Chapter Text
7th grade. Steve had heard of Edward “Eddie” Munson before. Sitting next to him in class, he could always hear him mumble obscenities during lessons. He had seen him draw funny-looking characters on his notebooks, with large horns and big teeth. Steve would sometimes glance over Eddie’s shoulder to get a closer look at these little critters, whom he’d call “D&D characters”. Steve had no idea what D&D meant and wasn’t planning on asking. English class was the worst for Eddie, Steve could tell; the curly-haired boy always had trouble doing any analytical task their teacher would give them, even the easiest ones. When given certain tasks, the same snide comments were accentuated, often resulting in an amusing snicker from Steve; he would never admit it, but he found Eddie kind of endearing.
The latter, on the other hand, seemed to find Steve's giggles… annoying , to say the least. Every time the jock would let out a muffled sneer, Eddie would give him irritated eyes, as if he didn’t like him. Steve never really understood why, even though their friend groups were vastly different. Yet, even if Steve never bullied Eddie, or even just approached the guy, the black-haired boy always had a fearful shimmer in his eyes when they crossed paths. Steve always wished he could ask him why.
Steve noticed that the only times Eddie seemed to be proficient in a lesson was either during math, where he would do the exercises at a speed Steve never knew him capable of, or during the art lessons. The jock would’ve expected him to be completely in his element in this class, to enjoy it to its fullest; after all, Eddie was constantly drawing and doodling on all his pages and even got in trouble for it every once in a while. But even without speaking a word to him, Steve could tell art class wasn’t Eddie’s forte. He claimed it was too “restrictive for his creative mind” when the teacher asked him why he hadn’t done his homework. On certain assignments, still, Eddie would easily get A’s. Steve was very admiring of the metalhead’s style. In a totally platonic, respectful way, of course.
After another day spent observing Eddie from the corner of his eyes and watching him leave school in a hurry, Steve started going back home. To be honest, Steve never considered his house to be his home; his parents were never there, he was always left with babysitters or assistants to his father, and they never tried to be there, even for important events -his parents missed more birthdays than they attended them. Still, it was a roof over his head, and so he would have to live through the constant bickering of his parents, the disappointment in his father’s eyes when Steve walked in, and his mother’s slight fear of what her only son might turn out to be.
But while passing through the streets on his way home, he catches a glimpse of a small path leading to a clearing. On the field, there was a small playground consisting only of a swingset, a red slide, and a sandbox. The playground wasn’t unknown to Steve; he had been taken there a few times when he was younger. It was installed there a few years back, but the rain and damp weather of Indiana made the wood of the structures rot a little more each year. The slide had a few green stripes of moss along its downside but was still widely used by the Hawkins kids. Steve looked a little more closely and began noticing a figure on the swing. Alone.
That small figure was none other than Eddie Munson.
And as if something otherworldly took over his body, Steve felt the urge to walk up to him, keep him company. He had no idea why he was doing that, or if the black-haired boy would even accept his company, but still he marched right towards his goal. What are you doing? You don’t even know him! he thought to himself, mumbling under his breath. The air was cold, reflective of February, and the sky was white with clouds. There was no reason for Steve to be walking so steadily toward a guy he’s never even talked to. But he felt something shift when he saw his classmate sitting alone, as a little voice in his head told him this is it. This is your time to befriend him. So with as much confidence as a 12-year-old boy can have, he walks up to his classmate and locks eyes with him.
“Munson.”
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Eddie hated school. A lot. Every part of it. The kids, the teachers, the classes, everything and everyone irritated him. His only escape from this never-ending hell was his drawings and creative mind, always running wild and free. He loved drawing action scenes with his Dungeon and Dragons characters, such as a fistfight between an orc and a tiefling, or how a bard somehow seduced a dragon. But people at school weren’t like him. No one understood him like he wished they did. And the constant stares from a certain someone didn’t help either.
Eddie had found himself the interest of Steve “The Hair” Harrington lately, catching his glares every once in a while, feeling his eyes burn through his shirt during math or English lessons. The black-haired boy had no idea how he could've spiked the jock's interest, considering his kind was more likely to bully him than to try and talk to him. Which is why Eddie was a little fearful of having suddenly piqued the interest of his classmate.
Being the overthinker he was, every time he could feel Steve's eyes on him, he'd mess up even more than he already was. Making sure to never lock eyes with him, Eddie would wonder and wonder what he was doing to be such an endearment to the jock and focus on that thought instead of the assigned school work -resulting in him getting in a lot too much trouble.
So all in all, he didn't like Steve very much.
This week, he was staying at his parents' house. Eddie's strong dislike for his parents and their strong dislike of him made them both agree to place the boy in the care of his uncle every two weeks. He loved his uncle more than anything, even with his weird obsession with cups and his interesting music taste (which Eddie was a huge fan of). But this week it was Parent Week, and the boy did not want to go home. So after rapidly leaving school, he headed for his favorite place: the Playground.
And today, the sky was cloudy, the air chilly, and Eddie wanted nothing more than to be reminded of one of his fondest memories with his uncle. Putting his bag down, the boy began swinging slowly but wanted to gain more speed. Specks of flashbacks come back to him as he remembers being younger -about 6 or 7- and playing with his uncle Wayne all day long. The latter would push him, and Eddie would attempt to push him back every once in a while -but his attempts were a little futile. Back then, he was happier, his parents were a little kinder, and the world seemed brighter. But nowadays, he feels more miserable than ever breathing the same air as them.
After this thought, he slowed down a little. He didn't want to feel a cold breeze on his cheeks as he swung anymore. Eddie had killed his mood with his self-deprecating thoughts, and it made him want to cry. He really was a mistake, he thought, quoting his parents.
But as he prepared himself to have a silent cry session, he suddenly heard footsteps on the gravel of the path leading to the playground. Someone was coming. Eddie quickly sniffled his tears back in, swept his hand on his face quickly, and waited for whoever to walk past him and play on the playground. But the person simply walked up to him with heavy breathing as Eddie looked up to see who it was, locking eyes with them.
It was his classmate, Steve Harrington.
"Munson."