Chapter Text
It was all over, there were no more monsters, no more Upside Down, everything was calm again. Well, sort of.
The group split up to move on with their lives; many left Hawkins, many were simply too busy. Among those who stayed in the town, there were them.
No one fully understands why Steve decided to stay, but it would have been even stranger if he'd given up on the idea of having six kids. But he's exactly where he was meant to be, looking after the kids on his baseball team as a trusted figure, continuing his role as a caretaker, and also teaching sex education classes in between. Sure, he always ends up tired and with a headache from yelling all the time, but he's where he wants to be. The only thing that wasn't part of his plan for a new life of peace and quiet was running into Eddie Munson all the time in the school hallways, or on the field, or everywhere he went.
They had both been through the same things; their bond had strengthened somewhat after experiencing the same horrors, but that didn't mean he didn't still find her a bit irritating. They respected each other, sure, but they weren't best friends.
_
The music room was bathed in sunlight streaming through two windows on one wall, punctuated by short string sounds, tappings on the table, and children talking interspersed with short chuckles. The clock on the wall chimed every second, and the sign on the door flapped slightly from one side, missing a tape in one corner.
Eddie, his messy hair tied back, tuned a guitar at his desk, leaning back in his chair. To one side, on the table, laid some scattered papers, complaints from parents about the bad influence Eddie was having on their children; some things never changed.
Eddie, one of the few who stayed in Hawkins, became a music teacher. It was odd, even odder than Steve, his decision. Yes, they had managed to find a way to prove Eddie's innocence, but he still didn't quite fit in, as he never had. And that's the reason for his stay: the music class is a place for those kids who don't feel like they belong, who want to express themselves without being judged, to meet other kids who understand them. A safe place.
But not everyone is so open to this; they remain stuck in their own criticism and think it's a satanic place that ruins their children and contributes nothing.
His left hand moved away from the guitar towards one of the sheets of paper on the desk; it didn't come from the parents.
“Budget concerns…” He mumbles, a sigh of frustration escaped from his lips. It was the fifth time he had received a letter about it.
“Uhm, mister Munson?”
The curly-haired boy shook his head, turning to look at the brown-haired boy who was standing on one side next to the desk, waiting for his guitar.
“Oh yeah, it's ready, here you go.”
Sonrio viendo como este agarraba la guitarra
“Is something wrong...?” he asked. Eddie's frustration and weariness were quite obvious lately, ever since these letters started arriving. He never cared about the ones from the parents; tough luck for them if they didn't teach their kids to be more creative and independent. But closing his class wouldn't just leave him jobless; it would leave all those children adrift.
“No, no, bad night.”
“For a week straight?” another girl who was near the desk spoke up; suddenly it seemed that all the children were quiet and focused on the conversation.
“Do you want to teach the class??”
“Okay”
“Nope.” He pointed his finger at her
“They’re not cutting us, right?” The brown-haired boy asked again, with a worried expression.
The idea was possible, he didn't know how many complaints he had already received and the probability hung by a thread.
“No” He lied, his characteristic smirk returning to his face. He stood up from his chair to look at the students who didn't seem so convinced. "If they want to do that, they will have to drag us out of this room one by one, which I won't allow." He slammed the table as he said this. "Sure, if there are a lot of them, we'll drag Rob out of the classroom as an offering," he said, pointing at the brown-haired boy who was still standing next to the desk. The boy jumped for a second, confused.
“What!?”
“I'm lying, but... just in case.”
The others burst out laughing, and soon the kid smiled too. Good, that way they wouldn't worry so much about it; he should be the only one who had to deal with the situation.
Soon there was a knock on the door. One of the children, a dark-haired boy with a bandana in his hand walked towards the door and opened it.
Eddie's gaze was guided towards the door, going from bottom to top to see the figure in the doorway.
Always at the best time.
“What do you need, Professor Harrington?” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly, his tone somewhat mocking as he uttered the nickname, "Are you here to steal a student for one of your classes?"
Steve stood there in his coaching suit, leaning slightly in the doorway after letting out a sigh. “Actually, I’m here to take all of them to a CSE class.”
They all sighed, letting out a few complaints.
“Okay, it's not that boring, it's King Harrington, guys.” He chuckled slightly and turned back to him. The kids complained anyway, but they stood up and left the classroom, saying goodbye to Eddie, bumping fists and such.
“Who would've thought you were so good with kids?” Steve scoffed after all the children had left.
“You're not the only one with the gift, Steve”
Steve shook his head.
Silence.
“There's a meeting at the last hour.”
Eddie sighed; he hated meetings, a waste of time in which the administrators never listened to different opinions.
He moved his hands to his face, pressing them down, and then moved them away.
“Fine, thanks.”
Steve seemed to want to say something else but didn't know what, so he just nodded, leaving the classroom, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts.
_
The meeting room smells like burnt coffee, and carpet cleaner, which smell Steve hates, and thinks might be intentional. Make everyone uncomfortable enough and they'll agree to anything just to leave.
The principal is talking about budget optimization. A counselor mentions measurable outcomes. Someone from the school board talks about community concerns.
Steve’s half-listening, jotting notes he doesn’t really need, and may or not be just doodles, when he notices Eddie across the room.
He was vibrating.
Knee bouncing under the table, fingers hooked in the chain of his wallet, jaw thigh like chewing on something sharp. Steve’s seen that look before on kids just before they throw a punch.
“We’ve received multiple parent complaints,” the principal says, folding her hands. “Concerns about… extracurricular influence.”
Eddie laughs. It slips out of him without thinking, sharp and incredulous.
Every head in the room turns.
“Sorry,” Eddie says, not sorry at all “I just love it when we pretend this is about influence and not about the kids you don’t like.”
The rooms stiffens.
A parent frowns. “That’s an unfair characterization.”
“Is it?” Eddie leans forward, palms flat on the table. “Because last i checked, no one’s complaining about the kids setting records on the field. Just ones making noise in the music room” he made emphasis
The principal sighs “Eddie-”
“No,” Eddie cuts in “You don’t get to say my name like that. Not when you’re dancing around the fact that you want to shut down the only place some of these kids actually show up for on their own.”
A murmur ripples through the room.
Someone says “They should learn discipline”
“There are more practical uses of funding” Another voice says
Eddie’s voice rises. “They’re learning discipline. They’re learning teamwork, and to exist without apologizing for it”
Steve looks around. No one is nodding. No one is backing him up.
“That program is a privilege” a board member says coldly “Not a necessity”
Eddie’s chair scrapes back hard enough to screech.
Steve was gonna speak before Eddie slams his hands on the table back again.
“You wanna call it non-essential!?” Eddie snaps “Tell that to the kid who learned fractions by counting beats. Or the one who only comes to school because he knows there’s friends in that class waiting for him!”
Silence.
The principal stands “That’s enough. This is not the tone-”
“The tone,” Eddie repeats, laughing without humor. “Yeah. God forbid we get loud about something that matters.”
The principal says something again but Eddie already grabbed his jacket and stormed out.
The door slams after he leaves.
Everyone start to complain and tell the principal to shut it down already. Steve’s heart was pounding, processing.
_
Eddie locks the music room door even though he knows no one’s coming.
The room is quiet. Amps unplugged, chairs stacked, guitars resting in their cases. He sinks down against the wall, back sliding until he’s sitting on the floor, knees pulled to his chest.
“Stupid,” he mutters “So stupid…”
He’d known better. He always knows better than to hope.
Eddie presses his palms into his eyes until he sees stars.
He thinks about the kids. About the way they linger after bell rings, the way they ask if he’ll be there tomorrow like it’s not a given. And how this time he will have to tell them; no.
His chest tightens.
What if he loses this? What if he proves them right; that he’s too much, too loud, too angry to be worth keeping around?
The door creaks.
Eddie doesn’t look up. “If you’re here to tell me it’s official, just say it.”
There’s a pause. Then the person talks.
“I brought you coffee.”
Eddie looks up, wiping his face with his sleeve, seeing Steve. “I don’t need your pity.” He snorts
Steve sets the cup down beside him anyway and sits down too.
“They don’t get it” Eddie says, voice rough “They never do. And will never do.”
Steve’s quiet for a second “You think i never had a coach tell me i wasn’t worth the trouble?”
Eddie looks up at him, catching his eyes.
“They’re kids,” Eddie says “They’re just kids. And they’re already learning the world doesn’t want them.”
Steve exhales, slow and steady “Then we have to make them look.”
“You’re really… Really willing to help?”
“Yeah,” Steve says “I am. Those kids need it.”
Eddie leans his head back against the wall, eyes closed, and after a long time, he lets someone else carry the weight with him. Well, the second time it happens.
"Thank you, Harrington."