#that’s what maybe four times in FIVE YEARS?

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-five

1043 words

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That morning…

Eddie it really sucks that you’re the only you  other than the fact that two eddies would be amazing on it’s own, i realized that you don’t know how it feels to have your attention it’s so intense dude you’re so intense in the best way, of course i can only hope that i get to experience that feeling more in the future maybe in the present, too p.s. i got your book again yesterday, here’s hoping second time’s the charm -H

Yesterday, Eddie thinks, he should have been more present and paid attention to what H’s note said. He’d sort of gone into tunnel vision when he’d been - however jokingly - accused of not understanding one of his books. It kind of made him wish for the first time that he could talk back. He’d contemplated just walking up to Hagan during lunch, but decided not to. He wouldn’t want to make anyone suspicious of the guy, no matter how much of an asshole he tends to be to everyone else. Eddie just isn’t that kind of person. 

The audacity of a jock who’s admitted to only reading books for school - and for Eddie - to allege that Eddie needs to read a book more than once in order to understand it. 

Has he read all of his favorite books more than once? Yes, but that’s only because they’re his favorites!

And does he notice something new nearly every reread? Also yes, but he chooses to believe that’s what Tolkien intended. It’s like a scavenger hunt of foreshadowing and little things to get excited about even when you know the ending. 

Anyway, Eddie is decidedly less preoccupied today and he’s been wondering what book H is reading.

His curiosity leads him to venture into the school’s library before he heads to the lunchroom. 

He tries to recall which books he’d checked out the last couple of months. Once he’s compiled his mental list, he tracks them down one by one. Eddie checks the card that’s in a pocket inside the front cover of each book on the off chance that Hagan’s name is logged on any of them - it’s not. 

Eddie does find it interesting, though, to see a pattern in a few of the names he does see. Those that pop up multiple times are mostly people he recognizes from Hellfire.

He slowly eliminates each book until he’s left with one that’s not on the shelf. The Return of The King. The last book in the The Lord of the Rings series. 

Most staff - like the students - at Hawkins High aren’t very happy when they see Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson approaching them. The school librarian isn’t one of them, though. Eddie’s been traipsing through this library for the better part of four years. 

Before he’d procured his prickly personality and style as a defense mechanism to the hostile environment of high school in rural Indiana, Eddie found shelter among the creaky furniture, shelves lined with books, and Ms. Hewitt.

She’s seen his sorry face more times than you can count and has always greeted him with a smile. Today is no different. 

He asks her about The Return of the King.

“Someone beat ya’ to it. Nice young man, he was.”

And while Eddie wouldn’t necessarily refer to Tommy Hagan as nice, he would for H. 

Eddie thanks and bids her farewell and then he’s off to lunch. 

He’s still having trouble conflating Hagan and his better half as the same person. 

So, H read the last book of an already complicated series without any backstory. No wonder he was so fucking confused. Eddie laughs to himself just imagining it. Against his better judgment, he’s hopelessly endeared. 

He’s late to lunch, but it’s not as if he was planning on paying for what the school thinks passes for food, anyway. 

When he takes his seat at the head of the table, Jeff places an apple from his homemade meal in front of him without even looking his way or pausing his debate with Gareth (the freshman who’d flipped Eddie’s world upside down by unknowingly revealing H’s identity as the one and only Tommy fucking Hagan).

Eddie absentmindedly munches on the fruit as he takes up his usual lunchtime hobby of gazing at a certain jock’s table. He finds it sort of odd when Harrington - Steve - forces Hagan to play musical chairs or some shit, but Eddie’s not intrigued enough to care, really. He does catch sight of Hagan’s red face and clenched jaw, though. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the guy was pissed. 

The change of seats provides Eddie with something more worthwhile to look at, so he’s not complaining. Steve seems in high spirits, and Eddie feels his own mood brighten in return.

When their shared elective comes along, Eddie finds himself jittery as he awaits the boy’s arrival. It makes him feel sort of silly, but not enough to lessen the excitement when Steve finally arrives.

The jock takes his seat between Eddie and Carol and turns to greet the latter.

“Carol, Robin.”

“Steve,” the girls say simultaneously without looking in his direction at all. Eddie doesn’t pretend to know what’s going on there, and he honestly doesn’t want to.

Steve then turns to his left to face Eddie, and the last thing he needs is to be limited to the same dry conversation - if you could even call it that - so he cuts him off once he starts.

“Ed-”

“Steven Harold Harrington III. How now?” Eddie has never been the best at English accents, but he figures it gets the point across just fine.

Steve’s face splits into a grin before he forces his expression into a stoic one. He continues to adopt the most heinous English accent Eddie has ever heard - including his own. “That’s His Majesty Steven Harold Harrington III to you, Edwin,” he says snottily.

Eddie can’t help but break into his own grin. Never mind the fact that Eddie’s name isn’t fucking Edwin, but Edward. Few people embrace his antics, let alone engage in them. 

Eddie is so gone on this boy. He was kidding himself thinking he could stay away. 

Steve Harrington might just be the end of him.

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[profoundbondfanfic]

Any destiel amnesia au fic recs to soothe my gentle heart, I read one au called two worlds apart and as much fun it was I'm also heartbroken 😭 and I want to fix it with another amnesia au where they are both are very much alive in the end, also maybe with a dash of fluff and tension?

Here are a few recs with fluff and a happy ending!

Basic Lessons in First Aid, Magical or Otherwise by stuffy_j (Explicit, 54k words)

Most people probably wouldn’t take the naked, heavily wounded man they found in an alley home with them. Most people probably wouldn’t also offer that man a place to stay and become his best friend after realizing he’s suffering from an intense case of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia. Most people probably wouldn’t then risk almost everything they know to save said man, and maybe save the world in the process. But then again, Dean Winchester, RN (with a specialty in supernatural care), has never been like most people. He may not have a magical bone in his body, unlike his brother Sam, but he’ll do whatever it takes to help. Even if Castiel has questionable opinions about Star Trek.

Here We May Be Free by FriendofCarlotta (Explicit, 39k words)

When Dean was eleven, he saw something in the ocean: a boy with blue eyes and iridescent scales. Almost twenty years later, a spontaneous detour after a hunt brings Dean and Sam back to the town where that encounter took place. And Dean can’t shake the feeling that Castiel, the owner of the local Mermaid Museum, looks familiar…

Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) by sobsicles (Explicit, 66k words)

When he wakes, he has no idea who he is. Not his name, what he looks like, or why he’s flat on his back, staring up at the stars littering the night sky. The first thing he learns about himself is that he has shitty instincts, especially if his first one is to protect the blue-eyed man currently stabbing someone in the face. Or, the story where two strangers can’t agree on much and know even less, but they’re both fairly certain that they’re in love.

Paper Moon by robotsnchicks (Explicit, 43k words)

By the time he hits thirty-three, Dean's given up on the apple pie life, accepting that a serious relationship isn't in the cards for him. But when he meets Cas everything falls into place. Now he’s happily married, hopelessly in love, and they’re about to buy their first home together. It almost feels too good to be true. It turns out it is. His world comes crashing down when he wakes to find that he’s been a subject in a virtual reality simulation gone wrong. All the years he thought he spent with Cas were actually experienced in less than a week. And when he gets out, Cas is nowhere to be found and nobody has heard of him. Ignoring the possibility that Cas may not be real, Dean sets out to find him and convince him that it’s worth giving Dean — and their relationship — a shot in the real world.

The Same Mistake, Again by zaphodsgirl (Mature, 43k words)

One night, after watching Dean pick up yet another girl while they're out at a bar, Cas heads to the local diner. Over the years his feelings of attraction have only deepened into something more, and he wishes desperately to go back to the time before he was in love with his best friend. His wish is granted in an unexpected way: he wakes up in the hospital the next morning with broken limbs - an arm and a leg- and a fractured memory with the last four years missing.

The Stars Will Remember by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 60k words)

Being a hunter was all Dean knew ever since his mother had been killed by a demon when he was four. Hunting, offing monsters, and then jumping to the next case was his life. Then he met the most alluring and breathtaking omega he had ever seen and spent the next five years loving the hell out of Cas, their life together filled with the domestic lovey-dovey stuff Dean had never thought he would dig so much. When a simple salt-and-burn goes sideways, it ends up with Cas’ memories stolen from him. Dean is left to pick up the pieces of the life they built together, his ‘make it up as he goes’ strategy to prove to his mate that Dean’s still worth a damn, his only chance at getting Cas back. He’s done a shitty-ass job at keeping Cas safe before, but he will pull out all the stops now to woo his mate again and stir the memories Dean knows are still there buried deep inside Cas’ mind.

The Story of You and Me by the_diggler (Explicit, 54k words)

Dean wakes up in bed next to a very human Castiel, and a journal in his own handwriting that tells him it’s two years in the future. The house looks a lot like Bobby’s, and Sam lives there too… He just can’t remember how they got from angels falling in the sky – to comfortable domesticity. While there is much in the journal Dean doesn’t remember, there is much of their story he’s always known. And as he settles into the routine of his new life and relationship with Castiel, it quickly becomes something he doesn’t know how to live without.

Unveil the Splendours of Your Heart by thefandomsinhalor (Mature, 68k words)

When a reporter asks Dean, a homeless man with a mysterious past, why he exclusively keeps close to the billboards and posters of a specific male model—the one Dean likes to refer to as the angel with spectacular blue eyes—in a moment of weakness, thinking it won’t change anything about his situation, Dean tells him the truth: it’s how he finds comfort and solace. Something that is difficult to come by. That is until the story reaches the ears of Castiel Novak, the model in question.

Whiskey & November by dothraki_shieldmaiden, FriendofCarlotta (Explicit, 188k words)

There is a place in L.A. where the richest of the rich can make their dreams come true. For an outrageous sum, they can hire an “angel” who is programmed to be exactly what they need: a stripper, a scientist, a temporary boyfriend. Most people don’t choose to question who the angels are, or where they came from. Sam Winchester is not most people. His brother Dean went missing in L.A. two years ago, and Sam has spent all that time trying to track him down. The trail leads him to a shadowy organization known as “Heaven” that coerces people into giving up their identities and personalities so they can be reprogrammed for Heaven’s purposes. Inside Heaven, trouble is brewing: two of the angels, Whiskey and November, are beginning to break through their programming. As they fall for each other and fight to remember who they are, they discover that they have an ally already working to bring down Heaven from within.

Not really amnesia, but they think they have it:

Found Family by Dizzybunny (Explicit, 55k words)

When Alpha Captain Castiel Novak returns to the US after being rescued from three years of captivity, he is amazed to find a family he doesn’t remember living in his house. Not just any family - his omega husband and pups. Dean had been told Castiel was MIA, and probably dead. Living in Castiel’s old house, raising his own and Castiel’s pups as a single father had been difficult, but he managed. Now Castiel is back. Can he fit into the life Dean has made? Can Dean adjust to having an alpha? Does Castiel want a husband he can’t remember?

White Lies & Winter Blues by PaperAnn (Explicit, 37k words)

When Castiel drives by a car wreck, he should’ve heeded the warning, ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ He’s a nurse, it’s a record-breaking, cruel winter, and upon seeing the driver hypothermic and near-death—his instincts kick in. Cas doesn't think, he jumps into action to save the omega. Once the ambulance arrives, Castiel joins the ride. Then in the hospital room, he keeps a watchful eye over the omega's treatment and care. All under the guise of being ‘his alpha.’ Castiel’s plan was innocent, wishing for a quick recovery, followed by quicker exit. Except, he misses his shot. The omega awakes and the nurse beats Cas to the punch, with the declaration, “You’re lucky your mate found you in time!” causing all hell to break loose. There are no questions. A starry-eyed and love-struck Dean Winchester automatically believes the accident caused amnesia, that Cas is his mate. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Now entangled in his own lies—still reeling from the unexpected discovery they’re true mates—Cas feels helpless. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do! Besides...playing along. Paving his road to hell, one good intention at a time.

[razorblade180]

Streamer AU 7

Streamer AU 6 <-

Dearly Beloved plays

Weiss:Oh wow, this sounds nice.

Blake:You’re going to be saying that a lot.

Weiss:I absolutely believe it. Also can we discuss why this menu had multiple games.

Jaune:One hurdle at a time. We just need to focus on one.

Yang:Now I know you said no backseating, but you will be a coward if you don’t pick the hardest difficulty.

Ruby:Oh! We should have a death counter!

Weiss:Chat, you see how they want me to suffer?

“Do it!”

“It’s not that hard”

“No balls!”

“Godspeed”

“5 subs if you do”

Weiss:Don’t try and bribe me!

Blake:Weiss, as someone whose played this game way too many times to count, you can handle proud mode.

Jaune:This game might be easier for you than FFX. It’s not turned based, but it’s also not as evil.

Weiss:…I want those gift subs you promised. *hits Proud Mode*

Yang:Peer Pressure wins again!

“I’ve been having these weird thoughts lately…”

Ruby and Blake:Eeehehe~

Weiss:The game just started, shush!

The curious girl pays attention to the words, not looking at chat or even how Jaune himself is rather giddy. Clearly this game means a lot to them. Still, to be this excited so quickly when nothing has-

“🎶Oh~🎶”

The music came out swinging as the screen lit up with visuals. Suddenly, Weiss’s eyes lit up.

Weiss:Oh I might like this song already.

“🎶You’re giving me~ to many things, lately🎶”

Weiss:Oh fuck…

xxxxx

The opening ends and Weiss is left with her hands in front of her mouth as she tries to rationalize what she just experienced.

Ruby:Ah yes, the face of someone processing greatness.

Weiss:Listen, I’m so torn right now. That sounded fun. I kinda want to grab my keyboard and see if I can play the melody but that derail everything.

Yang:Weiss if you start doing that now, I promise you that it will happen for every track.

Weiss:Fiiiine. I will play the video game.

Photo Bunny gifted 5 subs

Jaune:Thank you Velvet. And just like that, your 100 sub goal is met.

Yang:Aye! Now she has to dress like a character from something she’s played, right? I vote Chica!

Weiss:Denied.

Blake:I’m sure she already has plans.

Weiss:Umm, should I be concerned about what I pick and give up?

Jaune:Would it stop you from picking the staff?

Weiss:*smiles* Probably not.

Jaune:Heh, then go ahead and pick it. It’s your play through.

Yang:Even in a game, you stick to your core.

Weiss:*gives up sword*

Yang:Or maybe not. Colored me surprised.

Weiss:You made me pick the hardest difficulty. I’m not giving up a shield.

Yang:Chat, she’s using critical thinking. It’s all over.

Ruby:We’re you trying to put her on the hardest path!?

Jaune:That’s actually evil.

Yang:Weiss is a big girl. She beat a Resident Evil game. This should be easy for her.

Weiss:This is why Jaune is my co-host and not you.

xxxxxx

Boy: What are you afraid of?

Weiss:….*squints*

Jaune:*smiling* What’s up?

Weiss turns the camera around to see a aburn haired boy with a very distinct choice of clothes.

Weiss:That’s Wakka! Is- Tidus!?

Jaune:Yes that’s your favorite boys

Weiss:Yaaaaay! Okay, this game is cool. Wait, who’s the girl?

Blake and Ruby:Nobody important.

Jaune:Ren is going to kill you both.

Lotus Chef: “SHE’S IMPORTANT TO ME!”

Ruby:Ren, I need you to pick better Final Fantasy characters.

Lotus Chef: “Says the Hope fan girl”

Ruby:Nora, get your man.

Weiss: “My journey begins at midday” wait, this changes things too?

Jaune:It’s your leveling curve basically. You’ll have steady growth the whole game.

Weiss:I can live with that. Yang on the other hand…

Yang:Oh I already knew your choices were gonna be. My interference stopped after you didn’t get rid of the shield. You’ll probably beat this game in four streams without much trouble.

Weiss:You almost sound disappointed.

Yang:There’s a boss I had to help Ruby with years ago. I just wanted to bond over hating it with you but it probably won’t happen now!

xxxxxxx

Weiss:I’ve known Riku for five minutes and I already don’t like him.

Blake:Please don’t slander my son.

Yang:You’d like him if he hated his dad.

Weiss:Correct. I’m biased, and will continue to be so. Tidus starting a journey to say his dad sucks is amazing. In case nobody has gotten it yet, he’s the costume I’m picking.

“Complete with no undershirt?”

Jaune:*casually times user out*

Weiss:Pfft-

Jaune:What?

Weiss:Nothing~ Just listening to the music. Man, this kid has big shoes.

Ruby:He’s supposed to resemble traits of Mickey Mouse.

Weiss:Oh yeah, so is anyone going to explain why this game had Donald Duck and Goofy on the cover?

Everyone:….

Weiss:Alright, fair enough I guess.

Yang:Enjoy the whimsy. Did you see a lot Disney growing up?

Weiss:My recitals when I was little were a few songs.

Jaune:That’s kinda adorable.

Weiss:Until the tunes get stuck in your head. Speaking of which, I can’t ignore this. Jaune, if you would?

She points over to her bed since he’s closest. He grabs her keyboard and hands it over to her. Weiss presses a few keys slowly, trying to guess the correct notes before suddenly playing the Destiny Island theme

Yang:Damn. Why are you huntress!?

Weiss:Music doesn’t pay bills often enough. This melody reminds me of a commercial I did for sunblock .

xxxxxxx

Sora and Kairi: *watching the sunset*

Weiss:…I think I’m going to like this game.

Blake:One of us. One of us.

Big Bags & Miniguns: “Sora’s shorts are killing me inside.”

Weiss:I’m focusing on the half jacket.

Jaune:I like that it has a hood.

Weiss:Gee, I wonder why you like it.

“Kairi cosplay when?”

Weiss:Give that to Ruby.

Ruby:Bet. I already have the hair! You have to be Donald.

Weiss:As i- why is it dark and stormy night?

xxxxxxxx

Weiss:Ya see, I knew Riku was bitch. He’s mad I beat him.

Blake:Play the game!

Weiss:Hahaha!

Jaune:Chat this going to be a fun stream.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Part 5 - Noah

Noah laid there in his bed, the only light coming from the screen of his phone. The only sound in the room the old videos he kept watching. It was all that kept him going when sobriety got to be a little too difficult. And right now, it was hard as fuck. Until the other night nobody outside of his therapist had known just how much he despised himself for the shit he had put Lilith through in the end. And now he had gone and blurted it out like a fucking idiot. Such a fucking idiot. So, rather than relapse he was going to watch these old videos as many times as it took until the anxiety passed.

Listening to her laughter, seeing the way her eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners when she smiled, in and of itself was its own form of mental torture, but God, did it help keep the urge to drink away. A reminder of what life was like before the one or two drinks every so often turned into three or four most nights of the week. Then getting blackout drunk most nights of the week. Soon it was steady drinking from the moment he woke up until he passed out later that night. Rinse and repeat.

"Noah, I swear to all that is unholy. If you don't stop recording me right now I'm cutting your hair in your sleep!"

Noah chuckled to himself as Lilly in the video stopped doing her hair to run from him, laughing uncontrollably at his feeble attempt to stop her without dropping his phone. He had been obsessed with recording every moment with her when he wasn't on tour. Some excuse of watching them when he missed her, which he did do, but honestly it was because he just couldn't get enough of her. Even when they bickered he hated not being near her, always finding a reason just be around her while she tried to ignore his presence. Which she inevitably failed at, every time. Because as much as she refused to admit it at first, she needed to be near him just as much as he did her. Once upon a time, anyway.

Heaving a weary sigh he scrolled to the next video, immediately being greeted by her and Danny dressing up a skeleton Halloween decoration. Noah outright laughed as he watched the two of them dressing the skeleton up, neither understanding the directions the other was giving. It was their first Halloween in this house, and Lilly had insisted on going all out for the kids in the neighborhood. She'd had the bright idea of dressing skeletons up as Bring Me The Horizon members to put in the yard as a skeleton band.

Just then Matt walked in, flipping the light on, blinding him.

"Jesus Christ, Matt!" He yelled, covering his eyes. "The fuck do you want?"

"You've been hiding in here too long. Get your ass up and meet me downstairs in five."

"Fuck off."

"See you in five."

Matt left, leaving the door wide open. Fucking asshole. He loved Matt, he did, but he was a fucking asshole sometimes. Couldn't he just be left to rot in fucking peace?

"Fucking asshole," he grumbled, rolling out of bed. If he didn't get down there Matt would be back, likely with a bucket of water to dump on him or something stupid like that.

Noah caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he walked past it, and outwardly cringed. He looked like shit. Hair stuck up in every which way, four days worth of stubble on his face. Well, what little bit he could grow, anyway. He reached for the hoodie he'd flung on the back of his chair, pulling it over his head as he stomped out his bedroom door and to the stairs. This better be good.

***

"If you really want to make amends, hiding after having a panic attack in her kitchen isn't the way to do it."

Matt's words swam around in his head, circling over and over again. He was still an asshole, but he meant well. Of course, he was right. But how would he even go about making amends? Would she even be open to allowing him to? The way she had looked at him that night, he wasn't so sure. However, she had done everything she could in that moment to help him. Shit, it had worked better than anything anyone else did after he got home.

Carefully he leaned forward, inspecting his now shaven face. Couldn't miss any spots or it would drive him nuts. He had always been that way, but since getting sober he was more meticulous about it. Everything had to be just so or he couldn't function properly until it was fixed. Satisfied he had gotten everything he stood back up, pulling a plain white shirt over his head.

First order of business was to get cleaned up. Second was to at least attempt to get a hold of her. If she didn't answer he would just show up. Well, maybe not unannounced. That hadn't exactly gone well last time. A repeat sounded like an absolutely terrible idea if he was honest. One panic attack she might forgive, but a second one? Hardly. He was surprised she even answered her phone the last time.

Speaking of, he picked his phone up off the counter, freezing over her name. Was this a call or text situation? Maybe he should have asked one of the guys first. Jolly would probably be the one to know. He knew her best these days. Unfortunately, Jolly was out with Sadie.

Fuck it. He would text her, and if she didn't get back to him after a while then he would call. For all he knew she was at work, anyway. Heart pounding in his chest he hit the button to text her, freezing at the last message he had received from her. The night he had fucked everything up beyond repair.

"Where are you? Noah, you're worrying me."

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[missybee-writes]

Shadow in the Dark: Chapter Five - Sleepover

Genre: Sci-fi; Romance; Horror

Warnings: (eventual) sexual content; violence; gore; swearing; alcohol and drug use.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC

Summary

In July ‘85, an ambitious realtor sells the crumbling Creel house to a family looking for a new start.

Rose McAllister may be living in a grand and gothic murder house in a small Midwest town, but senior year in high school is the stuff of her nightmares: a last chance at a normal school year without being the odd one out, the sick girl, the weirdo from across the pond. Blend in, make it through the year, and make some friends. Stay unnoticed at all costs.

Hawkins, and one seriously loud-mouthed metalhead, is about to flip that carefully laid plan Upside Down.

Chapter one: Cursed

Chapter two: Munson Magic

Chapter three: Fearless

Chapter Four: Code Name, Farrah Fawcett

Ao3 link

---

Rose

Hawkins was pretty in the autumn. Maybe it was the burnt orange leaves that crunched underneath her boots, or the slight chill in the air that felt crisp and tingled in her lungs as she breathed deeply. Maybe it was the freedom of walking into town on a Saturday afternoon by herself, fresh from a morning of American History homework and completing all her week’s assignments. She might not have a driver's license, but when the red-gold tree-lined streets were this picturesque, who minded walking?

Main Street was busy on a Saturday afternoon, a dozen bikes chained up outside the stores, older folks sat on a bench outside the library, watching the world go by. A girl with red hair a little lighter than Rose’s swung open the door of the arcade, and a loud wave of bleeping machines and electronic music blasted out the open door. She slapped a skateboard on the sidewalk, jumping on it and balancing easily, weaving between a couple leaving Melvald’s General Store with big brown paper bags and ignoring their protests as she passed. The girl raised her middle finger over her head as she disappeared in the distance, attitude stone cold.

Rose peered into the arcade window, and saw a familiar gangly figure inside. Mike was hunched over one of the arcade games, bashing buttons and manhandling a joystick, whilst Lucas leaned against it, slumped and looking longingly at the door.

She thought about waving or saying hello, but they were both absorbed by the shiny metal machine with its bright screen, with a great big donkey plastered on the side. Fixated, like it was life and death. She’d never understood the appeal herself; being wound up like a jack-in-the-box and raging with anger, desperate to beat some high score and placing coin after coin into the game...all for what? To end up on a leaderboard on a tiny screen?

After a few seconds at the window someone her age with brown hair and a name badge popped up on the other side with a weird look on his face, staring at her with his mouth wide open; she backed away slowly, then quickly paced along the sidewalk, almost missing her destination.

Family Video was attached to the arcade, with a neon store sign and glass windows covered in posters of The Breakfast Club and Scarface , along with other movies she hadn’t seen. Her nerves came back in full force as she pushed open the door, not sure if Robin would be up front. 

It wasn’t busy inside, with only a couple of families browsing the rows and rows of tapes, and stands of popcorn and candy. A guy leaned casually on the counter, in a white shirt and green waistcoat, kind of like Han Solo. He was glued to a TV behind the counter, with his back to Rose, and a hell of a head of hair.

“Welcome to Family Video,” he said in a monotone voice, like he wanted to be anywhere else. “We bring the stars of Hollywood to your living room for low, low prices.”

No sign of Robin, not lingering in the rows of tapes or behind the counter with the guy.

“Hello,” she approached the counter with a tentative wave, one slow step at a time. “Hi. Sorry, i’m looking for Robin, and I don’t know if i’m in the right place.”

He noticed her slowly, head turning, straightening himself up and looking at her eagerly. Floppy hair. Confident. 

She fidgeted with her hands, squirming internally at being the centre of someone’s full attention. “Well, I know I must be in the right place, there can’t be two video stores in a town this size, can there? I mean, there are only so many times you can watch The Breakfast Club before you start to lose the will to live. Oh...sorry, that’s probably your favourite, isn’t it. I have a unique talent of putting my foot in my mouth within three seconds of meeting someone.”

The guy’s answering smile was kind of dreamy, which threw her for a loop. He leaned on the counter, speaking low, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Actually, between you and me, I hate The Breakfast Club. I feel like i’m there, taking detention on a Saturday, wasting my life in a school library instead of being outside with my friends. Libraries are kind of dull, aren’t they?”

“Some people would say that,” she mumbled. Not her , but she didn’t want to argue about it. “I’ve never had detention though.”

“Not once?”

“Nope. Cross my heart.”

He found that amusing, his smile growing wider. “Really? You know what, you kind of remind me of the girl from that movie. Molly Ringwald. Mostly the hair, maybe not the face.”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it myself.” Rose’s hand raked through her hair; it was much longer, but perhaps it was a similar shade of red. Though Molly Ringwald had a perfectly styled head of hair in the movie, and Rose’s long waves were more untameable. She’d left it in its natural state this morning as she couldn’t face a can of hairspray or a mirror, still brooding after last night’s disaster when Eddie drove her home and all but confessed he had someone special already. And she was admittedly a little taller and rounder than Molly, never running particularly thin like some of the girls at school.

“Actually, I’ve been told i’m like the jock, what’s his name...” he clicked his fingers repeatedly.

“Emilio Estevez?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. But come on, Emilio Estevez wishes he had my hair.”

She snorted with laughter, covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “It is a good head of hair. I wish I could keep mine that bouncy.”

“You think so? It’s all natural, just born with good genetics, I guess. Hey, how have I not seen you around before? I mean-”

“Oh no, this is not happening, Steve! ” A screeching Robin burst through the office doorway behind the desk, an angry whirlwind in a green waistcoat, hair tied up in a messy half-pony. “My friends are off limits. Keep your sucky flirting skills in your holster.”

Rose cringed hard, half tempted to hide behind a row of tapes or a cardboard cutout of Indiana Jones she’d just spotted in the corner. Refuge behind her beloved Indy.

“ Jesus , Rob,” Steve whined, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can’t I have a conversation with a girl without you bursting out and mocking me? Do you have to do this every time?”

That was flirting? Rose glanced at him out the corner of her eye...she supposed he did have a kind of Simon Le Bon look...but not even a resemblance to her favourite musician could detract from the fact that when she saw this guy’s perfectly nice brown eyes, all she could think of was they’re not Eddie’s . Eddie’s were unfathomably dark, except in the bright sunlight, when the sun’s rays lit them whiskey-brown. Oh god, She was well and truly fucked, wasn’t she?

Robin leapt onto the counter and knocked over a tape, sitting cross legged on the top and prodding him in the chest.

“Ow,” he rubbed the offending spot.

“You should be thanking me for retiring the ‘you suck’ scoreboard, dingus. I finally have a cool, cultured, European friend, and you’re not taking her from me with your Farrah Fawcett hair and your King Harrington routine. She speaks French, Steve. French. She’s been to Paris. Whatever this is,” Robin waved her hand at him disdainfully, “she’s not interested.”

“Hello? I’m right here,” Rose said. The odd duo didn’t even stop to take a breath, they kept right on bickering.

“Alright, alright, cool it,” Steve held up his hands, de-escalating the situation. “I’m not sure if I can just turn off my innate natural charm like a light switch, but I get it. Off limits.”

“Steve?” Rose said, cogs turning slowly in her head. “As in, walkie talkie Steve?”

They both snapped to her, like they only just remembered she was there, wearing twin expressions of confusion. 

“How do you know about the walkie-talkies?” Robin asked suspiciously. “Our frequency is supposed to be highly secret.”

Steve leaned into Robin, their heads almost pressed together. “You said she speaks other languages , right?”

Robin thought about it for a while, and shrugged. “Nah, she’s too odd to be a...uh...one of the workers in the mall. She’s organically odd. No one in a position of power would dream this cover story up.”

“Odd, you say. How?” Steve asked.

“Well, for one, she made a total ass of herself in front of O’Donnell’s class by insulting the jocks and their macho need to throw balls in hoops. No desire to fit in with that team of idiots and their slack-jawed followers, at all.”

Steve frowned. “I was the captain of that team of idiots until like three months ago...you do remember that, don’t you?”

“That’s why her speech was so brilliant, it was insightful...scathing...tearing down the fragile male ego,” Robin sighed. “But she also lives in the murder house on Morehead, and that’s just too weird a backstory to make up.”

“Maybe,” Steve agreed. “Or maybe that’s what the Russians want you to think. Or maybe - ”

“Fucking hell,” Rose snapped. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know half of what you’re talking about, but you seem to be implying i’m some kind of spy, when actually i’m just friends with Dustin. I overheard your conversation on the walkies. Spinal Tap? Remember?”

“Oh shit,” Steve said, the memory clearly coming back to him. “ You’re Dustin’s lady friend.”

“Ew, don’t phrase it like that.” Robin pulled a face. But she slumped with relief, resting her elbows on her cross-legged knees. “I’m sorry, Rose, we may get a little carried away sometimes. You’re good, in fact, you’re great. Most interesting newcomer to Hawkins in like, ever. Are we good? You’re not gonna ban me from our murder-house movie night sleepover are you?”

Rose kicked the fluorescent carpet with her shoe, looking at the floor. “Of course not. Who am I to judge someone else with verbal diarrhoea? If anything, it makes me feel less anxious. And I could do with some cheering up, actually.”

“Oh,” Robin drew out the word, scooching along the counter and dropping her legs off the front, coming closer to Rose. “Is it to do with that whole thing going on at school, the extreme sexual tension with...uh...the guy in our English class.”

“Guy?” Steve asked, looking slightly dejected. “Of course, all the beautiful girls are spoken for.”

Rose was reeling with the implication that anyone would think her beautiful, let alone this admittedly handsome and confident young man, when a customer shattered their illusion of privacy.

“Excuse me?” A middle aged lady in a pea coat, clutching a tape, approached the counter. “Is anyone actually working in this place?”

Steve’s ‘innate natural charm’ turned straight back on, smiling sweetly at the lady. “I am so sorry, ma’am, we were just helping this customer with a video-related dilemma. But let me help you right out with that....Love Story, huh? What a classic movie. Gosh, it just makes me cry every time.”

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” the lady said, looking starry-eyed at him. “I’ve watched it a dozen times, at least.”

Steve stifled a laugh. “Is that so? Well that must make you our most loyal customer.”

Robin hopped off the counter, leaving Steve to serve the lady, ushering Rose to one side, standing underneath the TV. She slung her arm around her. “I’m the last person to think the world revolves around guy drama, but this is about him, isn’t it?”

Rose could feel a curious mix of anger and tenderness at the very implication of it. She hadn’t had the chance to speak to Robin about it, Robin only twigged on her crush yesterday, seeing her and Eddie together up close for the first time.

“Maybe,” she offered up.

“What a dickhead,” Robin fumed on her behalf. “What did he do? Whatever it is, it’s his fault, I just know it. My offer stands, by the way. I can set a very ferocious middle schooler on him for you. He’ll crumble like a breadstick.”

“It’s not anything he did,” Rose groaned. “It’s what he didn’t do. It’s me, i’m an idiot.”

Steve’s eyes were alert, swivelling between the two girls. The moment the lady at the counter left and the store's door closed, he leaned across the counter. “Who are we talking about here? Do I know the guy? Want me to break out my nail bat?”

Robin shot him a scathing look. The two of them clearly were great friends, for this felt like the real unfiltered Robin, not the slightly more reserved version she’d seen at school. “It’s not my place to tell you, it’s kind of private.”

“Who am I gonna repeat high school gossip to?” He said. “I’m a working man now, with my own place.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Your parents’ pool house doesn’t count, dingus.”

“Yes it does!”

“Do you pay rent?”

“I help with groceries sometimes.”

She looked over at Rose. “Point proven. He’s a man child.”

“Hey, that is a very adult thing to do, alright?” He objected, crossing his arms and looking between the both of them. “And not even the grocery store. I went to the butchers in Cartersville last week and picked up a rack of lamb for my mom’s dinner party, it cost twenty bucks...how ridiculous is that?”

“Was it crusted in gold?” Rose added. “Never mind. Anyway, there’s no secret to keep because nothing is happening . Eddie and I are merely friends. Platonic friends, who barely know each other. Acquaintances, really. That is all.”

“No, no, no,” Robin interjected. “ Steve and I are platonic friends. Have been ever since we started working together at Scoops Ahoy. I enjoy watching him strike out with girls, because we’re not interested in each other like that. You and Eddie? No way. I thought English class yesterday was gonna end one of two ways: a proposal, or the two of you making out on O’Donnell’s desk in front of the whole class. It was the nerdiest flirting i’ve ever witnessed in my life - and that includes dingus here - but you were both drooling over each other.”

“Eddie.” Steve tapped on the counter as he thought aloud. “Eddie Kowalski, in Junior year? Glasses, mathlete?”

“God, no,” Robin laughed.

“But it has to be, that's the only Eddie below my class at-” Steve paused, and looked back at Rose in total shock. “Oh sweet mother of god, hold on. Are we talking about Eddie the freak Munson?”

Rose snapped. All the emotions of the past week boiled up and rushed out at once, until she was wagging her finger in Steve’s face. “Don’t call him that! What is it with people calling him a freak? He’s the kindest, sweetest person I think I've ever met. He protects his little pack of friends, gathers up all the outcasts who are bullied and abused, and puts himself on the line - literally taking a beating, if what I hear from Dustin is true - to keep them safe and give them a sense of belonging. He’s putting himself through a third senior year, because despite all the insults and the mocking from his classmates and the whole bloody town, he wants to be better than the name Munson . Nothing about that suggests to me that he is a freak.”

Robin and Steve were stunned into silence, and it was too much. Tears started spilling from the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by all the new things that had happened in her short time in Hawkins High, the new place, new people, and horrible new emotions. “And maybe I thought something would happen between us. But it’s all hopeless, because he already has someone. He said as much last night, when he wouldn’t come into my house. I feel like such a fucking idiot . Sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

After a long pause, breathing hard, Robin rushed over and gave her a bone-crunching hug, the scent of shampoo and strawberry chapstick overcoming her. It was strangely comforting, not being able to move in her arms.

“Boys are so stupid,” Robin groaned. “But in good news, you’re in the right place for a breakdown. Steve and I are the most pathetic losers in the romance department ever. He’s not over his ex, and I...well, I have a tendency to like people who are unattainable. And beyond that, it’s been kind of a hellish year for us.”

“Yep,” Steve echoed. “We’re doomed. Welcome to the losers club, come and join us.” He opened the hatch to the counter, and she followed Robin into the employees’ domain, the little control centre of the video store.

“Munson though,” Steve mused out loud. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. Though I suppose Molly Ringwald does end up with Judd Nelson in the Breakfast Club. is there a basket case out there searching for me? If she looks like Ally Sheedy, I'll gladly accept.”

“Eddie is nothing like Bender,” Rose scoffed, sitting on a stool by the snacks. “Eddie rants a little bit, but he’s not angry. He’s just anti-establishment, naturally ill-disposed to authority.”

“That’s too many syllables for a Saturday evening,” Robin complained. “But here’s what I don’t get...who the hell is this mystery girl that Eddie is with? I have never seen him with a girl at school, not once. There was a rumour that a girl in the party kid clique - Cass something or other - was seeing him secretly a couple of years ago, but that was never really proved. And she had plenty of boyfriends after. Anyway it’s a moot point, she moved to Wisconsin for College in ‘84.”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t think of a single girl it could be. But we haven’t exactly moved in the same circles. Are you sure he has someone? What happened?”

Rose picked at a loose thread on her dress, going back to the conversation in her driveway last night. “He dropped me off at home last night. I asked if he wanted to come inside, and he said he’d like to, but he made a promise not to do it and he didn’t want to be a cheating, lying scumbag like his dad. Or words to that effect.”

Steve sucked in a breath. “Damn. Did he actually mention a girlfriend by name?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re sure he likes you?” He asked. “I don’t want to upset anyone, but he could have used a fake girlfriend as an excuse. What kind of signs are we talking about here? And not this girlie magazine stuff, like he opened a door for me once, he must be dreaming of our marriage ?”

“I don’t have much experience in this area, but let’s see,” Rose said, so firmly down the rabbit hole with Robin and Steve that she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. “He made me a mixtape. He called me fairer than the sunrise over  mountains. He kissed my hand once, though that was kind of acting during a Hellfire session. We did almost properly kiss a couple of times.”

“Wait, what?” Robin interrupted. “You never told me this? Explain, stat.”

Rose’s skin flushed warm. “We were in the woods behind the school on Monday, and we ended up holding hands. He sort of held my face and pulled me closer, but his rings got stuck in my hair and took out a small chunk of it. Oh, and then we were pressed against the lockers yesterday but Jeff came into the hall, and even Jeff noticed something, he called it a weird, alien mating ritual. So I don’t think it’s just me misunderstanding things.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve affirmed, arms crossed over his Family Video waistcoat. “That is not platonic behaviour. He’s down bad.”

“But I don’t think i’m his type. Dustin said he has a thing for cheerleaders.”

Steve made a funny face. “Pfft. So he’s a red blooded male? Doesn’t mean he only likes cheerleaders.”

Robin cracked her knuckles and stood up, pacing around the desk area. “We need to solve this mystery, I just can’t take it. Is there an unknown girlfriend? What is going on? I would say we could ask Dustin and Mike, but they’re little snitches, I can sense it. They’ll tell Eddie or the older guys and it will all come out.”

It was oddly comforting, sitting with an action movie blaring in the background as the last few customers of the day browsed the tapes, sharing her confusion with Steve and Robin behind the counter. At least she wasn’t brooding in her room, looking out over the treetops like a heroine from an Austen novel.

“Hold on a minute,” Steve sounded excited. “I may not have moved in the same circles as Eddie, but I know someone who does. I dated Jackie Teague in Junior year.”

He looked at them like that should mean something, tutting when their faces were blank. “Her older brother Dougie was one of his best friends, before he failed senior year the first time. And he used to be in that satanic little club with Eddie, the stupid hell and brimstone thing.”

“Hellfire,” Rose corrected. “Which i’ve joined, by the way.”

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, like he was utterly fed up. “Eddie Munson is suddenly a crushable figure and pretty girls are joining the satan club? It’s like the order of things changed as soon as I graduated. But I might be able to get to Dougie through Jackie and get the dirt on your guy.”

“You would do that?” Rose said gratefully. 

“Any friend of Robin’s is a friend of mine. Plus, us romantic losers need a helping hand now and then, right?” He ran over to a jacket on the back of his chair, and pulled a little book out of his pocket, wetting his thumb and flipping through the pages.

Robin pumped her fist and hopped back up on the table, sitting cross-legged again. “Steve, I knew your slutty little black book would come in handy one day. I am so here for this investigation. Harrington, Buckley and McAllister, detectives extraordinaire. You know what? All this tension makes me hungry. This calls for snacks,” she reached out for a pack of candy, something labelled Chewy Lemonheads Rose had never seen before. She broke open the box and popped one in her mouth, holding out the box. “What? I’ll ring this up on the register before I leave, i’m not just stealing.”

“Thanks,” Rose took one, pulling off the plastic wrapper as Steve balanced the earpiece of the phone between his ear and shoulder, dialling a number.

There was a long pause. “Jackie, it's Steve. Yeah, that Steve...” he grimaced at Robin and Rose, and a tinny voice from the phone got louder. “No Jackie, I am not crawling back to...hold on a minute, will you just let me speak? I’m sorry about the whole thing, alright? Tommy H was a prick. No, we don’t hang out together any more, I wised up eventually...yeah, you were right about me. I wasn’t in the best place, but i’m doing better now.”

Steve slumped over, shaking his head. “Actually, i’m not at college, i’m a working man now. Wait, that’s not the point. I kind of need to speak to your brother about something, I was hoping you could give me his number. Why?” He looked over at Rose, scrambling for something to say. “He was in a band, and i’m looking to get into the music sales business. I could do with some insider intel on what kind of items to stock. Uh...amps...guitars, you know, the usual.”

His smile must have meant it worked. He grabbed the little book, and looked around desperately for a pen; Rose leapt off her stool and passed him one from the counter, so he could scribble down a number. “Thanks. Seriously, i’m glad you’re doing well. Bye Jackie.”

Robin began to laugh, her shoulders shaking. “She was mad, wasn’t she. What happened between you two?”

Steve raised a brow. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Are you the lady in this scenario?”

“He’s one of the girls, don’t let him fool you into thinking he’s a jock,” Robin agreed.

“Haven’t I done enough?” Steve waved the number in the air. 

“You’re right,” Rose said, contrite. “Please, please work your mysterious magic and see what you can find out. I’ll owe you one.”

He was smug, still craned to one side to hold the receiver to his ear. He dialled the second number, whistling as he waited for the phone to ring out.

“Where even is Dougie Teague?” Robin asked, voice muffled as she chewed on a lemonhead. 

“Terre Haute, his old man has a construction firm up there,” Steve replied. “Oh hi , man. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Sorry, that wasn’t a joke about the Hellflame club.”

They waited whilst Steve greeted this Dougie guy, a faint voice coming from the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I have a favour to ask,” Steve admitted, twirling the phone cord around his finger. “But before I say anything, I need you to promise that word doesn’t reach anyone about what i’m asking, including the person this relates to. It’s part of the favour. Why should you do that? Do you not remember the number of times I distracted your parents at dinner while you climbed in the window stoned off your ass? And the time that I took the blame for that box of condoms? Your dad gave me ‘the talk’ with a shotgun casually laid out on the coffee table. I could have died, man. Or, I could go and visit your Mom right now and...”

Rose was kind of engrossed, finding out about the inner workings of this Steve, the friend to so many people in her new social circle. From his easy going demeanour, and the way he so casually called in a whole bunch of favours to help a relative stranger, she could tell he was a good egg. 

“Thank you,” Steve sighed. “That’s the spirit. So I need to know everything about the romantic history of Eddie Munson.”

He held the receiver away from his head as laughter rang out. “Yeah man, i’m serious. Remember the deal. Jeez, I don’t care if you think he’s an overdramatic dungeon master...wait, that’s not something sexual is it? Oh, thank god. Now spill. Any girlfriends, crushes, preferences?”

Five minutes stretched out with Steve adding the occasional uh huh, okay , or anything else? , and it felt like the longest five minutes of Rose’s life. Robin had to serve a couple of customers in the interim, ushering them out of the store as quickly as she could without being rude. Between them they went through the box of candy, until she could feel the beginnings of a stomach ache coming on. Though it could be the tension as much as the chewy lemonheads, tangy and sugar-sweet in her mouth.

By the time Steve hung up the phone with a shrill ring, it was closing time. Robin sprinted over to the door and flipped over the sign from open to closed and they waited with baited breath.

“Do you want the good news or the bad first?” Steve asked, running his hand through his floppy hair, almost making it stand on end. 

“Bad,” Rose said. “Wait, good then bad. I’m fragile today, build me up to it.”

“Okay. Good news, he doesn’t have a girlfriend that Dougie knows of, and saw Eddie only last month for a rock concert in Terre Haute.”

“That’s great!” Robin looked joyful. “No girlfriend!”

“That we know of,” Rose reminded her.

Steve cleared his throat and continued. “He’s not really had girlfriends in school, Dougie thinks he was seeing that Cass girl. He may have had a thing with a girl from a bar in town, but that was a while back. And his last girlfriend was a music label executive from California, who was a few years older. She apparently wanted Eddie to move out there and pursue a record deal, but something happened to throw it off. He wouldn’t say what it was.”

What? How was she supposed to compete with older women, bloody record executives with a vast array of experience - life, career, sexual - that she wouldn’t have? And she would bet the California girl didn't need to be given a mixtape to learn what metal music is. God, it made her feel like a kid.

“There’s more,” he said carefully. “Dougie thinks he has a thing for Chrissy Cunningham, though Eddie hadn’t mentioned it in a while. Said he’d had a crush on her since middle school.”

At this point, Rose just hummed and nodded, her worst fears oconfirmed. “I see. So he’s either not into me at all, and using some imaginary girl to spare my feelings as he’s changed his mind about me. Or, he’s in love with Chrissy, maybe even carrying on some kind of fling behind her boyfriend Jason’s back.”

“That’s just a theory,” Robin added, her energy wild. “If anything, this has opened up even more questions. We need more leads. Maybe Chrissy herself; she looks fragile. I can get that nut to crack. Let’s get her in the girls’ bathroom on Monday. Or wait...where does she live?

“Woah,” Steve held up his hands. “I hate to douse water on this fire, but have you thought about sitting down with the guy and actually asking him what’s going on? Like a proper, adult conversation?”

Rose and Robin looked at each other, and burst out laughing. “Are you mad?” Rose said between gulps of air. “What am I going to say? Eddie, I may have known you for less than two weeks but i’ve developed a raging crush on you, and after secretly interrogating your old friends using very shady contacts outside of school-”

“Hey, i’m not shady!”

“Correction, using very unorthodox contacts outside of school, i’ve compiled a history of your love life, and think you might be carrying on an affair with your middle school crush. Can you confirm or deny?”

Steve rubbed his face with his hand. “Okay, when you put it like that, it sounds insane. Maybe you could just say: I like you, I think you might like me, do you wanna go out sometime? That’s how I've always asked girls out. Maybe with a little embellishment, but it’s not difficult.”

“He already declined coming into my house and said he didn’t want to be a lying cheat, what am I supposed to do, beg?” She argued. “Oh god, i’ve accidentally willed this into being, haven’t I...i’ve always wanted to be Eowyn, Lady of Rohan. And now I am.”

She looked at their blank faces, and missed Hellfire and Eddie deeply. They would have put the metaphor together straight away, and known exactly what she meant. “It’s a character from Lord of the Rings. She falls in love with the hero, Aragorn, future King of Gondor, pining away for him as they battle the forces of evil. But he’s in love with an Elvish princess, Arwen Evenstar. Okay, there’s a little more to it, but it’s a tragic love triangle with swords and elf ears and stuff.”

“Back up,” Steve said. “We’re in a world where Eddie Munson is a fantasy hero with not one, but two beautiful women lusting after him, and I can’t even get a date? What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

Robin was eager to leap in. “Do you want the cliffnotes, or the full thesis?”

“Ha ha,” he said sarcastically. 

“Fuck it,” Rose stood up. “I’m not going to talk about Eddie Munson any more. We’re going to rent a movie, and consume so much sugar that we can’t see straight. Also, I don’t know if you drink, but I may have a sizeable stash of alcohol and a mother who always forgets the drinking age is twenty-one here, and not eighteen.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, that sounds good. My brain is fuzzy enough today, let’s double it up with booze.”

“I like that energy, Buckley,” she replied. “What movie do you want to watch?” Something high brow and intellectual? Foreign language?”

Robin laid back on the counter, knocking over the candy display. “I can’t take it tonight. Give me something trashy and brainless.”

Rose went out into the rows of tapes, scouting the shelves, fingers trailing over the VHS tapes. She left behind the documentaries and dramas, heading for the new and popular releases. She passed right over The Breakfast Club, stopping at some of the other tapes, grabbing a couple and coming back to a reclining Robin holding two aloft.

“Footloose, and Risky Business. What do you think?”

Robin gave her a big thumbs up.

Steve watched her with a strange look. “Dancing and hookers. Sounds like a good night. I was always kind of jealous of girl sleepovers...boys don’t get that.”

“You never had a sleepover?” Rose asked. “I haven’t had one in a long time. Unless you count sleeping with five other girls on a hospital ward. There was much less chance for booze and gossip, and the bleeping machines killed the vibe.”

“Not really,” Steve confessed. “Not outside of people crashing after a party, but then we’d all be hooking up. My parents weren’t big on hosting when I was a kid.”

“Come with us!” Rose said, spur of the moment. She’d had such a nice time in the video store, that she knew she didn’t want him to feel left out. It would be nice to bond with them over something other than her doomed love life, and she wouldn’t get to see him at school like she would Robin.

“Ooh, yeah!” Robin sat up quickly, grabbing the back of her head as if she were dizzy. “Come on, it will be fun! Haven’t you wanted to see inside Creel House?”

Steve shuffled from foot to foot, like he couldn’t make up his mind. “You’re parents won’t mind?” 

“Not at all,” Rose reassured him. “The house is as big as the high school, so you can have a room to yourself. My mum would love to meet some of my friends, and my stepdad is as threatening as a puppy. He’ll keep out of the way. It’s the least I can do, after you went to all that trouble with your ex.”

He chewed it over, and broke out into a big smile. “Girls night it is! Give me an hour to lock up and grab some clothes from home, and I can come to your place.”

“Great,” she beamed. “It’s near the corner of Morehead and Cornwallis, opposite the abandoned playground.”

He grabbed the keys, tossing them into the air and catching them deftly. “Oh, everyone knows where that house is. I’ll see you there.”

Robin patted him on the cheek as they left the store. “What did I say, Stevie? You’re just one of the girls.”

---

The walk from Family Video back to Rose’s house was slow. Rose and Robin talked nonstop, pausing every few minutes to laugh until tears came to their eyes, Robin filling her in on all funny or boring facts she could summon on Hawkins and the townsfolk. 

“There,” Robin said, pointing at a dilapidated, rusty-roofed bus stop on Morehead, just a few minutes from home. “That’s where an owl attacked old Mrs Gillespie’s head, and tried to nest in her perm.”

“What?” Rose barked out. “How big was that woman’s hair?”

“That’s not even the best bit, it turned out she’d been wearing a hairpiece since the late 60s, and the goddamn owl clutched it in its talons and flew away with it.”

Rose covered her mouth with her hands. “No way.”

“Yes way, she even called the police station to report a theft!”

She doubled up and clutched her sides, laughing so hard it hurt her ribs. “Stop.”

“Chief Hopper, or Officer Hopper back then, asked if she wanted it reported for theft or actual bodily harm.”

Rose buckled over, laughing until she couldn’t breathe. “I think I might pee.”

That launched Robin into another fit of giggles, and the two of them clutched each other, stumbling the street like drunks, laughing even harder when a passing car swerved away and the driver looked like he should be calling the doctors at Pennhurst Mental Hospital. 

The girls arrived like that, swaying up the driveway and scaring away the birds from the trees, which of course made it even worse. As they stepped up on the porch, Robin craned her neck and whistled, looking up at the house.

“What are you, part of the Addams Family? Is Lurch gonna answer the door and offer me a cup of tea?”

“Yep, Uncle Fester will be along any minute.”

Robin snickered. “If you mean Steve, with all that hair he’s more like Cousin It.”

Rose fiddled with her bag and tried to find her keys, when the door clicked open and swung inward. Jerry stood in the doorway, in a striped shirt and a cardigan, smiling merrily at them.

“Welcome, come on in,” he said, arms beckoning inward. “Now the first thing we do in this house when we have visitors is put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Robin screeched like Mrs Gillespie’s criminal owl, and her face was so red she looked like she would burst a blood vessel any minute. All the tension Rose had accumulated dropped, and she was filled with mirth and happiness, unable to keep herself serious, laughing alongside her yet again.

Jerry scratched his greying head, and looked kind of worried. “Uh...Shirley? I think I might need your help. I don’t know what to do!”

A set of footsteps bounded down the stairs, and her mother’s panicked face came into view, softening as soon as she saw Robin and Rose gasping for breath and wiping tears from their eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry, Jerry,” her mum said. “This is what teenagers are like when they gather in packs. They’re like Gremlins fed after midnight. You girls haven’t been drinking already, have you?”

“Nope,” Rose asserted. “Just high on life.”

Mum’s blue eyes - same as Rose’s, one of the only features they had in common - narrowed. “Hmm. Well come on in, let me put the kettle on.”

The hilarity began again, until the adults in the house went from amused to slightly irritated. They made it inside eventually, Robin cooing over the period features in the house, the sweeping stair and fireplace, high ceilings and turn of the century architecture. 

“I’m sorry, Mrs Gruber,” she said, gathering herself together. “I’m Robin Buckley. Rose’s friend from English class. You’re house is amazing. It’s so gothic and bohemian at the same time, I love it.”

Mum looked so genuinely pleased she almost vibrated with happiness. “Thank you, Robin. You’re welcome any time. God knows we can barely find each other in this house as it is, we probably wouldn’t even notice you!”

Rose stepped in, patting her mother on the back, trying to butter her up. “On that note, I may have promised that another friend can stay over too. Is that alright?”

Mum nodded, blonde hair bobbing about her face. “Of course. WIll she want to stay in the attic room too?”

“ He , actually.” Rose said confidently. “Steve is Robin’s best friend, they work at the Family Video together.”

Jerry clutched his chest in the background, like he might have a stroke, but her mother was totally unfazed. “It isn’t some sort of menage a trois, is it?”

“Bloody hell, no,” Rose said loudly. “He’s more like one of the girls. Honestly, it's mortifying that you would ask me that.”

Her mother merely smiled. “Oh, stop. You’re nineteen in a few weeks, not a little child. If this Steve wants to stay, he can stay. We can make up the guest room at the back of the house, can’t we, Jerry.”

He’d gone pale, but nodded dutifully. “Yes, Shirley. What a...great idea.”

Mum ordered a pizza while Rose gave her friend the tour, pointing out all doors that shouldn’t be opened, bits and pieces of the house that might snap or fall off at any minute, or wobbly floorboards, as they were still in the middle of restoring the long-abandoned place to its former glory.

When Steve pulled into the driveway an hour later, Rose ran out onto the porch to greet him, a bottle of Jerry’s beer in hand. Steve came into the house to a round of cheers; he seemed to love being greeted by a bunch of adults and teenagers eating pizza in front of a tiny TV in a huge sitting room, the music from Footloose blaring on the little speaker. Another hour and another drink - or two - later, and they all hung out in Rose’s room in the attic.. 

“No way!” Robin cried out from her spot on the end of Rose’s bed. “I’m an only child too! All three of us, that’s weird.”

Steve was laid out on a beanbag, with a girly peach-schnapps based cocktail made by her mother in his hand, sipping loudly and trying not to poke out his eye with a little yellow cocktail umbrella. “Mmm...but...would you actually want a sibling? Aren’t they kind of annoying?”

“Maybe,” Rose said, laying on the head of the bed, her feet propped up against the wall and covering the poster-face of Indiana Jones. “But i’m just glad to be here, eating pizza and drinking Tia Maria with you guys. Just happy to be alive, you know? Heart still beating. Life still moving forward. Living in a place so quiet and unremarkable that I know I can just...rest for a bit. You know what I mean?”

“Oh boy,” Robin groaned. “Sure is normal in Hawkins. Nothing ever happens here.”

Steve giggled, high pitched. “She’s right. But you live in a murder house...how can you say nothing happens here?”

Rose rolled right-side up without spilling a drop of her coffee liqueur-martini concoction. “Oh. I forgot. I don’t really know about the murder. Didn’t want to ask.”

“Really? Robin screeched. “I’d have to know.”

Rose hummed. “Maybe someone was pushed down the stairs? Stabbed in the kitchen, with a knife? Or maybe just whacked over the head in this attic with a lead pipe? Yep, that’s right, I live inside a real-life Cluedo. Just wonderful .”

“The Creel murder was brutal,” Steve explained. “It...woah, what the heck is happening with the lights?”

Rose opened her eyes. The bulbs in her room were malfunctioning one by one, the lamps and ceiling light blinking on and off. “Oh, it happens all the time. Dodgy electrics, you see.”

“That makes sense,” Robin reasoned. “This place is ancient.”

Steve wasn’t convinced. He took another sip of his cocktail, watching the lights, pointing at them. “They’re flickering in a line..see? One, two, three. It’s a sequence...like something’s moving across the room!”

“Oooh,” Robin made a creepy noise. “It’s a gh...a, a ghost."

“Hold on.” Rose slurred. “J’accuse! You are drunk. There’s no such thing as ghosts."

Steve was in his own world, watching the lights. “It reminds me of...of something...can’t remember what though. But it’s important. Very important.”

Robin sat up, out of the blue, wild-eyed from the schnapps. “I can’t take it anymore! I’m gay, alright? Stop with the questioning. I like girls. Are you happy now?”

The silence was thick, punctuated by the faint, pulsing hum of the flickering lights. 

“Uhh...Rob, I know that already,” Steve said. “Did you know that Rose?”

“Nope,” she replied casually. “But it’s all good. More boys for me that way, aren’t there?” She peered up at her wall of posters. “But Simon Le Bon will always be first and foremost in my heart. In fact, I swear off all men, be they international rockstar or high school guitarist. But Robin, are you good? Did you want to talk about it?”

Her friend slumped back down on the bed. “Huh. Maybe I just had that argument in my own head. Bloody hell, i’m drunk.”

Steve giggled yet again. “ Bloody hell. You sounded like Rose. English cursing is weird. Go on, go on, say something.”

Rose pointed at the posters and thought about it deeply. “I’m not a bloody circus freak, you wanker.”

“Hah!” Robin laughed. “That’s like a jerk-off.”

“Hey, you’re just taking the piss now, aren’t you.”

“I know that one!” Steve added. “More!”

Rose grumbled. “I’m too bereft and miserable to think of anything else. You twat.”

“Wait,” Robin called out. “You said twat pronounced like cat , not twat like what .”

“That’s what it is, love.” Rose downed the bitter dregs of her martini and put the cup on her bedside table. “I wish that ghost would bloody keep still, the lights are hurting my eyes.”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s coming toward my beanbag chair. Hey, is the ghost single? This may be the closest I've been to being touched since Nance dumped me for Jonathan freaking Byers.”

“We’re so pathetic,” Robin agreed. “Also, I think I might like a girl in band. But I haven’t spoken to her yet.”

“Details please,” Rose requested. “But I think I might need some fresh air, should we open a window?”

Robin crawled off the bed and over to the stained glass dormer, pulling herself up with her fingers on the pane. “Wait a minute, there’s a playground twenty yards away, right? Let’s go on the swings! I always want to play on the swings. Why is it that you get to a certain age and you're told that all delight and whimsy must die, and you can’t play anymore? They should make playgrounds for adults.”

“Robin,” Steve chipped in. “It’s midnight, it’s cold, and we’re wasted. Oh, and we’re also in our PJs. So that’s a brilliant idea, let’s do it!”

Their midnight excursion was a disaster, crashing down two flights of stairs with bottles of alcohol in hand and slippers on their feet, whispering so loud they would wake the dead, let alone Rose’s mother and stepfather. But they made it out into the moonlight, laughing like idiots and running across the deserted street, making for the rusty swings.

And if Rose felt the wilting stems of cut flowers crunch under her slippered feet, and noticed blotches of shadow-dark petals on the sidewalk, then by Sunday morning it had completely slipped from her drink-addled memory, along with Steve’s recollection of the flickering lights.

---

Eddie

Eddie was a good musician, and he knew it. It wasn’t false modesty, he’d spent years learning to play and practising all hours of the night and at weekends, an outlet for his restless energy and creative brain. Music kept the buzzing in his head away, and calmed him down in a way nothing else could, except maybe weed. But nearly as important as hours of practice, he had that something people often searched for but couldn’t describe, the thing that drew the eye and kept an audience hooked. The rest of Corroded Coffin were good too, and Gareth was a demon on the drumset, but they were still a garage band. Decent, on time, in tune, and doing a damn good job of covering their favourite songs. 

But today? Practice was doomed from the start. Whatever magic he usually summoned to give him skill and stage presence when he played was completely fucking absent.

“Get it together,” Gareth cried out, his drumbeat faltering and the whole band trailing off into silence. “Your timing is so off. It’s like your racing to the end of the song, and this is goddamn Fade to Black , a fucking ballad. It might be Metallica, but it’s not thrash metal.”

“Alright, no need to be a dick,” Eddie snapped, looking down at the lump of plastic in his hand. “Jesus H Christ. I’ve broken another pick.”

Chris scoffed. “What is that, three? I’ve got a spare, but it's my last one.”

He reached into his back pocket, fishing out a black pick and pressing it into Eddie’s hands. Eddie took it gratefully, eyes directed at the chipped concrete floor of Gareth’s garage. “Thanks, man.”

“You’d better not be this bad at the Hideout on Tuesday,” Gareth warned, pointing at him with his drumstick, making the wooden implement look threatening. “If we’re gonna do a new slower set, we have to nail it. Bev won’t let us keep playing forever, not unless we actually bring in some customers. Or at least, not drive the existing ones away.”

Eddie clicked his tongue. “Sorry, alright? I promise i’ll bring the good stuff on Tuesday. You know me, Gare. I’m usually on this. Today, i’m just...off.”

His friend raised a sarcastic brow, a smug expression plastered over his face. “Off. Is that what they call it now? Dude, just forget about the girl for a weekend. Obsession is not a good look when trying to score.”

Eddie looked up, pacing Gareth’s garage with its fluorescent overhead light, nearly tripping on an amp cable. “Don’t say it like that. I am not just looking to score , man. You sound so sordid.”

“ Oh ,” Gareth taunted. “So you don’t want to bone her, just go to a tea party together. In that case, can I take a shot?”

Eddie advanced on him, teeth clenched together. “I'm one second away from smashing this guitar over your head, Emerson. If your mom wasn't so nice about us using the garage, i’d have done it already.”

Jeff stepped in to view, putting a hand to Eddie’s chest. “Easy. Easy, dude. He’s just making a point, though it was kind of a gross one.”

“Yeah,” Gareth chipped in again, sat comfy behind the shield of his drum set. “Point made. Why don’t you invite her to see us play on Tuesday? That way you’re actually making progress , and asking her out. And maybe if you think she’s going to be at the shoe, you might actually put in some practice and try not to suck.”

Chris sucked in a breath, watching the guys’ drama unfold, rhythm guitar poised in his hands. 

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” Jeff added.

After a week of intense longing and subtle flirting, Eddie was a goner. Rose McAllister was not just the pretty face that appeared in Hellfire from nowhere, she radiated goodness. Observant, accepting, warm and thoughtful. Starkly different from the girls he’d usually fallen for. And on top of that, she was a fantasy nerd with a voracious taste in exploring other worlds through the written word, and had the soul of a poet. He’d been himself around her, and somehow he’d not scared her off yet, and that was a rare thing...non-existent, actually. She knew about his trailer, his criminal dad, and his dealing, and she still wanted to be around him. But last night when he dropped Rose off at home, things got...weird.

She’d listened to W.A.S.P and Sabbath and Metallica, not put off by his kind of music, and they’d talked and smiled and flirted, until he got to her driveway and she invited him inside. His heart fucking jump-started and sparks fizzled in his fingertips at that, but he’d made a promise to Uncle Wayne not to go in that house, and he intended to keep it. Eddie had made a mess of explaining it, and she ran off. He had to course-correct with Rose, before he veered off a cliff and she never talked to him again. Eddie had lost out on so much - his mom, an opportunity to be a rockstar, his father’s love, a normal graduation - he’d be damned if he let the girl slip through his fingers.

“Okay,” he said, making up his mind. “I’ll ask her to the show. Like...a date. Maybe go out after.”

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “Live long and prosper, my friend. Good luck.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then at least you know.”

“I don’t think i’m gonna be able to concentrate right now,” he said. “I need a cigarette. Maybe a joint.”

“Hey,” Gareth shouted, “Mom has a no-tolerance policy, remember? Don’t light up til you get home.”

Eddie groaned. “Fine. Oh god...what if she says yes ?”

Gareth gave him a strange look again. “Then you fucking celebrate having a girlfriend, and start going out on dates and shit. That’s not exactly a problem, man.”

Eddie turned his frazzled mind to his Warlock guitar. He struck the opening few chords of Wild Child , the first metal song he’d introduced to Rose. Maybe he could play it for her on Tuesday.

“You’ll need money,” Chris piped up out of nowhere. “My sister’s boyfriend is always paying for her movie tickets, and burgers and shakes, and a corsage at Homecoming. Being a boyfriend is expensive.”

“Shit, I think you’re right, man.”

Eddie had the means to earn, even if it was a little less than legal. But when he had money, it tended to drain away pretty quickly: guitars, clothes, concert tickets, running his monster of a van and helping Wayne with the bills. 

Rose had never given off the impression of wealth, but he hadn’t forgotten that she lived in literally the biggest mansion in town, and had seen far more of the world than Eddie ever had. If he was going to do this right, he’d have to put some money together. And if he needed more cash, there was only one place to get it.

---

Lovers Lake glistened through the treeline as Eddie’s van sailed down the road, getting closer with each minute, until he emerged in a clearing. A decent-sized white lakehouse sat on the northern shore, with a separate boat house and a little jetty stretching out into the lake. He had to admit this part of Hawkins was pretty, surrounded by nature and autumn coloured trees. 

He killed the engine and the blaring noise of Judas Priest faded into nothing, leaping from the van and slamming the door. By the time he walked up the front steps, a face had already appeared in the doorway.

“Eddie, my good friend.” Reefer Rick bumped his fist and clapped him on the back, ushering him into the tidy, plainly decorated home. “Wasn’t expecting you till next week. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Rick Lipton was six three at a slouch, with the physique of a football player who’d let himself go. His long hair and beard gave him a hippy kind of air, only heightened by the cloud of weed that floated out the kitchen door, a joint lit and perched on the kitchen table’s ashtray.

“Hey, Rick. Good to see you,” Eddie began. “I know i’m not usually back within a couple of weeks, but I was hoping to shift more product.”

The great big hippy pulled at his beard, head cocked to the side. “Munson Junior, scaling up. Given up on high school yet, ready to earn something more than pin money from selling football stars and prom queens weed?”

Rick passed over the joint; Eddie took a drag gratefully, twitching and waiting for the calm to settle into his bones. They sat in silence for a moment, looking out the big window toward the lake, with a little row boat bobbing up and down on the jetty. 

“Nah, still in school,” he said, blowing out smoke and handing it back. “Not looking to get myself in more trouble, I just need to shift a little more this month, make a few extra bucks.”

“So not just here for pleasure. You should drop by sometime just to play pool and have a few beers. Maybe sit out by the lake. It’s nice here in the summer, real pretty.”

Eddie gave him a deadpan look. “It’s October, man. It’s cold out. And besides, what is it that you always say? Pleasure is the business.”

Rick grinned around the joint, smoke spilling from his lips. “Right on. Listen, i’m a little lower than usual. You can have another five ounces, but it’s bennies that i’m sitting on right now. Ket too.”

He kept a smile on his face, trying not to let his disappointment show. Rick had been distributing to him for a year or two. He was a contact of his dad’s before dad split town after fucking up a robbery and getting involved in a shooting. When shit hit the fan for Eddie and he needed cash, no reputable business in Hawkins wanted to employ a brash metalhead with a criminal family and no high school diploma. He’d caved and come to Rick for work. Dealing paid well, but he was this fucking close to being busted by the cops, on more than one occasion. And being a drug dealer with a moral compass absolutely sucked . Not to mention that the punishment for pushing hard drugs like ketamine and bennies was greater than possession of a little weed. 

“I’m not sure, Rick,” he said, grabbing the back of his neck. “Weed for high school kids is one thing, but I don’t want to be responsible for a bunch of strung out kids getting hooked on ket.”

“Ket and bennies have a greater profit margin,” Rick said, with a shrug. “More cash for less effort. Smart business.”

“I could take a little more, but not much. With Hopper gone, Chief Powell is on my ass. I can’t risk getting cautioned again, man.”

“So be it, Junior. Six ounces of weed, six bottles of bennies, six of ket. Six, six, six, the devil’s number...you’re into that Iron Maiden shit, right? That’s a pretty metal deal, endorsed by Satan himself.”

Eddie laughed. “Coming from you, that’s funny. Nothin’ but sixties rock, like you’re a Vietnam vet something. Weren’t you like ten in the sixties?”

“Shit, you sound more like your old man every day, Junior.”

Eddie’s jaw twitched, and his foot tapped against the pale lino of Rick’s orderly kitchen. “Just a chip off the old block, huh. Another piece of shit Munson, cheating and stealing his way through life with a smile on his face and a string of casualties in the rearview mirror.”

Rick’s easygoing face fell, like he was troubled. “Didn’t mean nothing by it, kid. I know you’re not like your dad in the ways that count. Anyways, what do you need this extra money for? New guitar, new ride, or something?”

Eddie leaned on the back of a kitchen chair, and chewed on his own hair like a goddamn cat. “Not exactly.”

“I know that face, brother. Seen it many a time. It’s a woman, ain’t it?”

A goofy smile came over his face. “Yeah.”

“Taking her out somewhere nice?”

“I’m hoping to. I haven’t asked her out yet, not properly. But i’m going to next week at school. Just need to find the right time to do it, I guess.”

Rick looked down his nose at Eddie, appraising him in one glance. “So this shit isn’t even in the bag, yet? What have you done so far?”

Eddie looked from left to right, like he was physically searching for an answer. “Do you mean...you know....like, sexually?”

“Hell’s bells, kid. That is not what I meant. Have you wooed the lady yet? Made your intentions known?”

Eddie’s anxiety went from nought to sixty in about three seconds. “I...don’t know. I mean, I think so? We’ve talked, listened to music...oh god. What if she just wants to be my friend? What do I say? What do I do ?”

Rick slammed his elbows on the kitchen table and buried his head in his hands. “I know it’s the eighties, man, but chivalry ain’t dead. What’s this girl like? She a rocker type like you?”

“Rose?” Eddie said with a sigh, picturing her instantly, heart going soft. “No, she’s no type at all, she’s unique. Funny, open-hearted, seriously smart. And beautiful...she doesn’t seem to know how beautiful she really is. I don’t understand why she’s giving me the time of day. I keep expecting something to happen, like some big-shot prom king or college kid is gonna turn up and sweep her off her feet.”

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” Rick said bluntly. “Shelve all this casual shit. None of this wait til Monday ,or i’ll flirt a little longer and see what happens . Go over there right now, and tell her you’re damn crazy about her. You’ll want to bring her a gift too.”

Eddie sat up straight, feeling a surge of energy course through his veins. “Gift. Right. Wait...what kind of gift?”

“Depends on the girl, my man. But if in doubt, go with flowers.”

“Flowers,” Eddie repeated. “I can do that.”

Rick smiled, taking another drag from his joint, blowing out the smoke with a big grin. “Well what are you waiting for? Drugs aren’t gonna be ready til Monday, so unless you’d rather hang out with your supplier on a Saturday night, go and get the girl.”

Eddie leapt up, tripping over his chair. His jean chain caught on the chair leg as he set it back up, and he crashed about the kitchen like a clumsy foal on wobbly legs. Some mug or teacup smashed in the background and he apologised over and over, making everything worse as he tried to pick it all up.

“Get out, kid.” Rick waved him off.

He stopped long enough at the door to shout at the laughing guy inside. “Thanks Rick, I owe you one!”

---

His rusty old van rattled and roared as he sped down the backroads of Hawkins, foot heavy on the gas pedal; he was a man with a mission, a knight on a quest to win the heart of a fair maiden, and nothing could stop him now. Rick was right, he’d have to pledge his heart to the lady and seek her favour. 

Except he could hardly arrive with four hundred bucks of drugs hidden in the back of his van, reeking of weed. Pit stop necessary, a side quest, if you will. He raced home, sniffed all the clothes in his ‘clean’ heap and changed into the least creased shirt, and stashed the pills and baggies in some drawer in the hallway, under a load of old tins and spare tools, and other junk they’d never use.

Half an hour later he ran into the grocery store, five minutes before closing, sprinting down the aisles seeking the display of cut flowers he knew he’d seen last week. He startled the customers, but right at the end of the aisle he spied his prize, the treasure at the end of the dungeon crawl...or wait, was Rose the treasure? She wasn’t an object , but she was precious. God, he was nervous. 

Only a few bunches of flowers remained, but which ones did he get? There were pink ones and red ones, little ones surrounded with white baby’s breath. The big sunflowers were bright and cheerful, but he wasn’t sure about them...now that he looked at them up close, what was up with sunflowers? How were the heads that big? They were like a baby’s head, and that was a weird image. Fuck it, not the sunflowers. 

An older lady in a store apron walked by, and he seized upon her, running toward her and startling her.

“Jesus, sorry,” he held up his hands. “Help, please help. I need to buy flowers for a girl, and I don’t know which ones to get. Wait...flowers have meanings , right? Like there’s this secret language that Victorian women used to be into? What if I chose pretty flowers and it means sorry your dog died and she hates me forever?”

The lady’s panic slowly evaporated, and she walked him over to the flowers. “Okay, let’s take a look. The roses are pretty. There’s nothing classier than a Rose.”

He smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. Wait, if her name is literally Rose, does that change things? Is it too obvious?”

She shook her head, wrinkles creasing in the corners of her eyes. “I wouldn’t say so.”

“Perfect. Thank you, ma’am,” he shook the woman’s hand, and grabbed the best bunch of red roses he could find. They were still grocery store flowers, one of them slightly wilting, but he could throw that one out.

By the time he’d bought the roses and approached Creel house, the energy that sustained him was seriously flagging, and all kinds of possibilities were swarming in his head. 

What if she wasn’t there? What if her mom, the Balrog, answered the door? He supposed it was only fair that he slew some demons on his way to the fair maiden, but he couldn’t exactly pull out a broadsword and run through her mom. Or the stepdad...what if he was the kind to own a shotgun, and decided buckshot was the best way to get Eddie the freak off his lawn?

Heart pounding, he pulled up within sight of the house, twenty yards down the street. It was fancier than he remembered, an intimidating castle, ready to be sieged. The lights were on, car parked in the driveway; at least someone was home. Maybe he should climb the veranda and deliver them to her window. Shit, he didn’t know which one was hers.

“Time to fight, Munson,” he muttered to himself. “Roll the dice, and pray to Ozzy for a nat 20.”

He grabbed the flowers and went for the door handle, but had to shield his eyes from bright headlights instead. Bright headlights turning into the driveway of the Creel house. The car’s door slammed shut, and Eddie froze like a deer in headlights.

Steve fucking Harrington. The King, The Hair, or whatever dipshit nickname the gullible kids of Hawkins High like to call him, was walking up Rose’s driveway with a goddamn overnight bag in his hand.

No sooner than his face scowled and mouth dropped open, Rose came out the door. She called out, loud and happy, throwing up her arms in the air like she was so pleased to see Harrington she couldn’t contain it. Within the space of exactly six heartbeats, Harrington dragged his bag into the house and Rose closed the door behind him.

What the fuck?

Harrington was a year below him through Middle and High school; enough of a jock enough to be naturally opposed to Eddie and his band of freaks, but not violent or mean enough to be a real enemy. The guy was a bit of an asshole, and when he and Tommy H got into the basketball cult, they’d grown insufferable, pulling pranks on everyone. Come to think of it, they’d shoved Gareth into a girls bathroom stall in his freshman year and locked him in. 

How in the hell did Rose know the guy? And more importantly, what was he doing with an overnight bag in her house? Maybe she’d just hedged her bets and found herself the first prom king that came along. Someone better suited. Rich family, high school diploma, Hollywood hair. 

Eddie waited thirty minutes to be sure, but Steve never came out. With each minute his heart sank lower, until the night was pitch black and he was freezing cold in the van’s cab. Turning on the engine was a little act of defeat, an admission that he’d taken too much damage, killed before the campaign had even begun. And when he rolled out of Morehead, past the creepy old playground, he threw the roses out the driver's window, watching the splash of dark red fade in the rearview mirror.

[bobbie-robron]

What, a fundraiser? Why don’t you just do a raffle? It’s less hassle.

You are her uncle and you’re volunteering. You will lean into it.

23-Jul-2019, episode 1 only

[arinrowan]

*thousand yard stare* Found my sun lamp

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

decided to rewatch oli's christmas song stream from last year and remind me again why the fuck oli/sausage is a rarepair again. he sings no less than five romantic songs about sausage (admittedly two of those are just different versions of santa, baby). one of them is him and sausage singing baby it's cold outside together. oli literally left heaven to find this man. what. what am i seeing that everyone else isn't hello.

[icewindandboringhorror]

The evil slow creep of it being like "haha these will just be quick little side quests, not much effort at all!" and then noticing each one is getting progressively longer than the last, thus no longer being minimal effort.. auGh....

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I think someone put the brain of a mouse or maybe a squirrel inside my head at some point because all winter I was like “I crave nuts and seeds” and now that it’s getting warmer and brighter out my brain keeps going “it’s fruit time”

Like, modern transportation has made it possible to move many fruits all over the world (in theory) all the time! But the primal early plesiadapiform part of my brain is like “you must eat what is available this season”

[chiropteracupola]

dress up nice (and don't get any blood on yourself this time, please)

[collaboration with @dxppercxdxver again. we are still going.]

[mitamicah]

.

[happyk44]

Me, every time my excel spreadsheet with 19 tabs, over a dozen pivot tables, a bunch of formulas scattered all over the place, and a data tab consisting of over 100,000+ rows and 100 columns crashes: Why is this happening 😩

[skyward-floored]

If I asked you to think of a new au right this second how fast would you be able to think of one?

Au where all of the chain are grabbed smack in the middle of (one of) their journeys which is very very bad because most of them were taken at like, the mid-game low point that there tends to be so all of them are incredibly stressed and in very low spirits and now they’re dealing with this new threat—

Nobody has a good time.

[fionnaskyborn]

there's something to be said about the very specific feeling of frailty you feel when you come face to face with just how little you've experienced. twenty-odd years on planet earth and you haven't really watched all that many movies. an unlived life facing an uncertain future. i do not know where to point the finger of blame because i live untethered from my past, floating in the present with no clear point of reference no clear definition of who i am or what happened to me and how i turned out the way i am (fucking. can you guess why five is my favorite game. insert that one lyric from that one modest mouse song.) but you're still here, and you can still learn, and you can catch up, but it still feels like you're a pitiful little nobody looking for excuses trying to explain why you're still new to the whole being alive thing. i've got a good head on my shoulders, though, for all that's worth, so i think i might be fine.

in other news, i watched scarface tonight. it was certainly a movie. don't really understand how the movie made it big, but it did have some damn good music. i mean, i don't know. i'm still learning about the world i live in. maybe it really is as much of a masterpiece as people make it out to be and i'm too dumb to see the reason why it's considered a classic. maybe i'm right. i can't tell at the moment. it's kind of a beggars can't be choosers situation - if you ain't watched that many movies, then you can't really be a good judge of quality. but, oh, well. it's one more movie watched. it's a win because i watched a movie. and i'll watch more movies.

[genderfluid-druid]

waugh. a friend who i had a bit of a crush on at one point but decided against pursuing anything with, just confirmed she also had a crush on me which. Doesn't really change anything because i already know i don't want a relationship. But gaugh argh why are things difficult.