Chapter Text
Where did he know her from?
Eddie was amazing at names. It may have come from a lifetime of memorizing the complicated names of Tolkien novel heroes, or maybe collecting all the facts he could get his hands on referencing his favorite musicians. Whatever it was, he didn’t forget people. Maybe just because everyone would just as well forget his name if he let them.
She probably looked different without the black eye.
You sniffed, trying not to hock a bloody loogie on the ground. Again.
He watched you from the doorway, taking interest. Eddie focusing in on something was more of a rarity than him not knowing someone’s name. Call it ADHD or just a propensity to be flighty, but Eddie never really gave too much of a shit about things not under his main umbrella of interests.
He could see your reflection mirrored back at him from the glass panel of the vending machine. You were staring blankly at a row of New Coke like it was going to whisper the answers to next Wednesday's Biology pop quiz.
Your hand fluttered up, tenderly prodding at the budding bruise. He knew what you were thinking. The nosebleed could die down but your eye was just going to get worse with time. Red, then black, then blue, then yellow. He had seen that rainbow of flesh one too many times.
Eddie had been trying to abuse a bathroom pass to grab a Mr. Pibb from the cafeteria vending machine. He was currently serving time during after-school detention. He had landed himself in hot water today, apparently “your mother” wasn’t the right answer to who was the second wife of Henry the Eighth. Wasn’t his fault the dude had so many ball and chains, he couldn’t keep them all straight.
Custodians never remembered to lock the cafeteria door and it was a good way to kill at least five minutes of time outside the stuffy study hall room. He had thought you were a ghost when he first creaked open the door. Would’ve been kind of cool if you had been.
But no. Just a girl. A girl with blood dribbling over her lip gloss and a shiner that would make Rocky Balboa blush.
His Converse squeaked against the tile at the most inopportune time, and it was your turn to jump. When your eyes met, he immediately clocked that look. The look every girl gave him when they were caught without their boyfriend or legion of bitchy friends.
Fear.
You pressed a hand over your heart, and he noticed the blood had stained the front of your pretty shirt. He didn’t feel bad for people. Eddie, to the best of his ability, stayed cold to the feelings and goings on to all outside his friend group. Cheer for the soccer team going to state? Feel sad about the prom queen's dog passing away? No one celebrated or mourned for him. So, he returned the favor.
“What do you think is colder?” Your nose was stuffy. “Yoohoo or the Pepsi? Pepsi is closest to the back, but the Yoohoo is glass so… I don’t know.”
Eddie lifted an eyebrow. What in the good fuck were you talking about.
“Ah,” He walked in closer so he could get a better read on you. “Yoohoo, I think? What does it matter?”
“Trying to get a compress.” You pointed at your eye. “Tried cold water on paper towels but their quality Is shit. Keeps turning to pulp when I soak them for too long.”
“Yoohoo then.” He shrugged.
You pulled some quarters from your pocket, sliding them in with a gentle plink, plink. The machine dispensed the bottle, and you snatched it up. The cool glass was immediately pressed to your eye and elicited a soft sigh.
“I’m in your way, sorry.” You put a hand up in apology and shuffled over to sit on top of a table. The chairs had been put up for the night but you needed off your feet.
Don’t get involved.
That was the only thought in his head as he felt inclined to question you further.
He remembered helping a kid up with scraped knees at 13, only to have said kid shove him and use a filthy word in response. Again, a hot little redhead in his homeroom drops her wallet just the other week, he slides it to her, and her gigantic motherfucker of a boyfriend threw him against the lockers.
That’s why his friends were primarily freshmen. Catch them early, indoctrinate them before anyone else can let them know what their opinion of him should be.
“What…what’s up with the eye?” He dug into his back pocket for his wallet.
Shit.
“Oh, this old thing.” You snorted, only to wince from the mounting sinus pressure. “A thank you present from a friend.”
“Jesus, if that’s a thank you what do they do when they’re pissed?”
You smiled weakly.
“Oh yeah, she’s one of a kind.” You hunched yourself over, trying to get your head to stop ringing so fiercely. “You hear about that scandal in the Spanish 3 class this week? Someone played copycat on that little freshman that skipped a grade, she’s like eight years old or some shit. Stole her whole project and pressured her out of telling Senora Herrera.”
Eddie ruminated on this. It was familiar, it tickled the very corner of his mind as he tried to recall something Gareth said. Something about the Honors Society secretary landing in-school suspension. It was guy talk for sure, primarily about her tight jeans, and how he at least had something nice to look at while he waited out his punishment for truancy.
“Yeeeeah,” Eddie finally nodded, grabbing his soda. “My friend is in ISS; he said he saw that one preppy chick. That she’s in deep shit.”
“My project partner, that’s her. This whole semester here I am like, wow, we’re going to get an A on this. I had no idea she was that smart. That’s the kicker, it was bullshit.”
“Let me fill in the blanks. You went Judas on your friend, flunked the project, she got the boot, and you got the actual shit kicked out of you.”
“You should be on Jeopardy.” You sighed. “She was waiting for me outside. Slashed my bike tires. Got me in the face with a textbook.”
“Spanish 3 textbook?”
“Yep.”
“Killer.”
He cracked open his drink and took a swig.
“Salt.”
“Huh?”
“Get ice from the ice machine, add salt from the buffet table back there. Wrap it in a paper towel. Salt gets the ice cold. Makes for a good ice pack until you can buy an actual one.” He fiddled with the metal can top for a moment. “Pretty cool, though. Not just taking the grade and not giving a shit. Not that my opinion adds up to much.”
You removed the bottle from your eyes, blinking and trying to focus.
“I just did what anyone would do.”
“I know everyone in this school three times over. They wouldn’t. Catch you later…”
You supplied your name.
He said it once, then twice, adding “…The Humble.”
You tilted your head. He made you sound like a knight or something.
He was gone as fast as he appeared.
You did as he said, ice, salt, paper towel. You delicately applied it to your eye and felt relief wash over you.
Eddie Munson talking to you. Today really had been a weird day.
---
Your bike tires were making an odd flapping noise and you pushed your bike forward. You hoped she hadn’t cut deep enough to slice anything that couldn’t be fixed.
Who were you kidding? There was no way for you to get new tires in the first place. This old bike was an ancient relic of a birthday you barely remembered. Wait, maybe a cousin’s birthday and it was a hand-me-down? Who knew, it was toast now.
The road leading past the high school was long and treacherous. You didn’t live in the cute cookie-cutter houses of suburbia. You were out way past where anyone would care to add a sidewalk. It was usually fine, on a bike. Now you were just stumbling over rocks and feeling a terrible tension in your shoulders.
“At least it’s not raining.” You said out loud, to no one but your bike and the moon. “And the fresh air is good for me.”
You really weren’t wearing the right shoes for a hike. And your backpack was so heavy, but you needed to bring your things home to do homework.
“And the thing is, if I get kidnapped and murdered, I don’t have to go to gym class tomorrow. Wouldn’t that be lucky?” You exclaimed again.
Your thoughts were inundated with memories of when Barb Holland disappeared. Then Heather Halloway, followed by Billy Hargrove. Random deaths, all different causes, but it was enough to put a pit in your stomach. Always kids from your lunch period. Maybe the whole school was cursed. Built on a burial ground? Or perhaps the PTA was right, and Eddie Munson summoned the devil during afterschool club hour.
Your brain was slamming to the back and then the front of your skull, sloshing around and creating quite the headache. You wondered if eyepatches were in now and if anyone would mind if you started sporting one. There was no way you were walking into homeroom tomorrow with this. Maybe you could skip. Just to avoid the line of questioning you were sure every kid from chess club captain to star quarterback would ask you.
You stepped a little to the side as headlights backlit you. You had the proper safety reflectors on your bike but you wouldn’t put it past some drunk hick in a pickup to purposefully mow you over. Your breath picked up as the whiny screech of bad brake pads rang out.
The same anxiety every young girl is gifted with when she turns 12. Expecting calls of “Hey baby,” “Where you walking,” and “Nice legs.”
You kept walking, carefully side-eyeing the vehicle. It was a white van, beat to hell, with mud caked on the tires. The driver leaned into the passenger seat, rolling down the window. The sound of the intro to Holy Diver snaked its way out.
“Are you seriously walking home? You’re like a mile away from school.” Eddies dark eyes peered out of the dimly lit cabin.
“What’s it to you?” You didn’t like his tone. Acting as though you had left your Lamborghini keys in your other pants. What the hell else were you supposed to do?
You had waited for either of your parents to pick you up. Silently sitting on the curb with your busted bike. Sipping warm Yoohoo from a bottle with bloody thumbprints. As per usual, nothing. You weren’t sure what you expected from that vague, "we'll see if we can." phone booth call. So, you gave it a good hour and started walking.
“Nothing. Just, I was the last person with you. You get snatched out here I could get accused of murder.” He shrugged, slowly keeping pace with you and your bike.
“I’m fine, thank you.” You kept marching forward, already feeling your calves starting to burn. You were barely halfway there.
“Get in. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
Eddie had finally clued in while Lucas was rolling his death saving throws for his ranger, and he was fiddling with a pencil behind the DM screen. You were that one girl, from the trailer just one down from the guy who did his tattoos. He remembered popping by one day to get yet another round of highly illegal kitchen table ink, and you had been trying to wrangle a stray kitten under your porch. You were staring intently under the slats of the steps, making little sounds and offering a tuna can. He had thought you were kind of weird. Which was saying something.
You blinked, keeping your eyes closed in thought for a moment. You looked down the road ahead of you. By the time you got in you wouldn’t have any time to start your paper. The Spanish teacher has been kind enough to give you a separate makeup project. An essay on the value of family in Spanish cultures. You barely knew that value in your own culture, let alone someone else’s, but you were going to give it your best shot.
Dignity also wasn’t worth tearing your ACL trying to prove a point. You swallowed your self-preservation and nodded. You walked back and swung open the back door to throw your bike inside. It hit the van floor with a clatter, disrupting a few beer cans and a dusty oil-stained blanket.
You walked back around to the driver’s side to step in. The reality of your situation rapidly sank in. The whole van reeked of weed. Your shoes kicked yet another beer can out of the way and ended up crunching an empty Taco Bell bag. You had the sudden inclination to check if your tetanus shot was up to date.
The bass line was making the subwoofer speakers thrum with sound. Eddie turned it up further before kicking the van into gear. What had you gotten yourself into?
You were going 50 in a 30, and your fingers were digging crescent moons into the ripped pleather of the passenger seat. He wasn’t talking. Just taking drags off his cigarette and blowing it out the driver’s side window. You would be concerned he was multitasking between the radio, smoking, and driving, but you weren’t going to chastise him. It was a free ride for one, and more importantly, he looked like someone who kidnapped girls on the regular. You’ll pick your battles.
“How’s the eye?” One could say he broke the long silence, but this was the least quiet awkward car ride you had been a part of.
“The ice pack was a good idea, thanks.” You nodded back. “You get a lot of black eyes?”
“You could say that.”
He went quiet again.
Jesus Christ. You thought silently. Get me home and the hell out of here.
“So, who is this?” You gestured vaguely at the radio.
He rolled his eyes and you could feel yourself shrink within yourself.
“Dio, you like metal? Rock? Punk?”
“I’m not sure if I’m familiar enough with any of that to say I like it.
“Then what do you listen to? Madonna, I assume.”
Well, you did. No way in hell you were saying that now, within striking distance.
“Fleetwood Mac. They’re pretty good.”
“The Chain is alright. But can’t say I can stomach much else.”
“Dreams? Go Your Own Way?”
He grimaced. “When I was like, twelve years old. Sure. But this,” He pointed again at the radio. “This shreds.”
“Stevie Nicks… shreds.” You tested out the new word clumsily. “Edge of Seventeen is one of the best songs of all time. You gotta get into her solo music.”
“That’s girl music.”
“Oh my god, just because she’s a woman it's girl music?” You dropped your jaw in faux disgust.
“Not true!” Eddie interrupted. “Lita Ford rules. And, and Joan Jett has a few that are okay.”
“Joan Jett is just okay? You’re out of your mind.”
“She’s hot, so that helps.”
You bit your tongue to avoid tearing into him. It was nice enough of him to drive you and you weren’t trying to buy into the fight he was picking. This was still Eddie Munson after all. You had heard horror stories when you were a freshman, and he was a junior. You had always hoped to enjoy the two years of bliss when he graduated and would no longer haunt the halls of Hawkins. Now here you were, in your senior year, but his too. For the third time.
You always felt a little weird that he was approaching his 20th birthday and was still trying for that degree. He was the same as when you first heard about him, still tooled around with freshmen, and skipped class to smoke. The immaturity just added to your general opinion that he was a burnout and a little creepy.
“Bad Reputation is good, though.” He offered as an olive branch.
“Bad Reputation rules.” You nodded.
The rest of the ride returned to quiet, but you didn’t feel like he was going to pull over and bludgeon you with a tire iron any longer. You tightly gripped your backpack in your lap and counted the streetlights until you were home.
Eddie put out his cigarette on the warped dashboard before swinging the van into the trailer park. He rolled down to your trailer and then pulled a u-turn to face back in the direction of his own. He looked over at you blankly as you just sat there.
“Oh!” You exclaimed, realizing your queue to leave, and popped open the door to scramble out.
You struggled to get your bike out of the back, tugging at the rear wheel.
“Don’t scratch anything back there.” He called out.
“Not that it would make a difference. Dick.” You muttered under your breath.
“Heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
You finally freed your bike and hobbled it over to lean against the trailer. Eddie glanced back out his window. You looked back up at him expectantly.
“What? You want a kiss goodbye?” He raised his eyebrows.
“You…” You took a deep breath. “Thanks, Eddie.”
He nodded dismissively before tearing off to his place.
You stumbled up the stairs and creaked the screendoor open. The trailer was dark save for the moonlight coming through the kitchen window. You sniffed back another leaky rivulet of blood as you found your way to the bathroom. You broke into a smile at the sight of your cat fast asleep on the bathmat.
“You still like me, huh buddy?” You lifted him up to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Did I have a day, you are never going to believe this.”
»»————————-🦇🦇🦇————————««
You parted your hair differently the next day to try to detract from the now puffy shiner. You tried matching your makeup on the other eye to make it look like a fashion choice, but honestly now it just looked like you had two black eyes.
You pressed your face against the glass window of a side door to the parking lot, trying to survey the grounds outside. You could see the enemy pacing just by the bus stop. You had to ride that smelly yellow thing in this morning, sat close to the little ginger kid from the trailer park. She had glared at you and slid on her headphones, and you had done the same with your own. A polite hello wouldn’t have killed her, but you knew who she was. You had a bad week, she was having a bad year, if not life.
If you wait any longer your bus would pull away. And you would be left to hike the country mile back home. You wish you had a car or a license for that matter. You could tuck and roll to it and sideswipe the bitch on the way out.
“Oh, the Humble martyr, we meet again.”
You almost jumped a foot in the air. How the hell did this guy keep sneaking up on you. He had a mop of hair, jingling chains and buckles, and smelled like a Marlboro factory. He was like a walking red flag in ripped jeans.
He grinned back at you, bowing. “I should get into the haunted house business. I’d make a killing.”
“Sorry, it’s not you.” You shook your head. “I’m on edge.”
“Queen Bee still trying to sting you?” He pushed the door open with an elbow.
You put your back to the adjoining wall and hid. Eddie stuck his head out and observed the situation.
“Oh, she’s pissed.” He whistled. “Looks like she brought a few friends.”
“She’s on the softball team. I’m about to get a bat shoved up my ass.”
“She’s that mad about suspension? I get in-school suspension all the time. Never think too much about it. Honestly, a good nap time if you plan it right.”
“She found out the school is contacting the places she applied for college.” You nervously whispered. “There’s no way plagiarism is going to fly at Yale or Berkley or whatever preppy bullshit she sent in for.”
He tsked, nodding. Eddie closed the door and started to amble off down the hallway.
“Good luck though. Maybe they’ll use lube if you ask nicely.”
You shuddered at the thought. You glanced back out and felt your stomach hit your shoes as the last bus pulled out of the parking lot. You were so fucked.
“Hey, wait up!” You skidded on the linoleum.
Eddie started to walk backward, observing you. “You forget something?”
“I just wanted, I guess I’m just asking, could you drive me home again?” You pleaded, pressing your hands together. “They’re going to kill me. I already had to make up some bullshit about me falling in the shower to explain this.”
You pointed at your eye.
“I don't really want to go to prom in a cast.” You continued, a little impressed by how long he could do that. “Plaster is really going to clash with my dress color.”
“Oh, we can’t have that.” Eddie oozed facetiously. “But no go, martyr, I have Hellfire tonight.”
You groaned, finally spotting his shirt. Hellfire. Of course. It was the whole reason you knew him by reputation alone. Why did their dork club have to be tonight. Your life was on the line here.
“I can wait. I’ll wait right here until you’re done.”
“Superintendent walks around this time of day. You want suspension with little Miss Babe Ruth out there?”
“Then I’ll wait in the theater department with you!”
“No fucking way. Hellfire is for members of Hellfire. I’m not a taxi service.”
“Why did you help me yesterday, and then not care today?”
“Thems the breaks.” He shrugged, finally turning around. “And honestly, it was because I felt bad for you.”
“You don’t feel bad for me now?” You puffed out your lip. “Just hold on! I can be nice and pathetic.”
Eddie stopped, letting his head tilt back to observe the ceiling. You were going to keep bugging him, he just knew it.
“How good are you at sitting and keeping quiet?”
“The absolute best!”
»»————————-🦇🦇🦇————————««
You sat cross-legged on a crate off in the wing, parallel to one side of the table. He had refused to find you a chair and you sure as hell wouldn’t be standing for the entirety of whatever the hell this was.
The boys started to drift in a few at a time, stopping short and staring once they saw you. Eddie didn’t offer them any explanation, simply sitting at his throne with his feet propped up, loudly flipping through the pages of his book as he tried to find the campaign outline.
“So…” Lucas began, sharing glances with his friends.
“Will you be joining?” Mike furrowed his brow. “We’re kind of mid-battle. No offense. But we could use another healer, I guess.”
“No, just watching.” You shrugged. “I promise to not distract. Eddie is letting me sit in today as like…. a residency. Shadowing to see if I like it.”
You weren't sure yet if these were the type of people to let know you were hiding. The more popular groups had eyes and ears everywhere.
Dustin nodded enthusiastically, quickly unpacking his backpack which was ripping at the seams.
“We always need extra people. You’ll love it. If you need help building a character later, you can call me!”
Mike and Lucas both catcalled in unison.
“Not like that.” Dustin rolled his eyes as he finally found a large binder of character notes. “Sorry if I got your hopes up. I’m taken.”
You were stunned into silence for a moment, anyone under 17 was essentially a newborn to you anyway. “I’ll find some way to cope. But thank you.”
The rest of the guys loaded in and sported equally confused and intrigued looks.
“New girlfriend Eddie?” Gareth raised his eyebrows.
“She wishes.” Eddie finally looked up from his DM guide.
You scrunched your face in response, shaking your head at the inquisitive group.
“No, no, just, a friend.” You insisted.
Eddie looked over at you, tilting his head at the term. Friend was certainly loosely defined. He had simply done you two solids over the past 24 hours. Hardly bestie material.
The rest of the night went off relatively without a hitch. You couldn’t say you completely understood what was going on. It was kind of like Dragons Lair at the arcade, crossed with math class. You liked when Eddie did voices to represent different characters, and the way the rest of the kids would scream and shout at references you weren’t in on. You did your best to stay quiet as you promised, only letting out a laugh when Jeff and Mike both failed a roll to seduce check in succession. The fictitious wizard barmaid ended up clearing them both with a fire spell that killed their chances of making it out of the tavern discreetly.
They ended on that note, everyone bitching and complaining the “skill checks” were too hard. You felt like they were speaking French but you had a way better time than you thought you would have. At the start you got a little nervous with all the lit candles, it felt straight out of a bloody horror movie. Maybe you were the supple young thing meant for sacrifice.
“Tomorrow, lunch, I’ll help you build something.” Dustin insisted, sticking close to you as the group walked down the lonely school hallway.
The older boys had stayed behind, they were helping Eddie half-assedly shove everything back to where the custodial staff wouldn't yell at them for it later.
The younger half of the group had crowded you the moment they wrapped up, exchanging names excitedly. Apparently they remembered you from way back in the day, when for a brief time you were casual friends with Jonathan Byers, before his family moved.
“Aw dude, no I could never. I would end up embarrassing myself.”
“You think that wasn’t embarrassing for me?” Lucas shook his head. “I tried to flirt with the waitress lady and pissed myself.”
“I’m telling Max.” Mike grinned at him from your other side.
“Doooon’t.” He whined. “She’ll never let me live it down. She thinks this is all lame enough as it is.”
“Max Mayfield?” You turned your head back to him.
“Yeah, do you know her?”
“She’s my neighbor. Well, Eddie and my neighbor. We all live pretty close to each other.”
“That why he’s driving you home?” Mike questioned further.
“Yeah, and I’m not having the best luck with maintaining my social circle lately. Eddie offered to help Trojan Horse me out of here.” You gestured vaguely at your busted nose, and all three boys understood.
Kids that were bullied could pick each other out of crowds with razor sharp precision. The nervous way you walked, the hesitant explanations, the very fact you were okay being seen with the Hellfire club. The party would never judge someone finding refuge.
“He helped us out too. Back when we first started highschool.” Dustin added. “He doesn’t look like it, but he cares. Kind of.”
“He’s really good at hiding it.” You agreed, pushing open the metal door.
The cold night air flooded over the group, adding an extra chill with how sweaty you were from the exciting game.
They all called out goodbyes and see you laters as the older group followed behind, and the kids took their bikes off in the general directions of their homes. Jeff, Gareth, and Grant seemed to be teasing Eddie about something, shoving him around as he exclaimed “Oh, fuck off!”
The trio walked in the direction of the car they always carpooled in with, not really giving you too much of a goodbye. That was okay, the fact they hadn’t spit on you was a small accomplishment.
Eddie jingled his car keys.
“Munson Taxi Service.” He called, walking past you to the van.
“I can pay for gas money, you know. As a thank you?”
“You have a job?”
“No,” You rubbed your arm in thought. “But I think I have birthday money hidden somewhere.”
“Keep it. I make plenty.” He opened the passenger door for you in an unexpected act of chivalry. You hopped in and put your backpack down in the footwell.
If the rumor mill was true, and it rarely was, that little comment held more weight than what he let show. You had heard from one girl's cousin's boyfriend that Eddie was a drug dealer. It would certainly explain the smell, and the fact his mood really ebbed from chill to erratic. You didn't have anything against pot, it was the other things you heard he sold that made you nervous.
Eddie started up the van, and the loud electric sound of Hot For Teacher ripped through the air.
“Dio?” You pointed at the radio excitedly.
“That’s Van Halen. But…” He decided not to be mean. “Good guess.”
You nodded. “Van Halen. Is he good too?”
Eddie turned out of the parking lot and felt literal years come off his life.
“I have to put on some real music for you. You need a complete reeducation.”
“You act like you can’t stand to be around me and now you want to play music teacher?”
“It’s an actual crime how much you don’t know.” He insisted. “If I’m going to keep driving you around you need to know Van Halen. Zeppelin, Poison, Def Leppard. Jesus Christ, Motley Crue!”
You wanted to ask if these were bands or DND terms but you refrained.
“And,” he balanced the steering wheel with his knees as he retrieved a cigarette from his glove box. “I dug up some Stevie Nicks from my old shit last night. Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around is acceptable.”
“I told you. She, shreds!” You smiled to yourself. “And I’ll listen to your stuff too. If you keep driving me around, that is.”
He gave a noncommittal shrug as he lit the cigarette and swerved around a poor family in a minivan just trying to make a right-hand turn.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You know, you’re actually really nice.”
“Don’t go telling people.”