Chapter Text
2001
There was a man who lived alone in the biggest house in the neighborhood, at the end of the cul-de-sac in Riverview. With the wildflowers overgrown in the front yard, and general lack of bustle, you’d assume it to be empty. Many wanders had investigated the lot for a realtor sign to strike out. The man who owned the house spent quite some time inside of it. He was rather peculiar, quiet mostly, but odd noises echoed from it during the night. This mysterious homeowner had thus stirred up quite some chatter about his ways.
You see, there was always something off about the house at the end of the street, a spatial disturbance, a man out of time, something questionable, something off. Residents seemed to have trouble keeping track of him, like they forgot he existed until confronted with his presence. He was quiet, but it was a different sort of forgetting, a forgetting that felt fundamentally wrong .
It’s not that the man himself was creepy, in fact, despite his quiet eccentricity and reluctance to participate in neighborly affairs- he was by far the most eligible bachelor on this side of Riverview. The ladies were squirming to get him out of that big house. Rumors trilled of his shiny hair dazzling in the sunlight. Amber eyes that alone could speed up heartbeats. A crooked, reserved smile that would make any woman looking for a husband swoon with joy. Although these were rare citings they still enamored some sort of mysterious thrill around the peculiar man. What any overly curious young lady would soon find out was he was a difficult fellow, with many strange quirks alongside the projected handsomeness.
If they had their heads screwed on straight, they would see he wasn’t worth the trouble. His list of eccentricities were well documented by his homely neighbors.
The first was rather an egregious act against good Christian holiday traditions. Of course, he decorated for the holidays with wreaths and garlands but refused no matter what to be part of the cohesive festive Christmas light look with stringed lights. It made his house stand out from the uniformity of the rest as the dark brooding one at the very end of the cul-de-sac so lit you could see it from mars. When pressed on this issue, he was unusually snappish and would hide in his house for days on end. When an HOA board member came out to reason, he accepted the fine and sent them on their way.
Not many knew what he did for work. It was known that he had moved to the suburban Riverview upon the destruction of the small town of Hawkins made it completely unlivable. Plenty of Hawkins residents had relocated to the more boisterous Riverview, and that in itself wasn’t unusual. It was rumored, though, that he came from one of the wealthiest families in the lost little town, perhaps why he was able to snatch up the lucrative victorian that was furiously bid over. Although said older family of wealth had never once shown their faces in the cul-de-sac, according to neighbors. So no rumor of his origins could be confirmed, despite how much Patty Lee of the yellow cottage on Orchard St. was convinced. Many other circulations of the prospects of the man, but the most popular aligned with those who had the lucky chance to step inside the big house and see many personal computers and fancy equipment. Supposedly he did something with the new emerging dot com system on the web- but those who lived off rumor mongering loved to romanticize the idea of a Spy or a Special Agent living in their quiet little suburbia.
Although he never seemed to leave his house, he had plenty of visitors, like any other resident on Highbrigger Street- although seemingly no family relation that any nosy neighbor could discern, despite everything, they did act like family.
They were quite the eccentric assortment of confusing relations for one that would otherwise be considered a hermit. Such as several supposedly college students who came and went, staying for various periods of time. Long summer stays, and brief stop bys on their way to and from their various schools around the region, although by this year their visits got a bit more sparse as the neighbors supposed they had graduated at various times and moved on. They still visited occasionally but the life of young professionals was a busy one!
There was also a woman who they once thought to be his girlfriend or perhaps from the ring on her finger- fiance? She originally made many visits before moving in. Although, this little rumor did not hold out very long in the neighborhood after the neighbor in the tasteful navy blue house saw her steal a quick passionate kiss in the upstairs window from the red headed woman she brought with her, and who after this last year, seemed to become a permanent resident. It was then clear what kind of relationship those ladies had- to the displeasure of the prudes. This of course, stirred up some ponderance about this man’s own singlehood, but the hopeless romantics of the neighborhood held on strong.
Another common visitor was a young couple who were sharp and smart, clearly with well paying jobs (a testament to that shiny car they had driven), who had two small children on their hips yelling and squirming with excitement for their god father. Neighbors had heard ‘uncle’ in the mix and had inquired during mailbox-chitchat if he had siblings. The man sighed and smiled that they were his god children, and he was an only child, upon leaving and giving none more detail. Occasionally they brought along a very peculiar man who no one on the cul-de-sac could agree on if he was the ‘Nanny’ or just a jolly friend. His jovial greetings echoed through the street, turning all lawn trimming heads to witness “Hey Brochacho, what's shmakin!?” His hair was peculiarly long, and silky like none other had seen before.
Then there was the older couple who occasionally stopped with the college students, sometimes on their own. The man was certainly a well-worn veteran, but some neighborhood members were able to dig up that he was Hawkin’s ex-police chief, and a valiant hero who saved many lives. The small woman was a bit of a busy body. Before she would enter the big house, neighbors witnessed a grilling session about ‘eating enough’ and ‘getting sunlight’. Anyone who didn’t bother to inquire a little further would assume the elder woman was the resident’s mother for how she kissed his cheek and hugged him.
But despite being a bit of a hermit, the man would softly tell anyone, no, Joyce was just a friend with a motherly instinct.
The most daring, noisiest, neighbor in the bright red house at the crux of the cul-de-sac, dare once ask her, her opinion on the matter, and she laughed as her husband glared them down, making them shiver in their boots, “Well, in a way we’re family. We’d adopt him if he’d let us. Let me tell you this- that man helped save my children multiple times, so if anything, yes, he is my son.” She then rolled her window up, away from prying eyes and her husband took no time to hit the gas.
Although the man had many friends, it was rare to see them all around at once. So one snowy December 24th, of 2001 it surprised the entire neighborhood when one car after another showed up at the big house. There was ample parking space in the cul-de-sac, but it was more of a surprise that the man who always seemed so hermitted would host a party. Perhaps it was the new ladies who had moved in? Perhaps they all finally got fed up? Maybe he finally died?
Nobody would quite get to the bottom of this mystery because unbeknownst to them all, this would be the last christmas, before Steve Harrington rewrote time itself, changing the fate of the cul-de-sac forever.
All those years, all the time pissing off neighbors he was building, yes, a time machine.
A surprise even to Dustin Henderson when he showed up at the doorway, rubbing his mittenless hands together, surveying the unkempt lawn. There was something about the house, beyond the strange, wrongness that even he too, felt yet did not acknowledge, it was overwhelmed by a feeling so sad and tragic. Something sickly took the air. He wasn’t sure if it was the doomed fact that Robin was on her last round of chemo. Maybe it was the general neglect, or the the unwavering cloud that loomed over wherever Steve Harrington settled himself.
But this was the year he’d get to the bottom of it, this was the year he’d finally show up for Steve Harrington, telling him enough is enough. He needed help. In a way Dustin’s pride could never admit to himself until he came to his own terms, his own healing. That is why this year he came alone.
He knew exactly what had made Steve waste 15 years of his life inventing machines and holed up in his giant house. He thought he could save their friends long lost.
But the simple fact was, Eddie Munson was dead, and he wasn’t coming back alive.