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Chapter Text

When Eddie Munson first laid eyes on Chrissy Cunningham that day at lunch, he thought doing a drug-deal with her was the weirdest thing that was going to happen to him that year. 

When she asked for something stronger and then agreed to carpool with him to the trailer park… Well, things couldn’t get weirder than that. And he had seen plenty of weird stuff growing up. 

He was wrong, of course. 

Now, the strawberry blonde cheerleader starts flying, her body pinned to his ceiling. It brings flashbacks to his mind. It’s just like in movies where something has a grip of the person, something dark and evil. 

The music in his trailer is loud, Journey’s Faithfully won’t stop booming. At the back of his mind, Eddie thinks that he should’ve never put on the record player. 

However, the music mixes with his terrified screams, his throat is dry from exertion and Chrissy, Jesus H. Christ, is still floating. What the holy hell is happening? It seems like—but it can’t be. Because—

Chrissy pops a bone. Somehow, her arm twists in a very painful angle even though she isn’t moaning from pain. He’s screaming for her, scrambling back with his legs curled up. 

The lights are still flickering, there’s an electric vibe in the air and fucking Journey is still on. 

Suddenly, as fast as she’d started floating, she falls, her arm still at an odd angle. Chrissy Cunningham joins him on earth. Tears roll down her cheeks, she wants to talk but can’t form any coherent words, not when her arm is bleeding and is obviously suffocating, like the air around her isn’t enough. 

Eddie snaps out of it. 

“Who the hell are you?” He yells over the music. Should he go help her? Yes, yes, of course. He still can’t understand what happened but—.

He crawls to her and carefully touches her left arm, her good arm. 

“I couldn’t wake up.” Her voice cracks. “I wanted to, I knew it wasn’t real because the music was still playing yet I couldn’t… The clock kept chiming and my head was hurting, spinning. All these nightmares… coming true!” She sobs into his neck. Awkwardly, he pats her back. His gaze shifts to her broken arm looking for another injury nearby. Besides her arm and obvious distress, she seems fine. Alive.

He is shocked, to say the least. He should be running away, shouldn’t he?

“I, I should take you to the hospital.” He suggests after a minute considering fleeing from the scene. “Your arm, erm, doesn’t look…” It looks like a fucking bendy straw. Of course he’s not going to say that, he’s still trying to make sense of this, but the not-so-mean-and-scary cheerleader must be way more terrified and confused than he is. 

The walk to the van is slow. The only soul who witnesses Chrissy Cunningham clinging to Eddie Munson while silently sobbing is the barking dog across. Thankfully the lights stopped flickering. So maybe it’s not what he thinks it is.

“What, what happened, Chrissy?” He whispers, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. 

She is quiet, snot running down and hand shaking while nursing his right arm. 

“Hey, Cunningham. I asked you something. Very important, in fact.” He insists, raising his voice. Then, mutters, “For fuck’s sake, this can’t be fucking happening,” and turns on the radio. He can’t stand her silence and he needs to think. Van Halen’s Jump is on. He sighs relieved, he wouldn’t be able to bear another Journey song. 

“This is what we’re going to do, ok? So listen to me very carefully Chrissy Cunningham,” she flinches and he doesn’t care, not now, at least. “I’m going to drop you off at the hospital. I’m gonna help you walk there and help you give the basic information but you’re gonna have to talk, communicate because I barely know you, least of all your number or shit they ask when you check in.” He’s avoided hospitals ever since he came to live with his uncle. He knows they have records and those contain very specific details about the patients so, thank you very much, he adores his privacy. 

He breathes and eases his hold on the steer. 

“Look. I don’t know what happened,” but he does, doesn’t he? It’s similar to what happened years ago. “But it’s best if you don’t share your flying experience. No one is going to believe us, anyway, and we’re gonna get committed to some nuthouse.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her nodding. That’s enough for him. 

“Great. We’re here, come on.” He steps out of the van and helps her out. She’s still shaking, her jaw set while her nostrils flare. “It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” He asks softly. He might not really care about Chrissy Cunningham but he’s not a dick. Besides, he knows exactly what type of pain she’s feeling right now. That scares the shit out of him.

“It isn’t new. So I'm fine,” she answers, her soft voice barely a whisper. “I’m not a stranger to it. I had a similar accident in ninth grade,” she laughs awkwardly and Eddie smiles for the first time that night. 

“Yeah, flying around and breaking arms is pretty common amongst cheerleaders.” It’s a terrible joke, he knows it and yet she laughs. Now he knows there’s definitely something wrong. He swallows and opens his mouth, then closes it. He's fascinated by the sound, just as he was out in the woods.

“I guess it is…” She whispers before a nurse approaches them and takes them to the ER.

 
Time flies. They ask her pertinent questions and Chrissy excels at giving them the right, believable answers. “I was just practicing some cheer moves with my friend,” she explains while the nurse is giving him a nasty look. He rolls his eyes and decides it’s better if he just waits in the distance. There are some chairs he can sit at, though he wonders if they’re for the patients. Well—

“We’re gonna have to call your parents, missy,” he hears right before he starts making his retreat. He glances at Chrissy and there’s a sudden change in her stand. It's subtle, barely noticeable. Her shoulders tense up, her head jerks up. Eddie can’t see her face but he imagines she’s pleading with her eyes not to call them, because why else would she react like that?

“Ok.” She concedes after a second, breathes and then turns to face him. “You can wait outside, Eddie.” Her eyes travel to something behind him. He glances and oh, it’s the door.

“Do you… Do you want me to go?” Please say yes. It’s not that he just wants to leave Chrissy to fend for herself in this awful place. But there’s so much white, the antiseptic smell just makes his head dizzy and he needs to go back and sort things out. To think about what he’s gonna do now that—

“It’s not, it’s not that, Eddie,” she nibbles her bottom lip. He tries not to look how plump and pink it is. “My mother is going to think that you did this to me and she might—I don’t know what she might do but it’s best if you’re not here when she arrives.” She mumbles, casting her eyes down, as if she’s ashamed. Her cheeks color a nice pink, matching her lips and his breath catches in his throat. He shakes his head and clears his thoughts. Honestly, Eddie is ecstatic. 

However, he knows that she shouldn’t be alone, not when he’s been looming in her mind, haunting her. 

“How about I wait in that very far away corner? I don’t want you to be alone right now. You still seem shaken,” and he should be alerting his Uncle, yet here he is, devoting precious time to a girl he barely knows. 

She bites her bottom lip (don’t even think about staring, Munson, not again) and wrinkles her nose in deep thought. “Alright. May I wait with you, then?”

“I think that defeats the whole purpose of me waiting there,” he starts, his brown eyes crinkling. “But your presence would be very much appreciated, princess.”

Chrissy Cunningham sighs, relief plastered across that grateful smile of hers. She looks at him like he’s some kind of savior. And Eddie thinks, much to his regret, that he definitely should’ve left her alone because now he doesn’t think he’d be able to leave her. Once sat, she asks to hold his hand. Without hesitation, he interlocks his fingers with hers; cold, long, and thin against his calloused and battered fingers. 

It’s not long before her mother and father arrive. Mr. Cunningham goes straight to the nurse, politely asking why her daughter hasn’t been receiving attention. Meanwhile, his wife catches a glimpse of them, still holding hands. Mrs. Cunnigham doesn’t shriek, like he expects her to do. Instead, she glances at him with a stare like steel, he can absolutely see how the skin around her eyes tense up.

“Where’s Jason, darling?” Her voice is like a cold, unforgiving winter wind and Chrissy drops her hand as if he’s burned her. 

“Out partying, I didn’t want to ruin his mood. He won the championship,” she explains, her voice just barely audible. 

Not impressed, her mother continues the interrogation. “What were you doing with the Munson boy instead of being with your boyfriend, Chrissy?”

Not even caring about the scene Chrissy’s mother might create, he snorts. Loudly. Shouldn’t she be asking her daughter if she’s feeling ok? Mrs. Cunningham glares at him. He rolls his eyes. “The Munson boy can hear you, lady,” he smiles impetuously. Slowly standing up, cracking his neck with a nice roll of his head and, finally clapping his hands, Eddie bows to the cheerleader. “That’s my queue to go. I’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even have her number but he’ll get it, somehow, when he’s on the run. 

“Wait a minute, mister. You still have to explain what happened to my daughter.” Yeah, no, thank you.

“She can very well speak for herself. My job here is done. Sorry, princess. Guess I’ll see you after the break.” He winks at both of them and starts running. Of course, that might very well be the last time he ever sees Chrissy Cunningham, so he turns around one last time to smile at her.

When he gets to his van, he’s panting, the horror filling him up. The wristwatch in his left arm feels suspiciously heavy, even warm. It takes him a minute to stabilize his breath for him to start the motor. With his right hand at the steering wheel, his mouth trying to free his wrist from the watch, he arrives at the trailer park in no time. He still can’t manage to look at it. Foolishly, Eddie hopes there’s nothing there. 

But when he reluctantly steps out of the van and heads toward his castle, he decides there’s no point in denying the truth. 

He stares for what feels like hours at the tattoo, a mark upon him that he'd naively thought to have erased form his life. 

He should be calling his Uncle, to let him know that they might have to relocate. Somewhere in California sounds nice, but L.A. would push him further to his dream. He’d have to leave Corroded Coffin, though. 

He can’t do that, not when they’re finally having some recognition at the Hideout! 

Instead, he just goes to his room and pushes the bed sheets out of his way. He would sleep on it. He can’t hurt him. He’s powerless, useless, what use would he be?

The sun rises, so does Eddie. Dark clouds hang above Hawkins: there’s no point in denying it. 

He calls Owens. 

Busy, occupied, do not worry. That’s what he’s been chanting all morning, that’s what Owens must be: too busy to answer his several phone calls. Uncle Wayne is too tired to notice he’s not wearing his wristwatch anymore, Eddie doesn’t blame him. 

He decides that today his band won’t rehearse. He can’t make music when his mind is crumbling from fear. “But you love Corroded Coffin, Eddie,” he muses to himself. Shakes his head. His Magic 8 ball is the answer, will give him some insight. 

It’s nowhere to be found. He curses, loudly and crumbles a piece of newspaper he usually uses to light up the oven. 

A muffled sound comes from across the living room, from Uncle’s bedroom. It’s most probably a pillow he’s thrown at the closed door; his way of telling him to shut up, can’t a man get some sleep?. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave. Jesus.” 

He was beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic, anyway. He grabs the wristwatch; whenever his wrist it's naked, he feels like it taunts him. He can't have that, so he covers it. The anonymity it gives him makes him feel safer. 

“There’s no shame in running.” Reassuring himself, trying not to remember how he escaped all those years ago, he cracks his knuckles.

He is a coward. It's true. So when he’s back from the record store, with his mind clearer, he’ll talk to Wayne. Hopefully, by 5 o’clock they’ll be on their merry way. Who the fuck needs Owens? Not him. 

Key in hand, he starts the van. 

Chapter Text

The house is silent. Her mother is downstairs, in the kitchen, fixing her something to eat. Her arm still hurts, but the painkillers are doing their job—they’re starting to kick in. So she’s a bit woozy on her head. 

Hopefully, her mother will abide by the doctor's orders. She needs to eat well. According to him, she’s underweight and malnourished, which will make her recovery slower than usual. 

Chrissy can still remember her mother’s face. As if she was truly outraged, surprised even that her daughter was in such a state. She is, after all, a great mother, doctor, so I can’t understand how my sweet angel would even be like this. Right. 

She sighs and turns on her record player, before making herself comfortable in her bed. The sheets are fresh and the pillows still have an aromatic scent. Everything in her room is meant to make her feel better. Yet, she feels nauseous. 

Her dreams… Truth be told, she barely slept. So all she has are memories from last night, dark brown eyes looking at her as if she’s some kind of monster. Well, she is, isn’t she? Lifted from the ground, pinned to the ceiling, only hearing Eddie Munson’s screams and the song that makes her heart warm. It reminds her of better times, when her parents were trying to make their relationship and family work. The only time she’d ever felt happy.

So, she thinks that it helps. With the night terrors, with her anxiety, with her memories that must disappear. She can just throw them at the back of her mind, if only she were more brave. 

Eddie Munson’s voice must be gone, too, or else she’ll want to ask him (more like interrogate) about what happened. But mostly, she wants to thank him. He could’ve just left, as he’d first told her he’d do once they arrived at the hospital. He didn’t. He stood by her. Waited with her and was even snarky to his mother, practically defending her. 

She bites hard at her bottom lip, mulling over it. Should she call him? He told her he’d call, though. However, she doesn’t even have his home number, why would he have hers? Do trailers even have phones? Somewhere in the house there is a phone directory… She could try. If she quietly asks her dad, he’ll probably help her.  

She doesn’t even get the chance to do it. Jason is at her bedroom door when she opens it. Arm raised in a fist, ready to knock and concern plaguing his baby blue eyes, he smiles relieved. 

“Your mother let me in before I could even ring the bell. Looks like you two have more in common than either of you want to recognize.” He explains, stepping inside. She fumbles, startled and nods. Blinks twice and internally curses.

Jason, in all his sweet and confident demeanor, has decided to take her hand, lead her to the bed. She follows, always follows. He’s nice to her, gives her status and, most importantly, is Mother Approved. 

He was out partying last night, celebrating the team's first victory in years. He is now here, bathed and smelling nice. Just for here. She should feel grateful, but she just wants him gone. If she doesn't ask his father for help now, she thinks she might not do it later. Her bravery is always brief.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” She scrunches her nose in disgust. She’s never liked that pet name, but Jason’s father uses it for his wife and Jason is all about following in his father’s footsteps. Someday, she’s going to tell him that maybe mimicking another person’s relationship is not something that she’s particularly fond of. Why not try something new, for once? Not today, though.  

“I’m feeling alright. It’s just a broken arm. Should heal in no time, the doctor said.” She insists, taking his hand in hers and kissing it. There’s a contrast she notices: Jason’s skin is tanner than Eddie’s, a bit calloused but nothing compared to the guitar-worned fingers the metalhead has. Chrissy looks aways, already thinking of what to tell him once he asks. 

But it’s as if Jason knows her too well. He has this look in his eye, it’s not dangerous, but much more territorial than she’d ever seen before. 

“Your mother told me something curious.”

She breathes in and out, slowly so she can come up with something believable. 

“Did she?” She laughs, nervously, still looking away. Her record player is still on and the Clock hasn’t ticked once since yesterday. It might not mean much, but she feels calmer than last night. 

“Yes, she—”

The door opens abruptly, her mother, all smiles, enters with a food tray. “Chrissy, darling, here’s your lunch.” She leaves it in her nightstand. “Please, Jason, look after her. She must eat everything there! I don’t want her to faint or something!” She admonishes him and leaves, not before winking at the both of them. She mumbles something behind the door. Chrissy couldn’t care less. 

There are two peanut butter sandwiches (she loves jelly but hasn’t eaten any since ninth grade), a sliced peach, an apple and some crackers. 

“Here, let me.” Jason is quick to respond. “I know you hate apples and peanut butter. So, why don’t you eat the peach and crackers? We’ll tell your mother that you ate everything so she doesn’t worry. I still think you should tell her, though. Maybe she could make you something else to eat, sweetie.” He smiles, apologetic, unaware that her mother knows how much she hates apples and peanut butter. It’s the only reason she sent them. It’s sick, it’s conniving. Overall, smart. That way, Jason eats most of it, leaving her the lighter food. 

Still, eating a cracker makes her shudder so she settles only for the peach. “I’m not that hungry, anyway. Thank you,” Chrissy smiles brightly, not a chink in her armor for him to see.  

“I still think you should eat. You look like a ghost.” She smiles, once again and shakes her head. The peach will suffice. Must do. Has done it for her several other times.

They eat in silence for a minute. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s just quiet. 

“Jason, could you switch the record? I want to hear some music. Please,” she begs, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The Clock hasn’t ticked yet she can’t risk it. 

“Alright then, Chrissy, but I have to ask you something important. I want you to be honest with me.”

“Sure, baby.” Using a pet name for him has never felt comfortable. She still uses it like it rolls naturally off her tongue. She’s a good liar. “I just… I just feel tired and music will help me feel more energized. You know how much I love Journey!” She makes a dreamy face while slowly (always slowly) taking a bite of her peach slices. 

Once the music is on, she releases a relieved breath. Only for the air around her to become suffocating when Jason asks her about Eddie. She nervously licks her bottom lip, starts chewing at it.

“It’s not what you think,” she starts, quietly, trying to come up with something good. Something believable. She’s good at hiding stuff from him, from everyone. But Eddie Munson’s terrified eyes keep appearing behind hers that she just can’t help but come up blank. It's fascinating how one look can be imprinted in her mind. It makes her sad, since she knows how light and carefree he is when smiling, to think it was her that caused that expression. 

“Don’t try to defend him, Chrissy. Your mother told me.” 

“And what exactly did she tell you?” She asks, a bit more defiant. 

He looks taken aback. Blinks twice at her tone, then laughs good-humored. “Oh, Chrissy.”

“What?” Now she’s annoyed and cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“Your kindness never ceases to amaze me,” He cups her face, pecking her lips then her furrowed, very much confused brows. “Your mother told me everything. How shaken you were when you suddenly fell because of Eddie Munson watching you like a hawk. I don’t know what you were trying to do, but it was very irresponsible of you to not call me first.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She stiffens and looks away.  

“And where would I have called you? You were with the basketball team last night, celebrating your great victory.” It’s not unusual for them to fight. What is surprising, it’s her tone, displeased, even mocking. Yet she can't look him straight in the eyes. One step at a time, she cheers for herself. If she doesn't, who else would?

“Well, if I recall correctly, you told me you had something to do before joining us. I assumed it had something to do with your mother, since you were so nervous about it. Had I known you were trying to perfect some cheer routine, I could’ve dissuaded you from doing it that night. Alone. With Eddie Munson lurking the school, trying to gain new clients for his drug deals or victims for that satanic cult he runs… Chrissy, something very bad could’ve happened to you.”

It’s a steady transformation. Jason can be sweet when he wants, can make her feel like she’s the best of the best, like all her dreams can be achieved. That charisma is how he got the captain position, why he's well-liked around school. He’s always charming with her, doting all her needs. There’s, to outsiders, no way he could ever be a bad boyfriend. Chrissy, naturally, knows best— loathes how much he worships her. Since the beginning of their relationship, he’s put her on an incredibly high pedestal. And she’s been trying to keep herself there, crawling her way back to the top with teeth and nails every time she falls —when she eats too much, when her mother scolds her, when she feels like a disappointment to everyone around her. It’s exhausting. It’s daunting. 

Anyway, it’s a steady transformation: his eyes darken, his brow furrows, a nasty scowl replacing a normally confident face and his hands turn into fists. Any other girl would swoon right away, applauding how protective he is of her. Chrissy is scared, not for her. Never for her. 

It’s no secret that there’s no love between Jason and Eddie. They’re, as the latter has boisterously announced, mortal enemies (though she thinks that statement was just for theatrics considering how much that other boy loves antagonizing her boyfriend). And now, he’s dared to look at her, and hurt her, according to what Jason is currently saying. Her mind is already reeling, panicking, barely listening to what he's saying.

“—have to say anything. I’m well aware how that freak looks at you. No wonder you’re hurt. Did he try to force himself upon you, Chrissy? Is that why you broke your arm, trying to escape? I knew it!” He’s never mad about something, he’s always been passionate. Now he’s angry.

“No—No!!” She yelps, eyes practically bulging from alarm. Vehemently, she shakes her head and starts breathing more rapidly, she lacks the words. No—She can think about them but can’t manage to verbalize them. Her eyes turn to water, feeling helpless and giving his boyfriend the wrong impression. She never can do something right. 

Jason nods, understandingly. She gulps, feeling a lump in her throat. Her boyfriend cups her face once more, and whispers, lovingly, “You don’t have to be embarrassed, sweety. I’m just glad nothing else happened to you. I still love you, even more than before. You defended yourself, you’re a survivor.” He kisses her fondly, Chrissy stays still. “I’m gonna take care of it. You don’t have to worry.”

“What are you going to do?” She asks against his lips, her voice barely a whisper, unable to move. She can taste salt and so does Jason. 

It’s like fuel to him. “Whatever it takes for him to understand that no one, absolutely no one, messes with my girl.”

After he leaves, Chrissy cries, screaming against her still fresh linen-scented pillow. 

Chapter Text

The van is giving him some problems. For starters, his cassette player’s stuck. Now, he doesn’t mind listening to a song over and over again (that’s how he’s learned most songs on his guitar, constant listening), but it’s Wayne’s cassette that’s stuck. So now, Dolly Parton is the only one he can listen to. It’s outrageous. Devastating, really. A fucking travesty. Thankfully, he’s almost at the record store and the radio still functions. 

It’s open when he gets there. As always, Barry, the ever mocking guy working behind the counter, asks him if he’s saved enough money to finally buy something. 

Eddie flips him the bird nonchalantly, and mumbles, “I’m almost there, man.”

Truth is, he’s not. Something always comes up, gas and groceries, mostly. Now, it’s the cassette player. More importantly, the unfortunate trip Uncle and him have ahead. 

His mind’s a mess. His wrist burns, the tattoo feels itchy for the first time in years. The music isn’t helping, not right now. He feels like a fraud, to be honest.

Still, he keeps looking at the records. They’re dazzling. So many artists in one place. He wonders if wherever they relocate them will have a record store just like this one. Chances are, the new town will be smaller than Hawkins, making this store the last one he’ll see in a long time. If he thinks about it, he might have to repeat his senior year, again. At this point, he might as well just get a GED in the new town. 

“Goodbye, old friends.” He whispers, remembering Hellfire club and Corroded Coffin. He should call them before leaving. Let them know that something came up and—Nope. It’s dangerous. They could get hurt, or worse, he could use them against him. Why, though? He doesn’t have his powers. He’s of no use to him. 

But Chrissy Cunningham was trapped. Chrissy Cunningham had been used against him. Why else would she be floating, her bones snapping in front of him? 001 is taunting him. And it’s working. Still, it doesn’t make sense. What’s his powerless ass good for? 

After at least four hours, Eddie thinks that Dr. Owens should be fucking free by now. He puts the record down the aisle and leaves, brushing past Barry’s snark. 

Once at the trailer park, he decides that if Owens won’t answer, he’ll just leave. Grab his guitar, his jackets and a vest, his Hellfire shirt and some jeans. Leave for good with Wayne and never look back. They’ll make it work. It has been them against the world since September 1979. 

But when he steps out of the van, he stops to a halt. A small redhead is in his way, blocking the entrance to his home. She’s drinking a slurpee while looking uninterested. 

“Max Mayfield, as I live and breathe,” he greets, smiling at her. Maybe he can charm her out of his castle entrance, scaring kids it’s not something he’s particularly fond of. “Will you let me be, oh, redheaded princess warrior so I can enter this castle?” He bows, adding some flourish with his hands. It doesn’t work. She just looks at him, deadpan. 

“Hey, nerd, so, I’m just telling you this because Dustin, Mike and Lucas worship you or something,” she rolls her eyes and sighs, as if talking this much exhausts her. In another time, he’d perk up at the compliment (even if it was a bit insulting at the beginning). Now, he just urges impatiently at her with his hand to continue. He doesn’t have time. She rolls her eyes, again and slurps her drink. “Someone came to see you.”

“Ok.” He raises his eyebrows, confused. “Someone important or why else would I care?” Maybe it’s Owens.

The girl sighs, now, clearly exhausted and annoyed at him. Great, she’s got an attitude. Fun. 

“Yeah, you dingus, it was Jason Carver. Heard of him? Captain of the basketball team? Your bully?” 

It’s not the one he’d expect, so now he’s over the conversation. But first, he must defend his honor, “Whoa, I’m gonna cut you there, Red.” He laughs, annoyance clear in his eyes. “First of all, he’s not my bully, if anything, he’s just like a tiny, insignificant fly at school. Secondly, I don’t care.” He shrugs and tilts his head, popping his lips, the sound coming out loud and clear. “So, thank you for warning me, but… I have better things to worry about than Jason Carver.” He pushes her around, it’s easy when she’s so small. Max grunts and yells something he can’t be bothered with, not really when he’s already entering his house looking for his Uncle. 

“Even if he was asking around for you, with his pack of losers?” She continues, stepping inside.

“Do all of you guys have no respect for someone else’s time?” He mutters irked, opening his Uncle’s bedroom door and finding him nowhere to be seen. “Goddammit.” 

“Yeah, pretty much” She happily, sardonically, chirps and then slurps again. “Listen, just, be careful, ok? He was spitting some nonsense about you hurting Chrissy Cunningham and, um, forcing yourself on her?” She awkwardly explains, leaving her drink on the counter. She’s already made herself at home. Like those guys she’s friends with. Holy hell. 

“I guess you don’t believe him, then. Hence, you being here makes total sense.”

“Of course I don’t. I’m not an idiot. According to Dustin, you wouldn't hurt a fly so, no. You’re, like, the wimpiest guy ever.”

“Gee, thanks.” He snorts while reading a note perched on the fridge: Be right back. Went for groceries. Some girl called looking for you, Chrissy Cunningham, way to go, kid. If it’s directed at Max or his Uncle, he doesn’t know. He crumbles the note and decides that it’s best if he just packs everything for the both of them and briefly explains to Wayne when he gets home. But wait, did he read correctly?

“When was this?” He asks, with the crumbled note still in his hand. Now that he thinks about it, it’d make sense for Chrissy to call him, warn him about Jason. 

“Like two hours ago, I guess. Your uncle wasn’t home by the time Jason and his pack stopped by.” Mayfield shakes her drink and slurps again from the counter. Really enjoying her time. 

He hums and gets rid of the note. Well, he’s been warned. Thank you and now, back to business. He clicks his tongue, looking around for a bag, drums his fingers against his legs for concentration and, “Aha! There you are!” He grabs it, and walks to his bedroom. “Maybe I should take some cassettes,” he considers, in case they repair the player on the van while on the road, it’s a good idea. So he starts packing, forgetting about the tiny girl in his house. He’ll get his baby once the clothes are stuffed in the bag. Not even rushed he’ll endanger his guitar to a scratch. 

“I guess you are scared of Jason, huh.” 

He snaps his head back at her. “Of who? Carver? No. Girly, I have more pressing matters at the moment. Why don’t you show yourself to the door so I can pack in peace?” 

“Why don’t you just admit that you’re scared shitless?” She retorts, unimpressed. 

“I am,” he states matter-of-factly. “That’s why I’m packing?” He motions to the barely made bag. “Now if you don’t mind,” he waves goodbye. 

She doesn’t move. 

“You could hide, you know. I don’t think he’s gonna come back again. At least not today. But, hiding is a good start.” She suggests and Eddie is just getting more annoyed by the minute. 

He chooses to ignore her and continues to pack. But first, he should change his wristwatch. It’s been bugging him since yesterday. A leather wristband should do the trick, anyway. If only he could remember where he put them to begin with… Of course. “Hey, move. You’re blocking the way, again,” he orders, his wrist bare for her to see. He’s got plenty of tattoos, all over his body, a tiny 010 wouldn’t catch her eye.

“Wait, what is that?” She asks, much to his surprise. 

“A tattoo. Now, please, would you pass me that leather wristband behind you? I kinda need it.” 

“Yeah. To cover the 010 tattoo, I’m sure. Why? ” She asks, her eyes suddenly watching him cautious, as if she knows something. Of course, that’s impossible. Mayfield is just being difficult, just like Lucas says she is—was, when they dated. He bites his nails, nervous and just shakes his head, clearing it of any crazy conspiracy that—. “Is that why you’re so scared?” She asks quietly.

“What?”

“The lights. Yesterday.” She adds, shaking her head like he’s supposed to know. And he knows but how could she?

“What of it?” He continues to play dumb. For all he knows, it could be a trap. 

“The tattoo! The flickering lights, you dipshit! Everything!” She yells, throwing her hands up in the air, exasperated. “The lights flicker when El, Eleven, uses her powers.”

Eddie has considered himself a pretty grounded guy—a bit of a clown, now, but overall, a down-to-earth kind of guy. Back at the lab, he obeyed Papa, played with his Magic 8 Ball and stayed out of 002’s way. He wasn’t that gifted when compared to others. 

He was just lucky to survive. 

He thought he was the only one to survive. They never told him anything about 011, the bullied yet powerful girl.

“How do you know all of this?” He asks, numbly.

“Come with me. We better hurry.” She passes him, finally, his wristband. She stops, looking at her forgotten slurpee and makes a grab for it. 

He’s just staring at her, dumbly, trying to digest what she’d just said. 

“So? Are you gonna keep gawking or do I have to shove you like you shoved me earlier?”

He snaps out of it. “I didn’t shove you, Mayfield. Come on. I’m trusting you just because you’re those nerds’ friend.”

“Whatever.”

He isn’t looking at her, but he can hear her rolling her eyes. 

“Where are we going?” He asks once the van’s engine is on. 

“To Dustin’s. He’ll explain.”

He hums. “Thought you were gonna say Sinclair’s.” He drums his fingers against the wheel. 

She reddens and shuffles in the seat. “Lucas is… busy right now. Dustin is better at this. Then we’ll go to Nancy’s.”

“Nancy… Wheeler? What’s she got to do in all of this?” Little Miss Perfect Nancy Wheeler involved in all of this is just making everything weirder. 

“As I’ve already told you, Dustin will explain everything. Now, are you going to drive or do I have to hop on the driver’s seat for us to finally move?” She angrily snaps. 

“Like you could reach the braces, Red.” He barks, clutching the stick and driving out the trailer park. He curses once they’re halfway. “I forgot to write a note to my Uncle.” 

“Don’t worry. It’s best if he’s out of the way.” She muses while looking at the window, tapping lightly on it. 

Funny how things change, Eddie ponders while driving. Not long ago, he was scared shitless. He still is, though, there’s no point in denying the voice at the back of his mind trying to deter him from involving Henderson and Wheeler, to just drop Mayfield at some gas station, return to Wayne and leave (fuck Owens).

But alas, he’s already arriving. In a blink of an eye, they’re upstairs, in Henderson’s bedroom, Mayfield practically ordering him to take off his wristband. 

He huffs, rolls his eyes and rubs the back of his neck before complying. 

“Son of a bitch! Why did you never tell me!” He snatches his wrist to get a better look at his tattoo.

“What was I supposed to tell you, man!” He yanks his wrist back when the younger boy is about to touch it and sulkily covers it. “Hey, Henderson, wanna see this cool tattie? It’s small and was marked upon me against my wishes when I was younger.” He snorts. “It’s not something I’m proud of, ok? As if I was cattle. And they told me to hide it, so I did.”

“So, what can you do?” He asks with a mischievous grin. 

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” Outrageous. “Is this why you brought me here? To be interrogated?” He reproaches Mayfield, gesturing indignantly at Dustin.

“Eddie, I heard you. But, seriously. You got out, didn’t you? You’re safe now!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Nope.” He pops the ‘P’ and smiles sardonically.

“That’s why we’re here, actually.” Max adds from the other side of the room. She’d been strangely quiet, fidgeting with her hands, her feet. Her snark is gone. She doesn’t seem as comfortable as before, or cocky. Something happened between them, Eddie can tell. 

“Why, what happened?” Dustin asks, furrowing his brow, noticing Max’s demeanor.  

She sighs, and Eddie grunts, messing his hair, getting some strands tangled between his rings. He quietly flinches, trying to appear casual, as if recalling the night before doesn’t upset him to his core. 

After a few seconds, he complies, “I guess we can start from the very beginning: Chrissy Cunningham.” Eddie smiles, not an ounce of mirth in his dark brown eyes. His hands start shaking so he sits at the edge of the bed to steady himself before his knees follow his hands. 

It’s surprisingly easy, once he commences. Both of them look enthralled at the way he describes Chrissy being lifted up in the air, hanging there and unable to hear him; trapped somewhere in her mind, until her arm snapped. He shudders, remembering vividly. 

“You know, I tried to wake her man. I did. But I couldn’t. And she told me she couldn’t either. Something about her head hurting, a headache, I suppose, and nightmares. It was like she… she was in a trance or something.” He swallows, fixating his gaze into the distance, trying to recollect some other detail. “The music was loud,” He titters, sighing. 

“And the lights flickered.” Mayfield points out, quietly.

“And the lights flickered, yes. Jesus Christ, Mayfield.” He might’ve started somewhat cool, collected, but now he can feel his shoulders tense, a migraine coming his way. He takes a sharp breath and shudders. 

“You said in a trance, right? Like under a spell,” Dustin chimes in, softly. His eyes lock into Eddie’s.

“A curse.” He agrees, somberly. It’s what his tattoo is, anyway. Something permanent that can’t be forgotten or undone. 

“Vecna’s curse.” 001’s power-hungry antics, his way of marking territory.

“Who’s Vecna?” 

“An undead creature of great power.” Explains the younger one. He can see behind his eyes, how he’s trying to tie everything up. 

He can’t, he hasn’t explained who 001 is. Yet, he adds, “A spell caster.” Because it’s best to believe that 001 is some D&D creature he can defeat with the help of his friends rather than an actual unbeatable maniac. 

“A dark wizard.” Ridiculous, but true. But hey, a second later Henderson is explaining to him the Upside Down and who’s Eleven so, really, there’s nothing much that could surprise him by now. 

So on, he starts sharing his story, how he lost his powers and how he came to live with Wayne. 

He’s still mulling about it. He still thinks that he should’ve called Dr. Owens, asking for a relocation but no. That’s not what Henderson and Mayfield think. They’ve actually faced 001, or more specifically, his cronies several times. It’s a miracle he hasn’t heard any of it. Or he did, and just stayed blissfully unaware. After all, ignorance is bliss. 

“It doesn’t make sense.” He rasps, nonetheless, almost arriving at Family Video. He thought they were going to Wheeler’s but Dustin was adamant about Harrington and Buckley joining them, especially regarding Hawkins High’s former King. “I don’t—They never told me anything of what happened after—.” He grunts, a helpless feeling invading him. 

“Eddie, why don’t we save the brainstorming for a minute?” Dustin hops out of the van and Max jumps out from the copilot seat. “We need to get the Party complete and with Mike, El, Will and Jonathan out of town, Steve and Robin are our best shot. We can't leave anyone behind, let alone Nancy. She’s always onto something.”

“Wow, dangerous name dropping, Henderson,” he mocks. “Then, why don’t we get her first?”

“Because we’re already here,” he motions the store, impatient. “And, Steve and Robin are pretty serious about their jobs since they lost the last one at the mall thanks to the Russians and…”

“In other words, they aren’t going to come if we don’t show them first.” Max resumes, still looking awkward.

Trying to not get anymore offended and utterly failing, he bristles, “Great, so now I have to parade around!” 

“It’s not that! It’s just that…”

Seeing how he’s struggling for the right words, Max cuts in, murmuring, “It’s impossible for these things to happen.” Shaking her head, she urges Dustin to continue walking with a look. “It’s hard to believe when we thought everything was over.” She winces, a sad look flashes on her face. 

When they enter, the store is empty. Completely empty, except for two guys at the back in the horror aisle. This makes the younger kids more forceful, he thinks but it’s Henderson and whenever he thinks that he’s right, there’s no one who can tell him otherwise. The cocky bastard. So, they run up to the counter where Steve The Hair Harrington is finishing arranging some tapes and Robin, he recognizes from band, is behind him helping him.  

“Steve! Robin! There’s a code red!” Dustin startles the four of them when he starts hollering, pushing his bag over the counter, tumbling down the tapes without care. He proceeds to jump over, while Max just enters from the other side. 

“My pile!” Robin whines, raising her arms defeated.

“No, no, my tapes! Dude!” Harrington looks dismayed and had it been another time, he might’ve chuckled. From King to Pauper. 

Instead, he just stands there, clutching at his wrist. His mouth is dry like cotton and he’s starting to sweat, he feels a drop rolling at the back of his neck. Seeing as how the previously quiet store is now the opposite of it, the two customers leave, giving the younger kids a judgemental look.

“Hey, Henderson. What are you doing?”

“Do you have a phone?”

“Yes, of course we do but—”

“Great. Max, go call Nancy and tell her that we have a code red. She must come here as—”

“On it,” Mayfield grabs the phone without hesitation.  

“Henderson!”

“Dustin!”

“What!! What don’t you understand about this?! There’s a code red!” He hollers, again, and points at Eddie. He stiffens, eyes bulging and opens his mouth to speak before Steve cuts in. 

“Oh, great! Is this about your stupid fantasy game? I told you already: not interested!”

“Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around, but it’s Saturday.” Robin berates while arranging the fallen tapes once again. “It’s our busiest day.”

“Robin, I empathize, but this cannot wait.”

“Oh my god…”

“Yes! It can’t! Eddie, show them!” 

“Show us what? His dice and little figurines?” Steve mocks. 

He opens his mouth to correct him about D&D but—Never mind. Trying to make his hands steadier, he unfastens his leather wristband. It’s a slow movement, it feels like an eternity, but once he’s done and tilts his arm for a bit… 

“A tattoo.” Robin starts. “You interrupt our work place, for a tattoo!”

“No, no, Robin, stop,” Steve shushes her and turns back to Dustin, a thousand questions in his stare.

“I tried calling Nancy but Mrs. Wheeler says she’s at school, working on her article for the school paper.” Max returns, phone in hand, and clacks her tongue, impatient. 

“Guess we’ll have to pick her up then.” Steve grabs his key cars. He looks at Eddie and asks, “Yours or mine?”

“Yours, I’m being hunted down by Jason Carver, so driving my van would be like waving a red flag all over town.”

“Great,” Harrington sighs. “You better fill us in quickly.” He points at the kids and throws him an uncertain glance. 

“Not without Nancy!” Dustin replies. 

“Uh-huh. Now,” He’s still weirded out and, not discreetly, looks at his now covered wrist. 

“You can ask all you want, Harrington. It’s not like the both of us have a say in this, right?” 

“Yeah, ok. Just, just let us… Ahm, Robin, don’t forget to turn the Closed sign.”

“Looks like we’re gonna be job hunting again next week, huh?” She laughs, closing the store. 

Back at the car, Eddie finds himself retelling his tale. When he finishes, he stares at Henderson and concludes that once they reach Wheeler, he or Red will fill her in, thank you very much.

Chapter Text

Nancy Wheeler is an optimist. That’s what Fred assumes by the way she’s always looking at the nicer things, focusing on the positive outcomes. She has this look, he realizes one day, that just screams for something else than a goody-two-shoes girl attitude. It’s the way her mouth purses when she disagrees with something or her nose scrunching and eyes blinking repeatedly whenever she’s correcting something, often herself on a theory.

She is anything but gloomy. 

“I bet it’s Jonathan,” He starts. With the boyfriend away, maybe he’s got a chance. 

Nancy denies it. Just as he expected. It’s an incredible feeling to spend time with her. At last, he thinks, she might finally see him for who he is, not just the kid who got into a car crash last year, the teen with a scar marring his face.

But you’re not only a survivor, aren’t you? Somewhere far away in his mind, he can hear the Clock ticking.

He shushes the voice he’d been hearing for the past days. Nancy turns to him, confused, wrongly thinking that it was directed at her. Flustered, he tries to explain but how could he? She wouldn’t understand. No one knows what really happened that day. 

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking and—”

“Don’t worry. I understand, I sometimes think aloud.” She smiles and brushes swiftly past him, right to the OHP. Her voice is soft, soothing, just like her. He feels butterflies violently swirling in his stomach, he might be in love with her. 

She laughs with another girlfriend. Fred shakes his head and continues working until the door is slammed open. When will people learn to knock? 

Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson and Max Mayfield enter the room. Henderson’s eyes look frantic, while Steve looks a bit disheveled, by the looks of him, he’s ditched work. The redhead just surveys the room with her arms crossed against her chest. 

“Hey, you can’t enter like that! You gotta knock first!” He’s the first one to speak. Even Nancy is surprised.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be going shortly.” Harrington waves his hand dismissively, hopping down the stairs, the three of them seem in a hurry to get to Nancy.

A sudden movement catches his eye across the room. In the hallway, he’s shocked to see Robin Buckley, but mostly Eddie Munson waiting for them. The latter looks a bit shaken, biting at his nails while the girl is tapping her left foot on the floor. She smiles awkwardly at the metalhead who only seems one step away from running away. There’s a story to cover from the way everyone in that group is acting. 

“Steve, what’s going on?” Nancy’s voice startles him. It’s tight. She’s got a pencil in her hand that’s about to snap. Oh, she’s mad . Good. That should chase them away. They need to finish this piece before classes resume. 

“There’s an issue we need to take care of, Nance.” Steve speaks with hidden meaning (he can tell) and steps back to let Nancy pass. As if she only needed to hear that for her to follow promptly. 

She doesn’t move. Fred is impressed, but not really. He knows her so well. “What kind of problem?” She bits her lip and turns to the other girl mumbling some apologies, she’s gonna have to come back later or tomorrow.

“Nancy! We’ve got a code red! ” Both Harrington and Mayfield hit the kid, the back of his head and shoulder, respectively. 

“Yes, Dustin. Give me a minute to gather my things,” she sighs, a bit mortified. Fred can see a storm forming in her eyes. Jonathan is not here to keep her company and be her partner in crime. It’s his chance, an open window. 

Quickly, he excuses himself and goes straight to the brunette. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Thank you, Fred, but—” She shakes her head and apologetically glances between him and the others, waiting impatiently. “This is a private matter.”

“Come one, Nancy, let me help.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea. But don’t worry. I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll keep working on the paper, ok?” She lightly touches his arm, he stiffens, butterflies once again swirling at the pit of his stomach. “I’m ready, guys. Let’s go.” She fumbles with something in her bag and as quickly as they entered, they’re gone. 

It takes him a minute to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, grab his ballpoint pen and notebook. That’s all he needs to catch a story. 

He hears a few of his peers snickering behind him when he calls out for Nancy, it doesn’t matter. She always has the best stories, so maybe if he can help her along the way she’ll realize how much he actually cares about her.

“Man, didn’t she tell you to leave her be?” Harrington snaps. Both him and Munson are taking long strides while the others struggle to keep the pace. Neither of them are complaining, for they seemed rushed and anxious. 

“I could help!” He dwells on, shaking his extremely useful ballpoint pen and notebook in hand. 

“It’s a family matter.”

“So, what, you’re cousins now? Yeah, right.” Harrington doesn’t seem to have grown, he’s still short sighted and dimwitted. He could’ve come up with another, more believable excuse. 

“Say the word, Nance and I’ll push him into a locker. It’ll be like the good old times.” He’d never known him for being a physical bully, but he seems to relish in getting rid of him that way. It doesn’t scare him, he’s been through worse.

And you deserved it, the voice whispers and the Clock ticks. He lets out a shaky breath and it’s gone. 

“Don’t be mean, Steve.” Nancy reprimands and Fred puffs up his chest, feeling victorious, yet a bit dizzy. 

“He’s got a point, though.” Buckley remarks while throwing Steve a reproachful stare. “She told you to leave, Fred. Go work on that paper, I bet it’s going to be great with you leading it.” 

“Sure, it’ll be awesome, but I can’t do that. Leave, I mean. You’re obviously up to something. And I want in! It’ll definitely be a great story for the paper!” 

They’re now at Harrington’s car, everybody’s in, making themselves smaller so they can all enter without problem. It doesn’t seem to work since Mayfield is pushing Dustin to the very corner of the car while Munson just looks exasperated. Nancy’s not that far. So he follows her, he can ride with her once he convinces her. 

“Nancy, please! It’ll look good in my college applications next year!” That’ll do. She values academics, doesn’t she? She can’t say no after that!

He hears several grumbles and someone following them, but one hard stare from Nancy stops them. She then puts a delicate hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t feel the butterflies because he knows he’s about to be turned down. 

“Fred, I can’t put you in trouble. This is something I can’t get you involved in. As Steve said, it kind of is a family matter.” She looks apologetic. It means nothing to him, he still is disappointed. 

“Oh, I kinda thought he was bluffing.” She’s already in the pilot’s seat. 

“No, he’s not. If it involves Jonathan, it involves Will and so on… It’s a chain reaction.” She starts the car, he takes a few steps back with his arms hanging at his side. 

Jonathan isn’t even there and he still holds an important place in Nancy’s life, most importantly, her heart. Fred guesses that’s what unconditional love is. 

Jonathan Byers, a loner and freak that once tragedy struck his family, was rewarded with new friends and a marvelous girlfriend. He guesses he’ll also get into college, his first option, at that. 

It isn’t fair. 

He also was struck by tragedy last year. He’s still plagued by guilt, being haunted by incessant nightmares. He had to repeat his senior year due to severe injuries. And what did he get? Nothing! 

He’s still overlooked by his peers, by Nancy. By everyone that surrounds him! His classmates don’t even look at him with pity anymore, they’ve already forgotten about his accident. It’s just when someone happens to look him in the eyes that they catch a glimpse of his scar and are reminded of what he went through. 

It shouldn’t be like that, yet he can’t help to think that if Jonathan Byers’ life could get better after his brother’s disappearance and appearance, his could get better too.  Should be better. It’s what he deserves after all the suffering he’s been through.

He’s selfish, he knows that. But damn, can’t he catch a breath for once?!

You can rest with me, Fred. The voice keeps getting louder. The Clock is ticking. It’s the third time today that he’s heard it. 

“No.” He mumbles, a bit insecure. 

It’s a sad, lonely walk back to the newspaper room. He knows the school like the back of his hand so he’s surprised that when he enters the room, it feels different. He feels different. Like something’s watching him. 

“No luck?” Heather looks a bit amused so he just shrugs, a light pink covering his pale constitution. “Don’t worry, she’ll be back. She was right about the basketball win, so she’ll want to supervise everything tomorrow thoroughly.” He smiles tightly at her, leaves his pen and notebook at the desk and sighs. 

He can also hear someone behind him muttering that he’s got it bad. And yes, he has, but do they have to say it like that ? As if he’s a hopeless case?

Oh, but you are. This time the voice it’s not the one he’s been hearing for the past days. It's his conscience, most certainly. Which is more surprising. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. The counselor told him. He’s valuable, he survived for some reason. He just doesn't know it yet. 

“We should get to work, Fred.” Heather interrupts his train of thought. Naturally, he gives her a sullen look. But thanks her quietly, he was in the process of despair. 

The day goes by. It’s late and even though he knew that Nancy wouldn’t return, he still had hoped for it. He’d been stalling just in case, so very obvious that everyone knew what he was attempting. After two hours of working on the same article, not the one from the game, he threw his tweezers far away from the OHP. 

“Well, Fred, you were stood up.” He wasn’t, not really.

But you just love wallowing yourself in self-pity, don’t you? 

“No” He stammers. He can’t be hearing the voice now, not when he’s alone, still working. 

He reaches for the tv remote and turns it on. In the news channel, there’s a car crash. Five people between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five didn’t survive the accident, which happened earlier that day in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Some runaways that the police had been hunting for at least three years. 

But Fred isn’t listening. He’s breathing erratically. The car crash seems very similar to his. They’re burning, if he squints, he can see a hand escaping the upside down window. 

He thinks it’s best for him to leave. He’s done enough for the day. He snatches his backpack, pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, hand shaking, and leaves the room. 

It’s so very similar, that car crash, he muses. Shaking his head, he realizes he can’t quite forget what he’s seen. He takes a step back to calm himself. He’s not—he’s not in the car crash. He’s safe at school. He’s leaving, his car is waiting for him. 

Are you sure you want to drive?

He picks up the pace, passing the gym doors, he hears the Clock. When he turns around, he can see a grandfather clock at the center of the stadium. His mouth turns to sand paper. It’s not that he’s afraid of clocks, but when one has been chasing him for days… It’s only natural to be a bit distrustful, right? His paranoia is justified! So he just starts running towards the drama club room. Blood is rushing to his ears, heart thumping in his chest while he—. He can’t recognize where he is. It’s dark, it’s humid yet he feels soot in his mouth. He was surrounded by theater props just seconds ago! 

“Where are you going, Fred?” The voice whispers and the Clock ticks. It’s louder this time, closer. 

There’s a fire behind him. Suddenly the vision it’s much clearer. He turns around to face it. 

Mark is there, flames surrounding him, hand reaching for him, yelling words that he knows by heart. They’ve been quite the night companions for the last fews days. Moths, if he’s being honest. 

“Why did you leave him alone?” The voice asks, genuinely curious. There’s a void in his white pearled-eyes. It sends a chill to his spine. He starts running, he needs to get out of whatever that place is.  

But he can’t, he stumbles, scraping his knees and cries out for help. Nobody is there to help him. 

“This isn’t funny anymore!” He still can hope that some clever senior is doing that to him. 

“Tell me, Fred, was it fun when you escaped? When you left Mark to fend for himself?”

“I-I didn’t mean to!” He whimpers, covering his ears, making himself smaller, wanting to disappear.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean to leave him, go to your parents and have them take care of, covering up everything. Poor little Mark, a young promise, a well-liked kid, whose life was taken by your cowardice. He could’ve been saved, you know.” The creature stands tall in front of him. Its body’s covered in thick vines that move just like tentacles. Bile rises up to his throat and unable to swallow, Fred opens his mouth. The liquid is hot, disgusting and burns him from the inside out. 

“Don’t be afraid, Fred. You’ll soon be gone.” The voice whispers into his ear, deep and haunting. He’s now lifted into the air, he tries to move, he does but it’s futile. The creature has a hold of him. 

He’s bawling. In his mind, he still is trying to move, fighting like the counselor told him to. He survived for a reason; he’s meant to do more in his life than wallow in guilt and self-loathing. 

A thought crosses his mind: he wants to live. Now that he can feel death approaching him, he’s desperately realized that there’s so much to do, people to meet, dreams to achieve—. But how can he? He’s all alone. 

He can’t see or feel anything. Everything’s black, only the creature’s voice is there to make him company. 

“Soon, you’ll join me.” 

A second later, Fred is gone. His body is nothing but a contorted piece of meat and odd angles that makes the school janitor retch once he sees it the next day.

Chapter Text

The Wheeler’s house is huge. That’s Eddie's first thought when he enters behind Dustin. He’s ushered to the basement with a quick set of firm pushes, he’s not even allowed to greet Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler who just looks at the party like it’s usual for them to be always in a hurry. 

“I love feeding people, why don’t you invite the whole school next time, sweetheart?” Mr. Wheeler claims, his voice impassive, before they close the basement door. 

“What a useless son of a bitch,” Henderson mutters under his breath, taking a seat at the couch. Steve gives him a glare and just shakes his head, mouthing ‘Dude!’ The younger one just shrugs. 

“I better radio Lucas, he must be here too.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Max stiffens and gives him a quick glance, as if this somehow relates to him. He cocks an eyebrow at her and crosses his arms across his chest. 

“Why? Is it still awkward between you two? Is your lover’s quarrel more important than a code red? ” Henderson bites back. Eddie agrees but stays silent. Not good to strike that guy’s ego. 

“No, you doofus!” She rolls her eyes. “Back at the trailer park, when Jason was looking for Eddie, Lucas was one of them.” The sound comes out muffled as she covers her nose with her sleeve and looks away, as if hiding something. Dustin plummets down to the couch, looking slightly baffled.  

“Wait, Sinclair is with the insignificant fly?!” He asks, a bit hurt while the younger kid is still registering the idea of Lucas being with Carver instead. He really is being seduced by the dark side of the force.

“Yeah, but he didn’t seem at all interested in ‘giving you a lesson’.” She marks the quotes in the air, and fakes a gag, sticking out her tongue in disgust. “Like, he was actually staring at my trailer the whole time. Like the stalker he was back when I was new in town,” she snorts and gives Dustin a mean stare. There's a story there.

Henderson has the decency to cower, yet he adds, “Bet he’s stuck with Jason until further notice.” He laughs, good-humored but Eddie can’t find anything funny about spending more than a second with Carver. “If we could communicate with him, that’d be great, though. That way he can tell us where they’re hunting so we can avoid them. Jason is the least of our concerns but if he were to find us, I doubt he’d leave us alone.” 

Everyone concurs. 

Eddie claps to get their attention. Smirking, he adds to terminate the Carver conversation, “Well, we can’t always have what we want, do we?” At this point, he can bet the little money he has that Jason’s made it pretty clear that he’s hunting him down. Maybe not the reason why, because God forbid someone found out Chrissy Cunningham was touched by Eddie 'The Freak'. Let alone ‘sexually abused’. Fucking disgusting, that’s what it is. A nasty, horrible rumor that would surely follow him around. 

“Yeah, speaking of things we don’t have and want,” Robin starts. Back at the car, Dustin and Harrington were explaining to her the meaning of his tattoo. She seemed impressed and even asked to see it again, heavily implying that she was distracted at the video store so it just seemed fair for her to examine it at depth. Eddie, obviously, showed her shit. “I still want to know why, out of the blue, Eddie Munson’s tattoo is important. I thought we closed the gates and were finished with everything.”

“What tattoo?” Nancy asks to the party and Max is the one who fills her in with quiet, quick mumbles. It doesn’t seem like the redhead tells her everything because a second later, their tête à tête is finished. They are now looking at him, their stare pressing for him to continue.  

“It’s not.” He declares. Dustin scoffs. “Long ago, it had some kind of meaning.” He could find people miles away, he could hear them, and even interact with them if he concentrated enough. He was particularly skilled in mimicking noises with any tool they gave him, learning languages after listening to a few conversations. He thinks he has a residual piece of his abilities, since he was very quick to the guitar, only took him a month to learn the basics and then, it was a piece of cake. Two months, tops, for him to be playing the most intricate of songs. When learning new songs, he only needs a week. Impressive and people (had someone noticed) would even say gifted. However, it’s nothing compared to what Eleven and 001 could do. By what they’ve told them, they heavily relied on El's powers to defeat Vecna’s cronies. He once thought he could lift things, crush them by just looking at them. But that was one time; he succeeded yes but then his hearing abilities kicked in and dominated him. “Now it’s just a reminder of what I was, who I am or can become.” He finishes with an exhausted gaze to the group and hangs his head backwards. 

“So why don’t you cover it with another tattoo?” Steve asks, clearly puzzled but also seems like he’s been holding that particular question for a while now.

“Weren’t you listening, man?” He snarls, covering his face, vexed. Yet, he can understand the doofus’ confusion. He hasn’t exactly been straightforward. He takes a seat at the bottom of the stairs. When he looks up, everyone is looking at him. It makes him feel self-conscious. He curses under his breath. Henderson nods at him, encouraging him to continue. “I don’t want to cover it. It reminds me that I can be something more than an experiment. That my future holds something far bigger than me that’s certainly not in the academic department,” he laughs, with no humor in it. He’s not proud of being held back twice, but every time he feels guilty or bad about it, he looks at that tattoo. It's not his fault that he has troubles learning the basics when the basics for him were spying and developing his powers as an intelligence weapon. 

“Eddie, we understand.” Henderson’s voice is solemn. Robin and Nancy nod, agreeing with him. 

“Don’t bullshit me, man! I know how it sounds,” scornful, he smiles and uncovers his tattoo. It might as well be free now that everyone knows about it. Surely 001 knows about him, so what’s the point? “It’s not the most logical thing to keep, but it grounds me. I don’t have my powers anymore, but I feel powerful whenever I look at it, because I got out.” Unlike 008, he was tossed aside for losing his powers after 001’s attack on the lab. Out was out. 

But did he really lose them? They seem… just dormant. But he ain’t about to try and wake them. As he’d said before, he’s useless.

He’s not ashamed, though. 

Losing his powers was a blessing and even if they arranged terrible living conditions for him (seriously, they could’ve given him and Wayne better housing considering what they put him through; separated from his parents and experimented with since infancy), he’s grateful, in a way. He’s most definitely not going to complain now. 

“How did you get out?” Nancy inquires and opens her mouth to continue interrogation. But stops when she sees him flinch. She has already made herself comfortable at the couch’s arm. Max, Robin and Dustin had already hogged it for themselves. 

“He doesn’t really like talking about it.” Dustin whispers. “We’ll fill you in. Sorry, Eddie.” He slaps his forehead and starts explaining. After a few questions and long explanations from the kid and Mayfield (which, honestly, didn't need to be that time-consuming), Nancy hums. 

She stands up, as if sitting is not enough for her, starts to pace back and forth, nibbling at her bottom lip. A gesture that reminds him of Chrissy, but not quite. Her lips aren’t as plump, she has more angles in her face which aren’t necessarily unattractive to him… However, Chrissy’s face is more harmonious, where there are sharp angles in Nancy’s, there are soft curves that frame the cheerleader’s face in a lovely way, making her seem more angelical. Not hardened by circumstances, more like a breath of fresh air. Eddie finds that he likes it best that way, in a tragic way, because Chrissy’s hard, insufferable mother is probably the one who’s been tormenting her yet her face doesn’t seem sad or devastated (he wishes he could be as in control like Chrissy); not a burden to see. It’s probably because she’s good at hiding her grievances, a good liar then. Eddie doesn’t mind. Everyone has secrets. He just longs, so so much it's embarrassing, that Chrissy could confide in him, trust him like she did at the hospital. 

“We need to get Chrissy.” The statement startles him. He turns to Nancy, scandalized at the suggestion. 

“Yeah, that way she can tell us exactly what happened.” Steve approves, arms crossed and thoughtful. 

“I don’t think her mother is gonna let her.” Eddie argues, making a disgusted face. “Unless you have a great excuse, with everything that she’s been going through and the Jason debacle… No can do.” 

He knows it’s the only solution, there’s no one better than her. But he’d rather face 001 powerless than drag Chrissy into this. Maybe if he plays his guitar incessantly, he’d leave them alone, he thinks slightly amused. It’s no time for inside jokes so he clears his head with a vehement shake of his head. “Why don’t we just call her so she can tell us, instead of you know, dragging her into this?” He suggests, balancing both of his hands like a scale. 

“Because we don’t know why she was attacked. We can’t really assume it was just for you. I mean, no one in here has been in the trance and we’ve been with you for hours, just like Chrissy was last night.” Nancy retorts, the change in her demeanor is evident. Long gone is the preppy girl, before him stands a more forceful young woman. 

He reclines back, an elbow supporting his weight, stretching his long legs, he smirks, “Well, I’ll be damned. Nancy Wheeler really can’t resist a good mystery.” Eddie purrs and winks. Nancy stares at him deadpanned, humorless. “I still think it’s a bad idea. Why don’t we just… leave her out of this?” He tries for the last time, his eyes pleading to the party. 

When no one responds, he knows it’s a lost cause. 

“Chrissy doesn’t live far from here. We could just go. I’ll drive us there, Steve and Robin will ask Mrs. Cunningham if we can see her. Ask her in detail about last night. She doesn’t even have to come here, Eddie,” she reassures him but he’s not satisfied. He’s confronted with the thought that he’d rather be with Chrissy when she’s being interrogated by Wheeler and the Family Video duo than stay here and wonder what’s happening, asking himself how she’s feeling, how she’s dealing with all of this. 

He grunts, starts drumming his fingers across the stairs, one tap louder than the next. He finally snaps his fingers, and apologetically (not really) asserts, “I should go too.”

“Dude, you can’t just show at her doorstep. Not with all the rumors going on.” Mayfield protests, Dustin agrees, adding very somberly, “It’d be like suicide.”

Eddie laughs. “The old hag doesn’t scare me,” she just makes his blood boil. 

They start arguing. Somewhere between the shouting, someone suggests Mayfield as the one who knocks and Harrington starts rejecting the idea with, “Seriously, Max, you’re great but not the best when it comes to authority and no, Henderson, no, you’re not better than her. If anything, your arrogance just makes adults scoff. Worst case scenario, Mrs. Cunningham calls your mother to wash that mouth of yours with soap.”

“What arrogance, you son of a bitch? What are you talking about?”

“See! That’s exactly what I meant! Seriously, dude.”

“Yeah, someone needs to check his ego.” Eddie adds, snickering. 

“It’s his tone, right?” 

“A total butthead.” For once, they agree. 

But they haven’t made up their mind yet, they barely have a plan cooking up, so it surprises him when Robin interrupts them. He would’ve thought that Wheeler would be the one to appease the crowd. “Hey, guys, guys!” She waves both her hands to grab their attention. “Let’s stop arguing when the answer is right in front of us!” She points to Nancy with a lift of her chin. Wheeler sighs, mumbling something to herself and shaking her head. Maybe something along the lines of 'Why are we associated with her?’ But who is he to assume that? Funnily enough, that doesn’t discourage Buckley. In fact, it excites her, as if looking for the girl’s approval. “Well, it’s obvious. Isn’t it? Nancy has to be the one who knocks!” Robin declares proudly, her hands are now jazz hands and a goofy smile in her face that just conveys a joyful ‘Ta-dah!’  

“It would seem obvious, yes. Except that Mrs. Cunningham hates me.” Wheeler is quick to shut down her idea. “That’s why I suggested you and Steve go talk to her, sweeten her ear. Had Eddie let me finish, I would’ve told you that my full plan was to sneak into Chrissy’s bedroom through her window, because I don’t think she would’ve let the both of you in.”

“Why would you say that? All parents love you!” Buckley argues back, flabbergasted, not really hearing the rest of her plan. It looks like the very idea of a prissy, stuck-up adult like Mrs. Cunningham hating Wheeler can’t register in her mind. Eddie, much to Nancy’s dismay, is with the astounded girl. 

“Not her. Back when I was a scout girl,” Robin stifles a laugh which Nancy swiftly ignores, “I used to sell cookies to the neighborhood. As I’ve told you, Chrissy doesn’t live far from here so I’d go there everyday, knock at their front door and have Mrs. Cunningham reject me because she claimed Chrissy was allergic to flour and it wouldn’t be fair if the whole family ate while her daughter couldn’t.”

“You’re nothing if not persistent, Wheeler,” Eddie cuts in, amused.

“Well, I had to. I saw Chrissy eating a cookie once at school so it was weird that Mrs. Cunningham would say that.” 

Eddie hums, unsurprised the hag would tell such a lie. “Well, she’s a bitch so either way we knock or don’t, the outcome will be the same if Nancy goes there. Girl from band, can you charm parents, more specifically the Wicked Witch of the West? That way we can know if it’s safe to climb up to Chrissy’s bedroom.” Wheeler’s idea is not bad. They just need someone to face the old cow. 

Had Robin been drinking water, she would’ve spat everything at them. Choking with her own spit, gasping for air, the girl is furiously shaking her head and waving her hands as if saying, ‘are you out of your damn mind?’

“I can, I think, I don’t know! But what I most definitely know is that absolutely not her! From what you and Nancy have told us, she sounds terrifying! Hell no!” She puts a hand on her chest, trying to catch some air. After a while, when everyone is waiting for her to speak again since she has one finger raised, she adds, “Besides, I can’t exactly show at her doorstep with my work clothes on. What would I say? Hey, Mrs. Cunningham I just ditched work because I heard Chrissy got hurt. May I go see her? ” She pauses and thinks of what she’d just said, “I mean, that doesn’t sound bad but coming from me? A girl? It might be sending the wrong idea?” She stammers a bit, suddenly more awkward than before (if that was even possible) and glances at Harrington, pleadingly and then her face lightens up with an idea. She even snaps her fingers. “Steve can say that, though! That settles it! Steve, go woo Mrs. Cunningham.” She finishes triumphantly. 

“I mean, since all of you guys seem reluctant to go, sure.” He shrugs. 

“Awesome, should we, should we go now?” Eddie asks and everyone groans. “What?” He grumbles. “Chrissy was stunned that night, very shaken if you ask me. Which you shouldn’t, because I’ve already told you I was there. She could barely talk to me, who witnessed everything.” To be fair, Eddie, you were kind of mean to her, his conscience points out and he scowls. “So I don’t think she’d be willing to talk to you even if you said you were with me. Besides, she even called to warn me about Jason. The way I see it, I have to be there,” he concludes and raises an eyebrow, challenging them to contradict them. 

“So that’s what the note said!” Mayfield snaps her fingers and smirks. 

Steve raises his arm, defeated. “Sheesh, man, you just had to say you wanted to see her that badly instead of this lame speech.” Scoffing, Harrington rolls the keys between his fingers. Eddie flips him the bird, but doesn’t deny it.

The only problem they encountered once they agreed that everyone except Dustin and Max were going to talk to Chrissy was exactly that Dustin and Max weren’t going to tag along. 

The boy finds it to be absurd since he is a first generation survivor; he’d fought a demogorgon and cronies more than once, guys, seriously! and Max is offended because she is the one who actually discovered Eddie’s tattoo which totally brought everyone together, so thanks to me, guys, we’ve discovered that something funny is happening right now.

But Steve is determined that they stay. “We can’t fit all in the car,” he adds, clicking his tongue, faking disappointment. And after some more banter (which Eddie thought would’ve lasted longer) they actually listen to him when he suggests they should try to contact Sinclair. It’s surprising to see how easily they accept Steve’s order. 

“You’re a great nanny, Harrington, who would’ve thought,” Eddie makes a jab at him once they are on the road. “The kids just listen to you as if you’re this paternal or should I say, maternal figure in their lives? A true hero. An inspiration to us all,” He might be mocking, but he’s actually a bit jealous. Henderson had never listened to him that quickly. 

“Nanny? Do you see any kids here?” He grumbles while making a sharp turn. 

“Yeah, Steve prefers the word babysitter. Don’t you go insulting my homeboy like that, Munson,” Robin mocks him, barking a raspy laugh. He can already appreciate the girl's wit. 

“Steve is a pretty good babysitter, to be fair,” Nancy adds with a tiny smirk on her lips. 

“Yeah, you guys are so funny. Seriously, you should do stand up comedy.” He purses his lips and stops the car. “We’re here.” 

“This isn’t Chrissy’s house… We’re a block away. Smart,” Nancy praises him and Steve just gleams with pride. 

“Do all members of the preppy, rich, popular herd know each other’s addresses?” Eddie makes a disgusted face. 

“Yeah, it kinda seems odd, doesn’t it? Like a cult or something,” Robin shudders in agreement. Eddie throws his head back, a boisterous laugh rumbling in his chest and high-fives her. It’s an awkward movement since the car is not very spacious but it does have the effect he was looking for: annoying the two in the front. 

“Well…” Nancy starts but Steve cuts in, “My mother is well-respected for a reason, she made me do some errands for her back in the day so she could stay that way. So yes, I pretty much know everyone. What’s the big deal? It helped us, ok?” He retorts defensively, ruffling his hair, looking obviously uneasy with the explanation. 

“Wow, condescending much?” Robin throws him a smug smile. 

“Anyway,” Nancy shuts them before Steve can retort. “We’re here, so… If you have any problem, you report back to us immediately so we can…” she sighs, apparently not liking her plan anymore. “Sneak into Chrissy’s bedroom.” Steve salutes her and starts walking towards the cheerleader’s house.

“Eddie, if it comes to it and someone sees you sneaking into her bedroom, you’ll not be helping the ongoing rumors, you know?” Nancy comments while waiting for Steve. 

“I don’t care.” He shrugs. He’s been dealing with stuff like that ever since he was released from the lab, he can take some more. Doubts it’ll be the last time someone spreads a nasty rumor about him. 

“Yeah, but this is serious. How are you going to clear your name?”

“I don’t need it.” Before she can refute, he starts explaining, “There is no lawsuit, no proof against me and no cops have come to take me to jail. Wheeler, I’ve been struggling with this my whole life. Another rumor, another lie, what harm does it do to Eddie 'The Freak' Munson? I’ll be gone once I graduate.” Still not convinced, Nancy quirks an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, I’ll graduate. And Owens can take care of whatever charges the cops throw at me. That is, if they do. Tell me, Wheeler,” he leans forward, a mischievous grin adorning his lips, “How do you think I get away with dealing?” He winks at her. 

She’s stubborn, he’ll give her that, but at least, she seems satisfied when she finishes with a tight, “Still.”

He feels a nudge to his right side. He turns to Robin who mouthes at him, ‘Nice one!’ Eddie grins proudly and bows his head. 

“Is she always like that?” He whispers while Nancy is stretching her neck at the window, to see if she can catch a glimpse of Steve. 

“I dunno. We barely hang out.”

“I thought you were like a tight-knit sort of group.” Considering how Henderson spoke about Steve and was always hanging around the Wheelers… They should be friends by association, right?

“Yeah, saving the world can bring everyone together. But her? She’s been moping around ever since Jonathan left town, so… She’s thrown herself at the Hawkins High Paper. It’s a bit sweet, if you think about it,” she tilts her head and scrunches her nose, deciding against what she’d previously said. 

“I can hear you.” Nancy snaps. Both of them stand straighter. Robin looks apologetic but Eddie is just amused. 

Thankfully, for Nancy, because Eddie would’ve loved to ruffle some more feathers of her, Steve returns with a scowl in his face. 

All three of them know what they have to do. 

Eddie is the first one to get out of the car, practically jumping out of it. 

“Hey, dude. Wait up. This is a ‘good neighborhood’,” Robin throws Harrington a teasing look and hands Eddie a hair tie. “Tie it down so at least it looks more presentable. We wouldn’t want anyone to recognize you, would we?” It’s not dark yet, but it’ll soon be so he’s not opposed to taming his mane for some cover. He obeys, asking if his hair looks pretty along the way, making Robin nod approvingly. Both Nancy and Steve shush them. 

The Cunningham’s yard is big, their lawn seems freshly mowed by how it smells. No one knows which bedroom is Chrissy’s.

“Well, we’re at an impassé.” He states, flattening his lips.

“Not really. Both of her parents are downstairs. We can just throw pebbles at one window at the time. We’ll eventually get her,” Harrington explains. 

Nancy opens her mouth, about to argue but gives up. 

“It’s all we have,” Robin sighs. 

Eddie cracks his knuckles and starts looking for decent-sized pebbles. They surround the house, searching for a window until Nancy finds one. She motions them to follow her and starts throwing. 

It’s not long before a kid shows up. 

“Oh, shit,” the Family Video duo groans. 

“Hi! Charlie, right?” Nancy loudly whispers. Eddie, not really liking how this could turn out, glances to the sides to see if anyone is near to catch them. There’s no one around and the sky’s getting darker. “Could you, maybe, point us to your sister’s window? We need to talk to her.” Wheeler smiles, then purses her lips and bats her eyelashes. 

Charlie Cunningham surveys the group until his eyes land on Eddie. He stares at him for a while, his eyes turn into slits while examining him. His skin starts to prickle and he waves, awkwardly. “Hey, man.” 

Another second later, Chrissy’s little brother points to a window a few meters aways and snaps shut his window. 

“Well, that was… not what I expected.” Nancy says and practically runs to the other side. 

Chrissy opens her window after the third stone is thrown. 

She looks… He can’t really have an opinion, can he? It wouldn’t be fair after all she’s been through. 

“Hi, Chrissy. Could we talk for a while? It won’t take long.”

“Sure, Nancy. There’s, uhm, you can climb up there. Just be careful with my mother’s vines and flowers. She’ll notice if something happens to them,” her voice is soft, just like he remembers, yet it carries well through the distance. As if she’s done this before, so she knows how to modulate her volume. He wonders if Jason has—. 

Everyone is moving forward so he shakes his head. “Ladies first,” Eddie curtsies to both the girls and stretches his hand towards Robin. Wheeler is being well taken care of by Steve, who steadies her while she starts climbing. Robin is a bit more clumsy, mumbling all types of curses all the while. She manages to enter not so gracefully after Nancy. 

Eddie, suddenly nervous about being near Chrissy, takes a step back and urges Steve to follow them. Shrugging, he complies. When he’s mid-way, he decides it’s time to climb. He wipes his hands on his jeans and rubs them together before grabbing the wooden gazebo, taking extra care for the vines. God forbid Darth Moeder notices a disturbance in the force.

“Took you long enough, Munson,” Steve grumbles. He is currently leaning against Chrissy’s vanity. Nancy is at the end of the bed, with the cheerleader on the other side while Robin has decided to sit down on the pink, fluffy circular rug. Not finding a decent place for him, he takes a seat alongside Robin. 

“Well, I had to be careful or else my up-do would have suffered. And we can’t have that, can we?” he retorts, twirling a strand of dark curly and obviously tangled hair. He decides that since he’s already in Chrissy’s, he can get out the ponytail so he just takes down the hair tie and tosses it to Robin’s lap with a quiet thank you. 

He’d never, not even in his wildest middle schooler dreams, would’ve imagined to ever be in Chrissy Cunningham’s bedroom. Not that he’d imagined it, but damn he can’t help to feel a little bit lightheaded. 

Her room is pink. That’s his first, real thought. There are different shades of the color; her vanity, her sheets and comforter, even her face. The look she has on it chases away all his intent on finding any other color but the one surrounding them. It’s something between somber, relieved and shy, if such an expression ever existed, it’s plastered all over her face.

She’s the first one to speak. “I’m glad you’re ok,” she breathes and Eddie thinks the air around him has abandoned him.

“Yeah, I got your message,” He manages to blurt out. He clears his throat and moistens his lips, suddenly they feel very dry. Out of the blue, there's a knot in his stomach that's tightening by the second, every second of him being aware that Chrissy Cunningham is looking at him with those doe shaped eyes that make him want to—. Oh, also, the rug feels very nicely between his fingers. Who would’ve thought? 

“I called several times. Well, my brother did.” She explains a bit embarrassed. “Your Uncle told him you were out. So I was getting all worked up,” she starts fidgeting, conscious that everyone is looking at them (he can practically hear Steve grunting, annoyed), she smiles at the group, “I’m glad you’re with your, uhm, friends.” 

“Um, yeah, well, it’s not exactly how I would’ve wanted to meet them but, what can you do?” He throws her a roguish smile, managing to calm down his nerves. “How’s your arm, does it hurt much?” There’s concern in the way he speaks, in how his eyes travel to her face to see if she’s gonna answer with honesty. 

“No, the pills are helping. They just make my mind a bit hazy. Only for the first fifteen minutes, so, no need to worry.” She shrugs, and doesn’t wince (but Eddie can’t really rely on that, can he? He’d already seen her as even-tempered as the dead sea, nursing her pain). However, Chrissy is smiling, wider than he’s seen her do before. Long gone is the bug-eyed girl that once sat before him asking for drugs to help her nerves, thinking they’d help her not lose her mind. She’s… He can’t explain it, but her eyes hold a fierceness that wasn’t there last night.

“I still do.” Because she can mask her pain very well. Chrissy blushes. Eddie notices; a warm, bubbly sensation slowly bursts in his chest. “I see you’re still listening to Faithfully.” Really, he should start paying more attention.

“Well, yes. It… keeps me grounded. Reminds me that whatever happened at your house, it was just in my head.” Chrissy looks away, aware that floating and snapping bones out of the blue is not something that casually takes place in a person’s life. “I know that what happened was not something… Was not a figment of my imagination but…” She shudders and smiles woefully at Eddie. His knot tightens, so does his hold on her pink, fluffy rug.

This statement piques Nancy’s curiosity. She starts speaking before letting Eddie console her. “Chrissy, could you please… tell us what happened to you?” 

“Hasn’t Eddie told you, yet?” Her voice quivers but her body language says differently. She straightens her back and raises a nicely shaped eyebrow at them. 

“Yes, he has. Extensively, in fact!” Robin happily chirps and gives him a slap on his back. Chrissy looks between them, a question flashes in her green eyes before disappearing. 

Eddie, carefully, discreetly, moves away from the short-haired girl only to realize that she’s doing the same.

“What, what are you doing?” He inquires, knowing perfectly that if Chrissy thought they were a couple and was genuinely upset about it (which is just wishful thinking of him), Robin is making it worse by moving.

“Taking a breather from you, what else?” She furiously whispers, “I don’t want to give the wrong idea,” she adds, looking between him and Chrissy, who just smiles at them, clearly amused. 

He suppresses a groan and throws Nancy a pleading, pitiful look. 

“Right. So. Yes, he told us, but we still don’t know much. You mentioned that this song keeps you grounded. What does that mean, Chrissy?”

The girl in question closes her eyes. She furrows her brow and her lips tighten as if remembering is painful to her. When she opens them, the look on her eyes is far away. It sends Eddie a chill to his spine.

“I’ve been having nightmares for the last few days. They aren’t… specifically gruesome, they just…” She shrinks in her bed, hugs her knees with her left arm. Eddie knows then that she won’t tell them what afflicts her. “I’ve also been having constant headaches, nosebleeds… But the thing is, those nightmares have evolved. They seem to be getting realer, like they’re outside my mind. I wake up, but not in my bed, but somewhere else and I can’t remember how I got there. There’s always… a clock ticking that announces his entrance or the beginning of the nightmare.”

Eddie can’t remember much about 001. What he can recall are his swift hand movements, the way his head cocks to the side to make someone’s eyeballs implode. By the looks of it, his powers have evolved. He is somewhere in the Upside Down or he could be in Hawkins, lurking in the shadows. But no, he seems to love the theatrics, he barely remembers some speech he told the kids in the Rainbow room before striking. He loved doing that. He could’ve just attacked without—. Chrissy’s voice drags him back to the present. 

“It’s not human.” 

“Who? 001?” Eddie asks in a whisper. Chrissy’s brow furrows in confusion. “The one who attacked you is an old friend of mine.” That’s the understatement of the year, but Chrissy, surprisingly, accepts it as she continues her story.

“He’s… slimy. Covered in vines… Or slugs, because they move against him, slowly. Like tentacles? I don’t know. One minute I was with Eddie, the next one I’m back at my nightmare, trying to escape but unable to do it. It was only when I kept silent for a minute to think, that I heard the music and remembered that I was with Eddie so it couldn’t be possible for me to be trapped in it.” She releases a shaky breath. “That’s when I woke up,” she locks her eyes in his, and now he’s the one whose breath falters. 

It’s merely a look, but he can feel the hair at the back of his neck stand. Blood is pounding in his ears, he opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his tongue and he flexes his ring covered hand, unable to do anything more except to hold her gaze. Green eyes against dark brown, Eddie is now aware of what truly means to be lightheaded. It's exhilarating.

Nancy’s the one who breaks the silence. “Why that song? Does it mean something special for you or…” She clears her throat, “Was Eddie’s presence important to you, somehow? Did 001 mention him?”

Chrissy’s eyes are still fixed on his, doesn’t break contact when answering, “Eddie made me feel safe back at his castle. He could’ve told me to just… wait for him or to meet another time for the delivery, but he actually wanted to make sure I was safe when taking the drugs,” she blushes, but continues to look at him with undivided attention, “I guess that’s another reason why I got out. I knew someone was waiting for me.” She smiles at him, all teeth and full of warmth, the sight of it so bright that Eddie feels a punch in his stomach, making the knot melt like a pool of hot lava.

It feels too intimate. He’s just registered that his breath is raggy, like he’s been running non-stop for miles and miles and miles. Everybody is waiting for him to answer or for someone to break the moment, but Eddie’s mind is still reeling, it’s thrilling to the point of intoxication. Something he hadn’t felt in a while, something akin to yearning. 

After a minute of silence, he severs the moment. But he’s not strong enough to tear his eyes from her. “Of course I was, Cunningham,” he rests his arm against his knee, a riveting smile directed at her. 

“Are you done, Munson?” Harrington asks. 

“Not quite, but I figure you people are.” 

“Not yet. I still have one more question,” Nancy continues, expertly ignoring everything that happened, still very focused on completing the puzzle. “Chrissy, have you had any more visions since last night?”

That’s a very good question, he concedes. 

Chrissy shakes her head, “I’ve been listening to this song since I’ve returned from the hospital. I don’t think I could hear the Clock ticking even if I wanted to.”

With that, it’s time for them to go, he can see Nancy satisfied, as if she already has a solid theory formed. It’s obvious to him, music and friendship helps. Knowing one is not alone. 

However, they still have one major question that hasn’t been answered. Why is Vecna doing this? What’s his final goal? Why now? Is it because Eleven has no powers? It seems plausible. Now, that would explain the last question. They still have to uncover the other ones.

“Thank you, Chrissy. You’ve been of great help,” Nancy smiles at her and lightly squeezes her hand. “We’ll leave you to rest now.”

But the girl in the cast tilts her head. “I don’t suppose you’ll allow me to go with you.” 

Eddie’s mouth turns into sandpaper. He’s the first one to speak, “No.” It’s abrupt, hard and his eyes are unyielding, leaving no room for disagreement. “No way you’re coming with us, Cunningham. We barely know what we’re up against.”

“That’s actually not true,” Steve points out. “We know how to handle this.”

“Still, this is new, because Eleven is not here. And I am of no use, remember?” He shakes his bare wrist to his face. He stands up, taking advantage of his height, “This is my final word. You’re not coming, Chrissy. It’s dangerous, you have a broken arm. You could get hurt a lot worse and I— we can’t let that happen.”

“And how do you know I’ll be safer here?” She interjects, also standing up. She’s small but holds her chin up, defiantly. To Eddie, she looks like a warrior. If she could, Eddie knows she would’ve crossed her arms. Instead, she has her left arm on her hip. “I’m getting tired of that song already, I was about to turn it off until you guys came. Isn’t that some kind of great coincidence? Like a sign I should be doing something more than stay here and wait for you to resolve whatever this is? I mean, even if you don’t take me with you, I will be stopping the record player.” She stumps her feet to the ground and purses her lips. His eyes travel to them briefly before looking away. 

Robin, Steve and Nancy turn to each other, silently debating the possibility. Eddie sighs, rubbing his face tiredly and goes to them. They’ve backed themselves in a corner of her room. He gives Chrissy a reproachful stare before turning his back and starts arguing about her addition to the group.

“I mean, she could be of use…” Robin whispers.

“Use of what? She only has a functional hand right now! We aren’t exactly going to defeat Vecna with her in the team,” Steve hisses, pointing at her cast with his head.

“Intelligence, you dingus! She’s faced this Vecman slash 001 and has survived! If something happens to us, maybe she can guide us, make us see the light!” Eddie inwardly cringes at the wrongful name, but doesn’t correct her. 

“Yeah, we’ll all think of Eddie waiting for us, that’ll be helpful.”

“Oi, watch it,” He snaps, cocking his eyebrow at Harrington.

“I’m on your side, man. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“She said she was going to stop the music.” Nancy adds and Robin throws her fist in the air with triumph. 

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists!” Eddie is fed up, not believing how both Nancy and Robin are almost convinced in letting Chrissy tag along. 

“No, but we need everything in our hands to defeat Vecna and right now? As you’ve told us, we have no Eleven, so yeah, Chrissy might not be powered, but she’s the one who’s survived him. I say she comes with us.”

“God dammit, Wheeler.” Is all he says before she turns to Chrissy, who has already packed her clothes in her school backpack. Funny how he was the one packing his stuff hours ago, ready to never look back and now Chrissy is the runaway. It doesn’t sit right with him. She shouldn’t be involved in this, and it’s all his fault. 

“Give me that, I’ll bring it down with me.” He reaches for her backpack and hangs it on his shoulders. 

The girls climb down in a hurry, Steve tosses Nancy his keys when they’re down and they quickly run back to the car to turn it on in case Mrs. Cunningham catches them. 

“I’ll be going now. Chrissy, Eddie will help you climb down, but know that I’ll be down there if you trip or something,” Harrington warns and promptly disappears through her window. 

It’s a hard task to climb down with one hand, but they manage. Eddie has a grip on her waist, he’s reluctant to let go but he does it when they’re almost down.

“You’re almost there, Chrissy. Jump and I’ll catch you.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. She lets go and jumps backwards, stumbling and crashing into his chest. He steadies her, one hand on her waist and the other one on her shoulder. 

“Are you ok?” he asks, slightly out of breath. Chrissy nods, a fierce blush on her cheeks. He suddenly has the urge to touch them, to see if they’d feel as warm as her smile but a dry cough interrupts them.

They move, Nancy’s already behind the wheel and not wasting another second, she steps hard on the gas.

“What are you going to tell your mother when you get back?” Robin asks with a grin on her freckled face. The girl is giddy, excited to have one more member in the gang. Eddie tries hard not to share the sentiment. He still thinks it’s an awful idea but God help him, Chrissy Cunningham has decided to fight with him. 

“Nothing. I left her a note in my bed. Wrote it down quickly when you were still ‘debating’,” Chrissy smiles, coyly glancing at him. “I know what Jason thinks so I wrote down that I was going to be with Eddie. I hope you don’t mind,” she bites her lip and shrinks in her seat. “I figured that… Since he thinks that you took advantage of me and my mother hasn’t done anything to discourage him of that ugly misconception, it’d turn out the same if I told her I was staying at Katy’s. They were still going to come after you.”

“Well, I’m already in deep shit, so what the hell, Cunningham? You and I are now runaways.” He pats her lightly in her jean covered knee. He counts two seconds before lifting his hand, trying to look somewhere else to put it. Suddenly, Harrington’s car feels smaller, stuffier. 

He doesn’t think about the implications. About what it means that Chrissy decided to associate her well respected name with his. It’s all in good nature, it’s all about survival. She seems more upbeat than before, lighter and vibrant. All the ride, he can feel her bouncing on her seat, asking Steve where they’re going. She is puzzled as to why they’re heading to the Wheelers and he laughs. 

“Oh, Cunningham, you don’t know what you’ve involved yourself in.” He clicks his tongue and turns off the engine. Funnily enough, they’re not at the Wheelers. Seeing the general confusion, Steve explains, “First, we’re stopping by my place. We have to get Munson and Robin some new clothes. You’re starting to smell, man.” 

It’s not what he would’ve wanted, but Harrington’s got a point so he agrees without complaints. Besides, his outfit has always been known to get some looks, it’s very much his style, and after what Chrissy pulled, it would be better if he has a low profile while fighting Vecna. 

Mr. Wheeler drawls his displeasure when he sees them arrive with one more person. None of them acknowledge him but Chrissy, who stops to greet him and Mrs. Wheeler with a pleasant smile. Shockingly enough, she grabs his hand. Just like at the hospital, it’s a firm grip. He leads her to the basement, trying to level his pounding heart. 

“Nancy, dear, may I speak with you?” Mrs. Wheeler calls before said girl can join them.

Eddie and Chrissy are sitting on the couch while Dustin is eyeing them curiously. They are still holding hands. But it’s no big deal. Chrissy, however brave she seems, is still scared and just knowing that she’s not alone and people are grouping together to defeat the Vecna, the Dark Wizard (as Dustin commences his explanation of everything surrounding Hawkins), gives her confidence. So it’s natural for her to stick to the one person she’s trusted since it began. He thinks, assumes. It’s all exceedingly confusing to him. 

When Nancy gets back, she grabs Eddie by the arm, pulls him away from Chrissy with an apologetic smile and whispers, “My mom told me that Jason’s been looking for you at your friends’ house. He stopped by when we were at Chrissy’s, asking for Mike, then you. After finding neither, he asked for Dustin’s address. It seems like he’s in a frenzy hunt so my mom is suggesting that both of you,” she throws Chrissy a quick glance, “stay the night. After watching you two like nothing happened, she knows that what Jason and Laura Cunningham are claiming cannot be true. So she’s covering for the both of you.” 

Dumbfounded for what feels like a decade, he manages to blurt out, “Uh, thanks, Nancy.” Eddie feels a lump in his throat when he swallows, overcome with emotion. It’s the first time a grown-up has believed him and he didn’t even have to say anything. 

“No problem,” she throws him a sly smirk. He fumbles with his rings, suddenly shy. He returns to Chrissy, who’s still listening to Dustin with awe. 

He updates them about Lucas, who’s been with Jason all day and has warned them that he’s returning to the trailer park tomorrow morning. Sinclair also told them that he was going to try to detour the jocks while trying to come up with a plan to escape him. “He”, Henderson quotes, “wasn’t sure the basketball player was in his right mind.”

“All very sick and possessive, if you ask me.” Max scoffs. Chrissy agrees quietly. 

After that, Mrs. Wheeler provides them with a set of quilts, comforters, blankets and pillows. They claim they have a D&D campaign to finish, “So thank you so much, Mrs. Wheeler, for letting us stay.” He bows with flourish, his nose almost touching his left knee. As the DM, he had to step up. All in all, after what Nancy told her, he has a new-founded mad respect for her. 

It’s a quiet fear; it’s daunting, mostly, to have Chrissy beside him. He’s tense, his mouth is a bit dry and he’s very conscious of the way her chest rises and falls with every breath. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed, Chrissy?” Nancy asks for the fifth time. Everything’s pitch black. The only thing they can hear are Dustin’s and Harrington’s snores. 

“I’m alright, Nancy, thank you,” the cheerleader whispers and snuggles her face in the warm blankets. She’s not facing him, she’s got Nancy at her other side and has decided to talk in hushed tones with her until they fall asleep. He doesn’t mind. As long as she’s near him, that’s enough.

The school is their next stop. 

It saddens him, knowing how they came up with the next step. 

At breakfast, still in the basement, both Chrissy and Max find out, rather disturbed, that they’ve had the same symptoms. Headaches, nosebleeds and night terrors. They find another thing in common: they are both seeing Ms. Kelley.

Naturally, Nancy deciphers that, perhaps, Vecna is targeting kids that have some kind of trauma so it’s easier to enter their minds.

At this, Chrissy flinches. Everyone is curious about hers, but no one asks. They all seem to think that it’s got something to do with her mother. Eddie can’t say he’s surprised. 

So, it’s obvious for them to go to the school grounds and look after Ms. Kelley files. Maybe they can find out who’s going to be Vecna’s next victim. Absolutely no one comments about Max. But Eddie can see how the young girl cowers whenever someone mentions Vecna or how sharply she inhales whenever a clock everyone can hear, ticks. 

He feels like an idiot. How didn’t he notice before? Mayfield has been having the symptoms for days now. She was the one who brought everyone together and they simply… didn’t notice she had problems. 

“It can’t be me because it’s only been five days, today being the fifth! Chrissy, you said he attacked you after, what, a week, right? So I still have, like, two whole days before he comes for me.” She rolls her eyes, pretends to be nonchalant. She aggressively bites her toast. Eddie thinks she’s going to choke so he offers her a glass of orange juice. 

“Yeah,” Dustin quickly intervenes. “We can totally defeat him by that time!” Everyone nods, but few agree whole-heartedly. Nancy is pensive, chewing at her bottom lip while playing with her spoon. Her cereal is long forgotten. 

“Let’s freshen up before we leave, alright?” 

They all hurry and are about to leave for the door when Mrs. Wheeler stops them. 

“Be careful kids, there’s been a murder last night.” She clenches her kitchen cloth, face stricken with worry, and motions for the TV. “They haven’t said who, but Nancy, you can’t go to school today, it’s shut and patrolled.” 

Behind her, Mr. Wheeler’s plain voice startles them, “Looks like we’re in the 50’s again, some Victor Creel fan by the gruesomeness they described. Are they ever going to call the FBI?”

Chapter Text

They’ve decided to split up, much to Steve’s reluctance. And Chrissy’s, but she’s new and she’s forced her way in; so she’ll only disagree if she’s being sidelined. 

Nancy and Robin are currently heading towards the public library to look for any kind of Victor Creel’s news. The party thinks that something must’ve been recorded, since it was such a big scandal back in the day. According to Ted Wheeler (everyone was rather surprised when he started answering their questions as if it was common knowledge to know about Creel’s crime—but no one was truly into murder mysteries until that day): he was a normal guy who one day murdered his family in a gruesome way. He couldn’t remember the details because they were never out for the public (Dustin scoffed at this) but he just remembered everyone talking about snapped bones. This was enough for Nancy, who decided at that instant that she was going to chase that tiny lead. Chrissy could see it in her eyes. 

It takes about thirty minutes, she estimates, for everyone to function once more. 

Steve is adamant that at least he accompanies the girls but before they left, they agreed that someone older who’s faced the Upside Down previously stays with both the kids, Eddie and her. 

It might come a bit condescending, but Chrissy thinks that after everything they’ve been through, it’s only logical that they’re a bit more confident than her or Eddie, who’s been oddly quiet since the Victor Creel reveal. 

Curiously enough, Eddie seems a bit more knowledgeable about the Upside Down than he lets on. She can tell.

It’s the way he unconsciously keeps touching his wrist whenever Vecna is mentioned. There’s a tiny tattoo there that she’s only recently noticed. It reads 010 and she wonders what that means. Dustin kept trying to tell her about it only for Eddie to shut him up before he could babble. Honestly, that just made her more curious.

He’d shown her his ‘sweet tatties’ that day, and he was proud of them. But not that one. Now that she thinks about it, he's always had it covered by something, maybe a watch but she can't be sure of it. She's only been paying strict attention to him ever since that night. Before that, he was just a guy she shared some classes with, a guy everyone told her to stay away from because he was bad news. As a good girl, she had obeyed. She didn't want anymore trouble. Chrissy wonders what would've happened if she had met him earlier. If Vecna didn't exist, would they even be friends? 

The school grounds are surrounded by cops. They park a few blocks away and decide to wait out for them at the clearing. It's the perfect distance for their stake out. Far, secure, with great tree coverage yet near enough to watch them with their binoculars. 

Dustin has been in contact with Lucas since early in the morning, that’s how they managed to dodge Jason’s path. He had assured them that as soon as he found an idea to throw them off, he would join them at school. Chrissy is just praying that the kid doesn't do anything rash. Jason doesn't tolerate betrayal and if he were to find out that he's going to meet them, well, she can only imagine what he'd do. Probably hunt him down like he's doing with them. It's best if Sinclair just discreetly says he's got something else to do, but she also knows how persistent and dominant Jason can be.  

Max and Steve are talking, both of them sitting at the picnic table. While Dustin and Eddie are mumbling something a few meters away. Her? She’s just watching through the binoculars. The chief of Hawkins police department is there, she can see him giving orders. There are also people from the news, reporters and even some students. There are parents present, one couple is currently talking to the police; the mother looks devastated while the father is numbly nodding. She can’t really imagine who could’ve died… But is she wrong to suppose it was Vecna’s doing? Is she wrong to be angered by it, as if she had personally known them? She knows how hopeless she felt in his presence, she was lucky to have Eddie's memory and the music playing; they saved her. The fact that Vecna succeeded this time means that whoever died, did it in the worst possible way: with a feeling of extreme loneliness, guilt and sadness. 

Chrissy feels eyes on her and turns around to see both Dustin and Eddie looking at her. She smiles, wanly, and walks over to them. She’s still unsure about her place in the party. However, she can’t help but be perplexed at how surprisingly safe she feels with them, with Eddie. It should bother her, knowing what everybody says about him, about his club. A part of her can see what they mean. Just the way he dresses intimidated her back at school; not today, though, he is wearing Steve’s clothes and has been complaining all day long about it; how uncool he looked, how could Steve stand wearing them and not feel suffocated. 

However much he complains and makes faces at the plain clothes (compared to his, though Chrissy can admire how well they fit him), he still manages to be at ease. It’s a delight to see how carefree Eddie looks with Dustin, even while bickering. He’s laughing, eyeing him with a certain smugness she’s seen at the cafeteria; sometimes, very briefly, when she dared to look at something else than her food (a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a sliced apple and a banana, she only could eat the banana, stretching her bites throughout the whole lunch period, sometimes using a spoon to scrape it; she couldn’t raise suspicion, not when all she did was laugh, take Jason’s hand, compliment him and her cheer squad, complain about classes and college applications and— She was busy at lunch with everything except eating).

He definitely is not what she imagined, and she had told him so. Brash, forceful and cocky to the point of being overbearing at school, he’s shown her how witty and charismatic he can be. Even shy, something she wouldn’t associate with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson; who always ranted about the forced conformity high school kids had become so accustomed to. Had anyone told her days ago about how gentle he could be, she would’ve laughed (not in a bad way, because she had never liked laughing at someone else’s expense; more like are you pulling my hair? Because how could Eddie be so—). 

It shouldn’t surprise her, but it does. He always seemed so confident, so sure of himself even though he had everything against him to be self-conscious, to be mad all the time, to be complete dickhead and take it all out on everyone who dared cross his path. Secretly, like a whisper just to herself, Chrissy had admired him always for that. What would it feel like to act like him, just for a second? To not care about people’s opinion, about her mother’s criticism of her weight? (To be like him and not just watch, watch, watch and never act).

Of course, she’s always been observant. She couldn’t have gotten away all those years covering up her mother’s abuse if she hadn’t known the basics: when to speak, laugh, smile, cry; when to lie, how to do it correctly so no one suspected (just the right amount of truth, have a good memory and confidence— even if she's scared shitless, she can fake). 

That’s how she realizes that Eddie Munson is just as tormented as her. Because just like her, he has walls that protect him from harm, from the monsters of his past. She can see them every time he touches his wrist: his eyes wander, somewhere far away; a memory she can’t access and he won’t share. At least, not with her (it hurts, because everyone else seems to be aware of what truly afflicts him).

Yet, he still manages to be upbeat, in a totally ridiculous way. 

He manages to pull it off, charming his way through the classes and only having serious problems with Ms. O'Donnell. He has a way of saying things that make her insides feel different. It’s not like Jason, with whom she always felt queasy, about to throw up. She could never feel at ease around him, her boyfriend. With Eddie, she feels… at peace. Even when he’s blatantly flirting with her. It feels natural, like it was always meant to be. Even the most basic things like, are you ok? Are you still hurting? make her heart swoon and she shouldn’t be feeling like that. Not because she doesn’t wanna fall in love with Eddie, no. In fact, she thinks it’s terribly easy for her to do it. That’s what scares her. 

Is she going to fall in love with any man who treats her decent? Who’s she going to crush next, Steve Harrington just because he kindly offered her a banana today at breakfast? Is she like Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors? It was, no doubt, an amazing play (and she’s actually pretty excited for the upcoming movie) but it just makes her wonder. Eddie can’t be her Seymour because she isn’t about to be Audrey. She wants to be Chrissy. 

So, yeah. Her bravado is… It’s growing but it can’t be because of Eddie. 

“Hey,” He greets her with an easy grin and she can’t help but turn red from head to toe. He’s got his hands on his back pockets and is balancing on his heels. He looks unsure, as if testing waters. He is— cute. That’s another word she would’ve never associated with him. In a million years. She's fortunate, isn't she? To be discovering new things about him, however small they are. 

“Hey,” She greets back and hopes in the Lord’s name that her voice doesn’t sound as short-winded as she feels. 

“Ok, gross. Here, let me watch the police. With luck, they’ll be out in another couple of hours.” 

She gives Dustin the binoculars with a quiet giggle. “Is he always this moody?”

“Not really. He’s just a total butthead.” Jason had never talked about the freshmen he mentors like that. There’s affection flowing in his voice and brightening his eyes, something she admires. 

“Well, knowing what he’s faced for the past years… I think we can give him some slack, right?” She chews on her lip, nervous and suddenly notices how she’s mimicking his balancing. She corrects herself and decides that, for her mental health, it’s better to just lean on the tree bark. “I like your tattoo, by the way,” she keeps her eyes on his, looking for disgust or rejection. Instead, his eyes (so dark, so brown, so warm) twinkle and his grin widens, turning itself into a full on smile (so bright it makes her heart clench and she inhales so she can feel the ground beneath her feet once more). 

“Which one, this?” He unbuttons his shirt and shows her the black widow on his chest. 

She wonders where else would she find tattoos—his back, his forearm, his hip? If she were brave enough to ask, may I see every tatt you have? Would he let her? She could do it, and be done with it. Once satisfied, this gigantic curiosity that he’s ignited on her should be over. But no. She mustn't distract herself with the what-ifs.

She moistens her lips, lifts her eyes up again to see him smug, a little too much if she’s honest. She laughs, more openly, and grabs the hand he unbuttoned his shirt with, the one that has the tattoo she’s been curious about. “No, dummy. This one.”

His body stiffens, she knows it by the way his muscles tense under her hand. He mumbles something and is about to snatch back his wrist when he just sighs, defeated. His hand hangs in her hold, but she doesn’t feel as confident as before. 

She overstepped. She screwed up. She needs to go. 

“I’m—. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she drops his hand and takes a step back. She chews hard on her bottom lip, clenches and unclenches her hand and glances at him, embarrassed. “I’ll go make watch with Dustin,” she manages to say without a tremor in her voice but a heavy hand softly on her shoulder stops her. 

“No, it’s not—. Henderson kept mentioning it, I silenced him every time. You don’t know anything about it, so, uhm, I kinda understand the… intrigue behind it,” he ruffles his hair, rings tangling on it for a moment and smiles but it’s not the one she’s seen on him; warm, playful and roguish. No. It’s wan, self-deprecating; it makes her heart sad and her head speculate about it (but outside cheering, she’s not particularly creative). “I just…” He barks a laugh, this time more like himself. “I just hoped that when we touched again, it’d be us holding hands or hugging or—” He clears his throat, flattens his lips as if trying not to laugh at himself and glances away for a second. He mutters something under his breath before speaking more clearly. “Considering you just told your mother I abducted you, I would’ve assumed we were more than runaways.”

“Well— To be fair, I didn’t tell her that. I only wrote I was going to be with you for a while,” she stammers but holds his stare. He can’t help it, she notices, when he starts laughing all the way, throwing his head back, body contorting. The sound is rich, boisterous, it reverberates in her body, making her fingers tingle and toes curl. Something tugs at her stomach. God, she wants to—.

“But we both know that’s not how she’s going to take it, Chrissy Cunningham,” It’s amazing how quickly he can change his demeanor. Face so dangerously close she can feel the heat of his entire body, his breath like mint and cigarettes. She swallows and plants her feet on the ground. She won’t be, can’t be and is not intimidated by Eddie (but she wishes she could be, if only that would make her run away; right now she just wants to—). She licks her lips. His eyes don’t leave hers and she hopes he’s struggling as much as she is to not look at his lips (to not lean in and—). The metalhead has a feral grin on his face when he whispers, “I’ll tell you what it means when you tell me why you wanted to come so badly.” Her breath hitches. If he noticed, he doesn’t comment on it. It’s like she’s the only one that's affected, the only one who is overthinking.  

“It’s not safe, you know. And I’m only here because Mayfield and Henderson dragged me, I’m not… I’m not as brave as you, Chrissy.” He confesses this with wide open eyes, there’s terror and admiration on them. He takes a step back, leaning once again on the tree. 

She thinks he’s just elevating her, putting her up on a pedestal just like Jason does. It doesn’t sit right with her, so her voice hardens, her left hand turns into a fist, “I’m not. I’m just through with feeling useless, hopeless, like everything around me is about to crumble—! Or turn into pieces while I just stand there, letting it happen. For once, I want to feel in control, not controlled.”

“And facing Vecna is step one on Chrissy Cunningham’s self-discovery journey, right?” He’s not mocking her, it’s just an honest to God question. Good. Or she would’ve smacked him hard on the shoulder. And no, she wasn't looking for another excuse to touch him. (Get a grip of yourself, Chrissy).

“Yes.” It’s a dumb statement, it’s not ideal. She could’ve left Jason, get a piercing or a tattoo, something an 18-year-old Christian girl in a rebellious phase would normally do. Instead, she’s trying to defeat a creature of great, unknown powers, with one hand. Silly and yet, he doesn’t add anything else. Eddie just shrugs his shoulders, hums a bit, pensive.

They stay in comfortable silence for a minute. Max and Steve are still talking in hushed tones. She can see the older guy is vexed at the redhead’s antics, not believing for a second that she is safe. He pleads for Dustin’s help who just babbles his agreement after the girl flips the both of them. Now she’s onto watch duty. Both guys just gaze at her worriedly.

“I hope the cops finish up early. I don’t want to be there at night,” she sighs. 

“Well, they aren’t really competent, are they? With Hopper gone…” 

Everything that’s ever happened in Hawkins takes on a great new meaning now that they both know what truly took place. It saddens her to know that these people, these children, have been dealing with it since Will Byers’ disappearance. She bets that’s why Steve hasn’t gone to college (after the trauma, it'd be normal for him to drop grades and loose his basketball scholarship), why Nancy is trying so hard to make it out of Hawkins (to never look back and have a monster-free life), why the Byers’ left (to find peace and safety). She knows why Max is being hunted by Vecna, and she wonders what hardship that bastard is going to make Dustin and Robin go through, if they let him. 

“Why are you here? Did they just… let you in because of what happened to me?” Ashamed, she casts her eyes down, a mountain of guilt invading her. It’s not fair she had unknowingly dragged him into this, not when he could be enjoying his break, practicing with his band and playing at the Hideout. 

Eddie exhales, clacks his tongue, rubs his face with his hand. Exhausted, he answers, “Mayfield found out about my tattoo. I was about to skip town hadn’t she made me parade around with it to these guys.” 

“Guess it all comes down to it. Don’t think I haven forgotten about our deal, Munson,” she shyly smirks, just to convince herself that he isn’t making that up to make her feel good. He doesn’t have a reason to do it; also, it doesn’t sound like it, it’s sincere. “Will you tell me about it?” She bumps him lightly with her waist.

He opens his mouth, the corner of his lips slowly turning up. “Someday, when Dustin’s not here to interrupt us. C’mon,” without hesitance, he grabs her hand, leading her to the group now gathered at the picnic table. 

Nobody comments on their entwined hands, Chrissy is thankful for that. He just keeps her grounded. That’s all (she can handle right now).

“The cops are retreating. Well, some of them, but there aren’t as many as before!” He seems quite chirpy about it.

“So… how are we entering Ms. Kelley’s office?” Max asks, lips pursed, arms hanging on her sides. She can see her swallow. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it,” she answers with ease. The girl raises an inquisitive eyebrow at her. She sighs, “I know how to pick a lock, so I’ll only need my bobby pins and a couple extra minutes,” she points at her head. Eddie, next to her, turns to her so quickly she thinks he might’ve snapped his neck. Chrissy suppresses a giggle. 

“Are you sure you can do it with just one hand?” Steve questions with a rather concerned look on his face. “I mean, we can just barge in and knock down the door. We’re already going to taint a crime scene. Jesus.” He grabs his hair, starts pulling on it, takes a step back and starts panting. He’s got his other hand on his hip while leaning forwards when he suddenly is wheezing in laughter, incredulous at how ridiculous the situation really is. 

“We’re not going anywhere near the crime scene, Steve,” Dustin states, his voice calm, reassuring his friend. “We’ll just go straight to Ms. Kelley’s office and leave. That’s it, no need to freak out.”

“Well, for all we know, the crime scene could’ve been right next to Ms. Kelley’s office,” Max shrugs, everyone groans displeased and she shoots them a ‘what?’ with her hard stare. “It’s a real possibility that we can’t rule out. We’re sticking our necks real big this time.”

“You really are not helping right now, Mayfield,” Steve steadies himself at the picnic table. Closes his eyes for a few seconds before opening them, this time, more focused. “Ok, so, Chrissy here is helping us, still, we’re gonna need lookouts.”

“Yeah, we’ll decide who when we get there.” Dustin waves his hand dismissively. “Lucas is meeting us in an hour or two. He needs to bring his stuff; I asked him for another Walkman.” He glances at her, smiling, eager and she can see why Eddie is so fond of him. 

“Great, so let it be him. He ditched us for Carver.”

“He was covering for us!”

“Yeah, well, it took him forever!”

The bickering continues for another minute before Max sighs and lets them be. 

“I’ll go talk to her.” She whispers to Eddie. It’s awful how hard she convinces herself that she doesn’t miss his touch; the one she’s been craving since the hospital. 

“Are you alright?” She asks once she reaches her. 

“Mhm, yes, peachy ,” Max rolls her eyes. She’s holding her Walkman as if it’s the most important thing in the world. Unfortunately, it is for her. 

“Have you heard the ticking Clock yet? I feel you… jumpy.”

“Not really, no,” Chrissy can tell she’s lying. She flinches, glances sideways and starts playing with her blue windbreaker zipper. 

“I figured we could talk. We’re the only ones who know how disorienting and terrifying Vecna can be.”

After a few minutes, Max asks, her head tilted to the side, brows furrowed. She can see a bit of hesitance, “Do you… Do you still get them?”

She nods, pressing her lips together. “I heard one last night. But Nancy kept talking to me, distracting me and suddenly, I was awake. Can’t remember when I fell asleep. I think Robin’s snores woke me,” she giggles. 

“What were you talking about?”

“Oh, you know. Mindless chit-chat. Where we’re going to college, why we wanna go there… Boy stuff, too.” She snickers and can feel the girl rolling her eyes. “What? It’s always good to vent about your boyfriends.”

“Oh, so you talked about Jason then,” she cocks an eyebrow at her and points at Eddie with her head. She's not judging, she's just curious. Max has a giddy smile on her lips, small, tiny even, but it's there. 

“Uhm, no. I don’t really— like talking about him. It was mostly Nancy about Jonathan.” Chrissy starts chewing at her lip, completely nervous. So she just starts rambling. She doesn’t want—. It’s not like she and Eddie are a thing now. They’re just friends, runaways if her mother had refused to acknowledge that they can be friends and are just spending time together. “He’s not… he’s not a bad boyfriend. He’s just too— perfect. I can’t keep up with him, his expectations, his desires and ambitions that don’t line up with mine, if they even exist!” It’s like she’s retching. Once out, it can’t be stopped. “It exhausts me. He doesn’t notice my needs, and doesn’t seem to care either, he just thinks that I’m gonna follow him once high school is over. And… I don’t know, I might do it because I’ve just recently discovered that I don’t have great ambitions like him. He wants to run for office some day, can you believe that? Start here in Hawkins once he finishes college. Worst part is, he’d totally win.” Max is now looking at her wide eyed, as if not believing Chrissy Cunningham is having relationship problems with his high school sweetheart. More likely, the redhead is just wondering when she’s gonna stop whining.

She doesn’t care. She asked so she better listen to her rant now. “And, he’d be so good at it. Because I know he has Hawkins' best interest at heart. But he’d be so bad at executing; he has these weird… ideas. So full of stereotypes, of what good Christian people should do, feel and say every time, every day, everywhere. Really, it just frightens me how shrivel minded and ruthless he can be. The worst combination ever in a very charming guy.” 

It hangs above them, the unsaid words: when he wants to be. 

“You might not like talking about him but, shit, when you start you can’t really wrap it up quickly, can you?” It is a joke, the corner of her lips are turning up in a tiny smirk. “Why don’t you just talk to him?” Her voice is soft, tender and there’s a hint of pity on her eyes— No. Compassion. 

Chrissy inhales. “I can’t. I’ve tried so many times to tell him about—” My mother, how her microaggressions have turned into a well-developed trauma that Vecna has taken advantage of. How she can’t eat without feeling guilty, how she spends hours picking at her food; wondering if it would help her to not gain weight if she eats slower or faster, how she second guesses her outfits, how much she loves her letterman jacket because it hides her body, makes her feel secure and away from all the scrutiny. “I just can’t, and I won’t. It’s of no use. I’m just… gathering my courage to break up with him.” She finally exhales, feeling lighter, like a weight has been lifted from her chest. 

“Well, telling your mother you’ve run away it’s a great start. I don’t think that guy would accept a simple ‘Hey, Jason, it's time to break up’. It needs to be something loud for him to understand.”

“I didn’t tell her that!” She laughs.

“Tell that to the cops that will be searching for you.” Max waves her head and winces.

“I really messed up, didn’t I?” She brought more trouble to the party when all she wanted was to face her fears. She might be kind of book-smart, enough to get into Cornell and Dartmouth (just like Jason had). But she’s not exactly… a quick thinker. She lacks street smarts and a general view of the real world, not the one her mother has raised her in: sit still, smile, don’t ask, don’t whine and just agree because I know what’s best for you, sweetie. Poor little rich girl!

“Yeah, you did.” The little time she’s spent with Max, she knows she has no problem spitting the truth, however hurtful it may be. She braces herself to whatever she’s going to say next, “But, it was for a good reason! Vecna is chasing you and you can’t say that to your boyfriend or mother because they’re the reason you’re traumatized.” She opens her mouth to refute, but Max tuts her. “Yeah, Chrissy, you might not tell us exactly what your nightmares are about but we aren’t stupid. I have a bitch radar and your mother just makes it explode!” She waves her hands in the air, simulating an explosion. Chrissy just wants to shrink, make a hole in the ground and disappear.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it? Compared to…” she releases a shaky breath. “Compared to what happened with Billy…” She glances at Max, shy but also eager to finally let the girl speak through the hardship she’s been living since the fourth of July. 

But no. 

It wouldn’t be that easy for her. 

Her mouth opens a bit, heavily lidded eyes start moving up and down. Her body is tense and when she shakes her, asks if she’s alright… Just as quick as she was gone, Max is back. 

“Please don’t tell them,” she pleads, her voice tiny as a mouse. “It was nothing, just a minor episode. Non consequential, non important and obviously not long enough for Vecna to get me.” She grabs her hand, pulling her closer; her grip is like iron, she’s shaking but her voice is steady, “Please, Chrissy. I don’t want to become a burden.”

She glances back to the boys, who are still talking amongst them. They haven’t noticed anything. 

“You’re not a burden, Max.” It’s essential for her to know that. Nobody in Vecna’s claws is a liability. 

“I know —”

“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

The freckled girl just huffs. “Still… How about… I put on my Walkman and listen to music constantly? Would that make you less worried?”

“It would. Thank you, Max.” She squeezes her hand before releasing it. 

The school is empty by the time they enter. The sun is setting so there goes her wish of not wanting to be at the school grounds at night. After a murder, of course, anyone would be easily scared. That’s how they met with Lucas Sinclair, between shrieks and an almost knock out courtesy of Steve Harrington’s lamp. 

They only have one flashlight on and they’ve turned off the walkies. Nancy and Robin are on their way to the Wheeler’s basement, having discovered something about Victor Creel. They only radioed to let them know that music, in fact, helped people out of the trance. 

“Here, let me.” She takes the bobby pins from her hair and kneels in front of the door knob. It’s harder when she’s only got a hand to work with, but after a minute she manages to open it with her good hand and mouth; she can feel their eyes watching carefully and even surprised, like they actually didn’t believe she would’ve succeeded. 

“You are… full of surprises, aren’t you, Cunningham?” Eddie hums. She can feel his voice next to her as he helps her get up. 

“You never know when it’s going to be useful,” For example, when her mother locked her up as a punishment whenever she ate a little too much at any family meal. Or when she got back from a slumber party or an outing with her friends; she just couldn’t convince her mother she hadn’t had any carbs. Isolation and a locked room until she learned not to lie (counterproductive because the lies fall out of her mouth effortlessly). 

It’s a helpful skill, she just wishes she’d learned it another way. 

They are as quiet as five teenagers can be when breaking in; not as stealthy as Dustin would’ve liked. Eddie curses, Max follows him (the girl is creative, she’s gonna give her that) and Steve is practically rambling about something she can’t be bothered with. Lucas, on the other hand, is quite helpful looking through the files with Dustin. She is the lookout. 

It’s a boring task that she’s willing to do. In retrospect, she should’ve paid attention to Max, who minutes ago was perusing through the files in another cabinet. They don’t notice when the girl tears off her headphones, but they should’ve. She, of all people, should've paid special attention to her.  

She is leaning against the door frame when she notices from the corner of her eyes that the flashlight flickers. It’s just once. But it’s enough to catch her attention. 

“Hey, guys, where’s Max?” Lucas doesn’t skip a beat. He’s been beside the girl ever since he joined them. 

“What do you mean? She is right—” Steve stops to a halt and moves his head around, confused, panicking. “She was right here!”

“Chrissy, did you see her?” Lucas is forceful, closing the files, he’s the first one that starts looking for her.

“No— No, I didn’t!” She stammers, looking around just as clueless as Steve. Useless, hopeless, her mind full with ticking clocks that are not Vecna’s.  

The spookiness of the murder scene just meters away vanishes when facing real danger. They don’t care if someone outside (if there is anyone) is able to hear them. They all want their friend back. Frantic, they start running through the hallways, shouting her name, waving flashlights at every corner. 

There’s no sign of Max Mayfield. Like she banished from the ground.  

Dustin is cursing all the way, panting how maybe she’s in the Upside Down. But that doesn’t help them. It just motivates them and scares them. Especially her, whose eyes haven’t seen the otherworldly hell they have described. She can only imagine what terrors the girl must be facing right now. Alone. 

While running, Chrissy starts crying, guilty for not telling them about her previous episode. She keeps going, though, even if her heart is galloping, almost begging to be out of her ribcage. 

It wouldn’t be fair for the younger girl to be in Vecna’s clutches right in front of them. It wouldn’t be fair for her to—. Lucas suggests splitting up to cover more ground. They don’t agree due to Steve. “No one will split up, guys, let’s look together. What if he takes someone else? Basic survival instinct!” It’s the most logical thing to do, but given the current circumstances, she can empathize with the kid’s urge to do more. 

“There!” Dustin points at the gym doors, they can’t see much behind them, but a slight flicker of the lights is enough for them to run towards it. 

Eddie opens the doors with a hard push. The other three guys sprint for the opposite doors. It’s hard for her to keep up with them (her head is dizzy, her legs feel weak and she feels bile rising up her throat), but Eddie stays behind to steady her when she falters on her step. 

“Are you ok?” He asks, worried and stops for a second they don’t have. 

“Yes, come on, Eddie!” She grabs his hand, for safety, for balance, to help tame the horror that’s creeping on her. 

Once they arrive at the drama room, they find Max in Lucas’ arms. 

“I was right beside you!” She exclaims, her voice wavering, just as her body is shaking, her face red with exertion, terror and relief mixed on it. “But you couldn’t see me! And I shouted at you! But neither of you could hear me!” She buries her head in Lucas’ chest while the teen softly whispers sweet nothings against her head. 

“You’re alright, Max. You’re here, right beside us!” Dustin mumbles, his face stricken with fear and adds himself to the embrace. Steve follows and all three of them are hugging so tightly she can feel the love from where she’s standing. She can see it in the way Dustin’s crying: his face red, snot running down his nose; on Steve’s hands that are trying to embrace all three of them as if his life depended on it; on how Lucas is kissing softly the girl’s hair and forehead, everything he can reach while Max is openly sobbing with her face burrowed in his chest. 

It’s a very intimate scene. She feels out of place. She turns to Eddie, but finds him walking past the group hug. 

“Eddie, what are you—”

“Guys, check this out…” His voice is shaky. She can’t see him when everybody is obstructing her, but when she is near enough, she can understand why his breathing became shallow. 

However, she doesn’t understand what it is. It’s… a crack in the floor. But it has nothing to do with the props that surround them. This thing at her feet, it feels alive. It’s got thick, disgusting vines at the border that get thinner at the center. Like veins and arteries from a living organism, it’s pulsing through the membrane, red and black from whatever is behind it. 

“I’ll be damned.” Steve is the first one to speak. 

In their angst, neither of them were aware of the police line caution tape. At the end, it didn’t matter how much they tried to not step into the crime scene. 

“This is… the crime scene and there’s a gate. On the crime scene.” 

“Yeah, we get it. We should get out of here before the cops come back!” Steve grabs Dustin by the shoulders, but the short boy is still thinking. 

“We still gotta learn who is the next victim!” Lucas interjects, Max holding onto him for dear life, nods. 

Dustin starts shaking his head. Eddie and her? They’re still in shock. She’s not believing what the curly-haired teen is saying. A gate? To the Upside Down? How is that possible? Didn’t they tell her every gate was closed by Eleven last summer? That only that powerful girl was capable of creating one?

“We have a gate at the crime scene!” He shouts and everyone shushes him. Including them (funny how Eddie and her are now a they, them; a pair, a team), who start walking alongside Lucas and Max. 

“Yeah, we’ll get to that when we finish here. Now, move along, Henderson!”

“We’re already there, Steve! Come on! Isn’t it obvious?” He smiles expectantly at them, waiting for them to finish his line of thought. He actually moves his hands in forward circles, inviting them to continue. After a frustrating few seconds, he raises his arms and cries, “Vecna’s creating his own gates by murdering people!”

After that, everything’s a blur for Chrissy. She helps searching through Ms. Kelley’s files, she hides hers when she sees it and not long after, Steve’s the one who discovers who might be Vecna’s next victim. 

It surprises her, because she knows him. She wouldn’t call him her friend, but she knows how much Jason appreciates and loves him. 

At the Wheeler's house, Chrissy is hopeful that Nancy and Robin will help everything fall in place. They seemed really pleased with their discovery. 

But even if they are optimistic, with what happened today… She can’t be sure. 

Yes, Vecna has been attacking Hawkins since 1959, but new questions arise; why was the Creel family their first and only victim, why did he stop? What connection does he have with Eleven and the Upside Down? 

Nancy is optimistic, yes. That doesn't mean she is satisfied. “We have to go to the Creel’s house.” She states after finishing her dinner. 

“What, now?” Steve asks, befuddled. “It’s night now, We’ve barely made it out without getting caught”, he continues to ramble but Dustin interjects saying that no one gave a shit about them being there. It’s the truth. Cops were nowhere to be seen but Chrissy can empathize with Steve’s fear; they tampered with a crime scene. If discovered, the police might interfere with their Vecna investigation. 

While they’re arguing the logistics, she seizes the opportunity. She loves chicken but hates tater pops. The chicken tater bake that Mrs. Wheeler kindly prepared rests untouched in her plate. She starts moving around the tater tots, loving how cheesy it is. It smells delicious but the mere idea of the dish going into her mouth, then her stomach and finally her organism, just makes her queasy. 

She starts with a small bite, unsure how to eat so little without anyone noticing. Thankfully, they’re still at it, so she gets away with it. She eats half the bowl, which is a real miracle. But when she stands up to wash her dish, she feels Eddie’s eyes on her. 

He knows. How could he not? She had eaten so little all day! Everyone had gobbled down dinner, even while discussing. 

She swallows, she tries to smile, but she can’t. 

She discreetly throws the food in the trash can, the dish into the dishwasher and heads straight to the basement, ashamed. 

Chapter Text

Laura had read him the note. He had taken it, slowly, with trembling hands, after the fourth reading, still not believing what he was hearing.

That couldn’t be possible, no. Chrissy spending time with that freak? That drug dealer and satanist cult leader? 

“Laura, I think there must be a mistake. Chrissy would never ,” he had told her. And yet, the handwritten note was irrefutable proof that his girlfriend was gone. But there were clues that Chrissy had left for him, without a doubt. Her handwriting, always elegant, seemed rushed; her l’s were just long lines, not even curled like she used to do them, she hadn’t dotted the i’s which completely destroyed the aesthetic his girlfriend always longed to have when writing. It was a rushed scrawl , as if she were scared .

As soon as her family was aware of it, they (more specifically, Laura, his future mother-in-law, God willing) had called him. For help, but what could be done? What power did he have to save Chrissy from Eddie Munson’s claws? 

All the power , Laura had told him. 

“We should call the cops,” he had suggested (seven hours into the future, he will realize how naïve he’d been; how the cops were clowns in disguise and only he knew what really was going on, only he cared about Hawkins). She didn’t want to call the cops. It’d be a scandal that would’ve probably led people to believe that her sweet, innocent daughter was in a cult. 

So now, Jason is with his best guys, the ones he can fully trust; unlike Sinclair, who had practically spat him in the face with his betrayal. They are organizing themselves at Benny’s. It’s the only place they have freedom, where they can actually be themselves. 

Jason’s aware that they have to spread out. They can’t keep hiding, plotting their next move when Chrissy is out there being that freak’s puppet, her whereabouts unknown.

“What have you discovered, Patrick?” He asks, jaw set and eyes burning. 

Like Andy, Patrick is the only one who can meet his drive. That’s why they’re going to Dartmouth next semester and in seven years, they’ll enter public service; one day, run for office. God willing, Chrissy will be there, cheering for him, being Hawkins future First Lady. 

“It’s spring break, man. It’s like people have decided to honor the name and break a few bones. So, no Chrissy sighting.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “The only lead we have is Munson’s van at the Family Video parking lot. And we’ve already slashed his tires.”

“Try harder, Patrick.” Without saying more, he goes to Andy, who’s prepping some guys before departing downtown. He takes some cash from his wallet and gives it to him. “Here, I don’t like the idea of you guys spending money that I have.”

Andy makes a face. “Hey, man. There’s no problem. We are all concerned about Chrissy. Buying radios like Sinclair’s with our own money is the least we can do. We should’ve done more, after what you told us… How he attacked her at night… Tony here,” he slaps the junior’s back with enthusiasm, “was just telling us that we should’ve been on guard duty around her house to prevent all of this mess!” Jason knows every member of his team, works with them, listens and helps them in any way he can; so it’s no surprise that everyone cares for Chrissy like a sister. 

“Thank you, Tony, for your idea. We will implement it once we get Chris back.” He smiles, humbled by all the love he’s feeling. The cash returns to his wallet, but his heart goes out to them. 

“I still can’t believe that Sinclair left us.” One of the seniors, Michael, mumbles when Andy and a pair leave Benny’s. A quiet agreement hangs in the air. No one could’ve expected that Lucas Sinclair, the freshman who won them the championship , would’ve left them, completely lost at that filthy cabin in the woods. Never mind that it took them ages to find a road. Even Patrick had disappeared once, believing he was right beside them just to find out everyone had been just as lost as he was. Thank God he had just strayed away from the team for a bit; he even claimed the trees were different. Jason thought he was only dehydrated, the lack of water making his brain and thoughts a mess. 

Now, he doesn’t want to elaborate or let his mind fly but that abandoned shithole looked a lot like a satanic worship place. He won’t say anything about it until he has some real proof, of course. But it would explain why Patrick seemed more affected than any other, he was always a sensitive guy. Brave, but sensitive, especially with everything happening at home. 

It’s lunch time so everyone is gathered, waiting on Andy who had also volunteered to get them some sloppy joe’s from their favorite dinner. But that doesn’t stop them from chit-chatting, making up some theories. It’s no surprise to Jason when someone in the back interjects Michael’s disbelief from a few hours ago. They have the kind of bond and trust where they can speak their minds and go back to a previous topic without any of them taking offense or annoyance. 

When everybody turns to him, the junior meets Jason’s raised eyebrow. Taking the hint, he elaborates, “You said he was one of the ‘good ones’,” this is, without a doubt, directed at him. He’ll allow it. “But I didn’t buy his shit for a minute.” He’s offended now (because he should’ve been the first one to notice, not some junior. Is that the price he has to pay for being a true believer and follower of Christ? To be cheated, spat and stabbed? If so, then so be it. He just wishes it were less painful). He’s about to retort, but his upbringing as a good Christian has taught him to wait, to be patient. Should he find fault at his earlier admission, he’s obliged to turn his left cheek and grant the junior, Matthew, the privilege of being right. “I could see how nervous he got when you asked him about his sister. He’s not a nervous guy, at practice he was always focused! At the championship and while we were celebrating, he was all fine and dandy! Even drank from your booze like there was no tomorrow, that scumbag!” 

Thankfully, Jason doesn’t have to intervene (doesn’t have to deal with not being right for once). Patrick does it for him. “Yeah, but he won us the championship, how were we supposed to know?” Patrick always has his back. 

“Uh, dunno. How about by being more observant, McKinney!”

His best bud is about to retort, so he cuts in before their discussion can escalate. “I’m terribly hurt by Sinclair’s decision. It’s obvious he’s not the sweet guy we thought he was. He’s been corrupted by Munson, not a chance he’s not.” Sinclair is not being kicked out of the team. Coach doesn’t care about out of school rivalries, he is all about performance and talent. Unfortunately, the black kid had displayed both at the championship game. So he must spin this for the sake of the team. “As teammates, we are also getting him back. We are a family, aren’t we? And we never leave a member behind. Even if they’ve turned their backs on us, we must persevere . As good people, as good Christians that most of us are, we must predict with example.” 

“But what if he’s in too deep, Jason?”

“Then we shun him outside the court. He can be a basketball player, but he won’t be our team player, our brother .”

It’s easy to feed them, to rile them up. Jason, for all his humility, loves being praised and he promises (because he never swears, never using the Lord’s name in vain) that he’s working on it. He just can’t help the prideful smile on his thin lips when he’s done with his speech. It’s quick, it’s small, and no one notices with all the roaring. 

“You’re not going to like this,” Andy and Patrick cringe, three hours later when they’ve finished lunch. The sloppy joe’s were awfully good, but he couldn’t enjoy them properly with all the looks and whispers between those two. 

“Spit it out, then.”

“When we went for the walkie-talkies and food run, I also stopped by Sinclair’s house to give him a piece of my mind.”

Jason knows how aggressive Andy can get, but for the sake of the story, he won’t reprimand him. “And what did you find out?” 

“Sinclair’s little sister is a bitch. For a third grader, she sure knows a lot of words. S’not hard to believe that she’s into that cult. The whole family could be into it, for all we know.”

“Andy, it’s best if we don’t generalize.” Jason chides him and glances sideways at Patrick. He’d let him off the hook a second ago, he wasn’t going to let him do it twice. His friend has the decency to look a bit remorseful. Good . “But I get your point. Please, continue.”

“Ok, so. She told me something funny. Did you know that he was Max Mayfield’s boyfriend?”

“Why does her name sound familiar…” He rubs his chin, trying to remember but coming up blank.

“Because she’s— was Billy Hargrove’s sister!” Patrick quips in, excited, as if the puzzle is finally getting pieced together. 

Jason is still not getting anything. There are a couple questions he has. Nevertheless, he stays silent. Both of them look extremely delighted by Andy’s discovery so he’s not going to rain on their parade, yet. 

“Yeah, I remembered Patrick telling me that sometime ago, about how the little ginger was more of an outcast after his brother died but I couldn’t care less. I was about to flunk AP geometry and could potentially lose my spot in the team. What did I care about some girl I barely knew?” He scoffs. “After some digging, we found out that she lives at the trailer park. But just before we could enter that hellhole and look for Sinclair—”

“You know firsthand how you never forget your first love.” Patrick interrupts and throws him a playful look. Jason doesn’t find it funny or endearing, for Chrissy is his true love ; a once in a lifetime lottery win, that’s what he’s found in his girlfriend. He could never forget her; not when he’s never going to be parted from her once he gets her back. How can you forget someone that’s never going to leave you? Absurd. 

“Anyway, we were about to turn when, guess who was entering? Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington with Sinclair, Mayfield and some other dipshit.” Andy claps his hand, eager as a child who’s just been handed a lollipop. “We parked a few meters away from the trailer park so we could spy on them. We couldn’t hear them clearly, but they were certainly rushing the girl to get her packing done.” 

“So we think that since Sinclair’s with Munson, so are they. And they’re planning to skip town. For all we know, the clothes that girl was packing are for Chrissy!” 

Jason, of course, is left with burning inquiries. But he can’t get himself as excited as they are. He must think clearly, have no bias before acting. A good Christian shouldn’t be pointing fingers. So he settles with a mild, “And that’s it?” He doesn’t think of himself as the most bright of the group, but next to them? Absolutely. No doubt. He can proudly say that he’s got more cunning bones than them. 

“That’s it? That’s what you get with all of this?!” Andy exclaims, he stands and grabs another can of beer. 

“You know I don’t like speculating.”

“We are not. I’m telling you. Harrington even seemed in a hurry, and anxious. Like they were late for something, I don’t know.”

It’s hard to be unbiased when everything they’re saying makes sense. Didn’t his father tell him once that the Harrington’s are deeply disappointed in Steve’s senior year performance? A lost talent, they’d called him. What if… Steve, somehow, became tangled with Munson’s cult? That would explain why his grades dropped, why his basketball scholarship vanished and why Nancy Wheeler dumped him. An exemplary citizen having that kind of bad luck is unheard of, but a wicked man? Oh, sooner or later, they get what they deserve. 

“And, doesn’t Harrington work at a Family Video?” Andy whispers, a conniving smile spreading across his face. “What a coincidence to have Eddie Munson’s van parked in front of a Family Video establishment, right!” 

His head is spinning. He doesn’t want to think bad of Steve. He was a mentor to him back in high school. Their families know each other. They are respectable, wealthy enough to be charitable and—

That’s exactly who the devil would’ve taken. A test of the Lord. A test that Steve has failed given how rockbottom his present is. How dark and miserable his future seems to be.

“I need to think,” he stands up, dusting off his jeans, a habit he’d adopted from Chrissy. He can hear both of them objecting. 

“At least take one with you,” Andy hands him a walkie-talkie. He grabs it. 

“You never know what can be lurking in the woods,” Patrick adds, concerned. 

He’s at the place Chrissy and he had always used when Benny’s was too overwhelming for her. It’s not a clearing, it’s just a part of the woods where Jason has carved both their initials inside a heart in a tree. It’s not that romantic, when meters away there are plenty of hearts and other couple’s initials. But it’s them , it’s special. He can still remember Chrissy giggling when he’d suggested that. It was at the beginning of their relationship. 

When everything was simpler, easier. When she was still by his side. 

Branches crack under someone’s footsteps but he doesn’t mind. A friend was bound to come for him. To at least make him company. 

It’s Patrick who appears behind the trees. He’s got that terrified look on his face. 

“Man, is everything alright?” he asks, taking a step closer.

Patrick’s eyes are now focused on him. He sighs, relieved, and goes after him, “Jason. It’s been like two hours. Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

Bull. He’s been here for… thirty minutes, at most. He rolls his eyes, “Patrick, you haven't been the most oriented today so forgive me if I don’t exactly believe what you’re saying,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“No, check your watch.” His voice is strained. 

To prove him wrong, Jason flips his arm and blinks once, twice. “I don’t understand.” It’s almost six o’clock. 

“Me neither. I told you the woods were wrong . Let's go. The walkies aren’t even wor—”

“ Jason, Patrick? Are you guys there? ” Andy’s voice startles his friend. 

“You were saying?” He’s got a tiny smirk on his face. His paranoia was getting to him. Thank God, he’s not easily influenced. He grabs his walkie and responds immediately, “Yeah, we were just heading back. Is something wrong?” Just to be sure, to calm Patrick’s nerves. He is now sure time flew by without his notice, his worry for Chrissy making him unaware of how dark the sky is getting. 

“Yeah.” A beat later, “Nancy Wheeler and— what was your name again?” He hears a rustle, a bit of static at the other line. “Whatever. Nancy Wheeler and some other chick are here. They are requesting your presence because Chrissy wants to talk to you. But will only do it if you’re willing to believe what she’s going to tell you, whatever the hell that means” Andy scoffs. 

Patrick looks at him. He doesn’t return his gaze, he’s still lookin at the walkie but he bets his friend’s face is plastered with worry, wondering how he’s gonna react, what he’s going to say. Andy is probably the same. 

He must stay cool-headed. 

“Tell Nancy and the other lady that if ‘Chrissy’ is really with them, they would’ve known that I have never doubted anything she has told me. If my girlfriend is really with them, she’ll know where to find me. In our spot.” He turns off the walkie and huffs. “Can you believe it? Patrick, I know you’ve been jumpy all day, but man, I don’t trust the message. Even if it came from Nancy Wheeler. I smell something fishy going around.”

“There’s strength in numbers, yeah,” he nods. 

Both of them wait. 

The night is upon them, the only light is the moon in the sky, round and full. The crickets are chirping and there are even some owls out, ready for hunting. Jason wishes he could have their sight, only this once, so he could see ahead for an ambush or some sort of trap. 

A flashlight alerts them on Chrissy’s arrival. Like he had assumed, she’s not alone. There’s someone trailing closely behind her. The shadow is gigantic compared to her petite frame. He isn’t surprised that Eddie Munson is following her. More likely, commanding her every movement. 

“Jason,” her voice is composed, but she is trying to crack her left knuckles with her left fingers, the action bizarre to his eyes, thumb straining against her middle finger. As if she wants something to hold onto and her own fingers are the only thing that she has at the moment. “We’ve all come to warn you. And I’m glad Patrick is here with you, since this concerns him,” she explains, a shuddering breath coming out from her lips, cracked and dry. 

As if she hasn’t had any water all day. Or has chewed at her lips with worry. Both are reasonable ideas. But what catches most of his attention is her appearance. 

To him, Chrissy has always been the most beautiful girl in the whole school. Always composed, always willing to help, always cheering on him. She always wore a smile, a true smile on her heart-shaped face. With her rosy cheeks, she was the most bubbly, light-hearted person in his world. Not even when she was down after a row with her mother, would Chrissy let herself look like she looks right now. 

She looks haunted. Her cheeks might be rosy, but they are hollow as well as her eyes, which have dark circles beneath them. 

“Chrissy, you look awful,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. His girlfriend blinks, astounded. Good, maybe he can get through her if he expresses his deep concern, “You look like a ghost. Fragile and about to snap. This isn’t you,” he takes a step closer, she takes a step back, almost colliding with Munson, who steadies her; a filthy hand on her shoulders. “Take off your hands from my girl, freak ”, he snaps and is about to charge at him when Chrissy holds up a hand. 

“Jason, you’re not listening ,” she carefully takes off the freak’s hand from her shoulder and quickly glances at him. As if— as if reassuring him that she’s ok. Her hand tremors a bit, after patting his and starts playing with her fingers once more. Munson’s hand is dangerously close to hers. It's also twitching. 

“No, Chrissy. I am listening. And watching you act like—”

Patrick, at his side (he’s ashamed to admit that he’d forgotten about him), intervenes, “How does this concern me?”

“It has everything to do with you, Patrick!” She starts, her voice a high contrast to her demeanor: powerful against weak. “Have you had nightmares, nosebleeds or headaches recently?”

“Of course he’s had them. But that’s normal , he’s under tremendous stress. His parents are getting a divorce ,” he snaps. He dislikes the word, the meaning behind it and has been avoiding it in his best friend’s presence ever since he found out. Desperate times, desperate measures; Chrissy must get this through her head: whatever she tells them, will have no effect on them. He can already see how brainwashed she is. 

“No, it’s not normal. Not when you start hearing or seeing the Clock! Or when his voice starts whispering in your head terrible, awful and false things!”

“The clock? His voice? Chrissy, what are you talking about? Are you on drugs? Has this freak infected you with his demonic antics?” 

“How do you know about it?” 

“Patrick, come on, don’t start feeding her delusions. It’s clear the freak has filled her head with bull ,” he scoffs and stops Patrick, who has started to walk towards Chrissy.

“Because I’ve had them too! I thought I was going crazy, having these… episodes, being hunted like that. That’s why I—”

“Nonsense, Chrissy!” Jason growls and grabs Patrick’s arm, stopping him from taking another step. “Look at you! How unkempt you are! What gibberish you’re sputtering about!” 

Her voice is no longer music to his ears. She is rapidly breathing, the expression on her face… pain and desperation. He can see her, trying to get away from Munson, because why else would she be crying as if there’s no hope? But she’s still near the freak and now, they’re holding hands . 

This can’t be.   

“You are on drugs, sweetie,” she doesn’t react the same way she always did, with her nose scrunched in a cute, loving way. She loved the pet name. Now, she looks at him with pity . This just makes him more angry. “He’s been feeding them on you, Chrissy. That's the only explanation. I don’t blame you. You are too good for your own good and that’s why he’s been taking advantage of you. Now, come here with me so we can go home. Your parents are worried sick. Especially your mother.”

He knows that Laura and Chrissy’s relationship is not the best, they have communication problems and he is often the intermediary for them, trying to make his girlfriend see reason: her mother always wants what’s best for her, that’s what mother’s do! But he could never convince her, not entirely. 

Regardless of that, days away from her, from all of her family, should’ve made Chrissy miss them, right? If he had left home on bad terms, he would've done anything in his power to make amends. Never sleep with anger… He used to think she was just like him. 

“Jason, let go,” Patrick mumbles. He hadn’t registered his grip on his friend becoming like iron. 

“It’s obvious you’re not gonna believe us. But your man here is in real danger. We don't want any trouble. So, Patrick, if you wanna live, come with us.” 

Munson speaks as a cult leader; is even dressed like a good Christian, an exemplary citizen of Hawkins. He doesn't look smug, but he looks earnest and confident, as if he’s the one with all the answers. He can see him take off his rings, putting them on his back pocket, as if expecting a fight. The man is a walking contradiction. Patrick, thank God, doesn’t obey. Instead, Munson starts playing with the flashlight, turning it on and off. 

“Eddie, it started! Quick, turn on the walkman!”  

“Turn on the—? Come on, Patrick, let’s show Munson who—” Patrick isn’t moving. He’s rapidly blinking, his eyes white. 

He is shoved by Munson, falling flat on his butt. Chrissy is shaking Patrick while the freak is fumbling with the walkman. He puts the headphones on his friend’s ears and that’s when he loses it. 

“Take them off! What do you think you’re doing!” He jumps at his feet, but Chrissy blocks him. 

“Jason, please, let us handle this!” She pleads at him, holding onto his letterman jacket. 

“Chrissy, I don’t think it’s working!” Munson hollers, there’s panic in his voice. 

“Of course it’s not working, you idiot! He’s having a seizure!” He tears her hands from him, and goes after Patrick. Munson tries to prevent him from grabbing his friend. So he punches him flat on his face, making the taller guy stumble on his feet, “I’m taking him to the hospital!” He crushes the device with his bare hands, disgusted with the way Chrissy is at his side, imploring him to just stop and listen .  He couldn’t care less about it, he ignores Chrissy’s cries, Munson’s yells, calling for Wheeler. He’s only thinking about how he’s gonna move Patrick. 

Then, his friend starts moving. Upwards . 

“No, no, no!” That’s Chrissy, shrieking with her hand covering her mouth. There are tears running down her cheeks.

“Nancy! Robin!” The freak is calling for help, his hands are trying to hold onto Patrick’s feet, but it’s too late, he’s way up in the sky. 

Jason is trying to digest the idea, even if it’s right in front of him. 

Whatever is happening, it’s crystal clear for him. So apparent that he jumps right at Munson, tackling him to the ground. 

“What, what, what have you done, you monsters !” He punches him again, this time square in the jaw, once, twice and he would’ve gone for a third time hadn’t someone stopped him dead. It’s Chrissy, trying to defend her new master. 

“Jason, please stop, it isn’t us! It’s this monster we’re battling! We’re trying to prevent—! Just—!” She holds onto his arm, but she is weak; has always been. That’s how he got her. He shakes his ex-girlfriend off, “Stop trying to distract me, you witch!” 

She succeeded. Munson flips him, seizing both of his arms, trying to stop him. There’s blood on the freak’s mouth that’s dripping on his face; hot, thick, warm, it tastes like iron. His eyes flashes with ire and that’s all it takes for Munson to tighten his hold on him. 

“Get off me!” 

He’s not going to do it. He's trapped under him. 

“Stay put, Carver!” He growls, blood tainting his teeth. He looks like the very devil himself, hungry for power, full of rage and misery. Jason’s not afraid. “Chrissy, try calling for Nancy and Robin, they must be near. Wave the flashlight! Maybe someone has a boom box of something!”

He’s not comprehending. But he’s getting the key parts, the gears on his mind turning and—. It clicks . Patrick is flying, he’s not having a seizure. It’s a satanic ritual that’s happening right in front of his eyes.

“I don’t think we have enough time!” 

As soon as Chrissy said that, Munson is off him. He stands up, Patrick is still floating up in the air. There’s a crowd now, Wheeler and the other chick, but they’re now tugging at the satanists claiming there’s nothing to do. They are on it, too. The witch doesn’t want to go and neither does the cult leader. But they do, they run. 

When his friend’s body drops to the ground, his bones are shattered, bent in unnatural angles and his eyeballs are gone, exploded and covered in blood. Patrick is now a corpse and no one’s around for him, no one’s around to hear him scream. 

Currently, he’s being interrogated by the police. He’s being held against his will, he’s being completely ignored and the cops are not discreet with their mocking glances. 

He’s telling the truth. Just as he witnessed it. For Hawkins’ good, for everyone’s safety: they must know that the devil is walking amongst them, in Eddie Munson’s skin, in Chrissy’s Cunningham ghoulish appearance. He now nows what he should've known since the morning: clowns in disguise. 

“You’re not listening ,” he mumbles, eyes blood-shot; the lightning is too jarring for him, it brings flashbacks to his memory: Munson speaking incomprehensibly, using the light for murder. He is aware of how disheveled he is, how his claims must make him appear, like a maniac, but he doesn’t care. “Eddie Munson has a cult. Has recruited Chrissy Cunningham, Nancy Wheeler and some other girl. I wouldn’t be surprised if Steve Harrington is involved too, my friends saw him driving some other kids around that are associated with Munson. Lucas Sinclair, for example! Look into him! He guided us to an abandoned cabin in the woods, just to distract us or to play with us, it looked like a satanist’s lair, a place where they worship the devil!” 

The two cops stared at him, not knowing what to do or how to react. They stay silent for minutes that stretch like hours. Finally, one of them opens his mouth; only to say the most idiotic thing he’s ever heard, “You were the only one at the crime scene. And while your teammates vouch that Munson, Cunningham, Wheeler and Buckley were at Benny’s, they’ve also admitted that none of them witnessed Patrick McKinney’s murder. That they found you screaming at his body.”

“Son,” the other one lays a hand softly on his shoulder, which he aggressively shakes off. “Do you understand what we’re saying?” 

Yes. They are making him a suspect. Jason can get out of that. Because he is right , he always is. “Fucking listen to me! Patrick was lifted in the air. But before that, he was convulsing, like having a seizure! It immediately happened when Munson started talking to him!” He smacks the table with both his fists. He doesn’t curse. He hates using that horrific language, who only uneducated and drunkards use. But Patrick is gone, one of his best friends; dead, murdered in cold blood by his ex-girlfriend and puppet from hell. Today’s the day when he’s gonna use them, if only to catch some attention. 

However, the cops just stare at him, unimpressed. They’re not believing him. They’re blinded by their secular trends, they’re heretics that have renounced their faith, God’s will. 

“You should ask Laura Cunningham. She is aware that her daughter is in Eddie Munson’s claws. Chrissy has been abducted.”

“Yes, Mrs. Cunningham. There was no need to go to her home for some questioning. She actually came forward.”

“Well, that’s it, right? The proof you need!”

“Indeed.”

“So? Are you going to charge Munson for kidnapping?” 

The cops have the audacity to laugh. 

“Oh, son. You’ve got it all wrong. Mrs. Cunningham has just stated that her daughter and Mr. Munson have an odd friendship, but a friendship nonetheless. According to her, he was very kind to her daughter, taking her to the hospital and keeping her company until she and her husband could arrive. She also confessed that she didn’t want anyone to know about such connection, due to Mr. Munson’s reputation in the town.”

“Well, I don’t blame her. That kid just spells trouble, is all you think when you look at him.” The black cop clacks his tongue. “Before you can say anything, son, Mrs. Cunningham also showed us the letter Miss Cunningham wrote to her. That’s all the proof we need to not charge any kidnapping in Mr. Munson’s surprisingly clean record.”

This is not happening. 

“We are listening, but given all the evidence. It’s pretty clear to us that you’ve been dumped and have gone… mad with rage.” 

“You’re not getting her back like that, that’s for sure.”

“Why would I want a witch like her back?” He barks. 

“Son, this is not good for you. We know you, you are a good kid, a good citizen. So if you’re covering for someone else…”

“I want my lawyer,” he states, matter-of-factly. He’s not going down, not without a fight. He’s the only one who can save Hawkins now. “And while you’re trying to come up with ridiculous things to make me the prime suspect, I want you to fucking think , why was the other murder in the drama club? Do you know who also uses that room?”

Both of the cops sigh, waiting for his answer.

“Eddie Munson, captain of the satanic club, Hellfire.”

Chapter Text

Eddie… Eddie can’t think. His brain is— Is malfunctioning, that’s what’s happening to him. There’s a short circuit somewhere in there that keeps him from forming a coherent thought.

All he can do is hear , hear , hear .

Feel , feel , feel .

There’s too much going around him. 

Chrissy and Robin are shrieking, pleading to God, cursing their luck, anything that keeps them sane . Nancy, on the other hand, has a blank stare on her face. She’s got a poker-face. She’s thinking , he can F eel it, See it, even though he’s not facing her, or near her. 

He’s traveling. He supposes; no, he’s a hundred percent certain that he’s moving. He’s got his head over Chrissy’s lap, who is caressing his hair while babbling panicked nonsense with Robin, who won't stay still in her seat. His head is pounding, his tattoo is fucking itching again, like it’s attempting to say something to him. 

It’s going too fast, the car. Nancy's driving like a mad woman; guess that’s how people drive when fleeing from a murder scene. 

His life was easy, he was a nobody who everyone hated and that was ok . He had to agree to a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham for his life to turn over. He doesn’t regret, but now is wondering, what if ? Would they even be friends?

Speaking of her, he holds onto her legs, there’s a— there’s something running down his nose, he knows it’s blood, he can taste it, metallic and warm. Familiar . It keeps pouring down, it feels like it, he can’t really tell when his head is spinning, so, so incredibly fast that he feels like floating— Or maybe falling too deep into the darkness . Even with his head backwards (as much as he can in his lying position), blood is still flowing down his nose. He’s got his eyes closed, tries to concentrate on Chrissy, who’s shaking him, asking him if he’s alright, begging him to stay awake . Weird, since he’s right there; thinking how everything would be much easier if he hadn’t tried to make her feel safe. If he had just left her in the hospital, he wouldn’t be facing Vecna slash 001 as defenseless and weak as he is. But he’s always had a soft spot for outcasts and looking back, she looked really lost back then.  

Her voice seems distant, though. So she may be onto something because it’s— It’s like before, before . He’s not falling asleep, but he’s drifting away. 

He’s fallen, appearing into the darkness. But that’s how it should be, since he’s been with his eyes shut since the migraine made his way into his head. However, he can feel his eyes are open. He’s lying on his back, so that should tell him that—. There’s water beneath him, it’s low enough he doesn’t feel like drowning; like a paddling pool, as if he were a kid but no, he’s all grown up and he had left every darkness behind him when he—. There’s only silence, the girls’ voices fading in the distance. He tries to walk, to stand up but everything hurts. 

It’s like Before . 

So he’s up now, trying to get out of it. Because if it’s like before, that means that he must—. 

He can see Jason. He can see two men in uniform in front of him. He’s not— He’s not supposed to know that, to see them so clearly... He can’t quite hear them, but it looks like the interrogation has barely begun. 

“Eddie!” Chrissy’s voice pulls him back. 

They’ve returned. 

He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t like it, he’s actually more terrified than ever because now… now he must confront Vecna, face to face, right? Or else everybody is doomed. But how can he? How can he do it when last time he faked his death? 

He remembers how Dr. Brenner (he had long ago stopped calling him Papa) had frantically ran from the room that day, concerned for 002 and the other doctor. He also recalls leaving the Spying Room, oblivious to all the murdering taking place in the Rainbow Room. He just wanted to see what all the fuss coming from there was about. 

(Once, still in denial that they’d get rid of him just like that, he’d thought that Dr. Brenner had run because he was worried about them; but he was just worried that the lab’s assets weren’t hurt, that his money wasn’t wasted. Of course, he figured that a year into Hawkins High, when he’d earned his nickname: Eddie ‘The Freak’.)

That Rainbow Room was a special one, his favorite, actually, because he got to play with his Magic 8 Ball and other different games. However, he detested how quiet it was, how no one even attempted to shout and scream while playing, but glancing back, there wasn’t any joy going around so there was never an opportunity to express themselves. Besides, they weren’t allowed to be loud or else their time in the room would be shortened. That’s why he was not scared when he was near enough to hear all of the other kids scream. He was curious. At that time, he didn’t know what fear or sadness or happiness was. He just existed ; a means to an end. The only emotions he was familiar with were anger and frustration, which helped him develop his powers. 

In retrospect, it was a blessing in disguise, entering the Rainbow Room.  001 slash Vecna was so busy murdering the other children that he wasn’t aware of his presence. He quickly was knocked out by another kid colliding against him. He crashed into the wall, his head bouncing from the hit, making him dizzy; or maybe, 001 had thought that hit had done the trick. He remembers being aware of what was happening: the bones snapping, the kids screaming, crying for Papa. And he wanted, so much, to stand up and fight back. Because once he could push people with his mind, but he knew that it had never happened again, so why try? So he just let his weakness take control of him. He could’ve fought. He could’ve saved someone else besides himself. 

He didn’t.

He was so weak that once his eyes closed, his mind did too. Maybe that’s why his powers abandoned him. He hadn’t deserved them and he sure as hell didn’t deserve them now. He’d tried to escape. If he were a D&D character, he’d be called Eddie ‘The Banished’ after the lab had thrown him out with disgrace, as if he was worth nothing. 

How in the world he’s going to face Vecna now, it’s beyond him. He’s still trying to grasp the mere idea of it. He just knows that he has to. To redeem himself. To save his friends. To keep Chrissy safe. 

“Plan B, we can't go back to your house, Wheeler.” He’s able to speak between his dizziness, unsurprised to hear his voice so nasal, short-winded; he thinks Jason broke his nose, but it doesn’t hurt as much as his jaw and left eye. “They’re going to go look after you, us. He’s with the cops right now.” With a gasp, he confesses, “They’re back.”

“Who's back?” Robin asks.

“Are they following us?” 

Eddie coughs, blood almost entering his lungs. There’s a sharp pain at the back of his head. He takes Chrissy’s hand. “No, my powers.”

More shouting ensues, questions he can’t answer right now, and Chrissy’s soft voice lures him into a deep, short slumber.

The journey to Reefer Rick’s it’s long; that’s what he gathers once he wakes up. His mind is still fuzzy, his tongue feels heavy, making his words come out as a slow, incomprehensible drawl. Thankfully, Nancy and the others understood his pitiful attempts of giving the correct address before passing out. When they arrive, the others are already there, waiting for them inside of Rick’s boathouse.

He’s got hands on his torso and under his armpits, ensuring his balance, helping him walk. Both Robin and Steve are taking him to the couch, it’s an arduous task that exhausts the three of them; he can barely move his feet even though he’s trying really hard to not fucking collapse. Worst is, they’re not even halfway through. He thanks them in a whisper, though. They tell him he shouldn’t be talking. He silently agrees. 

Something tells him that Chrissy was the one who picked at the front door lock and is now looking for fresh water, given the sounds that are coming from the kitchen. Rick has been in prison for at least six months and will be for another three years, he won’t mind us crashing here , he answers Lucas’ question but he can’t be sure if he said it out loud or not. 

Everyone is making a fuss. He can faintly hear Dustin’s questions, Max’s remarks and even Steve shutting them up while he and Robin carefully drop him in Reefer Rick’s old, worn-out couch. 

“How are you feeling, Eddie?” Nancy is the first one to talk. He can’t really see her, his eyes are shut, but he knows that she’s sitting in Rick’s easy chair. Dustin must be next to her, while Max and Lucas are on her other side, the left. How does he know this? He can Fe el them. 

“Like my head is about to explode,” he feels a fresh, damp cloth in his face and sighs. It’s all too much for him. Jason didn’t even get him that bad, did he? His punches weren’t as strong a year prior. “Thank you, Chrissy. I’m ok.” He recognizes her hands, patting carefully his wounds, trying to wash off the dried blood. He flinches whenever she pats a bit too forcefully, but doesn’t complain. 

“Try to relax, Eddie,” she says, her voice so quiet like a prayer. He thinks she kissed his forehead before he succumbed to exhaustion. 

When his eyes open again, it’s still dark. He’s thirsty, his mouth feels like cotton while his head is still pounding. Though, not as much as before. There’s just a slight sting in his jaw, his left eye is a bit swollen. Overall, he’s better than he expected to be. 

He tries to sit even though his back hurts, his legs and arms feel like jelly. He can’t really see much, but he can hear both Robin and Steve's snores. There are a lot of shadows and he can't quite tell who’s who (if he concentrates enough, he could Hear and identify them; he won't). His eyes are slowly becoming acquainted with the darkness, so he relishes in it; his last bit of normalcy. A soft sigh in the kitchen startles him and ends up fully waking him up. 

He watches her tip toe all the way to the floor, it’s covered in blankets and pillows. 

He has realized now that everyone stayed with him. His throat constricts with emotion and he clears it, unconsciously. He didn’t mean to make his presence known, he actually just wanted to—

“Eddie!” Chrissy gasps. “How are you feeling?” She asks in a careful whisper. He can’t really see her eyes, but her tone of voice makes him flinch. 

One thing he hadn’t considered when making the very conscious decision of keeping his powers and past from Chrissy, was that eventually he would’ve to tell her. He isn’t an idiot, he knew he was going to do it anyway; he just didn’t think that it’d be when they came back. It was a possibility he hadn't considered. Like, never. 

“Like a truck just ran over me,” he admits. “I was going to stretch my legs a bit before resuming my beauty sleep. Do you maybe… want to join me?”

She chews on her bottom lip before nodding and grabs a blanket. 

He wishes he were strong enough to bear a walk around Lover’s Lake, but he’d just end up making a fool of himself. He can barely walk a few feet before stumbling at the front door. They end up on Reefer Rick’s front porch. There’s a couch there that hasn’t been used in a while, so Eddie dusts it with his hands before letting Chrissy sit down.

She’s fidgeting with a lone string from the blanket, before starting with a clear voice. “They haven’t told me.” She wraps herself in the warm blanket. She can only manage halfway due to her cast so he helps her get cozy. “I was hoping you could enlighten me.”

He pulls away a few inches and sighs, rubs the back of his neck with his hand, jaw clenching so hard he can hear his teeth grinding. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently.” 

“I can understand that.” 

Because now she does. Great .

“Eddie, I thought we had… I know we haven’t had much time to get to know each other. But back in your trailer… At the hospital and even when I was home alone in my room… All I thought was—” She shakes her head, lightly laughs and Eddie is about to ask her to continue. He needs to know what she thought. “We have so much going on, and we’ve been through so much even though it’s just the beginning and I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. The only thing I was certain of was— I thought we were going to be honest with each other.” 

Oh .

“I understand you. Truly, I do. I just can’t help feeling a bit hurt. And that’s so dumb of me because we barely know each other and, am I just the only one feeling this connection between us? Is it just me or am I imagining things?” She laughs, uncomfortable, her eyes fixed anywhere but his.  

He opens his mouth to answer, but she cuts him off. 

“No, Eddie. Please , let me finish.” She shakes her head and her smile widens, her eyes sparkle and it’s enough to make his stomach do a flip. He nods, swallowing his words. “I don’t care if you feel the same as me. I mean, I do but—” She closes her eyes, frustrated with something he can’t decipher. Or maybe he can and is just too scared to face. “We, we can circle around that some other time when we’re not running for our lives. Right now, I want you to know that with you, I feel safe and I want you to feel the same with me. I won’t judge you, pity you, scorn you or whatever it is you feel I'll do. Never . You’ve been so kind to me that I could never imagine you doing something to hurt me or others, for that matter. So please, Eddie, will you open up yourself to me? Will you let me be your comfort like you’ve been mine?”

He should’ve drank water before coming out. Could it be possible that he’s speechless because he feels his tongue heavy, dry, like the desert himself has decided to make it his new home? He knows it’s possible, but this time, it’s all Chrissy. She and her words, her face looking up to him so hopeful, her hand… grasping his shirt with conviction, pulling him towards her. 

He could lash out at her. Because she’s asking for honesty. She’s asking about his past that has scarred him forever, that has impaired him to no repair; constantly struggling to read the most simple of texts (and given how much he loves stories, it has pained him to no end). He could ask her the same question (how hadn’t he noticed before her eating habits?). How can she be demanding complete transparency between both of them when she herself hasn’t been sincere from the very beginning? 

It’s not the same, but maybe it is because, for all he knows, that’s her trauma, the one that lured Vecna in her life. So, yeah, he could lash out and call her out. 

He doesn’t. He keeps silent. 

She’s released his shirt and has now taken his hand, the one with the tattoo and is now rubbing tender circles around it; she places feather-light kisses and murmurs sweet nothings into his skin. Her touch is simple, yet it makes his skin break into goosebumps, his stomach to take a hoop and his heart to speed up. 

He could do it. He has the power to alienate her, tell her to just leave him alone. Instead, he cups her face and kisses her on the forehead. It’s slow and he lingers enough to hear her hold her breath. His forehead is against hers when he speaks. His hand is still on her cheek, feeling her warmth; if she’s trembling against his touch or the cold night, he doesn’t know. But he pulls her closer. “I’m gonna tell you everything. Even how I survived, and that’s something I’ve never told the others. You and my Uncle will be the only ones to know of my shame, Chrissy.” 

And so, in the late of night or a very early morning, Eddie whispers his past. 

After he’s done, Chrissy is silently sobbing. There’s a sad smile on her lips, she’s speechless, doesn’t know how to react. Even then, she’s beautiful. Her expressive and soulful eyes glimmer with her tears under the moonlight. It’s at that moment that he notices something that he should’ve realized ever since he stayed at the hospital, at her request. 

Unbeknown to her, Eddie has found himself wrapped around her finger. She’s had this choke hold on him since the beginning; he didn’t even stand a chance. That day at the picnic table, when her laugh was all he could hear (and it kept circling around his head for the rest of the day), and her smile, so bright. He should’ve known better. He should’ve known at that moment that he’d do anything for her, in a heartbeat, without a second thought. It’s terrifying, yet exhilarating. Anything to turn that sadness into happiness, he’ll do. He’s all hers. In every form, in every way, however she wants him, he’ll be whatever she wants just for her.  

They talk in hushed tones. She caresses his face, plays with his hair and Eddie closes his eyes to savor the feeling of her fingers threading through it; she laughs when he makes some self-deprecating joke and then chides him because, “Eddie, you were a kid. What were you supposed to do? It’s ok to be scared.” She says that and, yes, yes , he’s heard that plenty of times from his Uncle and, yes, yes , deep down, he knows it’s true. He just has trouble believing it, especially when he wasn’t truly gifted, unlike the others. 

But—

But when Chrissy says it… It gives the sentence a whole new meaning. She has faced Vecna, she is also scared and didn’t even think twice about joining them. He’s never known anyone braver than her. 

He wants to kiss her. There’s no denying that. He’s wanted to do that for a while now, if he’s being honest. The air between them is light, but it turns electric once he realizes that. She’s so close to him, her legs are crossed, just like his and even the simple touch of her knees against him send sparks flying all over his body. It’s ridiculous how much he wants her. 

She can feel it, too. So, she closes her eyes and leans in, searching for his lips. Her hand’s still on his hair, almost yanking it (and the sensations running from his scalp towards his lower body are—), making him lean closer, closer, closer . He feels her breath against his lips and he’s relishing in the thought of finally kissing her, so much that—

He can’t do it, though. Because he’s going to face Vecna and even with his powers back, he’s not sure he’s going to make it back alive. He can’t do that to her, he can’t give her hope, he can’t kiss her because he’s going to start making promises he knows he can’t keep. So, Eddie, with his heart pounding and eyes closed (almost regretting what he’s about to do), gently stops her and kisses her again on her forehead. It’s a hard, long kiss, full of raw emotion; it’s him trying to convey everything he can’t say, not right now. He tries to convince himself that he’s not a coward, that he’s doing it to protect her. 

“I— We should head back and try to sleep.” He breathes out, his lips against her skin. He feels her nod and doesn’t have the courage to look at her eyes when he stands up. 

But then again, the brave one it’s her. When he offers her hand to stand up, she grabs it firmly, brings it to her face. The action alarms him, even more when she is now an inch away from him. She’s so tiny, she barely reaches his shoulders and still, he feels so small in her presence. 

“Once this is over,” she murmurs, her unwavering gaze not leaving his eyes. It’s a silent agreement, he feels no resentment. It’s a promise, he thinks. 

Once everything is over, if he survives, he’ll get what he’s refused. And she’ll be waiting. For him.

She kisses his ring covered hand, butterfly kisses against his swollen hand, smiles before returning to her spot in the living room. She leaves him standing there, in the cold night, alone. Ironically, he doesn’t feel cold nor alone; all he feels is her warmth and the promise of a new tomorrow with her by his side. 

Eddie is right to feel the urgency, to feel suffocated and with a responsibility to make amends. Last night, Vecna hadn’t just attacked Patrick. He had almost claimed Max hours before the poor jock. The girl isn’t as agitated or withdrawn as before. No, now she’s furious. Both her hands are clenched in fists, trembling with anger. She’s currently retelling her face off with 001, who they’re now discovering is Henry Creel, son of Victor Creel. Who would’ve thought that son of a bitch had the guts, the audacity to kill his own fucking family? Not them, yet no one is surprised. It all fits. 

He was born with natural powers and after massacring his family, Dr. Brenner had taken him in for study, to replicate his powers. That’s why Eddie and El were born: to be Henry Creel’s successors for Brenner and the government's own benefit. 

Max is sure she entered Vecna’s mind lair only to suffer through his villain monologue, to survive and carry the message for Eleven (“Since we’re best friends and all, it makes sense that I’m the one giving her devastating news. How great is that?” She exclaims, her voice shrill.) She didn’t discover his plan, he laid it out to her in excruciating detail; her curse is just a means to an end: death. He’d threatened her and everyone surrounding her: friends, family, her ex-boyfriend, all of Hawkins even. That’s what she’s afraid of— Not her, dying so young. She’s haunted by her step-brother’s death and she hasn’t expressed it out loud (not to him, at least), but Eddie knows enough about self-deprecation to recognize it in another person. 

“He’s planning on merging the Upside Down completely into Hawkins…” She tells them, her voice too serious for a fourteen year old. Lucas hasn’t left her side and is even rubbing circles in her lower back, comforting her. 

Dustin, his voice hard with suppressed emotion, narrates how she had levitated, just like Chrissy, even while having the walkman on. The music had been helping but it hadn’t been enough. 

“Vecna is taunting us. He let me go because he wanted to, not because we were able to evade him. Or destroy him.”

But, she’s here, alive and in one piece; not even a scratch. And he doesn’t care if Vecna purposely let her go, the fact that she’s talking, sharing, is evidence enough for him that she hasn’t given up and has found a new meaning to destroying the bastard: protecting her loved ones. 

“Not yet, at least.” Nancy touches the girl's shoulder, lightly and then squeezes it. But there’s no smile, no comfort. Like Max, Wheeler is on the verge of rage. 

“He wants me to pass the message to El. As if… it’s inevitable what he’s planning. He’s got a sick fixation on her. Kind of like: ‘hey, so, I’m gonna destroy your hometown, your friends, also and I’m just waiting for you to appear so I can beat you once and for all!’ ” She repeats, this time, incredulous. Her tone becomes high-pitched to the point of hysterical. She’s told them everything she can remember. Even what the four fucking tick tocks of the Clock mean. She pulls down both of her braids and buries her head between her legs. 

“So I guess it’s obvious what we have to do.” Eddie knows before Nancy reveals her plan. He rubs his face hard, his hands trembling with fear. There’s an ironic, humorless smile on his lips. “We’re gonna have to battle Vecna ourselves. We can’t risk his win. He’s currently two deaths ahead, you and Chrissy were supposed to complete his four deaths to finally open that gigantic portal. Who knows what he’s got up his sleeve now! We can’t risk it!”

“Yes, exactly! That’s why I think it’d be great if we check on the Byers first, before doing anything. Nancy, you’ve been trying to reach them since this began, right?” Max asks, her eyebrows up to her hairline. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious that we haven’t been able to contact them? I mean, a day, sure, but it’s been days, guys. That can’t be normal.” She shakes her head, her arms crossed. And then, she looks at him, straight in the eye. “You said your powers returned.” 

At this, Nancy crosses the living room and stands in front of him. “Could you use them to locate El, Mike, Jonathan and Will? Max is right. I think it’s time we call them, really call them and tell them to come.” She has an earnest look on her face; the way she’s folding and crumpling a paper napkin over and over again gives away her worry, though. “It’s not like Jonathan to not answer, and given how everything is upside down ,” she snorts, the irony doesn’t escape her and her worry is starting to crack in her expression. “We can’t rule out that something is going on with them. If you could—”

“Only if you have that type of power, man.” Steve interrupts her. 

“Yeah, you haven’t told us yet what you can do.”

“Oh, first of all, Henderson, I can do shit you can’t even imagine!” Of course, he’s bluffing and the little shit can see through him. He’s got the lamest powers of all. “Secondly, yes, I do have that kind of power. They were dormant, I guess. Even if I know how Mike looks… I don’t think I’m strong enough to visualize him. It would help if one of you has a picture of him or—”

Without hesitation, Nancy takes out her wallet from her purse and hands him a Polaroid of Jonathan. “Here. Mike is probably with Eleven sucking faces, so maybe we shouldn’t intrude, that’s not a sight I’d want anyone to see and—” To Eddie and everyone else, it’s painfully obvious that Nancy longs to know what her boyfriend is up to; she’s shifty, eager and decided all at once. “Jonathan is with them. Find him and try to warn them.”

“That’s not how it works, Wheeler. Not after years of them being dormant.” He smiles apologetically. He could try , though it would only drain him. “But thanks for the photo! It’ll be of great use!”

He’s cheerful enough to convince the other guys that he’s not shitting himself right now. When he stands up, though, his knees wobble a bit.  He almost trips while he struts towards the television. Chrissy gasps and goes straight to him. He keeps her at arm’s length, much to his dismay (or both? maybe? Is he now allowed to think that?). 

He’s about to say: ‘It’s a miracle I didn’t fall at your feet last night. Oh, wait, I think I did.’ But it’s too soon, too corny , and even if he did heavily imply it, he doesn’t want to confess his feelings like that. Or in front of everybody, for that matter.  

Instead, he says, “I’m sorry, Cunningham. I have to keep the ounce of dignity I have left. But thank you for taking care of my sorry ass,” he bows his head and turns on the TV and changes the channels until he finds some static. 

“Alright then!” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “Did someone keep my bandana? Or have something for me to cover my eyes?” 

They end up using one of Lucas’ bandanas. 

He closes his eyes and starts to inhale and exhale, slowly, just like he remembers. Everyone around him is quiet, but he can hear them moving, expectantly, waiting for him. He ignores them. And tries to visualize Jonathan. 

One. He inhales.

Two. He exhales. 

One. He inhales.

Two. He exhales. 

One. He inhales.

Two. He exhales. 

One. He—

It’s not the first time he’s found someone while traveling. He’s done planes, boats, even submarines . It’s harder to reach them, but he can . He’s just rusty, that’s all. Also, he didn’t expect to find Jonathan Byers behind the wheel of a pizza delivery car. So that tumbles his concentration for a bit. 

“I found him. Them.” 

They’re arguing, screaming. A long haired guy is at the passenger’s seat, urging Jonathan to step on the gas and he’s got that characteristic redness in his eyes— 

“Man, that guy is high as fuck,” it’s the first thing he says to the crowd. Respect, if he could, he would . He even misses the buzz alcohol gives him and, honestly? It’d help him get through this shit. 

“Jonathan?!” Nancy exclaims. 

“No, not him. He’s driving. They’re… chasing something,” he moves his hand, dismissively. “They seem very agitated.” In a hurry, more like, but he doesn’t explain. Wheeler is anxious enough. 

“Then, who? What are they doing?” She continues pressing.

“Can you talk to El?” Dustin adds. 

“How’s Will, is he ok?” Lucas asks. 

“How’s—” Steve joins the questioning but he stops him.

He rips off the bandana and throws them an exasperated look, “If you keep talking, I won’t be able to hear them, see them. As of this moment, they’re in a pizza delivery van and are moving, driving . Long ago I could track people traveling and it was a piece of cake. Right now? After years of not doing it? Not as easy. So, now that you know that, will you please, shut the hell up? Thank you .”

“Alright, alright,” Dustin surrenders, raising his arms in defeat. “You only had to ask, man. Jesus.” 

His smile is tight, he feels a thick drop of blood flowing down his nose (a sensation he hadn’t missed) and rubs it off with his lower palm. He covers his eyes again. This time, it’s easier to enter. 

“The girl is not with them. El. She’s not…” He shakes his head and furrows his brows in exertion. “She’s not with them but they are going to her. That’s for sure. Also, they’re not in California anymore but I can’t know exactly where they are or where they’re heading.” Once upon a time, he could. Now he just has an inkling, a gut feeling. “I think…” He shakes his head, if he’s not sure, he won’t say anything. 

“Do you see Joyce? She’s Jonathan’s mother.” Nancy asks in a quiet voice.

“No. There’s only lover boy, Mike, Jonathan’s little brother and a long-haired guy, the one I told you was high as hell. I’m sorry.” He takes off the bandana and sighs. The headache that had abandoned him after waking up, has returned. He masks his pain through a resigned sigh, giving nothing away. 

“Well, now what?” Steve asks. 

“We continue. We need to attack.” 

“Nancy’s right. We can’t let that asshole continue with his plan. El’s not with them, so.. maybe she’s already fighting him? Who knows?” Max’s face is red, her breathing is agitated. She shrugs, throws her hands up in the air and gives everyone a stern gaze. She crosses her arms across her chest, enraged. “One thing I’m certain is that she would never leave her friends alone and right now, guys? We owe it to the Byers to kill that motherfucker and yes, that includes El.”

There’s a pregnant silence in Reefer Rick’s house. 

Birds are chirping outside the house and neighbors are prepping for a nice fishing day in Lover’s Lake. It’s all surreal. They are preparing for war and everyone in Hawkins is utterly unaware of what’s about to happen. 

Any second now, Eddie knows someone's about to talk—

“With what, guys!” Robin shrieks, panicked. And, there it is , he laughs. “What can we do against Vecna or Henry or 001, what are we calling him again?” Everyone answers differently. He thinks Vecna is more fitting but cool, but alright, give the bad guy a few pseudonyms to confuse everyone. “Whatever. Vecna slash Henry slash 001, he— He’s all powerful, ok? And we? We don’t have anything on our— We don’t know anything about him! Hell, we couldn’t even go to his stupid house because, no offense, Chrissy, we were kind enough to chase around Jason Carver and his friend all over town to warn them.” Chrissy, who had been awfully quiet, jumps when Robin mentions her. He gently places a hand on her knee to soothe her. “And what did we get? Nothing! Nada! We couldn’t prevent his death and now, God knows what Jason thinks. I bet!” She laughs, her mood very much like Steve’s before, at the clearing: hysterical. Yesterday was Steve’s meltdown. Today is Robin's turn. He can’t blame her. “I bet Jason even thinks we’re the culprits! The masterminds! And not to mention, the cops! Has anyone bothered to call our parents? To even get a grasp of what Hawkins thinks? Is the town even aware of our involvement in yesterday’s events?”  

Eddie, well, he’s close to joining her. 

“Robin, that’s easy. We just… turn on the news. Or Eddie can travel to the cops to find out,” Dustin suggests and he shakes his head. He’s not Spying until his headache is gone, and it’s not going anywhere any time soon; he’s blinking hard to chase away the lights he’s seeing. He’s trying hard to not lean onto Chrissy. 

“No! I’d rather not know.”

“Yeah, I’m with Buckley. Chances are, they’re pinning Fred and Patrick’s deaths on me. I Saw Jason talking to the cops yesterday (that's how I knew my powers were back, by the way), so… It’s an obvious guess.” He shrugs and clacks his tongue. He hasn’t had much faith in Hawkins police department, like, never, so why should he start now? In the past, he could’ve gotten away with stuff, what with Owens protecting him but since he’s failed to reach him… It’s a toss coin; he hasn’t felt lucky for a while now. 

“They can’t pin Fred’s on you. You were with the Wheeler’s that night. No. It’d be ridiculous for the police to think that.” Chrissy points out. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, princess. They don’t have anyone else that can be a suspect. So… I bet it’s Hunt the freak time.” 

Everyone stays silent after that. It’s obvious they’re stuck. Or, at least… They all know that sooner or later they’re going to face Vecna. That’s how it is on a D&D campaign. They keep figuring out the clues the DM has placed for them, all scattered throughout the map… One clue leading to another until the final one gives them instructions of what’s going to happen; what’s the ultimate obstacle that they’re going to face with their earned abilities. It’s fortunate that Eddie loves D&D so he can relate to the stuff around him, a fine way to cope if someone asks him. Unfortunately for him, this D&D campaign has Vecna as the DM. 

“No, no.” Max breaks the silence after a few minutes. “We don’t have to go to Creel’s house anymore.” She bites her lips, hard. “Or at least, we don’t have to enter . I… can feel him, just as much as Chrissy, who can still hear the Clock,” She throws the cheerleader an apologetic glance. “I bet— I bet that if we enter Creel’s house, he’s going to be there. Just not here, here , but like, in the Upside Down.” 

“How are you so sure?” Lucas asks. 

“Because when I was under his spell, when I tried to escape for the first time… I told you, I wasn’t in my nightmare anymore. But I wasn’t in… the Upside Down either, I think. It was… an old house, crumbling, floating in parts, debris. There were some stairs, a grandfather clock, the one we’ve been seeing… The point is , we just have to go there to confirm that he is there.”

“Why would Vecna be there if he detested his family so much?” Steve inquires, a bit confused.

“Who knows, Steve. ” Exasperated, she rolls her eyes and throws her hands in the air. “Maybe he loves the place where it all started, maybe he’s a masochist, maybe he’s just a psychopath. No, wait, I’m pretty sure that asshole is a psychopath. But, guys, Steve— We can’t blindly attack Vecna when we barely know where he’s hiding.” 

Steve looks slightly offended when she’s finished. 

“Ok, then. We have to go to Creel’s house. This time for real, just to make sure that we can attack him there.”

“Yeah, if he’s like Eleven and Eddie ,” Dustin adds in an afterthought, a slow smile creeping on his lips. “Then that means that he has the same weaknesses. When they harness their power, their psychic powers, to be more specific, they’re in a trance, vulnerable to their environment.”

“That’s brilliant, Dustin.” Nancy smiles and the kid beams at her, proud. 

And so, they decide on visiting the Creel’s old house with a half-cooked plan on the stove.

To do that, they need an alibi. And they need to reassure their parents that no, they haven’t been murdered or disappeared. 

They take turns to call. 

Robin is currently on the phone, next is Lucas. 

“...here at 10 am. The concert starts at 6 o’clock and Steve’s cousin will lend us his house so we can all spend the night there, get some rest. We’ll get back tomo— Yes, Mrs. Harrington knows . You can ask her—. Yes , I’m not alone with Steve. Nancy is here too and some other kids—. No, mom, not actual kids, just, just seniors like us and—”

Max had already left her mother a good-bye letter. But Chrissy was currently trying to persuade her to call her ( “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear your voice, Max!” ). Both girls had grown closer, and the redhead (as much as she’s tried to hide it) always looks at Chrissy whenever she feels jumpy, as if convincing herself that if Chrissy could somewhat overcome Vecna, so could she. Or maybe Eddie was just projecting himself.

While musing about them, a funny thing happened, something he hadn’t expected; after his Chrissy (yes, damn right she is his, just like he’s hers) convinced her to call her mother. The grumpy and sarcastic redhead had written him a letter. 

“Here. Don’t read it yet. It’s not that long because obviously I don’t know you that well, but… You’re doing me a solid by just being here and trying . I mean, you could’ve ditched me that day at your trailer. You didn’t, so… Yeah, thank you .” She slightly blushes with a frown upon her freckled face and shoves him the letter on his chest. 

According to Chrissy, she had written a letter to everyone in the group. 

“We’re not going to let anything happen to that girl.” He sentences and grabs her hand to kiss it. Just like last night, it’s a promise. Max Mayfield won’t suffer, will emerge from this unscathed. 

They’ve all made their corresponding calls, except for Chrissy. She’s nervous and is even about to suggest leaving for Creel’s lair when she changes her mind. She mumbles something under her breath, similar to: ‘Well, I must face my trauma to beat that monster.’

“Will you accompany me?” She asks, shy, hiding her blush behind her long bangs. He nods and waits for her to lead the way. 

It might be because his hearing is getting better, or because he’s quite intrigued by what her mother is going to tell her, but Eddie can hear perfectly what the old hag tells her. And… it’s very useful and suspicious, in a way. 

“Yes, mother. I’ll be careful. Yes. Mrs. Wheeler is aware of where we are.”

“I don’t like you being with this boy, Chrissy. He’s trailer trash and no good for you. You better—”

“No, no,” She inhales, and looks at him, terrified. She knows he can hear. He smiles, encouraging her to continue. There’s no point in defending him. But Chrissy, once again, steps up for him. “He’s everyone’s friend. Even Nancy and Steve Harrington are his friends, so, mother, don’t— Don’t be such a— Don’t say stuff like that about him.” Her voice trembles and she’s about to hang up. Her mother’s words stop her. 

“Chrissy Cunningham, I won’t pretend to not know what you were about to call me. Young miss, you better be grateful to me! I saved you and your delinquent friends from jail.”

“Wait, what?” 

“You heard me, yes. The cops were asking for you. Since you, Wheeler, some Buckley girl and that freakish boy you like so much were there to see poor Patrick’s death. Now, I don’t want to know what happened and you will never speak of that, ever again. It’s best if we put everything behind us, what will people think? My daughter can’t be involved in this sort of scandal. For God’s sake, we raised you better than this.”

“Mother,” she breathes and closes her eyes. Eddie thinks she’s about to faint but then she opens her eyes, full of disappointment. “Patrick died and all you care about is what people will think ?” 

“Someone has to, Chrissy. Who but me? Lord knows your father won’t help me. You’re on this… illusion that’s making you act like a maniac. You were never like this, so rushed and reckless. This infatuation you have with the freak will pass. Trust me, I know. ”

“Mother, listen. I—”

“No, young girl. You listen to me. I showed the cops your letter and that’s what saved you from being brought into interrogation. I don’t care what happens to those ‘friends’ of yours, I care about you and the reputation you bring into the family. We can’t have you being the crazy satanist of the Cunningham’s, Chrissy.”

“Satanist?”

“Yes. Jason has been telling everyone that and will, with no doubt, continue to spread those lies (are they, though? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know) at today's town meeting at midday; how you and that trailer trash—”.

“Mother!”

“—killed Patrick McKinney. Oh, sweet, respectable Jason snapped after you dumped him for the Munson boy. I can’t believe I trusted him with your return. I thought he’d be more… sensible and wise, discreet since this also affects him. I told him: Jason, I won’t call the cops because I know you can convince Chrissy to come back to us. You have all the power in the world to do it. I was, of course, wrong, because now you’re that boy’s whore. Aren’t you, Chrissy? I stil—”

“And, that’s it.” He doesn’t wait for the ‘loving mother’ to finish her rant and snatches the phone from her hand. “Mrs. Cunningham, or should I say Mrs. Old Hag? I think I’ll stick to Old Hag, or would you prefer Fat Cow, Bitch, or Abusive Scumbag? You know, what? I don’t really—”

“How dare—”  

“You tell me and I’ll be your obedient servant. Chrissy is fine where she is. We’re going to this concert with those kids you rich people like so much. We have every parent’s permission to do so and we will. We’ll have a nice time and by tomorrow morning, we’ll come back. I’ll bring your daughter to your house by night time, though. And very reluctantly so, because I’d rather chop off my hands and tear my eyeballs while standing under molten lava than bring her back to you. But I understand she still is dependent on you, and I don’t want to jeopardize her future more than you already are doing with that abusive behavior you disguise so well with fake kindness and superficial concern. So, Darth Moeder, I’ll bring your daughter back when we’re done having an amazing time with our friends.”

He hangs up, his nostrils flaring, his knuckles turning white, he’s all riled up; he doesn't notice Chrissy is gawking at him, for a bit, before erupting in giggles. She throws her arm around his neck, “Oh, Eddie! You shouldn’t have!”

“How could I not! She’s a horrible person and was treating you, her own daughter, like—!” 

“I know but—”

“But nothing, Chrissy. You are a sunshine.” He whispers against her neck. He doesn't even care that his back hurts with how much he has to bend down to be at her ear level. “To me, you’re like the sun and no one should dare to put out your fire, especially your so-called ‘mother’ . Now, let’s go before someone, probably Dustin or Max, comes and shouts at us for stalling too much.”

“Aren’t you going to call your Uncle?” she asks, concerned.

“No. I’d prefer if he thinks I just went on a road trip or something. It’s not unusual for me to disappear for days without explanation.”

“But maybe he’ll recognize your van, with your tires slashed.” She presses on and he kisses her forehead, to reassure her. 

“Or maybe he won’t. Besides, he doesn’t frequent that part of town. C’mon, Cunningham.” 

If everything goes wrong, he’d rather let Wayne think that he got caught in bad business instead of something lab related. He couldn’t stop him from dealing drugs however much he begged him to ( “Money isn’t important, kid! You worry about your studies!” He used to say), but he could protect him from the government; always looking out for him at the beginning when they were still hopeful his powers were coming back, to the point of being overprotective ( “The boy is fine and powerless, what else do you want from him, you leeches!” “You’ve taken enough from him already! I’ll take care of him now!” ). He’d bought him his first guitar, with his savings ( “It’s easy and it’ll take you some time, maybe even years to master it, but don’t you get frustrated boy, because you’ll learn to play just like those guys you like hearing on the radio. I bet you'll be even better.” ). Showed him what a family was, even if it was just the two of them ( “How come I’m not married? Oh, well, I had a person I loved but they didn’t love me back. No, no, don’t you cry on me. It’s fine, I’m not lonely. I got you for a family, don’t I, kid?” ). If he knew what he was caught up with… He’d forever blame himself. Because Eddie would’ve left everyone if his Uncle had been home the day Mayfield appeared on his doorstep. He himself already feels guilty, and he doesn’t want to add something more to his baggage. 

Holding back his tears, he grabs Chrissy's hand and leads her to Nancy's car. 

It is for the best, after all.

Chapter Text

Eddie never thought that he’d see Lady Applejack again. Especially out of D&D. She’s waiting outside of the gas station with an annoyed look on her face. It surprises him that she’d be here. At this point… it just seems reckless to include one more person. However, she is aware of everything, or something, according to both Dustin, Steve and Robin. 

“Took you long enough to get here, Fluffy Hair. I almost grew two damn inches waiting for you,” she raises one eyebrow while everyone steps out of the cars. 

Lady Applejack is eyeing him, giving him the mean stare, probably wondering what he’s doing there. Eddie doesn’t have the energy to, once again, repeat his story. He quietly, with repressed anger, breathes out and lets everyone argue for a while. 

“Lucas, what’s your sister doing here?” Dustin reproaches his friend, who looks sheepish while rubbing the back of his hand. 

“I’m about to save your sorry asses, what else?” The little girl answers for him. 

That prompts Sinclair to explain himself. “When I called home, she answered and threatened to throw me under the bus. She was gonna tell my parents and Tina . I don’t care about my parents knowing because they’d never believe her. They’d probably believe it was something D&D related, but Tina ,” he whispers in anger, as if the name alone was a curse, the bane of his existence. “ Tina would totally believe her! And we don’t want another eleven year-old involved in this.”

Dustin and Steve are the only ones who understand and don't groan. According to the younger teen, who had met infamous Tina, the girl was as precocious as Lady Applejack. Robin looks amused and high-fives Erica. 

“Well, how many commies do we have to kick in the nuts today? I haven’t got all day, y’know. I’d prefer to be at Tina’s house by five o’clock.”

That makes Eddie chuckle but, as he had said earlier under his breath, he won’t explain himself again. He steps back, and cocks his head toward the grocery store, Mayfield and Buckley tagging along him. They have little money for food. So, who better to stretch every cent than the trailer park residents and Buckley, who apparently, doesn’t have enough money to get a driver’s license? Let the others explain everything, he’s tired of repeating himself. He squeezes Chrissy’s left hand before leaving. (It’s odd, how a week ago he wasn’t aware of her presence and now he feels the need to explain his every move to her—not to calm her nerves, but his .)

Knowing that they are still being tracked down by the basketball team, the party ends up planning everything behind the grocery store. It’s secure, it’s a blind spot. Their plan, based on a hunch, makes his stomach queasy; they’re betting that Vecna’s lair is in his old house. 

He knows it’s gonna be like that, that the asshole is sick enough to be resting , plotting and hunting from there. He just wishes… 

Nothing. He wishes for nothing because they don’t have enough time, and it’s not fair for them to expect something out of an innocent soul. He’s either chasing some other kid or he’ll be back for Max, or Chrissy and he can’t let that happen. He’s promised to protect them. At all costs.

When their flashlights burst in front of their eyes, it’s a dead giveaway. Lady Applejack suggests he uses his mind powers to really confirm, but before he can reply, Nancy shuts down the idea. 

“We don’t want to alert him,” she whispers and they head out, more somber, but confident than before. 

Eddie sighs, relief clear on his face. He doesn’t bat an eye when Erica judges him with a sour look. “It is what it is, kid.”

So. Guns. Weapons. That’s what they need. But they don’t have enough money to buy at least two. The War Zone is cheap, but not that cheap for a couple of teenagers. Even Steve and Nancy, who are wealthy and have cash in their wallets, can’t alert their parents by buying guns, shotguns and flamethrowers. 

Wheeler, as expected, has a plan.

“We don’t need to buy a whole arsenal. Once we’re down there, we can go to my bedroom and get my guns.” 

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns, plural, in your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” 

He dismisses Robin, still shocked to hear that. But… No. After everything that he’s been through and everything Nancy and the others have had to fight, it would be insane not to be prepared. 

“How is any of this legal?” Robin asks, indignant. “They sell guns to anyone.” Next, she pushes the revolver into Nancy’s hand. “Not that you’re anyone, I’ve seen you, you are a great shot, but, man, they sold me a gun.” She shivers. 

“To be fair, Robin, you only stood next to me. We could only afford a gunshot and a flamethrower.” Nancy purses her lips, unsatisfied. It’s notorious how anxious she is, yet she is determined, confident even, that they’ll find the guns in the Upside Down. They could barely stretch money for nails; they’ll have to make do with whatever  they find on the way. 

The sun is still up and won’t go down for at least four more hours. They have plenty of time to plan. Dustin, for all his ego, turns out to be quite a brilliant strategist, weighing every possibility and finding solutions. Eddie knew that, of course, but seeing him apply his D&D cunning on a real life threat, it’s on another whole level. 

It makes him feel proud, and also… kind of useless. He’s got a big part. To be a distraction, but— He’s not… sure about his powers. They’re back, he can use them. But he still feels weak. Truth be told, they suck ass. 

He’s no hero. He can’t face Vecna alone with his mild, below-than-average powers. 

“You can’t rely on me, man.” He tells Dustin while hammering. The shield is coming up pretty good. 

“How couldn’t we? You’re awesome!”

“Yeah, dude, no. Outside D&D… I’m… no hero. I—” He tries to get it out, to tell the truth. To confess his terrible sin. “I still get headaches and feel pretty weak when I use them. My powers, they’re not as great as one would like or hope.” Of course, it wouldn’t come as easy. He’s deflecting and Dustin thinks he’s being humble. 

He’s still a coward, that’s what he’s trying to say. Even though he feels different, like there are new sound vibrations around him that he’s starting to notice, if he pays close attention; there’s nothing much he can do besides Spying, he’s no fighter like Eleven. 

“Don’t worry, man. You’re only gonna use your powers if it’s necessary.”

“Yeah, but they don’t really work with what you’re planning. And I’m not comfortable with letting Chrissy or Max be the bait we need.” 

“Me neither, but Lucas and Erica will be with them.”

“Still. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

After a moment, Dustin sighs. “I hate it, too, you know.” His gaze shifts to Max, she’s having a row with Chrissy, who’s still trying to convince that she must be the one to enter once again in trance. 

They are a few yards away, so they can’t really hear them (if he closed his eyes, he could, but he won’t do it). Some stomping, some furious pointing and hands being thrown in frustration is all they get. 

“Either arrangement is gonna wreck me.” He admits. 

“Well, then. Let’s get to work.” There’s a seriousness in Dustin’s eyes that only makes him sad. “We can’t let them down.”

He continues to stare at him, unable to believe what this kid has survived. And will survive, whatever it takes. 

“I really admire you, man.” Then, he runs towards him, taking him over his shoulders. Or at least, tries to, because the kid might not be that tall but man is he heavy. 

“What are you— You son of a bitch!”

They playfully wrestle for a bit before he grabs him by the back of his hand and levels up to him, “Dustin Henderson, you are the true hero. Don’t ever change.”

“I— I wasn’t planning on.”

After having their custom made weapons, everything is faster than he had believed it would. 

“You know what you have to do, right?” Steve asks. Dustin and Nancy may have hatched the plan together, but right now Harrington is taking charge. 

Everyone nods. They’re leaving the Sinclairs, Chrissy and Max in Creel’s house. 

His hands feel clammy when he steps out of the van with them. “I just— I have to talk to the girls before they leave. Give me a minute.” 

Both Max and Chrissy turn around. Both of them, curious. Only Max looks a bit exasperated. Lucas and Erica, and everyone, for that matter, are leaning in to hear better. 

“Girls, I don’t like what you decided, but I get it, it’s only logical.” He throws a concerned glance to Chrissy and steps towards the redhead. “Mayfield, we're gonna take care of Vecna. We’re gonna kill that son of a bitch. But—” He doesn’t know how to continue, how to put it simple, so he just spits it out. He explains to her the idea he’s had, how he can help with his powers. It’s not quite like El, but he was known for being the master of disguise back at the lab; a good spy. “But if something goes wrong, I’ll have your back. Just stay positive. We got you, I’ve got you.”

Surprise is clearly written in her face, her brows knit together. She has her arms crossed, her two braids framing her young face.  

“Will you trust me?” He isn’t sure he can still do it, but the stakes are high and he at least gotta try. It’s the last resort. “Will you let me do it? If we seem to fail?” A heavy silence falls over the party, that’s only broken with the sound of Nancy and Steve’s engines. No one wants to acknowledge that failing is an actual possibility. 

Max nods. Eddie feels the responsibility of what he promised much more present than before; real . His hands are still clammy; for a second, the ground beneath him shakes and disappears. But he must redeem himself and save the little girl in front of him— it’s what he’s gotta do to ease the pain from his past. He’s so used to running away from it, knowing full well that ignoring an issue isn’t gonna make it disappear. Seven years later, unexpectedly thrown in an unwanted yet needed fight, he’s going to conquer his fears. 

Sensing it'll turn awkward, Max breaks the moment. “Come on, guys, let’s give these two a moment.” She smirks, relieving them from the tension. 

Before Eddie starts speaking again, Steve interrupts him. “Nance, what are you doing?” 

He turns around to see the skinny girl leave her car and open Harrington’s door. She’s now sitting beside Dustin. “I’m leaving them my car, if something happens, they can leave.”

“Oh, yeah? And who’s gonna drive? Chrissy only has one arm.”

“I was left handed, you know. Still am.” His girl retorts at the same time Max replies, “I could drive, too.”

“No— No. Anyone but you! Not again! No!” Steve shouts, almost jumping out of the driver’s seat. It makes everyone stifle a laugh. 

“Calm down, geez.” 

Eddie shakes his head, amused and thanks Max for the distraction. He grabs Chrissy from the hand and they walk a few feet away from the party. 

“I still wouldn’t like it if you had decided to be the bait.” He feels it’s important to express that. 

“I know. I tried so hard to make her see some sense, but—”

“Yes, she’s a stubborn kid.”

“I admit, I’m a bit relieved.” There are tears in her eyes, she looks away, ashamed and confesses, “I don’t think I’d be strong enough to fend him off twice. And I feel awful, like a shitty person. What if I didn’t fight her enough, subconsciously?” She whispers and a single tear runs down her cheek. Eddie catches it with his thumb. His hand travels to the back of her neck and brings her head up to his. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time. You can break down, as many times as you need to. Chrissy, you just need to make it through, to rise up again. And if Jason finds us, you’re gonna be there to distract him. Someone has to be there for these kids, Chrissy, don’t sell yourself so short.” He hopes Jason doesn’t show up. After yesterday, he’s not trusting the boy’s sanity. But the girls have agreed to that and he’s not gonna forbid their decision; he’s trusting them.   

“I know, I know but—” She shakes her head, dismissing his words. “I should be the one telling you that,” she laughs, good-naturedly with a twinge of regret. “You have to come back. To me.”

He sighs and presses his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to make fake promises.” The grip on her hair tightens and she trembles. 

“You won’t have to. I trust you guys.”

“I have to redeem myself, though.”

“For what , exactly?” She snaps. “For something a child would’ve done to survive? Eddie—” Her voice raises and she takes a step back. There’s hurt, confusion and indignation in her eyes. Since that day in her bedroom, Eddie has noticed Chrissy has the ability to display mixed emotions in her face and still deliver every single one of them. It’s a talent, because his heart feels like it’s been ripped out from his chest, squeezed and trampled. 

He’s not budging, though. “My mind is set.”

“So you have to die, then.” She challenges him, raises an eyebrow unimpressed.

“No. I’m not planning on dying.” However, there is a real chance I might , but he doesn’t say that. 

“Good.” She huffs and this time, she’s the one who cradles his face. It’s just her tiny, soft hand but he feels his whole face warm. 

“I want to kiss you.” It’s not something she doesn’t know, yet, her lovely face turns a cute shade of red, her eyes sparkle with the unfallen tears. He leans in, to close the distance between them, to finally taste her soft-looking pink lips, but a warm hand stops him halfway. He can feel the warmth of her skin on his lips and smiles. 

“You will. Once you come back to me. Now, go . They’re waiting for you.”

He laughs, throws his head back. “Gotcha, princess.” He runs back to the car, half the party waiting on him. 

“So, got rejected?” Robin asks, from the passenger’s seat; cheeky as always. 

“More like an incentive to come back.” He grins, unabashedly. 

“Yeah, yeah, Chrissy Cunningham and you, that’s old news , surprisingly.” Dustin rolls his eyes. 

“Shut up, dude. Let’s go, we only have like an hour before sundown and we have lots of places to be.” 

They park a few streets away from school. It’s weird to walk with a trash can lid with nails on all its surface and a spear made out of a broomstick and a kitchen knife (courtesy of the Sinclairs and Reefer Rick’s kitchen); the car travel was uncomfortable enough and thankfully no one is there to notice them, so entering school is easier than last time. 

It’s still creepy to be at school when you shouldn’t be there. Eddie has never been one to enjoy his time there, aside from the Hellfire Club. To be there, minutes away from entering the Upside Down… it’s a chilling experience; one he’s determined to not repeat, their Final Countdown. 

He’s not going to lie, though: he’s scared and would rather be somewhere else, but Max and Chrissy and all of Hawkins (despite the years of abuse they’ve inflicted on him and Wayne) are in danger, and they’re the only ones who can stop Vecna. Or at least, stall him until the fucking government steps in.

But given how the party has been dealing with this all by themselves and the government being more of a hindrance to them, he must convince himself that Dustin and Nancy’s plan is going to work. They are the good guys and good guys always win, right?

The drama club room is empty, except for that police line cross. It’s back up again. They’re careful not to tear it down, they mustn’t alert their whereabouts if, by some chance, they aren’t back when dawn arrives. When the gate is beneath them, with its membrane, red and pulsing, they use the spear to open it. 

“We better not fuck this up.” Robins sighs to cover up a gag. 

“We’re not. Like Max says, we’re gonna kill that motherfucker.” Dustin’s hopeful tone, Nancy and Steve’s acknowledging grunts make him confident. 

They stare at the gate for a few seconds. No one dares to say something. From the corner of his eye, he can see Robin nudge Steve, tilting her head towards the entrance. 

Harrington clears his throat. “So, how do we enter? Do we… Do we just plunge at it? Like a pool?”

“No. I don’t think so…” Nancy scrutinizes the opening in the floor and starts walking around it, careful not to step on the vines.

“Yeah, remember this is the Upside Down. So, what is up here, is down here.”

“No, shit, Sherlock. It’s easy, we jump and that’s it.” He shrugs and it only makes the teen more frustrated.

“Will you listen, Steve? If you plunge, you will either return here, as if you had only jumped or you’ll stay stuck , like floating, because you’ll share the gravitational pull from the Upside Down and from our reality. It might hurt , you know? Or might even tear you apart . So, no. We don’t plunge or jump . We don’t know how gravity is gonna affect us, really.”

“Whoa, man, relax. It was just a suggestion.” 

“Ok, dingus, what do you suggest?” Robin might be exasperated by Steve, most of the time, but she is sure to jump at his defense whenever someone is mean to him. She even flicks the little bastard’s head. “Learn some manners, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rubs his head and adjusts his hoodie. “We’ll have to roll into it. As if we were doing gymnastics. I think that might work.” 

“Ok. I’m going first, to scout the area.” 

Steve leaves his nailed covered bat on the ground and when he’s about to crunch, Dustin stops him. “Wait, cover your mouth and nose first. Remember, it’s toxic.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks, man.” 

And so, he rolls into the Upside Down. A second later, his head is poking in the gate.

“ Dude , what did I just tell you!” Henderson facepalms and sighs, frustrated. “Whatever. Thanks to Steve idiotic (yes, Steve, you could’ve died ) attempt; we now know we can do that. Still, I wouldn’t risk it due to Newton’s— And, he’s grabbed his bat…” He huffs and facepalms again.

“If it eases your ego, Dustin, I did feel a pressure on me. So, yeah, roll and don’t do what I did. My head is hurting a bit. Like a bad trip or something.”

One by one, they roll. It’s a funny feeling, similar to when he rides a rollercoaster: the cart is going down, along with your whole body, except your stomach, that’s still at the top of the mountain. 

“ That was fun.” But, since it’s another dangerous dimension, he hopes the last time he experiences the sensation is when he’s leaving it. 

Quickly, everyone gathers their equipment: molotov cocktails, spears, Nancy’s shotgun and Steve’s bat. 

“Who would’ve thought that school could get even creepier?” Robin whistles, her knuckles white from hanging onto her backpack. Eddie silently agrees. 

They travel through the school’s hallways until they are outside. It’s not a pretty view: an apocalyptic playground is what meets them; crooked lamp posts, cars with broken windows and flat tires. However, it’s the red lightning that takes Eddie’s attention. Its thunder is strident, powerful and deafening. 

He’s not the only one that’s admiring the sky or how the vines seem to be less prominent here. Robin is also speechless with the image in front of her. Promptly, knowing that time is of the essence (they have a lot of places to be), he shakes off his head and claps in front of Buckley’s freckled face to capture her attention.

Vecna is not that interested in Hawkins High, judging by the lack of vines surrounding them. Nancy’s house is another issue. The place is covered in them, thick and thin, long and short, they are everywhere . 

“Time to get a maid, Wheeler.” Robin mocks, trying to lighten up the mood. 

“Don’t step on them. It’s a hive mind.” Nancy snaps at him when they’re mid staircase. 

“What is that?” Eddie starts tip-toeing. 

“If you step on them, he will know. They’re all connected.” 

Ok, so, be careful, Munson . Literally, one wrong move, a false step, and they’re all fucked. Jesus. 

There is one thing he remembers from school: Murphy’s law. So, should he be disappointed when Nancy doesn’t find her guns? Should he be surprised or nonchalant, like he expected it to happen? 

“I— I don’t understand…”

“Maybe you left them somewhere else.” He suggests.

“There’s a six-year old in the house. I know where I keep my guns.” She snaps, offended. “And also, I threw these away years ago.”

She starts rummaging through some flashcards. Robin is her usual self. “These are… Steve.” She calls him. “Remember these?”

“Yeah, they’re… Didn’t you throw these away too?” He grabs them, and reads them confused. “I was there when you did it, Nance…” 

“Yes, I did! And yes, you were! I don’t understand. Look, guys! This!” she angrily points to the wall paper. “It’s old, and that mirror over there? Sold at a yard sale two years ago. This little guy here? He’s not supposed to be here. I gave him to cousin Joanna a year ago.” She shakes a stuffed animal. 

She goes over to her drawer and grabs a notebook. She’s shaking her head, mumbling and Eddie can't help himself so he urges her for an explanation. “Wheeler, what is it?”

“Nancy, you’re freaking me out.” 

“I think the reason that my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist. Yet.” She purses her lips and moves towards her dresser, then her closet, frantically searching for possible clues. “This diary should be full of entries. It's not. The last entry is november 6 1983, the—”

“—day Will went missing.” Dustin mumbles, brows furrowed in deep thought. 

“We’re in the past.” Nancy explains.

Dustin shakes his head. “I think… I think I’ve got a theory of what’s happening but we'll need to go to another place.”

“What are you thinking, Henderson?”

“About why the Upside Down Hawkins is stuck in time… Nancy, there are no guns here...”

“Yes, I’ve just said that.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I was just thinking out loud.” His brow is still furrowed and then he sighs. “We have no time, so I’ll figure this out while we move.”

“We could go to the police station. It’s not far from here. We can ride those bikes in the garage.” Robin suggests. 

“It’s too far. Maybe we should break into someone else’s house.”

“We don’t have time to guess which family has a gun or not, Wheeler. Chrissy and Little Sinclair are waiting for our signal.”

“You’re right.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and agrees with Robin. “To the police station, then. With no traffic, and if we pedal fast, we’ll be there in fifteen minutes, tops.”

Nancy hasn’t had a bike since 1982, so it’s no surprise to her when all she finds are four, instead of five. Robin ends up riding with Steve, clutching at his shoulders and freaking out. 

Despite going fast, his surroundings are… bizarre. He’s no time expert or Upside Down connoisseur, but even he can notice how some parts of town are not quite correct. Like it’s not finished, somehow. 

Dustin is the first to point that out once they arrived at the Police Station. Just like the school, the vines are not abundant. “Did you see the town?”

“Yeah, creepy as hell.”

“Yes, but… somewhat incomplete, right?”

“We thought it was an exact replica of Hawkins, but I guess we were wrong.” Nancy scrunches her nose while examining the gun storage. 

“I think I’ll go with a flamethrower.” Steve mumbles. “My aim isn't that good. Are you gonna pick something?” He asks him. 

Eddie shakes his head. “I, too, am a terrible shot. I think I’m just gonna—” he starts retreating. 

“It’d idiotic to be a distraction and have no weapons.”

“I have weapons. Also, I have my shield and this,” he jerks his head towards his nailed shield and then points at his spear with his free hand. 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever, man.”

“Ok, as always, ignored . Only Nancy had the decency and enough wit to follow my train of thought.” 

Eddie sighs and throws him a tight smile. “And what were you trying to say, oh dear and wise Henderson?” 

“That the town is in the past, right? So everything should be as it was in 1983. However , I distinctly remember some stores downtown being under remodeling that year. And yet, when we passed them, they were not there. They were missing .”

“Your point being that…”

“I have this wild theory that we are not in Vecna’s replica of Hawkins.” He blinks, consumed in his thoughts. “That we are in Will’s replica of Hawkins.”

If he hadn’t captured everyone’s attention before, he had it now. 

“What do you mean?” Nancy asks.

“Well, before he disappeared, Will was working on a model scale of the town. He was pretty excited about it, because Joyce had recently bought him new material, including paint and plastiline. But , I distinctly remember him being bummed about the town’s remodeling because he would have to wait until it was over. I asked what he was going to do and he told me that he was just going to save the space until it was finished. When he got back… the model was forgotten and with everything going on, I didn’t pester him about it (you know how great he is at drawing and painting and making figurines, so I was pretty excited about it too). I never got to see what it looked like. Until now, I guess.” 

“So Will created this?” Steve asks, dumbfounded and starts looking around with more interest than before.

Dustin shrugs. “It’s a theory.” But his eyes give away how convinced he is. “He acquired Truesight… He was the Mindflayer’s vessel for a while, what if he acquired something else too? What if… He’s gifted like Henry Creel?” His eyes move towards him and he stiffens under his stare. 

“No way! We would’ve noticed! Or you guys, since you’ve been friends since forever.” Steve shakes his head.

But Henry Creel was not a lab rat like him or Eleven. He was a normal kid who developed psychic powers. Who’s to say he’s the only one who did it? How can they be sure that Vecna is just an anomaly of nature? A unique case?

“That would explain the missing business.” He agrees. It’s not so far-fetched to believe that Will Byers has a gift. 

“ And , maybe, just maybe, that would explain why this version of Hawkins is stuck in time and why Will survived a whole motherfuking week in the Upside Down. He Evoked it and then stopped time moving forward, unwittingly.”

“Now he’s a time traveler?” Robins whispers, astonished. Eddie can see her mind blowing up.

“More like a Chrono-Manipulator,” he adds, pensive and Dustin flashes him a conspirative smile. 

“Alright then. We’re in Will’s world,” Nancy sighs, exasperated and still trying to grasp the idea. “We can ask him about it once we destroy Vecna. Right now, we must focus.”

“And keep in mind that we’re three years in the past, along with demogorgons and demodogs lurking around.” Steve reminds them while shutting down the storage. 

“Yeah, and let’s not forget about that thing in the mall last summer. I mean, maybe I should grab another flamethrower in case we encounter it?” Robin doesn’t wait for approval. Harrington rolls his eyes and then opens it again for her, who happily smiles while grabbing her desired weapon. 

While riding their bikes to their second destination, this time more carefully since they’re carrying more stuff than before, Eddie has a new thought. 

“Dustin, we are supposed to distract the creatures near Benny’s with my guitar, right?” He shouts and everyone tries to shut him up, what if you attract something, dude? , but he ignores them. “But my guitar won’t be in my trailer. It wasn’t in my trailer in 1983. It was still in the store. I bought her in December 1983 because my other guitar got trashed by some jocks. As of November 1983, I have no guitar in my trailer.”

That makes everyone stop in a halt. 

“Wait, what? That changes everything!”

“I know , Henderson. That’s why I’m telling you.” Their plan to take cover in that forgotten place in the middle of the woods had just been thrown away. Their escape plan has been butchered and they haven't even begun . “We have to think a plan B, like, right fucking now!”

“Ok, so, how far away is the guitar store from where we are?” Nancy starts. 

“Not far. A few blocks away.” He plays with the bandana covering half his face. “Is it really necessary for me to play? Like, I’m not complaining because I really think she was meant to play the most metal concert ever, but given the recent discoverings, maybe we should all stick together—”

“No.” Steve stops him. “I think this is good. Benny’s was the right idea at first because it is surrounded by trees and the other gate is near there. You could just jump right through it. But that gate? It still has that thing for you to cut through and even if it’s near there, neither of you know with certainty where it is located.”

“The store is closer to the school than Benny’s and if something were to happen, you can bike there quicker than if you were in the middle of the woods.” Nancy points out. 

“Nance, Steve, you’re really not talking to the most athletic guys here.” Dustin butts in, but he cuts him, because he knows that little shit is going to end up agreeing with them.

“Yeah, but, shouldn’t we be together now? You know how something bad always happens when it’s supposed to happen? Or something, it’s called Murphy’s law, dude.” He’s at least trying to dissuade them. 

“Yes. Things have changed but not much. We have new intel and no offense, but we can’t fight demogorgons and demodogs without El and her powers. You’ve stated that yours don’t work like that.” Dustin tilts his head, uncomfortable. “We aren’t the epitome of physical prowess but I guarantee we can ride the hell off to the School Gate.”

And there it is. He sighs, knowing that it’s useless now. “None taken, man. It’s just that—” He curses under his breath and kicks at the floor. “Let’s go to the store before we split, ok? I have an idea.” 

Eddie ends up using Robin’s flamethrower to set fire to the abandoned, vine-free cars in front of the store. “There. Now we’re in the mood for the most metal concert ever.” He sighs and smiles mischievously, proud at the seven cars that make up an excellent barricade.

He hands Nancy his backpack, Robin’s flamethrower precariously inside. They’ll have to pedal fast but careful enough to not drop the weapons. 

“Dustin and I will be on the roof. Sometimes they use it to throw impromptu concerts so we won’t have to set everything up. That means that it won’t be long before the creatures come at us. Hopefully, the fire will give us some cover and a head start before fleeing towards the school. You better hurry, guys.”

“Well, can’t say I’m not impressed.” Robin whistles approvingly.

“I might not be academically bright, but I sure love setting up traps in my campaigns, so this is not so different.” There’s a wolfish grin in his face before he’s all business once more. “Make him pay.” 

Steve nods and bumps his fist. 

“How long do you think we should give them? We measured the time from Benny’s to Creel's but not…” He asks Dustin. “I don’t want to make Chrissy and Max wait any longer. All of them might even think that something happened to us. We’re an hour behind from our useless schedule.”

“Let’s give them five more minutes. They might take some more time since they’re carrying way heavier weapons than before.”

He grunts, unsatisfied and closes his eyes, trying to channel Chrissy and Max. He soon finds out that in the Upside Down, it’s even easier to do it. There’s no need for static. He feels… powerful , even. He sees Chrissy, chatting with Erica and next, he travels towards Max and Lucas who are communicating through funny drawings. 

They’re safe.

Just when he’s about to Spy on Jason, just to be sure that he’s nowhere near them, Dustin shakes him off. 

“It’s time.”

“Alright, then.” He smiles, willing away any bad feeling about the jock. “This is for you, Chrissy.” He shouts, excited and his fingers touch the guitar expertly. 

Everything around him is red, gray and black. He’s playing Master of Puppets and he feels exhilarated, his finger trembling like never before. Dustin is banging his head, enjoying the show and he— He is nailing this, because he can hear growls. They aren’t nearby, but they’ll be in no time. 

“Eddie! T minus thirty seconds!” 

It’s enough time for him to trash his baby, get that solo right. The demodogs and demogorgons are on the street, growling. They’re not stupid, for faceless beings, so it’s not long before he hears their paws work their way around the barricade. He notices that they are, in fact, truly afraid of fire; so damn afraid that they’re willing to sacrifice precious seconds to get to them. Eddie is thankful for that because it gives them time to put chairs and stuff outside the door before sliding in the small space, stumbling through the stairs with their shield and spears.

They shout (maybe not the best idea) and celebrate (they shouldn’t, not so early) their escape before a demogorgon barges in from upstairs. Inconvenient for them, given how the backdoor was besides the stairs. 

“No problem. We can still make it out.” He murmurs, his mind accelerating with ideas on how to escape imminent, real death. He’s treating this as a game of D&D, a new campaign, because that’s the only way he can concentrate. 

He grabs Henderson by his shirt, almost tearing his collar, but pays no mind to it because, as he’d previously said, time is of the essence . If they want to survive, if he wants to help Chrissy and Max, he has to think quickly and so, he grabs a random guitar and throws it at the window shop. It shatters but he doesn’t care . They jump, he stops Dustin from falling. He leaves his shield on the floor, because statistically, a demogorgon or demodog should fall right in it, stabbing their paws or hands. He only takes the spear with him. 

“They’re up there,” he explains while running towards the nearest unlit car. “But they won’t be for long. We have like a minute and I, like, thirty seconds to start this shit up.” 

The car engine roars and he slams his palm victoriously on the wheel. He makes sure that both spears are in the back seats before he floors it. “Buckle up, Dustin. Those things you’re gonna hear in a while? Are bats, or demobats, if you will. And if regular bats fly fast as hell, I’m guessing these little shits will too.”

“Guess we won’t need the bikes after all.”

“No, this is better of course. I suppose you didn’t know about the demobats or you wouldn’t have agreed to stay at the music store.”

“You’re… right. I didn’t.” Dustin clacks his tongue and grabs onto his seat. He’s driving as fast as he can, dodging the occasional car. He sees the boy looking into the rearview mirror— “Eddie!”

“I know, I know, Henderson! Fuck!” He makes a sharp turn, trying to lose them, but it only works for a minute. “We’re gonna have to get creative here, man. How can we enter school without getting bitten to death by them?”

“Obviously we can’t park and we definitely don’t want to crash into the cafeteria; it has a window wall but it’d only give the demobats an entrance.”

“But, you can’t deny it’d be the most metal entrance, can you?” He has a second to imagine it and smiles, devilishly.  

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, disappointed, but recovers himself quite quickly. “I’ve got an idea, though. How good are you at drifting?”

“Count me in, because we’re almost there and that might be the only idea we’ll get to try. We better succeed.”

“Ok, so, Eddie. You need to park.”

“I thought we had ruled that out.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t know how to fucking drive. So, parking is the best term I’ve got for the thing I’m about to explain to you. Goddammit. You need to park right at the gym’s backdoor. The one that’s always open for the football players and cheerleaders. It’s rectangular and we’ll have to be real quick— You’ll have to be real quick because—”

“—It’s right between two bleachers, yeah.”

“You’re gonna have to gather all your precision because you’re gonna need to drift right into it, so the car blocks the doors.”

Grabbing the stick, Eddie has never felt more alive. The bats are almost catching up with them; the football field is their one advantage to make the car go exactly where they want it. He just has to grab onto the wheel and— 

The creatures have arrived. There’s one latched on the roof, another’s on the windshield, and before another demobat is about to claw his way into the hood, he makes a sharp turn that is only stopped by the gym’s backdoor. 

“OUT!” He grabs the spear, chases Dustin out of the car and together they open and shut the doors. 

The demobats behind them are not many, yet. But just to be safe, he blocks the doors with his spear. “Take this, and don’t try to become a hero. It’s just for defense, not attacking.” He shoves the last remaining weapon to the kid’s chest.

“And what about you?”

They start running. 

“What about me? I’m following you to the real Hawkins!” 

There’s only a few meters before they enter the drama club. And so, even knowing that the bats haven’t entered school, Eddie urges Dustin to roll first. When it’s his turn, he Listens and swallows before leaving the Upside Down.

“Something’s wrong.” It’s a gut feeling. It’s a tingling sensation that runs through his body, making his blood a turmoil in his veins. 

“What do you mean?”

“It means— It means that we are safe. But I’m not so sure about the others.” 

“Oh, shit .”

“Either those guys couldn’t get to him or Max is in trouble. We’re fucked. Fucked. Fucked . Jesus H. Christ.”

It’s time. He doesn’t know if it's gonna work. He just knows that Max trusts him. She gave him consent. 

“Henderson. You said you made a salt bath in the gym last time, right? Any chance you can make that in less than five minutes?” It’s stupid, idiotic even to think that he’s gonna consider it. He has no other option, though. 

“Of course not! We don’t even have a bathtub, to begin with. But we can—”

Nothing, they can’t do anything. He, on the other hand…

“I really wish you had said yes. Never change man. Tell Chrissy I didn’t run this time.” He punches him square on the face, metal rings colliding with his soft skin. 

Dustin Henderson falls, knocked out. Eddie grabs Dustin’s spear, jumps back into the Upside Down—fuck his friend’s relativity theory or whatever he’d said before. He falls flat on his stomach, a bit queasy but stands up swiftly. 

He closes his eyes and Sees that the bats aren’t gone and have just divided themselves to find a new entrance. The school has always terrified him but now? It dawns on him that not making it out of school is now realer than ever, like the implications are more than just being a grade behind; he can die. He’s literally stuck. So he sucks up his fear and starts running towards the backdoor.

At least, he has one weapon left. He just has to fend the bats for a bit if he intends to get to the others in time. 

One thing he hadn’t noticed before is that the vines are still, they aren’t crawling and… he knows something is up. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he whispers. The bats are trying to enter the building through the windows, some are already making the glass crack. It’s ok, ok, ok. Dustin is safe now. 

It’s just that— He… He didn’t think this through; he must find a safe place to hide and start Spying.

“Goddammit!” He hisses while he stares at the spear in front of him. Eddie shakes his head, swears once again and starts running towards Ms. Kelley’s office. It’s the only room that’s near the drama club. If anything happens, he can run for his life. 

His lungs feel on fire when he gets there. He pushes open the door, it’s not hard because everything down there is either moldy or about to crumble. So, not safe, but at least close. 

“Jesus H. Christ, I didn’t think this enough.” 

He sits at the chair, covers his eyes with the bandana and concentrates on finding Max, or Nancy, Steve and Robin. 

Chapter Text

The first thing he notices is the smell of the air. It’s not so different from real Hawkins, if anything, it’s a bit moldy. What makes his head explode in an uncomfortable way is the static he can feel whenever he inspires and exhales; like any moment now the creatures are gonna burst through and grab him, dragging him into the nothingness that is the Upside Down.

It doesn’t deter him.

His eyes are still closed. He can hear the distant voice of Nancy and he concentrates enough to follow it. His eyes are now open and he can See. Everything is black, of course. The water under his feet is barely touching him, it’s not so difficult then to start running, the splashing sounds surrounding him grating his very soul, signaling him that he can’t do much until he’s found them.

Nancy is up in the air, it turns out to be a wall, she’s gasping for breath, her eyes bulging in a mixture of fear and rage. Steve is at her side, choking up while Robin is trying to grab the gun the other girl dropped. The sight is enough to make his stomach coil uncomfortably and he shouts, unable to do any more than that, the frustration practically bleeding into his voice.

It’s what he feared the most, it’s happening: he’s witnessing his friends’ final moments.

Then, when Robin is grabbed by her ankle and suspended in the air, the other two eye’s turn white, just like Chrissy’s did that night. Even though he raises his arm and stretches his fingers till they’re almost numb, he’s unable to do anything but stand and watch. The vines are still trapping his friends, a choke hold on both of them while the other one is still trying to free herself with a gun yelling for her friends to wake up. The vines, an extension of Vecna’s consciousness, tighten their grip while others caress their faces as if they can’t wait to possess them. Robin’s pleas die in her lips, a white haze covering her eyes signaling Vecna has swallowed her also.

He pauses for a moment, just a brief one to come at peace with what he always said he’d do. Nancy, Steve and Robin can’t save Max now, they’ll probably die.

But at least— At least he’ll be able to save Max. 

It’s a tough decision to choose between them. Funny, ironic and totally uncalled for, if he ever has the chance to speak to Vecna because he’d never thought he’d actually end up considering them his friends and now! Now he has to come to terms with abandoning them in order to save another. However, it’s easier to do so when he’d promise Max and Chrissy he’d do anything to protect that girl. He plans on fulfilling that. He’s resolute on his decision. 

He takes the bandana off, gasping as if he himself is being choked by vines (he’s trapped by genetics, by a promise and a raging desire to prove himself he’s not a coward), and then covers his eyes once again. It’s time to find Max and Hide her. He travels so fast he feels sick to his stomach, the sensation so real he’s sure to return to a pool of vomit under him when he suddenly stops— He’s heard music. It's soft, the rhythm making the water at his feet ripple. Light comes through, the darkness dissipating so slowly until he’s in Hawkins Middle School’s gym. A Snow Ball. 

“Max!” He shouts as soon as he sees her. Red hair springs in his direction, blue eyes so open and frightened, he doesn’t know if it’s mirroring his own terror but it sure as hell prompts him to run at her. Quick shallow intakes, an open mouth so agape, he can’t believe he found her!

“Eddie!” They meet halfway. The slight hope and happiness she had once he saw him is gone with the realization. The reason he’s come to find her is not one either of them wanted to happen nor something they thought they’d have to face so soon. Deep down, he thinks, they both knew that without Eleven they’d fail. “Has everything gone to shit?” She still asks, a tremor in her voice making her sound so incredibly young.

He wastes no time. He grabs her hand. “Yes, now, come with me. Let’s—”

The lights start to fickle, the Snow Ball decorations quiver just as his insides. Jesus H. Christ , he wants to throw up. A slow grumble resonates throughout the whole gym. A name whispered just like a curse. Even he can listen to the clock ticking, so ominous that goosebumps break his skin, making it crawl. 

“It’s too late,” the girl states, terrified, right before she’s thrown backwards and is pinned to the wall. 

Vecna appears from the shadows that the flickering lights create. 

He’s just as terrifying as the last time he saw him. More so even, he dares to say. Covered in vines, he looks like he’s grown ten times larger, taller, perhaps a warning of how stronger he’s become. He’s not a man anymore, his strength doesn’t rely anymore on that human face that emulates emotions, provoking sympathy to even those whose heart has been hardened by life. 

For a brief second that could very well be an eternity for all he knows, he’s thrown back in time: buzz cut, scrawny knees and bony elbows, screams that make his ears bleed and a tattoo that burns through his skin into his bones. 

“Leave her alone.” Strange, how his voice works, even and curt, when he’s pissing himself. 

Vecna might be more powerful than him, no, scratch that— 001 is absolutely more powerful than him. He’s been molded by forces that, whether they are his creation or of the universe itself; can’t be measured and, by consequence, he’s the master of his own immensely putrid world. 

But he, Max, Chrissy and all of his friends are not of his world. 

And of all the things Dustin has shown him…  Well, if that Byers boy could create something within this acrid Upside Down, then he, Eddie the Freak Munson certainly can face Vecna. 

His legs aren’t stuck to the ground anymore. His hands tremble in fists against his sides, only this time it’s not from fear.

He runs, picturing himself climbing into Vecna’s back and Lose him more into Max’s mind, just enough to gain more time to escape.

001 doesn’t seem to acknowledge him once he’s up there, hanging onto him by the slits of his ears. He appears occupied with Max, making her gasp. She’s still mocking him even though her fear is evident, but Eddie can’t spare any more attention to her broken voice when he’s attempting to Lose the monster into the Darkness. 

Locking him by the legs, gaining more balance, his hands are now covering Vecna’s eyes, a futile effort in distracting him and a cry for hope that he can anchor himself enough to succeed. 

Vecna’s voice, low and dangerous, travels through his mind, a power play. “You need to learn your craft, first.” He doesn’t spare a glance at him when he’s thrown backwards. “You can’t beat me when you’re several places and none at the same time, 010 .” With a flick of his hand, Vecna shows one more time why he’s got the upper hand. 

Eddie is once more tossed to the back, the gym walls thick enough to bruise him but not strong enough to keep him inside of Max’s head. He swirls in the Darkness, trying to grab at something that’s simply not there. He thinks he’s gonna wake up and return to the school, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s back at the Creel house. 

“No, Jason, stop!” Chrissy’s voice pleads to the blond jock, her shrill voice cracks with anguish. 

“Stay away from us, witch!” He pushes her down. Eddie runs at her, but soon realizes he’s still Traveling. He’s a mere observer, useless as always.

“What is happening? Why is she floating?” Cries another person, his voice cracks with terror. One of Jason’s friends, no doubt. 

“None of your fucking business,” retorts Sinclair before slamming his fist on Andy’s face. The freshman is taller than the senior, giving him an advantage. However, the latter is sturdier and has years of experience with human punching bags. That's what Lucas becomes in the next few seconds. Erica is nowhere to be seen, Chrissy is still begging Jason to reason, her voice shrill and imploring, her hands grasping at his letterman jacket while the blond shoves her and spats her name adorned with colorful insults.

Eddie can’t do anything for them right now. He covers his ears, trying to muffle the noise and fails to picture the redheaded girl. He covers his eyes with the heels of his hands, screams his lungs out, 001 has blocked him; has left him out of Max’s mind. He can’t return to her, he can’t return to his body and physically help the others—

He smacks himself, almost a slap, realizing he can do something. It only takes a second to close his eyes. Concentrate, Munson! He hears a gunshot before he’s inside of Nancy’s head. 

Cold, putrid air penetrates his nose. It’s not the Upside Down, yet it looks exactly like that. 

The immediate cries of helpless guilt greets him. The elegant poised air Nancy had was gone, making Eddie come to an epiphany:

Once you are in Vecna’s control, you turn into a guitar string. He stretches out your mind, tests your fear and resilience, stringing along what terrifies you the most until there’s nothing left but a distant memory of what you used to be. Eddie, however, refuses to be a piece in his game. He’d rather be the Bard. 

The empty pool is vast, deep and covered in thick and thin vines that resemble worms, all of them converging in a spot not far from him. Nancy’s there, clamoring for someone who won’t answer again. Who isn’t even there. 

He whistles to get her attention, knowing very well that startling her with a soft touch might be as aggressive as slapping her. Her neck almost snaps when she turns, her wide eyes filled with fear and anguish. 

“I thought you were Barb,” her lip trembles while she holds back her tears. 

“I know,” he doesn’t, not really (he barely remembers the girl, if he’s being honest), but there’s no time and while he could comfort the girl, it’s best to get her out of Vecna’s illusions. He walks closer to her. “Take my hand. Hold it tight ,” he commands sternly. “It’s gonna be a long ride.”

“I think I’m dying,” she muses, heeding to his instructions. “We are, aren’t we?”

Shaking his head, he mutters, “Not yet. You’re just deep in trance.” Not quite lost, but lost anyway , he keeps to himself. 

Her hand is similar to Chrissy’s, small with long fingers. It lacks his girl's soft and delicate touch, instead he’s met with callouses and a stone cold skin. It chills him.

He casts a last glance to Barb, gray and slimy with vines crawling out of her cracked lips. It’s a disgusting sight that prompts him to pull Nancy out of there. There’s a tug in his hand, a brief squeeze and a frightened gasp before they’re once again surrounded by complete darkness and water beneath their feet. 

“We’re deep down your consciousness, Wheeler. He can’t access this part of your mind yet but you can’t stay long or else...” He stops, the urgency in his voice apparent, the fear of it not working on Nancy will just let him know that Max is doomed forever.

He hasn’t done this before. Back at the facility, he’d discussed the possibility of Hiding someone within their own mind, like a never ending dream, undisturbed by the mental or physical presence of a third party. A protection against their own creation, for who else could enter but the children they experimented on? And an even greater weapon, if they wanted to disappear someone for the longest of times without immediate bloodshed. A torture, if they decided their victim was deserving. 

“Well then, how am I going to—?”

He places both his hands on her shoulders, whispering, “Nancy, wake up!”

In a blink of an eye, she swiftly disappears and is gone. Eddie releases a relieved sigh. In theory, she must have returned, her awakeness giving her an upper hand against the vines, an opportunity to help the others while he searches for them. 

Nancy Wheeler might look scrawny, but these days spent together have taught him that she’s fiercer than her looks. Her worker’s hand can only indicate her strength. And so, he’s confident that she’ll tear those vines apart. Nonetheless, she needs the other’s help. 

He concentrates again, picturing Steve’s face. It doesn’t take long to be in his mind. His nightmare is different from Nancy’s, while the girl’s was about guilt, Harrington’s worst fear is—

Not different from his own. The words are not short for cruelty and even though he’s standing behind a wall in a darkened hallway, Eddie still feels the razor-sharp cut of Mr. Harrington’s keen and hissed comments. He wonders if it would've been a lot more merciful to just slap the boy across the face. In his experience, you can get over faster from punches than stabbing words. Then again, Wayne has never been physical nor verbally abusive. 

“I’m not… I’m not…” Steve says, a meek mumble stumbling out of his lips. Eddie has never heard him like that.  

“You’re not what, son? A disservice for this family? A walking failure? You don’t even qualify for community college. How can I believe you? Trust in you?”

He still hasn’t revealed himself but he isn’t going to wait for Harrington to start sobbing. It’s hard enough to listen. Wayne has never talked to him like that, even when encouraging him to study. He’s always been the great father figure the lab and government stole from him. 

The words continue and even if he can’t see Steve, he can hear how violently he flinches, through his clothes ruffling and the sharp intakes of breath his lips fail to suppress. He wonders if the real Mr. Harrington has ever said that, or if what he’s witnessing is just a projection of Steve’s own inadequacy feelings, his own self-hatred manifesting in his father’s opinion. 

He unveils himself, but neither Steve nor his imagined father notice him. He runs, grabs the boy by the shoulders and travels with him through the depths of his mind. 

It doesn’t work. Steve is still looking back at his father. They’re still in the Harrington’s household, cold, elegant; it even has a chandelier hanging from the rooftop. 

“Hey, Harrington! Look at me! This isn’t real!” Eddie snaps his fingers in front of his face, impatience impregnating his voice. Better that than understanding that could easily be confused for pity. 

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” Steve blinks, confused. Trusting that should be enough awareness, he grabs him by the sleeve. They’re alone in the darkness, so far away from the nightmares he sighs. 

He doesn’t waste time nor does he wait for his friend to realize what’s happening. “Steve, wake up!” He commands just as he pictures Robin’s face. There’s no time to waste. 

It's another house. This time, a lot more modest and small than the one before. Even if he was there for a few mere seconds, the opulence it displayed couldn’t be ignored. A stark contrast with the Buckley residence, which looks as battered as his own mattress.  

Its wallpaper is not as polished nor is the material as elegant, there are worn out patches where photo frames should be, a sign of its neglect peeking out with its coarseness and cracks everywhere. What’s missing is scattered across the floor along with clothes and an open suitcase. The pictures are wrinkled and torn while a woman is stumping on what’s left of them, tears staining her cheeks while Robin is on her knees trying to salvage the few pieces of her childhood memories not caring if they stain from the blood leaking from her fingertips. 

“Mom, wait!” She pleas from the ground. Eddie is right behind her, keeping her hands from piercing anymore. She might not be really bleeding (Eddie isn’t quite sure anymore) but the pain is nonetheless real. 

“No! You’ll leave and I’ll make all of this disappear!” 

“Dad, please do something!” 

Her scream for help and support remains unheard. There’s no father present, only a daughter and her mother, both screaming at each other. 

“Come on, Buckley, we have to leave!” He tries knocking some sense in her. For this to work, she has to acknowledge his presence.

“You’ve refused the church, you’ve refused therapy and I can’t deal with this— this horrendous disgust I have everytime I see you, child! What will people say when they find out?” She spats. Robin stares at her, wide eyed and mouth agape. She’s, for the first time Eddie has known her, speechless. A sound he associates with wounded dying animals erupts from her, a painful wail that breaks his heart. “Robin…” He whispers. He doesn’t need to be a genius to realize the meaning of the scene, the reality that Robin might face once her family understands her preferences. 

Carefully he removes his hand from hers. Her shoulders are trembling, but she’s different from Nancy and Steve, she doesn’t flinch and she isn’t fixating on her mother still berating her. When he puts his hand on them, she faces him and croaks, resigned, “Eddie, let’s get out of here.” 

He nods. They’re out of there and a second later, he wakes her up. 

He wishes he were Will Byers. If what Dustin says it’s true, then the kid can control time. That would’ve been immensely helpful right now. He’s saved his friends, that’s a fact he checked once Robin was out of her own Depth. Last he saw them, the three of them were severing and shooting the vines in rage, not caring if it alerts Vecna because he’s been aware of their presence the whole damn time and hasn’t killed them yet. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been inside their minds and he wishes he were Will Byers with his Chrono-manipulation ability but— There’s a spark lightning his thoughts, spinning themselves in his mind: Vecna hasn’t killed the others yet. 

Maybe it’s too late. Maybe something terrible has already happened to Max. But he can’t sense it. And when he seeks her, he feels her. The gut-wrenching terror and agonizing pain that invades him is not his, but the girl’s. Vecna’s power is not strong enough to shield her from him once more. Or perhaps, he’s just luring him, making her the bait. 

Not for him, at least. There’s another person there, its presence alerted to Eddie by the faint scream that’s most certainly not Max’s. His ears never make a mistake. 

He closes his eyes, the push he feels from Max’s mind is intense. However, it’s not her who’s keeping him from entering. It's 001's doing. By creating a barrier, he’s effectively being thrown away from corner to edge in the endless sea of consciousness, wasting time. 

So, it’s established. He can’t access Red’s mind. And perhaps she’s not alone anymore, nonetheless—

He presses his lips together, the urgency is clearly gnawing at him by the way he aggressively bites them, drawing a slight drop of blood. He’s still Somewhere in the Darkness, but the hot trail it leaves on his real flesh takes him out of focus for a minute. He has secured the rest of them, but not the one whose life is the real target, the one he specifically promised to protect. 

Maybe that’s why it was so easy to wake up the others, Vecna wasn’t as focused on them as he should’ve been. 

Vecna hasn’t killed the others yet . Vecna hasn’t killed the others yet . Vecna hasn’t killed the others yet . Vecna hasn’t killed the others yet .

The idea is there, gnawing at the back of his mind, stuck to his tongue like a word about to be spoken, like recognizing an infant’s joy when they’re about to laugh… there’s that spark weaving itself in his mind. 

In retrospect, Eddie realizes that Vecna must only want to kill Max out of pride, even spite. Why shouldn’t he get to kill her? Just because some defenseless kids said so? No. He won’t accept being defeated by them. She’s the ultimate key to his plan, her beating heart and hopeful idea of what life is are not going to deter him from creating a path between both worlds, one where he can rule them all; show them what true, meaningful power is. That’s unacceptable. 

Attacking the others was just a ruse, a red herring. If he wanted to kill them, he would’ve haunt them earlier, turning them into meek prey to complete the ritual.

He didn’t. And he won’t. Vecna is too cruel to just murder people without gaining some entertainment, and right now, their attempt to save Mayfield is the stelar show—

Finally, the idea has crowned itself as the sole ruler of his mind. 

He might not be as powerful as Vecna, but he can distract him. And if he’s right , if the overwhelming push he’s just felt is any indication that something— someone else is there. No, there’s definitely someone there. She’s there, fighting Vecna. Distracting him, giving Eddie an opening. Then—

He can’t waste anymore time.

It’s dark, he wasn’t expecting anything else. However, it’s different from a human’s mind. A healthy human, at least. He walks and walks, trying to find something that can help Eleven, yet an invisible barrier stops him from advancing anymore. It’s not a shield, not a normal one. He places his palm flat against it, it’s not warm yet it’s pulsing…  

He can hear what’s happening outside, what he’s facing. There’s an evil speech about how Papa was never a monster but a mediocre man that Eddie has no time nor the slightest interest in hearing. He pegged Vecna right, for all his power, he’s all performative, his ego so immense yet so small he has to demonstrate how he will persevere in the end; a self-made contradiction. Yet, a showman who can and will most likely kill them if he doesn’t do this right.  

He knocks at the barrier with a joyful rhythm, trying to attract Vecna’s attention.  The barrier cracks, wind blows at his face. Eddie’s met with ash, dust and debris. A cry for help, but not from Eleven nor Max. It’s another voice, one he hasn’t heard for years. He thought she had escaped, that she was fortunate enough she hadn’t had to face 001 when it all came crashing down. 

008 appears in front of him, pale, battered, with rope marks around her neck.  She should be older than him, a few years at least. She’s not, 008 looks his age. She opens her mouth and no sound comes out, instead, there’s a crawling sensation in his feet. He looks down and spiders are climbing over and under his jeans. Some of them were biting him.

He shakes his head. This isn’t real, and as he has never been afraid of spiders, he takes a step ahead, crushing them as he walks towards 008. He’s conscious that he’s now entered a part of Vecna’s mind that, somehow, is ruled by her. Perhaps only guarged by her. 

Is she dead ?, he asks himself as he scrutinizes her. 

“Why are you helping him?” He questions, waiting for an answer that might never be given. There’s a sadness in her eyes that’s replaced with grief and anger. 

He tries to jump into her mind, however, he soon discovers that she’s nothing more than a solidified memory. He can’t access her because 008 doesn’t exist anymore. A vestige of what she was; her powers are the only thing that’s left of her. He’s able to touch her, pale skin clammy and cold against his, just like any other of Vecna’s victims. 

“He did this to you.”

It’s not a question, just a plain statement to organize his thoughts. If 001 is capable of killing someone and making them a prisoner, a pawn to execute it’s evil plan, then—

Both of them are at risk. Eleven who’s confronting Vecna right now and himself, who’s deep down in the monster’s lair. Davy Jones’ own locker of the Upside Down. 

He runs and runs, but every now and then, 008 is there, haunting him. Sometimes she’s urging him to escape, most of the time, she’s trying to drag him back to a lost corner of Vecna’s mind. He encounters barriers which are broken as soon as he makes contact with them, piercing his skin in small, elongated cuts, all of them across his face. 

“ Join us .” Someone whispers against his ear, chills running down his spine. 

It’s not only 008, but everyone at the lab who is there. He can’t see them as clearly, can’t discern between their faces so pinpointing who is who is futile; however faint their memory is, Eddie is certain that they have resided there for a long time. Since they were killed. Was that the fate he escaped that day? 

Can they escape? 

Before this knowledge, the chances were that if they lost, they’d die. But now? Losing meant an eternity of slavery. Now that he’s discovered that, is it possible to free them? 

“008!” He calls for her. Sensing that he’s not trying to escape her anymore, she extends her hand to him. Behind her silhouette, the other children await him. 

He takes it and makes no attempt to join them. Instead, he yanks her, the motion so brusque and surprisingly painful for himself. There’s a tear in his mind, like a white light barging in and blinding him, he’s unsure of what’s happening, yet he isn’t stopping. 

008 is willingly Traveling with him, despite her screams filled with excruciating pain. “Don’t let go!” He urges her after he feels her grip weakening. There’s an opening, the Snow dance is near, behind a curtain of smoke.

“Oh, 010, what have you done?” Vecna’s voice salutes him the second he enter’s Max’s mind, there’s an edge to his tone he can’t quite decipher. Nevertheless, pride installs itself in his face, sensing that he’s done something to shake 001’s actions.

“Kali!” Eleven cries out. She’s in the air, gasping for breath, her eyes bulging while her hand is raised. 

He’s panting, the pain in his mind unbearably excruciating. He’s seeing black spots, ushering them away with aggressive blinking. He’s down to his knees, trying to get back to his feet, the dizziness a hefty burden on his shoulders combined with the acute pain in his face due to the cuts. He’s never felt this weak before. Nevermind that, he’s never felt so defeaten, but the war isn’t over yet. Eddie’s not giving up. 

“Where's Max?” He rasps, failing to get up.

“Kali!” Eleven repeats herself, this time frightened. “Kali!”

Amidst the pain, he briefly smiles. It’s out of place considering the scenery he’s stumbled upon: Vecna choking Eleven, Red nowhere to be seen, everything surrounding them in shambles, a total cluster fuck. The smile stays.

Max’s mind isn’t capable of sheltering anyone’s spirit nor memory that isn’t of her own creation. It takes a certain powerful individual to do it, to wield someone else and entrap them in the vastness of a complex mind... Vecna and Eleven should be able to. He? To an extent. Hell, he’s willing to bet that Will Byers could do it, what with him fabricating a new Hawkins, possibly even the Upside Down itself (but that’s stretching the possibilities a bit too much). 

(After this, he promises to practice. Now, he’s more than confident he is going to succeed. An if turns to a when .)

And so, with the bet he’s placed, he’s currently winning. 

008 or Kali, as Eleven has now introduced her, is gradually disappearing. 

“Let her rest !” He snaps at the girl, at Vecna, too fucking tired to process anything else except wondering where the fuck is Red?

“When I told you to master your craft, well, you certainly did.” 

“I’m very intuitive !” He growls, showing him some teeth, clenching his hands into tight, rage-trembling fists. 

Vecna laughs, humorless, “I see you understand what’s happening.”

He does. The decoration is different, is decadent, covered in vines, a sign that he’s infected Mayfield’s mind despite her positive thinking. The bleachers are trashed and so is the mirrorball that now lies on the floor. 

Having recovered from seeing 008, Eleven manages to shout, “Max—! I told her to stay back but—!” Her words wander once she notices what’s happening. The lights are flickering, the vines are recoiling, there’s even a screeching emanating from them. Once Kali is gone, so are the illusions. So, the Snow Ball returns to its usual lightning, white and blue overwhelming his sight, jovial if it weren’t for the evident destruction that has endured. 

Had something wrong happened to Mayfield, Eddie is certain that her mind would’ve already crumbled down, dragging all of them to the darkness. Max’s red hair stands out, she’s at the back, face down the floor and her arms and legs in an odd angle. Having seen Chrissy’s attack, he’s aware something happened to Eleven that couldn’t prevent Max’s broken limbs. At some point, fantasy reached reality.

They’ve got only minutes, if not seconds. He gathers all of his strength and hollers at Eleven, “Well, what are you waiting for?!” Standing up, he runs up to Max. 

Meanwhile, Eleven lashes out, free from Vecna’s grip, so the standoff continues. 

The girl is unconscious, her breathing is weak and so, he carries her out of there, cradling her like a baby. Were he in another situation, one that didn’t involve his life or his friend’s, he’d find it super awesome to be at school when his body is already in the school alternate ego. A dream within an alternate reality. It’s stupid, because he’s already been to another dimension, one he’s currently trying to escape while in the mind of someone else. 

“Max, come on!” He shakes her off and she grumbles, flinching but responding to the stimulus. 

“Eddie?” She mumbles faintly and he nods. That’s all he needs for awareness. 

He doesn’t look back. Eleven can and will handle Vecna. His whole mission is to protect the girl. His heart clenches with guilt when he looks down, her eyes are closed but there’s blood leaking out of them. He truly wishes it were an illusion made by Kali, yet with a heavy heart acknowledges that the condition he’s holding her is a clear reflection of reality.

“I’m so, so sorry, Max,” He whispers, his voice struck by guilt. He looks away before commanding, “Wake up!”

It’s time to go and join the others in the real world, to face Dustin’s well-deserved wrath. It takes him a minute. First, he has to See what’s happened with those at the Creel’s abandoned house. How they can help once they get there, maybe even call an ambulance if his fears are true and Jason has hindered their escape.  

“Stop! You’re making it worse!” Chrissy pushes Jason away from his friend, kneeling besides Andy who’s splurging blood from his mouth. “You have to press it!”

“ You did this, witch! ” Jason leaps, standing and pacing the attic like a mad man.

“You pulled the trigger!” Chrissy continues to cover the gut wound to no avail, she has only one hand which practically disappears into the teens open stomach. A second later, little Sinclair is there, disgust and fear plastered on her face while joining Chrissy.

“He’s losing a lot of blood!” Says the little girl, who glances expectantly at Chrissy as if she knows what to do. 

“Max… Can you listen to me? Are… Are you there?” Mumbles Lucas, on the verge of tears. He’s at the other corner, his body shielding the convalescent girl from the disaster the other two are facing.

The picture is worse than he imagined. Mayfield’s head is hanging from Lucas’ arm, her eyes closed with caked blood beneath them, covering half her face. Her eye sockets don’t look as crushed, but he can’t tell if she’s ever gonna see again. All of her extremities are destroyed— 

“Lucas… I can’t feel or see anything…” Max finally speaks. 

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” The other one comforts. “We’re gonna get you some help. Just… Just hold on…”

“Lucas, I’m scared. I’m so scared, I’m so scared.” She cries, gasping for air. 

“We should get out of here before the police come!” Erica suggests, tears streaming down her face. “Take her to the hospital!” 

“Take him to the hospital!” Jason exclaims vehemently.

“Jason, he’s already gone !” Chrissy sobs. For the boy who once, perhaps, was a friend or the consequences, he doesn’t know. How are they going to explain all of this? Erica stands up, leaving the blonde to deal with his maniac ex-boyfriend, who’s now ignoring all of them and crying over his dead friend. 

Lucas doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s all over Max, cradling her with tenderness while suppressing his own tears. “I know, I know.” 

“I don’t wanna die, I’m not ready!”

“Erica, help! ” He implores once her sister is beside him. 

“Hoist her up! We’re leaving! Chrissy!”

He takes the bandana off. There’s no use catching up to them at the house. His nose is congested, with blood dried up to his mouth and chin, now it’s no  surprise. His wounds make his face feel cold. His ears perk up, noticing the bats circling the school with some of them already in. None of them are close to where he is. 

“Eddie!” Dustin cries, anger pent-up anger coloring his voice. 

“Henderson!” He calls back, leaving Ms. Kelley's office. 

“What the fuck was that for?” The other complains. There’s a red, angry bruise in his left cheek, his rings still printed on his flesh, making the flesh bulge from the swollenness. There are even a few cuts on it, but they aren’t going to leave a nasty scar. Eddie can’t find himself feeling guilty with everything that’s going on.  

“Max is being taken to the hospital. We have to get out of here, now!” 

The chasm between the drama club and the office seems unimportant now that they’re leaving. There’s a small shift in the ground before they leap out of there. However, it’s left behind once they enter the real Hawkins. 

“What about the others?”

“We’ll leave them a note!” Eddie signals to the white board and runs to it, grabbing the marker and scribbling «At the hospital!» in the most legible way possible. “You have no—” He starts explaining while dragging the board to the gate. His feet wobble, so does his stance. His nose starts to bleed again, the ground beneath him trembles but it’s only him who’s noticing. He locks eyes with Dustin, afraid for a second, before blacking out. 

He should be grumbling, reprimanding himself for not being strong enough. He has only recovered his powers for a few days, so wielding them again was not as swift as he would’ve liked, alright? So, it was to be expected to have a teeny-tiny dire consequence. As such a thing has already been established plenty of times during these two days, he glares at Dr. Owens when he enters his room for the second time this day for not letting him go once and for all. 

“I can walk.” He states, for the millionth time. He makes a show out of it, leaping out of the bed in a swift jump. The back of his mind registers how swift the motion was and how not-sick he is by it. 

“I know, Eddie. Please, lay down again.” 

“Then, let me out .” He growls, ignoring his command. 

“You know I can’t. Not until the military takes care of every loose end.” 

“At least let me see Wayne!” His uncle must’ve been a wreck this week. Is he even aware he’s alright? 

“Not until the tests are over. We’re still measuring how much your Sight has improved, along with your Hearing and Searching. Nevermind the Hiding you accomplished.” He smiles, proudly. Tenderly, he comes closer to the bed. “He’s aware of everything. Currently, he’s speaking to the press and calming the waters.”

Eddie snorts. Wayne hates the media. He prefers a quiet life. Is he going to be mad at me? For all the trouble? , he wonders. When he took him in, Brenner, Owens and the government were sure he had lost his powers, his worth; perhaps Wayne only accepted to shelter him because of that. One normal kid was better at being handled and cared for than a monstrous experiment. 

“Maxine Mayfield is alright. Her recovery is going to be long. But she’s alive—”

“What about her sight?” He asks, trading the concern for his uncle for Max’s. “Her legs and arms can and should heal but her eyes…”

Dr. Owens sighs, shifting in his place, evading his gaze. 

“The prognosis is unclear—”

“Unclear? How can you say it so casually ? She’s hurt because of you!” he sighs out of frustration, throwing his hands up in the air. He circles the bed, getting closer to Owens.

He notices it and continues to smile. He takes a step back though, and the door handle nudges before stopping. Of course they’re being monitored. 

“As I was saying, the prognosis is still unclear yet most of her physicians are leaning towards a positive recovery. She’s being treated by the best of the best. She’s also in quarantine, just like you.” 

That doesn’t help him at all. 

“Can one of the tests be her?” 

Owens shakes his head. 

“Why the hell no?” He asks, outraged. 

“We would like you to Find people you aren’t familiar with… And that aren’t across the hall, Eddie. That’s no challenge to your talent at all, son.” 

There’s a pregnant pause while Eddie’s registering what’s just happened. 

“Fuck you.” Is all he says before climbing to bed. 

He’s almost twenty-one years-old yet he covers his body from head to toe while pouting and muttering to himself how unfair everything still is.

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