Chapter Text
Dustin’s panicked scream cut through the air like a knife. Eddie could feel blood trickling down his sides, soaking his shirt. He could feel his breaths becoming shallow and labored, sweat plastering his bangs to his forehead.
“Oh, god, Eddie,” Dustin sobbed, scooping the older man into his arms. Tears streamed down his face as Eddie coughed, blood spewing from his lips.
“That bad, huh?” he asked, trying for a strained smile.
“N-no, no no,” Dustin said through gasps. “You’re gonna be fine- We just gotta get you to a hospital, okay?”
Eddie had a hard time believing him, but he decided to play along for the kid’s sake. “Okay.”
Dustin started to pull him off the ground and Eddie hissed in pain. “I-I just need a sec, okay?” Dustin nodded hysterically, and Eddie knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He smiled up at the freshman with blood stained teeth and tears welling in his eyes. “I didn’t run away this time, right?”
“N-no, no, you didn’t run,” Dustin sniffled.
“Y-you’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?”
“No! You’re gonna do that yourself!” Dustin wailed, gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders like a vice.
“No,” he said with a sad smile. “Say ‘I’m gonna look after them.’ Say it.”
Dustin sobbed, gasping for air as he tried to speak. “I’m- I’m gonna look after them.”
Eddie smiled tearfully. “I think it’s my year, Henderson. I think it’s finally my year.” He felt Dustin’s tears hit the broken skin of his face as he nodded. “I love you, man.”
“I love you, too,” Dustin choked out. Eddie’s eyes started to become unfocused, and he thought to himself how grateful he was that he wasn’t dying in this shithole alone. His vision slowly started to fade out, cotton filling his ears as Dustin screamed indignantly. The last thing he processed before passing out was the guilt he felt towards leaving Chrissy alone in his trailer.
***
Groggy confusion ran rampant in Eddie’s mind as he inhaled painfully. His ribs throbbed and head spun as he allowed his eyes to flutter open. He wasn’t able to see anything, darkness seemingly swallowing him whole.
Did I get my shit rocked again? he asked himself. Jason Carver must have finally found him, gotten revenge for Chrissy’s death, and left him to die in a ditch. That seemed to make sense. The Freak of Hawkins was no longer a problem.
He was going to continue wallowing in self pity until he rolled on his side, a scream ripping itself from his throat. Jesus fuck that hurt. Did Carver stab him? A shaky hand slowly applied pressure to his ribs, sticky with blood.
“Huh,” he mumbled, trying his hardest not to yell as he slowly sat up. Where the hell was he? Eddie swallowed painfully, tasting both iron and bile on his tongue. “Okay…what the fuck?”
Examining his surroundings as his eyes slowly adjusted to the faint red glow of the room around him. He was leaned against the ratty couch of his trailer, his guitar laid gently across his lap. Glancing through the dirt-caked windows, Eddie watched red lightning erupt in the sky and ash fall to the ground like snow. His breath caught in his throat as recollection of previous events came to him.
Fuck.
Where was Dustin? How was he in his trailer? Why was his guitar with him? Questions flooded his mind like a broken dam, becoming more sporadic and rushed as time ticked on. He wasn’t dead, that was apparent, but nothing else seemed to answer itself as Eddie panicked.
He was in the Upside Down, covered in blood and sweat, thirsty as hell, and alone. Looking up, the portal above him had apparently stitched itself closed, so that was no longer an option. (Not that he would have been able to drag himself through it, anyway.)
Through ragged breaths, Eddie pulled the bandana out of his hair, wadding it into a ball and stuffing it against his bleeding stomach. He didn’t believe in God, but he cursed out whoever the fuck was up there for leaving him in this predicament. Some might have seen this as a second chance, not bleeding out and succumbing to demobat disease, but Eddie took it as an insult.
How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?
Anger expanding in his chest, Eddie pushed himself into a some-what standing position, gasping as pain radiated through his stomach. Those fuckin’ bats really did a number on him. Looping his arm through the strap of his guitar, Eddie wobbled in place, trying his hardest to blink the spots out of his eyes. He needed to treat his wounds, but his trailer definitely wasn’t the place to do that.
Staggering out the door, Eddie looked up to Max’s trailer, sitting abandoned and empty. Alright, he thought to himself. Good enough. He just needed to get away from the rundown building that had witnessed so many horrors.
Jiggling the door handle, Eddie cursed as it made no intent of budging. Glancing around the clearing, his eyes locked on the fallen spear that he had used in an effort to defend himself from the demobats. He stumbled toward the abandoned weapon, grasping it with white knuckles. This would work.
The window to the side of the door didn’t seem too high up, and Eddie’s lengthy limbs should help him through it. “Sorry about this, Mayfield,” he said aloud as he slammed the end of the spear against the glass, effectively shattering it. Clamoring up the side of the building, Eddie pulled himself through the opening and rolled onto the couch on the other side, groaning in pain and clutching his sides.
“Fuck, man,” he whimpered, looking at the shards of glass now embedded in his hands. The world wanted him to suffer, and Eddie hated it. Clearing the couch of any leftover debris, Eddie stumbled in the direction (or at least what he thought was the direction) of Max’s bathroom, desperately looking for something to clean himself up with.
Sighing gratefully as he found a red first aid kit shoved haphazardly underneath the sink, Eddie gently placed his guitar on the ground and nearly threw himself to the floor. Ripping open the casing, he took stock of the equipment he found. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, gauze bandages, a needle and polymer thread, a thermometer, tweezers, and a dozen or so cotton balls. He could work with this.
With shaky hands, Eddie took out the tweezers, anxiously looking down at the glass shrapnel sticking out of his palms. “Okay, okay, okay,” he said loudly, trying his best to not let panic creep its way up his throat. Steadying his grip, he used the tweezers to pull the largest shard of glass out of his left palm.
Alright, it wasn’t too bad. He could do it. It actually felt better without the glass, so Eddie encouraged himself to continue. Once he was certain that there was nothing left, he wrapped his hands tightly in the bandages. Now was the fun part.
Pulling up his blood-drenched shirt, Eddie felt himself get dizzy at the sight of his injuries. Blood was still slowly seeping out of the missing chunks of flesh, glistening menacingly at him through the dim light of the bathroom. If he had anything but bile in his stomach, Eddie was certain he would have thrown it up.
Squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, he grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and a towel from underneath the sink. “This is gonna suck so bad,” he murmured, gently tipping the bottle toward the cloth in his hand. Unfortunately, he underestimated how quickly the liquid would soak through the towel, and alcohol splattered down onto his stomach.
“FUCK!” Eddie screamed as his wounds stung angrily, immediately blinking back tears. “God DAMNIT.”
He clutched at his sides, letting a sob wrack through his battered body. There was no way he’d make it through this. If the pain didn’t kill him, surely the embarrassment of his brash decisions would. Clenching his jaw, Eddie braced himself for the sting as he gently wiped his skin with the cloth. Hot tears streamed down his face as he finished, looking down to assess the wound.
Yeah, that was gonna need to be stitched up. Eddie whimpered as he looked down and noticed the visible muscle tissue peeking out from behind his ripped skin. Gagging slightly, he rubbed his eyes clear of tears. He was going to have to suture himself and he was not excited about it.
Gripping the spool of thread, Eddie squinted down at the curved needle and shakily tried to thread it. His hyperactive mind didn’t help to calm down his hands, and it took him several tries to get the thread through the eye-hole. His tongue stuck out from between his teeth and he laughed hysterically as he completed the task.
“Oh god, oh fuck,” Eddie breathed, biting down on the dry end of the towel and attempted to line the needle up with the gaping hole in his side. Pushing it through his skin, Eddie’s cry of pain was muffled by cloth stuffed in his mouth. The squelch of blood and searing pain in his stomach made Eddie see stars, his vision swimming with black spots.
Taking a second to adjust his arms into a more comfortable position, he gritted his teeth and glared down at his abdomen. “Gotta get back to Henderson…Make sure he’s…S’okay,” he said woozily. He pushed the needle through his skin again, a strangled screech cutting through the silent air. Eddie pulled the thread taut, gasping as his skin closed slowly. He continued to make his way across the wound, messily tying off the end of the thread and wrapping his stomach in gauze.
“Okay, okay. I just need to- need to sit…sit n’ heal…” Eddie whispered, tears tracking down his face again, and he pulled himself to his feet. He needed to lay down, and the couch didn’t seem like the best option. Opening the door to his right, he glanced at the twin mattress laying on the floor, a tape deck sitting open on the shelf next to it. This must have been Max’s room. Surely, she wouldn’t mind if he tried to recover here, Eddie tried to reason with himself. It was a little weird laying in a 16 year old’s room, but he was running out of choices, and he was getting lightheaded quickly.
Stumbling to the mattress, Eddie felt his conscience slip away, and a world of black enveloped him once again.