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Eddie “the Freak” Munson.
Steve never really knew him per se, but he’d definitely heard of the guy. Hawkins High was a small school, and news traveled fast. If someone was a nerd, an asshole, or a drug dealer, everyone knew about it.
So of course, in freshman year, Steve caught wind of the rumor that Eddie Munson made the math sub cry. No one really said what happened, but everyone said he was a menace. Most put two and two together and decided he pulled some kind of awful prank.
Sophomore year, Munson became popular with the AP students and the kids with 3.9 GPAs. It was kind of ingenious that he capitalized on it, really. They had anxiety and panic attacks and he had Special K.
Yes, Steve heard plenty of rumors. He saw the loudmouth in the cafeteria and hallways. Sometimes the guy showed up at rallies and afterparties, making deals and creating the occasional spectacle. But he never actually met Eddie until the beginning of his junior year.
Word had gotten out that Nancy Wheeler left him for the Byers kid, who’d managed to beat his ass in a scuffle. Steve’s black eye and busted lip were still fresh, and he couldn’t walk to his locker or between classes without catching snickers and side glances.
In a matter of days, he’d been knocked down quite a few pegs on the social ladder. In hindsight, it really wasn’t the end of the world, but it felt that way when that was all he had.
It had been six in the morning and Steve was standing outside the locker room. His back was to the wall and he was moping where no one could see him. Hearing someone approach, he’d quickly dried his eyes and stood straight only to see Eddie Munson standing there next to him.
The guy’s hair wasn’t very long yet. It barely passed beneath his chin, but was still an unkempt mess. Steve wasn’t sure why he remembered that.
He wasn’t in the mood for more teasing from the nerds and freaks that didn’t fear breathing the same air as him anymore. His first reaction had been to snap at the guy to get lost. Eddie put up his hands defensively, declaring he just wanted to ask if everything was alright.
Eddie left before saying anything else. Steve hadn’t expected that from the guy who everyone said had done time during freshman year. He didn’t think too much of it.
Later that semester, Steve watched Eddie get into a spat with some guys on the basketball team. They’d thrown everything they had at him. “Freak,” “druggie,” “Satanist,” “creep.” The same words that got hurled at him in the halls, at house parties, at basketball games. Students and teachers alike had nothing to offer him but disdain.
Over the course of just a few months, Steve got to experience a fraction of that himself. He’d get into fights, using his fists to inflict the pain that had him believing that his life was over.
Eddie never threw a single punch in any conflict, in any yelling match. No matter what rumors anyone spread about him or what insults they’d say to his face. Endlessly, he’d just brush it off with grace and flip them the bird.
And Steve, well. He wondered how the hell he never, ever saw Eddie cry.
Back then, it was easy to write the guy off as a freak. Everyone said he was one, so how could he possibly be anything more?
But now Steve was starting to see something more. It was bizarre, really. Eddie “the Freak” Munson, the guy who deals drugs. The guy who was loud and uncouth. The nerd who was unapologetically passionate.
The man who, on a couch in an RV going eighty-five on a county road, had his head resting on Steve’s shoulder.
The engine was revving and wind was whipping through a broken window. Somewhere nearby, a voice was screaming. Dustin. Robin had been holding him the whole time, keeping him in the passenger seat even as he tried desperately to reach the couch.
Robin was shouting directions over his cries as Nancy tried to keep the vehicle from careening off the road.
How long had they been driving? Steve had only been conscious for the last few minutes and was still fading in and out. Last he remembered, he’d used what was left of his energy to fight off a hoard of demo-bats that had been circling Eddie. Everything had faded to black before he knew for sure that they’d won.
What Eddie was doing there when he was supposed to be back in the trailer with Dustin, Steve still didn’t know.
At some point the others must have dragged him and Eddie through the gate and haphazardly tossed them onto the sofa as if they were cadavers. The vehicle was speeding and it was a wonder how the two of them weren’t on the floor yet.
Eddie’s limp form was draped over Steve’s own, the prospect of the weight on top of his old bite wounds making him thankful that he was entirely numb right now.
Craning his head up, Steve looked at where his arms apparently had been holding Eddie. The man’s shirt was ripped apart, partially by the bats and also from one of the adults making an improvised bandage for him.
Pulling away the hand that rested across Eddie’s lower back, Steve’s eyes widened at the sheen of fresh blood that coated it. His half-awake mind was starting to race with panic, his heart pounding in his throat.
Swallowing down his own blood that coated his mouth, Steve winced as he forced his lips to move. “H…hos…”
Robin’s head snapped up, momentarily breaking her focus on navigating for the driver. “Steve? Steve’s awake!”
“Oh, thank god.” Nancy.
Steve tried again. “Hospital.” A wheezing cough.” Hospital !”
“No hospitals!” Dustin screamed. “They’ll turn him in!”
“No. No hospitals,” Robin repeated back to him. “Owens is meeting us at the old labs. He’ll help us. He’ll help Eddie—”
Dustin’s panicked cries didn’t die down as he continued to try to fight her. Tears were streaming down the boy’s face as he yelled for Eddie to wake up.
Stomach churning, Steve slid his hand further up Eddie’s side, finding more gouges in his flesh. They mirrored his own. Suddenly Steve started to remember—at some point he’d been awake as the group bolted—limped, more like—back to the trailer in the Upside Down.
Nancy had put one of his arms over her shoulders and was marching with determination that only she could possess. Robin and Dustin each held Eddie’s arms as they hauled him as quickly as they could.
The man was barely clinging to his life and still had the energy to turn his head to look at Steve. Eddie’s teeth were bright red, eyes that usually glinted with mischief looking dull and sunken in. Still, he smiled.
“Check it out, Stevie.” A quivering hand, still adorned with rings, weakly moved to the gaping wounds. “Matching tats. Ha.” He passed out after that.
It was a stupid joke. Eddie could have been killed, and he still found the time to make a joke.
Steve thought about it now; ragged marks on both their bodies that might heal if Owens could really save them. They would definitely scar, leaving their bodies marred. The thought of him having that in common with the other man, in spite of everything, really did make Steve feel better.
Now Eddie's head was resting on Steve’s shoulder, his hair cascading over both their faces. His breath ghosted across Steve’s collarbone; a sign that he was alive. That made Steve feel a lot better, too.
In only a week, he'd learned more about this man than he had in years.
Here was Eddie Munson, the scary, obnoxious, despicable freak of Hawkins High. The kind, gentle-natured, funny, honest freak.
Maybe if Steve hadn’t been such an ass, things could have been different in high school. In another life, he and Eddie might have been friends. There was no way he’d ever know.
All that mattered at this moment was what Steve already knew: he was so fucking glad that Eddie was here right now.