#reebok answer 4

[kibun-niji]

[grrl-beetle]

Reebok Answer 4

[decodedlvr]

~ never did this before | virgin!Eddie Munson x virgin! Thick!Fem Reader \\ modern au

This story is based off the song Wet Dreamz by Jcole **recommend listening to it first to understand the story// can be perceived/read regardless if you are a poc; as I am mixed ♡ [descriptions of reader having tan skin and brown eyes; so it meets in the middle if you are a poc or not]

• Summary: after weeks of flirting and crushing on each other, you finally pop a serious question into your bestfriend Eddie’s head, and he has a hard time providing you with an honest answer // this is more like a rom com

• Warnings: MDNI; smut (not too explicitly) fluff, both kinda experienced? soft Eddie, cocky Eddie, sassy reader, brief mentions of smoking and drinking, he’s a little bit of a perv, masturbation, 69, protected piv, premature ejaculation, heavy petting, grinding, confessions, slight insecure thoughts? (both are 18+) word count :3.4k //sry 4 errors

Eddie’s Pov

Calculus. The last class of the day. My favorite class overall.

There she sat, giggling on her phone, showing me silly photos she took of her dog Skittle, the sun shining just right on her honey toned tanned skin, hair laying just as perfect as ever in that simple, claw clip. Curls and wavy bangs sectioned to shape her face, brown eyes that matched mine and oh those glossy lips..

I wanna kiss you so fucking bad baby.

Her outfit of the day, that new pink and black checkered shirt she got at the mall that I drove her to.

It’s so tight on you sweetheart, your tits look beautiful today.

White Reeboks as I have, but very much cleaner…

Those 100% perfectly stretchy, acid wash jeans you wear every week that fit your ass so fucking bad.. fuck don’t bend over.. don’t—

“Eddie? what’s wrong with you?”

Fuck— didn’t realize the moan that I slipped out when she dropped her phone, she cracked it..but all I could focus on were the back of her thighs when she bent over

“Sorry uh- I think I’m just sore from carrying those amps last night”, he says now rubbing his not sore bicep with a pout

Lie.

“Oh babe I’m sorry, come by later and I can rub it out for you” she replies

Why the fuck would you say that to me right now—

“Oh yeah? You’d just love to get your hands on me always huh sweetheart? ” leaning back in my seat, with a cocky smile

You blush and shove my arm playfully “you’re so stupid, you know what I meant”

——

She’s been like this for the past month, after Harringtons party. Smoking and drinking under that patio umbrella, away from everyone else. Laughing, holding on to each other for dear life. I tell her jokes, she ugly laughs. I love her laugh, it’s not fake it’s genuine like her.

We met at the drink table, both preferring whiskey over the red shit they put out.

We talked about our intrests, I was very suprised and impressed with how she carried herself. How she talked about herself. How she sat comfortably on my lap; as if we knew each other for forever.

Obviously her thick hips in that royal blue, tacky dress she wore caught my attention first

It takes a certain kinda person to make me laugh but she.. she was probably the most funniest and beautiful fucking girl I’ve never seen. A few beauty marks as she would call it, scattered down her neck and arms. Eyelashes so dark she could always pass on the mascara, the sweet charm and sass she had to her.. she was something different.

She was fresh to town and it was relief to meet someone new. Similar childhood experiences, divorced parents but her dad stopped reaching out to them. Her mom was just a bitch to her. Very narcissistic person but, she had her kind moments. She definitely wasn’t the worse mother I’ve ever heard of.

All of that lead to a heavy make out session in the bathroom.

Sitting at the edge of the toilet, her scratching the back of my head with those sharp coffin shaped nails, me squeezing the fat of her ass on my lap. Hell, I was surprised how into this she was.. considering I’ve only kissed two girls in my life.

Sure I’ve watched my fair share of porn, visited sex stores, took a few notes; even got a handy under the bleachers last year from Carol. She forgot to pay for the weed I gave her, she offered, why not.

“Oh yeah, what’s your name again?” I ask kissing down her neck

“Y/N, but you can call me anything you want right now” she whimpers at the feeling of me nipping her throat

-“fuck you’re a r-really good kisser”

“-could say the same about you sweetheart” feeling the roll of her heat over my already strained dick.

I wonder how many guys she’s done this with

“Sorry, I don’t usually do this but, there’s just something so sexy about you”—

Biggest fucking ego boot ever.

“Fuck baby, if you keep talkin to me like that I’m gonna bust”

“Awe, am I making you feel some typa way Eddie?” She smirks looking down at me

“You know you are”

—

Unfortunately that ended quicker than it started, Robin got too hungover and needed our space.

She told me her classes and we exchanged numbers.

After that we talked everyday on FaceTime after getting home from school. I show her a new guitar riff and she shows me the new necklaces or shirts she ordered.

Sometimes she’d forget she was on camera and changed out of her bra a few times.

Hey, couldn’t help but to look come on, I am just a man

I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve fucked myself to that imagine every morning.. and evening and night..

Slept on the phone together, hung out at lunch together.

I only ever seen her at lunch other than at the end of the day in Mrs. Wilson’s calculus class. Bringing us back to now

——

“Mr. Munson are you done chatting now?” Wilson knocks me out of my trance

“Sorry bout that, yes ma’am” giving her a thumbs up sitting back up straight as she rolls her eyes subtly.

You slide me note. Folded up, in blue highlighted letters

You ever have sex before? Circle Yes or No ♡

fuck—we never even discuss stuff like that! how haven’t we? Don’t embarrass yourself man

Course I have, why? what’s got you so curious? ;)

I watch her look away quickly, gulping when she covers the paper to respond back

Well.. you’re cute and shit & was wondering if you wanna come over friday..? My parents have been gone all week and..we can hang or do whatever.. ♡

Did she wanna fuck? I hope so —wait you’re a virgin idiot, wait is she? probably not

I’m already there babe ;)

I reply with an easy smile, hiding the fact I’m in a state of panic

Good.. and uh bring those handcuffs on your wall too.. ♡

No way she’s a virgin talking like that

She rushes outta the classroom at the bell, turning back with a wink

Holy shit I gotta talk to Harrington.

“-and that’s what I’m saying dude, just sweet talk her, treat her like a princess, rub her in all the right places”—

“Okay but what ARE those places? I know her like tits and shit.. and well under her panties but what does it feel like? Ya know putting in it? What if I cum too fast and she laughs or runs away and never talks to me again..”—

I’ve been pacing back in forth in Family Video, loud where all the customers could hear. Definitely loud enough for Robin to upchuck her lunch

“No Eddie- just, come back here— Rob? watch the front please?” Steve grabs me by the shoulder making a bee line to the stock room

Sitting on the empty table still trying to gather my thoughts of Steve’s advice. “Well?” I rush out

“Damn man let me sit down first” he scoffs pulling a chair over to me

“Alright, you wanna know what inside a vagina feels like right?”

“Jesus, can you just say pussy or some shit”

“Same thing” he glared

“Okay well it’s not really sexy to just say vagina-

-“god Eddie, do you wanna know or not?” I can tell I’m testing his patience, I shut my lips, nodding eagerly

“Okay, so It’s like this- well like wet and really, really warm, almost like hot bath around your dick or a tight hug”—

“Wow, a hot bath thanks for the analogy Steve, I’ll make sure to take one when I get home”

He deadpans at me. “You asked me and I’m telling you, it’s hard to really explain other than a tight, wet warm hug. Oh!” he snaps his finger”-and sometimes it’ll tighten around your cock when she’s about to cum and holy shit dude— you better hold your load because the first time I had sex, it lasted about 10 seconds” My eyes widen

“WHAT!?” I shout before him shushing me “King Steve was a minute man?”— I joke

“Hey I said at first, when you get used to having sex your stamina gets better and for me personally”— he leans in “I can last approximately 45 minutes and 27 seconds” he sits back proudly

Cocky bastard.

Shit.

How long will I last? Will jerking off more boost my stamina?

——

Since that afternoon I did as much research as a I could, making a DIY sponge fleshlight.

That was a fail, got carpet burn.

Even bought condoms from the corner store, didnt know what size i was so, i grabbed all 4 boxes

Practicing my stroke game, using my pillow as a hole.

Down. Glide. Up. Down. Guide up.

Ow, fuck, cramp, cramp

This shits hard. My back hurts.

Throwing away the 8th used condom of the day, tossing myself in my desk chair, forehead sweaty, wrists throbbing; hearing my phone go off

FaceTime from Crush🖤

“Ah, fuck”— grabbing a shirt, wiping off the excess sweat off my skin, putting my pants back on, setting the phone up on my night stand, grabbing the guitar quickly setting it on my lap— “Hey! Sweetheart, what’s up, what are you up to?”

“I could ask you the same thing why is your face so red?” She asks giggling, laying on her tummy, tits spilling out , kicking her socked feet from behind

“Just took a hot shower is all”

“But your hairs not wet?” you give me a suspicious look, “Oh yeah, I just tied it up..sooo still want me over tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah! I picked up cookie dough the edible kind because I know you like that anddddd”- she reaches over her phone to grab something—“I rented whole stab franchise for a throwback”- showing me her laptop screen

“Well, that sounds like a party to me”

“You got that right..” She replies, biting her lip as if I didn’t notice,- “Anywaysss, just calling to remind you, see you tomorrow im tired, goodnight dummy *mwah*

She always ends our calls with a kiss on screen

Fuck I’m hard again

“Can’t wait sweetheart, sweet dreams” ending the call, looking down at my bulge

Welp, gotta jerk off again

Friday. THE day I might lose my virginity to the sexiest girl in school. My best friend.

I wake up earlier than usual, do my morning ritual, a joint. My nerves making me shower twice.

Should I shave?

Would she care?

A little trim wouldn’t hurt

May or may have not nicked my balls. Not too bad, maybe she won’t notice. Finding my nicest pair of jet black jeans I own, I only wear ‘em for special occasions and a wife beater? Nah that’s too much right? A flannel would help. Yeah. Definitely.

Hey I look kinda good, checking myself out in the mirror

Alright, wallet, keys, condoms, I glance over at the cuffs on the wall. Can’t forget those, stuffing them in my back pocket

—

My palms are sweaty, fuck even my ass is sweating.. 3 cigarettes already in, on my way to her house; of course I have a bad fucking hair day today, so I just opted for a low bun.

Before I could even knock, you open the door my jaw already on the floor

“Hi dummy!” You jump giving me a hug, pulling me inside.

What the hell is she wearing

A transparent green knitted, cropped sweater

is that her nipple I see? Those goddamn Nike shorts are doing her a favor—“Someone’s excited to see me?” Kicking off my shoes

“I’m always excited to see you.. also nice hair”

and neck goddamn, what is hell is he wearing you think, already feeling horny from the sight of my neck being so exposed

those jeans are doing his fine ass a favor

fuck I’m wet already

“Come on, already got it all set up for us”

“Lead the way princess” following behind you

I need to bite those fuckin legs.

——

We always sit like this on movie nights. Me against your headboard, back against my chest. I don’t remember how it started but I love it.

“Didn’t David Arquette also play in Spree?”

I squint back at the tv, “Uh yeah yeah he did, he was Kurt’s dad I think”

She replies with a mouthful “omyeah”

My hands have been holding both sides of her hips the whole time, occasionally rubbing them with my thumbs; every time I do it your breath picks up

Something else is about to be up—

“Huh?”

“Did you even hear me? You’ve been zoning out a lot recently”, you say sitting crisscross

“Something on your mind Ed’s?”

Gulp

“No no just— “ sigh

“Yeah, you. You’ve been on my mind.”

She smiles looking down, cocking her head to the side

“Oh yeah? Been thinking about me have you?” She grins

“You have no idea. ”

My breath hitches when you straddle me

Fuck me

“Wanna tell me these thoughts you’ve been having?” she asks twirling a piece of my bang

Remember what Steve said, sweet talk her

“Why don’t I just show you pretty girl”

Her smirk instantly falls, cheeks crimson “shit.. okay”

Running my hand up your thighs firmly, wrapping my arm around your lower back, my free hand pulling your face closer into my lips. “Like that baby?”

Who the fuck are you she thinks

“Fuck, yeah kiss me again”, I stare blankly until my eyes turn to pure lust, pushing her down to her back climbing on top to ease my tongue back into her mouth, my hips grinding into yours, hearing you whimper…

You’d think that’d make me harder but it’s when you grind back into me that did it

“You’re so beautiful you know that baby?.. fuck been missing these lips for weeks..”

“Shit, me too, been needing you so close to my body recently it’s been killin me,” she whines, rubbing her hands down my chest

—“that’s why I asked you to come over, could tell you were feeling me too”

You’re right about that, I mumble sucking your neck,

I’ve practiced giving myself hickies on my arms freshmen year.

Eddie, score

“That tank top Eddie.. t-take off the flannel let me see you? Please?” You ask giving me doe eyes. I sit up eagerly throwing it about, she sits up on her elbows, throwing off her sweater

The goddamn groan I let out

Jesus Christ

You lie back down bashfully covering yourself

A whore being shy huh?

“Whattt? She asks feeling self conscious,

“You’re..fuck.. just let me get a closer look please?” I plead, you nod shyly

Squeezing your breasts hard in my palm, licking my lips, nipping them, kissing them, hearing you gasp “holy shit -

“What??”

I do it again, in combination with my tongue, She doesn’t stop me she moans, making me feel bolder, “ Lemme take these off?” My thumbs already ready to yank your shorts down

You don’t answer

“Hey, it’s just me you know you’re beautiful to me, right?”

“Yes..you can take em off” she whispers

Thinking it’d be hot to yank them down quick like those sex movies

I try it..

“Ow! Fuck what the hell?” She jerks

I didn’t know she had the goddamn drawstring tied. , “Ow..you pout rubbing your hip, “Shit I’m sorry! I’m sorry”

I’m already fucking up, “It’s okay.. it’s just tied” she says undoing them pulling them off herself, holding her hands in her lap

I lean down to kiss both hips as an apology, looking up at you slowly undoing your hands

Cute little hair she has

“Can I um..”

She looks down at me gaining back her confidence, “You wanna eat me don’t you?” My eyes widen, gripping her side, “Yesss.. really bad” but I don’t know how to —

“Can I see you too?” again with that lip bite

“Of course” okay.. here goes nothing whispering to myself , yanking my jeans and all down in one swift motion, staring at the spot on the ceiling

You scoff with the sour look, “Oh my god”

WHAT WHAT WHAT

“You’re packing Eddie”

“Oh..thank fuck, really? I wouldn’t say that but..” I sit back in front of her

“Can I touch it?” You ask still staring at my cock

-..But I wanna taste you.. what if we..you lay on me but backwards..? Like 69?” I recommend

She nods eagerly, nervously but very excited, “Okay.. just don’t look at my asshole.. there’s a spot on it that looks like I didn’t wipe but it’s not what you think! It’s a freckle..”, I chuckle, rubbing your cheek nodding

Laying down flat, you swing your legs over my face

Oh god fuck, “Such a pretty pussy” i mumble

Suck a pretty cock you think

You’re both horny as fuck, both licking on each other immediately —“Jesus fuck!” I shout, hearing and feeling you choke on my dick

“Y/n, y-you done this before?”

“Yeah—“

Damnit.

-“But it was with a guy at my old school, said I was the best head he ever had” , you say rubbing my balls

Hot.

Okay Eddie do what feels right

so that’s the clit? how cute

Bringing my lips around your nub, licking you, tasting you, “Oh god why do you taste so good, you smell so..sweet?”

“Was that a question?” You ask popping my dick outta your mouth

“No, no just the sweetest pussy I’ve never tasted”-

the only pussy I’ve ever tasted

I’ve never smelt anything like this, I think I’m addicted

Flicking my tongue a few time feeling you react in a high pitched moan, sucking and massaging it lightly, my eyes flutter spotting your ass hole winking at me

“Holy shit” she’s pretty everywhere

“What?”

“You have such a pretty ass” blurting out

“Eddie! I told you not to look!” She whines trying to climb off, “Shut up I do what I want”saying firmly, pulling you back down by your thighs; sticking my pointer finger in your cunt,

so that’s the squeeze Steve was talking about

“Ohmyg— fuckk yes please” she vibrates around me, a guttural moan purging from my throat, curling my finger like they said —

“Oh! Fuck yes keep doing that Eddie baby please”—

“I am, I am baby you just suck my dick”—

Holy shit who am I—

“-Eddie I think I’m gonna cum yep, I’m gonna cum..”—

“Wait really?”

“Yes!”

“Really?” Asking again “YES EDDIE SHUT UP AND KEEP GOING, FUCK”—

Thrusting faster, licking faster I feel your wetness roll down and down into my mouth instantly making me cum in yours

“Fuck baby like that, fuck did you..just swallow?—“ I ask but you proceed to keep sucking-“OKAY OKAY, stop, s-shit!”

Pleading trying to stop you from overstimulating me further, “Shit.. sweetheart, that dude was right, that was the best head I’ve ever got”

The only head I’ve ever got

She lays back down beside me with a large grin,” Was that your first time getting head? You came so fast for me”

Lie.

Not replying I get up, finding the condom in my Jean pocket, “What’re ya doing?” You ask with a questioned expression, “Condom?” I hold up “Oh, oh yeah yeah right duh”—

Fuck I forgot with which way it goes on— got it

Turning back to you, cock still hard, nudging your core

You give me a small smile, watching me hesitantly about to slip my tip in

“Wait! Wait!”-

“What? Sorry, I didn’t ask”—

“Eddie I need to tell you something..”

“Yeah?”

“I can tell you definitely know what you’re doing but I just.. be gentle because I’ve never done this before..”

never done this before, never done this before

I stare like a deer in headlights, the weight off my shoulders lifted. I laugh sarcastically to myself , “That’s, well.. I should probably tell you I’ve never done it either.. like ima”—

“Virgin too?”

“Yeah, surprise?” feeling embarrassed, “How did I not know that? We tell each other everything” shrugging, “Not sure, but I’m glad you told me before I stuck ya”

“Ew don’t say stuck me weirdo”

“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing at all, I had to ask Steve for advice.. I figured you would know more I mean since you wanted my handcuffs”-, you bite your lip, head shaking

“I said that because, I figured you’d know how to use em”

“There actually just for decoration sweetheart, looked kinda metal”, we laugh in awe with each other , “But here we are..” I say biting the skin on my lip—

“Yeah here we are” you look back up at me, hopeful, “Do you wanna stop?”

“No..do you wanna stop?”

“Nah, been hoping you’d be my first actually”, you blush at my statement pulling me down for a deep kiss , “Let’s do it..”

“..but what if I cum too fast? that would be humiliating”—

- “I understand how it works.. don’t feel bad if you do, I promise I won’t laugh Ed’s” she squeezes my hand lovingly

My heart is erect

I nod, looking over all of you again, spreading your thighs a little wider, “I’ll go slow”

Furrowing my brows in consentration, slipping my tip in, surprisingly not easy mother fuck—

“Holy fuck you’re so-

“Tight? I know I have a hard time fingering my self as is”

“Why would you tell me that at this very second,” I try not to laugh, holding my shit together, “that’s so hot by the way,” bottoming you out, we gasp in sync

“Oh god”-

“What?”

“Holy god”—

“What!?? You alright?” She asks , “I’m about to cum already”—

“I told you, it’s okay”

“I know but that’s so embarrassing”

You clench around me on purpose, suddenly your eyes widen, feeling a warmth from inside, while also hearing me grunt almost in pain above you

Silence.

“Im so sorry fuck,” pulling out, shocked at how full my condom is, “Did you cum?”, she scrunches her nose, “No silly”

“But you squeezed me?”

“Yeah but, I didn’t have an orgasm”

Fucking Steve

-“But Steve said when a girl cums she clenchs around us” explaining further—

“First off, I’m gonna need you to not take advice from Steve and second, I mean according to my girlfriends we do.. it’s like a few squeezes but apparently we really squeeze for a long time when we do cum? Maybe even shake? I’m not sure but I think I’d know when I felt it”

Well shit

He looks like a sad puppy this won’t do you think

“But hey, we can try again right? Don’t be embarrassed if anything it’s kinda hot”

“Really?”

“I mean yeah, I made you cum in under like 1 second, biggest ego boot ever” you lighten the mood, nudging my shoulder smiling at me, pulling me for another kiss, “Don’t ever tell anyone that” holding my forehead to yours

You smirk, holding your pinky up “I promise”, Interlocking mine, noticing your body shifted closer, staring at your lips, “Let me try again Sweetheart” your eyes also on mine, nodding, crawling back to you, chasing your touch, taking each others breath—

Was that a car door??

“Is someone here?”

“Honey we’re home!”

FUCK, not now!!

(again recommend you listen to Wet dreamz by Jcole; it’s a bop)

reblogs appreciated // this was fun. let me know your thoughts? I do realize the smut was kinda rushed? Should there be a part 2? Suggestions? Comments? Feel like I should have kept going for them to restart again but I dunno🤷🏽‍♀️

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Your crush on Eddie was better off a secret and a kiss that should never have happened leads you into a storm.

I wasn't happy with my first version of chapter 4. So I polished it up and added a little more dialog. Feel free to wait for the next chapter but if you'd like to read it, either as a refresher or for the very first time, please let me know what you think. XOXO-Jelly

Masterlist Listen to Fake Plastic Trees Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC: 11646 beta'd by @superblysubpar

A sharp chill nips at your cheeks as gusts of autumn wind blow through the amber-leafed trees surrounding Hawkins High's parking lot. You pick at the splintered wood of the picnic table beneath you, etched with initials and scribbles. The anguished croon of Placebo plays through your headphones, drowning out the sounds of the start of another school day. Shifting the pile of books on your lap, you steal a glance at where Eddie stands with his back to you a few yards away.

Lately, it’s like your best friend has purchased real estate in your brain. Daydreams resulting in hearts doodled in the margins of your notebooks a little too close to where you printed his name. His dark curls spill over the collar of his worn denim vest, shadowing the frayed edges of the Dio patch he had sown on last week. He's deep in conversation with Dan Shelter, a senior in the same class that Eddie would have been in if he hadn’t missed so much time after his mother passed. They both turn and look at you at the same time.

Eddie’s eyes narrow as his brows pull tighter into a frown. You push one of your headphones back, and the noise of everyday chatter and car engines bursts into your reality. 

"You know your girlfriend is deeply weird, Munson," the spiky-haired jock says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket, not even trying to hide his distaste.

Girlfriend. You’ve both tried to stamp out that rumor—yet no matter who else you go out with, those sparks never last and pale in comparison to the steady flame you feel around Eddie. Would it really be so bad if it were true? The answer scares you more than you expect. 

"She’s not my girl," Eddie retorts with a swift shake of his head, his voice edged with that familiar bite of annoyance. His foot scuffs against the asphalt, the white Reebok stark against the black jeans clinging to his narrow hips. An impatient sigh pulls the fabric of his Hellfire Club t-shirt tighter across his chest, outlining his lean frame. "You in or out?" His fingers snap near Dan's face, the sunlight catching on his silver rings, "I've got other places to be, and you're not my only customer."

"Sure, whatever," Dan grumbles, extending a hand with a few crumpled bills.

Eddie accepts the cash with an easy smirk, teasing the dime bag between thumb and forefinger, letting it sway like a pendulum. Dan’s hand hovers while he glances around for prying eyes, but Eddie lets the bag drop to the ground before he can take it. 

"Oops," Eddie’s voice drips with feigned innocence before he pivots on his heel and walks away without a backward glance.

Dan’s face ignites with anger as he stoops for the bag, muttering a curse.

"Always a pleasure," Eddie calls over his shoulder, flashing a dismissive two-fingered salute. A gaggle of pink-cheeked girls from the sophomore class crosses his path, eyes trailing over him like he's their favorite song come to life.  

"Ladies." He extends an arm, waving them on, his voice as smooth as a melody. They flutter past with giggles and heated glances. Despite their whispers of 'freak' in the corridors, they all vie for a chance to climb into the back of his van when no one is looking – to be the subject of the rumors they'd later deny.

He never hides his interest when he likes a girl — everybody knows when Eddie Munson is into someone. But he’s never looked at you that way, never given you that smile meant for those he desires. And that’s something that has never bothered you. Now, it stirs something else — a green thorny vine wrapping around your insides. He’s just Eddie – your friend. The same old Eddie, you reaffirm, even as your heart whispers lies of a different tune.

Without missing a beat, he saunters over, the rhythmic clink of his chain wallet punctuating each step. He leaps onto the picnic table, landing beside you with a thud, sending vibrations through the timeworn wood. His eyes linger on the girl's retreating forms.

"You need to be careful, Eddie," you warn, tipping your chin toward where Dan is stalking off in a dark cloud of annoyance.

"Careful is my middle name, doll." He smiles a big, sly grin, dimples deepening, causing a flutter in your chest, an unexplained sensation that's become strangely frequent these days.

He nods at your leg, eyes dropping to your thigh. "What’s this?" His dark lashes make half-moon shadows on his cheek as his thumb brushes over the square field of bright white crosses covering the denim patch on your jeans.  A trail of tingles follows, unbidden and unwelcome. You disguise the shiver as a chill from the wind, even as you crave more of his touch.

"It’s called sashiko," you explain, hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin as the ghost of his touch lingers. "The art of visible mending." 

"Looks cool." His gaze meets yours, a little too intense and a little too long. Your fingers clutch your notebooks tighter, a shield against whatever this feeling is.

"Are you coming over after school?" Your voice is steadier than you feel.

"I’ll drop you off, but I’ve got to go back to the trailer after," Eddie replies, his eyes still holding yours in a silent conversation you can't quite interpret. "I’ve got stuff to do." Something in his tone suggests layers you're not ready to peel back. "Not your kind of stuff."

The house where Eddie grew up doesn't look the same anymore. Someone else has moved in – keeping the lawn perfect and fixing up all the broken things, erasing any traces of tragedy. The neighborhood has moved on, absolving themselves like they hadn’t just turned their back and let it happen. As if it wasn't their problem. Eddie's staying on the other side of town now with his Uncle Wayne in a tiny one-bedroom trailer. Wayne's heart is in the right place, even if he drinks too much, just like Eddie's dad did. But he's not bad, just... lost when it comes to dealing with an angry teen, and with him working nights, Eddie's on his own to figure out how to deal with it all. 

"I can keep you company?” You try to keep the offer casual despite the hump in your pulse.

He shakes his head, a shadow crossing his features. "Nah, I’ve got to stop at Rick's, then a run." There's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

You frown and look away, hiding your disappointment. "I don’t see what the big deal is," you argue, keeping your voice low, "We smoke together all the time."

"The big deal," he says, reaching out to lift your chin and forcing you to look at him. "Is that this is business, and I don’t want you involved. Alright?" His voice is firm, letting you know he won’t budge. "I’ll pick you up later," he promises. "Movie night. Just us."

The shrill ring of the bell is your cue to retreat, to put distance between you and these feelings threatening to upend everything. You nod at him, shoving your books into your bag. His gaze holds you for a heavy beat before breaking away. There's a shift in the air, a prelude to something you can't name, like the static before a storm. Eddie's last glance sears itself into your thoughts when you part ways at the door. 

As you make your way to class, those feelings nag at you like a forgotten lyric. You hug your arms, trying to squeeze out the persistent ache that spreads through your limbs. It's a tangible pain, this longing, like a hand squeezing around your heart, making it hard to breathe.

But you push it all down, guarding it like a secret. To lock it away in the confines of your ribcage, where it can't taint the one thing you value most. The friendship you've built is too important, too rare to risk on a silly crush that might only live in your head and fade with time. It’s a gamble you won’t take. You can't lose him. You won’t watch that light in his eyes dim for you, awkward silences replacing the laughter. Without him, you’d be alone.

Cold gray days give way to dark, inky nights. The stars and moon are veiled behind thick cotton clouds, stealing the light earlier as fall edges closer to winter. Winds gust, sending wet leaves sticking to the glass of your office windows as the bare fingers of the boxwoods planted around the brownstone scratch against the house in protest.

Lowering the lid of your laptop, the light in the room dims as the brightness is trapped between the two halves. Your arms stretch over your head, loosening the tension in your neck as you push away from your desk, drifting towards the sounds of life from the living room. Steve’s long legs are stretched out on the chaise end of the couch, a Bulls game on the TV, but his attention is stuck on the laptop resting on his thighs. 

“My eyes are going to fall out my head if I stare at that screen for any longer,” you declare, rounding the corner of the couch.

“Well, then, come stare at this screen instead.” He nods at the TV, extending his arm to make space for you to crawl onto the couch next to him and fit yourself into his side. 

“You’re so warm.” You nuzzle into his chest, and his lips touch the top of your head. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time for bed. I still have a few hours of work left,” he sighs, his finger sliding down the trackpad as he scrolls through a document that never seems to end. 

“Is that for the launch?” Your eyes squint at the brightness of the screen. 

He groans at the ping of another incoming email while toggling between the many windows he has open. “Yeah, we're in the final stretch. The event team is trying to finalize the details. Maroon 5 and Fallout Boy are locked in to perform, but we’re still waiting to hear back from a few other acts and about a million other details that need ironing out.”

“It’s going to be a great night, baby. Everyone will be so impressed,” you assure, the arm you have draped across his stomach tightening, trying to impress your words into him. “Everything is going to go smoothly, you’ll see.”

He scoffs, doubt clouding his voice. “I wish I had your confidence. The server's capacity is still a question mark, and we're racing to fix streaming delays. Fuck!” The heels of his hands press into his eyes. “All I need is this thing to fail at the last minute, especially with Richard and my dad watching.” He imitates his father's stern tone, “Typical. He’s always been a fuck up. Chokes right before the buzzer.” Letting his hands drop, his eyes turn to you. “I should have listened to you and not invited my parents. I actually never thought they would agree to come. Now I’m running around trying to get things ready for them too.”

“Hey,” you take one of his hands between yours, “That’s not going to happen, Steve. If the servers have issues or if there's a lag, it's just a hiccup. You've got a team to handle that. You've put in the work, and you're brilliant at what you do. Your parents will see that. Everyone will.” 

He manages a smile, but it’s just a placation.

“What can I do to help?” You ask, “I’ll make sure we have some Pellegrino stocked and that cheese your parents like.”

There's a pause as he weighs his next words. “I’ve already called the housekeeper and told them to put fresh sheets in the guest room in case they decide to stay here, but I still need to make a reservation at the Four Seasons as a backup.”

Your jaw tightens, but you curb your annoyance at how John Harrington has everyone trained to cater to his high-maintenance whims, but this is for Steve’s peace of mind. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow. Consider it done. Anything else?”

He hesitates, a little apologetic. "My suit... the dry cleaner closes early tomorrow. I hate to ask, but I might not make it in time–"

“No problem. I’ll make time.”

His lips lift at the corners, and this time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I love you.” He leans forward, slotting his lip softly between yours. “I’ll put the ticket in your bag. Thanks for helping out, Ace.”

“I just have Eddie's interview tomorrow afternoon. I should have plenty of time." Standing, you tug at his hand. "Now, can we go to bed? Everything will look better after a good night's sleep.”

His mouth sets in a determined line as he shuts down his laptop, yielding to your pull as he rises. His hand finds a place on the small of your back, grounding you both as you climb the stairs together. 

Hitching the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder, you kick at a loose stone on the sidewalk in front of the brick building. Car horns blare in the distance as traffic rolls by in the busy neighborhood.  The sun casts a glint off the steel CursedSound sign, its metal already weathering with a faint tinge of color. The heavy door is yanked open, its clank and whine making you jump. 

"Hi," Eddie greets you with a soft tone from the other side of the threshold.

"Hi," you return, shyness adding a tremble to your voice that shouldn’t be there. His fingers grip the edge of the door, and light flashes off the Rolex peeking out from under the cuff of the plaid flannel he wears over a fitted v-neck and jeans, the fabric snug against his defined shoulders. It’s still a novelty to see how his slim build has filled in over the years. Part of you still expects the boy you knew instead of this man in front of you. He looks you over in the same way, like he’s trying to decide if you’re really there. Maybe it’s the differences he sees in you, too, or does he still see the lonely girl he once knew? You shift your gaze down the street, your toes curling inside your Converse as warmth climbs up your neck. "Are you going to let me in?"

"I don't know." He pretends to ponder, a smile forming, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Where's your hard hat?"

Tilting your head to the side, you purse your lips until he breaks into a chuckle. He swings the door open wider, welcoming you in. You pass him with a shake of your head and continue down the hall. 

The lobby is in chaos.

"Sorry for the mess. The maid took the week off," he quips, watching you take in the space. 

The brown paper has been removed from the windows, allowing bright light to stream through the streaked and dirty glass. All the furniture has been pushed toward the center of the room, and ladders and paint cans litter the floor space. A large mural wrapping around the windows and front entrance has been outlined but not completed. In the same graffiti style as the one upstairs, this one displays more cityscapes with waves of the lake breaking at the forefront. Winged skulls and guitars blend with colorful swirls of clouds rising toward the ceiling. 

"It’s perfect," you tell him as your eyes follow the sweeping, colorful lines around the room. “Really beautiful.”

"Was that a compliment?" He asks, coming up behind you, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "I thought it was a dump."

"Well, what can I say?” You spin around. “It’s growing on me." Your fingers move to your lips, concealing your smile as his deepens with your praise. 

"You look really good." His low voice bounces off the empty walls, "I mean…your, uh, outfit is nice." He waves his hand toward you before wiping it on the front of his jeans. 

Your brows raise as you glance down at the jeans and plain Lolla tee you put on this morning. None of the trendy outfits you usually wear for interviews seemed to fit right today. 

"Wow, that was smooth," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don’t know why I’m so nervous."

The fluttering in your stomach matches his energy.  “Maybe it’s because I’m going to get you to spill all your secrets and print them so the whole world can sit in judgment."

 A choked sound comes from his throat as his eyes widen into saucers.

Unable to keep a straight face, you giggle. "Relax, Eddie. I already told you I’m not writing some hit piece. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides," you shrug, "It’s only me." 

A sharp breath escapes as his shoulders lower. "Yeah, you’re right." He says, taking a step forward, his gaze locking with yours. "After all these years, it's still you.

"Eddie." His name comes out on a breathless sigh as you look away.  The shield of anger between you is heavy and battered, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold it up. He takes another step forward, and you clear your throat. "Why don’t you show me what else you’ve done?"

He rakes a hand through his curls, "Of course." His lips tighten into a flat line as he gestures toward the stairs. "After you." 

You lead the way to the second floor, where the smell of fresh paint permeates the air. A ladder leans against a half-painted wall, and orange extension cords crisscross the carpet in the hall, winding into the studios like work has been suddenly halted.

"Where is everyone?" You look around the abandoned space before stepping inside Studio A. It's come a long way since your last visit. The deck that holds the mixing board is ready, and the wiring is underway.

"I didn’t know how long you’d be here, so I told them to take the rest of the day off." His eyes follow the movements of your hand, brushing over knobs and sliders of the soundboard that's still sheathed in a protective layer of plastic. 

"You didn’t have to do that," you say, walking back out into the hall. 

"I didn’t think we needed the audience," he shrugs, walking along with you to the next room.

"I hope you don’t fall behind schedule." The walls of the small Studio B are covered with walnut slats to create an acoustic barrier while still keeping the room open, while the mixing room kept the original exposed brick.

"I’ve got time."

"Even so," you move to the window. The sun glints off the mirrored surface of the tall building across the street. "I’m sure you're eager to open. Put out that first album with the CursedSound logo in the liner notes."

"Of course I am." He comes to stand beside you, taking in the bustle of the city at midday. "It’s gonna be good to have nothin’ between me and the music. Let the artists be as creative as they want. Their management can deal with the corporate A&R people and leave me out of it."

"You never did like playing by the rules," you smile, catching his eyes in the reflection of the glass.

He turns his head, studying your profile. "Why should I?" he continues, his tone more determined, "The rules sure as hell never helped me. I'm gonna take my chances as I find them, even if I have to play a little dirty. I deserve happiness the same as the next guy."

"Of course you do." The world has done nothing but take from him. 

"What about you?" He asks as you return to the hall. "The rules seemed to be treating you well."

You raise your shoulders with a warm smile gracing your lips, one you have no intention of concealing. "I love my job. I like the city, and…I have Steve."

"You ending up with Steve Harrington," his voice curls around the name, a sneer you can almost see, "I gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming."

Stopping, you pivot to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. "He's a good guy, Eddie."

He sighs in a short, almost defeated breath. "I know he is, doll."

The unmarked door at the end of the hall provides a convenient distraction. "Where does this go?" You wonder with your hand closing over the knob.

"My apartment."

"You're living here?" You let it go like it burned you, swallowing the lump that has made a sudden appearance in your throat. 

"Sure. Can't beat the commute." He reaches around you, turning the doorknob to reveal another flight of stairs. "Do you want to go up?"

Flashes of that day are more vivid than they should be for memories two years old. The closet carpet is soft under your fingers as wet tears rain down on the glossy pages. Steve's voice gets closer as he calls out your name. A tightness grips your chest as you attempt to step back, momentarily forgetting that Eddie's right behind you. He supports you with a steadying hand on your hip as he faces you, seeking your reaction.

"No, that's okay. I think we're fine down here. I  wouldn't want to disturb anyone," you say, attempting to sound confident as you wipe your palms along the sides of your jeans.

Eddie scratches the side of his head as his brow wrinkles. "Who do you think it up there?" 

A hot breath passes your lips as you turn away, walking back down the hall toward Studio C. "I don’t know," you call over your shoulder, too chicken to face him. "Skyler Simmons. Rock royalty. Media darling. According to the magazines, your long-time girlfriend. The one you own a house with. Ring any bells? Isn’t she here with you?"

"My what? Skyler Simmons?" The deep belly laugh that follows has you spinning on your heels to face him.

"Wait. You’re serious?" His dimples make an appearance as his smile deepens. "Me and Skyler?" He can barely get her name out without chuckling. 

"The one you’re photographed with constantly."

His brows shoot up. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself," you huff. "It came up in my research. Do you have a relationship with her or not?"

"I know her," he offers, shaking his head, "She’s a friend. We go to the same group." 

"What group? The one for annoying assholes." 

He pauses, his arms crossing over his chest. "The one for people with addiction in their families. That okay with you?" His voice escalates. The simmering anger in his eyes mirrors the intensity of his tone. "Skyler is gay. Her girlfriend's usually hanging around, too. Does that mean I’m fucking her too? Jesus."

Frigid water clashes with your hot blood as the fight drains away. Glancing at your feet, your voice diminishes to barely more than a whisper. "Why hasn't she come out in the media?"

"Maybe because it’s none of anybody's fucking business." His piercing gaze bores into you as the sharp words land like heavy stones in the sour pit in your stomach. "Hold on," he waves a hand in front of you, "Why do you even care?"

"I don’t," your voice falters as the dishonest answer leaves you without hesitation. Your eyes trace the patterns on the floor. "It just makes for a better story, is all." 

His hands run through his hair, fingers tugging on the ends as his tone softens. "Doll," he pauses, taking a deliberate step closer. His warm fingers cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. Those amber swirls, always seeing beyond your surface. "No one else is in my apartment, and no one else is gonna be."

His touch sends a searing heat spreading through your skin as the weight of your engagement ring pulls on your finger. "You’re a grown man, Eddie. Do whatever you want." Stepping back, his hand falls from your face as you turn and enter the studio.

"Fucking stubborn," the low murmur carries under his breath as he follows you inside.

"It looks like this one’s almost finished." You spin around the room, taking in the progress, before letting your bag slide down your shoulder and sinking onto the couch. 

Gray triangles of acoustic foam now adorn the live room walls in contrasting patterns, and layers of soft carpeting line the floor. The mixing room's mural stands completed, and the furniture has all been placed. 

His eyes move around the room, the pride evident on his face. "Just some wiring and the vocal booth, and I’ll be ready to start setting the levels."

"This one’s your favorite, I can tell," you shift, tucking a leg under you as he joins you on the couch. 

"Shhh," he hushes you, raising a finger to his lips. "The others will get jealous."

Rolling your eyes, you pull your phone from your bag, open the recording app, and set it between you both.

"How does this work?" Eddie's eyes are fixed on your phone while he rubs the back of his neck.

"Well, typically," your hand slips back into your bag to retrieve the neatly stapled pages of your notes, "I ask a question, and you provide the answer." You set the pages in your lap, drawing in a steadying breath. He’s sitting in front of you with a key to a locked door  – one that might be best left closed and forgotten, but it’s time to hear him out. 

"Eddie Munson interview, part one."

"Mr. Munson." You slip into your most professional tone. "Thank you for granting us an interview during this busy time. All of us at Stax are very excited to welcome CursedSound to Chicago."

He leans forward, his voice dropping slightly in timber as a much smoother, older Eddie begins to answer, "Thank you. I always have time for my favorite magazine." He winks.

Your lips press into a line as you tilt your head to the side, taking a quick glance at your packet. "In April 2003, Fever to Tell was released by a relatively new band and a completely unknown sound engineer. It went on to sell over a million copies, putting The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the name Eddie Munson on industry minds. Fever to Tell is still, to date, one of my favorite albums. Were you aware of the significant impact this record would have when you were working on it?"

"At the time, we were really just hopeful, you know? We believed in the music we were creating. Karen and Nick, and Brian flew out from New York with their last dime, and we just got to work. Karen had this kind of raw, untamed energy, and I wanted to capture that, to add an edge to the album. It was this post-punk dance-floor-friendly racket that injected a much-needed dose of authenticity into a musical era that was getting stagnant."

"It's not an exaggeration to say that record helped shape the direction of indie and alternative rock for years to come. But what I want to ask is you before all that. What was the road like moving from Hawkins to having your dreams come true in LA? Was this the path you first set out on, or were there curves in the road?"

"I think 'curves' is a generous term for the absolute shit choices I was making for myself back then," he chuckles. "As you know, I left Hawkins about a year after I graduated. That town had already decided I would never be anything more than a freak– a loser with no future. If I had stayed, that's exactly what would have happened. I was trying to outrun my past without a clue what I wanted for my future. I had my own band back then, and sometimes, we’d open for slightly bigger bands that rolled through town. One of them was about to tour and invited me to go as their one and only roadie, and it felt like a free ticket out."

"Bananafish," you interject, swallowing and glancing down at your notes.

"Yeah, Bananafish. God, they sucked. Did you know they started as a Spin Doctors tribute band?"

"No," you laugh, "And that wasn’t a red flag for you?"

"It should have been. I wasn’t with them for long anyway. I think I lasted for three weeks before they cut me loose for getting in a fight with the drummer." He pauses, shaking his head. "I never knew when to shut my mouth. At that point, they had hooked up with another band called Everly. Slightly better, but not by much. I managed to hold it together for a few months. I was high or drunk most of the time, the only reason they kept me around was because they liked the way I babied their instruments."

"I remember,” you nod. “You’d spend half an hour polishing that Warlock every day after school." 

"Got to treat a lady right if you want her to sing for you," he says with a sly rise and fall of his brows, draping an arm over the back of the couch, shrinking the space between you.

"I was surprised that you left it behind." 

Eddie's expression turns more solemn. "There were a lot of things I wished I could’ve taken with me. But back then, I couldn’t even take care of myself."

"I don’t believe that," you swallow, the words sticking in your throat, "You could have tried."

"If I had tried, they would’ve ended up broken, and I’d‘ve lost them anyway." His fingers brush your shoulder, and you flinch. The leather creaks as you sit back against the arm of the couch, just out of reach. 

"Back to Everly. Why did you part ways?" 

"Oh, well, I fucked it up, of course. They had landed a spot at Bonnaroo, and I got so fucked up the night before I missed sound check. When I managed to pick myself up off the floor of the van, they handed me my duffel and a twenty and told me to pound sand." His eyes drift away, fixating on a point across the room. "I had barely been outside of Indiana, and there I was, stuck on some farm in Manchester, Tennessee, with no ride, no money, and no one to call. I was angry at the world and never felt more alone. People always talk about hitting rock bottom, I thought that was it, but now that I look back, it was more of a crossroads. If I had followed that darker path, there would have been no coming back. I was wandering around backstage where they park buses, hungover, maybe still half in the bag, and that’s when I met Max."

"Max Navarro?" You shuffle through the pages of your notes.

"Yeah. You know him?" Eddie’s eyes brighten as his gaze drops to the pages in your lap.

Your head turns from side to side. "You referred to him as a mentor in the Stones interview, but I couldn’t find much on him besides his name being listed as an audio engineer for several tours."

"That’s Max." Eddie breaks into a smile. "He’d tell you he likes flying under the radar. He was hanging out in front of the bus playing guitar with a couple of guys when I walked over like a cocky shit, picked one up, and started playing. He gave me something to smoke, and it wasn’t weed. All I know is that I woke up face-down in the dirt the next morning. I don’t know if he liked me or just felt bad for me, but he dragged me on the bus and had me start assisting him with the sound for Faith No More."

"Faith No More? Are you kidding me?" Your hands fall to your lap, slapping against your thighs, jostling the cushion enough for your phone to slide toward the back of the couch. "You had their poster in your room. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had a charmed life."

"Well, even the sun shines on a dog's ass some days," he laughs.

"So Max is who taught you about engineering?" 

"Max is who taught me about everything." His voice holds a reverence when he says his name.  "He kept an eye on me. Showed me how to work the boards.  He said he could see shadows following me around, so when we got to LA, he took me out to the desert, fed me some tea, and exercised my demons."

"Did it work?" Max wasn't the only one to see shadows looming. Consequences of decisions made by others. Expectations of a community that turned its back. They clung to him like an impenetrable fog. 

"I’m not sure. I felt lighter after, but it could have been the gallon of water I sweat out," he chuckles.  "After that, he cashed in a favor and got me an internship with a small studio in Laurel Canyon. I parked cars at night and lived in a room the size of a closet at Max’s house. I worked my ass off. I went to therapy–" 

"How very L.A. of you," you chime in.

"Don’t knock it until you try it." He looks at you from under raised brows. "It’s, uh, good to talk about things. Be open, you know?" 

"No thanks. I tried that once," you tell him pointedly, the tightness in your chest returning, "It didn’t work out for me."

Your arrow hit the target. Regret flashes in his eyes. "Doll–" 

"You decided to stay in L.A. and work at a studio instead of going back out on the road?"

"I like studio sessions. Makes me feel like I’m working towards something. I like completing an album and putting it out in the world. Some people thrive being out on tour, like Max. Not me," he scratches at his chin. "Too many ghosts on those old roads." 

Like the ones back in Hawkins that jolt you awake in the dead of night, murmuring past shames of a lovesick and foolish girl. Robin had seen it, and so had the entire town, but you aren’t her any longer. She lies resting beneath the frigid earth, her memory an unmarked grave. You've moved forward, and you’ll never go back, the city drowns out the remains of her cries.

"So you stayed and built your life there," you conclude, flipping through the pages of your notes, ticking off the points from your outline.

Eddie leans back, a contemplative look on his face. "I guess you could say that. I got my own place, made some great friends. Sundays are for Max's family and Chile relleno. The weather is always beautiful. But I really stayed for the music,” he shrugs. “Have you been? I could take you some time. Show you around. Max would love to meet you, the girl I won’t shut up about. I think you’d like it there."

The girl he hasn’t bothered to call in a decade. "To Los Angeles?" Your gaze rises from your notes to meet his nodding response. "I've been a few times. With Steve. Mostly for work."

"Oh yeah. Makes sense." His jaw tightens, and he averts his gaze. "Well, I guess the rest is history. Is that enough for your story?"

"Yeah." You reach for your phone, tapping the red square to stop the recording. "It will be a great opening piece for the series." You pick up your messenger, hauling its weight into your lap, tucking your notes inside. The afternoon is ending on a flat note. A stone sits on your tongue, holding back questions that you lack the courage to ask, but maybe it’s better this way.

Eddie sits up suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Speaking of history, I want to show you something." He stands up, looking towards the door and back at you, "Um.. wait here, okay? I’ll just be a minute." 

"Okay-"

He holds up flat palms. "Don’t go anywhere." His eyes close as he winces, " I mean, you can wander around if you want. Just don’t leave."

"Eddie-" 

"I’ll be back." He holds up one finger as he exits the room. 

With a sigh, you push up from your thighs, rising to your feet, walking through to the live room where a drum kit stands at the ready. The snare looks a little worn, and the symbols have lost their shine. Your nails tap the high hat, and you smile at the shimmering sound.

"What am I doing?" You whisper, spinning the gold band on your finger.

The sound of the floor creaking echoes through the hall.  Eddie enters the room with the large box he's carrying obscuring his upper half.  His name written in Wayne's shaky handwriting, peeking out from underneath his fingers.

"What's all this?" You ask as he sets down the box with a heave in the center of the room and sinks to his knees, hovering over the taped flaps.

"I have no idea," he grins mischievously. "Wayne gave it to me when I stopped by last week and told him I would see you. But you know him, he never throws stuff out. It could be anything." His hand smoothes over the top as he raises a brow. "Wanna find out?"

Your hands slide over your jean-covered thighs before your feet carry you forward. "Mrs. Click better not be in there." 

His head tips back with laughter. "I make no promises," he jokes while you take a seat on the floor on the side of the box.  

His mouth quirks up, watching you get comfortable. With a fluid motion, he leans and grabs a box cutter beside the soundboard. His shirt lifts slightly, offering a glimpse of hair trailing down his belly and the sculpted muscle beside his hips. His tongue lightly grazes his upper lip as he expertly flicks the knife open, his jeans snug on the contours of his strong thighs. Exhaling slowly, you avert your eyes, scanning the room instead as you wait for him to slice the tape. 

"Score!" He pulls out the ragged-edged sheet that was folded and tucked into the top of the box. "Corroded Coffin," he reads aloud the words scrawled across it with something resembling shoe polish.

"Oh no," you laugh, your head turning side to side as you rock in your seat. 

"Hey. This is rare band memorabilia. It’s probably worth money," he defends, holding it up proudly. 

"Yeah, to the guy you have to pay to haul it away," you giggle.

"Alright, Alright," he folds it up, the smile never leaving his face as he reaches into the box. "These are yours." He pulls out a stack of comic books and hands them to you.

"Still in good shape." You thumb through the copies of Tank Girl and Witchblade.

"My campaigns." He pulls out a pile of notebooks and sets them aside before reaching back in. "Some CDs." He comes out with a hand wrapped around a stack of jewel cases, the one on top catching your eye. 

"Hey, that’s my Cranberries Cd!" Your fingers dig into the carpet as you tip forward, yanking it from his hand. "I looked for this everywhere. I knew you took it, you thief."

"I don’t know how that got there," he scratches his head, "You must have left in the van."

"Nice try, Munson." your eyes narrow, "I checked there." You lean over the box, poking a finger into his chest, "I knew you had a crush on Dolores."

"You got me. It was the accent," he admits with a grin full of dimples, his hand closing around your finger. 

"I’m keeping it." You drop back into your seat and pick up the case to examine the disc.

"Holy shit."

You raise your head to meet his wide chocolate eyes, a look of sheer delight written across his face. "Close your eyes," he instructs, pulling back the flaps of the box, hiding whatever he's found.

"Mrs. Click?" You set the CD on top of the comics.

"Better," he says excitedly, waving a hand toward your face. “Come on. Close your eyes."

"Fine." You leave one eye open, folding your hands in your lap.

"No peeking." He wags a finger.

Your lips purse as you close your other lid, waiting for the big reveal. Plastic clanks against something heavy, followed by the rustle of cardboard.

"Okay. Open."

"Daisy!" Your hands fly to your mouth before you reach out with wiggling fingers.

He winces as he hands over the two-foot garden gnome. "How can you call something so ugly a pretty name like that?"

Taking the heavy lawn ornament in both hands, you gaze down at her droopy hat and too-large ears, which stick straight out beside her bulging eyes and porcine nose. Her rubbery lips are pulled back in a smile, showing off her buck teeth and flowery dress that barely conceals her body. 

"She's beautiful." You cradle her in your arms. "Besides, you're the one who stole her."

"You’re the one who dared me to," he scoffs. 

Your cheeks already ache with an unrestrained smile as the memories from that night surface. "I didn’t think you were going to wake up the whole neighborhood crashing into the bushes in Mr. Lawson’s yard." 

"I was drunk," he defends, his face turning red.

"You tripped over your feet and ripped your pants," you gasp for air, trying to get the words out with your laughter, "You had on those Garfield boxers with the hearts."

"Of course, you remember that." His laughter joins yours, easy and familiar. "You're the one that woke up the neighbors, making the van backfire."

"It was the first time I drove, and I didn’t have a license." You clutch Daisy tightly to your chest as you try to catch your breath. "Mr. Larson came out in his bathrobe, screaming about shooting you in the ass."

Eddie shakes his head as you laugh at his expense. "He almost caught us when you stalled out. All for that hideous thing."

"Shh," you cover her ears with your hands. "You can’t get rid of her."

"Never," he agrees, reaching out for her. "I’ll find her place of honor around here somewhere."

"Put her on your nightstand," you suggest, handing her over. 

"Ugh," he says, setting her aside, "I’ll have nightmares."

You burst into laughter once more, and his eyes ignite. He smiles like he’s savoring every sound, like your happiness is a hard-earned treasure he's been longing for. 

The shards of the past press against the scar tissue encasing your heart as if struggling to free themselves and reassemble in the present. Your hand finds its way to your chest, pressing gently on the tender center, trying to quell the ache and remain in this moment—with him.

"What else? What else?" You clap your hands, bouncing in your spot. 

"Okay, okay," he gives in, happy to indulge you. "Um, a pack of crayons, a monopoly piece." He places them aside. "Thanks, Wayne. Could have done without that. Looks like some clothes. Oh, this is yours." He tosses a ball of red fabric at you, and you catch it with both hands before he continues to search through the box.

"Is this what I think it is?" His voice brims with excitement as he pulls a rectangular tin from the box. He shakes it, and a sharp sound follows. "Yes." His tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth as he pries off the lid. 

His voice fades into the background as your focus turns to what you're holding. The fabric of your Musicland vest unfurls as you hold it out in front of you, the gold name tag still pinned to the front catching the light. A heavy sensation settles in your stomach, tightening and cramping as a sick, painful feeling creeps in and spreads — nausea churns as each inhale becomes battle. 

There’s a scrape of metal as the lid pops off. "Polaroids," Eddie declares, his attention lost to the thrill of his find as he flips through the stack of photographs.

Your heart races as the room seems to shrink. "Stop it," you whisper, your voice quivering, your trembling hands twisting the vest as if folding it small enough can make the pain disappear.

"They’re pretty faded, though," he goes on, unaware. 

"I said, that's enough!" The balled-up vest flies from your hands, landing back in the box. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself up on unsteady legs. "I need to leave."

Eddie's laughter dies in his throat as he looks up, the joy in his eyes replaced by confusion. "Wait a minute." He gets to his feet and follows you. The small pile you made topples over, forgotten as you pick up your bag from the couch. "What just happened?" He moves in front of you, blocking your path. "I thought we were having fun."

"Fun?" The word is a shard of ice. Without hesitation, you sling your bag over your shoulder and maneuver past him towards the door.

“Just hold on a minute.” He blocks your path again, hands up, eyes searching yours for answers. “Tell me what's going on.”

"What do you want?" The words slice the air, eyes locked, a bare blade of anger.

"I wanted to-" His eyes flick toward the abandoned box in the center of the room.

"No." Your head shakes, "Why are you here? Now?  After all this time? What do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to see you." His arms cross over his chest as his voice turns softer. "I missed my friend."

"Your friend," sarcasm drips from your words as you quirk a brow, "So you show up here with a box of crap and a ‘hey doll’,” your voice lowers to mock him, "And I’m supposed to what? Forget about everything that happened and hand you a clean slate. Drop everything in my life to follow you around like a puppy because you feel like paying me some attention?"

"That’s not…I’m not asking for that." His hand runs through his curls, frustration building in his tone. 

"I'm not going to sit here with you wandering down memory lane and watch you pretend like you cared." Your eyes sting, but tears won't fall. You've shed your last one for him long ago. "Like any of it mattered."

"No one's pretending here, doll." He steps closer, his hands falling to his side, fingers rubbing at the seam of his jeans. "Of course, it mattered—all of it."

Your bag falls from your shoulder with a resounding thud, its weight matching your resolve as you push your hand against his chest. "I don't believe that for a second. If it mattered, you never could have done what you did."

"Done what?"

"Left me!" Your hand lands flat across your heart. "Without a goodbye, just some shitty mixtape full of songs that I can't listen to without my heart breaking over and over."

"You're right, okay." His voice rises to match your volume, his fingers closing around your biceps. "I was a fucking coward, and I ran. I couldn't see that look on your face again, the one you had when I told you I was leaving. I should’ve said goodbye, but I knew you'd try to convince me to stay, and that was never going to happen. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I can't be sorry I left."

"Hurt me?" You push his hands away, taking a step back to control the cracking in your voice. "You didn't just hurt me, Eddie. You destroyed me."

He swallows, looking away. "You were better off."

Fresh anger surges, along with the strong desire to escape – to leave this dead and buried, maybe for another decade until the hurt isn’t so strong. 

"See, that right there is why I'll never believe you," you snap, pointing an accusatory finger his way as you step around him, your hand closing around the doorknob. But at the last moment,  you turn, wanting him to hear it. At least once.

"I didn't quit Musicland. I got fired. I was a mess after you left. I cried for days, but I clung to this pathetic hope that you’d call to explain everything. To say it wasn't the end for us. You wouldn’t just throw me away, right? Not after everything we had been through together. I wouldn't leave my room, not even to eat. I was so afraid that the second I left, the phone would ring."

There's regret in his eyes as he steps forward, getting closer until he can touch you again, one hand gently gliding up your arm.

"But that call never came, did it, Eddie? Not one. And every day that passed, I died a little. But then I wasn't sad anymore. All those tears, they turned to hate," you say coldly, locking your gaze with his. "I hated you. I hated every song that came on the radio, reminding me of you. I hated Hawkins and everyone in it. But most of all, I hated myself for trusting you. For believing that you ever cared about me. That I wasn’t alone. That's what you did to me, Eddie.”

“You made me hate myself."

"I’m so sorry, doll," his words barely crest the silence as his gentle hand cradles your jaw. “There’s so much I want to explain to you.”

His touch is hot, but inside you, a coldness lingers–inside your stone. "You kissed me. And then you left me the next day. You knew how I felt." 

"I know. I know. I’m sorry." He steps closer, trying to pull your rigid form into his arms, lips brushing your temple. "You don’t even know how much. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing. Trying to make it up to you. But you’re wrong. It all mattered. I did care. That kiss..it’s the reason…" He pulls back and looks into your eyes, "You knew me, you always did, but there were things I couldn’t tell you. Things I couldn’t admit even to myself. I was scared and angry all the time."

Your head shakes as you swallow hard. "You're not even real!" You shout in his face, your fingers clutching the doorknob behind you. Spinning, you tug hard, but his hand slams against the door above your head, keeping it shut. 

"Stop, doll," he pleads. “Let me explain,” but the push-pull intensifies. You're no match for his strength. "Stop it!" he yells. His hand pushes on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Anger flashes in his eyes, and his cheeks flush.

"I made you up.”

“No.”

“The boy I knew could never have done that. He could never have hurt me like that." Your shoulder jerks, breaking his hold as you attempt to turn away again.

His fingers wrap around the side of your neck, keeping you in place. "That boy could never have given you what you wanted. He wouldn’t have had the first clue how to handle you."

"Is that why you’re back?" You ask, still defiant even as his thumb presses into your throat, tipping your head to meet his gaze. "Dragging this all up again, ruining my life? Because you do?" 

"Damn right, I do." 

His words are a gravelly assertion, barely escaping before his mouth descends toward yours. For a heartbeat, the world pauses until your mouths finally meet — urgent and fierce. You part your lips eagerly, tongues finding their way together in a hungry and unapologetic dance. The firm pressure of his mouth moving in sync with yours is a spark, igniting a fire that seems to spread with each touch. The scent of clove and cedar leaves you lightheaded as the flames lick through your body. The scruff on his cheek is a rasp against your skin, a roughness contrasting with the smoothness of his kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and a hint of coffee. This kiss is filled with years of longing, swelling and crashing like an orchestra's finale.

Minutes slip away, yet your greedy mouths remain desperate. The room falls into a hushed stillness, save for the sharp intakes of breath and the sensuous wet slide of lips. The kisses seem endless, broken only by fleeting gasps for air, compelling you to pull each other closer, savoring every taste. Your fingers tangle in the soft waves at the nape of his neck, evoking a low, guttural groan that mingles with your shared breaths when you tug. His hands trace the curves of your body, touching every inch as they follow a path beyond your hips and ass, seizing the back of your thighs. With a firm grasp, he lifts you, pressing you against the unyielding door. You gasp as he positions you just how he wants — aligning himself hot and hard against your center. 

"Fuck," he growls against your lips as his hips roll, igniting fireworks through your body. Your eyes flutter shut, and a kaleidoscope of colors burst in the darkness.

He nips at the plush of your bottom lip, teeth grazing in a tender claim, a muted buzz begins in your bag—a sharp, insistent sting—that yanks you from the haze back into the real world. His eyes remain closed when you pull away. He leans closer, chasing your mouth, but the moment is already shattered. 

Your stomach plummets as the harsh reality sets in. His kiss now tastes like the ash of betrayal. The distressed whimper escaping your throat finally has him looking at you, shock written clearly across his features. Slowly, he releases you, your body sliding against his until your feet meet the floor. He takes a step back, hesitating, swallowing, "Doll —"

"No." You shake your head, your hands covering your mouth. The gold band on your fourth finger is a cool scorch against your swollen lips. "I have to go." You spring into motion, rushing to gather your bag.

"Stay, and we can talk about this," he implores, moving one hand to his hip while the other rakes through his hair. 

"Please don’t," you plead. "Don’t ask me for anything else." You swing the strap over your shoulder. "I just ch—" But the word stays stuck in your throat, as your eyes swim with tears.

His face falls, "It's not your fault, okay? I kissed you."

"Eddie—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was me," he insists, frustration in his voice as you scrub your face with your hands. "I don't want you driving when you're upset."

"I'm sorry," you say with an aching heart, pushing past him and closing the door behind you.

The sidewalk blurs under your feet as you race to your car. Fat raindrops splatter against the concrete like a spray of gunfire, each one a cold, wet slap against your skin. The sky chooses this moment to crack open, unleashing a torrent that feels personal. Your car comes into view, a bright orange ticket flapping under the wiper. Perfect. Just perfect.

With hands slick from the rain, you fumble with your keys before throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. Snatching the ticket from under the wiper as you go and crumpling it into your fist, stuffing it into the glovebox to be dealt with later. The downpour drums on the roof, enclosing you in a watery cocoon as you search through your bag for your phone. A missed call from Steve and a text reminding you about the dry cleaning. You spill the contents of your messenger onto the passenger seat, pens and lip gloss tumbling into the footwell. "Shit!" The word is a half-sob as you clutch the receipt marked with today's hours in unforgiving black ink.

Glancing at the clock on your dash, it hits you with the subtlety of a wrecking ball– six minutes until closing. It might as well be in another time zone, given the snarled rush hour traffic and the river that the streets have become.  Your car roars to life, and you pull out onto the roadway, tires hissing on wet asphalt, windshield wipers barely keeping up with the deluge. Your skin still sings with Eddie’s touch, but it's the burgeoning storm of words—cheater, adulterer, betrayer—mixed with the soft hazel of Steve’s disappointed eyes that tattoo themselves across your conscience. This is the unforgivable sin, and you can't undo it, but you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

You're double-parked now, hazards blinking a frantic rhythm. The 'CLOSED' sign on the dry cleaner's door mocks you as you rattle the unrelenting metal handle. "Please, please, please," you whisper, pounding on the uncaring glass, your unheard pleas bouncing off the empty shadows within. A car horn cuts through the rain —"What the fuck, lady?" The other driver yells, uncaring of your predicament.

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" The words are a rain-soaked shout as you slosh back to your car, drenched and defeated.

Another angry horn sounds off as you pull into traffic, carelessly cutting off a Yellow Cab in your haste. Rainwater drips from your hair, soaking your shirt. Even with the heater set to blast, it does little against the chill that has settled deep in your bones. Down the road, a bright blue sign glows like a beacon, and you jerk the steering wheel, the car fishtailing as you skid into the lot. 

The pharmacy's fluorescent lights are too bright and too sterile as you grab a small bottle of mouthwash off the shelf in the travel section and wait in line to pay, the store's generic electronic music grating against your already frayed nerves. Outside, you stand on the corner, swishing and spitting the minty liquid onto the sidewalk, repeating the process, trying to cleanse more than just your mouth. A passerby wrinkles their nose at you from under their umbrella. "This is Chicago! You've seen worse!" You snap, arms thrown up in exasperation while the rain and your regrets mingle on the cold pavement.

With pruney fingers, you pull the cardigan you had left at Stax off the back of your office chair. Shrugging it on, the material dampens from your wet t-shirt but offers a little warmth. Your phone buzzes as you settle at your desk — five missed calls from Eddie and four texts. The roar of the heavy rain and being buried deep in your bag had muffled its sound, not that you would have picked up. 

Eddie: Answer the phone, doll!

Eddie: Look, I need to know that you’re okay.

Eddie: I swear to Christ if you don’t pick up.

Eddie: Okay, have it your way. I’m driving to your place.

What? No! Your thumb presses the call button, and it rings twice before it connects. There’s no hello, just the slight hum of an engine and the rain pelting glass. 

“I’m okay,” you breathe into your phone, “I didn’t go home. I’m at my office.”

Your heart drums in your ears with each second of silence. Your eyes flutter shut, relief flooding you when he finally responds. An exhale loosens the tension in your chest.  His voice resonates in a dark rumble through the phone, "We need to talk."

“I….I know,” your voice wavers as you wipe your nose on the back of your hand. “I just need a minute here, Ed. Can you give me some time?” 

The rhythmic blink of the turn signal punctuates his heavy sigh. “Yeah. Alright. But doll,” he pauses as the sound of water splashing against his vehicle mingles with the whoosh of passing traffic, “You’re not running away from this. And trust me, the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me. Think about what I said, okay? I meant it all.”

With a tight throat, you whisper, "I have to go," and disconnect the call. 

Placing your phone on the desk, you dab the raindrops off your face with a tissue. The quiet of the office wraps around you, its half-dark corners and the soft glow from the monitors creates a place for you to breathe and be still. The raging storm and the ticking wall clock echoing in the solitude do little to distract you from thoughts you’re not ready to face. With a deep breath, you lift the lid of your laptop, seeking refuge in the normalcy of work as you coax the screen back to life.

The song erupts from the speaker on the edge of your desk, a jolt of sound shattering the silence like an accusation. You grab it with fumbling fingers, scrambling to press the off button. Covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound that is equal parts sob and hysterical laughter, wondering how you ended up in this situation. With your elbows pressed against the wooden top, you bury your face in your hands.

“What are you doing here, kid?” The gruff voice cuts through your misery.

"Jesus Christ, Hopper," you gasp, clutching at your chest, "You scared the hell out of me."

"Guess we're even since Mr. Brightside nearly sent me into cardiac arrest." Hopper towers over you, standing beside your desk with his hands buried in his pockets. 

“You listen to The Killers?” You ask, surprised while he drags a chair from the next desk, its wheels screeching faintly against the concrete floor.

“You kids really think Jim Croce is the only thing on my playlist?” A chuckle escapes him as he eases into the chair beside you, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

You muster a puzzled look, shaking your head in feigned denial.

“Don’t bullshit me, kid. I don’t have much time. I’m meeting Joyce for dinner at that Italian place on Taylor Street. Have I told you about it? I’ve been dreaming about the breadsticks. Enzo puts some spice on ‘em, I don’t know what it is, but it’s good. You dip it in olive oil,” he groans, “Forget about it. Those things knock your socks off, and I’m wavering on the main course between—”

“I need you to take me off the studio opening,” you interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

“We’ve been over this. Unless you have some good reason–”

“Eddie kissed me,” the confession slips out, eyes widening in shock at your admission, hands flying to cover your mouth.

His brows rocket upwards, then draw together, his gaze sharpening, voice dipping into a low, protective timbre, “What do you mean he kissed you?” 

“No,” you clarify, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing an elbow against the desk, massaging your temple to soothe the forming headache. “I kissed him. We kissed. It was mutual.”

Hopper reclines, the chair creaking under his weight, his gaze level and unreadable. “I’m disappointed in you, kid. I never thought I’d be having a conversation like this with you.”

“I know. I know. Steve…” you trail off, eyes drifting to the photo of Steve on your desk. 

Hopper leans in, his hand cutting through the air. “I don’t give a fuck about Harrington,” each word gains in volume, “This is about you and everything you’ve worked for. It’s 2012. That kind of nonsense ends careers. Do you know what can happen if he complains?”

Your eyes roll. “He’s not going to complain, Hop.”

“You don’t know that,” he counters, his head shaking off your naivety. “These things like this have a way of coming out. That was an amateur move. Where is your professionalism? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, lowering your eyes. “We have more of a history than I let on.”

“Well, stop the presses. I couldn’t have figured that one out.” His voice lowers in resignment, “Maybe this is my fault–”

“No–” 

Your protest is swift, but he plows right over you, “I’ve babied you. Maybe it’s because you’re my favorite or because you were just a kid when you started. I let you get away with too much over the years because you’re a damn good writer. But that stops now, I’m going to treat you like all the rest of the idiots in this place.” His hand waves around the room before pointing right at you. “You’re going back to that studio, and you’re going to keep your dick in your pants and get those interviews done. If you want to play kissy face, you do it on your own time. You got me?”

Your mouth drops open, disbelief palpable. “You're still going to make me finish?”

“Damm, right I am,” Hopper affirms, not missing a beat. "If I hand your work off, it raises questions. Big, messy questions. What do I tell downtown when they ask why the piece was reassigned? Unless you’re ready to come clean to Harrington?” 

Your lip goes between your teeth as your head shakes.

“I thought so.” Hopper leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This could be both our necks," he mutters, concern filling his voice.

Your head shakes, but your determination is clear. "It won't."

“It better not. I don’t want to hear another word about it until that last story is on my desk. Are we clear?”

Your jaw clenches, the reality of the situation hitting hard. "Crystal."

Hopper's gaze remains fixed on you, ensuring his point has been made. "Good," he says, his voice softening, "Now go on, get out of here. Deal with whatever mess you've got going on. Just make sure it's sorted by Monday."

Your key slides into the lock and you turn it slowly, the tumblers falling into place with a series of soft clicks. You pause, leaning your forehead against the chill of the metal door, grappling with a rising queasiness that sours your stomach. 

A wave of home's warmth engulfs you, mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs and roasting potatoes. The vibrant strains of Queen accompany Steve's honeyed tones floating down the hall from the kitchen.

"Welcome home, ace. I was beginning to wonder where you were," his voice, laced with a touch of concern, greets you, “Busy day? Did you write me a Pulitzer?”

Your messenger bag slides from your shoulder, giving into gravity with a loud smack against the hardwood.

His voice grows nearer, warmer as he moves down the hall, the floor lightly creaking with each footfall. “I swung by the Athenian Room, grabbed us Chicken Kalamata, and I have a bottle of Chardonnay breathing.”

Your favorite. Your heart sinks further, receding behind your ribcage, unworthy of his care or devotion.

He stops short when he rounds the corner into the foyer, taking you in, his eyes reflecting your disheveled state. 

"I didn’t get the dry cleaning," you admit, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I was... too late."

For a heartbeat, he's silent, but his eyes remain tender. “Hey, that's alright, ace. I'll just skip the gym in the morning and swing by the cleaners before work. Are you okay?”

Traces of the day find a path down your cheeks as you sniffle and draw the cardigan tighter around yourself. "I got caught in the storm." 

“Did you forget your coat?” He draws closer as you give a small nod. His hands slide up your biceps, continuing on to wrap around you. “You're frozen.” He uses his thumb to lift your chin. “How about a hot shower, yeah? I'll keep dinner warm. You'll feel better after you eat.” His mouth begins to near yours, but you turn your face away. 

"I think I'm coming down with something," you manage, your lies teetering atop your mounting guilt. "My throat is sore."

Concern etches his features, his brows knitting together as he adjusts, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You don't feel hot.”

Pulling away, you bury your face into his shoulder. "I think I'll just shower and go to bed." 

“If that's what you want,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, though his tone is threaded with disappointment. “Go on up. I'll bring you some water and a couple of Tylenol.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you step away with a weight in your chest. “I'm really sorry.” 

“Don't worry about it.” He waves off your apology, his smile faint but sincere. His arms fold over his chest as he turns back toward the kitchen. 

As you climb the stairs, the music snaps off, replaced with the distant roar of a sports game, the announcers' voices carrying up the stairwell. 

The embrace of the hot shower strips away the cold clinging to your skin, but it cannot wash away the regret. Sliding down the tiles, you draw your knees close while your tears fall, mixing with the stream of water spiraling towards the drain. 

Your life is a song made up of the choices you've made, each one a different note that sounded so sure at the time, but now the harmony seems slightly off-key. The steam rises around you like a specter. It's the quiet between the chords. And you're there, just listening, trying to figure out if there's a note you'd change or if every single one was necessary. As you nestle into bed, sleep tugging like an insistent tide amidst the drift into dreams, one truth resonates clear– the music plays on.

Song 5 coming this week! Follow @tornupdates for notifications

Thanks for indulging me with this new version. I wanted to get it right. This next chapter is going to be Steve's launch party and will explore the fallout from that kiss. I love each and every one of you and I hope Torn!Eddie makes an appearance in your sweetest of dreams. -Jelly

[campbyler]

hello!

this is a little bit random, but do the characters have any specific hairstyles you'd been envisioning for them? or any specific vibes/style when it comes to clothes?

i really like to doodle and this fic is my current brain-focus, so i was curious!

hello suni here! thea answered with some hair references for the entire party here but because i am extra as all hell, here are moodboards for mike and will’s styles (with more for the rest of the party to follow)!

acswy will is a big fan of sweaters and stripes (!!) and he looooves a good colorblock moment! i see him in a lot of earth tones (it’s easier for him to match and layer that way. he’s just like me fr) with the exception of a few choice colors (bright yellow, red, etc). to Us he’s also a shoes guy but in a very lowkey and Normal manner which is why the bowie reeboks have been in my pinterest board for camp au will for months now bc i think he sees them somewhere and then saves up for months to buy them and then immediately refuses to wear them anywhere out of fear of getting them dirty lol (also peep the byler shoes 👁️👁️) he’ll prioritize comfort over fashion a lot of the time — ergo the infamous hanes six pack of t-shirts from chapter 1 — but when it’s not one million degrees out and when he is not about to get covered in dirt, this is the look he’s going for!

to us acswy mike is also a big proponent of comfort and and practicality but he’s also a grade A dork LOL he has a thing about jackets the way will has a thing about shoes so thrift finds like his beloved leather and denim jackets are a staple for most of the year! (not summer though. obviously.) i think he would love a good crewneck + shorts moment in the spring especially (the “shorty short shorts” are literally the length of the shorts in the middle photo so idk what will was getting so worked up about 🙄) and he owns one million really stupid shirts that he wears all the time that will definitely does not find endearing. also to us mike loves collecting vintage pins so below the cut are some we think he would have been so so so excited to find:

(the whale one was admittedly a little self indulgent bc i want that pin but who cares i think he’d like it)

+ links: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

[leasstories]

Lea’s advent calendar day 24 - Fate

@writerthreads writing prompt for Christmas (2022), prompt 4 :

[Snowed in together in a bookstore]

Eddie x gn!reader

No trigger warning

WC: ≈ 0.6K words

December 23rd, 1985

Thank god your shift is almost over. It is 6 pm and your shift ends at 6:30 pm. There is only one client in the bookstore. He has long, curly hair, he is dressed in ripped jeans, a leather and a denim jacket and white and blue dirty reeboks. You find the young man pretty attractive and admire him discretely while pretending to put books on a shelf.

The young man is currently looking at the fantasy section of your bookstore, you smile. You consider giving him recommendations as you are a fantasy novels fan, but you decide against it, too shy and flustered to approach him.

After ten good minutes, the attractive young man checks out. He bought Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth by J.R.R Tolkien.

“Great choice” you tell him smiling and giving him his change.

“I really loved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, so I thought I’d give it a try.” Eddie says, smiling at you.

Your heart is almost bursting out from your chest when Eddie smiles at you.

“I… I finished it last week and if you loved the other books, you’ll like it.” You tell him softly and a bit shyly.

Eddie takes the book and goes toward the door when he realized that it snowed so much that he is stuck in the bookstore, he turns around, clearing his throat.

“I think we are snowed in…” Eddie tells you, embarrassed.

You join Eddie towards the door to check and you really are snowed in.

“I’m so sorry…” You profusely apologize.

“Hey… hey… it’s not your fault darling.” Eddie tells you reassuringly.

You go sit on one of the stools you use to arrange the higher shelves.

“Make yourself at home” You tell Eddie.

Eddie sits on the ground and look at his book. Eddie can’t take the silence, so he ends up asking.

“Who’s your favorite character in The Lord of The Rings?”

“I really love Galadriel, she’s so powerful, she shows that women can be powerful too. What about you?” you ask.

“I really love Bilbo and Frodo, the two of them are supposed to be Hobbits and they end up becoming heroes. I wish I could be as brave as them.” Eddie tells you earnestly.

“I’m sure you’re braver than you give yourself credit for!” you exclaim.

“If someone were asking me to follow them into Mordor, I wouldn’t.” Eddie answers.

“It’s not about going into Mordor. You’re brave in your own way Eddie. Being yourself is being brave.” You tell him.

“You remember my name?” Eddie asks.

“Of course, I do, I’ve been sharing classes with you my entire childhood. It’s not because I graduated two years ago that I forgot you.” You say shyly.

Eddie tells your name to make sure he didn’t get it wrong.

“That’s me.” You answer.

“You’re really cute” he blurts out.

You start blushing and shyly look at your feet.

“Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.” You tell him.

“After the snowstorm and all, would you be okay… I mean would it be okay if I took you out on a date?” Eddie says, nervously fidgeting. It is the first time ever you see Eddie nervous.

“It would me more than okay” you answer smiling.

“Okay! Then it settled!” Eddie says. “And let’s use this time we are stuck into the bookstore let’s get to know each other more!” Eddie suggests.

“That would be amazing too” You say smiling bigger than you’ve ever smiled.

[cherryblossomshadow]

What do liberals think about trickle-down economics?

PRam Osmu (MBA, Rice University, Economy and Strategy):

I can tell you what I think about Trickle Down Economics. Like any economic theory, it either works or doesn't depending on circumstances. There are a few instances in which Trickle Down Economics (which from now on I shall call Supply Side Economics, or SSE) work. I will give you three examples where it could work, at the end of this post. But it is patently clear those are circumstances the United States is not in. Therefore, SSE does nor work here. I'll explain why with a thought experiment:

Imagine there are 3 large car tire manufacturers in the US. They pretty much cover the market.

A Republican president and a republican senate decided on that SSE policy, and give a huge tax break to large corporations. They argue that this will create the incentive to make more goods, to expand their plants which will lead to employing more people, etc. Richess will trickle down.

The CEO of one of the auto tire plants calls an executive meeting. He wants to do what is right and invest so that he can indeed help the economy. He tells this plan to his executives and gets the following response:

The sales manager argues: “Sir, sales of tires were 1,000,000 tires this past 12 months. We have a 30% market share. Why do you think we don't sell 1.5 million? Do you think it is because we don't have funds? We are currently enjoying the lowest interest rates ever. Any bank would be happy to loan us the money.

The reason why we don't sell more tires is because there isn't demand for more tires. Period.

“If you order a plant expansion we will do it. But we will not be able to sell those additional half million tires. Not at a profit or without stating a price war”

Therefore, what do this CEO decides to do?

The same thing others are doing. They take the tax break funds and buy back their own stock. The less stock in the public, the higher the stock price goes. Stock price is how the executives performance is measured, because their true boss is Wall Street, so they get big bonuses and raises. Nothing really trickles down.

Now imagine a different idea coming from the white house.

The deficit this president will incur in tax breaks he either gives them to the middle class, which now have, say $4, 000 in extra income , or uses the funds to build and repair infrastructure, which makes a lot of contractors hire a bunch of people.

In both instances, the middle class will be able to afford a few more things, for instance, a set of 4 tires for the family car.

All of a sudden, the big auto tire firm sees an increase in demand, they talk to their bankers, obtain a line of credit to expand the plant, which generates construction jobs and a few extra employees.

Corollary: if you want the economy to grow, you must provide better conditions of living to consumers.

Remember: They will end up giving their money to the rich anyways. To Ford, General Motors, GoodYear, Nike, Reebok, Dell computer, HP, Cinemark, Olive Garden, Walmart, Amazon, Budweiser, Samsung, Apple, Microsoft, etc.

.

In a nutshell, this is the thing that gets stupidly overlooked:

Do you want the economy to flourish?

Make sure the middle and lower class make a decent living and have disposable income to become true consumers

Do you want the rich to get even richer but in a fair way, not by handing them money?

Make sure the middle and lower class make a decent living and have disposable income to become true consumers

Do you want true democratic capitalism to work the way its supposed to?

Make sure the middle and lower class make a decent living and have disposable income to become true consumers

.

Now, do you think Republicans in congress don't know this?

Of course they do! And that is corruption.

Corruption, because republicans are sworn to give as much money as possible to their donors. That is the sad truth.

.

Oh, this edit is two days later. I said I'd give examples of those rare conditions in which Trickle Down Economics work:

1). Very High Taxes to the top: A situation where the top 5% are being taxed at an extremely high rate, like 90%. Taxes so high that usiness owners prefer to move elsewhere, or shutter their plants and invest in the stock market, real estate or abroad. In such cases the economy can be improved by providing incentives to the very rich, like lowering their taxes . This is what is called “being to the right of the Laffer Curve”, after an analysis performed by economist Arthur Laffer, on how government tax revenue changes according to how much it taxes people.

United States is definitely NOT in this scenario

.

2. Thrifty Consumers: A situation in which consumer do have plenty of disposable income but choose not to spend it. This could be caused by a few reasons:

> Cultural: Mature societies, older demographics that are just not in spending sprees. Japan and Switzerland come to mind.

> Historical: Perhaps a recent war, or bad recession, the reminder of huge unemployment make people cautious about their spending

> Financial: High interest rates make saving a preferable proposition, or currency devaluation may cause people to keep money abroad in a stronger denomination.

Neither of those scenarios apply to the United States.

.

3. Lack of good local options: A situation where people have a healthy, large disposable income, but prefer to buy imports, not liking (or not finding) equivalent locally made alternatives: BMWs better than Ladas. Nikon or Leica better than Kodak or Polaroid.

This applies more to developing countries with a weak local production, where government can incentive local industry with soft loans, or duties and quotas on imports to help the local 1%ers develop better and more appealing local products, if a tax break is given to them

United States is definitely NOT in this scenario either.

.

So there you go. You give to the rich and what you are actually doing is corrupting the best socio-political system ever created. A healthy democratic capitalism.

The rich, themselves, should realize this, but they salivate at the prospect of free handouts, in a greedy and myopic view of the economy and the country.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Aftermath | Chapter 9 | Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson x Female OC | E.M x Karmen Jones

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 Chapter 15.

Chapter Summary: The staff at Hawkins Memorial Hospital make no effort to hide their disdain for Eddie. But there had been one nurse during his stay that didn't outright treat him like trash during their brief interaction. When Eddie comes face to face with her again, he starts to think that maybe there is hope for him to have a normal life again. That maybe people would understand or at the very least, forget.

Story Summary: Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down after 'dying' in Dustin's arms. He wakes up again in the hospital and is reunited with his loved ones. This story covers Eddie's time in the hospital and overall physical recovery after the Upside Down.

This fic is part of the She Feels Like Home series. It sits between Boxing Day and Drop Out but can be read as a standalone. 

Chapter Tags: Nightmares, Flashbacks, Angst, Hurt/Comfort , Fluff, Mentions of being eaten alive, ASL, (American Sign Language), ASD !Eddie, Autistic Eddie, Non-verbal Eddie, Abandonment Issues, Healing, Getting Better, Season 4 Spoilers.

Notes: This chapter is long overdue and tbh just a love letter to someone that has supported me unconditionally. I’m unashamed about the meta/fourth wall breaking jokes in there that probably only they will get.

Words: 3.8k

~~

A piercing scream had Eddie whirring on the spot. One foot through the threshold of his bedroom door he looked back down the hallway towards the living room. The walls seemed to close in as the hallway stretched, distance daunting him as he began to run along the narrow corridor.

Suddenly the walls of the trailer that were adorned with comforting adages and homely decor turned baron and sterile before his eyes. The single flickering light at the end of the hospital halls didn’t illuminate his path well enough for him to avoid the obstacles being dropped in front of him. The tip of his reebok nudging up against something soft and warm as he found himself tripping and falling. Hovering just above the ground, suspended and yet still mid-fall, stuck in slow motion before his stomach was in his throat and he felt bone shatter under the hard thump as he finally hit the ground. 

The wind was knocked out of him. Pain radiating through his weakened limbs as he coughed and gasped. Tired muscles fighting with broken bone to try and push himself to his feet. 

His hands were slipping in the warm sticky substance oozing from the thing he’d tripped over.

The person he’d tripped over.

He tried not to look at her. Green and white stained red in his periphery as he tried to get up. The blood-curdling shrieks in the distance were much more urgent to him than his past. The screeching never ceasing as he finally managed to get himself on his feet. 

He called out as he ran. His shouts a whisper in his throat. Anything that made it passed his lips, just unintelligible words. He tried his best to reassure her he was there. He was not running away this time. 

He was coming. 

He was going to save her.

His legs were giving out. They had him stumbling. Limping towards the low hum of the flicking overhead lights. He’s running as fast as he can but it’s like wading through water.

He realized as he finally reached it that the linoleum floor had turned to grass. He stared at it under his blood stained sneakers and wondered briefly why the soil was wet.

Question answered as his eyes trailed upward slowly, revealing the edge of lovers lake. A lump in his throat as he tried desperately to let forth a scream. No sound emanated from his throat as he fell to his knees in front of Karmen. Her body suspended in the air above him. 

Mangled and broken, just like Chrissy’s. 

The screaming had stopped.

He hadn’t saved her.

He watched in eerily silence as she fell to the water, body heavy and lifeless just like Patrick’s. 

Eddie was actually shouting now. Now that it didn’t matter. He clawed at the soft earth as he felt warm hands wrap around his middle.

Suddenly he was being pulled backward, away from the wet grass and the choppy lake. Away from the stench of death and into a warm bedroom coloured with cool tones and floral patterns.

He was being held and caressed and whispered to about how it was all a dream and he could relax. 

Someone was cooing in his ear and reminding him that they were both okay.

He stared down at his body and realized that his shoes were gone. Dirty jeans replaced by comfy sweats. 

His legs were intertwined with hers atop a fuzzy blanket.

The realization slowed his breathing and spread warmth throughout his chest.

It was a dream. 

She was alive.

He followed Karmen’s voice, turning to look at her with a small smile on his face before being met with sunken eyes and a wide mouth locked into a silent scream.

Eddie jolted awake for real this time. Pulling in a raspy gasp and choking on it momentarily as the healing wounds on his chest protested at the stretch.

He wasn’t in Karmen’s bedroom. But the cold, sterile feel of his hospital room prison was still infinitely better than being on the edge of Lover’s Lake and watching his own lover’s lifeless corpse slowly sink beneath the surface.

He stared at the fluorescent light above his bed. Burning his eyes and flickering ever so slightly like it had been in his dream. He’d become accustomed to it during his time here. It was barely noticeable but just enough to drive him insane as he tried to read. Pulling him from his imagination and grounding him back here if he ever tried to escape.

He hated the damn thing. But he’d rather stare up at it every day for the rest of his life than ever have to stare up at Karmen’s mangled body for real.

Fuck, he hoped the kids were right when they said they’d defeated Vecna. That he was gone for good and Eddie would never have to see another person murdered in that horrific manner ever again.

Even if he could sometimes spend his waking hours not thinking about the things he’d seen during the week from hell.. He wasn’t sure his dreams would ever let him forget. 

The soft sound of rustling paper caught his attention. He stifled a gasp as he turned to his side, expecting to see Wayne sitting next to him in the visitors chair, flipping through the morning paper. He frowned at the empty seat, eyes wandering towards the clock above the end of his bed and realizing it was still fairly early. Wayne would either be on his way over, if he was coming or already asleep and Karmen would be at work.

Eddie grunted as he repositioned himself, using his slowly returning strength to push himself up on his elbows. He looked towards the opposite wall and was surprised to find a nurse sitting in the other, usually unoccupied, chair that had been pushed up against the wall out of the way.

Eddie looked her up and down cautiously as he watched her eyes flit across the page of the book she was holding. She paid him no mind or perhaps, hadn’t realized he was awake as he studied her with a confused frown. Wondering what she was doing in his room voluntarily when most of the nursing staff argued daily over who’s chore he was for that particular shift. 

He thought maybe he recognized her from early on in his stay. Maybe the first time he awoke in the hospital or more correctly, the first day he really remembered waking up.

He had fuzzy memories of Karmen laying in bed with him.

Yeah… He did remember her. From the small parts of that day he could recall. 

He hadn’t seen her since she loomed over him with a needle in her hands. An apology on her lips as a man much bigger than he was, held him down and she injected him with a sedative.

He shuddered at the memory. 

In retrospect she had been incredibly nice. She had let Karmen lay in bed with him and not said anything rude when he was freaking out about being left alone at the end of the day.

While he did appreciate it, he couldn’t help but feel it had set him up with a false sense of security in what his hospital stay would be like. She had shown him basic kindness and he had taken it at face value and inadvertently expected it from the rest of the staff.

God forbid.

He thought sarcastically.

Doctors and Nurses that showed kindness and compassion? It’s not been heard of.

Eddie hadn't seen her again since that night. Hadn’t really thought about her since but faced with how he had probably behaved that day, he figured she had been avoiding him like everyone else. 

All of the staff he’d encountered so far had been pretty horrible to him and it was starting to take a toll on his mental health. To be passed around like a burden by people that were supposed to care for his well-being.

Even the people that were supposed to save his life were almost goading him to end it. 

So why is she here?

He asked himself.

“Good morning.” She greeted him as she finished her page and looked up with a smile that unnerved him purely based on the fact it was directed at him sincerely. The book in her hands was lowered to her lap as she squinted towards his vitals monitor and seemed content with what she saw. 

Eddie nodded at her faintly, averting his eyes but still feeling her watching him as he struggled to find something else to look at. Large brown orbs eventually came back around to her, only to find she had gone back to her book.

What’s happening…

He cocked a brow in question. Looking between her and the open door to his room a few times before pushing himself into a seated position.

He fiddled with his fingernails, trying to decide if the silence was awkward or not as he unconsciously waited for something to happen. 

Obs? Blood Test? Paperwork?

Nothing.

The other nurses had not spent more than a second longer than necessary in his presence. They did their assessments and dipped within minutes. She wasn’t even doing an assessment and she was still… There. Just reading.

It felt unusual to sit in silence with a stranger. He hadn’t been forced to do that since before he went on the run. 

He hadn’t missed it.

As if hearing his thoughts, the nurse looked back up. Catching him staring and smiling to herself as he rushed to turn away and pretend he hadn’t been. 

He chastised himself silently for letting his eyes wander. Last he remembered he was looking at his own hands.

“Your heart monitor has been going off all night.” She told him in a way that sounded stern but somehow Eddie knew she didn’t mean it like that. Knew he couldn’t help it. “I had to keep coming in to monitor you in person so I figured, might as well read my book in here instead of the Nurse’s Station.” She shrugged, pages in the novel she was holding fluttering against one another as she did so. “Besides, your heart monitor is a lot less annoying than Ally yammering about Rodney from the 3rd floor.” 

Eddie smiled at the random remark before he could hide it. 

Nurse Ally was a bitch. 

He’d wished he could speak when she’d stabbed him a little too hard with a needle while bragging to Nurse Bec about the daisies Rodney had bought her. He would have loved to be the one to tell her that Nurse Sandra was bragging about the roses she’d received from the same Rodney.  

Drama between the Staff really was the one and only saving grace of a dreadful hospital stay. Eddie liked watching General Hospital during the day when he skipped school. He always thought it was super dramatic but he was realizing during his stay that they actually did a good job with the realism. 

He looked back up at the nurse and shifted uncomfortably as he realized she was still looking him over. 

Expectantly.

Like she was waiting for him to talk.

He cringed internally. She probably was, actually, waiting for him to talk. He couldn’t remember if she knew he couldn’t or not.. Even if she did, she probably assumed he was ‘over it’ by now like everyone else expected him to be. 

He exhaled louder than he meant to in the silence. Looking away again and feeling bad for the first time since he’d woken up here that he couldn’t force himself to make small talk anymore. She seemed as nice as he remembered and he really didn’t want to piss her off and push her over the other side of the fence by snobbing her.

“The monitor only goes off when your heart rate exceeds a certain threshold. It’s usually pretty high and tends to only happen when someone trips into the wrong rhythm or… Is extremely stressed.” The nurse continued as if she hadn’t paused to let him think about his new favorite Medical Drama. She didn’t miss the way his bpm ticked up as she spoke. “I was watching and listening pretty closely and your heart is healthy. So, it seemed like you were having some pretty terrible nightmares.” She said sympathetically. The sound of Eddie swallowing, thick between them in the otherwise quiet room.

Please don’t ask.

He begged her silently. Not that he could accidentally slip up and tell her anything if he wanted to. But there was an irrational part of him that worried if asked the right yes or no questions, he could give himself away to an experienced nurse that could read his heartrate like a polygraph test. 

“But that’s not my business is it?” She asked rhetorically. Some of the tension leaving Eddie’s shoulders at her words. “You seemed to calm down when you could sense you weren’t alone. So you were my neediest patient and you didn’t even press the call button once.” She teased, making Eddie’s lips quirk. 

Of course she remembered that he didn’t want to be alone. That was why she had to sedate him after all. She remembered how scared he was for his loved ones to leave him there. 

She felt bad for him, he realized.

Any other time, the thought of someone pitying him like that would make his skin crawl. But for some reason, the knowledge that this woman empathized with his plight was a calming thought.  The fact that she actually seemed to know what a ‘bedside manner’ was, was a welcome surprise. 

He liked her. 

She also definitely felt bad for sedating him. He couldn’t remember fully or for certain how he had acted, but he knew deep down he deserved it and he wished he could tell her that.

“I didn’t mind though. I’ve been on vacation and I didn’t get to finish my book before I got back.” She explained. “I really just wanted to finish my chapter and your room is the perfect place to hide.” She joked, holding up the paperback so Eddie could see the cover.

Worth It.

He thought it said. Squinting as if it would give him a better view from across the room of the large block writing that spanned the entire front. 

He tried to ignore the off-hand comment about his room being the perfect place to hide. He knew she didn’t mean it to hurt his feelings but he heard it for what it was. It was the perfect place to hide.

Because no one wants to come in here…

He told himself as he reached for his glasses on the table beside his bed.

The nurse looked between him and the book, realizing with a chuckle that he must be trying to read it.

“Worth It.” She said aloud, stopping him from reaching for his frames. “It’s a 1920’s romance novel.” She answered without him needing to ask. “Two young lovers meet at a Valentine's Day dance and the rest is history.” She said in a wistful voice as though she was pitching the book for a movie.

Eddie must have made a face because she snorted under her breath. Tutting aloud as she closed the book with a slap and pushed herself up from her seat. 

“It’s very sweet.” She said, as she crossed the room. Mirth in her tone as she defended the story. “You should give it a try.” She smiled, placing it down on the tray table.. “You know, if you think you can handle all the sappy shit and almost sex scenes.”

Eddie frowned at her, a question on his lips.

Almost?

“It’s a romance. Not an erotic novel.” She answered him, again without having to be asked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with those.” She clarified as she turned away. “My wife writes those kinky things.” She said under her breath, more to herself than him.

Eddie wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly so he didn’t comment. Not that he could have if he wanted to. But did have about twenty questions loaded up so far for if he ever saw her again once he could speak.

This woman was an enigma. Unlike himself, apparently. She was making him question if perhaps he had never been half as mysterious as he’d thought he was. He hadn’t ever spoken to her and yet she could read him as well as she could her book. 

He pointed to the novel she’d left by his side, yet another question on his lips as she wheeled the small cart with all her observation machines to his bedside. She nodded at him, giving permission for him to pick it up as she shoved a thermometer into his mouth. He picked up his glasses as she set up the blood pressure machine. Putting them on his face and taking the novel into his hands as she wrapped the cuff around his arm.

He read over the back cover before turning it around in his hands and examining the cheesy picture on the front underneath the large title. Snorting at the model chosen for the love interest and how much of a disparity there was between what he looked like on the cover and how he was described in the blurb.

An excited puppy; sweet, innocent, and in desperate need of someone to play with.

The long haired, shirtless man on the cover looked more like a version of Steve Harrington that had never had a haircut than an excited puppy. But what did he know? Eddie figured the author probably didn’t have much of a say on the cover illustration.

He flipped it open regardless. Intrigued by the blurb. He pulled it closer to his face out of habit. Forgetting that he could read properly now that he had his glasses.

He read a few lines here and there while the nurse took his vitals. Putting it down in his lap and shrugging as she took the thermometer from his mouth and inspected it. 

I mean, it’s not terrible.

He admitted, only to himself. Looking back at the nurse and trying to hand it to her as she packed up her cart.

“You can borrow it.” She said as Eddie furrowed his brows. Looking back at the novel and realizing it didn’t contain a bookmark. “It’s not exactly my first read.” She smiled, gesturing towards the worn edges of the book before pushing the cart back to where she had taken it from.

She turned back to him as he studied her with a cautious gaze. 

Like he was scared it was a trick. 

It could be an elaborate plot to get him kicked out… Act all nice and ‘lend’ him something before claiming that it went missing on its own. He couldn’t defend himself… Suddenly he’d be in hot water for stealing from the nurses. They’d finally get out of taking care of him. He’d probably die from an infection at home.

Win win. 

He thought to himself bitterly. 

“You seem like maybe you need a distraction.” She admitted when he didn’t speak. “For when your people aren’t here.” She added as he raised his brows at her. 

Oh.

“My next shift is tomorrow night. You can give it back to me then if you don’t like it okay?” She asked, sensing his hesitation and waiting until he nodded back slowly before continuing.

“Your people love you.” She said softly, taking him by surprise. “They care if you get better. They want you to stay with us and they will understand if you want to sleep while they’re here so you can get some proper rest.” She smiled, making Eddie balk at the sudden shift. Tears springing to his eyes unexpectedly at the encouraging words.

He thought that maybe he really needed to hear that. Hear that from someone that wasn’t one of his people. That had no obligation to lie to him about it all.

His lip trembled as he looked back down at his lap, unsure how to respond and still deciding when she took the lead and decided for him.

“Alright. I have to go and do my handover now.” She said cheerily, giving him whiplash as he continued to stare, not realizing how unabashed he seemed when he wasn’t truly seeing her. Still internally trying to understand why exactly she was being so damn nice to him.

She was almost gone when he thought to ask her name. Opening his mouth like he was going to speak before sighing in frustration and closing it again when nothing came out. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten since he’d been there that his brain wasn’t working properly. It was like his body wanted to go back to normal but there was something still blocking him from being able to do that. A trauma he could only see in his periphery holding a barrier in place and stopping his brain from forming anything other than basic sounds and if he really, really concentrated, one word at a time. 

He liked the mystery nurse. But he couldn’t afford to use the brain power on her when he wanted so desperately to see Karmen smile at him again like she had when he’d forced out a goodbye recently.

“My name is Jo.” She answered his unasked question as she hovered in the doorway, tugging at her shirt where her name was embroidered into the fabric. 

She had figured he knew that already. But after watching him practically inhale the book to be able to read it despite wearing glasses, she wasn’t so sure he could read her shirt while she was moving around.

Eddie nodded gratefully at the offered information. Smiling weakly as he gave her a small wave to say goodbye.

It was amazing what being treated with basic human decency by a medical professional could do for his usually foul morning-mood.

He smiled to himself, wondering what ‘Jo’ was short for as she waved back. She turned towards the door and Eddie wasted no time flipping to the first page. The notes and acknowledgements catching his eye before he could move on to the beginning of the first chapter.

Author Jody lives in Indiana with her good friend Kel and their shared pets- 

Eddie jerked his head up at the sound of footsteps. Snapping the book closed and slipping it under the covers as Wayne entered the room. The man was back stepping as he said goodbye to Nurse Jo before turning around and raising a brow at the sheepish look on Eddie’s face.

~~

BUT IS NURSE JO REAL??? She is. 😂 Karmen and Wayne both interacted with her. But Eddie doesn't put those pieces together until much later.

More Notes: I told you guys I wasn't abandoning this story. ;) Eddie deserved to be shown a little kindness from a stranger and who better to do that than the one person that has shown me continued love and kindness in this fandom and outside of it and not stop encouraging this series from start to finish. I love you Nurse Jo. 🥰

Apparently Fabio, who I was going to reference as the romance novel model, got his big break in 1987! The year AFTER this story is set. So my plans for Eddie to think the romantic interest was some Fabio looking ass man went out the window. Lucky for me I saw a video earlier of a pretty man that looked like Steve Harrington in a Pantene commercial.

Part 10

Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the rest of this story as I post it.

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.  

Tag List: @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair @browneyes528 @stevemunsons (Sorry. if you don't want to be tagged anymore let me know) 🙈

[sniffglue]

Reebok Answer 4 “Zuul”

[sneakerscartel]

Coming Soon: Reebok Answer 4 Flash Red Core Black https://sneakerscartel.com/coming-soon-reebok-answer-4-flash-red-core-black/

[feuilleq]

ahhh this is fun @jegulusposts thanks for including me <33

Nickname: i don't think i have one

Zodiac: virgo

Height: 163 cm or 5 ft 4 in

House: hufflepuff

Last thing I googled: if the eras tour movie had a end credits scene worth watching

Fav music genre: i like so much but indie/folk/country + emo rock

Song stuck in my head: betty - taylor swift

Followers: 286

Following: too many 1,944 (ive been one here for too long)

Do I get asks: occationally, i love it when people talk to me

Amount of sleep: more than 8 hours, sometimes 10+

What I’m wearing: black oversized jeans, red and pink jumper, reeboks and my big ass carhartt jacket

Dream job: i want a boring job ngl, maybe in a bookstore

Languages: english is my second language, but i'm scared of posting anything about my personal life i will say i'm european tho

Random fact: i am extremely hyperaware of the inside my body at all times and i cannot stop thinking about it

My aesthetic: dumpstercore, boycore but cute hopefully

no pressure tags: @irisisasleep @arcanespillo @yazpadfoot @kiwithefruitandthebirb @lemongrass77777 @violets-are-the-answer + anyone else who wants to join :)

Thank you for tagging me, @s-nebul0sa!

Nicknames: Ingy/Ivy (I don’t have many friends so Ivy is one that I picked because I don’t like my name so I ask to be called Ivy instead or maybe another nickname if the person prefers that)

Zodiac: Pretty sure it’s Scorpio

Height: 152.5 cm (some trashcans in my city are taller than me…)

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff

Last thing you googled: Stardew Valley Mods

Favorite music: Mostly Pop music

Song stuck in your head: Who We Are by Hozier

Following: 263

Followers: 312

Do you get asks: Maybe once a year, it’s really rare

Amount of sleep: 3/4 hours when I’m lucky, 6 hours sometimes when my body is truly exhausted and I pass out at 3 am and sleep throughout the morning

What you're wearing: Pajamas (it’s hot AF and this is the lightest option of clothes I have)

Dream job: Movie/TV show director but I don’t know if I’m actually capable of doing that

Languages: My birth language is Portuguese (Brazil) but I’m also fluent in English and Spanish (I'm better at English than any other tho, including Portuguese)

Random fact: A chicken’s heart rate is about 4 times higher than humans, for example, a healthy adult resting heart rate ranges from 60 to 100 bpm while a normal chicken has a resting heart rate of 200 – 300 bpm

Aesthetic: I’m honestly not sure how to properly describe it, it’s a colorful mess basically

 

I'm tagging (no pressure) @laurensxdeath, @seriously-poppins, @kai999 and anyone else who wants to do it!

[sneakerhistory]

Allen Iverson in the Reebok Answer 4 (2001 NBA Finals)

[unstablefragments2]

REEBOK X GHOSTBUSTERS @ END.

[signalsgirl2112]

Finally, after 4 years - WE HAVE AN ANSWER:

HE MEANT SHOES

"All I'm wearing are my Reeboks" MEANS SHOES!!!

.....so cheeky! Lol

In Gowan's song I'll Be There In A Minute, a line goes "all I'm wearing are my Reeboks"

Like ??? Does he mean he's stripped down to his underwear or his shoes???

We may never know...

[nosamyrag]

[grantspectortrash]

Head Over Heels

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem Henderson!Reader

Summary: After hanging out together, both you and Steve realise you've had feelings for one another this whole time.

Warnings/tags: No warnings, just very fluffy, very cute stuff. Teasing and banter-filled conversations. Very wholesome.

Word Count: 6.1K

A/N: This is set in season 2 but one conversation uses season 4 dialogue. I've not been able to stop thinking about this whole scenario, but I hope you guys enjoy as well! ((Also I know the title is unoriginal, sue me))

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"Dusty, you're going to be late!" You yell from the front door, slinging your car keys around your finger. It's your younger brother's Snow Ball dance tonight and you promised your mom you'd take him there and pick him up afterward.

"If you don't get your ass down here in five I swear-"

"Hold on! I don't understand!" Dustin is still upstairs, and his voice trails off as you hear him bustling around in his room. You haven't seen him since your mom left for work, which was an hour ago. Apparently, he's perfecting his hair so that he'll 'get all the ladies'. Those were Dustin's words - not your own - and you can't believe how much he's grown up in the past year.

He kept secrets from you now. He hung out with his friends way more than he hung out with you and, worst of all, he started caring about if girls liked him or not.

"I'm leaving soon!" You check your watch once more.

The dance starts at seven and you have fifteen minutes to get your brother out of the door and to the high school.

You hear Dustin switch off his bedroom light and run down the stairs at lightning speed.

"Y/N, I forgot to tell you-" Your brother's about to say something to you when you take in what he's wearing for the first time. He's got a bow tie on, with a cute suit and shirt and he's wearing his homemade Ghostbuster shoes, which are totally just some plain old Reeboks covered in red pen scribbles.

"Hold up, Dust! Look at you!" You smile, seriously unbelieving how cute he looks. "And look at your hair!"

You grab his head and stare down at his hair in amazement, “You look so good, dude! Who taught you to do all of this?”

Dustin wriggles out of your grip and straightens up his suit, “Thanks, thanks, about that…”

There’s the sound of a car horn outside. You stare at Dustin in confusion and he gives you a sheepish smile, “I know mom asked you to take me, but I kind of asked someone. And, I need to go. Now.”

Your confusion slowly turns into shock, "Oh my God, is it because you didn't want your older sister embarrassing you? Because I bet Nancy's taking Mike. You know I would never cramp your style, because honestly? You cramp me out."

Dustin sticks his tongue out at you, before giving you a shit-eating grin. "Whatever. You're just jealous because I wanted someone cool to take me to the dance. But, if you're so worried, come with."

He doesn’t give you time to answer, he just pushes you out of the way of the front door and opens it. The car horn sounds again and you hear a yell, “Henderson!”

Your curiosity wins over your confusion and you turn the hallway light off and lock the front door behind you.

There, parked on the street outside of your house, is Steve Harrington.

Dustin runs up to the car and does a three-sixty spin so Steve can see what he’s wearing. Steve has a massive grin on his face, “Dude, you did the hair!”

You walk up to the car, standing slightly behind your brother. “So you’re the dingus my brother has been hanging out with all this time.”

You smile, shaking your head. You had known Steve for years. To you, Steve used to be the world's biggest douchebag and the school's king - with a capital K - then the whole thing with Nancy happened and it seemed like everybody unanimously voted for Steve to be kicked off the popular gang's table. Now he was just like everyone else and, apparently, was best friends with your brother.

"Oh hey, another Henderson." Steve casually throws up a hand in a small wave. "You coming along for the ride?"

Dustin opens the passenger side door and slides in while Steve makes a quick remark about wiping shoes before getting in the car. Dustin ignores him.

You open the back door and sit behind your brother. "Yeah well, I was meant to be driving him. But since he has it covered, I guess the best I can do is be a supportive chaperone."

"Fine by me. Buckle up, you've got like ten minutes Henderson. Uh, young Henderson, I mean."

"We have names, you know." Dustin makes a comment that earns a laugh from you. Steve waves it off and starts driving.

You stay silent for most of the drive, mainly listening to Steve and Dustin bickering. You’re surprised at how close the pair are, and as you watch Dustin laugh at one of Steve’s corny jokes, you realise just how much Dustin needs someone like Steve in his life. With no dad, no older brother, Dustin didn’t have a father figure or even just another guy to look up to. You're surprised that Steve turns out to be that guy, but you’re glad that he’s there for your brother.

“You two are seriously giving me a headache.” You joke and the pair of them high five, as if it was their mission to annoy you.

"Anyway, Dusty, got any girls you've got your eye on?" You lean forward towards your brother and blow little kisses at him. He shoves his hand in your face, and you back off.

"You're annoying. And that's the completely wrong question to be asking. It's whether or not any girls have their eye on me that I'm worried about."

"Hey, you know you have nothing to worry about." Steve chimes in, "Remember what I taught you."

Dustin sighs, "Yeah I know. It's just Lucas has Max, and Mike has El-"

"Who's El? Ellen? From down the road?" You interject, not knowing who this girl was. And you knew most people in Hawkins. Small towns were like that.

"She's uh-" Steve looks at Dustin, not sure how to finish his sentence. Your brother recovers by saying: "She's new. Yeah. A new girl."

"Rightttt." You decide to back off from the conversation. Something seemed to be going on, and you weren't sure what.

Steve turns down the road towards the high school and your train of thought gets distracted. There's loud music blaring from the gym hall. Kids are everywhere, all dressed up and looking cute. Balloons the size of watermelons loom over the kids as they walk through the entrance. Steve stops right outside, "Here we are."

Dustin has gone strangely quiet. He instantly reaches for the interior mirror and starts touching his hair.

“Hey, you look great.” Steve is suddenly gentle, all the joking around gone from his voice. He closes the interior mirror. “You look great, ok?”

You pipe up from the back, “He’s right Dusty, you’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

“I know.” He replies, but the confidence is lacking in his voice.

“Look, your sister’s right. You’re going to go in there, look like a million bucks and slam them!”

“Yeah, okay!” There’s a smile on Dustin’s face now, “Like a lion!”

He growls, the way he always does when he thinks he’s being an absolute lady-killer. You shake your head and Steve’s eyebrow raises, “Yeah bud, maybe don’t do that. Just go out there and have the best time okay?”

Steve claps Dustin on the shoulder and your brother reaches for his seat belt, nodding furiously.

“Go crazy, dude. See you at ten?”

Dustin gets out of the car and looks back at you. “See you at ten. Bye guys, wish me luck!”

He slams the door behind him and heads inside, his back upright and a little bit of swagger in his walk. You can’t help but smile.

Steve clears his throat, as if finally realising that now Dustin’s gone it’s just the two of you, and you roll your eyes.

“Wanna get something to eat? I could do with something to eat.” You ask. Without even asking for permission you unbuckle your seatbelt and clamber into the front seat, feet first.

“Hey! Oh my God!” Steve watches you with bewildered eyes as you get comfy and strap yourself back in.

“What? My brother gets the front seat and I don’t? Oh come on.” You shake your head in fake disapproval.

You don’t particularly care how you act around Steve. The pair of you had been in the same classes at school practically since Kindergarten. You had witnessed the time he had shoved a green crayon up his nose and he’d seen you fall flat on your face during sports day, while doing the egg and spoon race. Egg had ended up in your hair.

It wasn’t that you guys had ever been particularly close, you just didn’t care what he thought of you. Plus, if he was friends with your brother then he was no cooler than you were.

You think all of this while he continues to stare at you in shock. You raise your voice slightly, “Harrington, food or no?”

“Right. Yeah. Sure.” He fiddles with the keys and pulls away, leaving the school grounds and back onto the road.

“There’s a diner a couple of streets down.” You say, vaguely pointing in that direction, “We could get some burgers or something.”

“Burgers?” Steve retorts, a frown on his face.

“Yeah you know, those round things that go in between a bun? Usually with tomatoes and lettuce. Ring any bells?” You sling your left leg up, so your foot is on the seat and your arms cup your knee.

Steve clocks your movement, glancing at your body as he makes a right. He takes one hand off the wheel and gently pushes your leg, so your foot falls off the seat and goes back to the floor. His hands are warm.

“No feets on seats, Henderson. And I know what a burger is, idiot. I just don’t usually take girls out to go get burgers.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but you notice how he’s still subconsciously driving towards the diner.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget? King Steve is an absolute dreamboat who takes all of his dates straight back to his place so you can get frisky and then forget about each other the next day.” You laugh at your own comment.

“Hey that’s my love life you’re talking about! I’m not all about the sex, you know.”

He pulls into a parking space outside of the diner and kills the ignition.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Steve.”

You get out the car, making sure your own car keys and purse are still in your back pocket. Steve gets out and you enter the diner together.

It’s semi-busy, meaning that there’s a few regulars in there and - with it being a Friday night - there’s two families with loud kids and a sheriff’s deputy on duty drinking a coffee. A waitress greets you at the door.

“Table for two, please.” You smile, and she leads you and Steve towards one of the window booths. You shake your head, and only express your emotions when Steve is sat opposite you, and the waitress is gone.

“She’s sat us in a booth.”

“Yeah, so?” Steve frowns at you, running a hand through his hair.

“They sit couples at booths. Booths are for like elderly couples who come in every Sunday to have waffles for breakfast with black coffee and all that jazz. They think we’re a couple.”

“Oh.” He says in a small voice, then, “In that case, this is the first time I’ve taken a girl out for burgers on a date.”

He’s waiting for your reaction to his comment, and once you laugh, he laughs with you. He gives you a giddy smile, as if he’s proud of himself.

“A date… interesting.” You’re not really sure what to say, but you’re glad when the waitress comes back to you just in time.

“Are you guys ready to order?” She asks. She’s wearing a white dress with a pink pinafore, an outfit that accompanied the diner’s new and updated look. They had a refurb a year ago, and you had to admit you appreciate the style.

“Yeah, just a cheeseburger, regular fries and…a vanilla milkshake. Thanks.” You reel off your order, hesitating when you can’t choose between vanilla and chocolate.

The waitress turns to Steve. “You know what? I’ll have what she’s having. Thank you.”

The waitress makes a note of it and walks off. You move in your seat and your foot accidentally hits Steve’s. You both apologise at the same time, and it’s the first time you feel awkward around him. There’s silence between the two of you for a couple of minutes.

“So,” He breaks the ice, subconsciously thumbing through his hair again, “How’s life been treating you, Henderson? What’s the big plan when school's over?”

“Oh, you know. Fine. Life’s fine. I’m trying to apply to colleges and stuff, hopefully it’ll work out. I dunno. Or I’ll just get a job at like Family Video, or something.” A smile plays on your lips, “And you’ve completely forgotten my name, haven’t you? You call Dusty ‘Henderson’ because you think it’s cool or whatever, but I reckon with me it’s because you can’t remember.”

“That is so not true!” Steve pulls a face of shock, “I can’t believe you’d think that!”

You shrug and start to laugh. “Just saying.”

“You think I’d forget you? Y/N Henderson? The girl who got egg in her hair? The girl who’s first kiss was freaking Johnny Liner at our very own Snow Ball? The Y/N Henderson who helped me with my math homework when we were in eighth grade?”

The waitress comes over with two identical plates, setting them down and completely interrupting Steve’s speech. You both say thank you, but neither of you touch the food. You’re waiting for Steve to continue, and he does.

“Plus I’d like to remind you I sit two rows behind you in Mr Herbert’s class and your name gets called for attendance every day, idiot. Plus you have those stupid little stickers on all of your books that say your name. So, I could never forget you.”

He looks at you with a smug smile, with one cocky raised eyebrow, and takes an aggressive bite out of his burger. You’re taken aback. Of course you’ve known Steve for forever, and everything he’d said was completely correct, but you never realised Steve had paid attention to any of those things.

“Okay.” You smile, impressed. “You win this time.”

You eat your burger and fries in semi-silence. "Don't You Want Me" by The Human League is playing on the diner's radio, and Steve mumbles along in between mouthfuls of food.

The pair of you chat about mundane things, how well you're doing in basically all of your classes, how Steve's basketball career is going, how Dustin was annoying and endearing at the same time.

If you concentrated really hard, pretended really hard, you could almost imagine that this was normal. Like you and Steve getting dinner together was a weekly reoccurrence. A small part of you wished this was normal but you knew - deep down you knew - that tomorrow the normal would go on existing. Steve would hang out with Dustin, he'd still sit two rows behind you in Mr Herbert's class, but he would go back to pretending you didn't exist. He'd be the guy who used to be popular and you'd just be Dustin's sister. A nobody who'd never been popular. It's just the way it was.

You think all of this while absentmindedly dipping a fry into your milkshake, pulling it out and eating it. Steve stops half-singing/half-eating, and stares at you.

"What was that?" He says, gesturing to your milkshake.

"What was what?" You shake your head and pop the last bit of your burger in your mouth.

"The whole milkshake and potato combination, Y/N. Nobody does that." Steve has finished his burger and has a handful of fries left.

"Well, I do it. It's good. Trust me." You reach over to pick up one of his fries. You dunk it in his milkshake before he can protest and you pull it out. "Try it."

You wave the milkshake-dipped fry by his face and he shakes his head at you, smiling. "This better be good, Henderson, or your ass is grass."

He takes the fry into his mouth and the tips of your fingers connect with his lips for just a second. You try not to think about it.

Instead, you watch his reaction. The instant confusion, the pause when he finally appreciates the combination of salt and vanilla in his mouth. He starts to nod.

"You know what? You win with that one, we're even now." He grins at you, picks up his last remaining fries and takes the liberty of dunking them in your milkshake.

"Steve!" You exclaim, you voice louder than it was meant to. One of the families look around at you, and you try not to notice. "You bastard."

He simply winks at you as he shoves the fries into his mouth. "Can't help it." He says, openly speaking with his mouth full.

You both finish your meals at a similar time. Now, there's a different song on the diner's radio - one you're not familiar with. But Steve knows it. And he's he's air-guitaring, to himself. Which is totally embarrassing.

"Oh how the mighty fall. You're an absolute nerd, Steve Harrington." You laugh at him.

"Thank you," He smiles stupidly, "Your brother would say the same."

The pair of you lapse into silence, and you find yourself watching as Steve rakes a hand through his hair not once, but three times. He's looking out the window, then sharply turns to look at you, as if he's about to say something. When he clocks you're already staring, you both avert your eyes.

The waitress comes over and any awkwardness is washed away. She takes your plates and Steve pulls out some notes from his pocket, counting the amount he'll need. You pull out your purse from your back pocket, trying to see what change you have.

"Hey," He puts one hand on yours and closes your purse, "this one's on me."

He pays and the waitress walks off.

"You didn't have to do that." You chide while you put your purse away.

"Yeah, well, I did. Now come on." Steve slides out from the booth and stands up. You glance at your watch, it's only half past eight. You didn't need to pick Dustin up for another hour and a half.

"It's not time yet, we've still got ages." You frown.

Steve rolls his eyes at you, "Y/N, did you really think we were gonna sit here all evening? We can do other stuff, you know. Come on."

He gestures for you to hurry up and you oblige. The pair of you leave the diner and get back into his car. He makes an offhand comment about checking shoes before getting in, which seems to be habit at this point, and you nod, but don't bother checking.

"You Henderson's are useless." He shakes his head as he starts the car. He backs out, and then you're on the road again.

"Why thank you. I pride myself on it." You reply, your voice dripping in sarcasm. Steve ignores your comment and pushes a cassette into the deck. It starts playing Head Over Heels by Tears For Fears.

"So where are you taking me, anyway?" You ask. You're genuinely curious, and also slightly confused. You didn't know what Steve did in his spare time, apart from play basketball and hang out with your brother. You didn't see him other than in the hallways and during your classes together. Whatever Steve got up to, and wherever he went, was a complete mystery to you.

Beside you, Steve seems to have relaxed. He's not glancing at you every second to make sure your feet aren't on the seat and he's tapping away at the steering wheel to the tune of the song. He looks at you briefly to smile.

"There's a road in the forest that pops out just by this random field. It looks over like all of Hawkins. It's really nice this time of night. Thought you might want to see it." He nods, half to himself, half in time with the music.

His voice is gentle and full of earnest, and you wonder since when did Steve care about what you might like? You respond the only way you know how, with sarcasm.

"Oh, right. So you're going to take me to the middle of nowhere where there's absolutely nobody else around. Let me guess, that's where you take all the girls?" You smirk, rolling your eyes.

"Hey, no." He frowns, looking over to you briefly, "I told you earlier. I'm not just about the sex and stuff, you know."

"Yeah, you said." There seems to be genuine hurt in his voice, and you wonder what he's thinking. "Are you still in love with Nancy?"

The question falls out of your mouth before you can stop it.

You reach a red light at an intersection in the middle of the town. At this time of night there's not many on the road but the light is on red anyway.

"No." Steve shakes his head and you swear the look he gives you is almost disappointed. "No, definitely not. Look, let me tell you something. And you better not say anything to anyone, okay? Swear?"

He's staring at you now, his voice full of sincerity. You feel like you can't look away, surprised by his sudden seriousness. "Yeah, okay. Promise."

You pull your eyes away long enough to notice the light's have changed, but Steve is still looking at you. "Uh, Steve, it's green."

He looks away, notices you're right, and drives on. Head Over Heels is still playing.

"Right. So, you promise? Okay. The thing is right, when I was a baby I used to crawl backwards. Like full on reverse, all the time."

"Okay?"

"I guess somewhere in my tiny Harrington brain I thought I was doing the right thing. And then, one day, I reversed my sorry little ass down a flight of stairs. My head got a right bump. You know, landed straight on my little noggin'. Which I guess explains a whole lot of stuff."

"You can say that again." You laugh. Steve has made his way to the edge of the forest now, and he turns off down a smaller track, leading up to the top of the hill.

"Anyway, in a round about way, that's kind of what happened with Nancy. I was acting like an asshole because I thought it was right, and I liked her because I thought it was right and then she dumped me and told me she didn't love me and it was like the biggest bump on the head since I was a baby. Made me realise a lot of stuff."

"Right. Okay." Your throat suddenly seems smaller, and you find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. Why is Steve opening up to you like this?

"At first I thought if I dated a lot of girls, I would eventually find the one. You know? Like get through as many girls as possible in order to find her."

"Ew." You interject.

"It's gross, I know. I know that now."

He looks at you as you reach the edge of the track. The forest opens up to reveal a small car park, and an open space of grass and flowers. You can see the stars in the sky, even without getting out of the car.

"Now, I think I might have known the one all along. And just didn't realise it. And now I want to do everything I can not to mess it up like I messed everything up with Nancy. Does that make sense?"

Steve has stopped the car now, and the engine's just running. It seems the cassette is only the one song - Head Over Heels - over and over again. It's started now for the second time and Steve looks over at you, waiting for your answer.

"Yeah, yeah it makes sense, Steve. Good to hear it." On nervous instinct, you pull your leg up so your knee is against your chest and your foot is on the seat. Steve says nothing.

"I'm impressed." This time your sarcasm is fake, because you don't know what else to do and it's been too serious for too long, "You're gonna keep it in your pants. Bravo."

You can't help but smile, being mean to him was so much easier than being serious.

"I hate you, Henderson." He's shaking his head at you, but his eyes are flitting between your eyes and your lips and you suddenly can't breath. Your thoughts are racing at a hundred miles per minute and it seems warm in Steve's car. It's very, very warm.

This wasn't normal - normal was Steve pretending you didn't exist. Normal was you watching Steve in the hallways but always telling yourself you didn't. This, the way your heart is beating way too fast, wasn't normal.

"No you don't." You can barely whisper your remark. Steve leans over and kisses you.

It's short and it's sweet and he still tastes of vanilla milkshake. He pulls away and gives you a small smile.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

He cuts the ignition and get's out of the car in one fell swoop. It leaves you flustered and you take a deep breath before following out of the car.

"It feels so good to get that off my chest." He's looking at you from across the car, "Just don't tell Dustin. He'll kill me if he knew I had the hots for his sister."

"Not if I don't kill you first. You...you've had feelings for me this whole time? And said nothing?"

Steve crosses the front of the car and comes to stand beside you. He reaches for your hands which are at your sides, and he holds them in between the two of you. You stare down at your intertwined fingers, and it feels right.

"It's been a long time coming. I didn't know it, not at first. I thought...I don't know...that we were just friends? Like you would never want some asshole popular guy who played basketball and had to get help with maths homework in eighth grade. Like I was just the kid who shoved a crayon up his nose."

Steve's comment makes you laugh and he raises his eyebrows at you, "See! Who would want to date someone like that? It's not until I had my ass handed to me and I started hanging out with your brother and those other little shits Mike and Will and all of them, that it made me realise who I really am. I've grown up a lot in the last year, and I don't want to be that idiot who loses the best person he's ever known because he's been too blind to see it all these years."

You stare at him, mouth agape and brain empty. Did Steve, Steve freaking Harrington, just say that to you?

When you finally find your voice, and Steve is smirking a little, all you can say is: "You're unbelievable."

Steve responds by letting go of your hands and scooping you up in arms, pulling you against his body and lifting you from your feet.

"I thought you'd say something like that. Come on, Henderson, let's see the view."

He carries you towards the middle of the field, where you laugh and kick and try to wriggle from his grip, but he's surprisingly strong. Every time you whack him he gives you little kisses on wherever he can get you. The pair of you are laughing hysterically by the time he sets you down and you smack him on the arm.

"I hate you."

"No you don't." Steve smirks, copying your comment from earlier, and he turns you to face the view.

From the field, you can see most of Hawkins. You can see streetlights and the lights of people's homes. Cars seem like toy versions of themselves they're so small, and from here you can see the glittered and glammed school where Dustin's Snow Ball is. There's the faint sound of music - Time After Time, if your ears are picking it up correctly.

"Woah. It's pretty up here." You're genuinely impressed. "I take back the comments about you bringing girls here for sex. It's way too peaceful and calm up here for that."

Steve snakes his hand into yours, "You're forgiven, for now." He squeezes your hand, letting you know he's just messing with you, as always. "Can you hear the music?"

"Yeah. A little." Your eyes don't want to tear themselves away from Hawkins. You've lived there all your life, yet now, something makes it seem even more special. It really does look beautiful.

"Wanna dance?" Steve's words make you look away. He's already smiling when you turn to face him.

You nod, and the pair of you slow dance to the very faint sounds of the Snow Ball music. You can't believe it's happening, and you never want the moment to end. Because when it does, what if your worst fears happen? What if you have this one night together, and things go back to the way they were?

You push the thoughts away.

"Now, why couldn't it been like this at our Snow Ball?" Steve whispers as you dance in slow circles.

"Because you were dancing with Lacey Bradbury." You recall the memory even now. You laugh, unbelieving that you still remember that after all these years.

"Damn." Steve pulls away slightly and you look up at him. He's grinning, "You're right. Wonder why you'd remember that..." He laughs and you go back to resting your head on his chest.

"Yeah, as if you're not the one who remembers that my first kiss was at the Snow Ball. Perv."

Steve attempts to tickle your sides and you worm away from him, but still move in your slow circle. He settles his hands back on your sides.

"It was Johnny freaking Liner, man. The snottiest little kid I've ever met. Even then I knew you deserved better. So, yeah, I do remember that. Sue me."

There's a beat of silence where the song changes, but even from far away you know the tune immediately. It's not one for a slow dance, but that doesn't stop you and Steve.

"For the record, if I hadn't of been such a stupid asshole back then, I would've walked straight up to you and asked you to dance with me. I swear on my life."

You smile into Steve, his scent engulfing you. His arms are wrapped around your body and the two of you are practically one at this point.

You stay like that, dancing in slow circles, for a long time.

"We need to go." Steve finally whispers into your ear.

"Do we have to?" You pull away, trying to glance at your watch in the darkness. "Surely Dusty can survive a few minutes without us."

"It's nearly ten. As annoying as that little shit is, he'll be even more annoying if he figures out what's happening here. Plus, we have every night to slow dance."

"You promise?" You ask as you and Steve make your way back to the car.

"I promise, Henderson."

"Good, otherwise I'm telling everyone that you were a super dumb baby!" You laugh and give Steve a push with your shoulder, "Race you to the car?"

The pair of you full on sprint to the car, and you wonder if Steve is letting you win because you're a few pegs ahead of him. When you beat him, he ends up looking at you in amazement.

"Why the hell aren't you on the athletics team? Jeez." Steve's slightly out of breath and laughing.

"Because who would run the book club if I'm off running laps all the time?" You joke, trying to suck in the cold night air, "And, truthfully, I don't want to show you up as the best sportsman in Hawkins High."

"Ha, yeah right." Steve unlocks the car and the both of you get in. This time, he doesn't make a comment about the shoes, and he takes the cassette out of the deck. "I think I made my point with this one. Thank you Roland Orzabal."

Steve kisses the tape, flings it into the backseat and turns the car around. "Let's go get your brother and hope he's not as smart as everyone says he is. Otherwise, we're busted."

He heads back down the track, back to the streets of Hawkins. The pair of you sit in a comfortable silence, while you sneak glances at him. You can't help but smile.

"That smile isn't gonna come off your face, is it?" Steve asks without even looking at you. You're about ten minutes from the school now.

"Oh shut up." You playfully hit Steve's arm and try to stop yourself from smiling. "You seem pretty happy yourself."

"Well duh," Steve finally looks at you, his eyes sparkling. "I mean, of course we might have to hide it from Dustin for a bit, but now I get to boast that Y/N Henderson, book club leader and apparently athletic superstar, is my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? Is that what I am?" Your voice is full of fake surprise just to tease Steve but secretly, you're ecstatic.

"Yes!" He takes his hand off the wheel to grab yours, "Abso-friggin-lutely." He brings your intertwined hands to his mouth and kisses the back of your hand.

"Now, you might wanna get in the backseat before Dustin murders the both of us."

You're five minutes away from the school now, and you unbuckle yourself while Steve drives. You shimmy yourself and dive head-first into the back seat, which earns a light slap on the ass from Steve before you turn to sit back down.

"Hey, Harrington! Watch it!" You laugh as you re-buckle yourself into the backseat.

"Sorry, couldn't resist." He turns to wink at you.

At ten on the dot, Dustin is waiting outside the high school with his friends. Just like your brother predicted, Lucas is holding hands with Max while Mike is holding hands with a girl you've never met. You assume it's El. Both Dustin and Will are stood alone, but both of them have huge smiles on their faces.

When you reach the group, Steve rolls down the passenger side window.

"Steve!" The gang all yell in unison, each one of them bearing a huge grin.

"It was awesome!" Mike says.

"Max even kissed me." Lucas wiggles his eyebrows.

"Hey, shut it!" Max interjects.

"It was fun." The new girl, this El girl, has a slight accent to her voice, as if she doesn't speak English very well.

"Oh hey, Y/N's here." Will points at you in the back seat.

"Hey guys! Looks like you had fun!" You poke your head out a bit so the gang can see you properly. They all say hi to you in unison - it was weird how in sync those kids could be.

"See you kids soon yeah, get home safe." Steve comments to the kids and they all nod. Everyone makes a point of saying their goodbyes and Dustin gets in the car. Steve drives off.

"Honestly it was so good! There was music and at first nobody wanted to dance with me but I did what you said, I looked like a million bucks and everything. And, Nancy danced with me. She said I'm her favourite. She is sooo hot."

Dustin rambles with excitement, flitting his head between Steve and you to make sure you're both listening.

"Glad you had a good time, dude." You reach forward to ruffle Dustin's hair and he swats you away.

"It was great. Even if the girls my age didn't dance with me. Nancy said in time they'll come to love me. Realise how amazing I am."

"Yeah, Nancy can really give some great advice sometimes." Steve says to Dustin, smiling. It gets a smile out of you too, recalling your previous conversation with Steve.

"So, what did you guys do?" Dustin asks.

"Oh you know, got some burgers. Nothing crazy." Steve replies nonchalantly, but he looks at you in the rear view mirror with a smirk on his face, and you catch his glance. You grin ear to ear.

"Yeah. Totally boring stuff. I'm sure you had a way better night, Dust."

"Steve is totally boring, right?" Dustin replies, adding to the banter so the pair of you are being mean to Steve.

"Hey, quit it Henderson!" Steve remarks.

"Which one?" You and your brother reply at the exact same time, which makes all three of you laugh.

You don't think you've ever been this happy in your whole life, and suddenly you're very grateful for your brother and his nerd best friend, Steve Harrington.