shyness. "And I only asked you that because I panicked. I was going to ask you out, but the guys had been teasing me for weeks, telling me I was too much of a coward to do it. I guess they were right because I chickened out."

As Eddie continued, his embarrassment grew, and he took another step back. He held the piece of hair in front of his face, as if to hide himself from you. "I've actually had a crush on you since last year," he confessed, his words shocking you.

"Are you joking?!" you blurted out, astonished.

He shook his head, his warm brown eyes holding your gaze. "Not at all, princess," he began with a soft smile. "It was last year. You were on your way back from cheer practice, and you were in a hurry, holding a huge backpack. It happened so fast that you didn't even realize a book had fallen out."

His eyes sparkled as he continued, his tone becoming more animated. "I saw it lying there, and curiosity got the best of me – I picked it up, and to my surprise, it was a copy of 'The Hobbit.’” He grinned as if sharing a secret. "I was planning to return it to you, honestly, but then, when I opened it, I saw that there was a bunch of notes in the margins." Eddie started grinning even more as he continued “All there in the margins, notes, thoughts, musings. It was like reading your mind with every turn of the page. Your insights, your emotions, your laughter, and even your frustrations were all there in the margins. I knew I had stumbled upon the most precious treasure in the universe – it was a private window into you."

Your breath hitched at his words, and as Eddie spoke, you felt a warmth spreading through you, "It felt like we were close," Eddie continued, his gaze never leaving yours. "I couldn't put the book down. It was like having a conversation with you, even when you weren't around. I realized how much we had in common, how you saw the world, and it fascinated me.”

The thought that Eddie had held onto that copy of 'The Hobbit,' with your notes and thoughts, all this time was both surprising and heartwarming. Damn, he was perfect.

"Fuck, I sound so creepy," Eddie confessed, breaking your reverie. He scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.

But you weren’t creeped out, far from it. For the first time in your life, you felt completely understood by someone – inside and out. "No, Eddie," you whispered softly, your heart swelling with love. "You don't sound creepy at all. You sound... perfect." A sweet cocky grin got etched on Eddie’s lips “Perfect, eh?”

Getting overwhelmed by his stare, you tried to play it cool and diverted his question by teasingly asking, "So you’ve had a big fat crush on me for a while, right?"

Eddie chuckled, taking a step closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. "Don't get too high and mighty, princess," he said with a warm smile, his voice laced with adoration. "From the looks of it, you've got a pretty big crush on little old me too…"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling a delightful warmth in the pit of your stomach. "I can neither confirm nor deny that," you replied in a sing-song voice, your eyes never leaving his.

Eddie's smile deepened, his gaze filled with affection. With a tender touch, he placed his hands on your waist, and before you knew it, he had spun you around. You couldn't help but let out a joyful squeak as you twirled together in a sweet, romantic dance. As he gently lowered you back to the ground, his strong arms remained securely wrapped around your back, pulling you close.

In that intimate moment, it felt as though the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you entwined in each other's embrace. Your breaths synchronized, and you lost yourselves in each other's eyes, the unspoken promise of a beautiful future passing between you.

"Hey, Eddie," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath but filled with affection and longing.

Eddie's gaze softened even more, his eyes filled with tenderness as he held you close. "Yeah, princess?"

With a radiant smile, you leaned in closer to him, your heart singing with love. "I've got a big fat crush on you too."

A soft, contented sigh escaped Eddie's lips, and he held you even tighter as if he never wanted to let you go. "Good." And without another word, he pressed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. Nothing ever tasted sweeter.

“You gonna be alright sitting with the freaks now?” “As long as I sit with you Eddie, I could not care less.”

The fallen princess and the freak," you thought contentedly, "that has the ringing of a love story for the ages.” And all it took was that punch you threw at Jason Carver's face for you and Eddie to find your way to each other.

[a-strange-inkling]

I wheezed so hard I almost died.

(Source: dead.in.hawkins)

[fujiblackthorne]

🍸🍹🍷

[ebongawk]

Chrissy dating Jason vs Chrissy dating Eddie

[hairmetal666]

“Are you with Jason?” Steve asks first thing.

Chrissy lets out a soft noise, almost a sob. It freezes him in place. “Jason he—he left, Steve. He—I didn’t know who else to call—Please.” The sound of it hollows him out completely. His body unlocks all at once, and he’s stumbling for the door.

“What happened?” he asks as he shoves his feet into his shoes.

“I think he’s going to hurt Eddie. You need to—you have to stop him.”

“I—I’ll stop Jason, I promise, but first I need you to tell me everything that happened, okay?”

I don't know how to tease this chapter! Come get your Forever is the Sweetest Con update! (Make sure to check the CWs for this one!)

[typhoidcandy]

eddie meets chrissy’s little brother for the first time. it doesn’t go too well. (give him a break, kid. he’s just trying to pick up his girlfriend!!)

[spacebabesuki]

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - Hellcheer

Eddie Munson|Chrissy Cunningham|Hellcheer Week 2024|Devil & Touch Starved - Day 6 @hellcheerweek

oneshot, songfic, word count: 3k

Summary: Christine Cunningham, a young and innocent nun at Hawkins Convent, is cherished for her purity—so holy that they even call her the new Virgin Mary. However, her faith is challenged when a delinquent named Eddie Munson—described by the priest as the very reincarnation of the devil—appears. “Oh, sweet angel, you think you’ll never sin, don't you? You just haven’t met me yet.”

Christine Cunningham, a young and innocent nun at Hawkins Convent, had taken her vows at eighteen, beloved by priests and admired for her purity—the sweet girl was so holy that they even called her the new Virgin Mary.

Her gentle nature was said to be so strong that even the devil himself could not tempt her from the path of holiness. Well, the problem was they just hadn’t counted on the fact that the devil had arrived.

No prison in Hawkins could hold him. So, they had sent him to the convent, hoping the word of God would redeem him and save him. They believed the devil was inside him.

His name? Eddie Munson...

When the priest attempted an exorcism, even he, the most respected priest in Indiana, gave up. Eddie Munson, with a devilish smile on his cold face, had laughed throughout the entire ordeal. His icy eyes and dark demeanor had suggested a future more sinister than any criminal's.

The city had been right when they labeled him a criminal: the devil himself incarnate.

Only Christine could save him.

For weeks, she had tried, but without success. He remained cold, evil, and malicious—capable of provoking even the calmest of nuns to anger. And anger is a sin. Despite her best efforts to remain on God's path, this man was leading her astray. With each passing day, the holiest nun in the world was beginning to falter.

The smoke clouds billowed from his mouth like a freight train cutting through a small town. He smoked, exhaling clouds of smoke through his parted lips. Dressed all in black, with a leather jacket, bracelets, and silver rings on each of his long fingers, he stared at her while holding the cigarette inside the church.

If sin were a person, it would definitely be him.

They had both been seated in the church confessional, doing this every day. She knelt, praying for him, while he sat back, his long legs spread out in black pants, and Eddie laughed quietly. She tried to focus, but she couldn’t. He kept watching her through the small opening in the confessional, grinning and blowing smoke just to make her pretty blonde hair, hidden by a black veil, flutter.

And she confessed that it was not the first time her eyes had lost focus as she looked at his belt, his long legs spread open... and then she blushed, closed her eyes, and prayed even more fervently.

In the beginning, she had thought she should only pray for him.

But God help her, because now she was praying for herself too.

He was obsessed with watching her, driving her to the edge, provoking her with his gaze and his words. She was his little amusement park in that fucking convent. And she, despite her angelic face, was like a piece of forbidden sin to him—he couldn’t take his eyes off her—the sweet, adorable nun.

The jokes he told from across the room were revolting and far too loud. And with each day he spent there, trying for salvation, people shook their heads, whispering "God help her," when she told them she was going to save him.

With a smirk, he taunted her, “But your good Lord doesn’t even need to lift a finger.”

The priest, concerned for the poor, sweet girl, advised her to give up, saying, “Sometimes, God’s plan isn’t for everyone.”

But she believed in the salvation of Eddie Munson’s tormented soul.

“I can fix him. No, really, I can,” she insisted. “And only I can.”

She was convinced this had been the hardest mission God could give her, and she accepted it with open arms, believing that He never gave burdens too heavy to bear.

She believed saving him, Eddie Munson, was her mission.

Dopamine surged through his brain every time he saw her in her nun’s habit, clutching her rosary.

“What a waste,” Eddie said, grinning. “A sweet thing like you, belonging to no one. If you could, you’d be mine.” He blew smoke into her face, pressing the cigarette back between his lips while she was still on her knees praying for him in the confessional. “If you ever give up this whole God thing, call me,” he winked, his lips making that teasing sound.

Every time she tried to focus on her prayers, her eyes drifted to his hands. Kneeling before God, praying for his soul, his intimidating presence loomed over her, moving back and forth as if her prayers meant nothing.

And now, every time she prayed, she remembered that one day Eddie approached her. She felt it—her eyes squeezed shut in fear, trembling. When she opened them, she found his heavy boots right in front of her. Kneeling before Eddie Munson, she swallowed hard and felt his touch—the touch of a man for the first time in her life. It was so... No! She forced herself to return to her prayers. But as she prayed, she felt the tip of his finger—a rough, calloused digit—gently tracing hearts on her rosy cheek.

So close, too close; he distracted her from her mission. She blushed, and he noticed, towering over her, always dressed in black, with tattoos of demons crawling up his skin.

That day, she learned there had been only one thing her religious mind couldn’t control with prayer in the world—the effects on her body.

“Oh, sweet thing,” he smiled, tilting her chin up with his finger and forcing her to look at him. She felt something stir in her heart and in her legs, keeping her awake at night since he arrived.

People always said that when the devil is near, you feel it, and he seduces you. She felt like she was sinning, her body betraying her mind.

He was magnetic, but she reminded herself: Lucifer was too.

Then, in a moment of panic, she stood up, abandoning her rosary mid-prayer for the first time in her life. She slammed the door and fled from him, rushing into her room. Concerned about the sin in her heart and the heat in her legs, she leaned against the door, breathing deeply—desperate and sweating—trying to rid her mind of impure thoughts.

She had avoided looking at him for days since it happened, and she hadn’t slept for nights. Yet, she still hadn’t given up on him; she was going to save his soul and then purify her own.

Every day, she saw him with his boots resting on the church pews, and he’d wink every time she passed by.

Now, she was here praying for him again in the confessional, trying to make the heat knot in her stomach disappear as she whispered prayers while holding her rosary.

(...)

Every day had been the same: from 9 to 10 AM, she prayed in the confessional, and in the afternoon, she prayed in his room. He admitted he had become obsessed with her, feeling anxious from 3 to 5 PM, eagerly awaiting the hour of prayer.

Fascinated by her innocence, he was determined to unravel the sweet nun. He could see it from a mile away—a perfect case for his unique skill set: sin. She wore a halo of the highest grade, and he wanted to take it from her.

And today, once again, it was time for prayer. He was lying on the bed, reading, when he glanced at the clock marking 3 PM. A second later, he heard the door open. She entered, head bowed, so beautiful it was almost a sin.

Eddie lifted an eyebrow; today, she wasn’t dressed in her long nun's habit that covered everything. Instead, she wore a white nightgown he had never seen before. She had asked the priest for permission to rest, feeling sick all day, but she wouldn’t give up—she had come to pray for him again.

In his mind, he even believed she had put on the white nightgown on purpose for him. She wanted to sin, but something held her back. He could see her stealing glances at him; he wasn’t stupid.

But this poor angel just needed a little help to sin.

The white nightgown clung to her form, revealing the curves of her body more than her usual garments. He caught sight of the crucifix hanging between her breasts—a sight that felt sinful. It looked so soft, so perfect, that it seemed a crime for someone built like her to be untouched.

“Hello there, pretty thing,” he chuckled, leaning back with his hands behind his head and his boots resting on the bed. “I missed you, sweetheart. I counted the minutes until I could see you again.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze still downcast. She wasn’t afraid of him; she was afraid of the sin. His voice was like honey—flirting, like a sin.

"You are a sinner; don't talk to me."

“Oh, sweet angel, you think you’ll never sin, don't you?” he taunted. “You just haven’t met me yet.”

She knelt at the foot of the bed, beginning her prayers, but soon lost her focus as he drew closer.

Then she heard his rough voice whisper, as if the devil were sitting on her shoulder. But he was standing next to her.

“Good girl, that’s right, come close,” he said, his tone sultry. “I’ll show you heaven if you’ll be my angel—all mine.”

He got off the bed and approached her. She faltered in her prayer, squeezing her eyes shut as sinful thoughts invaded her mind—thoughts of kneeling for him for a different reason.

She felt something new between her thighs at the sound of his voice, his words. It was wet, hot, burning—a longing that made her want to press her legs together. It felt like an emptiness yearning to be filled by the thing inside his belt.

No, this was sin. The worst kind of sin. Nothing had ever sparked these kinds of thoughts in her before. It was him—the devil.

Startled by the notion, she prayed to God for protection, gripping her rosary tighter and pleading for the devil not to take her.

And lead us not into temptation,  but deliver us from evil.  Amen.

He was getting closer, and she began praying faster, her heart racing. She could feel his scent enveloping her, intoxicating and overwhelming.

And lead us not into temptation,  but deliver us from evil.  Amen.

“God, help me,” she whispered, desperation creeping into her voice. Each breath she took seemed to pull her deeper into temptation, her senses betraying her as she fought to remain focused on her prayers.

Now, he was getting closer, closer, and she could hear his footsteps echoing in the small space. She didn’t want to open her eyes, desperate to resist the temptation that called to her like an angel’s song for paradise, but in this case, it was a hellish melody.

With each step, her heart raced faster, torn between her prayers and the longing that stirred deep within her.

And lead us not into temptation,  but deliver us from evil.  Amen.

Closer... His hand hovered near her, and she remembered the day he had touched her chin—his fingers so warm, sending shivers down her spine. He was so tall, looming over her, and when he looked at her, it felt as if he could see straight into her soul.

Both of them jumped when they noticed the priest watching from the window, witnessing everything. He stormed in, pulling Munson away and accusing him of being the devil who was corrupting his nun, purer than the Virgin Mary.

Christine gasped, taking deep breaths as the priest intervened, the divine presence preventing her from sinning. Yet her thoughts continued to betray her, and she couldn't comprehend where those dark ideas had come from.

It’s him. The devil.

Still, she kept praying not to succumb to temptation, even as the priest expressed his worries. “Trust me,” she replied firmly, “I can handle a dangerous man. No, really, I can.”

She left the room and knelt in the church, praying, “And lead us not into temptation.” She trembled, struggling to resist his gaze and to forget the thoughts that had invaded her mind earlier: his hands, his rough voice, the belt, his legs, his scent, his dark eyes, his tattoos, his hair. “Lord, help me,” she prayed. “Please, help me.”

As she prayed, she could hear what the priest was doing to him in the next room—the whip cracking against his back. With each strike, Eddie bled and laughed, the twisted enjoyment echoing through the walls. He was the devil himself, laughing even while being punished.

She listened intently for when it would stop. Finally, the priest emerged, leaving him alone, wounded and bloodied in the small prison bedroom where he slept.

And lead us not into temptation,  but deliver us from evil.  Amen. 

Her heart raced with compassion. Convincing herself it was an act of goodwill, she stood up and walked back to him. With each step toward his room, she prayed.

And lead us not into temptation,  but deliver us from evil.  Amen. 

She entered to find him leaning against the bed, his strong back streaked with red. In her hands, she held a basin of warm water and a cloth to tend to the wounds the priest had inflicted on him. Only a candle flickered and the crucifix hung on the wall.

Now, alone together in the room—like a prison containing only her and Eddie—the devil—she sat next to him on the bed and began to clean his wounds slowly and gently. He was too quiet, and she hoped that in his soft silence, she might finally save him. But, like the devil he was, he played a trick to lower her guard.

As the saying goes, devils love to corrupt angels.

As her soft, angelic hands glided over his bare back, he smiled without her seeing—a devilish smile—because he noticed she was here taking care of him without the priest knowing. And if she's here and came back, and isn’t scared of what almost happened before the priest entered, it’s because she’s nearly surrendering to sin.

She looked at the crucifix, praying softly as she cleaned the wounds on his strong back. His skin, his tall and muscular form, was so… enticing. She watched her own gentle hands tending to him while he leaned forward, wearing only jeans, quiet and vulnerable in her grasp. He had never been this soft and silent before.

As she cleaned his strong, broad back, her hands trembled with each brush against his skin. She had never been this close to a man before, and with every passing second, her heart raced.

But even she could no longer trust herself. Only God could save her. Yet perhaps God had abandoned her, leaving her alone with the devil.

She prayed,

And lead us not into temptation,  but deliver us from evil.  Amen. 

He turned to look at her, gently taking her soft hand and making her stop cleaning his back. She froze, her breath hitching in her throat. The more she felt her heartbeat quicken, the more her resolve weakened. Only then did she realize they were sitting together on the bed.

Her eyes betrayed her; she lowered her head and looked at him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt; his strong chest radiated heat. His tattoos and well-defined abdomen drew her gaze, and she could see the trail of soft hair leading down to where his belt concealed what she dared not imagine.

“Why do you keep fighting this?” he whispered, his voice low and inviting. The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension, and she felt the weight of his gaze, heavy and electric.

He was the devil incarnate, the only one who could stir forbidden desires within her. Like Lucifer himself, assembling his legion, she felt herself caught in the gravitational pull of his allure. She was the first to be drawn in, the first to feel the intoxicating thrill of surrendering to him.

As he leaned closer, his breath brushing against her skin, she could feel the weight of her resolve crumbling. “Join me,” he murmured, his eyes dark with promise.

Every word was a spell, wrapping around her heart and mind, tempting her to relinquish her innocence and step into the shadows.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

The cloth she had been using to clean him slipped from her fingers, and, succumbing to temptation, she let her soft, trembling fingers brush against his bare chest, feeling the skin of a man for the first time.

Oh no, this is wrong.

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

This is...

And lead us not into temptation... but... oh... the... oh... devil...

Oh, poor girl, she failed her mission. She sinned.

Even God couldn’t save her when he pressed her against the wall, and they moaned into each other’s mouths. The rosary slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. His hands slid beneath her nun’s veil, revealing her long, beautiful hair, as he tugged at the fabric of her white gown. She felt the strong, masculine body of a man rubbing against her for the first time.

She gasped into his mouth, fully surrendering, as his hands moved up her waist, lifting the sacred garment she had once believed untouchable. His hands roamed her body, reaching places she had vowed would never be touched.

He pressed her against the wall with such desire that the crucifix fell to the ground—a clear sign that she was now entirely in the hands of the devil.

She could not resist the devil.

"I can fix him—no, really, I can,

— Or maybe I can’t."

[ambrossart]

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART TEN (FINALE)

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend.

❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader  ❖ word count: 11,785 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

Stepping back into that dance hall was a lot like being jolted awake from a sweet sleep.

For a moment you were stuck, caught somewhere on the threshold between the real world and the dream world with one foot on either side: half awake, half asleep, barely there… if you were even there at all. While you were sleeping, reality had continued playing like a movie you had forgotten to turn off. It hadn’t stopped for you, hadn’t paused, and now you were struggling to comprehend the plot, fighting to find your place in a world that had left you behind. You stood outside of it, looking in, but you couldn’t muster the strength to take that final step, to wake up fully and abandon the dream forever.

Because it was such a lovely dream, wasn’t it?

And now it was over—dead and soon to be forgotten like so many dreams before it. Already, you could feel the memories fading further and further away. Sitting next to Eddie. Hearing his laughter. Seeing his smile. Feeling the warm press of his lips against yours. (You touched your finger to your lips. They felt so cold now.) These images drifted through your mind like a slowed-down piece of film; then they were just… gone. They abandoned you cruelly, slipped through your fingers like tiny grains of sand. You couldn’t get them back now even if you tried. They were floating away: back down that long hallway, back to that closed door that seemed so far from reach. You knew there was no going back, not anymore. Even if you laid your head down, even if you forced your eyes closed, you would never be able to return to that same dream. The door was shut, locked, sealed away forever.

So now here you stood on this threshold, unwilling to go but unable to stay. What choice did you have but to get up and face reality?

You walked into the hall on unsteady legs, feeling a step out of sync with everyone else. In the background, “Love My Way” by The Psychedelic Furs chimed hypnotically and made the room feel sleepy and surreal, as if the whole world was moving in slow motion and you alone were unaffected. People brushed past your elbow and seemed not to feel you. Eyes met yours and looked straight through you. Could they not see the red streaks in your eyes? The blotchiness of your makeup? Could they not tell that you were one “Are you okay?” away from a total breakdown? Did anyone even care?

Here you were, experiencing the greatest tragedy of your teenage life and—nothing, not even a ripple in the water!

You could feel your heart shattering into a million pieces, feel the shards of it tearing you up inside, but no one else could see your suffering. It was like that old philosophical thought experiment: If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If no one else could sense your heartache, was it even real?

You placed your foot on the step below and felt your heel slip out from underneath you:

down,

down,

down!

A gasp escaped you. Your broken heart leaped into your throat. You caught yourself on the railing, looked down, and saw that your shoe had come loose. It was lying on its side, the faux leather strap barely clinging to your ankle. You must have missed a notch when you re-buckled it, after you…

Here ya go, Cinderella.

Eddie’s voice made you jump. It came to your mind so clearly, as if he was standing right next to you. You sat down and buckled your shoe, then looked over your shoulder and wondered, Is it too late for me to turn back? Is he still there, waiting for me?

(No, probably not.)

Yeah, probably not… I wouldn’t wait for me, either.

You pushed the thought away and walked on. Down the stairs. Along the edge of the dance floor. To the table—your table—where Chrissy Cunningham was sitting alone with her back to you. She was slouching in her chair. Such a terrible habit.

You dropped down beside your best friend, molded your lips into something of a smile. “Oh my god, Chris, you would not believe the line in the ladies’ room…”

Chrissy turned at once, startled, her eyes red and glassy, bottom lip trembling. “I thought you left,” she said, her brows drawn together in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “I thought… I thought…”

“What?” you said, and gently swept one of her loose hairs back into place. “You thought I’d miss your coronation? Come on, Chris, I’m not that self-absorbed.”

Chrissy shook her head as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I don’t care about the stupid coronation! It’s a cheap, plastic crown that I’ll just throw away in the morning.” She bent her head and sniffed, then wiped her runny nose on the back of her hand. “I didn’t come here to be named prom queen. I came here to have fun with my friends, with my best friend, and I’ve completely ruined everything! This night has been a total disaster, and it’s all my fault. All that stuff with Chance… and with Eddie…”

Your whole body stiffened with dread. No, please, no… I don’t wanna do this right now, not when I’m finally starting to…

Chrissy seized both of your hands in a desperate grip. “I’m so, so sorry! I swear I had no idea he came here for me. If I’d known, I never would’ve encouraged you like I did. Oh my god, I feel so stupid! Here I am, telling you to go for it and put your heart out there, while he…” She squeezed her mouth shut, choking back emotion. “I didn’t know he liked me. I swear I didn’t. I don’t even know why he likes me. I mean… I mean… I think I said good luck to him once at some talent show back in middle school, but that didn’t mean anything! I was saying good luck to everybody that night—everybody, even that kid with the creepy puppet, and he almost threw up all over me. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” you said, and managed a laugh. “It was hilarious.”

Chrissy laughed too, despite her tears. “No, it wasn’t. It was disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” you said in a teasing voice. “Look at you, Cunningham, you’re a total mess. Come here.” You grabbed a napkin and started blotting her eyes dry. “Your nose is running. Your mascara’s all over the place. If you go on stage looking like this, everyone’s gonna think you’re a lunatic.”

Another tear slipped down Chrissy’s cheek, painting a black line down her face. You wiped that away, too.

“I just don’t want you to hate me,” she said.

“What? Hate you?” Those two words didn’t even belong in the same sentence. “Chris, I could never hate you. You could go on a massive killing spree tomorrow and I still wouldn’t hate you. In fact, I’d be right there with you. Be the Bonnie to your Clyde. And then I’d take the rap for you because you’re way too soft for prison.”

Chrissy breathed out a laugh, but the misery never left her face. “I feel like I’m always taking things from you,” she said. “And you like him so much and—”

“Chris, if it wasn’t you, it was just gonna be someone else. And I’d rather it be you. I really mean that.” It hurt you deeply, but it was the truth. “Besides, I can’t say I blame him. I mean, look at you. You’re sweet and smart, and gorgeous. And yeah, your jokes are corny as shit, but hey, no one’s perfect, right?”

No, Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t perfect, but she was probably about as close as anyone was ever going to get.

“Everyone likes you, Chris, and I love you to death, so… it just makes sense, doesn’t it?” A lump formed in your throat as you said this. You tried to force it down, but…

Chrissy’s face tightened with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Finally. There it was, the question you’d been craving and dreading all at the same time. You felt so wonderfully vindicated—vindicated and a little relieved, and now you didn’t know whether to pump your fist in victory or fall into Chrissy’s arms, sobbing like a child.

“See, this is why you’re my best friend, Chris. You’re the only one who can see through all my bullshit. You’re like Superman with that X-ray vision.”

“What happened?” Chrissy asked. Her hands were still holding yours—a looser grip, but somehow no less strong.

You cast your eyes away, started chewing on your bottom lip. “I just… You know, tonight’s been very eye-opening for me. I’ve learned a lot about myself. Swallowed some hard truths. They certainly didn’t go down easy, but… I think I’m finally starting to get it.”

It had all snapped perfectly into place, like a bullet into a chamber.

“You know, this whole time I thought my weight was the issue. I thought that was the one thing holding me back in life, and if I could just fix that one thing, then I’d be happy like everyone else. I thought I would blossom overnight like in all those dumb movies.” Your expression darkened, wilted. “Well, that didn’t happen, did it? I lost the weight and nothing changed. I didn’t get any happier. I didn’t get any more confident. I’m exactly the same. So now what’s my excuse, huh? If it’s not my weight, then what is it? What’s wrong with me? I couldn’t figure it out before, but I see it now. In fact, it’s become pretty fucking obvious. I think I’m just a really unlikable person.”

Chrissy winced at those words. “No, you’re not…”

“Yes, I am! I’m a really, really nasty person. I know I act like I’m just joking around, but I’m not. I’m a massive bitch to everyone, especially myself. You were right, Chris. I’m the one getting in the way of my own happiness. Life gives me lemons, and I just eat them raw, like an idiot. And you know, I bet whoever’s giving me those lemons is standing there thinking, Bitch, what are you doing? Are you trying to make yourself suffer? Yeah, that’s exactly it! I think I’m determined to stay miserable. That’s why I keep eating those lemons instead of, you know, making lemonade or lemon tarts or whatever the hell else you make with lemons. I dunno, I’ve never really understood that expression. I mean, some people actually prefer sour things. And I hate lemonade. It makes my throat all scratchy whenever I drink it.”

Chrissy’s hands tightened around yours and pulled, drawing you close, forcing you to meet her determined gaze.

“What happened?” she asked once more.

Once more was all it took.

Suddenly, you felt the dam break, blurring your vision and making your dry eyes sting. “I fucked up again, Chris,” you said in a high, squeaky voice. “I tried really hard, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make that paper fortune come true.”

Chrissy raised her eyebrows quizzically. Right, she had probably forgotten about that.

“It’s that voice, man,” you went on, dragging your forearm across your tear-drenched cheek. “I know you tell me not to listen to it, but it’s so hard! It just whispers and whispers and whispers, telling you all these little half-truths. And after a while, you start to believe them because they make just enough sense, you know?”

Six years ago, that’s exactly how it got you. Yeah, Scott Sloman wasn’t the only demon trying to tempt you that day. There was a second demon—a dangerous, deceitful one—and unlike Scottie, it never broke character.

It whispered to you sweetly, sounding almost like a friend, like a good ole pal just trying to look out for your best interest (because that’s what friends are for, right?). It reminded you, so considerately, that summer was ending soon. In a few weeks, the campaign would be over. Eddie would be going off to high school and you would be left alone with nothing but this stupid journal that you clung to so tightly. A lovely little souvenir of your time together, that’s what these three months had given you. Congratulations, kiddo. Now you get to spend the next two years flipping through it while he moves on and forgets all about you. And Eddie would forget about you. That was all but guaranteed. Sure, maybe he would wait for someone else—someone prettier, someone like Chrissy, but certainly not for you. No, he would probably forget about you within a week’s time. Y/N, who? Sorry, that name’s not ringin’ a bell…

And then you began to think this was all a huge mistake. You’d waded too far into the deep end of the pool and your feet could no longer touch the bottom. Now you were left with two choices: stay in the deep end and risk drowning or reach for the life preserver that Scott Sloman had just cast into the water.

Deep down, you knew the right choice, but your survival instincts were way too strong. You accepted the demon’s bargain. Signed your name in blood.

After that, there was no going back.

Scottie’s eyes widened when he unfolded the paper and saw your answer.

“The deal is done,” he announced, and then discreetly tucked the paper behind his screen. “The demon’s offer has been accepted.”

The room went so quiet after that. All you could hear was the sound of a single pencil scratching against notebook paper. Eddie had no idea what was going on. Everyone at the table was staring at him, and he was just scribbling away like everything was fine, like you hadn’t just sharpened your dagger and plunged it straight into his back. His foot kept brushing against yours. Every once in a while, he would throw you a little smile. Meanwhile, you sank deeper and deeper into your chair, hoping the seat would collapse and suck you in like a vacuum, send you spinning through time and space and trap you in an alternate dimension. Your left arm hugged your stomach. Your right hand found its way to your mouth and hovered over it.

“Shit,” you whispered into your palm, and that’s when Eddie finally put down his pencil and looked up.

“What?” he said to everyone. “Is it my turn already?”

“Dude,” said Gareth, his face long and grim, “did you not see what just happened?”

“No,” Eddie answered slowly, with a touch of unease. “What? Did I miss something big?”

Gareth’s head bobbed. “Yeah, I’ll say… You’re dead, man. She killed you.”

Eddie’s back straightened in surprise. Then his eyes fell on you, heavy yet hopeful, like he was waiting for you to bust out laughing and tell him it was all a friendly little joke.

“What’s going on?”

The innocence in his voice made your stomach churn with regret. You kept your hand over your mouth, muffling your words with your knuckles. “I sacrificed… the ultimate power.”

Eddie leaned closer, squinting. “What?”

You lowered your hand and cleared your throat. “I sacrificed you to a demon for the ultimate power,” you said, and saw Eddie recoil from you, his eyes widening into an expression of startled hurt. It was the same stunned look he gave you tonight, right before you walked out of the restroom.

I’m really sorry, you said with your eyes, but that apology was soon drowned out by the sound of laughter. Your laughter. It came out of nowhere and spread through you like wildfire. You laughed while Eddie yelled at Scottie and demanded he intervene. You laughed while he huffed and puffed, muttered something about you being dead to him.

(Oh, shit, there it is, you thought now with a sudden spark of clarity. Yep, now I remember that.)

You told him to quit being such a baby. “Come on, it’s just a game, Munson!”

Then he tore up the stairs with his backpack half-zipped and flopping behind him. It’s better this way, that little voice told you. I know it hurts now, kid, but just think of how bad it could’ve been. Think of the pain you would’ve suffered once summer ended. Just think of it and you’ll understand. This wasn’t an act of betrayal. No, this was an act of mercy. You just did yourself a huge favor.

You wanted to believe that, you did, but then you noticed the piece of paper lying on the floor. It was Eddie’s character sheet, the one you had made for him. It must have slipped out of his binder while he was hurrying to leave.

(Or maybe he left it behind on purpose.)

Then you remembered how hard you had worked on it, how nervous you were to show it to him. You almost chickened out and went home with it in your backpack, but you were so glad you didn’t because the smile he gave you made everything worth it. It felt like your first major breakthrough, like you were finally on the right path with him.

And now…

You snatched the paper and ran after him. Nearly tripped on the steps, you were going so fast.

Eddie must have assumed you would come after him because he was waiting for you at the top of the stairs. This made your heart flutter with such hope… until you noticed the anger smoldering in his eyes.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked in a sharp, demanding voice. The strength of it almost knocked you off balance.

“What do you mean, why did I do it?” you said. “My character’s chaotic, Munson. She’s a wild card! God, you’re acting like this is the first time I’ve ever betrayed you.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and took off again. Blew through the Slomans’ kitchen like a fierce winter storm. You went too, and turned quickly to avoid hitting the counter’s sharp corner. Meanwhile, Mrs. Sloman was at the stove, stirring a pot of tomato sauce for dinner. She looked up as you two passed, then sighed and went back to stirring.

To Eddie’s back, you said, “Oh come on, Munson, I betray you on a weekly basis. It’s part of what makes our dynamic so special. I betray you, get us both into a lotta trouble, and then you save the day and we laugh it off and forget it ever happened. Wash, rinse, repeat.”

“Yeah, well, this is different,” Eddie said. “Yeah, this is the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

“Seriously? It’s worse than the time I abandoned you in that sand trap? Worse than the time I stole all your money and gambled it away? Worse than the time I tripped you when we were being chased by goblins in the never-ending caves? Come on, don’t be so overdramatic.”

“I’m not being overdramatic,” he said, and cut through the living room. Mr. Sloman was napping on the couch while Sunday afternoon football played on the television. Eddie saw him and lowered his voice into a harsh whisper. “I mean, do you even realize what you just did? My character’s dead now. I can’t play as him anymore.”

“So create a new character!”

“Create a new character? Are you fucking kidding?”

You cringed at the abrupt shift in Eddie’s tone. Mr. Sloman snorted in his sleep and rolled over.

“Okay, so don’t create a new character,” you replied in a waning voice. “How ‘bout we make a brand new adventure out of it? We can call it ‘Journey into the Underworld: The Quest for Munson’s Soul.’ It’ll be kinda like the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice, but don’t worry, I promise I won’t look back.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Eddie yelled, frustration straining his throat. “God, you keep making all these weird, obscure references that nobody else understands… Besides, my soul isn’t even in the underworld. I dunno where my soul is. You sold it to a demon for some stupid, made-up power!”

“SO THEN WE’LL GO GET IT BACK!” you screamed, making Eddie stop and whip around. You staggered backward, shrinking away from him in shame. His brown eyes were hard and cold, colder than you had ever seen.

That’s when it finally hit you: This isn’t like all those other times, is it? This isn’t something we’re gonna laugh about later.

Then Eddie saw the character sheet and—“Hey, gimme that!”—ripped it right out of your hand. You flinched as the paper sliced across your skin, and flinched again as Eddie’s fist closed around it, crushing the little rectangle beyond repair.

“I was gonna give that back,” you started to say, but then you realized it didn’t matter. The paper disappeared into Eddie’s backpack, and you never saw it again. You figured he had probably thrown it away.

This is it, isn’t it? Somehow, you could just feel it. This is the end of everything.

All these heavy thoughts crept into your heart like water seeping into a cracked ship hull. Now you were sinking in these ice-cold feelings, and there was nothing you could do but try to buy yourself some time. Try to stay afloat long enough to safely reach the shore. And that’s when you felt a familiar instinct take over. Limb by limb, your body started to seal itself off, shut all the watertight doors. It began at your feet and slowly worked its way up until your whole body felt perfectly numb to everything. That little paper cut on your finger, it didn’t sting anymore. You watched it bleed with a hazy fascination and thought of the demon’s contract, of the red pen you had used to sign it.

“Why are you here?” Eddie asked, but his voice sounded so muted, so far away. It was like he was talking to you underwater.

You turned and stared at him with a queer gaze, as if perplexed. “You already asked me that.”

“Yeah, well… you never really answered.”

Because it doesn’t matter, you thought. None of it matters. I’ve already accepted that, Eddie. Why can’t you?

Your silence made him sigh. “I don’t get it,” he said under his breath. “Why can’t you answer one simple question? There’s a reason you joined, isn’t there? You didn’t just wake up one morning and decide you love roleplaying games. So what is it? Huh? Why’d you wanna join our campaign so bad?”

It was painful to think back on this moment now, knowing what you knew. Part of you wished that you had been born two years earlier. Maybe if you were a little older, a little wiser, you would have handled things differently.

But you weren’t older. You were twelve, and in way over your head. You weren’t prepared to handle situations like this. You were too young, too immature, too caught up in your own fears and feelings that you couldn’t see what now seemed so glaringly obvious.

It never occurred to you—not once, not even for a second—that maybe the reason Eddie so desperately needed your answer was the same reason you were so terrified to give it.

Maybe if you knew that, you wouldn’t have said what you said:

“My best friend’s at cheer camp. I needed something to do.”

Eddie cast his eyes up and away, as far away from you as he could. “So you were just bored, then?”

Your shoulders moved on their own, up and down. “Pretty much.”

Eddie took your answer and swallowed it down with a hard gulp. “Gotcha,” he said. “Well, that’s just… great. Yeah, that actually makes perfect sense.”

He hung his head and chuckled at that for a minute; then he started dragging his feet backward, toward the front door. His departing smile was sad and defeated.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to entertain you.” He pushed open the screen door and went out. “See ya around.”

“And do you know what the funny thing is?” you said to Chrissy now, as the memory faded away. “You know what really cracks me up? That should’ve been the end for me. Yeah, that should’ve been game over, insert a coin and try again, but for some bizarre reason, it wasn’t. Yeah, for some reason, he let me keep playing right where I left off. And I got really close this time, Chris. You would’ve been so proud of me. Victory was in sight. The grand prize was right there. All I had to do was reach out and take it.” You made a snatching motion with your hand, then curled your fingers into a fist. “And do you know what I did? I took it and threw it straight into the trash! Isn’t that hilarious? I mean, isn’t that just like me?”

You laughed out loud—a weak, strangled sound. “Fuck me, man!” you said, and wiped your hands across the dampened apples of your cheeks. “God, I need a shrink… Hey, maybe I should have your mom get me the number for hers ‘cause, lemme tell ya, that guy is doing wonders for her. Yeah, that woman’s just full of confidence now, isn’t she?” You gnashed your teeth and cursed. “God, I wanna fight your mom.”

Chrissy cracked a small smile but said nothing. Instead, she stepped forward and gently wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in for one of those perfect, put-you-back-together hugs. Except this one wasn’t so perfect. This one was Scotch Tape when you really needed Super Glue. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it was strong enough to get you through the night in one piece.

Chrissy rested her head against yours. “Look,” she whispered, “I don’t know what happened and I don’t know what you did, but I’m sure it’s not too late to fix it.”

A tear escaped your eye when you heard that. “Yeah, but I think it is,” you said. “I chose to walk out that door, Chris, and now I think it’s closed for good.”

Chrissy released a compassionate sigh. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is the end. But you know what? Even if it is, I promise everything’s gonna be fine. Okay? No matter what happens, you’re gonna be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

You took a deep breath through your nose, exhaled through your mouth, and broke away. While drying your eyes, you said, “How am I supposed to survive college without you? I could barely make it through a single summer on my own, so I dunno how I’m gonna last four years.”

“You and me both,” Chrissy replied with a bittersweet smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

She wiped a tiny flake of mascara off your left cheek. Blushing, you quickly cleaned up the rest.

That’s when you noticed Jason Carver standing far off to the side, patiently waiting for the appropriate time to come over. Once you locked eyes, he took a tentative step toward you and said, “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah,” Chrissy told him. “Everything’s fine now.”

“Good,” Jason said. Then he turned toward you. “Look, I’m really sorry for—”

You put up your hand. “Jason, it’s fine. I don’t like what you did, but I get why you did it, so… we’re good. Let’s just move on and try to enjoy the rest of the night, okay?”

Jason’s eyes softened with gratitude. “Sure. Thanks.”

He turned away and—

“But,” you rang out, drawing him back, “since you did kinda humiliate me in front of the entire class, I think I’m entitled to some compensation. Wouldn’t you agree? That’s why you’ll be buying me lunch every day for the rest of the year… and that includes all à la carte items, too. I do love those fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies.”

Jason pursed his lips together. “The rest of the year, huh?”

“You can afford it,” you said, and his eyes narrowed with displeasure.

Jason opened his mouth to further protest… only to close it again when he heard Chrissy giggling quietly into her hand. He drank in her laughter with a crooked little smile and said to you, “All right, fine, you’ve got a deal. But you better not take advantage of it, okay?”

“Oh, I plan to. Wholeheartedly.” You put your hands behind your back and beamed at him.

Shortly after, Ms. Kelley came over and said it was time for all the nominees to gather on stage for the announcement of prom king and queen. Chrissy gave you a guilty look and seemed hesitant to go. You nudged her along with your elbow.

“Go,” you told her. “I’m fine, really. Go get your crown, superstar.”

“I don’t care about the crown.”

“I know you don’t, but I do… because I live vicariously through you, remember? I’m like a crazy stage mom and you’re my pageant queen daughter.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes amiably. “You’re such a goof.”

“I know,” you said, and laughed. “Now, don’t forget to act surprised when you win, okay? You wanna appear gracious and humble, but not too humble. Otherwise, you’ll be like Sally Field at the Oscars and everyone will think you’re a total whack job.”

You beckoned her closer and lowered your voice. “Oh, and please don’t let Jason hog the mic for too long, okay? You know how he gets when he has a captive audience. He just goes on and on and on… I mean, we’ll be stuck here all night.”

“I heard that,” said Jason, making you smirk.

“Hey, I’m just saying… keep it under a minute, Carver, or else I’ll have the DJ play you off the stage.”

For that, Jason shot you a playful glare. “Yeah, you’re definitely feeling better. Come on, Chris, let’s go.”

He led her away by her elbow. All the while, Chrissy looked back at you with a worried frown.

You made a shooing motion with your hand. “Go! Go! I’m fine now, I promise. Watch, I’m gonna go grab a cup of punch and then take my place among the rest of the commoners. Seriously, don’t worry about me, Chris. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Maybe if you said it enough, it would become true.

And maybe you would stop looking over your shoulder, hoping Eddie would be there.

It was nine fifty-eight. Only one more hour to go.

With your cup of punch in hand, you wandered over to Jeff’s table and found him and Grant conversing quietly while Megan Mulrooney lay snoring upon a bed of clumsily arranged chairs.

“Wow, Grant, looks like your date danced herself into a coma.”

Grant put his finger to his lips, then gestured toward his sleeping prom date. “If she wakes up, she’s gonna wanna dance again, and my feet can’t handle that, so…” He swept his hand across his mouth, pretending to seal it shut.

“Got it,” you said, and zipped your lips, too. You sat down next to Jeff. “So, your date still AWOL?”

“Mhm,” said Jeff with an unbothered nod. “You know who I saw her dancing with earlier?”

“Who?”

“Patrick McKinney.”

You put your hand over your mouth, feigning surprise. “How scandalous! Well, I guess we know who she’s going home with.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Jeff smiled at you, his eyes glowing with sympathy. “We saw what happened earlier. Man, that was tough to watch… How you holding up?”

“Eh, I’m okay,” you said. “Honestly, I don’t really care about that anymore. I mean, what the hell was I thinking, anyway? Chance Gallagher? The guy’s a dumbass. It’s a miracle he’s even graduating.”

Chuckling, you raised the plastic cup to your mouth and

This is kinda my last shot, y’know? If I don’t get that diploma this year, I’m gonna have to get my GED like every other Munson before me, and I really don’t wanna be another cliché…

felt your lips curl against the rim. This tender smile, unbidden and unexpected, remained on your face while you sipped your drink and cradled the cup against your chest.

To Jeff, you said, “You know, I never really thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me all these years. And for sticking your neck out for me.”

“Sticking my neck out? What, you mean back in middle school?”

You nodded, blushing.

Jeff and Grant exchanged bewildered looks. Then Jeff turned back to you with a huge grin. “What’s this?” he said. “You finally getting hit with some of that senior year nostalgia?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t have to thank me. We’re friends, right? I’d stick my neck out for you any day.” Jeff’s smile faded. When it returned, it was tinged with regret. “You know, I always felt kinda bad about how things ended that summer, and… well, I dunno… I guess I just wish I could’ve done more for you.”

You shook your head doubtfully. “You already did everything you could. I mean, you gave me a shot, right? It’s not your fault I missed.”

You frowned. All this talk was making your heart throb again. With every painful pulse, you could feel the Scotch Tape losing its grip and peeling away. You quickly finished the rest of your punch and slammed your empty cup on the table.

“Wow!” you said. “Look at me making sports analogies… I think I’ve been hanging out with Jason way too much.”

And now the DJ’s filler music was fading into silence. Principal Higgins had taken the stage and was struggling to adjust the height of the mic stand. Some of the students snickered. Principal Higgins gave them a twitchy little smile. Then he straightened his tie, cleared his throat into the mic, and jerked away from the sudden feedback whine.

“Umm, excuse me? Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Finally, you thought with a relieved sigh. You rose to your feet and pushed in your chair. “Well, looks like it’s time for me to head over. Enjoy the rest of your night, gentlemen. I’ll see you two on Monday.”

You waved goodbye, took a few steps and

“Hey, Y/N?”

turned back to look at Grant. “Yeah?”

“Look, this probably won’t help much, but I think it’s something you need to hear.” Grant rubbed his neck pensively for a minute. He glanced at Jeff and received an encouraging nod. “Umm, that day, I know Eddie said he was quitting the campaign and everything, but you gotta know he didn’t really mean it. He was just mad and needed to go home and blow off some steam. He came back for the next session.”

You sucked in a breath. “He did?”

“Yeah, he did,” said Grant, while Jeff looked at you with a pitying frown. “And, umm, obviously I can’t really say for sure, but… I think he was hoping you’d be there.”

“Really?” you said, and let Grant’s words sink in for a minute. “So, basically, you’re saying if I’d just sucked it up and gone to the next session, I might’ve—” You clenched your jaw tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to rip you apart. “Wow… You’re right, Grant, that didn’t help at all.”

You spun around and shouldered your way onto the dance floor, desperate to lose yourself among the gathering crowd. On stage, Principal Higgins was rambling about the future, talking about how far you’d all come, how you were about to move on to bigger and better things…

But I’m not ready to move on, you thought. Not yet. Not without—

You looked over your shoulder, squeezed your eyes shut, and turned back around.

God dammit! Why did I have to join that stupid campaign? If I hadn’t, maybe this would’ve been just another meaningless crush. Maybe I would’ve actually moved on during those two years. Maybe I would’ve noticed someone else. Been noticed by someone else. Shit, maybe I would’ve felt something when Teddy Brubacher kissed me at Katie McDillon’s New Year’s Eve party. Maybe he would’ve been my prom date tonight and—

You whipped around and hissed: “What? What, Teddy?”

Teddy Brubacher flinched away from you, startled. “Well, you were looking at me like you wanted me to come over.”

“What? No, I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were. I saw you. You were beckoning me with your eyes.”

Teddy’s gaze shifted as he spoke, traveling lower and lower. Disgust churned in your stomach. Anger burned through you like fire. You squirmed away and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Oh my god, I was not beckoning you with my eyes, Teddy. I was just glancing in your general direction, okay? Now, can you please go bother someone else? I’m really not in the mood to talk to you right now.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you look like you’re about to cry.”

“Teddy, go!”

“All right, fine…” Teddy stuffed his hands into his pockets and sauntered away. “You know, maybe you should stop sending me so many mixed signals. Ever think of that?”

“What? I’m not sending you mixed signals. I’m not sending you any signals! I don’t like you, Teddy. I’ve never liked you. You’re a perverted little cretin that refuses to leave me alone. There. You happy now? Is that a clear enough signal for you?”

Teddy sneered at you. “God, you’re such a bitch.”

“Yeah, well…”

Your throat closed. For a moment, you thought you might break down and start sobbing right in the middle of the dance floor. You didn’t, but your eyes were wet and glistening like mirrors. You hid your face so no one would see and moved closer to the stage.

Keep it together, keep it together… You’re so close. Don’t fall apart now.

It was a quarter past ten, and you were unraveling.

But you put on a brave face for your best friend. Chrissy was standing off to the side with the other prom queen candidates: Sarah Twinley, Jennifer Warner, and Kara Scott. Chrissy didn’t know what to do with herself on stage. She kept shifting her weight around. Crossing her ankles. Folding and unfolding her arms. But all that fidgeting came to a stop when she spotted you in the crowd. Chrissy smiled and gave you a cute little wave. It was such a precious gesture, like a child waving at her parents during a school play. At that moment, all your problems seemed so insignificant.

Meanwhile, the rest of the students were growing restless. A boy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted from the back row: “Come on, save the sappy shit for graduation. We wanna party!”

The crowd cheered and hollered. Principal Higgins motioned for silence.

“Quiet! Quiet, please. You can all return to your party in just a minute, but first let’s have a round of applause for this year’s prom court!” The audience applauded half-heartedly. Principal Higgins stepped away and began clapping himself. Then he drew a card from his breast pocket and returned to the mic. “All right, seniors, and now the moment you’ve all been waiting for… The votes are in. We counted them twice. Your 1986 Prom King and Queen are… drum roll, please… Jason CARVER and Chrissy CUNNINGHAM.”

Applause broke out and filled the hall, honest and proud. You were clapping from the third row, a placid smile tugging at your lips. Congratulations, Chris. No one deserves it more than you.

Jason and Chrissy stepped forward with gracious smiles. Sashes were draped over them. Crowns were brought out and placed on their heads. Chrissy’s landed a little crooked. She gently nudged it into place with her hand, then blinked as a bouquet of red roses was suddenly thrust upon her.

Principal Higgins boomed into the mic: “LET’S HEAR IT FOR YOUR KING AND QUEEN!”

Applause swelled and the crowd surged. All the basketball players were going wild. The cheerleaders were whooping and whistling with their fingers. You were still clapping, but no longer smiling. All the commotion was giving you a bit of a headache. Then an old, scratchy recording of the school fight song blared over the speakers, and you really started to get a headache.

Back on stage, Chrissy and Jason were posing for yearbook photos: flash after flash after flash. Chrissy’s smile kept slipping between shots. Her eyes darted around helplessly. She wanted to leave. She needed to leave. The lights were too bright. The music was too loud. And this stupid crown refused to stay put! It kept tipping and sliding down her head like it was trying to run away from her, like it knew she was a fraud—a false queen, who was undeserving of its majesty. Chrissy may have been able to fool her classmates, but she couldn’t fool the crown. It had weighed her, judged her, and declared her unworthy.

But still the applause came. It never stopped. The sound poured into Chrissy’s ears and made her feel dizzy, made her feel sick, made her want to pull away and…

And then she felt Jason’s gentle touch on her head, effortlessly gliding the stubborn crown back into place.

“There,” he said with a satisfied nod. “Much better… Man, that must’ve been driving you crazy, huh?”

Chrissy stared up at him, speechless.

“Thank you, by the way, for suffering through this with me. There’s no one else I’d rather be standing next to right now.”

Jason’s smile was confident and his eyes unwavering. Chrissy’s heart soared. She reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“What was that for?” Jason asked, bemused.

“Nothing,” Chrissy said, “I just feel the same way. Come on.”

She took his hand and led him across the stage, down the stairs, to the middle of the dance floor. The audience parted around them naturally, moving in great waves that rippled outward in every direction. You stood still, grounded like a stone. Then the applause died and the lights dimmed, covering the hall in a veil of shadow that made everything feel so painfully romantic. You sighed as it fell over you, and sighed again when the DJ played Cyndi Lauper’s famous bittersweet ballad, “Time After Time.”

It was ten twenty-three, and you were ready to leave.

You stole one last glimpse of your best friend’s smiling face and felt your chest clench with guilt. Sorry to bail on you early, Chris, but I toughed it out for as long as I could.

Now it was time to go home and put this night behind you. Take that long walk up your driveway. Drag your feet up those creaky porch steps. Swipe your hand along the top of the doorframe and hope with all your heart that your parents hadn’t moved the spare key like they always said they were going to, because you didn’t want to knock on the door and face your parents head-on. Have your dad look into your tear-filled eyes and say with panic in his voice, Oh my god, sweetie, what happened? Did someone hurt you? Yeah, because for him that was the worst possible thing that could have happened to you. That was his greatest fear. And then you would feel so embarrassed to admit the truth: No, Dad, nobody hurt me. Nobody wanted anything to do with me! And then you would run upstairs and spend the rest of the night crying into your pillow, just like you did back in middle school.

You weren’t going to do that tonight. You weren’t going to cry in front of your father. You weren’t going to sit through another one of your mother’s useless pep talks, listen to her blather on and on about how beautiful you were, inside and out, and how one day some lucky guy was going to see it. And when that happens, you’re gonna feel really silly for crying over some dumb school dance. Then you would smirk and say something witty and self-deprecating like, So you’re saying I’m gonna fall in love with a blind guy? And your mother would pretend to laugh and say, Yes, honey, and he’ll even think your jokes are funny.

No, you weren’t going to do any of that tonight because you weren’t that pathetic thirteen-year-old girl anymore. You were an adult and fully capable of accepting the consequences of your actions. You fucked up. You made a mistake. It happened. It’s over. Now all you wanted to do was suffer alone in silence.

So, with any luck, that spare key was going to be exactly where it was supposed to be. That way, you could unlock the door and slip inside like everything was fine.

Your mother would hear the door open and tell your father to turn down the volume on the TV. Then she would catch a glimpse of your shadow in the entryway and say, You’re home early. What happened? I thought you were going to the after-party with Chris.

Yeah, I was, but I’m just really tired. Too much dancing, I guess.

Oh… Well, did you have fun?

Yeah, I did.

Then your mother would smile, perhaps even get a little bit smug. See? I told you you’d have a good time, and that would break your heart all over again.

Yeah, you were right, Mom, you would say. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was gonna be.

And you would think, It was so, so much worse.

Then you would tell your parents good night and go upstairs. Wash all the product out of your hair; clean the makeup off your face. Put on your comfiest pajamas, turn out the lights, crawl into bed, and listen to one of your Journey albums because, one way or another, you were going to have your Journey moment tonight. You just wished it was under better circumstances.

And while you lay in bed listening to Steve Perry sing “Only the Young,” while your tears dried on your cheeks and your wet hair drenched your pillow, your thoughts would eventually start to wander; then your eyes would start to wander… over to the tiny crack in your closet door, and suddenly a strange impulse would come over you. You would get up and start rummaging through your closet. Find your old D&D journal inside a cardboard box of long-forgotten keepsakes. Dust it off, flip through a couple of pages, and think,

I could’ve gone back.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake that thought from your head. You could’ve gone back. You could’ve gone back. The door wasn’t locked that day. It wasn’t. You could’ve opened it and walked through it, but you didn’t. Instead, you ran away and avoided the problem like you always did; told Scottie you were done with the campaign and spent the rest of the summer wasting away in your bedroom, alone, waiting for Chrissy to come home and put you back together again, because you thought the door was closed, locked, sealed away forever.

You

could’ve gone back

were wrong.

And that’s when you felt a hot burst of adrenaline shoot through your veins, making your whole body buzz with nervous, excited energy.

Well, shit! If you were wrong then, maybe you were wrong now. And now that you knew this, how could you possibly move forward?

I could’ve gone back.

I could’ve gone back.

This single intrusive thought was going to haunt you for the rest of your life: while you returned to class on Monday and begged your teacher to let you change seats; while you studied for finals; while you stood on stage and received your diploma, had the principal move the little tassel on your graduation cap; while you packed for college; while you unpacked for college; while you wandered around campus for the first time and discovered a D&D club flyer pinned to the student activity board; while you snuck a peek into one of their meetings, got caught, and said with a furious blush, Sorry, I think I’m in the wrong room.

Then, eventually, maybe in a month, maybe in a year, maybe in (God forbid) ten years, you were going to meet someone and—yep, sure enough, that thought was still going to be in the back of your mind. Even on your wedding day, it was going to be there. You could see it now so clearly: you standing at the alter in a white gown, staring at some sorry sonofabitch in a black tux; and right before you said, I do, you would pause for half a second and think,

I could’ve gone back.

I should’ve gone back.

I should’ve

I should

I…

Boom! Another blast of adrenaline. This one knocked you backwards and sent you crashing into another student.

“Oh, shit! I’m—”

You spun around and came face to face with Brittany Wirth’s snooty little smirk.

“Jeez,” she said, “walk much?”

“No,” you replied with a wide, open-mouthed grin. “Actually, this is my very first time. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

You walked away, giggling madly as you did. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Wait, am I really doing this? Because this could end very badly for me. Yeah, I could be heading into a real shit storm right now…

And then you felt your legs get heavy, so heavy, and your steps gradually slowed to a stop. It was back again, just like that. With one thought, the anxiety had snuck back into your heart and seized it with a cold, crushing grip. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

What if you’re wrong? that little voice said. What if Eddie wants nothing to do with you now? What if he tells you to get lost and slams the door in your face?

God, that would suck, you thought. Yeah, I’m not sure I could handle that.

But then Chrissy’s words came back to you, quieting all your fears. No matter what happens, you’re gonna be fine, and you knew she was right.

Regardless of how this night ended, you were going to be just fine.

So you took a deep breath, picked up your feet, and kept walking. Pushed through the crowd. Flew past your empty table. Raced up the stairs and saw the door. The closed door.

Closed, but not locked.

You could still open it.

You would open it.

You surged forward… and suddenly Chance Gallagher was standing in front of you, blocking your path, smiling at you with those perfectly straight, blindly white teeth.

“Hey, I—”

“Yeah, you can fuck right off,” you said to Chance, and went around him. Then, over your shoulder: “Oh, and by the way, you owe me forty-five bucks, asshole!”

Laughter exploded from your chest, full and free. You surrendered to it willingly, eagerly, let it consume you, let it fill you, let it roll off your tongue, off your lips, and float into the air as you kept walking. Nervous as you were, you kept walking towards that door. And once you finally reached it, once you felt the cool metal handle beneath your fingertips, you

stopped.

It had stopped.

Cyndi Lauper.

Music.

The music, it had stopped.

Why had it stopped?

The entire hall was dead silent for a moment; then, suddenly, it was alive with the sound of hushed voices, sighs, and stifled laughter. You looked over your shoulder and felt your breath catch in your throat.

It was ten twenty-six, and Eddie Munson was on stage with the mic in his hand.

It took Principal Higgins all of five seconds to realize what was happening. He put down his punch, slid the silver flask back into his jacket, stormed the stage, and went straight for the microphone.

“Nope. Nope, we’re not doing this tonight. Come on, hand over the mic. Yeah, give it here, son. How about showing some respect for your fellow classmates, huh?”

Principal Higgins reached for the mic. Eddie yanked it away.

“Actually, I have tons of respect for my classmates,” Eddie told him. “That’s why I waited so patiently for you guys to finish. And you… yes, you, sir… you talked for a really, really long time, and now… yeah, now it’s my turn, so…”

Eddie raised the mic to his lips and turned back to the crowd, his eyes clear and focused.

Searching…

Searching…

… and not finding.

“Well, shit,” Eddie said under his breath. The mic caught it anyway and drew contemptuous laughter from the audience. Eddie covered the mic with his hand, then flashed a sheepish smile in the principal’s direction. “Sorry,” he said. “Forgot the mic was on.”

Principal Higgins sighed, put his head in his hand, and started counting the days until graduation.

Meanwhile, Edith Layne was watching anxiously from the fourth row. She sank into herself like a frightened turtle and wondered if she was partly to blame for this disaster. Then she looked over at her prom co-chair and knew she was definitely going to get blamed for this. I’m just way too nice.

On the other side of the room, Brittany Wirth was clawing at her face in terror. Her prom… oh no, her picture-perfect prom! All those months she spent planning, obsessing over every little detail: picking the venue, planning the menu, buying all the decorations, folding all those little white place cards that everyone kept throwing on the floor!

This wasn’t supposed to be happening right now. She was supposed to be humming along with Cyndi Lauper and, instead, she was watching Eddie Munson light the torch and burn all her efforts to the ground!

No, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!

Brittany threw down her hands and growled. “Ugh, I knew it… I fucking knew it! I knew that freak was gonna pull a stunt like this.” She turned and took off like a charging bull, knocking everyone out of her path. “Outta my way. Outta my way! Move. Move!”

Brittany blew past you on the staircase and almost knocked you over.

“Jeez,” you said to her, “walk much?”

Brittany stopped and sucked in a startled gasp, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. “You’re part of the problem,” she whispered hotly, and then went scrambling up the stairs and out the door.

You watched Brittany go with a befuddled frown. “What did I do?”

Shrugging, you proceeded down the stairs and started pushing your way toward the stage.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” Eddie said, staring at a wall of unamused and irritated faces, none so furious as Jason Carver in his gold sash and red velvet crown. Chrissy Cunningham was beside him, grimacing with second-hand embarrassment.

Sweat trickled down the back of Eddie’s neck. “Uhh… let’s have one more round of applause for the king and queen!” He lowered the mic and started beating his hand against his wrist, prompting half the audience to applaud in a stiff, awkward manner. “You two look great, by the way, with the sashes and the crowns. Yeah, they make you both look very… uhh… regal.”

Eddie let the mic fall to his side. It went thump, thump, thump against his thigh.

Down on the dance floor, Jason Carver had heard enough. “Man, this guy just can’t help himself, can he?” He lunged forward… only to be drawn back by Chrissy’s gentle but firm hand.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please?”

Jason gave her a confused look, but did as she asked. Then Chrissy stepped forward herself and started searching for you in the crowd. When she couldn’t find you, her heart sank with despair. Oh, no… please, no… tell me you didn’t really leave. You’ll hate yourself forever if you did.

And now Principal Higgins was trying to grab the mic again.

“All right, son, you’ve had your fun—”

Eddie thrust out his hand defensively and jumped back. “No, just wait, okay? Gimme a second, just one second. Look, I had a plan, and I know it’s kinda blowing up in my face right now, but I’m not getting off this stage until I say what I need to say, and I can’t say what I need to say until she gets here. Okay? So, with all due respect, right now I need you to back off and have a little patience, man, ‘cause she’s gonna be here soon. I know she’s gonna be here… or, uhh, at least I hope she will.” Eddie pushed his hand through his hair and frowned. “Actually, she’s probably doing this on purpose ‘cause, between you and me, she’s kinda vindictive like that. Yeah, she just loves embarrassing me and, y’know, making me look like an asshole in front of everyone…”

And then you wedged yourself between two students and forced your way into the front row. Eddie found you instantly. His chest rose and fell in a deep, shaky breath. You crossed your arms in front of you and raised your hand in a timid, apologetic wave.

“Hi,” you mouthed.

“Hi,” Eddie said back.

Maybe it was due to the lights, maybe it was due to the intense rush of relief he felt when he finally saw you, but at that moment you never looked more beautiful.

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He cracked a tiny smile. “It’s funny,” he said into the mic. “I had this whole speech prepared, but now… yeah, now I can’t seem to remember any of it.” He breathed out a quiet laugh, then started tracing his bottom lip with his tongue. All the while, his eyes never left yours.

In the silence, someone shouted, “Get off the stage, freak!” and pockets of laughter broke out among the audience. You winced at the sound, turned, and saw Andy Hauffman give Clay Howard a high five.

Eddie acknowledged the boy’s comment with a bitter, resigned smirk. Then he immediately turned back to you.

“Y’know, that word used to bother me a lot when I was younger, and I guess it still stings a little, but…” He slipped into a brooding silence for a moment, his expression reflecting years of loneliness and shame. “All my life, I’ve had people telling me to tone it down, telling me to stop, to ‘try to act more normal’… except you… yeah, for you, I wasn’t weird enough.” His face broke into a bright, misty-eyed smile. “And I wish I could put into words what that meant to me back then, what it still means to me now, ‘cause I think if you knew how I really felt, you’d understand why none of this makes any sense to me. You really thought I’d forget you? Man, I wish I could forget you. Yeah, I wish I could move on and, y’know, kill you off in my head, but no matter what I do, you refuse to die. I dunno, you’re like a zombie or something.”

You scrunched up your nose. Did this man seriously just compare you to an undead, flesh-eating monster?

Eddie saw your face and panicked. “Wait, hold on, that… I didn’t mean to say that. Yeah, I dunno why I…”

He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath. “Look, you were right. I did come here for someone else… but I stayed for you. I was gonna leave. Yeah, I was getting ready to go home and forget this night ever happened, but then you came running out those doors and you blew right past me, just bawling your eyes out. And I didn’t know why you were crying or why it bothered me so much, but I just knew I couldn’t leave you alone.”

Eddie’s words wrapped around your heart and squeezed so tightly it made you want to cry. You thought back to the moment he came stumbling into the restroom. The way his eyes bulged when they met yours. You thought he was shocked to see you, but…

“Yeah… I lied,” he said. “See, I’m pretty good at thinking on my feet, too. Not nearly as good as you, of course, but I can hold my own.” Eddie chuckled a little to himself, his lips curling into that cheeky little grin that always made your brain short-circuit. “Security was never after me. I just made all that up. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t even think security knows I’m here… well, now they probably do, which means I’ve got about thirty seconds before they come and give me the hook, so I better make this quick.”

Eddie glanced at the door, saw it swing open, then his eyes raced right back to you. The corner of his mouth lifted into a tranquil, tender-heartened smile.

“You said you robbed me of my one great memory, but you didn’t… you couldn’t… because you are my great memory. You’re my greatest memory.”

Your heart swelled, overflowing with more emotions than you could process: joy, gratitude, love… most of all, love. You stared up at Eddie with tears in your eyes, wanting nothing more than for him to jump down from the stage, take you in his arms, and kiss you right in front of everyone. If this was a movie like Pretty in Pink, that might have happened, and then you would have danced the night away in a kick-ass closing credit scene.

Unfortunately, this was reality, and in reality, perfect little moments like this always got ruined by big-haired, bumptious bitches like Brittany Wirth.

She marched into the hall with two security guards in tow, pointed at the stage, and said, “There. There he is. Now can you please get that jackass out of here?”

Eddie saw them coming and his shoulders sank in defeat. “Ah, shit, here we go…” His time had officially run out. He’d sung his last song and now they were about to drop the curtain on Eddie Munson’s one-man show.

But first… first, he had one last request to fulfill.

Eddie lifted the mic once more and smiled at you. “I know you really wanted to hear me play my guitar tonight, but uhh, given the circumstances, I hope this is the next best thing.”

He lowered the mic and let it drop to the floor. Over the speakers, a piano began softly, playing a simple but beautiful chord progression that made you clasp your hands over your mouth in surprise. It was “Open Arms.” You were finally getting your Journey moment. It took all your strength to keep from squealing like an idiot. You wanted to laugh. You wanted to cry. You wanted to smack the person next to you and say, See? The perfect prom song. Those bitches should’ve listened to me.

But you didn’t have time to do any of that because Eddie had climbed down from the stage and was about to be taken away by security.

A burly man in a blue suit said to him, “Come on, kid, it’s late. I’m really not in the mood to get physical with you. So how ‘bout you just leave quietly on your own and make my life a little easier, okay? There’s no need to cause a big scene.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” said Brittany Wirth with an uppity little smirk.

The other guard turned to her. ���Miss, please, let us handle this.”

Brittany’s face flushed a deep, rosy pink. She huffed and walked away.

“God, she’s such a bitch,” Eddie mumbled under his breath. Then to the guards, he said, “Look, I’m not here to argue with you guys, okay? I know I’m not supposed to be here, and I know it’s your job to keep guys like me out. It’s cool, I get it. We’re all on the same page. All I’m asking for is a little time to say goodbye to someone. That’s it. Just a quick goodbye and you guys can drag me on outta here. You can even cuff me, if you want.”

“Do we need to cuff you?”

“Well, no, I’m just…” Eddie dragged his eyes away, saw you, and grew restless, desperate to get to you. He clenched his jaw, clenched his fists, and let out a frustrated groan. “Look, you see that really pretty girl over there? She and I were having a very romantic moment, and you guys, uhh… yeah, you kinda ruined it, so the least you can do is let me go say bye to her.”

The guard heaved an exasperated sigh. “Kid, come on…”

“Hey, man, I’ve already been here for like three hours. What’s another three minutes, right?”

“You can’t stay here. You don’t have a ticket.”

That’s when your hand flew to your chest, and you gasped. “Yes, he does,” you said. “He has a ticket. I… I have his ticket.”

You dove into the bodice of your dress, causing the guards to avert their eyes.

“Uhh, miss—”

“Oh, what?” you said to them. “You think I’m gonna flash you or something? Relax, okay? I just didn’t feel like carrying around a purse all night.” You pulled out the ticket, walked over, and handed it to the blue suit. “There. See?”

The guard casually examined the ticket, front and back, then looked at you. “He’s your date?”

“Yep,” you said. “He’s my date.”

Eddie gestured toward you and said with a boastful grin, “I’m her date.”

The guard rolled his eyes and grumbled in response. He flipped the ticket back and forth one more time, glanced at his co-worker, and they both shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, “I don’t really care,” and they both left.

Eddie turned to you with grateful eyes. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Well, I figured it’s the least I could do…” You smiled up at him, nerves fluttering in your stomach. “That was quite the performance you gave back there. Highly entertaining.”

“Yeah, I thought you might enjoy it…”

“Oh, I did,” you said. “Yeah, it’s definitely in my top three.”

“Your top three, huh?” Eddie fought back a smile. “And what, dare I ask, is number one?”

Your smile grew into a mischievous grin. “The speech you always give right before finals—you know, the one where you talk about flipping off the principal at graduation?” You bit your lip to keep from laughing but ended up giggling anyway. “I swear, that speech gets funnier and funnier every year you don’t graduate. Turns out ’84 wasn’t your year, Munson. Neither was ’85.”

“Yeah, I guess they weren’t,” Eddie said while staring at you. “I’ve got a good feeling about this year, though.”

His soft, dreamy gaze made you blush.

Then he pointed toward the overhead speaker. “See, I got you Journey,” he said. “Wait, this is Journey, right?”

You laughed. “Yes, this is Journey.”

“Okay, good, ‘cause the DJ gave me a really weird look, probably ‘cause I don’t look like the kinda guy who would ever request Journey, which is fair… Anyway, since we’re on the topic of uhh, Journey, I think you might be a little too obsessed with Steve Perry, which is cool and all, but uhh… yeah, we’re definitely gonna have to set some ground rules, y’know, once we actually start dating.”

Your heart jumped. “Dating?”

“Wait, I didn’t tell you? Shit, sorry, I’m getting a little ahead of myself.” Eddie folded his arms over his chest and gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, way I see it, I’ve gotta squeeze about four years of dating into like four months, so… yeah, I’ve definitely got my work cut out for me.”

“Four years, huh?” Inside, you were screaming. “You really think we would’ve been dating for that long?”

“You don’t think so? Well, I think so… Yeah, I definitely would’ve swooped in during your freshman year. No doubt in my mind. I mean, I would’ve given you a couple weeks to settle in. Then, when you least expected it…”

You made a motion with your hand. “Swoop.”

“Mhm,” Eddie said, and you both laughed. “So, I dunno what your plans are for the summer, but sorry, they’re all going out the window ‘cause I intend to monopolize all of your time.”

A giddy feeling rose within you. You had to sneak in a quick breath to calm yourself down. “Well, I’ve been warned.”

That made him smirk. “I love how you’re trying really hard to act like you’re not happy right now, but I can easily tell you are, so…”

Eddie went quiet for a second, his eyes shifting back and forth in thought. Then, out of nowhere, he leaned toward you and said in a low voice, “Hey, you wanna get outta here?”

His deep brown eyes pulled you in like a magnet. “Yes,” you said, “definitely.”

“Good, ‘cause… honestly, I’ve been wanting to leave since I got here.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said breathlessly, unable to break his gaze. “I just, umm, I need to say goodbye to someone first.”

“Sure,” he replied with a nod. “Take your time. I’ll just be, uhh, waiting for you by the door.”

Eddie backed away from you slowly, giving you a lingering look that made you feel dizzy and light-headed. Once he was gone, you pressed your hands against your burning cheeks and thought, Oh my god! Oh my god!

You spun around and spotted Chrissy across the dance floor, watching you with the biggest, brightest smile. You rushed up to her and grabbed both her hands, squeezing them tightly with excitement.

“Hey, I’m—”

“Leaving, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I am…”

Chrissy’s eyes sparkled with unrestrained joy. She pulled you in for a tight hug and said to you, “See? I told you you’re the lottery.”

You pulled away and pecked her cheek. “You’re a goddess.”

“Oh, I like that…” Chrissy touched her face and grinned. “Yeah, let’s keep that one.”

You both giggled, hugged one last time, and broke away.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, you better!” Chrissy yelled, and then she watched you leave with a warm, tender feeling in her heart.

Once you were out of earshot, Jason Carver leaned over and said to her, “You’re not seriously letting her leave with that guy, are you?”

And Chrissy said, “Yes. Yes, I am.” She smiled up at him. “This was a good night.”

“You had fun?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I did.”

Jason nodded, looked away, and smiled a little to himself. “Good.”

_________________________

PREV // CURRENT // EPILOGUE

*cries happy tears* It’s finally over!

Okay, I realize some of you may be disappointed that there was no big kiss at the end, but I left it out for two reasons: 1) they already had their kiss 2) it’s incredibly cliched, and I didn’t want to go that route. Don’t worry, though, because there will be plenty of kissing (and then some) in the epilogue “Post Prom,” which will be the first of many, many side stories I have planned for this fic.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

[hellcheer-heaven]

@hellcheerweek Hellcheer Week: Day 7 prompt - Serial Killers

Murder has been plaguing the little town of Hawkins, Indiana. If the bodies are found, they’re mutilated beyond recognition. Their gravestones are suddenly graffitied a couple of days after the funeral. The only connection that the dead have is that they are someone’s parent.

That all changes when high schooler Jason Carver becomes the next victim. Found dead in an alleyway days after his team won the championship game. His grave soon covered in spray paint as well. No arrests have been made, the police are completely stumped. Jim Hopper has a suspicion that these are not random murders. There is a connection, he just hasn’t found it yet. He has one possible hunch, these crimes are not being committed by one, but two individuals.

[moonchildreads]

small town masterlist - [in progress]

Well, I was born in a small town And I live in a small town Probably die in a small town Oh, those small communities

Spring break had come and gone in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana, and, surprisingly enough, the world hadn't ended. Yet.

Join Eddie and Dottie as they navigate what's left of the school year, graduation, D&D sessions with the Hellfire Club, falling in love, and potentially deadly supernatural encounters kicking off on a certain Very Important Anniversary no one stopped to warn them about. '86, baby. eddie munson/original female character, st4 fix-it, slow burn, strangers to friends (idiots) to lovers, found family, canon-typical violence, swearing, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending (check each chapter for specific warnings)

word count: 188.8k (and counting!)

chapter list + extras below! ↴

chapter list:

chapter 1 - the wild boys [1.7k] chapter 2 - what you need [1.4k] chapter 3 - tonight she comes [3.9k] chapter 4 - manic monday [4.1k] chapter 5 - i've got a rock 'n' roll heart [3.2k] chapter 6 - walking on sunshine [2.7k] chapter 7 - the search is over [4.1k] chapter 8 - the heat is on [4.4k] chapter 9 - adult education [3.8k] chapter 10 - that's what friends are for [7.5k] chapter 11 - true colors [5.5k] chapter 12 - fortress around your heart [7.1k] chapter 13 - you give good love [9.5k] chapter 14 - missing you [6.0k] chapter 15 - don't you want me [7.3k] chapter 16 - let's hear it for the boy [12.2k] chapter 17 - girls just want to have fun [7.7k] chapter 18 - i know there's something going on [5.9k] chapter 19 - we built this city [7.6k] chapter 20 - self control [10.3k] chapter 21 - far from over [6.0k] chapter 22 - let's dance [10.5k] chapter 23 - cum on feel the noize [13.8k] chapter 24 - up where we belong [9.9k] chapter 25 - part-time lover [17.4k] chapter 26 - the heart of rock & roll [14.1k] *NEW* chapter 27 - kids in america *coming soon* ...and more.

extras:

[1] official small town playlist (full post) + spotify link [2] hellfire class of '86 class schedules [3] wayne's chicken rice soup recipe [4] maggie's lemon strawberry cake recipe [5] girls just want to have a road trip playlist (full post) + spotify link [6] hellfire club's d&d character sheets [7] lydia's potato latkes recipe [8] corroded coffin's kickass setlist (full post) + spotify link *NEW*

dividers: @firefly-graphics -> yellow lines & daisies

ao3 link: start from chapter 1 -> here

[shieldofiron]

Drag race au (Start Your Engines), Frat Boy Au (Vibe Check), 70s Rockstar AU (Pretty Boy Live) and the upcoming Omegaverse Body Swap (Body Language) are all still continuing because I’ve lost control of my life.