Chapter Text
The ticking of the clock echoed throughout the room, repetitive and equally persistent. Young Edward Munson would have developed a nervous tic if it weren't for the fact that he started pushing a pencil on his desk, which he found on the floor. He repeated this action until he got tired and sighed in frustration.
He had been brought to the detention room for... he didn't even want to keep count anymore after so many times. He dropped his head on the wooden surface of his desk, wanting to fall asleep as he couldn't find anything better to do. However, the impact was stronger than intended, and he hurt himself, instantly complaining as his hand reached for his head, inadvertently causing the pencil to fall to the ground, creating a loud noise that resonated through the empty room, awakening the supervising teacher.
Eddie cursed under his breath as he realized the old man didn't return to his daydreaming state and instead started grading other students' exams. Munson, as far as he could remember, believed he was cursed. Bad luck always followed him. At first, he thought it was because he had broken a mirror when he was little, but that was just five years of bad luck, and now he was 21. He felt like a black cat. He liked the aesthetics of being called that, but he didn't like the meaning.
Another thing he had noticed was that when he spent a lot of time with someone or simply had physical contact with another being, that person would instantly have bad luck. He still carried the memory of hugging Gareth, one of his friends, and the teachers immediately calling him to the principal's office because his grandmother had died. He always blamed himself for it.
He leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms, and looked up at the ceiling, noticing a few damp papers stuck to the white paint. He smiled at this. He had done it himself. It was his artwork.
He had been going to that classroom forever. Another thing he blamed on his bad luck.
Eddie was about to doze off when the entrance door suddenly swung open by the hand of a certain elderly woman he knew well. The head secretary of the school principal made her way into the room, frowning as she glanced down the hallway.
The long-haired one raised an amused eyebrow. He rarely had company on Tuesdays. He wanted to know who the sacrificial soul would be spending the next four hours there. That's how it worked in his school. They deprived you of your free time by locking you up until it started to get dark.
A certain brunette passed through the doorframe, and Eddie instantly opened his eyes wide. It was none other than the King of Hawkins High School, Steven Harrington.
His surprise couldn't have been greater, and a slight blush formed on the metalhead's cheeks. He had had a crush on that guy since the second grade. And who wouldn't be attracted to such a god-like physique?
That was another example of Munson's bad luck. He liked guys, and not just any guy, but the most heterosexual guy in the whole damn school who also had a girlfriend.
The only things Eddie knew about that guy were that his beauty was almost equivalent to that of his beloved guitar and that he was a jerk.
He swallowed hard as their eyes connected while the adults discussed the situation with the boy.
They instructed the brunette to sit at any desk, and he chose one in the center of the rows, away from the long-haired one. Once he sat down, the lady left, slamming the door behind her.
Steve was frustrated. That morning had started off great, like every morning. He arrived at the high school, greeted Nancy, his girlfriend, and they went together to their respective lockers to get their books for the next class.
Everything was going well until someone challenged him to see who could do certain things, silly things in general, but it ended up in a fight, as always. One thing the brunette could assure since he was a child was that he always had a lot of luck. He was never punished, never called out for anything. He belonged to one of the wealthiest families in Hawkins, which quickly earned him friendships and relationships, and he always had everything he wanted. Except that day. In the middle of the fight, someone pushed him. He could distinguish long, dark, curly hair swiftly passing behind him, distracting him and causing him to receive a blow to the cheek. He lunged at his opponent, and the secretary of the principal arrived and reprimanded him, leaving him dumbfounded. Then, for staying silent, the lady got angry and told him to go to the principal's office after classes to accompany him to detention.
And there they were, both sitting at desks somewhat apart from each other, staring at no particular point, lost in their thoughts. One processing what was happening and the other with a silly smile.
The supervising teacher once again fell into a daydream about the papers on his desk.
Eddie rested his arm on the desk and his chin on the palm of his hand, fixing his eyes on the sturdy back of the younger boy, maintaining his silly smile and predatory gaze. The brunette turned slightly and glanced at him with a furrowed brow. The metalhead bit his lower lip in the face of that look that clearly screamed, "Stop looking at me, freak."
It pleased him so much when he caught his gaze. That's why he always tried to get attention in public places where Steve was, so that he would look at him, not his partner. This earned him the nickname "freak." But it was worth it.
Munson moved his lips and made a kissing sound as if blowing a kiss into the air. Steve rolled his eyes, tired, and turned his gaze back to the front, searching for anything to entertain himself for the next four hours he would spend locked up there with the long-haired boy, finding nothing interesting.
He sighed and slouched down in his seat, making the metalhead chuckle softly.
Steve groaned upon hearing that irritating laugh. He didn't know much about Munson, only that he was a geek who played role-playing games with his few friends and liked metal. He had never heard that the guy had a partner and hadn't done anything remarkable to draw his attention other than making a fool of himself in front of everyone.
He had never bothered to talk to him. Tommy and Carol made fun of the guy, but the brunette never got involved; he wasn't interested in those things.
"Psst," the long-haired guy whispered.
Harrington didn't respond. He didn't want to engage in a conversation with that guy. "Psst!" the guy repeated more insistently.
Steve furrowed his brow and clenched his fists on his lap without responding.
Eddie, realizing that the younger boy wasn't going to do anything, sighed in frustration as he touched his cheek with his fingers, thinking of a way to get the guy's attention. A mischievous smile formed on his face once he came up with a solution.
He stretched one of his legs under the desk as he leaned down to see the distance between his foot and the pencil he had accidentally dropped earlier. He stuck out his tongue and stretched it towards his upper lip, concentrating. He thought the pencil would slip and roll far away, but he didn't lose hope.
After a while, he succeeded. He caught the object under his foot and pushed it backward, right where his hand was about to touch the cold floor. His eyebrows raised in surprise. Now, that was luck for him.
He grabbed the pencil between his hands and aimed it towards the brunette's head, closing one eye for more precision. Once he thought the angle was right, he calculated the necessary force and made his throw, falling short halfway.
Eddie wanted to run away instantly, he closed his eyes tightly, expecting a scream.
When the supervising teacher woke up for the second time, he would be furious.
However, no sound resonated.
He opened his eyes and found the brunette, turned in his seat, holding the pencil in his hands. He had caught it in mid-air.
"What luck," Munson thought.
"Were you going to throw it at me?!" the younger boy exclaimed in a whisper.
A shiver ran down Eddie's spine upon hearing the other's voice. The boy had never spoken directly to him before.
"It's possible, big boy," he replied, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. He noticed a slight jump and an expression of surprise at the nickname.
"Shut up, Munson," he ordered in a grumble before straightening up in his seat, looking ahead, still holding the pencil in his hands.
Eddie looked at his hands as he played with them, hunching over, rotating his eccentric rings around his thin, long fingers, lost in thought, pursing his lips. He looked at the brunette again and decided to speak once more.
"Hey," the long-haired guy called, and the other glanced at him with a furrowed brow, waiting for him to continue. Anyway, he didn't have anything better to do. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, extending his arms as if showcasing the result of a magic trick, raising his eyebrows and giving a sly smile, expecting a response he knew would be positive.