Chapter Text
*
🎸
*
Eddie spoke to him for the first time in their form room.
September brought about a new set of challenges. It had been easy to forget about the problems that school created when he was able to surround himself with his friends. Endless movie nights with Chrissy and Gareth were easy – even if Gareth had lately become something of a movie snob. Chrissy would just snort and make fun of him. She painted her own nails, then offered to paint theirs. Over the summer, Eddie had readily agreed. The weekend before school started again, he hastily scrubbed off the black polish, his heart only a little bit broken.
It wasn’t that he was closeted. Oh no, that cat got let out of the bag last year. It had been torture. It started out as hushed whispers in the corridor, “Oh, did you hear? Eddie Munson got caught kissing a boy!” and “I always knew there was something weird about him, he’s too camp to be straight”. Then, it got outright hostile.
Tommy was his biggest problem. He was on the rugby team and apparently the fact that there was a gay kid in the year above him was the biggest threat to his masculinity. It never got too out of hand, but Tommy spat venom at him whenever he passed Eddie in the corridors, and it had gotten pretty old pretty fast.
But it was September.
Eddie hoped that meant a fresh start.
In some ways, it was. He noticed that there were less stares as he walked through the corridor to his form room. That was a nice development. The summer holidays must have given everyone a chance to be okay with the absolute scandal that was a gay person in close proximity to them. Relieved, Eddie let out a breath of air that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and the tension dripped away from his shoulders.
Some things were the same, namely the absolutely disgusted looks he got from Tommy.
Eddie sighed and checked the corridor for any signs of teachers before pulling out his phone. He hastily started typing to the groupchat, lovingly labelled “film nerds”.
Eddie🏳️🌈: need another movie night soon. school’s barely started and the anxiety is creeping in.
Chrissy🏳️⚧️: at least you’re at the same school! starting over is the most intimidating thing ever!
That message was closely followed by another.
Chrissy🏳️⚧️: i heard that lenora has a cheerleading team, though! i really want to try out!!
They had watched Bring it On over the summer. Gareth had hated every second of it. Chrissy, on the other hand, was entranced. Being stuck at an all boys school had really held her back, in that way among many others. As much as Eddie felt a pang of loneliness, suddenly going from two friends to only one, he was so happy for her. Hawkins Academy may have been hell for Eddie last year, but for Chrissy? The only trans student and the only girl? There had to be a place below hell, like some kind of super-hell, because that’s what Hawkins Academy had been for her.
So for Chrissy to be attending Lenora Academy, Hawkins’ sister school for girls, and for them to have a cheerleading team? It must seem like heaven.
Eddie’s phone vibrated once more.
Gareth🏴☠️: Shouldn’t you both be in form right now?
It was 8:47. Fuck.
Eddie hadn’t noticed the crowds in the corridors dwindling, but now, he rushed through what remained of them to push his way towards his new form room.
Hawkins Academy had given in to the new trend of “vertical form groups”. He’d received a letter about it during the school holidays, as well as an email, because if anything, Hawkins liked to be thorough in its communication with parents (or uncles, as Eddie’s case may be). The letter had explained that their forms would now be mixed across year groups and Eddie was having a hard time keeping his anxiety at bay. The threat that he would have to be in the same room as Tommy every day was a real one, and although the school was aware of the situation last year (as they’d called it, unwilling to utter the word bullying), it wouldn’t surprise Eddie if they saw it as an opportunity to promote tolerance, or whatever bullshit the headmaster was spouting lately.
Eddie rounded the corner into the English classroom with a clumsy sort of precision, whacking his shoulder on the door-frame, but otherwise managing to enter the room unscathed.
“Ah, Edward Munson, nice of you to join us,” Mr Dean narrowed his eyes. The clock on the wall by his desk read 8:52. “Late on the first day, I hope this won’t become a habit.”
Eddie had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, “Sorry I’m late, Sir,” he managed to say, narrowly avoiding sarcasm.
Mr Dean didn’t acknowledge his apology, turning instead to point to a seat near the windows, “You’re sitting over there. Next to Steven Harrington.”
Eddie’s eyes followed in the direction that Mr Dean was pointing and oh.
Because Eddie knew who Steve Harrington was, he would’ve had to live under a rock not to. Steve was everything that a teenage boy could hope to be; he was popular, sporty, attractive, smart, but not too smart to end up being bullied for being a nerd. He was in year ten, a year below Eddie, and he was friends with Tommy. Steve seemed to rein Tommy in, though, the guy was almost bearable when he was with Steve. Tommy only ever spewed vitriol when Steve wasn’t around, as if he knew Steve would put a stop to it. Or maybe that was Eddie’s inescapable crush on Steve Harrington talking.
Steve was a proper Prince Charming, really, and Eddie couldn’t slow the pounding of his heartbeat as he made his way over to the empty seat on Steve’s left.
“Hi,” he breathed, sinking down onto the seat.
“Hi,” Steve replied, an easy smile gracing his lips.
Eddie had to fight to look away from the heavenly hazel of Steve’s eyes, but the school was only recently okay with his sexuality and he didn’t want to push it. Eddie diverted his attention to his hands. It was a little early in the day to start covering them with graffiti, if he started now then he’d be out of room by the end of his second lesson, but he risked it anyway. He pulled a black biro out of his blazer pocket and got to work, tracing a skull design on his wrist.
And if Eddie was letting himself be totally delusional, when the bell rang and he finally looked up, Eddie could almost see Steve moving his gaze away from Eddie’s wrist.
He hurried off to his Maths classroom, a light pink dusting his cheeks.
*
The next time Eddie got a chance to check his phone was at his guitar lesson. It was scheduled for 12:30 today, meaning that Eddie missed the last half of Science and was able to go straight to lunch after. He definitely wasn’t complaining about missing another one of Dr Neilson’s lectures. His droning voice was just not what he needed on the first day back (or ever ).
Eddie pulled up the groupchat again quickly.
Eddie🏳️🌈: code RED!!!!
Eddie🏳️🌈: meet at chrissy’s later?
Eddie🏳️🌈: NEED to talk!!!
He put his phone away before Gareth could demand an explanation, he wasn’t averse to checking his phone in class and he would definitely be replying soon, especially if Neilson was still on his tirade. With his phone safely in the front pocket of his backpack, Eddie tossed it to the corner of the room and began to set up the amplifier ready for when Miss Daniels made her way in.
Miss Daniels had been at the school for three years now. She had just started when Eddie started year nine. He’d always thought that music class should be fun. He liked music. He had a varied music taste but mostly leaned towards metal, which he had discovered when he found a video of a Metallica performance on youtube when he was ten. And yet, he was stuck playing Hot Cross Buns on a fucking recorder.
Then Miss Daniels came along. She stood up in an assembly and told them that she was starting one-to-one music lessons for piano, guitar and drums. Eddie marvelled at the way that she said it so casually, that she could play three fucking instruments and not one of them was a recorder. And she looked so cool. She had multiple piercings running along the edge of her ear, her hair was short and dyed black, she had dark eyeliner dragged across her lashline and when she rolled up her shirt sleeves, he was sure he spotted ink. He’d pretty much sprinted up to her as soon as the assembly was over to beg to be on the list for guitar lessons. He’d been in them ever since.
Miss Daniels was also openly queer. She’d been there for him when the bullying and the whispers got really bad; he’d only told her because of the pride badge displayed prominently on her school lanyard. She let Eddie hide out in the music rooms at break and lunchtime, avoiding the crowds with their sneering and stares. Avoiding Tommy. He spent the whole time learning to play Master of Puppets until he had it nearly perfect. Miss Daniels had complimented him on it quite a bit and it made his heart sing to hear her voice calling him a “musical prodigy”.
He’d written her a lengthy thank you card at the end of every year, and he hated the idea that he had to choose between staying at Hawkins for Sixth Form and leaving Miss Daniels while he went off to college.
That was a decision for another day.
*
Chrissy had only slightly complained about hosting them all at her house again. Eddie had reminded her that Gareth’s room was uninhabitable and her house was much closer to the school, so she relented easily.
“What’s so important that you called a code red?” Gareth asked, staring up at the ceiling from where he lay on Chrissy’s floor. She had placed a baby blue rug in the centre of her room and Gareth maintained that it was the comfiest spot in the universe.
“I have to sit next to Steve Harrington in form,” Eddie groaned, dropping his face into his hands.
“Steve Harrington?” Chrissy’s eyes widened. “He’s hot.”
“The one who looks like a golden retriever?” Gareth scoffed.
“He does not look like a golden retriever!” Eddie kicked at Gareth from where he sat on Chrissy’s bed.
Gareth didn’t say anything, he just gave Eddie a look drowning in sarcasm and the words he was holding back. Eddie could tell.
“Okay,” Eddie relented with a giggle. “He kind of does!”
“I can’t believe you’re crushing on straight-boy rugby-king Steve Harrington,” Gareth made a retching sound.
“No one said anything about a crush,” Eddie insisted.
Chrissy scoffed this time, “It’s written all over your face, Eddie.”
“We’ve barely even said hi to each other!” Eddie said, and it was the truth.
“You’ve been attracted to him for ages, though,” Chrissy shrugged. “I can see why.”
Gareth’s face twinged at that, a moment of hurt and disgust before he covered it with a neutral expression, one that betrayed nothing. Eddie would have to question him about that later.
“I have eyes, Chrissy,” Eddie flopped backwards onto the bed, his hair landing next to her thigh. “That’s all.”
She hummed an agreement before she started playing with his hair, “What are we watching tonight?”
Eddie was glad that she had the tact to change the subject. Lord knows that Gareth wouldn’t. Eddie shrugged in reply.
“What about Hunt for the Wilderpeople?” Gareth suggested, sitting up with a glint in his eye.
Eddie rolled his eyes, but Chrissy giggled and started to set up the movie.
He would have to ask her about that later too.
*
🏉
*
Things passed for Steve and Eddie in the same way for a while. They continued to say “Hi” to each other regularly, always with a friendly smile, but there was never anything more. They didn’t even change it up and say “good morning”. Steve had thought about it once, but the familiarity of the routine made him melt. It was comforting.
Steve was always in his seat before Eddie. He looked up at Eddie with kind eyes, arms folded across his chest and he said it again: “Hi.”
Eddie replied in turn, his voice louder and more confident than it had been on that first day. Then he turned his attention back to his hands, as he always did. Yesterday’s doodles were smudged and faded where he had attempted to wash them off, but hadn’t quite been successful. Steve could still see the faded remnants of knuckle tattoos, though he couldn’t tell what had been scrawled across them. Steve sat and watched him draw, as he always did. Today, Eddie drew a guitar on the back of his hand; it had pointed edges and a mottled black design on it. It was so big that the neck of the guitar started to breach past his hand and up his wrist. Steve wanted to ask about it – did he design it himself, or was it one that already existed?
Eddie fished around in his pencil case for a red pen to fill in the design.
If it did already exist, what kind of guitar was it? Steve knew that Eddie played guitar; he'd been in the school talent show two years ago. He wondered why Eddie didn’t participate last year.
Steve opened his mouth and sucked in a breath to ask, and then the bell rang out for first period.
*
Steve spent a bit too much time thinking about how he was actually going to have a conversation with Eddie, what he could say, or ask, how he could get to know the person he’d been sharing a table with for the past couple of weeks.
He pushed the thought out of his mind when he jogged out onto the rugby pitch. He’d been pulled out of his final lesson for a last minute training session before their match after school. It was against some school in the next town and they needed to be on the coach at 3 o’clock sharp. It was nice, being out on the pitch. The familiar fit of his rugby shirt was like a comforting hug, one that he’d been longing for all summer. Steve pushed the sleeves up his arms, bunching them at his elbows. He rocked from one foot to the other and shook out his arm muscles. This was it. This was what he was good at.
Just like that, any issues that Steve was having with school or his friends were gone. He just needed to focus on the feel of the grass under his feet, how it sank slightly when he ran because it had rained last night and not fully dried; or the ball that was hurtling at him, twisting in the air, and how he could position his hands exactly right to catch it; or dodging Tommy when he came running at him in an attempt to tackle him.
And it’s not like Steve wasn’t aware of what Tommy had been like last year. Tommy could be an asshole when he wanted to be, especially when people didn’t fit into the box that Tommy thought they should. He’d toss around comments about anyone who had a weird backpack (whatever that meant), or who was in the crochet club, or who wore too many enamel pins on the lapel of their blazer. Individuality was basically a target on your back.
So Steve wasn’t much of an individual. He let himself blend into the rest of the rugby team and focused on his love for the sport.
He pulled Tommy back when he could, though. Sometimes literally. He grabbed Tommy by the arm, gently tugged him two steps backwards and whispered “Don’t be a dick, mate.” It worked, too. Tommy would look slightly annoyed, but he would let out a harsh breath through his nose and walk away, anticipating that Steve would follow in his wake. Steve did. His friends were idiots sometimes, but they were his friends. Friends were important. You stood by them.
The sound of a whistle caught Steve’s attention. He was surprised by the intrusion. When he came to, he was holding the ball, cradling it like he was supposed to. He hadn’t even realised he’d been participating in training; muscle memory was pretty powerful, he decided.
He tossed his head, shook the droplets of sweat out of his hair and jogged over to his water bottle.
That’s when he caught Steve’s eye.
Eddie must have had PE, because there he was. He was in dark shorts and the Hawkins Academy sports polo. His hair was gathered into a messy ponytail near the top of his head and it was swaying as he ran. Steve hadn’t seen Eddie run before, he hadn’t pegged him as the sporty type, exactly. He associated Eddie with creative subjects like art and music. But he was running.
And he was fast.
Eddie was the solution to all of their problems.
*
Steve was practically vibrating in his seat the next day. Between their win the day before and the prospect of what he had to ask Eddie, he was just a bit excited. He’d gotten to their form room even earlier than usual, telling Tommy that he was about to solve their ruby problem and rushing off.
In his haste, he had forgotten that Eddie didn’t get to form until the very last possible moment, usually only seconds before the bell rang.
So he watched the clock tick, waiting for Eddie to drop down into the seat next to him. He even sat on his hands to stop him from fidgeting.
“Hi,” Eddie said. He smiled sweetly and then he looked right back at his hands.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Steve blurted out, forgoing their usual greeting.
Eddie startled at that, flinched slightly and looked up at Steve with questioning eyes, “Uh, okay?”
Steve couldn’t help but think he looked like a puppy that had been left out in the rain. His eyes had gone all big and sorrowful, he was trembling slightly, and he just looked so scared. Bile rose in Steve’s throat, he didn’t want to believe that he would be the one to make him feel like that.
But Steve had heard about how Eddie was treated last year. So he couldn’t blame him, really. Eddie didn’t know that he pulled Tommy away from him whenever he could. Eddie didn’t know that things could’ve been worse.
“I saw you run,” Steve choked out.
“That’s not a question.”
Steve chuckled at that, “You’re right.” He ran a hand through his hair and tried again. “Do you want to join the rugby team?”
Eddie’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to talk. Steve interrupted him with an anxious desperation.
“You don’t actually have to play!” He started with. “It’s just – I saw you run and you’re really fast. I think you could be good! And we have enough guys for the team, but the rules state that we need a reserve on the team to play actual games. We managed to get away with it for yesterday’s match, we told them that one of the guys was ill and the reserve stepped in. But we can’t do that forever, so we need an actual reserve and –”
“You had a match yesterday?” Eddie interrupted him this time, brown eyes quizzical and roaming over his face.
Steve finally took a breath, “Yeah.”
Eddie tilted his head, which didn’t help the puppy observation, “Did you win?”
“Yeah,” Steve chuckled. “We did.”
“Well done,” Eddie nodded.
“So will you join?”
“Aren’t I a bit small and weak to play rugby?” Eddie scoffed. Steve thought it sounded just as endearing as his chuckle.
“You’re the same height as me,” he replied.
Eddie rolled his eyes, “That’s so not what I meant.”
“I wasn’t born this bulky and handsome, you know,” Steve joked, nudging Eddie with his elbow. Eddie spluttered in return, somewhere between a laugh and forming actual words.
“Never said you were handsome,” Eddie managed to grumble, but his cheeks were pink and he wouldn’t meet Steve’s eye. Steve couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug about it all.
“Are you joining, then?” Steve prodded Eddie again, this time digging a finger into his ribs.
“Fine, if it’ll shut you up,” Eddie rolled his eyes.
“This is the first time I’ve said something that wasn’t Hi to you!”
“And it was a ridiculous request!” Eddie flailed his arms around in front of Steve’s face, “Do these look like the arms of a rugby player to you?”
Steve grabbed the arm closest to him and squeezed the bicep, plastering a thoughtful look on his face, pursed lips and all. “I think you have potential,” he said after a moment.
Eddie pulled his arm away like he’d been burnt.
*
Steve didn’t have much to do in the evenings. He could do his homework, but he was avoiding that until the last minute. If it were something more interesting, then maybe he would attempt it sooner. But it was some practice exam questions for maths and he just couldn’t motivate himself, his GCSEs weren’t even until next year. He didn’t need to revise just yet. He had time.
It’s not what his teacher was saying, but who cares?
So here he was, laid on his bed and scrolling endlessly through social media. Instagram annoyed him most of the time. His feed was filled with his rugby teammates, which wasn’t bad in itself, but everything they posted seemed so fake. Curated for the purpose of making them more popular, to seem more cool and aloof and rich.
Tommy posted a picture of a flashy Mercedes he couldn’t drive yet.
Carol posted a picture of herself sitting on the bonnet of the same Mercedes, smiling at whoever was taking the photo, most likely Tommy.
Underneath it was a photo of her and Tommy kissing. Steve scrolled past that one without liking it.
His feed was filled with parties and flashy clothes and things that he frankly couldn’t care less about.
He scrolled until Instagram started suggesting new people to follow, like it was reading his mind. Technology was funny like that.
People who you know follow: @ed-die-munson
He opened the profile without any hesitation.
Eddie’s profile was so full of life. There were pictures of him and his friends, there were smiles that seemed genuine, posts of graffiti that he thought was cool that stayed up even if it only got five likes. Eddie used Instagram like a diary, snapshots of memories that he didn’t want to forget. Steve found himself smiling at that.
A little further down the page, Steve found a picture of the guitar Eddie had drawn on the back of his hand. Except this one was real. Eddie was holding it, sitting down and looking reverently at it in his hands. There were guitars decorating the walls behind him and Steve guessed that he was either secretly rich, or he was at a music store.
@ed-die-munson: someday, I will own you, sweetheart.
Yep. Music store.
And Eddie just spoke to the guitar like it was a person, cute little pet names and all. Steve found himself chuckling at it, totally endeared by how real Eddie was. By how much of a contrast he was to Tommy and his insincerity.
Steve ended up looking through all of Eddie’s posts, reading each caption carefully.
A picture of a guy Steve didn’t know, tagged as @gareththegreat, holding an oreo to his mouth, probably taken without permission:
@ed-die-munson: if you were a biscuit, you’d be a whOREO
A picture of a house with a dusting of snow, Eddie standing in front of it, arms spread open and a grin just as wide:
@ed-die-munson: there’s snow place like home
A picture of Eddie, his arm slung around the shoulders of a pretty blonde girl, tagged as @chrissy-with-a-y:
@ed-die-munson: i know it’s cheesy, but i think you’re grate
He looked at that last one for a while.
He closed the app. Put down his phone.
Picked it back up and opened it again.
He pressed the follow button on Eddie’s profile and closed the app once more.