Chapter Text
November 4, 1983
The silver Toyota Corolla barrelled down the streets of New York City, its two occupants shouting the lyrics of “We Got the Beat” as it played over the radio. Erin Crawley was beaming as she gripped the steering wheel, glancing briefly at her brother Ethan in the passenger’s seat. He grinned back, his silver-blue eyes meeting Erin’s, creased in the corners, before he looked away again at the road. And then he screamed.
Erin’s smile dropped as she snapped her gaze back to the road, barely having time to register the car coming at her head-on before the headlights blinded her and she woke up with a jolt. She struggled to detangle herself from the sheets of her bed as she heaved for breath, only finding relief when she felt her feet on the floor of her bedroom. She clutched at her aching shoulder and took another deep breath. She was safe, she had to remind herself, and she dug her toes into the deep navy shag rug by the side of her bed to further ground herself. That was almost seven months ago. She was safe.
She looked up across the room at her dresser and found the picture of a bird she’d taped to the mirror. A wren, just like what she called herself now – what Ethan had always called her. She looked below the bird to the last photo they’d taken together. Their mother had taken it that night before they’d left for the movies – it still hurt to look at, but it was good to see, too. Or so Wren kept telling herself.
Then her eyes trailed down to the camera on her dresser next to her pile of battered Dungeons and Dragons guides. She’d always loved to take pictures. Any moment in time was reason enough for her to want to commemorate it, and as annoyed as she’d been in the moment, she was glad her mother had insisted on taking one of her and Ethan. The dresser itself, Wren had painted black to match the majority of its contents and the carpet it stood on, covering the scrapes on the hardwood floor it had left when they’d moved in. Wren frowned. She still felt bad about it.
She then looked to the unfinished painting on her easel, a simple landscape of the view of the town from her room. It was by no means her best piece – some of those were hung up around their new house – but she was surprisingly pleased with how it was coming along. It certainly livened up the pale gray walls of her room in the meantime.
Wren finally resolved to get up. She crossed the room to turn on her stereo, turning the volume loud enough that she’d hear Siouxsie Sioux singing “Monitor” from the shower next to her room. Her parents wouldn’t be too pleased, but she’d learned months ago that they wouldn’t say anything about her behavior, or even her new look. Well, her mother had just once. It was the first time Wren came down the stairs of their New York apartment decked in all black, eye makeup deep as pitch, and hair more tangled than poor Cheryl Crawley had ever seen it. Even so, she smiled at her daughter and said, “We’re happy if you’re happy.”
That had been the mindset of Wren’s parents since that late April day. Since then, Wren’s own worldview had shifted. She’d spent her weekends in New York City at any all-ages show she could find, allowing the music to be her outlet. Journey and Fleetwood Mac turned to The Cure and Joy Division, and her Friday night company quickly went from high school study groups to jaded college kids dressed in all black. As much as she’d loved it, Wren couldn’t help but feel relieved when her parents told her they were moving back to Hawkins, Indiana.
The sad fact was, Wren had missed her hometown. She missed her best friend, her cousins, and the atmosphere of a small town. Or maybe she just missed a time when things were easier. But a lot had changed in the four years she’d been gone. Erin and Ethan had been thirteen when their father got his promotion and moved the family to New York. Erin had thrown a fit when he told her – what would she do without her best friend? Be a mess for weeks, apparently.
There hadn’t been a day in New York that she didn’t think of Steve Harrington. For the first year, they’d sent each other letters every month, complete with school photos when they came in and vents about their parents. Wren had sent him some of her favorite photos she’d taken with her first camera, and he’d sent them back with some of his own for her to keep – nowhere near as good, but they’d always made her smile. But after another year and a half, the letters stopped coming – they’d started high school, and life got busy. Steve joined the basketball team, and Erin was introduced to Dungeons and Dragons. But she never stopped writing. Every so often, she’d sit down and write out anything she’d wanted to tell him, even though it seemed he forgot about her.
Returning to Hawkins revealed that he must have forgotten about her – at least enough to start courting her cousin. Actually, all things considered, Steve Harrington was an asshole now. What had happened to the sweet boy Wren had been so close to while growing up, she didn’t know. She mused as much to her best friend that day at lunch.
“God, he’s such a douchebag,” Eddie Munson replied. He shook his head of black curls as the two moved down the lunch line, looking across the cafeteria at the boy in question. He’d just let out a loud whoop that carried through the whole cafeteria, then let out a loud laugh at something his best friend Tommy Hagan had said. Wren rolled her eyes, then tugged her messenger bag back over her shoulder. She looked back at the lunch options and pointed at the fries. She offered the lunch lady a smile as she scooped the fries onto her tray.
“Thanks, Marnie,” Wren said, then took her tray and stepped back, waiting for Eddie before speaking again. “Anyone popular is automatically a douchebag,” she posited. Eddie laughed.
“True.”
The two walked through the cafeteria toward their table. Wren rolled her eyes again when she noticed her cousin Nancy Wheeler was sitting amongst the popular folk. She should’ve expected it, given she was seeing Steve now. The brunette offered a meek smile, which Wren returned half-heartedly. The smile dropped from her face when Tommy barked with laughter. “Here comes the freak squad! Watch out for Creepy Crawley.”
Wren snarled and stalked past, not bothering with a retort – in her three months at Hawkins High, she’s learned the school was rather unforgiving to people who dressed like her and Eddie. Even so, she wasn’t mad about it. She didn’t care what anyone thought, or else she wouldn’t keep dressing in fishnets and black leather. Well, maybe she cared a bit about what Eddie thought.
“See what I mean?” she said as they sat down at their table. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant had already taken their places, waiting for their ringleader and ranger.
“Tommy H. causing problems again?” Jeff asked. Wren shrugged.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied.
Jeff nodded, then turned to Eddie. “So, uh…”
Grant noticed Jeff’s hesitation and spoke up. “We were thinking, maybe if tonight’s session runs long, we can pick up on Sunday night? Since tomorrow we’ve got practice.”
Wren grimaced. “Shit, guys, I’m babysitting Sunday night.” Eddie laughed.
“Does it count as babysitting if your aunt is there?”
Wren scoffed. “She’s paying me to chaperone my cousin and his friends while they play D ‘n’ D, I really can’t complain,” she said. “And we can’t do that morning either, I always work Sundays.”
Gareth frowned. “Right,” he said. Eddie shrugged.
“If tonight’s session runs long, we’ll just pick up next week, like always. Alright with everyone?” The boys and Wren all nodded, and excitement bubbled in Wren’s chest in anticipation of the day's end.
-
“The Demogorgon!” came the shout of Mike Wheeler, introducing his friend’s latest foe in their Dungeons and Dragons campaign.
“We’re in deep shit,” said Dustin Henderson, and Wren didn’t bother looking up from her spot on the couch as she scolded him.
“Language,” she said, not bothering to hide the boredom in her voice. She’d much rather be playing with them than watching, but Mike’s latest campaign was “just for boys.” Wren smiled to herself as she remembered the glee on her cousin’s face when she’d gifted him his first manual nearly five years ago. Besides, even just watching them was a step up from working a double at the Hawkins Pizza Shoppe. Aunt Karen paid better, too.
“Don’t be a pussy, fireball him!” she heard Lucas Sinclair urge Will Byers, the boy confronted with the monster. She looked up from her magazine, one of Eddie’s copies of Kerrang, and frowned.
“Guys, language,” she said. She cast a glance at the ceiling before she readjusted herself on the couch. “If Aunt Karen hears, she’ll fire my ass.”
“But you swear!” Dustin pointed out. Wren gave a wry smile to the boy.
“I don’t tell, you don’t tell,” she said, then jutted her chin toward the clock on the wall, reading 8:14. “Incoming.”
The boys ignored Wren and carried on with their game, only coming to a halt a moment later when Will cast his dice too hard in lieu of his fireball and sent the boys scattering around the room after them. As Wren suspected, Karen Wheeler’s voice cut through the door to the basement, calling for her son, then her niece.
Wren frowned at the use of her full name and stood, shoving Eddie’s magazine into her bag as she strode to the staircase. “Tick, tock, guys!” she said, then looked up just as her Aunt Karen pushed open the door, shouting for Mike once more. Mike looked up in dismay.
“Mom, we’re in the middle of a campaign!” he whined as Wren started climbing the stairs.
“You mean the end?” Karen asked as she tapped her wrist, looking over Wren’s shoulder at her son. “Fifteen after.”
“I tried to tell them, Aunt Karen,” Wren said as she followed the other woman to the kitchen, taking her payment of ten dollars as she went.
“You’re an angel for looking after them down there. There’s just too much to do after dinner these days,” Karen said, offering a smile as she set to finish putting away leftovers and start making Mike’s lunch for school the next day.
“Mom, wait, just twenty more minutes!” Mike begged as he entered the kitchen. Wren patted his shoulder in silent consolation as she walked back to the top of the staircase.
“I’ll be waiting in the car!” she called down to the remaining boys, checking the chipped black paint on her nails. She’d started offering to drive them home now that the weather was getting colder, and despite their protests, Karen and their parents were very much on board with it.
Minutes later, Wren waited in her car for Dustin to come outside, Lucas having already called shotgun and loaded his and Dustin’s bikes into the trunk of her forest green ’66 Ford Galaxie 500.
“You sure you don’t want a ride, Will?” she asked. “Your mom—”
“It’s fine, Wren. It’s a nice night. I’ll be okay. Thanks, though,” Will replied, his grip tight on the handlebars of his bike. Wren just smiled. Will had always been the most soft-spoken of his friends, but in the last three months of chaperoning the kids on Sunday nights, she’d picked up on the quiet strength inside him. He was a good kid.
“Alright,” she said, then reached out the window and tousled his hair. “Get home safe, alright?”
Will pushed her hand away and smiled. “Will do!”
Then Will walked back to Mike, just as Dustin left the house with a slice of pizza in his hand. “There’s something wrong with your sister,” he said to Mike.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s got a stick up her butt,” Dustin replied, opening one of the back doors of her sedan. Wren rolled her eyes, no stranger to her cousin’s holier-than-thou attitude she’d developed since Wren got back. And it was all because—
“It’s because she’d been dating that douchebag Steve Harrington,” Lucas said. Wren scoffed. It was like he’d read her mind.
“Yeah, she’s turning into a real jerk,” Dustin said.
Mike frowned. “She’s always been a real jerk.”
“Mike—” Wren started, but Dustin cut her off as he buckled up.
“Nuh-uh,” he said, “Like that time she dressed up as an elf for our Elder Tree campaign.”
“Four years ago!” Mike retorted, then looked to Wren for help. She could only shrug.
“Sorry, Mike,” she said. “You may be my favorite cousin, but Nancy hasn’t always been the worst.”
And then she started her car, reversing out of the driveway. “So, you admit now she’s the worst?”
“Good night, Mike!”
And then she was out of the Wheelers' driveway, driving the short way down the streets of suburbia to first Lucas’ house, then Dustin’s, bidding them each a good night as she saw them off. From there, she drove home, arriving just in time to wish her parents a good night as well. As soon as she was sure her mother and father were in bed, she snuck downstairs to the landline in the kitchen and dialed Eddie’s number, muscle memory allowing her to do so without any light.
“Yellow,” came her best friend’s voice, and Wren found herself smiling immediately. He’d picked up before the first ring was even finished.
“Blue,” she replied, her usual response to his usual greeting, inspired by the power blue walls of her kitchen.
“Wren, hey, I was waiting for you.” She raised an eyebrow, though she knew he couldn’t see.
“Really, now? Have I become predictable?” she asked, a smile gracing her lips. Eddie just chuckled.
“Considering you’ve called me every Sunday at nine since the beginning of October, yeah, I’d say so.”
Wren smiled wider. “That’s only six weeks, that’s hardly a habit,” she said. Eddie laughed again. “Besides, you can’t blame me for wanting to talk to you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m irresistible, I know,” Eddie said, and Wren just rolled her eyes. “How are the, uh, the kiddos?”
Wren was shocked for a moment that he cared to ask, but answered quickly regardless. “They’re good, had a run-in with a Demogorgon just before they had to leave. I got there around five, and they’d already been playing for seven hours.”
“Jesus,” Eddie said, and from the slight rustle she made out on the other end, she figured he’d combed a hand through his hair. “That’s my level of dedication. Respect.”
Wren smiled again. “I’m surprised you even asked. I thought you didn’t like kids.”
“I don’t. But I like you enough to ask, so…” Eddie dragged out his last word, making Wren giggle. A blush rose on her cheeks, and she quickly stopped – she never giggled.
“Cute,” Eddie said. Just as quick as it came, Wren’s blush disappeared, and she schooled her face, trying to ignore the flip of her stomach. What was this?
“Please,” she scoffed. She decided to deflect with a joke. “Do you know who you’re talking to? Creepy Crawley can’t be cute.”
Eddie chuckled yet again. “I don’t know, that laugh was pretty close to cute if you ask me.”
Wren pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. What was going on? This was… fuck, this was flirting, and she didn’t ever hate it. Sure, she’d always found Eddie attractive, but she blamed it on her perpetual weakness for big brown eyes, ever since her first kiss at thirteen. And his hair – so what if she’d thought more than once about running her hands through it? It was silly to have a crush on her best friend.
But that didn’t stop her from having one, did it?
“Wren?” Eddie asked on the other end of the line, and she realized she hadn’t spoken for a bit. “I’m sorry, was that—?”
“It’s fine, Eddie,” she said, not wanting to hear the rest of his apology. She cringed at her own words, but she couldn’t think of anything better to say. Maybe if she’d been thinking of that instead of how her stomach flipped when he called her cute—
“No, really, Wren, I’m sorry if that crossed a line.”
“It didn’t,” Wren said quickly and offered a smile that she hoped he could hear in her voice. Eddie sighed, and she wasn’t sure if he was relieved or exasperated.
“Alright. I’m gonna, um… I’m gonna go to bed.”
Wren’s chest ached. Why did it ache? “Okay,” she said softly, her mind and heart still racing. “Good night, Eddie.”
“Good night, Wren.”
And then the line clicked. Wren stood there for another moment, alone in the dark in her kitchen, before she finally allowed herself to hang up the phone. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She had a massive crush on her best friend, and she was pretty sure he liked her too.
How the hell would they handle this at school tomorrow?
-
They didn’t. When Wren came by the trailer park the next morning to pick him up, she was more than happy that Eddie seemed just as determined as she was to pretend their exchange the previous night hadn’t happened at all. In fact, he seemed so nonchalant that she wondered if it had just been a dream. Even so, as they sang along to Metallica on their way to school, Wren couldn’t help but long for him to say something. Instead, he just shouted along to “Seek and Destroy.” Wren didn’t dare look at him as she drove on.
Any positive mood she’d been in that morning was quickly sent away when she strolled into the closest washroom to the entrance and found her cousin Nancy sucking face with Steve fucking Harrington. Quelle surprise. She cleared her throat to alert them of her presence and gestured to the mirror they were blocking. Nancy looked guilty as the two backed away, her cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Wren couldn’t even bring herself to look at Steve directly, but their eyes still met in the mirror as she checked her teased hair and purposely smudged makeup. A small flame of fury ignited in the pit of her stomach as she stopped briefly, looking into the reflection of his big brown eyes. Any fondness she once held for him was long gone, replaced only by disdain at best and hatred at worst. As for Nancy… Wren was glad she’d layered on her pale foundation that day, else her cheeks would betray her blush of rage at her cousin’s betrayal.
“As you were,” Wren finally said, leaving the washroom in a hurry, nearly catching the hem of her long black skirt in the heavy door. She felt tears brimming in her eyes as she stormed down the halls toward her homeroom. She didn’t even know why it bothered her so much that those two were going out. Steve had been her best friend growing up, sometimes her only friend, and she and Nancy had always been close. But four years had passed since she left, and two since he stopped sending letters. It was stupid to think he wouldn’t change.
The school day passed uneventfully, and Wren gave Eddie his usual ride home before she went to her own place to change before work. She crossed through the kitchen toward the staircase, only stopping when her mother called for her.
“Erin? Joyce Byers called for you this morning, asking about Will,” Cheryl said. Wren stopped at the bottom of the stairs, looking at her mother.
“Oh? W-why, is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” Cheryl replied as she prepared her and her husband’s dinner. Wren knew she’d still probably make enough for her, but she always ate at work during her evening shifts. “She asked if you drove him home last night, so I told her you said you only drove back Dustin and Lucas. Then she thanked me and hung up.”
Wren blinked a few times as she tried to ignore her stomach dropping. Hopefully, everything was okay. She kept trying to tell herself it was as she went through the motions at work, helping customers and making pizzas, but she noticed things were slower than usual, even for a Monday night.
“Where is everyone?” she mused to her manager and owner of the Hawkins Pizza Shoppe. Richie Stevens frowned, peering out into the dark over the counter he’d been wiping down.
“Probably out searching for that kid that went missing,” he said. “Will Byers, I think his name is.”
Wren froze as shivers spread over her back and down her arms, and unease settled in her stomach. Will was missing, and she couldn’t help but feel like it was her fault.