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Eddie didn’t make it.
When you hear the news, you tell yourself it’s fine. You try to separate yourself, numb yourself. Anything.
You’re not surprised, it’s better this way, he had no chance either way.
But it’s not fine. It’s about as far from goddamn fine as you could possibly be. And people in this shitty town are celebrating it.
No one mourns the wicked.
No…one mourns the wicked.
More than one. He’d probably consider himself lucky that he does have so many friends to miss him. He wouldn’t even be mad. Dustin was right.
Wayne is surprised when you show up at his door, and even more so when you wrap your arms around him.
“What’re you doing here, darlin’?”
“I didn’t want you to be alone.” You’re still clinging to him, doing your best to hold back tears as they prickle in already-bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t want to be alone.”
He finally returns the embrace, letting out a shaky breath. “Thank you. You can stay the night if you want, hon. You can stay as long as you want.”
Your feet are almost numb as you make your way to Eddie’s room. It’s exactly the same as the last time you were here—as if he could just walk in any minute.
Of course it is…he planned on coming back.
You close the door. You don’t turn any lights on.
‘86, baby…this is my year.
He couldn’t even have that, could he? He couldn’t have one thing he wanted. Just to graduate. Just to not be the town pariah. Just to be seen for what he really was. Just to be seen.
You see a little Polaroid of his smiling face, tacked to the wall. And you rip it down.
Stupid, selfish asshole! What the fuck was he thinking, going and dying like that? Dying for goddamn nothing? Leaving Dustin and Wayne alone. Leaving you alone.
Grief ebbs and rage flows. You pick up the picture from the floor, with lightly shaking hands. There’s a t-shirt on his bed—Metallica, of course.
You pick it up and press it to your nose; it still smells like him. If you close your eyes and imagine hard enough, you can almost feel his lingering warmth.
You curl up on his bed, clutching the shirt to your chest. You stare at the little Polaroid, his face fading in and out of focus. It becomes blurry as the tears start to fall.
He’s a hero.
Fuck heroism. Fuck being noble, and fuck saving this whole miserable town. You’d give it all just to have him back.
He was so full of life—almost bursting with it. He was strong. Someone like him can’t just die…
Ha.
He never hurt a soul, not on purpose.
He wasn’t crazy, and he wasn’t bad, and he was twice the person that anyone in this shithole could ever hope to be. And he needed help. But he didn’t get it in time. He didn’t get enough.
Your crying gets louder, morphing slowly into wailing. It’s started to rain and thunder outside. Good.
The wailing turns to yelling turns to screaming. No words. What words could you even say? What words would do him justice?
The pain stretches before you, winding. Endless.
The Shire is burning…so Mordor it is.
You can’t seem to contain all the agony, boiling and bubbling and stretching the seams of your body. If you just scream loud enough, maybe it’ll go away. Maybe he’ll come back.
Maybe you’ll feel his wiry arms around you again, maybe he’ll kiss you till there’s not a thought left in your head. You remember, bitterly, the last thing he said to you.
“Don’t wait for me. We have all the time in the world.”
No…you don’t. No one does.
And now you’re here, with no time and no hope and no Eddie.
And you’re starting to think that nothing will ever be right side up again.