Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air is cold, and it cuts through Mary’s sweater. She should have worn the coat her mom told her to. She leans against the brick of the high school building, shoving her hands in her pockets. Nancy is coming from the studio, so it takes her a few minutes to reach the exit; being the only one having a car, they must wait for her. Robin leans up beside Mary on the wall. 

“‘Sup,” Robin nods, her bag slung over one shoulder. “Do you have your textbook with you? I forgot mine in my locker.”

“Yeah, I have mine,” Mary replies. All three girls are in senior history class together, and have chosen to collaborate on their midterm paper. They haven’t been friends for long, but the seating arrangement had placed them near each other, and they made fast friends after Mary overheard Robin making fun of the substitute teacher. Mary got the sense that Nancy and Robin knew each other pretty well already, although she didn’t know why, as they didn’t share the same social circles.

Nancy emerges from the double metal doors, a tote bag accompanying her fashionable outfit. “Hey, thanks for waiting. I’m parked around that side.”

“Bye, Nancy! See you tomorrow!” calls a boy from the sidewalk. It’s Ted Benson, the nerd working on the school paper with Nancy. She waves health-heartedly, with a tight-lipped smile. 

“You have a fan, Nancy?” Mary asks as they walk towards the car. 

“Ugh, he’s always in my business,” Nancy complains, her keys jingling in her hand. “I mean, he’s a nice guy, but he’s so…”

“Annoying? Dorky? Clingy?” Robin suggests. 

“Short,” Nancy finishes. They load into the car and set off to Robin’s house. 

“Where’s Jonathan today, Nancy?” Mary asks as they drive. 

“He’s working again,” Nancy replies, with some tiredness in her voice. “He’s trying to save up money for college.”

“Hey, you can park down at the end of the street, Nancy. Sorry, the driveway only fits one car,” Robin says. 

“Okay, no problem.”

“And try to get close to the curb, some assholes like to drive crazy down this way.”

Nancy pulls the long car over. Mary climbs from the backseat, rising into the cold air. The sun is already dropping low in the sky in the winter afternoon. She notices she can hear music playing nearby, strange considering the weather and otherwise quiet street. Robin leads the way down the sidewalk, Nancy by her side. Mary follows close behind, looking around for the source. 

“Those freaks are disturbing the peace again,” Robin says, gesturing to the next house they were going to pass. Passing by a fence, the house comes into view. 

The scene reveals a normal suburban home, with a connected garage. The open garage door frames a scene of pandemonium. It looks like a rock concert with no audience. 

“They think that’s music?” Robin scoffs as they stare up the driveway. 

“Just sounds like noise,” Nancy concurs, turning her head forward again. 

Mary stays quiet, and keeps looking at the players. There’s four of them, and the one in the front is…he’s in the class ahead of her, right? No, he didn’t graduate, so he’s in her class. He’s wearing a denim vest over a leather jacket. He’s tall and lanky, and she can only see his face in glimpses as he headbangs to the rhythm. He straightens up and clocks the passing girls, but never stops playing. 

Robin and Nancy keep walking, side by side, down the sidewalk. Their minds quickly forget about the noise, and their conversation turns to other topics. Mary, however, can’t get it out of her head. She wants to hear more of those guitar chords and that thrashing percussion. She keeps walking behind her friends, though, and soon they reach Robin’s house. Nancy excuses herself to the restroom, and Robins sits down in the kitchen to sort the daily mail with a bored expression. 

“I’ll be right back, Robin,” Mary says, heading back towards the door. 

“Yeah, ok,” Robin says absentmindedly, flipping through the mail on the counter. 

Mary slips out the front door and heads back up the street towards the intriguing sound. The music dies down as she walks. She nears the fence, takes a deep breath, and steps out into view of the garage. 

No one is playing. The guys are turned toward each other, having a discussion. She could turn back now, they haven’t seen her yet. Her feet move her up the driveway pavement, right to the threshold. 

“--and that’s why you broke your goddamn finger last time, dude, the cymbal was…” the conversation trails off as she is seen. All four guys are now looking at her in silence.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, I think we go to the same school?” she says. It was clumsy, but true. 

“The shithole that is Hawkins High? That’s right,” says the boy closest to her, holding an electric guitar, his hair cut in a shag.

“I’m Mary,” she says, giving a small wave. 

“Nice to meet you, Mary,” the long-haired boy says. “I’m Eddie. That’s Jeff on guitar, Gareth on drums, and Grant on bass.” He points casually to each band member as he names them. 

“Can I ask what that was that you guys were playing? I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

Eddie answers her. “It’s called metal, Mary. It’s like hard rock, only harder.” He has a playful lilt to his voice, bordering on teasing.

“Oh, cool.” She smiles nervously. “I liked the sound. My friends didn’t, uh, like it, but I do.”

“Well, if you’re really interested, we were covering a song by this band called Metallica. I could lend you some tapes if you want to try them out.” Eddie shifted his weight to his left leg, his hands hanging casually over his guitar. 

Mary brightens. “Really? That would be great!”

“Totally, no problem.” He unloops the guitar strap over his shoulder and sets it on a stand to the side. Mary watches him, and feels the eyes of the other boys on her. 

“They’re over here.” He walks to the back corner of the garage. Mary follows, stepping over cables and discarded cans of Mountain Dew. He grabs a couple tapes from a haphazard stack. “Here you go. Metallica’s best. Be careful who hears you play those. You’ll get branded a freak, like us.” He gives her a wink and a smile. Mary feels her face grow warm. 

He holds the tapes out, but keeps his hand close to his chest, so she must reach out to grab them. 

“Give those a listen. You can find me at school to return ‘em later,” he says in a quiet voice. She grasps the tapes, not even looking at the covers, and backs away towards the open door again. 

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” she says, and then looks at the other boys, still staring at her. “Thanks guys.” She turns and hustles down the driveway and around the corner.

When she’s gone, Eddie picks up his guitar again and strums a few chords. Grant is the first to speak. 

“Did that really just happen? Did a girl talk to us?”

“A pretty girl?” Jeff chimes in.

“That she did, boys,” Eddie says, tuning his guitar, which was definitely already in tune. 

Gareth grunts disapprovingly from behind them. “You’re never getting those tapes back, Eddie.”

“Why are you so distrustful, man?” Jeff asks.

“She’s just going to play them for her friends, and they’re going to make fun of us. And those weren’t even your tapes, Eddie, they’re Grant’s.”

“I’m ok with it,” Grant says, his chubby face breaking into a grin. “I like the idea of Nancy Wheeler listening to my tapes, even if she’s making fun of them.”

Eddie gives the hand signal that they’re moving to the next song on their imaginary setlist. As Gareth counts them in, his thoughts linger on the brave girl named Mary. 

Mary goes home that night with the secret tapes in her bag. Only when she is alone in her room does she finally pull them out to examine them. She finds two tapes, titled “Kill ‘Em All” and “Ride the Lightning”. Using her Sony Walkman and some over-ear headphones, she sits at the foot of her bed and listens to each one. Then she listens over again, thinking about Eddie. He’s such an enigmatic mystery. Such a stranger. She is used to music making her feel like dancing, or singing along, but not this. This music makes her feel powerful. It makes her angry, a righteous anger, but an anger at what she can’t articulate. 

Maybe this is what she’s been searching for. After moving to Hawkins to start high school four years ago, Mary always felt the students at Hawkins High were an impenetrable tightly-knit community. Everyone had known each other since kindergarten. She’s made many friends, and fits in just fine; some might even say she was a popular girl, not as well-liked as Nancy, but more than Robin.  Now she’s ready to graduate, but has never found her people. And she was getting really tired of this girl-next-door kind of life. The suburban middle-class experience so far is lackluster for Mary. She craves self-expression, adventure, and danger, which her life has never had. 

She carefully packs the tapes on Sunday night.

--

Lunchtime rolls around at Hawkins High on a cold February Monday. Mary files out of her period before lunch, biology, and walks with the crowd headed to the cafeteria. She makes a detour to the bathroom and checks herself in the mirror. She fluffs her hair and applies some lip gloss, sharing the space with half a dozen other girls doing the same. 80s hairstyles require a lot of maintenance--no one wants to be seen with flat hair. She wastes time for a few minutes until she’s sure most students are through the lunchline and sat at their unofficial assigned seats. When she enters the caf, she doesn’t go to her normal table, with Robin and the band geeks (Nancy usually took lunch in the editors’ room). She scans the tables, seeing the cheerleaders mingling with the basketball team, the party kids, some tables of freshmen, the science team, the quiet girls, and finally spots the table of outcasts. She steels herself once again and approaches the table of so-called “freaks”. 

“Eddie!” she says in a friendly tone, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns to look at her, his wide eyes quickly crinkling into a smile. “Excuse me, can you scooch down please?” she asks the freshman sitting next to him, a kid with braces. 

“Certainly,” the kid says, practically knocking over the boy on his other side in his haste to move over. The boy starts to complain, but then sees Mary climbing over the bench, and quickly shuts his mouth.

“Hey Mary, what a nice surprise,” Eddie says, that playful look always in his eyes. He clears his throat dramatically, addressing everyone, who are now staring at the two of them. “Everyone, this is Mary. Mary, you’ve met the band, and here’s Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will, all members of our Dungeons and Dragons club, Hellfire.”

“Hi, everyone,” she greets them. Then she turns her shoulders to Eddie, and lowers her voice again, not comfortable to be speaking to such a large group. “So, I listened to these…” She pulls the tapes from her jacket pocket. “Thanks again for lending them to me. I especially like “For Whom the Bell Tolls”.”

“I’m glad you like ‘em, Mary,” Eddie says. He chuckles. 

“Actually, I want to ask if I could borrow them for a little longer. I didn’t want you to think I would just steal them or something.”

Eddie quirks up an eyebrow at Gareth across the table, an “I-told-you-so”.

“Hey, Mary,” Gareth cuts in, leaning over the table and speaking loudly. “Where do you normally sit at lunch?” 

“Um,” she hesitates. “With the band kids.” Her eyes shift side to side with uncertainty. She was accepted at the band geek table, but she doubted they would miss her presence. 

“Did you tell them you’re sitting with the freaks today? What would they think about that?”

Mary frowns, sensing his hostility. “Well, I’ll leave you guys to it,” she says, rising quickly. “See you,” she says to Eddie, her gaze lingering for a moment before turning away. There was a question in her tone. He nods and lets her leave. Mary is a little deflated, but not discouraged. She resigns to later ask Eddie what the hell “Dungeons and Dragons” is.

When she’s gone, every boy at the table swivels their heads to glare at Gareth. 

“What the hell, man?” Dustin exclaims. “That was the first girl to talk to us in forever.”

“You scared her off,” Mike accuses. 

“Ladies don’t respond to that kind of talk, Gareth,” Lucas adds. “You gotta charm them.”

“Whatever,” Gareth says defensively. 

“Hallway, now,” Eddie says in a low, menacing tone. As the leader of both Hellfire and Corroded Coffin, and the oldest, his authority at this lunch table is unchallenged. Gareth groans, but gets up and follows Eddie out into the mostly deserted hallway. Eddie is going to have a much-needed one-on-one with his drummer. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Eddie asks, his tone harsh. 

“I don’t know, she’s just annoying,” Gareth shrugs and doesn’t meet his eyes.

“You can’t be an asshole like that, man. Hey, listen to me!” Eddie pushes Gareth’s shoulder. “Don’t be an asshole to girls, ok? She doesn’t deserve that. Save that shit for Jason or his dickhead friends. And gatekeeping is not cool. If she wants to listen to metal, she can. We encourage that.”

Gareth shifts side to side uncomfortably. “Sorry, Eddie,” he says eventually. 

“It’s not me who you need to apologize to. I need to see you make this better.”

“Yeah, ok. I will.”

“Good. And let me help you see this in a more positive light.” Eddie swings an arm over Gareth’s shoulders in a friendly embrace. “Girls travel in packs. It’s their nature. If we can get Mary to hang around with us, eventually that could lead to more girls…” he leaves a pregnant pause. “Even groupies. Who knows? So keep an open mind.” 

Gareth’s whole mindset is changed by Eddie’s charismatic speech. With that seed of an idea planted in his mind, he meets Eddie’s eyes with a new excitement.

--

At the end of the school day, Mary is gathering her folders into her backpack with her locker standing open. She leans down to grab her coat, which has fallen to the bottom. When she straightens, she feels a presence on the other side of the locker door. She slowly closes the door, a tall boy with long curly hair coming into view. He leans against one elbow placed at about her head height on the metal door. 

Eddie sees her from down the hall, and follows behind her to her locker. He sees her bend down to reach something, and she does it in such a captivating way--bending at the hips, her jeans pulling tighter over her butt and thighs, and her shirt lifting up the slightest bit, her hair falling into her face. He swallows and runs a hand through his hair, then assumes his position against the locker. 

“Hey, Eddie,” she says, giving a small smile. She hooks her hair behind her ear with her hand. 

“Mary,” he says, returning her smile. Her hand remains on the door. “If you’re free, Corroded Coffin is having another rehearsal on Saturday. I’m extending the invitation. It’s very exclusive, you know, as usually not a single person attends.” 

“I’m honored, kind sir,” Mary replies, going with the bit. “I’d love to come, Eddie. It’s at Grant’s again?”

“Yep. We usually start at 7. Sometimes 8. Sometimes 9. So just come whenever.”

“For sure,” she replies. Both of them are making an effort to appear casual. Mary sees two girls from her biology class stealing suspicious glances at them, then turning to each other and whispering. It is an unusual sight to see Eddie Munson talking to a normal girl. She closes the locker and then turns to him, taking a second to admire him again. He’s at least six inches taller than her. His hair looks soft and fluffy. She wishes to touch it. His vest is decorated with pins, patches, and buttons, most of which she doesn’t recognize. He wears white sneakers and jeans, a classic enough outfit. His eyes are, well, captivating. They are warm and brown, and nearly always crinkling with mischief. 

He admires her too. She wears a little makeup, and cute little pearl earrings. Her dark jeans and yellow Gap crewneck sweatshirt fit her well. She wears some matching hair clips, her hair curled and hair sprayed up into volume, like how most of the senior girls wore their hair. It suits her. Her frame is petite, but she has great posture, making her seem taller than she is. She doesn’t slouch or shrink away from him as they face each other. 

“How are you getting home, Mary?” Eddie asks after the pause, searching for something else to talk about. 

“I ride my bike most days,” Mary replies. “Sometimes my mom picks me up.”

“I’ve got a sweet chariot, if you ever find yourself in need of a ride,” he offers, cringing a little at how it sounded. She smiles and looks at him sideways as she starts walking towards the exit. 

“I’m covered for today, but thanks for the offer,” she replies. “I might take you up on that.”

He nods and waves as she walks away. Damn. She’s cute and flirty. Eddie finds himself thinking of her all the way home to his dirty room. 

Chapter Text

“Follow me
Don't be such a holy fool"
-”Electric Chapel” Lady Gaga

Gareth counts off with his drumsticks, and the band launches into their cover song. Mary sits on the edge of the metal folding chair, watching from the side. The amp is loud, and it’s nearly painful, but she ignores it and focuses on the musicians. 

Jeff plays electric guitar, his pick flying over the strings. He bounces and nods along with the rhythm. 

Grant doesn’t move as much, but still keeps the beat with a shake of the head, and supplies the chest-thumping bass. 

Gareth moves a lot, smacking the drums and cymbals with great force. She is amazed by how quick his hands move over the drum set, and how fast his feet pound the pedals. 

Eddie also plays electric guitar, adding riffs here and there as the song progresses. After a few bars of music, he leans forward to the mic and starts to sing. 

Mary’s jaw drops, her lips hanging open as he yells into the mic. She’s never heard him sing before. He carries the tune well, hitting each note powerfully. His face is full of emotion as he recites the lyrics. She feels an admiration growing in her chest. 

The song is long, with lots of long sections of just instruments. When he steps away from the mic during those parts, he flashes a wide smile over Mary’s way. She smiles back, a slight blush spreading over her cheeks. 

As their rehearsal goes on, Eddie casts more and more glances her way, until he decides to end the session. 

“Let’s cut it here for tonight, guys,” Eddie says, removing his guitar strap over his head. 

The others mumble agreement and start packing up. Mary gets up and walks over to him. 

“That was great, Eddie,” she says breathlessly. She touches his chest in a playful gesture. Then she walks over to Gareth. 

“Hey, Gareth,” she starts, eyeing him cautiously. “You really rock. Thanks for letting me listen.”

He doesn’t meet her eyes. “Hey Mary, yeah, whatever. Anytime. And, um…” he pauses, and looks over at Eddie, who gives him a “go on” from behind her back. “Sorry if I was being a dick to you. You’re cool.” He meets her eyes now. 

She smiles genuinely. “Don’t worry about it, Gareth. You’re cool too.” He sits up a little straighter at that. 

She walks back over to Eddie. 

“So, what are you up to the rest of the night?” he asks her nonchalantly.

“Nothing. I was hoping we could hang out.” 

He laughs, sounding a little nervous. “Ok, sure. Where do you wanna go?”

“Well, my parents are home. So not my house.”

“My place then. Alright, I’ll get the van.”

As they ride in the car, Eddie wants to get out ahead of the judgment that he is used to receiving for his home. 

“Just so you know, I live at the trailer park. It’s a double wide, nothing fancy. I live there with my uncle, he works nights.”

“Ok, cool.” That was all she said. No double take, no derision. It’s a relief. When they arrive, she bounces down out of the car and waits behind him as he unlocks the door. 

“Can I see your room?” 

“Of course, let me give you the full tour,”  Eddie says, leading her down a short hallway. She follows him into the room as he flips the light switch. “Here’s my cave.”

His room is small, and every wall is covered with posters of bands, movies, and celebrities. There’s clothes scattered across the floor, and the twin bed, with its plaid duvet, is unmade. The dresser is littered with jewelry, boxes of cigarettes, dice, guitar picks, and crumpled dollar bills and coins. His back turned to her, she sees him hastily sweep some items from the nightstand into a drawer and turn back to her. Against the far wall is a mirror, with photos and old ticket stubs tacked all around the border. In the center is an empty hook. Eddie hangs his treasured electric guitar.  

“She’s a Warlock NJ Series electric guitar, '' Eddie says, lovingly stroking the neck of the guitar. “Yeah, she’s worth more than anything in this trailer.”

“She’s beautiful,” Mary agrees, looking first at the instrument, then at Eddie’s reflection in the dirty mirror. 

“Yes, she is,” he replies in a murmur. His gaze lifts to meet Mary’s eyes in the reflection. 

“Need anything to drink or eat?” he asks, changing the topic. 

“I would love any kind of pop you have.”

“I’ll grab it for you,” Eddie says, sliding past her back out of the room. 

Once in the kitchen, Eddie wipes his hands on his pants. Home alone, with a cute girl in his bedroom? Holy shit. He peers into the fridge and grabs two cans of Coke. He takes a moment to collect himself and sidles back down the hallway. 

Meanwhile, Mary takes the opportunity to snoop in his nightstand drawer. She knows she shouldn’t, but curiosity wins, and she slides the drawer open a few inches. Inside, she sees the illustrated cover of a magazine titled, “Heavy Metal”. Flipping through the first few pages reveals some suggestive images of the female nature. Beneath it is a Penthouse magazine, which she doesn’t need to flip through to know what’s inside. Beneath both magazines is a small blue box, which she recognizes from the aisle at CVS near where they sell the tampons and pregnancy tests. Her heart flutters when she realizes he has a new pack of condoms in his room. She has no further time to contemplate when she hears his footsteps in the hall again. 

She is facing the door way innocently when he enters. She gratefully accepts the drink and then starts more carefully observing his decor, wandering around the perimeter of the room. 

Eddie’s palms are sweating again. It seems like she’s intending to stay a while, as she’s making no signs of leaving. He leans against the door frame and quietly watches her as she reads the spines of his books: Dungeon and Dragons guidebooks, and Tolkien.

“It’s a fantasy role-playing game,” he replies, doing his best to explain D&D as she asks a few questions.

“I think I’ll have to see you play it to understand it,” she says, straightening. 

“Um, party members only, sorry. I can’t break that rule, even for you.” Eddie rubs his head apologetically. 

“Fine, be that way,” she teases, picking up a die and rolling it. It bounces and falls to the carpet. She bends over to pick it up, moving slower than necessary. 

“Ten! Is that good?” she says, picking up the die and standing straight again. She catches Eddie staring this time. 

“Uh, it depends,” he stammers. He starts rambling about stats, hit points, attack and defense, while Mary takes a few steps forward and grabs his hand from his side, placing the die in it. He stops talking. She holds his hand in hers for a few long seconds. 

“Are all boys dumb, Eddie?” Mary asks, her voice low and full of promise. 

“Huh?” He is frozen, staring down at her. 

“I want you to kiss me, dummy,” she says, tilting her head back even farther. 

Eddie’s eyes fly wide, then his lids drop again. He had been waiting for the sign, and this is a billboard with neon lights around it. They look at each other a moment, inches separating their faces. He places his hand on the back of her neck, and she reaches up and does the same to him. He leans forward to close that gap, and their lips meet. 

“Aren’t you dating, uh, some guy on the team?” Eddie asks, pulling away slightly. 

“Jacob? Hell no. I broke up with him months ago. That’s history.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” He leans in again. The kisses are slightly tentative at first, but the pressure increases, and soon they’re sucking face. She pulls away with a gasp, catching her breath, and giggles, grabbing his hand in hers and pulling him over to the bed. He stumbles after her, hardly believing his luck. They sit on his unmade sheets, and this time he grabs her head and draws her to him. His hands find her waist, then travel down her hips which he has been admiring for so many days. She’s rubbing her hands salaciously on his chest over his t-shirt. Her hands find his hair, and he melts as she runs her fingers over his scalp, getting tangled in the curly mess. After an untold amount of time (probably 5 minutes), she pulls back and adjusts her shirt. 

“I want to listen to some music,” Mary says.

“Yeah sure, ok, anything in particular?” he says, rising, his hair excessively messed up. His clothes are wrinkled. He is flushed, and looks somewhat like a young deer, unsteady on his feet. 

“Some of your favorites,” she says, smiling sweetly. 

“Coming right up.” He selects a cassette from a rack, much more neatly stacked than Grant’s. It is perhaps the only thing in the room that is organized. “This is Dio’s debut album. Changed my life.” 

The music starts to play, and he plays air guitar and headbangs a few times. She laughs, and he does an exaggerated performance all the way back over to the bed. Standing over her, he straddles her knees as she sits, and takes her chin in his hands. Her head tilts back. He takes up her entire field of vision with his beautiful face. It’s pure bliss when he bends down to kiss her open mouth. She leans back, flopping down against the mattress. His sheets smell like him. He crawls over her, and hooks under one knee with his own. Their clothes are still on, but the closeness electricifies them. Tongues mingling, his hands find her breast. He lowers his body weight onto her slowly, until the pressure of his crotch on hers becomes incendiary. Caught up in the heat of it, he instinctively grinds forward into her hips. It’s not a conscious decision, it just feels right. She gasps. She can feel something hard underneath the denim of his jeans.

“Eddie!” she chides jokingly. 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues his ministrations. They go on this way for a long time, the minutes on the clock having no importance anymore. Until Mary opens her eyes for a moment to see his digital GE alarm clock read out 10:08.

“Fuck,” she whispers. He grunts an “mm-hmm” in her ear, nuzzling her neck. “I have to go home.”

He slowly extracts his face from her skin. “Why?” he asks innocently. 

“Curfew is 10,” she replies. “I’ll get in trouble for this.”

“Oh, shit,” he says, his voice gravelly. He disentangles his limbs from hers. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks for understanding, Eddie,” she says, getting up and running her hands through her hair. 

“Of course, of course, I realize not everyone is a delinquent with an absent father like me,” he replies. Mary is getting used to his self-deprecating humor. As they make their way to the van, a dog across the street barks at them. He starts the van, backs out onto the street and reaches out for her hand. She is charmed by this romantic gesture. They hold hands all the way to her street, a quiet suburban road lit by a few road lights. 

“This is me,” she says, gesturing to the next split-level home. 

“I have returned the princess to her castle,” he says, drawing her hand to his lips in a courtly kiss.

“Thank you, brave knight,” she jokes. He peers at her over her sleeve. She peers into those warm, kind brown eyes, and blushes for real. 

“Goodnight, Eddie,” she says, swinging open the door and waving. 

“Goodnight, Mary,” he replies, watching her all the way to her front door. The warm light from the house spills out onto the front step as she opens the front door and disappears inside. 

Eddie drives slowly all the way back home, barely aware of what he’s doing. She is so great. He dwells each second on the way she kissed him, and the way she looked sitting on his bed, and how she gently touched him. It felt like a spell had been cast over him. His eyes have a dreamy glaze as he flops back down on his mattress, alone again.