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Freak movie night was not at all what Eddie was expecting, but then again, he's not sure what he'd been expecting.
Steve Harrington opening the door in heavy makeup, a hooker dress, and high heels was definitely not it.
Purple polished nails snapped in Eddie's face as he stood, dumbstruck, in the doorway. "You're letting in the heat."
"Eddie!" Buckley cried from somewhere behind Harrington, like she hadn't just seen him a few hours earlier.
Harrington ushered Eddie inside, saying something about needing to check on the stove—which, what?
Harrington's house smelled like weed, which Buckley told Eddie was true at every movie night.
"Jonathan and Argyle are always stoned. They can't afford therapy."
Big Wheeler was practically draped over Buckley as she guided him to the couch. She looked like she might be a bit stoned, too. Actually, they probably all were.
Big Byers and—Argyle? Did he even have a last name?—seemed to be trying to eat the smoke coming out of each other's mouths. They weren't kissing or even touching, but they were doing something. They didn't seem to notice Buckley's dramatic fall when she stepped on the carpet.
Older freaks, Buckley had said. Eddie had been telling himself that he was the freak, the kids were innocent, and the older teens were just there. It had been pointless to try to think there was anyone like him in Hawkins.
But, then, they were watching Rocky Horror. Straight people didn't crossdress or eat each other's smoke or meet up to watch Rocky Horror or insist they would never date despite being perfect together. Not usually, anyway.
Eddie inched his way over to the empty couch and thought about how the lights were low, and the corners of the furniture were padded, and anything breakable was out of sight.
"Nance," Byers mumbled, finally tearing his eyes away from Argyle's mouth. "Nance, what was that."
God, he was so out of it. Maybe someone should cut off his supply more often.
"Robin fell," Wheeler told her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) calmly.
Byers nodded slowly. "Where are we?"
Eddie's attention was drawn away from them by the clatter of Harrington's uneven steps. He probably didn't wear heels often, then.
"Hey, Munson," Harrington called softly. He gestured vaguely behind himself. Eddie guessed he was being summoned, so he didn't bother sitting down.
"Once the movie starts," Harrington murmured, "I'm going to confiscate Jon and Argyle's shit. Help me out?"
Eddie nodded. Therapy or no therapy, they definitely smoked weed too much, and wasn't that weird to think about. Maybe it was because they weren't buying from him, or because he knew Little Byers, but he didn't usually care. People did what people did.
Buckley fell three more times before they started the movie. If Eddie had to guess, she was probably why all the corners were sanded and padded.
Wheeler seemed to be completely invested in whatever Buckley was talking about, which Eddie couldn't get the energy to follow. The shock of the freaks was a bit too much for him to think about anything else.
Harrington pulled off his heels before he stepped foot on the carpet, thank Anubis. He did not need another concussion.
"Hey, Eddie!" Buckley exclaimed. She seemed to have fallen on the floor and not gotten back up. "You've watched Rocky Horror before, right? I mean, I think you have, and you must have, but maybe you haven't and I don't—"
"I've seen it," Eddie interrupted.
"Great," Argyle said. "I'm the only one who hasn't."
"No," Byers whined for no discernible reason. None of the other freaks felt a need to explain.
"Everyone be quiet," Wheeler commanded. "Movie now, talk later."
Echoes of agreement sounded around the room, and Eddie finally sank into a chair. Rocky Horror with Steve Harrington and the local freaks. Who'd have thought?