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Wayne Munson rarely visited graveyards.
It wasn't just that he didn't have any family he cared for nearby - his parents were long gone and even before then, they were way too preoccupied with keeping their other son in line than to spare a single glance for the one who actually lived a decent life - but he also didn't really get the whole graveyards as a place of comfort thing. His personal philosophy was that what happens after you die is that you're dead, plain and simple. Sitting at graves, bringing flowers or whatever didn't make much sense - the dead don't answer even if they wanted to and Wayne was way too busy to keep the worms nibbling on his relatives company. If that sounded too harsh, well, sorry, but not really. Wayne had always been a pragmatic man, no time for mushy or spiritual stuff.
At least that's what he'd believed before he buried is only nephew.
Eddie had always been a troublemaker, but Wayne loved him more than anything, anyone. Ever since he knocked on his door, barely a teen, a horrendous buzz cut on his head and hitting that unsightly growth spurt when he looked more like an antelope than a human being, Wayne saw what so many in Hawkins chose to ignore - that Eddie, Eddie who'd always had so little, wanted nothing more than to give to the world. Give his music, even if Wayne's eye corner twitched whenever Eddie sat down to tune his guitar, a safe space for kids like himself, stories, hope...no matter how long Eddie would take to graduate, Wayne knew he'd go far, that his future was bright, even if Eddie himself didn't believe it.
And then he was gone. Only that guitar pick, the very thing that Wayne gave him after his first concert at the Hideout, remained. That and an empty grave in Hawkins. And Wayne Munson found himself rethinking his stance on graveyards.
See, talking to worms might have been stupid, but at least you were absolutely sure where your loved ones were. Because in 1986, after the whole world went to shit, Wayne lost his home, Hawkins was torn to shreds, religious mobs were running left and right and Eddie was suddenly a murder suspect, a satanic cult leader and...gone. Just gone. And the worst part was - Wayne couldn't even blame anyone. There was no justice to be served, no culprit. The kid who pointed his finger at Eddie and persuaded the whole town that his dorky nephew was the devil's incarnate? He was found in two pieces after the earthquake and it didn't matter who Wayne talked to, the whole town was persuaded that Eddie was the sole reason for all their plight. And if there was someone who doubted this whole shit show...well, they had to learn to keep their head low. Lynching seemed like the next logical step for the town.
Maybe it would have been different if he could actually talk to someone about missing Eddie, about his loss, but that was the thing - the accusations made it impossible for him to grieve. Hell, some people would have liked to call it illegal. "How dare you grieve for the person who caused this all? How dare you shed tears for someone who worshipped Satan and plunged this whole town into doom?" And of course... "How didn't you see this coming? How did you allow him to do all of this under your own roof?" It didn't matter how many times he repeated himself. The dead can't speak for themselves and Wayne's voice didn't carry any weight in Hawkins.
And so Wayne found himself going to the graveyard way more often than he'd ever imagined. He'd sit down with Eddie, well, with his headstone, he felt stupid even paying for the empty grave but not having one felt wrong, and he'd tell his boy about what was happening in the town, how many more they'd lost. How one day, the ground stopped burning and emitting smoke, just like that. How life slowly started returning to Hawkins. But most of all, he just said "sorry" a lot. Sorry for not being there, sorry for failing you, son. Sorry for being so weak that I can't even get your name cleared.
At least there was a small blessing in all of this - with all the tension and name "Munson" being spat out as a curse, Wayne thought that his new trailer would get egged, vandalized or even destroyed, and so would Eddie's headstone. But apart from the one instance when he had to scrub permanent markers off the cool stone, there wasn't anything. Of course there were dirty looks and uttered curses, but no hate letters, no more scribbled occult symbols next to Eddie's name and dates of birth and death.
Wayne Munson learned this was no coincidence in late September 1986.
He made his way to the grave at sunset, before he had to start his shift at the plant. He rarely had any appetite these days, could stomach almost no food, but an energy drink had some calories and maybe a vitamin here and there, so that had to do. Grasping the can, he walked towards the edge of the graveyard where Eddie's headstone sat alone, separated from the others. But before he could greet Eddie, sit down with him and tell him about his day, he noticed rustling behind him. Wayne had heard his share of menacing sounds back in Vietnam and he knew right away - this one wasn't supposed to be an ambush. It was intentionally loud.
"I thought you were smart enough not to come back, but I guess stupidity is the standard for this town, huh?"
Wayne's fingers gripped the can so tightly his knuckles turned white. Not today, next to his nephew's empty grave for fuck's sake. He spun around and for the first time in what felt like forever, he straightened his spine. He might have been old, but his height was enough to scare most people off. "The fuck did you say to me, boy?"
He expected many things. A group of bullies from Eddie's old school, even some self-appointed vigilantes coming at him. What he didn't expect was to see the rich kid fallen from grace, Steve Harrington, grasping a bat full of nails and glaring at him with pure hatred. For a second, at least. Then his eyes grew wide and he blinked in confusion. "Oh. Mr. Munson. Shit, I'm so...so sorry, sir. I didn't...I didn't see you properly against the sun and I just thought..."
"You thought?" Wayne relaxed his posture but still eyed the Harrington kid warily. He knew he kept the good kid, Henderson, company, but that didn't mean anything in Wayne's book. People could be assholes and still have good people as friends.
Steve pointed the monstrous bat towards Wayne. Ah, not Wayne, but more specifically his hand. "Um. I saw you carrying that can and I...you see, we've had some...attempts here. At vandalizing Eddie's...yeah. So when I saw someone walking towards the grave with a can, I kind of...I'm so, so sorry sir. I didn't mean to intrude on your time with Eddie, I'll just..." He started walking backwards, moving towards the large tree close to Eddie's supposed resting place.
Wayne watched him as he sank down onto a blanket in the shadow of the tree, pulling the bat closer. At least that explained why Wayne hadn't seen him before, if it wasn't for the occasional glint of the nails or of Steve's eyes in the light of the setting sun, he would have been nearly invisible to the naked eye. No matter how disturbing the sight was, Wayne had to admire the strategic positioning. As if the kid saw some real fights. Or worse.
Curiosity overtook him and instead of doing what he came here for, he found himself walking towards Harrington's hiding spot. "You've been...uh. Keepin' an eye on things?" You've been keeping an eye on my boy?
Steve nodded and as Wayne entered the shadow, he could make out more details. The deep circles under Harrington's eyes, the sluggishness of his moves. The half-eaten sandwich, thermos flask that still smelled like black coffee. The cleaning kit tucked next to the trunk of the tree. "Yes, sir," he answered and shook his head, as if he were trying to keep himself awake. "Not always successfully, but...I'm here."
"Well, shit." Crouching down, he got down to Steve's level, kneeling awkwardly on the crumpled blanket. "I guess I have you to thank for Eddie's grave stayin' in such a good shape? I expected way more...anger from the lovely townsfolk towards it," he admitted, bitterness creeping into his voice. "But after seeing you and that," he pointed towards the terrifying weapon, "can't say I'm surprised anymore. Grateful, sure, but not surprised."
The boy gave Wayne a small smile and moved to the side to let him lean against the tree as well. Wayne cracked open the energy drink and took a sip. Disgusting, but probably energizing.
"It's not just me," Steve admitted, chewing on his lip. "But I'm here the most often, I guess. Hop - the police chief, he's been helping a lot, but he can only do so much. Protecting the kids from Eddie's club, mostly. Keeping an eye on this whole mess. Watching over a grave isn't his highest priority and I guess I can't blame him, but...it seemed wrong, you know?" He turned towards Wayne, his eyes begging for understanding. "It didn't seem fair for Eddie to lose a single more thing. I can't make them understand, but I sure can make them leave this place alone."
Sitting in the shadow allowed Wayne to notice even more and he almost choked out a sob when he saw a small travel pillow next to the boy. "You...you sleep here?" he whispered. To think someone would go this far for his boy...
Steve chuckled. "Well, sleep...most nights I don't sleep anyway, so. And my parents are never home, so I'm the best guy for this. No one comes looking for me. And I have the most flexibility since I'm out of school and not on my way to college. I usually have help, they take over when I have a shift at work. There aren't many of us, but...we do what we think is right."
It took Wayne a while to respond, to get his breathing under control. He'd felt so alone in this cruel town, he'd never even entertained the possibility of someone missing Eddie so much, protecting him in death where they couldn't do so in life. "I...I appreciate it," he muttered, his voice cracking on the last syllable. "A lot. Just please...don't overdo it. Stay safe." The images of the town's mob were still too fresh in Wayne's mind and no matter how intimidating Steve was with his bat, there was only so much he could do. Reaching out, he grasped Steve's shoulder. "I mean it, son. If there are too many of them, if you're tired, if...if life gets in the way. You've done enough. They can't hurt Eddie anymore, but they sure can hurt you."
It was difficult to read Steve's face as it was becoming more dark, but the smile on his face didn't seem right. Maybe some other day Wayne would have pushed and prodded, made sure at least some young people in Hawkins would live their lives as they should, but the ground was cold, Eddie's grave was almost magically illuminated by the sunset and Wayne was hit, not for the first and not for the last time, by the realization that he didn't know what had happened to Eddie and that he never might.
"I hope..." Steve started, then shook his head again. Keeping himself sharp, alert. "I hope to believe that one day, sir. That I've done enough. Because it sure doesn't feel like it." Wayne had a feeling he wasn't talking to him, not fully anyway. "But...thank you. I will think about what you said, if that day ever happens."
"Not sir. Wayne." The confusion on Steve's face seemed almost comical, if the moment wasn't so somber. But he didn't hesitate before accepting the offered hand, shaking it. "Pretty sure with the watch you've been keepin' over Eddie's grave, you've earned the first name basis."
And look, maybe he was just growing old and sentimental, but the way Steve's face relaxed made that strained smile seem more genuine, even if that handsome face seemed much older than it should have been. "Wayne," Steve repeated and let go of his hand after a firm, solid handshake. "That will take some getting used to, but I appreciate it, si-Wayne. I'm Steve, Steve Harrington. Which...you probably already knew, but. To complete the introduction and all."
Wayne found himself slightly chuckling too, the feeling strange and foreign in his chest. It was still too early for any sort of healing, but maybe acceptance was a way to go. At least for now. "Pleasure meetin' you, Steve. Now," he grunted as he pushed himself off the ground, "I need to tell my boy a few things before I head to work. Stay safe, Steve. The nights are gettin' chilly."
He felt Steve's gaze on his back as he sat with Eddie, drank the rest of his energy drink and told the cold headstone that it was a testament to what a wonderful person Eddie was, the lengths his friends were willing to go to. He still said sorry, he didn't think he'd ever stop. But it was just once this time, so maybe he was getting better. He waved at Steve as his watch announced it was time to leave for his shift, taking careful, measured steps to his car.
The morning after work, he stopped at the graveyard again. He grabbed two not so completely disgusting and on top of that, still hot coffees on his way, thinking that maybe he was expecting too much. But no, as he made his way up the grassy slope, he saw Steve's familiar frame slumped against the tree trunk. Even with his quiet steps, Steve stirred from his sleep and instinctively grasped the bat tighter, squinting as he searched for an intruder.
Wayne wiggled the coffee cups at him. "Mornin'. Coffee?"
He worried for a second that Steve would refuse, out of perceived obligation or politeness, but the cool night and lack of sleep must have been stronger. "God, yes please," he groaned and moved to the side so Wayne could join him again. He wrapped his fingers around the warm cup as if it was a priceless treasure. "Thank you, Wayne."
"That's the least I could do, Steve."
They sipped their coffees together and talked. The conversation flowed easily, Steve recalled how in early summer, when his night watches started, a very curious squirrel landed on his head during the night and he almost hit himself with the bat to get rid of it. They gradually moved to discussing Eddie, what he was like, how much joy he'd brought into Wayne's life. Steve was craving any and all pieces of information, no matter how tiny, and Wayne would have liked to know why, why a dead boy mattered to this living one so much, but perhaps it wasn't important. Or perhaps he had a hunch, one that wasn't his to voice.
Wayne was chuckling at the end, telling Steve how Eddie had tried to hide that he started smoking and when Wayne walked in on him, he stuffed the still burning cigarette into his pillow case. They managed to stop the fire before it spread and from then on, the Munson household rule number one was: "smoking is allowed, arson is not." Talking to Steve was easy, natural, and Wayne was almost annoyed when a curly haired girl interrupted them. She too had a bunch of gear slung over her shoulder - he could see a water bottle, a bunch of textbooks and a blanket of her own.
"Mr. Munson?" she said, but it wasn't really a question, she seemed like the kind of person who didn't ask, she had known before and only sought to verify the correctness of her answers. "I'm Nancy Wheeler, sir. I assume you've already talked to Steve about what we do here, so...I am here to take over."
Wayne nodded and offered his hand to shake. "I appreciate what you've been doing for my Eddie, Ms. Wheeler. All of you."
The bitterness in the curve of her lips was impossible to miss, so similar to Steve's, but she still kept her pleasant demeanor. "It's the least we could do, sir." And of course, the not-sir-but-Wayne lecture followed, Steve smirking quietly at Nancy's confusion.
When that had been settled, Nancy turned to Steve and exchanged a few words with him - "any attempts during the night?" and an update on the other teams, whatever that meant. Wayne only caught "everything under control," "still discussing with Hopper" and more disconcertingly, "all clear with the Munson mail." They arranged their shift schedule, someone named Robin would take over in the afternoon - Wayne thought he might have seen her in the relief center and she seemed equally clumsy and manic, but if she had Steve and Nancy's trust, she also had Wayne's. Probably. He was still trying to get used to this there are people guarding Eddie's grave with weapons and sleeping in the graveyard concept.
Eventually, Steve packed his duffel bag and headed to his car, saying goodbye to Nancy. He also tried to say so to Wayne, but he decided to join him and finally catch some sleep before he'd have to head to work again. "Leavin' the lady defenseless?" he joked, pointing at the spiked bat Steve still had in his hand.
For the first time, he saw Steve actually laugh out loud, not in a measured or nostalgic way, but an uncontrolled snorting sound. "Nancy? Defenseless?" he wheezed out and wiped at his eyes. "Wayne, please turn around and look at what she's doing now."
Wayne did. Up on the hill, next to the tree where his boy's spirit was laid to rest, was a preppy young girl wearing a floral dress and a pastel sweater, removing a set of textbooks from her bag. Just as those had hit the blanket under her, she picked up a gun and checked its safety. Then she reached into a side pocket and started counting ammo magazines. "Oh," Wayne said.
"Oh," repeated Steve and, hesitating only for a split second, patted Wayne on the shoulder. "Don't worry about her. She's more than capable of taking care of troublemakers. And," he added, smiling with a tinge of sadness, "she said she actually enjoys being here. It's calm enough to help her study. She even said Eddie's the best study partner she's ever had. Sometimes she explains things to him, you know. Concepts she struggles with. It might not be exactly Eddie's cup of tea, but...he's not alone."
Wayne Munson might not have been a hugger, he might have not been big on all the stuff with emotions, but what was he supposed to do, not hug the boy and not thank him again and again until they really had to leave before Nancy got suspicious? Not a chance.
September rolls into October, then November, and Wayne has found a new routine for himself.
He gets ready for work and stops at the graveyard. It's way too cold now, but Steve still keeps the nightly watch, staying in his car and glaring at anyone who dares approach the graveyard. Wayne always brings a thermos flask with coffee, welcomed with so much gratitude it makes him embarrassed ("it's just coffee, son, and a shitty one on top of that," he says, but it doesn't matter, it never matters to Steve), chats with the boy for a bit and the heads to his shift. On his way back, he stops by the graveyard to check on Steve and Eddie both. Sometimes he wakes Steve up by gentle tapping on his window. They wait together before someone takes over his watch, sometimes Nancy, sometimes Robin, there's even the Byers kid, Jonathan, and a definitely stoned young man whose hair could rival Eddie's.
Wayne learns that there haven't been any recent attempts, only a single one on Halloween ("let's decorate the freak's grave" they'd said, but Jonathan's friend Argyle managed to hit one of them right in the nose with a golf ball and that was the end of it, the blood was easy to clean, or so he's told and maybe he doesn't even want to know). Jonathan just nods and wipes the suspiciously rusty end of the golf club with a dirty rag. He mentions that he knew Eddie in high school, they listened to similar music and sometimes traded tapes. Only a few words each day, but they keep Eddie alive in his mind.
But there are younger kids too, kids that Wayne has seen all over Hawkins. They might not be keeping watch at Eddie's grave ("and you should be thankful for that, Wayne, these small gremlins have no sense of self-preservation or any reservations about violence, if they'd been here during that last attempt, we'd be hiding torn body parts, trust me!"), but they're all contributing in their own ways.
There's Erica, a child only in age, who made sure to set booby traps around Eddie's grave. "Just until the snow melts," she shrugs as she hands Wayne a map of how to safely approach the headstone. "I can't ask Steve to sit in snow, mind you, he'd do it, but he deserves a break. None of these are lethal, but if someone even tries to do something ugly, we'll know. And they'll remember."
There is Lucas who often camps at the empty trailer close to Wayne's new one. Lucas is always incredibly polite and friendly, but sometimes Wayne's neighbors talk about how someone tried to vandalize his trailer and how Lucas came out of the former Mayfields' home, axe in hand, and scared off the person with a single whispered sentence. They also say that he'd sneak to his door and check the letters waiting for him, sometimes tearing one or two to shreds. When he caught one of the people delivering these questionable letters, he broke his nose with a single punch.
There are Mike and Will who take frequent walks through the town and tear down any and all pamphlets, posters and lies that the local religious fanatics decide to spread. They wash off weird religious symbols and curses aimed at Eddie, at the Hellfire club. They defend him against anyone who dares to question their actions. They both might have previously run from fights, but not from this one. Just like Eddie, they decide not to run away this time.
There is Jane, chief Hopper's adopted daughter. She doesn't say much but there's something about her that makes Wayne both uneasy and grateful. When two jocks muttered insults at him as he entered a local shop, she stared at them and suddenly they both tripped over nothing, smacking head first into a street lamp. Twice. She then nodded at Wayne, wiped something like blood from her face and walked down the street as if nothing happened.
And there's Dustin. Dustin, who made sure to bring back the only piece of Eddie he could. Dustin, who visits the grave as often as he can, staying for hours next to Steve. Dustin, who took over Eddie's beloved club and continues in his footsteps, herding the lost sheep and giving them a sense of safety. Dustin, who makes sure to stop by the trailer with Steve and help Wayne with its maintenance.
As December approaches and chief Hopper visits Wayne's trailer, talking about precautions they're taking to preserve Eddie's grave and Wayne's home, Wayne feels something in him shifting, evolving. There's still a gaping hole in his chest, a hole that screams for his boy to come back home, and maybe it will never heal, it will never stop swallowing any and all happiness in his life. But for the first time since he grasped the pick pendant in the relief center, he feels that maybe he isn't alone. Maybe the burden doesn't get lighter as years pass, but there are people who are willing to share it with him. And for now, it has to be enough.