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eddiemunson-reader-shame · 2 months

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A Freak and a Basket Case: Chapter Two: Made in Heaven

From the Delulu Writer: You’re going to realize that I don’t write short fics. This was straight from Google Docs mobile. I don’t know how long this is, so fuck it we ball. I’m hoping the generous Eddie POV helps break this aversion to longer fics.

Warnings: Flight of Icarus spoilers, references to drug use, minor suicide mention.

[Masterlist] - Chapter One - Chapter Two (You are Here) - [Latest]

***

The ’85-’86 academic year had to be his year.

It had to be.

It was his last shot. The last hoorah. He had just barely made the cutoff age for the academic year, and it was a miracle in itself that Principal Higgins had a modicum of decency to give him a break and let him even try to attend school again. He would be cutting it too close for comfort, and during the summer Eddie Munson had promised his uncle that he would get his head out of his ass this time around. No more screw ups. No more bullshit scams.

That promise was made in summer, when he was still able to sleep in, hotbox the feelings of shame and guilt away in his van, and gorge on junk food during unholy hours of the early morning before passing out until noon.

Now that he was being jolted awake by both the shrill sound of the radio alarm, and his uncle was kicking his mattress to wake him up at four thirty in the morning before he’d even gotten a good chance at sleep, Eddie was ready to throw in the fucking towel. Bitter thoughts swarmed in his mind.

Fuck it. Kick me out of school. See if I give two shits.

He was at the point where he was forgetting what was important. Last year was a year of losses. Almost losing the Hellfire Club to bullshit blackmail orchestrated by a sadistic son of a bitch of a principal that he did not fully trust. Ronnie had at least reached out via letter after a time, and she sent a few clipped sentences written with an electric typewriter all the way from New York whenever she had enough money left over from dorm expenses to buy postage stamps. But Dougie had gone nuclear. Never quite forgiving his friend for what he had almost undone.

And then there was Paige…

Eddie had been thinking of that mess nonstop the first day back for some reason, running late stuck behind a green Dodge with wood paneling while also battling the commuters during the clusterfuck that constituted rush hour in Hawkins, Indiana. He didn’t know why he was in such a hurry when that morning he’d been ready to give up all over again. Emotions were running high and low, he felt like he was trapped on a broken-down roller coaster falling apart on a shoddy side of the road carnival. Wanting to jump off, throw up, scream, and cry all at once as the reality of everything set in.

Eddie Munson had fucked everything up. Once in a lifetime opportunities lost to the ages in the year of 1984.

’86 had to be his year. Otherwise, he had nothing else left.

He was on his way to his locker when a string bean of a freshman wearing khakis and a button down polo from the GAP slammed into him from behind. Eddie immediately turned around to catch him before he hit the ground, asking the dazed boy if he was okay, confirming it was so, then looking towards the source. He assumed it was a jock, it always was, but he saw no suspicious hunter green letterman jackets lurking in the throng of students looking to get to their classes.

And then there was the gaggle of girls laughing and pointing, but he couldn’t see the object of their teasing because once he came within five feet of their gaggle they saw Eddie the Freak and bolted. So far the first day back was shaping up to be one of those weird days, whispers abound of some bitch of a basket case wandering around dressed for a cold front in August.

For obvious reasons, Eddie was intrigued. A bitch of a basket case was new. Especially ones wearing winter coats in summer when the humidity drowned you before the heat got to you. He doubted there was any merit to the rumors truth be told, but he had to see it for himself. He searched high and low, ditching his first period class to see if he could catch a glimpse. And then like an answer to his prayers he heard a siren call:

Metallica on cassette. Kill ‘Em All Album. Side 1. Approximately thirty nine minutes and six seconds into the album. Track number nine. Seek and Destroy.

Blasting so goddamned loud that from his distance it sounded faint, but he knew that whoever was listening to it directly would be deaf before their twenty-first birthday.

He saw you beelining for the front door, and instantly Eddie was fascinated by you. Sure enough you were all bundled up in your quilted Carhartt jacket like a blue collar worker braving a blizzard, gray skirt swishing as you power walked down the hall. The music beckoned to him, and the Black Sabbath patch on your blue backpack encouraged him to follow. Despite the stormy look on your face and the fuck off aura radiating from you, Eddie couldn’t help but allow the admiration to take over. He wasn’t intimidated, he wasn’t repulsed by your demeanor or appearance. Quite the contrary, Eddie could see something in the way your body communicated to the world:

You were a lost, pathetic little lamb trying to butt heads with everyone and everything, unaware that the world was fanged and scary and could spit you out in a malformed bolus should it desire.

And yet you still kept trying to fight back.

It was as if his body was moving of his own accord. His heart knew before his brain could logically process what was happening. A compulsion, his inner wild child, sent signals to his feet to quicken his pace as he raced after you, adrenaline coursing through him as he heard nothing but the steady pace of your gait matching the pulse of Seek and Destroy. Eddie didn’t stop until he was so close he was breathing in your scent, and in a sudden burst of confidence, both hands flashed out and snatched you by the backpack straps, pulling you in until you were flush against him. He yanked off your headphones, getting in close until his lips were grazing the shell of your ear.

“You’ve got bitchin’ taste in music there, princess. Metallica, right?”

Your scream cut off the last bit, and he held onto you like he was holding a wild stallion steady as you jumped nearly ten feet in the air. You were still pressed with your backpack to his chest, your own little chest heaving with fear.

“FUCK ME FREDDY!” You hollered. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Eddie laughed hard as he spun you around to face him, hands steadying your shoulders as he looked you in the eye with a large smile on his face.

“Sorry, sorry… Relax. Didn’t mean to scare you there. But hey, at least that got your attention, right?”

You hit the pause button on your Walkman and killed the music, looking up with a stormy and defiant expression. Eddie realized something when you looked at him: you had been hiding behind fear. Your eyes, minimized by the thick coke bottle lenses within the frames of your glasses, began to soften when you looked at him. He could see the tightly wound tension leave your body as you relaxed. Your facade was slipping. Before him was an individual army crawling through hell to survive.

“You uh… you heard my music huh?” you said quietly.

Eddie grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh yeah. From all the way down the hall. You like Metallica?” he asked.

“Uh huh…”

Eddie grinned at the shy answer. God… You were adorable.

“Hell yeah, good taste. Metallica is one of my favorites too.”

He noticed you weren’t much for eye contact. As much as he tried to meet your gaze you wouldn’t look right at him. It seemed as if you were closing yourself off from everyone, a purposeful and calculated act. Understandable if he was being honest. Your eyes were red rimmed and your nose was still dripping a little bit. The morning must not have been kind. For a moment he saw your vulnerability, and it endeared him to you.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.” he said gently, holding out his hand.

“Eddie?” You cocked your head to the side, sweet little face looking up at him as if expecting a trick.

“Yup.” he popped the consonant at the end, and he tried to give you a sweet disarming smile to show his sincerity, “That’s me, Eddie Munson.”

Gently, slowly, he felt your warm hand envelop his. He shook it just enough; not too firm of a handshake that he scared you off, but not so weak that it seemed he didn’t want to touch you. Because if the way his heart was racing at the feel of your warm palm against his was any indication, he very much did want to touch you, and he wanted to make sure you knew it.

A few seconds ticked by, and you finally told him your name after letting go of his hand. He noticed at first that you seemed to try saying something else, but you quickly corrected yourself. Eddie repeated your name slowly. It suited you. Very lovely. Silence for a beat, and then you gulped and spoke up to end the silence.

“My favorite person in the whole wide world is an Eddie…” you mumbled softly.

“Yeah? Who’s this other Eddie?” He raised an eyebrow, dimples showing with the big cheeser he had on his face as he noticed you still weren’t letting go of his hand.

“Eddie V-… Eddie Van Halen…” you stammered.

Eddie’s heart nearly stopped.

“No way, are you shitting me right now?” he demanded.

You shook your head.

“No… I’ve seen him live… he’s… he’s really cool.”

Inhale through the nose, hold for five seconds, exhale through the mouth so he didn’t start having a heart attack.

“How the hell did you end up going to one of those concerts?” He managed

“… my dad. Last year... He took me for an early birthday present…”

So you’ve got good taste in music, and you have a dad that takes you to concerts like Van Halen as an early birthday present…

“They were pit side. I got one of the shirts at my house.”

God dammit… No. There’s no way. There’s no way in the hell that you’re real…

“Which concert was it?” He croaks tentatively.

“The 1984 Tour… I saw them and Autograph play… in Albuquerque.”

He had to stop you right there.

“Okay wait hold on, your dad seriously took you out of Indiana all the way into the middle of nowhere in New Mexico just to see Van Halen for your birthday?! Where in hell do you even live where that seems like a feasible option?! That’s a twelve hour drive at least!”

“I used to live in New Mexico.” You said softly. “I’m not from here…”

Yeah, yeah of course you weren’t from Hawkins. There was no way in shit someone as cool as you, someone who had been pit side to Van fucking Halen, could be from Indiana. It almost gave him flashbacks to shades of his ex, and he nearly wanted to pull away from the conversation. Yet you were so sweet, so different, and he knew if he let you just become a random anecdote in the annals of time, Eddie would have thrown up for weeks and then jumped into traffic if he saw you being poached by someone else.

He pressed on. Heart racing and trying to maintain so that he didn’t spook you.

“Could have fooled me, you don’t have the accent for it.” Eddie said, leaning up against one of the tan lockers.

You hesitated and bit your lower lip, nodding and rocking side to side on your feet as you began to pluck at the loose threads of your jacket.

“… people here don’t like to hear it. So I cover it up…” you said.

“Good idea. Because honestly, it’s not worth the trouble… You’re in Hicksville now. Hawkins isn’t the first narrow minded white bread town, and it’s not going to be the last. Especially if you don’t fit in with their good ol’ boys club mold. Hell, I don’t even fit in it. I’m the biggest target for these bigoted assholes with my reputation. I don’t doubt you’ll get the same amount of bullshit I do.”

“You…?” You blinked, confusion written on your face, “Why would anyone make fun of you?”

Harsh laughter erupted from his throat, and he was so consumed by the absurdity of your question that he didn’t notice you flinch back. As if he was being crucified, Eddie held out his arms dramatically wide, his battle vest opening up to show off his Led Zeppelin baseball tee with a couple of holes in the fabric where the rivets on his jeans had been rubbing against them.

“Take a good look at The Freak of Hawkins High sugarplum. I’m a long haired satan worshiping metalhead cult leader. I play shitty Pantera and Slayer covers in a dive bar every week. I deal drugs to the preppy kids that have more money than sense. I lure innocents in to play my little satanic Dungeons and Dragons games, and then I hotbox it in my van afterwards with them. I’m a Munson, furthest thing from a good little schoolboy. No, no, we Munsons drop out of high school and go to jail young, and probably die young too.”

He went on and on, the word vomit not stopping. If he was going to be honest with himself, he knew this potential thing you two had was dead on arrival from the moment you opened your mouth and started talking about Van Halen. You were way out of his league, even by metalhead standards. From what he gathered, you had deep pockets, or at least your dad did if he was able to take you to shit like Van Halen concerts, something Eddie could only dream of. Everything about this was scary. It was scary and horrifying and the only thing he could think of doing was self sabotaging before he got too attached to you.

And then you frowned, still looking at the floor, until you spoke up, looking him directly in his eyes.

“That doesn’t make no sense… Sounds like a bunch of horseshit to me.” You said simply.

He watched it all happen so suddenly and he couldn’t look away. His large brown eyes widening and his heart turning cartwheels in his chest when he saw the little twinkles of light, the little pinpricks of stars beginning to glimmer in your eyes as you held direct eye contact with him. It wasn’t just that you were cute, because Jesus H. Christ you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen in his life. There were other things he’d never seen on anyone he’d dated: honest to god romance novel pining on your face, your soft lips parting slightly as if you wanted to speak but had lost the words. Your body moved in closer to him, and his own reciprocated purely on instinct, inviting you into his space.

Magnetism.

“None of it makes any sense does it?” He said, voice so low you had to lean further in to hear him, “But this is Hawkins. Judgemental jackanapes abound and people like you and me are lambasted for the crime of being different. Double for you I’m guessing, since you’re the new Hispanic kid in town.”

You nodded, looking hopefully at him.

“Let me guess, you had an easier time fitting in when you were in New Mexico, right?” He asked.

There was a brief hesitation as you gathered your thoughts.

“… Kind of. Maybe not towards the end, but there’s a lot of guys into heavy metal and leather and stuff. A lot of my tios- my uncles- are rockers. My brother likes it too.”

“Older or younger brother?” He asked.

“Older…”

“He get you into metal?” He grinned.

“Yeah.” You said, nodding, “He started me on Black Sabbath and Ozzy, my favorites other than Van Halen. My dad was the one who showed me Van Halen… oh, and Dio…”

“Rad… your dad and your brother got you set up with the best of the best. You have some of the most badass taste in music in all of Hawkins right now.” Eddie praised, and he’d wished he had complimented you sooner, because now that he saw you smile and giggle at his compliments he couldn’t get enough, “… and that’s a hell of a smile you’ve got there sweetheart. And a pretty laugh to match.”

“Quit it…” you giggled.

“Hell no, you can’t just tell me to quit it the second I give you a compliment. Gotta take the compliments where you get them.”

There was that smile, that goddamned cute giggle. The reaction he wanted. You covered up your mouth as you began to uncontrollably laugh, as if you’d taken a fat hit of reefer and had the permanent giggles. He loved people like you, who acted high and giggly without any external help. But he didn’t like how you were trying to hide those teeth from him. He wanted to see it. Wanted to see your smile and bask in the good feeling it gave him.

“Ah ah, none of that!” He scolded, holding up a finger, “You quit hiding that pretty face from me. What? You don’t want me to see it?”

“Nuh uh!” You giggled.

A devilish grin came over Eddie’s face.

“You gonna make me get forceful, sweetheart?”

“Noooooo…!” You whined, laughing harder as you shook your head quickly.

“Cut it out then. Put that damn hand down, lemme see that pretty face.”

Eddie began to wrestle your hand away from your face as you squealed in delight, shrinking in on yourself as he let out a mad giggle. He was enjoying this, enjoying the feeling of touching you and not having his face slapped or being punched in the stomach. You welcomed his touch, almost craved it, flying into a fit of hysterical laughter when he played dirty and grabbed your sides, tickling your soft plump abdomen so that you were forced to move your hands away from your face to shield your belly.

At the end of it, Eddie was breathless with laughter, holding your sides and swaying with you. Coming down from your fun, he saw your smile for the first time. No pearly whites. He could see the flaws and imperfect teeth as you smiled ear to ear.

Real recognizes real…

You are very much real. Very much so. You’re warm and soft and real underneath his fingertips.

“Princess,” he breaths.

You cock your head, swaying side to side and your grin never leaves your face.

“There we go.” He says softly, stroking your sides, “There’s that beautiful smile. See? Much better when you’re not hiding it behind your hands.”

Your eyes sparkled, starry eyes…

He’d only ever seen hungry eyes before. Only ever been desired like one desired a succulent steak or a rich slice of cake. Last year felt like he was giving up so many vital aspects of himself that he almost felt like an imposter when he kept trying to have a better year, a shot at a better life. Everyone had taken from him last year, gnawing at the bones of his corpse until there was nothing left.

Paige looked at me like she wanted to eat me…

But you…

You look at Eddie Munson as if you are awestruck by him, and as shocking as the feeling is, it makes him feel beautiful for a split second. He feels important. He feels valued, like he’s been the epitome of good alignment his whole life and the chaotic parts don’t matter. You look at him like you’re seeing a mythical hero. As if your village was burning to the ground all around you and he’d just come in the nick of time, clad in mithril armor, immune to the flames and devastation and ready to swoop you up to your feet.

But that defiance when you first faced him, the fire in you, it’s a strength, it’s a power he is drawn to. Realistically he knows if he were to swoop in it wouldn’t be to save you, it would be to help you pick up your own sword and fight alongside him.

He wanted that. He wanted someone to fight life’s battles alongside him.

He wanted that someone to be you.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things flight of Icarus #Paige Warner #Ronnie Ecker #Ronnie my beloved #soon #patience my love #slow burn #stranger things fanfiction

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