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You wish you never took that fucking photograph.
Dread coils in your stomach like something heavy and alive, stretching its limbs within the confines of your own, turning your body into a weight to sink down,
Down,
Down
Into darkness.
Townsfolk jostle around you, spurred on by the nonsensical speech Jason has spouted in the town hall. Tears burn behind your eyes. Your knuckles turn white around the leaflet pressed into your hands by one of the basketball team members, growing tighter with every hiss of the word that had haunted you both.
Freak.
You want to scream at them. Light a match and burn this godforsaken town to the ground, pray that something better rises from the ashes.
They throw open the doors and spill across the town like an infestation of ants, murky yellow light like a setting sun on the steps. You follow them out and slip into the shadows.
It was Eddie’s choice to keep everything secret. He demanded it, really.
You had a talent for skating under the radar, unnoticed in a crowd – never a target or a victim, just an observer. It made you a great photographer, perfect for catching all the candid moments needed for the yearbook. From what you’d already provided, the committee agreed that ’86 would be their best one yet.
It started with the club photos at the start of the year. New at the job, Charlie – the head of the yearbook committee – had given you a list of active clubs and their meeting times and instructed you to get group shots of them back by the end of the week.
At first it sounded like a nightmare. Most students at Hawkins were fine if you didn’t spend a significant amount of time around them or give them a reason to pay attention to you… So in short – they weren’t fine at all. But it was the start of your final year and you were cautiously optimistic about the situation, determined to make the best of it and capture these passionate groups honestly.
But as you made your way through the various groups – sports teams, the art kids, Ivy League wannabes – it felt like you were grinding your teeth so hard they’d sink back into your gums, waiting in agony as Caitlin told you to wait for the sixth time so she could fix her hair before taking her picture. The rest of the drama club bore holes into the back of her skull as she patted down her already smooth hair. “Okay, I’m ready!” She announced with a toss of her head.
“On three everyone, alright? One, two…” The further you got through the clubs, the more tedious the task became. Picture after picture of fake smiles and stiff poses, people desperately trying to lay their arm just right across the back of their chair, spine like a steel pole.
You sat in on their meetings and watched them exchange glares and eye rolls, snide comments, and fake kindness. Even before they developed you dreaded the thought of the final photographs – if you would be able to see the tension coiled in the air. They were supposed to show the reality of who these students were, what made them passionate, how mutual interests united people. Instead, you got a series of students who despised each other in secret, their mutual interests nothing more than somewhere to feed their animosity. Though, you supposed, that was at least authentic.
As much as he came to deny it in the months that followed afterwards, between kisses in empty classrooms and the woods and in the back of his van, Eddie wasn’t kind the first time you met. He was, as you often reminded him, an asshole. He learned quickly how to make it up to you.
“You’re telling me,” he started, talking a slow step inside your comfort zone with his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You want Hellfire in that narcissistic bragging fest that basically just serves as a porn mag for all the mediocre kids who think tossing balls counts as talent?”
You let the silence sit for a while. Up close, Eddie Munson smelled exactly like you would have expected. Leather and smoke; a woodsy cologne that tried to disguise the scent of weed and failed miserably. He didn’t break eye contact. You wished he would – not because it was creepy or scary or anything he might’ve been aiming for – but because it made you realise that he was ridiculously hot, and that was the last revelation you needed today.
You cleared your throat and shrugged. “It’s just yearbook, dude. It’s not that deep.” He didn’t reply, just scrutinised you as you refused to break his gaze. One night, almost a month after that encounter, he took you for a smoke beside Lovers Lake and confessed that he was trying to see if he could intimidate you. You told him as he lay braced above you, lips against your pulse point and cold fingers tracing up your side beneath your shirt, that he couldn’t, because all you were thinking in that moment was that he was beautiful.
He never told you, but you knew he loved it when you called him beautiful. He’d pretend to giggle and hide his face behind his hair but the blush he tried to conceal was real. As much as he brushed it off when you were hanging out, it was different at night. Moonlight across pale skin, bodies slick and alive and together. You would whisper it to him, chest to chest, and watch the tenderness in his eyes. You tasted what it meant to him when he moaned against your mouth, sought for your skin to pull you closer, always closer.
In the end he let you sit in on their D&D session. Hellfire became alive behind those walls; you saw classmates who had only ever kept their head down outside of that room explode with energy, their personalities bright and loud and wonderful. Being allowed into that felt like a privilege.
Eddie intoxicated you from the start. His boundless energy fed the others, an electric current that fizzed and sparked in the air. Your fingers itched to take pictures during their session, capture the elastic way he moved, but you had agreed not to. This was sacred to them. You respected that. Afterwards, you had them line up against the wall as you figured out lighting and placement. They joked and chatted with each other, and you had to hide your smile while you pretended to fiddle with your camera for a bit more.
“Alright, smile!” You called out, catching them in that pivotal second where the joy from their individual jokes and conversations had yet to fade completely from their expressions, replaced with the rehearsed smiles they kept for family portraits and school dances. A hat flung into the air, yet to settle back into waiting arms.
“We weren’t ready!” Mike called out.
“A couple more then – just do your own thing, okay?” It was a courtesy. That first photograph was the one, you knew it undoubtedly.
The group left soon afterwards, collecting empty drink cans and waylaid jackets before leaving their dungeon master with a clap on the shoulder and the promise of tomorrow. The quiet left in their wake was weighted with the memory of their laughter, as if the community from these sessions had seeped into the walls, the very foundation of the building, leaving the air heavy with contentment. Before long you and Eddie were the last people there, circling each other in a continuous orbit, sharing shy smiles and quick glances as you packed up your belongings. Eventually he cleared his throat and looked up at you through his eyelashes. “So, what did you think?”
“It was fun.” You shrugged, smiling to yourself as you thought about it more. “It’s nice to see a club where the members don’t all secretly want to kill each other.”
“Well…” He raised his eyebrows. Maybe that wasn’t entirely true – even to an oblivious outsider, his campaign was brutal, and succeeded in killing off Gareth and Mike’s characters easily during the afternoon’s session. You laughed and placed the lens cap on your camera, trying to ignore the disappointment sitting low in your throat at the thought of leaving so soon.
“I better be going.” Eddie nodded slightly, swallowing his own disappointment as he watched you shoulder your bag and head to the door.
“Do you think we’ll fit in next to all your bright-eyed academics in the yearbook then?” He called out, wanting – though he didn’t know why, not yet – to say anything to make you smile one more time.
“Absolutely not.” You grinned. “That’s the whole point, right?”
“Right.” He agreed. His breath hiccupped in his throat. Jesus, your grin – wolfish and wide, mischief dancing in the corners of your eyes. He actually trusted you with this. Hellfire was a piece of him, his soul. A phoenix he raised from the ashes, burning with the dissidence of his outcasted peers. Exposing that for the yearbook felt like he was giving a part of himself away, letting someone into his bedroom to shine a light under his bed. But fuck did he trust you with it. “I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah! I’ll, uh…” Words failed you as you took on the full power of a genuine Eddie Munson smile. Surely a first for someone outside of Hellfire – or maybe that was wishful thinking. “Thanks Eddie.” With a brief wave you left, the soft click of the door closing shut behind you disguising the regretful sigh cast into the empty space.
“Get a grip, man.” He told himself, rubbing a tired hand down his cheek. Anyone would think he was going soft.
Thankfully, the town only seemed envigored enough to take their complaints outside the building. They stood around in loud circles debating their next move, but you didn’t stick around long enough for them to come to a decision – it felt like a whirlpool was slowly opening up inside you and soon enough everything you felt, everything you were, would be consumed into a swirling darkness. You had to find Eddie.
For months now you had watched from the sidelines as Jason and Eddie traded blows like competitors on a tennis court, hitting back harder with each passing serve. But nothing could have prepared you for the genuine hatred that had consumed Jason, transformed him into this scheming preacher, a hunter leading his hounds to prey.
Ever since Chrissy Cunningham had been declared dead, he’d seen only in red. Excluding basketball, he had never dedicated himself so wholly to anything as he did finding Eddie, seeking out any possible connection, anyone who could lead him closer. They’d even asked you, despite the only tangible, public connection between you being your name in small black font below the now infamous club photo. They were being thorough.
It scared you.
“This might just be my favourite spot in all of Hawkins.” Eddie said, taking your hand to pull you up a steep ridge of muddy earth until you were both stood looking out across open sky, Hawkins splayed open below you like a cadaver.
“Not the record store on Fifth?”
“Nope.”
“Ok but what about that random staircase we found in the forest that may or may not be a faerie portal?”
“That’s your favourite spot.”
“Touché. You’re telling me this place is even better than the needle dumpsters behind Josie’s?” He looked at you with amusement dancing in his eyes, eyebrows raised as if to ask are you done? “Go on then, why this place?”
It seemed so… un-Eddie. Millcreek Hill was on the very outskirts of Hawkins, a palm cupped around the edge of the town as if to choke it. There were no footpaths for this corner of the earth they stood in, in some places the ground was so steep they might as well have been rock climbing, but Eddie navigated it with the same casual ease he approached everything else in life. Trees stood like reaching fingers, arched to the wind as if to guide them on their journey.
The quiet was deafening. If there was one thing you had to say with complete certainty about Eddie Munson, it was that he hated quiet. That man craved sound in every aspect of his life; if nobody else was talking, then he would be – louder and louder until he felt the silence retreating like shadows caught in the beam of a flashlight. At home, in the car, hanging out with friends – music was a must. There always came a point where he didn’t care what was playing as long as there was a rhythm to fill his head.
He grinned and stepped up to the edge of the cliff, arms thrown wide as if he could lean down and scoop up the town in his arms.
And then he started to scream.
The sound tore the world in two, rough and low like he had scraped every scrap of emotion left inside him to unleash on the world. You jumped and made towards him, terrified that he was about to fall, or a snake had made a victim of his leg, but he was… smiling? When he eventually stopped, the air felt charged.
He turned to you with a grin that made you breathless and began to laugh. Uncontrollable, giddy laughter that whistled through you behind your ribs until you were both cackling, shoulders pressed together to keep you standing, a happy ache in your chest. “Alright,” he said, catching his breath. “Your turn.” With his hands on your shoulders, he pushed you to the spot he had just stood in, your feet close enough to open air to send a pleasant shock up your spine.
You didn’t think about it. Didn’t question it. You just screamed.
A corner of your brain recognised Eddie laughing behind you as your throat burned with the power of your cry. It wasn’t born of anger, of fear, or joy. It was every emotion you had ever felt, could ever feel, forced on the town that birthed them. It felt powerful to destroy something as fragile as silence, to look down on the life you had lived from high above like some wronged god, untethering some rational part of you that only ever served as a weight about your ankle.
The laughter bubbled up inside you once more when you finished, rising to fill the gaping emptiness you had just created. A brand-new start with something pure and whole.
“Feels good, right?” Eddie asked. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, the corners on his lips turned up in a satisfied grin.
“Yeah.” You nodded and sat roughly on the floor. “Yeah… Feels good.” Eddie collapsed beside you, his arm firmly against your own, the cold leather of his jacket raising goosebumps on your bare skin.
Neither of you spoke. The quiet that existed now was fractured, bruised but alive and humming through your veins. It didn’t feel like a default, but a stunned reaction to you both, a consequence you had earned.
The sun set Hawkins on fire and together you watched it burn.
Dustin Henderson didn’t live far from the town hall, especially not when you broke the speed limit on the way there. Threatening a kid was pretty outside your typical morals and, from what you’d heard of him from Eddie, Dustin wasn’t the kind of kid to back down easily, but it seemed the only possible option.
There was already a car outside his house, idling on the street while a group of people yelled from just inside the front door. You could hear the kids demanding tone and the deeper, more fed-up sound of another boy replying. Harrington. It had to be – Eddie mentioned the strange but seemingly unbreakable bond his young Hellfire protégé had with the former King of the school.
You would think about how strange it was later, maybe. You’d save a lot of things to think about later if this plan worked out, for now there was only one thing that mattered to you.
The group began to hurry out the door, white plastic bags in their hands and rucksacks slung across shoulders. Too many people to convince with words. With all the confidence you could muster, you reached the car before they did, stretched your arm through the open window and snatched the key from the ignition. The silence stalled their conversation, six pairs of eyes falling on you blocking the driver’s seat door.
“Is there something I can help you with?” Steve said, eyes narrowed in suspicion. You turned towards Dustin instead, who had just paused beside his friend at the sight of you. He said your name incredulously, “what are you doing here?”
You swallowed. “I need you to take me to Eddie.”
+
It was pure luck, really. Or maybe even fate – if you were in the mood to get sentimental. Like every other senior at Hawkins, you had heard the rumours about a tragedy outside Reefer Rick’s the previous night and went to nose around by the police tape. When the police came out to read a statement you retreated into the thick of the crowd, a sinking feeling festering in your gut; you no longer trusted yourself to hold it together for whatever happened next.
When they declared Eddie an official suspect you choked back a cry, the sound resting on your tongue like something sour. Over the past seven months you had seen him as his truest, most vulnerable self. It was torture to watch everyone around you react to him with so much misguided fear, to see them twist his being into something that fit their misconceptions.
You wanted your photographs to speak hidden truths, expose the naked souls of your subjects. Eddie’s photos had been so sacred to you, in your eyes they were proof of the heart that lay behind the defences, the armour, the act. Eddie’s portrait, the one the police were now using to declare him an official murder suspect, was a display of vulnerability. A complete deconstruction of the walls he buried himself behind.
The Hellfire photograph was meant to immortalise the teens as their most comfortable selves, a group united like beads strung onto the same string. It existed to show their reality, the truth of who they were without the confines of societal conformity.
And this is what became of them.
Had you not been on the brink of collapse, you wouldn’t have heard it. A voice you would recognise anywhere, this time laced with static and fear, hidden behind a car to your left. “Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?”
“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?” Dustin replied. You recognised him from Hellfire – Eddie spoke about the younger boy often. He raced from Reefer Rick’s talking quickly into his walkie talkie and for the first time all week, you finally dared to hope that you might see Eddie again.
After sitting in on their D&D session, you didn’t speak to Eddie for the next week. Sometimes you saw him in the cafeteria making an impassioned speech to his table of friends, or sneaking off into the woods after classes, and you would be tempted to join. But for as much as you found yourself unconsciously seeking him out lately, not once did he notice you.
At least that’s what you thought.
In actuality, Eddie felt as if he had acquired a sixth sense where you were concerned. He was acutely aware of where you were in any space you occupied together, constantly dancing in the peripherals of his vision. In History, one of the few classes you shared, he started to notice how restless you were – your hands in constant movement, tapping against the desk or drawing idly in the corner of your workbook. At lunch you would read with one hand twisted into the chain hung around your neck, oblivious to the way he craned his head to see the title of the book.
On the second Friday of the school year, you were leaving school late after an ‘emergency’ yearbook committee meeting at the same time Eddie finished clearing up Hellfire’s latest campaign. The talk – or rather, argument – with Charlie had left you distracted, angrily muttering to yourself as you tried to fit your binder into your bag while your camera and book balanced precariously in the nook of your elbow.
As you turned the corner that led to the front doors, you bumped into something solid and dropped your things. A hand reached out and snatched the strap attached to your camera to stop it hitting the floor, mere inches away from costing you several hundred dollars. “Oh –” You looked up to say thanks and found yourself facing down the dungeon master who had occupied more than enough of your thoughts lately. “Eddie! Hey.”
“Hey,” he said your name with a bashful smile, handing you back your binder and camera. “You’re here late.”
You held up the camera as a way of explanation. “Yearbook things. Charlie’s being a tyrant.” You nodded to his shirt where a horned demon grinned back at you. “Did you just get out of Hellfire?”
Together you walked towards the exit, ducking under his arm as he held the door open for you and emerged into an electric blue afternoon, the air crisp and fresh in your lungs. Fall had begun to peel back the fierce grip of summer, the leaves a medley of yellow, orange, red and brown. Eddie described their latest campaign to you and though you didn’t understand everything he meant when it came to tabaxi’s and gloom stalkers, the energy in his voice was infectious, chipping away at your bad mood.
The conversation trailed off naturally as you both stared at the beautiful day before you. Eddie was still buzzing with energy leftover from Hellfire and looked at you questioningly. “Seems a shame to waste an afternoon like this.” He said with a raised eyebrow, crossing his fingers in his jacket pocket.
You held up your camera with one hand and smiled. “You up for some more photos?”
+
“So do you want me like,” Eddie leaned his back against a tree, one arm flung above his head as if he were fainting. “Or maybe…” He switched to face the trunk of the tree, one hand gripping a branch as he hoisted a leg over the trunk and swayed to balance himself. “Should I climb the tree? I’ll climb the tree.”
“Eddie–” You laughed, trying to reach out a hand to stop him.
“Direct me, come on! How should I pose? What’s your vision?” He closed one eye and squinted, looking at you through the square of his fingers.
“Just… Do whatever feels comfortable for you.” He nodded and relaxed against the tree trunk, arms folded loosely across his chest as he stared down the viewfinder with a casual smile. It freaked you out – how quickly he switched from being charming and silly to… well, hot. It fell quiet as you hid behind the camera and took a few pictures, admiring his tattoos through the safety of the lens.
“You seemed pretty annoyed earlier. What did Charlie do?” Eddie asked to break the silence after a minute, which seemed to be as long as he could handle being still and quiet.
“He’s just…stupid.” You answered lamely, fiddling with the strap of your camera as you let it hang loose around your neck.
“That’s not news, everyone knew that.”
“I’ve somehow given him the idea that I have the magical ability to be in several places at once,” You said sarcastically. Eddie raised his eyebrows and waited for you to continue. “He expects me to be at the home game for the basketball team this Friday at four and the football team’s away game in Cloverdale at five.”
“The away game that’s two hours away?”
“Exactly.” The bench was warm under your legs as you jumped up to sit on the table, watching as Eddie stared off in deep contemplation, nodding slowly to himself.
“I mean I guess I can see where he’s coming from. You’ve got that kind of stubborn, ‘I can do anything and if you want to stop me you can go fuck yourself’ thing going on. Can’t say I’m surprised he thinks you can do it.”
“I don’t… That’s not –” You floundered. He was right – to a degree. But neither of you knew each other well enough for him to know just how accurate his assessment was.
“It’s kind of intimidating actually.” He grinned at your astonishment.
“Me? Intimidating? Coming from the guy who stared me down like he wanted to eat me after I asked to take a picture of his club?”
“Totally!” He came and sat sideways on the bench, folding his forearms on the table beside your legs and looking up at you with mischief in his eyes. “You know, I shouldn’t be telling you this, it really goes against my beliefs but I, uh… I’m actually not scary. Like at all.”
“I know.” A hand against his chest, feigning shock. You laughed like the idea of him being truly intimidating was a joke. Which, of course, it was. “You were jumping up and down and acting like a five-year-old on a sugar high at Hellfire last week, dude. And I’m pretty sure you referenced Lord of the Rings at least three times. You’re just nerdy.”
“Says the person with Terry Pratchett in their bag right now!” He stretched his arm over the table and plucked your copy of Strata from where it poked out your open bag, waving it around in his hand like a flag.
“He’s a good writer!” You reasoned.
“Did you read The Colour of Magic too?”
“I did.” You waited for another dig to come, some comment about how he was barely more of a nerd than you were but instead he just hopped up onto the bench beside you, leaning back on his forearms.
“Thoughts?” He asked.
You grinned and began an impassionate ramble about the superiority of satirical fantasy, letting his encouraging laughs and questions stop you from getting self-conscious as you sat and talked together until the sun dipped below the horizon.
It took a while to realise that Eddie reciprocated your feelings. Other than that first D&D session, you never saw him interact with his friends enough to decide what was normal behaviour from him. There were moments where you allowed yourself to hope. Reading in the cafeteria, looking up with the intention of finding Eddie only for his eyes to already be on you. The nervous way he asked if you would go to one of his gigs, the grin that took over his face when he saw you in the audience. How, when he introduced you to his bandmates properly, he did so with an arm around your shoulder, both of you pointedly ignoring the way the band looked at each other knowingly.
The group exchanged furtive looks. You knew all of them – though not closely, and you doubted they knew enough about you to trust you. Lucas and Dustin you had, of course, met at Hellfire when taking their picture. Steve and his reputation were well known around Hawkins High, though now people often gossiped about his unexpected new friendships – best friends with a fourteen-year-old and a band geek he’d only met the previous year. Sometimes you saw Nancy when dropping off photos for the school newspaper when their photographer was out, but the firm way she commanded the room meant you never stuck around for long. Robin was the only person you’d had a real conversation with during idle moments waiting for various school sport events to start.
“Who’s Eddie?” Dustin asked, grinning with faux innocence. Lucas stared at him incredulously, while Steve sighed and turned to press a tired hand across his forehead like an overworked housewife. You glared at him silently, leaning back against the car and folding your arms across your chest. Dustin’s eyes went briefly to the keys still clutched tight in your hand. “You don’t mean the Eddie who’s on the run for murder, do you? Why would I know where he is?” He laughed nervously and looked around at his friends. “Right guys?” They murmured noncommittedly, laughing off the awkward tension that had settled like a fog.
“I heard him on your radio outside Reefer Rick’s this morning.” You told him bluntly.
“Shit.” He whispered under his breath. Steve sighed again and clipped him around the head with the jacket hung loose in his hand.
“Way to go, dingus.”
“That wasn’t Eddie! That was, uh –” Lucas tried to intervene, looking around for help from the equally speechless teens beside him.
“–I know what my boyfriend sounds like, Lucas.”
“Wait,” Steve put a hand up to stop himself from processing that news fully, blinking in astonishment. “You’re dating him? You’re telling me Eddie Munson is in a relationship and I’m not?”
“This your car, Harrington?” You asked.
“Yeah…”
“Say his name like that again and I’ll slash your tires.” In any other circumstances you would have smiled seeing Robin hold back a laugh behind him, but in the moment every atom of your body was straining to keep composure in the face of their baffled expressions. It reminded you how even seemingly good people had the complete wrong idea about Eddie, that having people know about your relationship meant a long string of interactions like this.
You could take it, maybe. But Eddie? He didn’t deserve to face that, and the reality of it hit you with the force of a truck.
“Jesus, okay.” Steve backed down. Beside him, Dustin stared off into the middle distance and thought back to his conversations with Eddie, rearranging them like jigsaw pieces to fit in this new information. “How do we even know you’re being honest with us?”
“His wallet.” Dustin cut in, looking at you inquisitively.
“What?” Max asked.
“He keeps a photo in his wallet… I saw it once, he tried to hide it. It was you, wasn’t it?”
It wasn’t something you saw often, but you knew it was there. Instead of cutting out the square to fit in the small plastic window, the picture was folded carefully to the right size and bulged in the small pocket. You sat beside him as he placed it there proudly and thought about all the things you would do, the sacrifices you would make, if it meant keeping that smile in your life.
This, however, he never told you: Most nights he took the photograph out and unfolded it, smoothing down the creases that framed your shy smile and allowed himself to sink into the warm comfort the thought of you brought him. In those quiet moments he thought about a future beyond Hawkins, beyond the iron hot brand of freak stamped across his forehead, and what it could bring him.
Only then could he fall asleep.
It was November. The last day before school broke up for Thanksgiving, yet Charlie still had you organising photos from the latest pep rally ready for when you came back. Most students had already left, fleeing the building the instant the final bell rang in pursuit of family reunions and impending food comas while you finished slipping everything into clear plastic folders.
Golden sunlight cast great swathes of light over the empty tables while you worked, dust motes swirling in lazy patterns through the air. Eddie lay on his back sprawled across one of the tables, humming under his breath and tapping his hands rhythmically against his chest, watching you with his head cocked sideways, chin propped up on his shoulder.
As you finished up, you put everything to take home with you beside Eddie as to not forget it, including your camera. “Can I take your picture?” He asked you, picking it up and squinting through the viewfinder.
“I stay behind the camera for a reason, Ed.”
“Oh come on, the yearbook needs to know what their star photographer looks like. How do I work this thing?” He sat up and pretended to fiddle with the buttons, feeling smug when you immediately ran to his side.
“Careful! Come here, I don’t want you messing with my settings.” You took the camera from him and laid it around your neck instead while he continued to pester you.
His victory was hard won, after following you around as you cleared your space and left the new set of photos on Charlie’s desk, distracting you with small touches and midnight promises, you caved. He was giddy with control, guiding you to a table beside the window where the light fell in a soft haze, the trees outside in the courtyard framing you in their centre; a fire of red, orange, and yellow leaves whistling from the branches. It was impossible to say no to him.
Staring down the lens felt like meeting a stranger, so instead you kept your eyes on Eddie’s mop of hair bouncing behind the camera as he stretched for the right angle. Before he even began to count down you were smiling, your chest light. You never got to tell him that was the moment you realised you were falling in love.
+
You never got to see the photograph much after it developed.
Eddie hovered over your shoulder the entire time, hands slipped beneath the hem of your jeans to rub circles against your hips, his head lowered to rest in the crook of your neck.
Even to your anxious mind it was undeniable that holding that photograph in his hand transformed his face, his eyes soft and huge, his lips pressed tight together in a smile that was desperately trying to become a grin. Your chest constricted at the sight, as if every atom was pulling, stretching, desperately reaching for him.
He kept the photo in his wallet. He could see the way your eyes rested above the lens, off centre, watching him instead. Knowing that gentle smile belonged to him made him breathless, like your hand had reached inside him to pluck a melody from his veins.
The group watched you curiously. It felt like everywhere you looked, there were reminders of him. The pain in your chest was pushing against your ribs, a physical manifestation that raged inside you, rattling them like the bars of a cage. A rogue tear traced your cheek and when you spoke, your voice wavered with desperation. “He wanted things to be a secret. Listen, I’m betraying his trust right now telling you this but… I need to see him.” They exchanged glances silently, Steve and Dustin having an entire mental argument with only pursed lips and raised eyebrows. “It’s not like you’re getting in this car until you agree.”
“This is bigger than Eddie, alright? You don’t know what you’re getting involved in.” Steve eventually replied. Behind him, Robin checked her watch and frowned, glancing towards the street and the slow approach of cars.
“I don’t care about any of that.”
Robin chimed in, tapping Steve on the shoulder. “Guys, we really don’t have time for this. The town hall meeting is definitely finished by now.”
“Shit.” Dustin hissed. His mum knew about Hellfire, about Eddie – though this week he had conveniently forgot to mention that his favourite dungeon master also happened to be the maybe-murderer – he didn’t doubt that if he was still here when she got home, there would be no escape. “You’re on his side? You promise?” He asked, staring at you with such intensity you couldn’t help but admire the kid. Ultimately this was all to protect Eddie, you couldn’t be mad at him for that.
“Always have been.” You replied, words buried in sincerity.
He nodded and gestured for you to get inside the car. “Let’s go.”
“You can’t just make decisions for us like that –” Steve scoffed.
“–I said LET’S GO!”
You threw the keys to Steve and climbed into the back of the car, victorious.
Throughout Hawkins kids were donning their costumes and plastic orange buckets and descending on the streets like a swarm intent on hoarding all the sugar in the town. Teenagers flocked to the larger houses in the south where the music made the walls vibrate, drinks smuggled under tiny shirts and stray glitter in their eyebrows. On every corner there was movement, colour, action. Acid green and blood red. Running, screaming, dancing.
Towards the west just a little way out of the shopping district of the town, down a roughened gravel track was a trailer park. Most of the lights were off, turning the aluminium homes into hulking shadows – just a shade darker than the early fall evening. Except for one. On the left-hand side, fourth from the entrance, was a home with the curtains drawn shut but still the light bled through into the night.
“Which one next?” Eddie asked rising from the sofa with an exaggerated stretch, arms flung high above his head.
Your eyes followed the rise of his shirt, thankful that his full concentration was directed at the TV as he ejected the VHS for Silent Madness. “The Hills Have Eyes? Wait, no – I haven’t seen Gremlins yet!” You replied, eyes snapping up just in time to meet his as he looked at you over his shoulder.
“How? It’s been out for almost a year.”
You shrugged. “I don’t like the cinema, you know this. That’s why we’re in your trailer.” As Eddie clicked the Gremlins video into position and grabbed the remote, you cracked all the knuckles on your left hand with a press of your thumb, eagerly waiting for the third instalment in your Halloween movie marathon.
“Urgh,” He cringed at the sound, jumping back down on the sofa beside you to still your hands with one of his own. "No, no, no, no, no –”
“I was just cracking my knuckles, Ed.”
“That’s banned in this household – the sound is just…” He shuddered dramatically.
“Fine.” You agreed, resisting the temptation to do it one more time for the sake of it when he reluctantly let go of your hands.
“Why do you do it anyway?” He asked, turning his cheek against the back of the sofa to watch you while the opening credits rolled. Sometimes you hated it when he did that – slouching down so he looked up at you with those stupid big brown eyes of his, all imploring and gorgeous. Your eyes drifted down to your hands, now tangled in the blankets splayed across your legs. His watchful gaze was like a hand ghosting over your skin, raising goosebumps wherever he looked.
“I hate having my hands still. Feels like I can never concentrate unless they’re doing something.”
“Here,” He bit his lip and placed his hand palm up against your side, barely touching. “You can play with my hand. Or my rings, whatever.” It felt as if his heart was about to beat out of his chest. Why did he offer that? Maybe he should’ve just let you crack your knuckles and blame any involuntary shudders on the film. Was that weird? Oh god, what if you said no?
“Thanks.” You smiled, drawing his hand further into your lap to trace the lines across his palm, the calluses on his fingers from playing guitar. Eddie swallowed roughly as you followed the visible joints over the back of his hand, mesmerised. It wasn’t uncommon for Eddie to be affectionate; it was a lot stranger when he wasn’t, but this felt more tender than usual.
Feelings were complicated things. Something you had chosen to avoid exploring as much as possible, especially when it came to the unexpected friendship between you and Eddie and the tight feeling in your stomach that had begun to grow as a result of it. Maybe it would have been easier had you been able to talk about it with anyone, but Eddie was adamant that nobody knew. His friendship wasn’t worth the bullying, he said.
As you grew closer and the line between platonic and romantic became blurrier by the day with every casual touch and offhand compliment, you created a room in your head to lock everything behind; hidden behind a push door you’d pull at forever just to keep it closed. It was hard to know what was different about tonight. For once, you leaned in to open it. “Why do you never invite me to hang out with your friends?”
“I like having you to myself.” Eddie answered almost immediately. After a second, he squinted and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did that sound creepy?”
“Lil’ bit.”
He sighed. “I just…” The sofa hushed beneath his nervous shuffling as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid meeting your eye, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He spoke slowly. “I’m worried that if you hang out with my friends, you’ll get along. And if you get along, you’ll be around more, enough for people to take notice.” He turned to you; head laid against the back of the sofa. “I don’t want people to target you for being near us. Near me.”
“Eddie, trust me I have a special talent for going by unnoticed. Nobody would see me.”
“I noticed you.”
“Only when I needed you to.”
“No.” He shook his head firmly. It was hard for him to concentrate when your hand was still brushing over his own, but the hope he saw shining in your eyes was stardust, and he would travel the universe if it meant he could watch it glow. “No – before that, junior year. You were walking down the hallway and this tiny freshman was struggling to add something to the notice board. You took one glance at him and took the stapler out of his hand, did it yourself, and then signed whatever petition it was and walked away before he could thank you for it.”
A crease formed between your eyebrows. “I…don’t remember this.”
“No? Well, almost immediately after that Jason walked by me and pushed me into a wall, and then when he passed by you, you stuck out your leg and tripped him up. Remember that?” He watched you carefully as you frowned again, nodding slightly.
“He called you a freak.”
“Yeah, he does that a lot.” Eddie sighed, smiling at your expression. For once it felt good to be vulnerable, to open up about something he held so dear to him, memories he cradled within the palms of his hands. “You tried not to smile but I could see it on your face afterwards. After that… I always noticed you.”
It was impossible to break his gaze. His face was lit with the soft flickering light from the TV, turning gold then blue then red. You wondered sometimes how anyone in that godforsaken school could call him a freak, treat him the way they do, when he had eyes like that. So effortlessly captivating, rich like the earth after rain.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly.
Words failed you. It was hard to think when he looked at you with that intense gaze of his – you thought as much the very first time you met, willing yourself not to blush as he tested your resolve. It was a test then. Now it felt as if he were pleading. You wanted to reply.
Yes.
Of course.
Why didn’t you ask sooner?
But all you managed was a nod, breathless at the sight of outcast, metalhead King Eddie Munson watching you as if you hung the stars, his lips parted ever so slightly. The tips of his fingers brushed against your cheek, drifting slowly across the soft line of your jaw before burying themselves in your hair, a gentle thumb against your cheek as he brought you closer.
There was no hesitancy in the way he kissed you. It seemed that once you had nodded, that was all the confidence he needed to pour himself into you, the hard press of his rings against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. It felt so right – so natural, being with him. You twisted a hand into the fabric of his shoulder and pulled him closer and felt his body relax against yours, as if the relief of your attraction had weakened everything inside him. Your touch a balm for his tension.
“I’ve wanted to do this since you sat in on our D&D session.” He murmured, close enough that as he spoke his lips brushed skin, trailing down towards your neck. You didn’t reply, only cupped his jaw and brought his mouth back up to your own and kissed him. Again. And again. And again.
Dustin and Steve navigated the uneven forest floor with ease, bickering softly between them as they powered on, ignoring the ever-increasing space between them and the rest of their party.
“So…” Robin sidled up to where you were trudging along by yourself. It seemed no one had any idea how to deal with you, instead leaving you to accompany them but only at a distance. “How long have you been together?” She asked.
There was no point in lying. “Since last semester. Halloween.”
“Do you love him?”
“Robin!” Nancy cut in, having snuck up on your other side.
“It’s fine, Nancy.” You said with a quick glance. It felt strange to talk openly about this. Under any other circumstances it might’ve been fun, even. But as it was it felt like cracking your chest open for them to poke and prod around inside. Still, you needed them to know that bringing you with them wasn’t a mistake… You hoped. “Yeah, I do. And I need to him to know that I…” Emotion rose abruptly in your throat and swallowed the rest of your sentence. The two girls shared a nervous glance over your head. “I need him to know that he can’t just run away like this and expect me not to follow.”
“What if he killed them?” Nancy asked tentatively.
“He didn’t. You’re talking about a guy who banned me from cracking my knuckles around him because the sound makes him cringe and he gets faint at the sight of blood. He’s harmless.” You told them firmly. Never, not once in this long, hellish week since the accusations started circulating did you think that Eddie hurt Chrissy. That fact was as certain and solid to you as the ground beneath your feet.
“How do you two even know each other?” Robin continued to interrogate you.
You bit back a sigh and answered her, fingers itching for a smoke.
The cold night air was a balm for your flustered skin. The sky had turned the deep blue of a fresh bruise, lit cigarette butts dotting the sidewalk like stars hung from the lips of heavy-lidded metalheads outside The Hideout. “Ready to go?” Eddie asked you, van keys already in his hand. “Jesus,” he paused, pressing the back of his hand to your cheek and frowning slightly. “You’re really hot,”
“Not so bad yourself, Ed.” You started to make your way behind the venue, thankful for the dim lighting to hide how your flush deepened almost immediately at his words, his casual touches. The way he watched you throughout Corroded Coffin’s set alone had you burning, it was hard to tell if he could tell the extent of his effect on you merely by existing in the same space, planets slowly spinning out into the same orbit, destined to crash.
It was your first gig since you became a couple and trying to act normal was proving to be exceptionally difficult. Eddie was naturally very touchy-feely, even before you got together, but it was hard to know where to toe the line between friendly and romantic when his bandmates were watching you together like they were observing some exotic animal in a zoo exhibition. It was easier to forgo touching at all, not that either of you were particularly good at staying apart.
“Wait by the van, I’ll be back in a sec, okay?” He said, darting back into the bar before you could say anything else. You headed to where the rest of Corroded Coffin were lingering behind the venue, leaning beside the van that stored all their equipment. They were easy to talk to as long as you pointedly ignored the underlying tension. You were sleeping with their guitarist. They knew you were sleeping with their guitarist. You knew they knew you were sleeping with their guitarist.
Still, their company was fun, and you ended up thinking often how nice it would be to spend more time with them outside these stray minutes after their sets. You teased them with details on Eddie’s next D&D campaign, the first you had organised together, and asked about their plans post-graduation.
“Here,” Eddie said, jogging back over to you with a sweating can of coke in his palm.
“…Thanks?” You said with an upturned eyebrow, baffled but also warmed by the unexpected gesture. He sighed and pressed the can to your burning skin, relieving the sticky heat that had yet to dissipate since coming outside. “Oh,” you laughed awkwardly, the back of your neck prickling as you became aware of the band watching you. “Thanks.” You repeated, genuine this time.
Those early days were confusing. It was a minefield trying to navigate what kind of contact you could have in public without Eddie getting paranoid or drawing away, and in the end he did what he wanted regardless. Privately, it felt as if he enjoyed having a secret. Sometimes when you would pass each other in the school hallway, he would brush his knuckles against your wrist, or hold your waist quickly if moving behind you, biting down on his cheek to stop a grin from splitting his face open.
For the most part you didn’t speak about it. Didn’t question the way his mind worked. Maybe it was for the best, present murder charge considering, but still a part of you wanted to flaunt the relationship. He was the best part of your life and being able to tell people that, to show how completely wrong their assumptions about him were, sometimes felt like it would change everything. He never agreed.
“You wanna go home?” He asked once the band had turned the corner and left the lot, snaking an arm around your waist to close the already small gap between you. The only other people in sight were some bar staff smoking on their break beside the backdoor, chatting amicably between themselves and ignoring you both.
You hummed and leaned your head against his shoulder. “I don’t really want to say goodbye yet.”
“Say no more, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your head and ushered you into his van, keys jangling in his fist.
You drove to the quarry on the East side of Hawkins, forcing Eddie to park away from the steep cliff face, where the gravel dropped off sharply into a lake far below, the water calm and sparkling under the night sky as if scattered with diamonds.
The hood of the van was cold beneath your thighs as you jumped up to sit cross-legged on its surface, watching Eddie roll a joint beside you. The windows were rolled down, Black Sabbath echoing from the speakers across the open air. “Want some?” He asked, holding it up to you in one hand while his other dug around in his pocket searching for a lighter.
You gasped dramatically and put a hand to your chest. “For free?”
“Only for you.” He smiled and jumped up beside you, joint hanging loosely between his lips as he set it alight.
“Keep giving me this treatment Munson and I’ll start thinking I’m special.” You teased, watching as he took a slow drag and exhaled, tapping the excess ash onto the floor.
He hummed low in his throat and leaned down to brush his words against your lips. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He kissed you slowly, looking at you with one of his genuine Eddie smiles – the one that brought out the dimples in his cheeks and made his eyes crease in the corners.
It scared him. The feeling in his chest, like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs and if it weren’t for this cord between you, he’d be floating into the atmosphere; lost in space. When you smiled at him, he felt another thread snake forward and intwine itself into the connection between you, a messy braid of emotion he felt keenly.
The cord was a measure of where you weren’t, he only felt at peace when that space was eliminated – his hand in your hair, your ankle locked behind his knee, bodies together – he felt the absence too deeply. Love had always been a risk to him, like willingly jumping off a cliff into an unknowable abyss, but the adrenaline he now chased for you was addiction like he had never known.
He held out his hand to offer you the joint sat in the apex of his fingers. You pressed your thumb to his pulse point and felt it jump and brought his hand to you with two fingers against the back of his hand, the pads of his fingers pressed firm against your mouth as you took a drag.
He allowed himself to fall.
Memories you shared stung your eyes like the aftereffects of a camera flash, waiting for you in the darkness every time you blinked. With every step you took closer to Skull Rock, your heart climbed further up your throat. You had to remind yourself to breathe properly, wholly unconvinced that your heart wouldn’t leap out with a wet smack the second you opened your mouth.
You stopped replying to Robin’s questions a while ago, the anxiety in your head growing too loud and drowning her out. Maybe you should have asked Dustin how he got into contact with Eddie after he disappeared. Did Eddie contact him? Instead of you? The thought gnawed at you. Was he trying to protect you by keeping you away or was he finished with everything you built together?
“There she is, Henderson!” Steve called out over his shoulder. From up ahead you could see him disappear through a tangle of ivy, Dustin following closely behind with his compass still clutched tight in hand.
Nancy and Robin watched as your feet sped up on their own accord, tripping over branches and stray rocks as you raced towards them, batting away the foliage with a dismissive hand. The cord between you was a fishing rod, reeling you in as you drew closer together.
“Eddie…” You breathed. The sight of his familiar face was almost too much after what felt like an age apart, almost everything about him the same except the weight of the world pushing down against his shoulders. The knot of anxiety in your stomach tightened as he lifted his gaze to yours, your name falling through his lips like a prayer.
You closed the few short steps between you and threw your arms around his shoulders, sighing in relief when his arms instantly wrapped around you to bring you even closer. Your fingers dug into the familiar denim on his back, eyes closed as you breathed in his presence. His usual scent was gone – stale cigarettes, weed and leather – replaced with the tang of muddy water and the forest after rain.
Eddie had one arm wrapped steadfast around your waist, fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt, grasping the skin above the hem of your jeans hard enough to bruise. Chests pressed so tight against each other that you could feel every hitch of his breath. The other was buried in your hair, palm pressed against your neck as his rings burned cold dents against your skull, his head buried in your neck as he murmured your name.
How. How. How. You heard him whisper into your skin.
“I had to know if you were okay.” You leaned back just enough to look him in the eye, his arms around you too solid to go any further – not that you wanted to.
You brought a hand up to his cheek, his skin warm under your touch. His eyes closed as he dipped his head forward to meet yours, exhaling shakily as your fingers skimmed his jaw – a path well-worn and achingly familiar to you. Through touches like these you had memorised him, could craft him from marble, wearing away grooves in the surface purely from the memory of a thousand stolen moments.
Still, he asked. How. How. How. His nose parallel to yours, pressing into your cheek as his words fanned against your skin.
“I didn’t give them a choice, I took their car keys.” He laughed at that, his head falling once more to your neck. You could feel him grin against your throat.
“Of course you did.” He shook his head and tightened his arms around you, whispering softly. “I’m so glad you’re here.” The tension drained from his body, his shoulders slumping with relief as he buried himself in the comfort of you. It wasn’t over – if anything things would only get harder, more complicated from this point on – but for now at least he had this. A reminder of why he was still here, and why he would do anything to stay.
You took a freefall off a cliff and landed in the safety net of his presence. This you knew intimately, like navigating your house blindfolded and finding your way through unharmed – the steadfast equanimity only home could provide. His hand fitted into the curve of your neck; thumb pressed to the small hollow behind your jaw as his lips curved against your own.
Home, finally.
If you like happy endings, you can end there! Buuuut if you also like a bit of angst... then read on for Eddie x readers last interaction before he disappeared :)
“Have you ever considered that I’m maybe not as fragile as you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re fragile–”
“–That maybe I’m perfectly capable of handling it if people want to talk shit about us?” Eddie said your name pleadingly, desperate for you to calm down.
You don’t when or how it started but something ugly had been brewing inside you and for whatever reason tonight it bubbled over and scorched your skin red. “Since when have their opinions ever mattered?” You gestured wildly; arm flung out towards the door in an attempt to encapsulate… who? The basketball team? Hellfire? The students, the teachers, the entire goddamn town? It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. The fact that Eddie couldn’t see that was killing you.
“I’m the one who can’t handle it!” He yelled.
Your throat felt raw with the effort of swallowing down your anger, chest heaving with the pressure of keeping everything inside. Unshed tears stung in the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away.
The day had started fine. Having stayed overnight in Eddie’s trailer, you woke up Sunday morning warm in the cocoon of his chest, his hair tickling your bare shoulder as he nestled his head in your neck, planting sleepy kisses on any skin he could find. Together you planted the seeds of domesticity, watered them with yawned good mornings and dancing to the radio while you cooked breakfast in his clothes. Lunch was spent on the porch talking amicably with his uncle as the smell of fresh barbeque infused the air. The sun turned the air liquid and hazy across the horizon, rippling in the distance like a portal to somewhere new.
After lunch, you took a trip to Family Video to find some entertainment for the evening. Sunday afternoon was one of the rare times you could go inside together without Eddie getting paranoid, the till manned by some bored guy in his mid-twenties who had no idea who you were. As soon as he realised you were in the clear Eddie became five times more affectionate; fingers tapping melodies across your ribs as you looked through the new releases, persuading you to rent Back to the Future for the third time with whispers in your ear. In the end you decided on Fright Night, convincing Eddie with the promise that he could hide in your arms if he got too scared… or vice versa, for the sake of his ego.
The bell chimed on the door as you were making your way to the counter. “Shit.” Eddie hissed, pulling you back between the isles.
“Fuck Eddie, what was that about?” You craned your head back towards the door where three sophomore girls from Hawkins had just come in, chatting and laughing amongst themselves.
“Go wait in the van, I’ll hang around for a few minutes and meet you, okay?” He said, swapping the tape in your hand with his keys and, with a final glance towards the girls still lingering by the door, he pretended to browse solo, missing the way your face fell as soon as he dropped your hand.
The journey home was silent. There was a ringing in your ears and a heavy weight on your chest. Eddie’s knuckles were a stark white against the steering wheel, Fright Night thrown carelessly onto the seat between you. Already you knew it would return to Family Video unwatched.
At the start of the new year, a guy in your Biology class asked you on a date. You didn’t hesitate to say no. “Why?” He asked. “We get along well, I mean we like all the same things and it’s not like you’re dating anyone… Just one date, come on. Give me a chance.” Blood welled in your cheek from where you bit into the skin, body coiled tight like a spring. Part of you wanted to cry, to scream. In your head you yelled, “Actually Mark, I’m in love with Eddie Munson! So you can ask as many times as you want but it’s always going to be no!” He watched you walk away without responding to him, only a rough shake of your head, hissing under his breath.
It was the first time you acknowledged that you truly loved Eddie. The idea of telling him was too intimidating, like trying to see the tip of a skyscraper when stood at the base, the sun blinding you through squinted eyes. You couldn’t see the top – couldn’t know how he would respond, how things would change.
The argument started as soon as you walked through his door.
Now you stood opposite each other, Eddie’s hands nervously kneading the back of the sofa as he stared off into the middle distance and avoided your eye. His outburst hung in the air, the ringing aftermath of a boxing bell signalling the end of a match. From elsewhere in the trailer park, a dog began to bark.
You spoke softer this time. Pleading. “These people aren’t just going to disappear from our lives when we graduate, Eddie. Or do you want to keep going around acting like strangers in public forever?”
“I can’t –” He started. His voice broke off, his hand shaking slightly as he drew it up across his eyes and tangled it in his hair. Unspoken words bulbed in his throat. “If they target you for being with me, I would never forgive myself. I… I can’t let that happen to you.”
“I hate hiding the fact that I love you.” Eddie squeezed his eyes closed and you felt your chest constrict, spiderweb fractures across your heart like the lines across your palm. What would change if he said it back? Did it even matter anymore? You couldn’t tell.
“You’re not making this any easier.”
“It was never going to be easy, Eds.” His jaw clenched. You wanted nothing more than to feel his skin beneath your hands and look him in the eye while you did this. Difficult conversations had never been his forte. “We’re in this together, right?” Keeping your voice even was a tightrope. You wobbled, the question sounding pathetic in your ears as the tears collected behind your eyes. Eddie’s head snapped up at the sound, coming to your side in seconds to bring you into his arms. “Just… Can you please just think about this?” You murmured into his chest.
He sighed. “Fine.” A pause. “Will you stay?” Yes. Of course. Why didn’t you ask sooner? You thought.
“I should get home.” It was cold without him against you, but as you shrugged on your jacket trying to smother your disappointment and made towards the door, he called your name.
“It’s stupid but I, uh… I wanted to be the first one to say it.” It was there in his eyes. Inside, you felt your heart crack in two; a life half yours, the other beating to the rhythm of his name.
“Snooze you lose, Munson.” You said flatly, using the final dregs of emotion that had yet to spill from you that day.
He closed the space between you and removed your hand from where it clutched the door, encasing it between his. “I love you.” It was surprising how freeing it felt to finally say it out loud, he thought. A weight he had been shouldering, made even heavier under the armour he always wore, finally shrugged off – the sun emerging from a dense grey sky after an age lived in shadow. “Wait – no.” The thrill of being honest had taken control. “I’m in love with you. My priority is to keep you safe, okay?”
On one hand the certainty that you were in this boat together was a relief, rocking against the waves as a unit. But liking him in secret had been a thorn in your foot; loving him in secret would be an arrow through your chest.
“Okay.” The word was a hollow weight dropped from your lips, void of conviction, that sat between you like something rotten. You didn’t doubt that he wanted to protect you or that he loved you, but with every passing day it felt like he viewed your safety as a life without him in it, regardless of how he felt about you.
You slid your hand from his to open the door and tried desperately not to crumble as his fingertips held your chin with such tenderness you almost cried, laying a final kiss on your cheek before you left, the door closing with a resolute click behind you.
As you made your way towards the car the air felt wrong; like you were displacing it with every step, sending ripples through a steady pond. It was made worse the further you got from Eddie, as if on some level the universe knew that in that moment you should have been by his side, that tangled thread between you pulling taut against your heart.
You didn’t see Eddie at school on Monday.
On Tuesday, Chrissy Cunningham was declared dead.