Brother, Let Me Be Your Shelter

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/46929469.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F, M/M, Multi
Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham,
Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson, Minor or Background
Relationship(s)
Characters: Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley,
Nancy Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Dustin
Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Wayne Munson, Jason Carver, Fred Benson,
Calvin Powell, Phil Callahan
Additional Tags: Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Lesbian Chrissy
Cunningham, Fake/Pretend Relationship, actually fake though it very
much stays that way, Platonic Soulmates Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie
Munson, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Season/Series 04,
Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, Not Beta Read, POV Eddie
Munson, POV Chrissy Cunningham, POV Alternating, Minor Character
Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Jason Carver Being an
Asshole, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson Friendship, BAMF
Chrissy Cunningham, Chrissy Cunningham Lives, Major Character
Injury, Eddie Munson Lives, Fluff and Angst, Good Uncle Wayne
Munson, Stranger Things Book: Rebel Robin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort,
Implied/Referenced Sex, Eating Disorders, Found Family
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-05-03 Completed: 2023-07-13 Words: 127,653
Chapters: 14/14
 Brother, Let Me Be Your Shelter
by GhostInTheClawMachine

Summary

Lucas says all this as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and in retrospect it kind
of is. He knows how badly Lucas wants Mayfield from next door to come watch him
play – in his mind Eddie and Chrissy must be the same way.

Maybe if they were actually dating it would have occurred to him on his own, or maybe
the pair’s six years of friendship should have given him the same idea. Instead, it’s
starting to seem like this evening will be going on the small list of times his
‘relationship’ with Chrissy Cunningham has come back to bite him.

The events of Season 4 (plus a little before and after) if Eddie and Chrissy were the OG Steve
and Robin and pretended to date throughout high school to keep each other from being outed.

Notes

It's almost a year later and my Steddie brain rot hasn't died yet, so might as well add to
everyone else's right? I've never posted any writing before, and I'm only a little freaked out
about it, but this was rattling around in my head and I'm having fun with it! So much fun that
I've written 40k and it's only about a third of the way done. Whoops.

Fic and chapter titles from Brother by NEEDTOBREATHE

Update 10/02/2023: Tags updated for accuracy

CW for Chapter 1: period-typical homophobia/slurs, drugs

 Let me be your shelter, never leave you all alone

March 21, 1986

“Oh, it’s the championship game?” Sarcasm drips from every syllable as Eddie stares down
the three freshmen standing before him. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are arranged in an awkward
formation, a pleading look in Lucas’ eyes that Eddie isn’t quite sure measures up to the size
of the favor his latest little sheep are asking. He scoffs under his breath. The balls on this kid.

Eddie rolls his eyes and glances around the table, gauging the reactions of the older members
of Hellfire. Jeff has his eyebrows raised and is pointedly avoiding eye contact with the entire
table, not wanting to get involved one way or another. Walter looks visibly outraged and a
little confused, like he can’t begin to understand why this conversation is happening in the
first place. And Gareth, per usual, looks ready to echo whatever point Eddie makes with a
just a bit more attitude.

“Yes!” Lucas answers as if it was a genuine question and draws Eddie’s eyes back to him. He
stands confidently in front of him, flanked on either shoulder by his friends. Mike scratches
awkwardly at his ear and Dustin scuffs his shoe on the floor with a mildly hysterical look on
his face – they both seem to be more aware of how badly this is going for them than Lucas is.
Smart kids.

Lucas presses on anyway. “It’s the most important game of the season, and I want my friends
to actually come to a game.” Mike and Dustin wince somehow find a way to avoid
everybody’s eye contact even more at the obvious dig.

Honestly, they kinda deserve that one. They might not give a shit about basketball, same as
Eddie, but as tight as those three are it’s sort of unbelievable that they haven’t watched the
team even once. “Plus, there’s already been, like, three other times Hellfire and basketball
overlapped and I haven’t asked you for this once!”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, unsure whether to be annoyed or impressed with the kid’s
persistence here. Sure, he likes Sinclair well enough – he’s a good kid, and as much as Eddie
might pretend otherwise, he doesn’t actually hold it against him all that much for throwing
some balls in laundry baskets if he genuinely loves the game.

But, Eddie suspects that proximity to popularity was a big part of the freshman’s decision to
branch out, and that rubs him the wrong way. Making yourself more palatable to the masses
just because it’s easier? He knows he’s taught them better than that. And moving the final
session of their spring campaign, maybe Eddie’s final high school session ever, in favor of
the jock squad? That was asking too much and Lucas should know that.

Come to think of it, for better or worse, Lucas was usually a bit more self-conscious than this
about having one foot in nerd world and the other in the ball pit. Eddie would have put
money on Sinclair sending Dustin and Mike over to plead his case for him rather than doing
it himself.
And yet, here he is, not shrinking back under the intense gaze Eddie has perfected over the
years. Sinclair seems pretty certain he has a nonzero chance of winning Eddie over – where
the hell is he getting that impression?

“You couldn’t have figured this out any earlier?” Gareth asks through a full mouth of food.
“Hellfire always meets on Fridays, basketball’s scheduled in advance…you’ve got to wait
until, like, six hours before we play to pull this?”

An excellent point. Eddie tips a fry in Gareth’s direction as he continues eating his lunch and
turns his increasingly smug gaze back on Lucas. He’s already decided this isn’t happening,
everybody else at the table seemed to know it isn’t happening – they just have to wait for
Sinclair to catch up.

“It’s not like I knew we’d make it all the way to the end. That’s kinda how tournaments
work.” Lucas narrows his eyes, pulling a snort from Jeff. Eddie shoots a stern look Jeff’s way
– he really isn’t helping here. “And I didn’t think I’d have to ask! I figured Eddie would have
already postponed it to go to the game.”

He’s thrown for a loop with that one. Surely Sinclair knows him better than that by now.
“And why the hell would you think that?”

“Cause it’s your girlfriend’s last game too? I mean, I know nothing could make you actually
give a shit about basketball, but the cheer squad’s done for the year after tonight and I just
assumed Chrissy would want you there.”

Shit. Eddie visibly winces, suddenly crystal clear on Sinclair’s thought process here. Lucas
says all this as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and in retrospect it kind of is. He
knows how badly Lucas wants Mayfield from next door to come watch him play – in his
mind Eddie and Chrissy must be the same way.

Maybe if they were actually dating it would have occurred to him on his own, or maybe the
pair’s six years of friendship should have given him the same idea. Instead, it’s starting to
seem like this evening will be going on the small list of times his ‘relationship’ with Chrissy
Cunningham has come back to bite him.

March 21, 1980

Eddie packs up his guitar in a huff, alone backstage at the talent show and the other members
of Corroded Coffin already long gone. Not that he’s surprised – the other boys’ parents have
really tightened the leash in the month or so since ‘the incident.’

Well, that’s what Eddie’s calling it, anyways. Rolls off the tongue better than ‘that time I
channeled my shitty father and hotwired another car in the trailer park to take my three
friends on a joyride in a fit of bad judgement.’
Wayne had been pretty forgiving about the whole thing. Nobody got hurt and the car was
returned to its rightful owners with nothing more than a dent and some scratched paint they
were willing to take cash for. Honestly, it was hardly the worst thing Eddie’s done since his
uncle brought him to the trailer a couple years ago.

His friends’ parents don’t share Wayne’s perspective. For Jeff and Walter, he supposes it
makes sense. They’re only sixth graders, barely allowed to play in Corroded Coffin already,
and overprotective parents come with the territory. Lenny, though – that one’s a bummer.

He’s in eighth grade along with Eddie, and the two have been close since the week Eddie
arrived at Forest Hills. Lenny took one look at him, sitting on the porch and angrily
strumming at an old guitar, and practically drug him across the park to show off the
secondhand drum kit his parents bought him. It was sitting a little lopsided on a few pieces of
plywood with a cheap camping tent over the top of it so he could ‘be angry outside the damn
house for once, Lenny, you’re killing us here.’ Corroded Coffin was born, and they added
Jeff and Walter a couple years later when they started middle school.

After the incident, though, Lenny’s dad decided he was out of chances and now their family
is preparing to move to Ohio for a fresh start near his grandparents. Lenny’s more than a little
pissed at Eddie about it – Eddie’s more than a little pissed at Eddie too. One little spark of
jealousy over the new instrument Jeff’s dad bought for him and he had been all too quick to
whip out the one party trick his own father gifted him. It looked like it was gonna cost him a
good friend, and he didn’t exactly have many to spare.

Leave it to his old man to find a way to screw things up for him when he isn’t even in the
same town.

Left to his sulking, Eddie slams his guitar case harder than he means to and winces, head
turning on a swivel to make sure nobody heard it. People in Hawkins don’t take kindly to
Eddie existing loudly.

To his surprise, he isn’t the only one sitting back here. Pretty much every other participant in
the talent show cleared out with their parents, leaving the building empty except for him and
Chrissy Cunningham, of all people. She sits on a little patch of floor by the folds of the stage
curtain, making herself as small as possible and looking awfully sad for a girl who had been
the epitome of cheer on the stage not half an hour ago.

Eddie raises his eyes to the ceiling and curses internally. Despite the opinions of the Hawkins
moral majority, he likes to think the Munsons are pretty good people. Well, he and his uncle
are, at least. Even if this is one of the most popular kids at school, he can’t just leave her in an
empty building looking like she’s about to cry with no sign that anybody is there to take her
home. Bracing himself to be glared at or spit on or something, Eddie walks over.

“You okay?” Chrissy must not have heard him walk over, and jumps nearly out of her skin at
the sound of his voice before immediately going back to nervously chewing her nails. Not the
best start. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Just…do you, like, have a ride or anything?”

“Oh…yeah, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Chrissy’s voice definitely does not sound okay
and definitely makes him think he should be worried about it. She hasn’t even really looked
at him yet. “My mom should be here to pick me up soon.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “She wasn’t here to watch?”

“No, she thought I…” Chrissy trails off for a second, shaking her head before continuing.
“She just couldn’t make it.”

Her voice grows impossibly sadder at that, and that simply won’t stand. Eddie has nowhere
else to be this afternoon with his friends all grounded, so it looks like trying to cheer up a
cheerleader is getting added to his schedule. Nothing better to do, and she looks like she
needs it.

“Well, her loss then.” He tries to keep his voice as casual as possible. No need to spook the
poor girl any further. Chrissy looks up, making eye contact for the first time since he walked
over. She clearly hadn’t expected the weird kid in the metal band to actually be nice to her.
Eddie loves subverting people’s expectations like that – he smiles to himself for a moment
and keeps up his efforts.

“I mean, I don’t know much about the whole cheer thing, clearly,” he continues, shaking a
little imaginary pompom and gesturing at the outfit he’d worn to play in. Chrissy almost
smiles at that one, a little twitch at the corner of her mouth. Damn, he’s crushing this.

“But even I can tell that you totally rocked it. That was really impressive.”

“You think so?” There’s a little bit of hope in Chrissy’s voice and a little bit of life in her eyes
that wasn’t there before.

“Oh, hell yeah. I know they didn’t do, like, prizes or anything for this but you definitely
would have won.”

Chrissy gives him the first genuine smile of the afternoon. “Thanks! That’s really nice of you
to say.” She thinks about her next words for a moment. “You guys were really good, too. My
mom doesn’t let me listen to music like that, but I liked it.”

“CHRISTINE!” A sharp voice rings out from across the room by the doors before Eddie has
a chance to reply.

Eddie and the people he’s surrounded himself have always tended to pick up strays. Wayne
did it when he walked into the state social worker’s office to whisk Eddie back to Hawkins,
Lenny did it when he offered Eddie a musical outlet that kept him from spinning off the rails.

He takes one look at the chewed down nailbeds on Chrissy’s hands and the way she violently
flinches away from what he assumes is her mother’s voice, and decides he might as well try
and do the same.

“Well, I better go make sure my uncle doesn’t send out a search party.” Another small twitch
of her lips. “Hey, if you really liked it then just find me and the guys at school or something.
We can show you even more music your mom would blow a fuse about you listening to.”

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks for checking on me, Eddie.”

Chrissy picks up her bag and walks dejectedly over to her mom. Eddie doesn’t realize until
he’s halfway across the parking lot that one of the most popular girls in school had already
known his name. Huh. Wonders never cease.

June 14, 1980

Even at the young age of 14, Eddie has seen enough of the world and the shitty people in it to
start developing his very own Munson doctrine. Rich pretty people have it made and never
had to develop a good personality, parents aren’t really good for anything but screwing up
your life, and those on the top of the social hierarchy don’t spare any time for the trailer trash
at the bottom. Common sense shit like that.

He was glad he tried to cheer Chrissy up at that talent show, would have felt a little gross
about himself if he just left her there to cry, but he was also being a realist about the whole
thing. At the time, he knew that he would probably leave the talent show with her polite non-
answer and never really speak to her again. Instead, for the rest of the school year, any time
Eddie expected Chrissy to zig, she would zag.

He expected her to ignore him like all the other popular kids did when they weren’t picking
on him, and instead she waved to him the very first time they passed in the halls on Monday.
He expected her to keep a distance like all her friends, and instead she spent a couple lunches
a week at the band’s lunch table asking genuine questions about their music. He expected her
to walk out of the school building and forget about him until the next day, and instead she
followed him out into the parking lot, chatting good-naturedly for the entire walk to his
uncle’s truck before asking if she could come along to one of their practices some time.

It defied all logic, it truly did. The Munson doctrine had held true for most of his life, but
even Eddie was grudgingly being forced to admit that Chrissy Cunningham was turning out
to be a big old exception to all his rules. She might have been pretty, popular, and from a
fairly wealthy family that should have looked at a Forest Hills resident like shit on the bottom
of their shoe, but instead she was just about the nicest damn person Eddie had ever met.

As Lenny withdrew further and further from Eddie before his family’s move, Eddie found
himself gravitating closer and closer to Chrissy and waiting for the day that trying to be
friends with someone from the upper crust inevitably blew up in his face. Despite how sweet
Chrissy’s been to him since that first conversation back in March, Eddie can’t quite shake the
idea that he just isn’t allowed to be friends with someone like her. It simply didn’t happen.
Sure, he was the one who offered an olive branch of friendship when it seemed like she
wasn’t doing too great, but he never for a second thought she would actually take it. Even
now, a couple months later, he can’t quite believe it.

So one more time, Eddie unfairly expects that things will return to their natural order and
she’ll forget about him now that school has let out for the summer. And once again, the actual
angel that is Chrissy Cunningham shatters those expectations with a phone call to the
Munson trailer on a hot afternoon a week or two into summer vacation.

“Eddie! Phone’s for ya!” Wayne shouts loud enough to wake Eddie from a nice summer nap.
Heaving out an overdramatic sigh, Eddie crawls out of the sunbeam on his bedroom floor and
trips over a pair of shoes on the way to the kitchen to snatch the phone.

“What?” He doesn’t bother being polite, expecting Jeff or Walter to be on the line. Wayne
tsks at him disapprovingly and swats lightly at the back of his head as he walks back out to
the living room with a cold soda.

“Hi, Eddie? I had to just look up your number in the phone book…I wasn’t sure I got it
right.” It’s a girl’s voice on the line. Not his bandmates then.

“Sorry, who is this?” Eddie isn’t even sure he’s getting whole words out, standing and
rubbing the last bits of sleep out of his eyes.

“Oh.” The voice falters for just a second. “It’s….it’s Chrissy. Sorry, is it okay that I called? I
just…it’s stupid, but some of the other girls from school are at Melanie’s birthday party today
and my mom said I couldn’t go and I just…didn’t want to have to be by myself all day.
Sorry.”

Eddie’s barely conscious brain reels as he tries to keep up, but the correct response is
obvious. If Chrissy doesn’t want to be alone, then he can make sure she isn’t. Easy peasy.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you.” He doesn’t want his earlier fumble to make the girl think he isn’t
happy to hear from her, so he puts on his most excited voice and hopes it comes across as
genuine rather than freshly awake. “You know what…Wayne was gonna drive me to the
arcade to meet up with Jeff and Walter later – wanna come with?” He’s sure the other guys
won’t mind a last-minute addition. They normally played as a group of four with Lenny
anyway, but he watched their moving truck pull out of Forest Hills just a few days earlier.

Any idea that Chrissy wasn’t really his friend flies out the window as he writes down her
address, hangs up the phone and yells to Wayne that they have an extra stop to make on the
way to the arcade. When they get there, Chrissy runs out her front door in pretty pink shorts
and a matching shirt and hops in the back of Wayne’s truck. The smile on her face seems way
too big for just a trip to the arcade and Eddie’s left to wonder whether all that popularity is
really all it’s cracked up to be.

August 7, 1980

After the disastrous joyriding incident of late February, Eddie had been dreading his first
summer in Hawkins without Lenny, certain it would be unbearably lonely and hating himself
a little for causing it. Instead, Eddie and Chrissy both felt a little less lonely together. With no
school to dictate their time, the pair had been practically attached at the hip the whole
summer. Sometimes Eddie and the guys did their own thing or Chrissy would have family
obligations, but more days than not they could be found together. Jeff, Walter, and Wayne all
came to understand that if you were looking for Eddie you just had to track down Chrissy,
just like they used to be able to find him by listening for the sound of Lenny’s drums across
the trailer park.

They grew close in the way only kids can, with no real responsibilities and an entire summer
of freedom ahead of them to just exist, and talk, and share things they didn’t talk about with
anyone else. He talked about his father, rotting in a state penitentiary somewhere, and his
mother, who left them when he was young. How he used to be furious with her for it, but now
understood firsthand just how much you could improve your life by getting Ronald Munson
out of it. He played her the albums that made an angry little boy fall in love with music and
showed her the horror movies her mother never let her watch.

In turn, Eddie started to see why his new best friend had seemed so sad that day he found her
hiding backstage. She told him how she first started cheerleading because her mother insisted
upon it but had come to love it on her own. How her mother had skipped the talent show
because she was upset at Chrissy for gaining weight and looking ‘too fat’ in her costume, and
how she had been banned from Melanie’s birthday party earlier that summer because the girls
were going to the pool and her mother didn’t want her to embarrass herself in a swimsuit.
How her mother seemed to expect very little from her and was somehow always disappointed
anyway.

And though Eddie would deny it until he was blue in the face if anyone ever asked, a couple
of Chrissy’s ABBA albums made it into the trailer’s regular rotation.

Eddie’s on his way home from band practice one evening, just a couple weeks before a new
school year puts him in a separate building from his friends. He sits in the passenger seat of
his uncle’s truck, rambling a mile a minute about how incredible Corroded Coffin had
sounded that day even without a drummer – they haven’t found a good replacement for
Lenny yet. Wayne usually can’t quite keep up with everything Eddie says when he gets going
like this, but he’s listening intently with a smile on his face, until they get close to the trailer
and he interrupts Eddie.

“Ed, you know what she’s doing here so late?”

Eddie snaps his jaw shut and spins away from his uncle to see what he’s talking about. Sure
enough, Chrissy Cunningham is waiting on the couch outside their trailer’s front door. She’s
dressed down for her in just a pair of blue jeans and an old sweater, and has her knees pulled
up to her chest, curling into an even smaller ball than that day at the talent show. Eddie meets
Wayne’s eyes for a moment and shakes his head with a shrug before they both get out of the
truck.

Chrissy doesn’t acknowledge either of them as they walk towards the door and Wayne heads
inside to give them a little privacy, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “Don’t you
two stay out here too long, now. Gonna rain in a bit.”
They’re alone then, and Eddie sits down next to her. Normally the two have no problems
being in each other’s personal space, throwing their arms around each other’s shoulders and
laughing together, but Chrissy flinches away from him as he moves a little closer and it gives
him pause. So, something serious then. Eddie settles in for a possibly heavy conversation.

“You okay, Chris?” He speaks as gently as possible, doesn’t want his own nerves to make her
feel worse. Her hands have a small tremble to them and her nails are doomed. Whatever
happened, she’s clearly rattled and Eddie starts to feel a little in over his head. He gently
prompts her again after a minute or two of silence. “Your mom do something again?”

Got it in one, if the little hitch in her breath and tightening of her curled posture is anything to
go by.

“Knew it. What’d she do this time?” Eddie relaxes into the cushions and leans closer to her as
this conversation starts to veer back into familiar territory. Chrissy still looks flighty, but he’s
basically a pro at talking through shit with her mom at this point.

“She didn’t….I mean she didn’t say anything to me, really, I just overheard…” She trails off,
staring into the distance before wiping her eyes and making to move off the couch. “Sorry,
it’s nothing. I don’t know why I even came here so late. I’ll just…”

Eddie jumps to his feet too, trying to keep her from leaving without making her feel trapped.
“Whoa, none of that. You can come here for anything, you know that. What’s going on?”

Her eyes are wet as she sits back down, still curling into herself and refusing to meet his
gaze. “Not anymore.” At his blank face, she sighs. “If I tell you why I’m upset, you’ll hate
me and you won’t want me back here anymore.”

Well. that was just about the dumbest thing Eddie had ever heard. “Chris, that’s just about the
dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She starts a little, not expecting him to be so straight forward apparently, and looks up at him
with the tiniest glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Unless you, like, killed somebody or something
there’s nothing that could make me hate you. Even then I might not give a shit.”

Chrissy lets out a weak chuckle, and Eddie beams at her. He might not have a crush on
Chrissy the way his uncle seems to think he does based on the sly looks and raised eyebrows
he’s been throwing Eddie’s way every time she’s in the room, but being able to put a smile on
her face when she’s feeling down has quickly become one of his favorite things. He waits
patiently for her, trying to tone down his natural anxious fidgeting and put her at ease.

“My aunt,” she starts, and Eddie gives her his full attention. She’s never mentioned anything
about an aunt before. “She moved to California a few years ago and didn’t really tell me
why.” She’s still biting her nails, and Eddie slowly reaches out to pull her hands down from
her face, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand to try and keep her calm.

“My mom was talking to a friend on the phone today, just gossiping and stuff. And she
brought up my aunt and…and my aunt’s friend. It’s this other lady we’ve known forever and
I guess they’re…well they’re not married or anything ‘cause they can’t be but I guess they’re
like…in love, or something.”

Eddie tenses a little as Chrissy picks up steam – this is getting a little too close to home.
Despite how much they’ve already shared with each other, he was hoping to wait a little
longer before getting anywhere near this. Eddie waits anxiously to see where she’s heading
with her story.

Chrissy’s breathing speeds up as she rambles, getting visibly more nervous by the second.
“And this is the first time I’d ever heard…maybe I should have figured it out, I don’t know.
But it sounded like my mom has known for a long time, and she was just…” She chokes out
a little sob. “She was just so mean about it. I’ve never heard her be that mean about anything,
like, she actually hates my aunt for it, and all I could think…”

She takes a couple deep breaths, clearly psyching herself up finish her story, and Eddie gives
her hand an encouraging squeeze, fighting down his instinct to run the fuck away from this
topic of conversation to safer ground. Instead, he plants his feet in the face of this topic that
scares the ever-loving shit out of him and tries to comfort his friend.

“All I could think is that…she barely likes me now. And if she found out…if she found out
that I like Melanie then she’d really hate me, and then everybody would find out that I don’t
like boys and then everybody would hate me and…”

The rest of her sentence is lost to heaving breaths and tears, panic evident in every inch of her
tiny frame, but she’s said enough. Eddie gapes at her, barely breathing himself. Could she
really be saying what he thinks she’s saying?

He was still counting his blessings some days that somebody as amazing as her wanted to be
his friend at all. Surely there’s no way the universe would throw him a bone like this, would
give him a best friend who turned out to understand this piece of him, too. He waits a few
minutes for her to catch her breath, then shakes her hand a little to get her attention.

She can’t look at him at first, but Eddie can be a persistent little fucker, and eventually she
meets his eyes. He offers her a small smile. “I don’t hate you. Not even a possibility.” She
doesn’t look like she believes him, and he desperately wants her to believe him, so he steels
himself for the next thing he wants to say. Needs to say. If Chrissy was brave enough to share
something like this with him without knowing how he’d react, then surely he can do the
same.

“I mean, it’d kind of make me a hypocrite if I did, right?” This catches her attention. She
sniffles and looks up at him in confusion. He presses on. “I know you didn’t really spend that
much time with Lenny, he was already kinda avoiding me when we started hanging out but…
but I liked him.”

Christ, this is so much harder than he thought it would be, even knowing that she’s almost
certainly safe to tell. He’s never said it out loud before, and his voice shakes as he does so for
the very first time, but it feels important to push through this. Life-changing, even, for both
him and Chrissy. “I liked him the way you like Melanie…never any girls, just Lenny.”
Chrissy looks stunned, knocked off her axis. That makes two of them. There’s only a second
of hesitation before she throws herself into his arms and hugs him tightly, crying from relief
now instead of fear. He hugs her back, rubbing a comforting hand up and down her spine and
burying his face in her hair, and speaks softly to her. “Sorry your mom sucks, but you can
always come here with this type of stuff. Promise.”

The two of them sit there for a long time, until the first drops of rain hit the ground and
Wayne comes outside to usher them into the trailer for a cup of hot chocolate. Eddie pops one
of Chrissy’s ABBA cassettes in the tape deck without even asking, knowing it will help lift
her spirits. The three of them stand together around the kitchen counter, a smile finally back
on Chrissy’s face, and Eddie feels full of warmth with the knowledge that this girl is going to
be one of his most important people for a long time.

January 2, 1981

The start of high school was a mixed bag for Eddie, which was honestly better than expected
given the general theme of his life so far. He expected to enter the halls of Hawkins High and
buckle down for four years of misery, so the few bright spots he found among the mess were
more than welcome.

Like his first week, when he wandered into the cafeteria scanning for a spot out of the way
where he could eat by himself while Jeff, Walter, and Chrissy were together across the
parking lot at the middle school. Eyes glued to the wood of the table in front of him, he had
ignored the shadow looming over his lunch table until the person it belonged to cleared their
throat and demanded his attention.

Eddie lifted his gaze to see one of the largest people he had ever seen, adults included. The
guy towered over him, his body straining at the seams of the Batman t-shirt he wore under a
windbreaker that was definitely no longer in style. There were small patches of acne scattered
across his face and a tiny food stain on the sleeve of his jacket, and Eddie hadn’t been sure if
he needed to be afraid of this giant until the guy directed a smile his way.

“Nobody to eat with your first week, huh?”

Eddie shrugged and looked back at the table. Even if this guy was being genuinely nice and
not winding up to some weird kind of hazing, he knew that admitting you were eating by
yourself because all your friends were middle schoolers wasn’t going to do him any favors.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, man – everybody starts out that way. Wanna come join us?” The
boy gestured a few tables over. Everybody at the table had something that made them just a
little out of place in the same way that Eddie’s too-big leather jacket drew unwanted stares in
the hallway, but together they formed a cohesive whole that instantly brought Eddie some
comfort as he followed the older boy over and sat down.
The occupants of the table introduced themselves to him (apparently the giant’s name was
Blake), and over lunch they chattered excitedly to each other about what brought this group
of misfits together – Dungeons and Dragons. Blake, a senior, was apparently the founder of
the school D&D club, and Eddie’s eyes widened as he listened to the back-and-forth. This
game sounded like it ruled.

He tagged along with Blake to the group’s first session and fell in love with it. His high
school career had taken an instant step up. Sure, he still got dirty stares in the hallway and a
few painfully uncreative insults thrown at him for no other reason than to make people feel
better about themselves, but it was mostly tolerable as a routine started to form. He had a
small group of people he could trust at the high school, he booked it to the middle school
parking lot to meet up with Chrissy, Jeff, and Walter every day when the bell rang, and he
spent one night a week practicing with his band and another night a week at D&D club.

With people in his corner, Eddie found his own way to survive. At the beginning of the year,
he had tried to keep his head down outside of D&D and band practice, to fly under the radar
as much as possible. As the weeks flew by, though, it was becoming clear that a high school
career where he escaped the notice of those above him in the social pecking order just wasn’t
in the cards.

He was too different, too out there, too much. His music was too angry, his hair was too long,
his clothes too dark, his living situation too unconventional. Everybody around him seemed
to take one look at him and instantly peg him as other, and that was even without anybody
knowing he was gay. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t just fucking exist in the world the way
everybody else seemed to be able to. One semester in and the constant othering was weighing
heavily on him.

It's few days into the new year and Eddie is tearing apart his room to find a specific D20. It’s
his favorite one, a gorgeous black stone with numbers engraved in artificial silver and a skull
on the face where a 20 should be. He can hear his uncle and Chrissy laughing in the kitchen
as they talk about some episode of The Twilight Zone they watched together earlier. Wayne’s
always had a real soft spot for it.

He’s on his stomach to search under his bed, growing more frustrated with his fruitless search
and dreading his return to that cursed fucking school building that’s giving him so much
trouble, when an epiphany slaps him right across the face – why the fuck is he trying this
hard to come across as ‘normal’?

Just look at all the ‘not normal’ he’s surrounded himself with. Not normal is his Uncle
Wayne, who’s been looked down on by the fine, upstanding folks of Hawkins for his lower-
class roots and residual accent for as long as Eddie could remember, but still walks through
life with his head held high and takes care of Eddie better than anyone else ever had.

Not normal is people like Blake, Jeff, Walter, and Gareth, this kid one year behind Jeff and
Walter they recruited to be their new drummer. They had all found common ground in their
shared unconventional interests, and always have way more fun together than whatever
fucking pageantry seems to go on when the popular kids gather.
Not normal, surprisingly enough, is Chrissy Cunningham. She’s come into a new, fragile
confidence since finding out there’s a word to describe all the parts of her they had talked
about in August. Eddie had beamed with pride the first time she called herself a lesbian out
loud, and he wants to be that proud of himself too.

It seems painfully obvious in retrospect, but clearly the “not normal” folks have the right idea
if it means they aren’t anything like Chrissy’s horrible mother who makes her feel bad all the
time. So, fuck it, Eddie decides.

It’s the new year – might as well buy into all that resolution nonsense and finally start owning
himself a little. If he’s going to be a target anyway when trying and failing to appear a little
more normal, he might as well give up the act and have a good time doing it.

True to his word, when school starts back up, Eddie makes an entrance. He blasts his music
as loudly as he wants to while speeding through the lot and wears the denim vest with one or
two patches he’s been too embarrassed to wear to school. The first time some airheaded jock
opens his mouth to shoot a no doubt uninspired insult his way, Eddie beats him to the punch.
“Fuck off, man.”

It shocks the other boy enough that he shut ups for a moment, jaw audibly snapping shut, and
Eddie gets a few steps down the hallway before the jock calls out after him.

“Hey, freak, I’m talking to you!”

Eddie turns on the spot, rolls his eyes, and gives a mocking little bow in the guy’s direction.
He’s not scared of this kid, he’s not trying to be normal, he’s being the authentic Eddie
fucking Munson and owning every second of it. He only kind of wants to throw up, he’s got
this.

“You rang?” He pours as much confidence as he can into his words, and the jock buys it,
hook, line, and sinker. Clearly, he had expected Eddie to take some offense at the nickname
(although, Christ, he couldn’t have come up with something a little more creative?) and is
floundering faced with a potential victim who doesn’t seem to give a shit what he says. He
continues to falter, and Eddie feels the thrill of his new strategy actually…working a little?

“Wow. Very insightful, man, you’ve got a real way with words.” Eddie turns and walks away
again as quickly as possible before he loses his nerve. He catches a glimpse of an awed stare
in the eyes of some nerdy sophomore the jock had been picking on before, an impressed look
from Blake where he stands further down the hallway, and confusion on the faces of the
popular kids watching this little interaction go off-script and it puts a spring in his step. Oh,
yeah. He can work with this.

September 17, 1982

In the couple years since Eddie “The Freak” Munson was born, Eddie never regretted it for a
second. The stares increased in frequency, and people continued to say awful shit about him
and his friends under their breath, but his cutting remarks and tendency to grandstand had
kept all but the most tenacious bullies from actually trying something for fear of what he
might do next. He no longer bothered hiding any of his interests, and it didn’t win him any
new friends but it made the ones he already had just as proud of him as he was of himself.

Before long, he had roped his fellow D&D players into his acts of rebellion, convincing them
to officially name their club Hellfire just to piss off the church crowd a little. Eddie even took
to tucking a bandana into one of his back pockets after he and Chrissy heard about gay
people doing it in bigger cities. He wasn’t quite brave enough to let it do more than just
barely peek out, but he did it all the same and that was the important part.

It hadn’t been all sunshine and roses. The few kids still determined enough to pick fights with
him did so with a vengeance – he’d bailed on school early quite a few times to go home and
nurse a black eye or sore ribs. And halfway through his sophomore year, a series of problems
with the trailer and his uncle’s truck forced Wayne to switch to night shifts at the plant for a
bigger paycheck.

At the time, Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for being an extra mouth for Wayne to
feed, even if his uncle would never think that way, and ended up reaching out to an old friend
of his dad’s named Rick Lipton. The guy was way younger and way nicer than his father and
Eddie remembered people showing up to slip him a couple of twenties and walk away with a
small plastic bag the few times they visited his house out on Lover’s Lake.

Rick had been hesitant to let somebody not quite sixteen yet start selling for him, but Eddie
put on his best show and convinced him. It was a cautious arrangement. Rick only ever
provided Eddie with a few ounces at a time and nothing stronger than weed, but it was
something. A couple times a month, Eddie would find a note slipped in his locker, meet one
of his classmates at a picnic table in the woods behind school, and head home with a little
extra money to buy some of his own stuff and take the pressure off Wayne.

Eddie had carved out a nice little niche for himself at Hawkins High. A totally survivable
way to make it to the finish line and leave Hawkins for bigger and better things. He knew in
his bones that Chrissy would thrive when she joined him at Hawkins High and she proved
him right and then some.

Now, she sits up at the top of the bullshit social hierarchy as one of only two freshman girls
accepted to the varsity cheer squad, and she didn’t lose a bit of her kindness along the way.
Chrissy was glowing without changing who she was or dropping him as a friend and he
couldn’t be prouder of her.

He should have been expecting the next hit. People like Eddie Munson don’t get to skate
through life relatively fine without the universe knocking them on their ass a little every now
and then. But this one caught them both by surprise.

Because given Eddie’s whole…everything and Chrissy’s whole everything, if you’d have told
him that she would get outed before him, he wouldn’t have believed you. And yet, here Eddie
is, sitting on the sofa outside his trailer in a horrible mirror image of that life-changing
conversation two years ago, holding his best friend’s hand as she cries.

The thing about high school rumors, Eddie’s learned, is that they don’t become rumors right
away. They start as whispers, quietly spreading between the students at the top of the food
chain who decide what’s important and what isn’t, and the students at the bottom who
overhear the earliest traces of gossip from popular kids who don’t notice them standing two
feet away while they talk. It always starts as whispers – the rumors don’t come until later.

Eddie and Chrissy sit there, representatives from the top and bottom in solidarity when faced
with the graveness of the newest whispers. The whispers that Chrissy Cunningham is a queer
who creeped on another girl on the cheer squad while they changed after practice.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Chrissy’s voice is barely above a whisper. She hasn’t kicked the
habit of chewing her nails to ribbons at the slightest hint of nerves, and Eddie reaches over as
he always does to save her hands from any further damage.

“I know you didn’t.” He’s unable to even try and bring some levity to the situation when one
of the pair is being faced with their worst fear. There’s nothing to joke about, and contrary to
popular belief Eddie does actually know when not to poke at something.

“I always rush out of the locker room to avoid this exact thing.” Eddie’s not sure whether
she’s hearing him respond to her. He rubs his thumb soothingly back and forth over her hand
to offer some comfort. They’re only sixteen and fourteen, they shouldn’t have to deal with
shit like this just because they have the god-awful luck to be born in some conservative
hellhole.

“I know, Chris. And honestly, even if you had, it’s not like it’s the crime of the fucking
century. It’s all just bad luck and bigotry.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t really make it less scary, does it?” There’s a harshness in her
tone that’s out of place for her, brought out by the unimaginable stress. She notices it too, and
winces. “Sorry,” she mutters, and grows quiet.

Eddie waves her off wordlessly. As far as he’s concerned, she has free reign to react to this by
going completely insane if she wants. Hell, she could start throwing bricks through windows
in the park and he would probably walk right along beside her handing her more ammunition.

This is a worst-case scenario for two queer kids in Indiana. Eddie’s thought about it before.
He thought about it when he added a black bandana to his already rebellious wardrobe. He
thought about it when he realized that meeting up with a guy in the woods to sell him weed
could easily set off the whispers. He really thought about it in the moments between Wayne
finding out he was gay and Wayne cementing his position as the best man in the world by
being nothing but supportive.

He already drew the ire of the Hawkins upper crust with his devil music, the drug dealing (to
those who knew about it), the anti-authority attitude. Given the way some of the more
religious folks have started to talk about D&D, he’s sure that Hellfire will get added to the list
of reasons he inspires public outrage any day now. If people found out he was gay on top of
all that, then Wayne might as well go pick out a cemetery plot right now.

Chrissy’s high enough in the social hierarchy that she might be able to come through
something like this relatively unscathed, but the odds are never good in a situation like this. It
could just as easily be the opposite, with the vultures of the Hawkins elite waiting to swoop
in at the first sign of weakness.

And that’s to say nothing of her mom, who he knew would fly off the handle if she hears
about this. This is serious shit, no doubt about it, and they return to sitting in silence. What
could they do to even begin to fix this?

And then, it hits him. The only thing better than a solution for Chrissy’s problem is a solution
for Chrissy’s problem that could also prevent this from ever being a problem for Eddie.

“Chrissy, Chrissy.” He sits up suddenly enough to startle her and hits her on the shoulder
repeatedly in his excitement. “Oh my god, Chris, I’m a fucking genius.”

She listens intently, still too nervous to fully relax but clearly hoping his plan’s as good as he
seems to believe it is. Fuck, he hopes so too. He’s gonna feel like a real dumbass if it isn’t.

Eddie pivots to face her on the sofa, drawing his knees up to his chest to make room and
grabbing her face in his hands. She barely even blinks, far too used to Eddie’s antics at this
point.

“We should date.”

Chrissy gapes at him. Whatever she thought he was going to say, it clearly wasn’t that.
“What?”

He sits up a little straighter and repeats himself, slowly and clearly. “We. Should date.”

“Are you joking? This isn’t really a time for jokes, Eddie, but you better be joking cause…
that’s…insane, and…”

Eddie cuts her off, waving his hands back and forth in front of her face. “No, nonono, not,
like, actually. Gross. I mean, let everybody think we’re dating.”

Chrissy pauses, chewing her lip with a considering look in her eyes before motioning for him
to continue.

“We already spend almost all our time together anyways, so it wouldn’t be too much of a
stretch. Hell, even Wayne thought I had a thing for you before he found out I was gay.”
Chrissy smiles a little at the ridiculousness of that, and Eddie keeps rolling, hoping it will
sound less insane once it’s all out.

“Think about it. If we tell people that we’ve been together for a while, then they’ll assume the
whole locker room thing was a misunderstanding.”

“They could just assume I like both, and then we’re right back where we started.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Chris, come on. This is Hawkins we’re talking about here. Do you
really think enough of them even know bisexual people exist to consider that as an option?”

“Yeah, I guess…” She looks like the idea’s growing on her. Eddie feels a little awkward
doing the hard sell on something like this, but they need a fix and they need one fast.

“Look, if it makes you uncomfortable or you really don’t think it’ll work then I’ll drop it.
Scout’s honor. But I really think this is a good solution here. We just…keep acting like we’ve
always acted, maybe dial it up the tiniest bit, and let people think it’s something more so they
stay off our backs. Everybody wins.”

“It’s not really fair, though, is it?” She’s still too quiet. “Like, if everybody thinks we’re
together, then we couldn’t try and date someone we liked even if we wanted to.” She plays
with the laces of her shoes as she speaks, looking sort of heartbroken about the idea.

Huh. Eddie honestly hadn’t even considered that. In his mind, the plan is to survive until
graduation, work some odd jobs around Hawkins for two years while he waits for Chrissy to
graduate too, and then drag her by the hand and get the hell out of dodge to greener pastures
where they can both be themselves. He’s always considered a high school sweetheart
completely off the table for him – it didn’t occur to him that Chrissy might feel differently.

“I mean, I know you might be blinded by whatever captivating aura convinced you to be
friends with me, but to everybody else I am about as undatable as it gets, Chris. Maybe you
would have been able find a cute girl to sneak around with, but guys in Hawkins aren’t
exactly lining up for a spot on the freak’s dance card.”

Chrissy shoots him a mildly chastising glare. She doesn’t like when he’s this self-deprecating,
but he’s not entirely wrong in this case. He thinks she knows it, too, because she doesn’t
correct him.

“And dating Eddie Munson isn’t exactly gonna win you any points at school, but, you know,
lesser of two evils and all that.” She hums consideringly at his words.

“Look, how about this.” He pulls a wrinkled piece of paper to write out his next words like an
official contract. When in doubt, dial up the theatrics. Chrissy smiles when she catches on,
obviously humoring him, but he doesn’t mind. “Okay, let me think. I, Eddie Munson,
promise to cover for Chrissy Cunningham, and vice versa, by pretending to date each other
until one of us finds an absolute babe…”

“A babe? For you?” She raises a teasing brow and seems genuinely cheered up, willing to
joke around with him again. There’s that bright and shiny Chrissy he knows and loves,
peeking back through.

“Dudes can be babes, Chris, get with the times.” She lets out a little giggle-snort of a laugh
and he continues, really hamming it up. “An absolute BABE who is worth the risk. At which
point we stage a dramatic breakup the likes of which Hawkins will be gossiping about for
decades and ride off into the sunset to have our big, gay love stories.”
Chrissy’s fully laughing now, and he has a grin on his face as he scribbles out a chicken-
scratch signature on the joke contract, handing it her way with an exaggerated waggle of his
eyebrows. Her laughter fades to a grateful smile as she holds his gaze for a moment, before
going along with the bit and adding her significantly neater signature to the page.

He slips the paper into his pocket to hide somewhere safe, knowing that they’ll want to laugh
about this someday down the line, and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into
his side and pressing a friendly kiss to her hair.

She closes her eyes, and wraps him up in a hug, finally sinking into the comfort that comes
from being with the person who knows you best and makes you feel safest. “Thank you,
Eddie. You don’t have to…”

He shushes her gently. “Course I do. I’ve always got your back with this stuff, you know that.
And I really think this’ll work. Trust me.”

They sit there for a few more moments before Eddie ushers her into the trailer. The pair of
them have worked out a perfect little routine for cheering Chrissy up at times like this. He
whips up a cup of slightly above average instant hot chocolate, puts on that blue ABBA tape
with her favorite song on it, and sits close enough on the couch to save her hands if she starts
to demolish her fingernails with nerves. Today, it works like a charm, just like always.

Chrissy turns on the TV and flips the channel to something meaningless, neither of them in
the mood for anything more after this doozy of a day. They only move to go back to Eddie’s
room and crash. Their problems are far from solved – they still have to make people actually
believe this shit, after all. But they have a place to start, and it’s better than nothing.

Eddie drags her out into town over the weekend, even though they’d both rather hide away.
The waffles over at Benny’s always make things seem better, and he wants to test the waters
a little. See if people are still whispering.

They grab a booth by the front, and Chrissy picks at her food halfheartedly when it arrives,
chewing at the nails of one hand and pushing a waffle around with the other. Eddie, on the
other hand, practically inhales his. It’s a miracle he doesn’t choke on it, but it gets a smile out
of Chrissy and that’s always a win.

He chances a look around at the few other groups of highschoolers washing away their
Friday nights with the magic of a diner breakfast. Most of them haven’t spared the pair more
than a passing glance, but he feels eyes on them from a table in the back, a few guys from the
basketball team and their dates.

They’re whispering. Eddie reaches out to save her hand from her teeth, and keeps it cradled
in his own on top of the table in full view of their little audience. They’re whispering louder,
now. Chrissy hasn’t noticed, which is probably for the best, but if a little hand-holding over
breakfast whips them into a frenzy like this, then Eddie feels more confident than ever that
this plan is gonna work. He flashes Chrissy a grin and reaches over with a fork to help finish
up her food.
The real test comes Monday morning. Eddie picks Chrissy up from her house like he has
since his sixteenth birthday, turning the music down when he notices her fidgeting in the
passenger seat. They don’t speak, both too nervous to summon up words even if they wanted
to. Today will determine whether Chrissy goes through high school as a princess or a pariah –
what is there to say about something like that?

Eddie pulls into the parking lot at a normal human speed, for once. Chrissy’s restless
fidgeting has only gotten worse, and she’s practically trembling as they come to a stop. Eddie
doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this scared before, and he can’t blame her, so he’ll be brave
enough for the both of them today. He pulls off one of his rings, the simplest one he wears on
his right hand, and hands it to her. “Ready to put on a show?”

She takes the ring instantly, fidgeting with it the second it’s on her finger, and braces herself
with a nod. Eddie gives her a couple moments, then pulls the keys out of the ignition and
walks around the front of the van to open the passenger side door. Hand in hand, Eddie and
Chrissy turn towards the entrance to brave the whispers.

He walks Chrissy to her locker, leans a hair closer than normal when they talk, wraps an arm
around her in the cafeteria. Eddie puts on the performance of a lifetime, and it works like a
charm. The whispers about Chrissy in the locker room slowly and steadily shift to whispers
about Chrissy and the freak.

They get mixed reactions on all fronts as word of their ‘relationship’ spreads. Chrissy’s mom
is pissed at her poor choice in men, but Eddie’s never given a shit what Penny Cunningham
thinks about him, so, no skin off his back there. The other Corroded Coffin boys insist they
knew already, and Eddie and Chrissy nod along indulgently while flashing knowing eyes at
each other. Wayne gives the pair of them a perplexed look over a bucket of KFC one evening
that fades into a sympathetic smile as Chrissy shares the whole story with him – he pulls
Eddie into a quick hug and whispers “You two are good kids, Ed. Proud of you,” on his way
out the door to work. Eddie wipes at his eyes before turning back to his dinner.

The popular crowd doesn’t seem to know what to do with the new information. Chrissy gets a
few sneers she’s never gotten before as people tease her about her new trailer trash boyfriend,
but nobody seems willing to say anything too nasty to her. And as for Eddie? He’s pleasantly
confused by the way some of their brains break in his presence.

Jocks and cheerleaders that never considered buying from him before make their way out to
the picnic table in the woods to sneak a peek at the sideshow attraction punching well above
his weight. Steve Harrington, who’s matched Chrissy’s unusually swift rise to popularity with
a few damn good house parties and an unfairly handsome face, seems to view him being with
Chrissy as a point in Eddie’s favor and his little minions lay off of him a little. Some kid in
Chrissy’s year named Jason has been harboring a crush on her for quite a while, and channels
his bitterness about the development into one hell of a grudge, but it’s nothing Eddie hasn’t
dealt with before.

The crisis has officially been averted, yet another challenge Eddie and Chrissy have put
firmly in their rear-view mirror. Eddie’s proud of them – they truly are an unstoppable little
duo. He can’t wait to see what they accomplish in a few short years when they finally break
free of Hawkins.
March 24, 1984

‘84 is gonna be Eddie’s year. He can practically smell it in the air. He couldn’t be more ready
to leave the school that had caused him and Chrissy so much grief and wait for her to catch
up. Fuck being modest, he’s kind of killing it as leader and dungeon master of the Hellfire
Club. Now that all of its members are actually in high school together, Corroded Coffin has
been able to play for small crowds here and there. Chrissy has found a manageable holding
pattern with her mom that’s only mildly unbearable for everybody involved.

Everything’s coming up aces for Eddie “The Freak” Munson, so, of course, it was only a
matter of time before he found a way to blow it all up in his own face. Figures.

College has never been in the cards for Eddie after graduation. He knows that. His grades
barely scrape over the bare minimum to pass, and even if they could get him into a school, he
wouldn’t want to go. The few times he’s actually thought about a career for himself, nothing
that required a degree made the cut, so why would he willingly spend four more years in
school? Even Eddie’s not that dumb.

But he needs money, even without college tuition to consider. He and Chrissy are dead-set on
moving on from Hawkins after she graduates a couple years from now and you need money
to do that. Asking Wayne for help is out of the question. He’s barely making ends meet as it
is. So instead, Eddie makes the drive out to the old house on Lover’s Lake to talk to Rick.

There’s no way to sugarcoat it – Rick’s struggling, and nearing the end of his rope. He’s been
dealing here for too long and Hawkins PD is circling like a bunch of vultures, waiting for him
to slip up so they can swoop in with sirens blazing. They’d probably try and do the same to
Eddie if his dealing was less rumor and more fact to them.

Rick barely ever sold these days. Eddie knows he has to have a goldmine of extra stock just
waiting around his house, and he’s determined to convince Rick to let him sell it himself. He
needs the money, and since his 18th birthday passed a couple weeks ago, Rick can’t keep
writing him off as ‘just a kid’ and restrict him to selling weed.

It takes significantly less groveling than Eddie would have guessed. He had come here with a
whole little speech prepared and barely had to use a sentence of it. Rick must be more
desperate than he realized. Victorious, Eddie drives back to Forest Hills with little baggies of
white pills and powders snuggled into his lunchbox next to the weed he’s been selling for
ages.

A couple weeks pass before anybody catches wind of the change, and another week before
somebody contacts him about it. Eddie finds himself waiting behind the Hideout for his first
sale. He stands there awkwardly for five minutes, then ten and, starts to wonder if he’s been
stood up like a cheap date when his customer wanders into the alley, drunk off his ass and
muttering.
He’s never sold anything stronger than weed before – that was already enough to put Eddie
on edge and this dude isn’t doing anything to set him at ease. When he gets close enough for
Eddie to make out his face, he realizes that he knows this guy. Couldn’t tell you his name to
save his life, but he’s definitely seen him buying a car from his dad at one point. The guy
meets his eyes and quickly comes to the same conclusion.

“Well, shit, you’re Ron’s boy, ain’t ya?” He asks the question casually, like it’s not about to
blow up Eddie’s entire life, lips barely moving around the butt of a nearly burnt-out cigarette.
“I’d recognize those eyes anywhere, you look just the same as when you was a kid.”

Eddie just hums anxiously. This deal can’t be done fast enough. He practically throws the bag
in the guy’s face. As Eddie’s speed-walking down the alley with the biggest stack of cash
he’s ever held at one time, he hears it, muttered under the man’s breath as he limps back into
the Hideout. “Apple don’t fall too far from the tree, I guess.”

It’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over Eddie’s head. The fact that he makes it
back to his trailer in one piece feels like a miracle because he doesn’t actually remember
anything between that moment and slamming his way into the trailer. He tosses his lunch box
and money on the bed and stares at his reflection in the mirror.

Eddie’s worked hard for years to accept himself as fully and completely as he can. He’s out to
Chrissy and Wayne, he dresses the way he wants to, he acts the way he wants to. He’s as true
to himself as he can safely be in a place like Hawkins, and for the most part he really likes
who he is.

So, it’s profoundly devastating when Eddie looks in the mirror and is disgusted by what he
sees for the first time in years. He apparently turned into his father when he wasn’t paying
attention, and that realization is enough to send him spiraling.

Eddie skips full days of school and barely talks to Wayne, dreading the look he might see in
his uncle’s eyes if he were to realize that Eddie was following the same path as his dirtbag
younger brother. On the rare occasions he graces polite society with his presence, he puts on
enough of a show to keep the guys from Corroded Coffin off his back.

Chrissy sees right through him, of course. A permanent look of concern makes its home on
her face as Eddie spins further and further off the rails. For a brief moment he considers using
some of the shit he picked up from Rick, but manages to throw it back in the box.

The shock of this one encounter has him in a full-on breakdown, time whooshing past him as
he fumbles through his days in a haze. Eventually, Wayne and Chrissy will be able to drag
him out of it by his hair by reminding him of all the ways he’s nothing like Ronald Munson,
but the damage is done. This much time spent in a funk so close to the end of the semester
has tanked his grades beyond repair, and he makes peace with the fact that he’s stuck here for
a second attempt at senior year.
February 19, 1985

You know what? Fuck 1985, too. Eddie thought it might be his year after the unmitigated shit
show that was 1984, but it’s starting to look like senior year number two is going to be
derailed just like the first one.

Ironically enough, his current crisis is due to a shift in in the good old Hawkins High social
hierarchy that’s caused him so many problems already. Steve Harrington, now a senior
alongside him, isn’t quite the imposing figure he used to be, and hasn’t been since the fall of
1983. He’s been sliding down in the pecking order after abandoning the worst of his friends
for the good influence of Nancy Wheeler and, kind of, Jonathan Byers, but his word still
carries a lot of weight.

At least, it did, until a few months ago, when he showed up to school with his face all beat to
hell and Nancy Wheeler nowhere to be seen. Nobody’s sure exactly what happened, but
‘King Steve’ had been suddenly and violently thrown out on his ass, replaced by the walking
nightmare that is Billy Hargrove.

Where Harrington was a bit of a douche and a pain in Eddie’s ass, Hargrove has proved to be
downright dangerous. Eddie recognizes the signs of a shitty home life (takes one to know
one, after all), and Hargrove has clearly internalized all of it to become the meanest son of a
bitch Eddie’s ever seen. And given some of the guys his dad used to know, that’s saying
something. He takes a sick pleasure in tormenting people at school, almost seems like he gets
off on it.

As if Hargrove on his own isn’t enough, he’s usually flanked by his own personal Thing 1
and Thing 2. On one side, Tommy Hagan, an attack dog at heart who’s apparently been
salivating for the day somebody meaner than Harrington picked up his leash. And on the
other, Jason Carver, whose grudge against Eddie for ‘stealing’ the girl of his dreams is
enough to make him overlook the fact that Hargrove’s the polar opposite of those Christian
values he loves preaching about so much. The hypocrisy is right on brand, at least.

The stalemate Eddie had constructed with most of the popular crowd evaporated when the
three of them made it their personal mission to hound his every step, and they haven’t let up
since. He can’t go to gym class in case they’re waiting for him in the locker room. He can’t
stay to ask questions after class if he wants to make to his van fast enough to beat them out of
the lot. They egged his trailed once, and he hasn’t gotten a restful night’s sleep since.

His grades have started to crash and burn around him again while he focuses on more
important things, like not getting murdered by his crazy classmates, and even though there’s a
few months left in the semester, it looks like it’s not gonna work out for him this time either.
He’s adding a new entry to the Munson doctrine for this one: pissing off the popular kids may
be a lot of fun, but fuck, does it hurt when they decide to retaliate.
March 21, 1986

This time…this time he’s bound and determined to get it done. ‘86 is gonna be his year. He’s
thought so twice already, but this time really feels different. The one upside to being held
back twice is that Jeff, Walter, and Chrissy are now all in the same grade as him, with Gareth
just a year behind them. Eddie’s found three new little sheep to pass the Hellfire Club on to,
and they’re so damn fun to have at the table that he barely minds putting up with the minor
case of Steve Harrington hero worship the boys seem to be infected with.

Hagan’s gone, Hargrove’s dead, and Carver isn’t nearly the same threat that Billy was, not
even with his basketball team lackeys. He probably ranks somewhere between Hargrove and
Harrington in terms of how much he screws Eddie over on a daily basis. Hawkins PD finally
locked up Rick around Christmas, so Eddie sells less and less these days as his stash grows
thin, and he never sells anything stronger than weed unless he can personally babysit the
person at his trailer.

Everything’s on track for Eddie to stick the landing and finally graduate on his third attempt.
All he wants to do is finish his last session with the club that almost single-handedly saved
his high school career and end on a high note.

Instead, he’s here, staring down the three freshmen in front of him and groaning as he realizes
he has to cave. Chrissy’s been doing cheer for seven years and probably won’t continue in
college, and missing out on the last game she may ever be in really would make him the
shittiest fake boyfriend in the world.

Time to face the music.

 Everybody needs someone beside them
Chapter Summary

A basketball game, a deal, and crises of all shapes and sizes

Chapter Notes

CW for Chapter 2: discussion of disordered eating

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 21, 1986

The older boys at the table haven’t noticed the shift – they still rant and rave over the
ridiculous notion that Eddie would postpone Hellfire without realizing that it’s becoming less
and less ridiculous by the second. Those freshmen, though.

Eddie learned they’re observant little fuckers from the gleam in their eyes when he first tried
to trip them up with a difficult puzzle in a campaign. They huddled and strategized and
schemed, and came back to the table with a correct solution in close to record time. He’s
really had to up the ante this year because of these kids.

And now, those beady little gremlin eyes he both loves and hates to see during Hellfire are
locked right on him. Lucas is starting to smile and both Dustin and Mike stare openly at him,
clearly shocked that this is working. Seems like that’s going around.

Eddie sighs, rubbing a hand over his closed eyes as he puts off the inevitable as long as
possible. God, Gareth is going to be a fucking nightmare about this. “Alright!”

The table quiets at his sudden pronouncement, awaiting his next words with bated breath.
“Alright, alright. We will…postpone the last session.” Eddie winces, from both the physical
pain of saying those words and Walter and Gareth’s shouts of protest way too close to his
ears. He cannot wait for this absolute nightmare of a conversation to be over.

“Enough! Jesus Christ, I get it.” The older boys quiet back down, and Lucas at least looks the
tiniest bit sheepish at the whole thing. Jeff has the audacity to look amused, the traitor. “We
will postpone ‘The Cult of Vecna’ for the basketball game, but there are conditions here. You
listening, Sinclair?”

Eddie points a stern finger at Lucas and the boy just nods excitedly. Damn kid’s on top of the
world just because his friends will be there to watch a basketball game, and Eddie has to fight
to push down a little smile at the enthusiasm. Maybe this won’t be the worst thing after all.

“One. We’re not doing it over spring break. I don’t care if you guys are bored to tears from
your mommy’s book club or whatever the hell you’re up to next week – some of us are 20
and have actual, adult things to do.”

Gareth gags a little next to him. Eddie decides to do the mature thing and not throw any of his
remaining food at him as Lucas speaks back up. “Yeah, sure, man. Mike’s in California next
week anyways.” Dustin and Mike nod excitedly next to him, getting more and more wound
up as Eddie talks.

“Two! I am postponing it once and only once. I’m picking a new day after break, and if you
can’t make it to that one then tough shit. Find a sub or something.” Lucas is practically
bouncing up and down where he stands, and Eddie feels like a bit of an asshole for not just
doing this to begin with. Can’t let the little sheep see that, though.

“And three.” Pause for dramatic effect. “You two are buying my food tonight to make up for
the fact that I’m willingly sitting in that cesspit of a gym.”

He directs this last bit at Dustin and Mike and the three boys lose their collective shit,
thanking Eddie and chattering excitedly as they rush out of the cafeteria. They didn’t even eat
any of their lunch, Christ these kids are weird. Eddie picked his new sheep well this year –
Hellfire will be in good hands.

Eddie shakes his head fondly and turns to bitch at Jeff a little for being as unhelpful as
humanly possible, when someone clears their throat to get his attention. He looks up to see
which of the three musketeers has hung back to bother him some more. Instead, Max
Mayfield, the .5 part of the 3.5 freshmen he took under his wing this year, stands before him a
little awkwardly. She’s sneaky when she puts her mind to it. He hadn’t noticed her inching
closer as the boys pled their case.

Max is a special case. She burst into the trailer park after losing half her dysfunctional family
in one fell swoop with a well of barely repressed teenage rage that reminded Eddie of his own
arrival at Forest Hills. He could tell right away that his normal approach of dragging
struggling freshmen into the fold through sheer force of will wouldn’t work here.

This was more of a mangy stray cat situation. It didn’t matter if she was obviously struggling,
you couldn’t draw attention to it. You had to set out some food and the vague offer of shelter,
then make a hasty retreat and watch from a distance so she didn’t, like, claw at you or
something. Invite her to Hellfire with her other friends? Yeah, no chance in hell that would
work.

So instead, Eddie shoots a casual wave her way when they pass in the park. He glances out
the window once or twice on nights when one of her mother’s two jobs keeps her away at
night, and makes sure she knows the offer of a helping hand is there if she needs it. And it’s
actually starting to work, surprisingly enough. She’s asked for a ride to school once or twice
when she missed the bus and clearly feels comfortable enough to walk over and ask
something in the middle of the cafeteria, even if it looks like it pains her to do it. Progress.
“Something I can do for you, Red?” He tries not to look too outwardly invested, even if he’s
cheering on the inside. Cool and casual’s the name of the game here.

“Yeah…well, no, not for me, but…” She seems a little unsure, and Eddie waves for her to
continue without really looking up from his lunch.

“It’s Chrissy.” All his false lack of concern flies out the window as his eyes snap up to meet
hers.

“What about her?” It’s been years since the locker room whispers of 1982, and Max and
Chrissy have gotten along well enough the few times they bumped into each other around
Forest Hills, but people talking about Chrissy at school will probably always make him antsy.
Just add it to the list of reasons he can’t get out of here fast enough.

“I don’t wanna say something I’m not supposed to but…I don’t think she’s good?” She says
it almost like a question, dodging his eyes as she speaks. She’s been doing that a lot, recently.
“She was in the bathroom by Ms. Kelley’s office and didn’t sound too good but she, like,
yelled at me a little when I checked on her. Thought you might want to know.”

Eddie sighs and gets to his feet, gathering his belongings as he does so. Chrissy’s gained a lot
of self-confidence since they met all those years ago, but she still struggles with the body
image issues that stem from years of her mother’s influence. Probably will for a while, too,
until they can get her out of that horrible woman’s house. It’s never a good sign for Chrissy to
be hidden away and upset in a secluded third floor bathroom.

“Thanks, Mayfield. I’ll go check on her.” Eddie starts to walk away before pausing, struck
with an idea. His stray cat approach with Max is working, but there’s only a couple months
left before he’s out of here forever, so…might as well go for broke, right?

“You going to the basketball game tonight?”

Max starts a little at the question. She seems as confused as Eddie is that he’s being more
direct, both of them flying blind. “Are you?” She shoots the question back at him with a
raised eyebrow as if it’s a winning blow, and on any other day it would be. But today?

“Yeah, actually.” This takes her by surprise, as he knew it would. He takes advantage of her
stunned silence and keeps talking. “I know, I know. Eddie Munson at a basketball game, the
end times must finally be here, but…I think it would mean a lot to Chris. So, just gotta grin
and bear it, right?”

Eddie leaves it there, trusting Max to pick up the giant hint he just dropped in her lap. She’s
already well on her way. He can see the wheels turning in her head as she avoids his eyes a
little. Mission accomplished – damn, he’s good at this.

“Well, I’ll maybe see you later then.” He gives her a two-fingered salute, only a little
sarcastically, and heads to the upstairs bathroom, leaving her to process in peace.
Eddie leans against the wall outside the bathroom by the guidance counselor’s office and
waits for Chrissy to come out, tapping his foot and hoping she emerges before someone sees
him lurking outside the girl’s restroom. Not a great look. A minute or two passes before she
walks through the door with watery eyes, quickly wiping at her mouth and turning towards
the nearby water fountain.

Chrissy spots him almost instantly, like she knew he’d be there waiting for her, and shoots
him a small resigned smile. They both know why she was in there and had long since stopped
pretending otherwise. There’s never been any point to hiding stuff like this from each other.
He holds up his black lunchbox and wiggles it in front of him, returning her sad smile.
“Woods?”

She nods, and Eddie wraps an arm around her to steer her out of the building, rubbing a
comforting hand up and down her arm as they go. They walk side by side down the stairs by
the field, across a small patch of grass, and through the trees to the little picnic table Eddie’s
been using to deal for years.

Most of his regular customers have graduated – Hawkins High just doesn’t have quite as
many delinquents as it used to. Pity. Fred Benson from the paper, though, had asked to meet
him before lunch ended. Eddie slipped a note with a change of plans in his locker on the walk
to the bathroom. He just hopes Fred got the message and isn’t about to walk in to the middle
of their conversation. Chrissy doesn’t need a practical stranger poking his head in on what’s
apparently been a pretty rough day for her already.

Eddie cracks open his lunchbox, pulling out a cigarette to smoke while they sit here, and
slides it over to Chrissy, who pulls out a piece of gum. A year or so ago, when they both
started to realize just how bad Chrissy’s issues with food were getting, he started throwing a
few sticks of gum and some lighter snacks she could almost always handle eating in with his
stock so a bad day never caught them off-guard.

He gives her a few minutes to chew her gum, settle her nerves while listening to the birds in
the woods around them, and grab a little box of raisins out of the lunchbox before
approaching the elephant in the room and poking it gently. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it? The
past few weeks?”

Chrissy fiddles with the packaging on the raisins instead of actually opening it. Eddie doesn’t
point it out – she’ll eat some if she feels like she can and if she doesn’t then nothing he says
will make a bit of difference. He pulls a granola bar out of the box and starts to eat from his
spot across from her at the table, hoping it puts her even more at ease, and waits for her to
figure out what she wants to say.

“Yeah, a lot worse. I think it’s graduation stress. That’s what Ms. Kelley says, anyways. That
since I already get panic attacks sometimes, the stress is making them worse.” She picks at
her nails a little but isn’t chewing them to pieces yet. That’s a good sign, at least.

The actual problem is a bit unexpected, though. Chrissy normally does pretty well in school,
has never even failed a test. It’s usually all the other stuff causing her problems. “Are you that
nervous about it? You’re in at Purdue already, your grades are good. What’s wigging you
out?”

“My mom. Big surprise.” Eddie groans while Chrissy rolls her eyes. She’s not smiling, but at
least she can joke about it. He keeps chomping away at his granola bar.

“What’d she say this time?” If only Eddie had a dollar for every time he’s asked some version
of that question since meeting Chrissy six years ago. He’s glad that he and Chrissy feel safe
enough with each other to talk about almost any problem judgement-free, but he hates how
often her mother comes up as the source of her pain. It blows. You’d think that between the
pair of them at least one of their biological parents would be decent to them, but they’re 0-
for-4.

“She doesn’t want me to go to college.” He raises an eyebrow. Bit late for that one, isn’t it?
It’s not like she was filling out applications in secret, as far as Eddie knows. “She doesn’t
think any girl should go to college, really…according to her, the proper thing to do is to use
high school to find some guy to marry and then start a family as soon as you graduate. And I
knew she thought that, she hasn’t really made a secret of it. But now that graduation’s so
close, she’s freaking out that I ‘wasted my time’ dating you instead of finding somebody she
approves of. She’s, just, going even more overboard than normal with all the pressure trying
to make sure I look my best so I can find someone quickly when I come to my senses.”

Chrissy looks at him apologetically, making sure he knows these are her mother’s words and
not her own. Eddie waves her off – at this point, he doesn’t think he’s still capable of being
surprised or offended by the ass-backwards shit that comes out of Penny Cunningham’s
mouth.

“You’re ready for me to kidnap you the second we’re done at graduation, right?” Chrissy
laughs a little at the abrupt shift in the conversation as he shoves the rest of his granola bar in
his mouth with a truly impressive lack of grace, even for him. “I’m not joking, Chris. This is
the most serious I have ever been. I’m gonna flip Principal Higgins the bird, run off the stage,
throw you in my van, and drive somewhere far away where you never have to talk to her ever
again.”

“I mean, I think that’s a little excessive.”

“You know me baby, I’m all about excess.” He grins at her as she laughs some more and
pops a couple raisins in her mouth, finally able to stomach some now that she has some
company and a bit of distraction. “I just can’t wait for you to not have to deal with her
anymore, you know? I’ll really miss Wayne when we leave, you know I will, but I’m ready
for it to be just you, me, and some space to fucking breathe for once in our lives.”

“I know. Me too. Just a couple more months, right?” Her voice sounds tired, more so than
normal, but there’s an optimistic note under the exhaustion. They’re almost to the finish line,
almost free.

“Right. Home stretch.”

A comfortable silence stretches out as Chrissy finishes her snack. They’re both probably
going to be a little late for class, but this is more important. She’ll always be more important.

“In other news, guess who’s going to a basketball game tonight?” Chrissy looks up at him in
surprise, pointing a finger at him with a raised brow. “Oh, yeah. Sinclair went full jock,
basically bullied me into going. It was brutal.”

She rolls her eyes with a fond smile. “Sure, the nicest of all the freshmen you adopted bullied
you. That’s believable.”

“I’m serious! There was kicking, hair-pulling. The whole shebang.” He shoots her a wide,
teasing grin as she giggles. “Nah, he just rightfully pointed out that it wasn’t very cool of me
to miss your last time cheering, so I’ll be there with bells on.”

Her eyes soften and go a little sparkly. “Really?” Wow, he really should have thought of this
on his own if it puts that look on her face. He takes a few seconds to feel like an asshole
about it, then moves on.

“Absolutely. I’ll watch you kill it one last time, then I’ve just got a customer to deal with and
we can head back to the trailer. We’ve got a whole week to just relax and do whatever we
want. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.” She’s still a little subdued, but she’s cheered up since they came out here so
Eddie will take the win. They’re gonna have all of spring break to rest and recharge, after all.

He opens up his lunchbox one last time so they can throw in their trash, wraps her up in
another comforting hug, and the pair make their way back over to the school.

All things considered, the basketball game isn’t really that bad. You couldn’t torture that
information out of Eddie if anybody asked, he has a reputation to maintain after all. But he
gets it, kind of. The tension anytime a ball goes flying towards a hoop is similar to the thrill
in the air when somebody rolls their dice in a high-stakes situation at the table. He isn’t
gonna morph into a Tigers fan all of a sudden, but there are worse ways to spend a Friday
night, especially if it also means supporting his two jockiest friends.

It would have been a hell of a lot better if the evening hadn’t started with Tammy Thompson
yodeling at him before all the action started. Christ, if that’s how low the bar is for starting a
music career when you get out of Hawkins then Corroded Coffin is set.

Would have been better if Max had taken his advice and come along, too. Eddie was pretty
disappointed not to see her with Mike and Dustin when the boys arrived, but she also hadn’t
hissed in his face and run away when he brought it up at lunch so he supposes it isn’t a
complete failure.
The game’s just over a quarter of the way done, and Dustin and Mike have returned with their
arms full of snacks to fulfill their debt. Eddie grabs a soda from the pile and pops open the
tab to take a long drink, then feels a body fall into the empty seat to his left. He glances to the
side, and chokes a little on his drink in surprise when he sees Steve Harrington of all people
in the seat beside him.

What the actual fuck? Eddie looks back to his right. Caught in a spirited debate on the merits
of various concession candy, Dustin has somehow missed his little hero joining their group
and Steve isn’t saying anything to explain his sudden appearance, just acting as if this is a
completely normal thing to happen. He turns his attention back to the newcomer.

“Can I help you?” His question draws the attention of both Steve, who has the audacity to
look a little confused at the question, and Dustin, whose face lights up as he finally notices
the latest addition to their bench.

“Steve!” Dustin practically throws himself across Eddie’s lap in his effort to grab
Harrington’s arm and shake it around a little. This kid would really benefit from developing a
single personal boundary at any point.

Eddie throws his arm in the air to save his drink and pulls the little shrimp back to where he’s
supposed to be, but Dustin isn’t deterred in the slightest. “What are you doing here? Thought
you had a date you wouldn’t skip?”

“Who, Brenda? Nah, that’s a bust. She liked Tammy Thompson’s singing, so, clearly nothing
there.”

Dustin looks scandalized. “You can’t be serious. You ditched a date for complimenting
someone’s singing? That's it?”

“Tammy sounds like a Muppet, man. If Brenda can’t hear it, I can’t work with that.”

Steve says this like Dustin’s the ridiculous one for not reaching this conclusion on his own,
and Eddie chuckles against his will. He wants to hate Harrington a little for living up to the
bad stereotypes and ditching his date that quickly, but he honestly can’t blame him if the poor
girl’s taste is that bad.

Well, her taste in singers, anyway. Her taste in men is pretty damn impeccable, unfortunately,
if she’s here with Steve. “Come on, that’s just mean, Harrington. An insult to Muppets
everywhere.”

Steve snorts out a laugh at the joke, and Eddie can’t help but feel a little pleased with himself.
Mike leans forward with a little sneer on his face. “Okay, but your date sucking means you’re
sitting here…why, exactly?”

Eddie takes a drink of his soda to hid the smile creeping onto his face. Mike may have a hint
of the same hero worship that Dustin and Lucas do when it comes to Steve Harrington, but
you could still count on him to call on his unusually shitty teenage attitude and put the guy in
his place every now and then.
Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Thanks, Mike. Really nice.” Mike mockingly imitates
Harrington’s facial expression before turning back to the game. “I’m not gonna sit there and
waste both of our time on a shitty date when I can just…sit somewhere else. Problem
solved.”

“Yeah, but there are a million other people you could bother here.” Mike doesn’t let up, but
even Eddie can tell he isn’t all that upset about this. Turns out constantly spending time with
your sister’s ex-boyfriend resulted in a bit of an odd dynamic. Who would have guessed?

Not one to be outdone, especially when it comes to Steve, Dustin leans back over. “Or, you
could just go back up there! You can’t keep complaining that none of your dates work out if
you aren’t even finishing the dates.” Eddie no longer has any reservations about Steve joining
them – watching the former king of Hawkins High get chewed out by a couple freshmen with
an exasperated look on his face is fucking hilarious.

Steve tries to respond to both boys at once. “Nancy’s busy with paper stuff, Rob’s busy with
band stuff, and Erica scares me. So, no, there aren’t a million other people. Plus, look at her!”
He flings an arm out, dangerously close to Eddie’s face, to gesture behind them. “She already
forgot I was there!”

Eddie swivels around to look at Steve’s former date. Brenda? Was that right? Sure enough,
she’s laughing and chatting with her other big-haired friends without a care in the world.

The pettier parts of him are a little smug that Steve Harrington is apparently striking out on
the regular these days, but he does the mature thing and keeps it to himself. Mostly. He’s only
human, after all. “Tough luck, man. Can’t win ‘em all.”

Steve laughs, only a little bitterly. “Yeah, well, not all of us are lucky enough to date our best
friend for most of high school, Munson. You and Chrissy really won the lottery on that one.”

Eddie didn’t expect Steve to bring up his ‘relationship’ so casually when the two of them
have barely ever had a real conversation that didn’t involve a sale, but Eddie smiles to
himself anyway because the guy isn’t wrong. He and Chrissy might not actually be together
the way everyone thinks they are, but he is damn lucky to have her.

Dustin leans back over to lecture Steve again. “Maybe you somehow didn’t hear me the first
million times I said it, but it bears repeating that you could also be dating your best friend if
you’d just get over yourself and ask Robin out already!”

Steve groans, with a level of exhaustion that suggests this is an ongoing argument for the two
of them. “Christ, Dustin, not this again. Robin and I are just friends – you have to drop it.”

Dustin did not drop it. “Oh, sure, just friends. Friends who refuse to work separate jobs, and
who stay at each other’s house multiple times a week, and who are surgically attached at the
hip every time we hang out, and…”

“See, Henderson, you’re talking but all I’m hearing is ‘No, Steve, I don’t want a ride from
you ever again. Please ignore all my phone calls from now on.’”
Eddie’s eyes flicker back and forth, amused against his will by the pair’s good-natured
bickering. He might joke about adopting all the misfit freshmen he sees, but these two really
act like family and for now he’s content to just watch it happen. This day has already gone
pretty far off the rails from his original plan – why not add in an interaction with Steve
Harrington that isn’t kinda miserable, just for the hell of it?

He interrupts just once and offers to switch seats with Steve so they can keep at it without
Henderson leaning over his lap to do so, and the unlikely group of four settles in to watch the
rest of the game. Steve mostly just talks to Dustin, but occasionally turns to Eddie, asking if
he remembers somebody from the story he’s telling or shooting him a commiserating grimace
when Dustin gets a little big for his britches. Eddie thinks he’s doing a remarkably good job
pretending that sitting next to Steve Harrington at a Tigers basketball game isn’t one of the
weirder things that’s happened to him recently.

At one point, he makes eye contact with Chrissy from her place with the other cheerleaders
on the sidelines. She glances at Steve, then back to him, eyebrows raised high enough to be
hidden under her bangs. Eddie just shrugs and makes a vague hand motion towards Dustin
that he hopes conveys he doesn’t know what the fuck is happening here, either.

It turns out that in this context, desperately trying to save face with a couple of kids instead of
antagonizing other students, Harrington isn’t the worst company in the world. Eddie’s not
sure that really makes up for all the contexts in which the other boy is completely
insufferable, but it’s something. Plus, it helps Eddie be certain exactly when he’s supposed to
cheer by just copying the jock to his right. It’s like his own personal cheat code to get around
not understanding the game 100%.

With only a couple of minutes left on the clock, Lucas actually gets put in the game. Even
Eddie knows the significance of that. He’s overheard the kid complaining multiple times
about never getting to leave the bench and now here he is in the championship.

Their conversation starts to fade as the clock runs out, and stops entirely when Lucas sends
the ball flying towards the hoop just before it hits zero. Everything seems to freeze for a
moment, until the ball swishes through the net and the whole gym bursts into chaos.

Chrissy’s screaming loudly with the other cheerleaders, jumping up and down in a cloud of
pompoms. Dustin and Mike throw their hands in the air and shout excitedly for their friend.
And Steve Harrington grabs Eddie’s shoulder like they’re old buddies and shakes the pair of
them back and forth as he cheers louder than just about anyone else in the room, making
excited eye contact with someone in the pep band. Eddie just lets himself get swept up in the
celebration, really damn glad that he’s here to see one of his little sheep thriving.

It takes a long while, but the fervor of the crowd eventually winds down and people start
filing out of the gym towards the parking lot while the team still leaps around in celebration
on the court. Eddie looks for Chrissy, who’s giving Lucas a big hug and chatting with some
of the other cheerleaders. It seems like she’ll be busy for a little while yet, so he decides to
stick with Steve and the shrimp squad for a little while longer as they walk out to the parking
lot. There’s got to be at least a little more entertainment he can wring from this stone before
they part ways for the night.
Eddie looks back over to where he saw the newspaper kids standing earlier and catches Fred
Benson’s eye, jerking his head towards the parking lot as he walks towards it. He still has
some business to do tonight, and outside in the dark while waiting for Chrissy is as good a
place as any. Fred looks a little startled and glances around nervously to make sure nobody
else noticed, but it seems like he got the message.

Dustin and Mike pull ahead as they move with the crowd, chattering excitedly about the
game-winning shot, and he and Steve walk in silence for a moment before the other boy
speaks up.

“Hey, thanks for this, Munson.” Steve seems almost sheepish, avoiding Eddie’s eyes and
bumping a shoulder into his as he speaks.

“For…what, exactly?” Eddie keeps his face carefully blank. Steve’s been perfectly polite so
far tonight, but you can never quite tell with the jock types. You always have to be prepared
for a sudden change of heart.

“For moving your D&D thing. Lucas really wanted those two idiots to be there and I think he
was kinda nervous to talk to you about it, so…thanks.”

Eddie relaxes a little. Nothing to be worried about here, it seems.

“Yeah, man, no problem. I mean, don’t get me wrong I plan on holding it over the kid’s head
for a while.” Steve snorts at that, and Eddie reluctantly smiles again. Being amused and a
little endeared when he doesn’t want to be seems to be the general theme of talking to Steve
Harrington. “Didn’t realize it meant that much to him and Chrissy, so…glad I did.”

Part of Eddie wants to run for the hills at the thought of having an earnest conversation with a
member of the Hawkins jock squad other than Chrissy or Lucas, but he’s trying to do better
about that kind of thing. Harrington’s just another guy, after all. A really pretty one, granted,
but just a guy.

Steve opens his mouth to respond when a loud car horn sounds across the parking lot. They
both whirl around to see Dustin and Mike, sitting in the backseat of Steve’s BMW. Dustin’s
leaning forward to lay on the horn while Mike’s leaning out of the window to yell at the top
of his lungs.

“Let’s go, Steve! I have to be home by 9:00!”

Steve just stands there and stares with a shocked, slack-jawed expression. These kids are
damn good at being public menaces, so Eddie’s not sure why Steve seems so surprised until
he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his keys. The keys that Dustin and Mike
had apparently not used to get into Steve’s car.

“How…”

Eddie cackles as Steve trails off, looking at him with questioning eyes. “Don’t look at me,
man, I didn’t teach them that shit.”
The horn sounds again, a long, unending wall of noise, and Steve sprints over without so
much as a goodbye, looking more like a frazzled babysitter than the Tigers royalty Eddie
used to know him as. Eddie shakes his head with a small smile on his face and finishes the
short walk over to his van alone.

He roots around in the back seat for his lunchbox, slipping a few pre-rolled joints and a bag
of weed into his jacket pockets so he doesn’t have to carry his entire stash through the crowd.
Turning around, Eddie scans the crowd for a skinny kid with glasses. Like those aren’t a dime
a dozen at a high school basketball game.

Finally, he catches a glimpse of Benson disappearing around a corner of the building. The kid
looks spooked, head darting around nervously as he walks, but at least it means he’s nervous
enough to find a good, hidden spot to wait in, down a little alleyway between two buildings
and outside the reach of the lights in the parking lot.

Eddie heads over as subtly as possible, slipping into the darkness next to Fred and nodding in
acknowledgement. “Sorry about the change in plans, man. Had something come up.”

Fred shakes his head, still pretty jittery. The first-time buyers usually are. “It’s fine. Just…do
you have it?”

Straight to business, then. That’s more than fine with Eddie. The sooner they wrap this up,
the sooner he can get Chrissy home. He digs around in his pocket for the stuff he brought
with him and holds it out for Fred to see, shooting a quick glance towards the light of the
parking lot to make sure they haven’t caught any unwanted attention. “This enough?”

Fred glances down before meeting Eddie’s eyes and looking away again, gaze never staying
anywhere for long. Jesus, this kid’s nerves are gonna give him whiplash. He looks like he’s
seen a ghost.

“Do you have anything…I don’t know, stronger?”

Eddie’s eyes widen. Out of all the people he might have expected to ask after his harder shit,
the nerdy kid from the paper who practically lives in Nancy Wheeler’s shadow would not
have been his first guess.

His disbelief must show on his face, because Fred rushes to explain himself. “I’m not like…
it’s not a thing. I just…don’t think this will really work.” He gestures at the weed in Eddie’s
hands.

Eddie lets out a frustrated huff – this wasn’t supposed to be that complicated. Clearly this
kid’s going through some shit, but there’s not much Eddie can do. Not without breaking some
personal rules he holds very near and dear to his heart.

“Look, man, I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Fred bristles, giving Eddie his full attention for the first time and looking at him like a bug on
the bottom of his shoe. It’s a look Eddie’s grown awfully familiar with living in Hawkins.
“Really? You, of all people, are gonna get all indignant because somebody wants to buy what
you’re selling?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to be irritated. “Lose the attitude, Benson. I’m not gonna sell you that shit
with a crowd of people fifty fucking feet away.” Fred flinches at his tone, but he can’t bring
himself to care. It’s already been a long day and he’s never taken kindly to people talking
down to him during deals they asked for. Especially when Eddie’s already giving them the
‘sorry I strung you along a little’ discount out of the goodness of his heart.

“I barely sell other stuff anymore to begin with, and if I do then it’s at my trailer so shit
doesn’t get out of hand. If you’re buying right now, then it’s weed or nothing. Take it or leave
it, man.” Eddie stares blankly at Fred while he fidgets and wrings his hands.

“Fine, fine. Can we just get this over with?”

“Gladly.” He was kinda glad they weren’t able to do this earlier in the day cause Fred’s
pissing him off. Eddie hands over the weed, takes the offered bills out of Fred’s outstretched
hand, and sarcastically tips an imaginary cap on his way back over to the lot.

Chrissy’s waiting by the van when he arrives, fidgeting with the strings of one of her
cheerleading pompoms and looking around calmly. She smiles when she sees him get closer.
“Everything go okay?”

“Yeah, well enough. Judgy little shit, but I’ll get over it.”

She giggles a little, clearly still riding the high from the game, and practically floats into the
passenger seat as soon as Eddie unlocks the doors. He turns up the radio and rolls down the
windows as they pull out of the parking lot towards Forest Hills.

Eddie foolishly thought that he might get at least a minute of peace before facing the
inquisition. Instead, Chrissy whirls on him with a mischievous look in her eye within a
second of turning onto the main road.

“So…Steve Harrington, huh? What’s that all about?”

Eddie groans. Absolutely not. No way in hell does he want to entertain even a teasing version
of this conversation. Let this evening with Harrington be a passing oddity and nothing more,
that’s what Eddie says.

“Chris, come on…”

“I mean, it’s already surprising you were going to the game at all, but you didn’t tell me you
were going with Steve Harrington.” She says his name in a high-pitched, teasing voice and it
takes all his willpower not to smile at her.
“This is what we’re doing? We’re making a thing out of this? This is nothing.”

“Nothing, huh? You’re saying you wouldn’t go on a little basketball date with Steve
Harrington. I don’t believe you.” Her eyes are sparkling and she giggles a little as she pokes
fun at him. She’s having way too much fun with this and Eddie can’t even blame her – the
whole thing is objectively absurd, a veritable goldmine of best friend teasing material.

“Well, considering he ditched his ‘little basketball date’ to come over there, no, doesn’t really
sound like a good time to me.” Chrissy looks even giddier, if that’s possible, and Eddie’s eyes
widen when he realizes the extra ammunition he just gave her. “That’s not…I didn’t mean…”

“He ditched a date to come and sit with you? Seriously?”

“No! No. He ditched a date to come sit with Mike and Dustin, and I was also sitting with
Mike and Dustin, and we just happened to both be doing that…near each other. That’s it.”

“If you say so.” Eddie’s face has to be the color of a damn tomato at this point, but she keeps
going. “It’s just…hanging out with a hot jock other than me? It’s like I don’t even know you
anymore.” He’s laughing along with her now, not even trying to hide it anymore. God, what a
weird fucking day.

“How…” He stutters the words out through his laughter. “How the hell would you know if
he’s hot or not?”

“I’m on the cheer squad, Eddie. I don’t have to be into guys to know that pretty much every
girl our age at that school thinks Steve Harrington is at least a little hot. It’s, like, theoretical
hotness.”

Eddie snorts and wipes at his eyes, sobering a little. “Well, that’s exactly the point! Steve
Harrington is supposed to be theoretical. He’s supposed to just be the hot, gossip-worthy,
dickhead jock that you pop a hate boner over from a safe distance.”

She splutters. “Eddie, ew, oh my god!”

“Okay, that’s not the grossest thing you’ve heard me say by a long shot. My point is, that’s a
manageable thing for Steve Harrington to be. This? A kinda tolerable guy who has a soft spot
for the same nerdy freshmen I do and who makes halfway pleasant conversation at a
basketball game? That is not a manageable thing for him to be. That’s just about the worst
thing Steve Harrington could be, actually, so I’m simply not going to let him be that. That's
all there is to it.”

“If you say so.” Chrissy looks pleased with herself, and the atmosphere in the van is warm
and light.

“You’ve got everybody fooled, Cunningham. Got everyone thinking you’re so nice, and yet
here you are, bullying me when I haven’t teased you even once about your little band girl
crush.”
 Chrissy goes a shade of red to match Eddie and he grins. Turnabout’s fair play, after all. “I
don’t have a crush on the band girl. I barely even know her. I just said I think she’s pretty,
that’s all.”

“If you say so.” Eddie’s smile goes fond as he parrots back Chrissy’s words, but he doesn’t
push it further cause he’s pretty damn proud of her. She’s grown confident in her own identity
over the years, but ever since her near-outing in ’82, she’s been skittish when it comes to
actually saying anything about girls they know, even to Eddie. It’s like she’s scared that
speaking the words will set off an alarm somewhere, so calling another girl pretty out loud is
big for her.

“I do say so.” Chrissy nods with a smile still stuck on her face, closing her eyes as the
conversation dies down. She leans against the passenger side window, minutes away from
dozing off by the look of it. He doesn’t blame her – as entertaining as the past couple hours
have been, she still had a tough day beforehand and they’re both exhausted.

Eddie’s van rolls into its usual spot outside the trailer, coming to a rattling stop that shakes
Chrissy awake. They trudge up to the front door and Eddie digs around in his jacket pocket
for the keys as Chrissy yawns and leans against the wall. She rubs at her temples with a small
frown on her face, and Eddie frowns right back as he finally gets the door open. “You good?”

“Just tired. Little bit of a headache.” She makes a beeline for the couch and collapses on it,
closing her eyes again and relaxing with her head tipped back against the cushions. Eddie
grabs her usual, feel-good ABBA cassette from the shelf by the door and slips it into the tape
player on the kitchen counter, skipping a few tracks to a song he knows is one of her all-time
favorites as he heats up some water and starts making their drinks.

He would try and patent this cheer-up method if it wasn’t so damn obvious. Panic attack?
Music. Bad day? Music. If there’s a single problem in this world that can’t be fixed with
some music, Eddie hasn’t found it. Add in some sugar, and it’s foolproof.

“Marshmallows or no?” There’s no reply from the living room. She must be asleep already.
Eddie takes a moment to pick a couple of mugs from the vast collection hanging on the wall,
pours hot chocolate up to the brim, and walks back out to Chrissy, wincing at the little drops
that spill on his fingers as he goes.

Both mugs slip out of his grip and crash to the floor when he rounds the corner. They lay
smashed and forgotten in a puddle on the floor as his eyes fall on Chrissy, sitting ramrod
straight on the couch with twitching limbs, rapidly moving eyes under closed lids, and blood
trailing down from her nose.

Chapter End Notes

Season 4 is officially unfolding. Also, the Stranger Things kids breaking and entering
whenever possible is deeply important to me.
 One to light your way, bring you home
Chapter Summary

A close call, and a case to solve

Chapter Notes

CW for Chapter 3: Chrissy's Vecna vision (nothing worse than the show, but you can
jump to the first section break if you'd rather skip it)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 21, 1986

Even with the bone-deep exhaustion Chrissy’s felt for the past week, she still smiles at the
clumsy chaos that always seems to follow Eddie everywhere he goes. She lets her eyes slip
closed as she listens to him rummage around for her favorite tape and stumble his way into
the kitchen. Her bad days have never seemed quite as bad since they came up with their
music and hot chocolate ritual to cheer themselves up, and he’s long since stopped
complaining about ABBA sharing shelf space with his metal albums. Just being in this trailer
puts Chrissy at ease, out in the part of Hawkins her mother wouldn’t set foot in if her life
depended on it.

She tries to ignore the pounding in her head that’s been creeping up on her since she threw up
in the bathroom earlier that day. A minute passes, then two, and she wonders why Eddie’s
been quiet for so long. Prolonged silence isn’t really his style. Normally, he would be
chattering at her while putting way too much thought into picking out their mugs, determined
to get the perfect ones for the day. He’s weirdly good at it.

“Eddie?” There’s no reply from the kitchen. Eddie wouldn’t just ignore her. Chrissy frowns
and opens her eyes to check on him. After blinking a couple times to clear her vision, she
gasps and scrambles back to the edge of the couch.

The Munson trailer, normally such a warm and inviting space, has disgusting black vines
stretching up the walls and over the floors. The wriggling tip of one creeps up over the edge
of the couch, and she frantically scoots further away with a yelp as it tries to wrap around her
ankle. This can’t be real – it has to be a nightmare or something, right? She gets those
sometimes when she’s more stressed out than normal. There’s been plenty this week alone,
but they’ve never looked this real.
Shadows streaked with a deep, menacing red creep across her field of vision from the corners
of the room and shroud the cluttered walls of the trailer in darkness. “EDDIE?” She calls out
for him louder, but there’s still no answer. Not from the kitchen, anyway.

From outside the trailer window in the darkness, her mother’s voice rings out. “Chrissy? You
ready to try on the dress again?” Chrissy flinches, tears in her eyes. Her mother was like a
dog with a bone with that stupid prom dress. This can’t be right. Her mother makes a point to
never come out here. Why would she be outside? What is happening?

There’s a rattling on the trailer’s front door, like someone knocking frantically to get in.
“Chrissy! Did you hear me? Open the goddamn door, Chrissy.” Before she can even try to
convince herself that this isn’t real, Chrissy’s on her feet and running to Eddie’s room. She
slides to the floor against the closed door and bites back a sob as she hears the front door
slam open down the hall.

“Don’t you dare ignore me, Chrissy! You thought you could hide this? You’re going to hell,
right alongside your aunt and that whore she lives with, and everybody knows it!” Chrissy
feels sick to her stomach. Her mother isn’t supposed to know about her. She and Eddie have
both been so careful these past few years. How would she have figured it out?

Chrissy covers her ears, but it does nothing to block it out as every hurtful comment her
mother’s ever made seems to echo through her head at once. Just when she thinks she can’t
bear it for another second, the ranting morphs into something even more awful. A deep,
rumbling voice has her shaking, head turning on a swivel to try and find the source, until a
new sound finally cuts through.

Chiquitita, you and I cry, but the sun is still in the sky and shining above you

It’s her favorite song, the first sound that hasn’t filled her with dread since this whole episode
started. Chrissy takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and tries to focus. This almost always
helps with even her worst panic attacks. Just focus on the song, think happy thoughts, and get
her breathing under control to come out of the worst of it. Eddie usually helps her calm down
from there.

She pictures the trailer as it always is and not this weird, nightmare version, a nice evening
with Eddie and Wayne instead of the awful things her mother’s voice is screaming in her
head. After a long moment, she dares to crack her eyes open again.

It feels like she’s floating outside of her body, looking down on it from above. The red and
black shadows have peeled away, and she can see herself sitting on Eddie’s couch. He’s
standing in front of her looking scared, his hands on either side of her face and shaking her
gently as he yells something she can’t hear. She’s never seen him like this before. She’s never
seen anything like any of this before.

Chrissy keeps fighting to feel in control over her body again. She can tell when it works and
feels like she’s being thrown onto the couch. She gasps, heaving in a big breath, and blinks
her eyes open, finally back in the warm, safe version of Eddie’s trailer she knows and loves.
It’s never felt more comforting than it does in this moment.
“Oh my god, Chris!” Eddie pulls her into his arms the second she’s fully aware again, tucking
her head under his chin and squeezing her tight. They’re both trembling. She feels stuck in a
daze, and can’t quite make herself believe that whatever that was is actually over. “Holy shit,
what the fuck was that?”

“I don’t…I don’t…” Her brain is foggy and it’s hard to speak, tears in her eyes as she tries.
Eddie’s asking the right question. What was that? Her panic attacks have been getting worse
recently, but in all the years she’s struggled with them they’ve never been like that – some
vivid nightmare world she felt physically trapped in. Her mother sounded like she was
actually in the trailer. People didn’t normally hallucinate like that in panic attacks, did they?

“I mean, shit, that was…are you okay? That’s never happened before, are you good?” Eddie
runs his hands over her nervously, gently checking her face and arms with wide, terrified
eyes. Chrissy isn’t sure which of the two of them is more freaked out right now. He fumbles
for a couple napkins on the coffee table without taking his eyes off of her, and gently wipes
under nose. Her eyes widen as she watches them come away bloody. She hadn’t even noticed
her nose was bleeding.

“I don’t…I don’t know. I think it’s fine, now.” She’s desperate to calm them both down a
little, whether it’s actually fine or not. All the worrying is making her head hurt even more,
an aching pressure steadily building inside her skull.

When she meets Eddie’s eyes, he looks stunned, a disbelieving little laugh slipping out
beyond his control. “Fine? You’re calling that fine? What happened? I was in the kitchen for,
like, five minutes!”

Chrissy understands why he’s so worked up, but it’s not really helping. She takes a deep,
steadying breath and listens to the tape in the background until it moves on to the next song
before answering. “It was probably another panic attack. Just…just a panic attack but, worse.
Like, everything was more intense. I could hear my mom talking, and there were weird things
all over the room.”

“You were seeing shit?” Eddie looks even more worried at that. “Okay, okay. Hospital. I’m
taking you to the hospital.” He starts frantically feeling around the counter for the keys to the
van.

Chrissy really doesn’t want to go to a hospital. She was already exhausted before all this, and
now it feels like she could melt into the couch any second. All she wants to do is stay here
and get some sleep. That’ll make everything seem better. “Eddie, I’m sure it’s nothing. We
can just…”

“It’s not nothing! You were having a seizure, right there on the couch!”

Oh. Chrissy freezes. She knows whatever just happened couldn’t be good, but she didn’t
realize just how bad it looked from the outside. “Are you sure? It could have just…”

He cuts her off again, voice rising as he gets more upset. “What do you mean ‘Am I sure?’ I
sell drugs to high schoolers, Chris, I kinda have to know what someone having a god damn
seizure looks like!”
Eddie closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, calming himself down while Chrissy
watches him spiral and tries not to do the same. “Sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I just…
you were fully somewhere else for a minute, there. I kept trying to wake you up, but you
were seizing, and now you say you were hearing things? Plus, your head was hurting when
we got here, wasn’t it?” She nods, starting to feel the weight of the situation as he connects
the dots. Something could be really wrong with her. “All that together is scary shit. It’s scary,
get to a hospital immediately and make sure your brain isn’t broken shit.”

Chrissy appreciates the apology, but the fact that Eddie raised his voice at her is what really
drives home how scared they both are. The only reason he would is if he was terrified for her,
so Chrissy nods and gets to her feet. “Okay. Okay, let’s go.”

His entire face crumples in relief. “Thank you. Thank you.” Calmer now that they have a
plan, Eddie finally finds his keys on the ground where they fell off the counter. “Can you
walk to the van on your own? You’re okay?” He wraps an arm around her shoulders on
instinct before even hearing her answer, and it comforts her like always as they walk back
down the steps.

The drive to the hospital is quiet and tense, a stark contrast to their teasing after the game.
Eddie’s tapping his rings anxiously against the wheel and shooting nervous looks her way
multiple times a minute. “Come on, come on.” He mutters under his breath as they wait at a
red light.

Chrissy reaches her hand out to him over the center console and he takes it without a second
of hesitation, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand in a way she knows helps him as
much as it does her. She’s drained and getting more scared by the second, and as much as she
loves Eddie, his nervous energy can be a little contagious sometimes.

It seems like ages before they finally pull up to the entrance of the emergency room. Eddie
moves to get out of the car, and she reaches across to stop him with a hand on his arm. “Wait
a second.”

“Chris, we don’t have a second. I want to get you in there.” The nervousness comes off him
in waves, and she takes a second to feel a little guilty for what she’s about to ask.

“I know, I know, just…look, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I should go in
on my own.”

Eddie’s jaw drops open in shock, but he doesn’t shake off her hand. “I’m sorry, what?! You
think I’m gonna just leave you here? Like some shitty frat bro dropping off their drunk
friend?”

Chrissy sighs and tightens her grip on his arm. She knew he wouldn’t like this, but the long
drive over gave her time to think about what he said back at the trailer. “I know you’re
worried, you want to come in and help, I get it. But this time I think it’ll make things worse.”

He opens his mouth to complain, a brief flash of hurt in his eyes, before he stops and motions
for her to continue. Chrissy’s so relieved that she’s here with somebody who actually listens
her. It feels like she doesn’t have too many people like that most days.

“Be honest with me. If you go in there with me, and we tell the doctors everything that just
happened, they’re going to call the police on you, aren’t they?” Eddie’s face falls as he
realizes what Chrissy’s saying, what she realized while stewing in the passenger seat. The
Hawkins police department has been looking for proof of Eddie’s dealing for ages, and taking
someone to the hospital because they were seeing things at his trailer isn’t the best look. He
said it himself – it’s the whole reason he even recognized the symptoms of a seizure.

He's quiet for a moment, jaw clenched in obvious displeasure. “Yeah, they probably would.
But I can handle some asshole calling the cops for no reason, I’ve had to before. I don’t want
to leave you alone in there!”

“Eddie, if you got in trouble with the police this close to graduation because of me, I’d never
forgive myself.”

His face is blank, but eventually he nods, satisfied with her answer. Only the slight tightening
of his hand on the door handle gives away his reservations. “Fine. Okay, fine. For the record,
I don’t like this. But if you say you’re good in there alone, then I trust you. Just…promise
you’ll call me as soon as you get home, okay? Or if you need anything at all. I wanna know
what’s going on, ASAP.”

This is one of the things Chrissy appreciates most about Eddie. He’s always ready to take
care of her when she can’t do it herself, but he doesn’t push too hard when she wants to
handle something on her own. “I promise. The second I get home.”

Eddie leans across the center console to give her a warm hug, and kisses her gently on the
forehead as she pulls away to get out of the car. His van doesn’t go squealing out of the
parking lot until the doors to the hospital have already closed safely behind her.

They were right to get here quickly. When she tells the lady at the check-in counter what
happened, that she had a bloody nose and a seizure, that her head hurts and she’s hearing
voices, the surrounding nurses get serious looks on their faces and rush to get her seen.

The whole experience goes by in a blur. She’s vaguely aware of giving someone her home
phone number to call her mother, and a kind nurse ushering her into a wheelchair to take her
to a machine that looks like a big, scary tube. Chrissy floats along beside the various people
examining her, and isn’t able to focus again until she’s sitting on a paper-covered table in a
private room and hears her mother’s expensive heels and piercing voice in the hallway.

“Where is my daughter? Honestly, you call in the middle of the night to tell me she’s in the
hospital, that you started treating her before I even arrived, and you want me to calm down?
The nerve.”
Chrissy’s head snaps up as a doctor she spoke to earlier walks in the room, a pinched look on
his face as her mother follows him in a huff. It’s a very familiar expression – Penny
Cunningham tends to have that effect on people.

“What is going on, Christine?” Chrissy flinches a little at that voice, too raw after hearing it
in her head earlier.

The doctor shoots her a sympathetic glance before trying to gain control of the conversation.
It’s a huge weight off her shoulders to not have to explain things herself. “Mrs. Cunningham,
if you don’t mind, perhaps I can explain?”

Her mother’s mouth audibly snaps shut and she whirls on the doctor, waving her hand with
an impatient look on her face. Chrissy’s even more relieved she asked Eddie to leave. Her
mother’s always awful to him, and if she had to try and referee the pair of them on top of
everything else it would all be too much.

“Your daughter came in earlier this evening because she had a seizure accompanied by both
visual and auditory hallucinations, so we wanted to move ahead with a couple tests to rule
out any serious neurological issues that would need immediate treatment.”

Chrissy looks up to gauge her mother’s reaction. She’s glaring, and Chrissy honestly can’t
guess what part of that sentence she’s most upset about. For all she knows, it could be the fit
of her cheer uniform that’s setting her off. The doctor continues.

“The good news is we don’t think this is anything to be seriously worried about right at this
moment. We examined a couple simple measures of baseline brain function and administered
an MRI, and as far as we can tell there’s nothing physically wrong with your daughter’s
brain. No visible abnormalities to suggest something like epilepsy and no traces of a viral
cause. Which brings us to the bad news – if there’s no physical cause, then we can’t say with
certainty what brought this on.”

Chrissy swallows nervously as her mother taps her foot. She just wants to get a straight
answer, go home, and call Eddie before she crashes from this horrible day.

“Our best guess at the moment is that this is stress-related.” Now, she kind of wants to cry.
She’s felt worse the past week than ever before in her life. How many people were going to
tell her that it’s all due to stress? They’re acting like this is all just in her head or something.

“My recommendation is to take things easy for now. It’s spring break now for you high
schoolers, right? So, just take some time to relax this week, and if you experience any
recurrence of the symptoms you experienced tonight, then come straight back here and we
can do some additional tests to try and clear things up. Does that all make sense?”

Chrissy nods, only half-listening, and the doctor smiles at her warmly before handing her
mother a few pieces of paperwork and walking them through the hallways towards the front
door. Her mother’s posture makes it obvious that she’s in for it when they get to the car.

She slips into the backseat to try and put a little extra space between her and her mother.
Maybe that will help. She doesn’t even realize she’s chewing on her nails until she tastes
bitter nail polish in her mouth. There’s silence for a minute, before the inevitable lecture
begins.

“Stress, Christine? Unbelievable. Just…unbelievable. What on earth could you possibly have
to be stressed about?” Chrissy keeps biting at her nails and focuses on the floor of the car,
trying to let her mother’s words just pass through her. “You want for absolutely nothing! And
yet, somehow, you have enough stress for it to give you a seizure?”

Chrissy feels tears gathering in her eyes. God, she just wants today to be done. Cheering at
the game was fun, but the rest of it has been beyond terrible.

“I mean, if you’re stressed about grades or school, then that’s your choice for not listening to
me when I told you to get your priorities straight. Or is it about your boyfriend?” So much
disdain, packed into a single word. “Because god forbid you feel a little stress over throwing
your prospects away to date trailer trash!”

“Did you tell the doctors what he does for a living? Did you? Because I’ve heard the rumors,
Christine, and if I’m being honest, these ‘stress seizure’ symptoms sound like you breathed in
too much of whatever drugs are just…floating around the air in that trailer! He’s the one who
brought you here, isn’t he? Just dropped you off and drove away. Didn’t want to get caught,
more likely.”

She winces. Her mother came to the exact conclusion she was worried about in record time,
and in her eyes, Eddie leaving only made it worse. On and on her mother goes, until they
finally pull into the driveway of their house. Chrissy isn’t often relieved at the prospect of
being here, but she relaxes just a bit as she escapes the car and walks through her front door.

“Go straight to bed. Honestly, Christine, I don’t even want to see you until the morning when
you’ve calmed down.” As if Chrissy’s the one who needs to calm down. Her mother storms
off to her room and leaves her alone. She wipes at her eyes and picks up the phone, dialing
Eddie’s number to tell him what the doctors said.

Chrissy sags against the wall and waits as the phone rings over and over before clicking
through to their answering machine. She frowns – that’s odd. Eddie was so worried earlier
that she expected him to be camped out by the phone waiting to hear from her. He’s done that
before for much less important phone calls. Maybe he just has his music playing too loud?
He was so upset earlier that he probably put on one of his metal tapes as soon as he got home.

She dials again, and again there’s no answer. Chrissy starts to tear up a little. She hadn’t
realized how badly she wanted to talk to him after everything her mother said until right now,
when it seems like she won’t be able to tonight.

Chrissy doesn’t leave a message. Eddie’s uncle is always so kind to her, but she doesn’t want
him to hear a message meant for his nephew where she’s probably going to cry. Resolving to
try again in the morning, Chrissy stumbles up the stairs to her room and barely manages to
brush her teeth and change into pajamas before falling in bed, crying softly as she drifts off to
sleep.
March 22, 1986

Chrissy wakes with a start, struggling against her sheets as she comes out of a nightmare she
can’t quite remember. Between that and this awful pounding behind her eyelids, she’s not
sure she believes the doctor saying there’s nothing wrong with her brain. She could probably
go blind from the pain and they would still tell her it’s just stress.

Squinting against the light coming in her bedroom window, Chrissy looks over at the alarm
clock on her nightstand. It’s 10:20 in the morning. She hadn’t expected to sleep that late,
waking in fits throughout the night as the images from her seizure-induced hallucinations
flitted through her mind.

Maybe she’ll feel better if she just scrubs away any trace of yesterday’s horror show and gets
a fresh start for the first day of spring break. The doctor’s orders were to take it easy, after all.
She shuffles over to her bathroom, takes a couple aspirin and steps into the shower, sighing as
the warm water relaxes her muscles.

Twenty minutes later, cozied up in her comfiest cheer squad sweatsuit and feeling a little
more like an actual person, she heads downstairs to call Eddie. If it’s already this late in the
morning, he’s probably worried that he hasn’t heard from her yet. She’s surprised he hasn’t
kicked in her front door. Chrissy runs into her mother halfway up the stairs, and from her face
it looks like she’s already on the warpath.

“Christine, I am giving you one chance to tell me the truth about what happened last night!
One chance!”

Chrissy’s not awake enough to figure out what her mother wants to hear. They both heard the
same thing from the doctor. “What do you mean? They told you, I had a seizure…”

“Not this seizure nonsense – the truth!”

“That is the truth!”

Her mother snaps out her next words in a harsh whisper. “Then would you care to explain the
two police officers standing on our doorstep asking to speak with you?”

Chrissy freezes. Of all the things she might have expected this morning, that certainly wasn’t
it. Why are the police here? Avoiding a scene with the police is the whole reason she sent
Eddie home last night, and her mother is too concerned with their image to call them out to
the house no matter what suspicions she might have.

“They want us to follow them to the station to give a statement, Christine. Do you
understand? All our neighbors are going to see us following the police out of our home, and
you don’t even care to tell me why?”

“I don’t know why! I don’t know what’s going on any more than you, mom.”
There’s a little twitch in her mother’s eye, so she’s clearly not soothed in the slightest, but she
jerks her head towards the front door and follows Chrissy down the stairs as they go to speak
with the officers.

Two men in police uniforms stand on her front porch – a tired-looking black man she
recognizes as Chief Powell from the news broadcasts last summer after the mall burned
down, and a tall man with curly hair. She doesn’t know his name, but she’s seen him before
when he pulled Eddie over for no reason with Chrissy in the passenger seat. They straighten
back up to attention as she approaches the door, and the chief holds his hat in his hands as he
speaks.

“Miss Cunningham? I’m sorry to have to bother you ladies this morning, but we were hoping
you two would be willing to come down to the station with us to answer a few questions.”

Chrissy’s eyes flit back and forth between them. She can’t tell from their attitude what this
might be about, but years of being friends with Eddie have taught her to be a little suspicious
of the Hawkins police department. “What’s going on?”

Powell gives her an attempt at a reassuring smile. It falls flat, comes across as frazzled
instead. “I’m afraid it’s a little complicated to discuss out here. We can talk more at the
station, that sound good to you?”

He phrases it like a question, but she can tell it really isn’t. Chrissy hesitantly looks at her
mother, who still looks enraged about the whole ordeal. She rolls her eyes and grabs
Chrissy’s shoulder a little more roughly than necessary to march her out to the car. They
don’t say a word the entire drive to the police station, and it’s almost worse than last night’s
shouting.

The chief leads them through the front doors and past the reception desk, where an older
woman barely looks up at them as they pass. Chrissy feels like everyone in the room is
staring at her. A middle-aged couple sits further back in the room in their own little world,
the woman wiping tears from behind her glasses and the man with a thousand-yard stare in
his eyes. At another table sits Nancy Wheeler from school. Her eyes are also a little wet,
though she isn’t actually crying, and she sits up straight in her chair as the officer in front of
her asks some questions.

Chrissy wonders for a moment if they’re here for the same reason she is, and if so, what that
reason could be. The chief steers them both into his office and sits in his chair behind a large
desk, the other officer standing against the wall to his left. Chrissy and her mother take the
seats in front of him, waiting for any clue as to why they’re all here. Powell shuffles a few
papers around on the desk before looking up at them.

“My apologies, again, for interrupting your morning. We just have a few questions for
Chrissy, and then you ladies can be on your way.” He talks in a steady voice, but Chrissy can
still hear his nerves creeping through and it only worsens her own. This must be pretty
serious if it has the Chief of Police looking so anxious.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Her mother impatiently taps a long, manicured nail on the arm
of her chair, glaring at both Chrissy and the chief in turn.
Powell’s smile goes a little tighter under her gaze, and he turns back to Chrissy.

“Miss Cunningham, based on a few other statements we’ve heard, we’re under the
impression that you are in a romantic relationship with one Edward Munson. Is that correct?”

Chrissy feels her mother stiffen next to her. So, this is about Eddie. What could have possibly
happened in the twelve hours since he dropped her off at the hospital? “Umm…yes, that’s
right.”

“And you left the basketball game together last night. Also correct?”

A cool dread starts to wash over Chrissy. This can’t be good, right? Eddie has never gotten a
fair chance with the police in Hawkins, even before he started selling any drugs. They took
one look at him, decided he was up to no good, and have been on his case ever since. She
doesn’t want to lie to a police officer, but she has to be very careful with her answers to avoid
saying something that will get Eddie in trouble.

“Right. We went back to his trailer.”

There’s a huff from her left, and Chrissy sighs. God forbid she mention where Eddie lives in
front of her mother. The chief takes brief notes as they speak, and the other officer has a
small smirk on his face that she doesn’t think fits with the tone of the conversation.

“And the two of you were there the whole evening?”

She falters, unable to do anything but tell the truth with her mother in the room. “Umm…no.
No, we had to go to the…to the hospital. He drove me to the hospital.”

Powell raises his eyebrows and the other officer speaks up for the first time. She’s just barely
able to read the name ‘Callahan’ on his uniform. “He hurt you?”

Chrissy recoils, horrified at the insinuation. “No! No, of course not. He wouldn’t…I had a
seizure, and we were both really scared about it because that’s never happened before, so he
drove me to the hospital. He was helping.”

Callahan looks almost disappointed, like he wanted the opposite to be true. Chrissy decides
she doesn’t like him very much, and crosses her arms over her chest as Powell steps back in.
“Do you know what caused it, if you don’t have a history of seizures? Anything in the trailer
or from that day?”

Her eyes narrow as she watches him, sure he’s implying the same thing her mother had last
night, the same thing she was worried the cops might think – that she had a seizure because
Eddie gave her drugs. The whole thing makes her want to scream. It’s not fair that people
always look at Eddie and assume the worst when he’s one of the best people Chrissy knows.

“No, it’s just stress. That’s what the doctor said.” Chrissy chews nervously at her nails,
deciding to offer up a bit more information if it helps convince them. “I get panic attacks,
sometimes, and I think they just got worse with graduation coming up. Eddie always makes
me hot chocolate and helps me calm down, he’s a really good fr…boyfriend.” Nobody
notices her tripping over her words. Over three years since they started pretending to date and
she still forgets, sometimes.

Powell gives her a small smile, almost pitying, while Callahan and her mother both scoff. It’s
a confusing reaction. Chrissy thought that saying something nice about Eddie would help, but
they’re looking at her like she’s being a bit stupid and it’s annoying her. She just doesn’t
know enough about what’s going on, but the chief presses on before she can ask.

“And he was there with you, at the hospital? He stayed with you the whole time?”

Yet another question with no good answer. She honestly can’t tell if she’s making things
better or worse for Eddie at this point. “Well…well, no. But only because I asked him to
leave! I was really stressed out, I just wanted to deal with it alone.”

“So, he’s a good boyfriend who helps you out, but you didn’t want his help at the hospital.
That sound about right?” Callahan sounds so smug she can barely stand it. She glares at him,
and the chief shoots him a sharp look as well before asking his next question.

“Miss Cunningham, do you know a Fred Benson? I believe you two go to school together.”

Every question they ask just makes Chrissy more worried. Eddie sold to Fred last night
before they left the school, so if the police are talking about them together it’s a giant warning
sign. “I know who he is, but we’re not like…close, or anything.”

“And did you see him after the game last night?”

She swallows thickly, and holds her head steady as best she can. This is the first time she’s
tried actually lying to the man, and she’s usually not that good at it. “No, I don’t think so. He
was definitely there for newspaper stuff, I think, but I didn’t see him after. Eddie and I left as
soon as I said goodbye to everyone.”

“You’re sure?” Callahan asks. “You didn’t see Fred talk to anybody? Your boyfriend,
maybe?” Powell glares at him. Callahan doesn’t seem to be very good at his job. It looks like
he keeps saying things he isn’t supposed to.

“Phil, come on.”

“I’m sorry, can somebody please just tell me what this is about? Is Eddie okay? You’d tell me
if he was, like, hurt or something, right?” Chrissy wasn’t able to get ahold of him when she
called the trailer last night. Suddenly, that seems like the scariest thing in the world. The chief
looks at her sympathetically for a moment, before coming to a decision.

“Miss Cunningham, what I’m about to tell you I am only telling you under the condition that
you keep this information to yourself. Is that understood?”

Chrissy nods rapidly, leaning forward to hear him better. She’s really scared for Eddie, now,
and just wants to know what’s going on.

“As far as we know, Mr. Munson isn’t hurt.” Her relief lasts only a second before his next
words shatter it. “He is, however, missing. And as of this morning, he is also the primary
suspect in a murder investigation. Fred Benson’s body was found in his trailer.”

Chrissy gasps, covering her mouth with her hands as tears fill her eyes. Even her mother
looks a little surprised at that. Nothing about this makes any sense. Powell gives her a
moment to process, before asking gently. “Now, are you sure there’s nothing else you want to
tell us?”

It’s the last straw. Eddie would never do anything like this, and she’s not going to start telling
the police everything they want to hear just because they ask her to like she’s a child who
doesn’t know any better. She’s angry, and scared, and still in pain from a headache that the
aspirin didn’t quite touch, and she’s done with this.

“Mom, I want to go home.” Chrissy stands and starts to leave while her mother just rolls her
eyes.

“Christine, if you’re going to make bad decisions in who you spend your time with, then this
is what happens. Answer their questions.”

But she’s already halfway out the door, the other three occupants of the room scrambling to
follow her. Powell attempts to salvage the situation. “Miss Cunningham, if you would just…”

“NO!” She whirls around to face him, cheeks red with anger and a single tear escaping before
she wipes her eyes and gets it under control. Now everybody in the room really is looking at
her, but she no longer cares. “No, you’re wrong! Eddie didn’t…he didn’t do anything and I
don’t want to answer any more questions. I want to go home.”

She and Powell stare at each other for a moment, before he nods reluctantly and gestures
towards the front door. They can’t actually make her stay and Chrissy’s taking full advantage
of it. “Fine, but please, Miss Cunningham, stay in town in case something comes up. No
spring break trips, okay?”

Chrissy doesn’t bother giving him a response – she just turns on her heel and practically runs
back to the parking lot with her arms wrapped tight around her. She catches a glimpse of
Nancy Wheeler watching her go with a curious look in her eyes.

Per usual, the lecturing starts back up as soon as her mother has the keys in the ignition, but
Chrissy doesn’t hear a word. She’s lost in her own feelings, and there are too many of them
for anything else to break through.

She’s relieved that the police didn’t call her there because Eddie was hurt, then feels guilty
because someone was hurt. How terrible of a person does it make her if all she feels is relief
that it wasn’t Eddie. She’s sad for Fred, and for his parents. She’s scared of not knowing what
happened last night or what will happen next, whether Eddie is safe or not.

And above all else, Chrissy is angry. Angry at her mother for her attitude the whole morning,
angry at the police for accusing Eddie, and even angry at herself. If she hadn’t insisted on
being alone at the hospital, then Eddie would have been there with her and he’d have an alibi.
She sent him home to keep him from getting in trouble and it backfired.
Chrissy bursts through the door as soon as they get back home, her mother hot on her heels.
“Christine, I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you lately, but enough is enough. Go to
your room, we’ll deal with this when your father gets home.”

For once, they agree. Chrissy’s already on her way up the stairs.

Chrissy was prepared to hole up in her room until that evening, waiting for her father to
return from his Saturday golf game. She took another aspirin for her headache, then curled up
in bed, staring at the wall in front of her. All the emotional overload of the past couple days
has finally caught up with her, and the only thing she really wants to do is talk to Eddie.
Which she can’t do, because he’s missing.

Around 4:00 in the afternoon, still a few hours before her father’s supposed to be back from
the country club, there’s a sharp knock on her bedroom door. Chrissy rolls her eyes – if she
has to deal with her mother for another second she’s going to scream, or cry, or both. At the
same time, probably. She can’t wait until graduation when her and Eddie can get out of here.

Except, maybe not. Those were plans from yesterday, before Eddie had apparently become a
murder suspect. It’s so absurd she can barely even think the words. Her mother knocks again
and Chrissy throws the covers off in a huff, wrenching the door open to see her mother
standing there with her fist raised.

“What now?” Her mother looks a little taken aback. She clearly didn’t expect any attitude
from her daughter. Chrissy just raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“There’s someone at the door for you. Again. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Chrissy doesn’t even bother answering, just walks straight past her mother to the stairs for the
second time that day. Apparently, all it takes is her life being turned on its head for her to gain
the ability to start standing up to her mother.

Standing on her doorstep is…Nancy Wheeler? That’s somehow more surprising than the two
police officers earlier in the day. Chrissy narrows her eyes as she looks at the other girl –
she’s going to be a little skeptical of anybody coming to talk to her unexpectedly until this
whole mess with Eddie gets cleared up.

“Nancy, hi. What are you doing here?” Nancy opens her mouth with determined eyes before
looking at a spot over Chrissy’s shoulder and faltering for a moment. Chrissy follows her
gaze to see her mother standing there, obviously eavesdropping.

Nancy shakes it off and starts again. “Hey! Is it still a good time to work on that science
project?”
Chrissy frowns. She has absolutely no idea what Nancy’s talking about. Did she forget some
plans in all the chaos yesterday? “I don’t…”

The other girl cuts her off abruptly, a pleading look in her eyes. “I saw you at the station
earlier and you looked upset, so I thought you might have forgotten. I can give you a ride to
my house, if you need?”

She obviously wants her to play along, but Chrissy can’t for the life of her figure out why.
Nancy Wheeler has never actually spoken to her before beyond polite chit-chat at a couple
parties when she was still dating Steve Harrington, and now this? Out of nowhere? Chrissy’s
mother interjects before she can come up with a response.

“Nancy, was it? We’ve had quite a day, here, I’m sure you understand. You could come back
later this week, perhaps?” It’s like the past day never happened, painted over with a coat of
politeness when faced with an outside observer. Chrissy can’t stand it.

“I know, Mrs. Cunningham, I’m sorry to bother you guys. We just planned to meet up for a
while today to plan everything out so we could work on it separately over break. And, well,
with everything with Fred…I don’t know, I was just really hoping to talk to a friend, that’s
all.” Nancy’s putting on a hell of a show, going so far as to fake a little sniffle.

Her mother’s politely blank face softens as Nancy speaks. She seems to buy Nancy’s story,
and even if she didn’t, she would never want to appear rude to someone outside their family.
“Alright, dear. I suppose that’s fine. Chrissy, we can discuss things with your father tomorrow
morning.” She turns on her heel and disappears back into the house. Chrissy can’t help but
notice that her mother didn’t look at her once the entire exchange.

She steps outside and closes the door behind her. Nancy’s dropped the act entirely, standing
somewhat rigidly with a carefully neutral expression on her face. “What’s going on, Nancy?”

She pauses for a moment, chewing on her lip a little as she chooses her words carefully. Even
with this extra forethought, her next words seem blurted out. “Do you know anything? About
what happened to Fred?”

Chrissy’s entire expression shutters. Everyone knows that Nancy Wheeler is one of the
smartest people in school and loves digging up stories wherever she can find them. Half the
cheer squad can’t stand her because of one thing or another that ended up in the school paper
when they thought it should stay secret.

Nancy seems to understand her suspicion, and backs off a little. “I don’t think Eddie did
anything. Sorry, maybe I should have led with that. I’m sure the police do, I heard as much at
the station, but I don’t.” Chrissy’s skepticism must show on her face, because she quickly
explains further.

“I saw Fred. His body, I mean, when I was answering questions.” Chrissy hadn’t expected
that, her eyes widening a little. “Not on purpose. They were sloppy moving it into the station
and the sheet slipped, just for a second. It was…horrible. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
She’s clearly rattled by whatever Fred looked like and Chrissy feels a little sick.
“It didn’t seem like any person could have done that, and definitely not Eddie Munson.
He’s…eccentric, sure, but my little brother is in Hellfire and practically worships the ground
he walks on. I think he’s innocent, I promise.”

Chrissy releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It’s a relief to hear it, but it
doesn’t explain what exactly the other girl wants. “I really appreciate that, Nancy, but what
are you doing here?”

“I want to figure out what happened. Things like this have happened in Hawkins before and
there’s always an explanation. One way or the other.”

Chrissy’s still skeptical. Nancy’s really good at running the school paper, but this is way more
serious than that. “But you’re not, like, a real reporter. We’re still in high school, and
somebody died. I know it wasn’t Eddie, but this still seems like the type of thing to let the
police deal with.”

Nancy scoffs. “The authorities in Hawkins couldn’t solve a problem if somebody wrote down
the answer and shoved it down their throat.” She’s surprisingly forceful about it and it startles
a laugh out of Chrissy. Nancy doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed and presses on.

“Please, Chrissy. If you know anything, it could really help.”

Chrissy believes her, for whatever it’s worth, but she doesn’t know what all she can actually
do to help. “I wasn’t actually with Eddie, last night. Whenever this happened, it was after I
left his trailer. Sorry, there’s just…not much I actually know. That’s what’s so frustrating.”

Nancy also looks frustrated, but accepts her answer as the truth. “Okay. That’s okay, thanks
anyway.” She turns to leave, and Chrissy reaches out to stop her.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“If you don’t know anything, that’s fine, but I need to find someone who does. Maybe ask
around the trailer park or something…” She trails off, almost talking to herself as she moves
back towards her car and Chrissy follows close behind her.

“I’m coming with you.”

Nancy barely even acknowledges her. “No, you’re not. There’s some kind of killer running
around and it could be dangerous.”

Chrissy scoffs. “So, what, it’s too dangerous for me but not for you? How does that make
sense?” Nancy just tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow pointedly, as if it makes all
the sense in the world. Chrissy folds her arms and refuses to budge.

“Eddie is missing, Nancy. Nobody has any idea where he is, and I don’t know if he’s okay,
and the police are only interested in finding him so they can blame him. So, if you’re going to
try and find out what really happened, then I’m coming with you, because I can’t just sit
around here with my mother waiting for something bad to happen when I could be helping
him instead!”
The other girl’s eyebrows raise even further, but this time Nancy’s clearly impressed. Chrissy
gets the impression she isn’t used to people disagreeing with her. She gives Nancy a sharp
nod, and before the other girl can complain, Chrissy walks over to her car and sits in the
passenger seat, staring pointedly at her through the window.

Nancy’s mouth drops open in shock for a moment, before she shrugs to herself and gets in the
car, turning the key in the ignition and starting the drive to Forest Hills.

They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, Chrissy feeling a little embarrassed by her
outburst and Nancy clearly unsure what to say to her. Eventually, Chrissy speaks up.

“Fred was buying drugs from Eddie.” She would never tell the police this, but she truly
believes Nancy is on her side, and she’s going to need all the information if they’re going to
figure this out. The other girl glances over out of the corner of her eye, never really looking
away from the road, and looks skeptical. “At least, he was after the game. Eddie met up with
him before we went home. I don’t know why he would have gone to the trailer, too, but…
they talked at least once last night.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy still seems unconvinced, and Chrissy doesn’t blame her. She’s not
one to judge people who buy from Eddie, but it’s probably a lot to take in. “That doesn’t
sound like Fred.”

“People do all kinds of things that don’t make sense if they’re having a hard time. I’m sure.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything.”

Chrissy looks out the window at Hawkins passing by as she speaks, trying not to think about
Eddie in trouble somewhere out there. “Not about what actually happened. I was…I was at
the hospital.” She thought about leaving that part out, but might as well get everything in the
open.

Nancy turns to face her fully. “Are you okay?”

Chrissy shrugs. “I think so. I had a seizure, but they couldn’t figure out why. Eddie dropped
me off, and whatever happened with Fred must have been after that. I didn’t hear anything
until the police showed up this morning.”

“You could have just said all that earlier.”

“Admitting that he was selling drugs to a murder victim doesn’t really paint him in the best
light, Nancy. I’m still not sure I should have told you at all.”

They’re rapidly approaching Forest Hills, and there’s a police officer stationed at the entrance
to keep cars from entering.

“Shit.” Nancy curses under her breath. “Okay, okay. Just…follow my lead.” She rolls down
the window as the car comes to a stop and plasters on the sweetest smile she can manage,
trying to convince the officer they’re here to check on Max.
Chrissy knows Max a little from all the time she spends in Forest Hills with the Munsons, but
she didn’t know Nancy did too. She does what Nancy says and follows her lead, hoping this
officer didn’t see either of them at the station this morning. “She called us earlier and
sounded kinda freaked out. With the murder, and everything. We just don’t want her to be
alone.”

The officer considers this for a moment. “I’ll let you check on your friend, but be fast. Yeah?
As soon as her mom’s home, you gotta go.”

“Of course, officer. Thank you.” Nancy rolls up the window and shoots an impressed look
Chrissy’s way. “Good thinking.”

Chrissy beams at the compliment. Nancy really seems to know what she’s doing, and
Chrissy’s glad to actually be of some help. She was a little worried she might just get in the
way.

She feels strange being here for the first time since leaving for the hospital last night. It sends
a shiver down Chrissy’s spine, and she pulls her sweatshirt tighter around her. Nancy moves
off towards a stranger’s trailer, and Chrissy stops her before she gets too far.

“We should probably see if Wayne’s here, first. Eddie’s uncle.” Nancy raises a questioning
brow. “People who live out here don’t normally like talking to people they don’t know,
especially with all the police around. Wayne knows me, he might be the only one willing to
say anything.”

Nancy seems a little taken aback, but doesn’t argue. “If you say so.”

Chrissy leads the way towards Eddie’s trailer, scanning around until she spots Wayne
Munson sitting at a covered picnic table a few dozen yards away from the front step. Wayne
stiffens as they get close enough for him to hear their footsteps, but his posture relaxes
entirely when he turns and sees Chrissy, eyes widening as he rushes over to wrap her up in a
hug.

“Holy hell, girl, you scared me half to death.” Chrissy hugs him back without a second’s
hesitation – all the stuff with her mom the past few days really makes her appreciate the one
adult in her life who actually acts like a good parent.

“I’m okay, Wayne. I promise.” Her voice shakes a little as he holds her, and she notices
Nancy off to the side politely averting her gaze.

“Thought the pair of ya would be here when I got home this mornin’, not…” He doesn’t need
to finish his sentence for Chrissy to understand perfectly. Wayne walked into the trailer
expecting to find Eddie and Chrissy starting their day, and instead found a dead body and no
trace of either of them. It’s horrible, and her breath catches in her throat. Wayne relaxes his
hold slightly but his hands stay on her arms, keeping her close as he looks her over.

“I didn’t stay here last night.” She wants to explain, to put him at ease. “Eddie had to drive
me to the hospital.”
Whoops. That has the exact opposite effect she intended, and she kicks herself internally as
his eyebrows climb up his face.

“You weren’t here for this, were ya?” He gestures at the crime scene behind him. “Didn’t get
hurt, nothin’ like that?”

“No, nono, nothing like that. I had…I had a seizure. So he drove me to the hospital, and then
my mom took me home. And it’s all been crazy since then, obviously.”

“Don’t suppose you know where he is, do ya?”

Chrissy shakes her head, sadly, and he wipes at his eyes. “Well, one of my kids is safe, at
least. Guess it’ll do for now.” Her heart warms at the casual affection Wayne always has for
her. He steps away, leaving a comforting hand on her shoulder, and turns to Nancy where she
still stands a little awkwardly. “Who’s your friend?”

Nancy raises a hand in polite greeting. “Hi, Mr. Munson. My name’s Nancy Wheeler. Fred,
the boy who was…who was killed. He was a friend of mine from school. We’re trying to find
out what happened.”

Wayne raises an eyebrow and looks between the two of them in alarm. “You sure about that?”
He keeps his voice quiet, and Nancy steps a little closer to hear him clearly. “Boy died, after
all. Much as I don’t like the cops, it ain’t really safe for you girls to be poking around in this
without ‘em.”

Nancy obviously bristles at the idea that she can’t handle it, but keeps her voice friendly. “I
know, Mr. Munson. Believe me, I know. But somebody has to figure out what happened and
it’s certainly not going to be the Hawkins Police Department.”

He chuckles at the contempt in her, but seems more amused than convinced to Chrissy.
“We’ll be really careful, Wayne. I just want to help Eddie.”

That seems to do the trick. Wayne looks at her for a long moment, before turning back to
Nancy. “My nephew, he may look dangerous, but he didn’t’ do this. It just…ain’t in his
nature. I know Chrissy knows that, but you gotta know it too. You do somethin’ to get him or
Chrissy here in even more hot water and we’re gonna have a problem. You get me?”

Nancy nods solemnly. “Of course, Mr. Munson. I promise. You have nothing to worry about
from me.” Placated, Wayne moves to sit back down at the picnic table and motions for them
to follow. Chrissy takes the seat next to him and Nancy sits across, pulling a small notepad
out of her bag and giving Wayne her undivided attention as he begins telling them a story that
sounds straight out of a horror movie.

Nancy slips into reporter mode effortlessly, taking down notes and preparing thoughtful
follow up questions as Wayne tells them the story of Victor Creel, a man who murdered his
family horribly when he was a boy. Chrissy’s content to listen as Wayne speaks and Nancy
works her magic.
The Munson trailer, all wrapped up in yellow tape, sits in the corner of Chrissy’s vision, and
she feels herself start to zone out as she looks at it more directly. That horrible voice from last
night echoes in her mind, and she swears she can see a figure moving in the shadows of the
trailer, raising a large hand to press against the front door. Wayne’s voice snaps her out of it
after who knows how long, and when she sneaks one last glance at the trailer, everything
seems normal again.

This Victor Creel killed his family in the same way Fred was killed, and is still alive at
Pennhurst Asylum. Chrissy and Nancy share a significant look – it’s a bit of a shot in the
dark, but it’s something. Wayne seems to be done talking, and for a long moment there’s
nothing but the sound of Nancy scratching out some final notes. “Thank you so much, Mr.
Munson. It can’t be easy to talk about, but this will be a really good place to start.” She looks
up and smiles at them both before closing her notebook, and Chrissy leans over to give
Wayne a parting hug.

“Now, I meant what I said, Chrissy. You be real careful with all this. I want my boy back here
safe and sound more than anything, but not if you get yourself hurt doin’ it, understand?”

They share a serious look as she nods, and his eyes are a little wetter than when they arrived
as she follows Nancy back to her car.

They’re coming up on 24 hours since Chrissy last saw Eddie, and she hates it. She picks at a
plate of leftovers Mrs. Wheeler heated up for her as they sit on Nancy’s bedroom floor, going
over what little notes they have from the day. Little being the important word here. It’s really
not much.

Wayne’s story about Victor Creel is a good place to start, but there’s nothing to connect it to.
They brainstormed the best they could, throwing out any idea that occurred to him, but now
they’re just repeating things and realizing it amounts to nothing more than guesswork without
more information.

Chrissy’s getting frustrated, and so is Nancy from the looks of it. She doesn’t seem like the
type who does well when a puzzle doesn’t have a solution, but there are just too many
unknowns here. It’s like one of their teachers gave them an assignment with a page missing
from the instructions. What would Victor Creel have been doing near Eddie’s trailer, or
targeting Fred? They really need to find Eddie, to make sure he’s safe and find out what
actually happened.

She has a couple ideas on who Eddie might have gone to for help other than her. He’s
mentioned another dealer he knows with a house out on Lover’s Lake that he’s definitely
been to before, and he has friend with an attic apartment in Indianapolis they both stayed in
one late night after a concert, but she can’t remember their names or enough details about
either place to go check them out.
Chrissy sighs as she starts to lose focus, and Nancy’s eyes snap to hers. She almost looks
annoyed at the noise, but softens when she registers Chrissy’s upset face. “We’ll figure
something out, Chrissy. All we need is one solid connection and the rest of it will start falling
into place.”

“I believe you. I’m just worried. The longer this takes us, the worse it is for him.”

“You and Eddie…I don’t mean to be rude, but I guess I never really understood the two of
you together. Until today, I mean, seeing you and Wayne. You all really care about each other,
don’t you?”

Chrissy smiles to herself and fiddles with the ring she’s worn on her right hand ever since the
day her and Eddie had started ‘dating.’ People like Nancy might always have it a little bit
wrong about the two of them, and that’s by design, but they get one thing right. The Munsons
are the most important people in the world to her.

“Yeah, we do. Eddie’s been through a lot, and…I mean, I know I have it better than a lot of
people in Hawkins, but, I guess I kind of have too. It’s just…it’s nice to have someone you
know is always in your corner, you know? Even for the really hard stuff.” She looks up to see
Nancy smiling at her warmly, and feels a little embarrassed. “Sorry, you probably didn’t need
to know all…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I know exactly what you mean, actually.”

Chrissy settles in more comfortably on the floor and abandons their notes. It doesn’t look like
they’re going to figure anything else out tonight anyways, and it’s nice to just chat with
Nancy about something normal. “You mean…Jonathan, right? That’s your boyfriend’s
name?”

“Yep, Jonathan.” She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “The last few years have
been…well, insane doesn’t even begin to cover it, honestly, and if he hadn’t been with me for
it…”

She trails off, but still seems discontent. Chrissy can’t help but be curious.

“Sounds like you miss him.” Nancy rapidly turns to face her, eyes narrowed in confusion.
“He moved, right? I thought I heard that, anyways. I’d miss Eddie if he had to leave.”

Nancy tenses. Chrissy gets the sense that she doesn’t talk about her personal life all that
much, but she doesn’t feel too bad for asking. If her personal life is going to be spread out for
Nancy to poke around in while they figure this Eddie thing out, surely asking a few questions
of her own is more than fair.

The other girl takes a long moment, chewing on her bottom lip before speaking up again. “I
do. Miss him. I love him, so of course I miss him. It’s just…been different since he moved, is
all.”

“I get it. You want him here for the hard stuff.” Chrissy offers a kind smile, and Nancy seems
to relax a little at the lack of judgment.
“Yes, exactly! We can talk on the phone, sure, but it’s harder to be on the same page. I don’t
always know if he’s telling me everything that’s going on with him anymore.”

“Sorry,” Chrissy offers, but Nancy waves her off.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m sure you feel the same sometimes.”

Chrissy goes back to fiddling with her ring. She doesn’t know what to say to that because she
hasn’t ever felt like Eddie was hiding something from her. They’ve never really done that
with each other, and she doesn’t want to make the other girl feel worse. Nancy’s smart,
though, and seems to interpret Chrissy’s silence for exactly what it is. Her face falls a little as
someone knocks on the door.

Nancy’s mother peeks her head in around the doorframe. “Nancy, honey, if you’re going to
have a group of people over, it’s fine, but you need to tell me first. Especially if they’re here
this late!”

Nancy frowns. “What do you mean, mom?”

“Honestly, Nancy, your friends just got here. What else could I mean?” It’s the type of
question Chrissy’s own mom would ask her, but Mrs. Wheeler’s voice comes out warm and
fond, and it makes Chrissy a little sad. It’s never easy getting a first-hand reminder of how
mothers are supposed to talk to their daughters.

Mrs. Wheeler leaves their view, and barely a second passes before Steve Harrington comes
through the door, followed closely by the pretty girl from the pep band. She’s pretty sure her
name is Robin, but she’s not positive.

Chrissy feels her chest go a little fluttery, but she manages to keep her cool. Staying on the
cheer squad after everything that happened her freshman year wouldn’t have been an option
if she couldn’t be around a pretty girl without turning into a blushing, fumbling mess. She
played these things so close to the chest that even Eddie had been taken by surprise when she
told him about the girl who seemed to pop up everywhere since the first time Chrissy noticed
her, and he hadn’t been able to guess who it was, either.

So, the fact that she’s here with Steve Harrington, who she may or may not be dating, with
her hair all messed up in the most adorable way is no problem at all. Chrissy’s got this.

“Steve, Robin, what the hell are you doing here?” At least Chrissy has her name right. That
would have been embarrassing. Steve and Robin both look a little frazzled, like they’ve been
running all over town.

“You don’t have Mike’s radio thing that the kids use, do you? Henderson tried to call you, but
I didn’t think there was any point. I knew we should just come see if you’re here, but the kid
never listens to me.” Steve jumps right in, with no preamble. Nancy seems taken aback, but
rolls with the punches.

“No, it’s in his room. Probably turned off while he’s on his trip. I’m sorry, what’s going on?”
She looks between Steve and Robin expectantly.
“It’s an emergency. Like, a Code Red emergency. Apparently,…” Steve trails off as his eyes
land on Chrissy where she’s still sitting on the floor. Robin turns to see what caught his
attention, and jumps a little when their eyes meet. Clearly neither of them noticed her, too
focused on whatever they came to talk to Nancy about.

Chrissy gives an awkward little wave, which Steve returns even more awkwardly. “Chrissy,
hi. Why…are you here?”

Nancy crossed her arms. “I brought her here. Your turn. What’s the emergency?”

“You heard him say Code Red, right? Seems like kind of a need-to-know thing, so…” Robin
looks at Chrissy pointedly, and she tries not to feel too hurt that the other girl doesn’t want to
talk with her in the room. The three of them clearly already know each other, after all – of
course they’d want to speak in private.

Nancy stares at the pair of them, puzzling something out in her brain. “This isn’t…does this
have anything to do with what happened to Fred?”

Robin’s eyes widen, but Steve doesn’t seem all that surprised Nancy already knows
something. He glances over at Chrissy for a moment, weighing his words before he speaks.
“Umm…yeah. Yeah, it does.”

“Something from there did this to him? You’re sure?” Another nod from Steve, significantly
more cautious this time. The wheels keep turning behind Nancy’s eyes. “You might as well
just say it then. Chrissy’s been helping me try to figure out what happened to Fred, she’d
have found out soon enough anyway.”

Robin looks surprised. “Wait, seriously? You want to tell more people? Are you sure?”

Nancy looks at Robin sharply, and the other girl shrinks back. There’s an underlying tension
there that Chrissy can’t quite put her finger on. Steve either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care,
and keeps speaking. “I mean, it’s her boyfriend. She has a right to know.

It’s that last bit that pushes Chrissy over the edge. “Can you quit talking about me like I’m
not sitting right here? If this is about Eddie, just tell me!”

Robin’s still avoiding an impromptu staredown with Nancy, but Steve turns to her with a
placating look in his eyes. “Don’t freak out, but…we know where Eddie is.”

Chrissy jumps to her feet, rushing over to where the pair stand by the door and grabbing
Steve by the arm in her excitement. They’ve been up here thinking themselves in circles and
the answer just shows up at their door. “Really? You do?”

Nancy frowns. “Wait, who’s we?”

“Us two, Dustin, Max. He’s hiding out by Lover’s Lake, some guy named Rick’s house?”
Rick! That was the name! Chrissy’s pretty proud of herself for guessing right, but it’s a little
odd for someone like Steve to go all the way out there to find Eddie. She narrows her eyes.
“Why were you guys looking for him? He didn’t do anything to Fred, you know that, right?
He wouldn’t do something like that.”

“We know.” Robin rushes to reassure her, eyes big and genuine. “We were out there looking
for him because Dustin and Max were worried about him. We just want to help. Promise.”
Chrissy looks at her closely for a moment, all thoughts of her little crush forgotten as she tries
to figure out if she’s telling the truth. Robin gives her an awkward smile, raising a halfhearted
fist in the air and mouthing ‘Go team.’

Chrissy decides to believe her, and not because Robin’s being kind of adorable. She trusts
Nancy’s judgement on this, and Nancy seems to trust the pair of them. That’s good enough
for now.

Nancy cuts back in. “What does Eddie have to do with the Upside Down, though?” Chrissy
frowns. The Upside Down? Whatever that is, it hadn’t come up in their planning. “You said
this was a Code Red – how?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times. “He saw something from the Upside Down
kill Fred. Or, no, he didn’t see any monsters, but it happened anyway?” Nancy raises an
eyebrow as Steve fumbles through an explanation. “Whatever, Henderson will explain this
better anyways. You guys found something too?” He motions to the papers on Nancy’s
bedroom floor, and she nods curtly.

“Yeah, we have a couple ideas, but that’s not the point right now. You can’t say we have a
Code Red and then just not explain it, Steve.”

Robin looks between the two of them a little panicked, trying to keep the peace. “Okay.
Okay, hang on, we’ve gotta…synthesize, here. Put the two halves together. We should all just
go back out to the lake bright and early and get everybody on the same page. Cause if we try
to explain everything Eddie saw to you guys and then explain everything you two found to
Eddie and the kids, just bouncing back and forth forever, we’re for sure gonna get it wrong.”

It seems like a good enough plan to Chrissy, especially if it means getting to check on Eddie
herself, but Nancy hesitates, clearly uncomfortable with not having all the information for
even a second. Steve picks up on it too. “Come on, Nance. Waiting a few more hours isn’t
gonna kill anyone.”

They all wince at his choice of words, but Nancy seems convinced. “Fine, but we’re leaving
early, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

The pair turn to leave, and Steve pauses when he looks at Robin. It’s like they’re having an
entire conversation without ever saying a word, just communicating through pointed looks
and gestures. Steve ends it by smirking at her, then looks back around. “Chrissy, we can give
you a ride, if you want?”

Robin blushes and glares at him, but Steve isn’t even acknowledging her. Chrissy gets the
idea that trying to figure out what’s going on with the two of them might just give her more
of a headache, so she just nods and gathers up her things as they leave.
 On the way to her house, Steve and Robin tell her the short version of a story that sounds like
something out of one of Eddie’s books. How all of the strange things that have happened in
Hawkins over the past few years – Will Byer’s disappearance, the gas leak at Hawkins Lab,
the fire at the mall – have all been caused by another world bleeding into Hawkins. If him
and the others are right, then Fred’s murder might be related to it, too.

More surprisingly, they’ve been fighting monsters from this other world alongside seven
children, Joyce and Jonathan Byers, the late Chief Hopper and some reporter in Illinois.

There are still a lot of holes in the story, but it paints the events of the past day in a new light.
A few things actually make more sense, like the brutality of what happened to Fred and why
Nancy was so sure she was capable of solving a murder as a high school student.

She’s a little shell-shocked from all the information, and Robin clearly notices when she
peers over the backseat at her. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Finding out about this kinda feels like your
brain going kablooey right inside your skull, but you’ve got us!” Robin shoots her a smile
that only comes off as a little manic, and Chrissy can’t help but smile back. “Plus, if it helps,
you’re doing really great so far. Dingus here told me he literally ran screaming the first time
he found out about all this stuff, so you’ve got him beat.”

Chrissy tries to hide a giggle behind her hand as Steve splutters and reaches over to flick
Robin half-heartedly in the side of the head. She does feel a little reassured by that, actually.
They tell Chrissy they’ll be back by 7:00 the next morning to pick her up, and drive away as
soon as she unlocks her front door.

She pauses for a moment, but doesn’t hear her mother moving around anywhere and sighs in
relief. Getting out of the house tomorrow morning without her mother catching on is already
going to be tricky, but not seeing her tonight makes it a lot easier.

Chrissy goes up to her room to take more aspirin, hoping this will be the dose that finally
helps this awful headache. Popping a tape into her stereo for a little background noise from a
tried-and-true classic, she starts counting the minutes until the morning. Things will start
looking up tomorrow, she’s sure of it.

Chapter End Notes

- The only research I have ever done or will ever do for medical stuff is watching Grey's
Anatomy
- Those fics where everyone in the group has their own walkie they use always have me
smiling, but I’m a firm believer that only the kids would actually have them.
- This is turning out to be more of a vibes-based posting situation than a scheduled one,
but I'd be surprised if there's ever more than a week between chapters
 The man left to his own schemes
Chapter Summary

Eddie in the aftermath

Chapter Notes

CW for Chapter 4 - violence/gore (ends at first section break)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 21, 1986

Eddie grits his teeth as he speeds out of the hospital parking lot, flipping the bird at another
driver when they honk at him for driving like an asshole. They’re right, obviously, but he’s in
too foul a mood to care about anything other than getting back to the trailer as quickly as
possible. It doesn’t matter that he watched Chrissy walk through the hospital doors less than a
minute ago. There’s no chance in hell he’s missing this phone call.

He's angry enough that he probably shouldn’t be driving, honestly. Not at Chrissy – never at
Chrissy, not for something like this. It just sucks that she’s right. In all his panic and rush to
get to the hospital, he forgot for a moment that he’s still Eddie Munson in Hawkins, Indiana.
If he showed up to the hospital with a girl having seizures, people would assume the worst in
an instant.

So, he really does understand, but no amount of understanding is enough to make him feel
good about leaving Chrissy by herself in the hospital when they’re both scared out of their
minds by what just happened. Seriously, what the fuck was that?

Eddie’s hands tremble, one on the wheel while the other wipes at his eyes. He can’t
remember ever being that scared before in his entire life, not even when his dad was still
around. He wants to go back in time to an hour ago before he knew what it felt like to be
fully convinced that his best friend was dying in front of him. Hell, she might be dying
anyway, if there’s something wrong with her brain. Hoping to calm his nerves, he pulls out a
cigarette the first time he comes to a red light. So much for a relaxing start to spring break.

The trailer door slams open when he gets home with enough force to almost knock a couple
mugs off the wall in his haste to get to the phone in the kitchen. He winces as he sidesteps the
spilled hot chocolate and bloody napkins on the floor. Just another reminder of this shitshow
of an evening.
Eddie has no idea how long this kind of hospital visit is supposed to take. If it’s actually
something bad, she could be in there for hours. He waits, and paces, and gets himself even
more worked up. Cleaning up the mess in the living room kills a little time, but the waiting is
still infuriating. After what feels like ages, a timid knock on the door draws his attention.

He pauses, hovering near the kitchen counter. He’s not expecting anyone tonight, and he’s not
really in the mood to pretend not to be freaking out for the sake of some uninvited guest.
Whoever it is knocks again, more forcefully this time. It’s only the thought that it might be
Max needing something while her mom’s at work that gets Eddie moving towards the door.

It’s not Max, though. Fred Benson is standing on his doorstep, gaze snapping around the trees
lining the park like he heard something prowling out there. It’s only been an hour, two at
max, since Eddie left the game, but the kid looks way worse than when he last saw him. His
eyes are red, from a combo of crying and smoking what he bought earlier if Eddie had to
guess, and his nervous fidgeting has grown into a near-constant tremble.

Eddie sighs. He’s got a good guess what draws Fred out to Forest Hills this late at night, but
he’s gotta ask anyways, voice shaky with stress. “What’s going on, man?”

Fred won’t meet his eyes. In the harsh yellow of the Munson’s porch light, Eddie notices a
gnarly scar on the kid’s face that he missed earlier. “After the game, you said…you said you
only sold stronger stuff at your trailer. I just…I feel like I’m going insane. I don’t know what
else to try.”

Eddie closes his eyes, rubbing at his temple. As a rule, he doesn’t normally sell to people this
out of their head. No dealer with a conscience would – it’s asking for trouble. He doesn’t
really feel like making a second drive to the hospital this evening.

Fred’s clearly desperate, though. He drove all the way out here because of one throwaway
comment that Eddie might have something stronger. Whatever’s going on with him must be
rough if this is what he thinks he needs to deal with it.

Throwing his head back and muttering a curse under his breath, he decides that harm
reduction’s the way to go. If Benson wants the stuff this badly and Eddie turns him away,
he’ll just go get it somewhere else. At least if he takes something here, Eddie can keep an eye
on him while waiting for the phone to ring.

“Fine, fine, just….get inside.” Fred finally looks at him, moving way too slowly for Eddie’s
taste. He gestures at the door impatiently. “Inside, dude, before someone sees you out here.
Let’s go.”

He gives the park around them a quick onceover as Fred stumbles past him. There are lights
on in the Mayfield trailer, but nobody who might actually call the police seems to have
noticed the kid knocking on his door.

Eddie rummages around in a couple cabinets. It’s been so long since he actually sold any of
this shit that it could be anywhere. His hands shake as he looks. Being here while Chrissy’s at
the hospital has been making him antsy this whole time, and he hadn’t counted on an
audience.
Fred moves further into the trailer, raising an eyebrow as he watches Eddie search. “You’re
sure you have something?”

“No, no, I got it. Um, somewhere.” He moves to look in his room, and Fred follows for a few
steps before wrinkling his nose and stopping in the middle of the hallway. Eddie rolls his eyes
once his head’s turned. The attitude on this kid, acting like his room is a nuclear waste site or
something.

Eddie really needs to keep this place cleaner. He doesn’t have that much ketamine lying
around the trailer anymore, and trying to find it when it looks like a tornado has blown
through his room is no small feat. It takes a few minutes, but Eddie finally spots it, hidden in
a metal tin shoved under his nightstand.

“Gotcha. Found it!” Eddie yells back out into the living room and starts to leave, pausing as
the lights flicker in the trailer. He waits for a moment, groaning when they all flicker again.
Just what they need, power issues on top of everything else. He looks up as he exits his room,
and stops in his tracks, brow furrowed in confusion. Fred’s gone. Full-on vanished, no longer
standing in the hall right where he left him.

“Benson? Hello?” There’s no response. It’s not a big trailer – small enough that he would
have heard the door if the kid left, and definitely small enough that Fred must have heard
him. “Come on, man. Let’s just get on with this.”

Eddie’s a little wary as he pads down the hallway, in no mood for any other weirdness
tonight. When he passes the closed bathroom door, flickering light flooding out from under
the door, he chuckles to himself. Here he is, starting to freak out like some discount Michael
Myers had snatched Benson from under his nose and the kid’s just taking a piss. This day is
getting to him. He knocks on the door.

“Hey, I found it. You good?” No answer, but that’s not surprising. Eddie takes a few steps
back and leans against the wall in the hallway, content to wait. Barely a minute passes before
Eddie hears the clatter of something getting knocked to the floor. His eyes flash up to the
door in concern, worried Fred might have passed out in there or something.

Eddie knocks again. “Benson? Seriously, dude, you okay in there?” There’s still no answer,
and now Eddie’s getting worried. He tries the handle to the bathroom, and finds it unlocked.
“Okay, I’m coming in. Put your dick away or whatever.”

He swings open the door, but there’s still no sign of Fred until something draws his attention
up.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie screams and throws himself back into the hall, knocking a picture
frame off the wall as he crashes into it. Fred Benson is plastered to the ceiling, shower curtain
tangled around one of his ankles.

Before Eddie can figure out how he’s up there or whether he’s playing some kind of prank,
one of Fred’s arms breaks in half with a disgusting crack. Eddie screams again. His legs give
out from under him and he falls to the floor, scrabbling backwards away from the terror
unfolding in his bathroom.
He can’t tear his eyes away, no matter how much he wants to. He just watches in wide-eyed
horror as Fred’s other arm snaps. Then his legs, his jaw, and finally, worst of all, his closed
eyes sink back into his head with a squelch that Eddie’s sure he’s never going to be able to
unhear.

All of a sudden, Fred’s body drops like a marionette with its strings cut. As if the poor boy
hasn’t suffered enough, Eddie hears one more loud crack as his head strikes the edge of the
tub. Eddie chokes out a sob, finally managing to look away. He pulls his knees up to his
chest, hiding his head as he curls into himself on the floor.

There’s a long moment of silence before Eddie feels safe to emerge from the cocoon of his
own body. The worst has to be over, right? It has to be. The lights have stopped flickering,
and there’s no more stomach-churning sounds coming from the bathroom.

It takes a couple tries before Eddie’s able to psych himself up and peer around the edge of the
doorframe, and he instantly regrets it. He gags as he throws himself back into the hallway,
sitting against the wall next to the bathroom door with his hands buried in his hair.

He only looked for a second, but it was enough to burn the scene into his brain like a
flashbulb. Fred’s mangled body is tangled in the shower curtain and sprawled up the side of
the tub, bleeding from his head and disturbingly still.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck, what the fuck…” Eddie mutters as he rocks back and forth on
the ground. What is he supposed to do now?

Eddie has no idea how long he sits in the hallway panicking before he feels something wet on
his knee. The sensation breaks him out of his own mind long enough to look down, and he
freezes. Fred’s blood, pooled on the bathroom floor, has started to flow out the door in a
small stream, leaving a stain on his jeans. It’s like the world was on pause all around him, and
the sight of that red hit the play button.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Fred is dead. There’s a dead kid in his bathroom, and his blood is
seeping into his fucking clothes. It’s the last crack in the dam that sends Eddie spiraling. He
can’t be here for another second, sitting five feet away from a corpse. He has to get out of
there.

Eddie scrambles to his feet and runs back down the hall, swiping his keys off the counter and
tripping on his way out the front door. His breath comes to him in heaving gasps as he speeds
out of the trailer park, and it will be a miracle if he doesn’t throw up in his van while he
drives. His hands shake as he checks the rearview mirror over and over again, convinced that
something will be following him every time he looks up. A police officer, a witness from the
park, whoever the hell did that to Benson. There has to be something.
He gets about a mile away from the park before realizing he has absolutely no idea where
he’s going. The van swerves dangerously as he pulls over, coming to a sudden stop less than
a foot from a tree. Another car blares its horn at him as it goes whipping past.

Everything’s moving too fast and too slow at the same time. Where does he even go after
something like that? His first thought is Chrissy, as usual, but that’s not an option while she’s
still at the hospital getting checked out. He’s got to get somewhere he can be alone, get his
head back on straight after…

Eddie shudders, can’t even bring himself to think the words. He taps his fingers nervously on
the wheel until it comes to him. Rick’s house. Lover’s Lake is a good distance outside city
limits and Rick’s locked up, so it’ll be empty. There shouldn’t be any unexpected visitors
dropping by. It’s as good a plan as any for now.

He pulls back on the road, trying to drive more carefully even as he flinches away from every
other set of headlights on the road. No point getting away from whatever the hell happened in
that trailer just to get himself killed in a car accident.

Twenty minutes later, Eddie sees what he’s looking for – a rusty, old cattle gate a few yards
off the side of the road. Rick came up with this system years ago for people to get to the
house unseen when Holland Road is swarming with summer lake traffic. It shouldn’t be too
busy late at night in the middle of March, but Eddie’s not taking any chances.

He leaves the key in the ignition as he hops out of the van and walks up to the gate, hoping
Rick didn’t change the padlock combination after the last time Eddie came out here to
restock. The click when the lock pops open is like music to his ears. Finally, a little luck.

Eddie pulls the van through and locks up behind him, shaking badly enough that it takes him
a few tries to climb back over the gate. The narrow dirt road wraps around the back of the
houses, and he drives it as quietly as possible with his headlights off until he comes upon the
little parking spot Rick cleared out between two trees.

He turns around to grab his stuff from the back out of habit before remembering he didn’t
actually bring anything with him. There’s just his lunchbox sitting where he left it after the
game. He might as well grab it – if there was ever a day he might need to relax a little, it’s
today.

Eddie makes a break for the back porch, locking the door behind him once he’s inside and
leaning against it to catch his breath. He's safe. Well, maybe not safe, but he’s here. He’s
bought himself a minute to breath.

Damn it, he should’ve grabbed a tape from the car. Chrissy has her ABBA to calm her down,
and he has a rotation of metal in the van that does the same thing, but it feels too risky to
walk all the way back to the van. He forces all the air in his lungs out in one last grounding
breath, then pushes himself up off the door.

Eddie spins a ring around and around on his finger as he moves through the house, the pig
face catching on his other jewelry as he does so. Every once in a while, he wishes he gave
Chrissy a different ring to wear all those years ago. That one was easiest to fidget with and he
misses it sometimes.

He reaches the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge. Any food here has probably gone bad
in the months since Rick’s been locked up, and Eddie’s stomach is still turning too much to
even think about eating anything. Every time he closes his eyes, he’s back in the bathroom.

A beer, though. That’ll do nicely. Eddie opens the fridge and could cry from the relief.
Somehow this place still has power, and the fridge light clicks on to reveal a few cold cans of
PBR. Beautiful. Eddie reaches in to grab a can, but drops it and hits the floor when he hears
tires on the gravel outside. Headlight beams cut through the windowpanes, and Eddie crawls
over the floor to plaster his back against the cabinets.

Any progress towards calming back down evaporates as his heart starts racing again and his
breathing speeds up. He’s still too visible here. All it would take is one unlucky glance from a
neighbor or a knock on the door from some moron who doesn’t know Rick’s in prison.

Not being found feels like the most important thing in the world to Eddie right now. He’s not
even sure why, but it does. He stands to peek out the corner of the window and make sure that
car is gone, racking his brain for any other place he can run to, when he sees the boathouse.
It’s even further removed from the road than the house is with far less foot traffic, and most
of the windows are coated in grime from years of disuse. It’s perfect.

He gathers up his lunchbox, a blanket from the couch, and a couple beers from the fridge,
bundles it all up in his arms, and inches over to the front door. After making sure no cars are
anywhere in sight and no lights are on in surrounding houses, he bolts.

Eddie considers it a small miracle that he only trips once on his mad dash over to the
boathouse, stumbling to his knees and popping back up in an uncharacteristically athletic
save. The boathouse door is unlocked, but stuck, and he manages to get it open by throwing
himself against it fireman style a few times. He winces from the impact and rolls his shoulder
around as he enters.

This will work. This feels safe. Without a second’s hesitation, Eddie cracks open one of the
beers he brought with him and drains the whole thing. Healthy coping habits be damned, he
needs conscious thought to fuck off for a while. He tosses the empty can in a corner and starts
poking around the boathouse, waiting for the buzz to kick in. It’s a weak beer, but it’ll be
better than nothing.

The boats are covered by blue plastic tarps. Peeling one back reveals a mountain of random
objects. Empty fuel cans, a torn-up tent, a broken tackle box. Junk and more junk. The other
boat, however, is practically empty. It’s only got a couple old newspapers and empty beer
bottles on the bottom.

Eddie settles on the floor of the boat and leans against the side to get comfortable. He pulls
the blanket around him and reaches in his lunchbox with trembling hands to pull out the last
joint he has stashed in there, lighting it and inhaling the instant relief.
His brain is still too jumbled to start piecing together the events of the night. At the moment,
it’s a blessing. Eddie listens to the water gently lapping back and forth beneath the boat as he
smokes in silence and throws the remainder in the lake. He can apologize to Mother Earth
later, when his brain is working again. With his thoughts crossfaded into submission, the
exhaustion of the day finally creeps up on him.

March 22, 1986

In the sober light of morning, memories of last night come flooding back in, and Eddie
heaves over the side of the boat, even with nothing in his stomach. He’s sure he’ll be seeing
glimpses of Fred broken and bleeding on his bathroom floor for as long as he lives.

His head feels fuzzy and his body aches from sleeping on hard wood all night. Tears stream
down his face, but he’s too exhausted to lift a hand and wipe them. He just sits there and lets
himself cry for the messed-up kid he had been trying to help in the only way he could.

Eddie cries, and cries some more, until his eyes run dry. He’s resigning himself to sitting in
this boat and just being nothing for a while longer when he’s struck by the full weight of
what’s happened, and his blood runs cold. He sits up straighter and buries his head in his
hands. There’s a dead kid in his trailer. There’s a dead kid in his trailer. He’s fucked. He’s
absolutely, well and truly fucked.

Last night, running seemed like the only thing to do. Something had to have done that to
Fred, right? People don’t just float in the air and break all their bones for no reason. No,
something did that and Eddie had no idea what was happening so…he ran. He got out of
there to somewhere where nothing was gluing kids to the ceiling and where he wasn’t sitting
in a pool of another boy’s blood.

There’s still red staining the denim on his knee. Eddie grabs one of the beer bottles in the
bottom of the boat, smashes it against the side, and uses the sharp edges to cut at the fabric.
One more hole in his jeans won’t make a difference and he needs to not be wearing Fred
Benson’s blood or he’s gonna completely lose it.

Christ, he just left him there. Eddie’s not even sure what he could have done to help. Fred
was dead and there was no sign of what caused it, but…what kind of person sees that happen
to someone and just leaves them there?

Eddie’s always prided himself on being someone who finds a way to help people when they
really need it. That’s how he met Chrissy in the first place. And yet, there Fred was, the
victim of the most horrible thing Eddie’s ever seen in his life and he didn’t do anything.
Didn’t run for help, didn’t call the police, nothing. He briefly wonders if Fred broke his
glasses when he fell. They looked kind of expensive. It would suck if they were broken, if the
glass from the lenses cut his face up even more.
One thought leads to another and Eddie’s fully spiraling, hands buried tightly enough in his
hair to make his scalp hurt. Oh god, Wayne. He didn’t even think about Wayne. His uncle
would have gotten home from work at the plant hours ago when the sun rose and found that
waiting for him with no sign of Eddie. He was probably worried sick.

Wayne would call the cops, at least. They could hopefully start figuring things out for Fred,
but that wasn’t good for Eddie. There’s a dead body in his trailer, and Eddie ran. Hawkins PD
already has it out for him, and even Eddie could admit that this looks pretty damning.

Fred was there buying drugs, for fuck’s sake. It helps that he hadn’t actually given Fred
anything before this all happened – the ketamine is still sitting in his jacket pocket. But, when
the police inevitably find this place, he has no way to explain any of this to them in a way
that won’t send him straight to jail. Wayne has tried so hard to do right by Eddie, to raise him
well from middle school onward so that his nephew wouldn’t end up like his brother, and
now he might end up rotting in a cell right next to dear old dad for something he didn’t even
do.

And Chrissy. She would have called him when she got home from the hospital and not gotten
an answer. That’s not normal for Eddie, and she would know it. He was always near the
phone when she said that she would call. What if she came to the trailer when she couldn’t
get a hold of him? What if she saw that, or worse, what if whatever did that to Fred got her
too?

He’s stuck out here, hiding from the cops since his panic last night might have made him a
fugitive, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea if Chrissy’s okay. It’s that idea that sends him
over the edge, and he slides down to the floor of the boat again, numb to the world. He
musters enough energy to open his second beer and pour as much of it down his throat as
possible without drowning himself. For now, there’s nothing he can do but lie here.

Eddie hasn’t been in a state like this since his first attempt at senior year, after that disastrous
first ketamine deal. Funny, how things come full circle. He’s flushing the rest of that shit if he
ever gets out of this. The day passes by him while he lies in that boat, watching the sun rise
and fall in the sky outside the window with barely a thought in his head. It’s probably for the
best. Thinking hasn’t worked out so well for him this morning.

It’s gone dark outside, and Eddie barely even noticed. He does notice his arms and legs
asleep from a whole day lying on a hard surface, but trying to move seems like too much
effort. He’s thirsty, and starving, but neither is enough to make Eddie pull himself back up
and keep going.

The sound of a car parking outside Rick’s house and people piling out, though? That’ll do the
trick. Eddie swears under his breath and scoots to sit back up, trying to shake out the pins and
needles all over his body without making any noise.

He stays as quiet as possible, listening carefully for any hint as to what these people are doing
out there. Hopefully, they’re just here to buy something from Rick and will take off when
they realize he’s not around. Eddie hears a sound that might be the doorbell, then a sound
that’s definitely somebody yelling his name.
Shit. Whoever it is, they’re yelling for Rick too, but Eddie’s name is definitely in the mix.
They’re out here looking for him. Eddie thought he might be lucky enough to get more than a
single day before someone found him. He lays back down and pulls the tarp over the boat to
hide him from view, keeping as still as he can and hoping they don’t come down here.

There’s more yelling and pounding on the door, then nothing. Eddie waits to hear the car pull
away again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts to hear footsteps approach the boathouse as the
voices grow louder.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” A girl’s voice he doesn’t recognize speaks from somewhere near
the door after it creaks open. Eddie screws his eyes closed and wishes them away.

“What a dump.” A boy’s voice he kind of recognizes? Maybe? He has to bite his lip to keep
quiet. There are multiple people roaming around his hiding place and he’s right there, just
waiting to be found. Eddie can’t see a way this could possibly get worse, until he hears the
unmistakable crinkling noise of somebody messing with the tarp on the other boat.

Eddie’s heart races and he feels the blood pounding in his ears. Multiple people are speaking,
talking to each other, but he’s too keyed up to make out anything but a blur of sound. He
slowly reaches for the broken bottle he used to cut his jeans that morning, hoping it’s enough
to buy him even a couple seconds when these people inevitably find him.

The crinkling moves closer, methodically working its way down the other boat. Eddie
tightens his grip on the bottle, shifting his feet into a better position to stand up quickly.
Whoever is poking at the boats stops to respond to another person in the boathouse. They’re
distracted, and Eddie takes his chance.

He throws the tarp to the side and leaps out of the boat in a burst of movement, grabbing the
largest shape he sees and shoving with the hand not holding the bottle. There’s a struggle, but
Eddie has the element of surprise on his side and manages to push this person all the way
across the boathouse, slamming them against the wall and holding the edge of the broken
glass against their neck.

There’s yelling all around him but he can’t make it out, head still in a rush. Hell, he can’t
even see clearly enough to figure out who it is he has pinned to the wall. It’s like his near
catatonic state from barely ten minutes ago has just migrated a few feet over. All he knows is
that keeping this person where they can’t hurt him is his best chance to get out of this.

A clattering sound brings Eddie out of his head. He flinches and presses forward on instinct,
dropping his eyes to track the noise. It’s an oar, just an oar that fell on the floor. This guy
must have been using it to poke at the boats. When he looks back up, he sees that ‘this guy’
is…Harrington? What the fuck?

He’s finally able to tune back into the voices around him, and relaxes a bit when he hears
Dustin Henderson’s voice among those in the boathouse trying to reassure him. But only a
bit.

Eddie likes Dustin, he really does, but he knows the little shrimp has a soft spot for
Harrington that Eddie can’t begin to understand, even if the guy has mellowed since high
school. He’s still a little suspicious of Steve. Having the guy up against a wall like this would
be a damn dream in any other circumstance, but one of Hawkins’ most favored sons showing
up while Eddie’s sitting at rock bottom doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. Eddie doesn’t look
away as he asks, “What are you doing here?”

Dustin answers almost instantly, clearly relieved that Eddie’s talking. “We’re looking for
you.” Yeah, no shit, Henderson.

“We’re here to help.” Eddie’s eyes leave Steve’s briefly to track the new voice. Mayfield?
She’s here, too?

Dustin keeps going, talking slowly with outstretched hands like he’s trying to calm a skittish
animal. It’s not the worst comparison in the world, actually. The fifth person in the room is
introduced as Robin, and mimes playing a trumpet in a fit of social panic that would have
made Eddie smile in any other context.

They all seem desperate to put him at ease, including Steve. Eddie’s eyes swing back to the
boy in front of him, searching his eyes for any sign of deception. Harrington’s the wild card
here, the one he’s most distrusting of, but Eddie finds nothing in his eyes to give him pause.
He looks scared, obviously, chest heaving and wide, dark eyes flicking around nervously
while trying not to move against the bottle at his throat, but there’s nothing menacing there.

Eddie takes a deep breath and decides to trust him, hoping he doesn’t come to regret it. He
moves away from Steve and crouches on the floor, bottle clutched tight. Dustin keeps talking
and tries to take the bottle from his hands, but his grip is iron, nerves too far shot to even
consider giving up the only thing resembling a weapon he has.

Dustin isn’t discouraged. He just drops his hands away from Eddie and softly says, “We want
to know what happened.”

They clearly know about Fred. Either it’s already common knowledge among the people of
Hawkins or Max saw something last night. He’s not sure which thought makes him sicker to
his stomach. Eddie sniffs, making an aborted movement to wipe his eyes before remembering
he’s holding broken glass. Nice save, moron. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try us,” Max insists, looking so determined, so sure that whatever Eddie’s about to say will
be within the realm of possibility. It’s not, of course, but it makes him want to believe her. It
makes Eddie want to trust all these people, if for no other reason than to not be alone with
this anymore.

“Fred…Fred Benson. He’s dead. At my…he’s dead.” Eddie’s still a little too rattled to get his
thoughts out the way he wants to, but he tries his best. Dustin and Max are hanging on his
every word, Robin is fussing over Steve’s neck while she listens, and Steve seems guarded.
He’s keeping his distance and only looking over in brief, uncertain glances. Eddie supposes
that’s only fair. He can see a little drop of blood on Steve’s neck even from this distance.

He takes a shuddering breath and keeps going. If he doesn’t get this out now, then he knows
he’s never going to. “He showed up at my door, wanting…” Eddie trails off. He’s not
embarrassed of selling drugs any more, hasn’t been for a long time, but he doesn’t want
Dustin to think any less of him on top of everything else. “Doesn’t matter what, I guess, he
just wanted something. I go in my room to find it, and when I come out, he’s just…gone.”

It's harder and harder to talk about as he gets closer to the worst of it, like if he drags his
words out long enough then he can put off talking about the moment of Fred’s death forever.
“I thought he might have taken off or something, but then I see he’s just in the bathroom. I
figured I’d just wait for him, but I hear all this clattering, stuff falling over, and when I tried
to see if he was okay, he didn’t say anything. I went in to check on him, and…”

Eddie chokes on his words despite his best efforts to stay calm. Jesus, he really doesn’t want
to think about this again. He covers his mouth with his hand, trying to get himself together,
and it’s enough for everyone in the room to pick up on the dramatic shift in tone. They lean in
to hear him more clearly. Even Steve moves closer, standing behind Dustin and staring at
Eddie with his brow furrowed.

A whimper escapes him against his will as he starts to describe the horror show in his
bathroom, and everyone’s faces soften in sympathy. Steve’s eyes are wide – he clearly wasn’t
expecting Eddie to be this upset when they found him. The group winces as he gives them the
shortest version of the story he thinks he can get away with, ending with the fact that he ran
and just left him there.

Eddie looks up again, gauging their reactions. He wouldn’t believe it if he heard it from
somebody else, so why should they? He can’t quite tell if the looks on their faces are horror
at what happened or pity at the obviously insane person sitting in front of them. He scoffs.
“You all think I’m crazy, right?”

They’re quick to reassure him, and it only pisses Eddie off until Dustin starts to explain.
“Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little…difficult to take.”

It is. Eddie stares with increasingly wide eyes as Henderson spins a tale of an alternate
dimension sitting underneath Hawkins. It kind of sounds like the Plane of Shadows to him.
Eddie asks a couple questions here and there, occasionally flicking his eyes to Steve’s or
Robin’s to try and figure out if the kid is fucking with him or not.

Apparently, this isn’t the first time they’ve done this either. Awful shit has crawled out of this
other world before, and that’s the whole reason they came looking for him. Max saw the
flickering lights and watched him flee from the trailer, and they tracked him down to find out
if the monsters are back.

Eddie almost laughs, or maybe almost cries. It’s hard to tell the difference just now. The
whole thing is ridiculous, but they’re asking these questions about what he saw, whether there
were particles or dust floating in the air. He can tell they’re 100% convinced about this, so he
decides to buy in, too. Why not, right? If he’s gonna be wanted for murder either way, he
might as well have an explanation for it, even an insane one.

“You didn’t see anything before that? How he ended up on the ceiling?” Dustin is still trying
to puzzle the whole thing out, but Eddie doesn’t know how much more of this he has in him
before he crashes again. A whole day of nothing sandwiched between two major panic
attacks really takes it out of you.
“He was up there when I opened the door, Henderson. I don’t know anything more than that.”
Eddie rubs at his eyes, really feeling the past day. When he looks up, Steve is looking at him
with a sympathetic smile on his face. Which makes sense – if anybody else is familiar with
Henderson’s frequent inability to read a room, it would be him. Eddie tries to return it, but
thinks he might just end up grimacing at the other boy.

“So, if there’s no physical cause, then maybe it’s like a spell. Or a curse! It’s like Vecna’s
curse.”

Eddie shakes his head and smiles despite himself, delighted by the fact that this kid’s first
instinct is also to immediately compare all of this to shit from D&D. He’s not exactly sure
what comparison Dustin thinks is there, but it’s nice that some things never change.

Steve speaks up before Dustin can keep talking. “Okay, okay. Take it easy, Short Round.
Let’s pick this up tomorrow.” Dustin looks deeply offended that anybody would dare tell him
to hang up his detective hat for the night, but Eddie’s grateful enough he could kiss Steve
right on the mouth if he didn’t think he’d get punched for it. This is entirely too much to take
in one sitting.

Steve talks over Dustin’s objections with the well-practiced ease of somebody who’s had to
do this many times before. “No, Dustin, it’s enough for one night. Look at him, man!” He
gestures at Eddie, who tries not to be offended because Steve’s right. Look at him. He
probably looks like some crazed hermit losing their minds out in the woods at this point.
“This is super messed up, and there’s no point planning anything without Nancy and Lucas
anyways. Let’s come back in the morning, figure this out then, yeah?”

Dustin hesitates, clearly unhappy about leaving again, but eventually nods. Eddie sighs in
relief. He really needs a little time alone to process before they dump more of this on him or
he’s gonna start saying things he’ll regret. The kid walks over and gives Eddie a brief hug on
his way out the door. “Sorry you got caught up in all this, Eddie.”

Eddie can’t do more than return the hug with one arm and swallow thickly, trying to keep
from getting choked up. He sends Henderson the most reassuring nod he can as he leaves,
followed by Max and Robin as they plan their return trip the following morning. Steve hangs
back, and Eddie looks up expectantly, waiting for him to speak first.

“Umm…we can bring you some food and stuff, too. So you don’t have to run back and forth
from the house. Sorry, about the…you know…” Steve mimes poking at the boat with an oar
and Eddie snorts out a laugh, breaking the tension a little. He didn’t know ‘awkward dork’
was anywhere in Harrington’s repertoire. That’s a fun surprise. “This stuff is kinda crazy, and
then with everything you saw on top of that, I mean. That’s rough, man, so…sorry if we
scared you.”

Steve’s pleasantly throwing him for a loop this evening. Showing up with Dustin to help in
his hour of need and apologizing? Between this and the basketball game last night, this post-
high school version of Steve is starting to grow on him. Damn it, that’s the last thing he needs
right now. “Nah, man, I should be apologizing. Not my finest moment.”
He gestures at Steve’s neck, a tiny pinprick of blood still visible, but Steve waves him off.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Nancy pulled a gun on me the first time this all happened, so,
this is nothing.” Steve has the audacity to chuckle at that, as if being compared to the guy’s
apparently trigger-happy ex-girlfriend isn’t one of the more insane things Eddie’s heard
tonight. “Get some sleep if you can. We’ll figure something out in the morning.”

He gives Eddie a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, for the second time in as many days,
and Eddie leans into the touch for a hair longer than necessary. Sue him, it’s been a long-ass
day. Steve moves to leave, and is almost out the door before Eddie stops him.

“Hey, Harrington, wait a second. Can you check on Chrissy? She was supposed to call me
last night before all this shit happened and I’ve been freaking out about it all day. Just…can
you make sure she’s okay?”

Steve looks back at him, a hint of a smile on his face. “Yeah, of course. I’ll call her as soon as
I get home. Give me her number?” Eddie does so, and hopes the sheer gratitude he feels for
Steve in that moment comes across on his face. Phone number written on his hand, Steve
leaves him behind, and Eddie makes sure the door is firmly closed before returning to his
little nest in the bottom of the boat. Things will start looking up tomorrow, he’s sure of it.

March 23, 1986

There’s barely a hint of the dawn light peeking through the window, and Eddie decides he
might as well just stay awake at this point. No point struggling his way through one more
nightmare full of broken glasses and blood-stained floors when Henderson and company will
be back in a couple hours.

This is torture. Eddie’s starving after eating nothing yesterday but the last candy bar left in
his lunchbox. He’s figuring out that people aren’t really supposed to live out of a dingy half-
room with no real supplies for any significant amount of time.

Maybe he’ll get lucky today, for once. Maybe they’ll show up with Nancy and Lucas in tow
and a perfectly formed plan to get him off scot-free. Maybe Chrissy’s completely fine and he
imagined her having a seizure on his dingy old couch. Or, let’s get real crazy, maybe this
whole thing with Fred was an elaborate prank from a not-so-reformed Steve Harrington and
they’ll show up this morning to scream ‘gotcha’ at him.

Eddie lies there, focusing on his breathing to try and ignore how miserable his head and
stomach feel, and waits for the others to arrive. He hates feeling helpless like this, completely
dependent on a group of people that, for the most part, he really doesn’t know that well.

Around 7:30, he hears voices approaching the boathouse. No car, this time. He hopes that
means he gave good directions to the clearing in the woods, but it could just be people
wandering around the lake, so he moves to the clean window to try and catch a glimpse.

The door slams open to his left and Eddie feels his heart jump into his throat before realizing
it’s just Steve and Robin, poking their heads through the door with a grocery bag and an
awkward little wave. He shoots them a glare that lasts all of three seconds before a head of
honey blond hair shoves them out of the way and makes a beeline for him.

Steve was just supposed to check on Chrissy, not drag her out here with him, but Eddie’s not
complaining. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy to see her before in his life. His arms
are wrapped around her in an instant, holding her close and hiding his face in her hair as he
feels a tiny wet spot form on the chest of his shirt where she must be crying.

“I’m okay, Chris. I’m okay.” He’s not sure which of them he’s trying to reassure more. They
stand there for long enough that the rest of the group make their way into the boathouse
without him noticing, finally looking back up when someone clears their throat pointedly
from across the room.

Nancy Wheeler at least looks apologetic to have interrupted them, shooting a warm smile at
Chrissy but clearly impatient to get started. Steve and Robin look a little uncomfortable,
shuffling their feet and trying to give Eddie and Chrissy some privacy by not staring at them.
The three freshmen are bickering amongst themselves.

Well, Henderson’s bickering. Lucas is responding half-heartedly, but mostly just keeps trying
to make eye contact with Max. It seems to be a losing battle.

Eddie shifts his hold on Chrissy to wrap an arm around her shoulders, unwilling to
completely let her go until they can talk about what happened at the hospital, and the pair sits
by the edge of the boat. Steve tosses him the plastic grocery bag once he’s on the ground.
Eddie immediately pulls out a box of cereal and starts stuffing it into his mouth by the fistful.
God, this shit is fantastic. Cereal has never tasted this good.

Satisfied that everybody is paying attention and listening, Dustin calls this little meeting to
order. It’s exactly as Eddie feared. Hawkins PD is convinced of his guilt and gunning for him.

“And the good news?” He asks around a mouthful of cereal and chocolate milk, but he’s
honestly a little scared to find out what this group counts as good news.

Robin speaks up from Chrissy’s other side. “Your name hasn’t gone public yet. But if we
found out about you, it’s a matter of time before others do. And once that gets out, everyone
and their shallow-minded mother is gonna be gunning for you.”

It’s a good point, but Eddie thinks she’s got to work on her bedside manner a little. “Hunt the
freak, right?” His voice breaks and Robin shoots him a grimace.

Now that he’s not panicking and threatening her best friend with bodily harm, Eddie
recognizes Robin from around school. He noticed her floating on the edges of the crowd with
her band friends, then noticed her again when she started to let her freak flag fly a little in a
toned-down version of Eddie’s own teenage transformation – rocking the menswear, cutting
her hair shorter, a little more bite to go along with a lot more bark. He’s pretty sure she’s the
one who crashed a car into prom last year, a move he deeply respected.

And, most importantly, if somebody told Eddie that he and Chrissy weren’t the only queers
floating around Hawkins High, Robin Buckley would be his first guess. There’s a vibe. He’d
never say anything, obviously, but that grimace tells him she understands the significance of
his words completely. Hunt the freak, indeed.

“Yeah, that might already be a problem, actually.” Lucas looks embarrassed to be sharing
this. “They may not have released your name yet, but your trailer was on the news and it’s
enough for people to be talking.”

“Wait, what do you mean? Who’s talking other than us?” Dustin asks, scandalized that Lucas
hadn’t already shared this with him.

“Jason Carver.” Eddie’s heart sinks. That guy just won’t give him a break, will he? “He
showed up at my house yesterday afternoon saying all this crazy shit about how he knew you
killed somebody, and…and how you were probably gonna do it again. He had a couple of
guys from the team with him and they said the police were probably gonna mess it up so they
were gonna try and find you first. They wanted me to go with them, I think they’re kinda
pissed I didn’t.”

That’s not good, but it’s not exactly surprising either. At least, it’s not surprising to him.
Robin looks perplexed. “Why would Jason care about this? I doubt he even knew Fred
Benson’s name before yesterday.”

“No, but he knows mine.” All eyes turn to Eddie as Chrissy squeezes his hand tight. She
knows exactly how scary last spring got for him, and she’s always felt like it was her fault
Jason hates him so much, no matter how often Eddie tries to convince her otherwise. “Carver
hates my fucking guts, guys. Has for years. He and Hargrove had it out for me last year even
without all this going on, so if he thought he could do something to me and get away with it?
He’d do it in a heartbeat.”

There’s a guilty look in Steve’s eyes, and it doesn’t take Eddie too long to figure out why.
The guy was on top of the Hawkins High food chain for years. He and Carver were
teammates, so he probably knows firsthand all the horrible shit that asshole has said about
him.

“So, before he finds you, we find Vecna, kill him, and prove your innocence.” Dustin isn’t
even rattled, pushing forward with bull-headed determination.

Lucas seems confused. “Wait, Vecna? Why are we calling it Vecna?”

“Well, maybe if you came with us when Max and I radioed you yesterday morning, you
would know! We couldn’t get a hold of you until last night! What if we were in danger?”
Eddie hides a smile behind his hand and sees Chrissy doing the same next to him.
Henderson’s got an attitude when he puts his mind to it.
“I didn’t have my walkie, man, I was…busy…” He trails off sheepishly, and Eddie and Steve
both snort a laugh, sharing a knowing look. The kid won a championship basketball game –
they both know that ‘busy’ means ‘wishing I was dead with my head in a toilet bowl at
Benny’s.’

Robin leans forward to talk to Eddie, putting her squarely in Chrissy’s personal space. He
notices a little blush on Chrissy’s face as she does so, and his eyes widen as it clicks.
Buckley’s in band. Oh, this is too good. He makes a note to tease his best friend about his
stellar detective work as Robin begins to ramble about how he shouldn’t feel that nervous
because they’ve done this before.

It’s not as reassuring as she probably wants it to be. It seems like there were quite a few more
people on the team last time, one of whom had superpowers and all of whom are currently
unaccounted for. Still, Eddie feels calmer listening to the planning going on around him. The
big bad never seems as scary when you’ve got the whole party piecing things together as a
group.

Dustin hurries to share the basics of the working theory they developed last night and how it
connects to this other world they call the Upside Down.

“It doesn’t make sense. Why Fred?” Nancy asks. Eddie can’t help but feel more confident
with her here. She’s clearly the one in charge. “We have no idea why whatever this is went
after Fred or what it’s trying to do. Eddie, what happened Friday night?”

“Umm…he was, floating in the air. And his arms and legs all broke, and his eyes got all
fucked up, and then he just…dropped.” Eddie leans further into Chrissy’s side and clams up.
That’s all they’re getting out of him. He gave half the people in this room the full story last
night, and he can’t do it again if he wants to keep his breakfast in his stomach.

“Just, out of nowhere? That doesn’t make any sense.” Eddie just shrugs at Nancy’s confusion.
Doesn’t make much sense to him either.

“There’d be signs, right?” Lucas looks around the room as he asks. “When Billy and Will
were possessed, there were symptoms. Maybe there’s symptoms for this, too?”

Eddie catches Chrissy’s eye and mouths ‘Possessed?’ She just shrugs as Robin leans forward
again. “Speaking from experience, the best approach here is to just make your peace with
being very confused by 90% of the words that come out of their mouths – well, maybe 80%
for you because you already know all their weird D&D stuff – and save your questions for
the end. Because it is far too much insanity to process while actively going through it.”

Works for him. Eddie shoots her a little two-fingered salute and tunes back in to the
conversation. Nancy’s talking again. To him, apparently, so good thing he’s paying attention
again. “Was he acting strange at your trailer? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Eddie thinks it over. “I mean, I don’t really know what he normally acts like. He was pretty
twitchy, but that’s not that out of the ordinary, all things considered.” There are nods from
around the room. They all seem to understand why somebody showing up at Eddie’s trailer in
the dead of night might be a little nervous. Except Dustin, bless him, who seems confused
why they all know something he doesn’t. Eddie’s not gonna be the one to tell Dustin about
his line of work if he doesn’t already know.

“Ms. Kelley might know something.” Max flinche as people turn to look at her, but presses
on. “I saw him leaving her office before my appointments once or twice. If he was acting
weird, she might know.”

“We can go talk to her, then. See if she’ll tell us anything.” Lucas is quick to smile and agree
with Max’s idea, and it warms Eddie’s heart. This kid is working hard to win Mayfield over
and Eddie’s rooting for him.

Nancy’s scribbling in a little notebook she seems to have pulled out of thin air. “Mr. Munson
told us something yesterday, too. He said there was a man named Victor Creel who murdered
his family in Hawkins, and that Fred’s body was similar. That’s worth looking into.”

Eddie’s stomach drops, and he shrinks into himself a little at the mention of his uncle. He
can’t believe he just left that there for Wayne to walk in on. Chrissy notices instantly, of
course. She nudges him, and whispers, “He knows you didn’t do it, Eddie. He never thought
so, even for a second.” He nods, and listens as the others finish working out a plan.

Steve hands him a walkie talkie as the rest of the group leaves the building. “Here, this is
what the kids use to keep in contact about all this stuff. I think this one’s Mike’s, so…” He
grimaces as he says it, holding it by the antennae with two fingers as if Mike Wheeler might
have infected the radio with his teenage angst, and Eddie laughs. This guy’s way funnier than
he would have guessed. Steve’s face sours just a bit as he glances between Eddie and Chrissy.
“I’ll…just…give you guys a minute, but I think Nancy wants to head out, so…”

Steve walks out the door, and Eddie really hopes that he’s just annoyed about the delay. He
cannot deal with another jock who’s jealous of the fact that he’s not-dating Chrissy
Cunningham, especially not one he’s actually starting to like.

Eddie turns to Chrissy the second they’re alone and pulls her into another hug. “Okay, what
happened at the hospital? I have been losing my fucking mind worrying about it. Are you
okay?”

She nods against him, as comforted as he is from being back together. “They said it was
stress.”

Eddie scoffs. “Are you kidding me? A seizure from just stress, that can’t be a real thing, can
it?”

“That’s what they said. They did a bunch of tests and couldn’t find anything wrong, so I’m
supposed to go back in if it happens again. They also said to relax and take it easy this week,
but it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen, so…”

Eddie pulls further away from Chrissy to look her in the eye. “You don’t have to do this, you
know? This is already insane, and it looks like it’s only gonna get more insane. They all seem
like they know what they’re doing and I got sucked in against my will, but I get it if you want
to sit this out.”
 There’s a brief flash of anger in her eyes. “How could you even suggest that? Would you sit
at home if I was in trouble?”

Eddie doesn’t bother to answer. They both know he wouldn’t, and she won’t either. She still
looks upset, like she has more to say, and he raises an eyebrow to get her to continue. Chrissy
sniffs and wipes at her eyes as she whispers, “It’s my fault you’re in this mess.”

“How the hell do you figure that?”

Chrissy won’t quite meet his gaze. “If I let you stay at the hospital with me, you wouldn’t
have been there. I should’ve just let you…”

He cuts her off. “Chrissy, no, come on. You can’t think like that.”

“It’s true, though! The only reason you don’t have an alibi is because I sent you away!”

He tightens his hold on her again. “You don’t know that. And even if it were true, it doesn’t
matter. Can’t change it, just gotta try and fix it.” He thinks there’s probably something to be
said about taking his own advice, but he very maturely pushes that thought out of his head.

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Chrissy? We really need to go.” They part reluctantly at
Nancy’s voice and Eddie gives her arms a brief squeeze.

“Hey, have fun with Buckley, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows at her, and she goes red,
slapping at his arm on her way out the door.

And then she’s gone. They’re all gone and Eddie’s alone again, with nothing to do but wait
and hope they return soon with news that will save him. He stuffs another fistful of cereal
into his mouth. At least he has some food, this time.

Chapter End Notes

- This chapter is probably the closest to just regurgitating what happened in canon (I
prefer to skim through the canon events of the show and only go into detail on what I’m
adding or changing), but I really wanted to write Eddie’s headspace after everything he
witnessed cause it’s straight-up traumatizing
- It's safe to assume there will be new tags added with each chapter, partially because I
underestimated how difficult I would find it to add the right ones and partially because I
don't want to add spoilery ones until they happen.
A little restless from the searching, a little worn down in between
Chapter Summary

The interpersonal drama of high schoolers waits for nothing, not even horrifying
revelations

Chapter Notes

No content warnings for Chapter 5

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 23, 1986

As she sits in the passenger seat of Nancy Wheeler’s station wagon, wincing against an
oncoming tension headache, Chrissy wonders if inviting Robin to join them was a mistake.
It’s disappointing, considering the morning actually started off pretty well all things
considered. Steve showed up at her house right on time with his car already packed full of
people as she tiptoed outside to meet them, desperately trying to avoid her mother on the way
out. That would have only made things even more complicated.

Dustin Henderson sat in the backseat, flipping frantically through a large book she knows
she’s seen a copy of on Eddie’s bookshelf and talking loudly over a walkie talkie. He’s not-
so-secretly Eddie’s favorite of the three new additions to his D&D club and it’s not hard to
see why. The resemblance is uncanny. Whenever he wasn’t talking over the walkie, he was
bickering with Steve, and based on the tone it seemed like a common thing for them.

It was a nice surprise to see Steve acting so differently from how she knew him from school.
He had never been outright cruel like Billy or insufferably self-righteous like Jason, but he
definitely wasn’t kind, either. Now, he seems much nicer, throwing good-natured jabs back
and forth with Dustin like an older brother. Eddie was right on Friday night – having to be
around this version of Steve could be a bit of a disaster for him.

Chrissy would tease him about it later if she wasn’t in the exact same boat. It took an extra
ten minutes to get ready that morning just psyching herself up to spend a whole day around
Robin Buckley while trying not to make a fool of herself. She looked amazing when Chrissy
joined them, in a cool outfit with a leather jacket that Chrissy could only dream of being
brave enough to wear, and handed her a hot travel mug of coffee from the front seat with a
warm smile.
The friendly atmosphere in Steve’s BMW helped Chrissy forget about the circumstances
bringing them together and the nightmare that woke her that morning, just for a little while.
And seeing Eddie in one piece, mostly okay and hidden safe and sound, was exactly the thing
she needed to calm her nerves. When they left the boat house with a plan firmly in place,
Chrissy decided to be bold and invite Robin to join their investigation of Victor Creel. Steve
had elbowed Robin in the side and encouraged her to run over, probably looking forward to
having one less body crowded into his car.

It’s clear now that Nancy wasn’t a fan of that decision. Even from just a few hours spent
together, it’s obvious that Robin is a naturally chatty person, but Nancy keeps trying to shut
her down with tight smiles and curt replies. It’s hard to tell if she’s doing it on purpose or if
she’s just so irritated that she can’t help it.

Chrissy put on some music after a few minutes to help with the unbearable awkwardness, but
she still finds herself making apologetic eye contact with Robin in the rearview mirror. It
doesn’t make a bit of sense to her. Robin’s been nothing but pleasant the entire morning, and
part of her hopes the other girl never stops talking. How could Nancy be annoyed right now?

“So, he’s a grandpa murderer who can turn invisible and lift people into the air.”

Chrissy giggles as Robin finishes recapping what they found yesterday, and she can see the
other girl blush. Robin’s way of speaking reminds her a bit of Eddie, long-winded speeches
with witty jokes scattered throughout. Nancy seems like the type to value efficiency, though.
She’s definitely not impressed.

“It doesn’t make sense. I know. That’s why I didn’t think we needed three people. It’s going
to take all morning just to get everything set up,” Nancy huffs, getting out of the car quickly
as they pull into the Wheeler’s driveway. Robin clearly doesn’t have any idea where the
tension is coming from, either, as she follows with wide eyes.

Nancy was barely a second or two ahead of them, but she’s already in action mode when they
join her in the kitchen. She jumps into solving each new puzzle so quickly it makes Chrissy’s
head spin, but it makes her exactly the right person to help with all this. She pulls out some
papers Chrissy recognizes from last night, and says, “I thought about starting at the library to
double check this Victor Creel story, but…Chrissy, you’re sure Wayne knows what he’s
talking about?”

Chrissy couldn’t be more sure about anything. “Absolutely. He wouldn’t have said anything
if he wasn’t sure. Plus, I found this.” She digs around in her backpack for an old issue of the
Weekly Watcher she brought with her from home. Her mother never allowed any type of
horror or ghost stories in the Cunningham house, but since she started spending time with the
Munsons, it turns out she kind of loves them. Twilight Zone nights with Wayne are a tradition
of theirs, and he always keeps his eyes peeled for old issues of this tabloid magazine they
love to read. It’s fun to see the crazy things people can come up with, even if most of it is
pretty unbelievable.

She realized last night after Steve and Robin took her home that Wayne’s story sounded
familiar. After a bit of digging, she found the same exact story in an issue Wayne gave her
months ago. Chrissy sets it on the counter and says, “There’s a story about Victor Creel in
this magazine. Lots of the stories are fake, but this one says he believed his house was
haunted, that there was a demon or something and that it murdered his family. That sounds
like your Upside Down stuff, right? The monsters?”

Nancy and Robin both lean over the counter to look at where Chrissy’s pointing in the
magazine. She hopes this is actually a good lead and not a waste of time. With a furrowed
brow and a considering hum, Nancy asks, “Wouldn’t we have heard about something like
that, though? Even if we didn’t know about the Upside Down, it’s a small town. Someone
raving about their haunted house is the kind of thing people would gossip about for ages.”

Robin looks a little hesitant to speak up again as she says, “Well, they would have sealed the
records, right? If he went to an asylum instead of prison, there would be a plea deal or
something. Can’t hear about it if nobody’s allowed to talk about it.”

Nancy nods, still skimming through the article. “Covering up everything related to the
Upside Down with a mountain of legal red tape does seem to be a common theme with these
things.”

It’s the first positive response Robin’s gotten from Nancy all morning, and she seems to run
with it. “Then we need to go talk to this Creel guy, right? I mean, if they locked him in
Pennhurst it’s not like he could go anywhere. Either he’s there and we talk to him, or he’s not
and it kinda proves Mr. Munson’s theory.”

Nancy just seems more annoyed, if that’s possible, and snaps, “Yep, I was getting to that. I
figure if we pose as psychology students then we might be able to get a meeting if we say it’s
for a class. Places like this are always big on academic connections.”

She asks Chrissy to put together some fake resumes on her dad’s word processor while she
makes the calls to arrange a meeting. Chrissy had to do something like that for her college
applications and it got her accepted to Purdue’s psychology program, so it shouldn’t be too
difficult to improvise a few for imaginary students. At least this is something concrete she
can dig into instead of just guessing like yesterday.

When Robin looks up expectantly for her own assignment, Nancy turns to her and says,
“There’s not really anything else to do until we get a meeting. You’re probably gonna get
bored. Why don’t you call Steve? I’m sure he’ll pick you up.”

This version of Nancy is practically unrecognizable from the one who showed up to help
yesterday. Sure, she had been single-minded and focused, but she had also been nice to her.
Not kind of mean for no reason. Chrissy frowns at Nancy, while Robin rushes to try and
salvage things even though this isn’t really her fault.

“You do know that Steve and I are, like, totally not a thing, right?” Chrissy hopes her blush
isn’t obvious as she listens. It seemed like a safe assumption that Robin and Steve were
dating, and the fact that they’re not makes her a little nervous. It’s harder to ignore a cute girl
when she’s a single cute girl.

Nancy blinks, thrown by the abrupt change in topic. “What?”

“I just…I wanted to make sure you know that Steve and I are just friends.” She’s talking to
Nancy, but her eyes flick to Chrissy’s for a brief moment as she talks. “Like, platonic with a
capital P. Just in case that’s adding any tension between us.”

“It wasn’t,” Nancy answers quickly, but Chrissy doesn’t believe her for a second. Nancy’s
posture stiffened and her face shuttered when Robin first mentioned Steve’s name, and it only
got worse as she continued to speak. Chrissy narrows her eyes, but it goes unnoticed.

She sees what’s happening here. At least, she thinks she does, and if she’s right then it’s
pretty disappointing. A few girls on the cheer squad have done this same thing. They break
up with a boy, start dating someone new, and string their ex along like some kind of backup
plan for as long as possible. When one of the other seniors on the squad thought their ex was
interested in someone new last semester, she got insanely jealous and started a rumor so bad
the other girl ended up crying over her cafeteria tray in the bathroom for weeks. Chrissy
would pass her during lunch on rough days and feel awful.

Hopefully she’s reading this wrong, because she thought her and Nancy were already starting
to be fast friends and that’s kind of a gross thing to do. Robin hasn’t seemed to reach the
same conclusion as her. She just looks a little panicked, and Chrissy throws her a lifeline.
“Making the resumes will go a lot faster with two people, actually. Wanna help me with
that?”

Her entire face crumples in relief as she nods and practically jogs to the office. Chrissy levels
Nancy with an unimpressed look as she follows her, but Nancy’s already marching with
purpose to the phone.

Robin collapses into a chair in the Wheeler’s office and flips through the Weekly Watcher
issue as Chrissy boots up the word processor, and says, “Sorry, I don’t know what that was.”

Eyes flicking from picture to picture, Robin just shrugs, trying to brush it off. “I mean, it’s
fine. I don’t really have a filter so I say stuff that upsets people on accident all the time. I
know, it’s a flaw. Believe me, my mother reminds me daily.” Chrissy knows all about
mothers picking you apart and how it can get you down, but by the time she turns back to
Robin, it’s like nothing is wrong. She holds up the magazine with a grin, and asks, “You
really like all this stuff? All the monsters and aliens and ranting?”

From anyone else, it might sound like a jab, like they think she’s doing something wrong for
enjoying her frivolous ghost stories. Robin, however, seems practically gleeful, and it’s
impossible not to match her smile. “Of course! I mean, I know almost all of it is nonsense,
but it’s just kinda fun, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you are speaking my language, Cunningham. And there’s no way it’s all nonsense – if
Bigfoot isn’t real I’ll eat my shoe, right here.” The earlier tension is all but forgotten as she
leans in closer to the screen, and asks, “So, what should we put for these things?
Unfortunately, I don’t think Mothman enthusiast is the type of thing that’s gonna win us any
points here.”

Chrissy scoots her chair up to the desk and tries to focus, but it’s distracting having the other
girl this close. “Umm…they shouldn’t all look exactly the same, that would be super
suspicious. And if we put as much true stuff on there as possible, it’ll be easier to remember. I
don’t think he’s gonna, like, interrogate us or anything, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.”

“No chance monster-hunting fits on there, huh?” Chrissy does her best to hide a fond smile
and shakes her head. “Well, I worked at the mall last year before it burned down. Oh, I speak
four languages! Put that on there!”

“Really? That’s amazing!” Robin blushes, but she’s clearly pleased with the compliment.
Where did she even find the time to learn that much?

The two girls keep typing, trying to one up each other with the most ridiculous ways to make
their high school life experience sound like it belongs on a college resume. Apparently,
something happened with Russians at the mall last summer, and when Robin suggests putting
it on her fake resume as a ‘foreign exchange program,’ Chrissy has to take a moment to
compose herself, stomach hurting from laughter when they keep going.

It turns out that Robin is also going to Purdue in the fall. If she ignores the reason they’re
actually working on this, they could easily pass for two friends excitedly putting together
papers to go to college, and Chrissy’s almost embarrassed at how giddy the idea makes her.
She really hopes this will all go well and Robin will still want to spend time with her and
Eddie when they’re all on their way to the same city in August.

An hour or so passes, with Nancy checking in on them once or twice to make her own
additions and fill them in on the progress with getting an appointment, before the front door
slams open and they hear Steve and the kids burst into the house, shouting over each other
frantically. Chrissy shares a concerned look with Robin, and they dash downstairs to see
what’s going on. Max is shaken, hunched in on herself and avoiding everyone’s eyes, while
Lucas stands as close to her as she’ll let him. Chrissy’s immediately worried – whatever
happened when they went to talk to Ms. Kelley must have been bad.

Tucked away in the Wheeler’s basement where they won’t be overheard if Nancy’s parents
come home, Chrissy listens as the others fill them in. Looking through Ms. Kelley’s files at
the school told them what Fred was experiencing in the days leading up to his death.
Headaches, nosebleeds, nightmares, vivid hallucinations. The worst of it, though, is Max,
who’s been experiencing all the same things, right down to seeing the same clock mentioned
in Fred’s notes embedded in the walls of the high school.

Silence falls over the room as it sinks in – they don’t just have to save Eddie anymore. Max
has been cursed, and they have to save her, too. Chrissy always overthinks when there’s
silence, and right now, she desperately hopes that everything she’s overthinking about is just
a coincidence.

She lifts a hand to bite at her nails, trying to ignore the fact that she’s been having all the
same symptoms as Max and Fred. She hasn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in almost a week,
she’s been taking aspirin for days and it hasn’t worked yet. Plus, there was her seizure in
Eddie’s trailer, those weird images in her mind…

It has to be a coincidence. It has to be. The doctors did that weird scan thing – surely, they
would have found something if this Vecna guy put something in her brain. They’ll talk to
Victor Creel, he’ll clear everything up, and she’ll be fine. There’s no point entertaining the
idea that anything else might be true.

The meeting at Pennhurst isn’t going well. Chrissy hoped it would after they spent all
morning working, but their plan might have been thrown together too quickly. Nancy wanted
to do the talking, and trusting her judgment so far had gotten them pretty good results, but
now she’s getting nervous as it starts to crash around them.

Robin clearly isn’t used to wearing clothes like this, and keeps picking and itching at her
outfit in a way that screams imposter. Chrissy has to reach over subtly and grab Robin’s wrist
to pull it away from her shirt, the same way Eddie always has to do for her nails. Robin
squeaks and goes a shade of pink that matches the fabric, but it has the intended effect and
she stills.

The director keeps finding little inconsistencies in their story, and Nancy might be good at
coming up with answers on the fly but it’s not enough. It’s obvious that he thinks they’re a
little useless just because they’re girls. She’s seen that look on the faces of so many people
who think she’s just a dumb cheerleader. It seems to be grating on Nancy, too, and they’ve hit
a wall, when Robin shakes off Chrissy’s hand and jumps to her feet.

Chrissy looks on in awe as she bursts into a monologue the likes of which would make Eddie
proud, lecturing the director to his face about the lifelong academic dreams they came up
with barely a couple hours ago. She actually says the word ‘boobs’ right to this old man’s
face and Chrissy thinks he might burst a blood vessel or something. It’s kind of incredible.

Robin comes to a stop with pride all over her face, and it actually works. Chrissy’s stunned –
she can’t believe Robin just came up with all that on the fly. The director grants them ten
minutes with Victor Creel and ushers them out of his office to walk them through the halls on
a brief tour.

“This is one of our more popular areas. The Listening Room. We found that music has a
particular calming effect on the broken mind. The right song, particularly one which holds
some personal meaning, can prove a salient stimulus.” Chrissy knows firsthand the power a
song can have to help when you’re at your wits end and smiles as they walk through the
music room. Eddie’s going to be smug forever when he hears that the strategy they came up
with on their own is one that actual psychologists use.

The asylum director leads them down the stairs to a dark cell hidden away in the basement,
and Chrissy frowns as the guard accompanying them bangs on the metal with a shout and a
cruel smirk. This place doesn’t make sense to her. Victor might be a murderer, but he’s still a
sick person. Places like these should be here to help, but instead they have him shoved away
in a corner with guards who talk about him like an animal and taunt him through the bars. It’s
just like Officer Callahan at the police station. She doesn’t understand why people take these
jobs just to be awful to people.
Victor turns around as they approach the bars, and Chrissy feels guilty when she can’t stop
herself from gasping. He has horrible scars running down his face, with jagged holes where
his eyes should be. It looks like he did this to himself. Nancy shoots her a disapproving look,
and Chrissy can’t even blame her for it. She doesn’t want to make this man feel even worse
about the terrible things that have clearly happened to him.

It takes some convincing from Nancy, the same kind she pulled out with Wayne yesterday,
but eventually they get Victor talking. What’s left of his face shutters as they recount what
Eddie told them about Fred’s death, and Chrissy’s sure their own faces aren’t much better as
he responds with a story of his own.

It’s awful, something right out of a horror movie. Hopefully it won’t be impossible to watch
those any more after all this. Dead animals found around their house, spiders, waking
nightmares. She can’t imagine what it must have been like to watch this happen to your own
children. Some parts of his story, though, she doesn’t have to imagine at all.

Chrissy’s stomach drops as he describes painful flashes of things from his past, red and black
shadows crowding the corners of his vision, and rescue in the form of a song. It’s the song
that convinces her, in the end. Victor heard the music pierce through the prison of his mind
and focused on it to find his way out of the nightmare. Every word out of his mouth is a near
exact match to the way she felt on Friday night.

She can’t chalk this up to coincidence anymore, as much as she desperately wants to.
Whatever happened to Victor, to Fred, what’s happening to Max…it’s happening to her too.
It’s the only explanation for the fact that she can hear the chimes of an old grandfather clock
somewhere in this basement as Victor finishes his story.

Robin must notice her sudden stillness, and she leans close to check on her with a
questioning glance. It’s nice, but Chrissy can’t fully appreciate it, frozen with dread by the
dots she’s just connected in her mind. She’s saved from trying to choke out a response by the
clicking of dress shoes sound behind them.

Saved is probably the wrong word, actually. They’re definitely in trouble if the scowl on the
director’s face is anything to go by. He frowns, and says, “I just had an interesting
conversation with Professor Brantley. Perhaps we should discuss in my office while we wait
for the police.”

Chrissy doesn’t think the police will be too forgiving if they have to talk to her two days in a
row. She feels herself go pale as the director walks them back to his office. Robin sticks close
to Chrissy, and whispers, “Victor said that the night of the attack, everything went on in the
house, but he made specific mention of music. He said music was playing. And Hatch said
that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t. So, maybe that’s the key. A lifeline.”

She looks unsure of herself, and Chrissy rushes to agree. The fact that she’s 100% sure of this
because she’s already done it herself is information for later. Nancy hangs back to mutter, “I
think we can beat them. To the car.”

Robin looks horrified. “Okay, I’m warning you right now, I have terrible coordination. Like it
took me six months longer to walk than all the other babies.”
Chrissy slaps her hand over her mouth to keep quiet. Robin seems to have a talent for making
her laugh at the worst times, even with all this horror going on around them. Nancy just
ignores them both and tells them to follow her lead.

They’re off in a flash, sprinting through the grounds to get away from the guards and back to
the car. Robin stumbles once, then twice as they run and Chrissy grabs her hand to pull her
along. All that cheerleading is good for keeping your balance. They throw themselves in the
car, and Nancy guns it as the walkie crackles to life in the backseat.

“Robin, where the hell are you? This is a Code Red. I repeat, a Code Red!” Chrissy
recognizes those words, Code Red, from when Steve was at Nancy’s house last night. It’s the
highest level of emergency this group has. She’s the only one who can reach the walkie, so
she grabs it and fumbles to find the button.

“Dustin, it’s Chrissy. What’s going on?”

“Holy shit. Finally! Please, please tell me you guys have this figured out.”

Chrissy hurries to answer, “Is it Max? You need to play her favorite song. She’ll be able to
hear it and follow it back out.”

The walkie stays silent after that, and Chrissy really hopes that they’ve solved this right, that
Dustin will be able to help Max out of that nightmare realm the same way Eddie
inadvertently helped her. Nancy speeds back to the Wheeler house while Robin anxiously
fidgets in the front seat, undoing the tight bow and the top buttons on her shirt to get a little
more air. Chrissy’s too distracted to even blush. She just wipes away a drop of blood from
under her nose, and sits in the back seat with a pit of dread in her chest.

Steve’s car is gone. They all freeze, horrified by the implication. Chrissy assumed that
whatever emergency Dustin radioed about earlier happened here in the basement, where they
left them. What could have happened that dragged them somewhere else?

“Should we…look for them? Where would they have even gone?” Robin seems perplexed,
and Chrissy is lost searching for an idea on what to do next, picking at a loose sliver of
fingernail. Just as Nancy’s about to pull out the walkie to call for their friends, the BMW
pulls back into the driveway.

Lucas and Steve are both plastered to one of Max’s sides as they exit the car, wrapping their
arms around her to take a little of her weight. There’s a small red stain under her nose where
it’s been bleeding just like Chrissy’s, and red in her eyes from tears she’s no doubt trying to
hide from the group.

Steve audibly sighs when he looks up, clearly grateful to see Robin in one piece, and Chrissy
tries to tamp down a little spark of jealousy. Robin said they aren’t dating and she believes
her, but they clearly care about each other and it’s not hard to see where Nancy might be
getting the idea that they’re more.

Then again, Chrissy and Eddie care about each other that much and they’re not actually
together that way. Who’s to say Robin and Steve aren’t the same? Right now, he’s obviously
just rattled. Eddie was so scared after her ‘seizure.’ It must have been just as terrifying to
watch what happened to Max, and Chrissy knows they’re all relieved to have everybody back
in one place.

Well, almost everybody. Eddie’s still all alone, out in that boathouse, and a big part of her
wants to take one of the cars right now to go back out there. It doesn’t feel right that he’s
going to be the last to know the truth of what she suspects is happening to her.

She follows the rest of the group into the basement, flinching at the sound of the door closing
loudly behind them. Once they’re settled, Nancy asks, “Are you guys okay? What
happened?”

The kids all seem shaken, and Steve jumps in to explain, clearing his throat first. It sounds
like he’s closer to crying then he would want anybody to know. “We were at…” He flashes a
look at Max, whose face is blank. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. But we were waiting for Max,
and she was taking long enough that I got worried, so I went to check on her. And she was…I
don’t know, it’s like she was gone, but still sitting there.”

Gone. That’s how Eddie had described it for her, too – like she was somewhere else inside
her head. Chrissy curls into herself where she sits, dreading the fast-approaching moment
she’ll have to share her revelation with the group.

“I tried snapping her out of it, but nothing worked. And then, she….” Steve takes a breath to
collect himself, looking up at the ceiling as he says, “She started floating. We were all
freaking out, we didn’t know what to do. Until you guys came in with that tip about the
music. And we managed to get her headphones on her and that was that.”

They all turn to look at Max, eager to hear her side of the story, but she’s a stone. She has her
headphones around her neck, the faint sounds of a Kate Bush tape audible from everywhere
in the basement. It’s obvious she won’t be sharing anything tonight, and Chrissy doesn’t
blame her. If it’s anything like what she saw in her own episode, it must be hard to talk about.

Nancy hurries to share what they found at Pennhurst, taking the spotlight off of the younger
girl, and Chrissy fidgets in her spot on the floor as she works up the nerve to speak. When
Nancy finishes, Chrissy’s voice is barely louder than a whisper as she says, “There’s
something else you guys should know.”

She closes her eyes tight so she doesn’t have to see the whole room looking at her like they
looked at Max. There’s at least some small comfort in reminding herself that this is a good
group of people. If anybody will be able to solve this, it’s them. Chrissy braces herself, and
says, “I don’t think it’s just Max who’s been cursed. I think…I think it might be me, too.”

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop, only the sound of Kate Bush breaking through the
silence. Chrissy curls into an even tighter ball, fiddling with Eddie’s ring on her finger. Steve
breaks the silence, and asks, “Wait, what? Why the hell would you think that?”

“Fred’s file. You said he was having headaches, and visions? So have I. For a whole week,
I’ve had really bad headaches, and my nose keeps bleeding, and these horrible nightmares.”

Chrissy cracks opens her eyes now that she’s built up some momentum. Most of the others in
the basement look skeptical, but they’re all hearing her out, at least. “And then, on Friday
night, before everything happened with Fred, I was at Eddie’s trailer and I had…well, we
thought it was a seizure, but now I’m not so sure.”

There’s a flash of recognition in Nancy’s eyes as she says, “You mentioned that, I remember.
Why wouldn’t it just be a seizure?”

“Eddie said that I was ‘gone,’ the same way you described Max, Steve. That I was shaking
and he couldn’t wake me up. He was really scared when I came out of it because I was…
seeing things. Hearing my mother, and this voice just saying my name, over and over. He
took me to the hospital to make sure I wasn’t, like, dying of some brain thing.”

The skeptical looks are shifting to ones of horrified understanding. Lucas looks devastated,
like he can’t believe this is happening to somebody else, and Chrissy hates that she’s the one
putting that look on someone’s face. Her hands bunch up in the fabric of her dress, this
horrible starched thing she borrowed from Nancy, until she feels a light pressure on the back
of one of them – it’s Robin, giving her hand a small squeeze and encouraging her to keep
going.

“Maybe I should have said something earlier, but I thought it might be a coincidence! I really
hoped it was a coincidence. But then, at Pennhurst, I heard the clock. Just this ringing of a
clock, four chimes in my head.”

Dustin looks like he feels terrible for interrupting, but can’t help himself as he says, “Don’t
take this the wrong way, Chrissy, because I believe you. It all fits, but, if you’re right, then
how are you…alive? Shouldn’t he have done the same thing to you as he did to Fred?”

Chrissy chokes out a sob, and Robins hand tightens on her own. Steve moves from his chair
to sit at her other side, rubbing a friendly hand up and down her back. The two of them
together calm her enough to talk through her tears, and she whispers, “I think I just got
lucky.”

“What, like he changed his mind or something?” Max snaps. She sounds annoyed, and
Chrissy doesn’t take it personally. The idea that Vecna would spare somebody else but not
her would be hard for anyone to take, but that’s not what Chrissy thinks happened.

“No, I mean, with the music,” Chrissy says. Their faces are blank, of course they are. They
don’t know everything she knows. “I get panic attacks. I have for years. Eddie knows, and
he’s always been really good at helping me through them. There’s this one ABBA album that
we always play. Always. The music gives me something to focus on to help me calm back
down.”

She’s thankful Nancy’s here, because it clicks for her instantly. She whispers, “Oh my god.”
The horrible realization of just how close Chrissy came to something terrible is dawning in
Nancy’s eyes as she continues, “It was exactly like Victor said. I was hearing all these awful
things, and then the song just…broke through all the noise. So, I focused on it, like I always
do, and then the next thing I know it’s like I’m falling back into my body and Eddie rushed
me to the hospital. Everything with Fred happened right after.”

Robin looks shell-shocked as she blurts out, “Wait, I’m sorry. Hold on a second. You’re
saying that the exact same thing happened to you, and the only reason you’re here right now
is because Eddie just happened to have the right song playing? Just, like, sheer dumb luck?”

“Robin! Not helping!” Steve hisses, and swats at her as Chrissy winces. Robin had been a bit
too blunt, but she wasn’t wrong, either. It’s one of the main reasons Chrissy’s so freaked out
right now. All it would have taken is a few more minutes at the basketball game or a different
tape and she might have ended up just like Fred.

The idea that two of their number are marked for death instead of just one has clearly thrown
them all. Lucas looks confused as he asks, “But if Eddie saw the same thing happen with
both you and Fred, he definitely would have realized it. He’s smart with stuff like that.”

Chrissy frowns – it’s a good point. It does seem like exactly the thing Eddie would notice.
Maybe she’s wrong? She would love nothing more than to be wrong about this.

Dustin puts it together before she can start to get her hopes up. “He didn’t see the same thing
twice, though. Steve, you saw everything with Max. She was in a trance, and then she started
floating. Two separate parts. But Eddie didn’t ever see both parts together. Fred was already
on the ceiling when he opened the door. And Chrissy, you were able to break out of it before
you ever started floating. He never saw the whole process.”

Robin adds, “Plus, it’s pretty understandable that he wouldn’t connect two impossible-to-
connect dots when he’s actively being traumatized.”

The group goes silent. Nobody seems sure what to do next, least of all Chrissy, until Steve
claps his hands together and calls out, “Okay! Okay, I’m calling it. Let’s just…let’s get some
sleep and figure it out in the morning. Pace ourselves with the insanity, a little.” He’s rubbing
at his head like he’s in physical pain as they start to disperse.

Nancy catches Chrissy’s attention on her way upstairs to ask what tape she needs. They want
to keep her listening to music constantly, the same as Max. It takes a second to process what
Nancy’s asking her. Now that everything’s out in the open, she feels completely drained, and
it’s hard to focus. She manages to answer, “Umm…Voulez-Vous? By ABBA? It’s the one
with Chiquitita on it.”

Steve jumps to his feet. “Oh! I have that one in my car. Give me a minute, I’ll go grab it.”

He runs out the door, and Robin watches him go with a bemused smile on her face. “I don’t
know if I’m embarrassed for him, or jealous that he’s so unembarrassed about it.”

Chrissy can’t manage to joke back with her like they’ve been doing all day. She feels so
small, curled up on the floor of the Wheeler’s basement without the one person she wants to
talk to most. It’s just her and Robin left down here, and at Chrissy’s stillness, she softly asks,
“You okay? I mean, of course you’re not, stupid question. But, like, relatively?”

If Eddie were here, she’d probably be able to share everything on her mind right now with no
trouble at all. She doesn’t think Robin will judge her for wanting to speak to someone else.
“Where’s the walkie? I need to…where is it?” She trails off and searches the couch cushions
where the kids were sitting. Before she can get herself too worked up, Robin’s there again
with walkie in hand. She hands it over, and wanders off to find Steve.

Her hands shake as she presses the button, and she can hear her voice trembling as she says,
“Eddie, are you there? It’s Chrissy.”

“Yeah, I hear you. What’s up?” To her relief, he answers almost immediately, and sounds as
content as it’s possible to be while hiding away in a boathouse. Chrissy savors the last few
moments before their new discovery ruins it. She tries to force the words out, but they won’t
come. Just like always, Eddie picks up on her struggle right away, even from all the way
across town. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?

If Eddie couldn’t tell something was wrong before, he would be able to now from the
thickness of her voice as she answers, “I needed to…I needed to talk to you, we…”

She tries to gather herself as Eddie’s voice comes through slow and soothing over the radio.
“Whoa, whoa, just breathe, Chris. In and out, nice and easy, then tell me what happened.”

Chrissy takes a deep breath, then another, and finally says, “We were right about the Creel
murders being the same as Fred’s, but…but we also found out how to tell if someone’s
cursed.”

Eddie’s quiet. She hates talking to him like this, wants to be able to see his reactions and be
close while sharing the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to her. He sounds anxious
as he asks, “What do you mean?”

“There are symptoms, like Lucas thought. Ways you can tell if you’re cursed. And it’s…it’s
me and Max. That’s who’s next.”

Her voice breaks on her words, and she hears Eddie’s sharp intake of breath before he speaks.
“What do you mean it’s you? What symptoms?”

Chrissy closes her eyes tight. What an awful way to end the day. “Headaches, nosebleeds,
nightmares. Seeing things. We think…I think that’s what my seizure was.”

She feels herself start to tear up as Eddie stammers, “That doesn’t…that doesn’t make any
sense. Fred’s dead, you’re not. How the hell is that the same thing?”

“It’s music, Eddie. If you play someone’s favorite song, the music gets down into some part
of their brain, and it gives them a way back out. We had to do it for Max a few hours ago, and
it was the same for me after the game.”
There’s a beat of quiet, then a slightly hysterical laugh. “The ABBA tape? You’ve gotta be
shitting me, ABBA saved your life?”

It’s enough to bring a smile to her face for the first time since leaving Pennhurst. “No, you
saved my life. Without even meaning to. And now we know what’s going on, so…so we can
try and figure everything out.”

There’s a long silence, one of the rare moments when they don’t know exactly what to say to
each other. Eventually, his voice cuts back through. “It’s killing me that I’m not with you
right now. I’m so sorry, Chris. I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“I know. I wish you were here, too.” Chrissy looks up the ceiling, blinking her eyes to try and
dry them. “We’ll see you later, okay? We’ll bring more food out tomorrow. It’ll all be okay
until then.”

“Just…be careful. Love you.” Eddie sounds completely distraught, and it’s almost unbearable
that she’s the cause of it, even indirectly.

“You too, Eddie. Love you too.” Chrissy just sits there, clutching the walkie. She doesn’t turn
back around to face the rest of the basement for a long while, until she’s managed to dry her
eyes and slow her breathing back down. Steve and Robin are keeping as far away as possible,
giving her privacy while they set up some couch cushions and sleeping bags next to a pile of
spare clothes and a Walkman they must have grabbed from Nancy. There are three sleeping
bags, and she counts her blessings that they don’t plan on leaving her alone tonight.

She breathes out a sigh of relief once the headphones are over her ears. This tape has always
made her feel good, but it’s never felt like this before, like the only thing keeping her tethered
to the ground and inside her body. She turns up the volume, just loud enough to be heard
alongside Steve and Robin’s chattering, and hopes it’s truly enough.

March 24, 1986

Chrissy’s half awake, blinking against the light piercing through the basement window on the
tail end of another nightmare. The music definitely helped, but the horrible images still clung
to every corner of her mind, and they seem even scarier now that she knows exactly what
they mean. She hears whispers of a hushed conversation from the cushions behind her, and
the muffled thump of somebody being hit with something.

“Steven, I love you, but you always do this. You tell me to do it, I convince you it’s a terrible
idea, and round and round we go. But we don’t have time for that right now because people
are in actual mortal peril!”

“I know it’s not a good ti…”

“And! And, I feel like I shouldn’t have to convince you this time. It should be glaringly
obvious why it’s a terrible idea. It’s a total non-starter!”

“I know, Robin! Jesus, I know! I’m not saying you should actually do anything. I’m just
saying that I’ve never actually been around them together before, and I thought something
was off. That’s all.”

“Well, I think you’re being delusional, so looks like we’re both having big thoughts this
morning.”

Whatever Steve and Robin are talking about doesn’t seem like something they want anyone
else to hear, and Chrissy feels bad for eavesdropping while they think she’s asleep. She lets
out an exaggerated yawn and stretches before turning to face the two who stayed in the
basement with her. Robin is menacingly brandishing a pillow at Steve. She slaps her entire
hand over his mouth when she sees that Chrissy’s awake, and turns to her with wide,
unconvincing eyes.

“Morning!” Robin practically shouts. She honestly looks a little manic. Steve rolls his eyes
and tries to say something from behind her hand but she just presses harder. Chrissy gives
them a little wave and rubs her eyes, choosing to disregard the pair’s obviously suspicious
antics as someone comes down the stairs.

Nancy pokes her head into the basement. While the three of them are still sleep-rumpled,
Nancy already looks perfectly put together and ready to go. She’s holding some kind of
drawing in her hand, and says, “Good, you guys are awake. You should come eat something,
fast. We need to go to the Creel house and I don’t want to waste any time.”

She’s gone just as quick as she came, locked into action mode and on the move. Chrissy
honestly doesn’t know how she keeps it up, and exchanges a look with an equally stunned
Robin. Steve seems used to it, though. That’s the type of thing you pick up on when you date
someone for a year.

By the time the three of them make their way upstairs, Nancy and the kids are already
anxious to leave, shoving supplies into backpacks and grabbing handfuls of food to eat in the
car. Chrissy doesn’t bother with breakfast as she follows the group outside. She can already
tell she’s too anxious to try and keep anything down. Eddie will need food today, though, and
her shouted reminder to stop at the store is barely heard over the commotion as they try to fit
everybody into Nancy’s station wagon.

It's not a long drive, and Chrissy shivers as she climbs out of the backseat in front of the
Creel house. It’s fallen into disrepair over the years. If you looked up a haunted house in the
dictionary, there’d definitely be a picture of this place. Maybe it’s just the knowledge that
Vecna’s in her head, but she feels unnaturally cold. She pulls her cheer jacket tighter around
herself and turns up the volume on her borrowed Walkman. Glancing at Max, it’s obvious the
younger girl is struggling the same way.

Steve and Lucas pull at the boards closing up the house, and they clatter to the front porch as
they slowly uncover the door. Chrissy’s jaw drops as Robin picks up a brick and shatters the
window to get in. She would have never thought of something that cool.
The house looks untouched, a chilling snapshot of the night Victor described to them at the
asylum. An old grandfather clock sits in the entry way. Chrissy hasn’t seen it in a nightmare
or vision yet, but she’s heard it creeping in at the corners of her consciousness, and based on
Max’s face it’s a perfect match to the one she saw at the school.

Combing through the house from top to bottom takes hours. Chrissy can track the sun rising
and falling in the sky outside the windows as she grows more frustrated by the second. At
this rate, it’s going to take the entire day, and Eddie was practically out of food yesterday.
They have to watch their step and move slowly, making sure the old rotting floorboards don’t
give way under their feet. They even leave their bags downstairs, just to make sure there’s no
extra weight. There’s old furniture that takes elbow grease to pry open, countless nooks and
crannies to peer into. Chrissy finds some old drawings that might be useful at some point, but
it doesn’t feel like enough progress.

She moves through the house with Nancy and Robin, instinctively sticking in the same group,
until Steve starts yelling about spiders in his hair from across the second floor and Robin runs
over to help him. Nancy gets the same pinched look on her face she has every other time the
‘Robin and Steve’ of it all has come up, and accidentally skips over a drawer in the desk
they’re looking through as she watches them.

That’s the last straw for Chrissy. Nancy’s entitled to her own personal problems, but not if it
makes her distracted enough to start missing things when three people are in serious trouble
now. She has no patience to beat around the bush as she asks, “Okay, what’s your problem
with Robin?”

Looking a little stunned to be called out, Nancy stammers before answering, “I don’t have a
problem with her.”

Chrissy raises her eyebrows. She knows neither of them believes that. One of the few
downsides of being on a high school cheer squad for four years is getting a front row seat to a
master class in pettiness and passive aggression, and Nancy’s been in rare form the past
couple days.

Nancy keeps her face blank and won’t look her in the eyes. “It’s not really any of your
business, Chrissy.”

“I’m sorry, but I kinda think it is. We’re working together on this, and I don’t want us to miss
something that could help because we’re distracted.” She looks pointedly at the missed
drawer as she speaks, and Nancy bristles.

Her face is stormy and stubborn, and she doesn’t answer. Chrissy tries to keep the frustration
out of her voice as she gently presses, “Look, I get it. It’s Steve, right? You’re jealous
because you think she’s dating Steve?”

Her eyes widen in shock, like she can’t believe what Chrissy’s suggesting. Honestly, that’s
completely believable. Maybe she really doesn’t know how she’s coming across? “You’re
joking, right?”

“I mean, I can’t think of any other reason you’d be angry with her – she seems pretty great.”
Nancy looks genuinely upset as she asks, “I don’t want…is that really what it looks like?”

That is what it looks like, so Chrissy just shrugs as she pokes through the untouched drawer,
unsure what to say. Nancy sighs before saying, “Look, if you must know, I’m just worried
about him. I…I hurt him when we broke up, I think, and I don’t want him to get hurt again
because he’s hung up on another girl who doesn’t love him back. That’s all.”

Chrissy’s face softens instantly. There’s clearly a lot of the story Nancy’s not telling her and
she won’t pry, but she gets the gist of it. She’s not trying to string Steve along – she’s upset
because she thinks Robin is. That’s actually kind of sweet, and she’s glad to have been
wrong.

It’s enough for Chrissy to feel comfortable dropping it. She only wanted to make sure they’d
all be able to work together, and making Nancy upset instead of Robin doesn’t really help
with that. Chrissy smiles at her as warmly as she can, hopefully reassuring her that there’s no
bad blood between them, and says, “I don’t know, Nancy. It seems like they’re on the same
page to me, but…even if you’re right, can you try and let it go until we solve this? Please?”

Nancy nods, face flushed red with embarrassment, and opens her mouth to say something
else when they’re cut off by Max’s shout from downstairs. They rush to where she stands
with Lucas, her flashlight flickering and crackling with electricity. “That’s Upside Down
stuff, right?” Chrissy asks, as she looks around the group. “You guys said the lights flicker
when something’s going on down there – is this it?”

“Yeah, this is it. He’s just on the other side, and moving. He was in the other room, at first,
we followed him here.”

Nancy and Dustin move to join her with their own flashlights drawn and they follow the
flickering with no hesitation, but Chrissy feels too scared to move. If these lights are tracking
this thing that’s hunting her, then shouldn’t she stay as far away from them as possible? It
could come after her again at any second. The cluster of flashlights moves up the stairs, but
Chrissy’s frozen where she stands.

Robin notices her discomfort as her breathing quickens, hanging back to grab Chrissy’s wrist
and offer a small smile. “It’s gonna be okay. We have the music, we’re just checking things
out. We’ve got you.”

Chrissy swallows down her fear the best she can, and grabs Robin’s hand when she goes to
pull away. She can’t bear to look at the other girl’s face after she does, so she’ll just find time
to be embarrassed later. Right now, nothing matters other than the fact that having someone
hold her hand makes her feel braver.

Guided by the on-and-off of their flashlights, they inch their way up the stairs. Suddenly, the
flashlights go dark, replaced by an illuminated line peeking out from under a nearby door.
Robin huffs out a frustrated breath, and mutters, “It’s an attic. Of course, it’s an attic. So
creepy.”

Steve throws out an arm before Dustin can burst his way in. “Hold up, guys. What if he’s
leading us into a trap? This feels like a trap.” It’s a good point, but the lights in the attic are
getting brighter. They’re practically humming, audible even with a door between them. Max
takes a deep breath, then pushes open the door as quietly as possible.

A single lightbulb flashes in the middle of the room, even though a house this old shouldn’t
have power. They all move towards it, circling around for a better look as their flashlights
heat up and start to blink in their hands. All at once, the attic goes dark as their flashlights
explode in shower of sparks. Steve shouts and Chrissy drops hers on the ground, startled, but
it’s over almost as quickly as it began.

There’s nothing but silence, and Chrissy’s frustration washes back over her. This was one of
the only clues they found in the whole house, one of the only things they found all day. And
now it’s gone, and it’s not enough. Chrissy and Max are running out of time. Eddie’s running
out of time, and they still haven’t found anything that can help.

The mood is low when they leave the Creel house. Sure, they found another random clue, but
how does it really help them? Robin’s rambling again, the best way she has to deal with the
stress. “I mean, what do we even do with this. What do we say to Eddie? ‘Hey, Eddie. Uh,
good news first this time. We found Vecna. Bad news is that he’s in that other, darker, much
scarier dimension and the gate’s closed so we have no way of getting to him. He’s entirely
shut off to us, so basically you’re screwed. And, no, I know you were already screwed, but no
you’re doubly, triply screwed.”

Max scoffs, “Plus, your neighbor and your girlfriend are both next on the chopping block, so
quadruply screwed.” Chrissy flinches and Max winces at her words. “Sorry, I…sorry. Bad
joke.”

They load back into the car, and Nancy starts to drive off towards Lover’s Lake. Dustin pulls
out his walkie, and says, “Coming in hot with a delivery, see you soon.”

There’s no answer, and Dustin tries again. “Eddie? We’re on the way out there, man, do you
copy?”

Still nothing. Chrissy shares a panicked look with Robin in the rearview, and Nancy steps on
the gas. If she wasn’t in a hurry to head out there before, she certainly is now. They speed
through the back roads of Hawkins, rushing to get to the lake as quickly as possible. Chrissy
feels like she could vibrate right out of the car. If Eddie’s not responding, there’s no way to
know if he’s okay, and the last time she couldn’t get a hold of him she ended up in the police
station the next morning.

“Oh shit, Nancy, watch out!” Robin screams from the front seat, and Nancy turns hard. The
car swerves violently to the side of the road, nearly crashing through the temporary fencing
of a construction site. Chrissy yells and clutches at anything she can to keep from flying
around the car as they all feel the consequences of shoving way too many people into one
vehicle.

When the car comes to a stop, Nancy’s still holding tight to the wheel with a white-knuckled
grip, and Chrissy wonders what could have scared Robin so badly. Rubbing at her sore neck,
she peers out the window to find whatever they almost hit. She gasps when she sees it,
 stumbling out of the car and running as fast as she can to where Eddie is slumped by the side
of the road, dripping wet and illuminated red by the brake lights.

Chapter End Notes

In the best possible way, I think this chapter might actually be the closest thing I have to
a nemesis. I probably could have spent weeks arranging and rearranging to get all the
pieces to fit just right, and I'm only 90% sure I'm happy with it but we got there!!
 I ain't made for rivalry, I could never take the world alone
Chapter Summary

Eddie the Banished finds safe harbor in the storm

Chapter Notes

No content warnings for Chapter 6

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 24, 1986

Eddie gets why the group had to leave him here – really, he does. They can’t exactly waltz
around Hawkins solving a mystical wizard murder with the person accused of said murder
tagging along, and it’s safer for him to stay out of sight. It all makes sense, but that’s not
stopping him from losing his mind out here. It’s been almost a whole day since the last time
he heard from any of them and got the worst news of his entire life.

Chrissy could be Vecna’s next victim. She was supposed to be his first one, apparently, and
missed it by the skin of her teeth if they’ve got the details right. Mayfield’s cursed, too, and
he’s sure he’ll find the time to freak out about that later, but his mind is only focused on
Chrissy right now.

Eddie tries to give himself a little grace, here. He didn’t know. He was freaked out, and Fred
and Chrissy’s episodes didn’t look the same, and he didn’t know. It’s still hard not to hate
himself a little. He already felt like shit for not being able to help Fred in any way, but now
he’s somehow supposed to deal with the fact that he witnessed this fucker attack twice in one
night and just didn’t put the dots together. Sure, he got Chrissy to the hospital right away, but
it turns out that her seizure wasn’t a seizure at all, so that didn’t even help.

The music was what actually helped. Weirdly enough, that’s the bit that’s killing him,
because that’s entirely too luck-based for comfort. Their coping method for Chrissy’s panic
attacks only exists because they both know how powerful music can be, but what are the
odds that this thing attacks in a similar way and that Eddie turned the music on soon enough
for it to actually do something? That’s nothing more than a good roll on a skill check, and
Chrissy’s way too important for that.

If just one thing had happened differently, she’d be dead right now the same as Fred. He
blinks away a tear at the thought, trying to keep himself relatively together. It’s difficult,
though, when there’s nothing for him to do here except wait. Well, that and try not to vibrate
out of his goddamn bones with how useless and restless he feels. He’s doing better than on
Saturday, but that’s a low bar.

At least he can distract himself by freaking out about a different problem – the food situation.
A can of beans was the only food in the entire house that wasn’t rotten, and he doesn’t want
to risk another run across so that’s all he’s got. A single can of beans. This whole ‘being on
the run’ thing takes a lot more planning than Eddie had considered.

The sun is starting to set, and they’re still not here. He doesn’t know when exactly they were
planning on coming, but he knows they’ll be here. Chrissy said they were coming. She
wouldn’t drop a bomb on him like that and then just not show up when he needs her, but it’s
coming up on 24 hours and he doesn’t know how much more of the uncertainty he can take.

Eddie tosses the walkie back and forth between his hands, bouncing his leg nervously. He
thinks about trying to call them again, but Steve was very strict about not overusing it. He
had looked pointedly at Dustin while telling Eddie to be careful about not using up the
batteries before actually being in a life-or-death situation. The kid spluttered, and Eddie
couldn’t believe he had wasted so much time being jealous of those two’s friendship when he
could have been entertained by it instead.

There’s a low, anxious hum coursing through his entire body when he hears tires skid to a
stop outside and send gravel flying far enough to hit the windows of the boathouse. Eddie
drops to the floor. That can’t be his people, or else they would have used the trail behind the
house like he told them to. He scoots over to the window and rises to a crouch to peek out.

Jason fucking Carver, of course. Lucas warned him this might happen, but he thought it might
take longer for them to track him down. Henderson and company managed it pretty quick,
but some of those guys are practically geniuses. The basketball guys are dumber than a
bucket of hair, and he hasn’t heard a single police siren poking around out here yet. How did
Jason figure it out already?

Eddie can hear Jason’s voice from his spot under the window as he shouts, “No! I’m telling
you guys, Munson’s trouble. He’s dangerous! This kid got murdered out in the trailer park,
right? Who else do you think could have done it?”

One of the other boys speaks up, and Eddie doesn’t recognize the voice, but he sounds like an
absolute meathead. “My cousin at the station, the one who told me about that tip from the
fishermen? I’m not supposed to say anything, but Chrissy Cunningham’s mom called the
police, too. Said she didn’t come home last night.”

“You see?” Jason asks. “That’s exactly what I mean! He got his claws in Chrissy years ago,
and he must have done the same to this Benson kid. And now he’s dead, and Chrissy could be
next if she’s not dead already!”

A third voice, much more nervous than the other two, says, “Then call the cops, man! This
isn’t our job, why the hell are we stuck on this?”
“The cops?” Jason’s voice has gone icy and menacing. “The cops who know he sells drugs?
The cops who let him rope all those kids into that devil game year after year? You know he’s
the reason they changed the name of their little club to Hellfire, right? He’s practically
advertising that it’s a cult, and they haven’t done a thing about it! No, we’re doing this
ourselves. Hargrove and I almost drove him of town last year, and if we had then maybe
Benson would still be alive. I’m getting it right this time.”

Eddie knows Jason has a hell of a grudge against him for everything with Chrissy, and that
it’s only gotten worse over the years, but this is something else entirely. This is some fire and
brimstone preacher shit, and it makes Eddie’s blood run cold. He can’t tell if Jason actually
believes what he’s saying or if he’s just trying to manipulate the other boys into roughing up
someone he doesn’t like. Either way, he’s not sticking around to find out.

He waits for the voices to grow quiet as they move to the house, then flips on the walkie to
call for help. He tries, and tries again, wasting those precious batteries Harrington cares so
much about, but there’s no answer. Why even bother giving him this thing if they were just
gonna leave him out here high and dry when he uses it? The only thing that keeps him from
flying off the rails entirely is the fact that Chrissy’s with them. She’s with them and she
wouldn’t forget about him, so there must be a good reason they’re not responding.

“Chrissy? Please, are…are you there?” Eddie’s voice cracks as he sends out the alarm one
last time, but the walkie stays silent. Looks like it’s time for a plan B. He scans the
boathouse, frantically searching for anything that might help him here. Almost immediately,
he feels like the biggest god damn idiot in the world. He’s in a boathouse. There’s a boat.

Eddie moves as quickly and quietly as possible, cursing himself as the tarp crinkles loudly.
He gets the boat out on the lake, and because it’s an ancient piece of shit, the engine won’t
start. Jason and his lackeys spot him and throw themselves in the water to swim after him.

It’s all an action-packed blur as Eddie tries to get away. At some point, he thinks he might
have swung an oar at somebody? Steve will be proud of him for that one, taking a page right
out of his playbook. Then, all his adrenaline gets taken over by fear as one of the basketball
boys is yanked out of the water and into the air.

This can’t be happening again. There’s no way this is happening to him again. Eddie falls
backward into the water, and is grateful for it when it means he only hears the horrible
snapping sounds instead of having to watch it happen this time.

He hears Jason calling out his friend’s name – Patrick, apparently – and frantic splashing as
he pulls the mangled body back to shore. Eddie tries to get back in the boat, but there’s no
use. He’s wearing leather and multiple pieces of denim clothing, all of which is soaked in
water, and going on three days with barely any food or sleep.

After a few aborted attempts at climbing up the edge, he’s forced to settle for grabbing one of
the ropes on the side, looping it around his shoulders, and swimming for shore, hoping that
Jason’s too shaken up to notice which way he’s going.

He takes a second to cover the boat with the tarp, and runs. Again. If only this week would
hit him with a problem that could be solved in any way other than running. Eddie runs,
stumbles, and runs some more, breaking out of the woods by a construction site before he
collapses from sheer exhaustion. The universe throws him a bone for once in his life, and the
car coming his way swerves before it can crash right into him.

Eddie’s too tired to do anything but lie there on the side of the road and wait to see who’s
found him. Is it the cops? Is it Jason on his way to the hospital with his dead friend in the
backseat? Some other vengeful townsperson out for his blood? He feels someone’s hands on
him and flinches away on instinct before he hears their voice.

“Eddie? Oh my god, Eddie, are you okay?” Chrissy’s voice might be the best sound he’s ever
heard. He forces his eyes open to make sure he’s not imagining things, and there she is. Her
hair’s a little frazzled and her eyes are wide, but she’s beautifully, undeniably there. It’s a
miracle.

“Chris?” Eddie’s voice is weak and he’s so goddamn tired, all the adrenaline gone when he
hit the ground. But with Chrissy here, he’s safe, so he lets himself just be tired. He feels
hands much stronger than Chrissy’s lift him off the ground, and hears voices in his ears as
people start to move him. Eddie manages to mutter, “Carver found me,” before he lets
himself drift off.

Eddie’s head is in someone’s lap with a tiny hand resting on his shoulder. Eventually, the
hand starts shaking him, and he hears someone say, “Eddie, wake up.” He tries to ignore
them, but they shake him harder, a bit of laughter in their voice as they repeat, “Come on, you
have to wake up for a second.” It takes a truly Herculean effort, but he peels his eyes open to
look up at whoever won’t stop bothering him. Chrissy, of course.

He blinks blearily, and looks around him. They’re in the trunk of a car, but he’s not
completely sure whose. The only person from the group he doesn’t see is Nancy – everyone
else is staring at him from either the backseat or by the open trunk. Eddie wipes at his face,
grimacing at the lake water he feels all over him. He frowns, and asks “Where are we?”

“My house,” Steve says, leaning further into the trunk with an amused look on his face as he
watches Eddie flop back down on the floor. “But Nancy has to take the kids home, so you
gotta get out of her car, dude.”

Eddie nods, pushing himself up with a little help from Chrissy. When he looks at Dustin, the
poor kid looks terrified for him. Eddie reaches out to ruffle his hair, and hopes the strain in
his voice doesn’t give him away as he says, “I’m fine, kid, just wiped out. No need to look at
me like that.”

He scoots out of the trunk after Chrissy and, embarrassingly, loses his balance almost
immediately, so tired he can barely stand. Steve grabs his arms to steady him, and Eddie lets
himself enjoy it for all of a second before blushing and shaking him off to head inside and
away from prying eyes as Nancy’s car pulls out of the garage.
This house is one of the weirder ones Eddie’s ever seen. He’s been here a couple times to
make a quick buck at a party, and he thought the same thing back then. It’s like whoever built
it took a bunch of things they thought screamed ‘the owners of this house have money’ in a
blender and this giant monstrosity is what got spat out. It’s ridiculous, like most rich people
shit.

Eddie doesn’t think said rich people will take it too well if they come home and find him
here, though. He trusts Steve at this point, doesn’t think the guy is trying to set him up or
anything, but he’s still cautious as he says, “I don’t have to crash here, man. Just give me a bit
to get my feet back under me and we can find another hiding spot. I don’t wanna get you in
trouble.”

Chrissy glares at him, clearly wanting him to stay put, as Steve waves him off. “No, stay.
There’s nobody else here. And, let’s be honest, this is pretty much the last place people would
think to look for you.”

He’s too tired to argue, and even if he wasn’t, he’s not sure he’s got a case. The man makes a
damn good point. “Well in that case, point me to a bathroom cause I fucking reek.”

Steve chuckles, and says, “You said it, man, not me.” Eddie flips him off halfheartedly as he
slips through the door Steve points at, and collapses in on himself once it closes behind him.
Just him in this weird, unnecessarily fancy bathroom. No one to put on a show for. He
doesn’t know how it’s possible to be this keyed up and this exhausted at the same time. It’s
giving him whiplash.

Eddie grimaces as he slides out of his vest and jacket. Clothes shouldn’t make a sound like
that coming off, and there’s a good chance the leather’s gonna be ruined. The shower hits him
with water pressure Forest Hills could only dream of, and he sinks down to sit on the floor of
the tub. The last thing he needs tonight is for Steve to have to rush in and rescue his naked
ass if he loses his balance again.

He doesn’t think warm water has ever felt this good, and he lets his eyes flutter closed to just
enjoy it for a minute before tackling the coat of grime he’s been living in. Three days in a
boat and an impromptu dip in the lake really did a number on him. Eddie stays in the shower
until the water runs clear, and the hot water doesn’t run out even once. It’s a good thing Steve
didn’t take him up on his offer to leave.

Steam completely covers the bathroom mirror by the time he’s done. He wipes it away to get
a look at himself, and it’s not the prettiest picture. He probably looks a little better now that
he’s clean, but the dark circles under his eyes and sagging shoulders make him look a little
pathetic standing there in nothing but a towel. There’s a knock on the door as he’s scrunching
his hair dry, and Steve’s muffled voice comes through. “You decent in there?”

Eddie grunts out something that could generously be described as a yes, and Steve walks in
with an armful of clean clothes. He very pointedly examines something interesting on the
ceiling when he sees Eddie, an embarrassed flush of red on his cheeks. Eddie fights to keep
down a laugh. You’d think somebody who spent the better part of their high school career in
locker rooms would be less freaked out at the sight of a dude in a towel.
Still looking more awkward than Eddie’s seen him this entire time, Steve gestures at the
admittedly disgusting pile of clothes on the floor, and says, “Brought you some clean stuff.
We can wash the rest of it or just…send it to a biohazard site or something.”

Eddie grins at him from under the towel on his head. “Come on now, Harrington. I’ve been to
a party of yours. That is hardly the filthiest thing that’s been on this floor.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he hands over the clothes. Plain sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and a pair
of clean underwear Eddie’s going to be totally normal about wearing. When Eddie tries to
thank him, though, he gets cut off. “You don’t have to…this is literally the least I could do,
man. We should have just brought you here in the first place.”

He sounds upset, and Eddie frowns. “It’s not like you knew they were gonna find me. We all
thought it was safe.”

It doesn’t calm Steve down, though, and he snaps, “No, I mean we shouldn’t have left you
out there alone. This Upside Down stuff is the worst thing I’ve ever seen even with other
people around, and we just…fucked off and left you by yourself in the deep end. We
shouldn’t have done that.”

Eddie’s not sure how to respond to that. He’s coming around to the fact that Steve’s turned
into a pretty decent guy since graduating, but he can’t take the genuine regret and concern on
the guy’s face right now. The best he can manage is a nervous smile as Steve walks back out
the door.

The stairs seem like a tall order when he could sleep just fine in a pile on the floor instead,
but he drags himself up to the guest bedroom anyways. Chrissy’s sitting up against the
headboard, leaning over to press play on a tape player somebody found for her. Eddie flops
down onto the bed next to her with his head in her lap and she huffs out a laugh as ABBA
fills the room at low-volume. He stopped pretending to actually hate this tape a long time
ago, but he’s never appreciated it quite this much before.

Chrissy’s small hand cards through his hair, and his voice is quiet and small as he asks, “How
are you doing?”

“I’m okay, I guess. My head is killing me, and...and I’m really scared, but the music works.
Kind of holding on to that for dear life, honestly.” Her voice shakes as she speaks, and even a
complete stranger would be able to tell how terrified she is.

Eddie hums and throws an arm over her lap to try and hug her without actually sitting up.
Now that he’s horizontal there’s zero chance he’s getting back up. He mutters, sleepily, “I’m
really worried about you, Chris.”

She works through a couple tangles in his wet hair to keep her hands occupied, and sighs as
she says, “I’m really worried about you, too.”

What a pair the two of them make, with one wanted for murder and the other cursed by a
wizard from another dimension. It’s one of the worst binds they’ve ever found themselves in,
but at least they’re in it together. Eddie relaxes into the pile of blankets, feeling safe for the
first time in days, and actually laughs as he says, “Maybe you should be worried. You almost
hit me with a car.”

Chrissy snorts. What else is there to do but laugh a little hysterically at the whole thing?
Eddie just lies there, wiping a tear away when he feels it. Whether it’s from laughter or
hopelessness or the need to sleep, who knows? Chrissy’s quiet for a long time. When Eddie
peeks up to check on her, her eyebrows are raised and she’s picking pointedly at the fabric of
his shirt. He rolls his eyes. “Don’t, Chris, I’m way too tired.”

She does, though, and teases, “Going to basketball games, staying overnight, wearing his
clothes. I feel like I missed something, here.”

Eddie groans and hides his face further in the blankets. It covers most of the blush on his
cheeks, but he can feel it. Being alone in a boathouse for three days gives a man a lot of time
to think. About the horrible situation he’s in, about the horrible situation Chrissy’s in, and,
unfortunately, about Steve Harrington. It was fine when Steve was just a good-looking guy he
avoided in high school to make his life easier, but now this whole situation has Eddie’s brain
all mixed up and it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Deflection usually works at a time like this, so he grins at Chrissy and says, “Not like you
have room to talk. Two whole days with your band girl crush? It is Buckley, right? It’d be
pretty embarrassing if I got that wrong.”

He knows he’s hit the nail right on the head when her face goes redder than the bedspread
they’re cozied up in, but she doesn’t contradict him. She doesn’t do anything but blush and
keep playing with his hair as a smile takes over her entire face, and she softly says, “She’s
really nice.”

Her face right now might be the most adorable thing Eddie’s ever seen. The only other girl
he’s heard her mention by name was her friend Melanie back in middle school, but that was
never more than a child’s first crush. This? Chrissy looks absolutely smitten, and he couldn’t
be happier for her.

“You know, I think you probably have a shot,” Eddie says gently, trying not to push, and
Chrissy’s smile fades as her eyes snap to his.

“Don’t, Eddie. We don’t do the false hope thing.”

“I know we don’t. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

She searches his face for any hint he’s stretching the truth, but she won’t find any. They’ve
never been big on lying to each other. Her voice is subdued as she says, “It doesn’t matter,
anyways. She thinks we’re together. That’s the whole point.”

Eddie sighs, “That was one point. The other point was to call it if one of us met somebody we
actually liked.” She doesn’t look convinced, and Eddie doesn’t actually want to try and
convince her right this second. “Look, let’s get ourselves out of this mess first, and if you
want to go for it after then we’ll figure it out, okay?”
That teasing gleam is back in her eyes. “We could figure it out for both of us, you know?
There’s always Steve.”

Eddie groans again, and rolls away from her to bury his face in a pillow. “You gotta stop,
that’s not the same.” She starts to answer him, but he cuts her off and says, “No, Chris. It’s
not. Yours is an actual possibility you’ve been thinking about for weeks, mine is an
unattainable passing thought about one of the straightest guys in Hawkins because the he’s
helping me not get killed. It’s nothing.”

She’s quiet for a second too long, and when he cracks an eye open she’s frowning. He asks,
“Do you disagree?”

Chrissy pauses, considering her next words carefully. “He was super worried, when we found
you by the road. I got out of the car to get to you and he was right behind me. Before Dustin,
even, and he suggested bringing you here right away. He was really upset. So, maybe you
only get to know each other because of these…murders and maybe you guys will just be
friends after, but I don’t think it’s nothing, either.”

He doesn’t bother arguing because he feels it too. It’s only been a few days and he’s spent
most of it on his own at the boathouse, but it seems pretty clear that this is a group he could
easily keep around for a long while if he wanted to. It’s a nice thought to hold on to in the
midst of all the bad.

March 25, 1986

Eddie glances at the clock blinking an ungodly early hour of the morning and wonders how
it’s possible to be this tired and still sleep so poorly. Chrissy’s ABBA tape has played all
night on a loop, but her visions still woke them both up over and over again. She curled into
him and cried and slowly got back to sleep, but Eddie couldn’t quite manage it, too nervous
that he might be dead to the world if the tape didn’t work.

Each time, she whispered to him of the things Vecna’s putting in her head, and each time it
was hard for Eddie to keep calm. It’s all the stuff she’s struggled with for years, that she’s
been working hard to overcome for years, and this thing got in her head and twisted it all up.
As if her mother doesn’t do that enough, already. If he didn’t want to beat this fucker already,
he definitely does now. Where does he get off, taking all her progress and trying to use it
against her?

His own nightmares certainly didn’t help, showing him Fred, Patrick, Max, and Chrissy on
repeat. He lies flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and holding one of Chrissy’s hands
tightly on top of his chest. There’s no danger of him falling over any second like there was
last night, but he still feels a little like he got hit by a truck.
Eddie slowly slides out of bed, restarts the tape to keep Chrissy covered for a good while
longer, then pads down the stairs to loot the kitchen for some fancy rich people coffee. He’s
sure Steve won’t mind. There’s barely a hint of light coming through the windows, so he
assumes he’ll be alone. Instead, he jumps when he sees the man of the house himself sitting
on a stool by the kitchen counter.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington, you gotta stop scaring the shit out of me.”

Steve raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and asks, “It’s my house…why would you not expect
me to be here?”

“Cause it’s, like, the ass crack of dawn, dude. I’m only down here to steal coffee.”

He steps out of the way as Steve moves past him to dig through the cupboards. “I need a
refill, anyways. It’s not stealing if I just make us both some.”

“Way to take all the fun out of it,” Eddie pouts, pleased to get a laugh out of Steve. “Why are
you up so early?”

Steve fiddles with the coffee machine and a tin of coffee. Not Folger’s, fancy rich people
coffee just like Eddie hoped. “I did sports in high school. Early mornings are still kind of
wired in my brain. Plus…I don’t know, I’ve never slept all that well since this started. Hard
to get a full eight hours when you know about monsters that can pop through the walls of
your house and eat you.”

”Are wall monsters an actual thing that happened?”

“Yep, in ’83. Big slimy thing. Kids called it a Demogorgon,” Steve throws over his shoulder
as he waits by the machine. “Then dog things in ’84, and a spider monster in ’85. Oh, and
Russians! The Russians were ’85.” He shudders at the mention of the Russians, but other
than that he runs through the list of horrors this group has been through way too casually for
Eddie’s taste.

“You really shouldn’t sound so normal about all this.”

Steve hands him a mug of coffee, and says, “Probably not. It’s easier to pretend it’s normal
when you’re in the middle of it and the adrenaline’s going. After…not so much. Why are you
awake? You barely made it in the house last night.”

Eddie pulls himself up to sit on top of the counter, swirling his mug around as he takes a sip.
“I slept a little, just…I don’t know, between Chrissy being cursed and me watching two
people die horribly, it’s a lot of nightmares in one room.” He tries to smile, but it comes out
bitter. It’s hard to put a good spin on anything that’s happened the past few days.

Back on his stool with his own mug sloshing precariously in one hand, Steve frowns. “What
do you mean two people?”

Eddie frowns right back, thinking it should be pretty damn obvious what he’s talking about,
then throws a palm over his face and groans. In all the rush last night he forgot to pass on one
very key piece of information. “Oh my god, I forgot to tell you guys, I’m an idiot. Vecna
killed someone else last night. One of the basketball guys Carver brought with him. Patrick, I
think?”

Steve chokes on his coffee with a splutter. “Shit, dude, seriously? Wait, Patrick…Patrick
McKinney? What happened?”

Just thinking about it is already making him jittery, so the coffee’s probably not helpful
anymore, but the taste keeps him grounded and Eddie needs something to do with his hands.
“Jason showed up, like I said, and he was going on and on about how he thought I killed Fred
and that…that he thought I was gonna kill Chrissy next.” His voice breaks as he says it. It
might be the worst thing anyone’s ever said about him, and that’s not a short list to choose
from. Steve looks equally horrified at the idea, and moves closer with a sympathetic look on
his face, leaning against the counter with his side close enough to Eddie’s knee that he can
feel the warmth.

“I tried to get away in the boat when they were looking up at the house, but I couldn’t get the
engine started. They were swimming after me, and…and Vecna just snatched Patrick right
out of the water. Scared me enough that I fell in the water, so I did the thing that I do now,
apparently. I ran. And you already know the rest.” Eddie grips his mug tighter and shakes his
head, disappointed in himself for abandoning another victim. “Can’t believe I forgot that.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, man. There was a lot going on. Nancy and the kids should be back
here in a few hours, we’ll tell them then. Or we can radio now, if you don’t mind Henderson
bitching at you this early. No harm done. Well, not no harm…you know what I mean.”

Eddie smiles a little at Steve’s fumbling, but it’s short-lived. How many more people was he
gonna have to watch die during this? How many people was he going to be unable to help? “I
don’t know. You didn’t hear Carver out there, talking about how I ‘brought the devil to
Hawkins’ or something.”

Steve scoffs, “Well, Carver’s full of shit, then.”

“Nah, that’s what I’m saying, man. Maybe he’s not. I mean, who’s Vecna marked so far? A
kid I sold drugs to, one of the guys looking for me, my neighbor, and my best friend. Maybe I
am the problem, here.”

Steve’s eyes are wide and sad as he abandons his mug on the counter to give the conversation
his full attention. “Eddie, you can’t…you can’t think like that. It’s not…”

Eddie waves him off, “No, I know, it just doesn’t feel good, man. Something awful happened
to two people right in front of me – it might happen to two more – and there’s not a damn
thing I could do except run. Like a coward. It feels like shit.”

“What else would you have done? I ran the first time I saw this shit, too.” Eddie raises an
eyebrow. Steve’s got to be bullshitting him. Everything Dustin’s been saying about how much
of a badass this guy is has turned out to be accurate, and he expects Eddie to believe he took
off at the first sign of danger the same way he did? Not a chance.
Steve nods when he sees the skeptical look on Eddie’s face, and keeps going. “I had Nancy
pointing a gun at my face to get me to leave, and a monster chasing us all around the Byer’s
house. I think I was screaming the entire time, so as soon as it stopped, I got the hell out of
there.”

“Thought you said you fought the big slimy thing?” Eddie asks.

“Well, yeah, I went back. Got a chance to breathe, thought they might need my help and ran
back in. But it was scary shit, man.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns back to his coffee. He was comforted there, for a second, when
he thought they were actually the same, but apparently Steve forgot about the part where he
still rushed in like a big damn hero just moments later. He didn’t run twice and hide away in a
boathouse for three days.

Steve grabs Eddie by the shoulder, turning him to face him, and Eddie forces himself to meet
his eyes again when he gets the sense Steve’s really trying to drive a point home, here. “I
know all of this sucks, but it’s gonna work out. For everyone. Nancy and Dustin will put their
genius heads together and come up with a plan like they always do. You’ll see.”

He doesn’t leave Eddie’s side after he says it, just stands there offering whatever comfort he
can give until Eddie manages to shake off his cloudy mood long enough for a refill. There’s
no point trying to get any more sleep at this point. He changes the subject from the doom and
gloom they’re stuck in, and Steve lets him.

When the sun rises, they’re still talking, and getting along better than Eddie could have ever
dreamed for two boys so different. He smiles to himself behind the rim of his third mug of
coffee, still blown away by how much he’s turning out to like being around Steve Harrington.
Even if it’s just as friends, he really hopes he’s gonna get to keep the other boy around after
all this.

When the rest of the gang manages to sneak out from under the eyes of watchful parents, they
gather around the kitchen counter like a little squad of action heroes, ready to come up with a
plan. Nancy pulls out the notebook that she seems to just always have on hand. “Okay, first
things first. What actually happened last night, Eddie?”

Eddie sits on one of the kitchen stools, and Chrissy grabs his hand tight from where she’s
stolen his spot on the counter. He tries to answer, but his throat feels like it’s closing up. It’s
too hard to get the words out. He can’t keep recounting this awful story over and over again,
he just can’t. Eddie shoots a pleading look at Steve, praying he gets the message.

Steve looks confused, brow furrowed until it clicks. He steps in to tell the rest of the group
the same story Eddie told him earlier this morning, glancing over once or twice to check that
he’s getting it right. Each time, Eddie confirms with a nod, hoping the gratitude comes
through on his face. The mood in the room is low, and Lucas looks stricken when he hears
that it was Patrick. It seemed obvious to Eddie that Vecna would probably kill somebody
again, but actually facing the reality of it is a whole different monster. He can feel Chrissy’s
hand start to tremble in his as they talk about the cursed elephant in the room.

Nancy looks up from her notebook, eyes flicking between Steve and Eddie like she’s not sure
who to ask, “Do you know what time it was? The attack?”

Steve can’t answer that one, so Eddie racks his brain. “About twenty minutes before you
found me? Maybe a little less?”

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey.”

“Wait, what flashlights?” Eddie asks. “Sorry, I’ve still only gotten, like, bits and pieces of
what you guys found out.”

The others look embarrassed to have forgotten, and take turns filling him in on their very
eventful two days. Max’s hallucination at school, the asylum, the attack at the cemetery,
searching the Creel house. It makes him feel even shittier about the fact that he just sat there
twiddling his thumbs for two days.

The group plans all around him, and Eddie chimes in where he can but this Upside Down
stuff is above his pay grade. Steve leans closer to Eddie from his spot against the counter next
to him, and practically whispers in his ear, “Everything was way easier the last few times. We
had this girl. She had superpowers.”

Eddie just nods, not fully trusting himself to respond to Steve right now without saying
something monumentally stupid. Chrissy catches it, though, because of course she does, and
sends him a little wink. Eddie glares at her until Nancy demands their attention.

She’s tapping her pen on her bottom lip, staring so intently at her notebook that Eddie’s
surprised it doesn’t burst into flames. “I think we’ve got to go check out one of the crime
scenes. We’ve exhausted every lead we’ve already found, and that’ll be the best way to find a
new one.”

Chrissy whirls away from mocking Eddie to gape at Nancy. “I’m sorry, you want us to go
back to one of the places where this thing killed somebody? What if it’s not safe?”

Nancy looks sympathetic as she says, “Honestly, it might not be safe, but I can’t think of any
other stone left unturned here. I’ve been trying to get ahold of Jonathan since Saturday night,
but I haven’t been able to. And until I can, we don’t have El for backup, powers or not.
We’ve got to at least try and do something ourselves.”

Dustin looks at Chrissy and Max apologetically, and says, “I’m with Nancy, here. I mean, I
don’t want to scare either of you two any more than you already are, but the music probably
won’t work forever. We might be running out of time.”

Eddie winces and buries his face in his free hand. He was thinking the same thing, but he
didn’t want to say it. There’s a moment where everybody is looking at each other expectantly
– nobody wants to commit first. Max sighs, and bites the bullet. “Eddie’s trailer is all taped
up as a crime scene and we’ll for sure get spotted, so if we’re checking anywhere it’s got to
be the lake.”

He hoped that a feeling of accomplishment would come along with the plan, but instead
there’s just anxiety as they settle in to wait until sunset when they can poke around the lake
without getting caught by the police patrolling the site of Patrick’s murder. The day goes by
agonizingly slow as half the people in the house try to dodge their parents. Nancy’s hidden
her car in the garage, but Steve has to fend off phone calls from both Mrs. Henderson and
Mrs. Sinclair calling to see if he’s seen their children.

Eddie at least manages to get his disgusting lake clothes from yesterday clean. He leaves the
leather jacket hanging in the bathroom so he doesn’t damage it further, and opts not to put his
Hellfire shirt back on. No use drawing more attention to himself than necessary. It’s nice to
have his battle jacket back, though, for the emotional support if nothing else.

Everyone in the house, Eddie included, seems unwilling to wander more than a few yards
from the living room where Max and Chrissy have posted up with their music, too worried
about their friends to let them out of their sight for long. Eddie only leaves once to go outside
with Chrissy, trying to get her to eat some lunch away from all the prying eyes inside the
house. He hates this, the waiting. It feels like it’s all he’s done lately, and it’s only slightly
more tolerable with a group.

When the bright orange of sunset starts to peek through the windows, Eddie’s heart sinks.
Time for him to sit around on his ass for hours on end while the rest of the group goes out
and solves the mystery. Again. He watches them get ready around him, grabbing jackets and
walkies and flashlights, while he awkwardly leans against a wall nearby.

He pulls Chrissy into a long hug before she goes, holding her tight as everyone else tries to
give them some privacy. He keeps his voice soft, and says, “Please be careful, Chris. Please.
Henderson’s right, we don’t know how long the music will work.”

Eddie feels her nod from inside his arms. “You too. Promise me you’ll run if they turn up
here, okay? I know you hate it, but you have to promise.”

He’s so goddamn tired of running away, but he nods. There’s a time and place to stand your
ground when people give you shit and this isn’t the time. He gives Chrissy one last squeeze,
and tries to subtly wipe his eyes as she walks away.

Steve is watching the two of them, Eddie especially, and Eddie can’t quite read the look in his
eyes but it doesn’t seem completely happy. They’re practically out the door when Steve blurts
out, “No, hold on. Eddie should come with us.”

Eddie stares at him, taken off guard. He thought it was a done deal that he would be staying
here. Nancy looks irritated that he’s questioning the plan, and says, “He needs to stay here,
Steve. It’s obviously safer for him to be hidden.”

“He was hidden yesterday, you call that safe?” The kids seem a little impressed that Steve’s
actually talking back to Nancy. “There’s people after him, Nance. Not just the cops.”
Robin, ever on Steve’s side, jumps in to say, “Steve’s place won’t be the first place people
think to check, but someone might think of it eventually. All it takes is one person having one
lucky guess and we’re screwed. Again.”

Eddie’s almost embarrassed to have the two of them going to bat for him so strongly.
Thankful, but still a little red in the ears. Steve’s on a roll, now, as he says, “Exactly! Thank
you, Robin, that’s exactly what I mean! He’s safer with us, where we have his back. We can’t
just leave him alone with no idea what’s going on waiting for something to happen to him or
Chrissy while they’re apart. That’s fucked up.”

Nancy gives the four of them a long, considering look, then nods. “Fine. Fine, you’re right.
Just stay out of sight.”

Eddie lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief coursing through him now
that he won’t have to spend more time alone. He feels a bundle of fabric hit him in the side,
and barely manages to flail around enough to catch it. It’s the ugliest god damn jacket he’s
ever seen in his life, this blue zip-up thing that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in. He lifts his
head to see a smug Steve Harrington standing in front of him and heaving a backpack over a
shoulder as he snarks, “She said stay out of sight, didn’t she? Vest’s a dead giveaway.”

He smirks, and follows the rest of the group out the door to the garage. Chrissy tries not to
laugh at him and fails miserably, and Eddie grumbles as he slips on the practically offensive
thing, zipping it up over his battle jacket and ready to finally start pulling his weight.

Eddie thinks he might hate the woods, just a bit. They parked the car in the subtlest place
they could find and dashed into the cover of the trees, and now he’s pulling leaves out of his
hair as they go on a little nature hike towards a crime scene that he’s a suspect for.

Still, there’s no place he’d rather be. Harrington had been dead on the money. Just sitting
there while his friends were getting themselves in trouble was killing him inside. The Nancy
Wheeler and Dustin Henderson brain trust leads the group, with Robin and Chrissy chattering
right behind them. He’ll have to remember to get the details on that later. Max and Lucas are
next, talking softly to each other with small smiles on their faces that warm Eddie’s heart.

Steve and Eddie bring up the rear – Eddie because this whole hiking deal is really not his
thing, and Steve because he seems to have an almost pathological inability to not have his
eyes on everybody while they walk. Eddie does his best to convince himself he’s not all that
impressed by it.

Eddie hangs back so they walk side by side. “Thank you,” he says. “For this, I mean. Going
toe to toe with boss man Wheeler back there. I was kinda losing my mind not being able to
do anything.”
Steve smiles, but just barely. “Hey, if it were me, and you guys tried to make me just wait on
the sideline while people I care about are in danger, I’d be pissed.”

His gaze drifts forwards to Max as he speaks, and Eddie’s heart sinks as he says, “I guess you
would get it, wouldn’t you?”

Steve kicks at the ground as he walks. “I don’t know, I just think…” he starts, then shakes his
head. “Never mind.”

He looks like he’s gonna walk away, and Eddie realizes that he desperately doesn’t want to
let him. He likes this version of Steve Harrington that has honest little chats with him during
ill-advised adventures in the woods and early morning cups of coffee. Eddie nudges his
shoulder and gives him a look he hopes is encouraging. “You think what? Come on,
Harrington, don’t clam up on me now. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but it seems good-natured. Must be, because he keeps talking in a low
voice. “Part of me thinks that if I’d gotten off the sidelines quicker then we wouldn’t be in
this mess. Max has been off for months. The boys talk about it all the time. And I noticed, but
it’s Max. She’s scary if you try to make her do something she doesn’t want to do. But maybe
if I pushed it anyways, got her to talk about it, then she’d be fine.”

Eddie’s almost lost for words. Some part of him is still surprised by the fact that someone like
Steve could care about a group of weird little freshmen as much as Eddie does, but here he is,
racking himself with unnecessary guilt for not looking out for Max. He clears his throat,
needing a bit of space to breathe in this conversation if he’s gonna survive it. “Sorry,
Harrington, but that’s total crap.”

Steve eyes sharpen, quickly on the defensive. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Max not talking about this shit isn’t what got her cursed.”

“And how would you know?” Steve snaps, his warm demeanor so far starting to evaporate
before Eddie’s eyes.

“Because Chris is cursed too.” Steve pauses, and the defensive anger brewing in him starts to
deflate. “She doesn’t bottle stuff up like Max does. Sure, she keeps it from her mom and
people at school, but all the shit that Vecna’s taunting her with is stuff that she’s talked to me
about a lot, stuff she’s trying to get better about. Not just trying, actually getting better. But
he got her anyway, cause he’s just some sick, twisted, fuck that likes using people’s pain
against them.”

Steve looks like he’s chewing it over, and Eddie keeps going. “Hell, he could’ve just as easily
gotten me with all the shit floating around in my head. Or any of the rest of you guys – I’m
sure three years of monster hunting has messed you all up pretty good. And even if he didn’t
curse anyone here, I’m sure you’d all be hunting him down anyways because that just seems
like the type of thing you do. You did the best you could, man.”

Eddie still can’t quite place the look in Steve’s eyes. A little thoughtful, surprised, maybe
even impressed if Eddie feels bold enough to believe it. He needs Steve to keep looking at
him like that. Not wants, needs. He adds, “And, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been
keeping an eye on Max.”

“You have?” Steve asks, and that look stays right on his face where Eddie wants it.

“Absolutely. I mean, she came tearing into the park, glaring at everyone who looked at her
wrong, trying to scare everyone off so they don’t see she’s the scared one. I know that move.
Hell, I practically invented that move. I’ve been looking out for her. Doing my neighborly
duty, if you will. Well, as much as you can with her, anyways.”

Steve’s smiling at him now, and it’s the warmest look he’s seen on the other man’s face this
entire week. Not even Robin’s gotten a smile like this one. “That does make me feel better,
actually. A lot better.” He’s quiet for a moment, then he laughs. “You know, we’re a lot more
alike than I would have thought.”

“You better take that back, Harrington, I’ve got a reputation to maintain here.” He plays at
offended, but his smile gives him away. Steve’s about to say something else, some other bit
of delightful back-and-forth hopefully, when Dustin yells from the front.

They gather around, and his compass is freaking out. Steve looks at Dustin. “It’s not
supposed to do that, right?”

Dustin shakes his head. “No, definitely not. It’s been getting weirder and weirder the closer
we get to the lake.”

He looks at Lucas with a gleam in his eyes, and it takes the other boy a moment to catch on
before his eyes light up too. “There’s a gate!”

There’s lots of confused looks among the group, and Eddie’s glad he’s not the only one this
time. Dustin huffs, and in a slightly patronizing tone explains, “Something has to be causing
the disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. We keep
following this, and it could be our way to Vecna!”

Dustin takes off at a near-run, following his weird compass with Lucas now hot on his heels.
Eddie hears a flash of a distant siren, freezing before Steve grabs his arm and tugs him along.
Before he knows it, they’re back on the shores of Lover’s Lake, and he barely gets a hold of
Dustin’s jacket in time to keep him from plunging in. He feels a little queasy, being here so
soon after Patrick, but Dustin looks practically gleeful. “This thing’s freaking out, it’s gotta
be the lake. We were right.”

Nancy looks out over the lake, thinking hard. “Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always
left an opening. Maybe Vecna’s the same way.”

Eddie sighs, already seeing where this is going. “We need the boat, don’t we?” He leads the
group over to where he hid it, scanning carefully for any lurking cops. Chrissy shifts
nervously as Robin hops in, and Eddie feels a pang of sympathy. She’s never been a strong
swimmer, and the water’s probably freaking her out.
 He pulls her aside, speaking softly so he doesn’t embarrass her. “You can stay here with the
kids, if you want. We’re just going out to check and we’ll come right back. It’ll be fine.” She
nods, looking grateful to stay on dry land. Dustin, on the other hand, they have to physically
bar from coming along, and then it’s Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Nancy on their way out to the
middle of the lake.

Eddie points the way towards where he thinks Patrick got pulled out of the water last night.
He was a little too preoccupied with freaking out to remember exactly, but he does his best,
trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. Sure enough, Dustin’s compass starts to go
insane after a few minutes.

Before he can even get a word out, Harrington’s stripping in the boat. Eddie swears under his
breath and looks to the side as fast as he can. The universe is really testing him, lately. Steve’s
obviously right about being the best choice to go down there, but does he have to be such a
jock about it? He goes so far as to throw the shirt he just took off straight into Eddie’s lap and
it almost gives him a conniption. Robin’s looking at him weird, and he hopes he passes it off
as just nerves.

Eddie busies himself waterproofing a flashlight. Might as well make himself a little useful to
make up for his brief moment of gay panic. He hands it to Steve and wishes him good luck,
and Steve looks at him a beat too long. He can’t stop puzzling over that look in Steve’s eyes –
what is that?

Steve’s down there for what feels like a lifetime. Eddie fidgets nervously, waiting for him to
come back up. He’s unhealthily invested in Harrington’s safety considering he was convinced
he disliked the guy less than a week ago. Wheeler says it’s only been a minute, but it feels
like longer. Finally, Steve pops back up through the surface with good news and Eddie
hurries to try and help him back in the boat. It’s good to have eyes on him again, but the relief
doesn’t last long as something yanks Steve back down under the water and out of sight.

Chapter End Notes

I was incapable of writing about Steve's house without pointing out that it just doesn't
make sense. That thing deserves a special place in McMansion hell.
 In my weakness I am stronger
Chapter Summary

As the clock runs out, Chrissy's done being underestimated

Chapter Notes

It's two chapters posted at once - surprise! Chapters 7 & 8 are both a little shorter and
have a lot of overlap, so I'm posting them in one sitting and would recommend reading
them the same way.

No content warnings for Chapter 7

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 25, 1986

Chrissy’s never really been the outdoorsy type, but she might be coming around to it. It’s
easier to breathe in the woods, listening to the wind blowing through the trees and pretending
Vecna can’t see her all the way out here. Having Eddie close by where they can keep an eye
on each other again is a weight off her shoulders, too. It was awful finding him the way they
had, vulnerable on the side of the road so soon after he had been found by Jason.

She walks side by side with Robin as they make their way towards Lover’s Lake. Even after
a few days spent working together, being so close to the other girl still makes her nervous in
the best possible way. The afternoon light cutting through the leaves catches her hair just
right and lights up her freckled face, and Chrissy’s not sure how to focus on anything else
when she looks so beautiful. A few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have believed that Robin would
ever be anything more than a pretty girl in the bleachers who distracted her at basketball
games. Look at them now.

Eddie said he thought there was a real chance here and she’s tried to see what he’s seeing, but
it’s hard to get past her own worries to look at it objectively. He wouldn’t lead her on about
something like this, though, so she’ll have to think more about it later when there’s room for
anything in her head other than visions and nightmares. For now, she’s happy just to have
Robin’s company as they walk in front of Lucas and Max, blatantly eavesdropping and
shooting each other happy smiles.

“Oh my God, they’re so adorable I just wanna squeeze ‘em, you know?” Robin has her hands
balled up in little fists and bounces on her feet as she walks, and Chrissy can’t help but match
her smile and infectiously high energy.

“I know, I hoped they’d work it out. Did you know she went to the championship game?”
Chrissy asks, and she has Robin’s undivided attention. So much undivided attention that she
has to grab Robin’s arm and pull her closer to keep her from tripping on a root as they walk.
“Me and the girls went to get some water during a break, and I saw her hiding outside the
door with a radio so she could listen and peek in super quick when something exciting
happened. It was really sweet.”

Robin practically squeals, eyes wide with delight. “Really? Oh, I knew it! I just knew young
love would triumph in the end. They’ve been through too much for it not to.”

Chrissy peeks backwards over her shoulder as subtly as she can, looking at the soft smiles on
the faces behind them, and knows exactly what Robin means. Whatever horrible things this
group has seen, it’s cemented them together in a way that’s honestly kind of incredible. The
only people she’s ever had care about her as much as this group cares about each other is
Eddie and Wayne. “They’re really lucky to have each other for this. All of you guys are,
really. This is…I mean, I know this Upside Down stuff is horrible, but it’s really amazing that
you guys all have each other’s back like this.”

“It’s hard not to, honestly, after seeing all this. I think anybody would,” Robin shrugs. “Steve
and I could barely stand each other when we were working together, and then one week later
we’re practically siblings.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” Chrissy says. Robin’s making it sound like
anybody would do this for each other, and that’s simply not true. She can think of lots of
people who could go through all the same things and come out the other side still only
worried about themselves. “You still have to be a pretty good person to do so much for your
friends. I mean, some of you barely knew me and Eddie. You guys still doing all this for us
says a lot.”

Robin leans even closer and bumps their shoulders together with a grin, lowering her voice as
she says, “Come on, you and Eddie were part of the gang the second this started. You’ll never
be rid of us now.”

“Doesn’t sound like a problem to me,” Chrissy says, smiling softly and kicking at the leaves
as she walks. It sounds like just about the best thing she could think of, actually.

“Yeah, well, you say that now, but that’s only because the Hawkins preteen distribution
system hasn’t started dropping them on your front porch yet. They pop up like weeds. I got
home from work one day, and Erica Sinclair was sitting on my kitchen counter, inside my
house, halfway through a pint of ice cream. They’re very odd children, and that’s saying
something coming from me.”

Chrissy laughs, bright and happy and definitely loud enough for Eddie to hear and interrogate
her about later. Robin can joke all she wants to about the hardships that come along with
looking out for the younger kids, but they both know she doesn’t mean it. It’s clear from the
look on Robin’s face that this group of people is one of the best things that’s ever happened to
her, and knowing that they could be the same for her is more than enough motivation to keep
Chrissy putting one foot in front of the other towards the place she’s so terrified to go.

As the boat pulls away from shores of Lover’s Lake, Chrissy watches her friends move
further and further from her with a pit in her stomach. Deep water has always made her
nervous – it’s hard to learn how to swim well when your overbearing mother won’t let you
set foot in a swimming pool. It certainly doesn’t help that Eddie is out there actively
searching for a gate into this horrible other world people have been telling her about.

She hopes it’s just in her head, but being so close to where Vecna killed Patrick the same way
he’s trying to kill her is getting to her, the same way it did at Eddie’s trailer a few days ago.
There are shadows dancing between the trees on the edge of her vision that vanish when she
turns to look at them head on. The ticking of a clock rings faintly in her ears, and she reaches
down with a shaky hand to turn up the volume on her borrowed Walkman.

The kids watch the boat through a pair of binoculars from Dustin’s bag, waiting with bated
breath after it comes to a stop in the middle of the lake. As tense as the moment is, Chrissy
can’t help but laugh at the way the three freshmen talk about Steve as he takes off his shirt to
dive in the water. Lucas’s affronted squawk when Max shamelessly steals the binoculars is
priceless, and she’s sure Eddie’s not faring much better with a front-row seat.

Chrissy’s breath catches in her throat as he disappears under the surface. Obviously one of
them needs to swim down and investigate the gate up close, but it’s hard to watch it happen
even from this far away. It’s a good thing she’s not out there with them. She’s not sure she
could handle that. It takes far too long for him to reemerge, and Dustin’s about to radio for an
update when Chrissy hears rustling somewhere behind them in the woods. For a moment,
she’s worried she’s hearing things again, but the kids all look equally alarmed. Chrissy goes
pale as she recognizes Officer Callahan’s voice. They must not have been careful enough,
and now there are police searching the shoreline.

Max looks around with a wild look in her eyes. Without giving the rest of them even a second
to think it over, she climbs higher up the shoreline and on top of some rocks, waving her arms
and yelling to draw the cops’ attention towards them and away from Eddie and the others.
Thank goodness for her quick thinking.

She’s off in a flash, sprinting through the trees to stay ahead of the police. Chrissy shares a
panicked glance with the boys as they take off after her. Lucas keeps up with Max easily as
the most athletic of the group, and Chrissy’s not far behind, leaping over roots and around
trees. Dustin is struggling, though, and can’t quite keep up.

Eventually, Chrissy hears Dustin trip and fall behind her, and she’s frozen with indecision.
She doesn’t know what to do next. If the police catch her out here, they’re not going to be
happy. According to Eddie, her mother decided to show some genuine care for once in her
life and file a missing person’s report, and she’s sure that being questioned for the second
time in a week isn’t going to do her or Eddie any favors.

But Dustin’s one of Eddie’s Hellfire kids, his ‘little lost sheep,’ and she stayed off the boat
under the unspoken agreement that she would look after them. A quick look at Lucas and
Max shows that they have the same idea. None of them are willing to leave anyone behind,
so Chrissy stops and waits anxiously for the police to catch up.

The same two officers she’s already spoken to break through the trees, panting from the
exertion of chasing much younger people, and look completely stunned to see her there.
Powell gapes at her, and asks, “Miss Cunningham? What are you doing here?”

Chrissy doesn’t say anything. She’s still not convinced she didn’t make things worse the first
time the cops spoke to her, and she’s not about to do it again unless she has to. After a
moment of awkward silence, the officers seem to realize they’re at an impasse, and Callahan
sighs audibly. She really doesn’t like that man. “Your parents have been looking for you,
kiddies. So, you’ll be coming with us, now.”

Hopefully Eddie and the others are fine. She’s not sure how they’ll find their way back
together again now that the police are involved, but she’s not letting the kids out of her sight.
All four of them are shoved into the back of the police cruiser, and it’s a tight fit. Max has to
sit in Lucas’ lap to make it work, and Chrissy smothers a smile at his obvious nervousness.
There’s a dark blush on his cheeks and his hands hover awkwardly with no clue where to put
them. Max rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile hiding in her face if you know where to
look. Robin was right – they’re absolutely adorable.

Dustin fiddles nervously with the dial on their walkie, and it’s the only thing helping Chrissy
keep calm. If the others need to contact them, they can. Maybe not while they’re sitting in the
back seat of the cruiser, but it’s better than nothing. The car moves quickly through the
familiar streets of Hawkins, but the atmosphere of the town feels off.

Hawkins has never exactly felt welcoming to her, not since she’s started to know herself more
clearly, but something in the air tonight feels openly hostile. More than one pickup speeds
past them on the roads, truck beds packed to the gills with people Chrissy barely recognizes
all screaming about ‘the Munson boy.’ They hurl jeering insults at the officers in the front
seat, and one of them even swerves like they’re going to hit them. Something’s gone very
wrong since they found Eddie last night, Chrissy’s sure of it.

“Well, obviously something’s gone wrong. You’re involved. How could it not go wrong?”
Officer Callahan sneers from the front seat, and Chrissy whirls to him with a glare. She’s had
it with his incompetent smugness, and she’s about to tell him so, but he’s not done talking.

“I mean, what did you think was gonna happen? After all these years of being nothing but a
disappointment, did you really see this going differently? You could have just played your
part and dated a nice boy from a good family instead of causing poor Jason all that grief. But
you didn’t, and now those men out there are gonna hunt Eddie down and it will be all your
fault.”
Chrissy’s jaw drops. Why isn’t Powell saying anything? There’s no way it’s appropriate for a
police officer to talk to her like this, and he hasn’t hesitated to call Callahan out before. She
looks to her side, hoping the kids are as horrified as she is, but they’re all looking at her with
disgust. None of them have ever looked at her like that, this whole time. Actually, she
realizes, none of these kids would look at anybody like that, and her blood runs cold as she
realizes she’s stuck in another vision.

She closes her eyes tight, clinging to the barely audible ABBA lyrics ringing in her ears as
this nightmare version of Max says, “I mean, at least I’m cursed over stuff that wasn’t my
fault. You brought this on yourself. All you had to do was just lose some weight, or not like
girls, or do literally anything to make your mom happy, and then maybe you wouldn’t have
turned yourself into such a waste of space. But now? It doesn’t matter where you go.
Nobody’s gonna love you if they actually know you, and they won’t love Eddie either. He’s
going down, and he’s taking you with him, and Hawkins will be better off without the both of
you.”

Finally, the music is all Chrissy can hear again and she’s back in the right version of the
police car with a jolt. She bites hard on her bottom lip to keep from making a noise that will
let the men in the front seat know that something’s wrong, but the kids catch it instantly. They
watch in horror as she wipes away a drop of blood from underneath her nose and fastens her
headphones more tightly around her neck. Dustin was right. It’s getting harder to keep from
slipping into a vision, and they’re running out of time.

When they pull into the driveway of the Wheeler house, it’s packed with people who weren’t
here yesterday morning. Chrissy assumes they must be the kids’ families, and they rush over
to check on them with tears in their eyes as soon as they’re through the door. Her heart sinks
when she notices that nobody in the room is there for Max, who stands off to the side with a
carefully blank face and her arms wrapped tight around herself.

They do their best not to give anything away as the officers ask them questions. Between
Dustin being an even worse liar than Chrissy is, Erica Sinclair making things worse without
even seeming to try, and Max’s well-honed prickly nature, they at least manage to keep them
confused.

Eventually, Chief Powell’s had enough. “Shut up!” He shouts, the first time he’s been
anything but cordial and professional this entire time. “We’re gonna try a more civilized
approach. One at a time.” He directs his gaze at Chrissy. “You first. Might as well start with a
familiar face, right?”

Chrissy gulps and gets to her feet. She’ll have to turn her music down while she talks to the
cops, and after what happened in the car, she doesn’t want to be without her lifeline for any
longer than absolutely necessary. The chief is clearly annoyed with her. He’s realizing she’s
more involved in this than he first thought, and it doesn’t seem to be sitting well with him.
The kids look at her with wide eyes as they lead her into the office she and Robin used to put
together their resumes. An assortment of chairs has been placed around the desk in an
approximation of the setup at the station a few days earlier, but the similarities end there.

Chief Powell looks even more frazzled than he was on Saturday morning, and there’s a hint
of anger in his eyes when he looks at her compared to the sympathetic warmth from the first
time they spoke. Officer Callahan looks a little insane. The smug satisfaction on his face wars
with an expression of worry, and his voice had actually squeaked when he spoke to her in the
living room.

The chief fixes her with a serious look, and says, “Miss Cunningham, I have to say I’m a
little disappointed to be talking to you again in these circumstances. I had hoped you would
think things through more clearly and decide to help us with our investigation.”

Chrissy keeps her face carefully blank. She doesn’t really care what Chief Powell was hoping
for. Her new friends have been far more helpful in fixing this situation than the police could
ever be. All they want to do is pin this on Eddie, and there’s no evidence she can give that
says otherwise that won’t make her sound insane.

He seems surprised that a few stern words weren’t enough to make her tell them everything
she knows, and she’s barely able to keep from rolling her eyes. She is so over people treating
her like some spineless thing who will just roll over and do whatever they say. It’s how Vecna
keeps trying to get to her, too – by convincing her she’d be better off if she just let herself be
her mother’s good little doll.

The thing is, they’re all wrong. She’s known that for a long time, but now she’s starting to
actually feel it. Eddie and Wayne have never treated her like she’s weak, even when she was
at her lowest and needed their help the most. Robin doesn’t either, not since they’ve started
this crazy week. Steve, Nancy, all of them. They’ve been worried for her, but they’ve
welcomed her like she’s just as capable as any of the rest of them.

If she can help solve a mystery to save her best friend while fighting against a curse trying to
claw its way out of her head from the inside, then she can do anything. Chrissy squares her
shoulders and looks Powell dead in the eyes, putting a little of her mother’s attitude to good
use by raising an eyebrow at him pointedly.

Callahan’s eye twitches, and Powell goes into full police officer mode. He’s treating her like
a suspect now instead of a scared girl he needs to coax information out of, and that’s just fine
with her. At least it means he’s taking her seriously.

“What were you doing out on Lover’s Lake?” Chrissy stays silent, and Callahan rolls his eyes
as the chief sighs, “Not answering our questions doesn’t paint you in the best light, Miss
Cunningham. I’d suggest you cooperate. What were you doing at the lake?”

Chrissy clenches her jaw before answering the question. He’s right, unfortunately. She has to
say something or she’ll just make this worse. “We were swimming. Like the kids said.”

“You know, that doesn’t get more believable the more often you guys say it.” Callahan,
snaps. “People don’t just go swimming at crime scenes, hon.”
She bristles at the condescending pet name, and says, “We already told you that we didn’t
know it was a crime scene.”

“It was all over the news this morning. We held a town wide press conference. I’m supposed
to believe you somehow missed all that?”

Chrissy pulls out all the stops for the best performance she can give. She’s spent six years
attached at the hip to Eddie Munson, so hopefully she can channel a little of his flair for the
dramatic to make this more believable. “Yes, actually! Why would I watch that? You think
I’ve just been glued to the TV waiting to hear all the news about how someone I love is
wanted for something they didn’t do? You think I want to sit and stare at Eddie’s face on a
wanted poster with no idea whether he’s OK or not?”

Their eyes widen, and she doesn’t let them get a word in edgewise. “Max is Eddie’s neighbor,
he’s important to both of us. It shouldn’t be that hard believe that we’re both a little upset!
We’ve been avoiding the news so we don’t get even more worried.”

Powell changes tactics, desperate for her to say something he can use. “You know, your
mother’s been worried about you. Called into the station to file a missing person’s report, said
she hasn’t seen you since Saturday afternoon.”

“Vanishing off the face of the Earth for three days right after we question you? Pretty
suspicious.” Callahan talks in a sing-song voice, and Chrissy shoots him a glare that makes
his jaw audibly snap shut.

“I wanted to be with my friends. My mother is…” She sniffs, and wipes at her eyes. This is
starting to become less of an act, but the angry tears will help sell it. The most believable lies
always start from a kernel of truth, as Eddie always says. It’s why their fake dating act has
been so convincing all these years. The care it’s based on is very real.

“My mother is horrible. The seizure that sent me to the hospital? It’s because of her. The
doctor told me that I needed to take it easy this week so I didn’t have another seizure, and
then you showed up at my house to tell me that Eddie was missing! I was scared, okay? I was
scared that if I stayed in that house listening to her after everything else, I was going to have
another seizure and have to go to the hospital again.”

The sympathy’s back in Powell’s eyes. Chrissy’s got him hook, line, and sinker, which is
probably for the best because she’s not sure she can actually keep talking about this. Callahan
looks less convinced, but Chrissy doesn’t really care what he thinks. He’s not in charge here.
Still, he asks, “So the lake was?”

“It was supposed to be a distraction. Max and I were with our friends so they could help keep
our minds off of all this. We were going to go by the lake when nobody else would be
around. Look at the stars for a while.” She wipes at her eyes again, the very real tears of
frustration blurring her vision. She’s a much better actress than she gave herself credit for.

Chrissy’s waiting for Powell’s next question, ready to try and say whatever she needs to in
order to get them out of this, when something catches her eye over his shoulder. Dustin is in
the window, standing outside and trying to pantomime something from behind the glass. He’s
flapping his arms, holding his hands in front of him. Handlebars, maybe? Chrissy frowns as
she tries to figure it out, and the chief whirls around to see what’s caught her attention.

Dustin just barely manages to duck out of sight quickly enough to avoid being caught, and
Powell turns back to look at her suspiciously. Chrissy shrugs at him with the most innocent
look in her eyes she can muster. When she peeks back at the window, it’s Max this time.
She’s much clearer in her gestures, pointing once at Chrissy, then at herself, then jerking her
head to the side of the window frame before disappearing. Max has a real gift for being
concise. Now, she just has to figure out a way to get outside to join the kids.

Powell asks a few more questions and Callahan adds in a snarky comment or two, but it’s
clear they have nothing more to ask. She’s successfully sold herself as the scared girlfriend,
too worried to possibly be of any use, and they’re letting her off the hook for now. The chief
stops her as they’re walking back out of the office, and asks, “You know I’m going to have to
call your mom, right?”

Chrissy opens her mouth to object, then closes it just as fast. He’s right, for one thing. If her
mother filed a missing person’s report, then he can’t just not call her. But more than that, she
notices the people around her. Officer Callahan is walking upstairs to try and find the kids, all
the parents are huddled in the living room, and Chief Powell is eyeballing the phone in the
hallway. She’ll be free to make a break for the back door while he’s on the phone.

It might make things more difficult for her in the long run, but that’s a problem for later.
Right now, she just needs to get out of here so they can focus on stopping Vecna before it’s
too late for both her and Max. She waits, edging closer to the kitchen until the chief is turned
away from her, then runs as quietly as possible for the back door.

They’re waiting on four bikes near the end of the driveway and waving for her to hurry up.
Erica is coming with them, apparently, though she’s way too young to be wrapped up in this.
As she reaches the kids and hops on the empty bike, every other occupant of the Wheeler
house comes running out the front door, finally wise to the fact that they’re running. Erica
manages to pop a tire on the police car before hopping onto the handlebars of Max’s bike as
they ride off. They make a terrifying duo, Chrissy thinks, as they pedal out of the
neighborhood.

“We’re going to Eddie’s trailer – you know the fastest way?” Dustin calls to her once they’re
out of earshot of the police. She nods, and they set off for Forest Hills, leaving the main road
to ride down a bumpy trail through the woods that Chrissy’s used to sneak there once or
twice before. Her watch clicks over to midnight as they ride. It’s the start of a new day, and
she tries not to wonder how many new days she has left.

March 26, 1986

She tries her best to make sense of it all as the kids fill her in. Eddie and the others got
themselves stuck in the Upside Down, that other world this evil wizard lives in. Before
Chrissy has time to panic, they tell her that they managed to contact them…through the
lights? She’ll have to get the whole story on that later, just like Robin suggested.

The theory is that Vecna is creating gates when he kills his victims, so if there was a gate at
Lover’s Lake, then there should also be a gate in Eddie’s bathroom. She’s still hesitant about
her and Max being so close to one of these portals while they’re cursed, but she’s willing to
brave it if it means helping Eddie and their friends back into this world and out of danger.

She leads them to a spot on the edge of the woods where they can lean their bikes against the
trees out of anyone’s view. The Munson trailer is still wrapped up in yellow tape, torn and
flapping in the wind, and her heart hurts to see it. The safest place in her entire world
shouldn’t have been turned into this, this shell with the evidence of Vecna’s horror literally
hanging off of it.

Once the coast is clear, they crouch low to the ground and run to the trailer, checking for
wandering eyes as they go. It’s not going to help anybody’s case if they get caught at a
second crime scene tonight. They file through the front door, locking it behind them, and
make their way down the hallway to the bathroom.

Chrissy gasps when they open the door. The cops have cleaned up the room the best they can,
but it’s still obvious something terrible happened here. There’s a rusty brown stain on the
floor tiles that could only be blood, the faint traces of a gory river flowing towards the
bathroom door. The shower curtain is missing, taken for evidence no doubt, and everything
on the counter is arranged in the wrong order. It’s just been flung up there by whatever officer
decided these objects weren’t important.

The most obvious tell, though, is the ceiling. A disgusting patch of what almost looks like
skin, red and pulsing, stretches over the tub. If that’s not the gate the kids have been talking
about, she doesn’t know what else could be. Dustin’s looking around frantically for a way to
open the gate when Chrissy has an idea. It’s only kind of dangerous, so she runs with it,
stepping out of the bathroom to grab a sharp knife from the kitchen.

“Lucas, boost me up for a second?” she asks. He’s the strongest of the kids by far, and she
needs a good base to keep her balance. Lucas catches on immediately, and Max is quick to
follow. They both put a knee up on the edge of the bathtub for Chrissy to stand on and grab
the front of one of her legs as she reaches for the ceiling with the knife. It’s almost too high
up, but she just makes it, slicing through the off-putting material.

Chrissy hears Lucas gag from where he’s holding her as pieces of slime and ooze drip down
into the tub. It’s the most disgusting thing she’s ever seen, and she winces away from it while
trying her best not to drop the knife on anybody. When things are done falling out of the
ceiling, she cracks open her eyes and beams as she looks up at the gate.

Eddie, Robin, Steve, and Nancy are standing on the other side, leaning over the edge of a
mirror version of Eddie’s bathroom and smiling at them from the other side. Their version of
the trailer is covered in vines, with dark shadows all over the place, and Chrissy fights down
the brief surge of panic at how similar it is to her first vision. The important part is that
they’re there, and they’re safe. Mostly, anyways. Steve looks a little worse for wear from
what she can see, but he’s still on his feet and doing that same awkward wave of his. He’s
wearing a very familiar-looking vest, too, and she can’t wait to get the whole story on why
Steve Harrington is draped in one of Eddie’s most prized possessions.

Dustin ties some sheets together, a theory already half-formed in his mind. They all stare in
shock as he tosses them through the portal and they just…hang there. In mid-air. This whole
thing gets more and more confusing by the second. Chrissy looks at all the hard surfaces in
the bathroom and instantly realizes that somebody’s going to get hurt if they try to climb the
sheets as is.

Under her direction, the kids run and grab the seat cushions from the sofa, just barely small
enough to fit inside the tub and provide a soft landing. Chrissy shows Max and Lucas how to
stand with her, half-in and half-out of the tub with their arms locked together the same way
they would to catch a basket toss at practice. If things go wrong coming down the rope, they
should be able to break the fall of whoever’s coming through the gate and redirect them to the
cushions in the tub. Hopefully. They could also drop them on the edge, but Chrissy’s
choosing not to think about that.

Robin comes through first. Just like Chrissy guessed, she gets to the gate and the sudden shift
in gravity sends her falling right into their arms. She’s light enough that they don’t have to
drop her on the cushions at all. She looks up at them from the basket of their arms, and
breathes out, “Oh, thank God. That was fun.”

Chrissy giggles at Robin’s enthusiasm, undimmed even when escaping from the awful place
she can see through the ceiling. Lucas and Max step back to get ready to catch the next
person once they’ve lowered her to the ground, but Robin holds on tightly to Chrissy’s
shoulder while trying to catch her breath. Her hand lingers on the small of Robin’s back, still
supporting her from where she literally fell into Chrissy’s arms just moments before, and she
asks, “You okay?”

Robin nods, blushing as she notices how close the two of them are standing in Eddie’s
cramped trailer bathroom. Even so, she shows no sign of letting go, and stammers, “Umm…
yep, good. Super good. I mean, the room is spinning, but other than that I am doing stellar.”

This girl is too charming for her own good, and Chrissy gets the sense that she’s not even
trying. She’s just like this, and that makes it even more endearing and unbearable in equal
measure. Chrissy looks at the hand resting on her shoulder, then back to Robin with a smile
she hopes comes off as warm and not panicked. “Well, you’re welcome to hold on as long as
you need once we get everybody out.”

Robin blushes and her eyes go wide as she reluctantly pulls her hand back, and Chrissy steps
back to repeat the whole process all over again. Eddie comes through next, and he’s heavy
enough that they have to dump him out of their arms onto the cushions. It’s an incredible
relief that actually worked. Lucas pulls him out of the tub with one hand, and Eddie claps
him and Max on the shoulders as he stands and moves straight past them to wrap Chrissy up
in a hug.
 She takes a moment just to look at him and make sure he’s okay, and she sees him doing the
same for her. Eddie’s sweaty and dirty and missing his vest, but he looks unhurt. Chrissy
sighs in relief, a pleased smile stretching over her face. Against all odds, she feels good.
Really good. She got the police officers to believe her so they could run, she came up with a
good plan to get everybody through the gate, and soon they’ll all be back in the real world
where they’re supposed to be. For the first time since this whole mess started, it feels like
they’re actually going to be able to pull this off. More than that, it feels like she belongs on
this team just as much as anyone else. This surge of confidence coursing through her veins is
unlike anything she’s ever felt, and there’s not a chance in hell she’s giving it up, even after
the monsters are gone.

Chapter End Notes

Chrissy Cunningham deserves to be an empowered badass send tweet

 Ramblers in the wilderness, we can't find what we need
Chapter Summary

Eddie faces the mortifying ordeal of being known

Chapter Notes

Part 2 of the Chapter 7/Chapter 8 duo

CW for Chapter 8: minor/moderate description of injuries

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 25, 1986

Eddie takes a split-second inventory on how his life is going, and comes to the conclusion
that Steve Harrington might actually be driving him insane. It’s the only explanation for the
fact that instead of rowing back to shore to check on Chrissy when he saw flashlight beams
cutting through the forest, he decided to follow the girls and practically drown himself
getting to the gate. It’s certainly the only explanation for the fact that when Eddie stumbled to
his feet on the other side to see Steve lying on the ground, struggling against horrifying
monsters trying to eat him alive, he grabbed an oar and jumped right into the fray instead of
going back through the portal as fast as he can.

Before this week, Eddie would have insisted that Chrissy and Wayne are the only people he’d
risk so much for, but it seems like Steve’s made the list in record time. Eddie hates to admit
it, but the whole reformed douchebag with a heart of gold thing has been really working for
him the past few days. Between all the little heartfelt chats they’ve been having recently, he’d
go so far as to say he’s downright fond of the guy. So, instead of saving his own hide, he’s
struggling to hold his ground in a fight that could have been ripped right out of one of his
campaigns.

Eddie didn’t know he was capable of something like this, this instinctive, adrenaline-fueled
melee against things trying to kill you. How could anybody know whether they’re capable of
something like this until it happens? And yet, here he is, swinging an oar around right
alongside the two girls who have actually done this before and ignoring thoughts of anything
other than trying to save Steve’s life.

He swats a bat out of the sky and turns back to the group. Almost immediately, he desperately
wishes he didn’t. If Steve hasn’t already driven him insane, then the sight of him ripping one
of the bat monsters in half with his god damn teeth, panting and sweaty and covered in blood,
will surely do the trick. It’s burned into his brain right alongside all the other once-in-a-
lifetime things he’s seen recently.

Eddie’s able to snap out of it when he realizes that Steve’s hurt. Bad. He doesn’t seem like
the type to admit it, and tries to convince Nancy and Robin that it looks worse than it is the
second they catch their breath. Looking at him closely, though, Eddie can see him wince
every time he moves, hands fluttering to cover the spots where the bats were gnawing on his
sides. They need to get Steve out of here ASAP, but the gate’s not an option anymore. There’s
already a small cluster of bats guarding it, with more on the way any second, so instead
they’re off to the woods to regroup.

He stays close to Steve’s side as they run, ready to catch him he stumbles. The guy might
want to pretend that he’s completely fine, but Eddie’s not about to let him fall and get left
behind to the monsters if he can help it. To Eddie’s great amusement, Steve seems to be
leading them towards Skull Rock. It takes all his self-control not to laugh out loud. He’s
winning the grand prize of a trip to Hawkins’ most popular makeout spot with none other
than Steve Harrington and all it took was a sprint through hell with the guy’s ex and the girl
Chrissy’s crushing on. This is unreal.

They stumble into the clearing, leaning on whatever surface they can to catch their breath.
True to form, Nancy’s talking through their next steps before they’ve even come to a
complete stop. Eddie’s just along for the ride, right now. The other three are the only ones
who have any idea how this place works, and until they tell him what their next move is all
he can do is keep scanning the woods for more signs of those bat. It’s only a matter of time
before they have to start fighting again.

He’s still sticking close to Steve, though it’s not entirely for the other boy’s benefit anymore.
Steve has spent every day of this whole nightmare going to bat for him when he didn’t have
to, so if Eddie can’t be with Chrissy, then this is exactly where he feels safest these days. Out
of the corner of his eye, he notices Steve hunch over suddenly, clutching at his sides as his
knees start to buckle underneath him. Without a second thought, Eddie quickly closes the last
foot of distance between them to catch him, wrapping an arm around his back and carefully
dodging all the gaping, bloody wounds on his torso.

Eddie almost expects Steve to pull away and keep up the stoic act he’s been clinging to since
they got here. He’s still trying to convince everybody he’s okay, repeating it over and over
even as he’s losing way too much blood. As he says it, though, he leans into the arm holding
him up and lets Eddie take some of his weight, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to support
himself. The feeling of Steve’s warm, strong hand on his shoulder is also making the list of
things burned into his sense memory when they get out of this.

His arm stays firmly anchored around Steve while the girls get him fixed up, keeping him
steady on his feet with no ulterior motives whatsoever. Nancy rips a piece of her shirt to tie
around his sides and stomach as a bandage, and Eddie cringes at the sight of it. A piece of
fabric covered in sweat and lake water wouldn’t be his first choice to put on an open wound,
but they don’t exactly have a lot of options here. She pulls it tight, tying it in an intricate knot
to keep it in one place. Steve leans further into him as she works, practically plastered to his
side at this point, and Eddie thinks he deserves a medal of honor or something for keeping his
face straight and priorities in order in his friend’s time of need.

Once Nancy’s satisfied with her work, Steve starts to lose his balance and fall, woozy from
exertion and blood loss. Eddie wouldn’t call himself weak, but he doesn’t think he can hold
Steve’s entire dead weight if he goes down. The guy needs to get off his feet for a minute or
two. He tries to gently lower Steve down to a nearby rock where he can sit and catch a
second wind, but Steve’s eyes go wide when he glances at the surface beneath him. He
clutches tight to Eddie’s shoulder to keep himself from touching the rock, pulling the two of
them closer together and almost sending them toppling.

“Wait, watch out for the vines. All the creepy crawlies around here. They’re like, one or
something. Touch a vine, you’re touching a bat, you’re touching Vecna.” Steve’s voice comes
out low next to Eddie’s ear, and feels his face growing warm from the proximity. His arm
tightens reflexively around Steve’s back, and he pretends that the run through the woods is
the only reason he’s short of breath. Definitely not the fact that he’s holding Steve above the
rock like the cover of a cheap romance novel.

When Eddie manages to actually process the words coming out of Steve’s mouth, he looks at
the rock in question and sees that he almost set Steve down right on top of a vine. No wonder
the guy’s clutching him like a lifeline. He manages to help him settle somewhere that won’t
alert every monster in this place to their presence, then takes a much-needed step away to
collect himself. Nancy’s already plowing full steam ahead into the next phase of their
nonexistent plan, but Robin’s staring at his obvious dilemma with an odd, knowing look in
her eyes that makes him even more confident about Chrissy’s chances.

“We need weapons.” Nancy’s voice is steady and self-assured, full of a determination that
Eddie’s honestly a little envious of. “I have guns in my bedroom – if we can make it to my
house, we can get them and fight our way back through the gate.”

After seeing her in action back in the lakebed, Nancy owning multiple firearms makes all the
sense in the world. Eddie chuckles to himself, but Steve is close enough to hear it and sends
him a questioning look. He explains, “I kinda thought you were joking about her pulling a
gun on you until now.”

Steve doubles over with a grunt of pain as he tries to laugh, and it’s the first time Eddie’s
gotten a good look at his back. They were all so focused on wrapping the bleeding bites on
his sides that they hadn’t checked Steve anywhere else, and his back has some of the worst
road rash he’s ever seen. The bats must have drug him along the ground before starting their
dinner, and it can’t be good for him to just have all that open to the elements out here.

He slips off the jacket Steve gave him before they left his house earlier, then pauses. It feels
kinda stupid, but wearing the god-awful thing is making him feel better and he’s not sure he
wants to give it back just yet. Instead, he takes his vest off, too, and hands it to Steve. For his
modesty. He tries to play it off as a joke, but his eyes are still glued to Steve’s back, and he’s
sure his frown comes off as the concern it actually is.

It’s a colossal mistake, obviously. If Steve was giving him heart palpitations before, the sight
of him in his battle jacket might actually kill him. Before Eddie can do something truly,
monumentally stupid, there’s a loud rumbling and the sound of those bats approaching in the
distance. Rest time’s clearly over.

Steve doesn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne is. Of course he doesn’t, why would he? It’s
probably for the best. He’s already walking through the woods side by side with Steve
Harrington, bonding for the second time today over the freshmen they’ve mutually adopted –
his heart would probably explode if the guy also knew his metal icons.

It’s surreal how different Steve is from how Eddie would have thought. He thanks Eddie for
saving his ass like Steve isn’t the one who went full Conan in the middle of the lakebed
earlier, and he does it with a half-sheepish half-confident smile that shouldn’t be possible to
pull off in a non-douchey way. The guy’s more than capable of taking care of himself.
Dustin’s been saying some version of that at every opportunity all year, but when Eddie tries
to tell him so, Steve looks surprised to hear that Henderson has such a high opinion of him.

Which is fucking stupid, frankly. You’d have to be blind to not notice how much the kid
looks up to him, but maybe Steve’s too close to the situation to see it. It bums Eddie out to
see Steve doubting himself so much, and he rushes to reassure him. He's way too honest as he
does it, unfortunately, and Steve is surely gonna pick up on his poorly timed infatuation any
second now. But the guy’s eyes light up as Eddie compliments him, swaying closer as they
walk with a goofy grin starting to form on his face, so how could Eddie stop now?

“Still super jealous as hell, by the way. Which is why I would never have jumped in that lake
to save your ass. Not under any, uh…normal circumstances. Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no
hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that’s what I’ve learned about
myself this week.”

Steve’s trying to cut in, but Eddie’s on a roll now. Nothing’s ever been able to stop him once
his mind’s set on a speech. “See, I froze up there. I couldn’t go back to shore on my own to
help Chrissy, and you guys needed my help but I was too scared to go in the water. And
before I know it, those ladies were already in the water after you and I was just too ashamed
to be the one who stayed behind.”

There’s no answer for a long while, and Eddie worries that he’s said too much. When he
glances back to his right, Steve’s got that look on his face again. A little warm, a little sad,
maybe a little surprised. Eddie still hasn’t figured out what to do with that, so he just scoffs,
“You gotta quit looking at me like that, Harrington, you’re gonna give a guy a complex.”

It shakes Steve out of whatever revery he was in, and brings some color to his face. “Sorry,
just…you’re being way too hard on yourself, Eddie. You’re plenty brave, that’s, like, your
whole thing.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and points out, “I know we’re fighting monsters together and
everything, and I’ve truly cherished every moment, but you don’t actually know me all that
well.”

Steve just raises an eyebrow right back at him, just a bit bitchy and very charming. “No, but
everybody knows Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, man. I might not really know you as a person
yet, but I know of you. And you’re brave, no question about it.”

It’s ridiculous to get so hung up on a single word, but that ‘yet’ has Eddie feeling all kinds of
embarrassing things. He pulls a section of hair over his face to hide his pleased smile, and
mutters, “Enlighten me, then. How do you figure?”

Before Steve can answer, another earthquake throws them off balance. The seal has long been
broken on being in Steve’s personal space, so he doesn’t hesitate to grab onto his arm to keep
the pair of them on their feet. They’re back off and running to the Wheeler house before
Eddie can find out what Steve was going to say.

The search through the Wheeler house is infuriatingly unfruitful. Eddie thinks he’s done a
pretty damn good job of rolling with the punches so far, but hearing that the guns they’re
looking for don’t exist yet while Steve walks around yelling for Dustin like he’s lost his mind
might be the thing that pushes him over the edge.

But then, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally, there’s a weird flashing light thing
in the ceiling that feels all tingly on his fingers as he blinks out an S-O-S while Steve looks at
him with pride. They only hear the voices of Dustin and some girl he doesn’t recognize.
Chrissy should be with them, and the fact that it’s not makes his skin crawl, buy they figure
out a plan nonetheless. Get back to Eddie’s trailer, and hope they’re right about there being a
gate in his bathroom ceiling. It’s simple enough – exactly the kind of plot point Eddie would
write into a campaign. One that makes sense, but still takes just the right amount of puzzling
to get to.

He's glad the theory is easy to keep up with, because the whole time they’re talking through a
magical Lite-Brite, he and Steve are orbiting each other like they’ve got their own gravity
going on for just the two of them. Sharing pointed looks over Nancy’s head as she writes,
grabbing at each other in excitement when they figure something out, commiserating over
Dustin’s ego like they’re old friends. It’s making Eddie’s head spin. The idea that you would
get close to new people so fast in circumstances like this makes sense to him. It’s textbook
trauma bonding, but this feels different. Something about the way he’s starting to feel about
Steve feels like…more, somehow.

March 26, 1986

The pulsing red mass on his trailer ceiling makes him sick to his stomach. All he can think of
is Fred in a trance as his bones break in this exact same spot on the other side. There’s
something pressing on the webbing from the other side, and he flinches away as a knife slides
through the membrane of the gate. Chrissy’s face is smiling down (up?) at him and she looks
completely fine, no worse for wear than when he last saw her hours ago at Lover’s Lake.
She’s balanced on Lucas and Max’s knees like the cheerleader she is and has sliced a hole in
between worlds to reach them. What a little badass.

He watches her direct the two kids actually athletic enough to help her on how to make one
of the arm baskets he’s seen her fall into while cheering, and they start to figure out how they
want to climb up the insanely trippy sheet rope Dustin has thrown through the portal without
braining themselves on the tub on the other side.

Steve puts a knee up on the edge of the tub to support Robin the same way Max and Lucas
did for Chrissy and she starts to climb up the rope, toppling through the portal and landing
safely in their friends’ arms on the other side. Eddie notices Chrissy’s hands lingering as they
set her down and bites back a proud smile, happy she’s taking his words to heart and being
bolder when she can.

Eddie doesn’t even consider being chivalrous and trying to convince Nancy to leave first
when Steve turns to him next and holds out an expectant hand. He has a feeling she might kill
him for it, and he desperately wants to get the hell out of here. He doesn’t fall as gracefully as
Robin did, rolling out of his friends’ arms to land with a loud thump on the couch cushions in
the tub. Steve has the audacity to laugh from somewhere above him.

He pulls Chrissy into a hug, overwhelmed by yet another reunion during these garbage
circumstances that keep pulling them apart and back together again. She’s okay, and he
reassures himself with a deep breath before turning back to the others. Their eyes are glued to
the gate with a lot more urgent panic then a few seconds ago, and when he looks to see
what’s wrong, Nancy Wheeler is shaking in the same state Chrissy and the rest of Vecna’s
victims have been.

It's a mad dash to find a tape that might bring her out of it. They’re rummaging through
Eddie’s metal collection to try and find something that might work for Nancy Wheeler of all
people. He finally thinks to go grab Chrissy’s ABBA tape from where it should be in the
kitchen, and he’s almost there when they hear Steve shouting again from the bathroom.
Nancy came out of it on her own.

The others work as a team to get Steve and Nancy back through the gate, but all Eddie can do
is slump in relief against the wall. That’s the fourth time he’s seen somebody in the clutches
of this evil wizard over the past few days, and half of those people are dead now. It might not
be exactly the same thing since she broke out of it with no music, but if he goes his entire life
never seeing that again it’ll still be too soon.

Eddie’s vaguely aware of rushing movement around him, hands grabbing him and pulling
him along as they leave, but he’s in a bit of a daze. He’s become oversensitive to this, this
horrifying way of dying that nobody should have to see, and it’s taking longer to snap himself
out of it each time. The others don’t seem quite as affected by Nancy’s near miss, but that’s
only because they haven’t seen how it ends. He’s thankful for it if it means they can pick up
some of his slack. They’re moving in a cluster through the darkness to the Mayfield trailer
across the drive. Makes sense, he guesses. Hanging out in an active crime scene wouldn’t be
the smartest choice they’ve made this week.
He doesn’t really tune back in until he hears Steve whimper beside him while reaching for a
blanket in a cabinet, trying to muffle his sounds of pain. It’s quiet enough that nobody else in
the room seems to hear it, but Eddie’s still hovering next to him like an anchor. He looks
around the trailer. Max’s mom is gone, of course, and it seems like people are preparing to
bunker down for the night. Or, morning, actually. The clock on the stove shows it’s just after
midnight.

Robin and Chrissy are sitting with Nancy on the couch, comforting her after whatever Vecna
put in her head. Max is grabbing things for people from various nooks in the trailer while
Lucas does his best to hover unnoticed, and Dustin is talking animatedly with the young girl
they were talking to over the Lite-Brite. Erica, apparently.

Eddie grabs Max as she walks past, startling her as he asks if she’s got a first aid kit hidden
around here somewhere. He’s seen her skateboarding like a maniac around the park so there’s
got to be something, and Steve’s wounds are something he can actually help with right now.
He needs a tangible thing to accomplish or he might lose his mind. She nods and runs off to
get it, while Steve looks at him in concern, and asks, “Wait, did those things get you too? I
didn’t see you get hurt.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, half exasperated and half fond. “It’s for you, dumbass. You’re the one
that got turned into a chew toy.”

Predictably, Steve tries to wave him off and insist that he’s fine, but Eddie’s hearing none of
it. He marches Steve down the hallway to what he thinks is Mrs. Mayfield’s room. “Come on,
man. Cut it with the hero crap. You’ve been running around with your sides all torn up and
the world’s grossest band-aid. Let’s get you fixed up.”

Eddie expects the other boy to put up more of a fight, but Steve just lets himself be led down
the hallway and sat on the bed. He shrugs out of Eddie’s vest, wincing apologetically when
he sees the blood on the inside, but Eddie waves him off as he darts back into the kitchen to
grab a bowl and some warm water.

“Whatcha doin’?” Eddie jumps about a foot in the air and spins to see Chrissy leaning against
the kitchen counter and smirking.

“Umm… getting water? For Steve, he’s all…” Eddie gestures at his own disgustingly sweaty
torso, hoping he gets the point across. “I’m just helping him get patched up.”

She raises an amused eyebrow. “Oh, is that what they’re calling it these days?” Her voice is
low enough that only he can hear it, thankfully. Eddie blushes anyways and sends her a half-
hearted glare as he pushes past her back down the hallway, grabbing the first aid kit from
Max on his way.

Steve is sitting on the bed, arms braced on his knees as he curls into himself and hisses
through his teeth against what is certainly agonizing pain. His eyes flick up to meet Eddie’s
as he walks through the door, and he scrambles to sit back up, scrunching his face up with the
effort of appearing normal.
As impressive as it is, the act is starting to grate on Eddie. “Very convincing. You’re not
embarrassing yourself by admitting your giant, gaping flesh wounds hurt, come on.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and leans back on his elbows, and Eddie takes a moment to compose
himself. He’s glad he offered to help, but this is gonna be brutal if he loses his shit every time
Steve accidentally does something suggestive while bleeding all over the blankets.

The shirt bandage Nancy wrapped around his waist is absolutely vile at this point, soaked
through with blood and sweat and clinging to the edges of Steve’s wounds. “This is gonna
hurt like a bitch, dude, you ready?” Eddie asks. When he gets a nod in response, he begins to
slowly peel the fabric away. Steve’s entire face contorts in pain as he gasps and grips tight to
Eddie’s upper arm.

Normally he’d just rip off the bandaid, both literally and metaphorically, but that will
definitely make things worse. There’s nothing to do but work slow and steady, and try not to
meet Steve’s eyes as he grunts in pain. Eddie finally gets the rest of the shirt off, and Steve
breath is shaky from the exertion of it. “You need a second?”

Steve shakes his head, and says, “No, just get it over with. If we take a break now, I’ll never
let you start again.”

Eddie soaks rag in the warm water so he can start cleaning the hell gunk out of Steve’s sides.
“Talk about something, man. Distract yourself. Trust me, it works like a charm.”

Steve winces at the first press of the rag, eyes fluttering up to the ceiling. “Talk about…about
what?”

Apparently, Eddie’s a glutton for punishment, because that’s the million-dollar question and
the only answer he can think of is that he desperately wants to know what Steve was going to
say in the Upside Down before an earthquake cut him off.

“Back down there, in that place? You said you knew I was brave. What did you mean?”
Eddie doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes, he can’t if he’s actually going to hear the answer. He just
presses the rag to Steve’s tanned skin, wiping away the traces of blood as gently as he can.

“Fishing for compliments, huh?” Steve jokes, and it’s got to be a good sign that his sense of
humor’s intact right now.

Eddie smiles, and says, “Never hurts to butter up the guy responsible for how pretty these
scars turn out.”

Steve sounds steadier as he laughs, like he’s adjusting to the pain of getting his bites seen to.
He says, “I just meant look at people like me, man. We go through high school doing exactly
what we’re ‘supposed’ to do, and what do we get for it? We get to be miserable assholes, who
are friends with other miserable assholes. And it’s…what, just to be popular? So nobody
treats us the way we treat everybody else? That’s being a fucking coward.”

Eddie goes wide-eyed with surprise as he’s wiping away the last of the blood and throwing
the rag in the bowl. Steve’s face is pursed up in a bitter frown, and Eddie can’t tell if this is
something he’s needed to get off his chest for a while or if he’s just too tired and in pain to
give a shit who he’s talking to, but like hell is Eddie gonna be the one to stop him.

“You were never like that. You didn’t give a shit what people said about you, you just…you
would say all this shit that nobody else would ever say, and do whatever you wanted even if
people thought you shouldn’t. It took me all of high school and fighting actual monsters –
multiple times – to figure out who I am, and I still barely got there. You figured it out on your
own and did it even if people gave you shit for it. Pissed me off, honestly, that you could
just…do that when the rest of us couldn’t.”

Eddie has to bite his lip to keep from tearing up. This is one of the kindest things anybody
has ever said to him, cutting straight to the core of everything Eddie values, and it’s coming
from Steve Harrington of all people. He doesn’t look like he’s done, either. Eddie buckles
down and starts unrolling some of the first aid tape in the kit, carefully fastening the sides of
Steve’s cuts together the best he can without using stitches.

“Because if we’re being honest, I’ve been jealous of you too,” Steve continues. Eddie’s
eyebrows fly high enough to hide behind his hair as he lifts his head to look straight at Steve
in disbelief, meeting his eyes for the first time since he started working. Steve nods with a
tired smile, and asks, “What, you think I’m the only one Henderson won’t shut the fuck up
about? I swear, every time we talk these days it’s all Eddie this, Munson that, on and on and
on. You’re a hero to him, too.”

Steve’s face falls as he keeps going, wincing as Eddie’s nervously trembling hands botch the
placement of a piece of tape. “And I get it, now. After the past few days, I get why he likes
you so much. You’re pretty great. But it still sucks cause…cause you’re, like, actually friends
with them.”

Eddie’s face stays blank. He doesn’t know what Steve could possibly mean by that. “I love
those kids, I really do, but…I’m exactly the type of person who would have made their lives
miserable in high school. Sure, we’re practically family now, I know that. I don’t think
they’re, like, pretending to like me, or whatever. But that’s only because of the Upside Down,
not because of me. You? They just like you because you like all the same nerdy shit they do
and you’re brave enough to be yourself about it. That’s intimidating, man.”

He almost regrets telling Steve to distract himself – he took it and ran with a speech to rival
one of Eddie’s own, and everything he’s saying is too hard to take in the best way. Eddie’s
got the last of the tape down and pulls on Steve’s shoulder to get him sitting all the way back
up. Steve takes a hold of Eddie’s upper arm again as he starts to finish up with a couple
pieces of gauze and a large wrap bandage. “And all this stuff? The monsters? You shouldn’t
feel like running makes you not brave, or something. That’s, like, the normal reaction to this.
I already told you, I ran the first time we did this.”

Eddie scoffs, “Yeah, and then you immediately turned back around and starting beating the
thing to death, Harrington, it’s not the same thing.”

Steve looks offended on Eddie’s behalf. “Yeah, it is! You could have kept running straight on
out of town, got you and Chrissy somewhere far away, but you didn’t. You stayed to help us,
to help people you care about. Same as I did.”
 When Steve puts it like that, it actually makes sense. “If you say so, man,” Eddie mutters as
he ties off Steve’s bandage and gives him a friendly clap to the shoulder, moving to leave the
room and get some space to breathe and think things over.

He thought Steve might be done with his speech, but he grabs Eddie’s wrist as he goes. He
delivers his parting words with a smile like he’s not about to knock Eddie down for the count.
“It doesn’t matter that you dived in last, Eddie. It only matters that you dived in at all. I
promise nobody here thinks any less of you.”

Eddie has to fight harder to keep it together than he ever has before in his life as he leaves the
room, but he’s sure that Steve notices anyway. He passes Robin on her way back to check on
her best friend, and waves off her questioning eyes with a half-hearted smile as he pops into
the bathroom to collect himself. He pointedly avoids looking at the ceiling even though
they’re in another trailer.

This is getting to be too much for Eddie to handle on top of all the monster stuff. Full-on
speeches complimenting Eddie with that warm look in his eyes isn’t manageable anymore,
and he’s glad for a break after being glued to Steve’s side for so long.

The door opens and closes quietly, and he doesn’t need to look to know it’s Chrissy. She
shows up in the reflection next to him, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back and
shooting him a concerned, questioning look in the mirror.

He almost can’t believe that he still has enough energy to be this much of a drama queen over
a guy saying nice things about him. “Well, I was wrong. After the basketball game. Turns out
the worst thing Steve Harrington can be is actually a guy wearing my vest, watching my back
in a hell forest after killing some monster with his teeth, and telling me how brave I am.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen in the mirror, and her face goes soft as she asks, “He called you brave?”
Her eyes are sparkling, and he can’t help but smile with her even if it comes off slightly
hysterical. She knows how important it is to him to stand his ground whenever he can. She’s
held his hand through the moments when the voices all around him were telling him that his
authentic self was too much or too wrong and he had to decide to keep being himself
anyways.

So, for someone like Steve Harrington to see all that, recognize it, and hold it up to Eddie like
it’s something to be admired? Chrissy knows exactly what that means, same as he does. It
means he’s well on his way to being way too far gone on Steve Harrington at the absolute
worst time in the world. He asks, “What am I supposed to do with that?”

She wraps her arm further around him to squeeze him in a soft hug, and says, “Probably
suffer about it very loudly for a few weeks if I know you.” Eddie barks out a loud laugh,
leaning further into her as she smiles and pulls them both out of the room. They settle in on
the pullout couch to try and get some sleep, and Eddie thinks to himself that it’s almost a
curse to have people in his life who see him so clearly. Almost, but not quite.

Chapter End Notes

Watch me shove as many of my favorite Steddie tropes in this bad boy as I possibly can
 When the night winds are driving on
Chapter Summary

One last stand against Vecna as Chrissy feels her time running out

Chapter Notes

CW for Chapter 9: canon-typical violence

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 26, 1986

There’s lots of fun shapes you can make out of the various marks and stains on the ceiling of
the Mayfield trailer. Chrissy’s found dozens of them while chasing another hour of sleep.
She’d settle for another five minutes at this point. In a perfect world, the whole team could
take an entire day to rest – between three girls who have had Vecna poking around in their
heads, one boy who’s been a fugitive for almost a week, and another who’s been torn up by
monsters, they’re definitely not at their best.

A day to spare isn’t a luxury they have, though. It’s obvious that she and Max are running out
of time. The music is still enough to claw back out of Vecna’s hold when the nightmares
come knocking, but that’s a small silver lining hiding behind an overwhelming dark cloud.
Her head pounds so badly it’s making her teeth hurt, and she feels the shadows of a vision
poking at the edges of her consciousness every time she closes her eyes. Nancy hasn’t told
them what Vecna showed her last night, but Chrissy’s sure it will lead them to same
conclusion she’s already arrived at. Whatever plan they come up with to end this once and for
all, it has to be today.

Chrissy’s been tossing and turning for ages, every movement sending a new wave of pain
through her skull as she tries not to wake Eddie where he snores next to her. She sighs and
pushes herself off the couch, resigned to starting the morning far earlier than she wanted to.
Every day of this nightmare has felt longer than the last – why should today be any
exception? Eddie stirs as she moves, mumbling out a questioning noise as he rolls toward her
in his sleep. He’d probably be able to take her mind off of things if she woke him up, but
there’s no reason for both of them to be unrested.

She slips out the front door as quietly as she can, taking a seat on the front steps and pulling
her jacket tightly around her to ward off the morning chill. There’s nothing blocking her view
of the Munson trailer across the way, her home away from home now warped by horrible
memories and a gate to another world embedded in the ceiling.

Sitting outside here in the early morning has always made her feel less jittery. So many of the
park residents work blue-collar jobs that have them on the move early in the morning, and
nobody makes any fuss about the noise drifting from trailer to trailer as another new day
kicks into gear. There’s actual evidence of life instead of the fake facades of her own upper
middle-class neighborhood, and none of the overbearing silence that makes her overthink in
anxious circles when she’s at her own house.

It's probably not wise to be out here for too long. They did run away from the police last
night, after all. Staying out of sight should be a priority now that Eddie’s not the only person
they might be looking for. This isn’t usually a ‘call the cops’ kind of place, though, so she
should be safe for a while to get her head back on straight unless this is one of those
mornings Hawkins PD decides to come harass people in the park for no reason.

Hopefully, they have bigger things to worry about right now. Chrissy certainly does. She’s
been scared since that first trip to the hospital, but this morning it’s really settling in. Unless
they come up with something truly spectacular today, this could all have been for nothing.
She truly believes they can pull it off, but it’s still daunting.

Chrissy’s so lost in thought she doesn’t notice the front door open behind her until someone
plops down next to her on the stairs. She half expects it to be Eddie, but it’s Robin sitting
there smiling at her when she turns to say good morning.

She offers up a piping hot mug of coffee in a plain white mug that makes Chrissy long for the
Munson’s novelty collection barely a hundred yards away, and says, “Far be it from me to
judge, but sitting in full view of an entire trailer park doesn’t seem like the best way to be on
the run. It’s an interesting strategy, for sure, creativity points all around, but…maybe we
should go back inside?”

“I just couldn’t sleep – needed some fresh air. Seems like you’re in the same boat,” Chrissy
says. She takes a sip of her coffee, and smiles when she realizes it’s exactly the way she made
it for herself yesterday morning at Steve’s house. Robin must have been paying attention.

“Me? No, I was sleeping like a baby. I elbowed Steve’s cuts through his bandages on accident
and he shoved me straight off the bed onto the floor. Figured it was a hazard to both of us for
me to stay in there, so…” The joke startles a laugh out of Chrissy, and she almost spills her
coffee all over her hands. Robin sobers far too quickly and leans closer where they sit on the
stairs, shoulders pressed together in a solid line of comforting contact. “Penny for your
thoughts?”

Chrissy’s first instinct is to downplay, to pretend to be fine the way she always does when
someone other than Eddie or Wayne looks at her a little too closely. It’s Robin, though, and it
feels like she owes her new friend whatever parts of the truth she can give. More importantly,
it feels like she can trust her with it.

She’s too hesitant to lean even further into Robin’s side the way she wants to, but she does tip
her head to rest it on the other girl’s shoulder, and says, “Today’s the day, I think. He’s been
in my head getting bigger and louder all week, and now it’s almost unbearable. I’m sure Max
feels the same. And I know we can beat him, I really think we will. It just feels a lot more
real today is all.”

“God, I’m sorry,” Robin says. “Last time was awful enough – I can’t even imagine what it’s
like to be doing all this for the first time with that slimeball in your head.”

“It’s not great,” Chrissy agrees, hiding her grimace behind another drink of coffee. “But, I
don’t really have a choice, do I? It’s this or just…give up and wait for him to kill me like he
did the others. And that’s just…not happening.”

She almost regrets saying it when her blunt words make Robin flinch next to her. There’s an
apology on the tip of her tongue, but before she can get it out, Robin says, “Well, I’m glad
you’re not giving up. It’s kinda hard not to. Believe me, I know. At the mall last summer, I
really thought Steve and I were doomed. We were trapped, and I thought he was dead for a
second, and it just seemed so totally, utterly hopeless that we almost threw in the towel. But
we held on just long enough and the others came to save us, and we’re gonna do the same for
you. For all of you – you, Eddie, Max. It’s gonna work out for everyone, we’ll make sure of
it.”

Chrissy doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s a horrifying glimpse into what the others went
through before she knew any of this even existed, but at the same time it’s a weight off her
shoulders to know that Robin understands exactly how she’s feeling. Everyone here has faced
down the worst that multiple worlds have to offer and come out the other side. It may not be
all sunshine and roses getting there, but surely they can do it one more time.

Robin must misinterpret her silence, though. She stammers, “Sorry, that was probably way
too much for this early in the morning. Permanent foot in mouth disease, that’s me.”

“You’re not too much,” Chrissy says, eager to reassure her. “I’m glad you’re here. All of you
guys.” She finishes her coffee while watching more activity around the park, and eventually
feels Robin’s arm rest light and easy across her shoulders in a comforting hug.

They sit there until Chrissy’s legs fall asleep from the hard metal of the stairs. Shifting to get
some feeling back into her stiff limbs sends another flash of pain jolting through her head.
She winces and closes her eyes tight, trying to breathe through it. When she opens them
again, Robin stares at her in concern, and asks, “Is the headache really that bad?”

It feels like someone’s running a jackhammer inside her head, but nodding or speaking to tell
Robin as much might set her over the edge. All she can do is hum weakly and hope Robin
gets the message. She takes the coffee mug from Chrissy’s hand and sets it next to them on
the steps, turning back to her with outstretched hands. “Can I try something? See if it helps?”

She’s willing to try anything at this point. Robin tentatively places her hands on either side of
her head. Before Chrissy can ask what she’s doing, she presses in with her fingers and starts
rubbing small patterns around her temples. The instant relief is like magic, and she finally
feels like she can move again. Her voice comes out as a breathy whisper as she asks where
Robin learned how to do this.
“Steve gets migraines every now and then. Knocked in the head one too many times. This
usually does the trick if he catches it soon enough,” Robin mutters, keeping her voice soft so
she doesn’t make things worse. Chrissy feels better than she has in days and leans closer,
turning to rest her forehead on her friend’s shoulder as she works. There’s still a dull ache
that nothing can quite touch, but the sharp edges of her pain have softened.

Eventually, freshly risen voices and the smell of a second pot of coffee reaches them from
inside the Mayfield trailer. It’s time to go back in before someone notices they’re gone, but
all Chrissy wants is to stay right here with Robin’s hands on her face. She indulges herself for
another moment before pulling away. They’ve got to figure out how to end this thing one way
or another, and there’s no time like the present.

“So, big boy, huh?” Chrissy teases. Eddie groans, and his face flushes tomato red as he
throws himself dramatically on the floor of the RV. They were told to wait here with Lucas
and Dustin, staying out of sight while the rest of the group buys what they need to even try
and pull off their plan. It makes her antsy, and Eddie can’t be doing much better. The only
reason he even knows about this place is from when he was a kid, from evenings spent
waiting in the car just like this while his father bought one thing or another for less than legal
purposes.

This has to be bringing up memories he’d rather not think about, and anything that might
remind Eddie too much of his dad makes her nervous after his breakdown during her
sophomore year. Hotwiring the RV probably didn’t help, now that she thinks about it. She
can’t believe he actually stole this thing. Granted, they didn’t really have another option, but
it’s still insane. As far as she knows he hasn’t done it since right before they met. Back then,
he did it to impress Lenny. He’s grown up enough since then to know that stealing a car isn’t
really the way to a boy’s heart, but it’s still a safe bet that Steve Harrington is at least partially
responsible for some of his recklessness.

She walked back into the Mayfield trailer that morning to find them standing in the kitchen
with matching mugs of coffee. Eddie poked at the bandages he wrapped around Steve’s
mangled sides last night while the other boy swatted his hands away with a scowl that didn’t
quite reach his eyes. Chrissy’s eyebrows practically shot into space seeing them so
comfortable with each other, and the two only got more attached at the hip as the morning
went on.

When Nancy gathered them all in the living room to share the details of her vision, they sat
close on the couch with their legs pressed together. When they clustered around the table to
look at an ad for the War Zone, Steve leaned so far into Eddie’s side it was hard to tell where
one of them ended and the other started. And when Eddie pulled out the old tricks he hates so
much to get the Winnebago going, he called Steve Harrington ‘big boy’ right to his face with
a manic grin.
It seems like he’s throwing caution to the wind as they’re gearing up for one last stand.
Otherwise, that blatant display of flirting would be evidence that he’s lost his mind. Maybe
it’s not that crazy after this week, though, because as soon as he said it Steve looked like his
entire brain stopped. He and Robin sat in the front seats whispering to each other for the
entire drive while Eddie hid in the back looking mortified.

Now, they’re crouched to keep the masses crowded at War Zone from seeing them. Chrissy’s
trying to make herself eat a granola bar Eddie found her in the Mayfield trailer so she doesn’t
face this day on an empty stomach, but it’s turning out to be a losing battle. They’re in
desperate need of something to lighten the mood, so she thinks she has full reign to tease him
about it. If he’s convinced that she has a chance with Robin when this is all over, then she’s
really starting to feel the same way about him and Steve.

“Temporary insanity, Chris. Nothing more,” Eddie says. It’s not terribly convincing,
especially given how flustered he was last night by whatever Steve said when he
complimented his courage.

“And yesterday was…also insanity?”

She keeps her voice low so the kids don’t overhear them from their perch in the back of the
RV, and Eddie’s face gets impossibly redder. He hides it behind a section of his hair as he
speaks, a nervous habit he’s had for as long as she’s known him.

“I don’t know what that was.” The admission is soft and quiet. A small smile under that curly
hair is the only indication that he might be starting to adjust his view of Steve the same way
Chrissy is.

“He’s still wearing the vest.” She looks pointedly at Eddie, who actually giggles as he buries
his face further in his hands.

“God, this is the worst. I’m embarrassed for myself,” Eddie laughs. “Put me out of my
fucking misery and tell me something good about you and Buckley, I’m begging you.”

“There is no me and Buckley.” He peeks through a hole in his hair long enough to shoot her a
disbelieving stare. “There isn’t! She thinks you and I are together, and even if we decide to
tell her the truth, we can’t do it right now. So, there’s nothing. She’s just being a good friend.”

Eddie just stares at her even longer. They’ve been friends too long at this point, and he knows
that if he waits her out long enough, she’ll always cave when it comes to hot gossip. It’s not
fair. She bites the bullet, and offers up the details of her morning on the stairs. His eyes are
full of warmth as he wraps an arm around her shoulders and jostles her side to side, and
Chrissy can’t stop smiling.

It doesn’t last long, though, before the RV doors fly open and the designated shoppers come
running back in. Jason’s here, and Chrissy goes pale. She almost can’t believe that he’s
turned into just as big a threat to them as Vecna, and it fills her with guilt. Eddie would never
blame her for it, but she knows for a fact that Jason wouldn’t hate him as much if it wasn’t
for her, and everything with the murders has only made it worse. She’s heard all about the
meeting where he whipped the town into a frenzy, sending angry citizens to patrol the streets
in those trucks she saw driving around last night. Jason’s always been entitled and
overbearing, but what Erica described last night sounded unhinged. Seeing Patrick killed in
front of him must have made him snap.

She wants to feel bad for him after the death of his friend, but it's hard to have too much
sympathy. Eddie saw the same thing twice and spent the past few days knowing it might
happen to her at any moment. And yet, he isn’t starting mobs all over the place because he’s
actually a good person. Jason wouldn’t know anything about that.

Knowing the basketball guys are this close has them all in a hurry to get out of there. The
downside to hotwiring an RV for transportation, though, is having to do it again every time
you need to restart it. Steve’s already in the driver’s seat this time, so Eddie has to lean over
his lap to get it started. Chrissy hides a laugh behind her hand at the matching blushes on
both boy’s faces. Figuring all this out once they’re safe is going to be fun.

Chrissy wouldn’t describe Nancy Wheeler as her type in general, but even she has to admit
that watching her saw the barrel off a shotgun is one of the most intimidatingly attractive
things she’s ever seen. It’s clearer and clearer by the second that all this previous monster-
hunting experience they keep talking about is no joke. Vecna doesn’t stand a chance.

They’re scattered all over a hillside the kids called Weathertop. Eddie and Dustin are messing
around as they fashion some trash can shields for their part of the plan, and she’s glad to see
they can still be playful at a time like this. Lucas tapes up some spears with his younger
sister, eyes flitting between Max and Erica like he can’t decide who to be more worried
about. Steve and Robin are making Molotov cocktails. Monsters in the Upside Down can’t
stand fire, apparently. They’re curled close together, and every so often one of them will
glance at Eddie or Chrissy while they talk. She pushes down the hopeful part of her brain that
hopes they might be the topic of conversation. Now’s not the time to be distracted.

Nancy wanders away to check on the others, and then it’s just Chrissy and Max. Two girls
cursed to die and doing their best to make sure it doesn’t happen. The sun is still high in the
sky above them, with hours to go before their plan kicks into full effect. Max breathes
harshly and lets her hands start to shake once Nancy’s gotten some distance. She probably
wouldn’t lose control like this for even a second in front of Lucas and the others. They know
her too well, and she probably doesn’t want them worrying about her more than they already
do. But Chrissy? She’s the closest thing Max has to a neutral party, and the only other person
here who knows exactly what this experience does to your head. It’s the safest place in the
world right now for her to feel whatever it is she’s feeling.

She scoots over to the right, turning away from the rest of the group and blocking Max from
their view as much as she can. If there’s one thing she understands, it’s not wanting to be
stared at when you’re struggling. The only person she usually trusts to see her like this is
Eddie, and the younger girl is much more private than she is. Max catches on to what she’s
doing instantly. She rolls her eyes and tightens her posture, but there’s a hint of a grateful
smile on her face. “Are you scared?” Chrissy asks.

From anybody else it might come across as a taunt, picking at an open wound instead of
genuine concern. Wayne’s always said she’s an easy person to talk to, though, and Max is
apparently no exception. Her answer comes through gritted teeth with a strained nod like it
pains her to say it. “Yeah. Obviously, I am. You?”

“Obviously,” Chrissy echoes with no hesitation. Who wouldn’t be scared at a time like this?

Max’s gaze stays glued to the ground, yanking up blades of grass as she says, “When he was
in my head, he only showed me things from my worst memories. I saw…I saw my step-
brother, Billy. He was an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to die in all this. Nobody does, but he
did. And Vecna put this…this image of him in my head, screaming that it should have been
me.”

It’s clear she sort of believes that from the way her face goes carefully blank, a vault for the
persistent bad thoughts and self-loathing that Vecna’s twisted against her. She wants to feel
honored that Max would trust her with this, but maybe that’s making it too much about her.
Maybe it just helps to share with someone who understands, the same way sharing with
Eddie usually does.

“He shows me my mom,” Chrissy says. Max’s eyes snap to hers for the first time, relaxing as
they’re put back on even ground. “She’s not a very nice person, always tells me I need to be
thinner or better or someone else entirely. She makes me feel too big and too small all at the
same time. I don’t know how she manages that, but she does, and I’ve heard it for so long
that it’s hard to feel any other way.”

She takes a page out of Max’s book and plucks at the grass as she talks. It’s something better
to do with her hands than chew at her nails. Thes visions are hard to talk about by design – he
cherry picks the things that scare you the most, the things you can’t quite convince yourself
aren’t true.

“I’ve known Eddie for six years, and having him has helped me so much, but I still believe it
sometimes. I’m better than I used to be, but in the back of my mind, it’s still there. Enough
that Vecna’s able to use it against me, but it’s not true. I’ve got people like the Munsons who
remind me I’m enough exactly the way I am, and you’ve got this whole group of people
fighting to save you because they know you’re not better off gone.”

She expects the conversation to fizzle out once she’s said her piece, but Max surprises her. “I
know that. He only showed me the bad stuff, but that’s not all that’s up there. I just don’t
think he knows how to focus on anything else. Things have been…hard, but I have happy
memories, too. I think I can hide in them when he’s after me.”

Her eyes flick over to Lucas with a bittersweet blush. Max is just a freshman trying to figure
out her first love with a boy who really cares about her. She’s too young to have to worry
about this – they all are, really, but it’s more obvious with the kids. Chrissy stretches out to
take hold of the younger girl’s hand where it’s buried in the grass, and says, “You know you
don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Either of us can be the bait, and we’ve both been
able to get away from him before.”

Max doesn’t shake her off, but her face turns angry and determined. “No, I’m gonna do it.
He’s the reason all this happened, the reason people keep leaving me. I wanna be the reason
we’re able to take him down.”

No kid her age should have to talk like that, but Chrissy feels exactly the same. She hasn’t
been in this fight for nearly as long as the others, but it’s already personal after all the pain
it’s caused her and Eddie this week. Chrissy squeezes her hand. She doesn’t think Max would
accept any more than that. When she glances over her shoulder at the others, Eddie’s looking
back at her with eyes full of admiration as he runs very obvious interference with the other
kids to keep them from interrupting the two girls whose lives depend on the next few hours.

The Winnebago pulls up in front of the Creel house, and Chrissy’s heart stutters inside her
chest as she prepares to leave the relative safety of the RV. They talked everything over for
ages this morning, and agreed that taking her or Max into the Upside Down itself was too big
a risk. There’s no way to know whether they’d still be able to escape Vecna’s clutches
without the barrier between worlds separating them.

It’s a good reason to stay in this world, but the way Chrissy sees it, it’s not as important as
making sure two freshmen and a middle schooler aren’t left alone. Her fellow seniors and
Steve are the closest thing they have to adults – most of them technically are adults, even if it
doesn’t feel like it – and it’s not right for any of the younger kids to do this on their own if
they don’t have too. Right here is exactly where she needs to be, where she can watch Max’s
back and take over as the bait if something goes wrong.

That knowledge doesn’t make standing in the shadow of this place any easier. The house
gave her the creeps the first time they were here, and it’s not any better now that the stakes
are so much higher. As much faith as she has in the plan, she’s taken over by the kind of
nervousness that won’t settle until they finish this once and for all.

Eddie gives her a long, parting hug in the back of the RV, comforting arms wrapped all the
way around her as they take a moment to say goodbye. He murmurs into her hair, soft enough
that nobody else in the vehicle can hear. “Be careful, alright? Don’t let this asshole get to
you. You’re a fucking rock star, you can handle anything he throws at you. Both of you can.”

Chrissy holds him tight, fingers clutched in the fabric of Steve’s blue jacket that he’s refusing
to take off. “You need to be careful, too. You’re the one who’s actually going back down
there.”

“I’m not really even doing anything down there. Just the distraction, I’ll be fine,” Eddie says.
Chrissy hates that they’re going to be apart for the last stand, but it’s how it has to be. Eddie’s
protective streak doesn’t just extend to her. He won’t let Dustin out of his sight for this, and
the two of them are going where it might not be safe for her to follow.

Something in his voice isn’t right, though. It’s tight, restrained in a way he normally isn’t.
Chrissy pulls away an inch or two to look at his face. His sad smile when he looks at her is
genuine, but his eyes are distant and there’s a hard set to the corners of his mouth. She’s seen
this look before – during his freshman year when he was fighting to be seen for who he is,
and again last spring, when Billy and Jason first painted a target on his back and he could still
fight back instead of avoiding them. In any other instance, his bravery would be inspiring to
her like always. His insistence on standing firm under pressure would fill her with confidence
to do the same.

Here, though? Here, it means trouble. It means picking fights he doesn’t have to. He’s been
off since he pulled out that War Zone advertisement this morning, just like she was worried
about. The hotwiring, the ‘big boy,’ all of it. Eddie’s been impulsive all day, even for him,
and she knows him too well to not see what’s happening here. She’s been so confident in
their chances that it didn’t occur to her that he might not feel the same. There’s a very real
chance that this ends with him in jail, taking after his father in the way he most wanted to
avoid, and that’s enough to make anybody with his history feel like they have nothing to lose.

Chrissy places her hand on his cheek and turns his head to face her, making sure she has his
attention. “You don’t have anything to prove, Eddie. You know that, right? The only thing
that matters is that we all get through this safe. Everything else we can solve later.”

Eddie winces, struck deep by her words as he always is when someone sees him clearly. But
he nods, and it seems like he means it, and that’ll have to be good enough for now. He pulls
her in close for one last hug, and both their eyes are wet when she pulls away to follow the
kids out of the RV.

Robin grabs her wrist just before she’s out the door, offering her the least panicked smile
she’s seen on the other girl’s face since they officially met a few days ago. “Good luck.”

Chrissy pulls her hand back just enough to squeeze Robin’s and wish her luck, too. She takes
that last, daunting step out of the RV and towards the shell of the Creel house. This place is
just as unsettling as it was a couple days ago as she crosses the threshold and immediately
has to pull a cobweb out of her hair. Nobody speaks once they’re inside – the others say you
can hear voices on this side from the Upside Down and they don’t want to alert Vecna before
everybody’s ready.

It’s hard to figure out how close she should stick to Max and Lucas. They deserve a bit of
privacy, but she needs to be close enough to step in and help if necessary. She also just
doesn’t want to be alone in this nightmare of a house. Her own Walkman sits on her belt,
playing Chiquitita softly as she clamps her mouth shut.

If worst comes to worst and the plan goes wrong, if they have to pull Max out before the
team in the Upside Down has beaten Vecna, then she’ll have to turn off her own music and
take over. The visions haunting her for the past week and a half are bad enough, and she’s
trembling at the idea of opening the door and inviting him all the way in. Max is made of
stronger stuff than her, sitting there brave-faced. Maybe she’s just better at hiding it.

A blinking flashlight from outside the window tells them that it’s time to move, and Max
turns off her tape as Chrissy turns up the volume on her own. The headphones over her ears
block out some of the younger girl’s words as she tries to get Vecna to take the bait, but she
gets the gist of it. Max whispers into the darkness, asking it to make her disappear, and
Chrissy’s heart breaks for her. For both of them, and this horrible thing they have to face.

It only takes a few moments before Lucas’ face screws up in worry, and she steps over to
look at their friend sitting cross-legged on the floor. She’s trembling, eyes rolled back in her
head and moving rapidly as the curse takes her for the second time.

Lucas whispers something she can’t hear, but the anguish is clear on his face. Chrissy takes
the lantern from him to signal out the window. He shouldn’t have to step away from Max
right now, and she doesn’t want to stand there and watch what could happen to her any
second, what should have happened to her on Friday night. She flashes the light, once, twice,
and wishes for luck for those on the other side.

After that, there’s an agonizing nothing. Max is battling Vecna inside her mind. Robin,
Nancy, and Steve should be approaching the house. And Eddie should be playing his heart
out right now to distract the bats. She smiles to herself to think of what an amazing show he
must be putting on. It’s the type of thing he was made for.

All she can do is sit here, feeling helpless. Part of her understands why Eddie’s so anxious to
jump into the fray if this is how he’s felt all week. There’s nothing for her to do but wait in
the wings in case Max needs an assist. The ABBA cassette reaches the end of its loop, and in
the moment of silence it takes her to restart it, she hears a car crash into the old mailbox
outside. Her and Lucas’ heads whip towards the window, and she recognizes the car right
away.

‘It’s Jason,’ she mouths to Lucas, whose eyes go wide and round. Chrissy doesn’t think she’s
ever been this angry before. Where does Jason get off, acting like this? Not just now, but for
years. He acts like he walks on water, like Eddie is dirt on his shoes, like he gets to do
whatever he wants because he’s better than others. He just decided years ago that he should
get to be with Chrissy and has been throwing a tantrum ever since, and now that tantrum is
getting people hurt.

Lucas frantically waves her over to a corner, urging her to hide as the front door bangs open
against the wall downstairs. She’s two steps ahead of him, though, ducking behind an old
dresser before he even gets the words out. There’s nothing she can do to support Max if she
gets caught. Jason bursts through the door into the attic just a few seconds later, eyes wild
and chest heaving.

Chrissy can’t get a clear view of him, just glimpses through a hole in the wood, but from
what she can see he looks deranged. He might just have been looking for an excuse to go
after Eddie at first, but now it’s clear he actually believes everything Erica heard him say at
that town meeting. Fear slips in alongside her anger – this has the potential to go very badly,
and Max doesn’t even know what’s going on.
Lucas tries to reason with him, to get him to leave so they can go back to keeping their eyes
on Max. That’s the priority here. Jason needs to go. Instead of listening, he whirls on his
teammate, and Chrissy stifles a gasp when she sees he’s pulled out a gun. It’s shiny and new,
and sends a shiver down her spine.

“Back up! Not another step!” he shouts. Lucas looks terrified as his hands fly in the air,
trying to deescalate the situation. Nobody should ever have that look on their face, especially
not one of the nicest kids Chrissy’s ever met. He stammers and backs away from Jason, who
points the gun at him with steady, menacing hands.

“Is there anyone else in the house?” Jason asks.

Lucas is fighting to keep his eyes off the corner where she’s tucked away as he swears he’s
alone, and she makes sure to keep her eyes glued on Max. She doesn’t want to look, doesn’t
want to see what could just as easily happen to her if things keep going wrong, but somebody
needs to make sure she’s okay and Lucas can’t right now. Jason is forcing him away, and
Chrissy readies herself to jump in if she has to.

“Now, this is what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna back away to the top of the stairs there. Then
I’ll watch as you wake her up from whatever the hell this is.”

“I can’t. Jason, if I wake her too soon, we all die,” Lucas says, pleading for him to
understand.

“No. You don’t wake her up right now, you die, Sinclair. Just you.”

Chrissy’s jaw drops. She knew he had a bit of a mean streak. Eddie told her all about it every
time he had to patch up black eyes and bruises last spring, but she would never have thought
him capable of this. He’s prepared to kill someone right in front of her, and she doesn’t know
what to do. Their argument is escalating, getting more heated as Lucas tries to explain and
Jason refuses to entertain the possibility that he might be wrong. She knows Eddie would be
proud of the way Lucas is standing up for himself, but in the moment, it’s all it takes for
Jason to snap.

He lunges at the younger boy when he tries to make a move and sends the pair of them flying
to the floor. The Walkman crunches and shatters to pieces when they go down and her
stomach drops. Max is starting to twitch more aggressively in her trance. She’s almost in
need of rescue, and they just broke their one way of getting her out.

Chrissy’s headphones shift around her neck and she pauses, realizing they have another
Walkman right here they can use. Vecna will be able to get to her if she stops her tape, but
Max needs music now, and Jason is going to kill Lucas with his bare hands if she waits
another moment. She worries at her bottom lip until an idea comes to her in a flash of
inspiration.

Like so many other people in this town, Jason thinks she’s just some stupid, helpless girl that
Eddie Munson has lured to the dark side or something, waiting for somebody to swoop in and
save her from her bad choices. So, that’s exactly what she’ll be. Hopefully, Jason’s just
delusional enough to believe it. She pinches hard at the inside of her elbow until it brings
convincing tears to her eyes, hides the Walkman and headphones behind her back, and stands
up out of her hiding place.

“Jason? Is that you?” She makes her voice tremble as much as possible, trying to appear
every inch the damsel in distress Jason expects her to be. He looks at her in shock, a hint of
softness in his eyes that’s out of place with everything going on around him. It’s patronizing,
where the softness in Eddie and Robin’s eyes when they look at her is warm and safe. His fist
hangs in the air on its way to deliver another punch to Lucas’ already bruised face, and she
hopes her friend trusts her enough to play along with the change in plan.

“Chrissy? What are you doing here?” Jason asks. He looks torn, like he can’t decide between
going to her and continuing to beat the fifteen-year-old on the ground underneath him. It’s a
real effort to keep a disdainful frown off her face when she looks at him – how could
anybody act like this and think they’re the good guy? She dials up the waterworks, frantic to
get Jason anywhere else so Lucas can help Max.

“I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. I want to go home.” She lets tears fall
down her face, real ones now as the fear of being in this place without her music washes over
her. It’s the same trick she used with the police, and it’s working now, too. Jason is starting to
get to his feet, inching towards her with one hand still fisted in the collar of Lucas’ shirt.

“Okay, okay…just, go downstairs. I’m gonna help, I’ll take you home when I’m done here.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Chrissy sees Max’s head tipping backwards as she rises an inch
or so off the ground and drops back down. They don’t have time for this. She lets out a sob,
fake and forced-sounding even to her own ears. “No, Jason, please! I don’t want to go down
there alone. I want to go home. I’m so scared, just…take me home. Please!”

Jason buys it anyways, too eager to believe anything that confirms what he already thinks he
knows. There’s one last moment of uncertainty in his eyes before he drops everything to rush
over to her, the others in the attic practically forgotten. He wraps an arm around her shoulders
to usher her out of the attic, the same way Eddie normally does, and she can’t help but recoil
from him. If she wasn’t sure she hated him before, she is now. The only shred of good in
anything he’s done here tonight was that he at least thought he was helping Max. And yet,
he’s willing to abandon her instantly if he thinks it can win him points with a girl.

“Alright, then. Let’s get you home. Andy’s here, he’ll take care of this. Let’s go,” he says as
they walk towards the door, and Chrissy blanches. Andy’s not very nice either, and she’s not
sure she’ll be able to figure out a way to keep them both downstairs at once. She lets Jason
lead her away, waving the Walkman around behind her back before setting it down on an old
cardboard box as subtly as she can. She just has to hope that Lucas catches on to what she’s
trying and is able to get on his feet long enough to get the new set of headphones on Max
before she’s too high in the air for them to reach.

Jason pulls her closer to him as they walk down the stairs of the Creel house, and she hates
every second of it. She’s playing this by ear and has no idea what to do next. Getting him out
of the attic was only step one – now, she needs to find a way to get him out of the house
without her. If she gets too far away from the only people who knows what’s going on and
Vecna decides to come after her, she’s done for.
Chrissy scans back and forth for a solution as she walks, barely remembering to let out a
pathetic-sounding sniffle every few steps to keep up the act. Andy’s not down here, so she
has at least a little more time. Her foot bumps into something hard as they reach the ground
floor, and she looks down to see the brick Robin used to break through the front door days
earlier. Another idea starts to take shape in her mind.

It’s a bit extreme, and she’s not sure she’s strong enough to actually pull it off without just
making Jason angry, but it might be her only shot. As she’s waiting for the right moment to
try it, a loud, ear-splitting boom of an explosion echoes from outside the house. It’s miles
away, but it’s big enough to send a plume of orange light straight up into the air. Some of the
men going around town on a witch hunt must have done something drastic. Fortunately for
her, it draws Jason’s attention to the window and he steps away from her to investigate. This
is her chance. Chrissy bends down as quickly as she can to grab the brick, and scrunches her
eyes closed as she swings it right at the back of Jason’s head.

There’s a crunching noise that makes Chrissy gag, and she hears him hit the floor. After a
moment of silence, she dares to look. Jason’s lying motionless at her feet. His head’s bleeding
where she hit him, but it doesn’t look like too much blood, thank goodness. She needed to
stop him, but she doesn’t think she could live with herself if she just killed somebody on
accident.

“Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead…” Chrissy mutters under her breath as she
slowly reaches down to place a couple fingers on the side of his neck. Thankfully, he has a
pulse – weak, but steady. He dropped his gun on the floor when he fell, and she nudges it
further away from him with her foot. The last thing they need is for him to wake up and
decide to start shooting. Before she can do anything else, the front door slams open behind
her. She whirls around, brick raised in the air to brandish at Andy.

It’s not Andy, though. It’s Erica. She has grass stains on her dress and a red handprint around
her arm that will surely bruise. Andy must have done that – what kind of person beats up a
middle schooler?

“Did you hear that boom? What was…holy shit, did you do that?” she asks, changing pace
mid-sentence with wide eyes when she sees Jason lying there. Chrissy nods, dropping the
brick to the floor and wiping at her eyes. Erica actually seems impressed with her, and she
gets the idea that’s not easy to accomplish.

There’s a loud clattering noise from the attic above them, and she turns to run up the stairs
without a second thought, Erica hot on her heels. This whole thing will have been for nothing
if Lucas wasn’t able to use the other Walkman in time. She bursts through the door to see him
kneeled on the ground, cradling Max close to him.

Tears stream down his face, but they must be tears of relief because Max is alive in his arms.
She’s hurt, badly. It’s obvious from the awkward angle of some of her limbs that Vecna made
them pay for the time it took to swap out the music, but she’s alive, crying softly with her
face buried in Lucas’ chest.

Chrissy collapses to the ground in relief. They did it. They actually did it. Erica rushes to
grab the Walkman, standing ready just in case Vecna comes back for one last hurrah, but
Chrissy knows he won’t. They pulled Max out in time to keep her alive, and he would have
had to kill both of them to make his plan work. Even more telling, the pressing ache that’s
been pounding behind her eyelids for a week is finally gone.

There’s quiet in the attic as it sinks in. It’s finally over. Lucas slowly, carefully gathers Max
in his arms, whispering gentle reassurances in her ear when she cries out from the pain with
each shift in position. They start down the stairs as a group, and Lucas’ eyes widen when he
sees Jason lying on the floor.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” he mutters quietly, and Chrissy manages a laugh as
slowly walks backwards, arms out in front of her in case he stumbles from Max’s weight.
Erica rushes ahead of them and out the front door, sprinting to the nearest intact house down
the block to call an ambulance.

They sit and wait on the porch of the Creel house, and Chrissy feels like a live wire is
running straight through her. She knew the symptoms of the curse were keeping her in agony,
but she hadn’t realized just how much pain had built up until it all vanished in one fell swoop.
It’s like a shot of adrenaline, and not knowing what happened with the other parts of their
plan isn’t helping. She sits next to Lucas and Max, gently running a jittery hand through the
younger girl’s hair to try and soothe her as they wait for help.

It only takes a few minutes after Erica gets back for flashing lights and blaring sirens to come
racing up the street. A familiar police cruiser parks behind the ambulance, and Chief Powell
and Officer Callahan hurry over to them alongside the paramedics wheeling a portable
gurney. They start loading Max up for the drive to the hospital and radio for a second team
when they hear about the unconscious boy inside, but it’s taking way too long. The police
keep trying to ask questions about what happened as the paramedics work, and it’s holding up
the whole process.

“Look at her!” Erica shouts as she gestures to Max laying on the gurney, finally fed up. “You
can ask your damn questions at the hospital, but we’ve got to go!”

The officers are stunned into silence, clearly not prepared for a verbal lashing from a middle
schooler. One of the paramedics has been glaring daggers at the two men this entire time, and
Chrissy sees her coughing into her fist to hide their laughter as Chief Powell sighs and
motions for them to continue piling into the ambulance.

He stops the back door from closing with his hand, and leans in to say, “We’re following you
to the hospital, and you have a lot of explaining to do. You kids know that, right?”

Chrissy expected as much. They’ve drawn way too much attention to themselves over the
past couple days to get off scot-free. The ambulance speeds through Hawkins with the police
car hot on its tail. It pulls into the same parking lot where Eddie dropped her off what feels
like a lifetime ago, and the doctors wheel Max in as fast as they can.

Before any of them can try to follow her through the hallways of the hospital, the chief bars
their path. Powell is firm as he says, “Oh no. Not this time. You three are sitting your asses
down over there and you are staying put until we figure this out. Because I promise, if you
pull another vanishing act on us, you will regret it. We clear?”
 They’re shepherded over to a glassed-in waiting area and told to sit. There’s only one door in
and out of the room, and Officer Callahan stands right in front of it with crossed arms. Erica
matches his pose as she drops into one of the plastic chairs – between the two of them, it’s a
much more intimidating look on her. Chrissy paces back and forth, picking at a hangnail to
keep her hands busy. She doesn’t know how long they plan to make them wait, but she hopes
they can get this over with quickly so they can find out what happened in the Upside Down.
Before she can worry for too long, another chaotic burst of activity kicks up by entrance that
draws all of their attention. Even Callahan is staring at the front doors with wide eyes.

Eager to find out what’s got everyone so worked up, Chrissy presses close to the window just
in time to see another gurney careening through the front doors, swarmed with doctors and
another police officer. She cranes her neck to get a better view of who they’re rushing back
through the same doors Max disappeared behind. Tears spring to her eyes and both hands fly
up to cover her mouth when she sees a head of dark, curly hair peeking out from between the
bodies of the paramedics and a hand covered in familiar silver rings hanging off the side. It
can’t be him. It just can’t be.

Her eyes stay glued to the mass of people until they vanish from view, and she feels Lucas
help her into a chair as her knees give out from under her. Maybe they didn’t defeat Vecna
after all and she’s trapped in another vision, because that’s the only explanation she can come
up with for something this terrible. He was just supposed to be the distraction, he was
supposed to listen to her and keep himself safe.

Callahan cracks open the door to shove Dustin into the waiting room by his shoulder. In her
horror, she hadn’t even noticed him trailing behind the gurney. The world slows to a stop
around Chrissy as she gets a good look at him. The outfit they bought at War Zone is
disheveled, and there are tear tracks running down his face through what looks like ash. His
hands, though, are the worst – palms covered in red, burned skin that has to hurt something
awful.

For a long while, Dustin’s crying too hard to speak, face buried in his arms as he sinks to the
ground and curls into himself. Lucas is on the ground next to him in an instant, pulling his
friend into a hug. Chrissy’s worst fears come to life when he’s finally able to choke out,
“Eddie, he…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him…I’m so sorry.”

Chapter End Notes

Nobody panic - Eddie POV is coming up next

Fun fact: Chrissy tricking Jason and knocking him out at the Creel house was the very
first idea I had that sparked this entire fic
 I found a way to drop the keys where my failures were, now my
hands can’t reach that far
Chapter Summary

The final battle on another front

Chapter Notes

I uploaded this from my phone, so if you notice weird formatting stuff, save a life and
let me know

CW for Chapter 10: character injury and medical content (pretty much the whole
chapter)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

March 26, 1986

From off to Eddie’s left, Robin mutters, “What does he want us to do, applaud?” She’s
definitely being sarcastic, but he does kind of want to applaud. Maybe hold up one of those
cartoon score cards with a 10 on it. If Steve wants to use those gorgeous jock muscles of his
to do a flip back into the Upside Down before the world blows up around them, then he’s
gonna enjoy the view. Unless he undoes all that first aid work or breaks an ankle landing on
the edge of the bathtub, in which case he’s gonna get an earful.

For the rest of them, it’s much slower going getting in then it was coming out. There’s no
perfectly placed cluster of people standing in the tub to catch them this time, just every
disgusting mirror version of a pillow Steve can find all thrown into a pile. They have to be
way more careful.

Eddie struggles up the rope like it’s the world’s worst gym class, and wishes that copying that
flip wasn’t out of the question. The sudden shift in gravity doesn’t catch him by surprise like
it did the first time, but it’s still a challenge to hold his weight up when it happens. Before he
can actually fall, Steve’s hands are on his sides. He holds him steady with a strong grip, and
says in a low voice, “Easy, I got you.”

He doesn’t let go until they’re both safe and sound on the floor, and Eddie allows himself one
whole moment to swoon before Steve turns around and does the same damn thing to help
Robin through. Of course he does. That’s the whole reason they sent the most athletic person
through first, and here he is reading into things.
His head hasn’t been on straight all day. Boosting the Winnebago to make the drive out to
War Zone smacked him right in the face with a nauseating dose of déjà vu that’s clung to him
ever since. It’s something his dad would do – something he did do on multiple occasions
before he got locked up. He doesn’t appreciate the reminder that even if the plan to kill Vecna
goes off without a hitch, he could still be living up to that good old Munson family legacy if
they don’t find a way to prove his innocence. There hasn’t been much time for planning on
the ‘clear Eddie’s name’ front with the curse looming over them, so he’s not loving his
chances.

That’s gotta be why he’s not thinking clearly. He tends to spiral whenever he notices an
unfortunate bit of family resemblance. Chrissy knows this about him. She’s seen the worst of
it before, and clocked his internal struggle in no time at all when they dropped her off at the
Creel house. All he can do is muscle through it, even if he can’t quite take her words to heart.

Eddie tries to shake it off as the others come through the gate. No reason to let his daddy
issues get everybody else killed when they might actually have something waiting for them
on the other end of this. He steps forward to help lower down Dustin when the reach makes
Steve wince, and together, they head back out into the hellscape that is the Upside Down. It’s
barely been a day since they were here the first time. Hopefully, they’ll finish this and
nobody will ever have to come back again.

As they’re getting ready to go their separate ways, Steve hangs back with a serious face that
gives away just how batshit crazy what they’re attempting to do is. His voice is stern as he
says, “If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort. Okay? Draw the attention of
the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be cute or
be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just…”

“Decoys. Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve,” Dustin says with a truly impressive eye
roll that could give Harrington a run for his money.

“Absolutely. I mean, look at us. We are not heroes,” Eddie says, bitterness coloring his
words. He’s well aware he’s not the hero here after a week spent in hiding. There’s no need to
rub it in.

In theory, Steve’s talking to both of them, but he hasn’t looked at Dustin once. He tilts his
head down and steps close, making his gaze unavoidable no matter how hard Eddie tries.
“That’s not what I mean, man. You’re here with us, and I’ve been telling you that’s already
enough. Don’t go overboard with extra shit if it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

It’s too close to what Chrissy told him earlier, too observant of the cynical thoughts swirling
around in his mixed-up head. He’s not quite sure what these people see on his face to make
them so sure he’s gonna fly off the rails, but he knows they’re not entirely wrong to worry.
Meeting Steve’s eyes and clapping a comforting hand on the other boy’s shoulder, he puts on
a brave face the best he can and says, “No heroics, I promise. Can’t help being cute, though.
Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

Steve looks half-confused and half-flustered, the same incredible reaction Eddie got after
calling him ‘big boy’ earlier, but he doesn’t look very reassured. There’s a frown tugging at
the corners of his mouth when he pulls away, joining the other heavy hitters of the group as
they start to leave. Splitting the party feels ten kinds of wrong, just like it did when he had to
watch Chrissy’s silhouette fade into the distance. This isn’t actually D&D, though, no matter
how many parallels they draw to keep themselves sane. He can’t stop them from leaving, but
he also can’t let them walk away just yet. Not until he’s convinced that Steve trusts him not to
lose it.

“Hey, Steve?” he calls out, grabbing his attention one more time. He’s got that same look in
his eyes that’s been tripping Eddie up all week, but he thinks he finally knows what it means.
It means there might be something good waiting for him on the other end of this after all if he
can hold on long enough to find out. The type of smile reserved for Chrissy before the events
of this week creeps over his face. “Keep your ears open. I expect you to be singing my
praises later for the show I’m about to put on.”

The others seem baffled to be held up for such a stupid offhand remark at a time like this, but
he sees it click behind Steve’s eyes as he laughs, a fraction of the tension in his jaw relaxing.
He’s free to walk off into the woods behind the girls with a little bit of weight off his
shoulders, because the implication is clear. Eddie doesn’t plan on going anywhere.

Dustin looks at him like an interesting zoo exhibit, puzzling through whatever he thinks he
just saw in his way too smart head. Eddie ruffles his hair and turns the kid back around before
either of them can waste any more time. They need to get to work shoring up some defenses
on the trailer if he wants to actually keep his word and make it through this. Scrounging for
whatever they can find that even vaguely resembles construction materials, they throw up as
many barriers as they can between the trailer and the hellscape around it. A cage of chain-link
fence, pieces of metal screwed over the openings, anything they can think of to give
themselves a safe path back out of the Upside Down once their job as the distraction is
finished. He’s thankful for the physical work to pound out a little of the anxiety he feels
radiating throughout his body.

They build until the last possible second before ducking into the trailer. Eddie might be
hesitant about the plan in general, but this part? This part is going to fucking rule. The sight
of his beloved guitar hanging on his mirror surrounded by vines and washed-out greys almost
brings him to his knees. He wishes he brought a camera, or something, because this would
make the most metal album cover of all time.

He pulls the guitar off the wall with all the reverence this moment deserves, shooting a manic
grin Dustin’s way as the two of them climb onto the roof. When the signal comes through
over the walkie, Eddie reaches for the pick he always keeps safe around his neck. He thinks
of his best friend, sitting back in the real world and trying to hold an evil wizard at bay long
enough to keep Max safe, and it gives him all the fuel he needs to put on the best
performance of his life. The stakes couldn’t possibly be higher.

“Chrissy, this is for you,” he mutters to himself, yanking off his necklace with a sharp tug,
and then he plays. There’s red lightning in the sky behind him as his fingers fly over the
guitar and his body thrashes to the music. It’s a high that has to feel a hundred times better
than anything he’s ever sold out of that lunchbox. Dustin’s right there with him if the look on
his face is anything to go by, beaming wide and throwing his head back and forth. Eddie’s not
that jealous of Steve’s friendship with the kid anymore, but if this doesn’t put him ahead in
the rankings, then he’ll eat this pick when he’s done playing.

It works like a charm and a dark cloud of bats looms on the horizon, drawn by the screeching
of the speakers. Dustin drags him into the relative safety of the trailer with the creatures hot
on their heels, frantically slamming doors and moving panels to put more metal between
them and those teeth. They whirl to face each other, jumping up and down with matching
grins plastered on their faces and more adrenaline flowing through their veins than Eddie has
ever experienced before.

They joy doesn’t last long, though. They did their best to board up the trailer, but there’s only
so much one can do with an hour, some junkyard scrap, and a prayer. The bats they’ve pulled
away from the Creel house are slamming against the sides of the trailer, denting the metal in
their haste to get to their prey inside. With the mood thoroughly killed, Eddie waits with his
eyes glued to the ceiling until they start breaking through a vent. He slams one of their make
shift shields above his head and leaves it stuck there. It’ll keep it covered for now, but it’s a
temporary fix at best. He shoves Dustin back towards the bathroom. They had the plan drilled
into their head half a dozen times, and now’s the part where they run.

Eddie slows to a stop when he’s hit with the horrifying realization that they haven’t done
enough. It’s barely been any time at all, and if the bats go back to where they came from
while the others are trying to kill Vecna then the whole thing crumbles. Right off the top of
his head, he can think of a dozen ways to keep their attention, but every single one of them
would almost certainly count as one of those hero plays he’s not supposed to be considering.
What else is there to do, though? He wants to keep his promise, more than anything, but
someone putting themselves at risk to keep the plan on track seems unavoidable right now.
And if somebody has to bite the bullet, then it should be the guy who hasn’t been doing his
fair share so far, the guy least likely to pull a happy ending out of this whole thing. That’s
easy math, no matter how you slice it.

His first instinct is to shoulder-check Dustin through the bathroom door and slam it closed
behind him, putting the kid safe on the other side while he keeps the distraction going. He’s
about to do it, too, but he can’t. Steve’s words from the past few days keep going through his
head, all that talk about bravery and not having anything to prove. Chrissy’s, too. It would be
the ultimate betrayal to do exactly what she asked him not to and get himself killed trying to
make up for things they keep telling him he doesn’t have to make up for, even if he’s still not
100% sure he believes them. She’d never forgive him for it, and she might not forgive herself
either.

Screw it. There might be nothing but a murder charge waiting for him up there, but the least
he can do is face it without abandoning the people who need him and pretending he’s doing
them a favor. Despite everything he’s done today, he’s not actually Ronald Munson, and
they’re not actually better off without him. He can swallow his pride to get through this alive
and hate himself for running later.

With a groan of frustration, he follows Dustin into the bathroom and slams the door behind
him, not that it’ll do much good. There’s a vent in here, too, rattling under the onslaught. He
stands there staring at the gate in the ceiling, cursing under his breath at the sight of that
damn rope. They don’t have anybody to help them through this time, so he’ll have to be the
strong one.

Eddie starts the climb yet again, determined to keep his hold on it this time, but it’s no use.
There’s a reason they’ve been so careful with this. He goes flying as he passes from one
world to another and cries out in pain as he lands hard on the edge of the tub. It hurts like a
bitch, but he manages to reach his arms up long enough to help Dustin through without the
same thing happening to him.

Back in the relative safety of the hallway, he grabs Dustin by the hood of his sweatshirt to
keep him from sprinting out of the trailer. They ran, just like he promised, but that doesn’t
change the fact that Steve and the others are toast if they don’t come up with a safe way to
keep those bats focused on them. It helps that Eddie’s not trying this alone, but they need to
get on the same page fast. “Wait a second, Henderson. We got to switch things up.”

“Are you insane?” Dustin asks, voice rising to a shrill register he didn’t know humans could
get to. “We’re in the middle of the plan! Why the hell would we change it?”

The kid’s normally an innovative player in their campaigns, so it’s frustrating that he picks
the one moment of real-life danger to stick to the rules. Eddie groans, and says, “Come on,
man. ‘No plan survives contact with the enemy,’ right? I know you know this.”

“But…Nancy said…”

“Nancy’s not here! She’s at the Creel house, and if we don’t call an audible then she’s about
to have a whole lot of unexpected company. You saw what just a few of them did to Steve –
what do you think happens if they all head back there at once?” Dustin’s eyes go wide, and
Eddie kicks himself internally. He’s not trying to scare the kid, but he really needs him to get
on board faster than this. He grabs Dustin’s shoulders with both hands and looks him straight
in the eyes. “Look, we’re here, okay? We’re out of the Upside Down, we did what we were
supposed to, but we need to try and buy them more time.”

Dustin looks at him warily. “You’re not gonna do something stupid, are you?” he asks, and
Eddie can’t even blame him. He caught a glimpse of his uncle’s lighter sitting on the kitchen
counter, and it’s got an idea brewing in his head that’s certifiably insane, even for him.
Everything else he’s come up with would definitely get him killed, though, whereas this will
only maybe get him killed. It’s the best he’s got.

“Honestly?” Eddie laughs. “Yeah, it’s pretty goddamn stupid, but I need you to trust me
anyways.”

Finally, the kid nods and Eddie wraps him up in a hug from sheer relief. Dustin’s voice is
muffled against hist chest as he asks, “What do you need me to do?”

“Grab my guitar from my room, play whatever cassette is in there as loud as it’ll go, then get
the hell out of here…And turn on the gas on your way out the door.”

Already running towards Eddie’s room, Dustin whirls around in shock when he hears that last
bit. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna…”
“Go, Henderson! I’ll be right behind you, I promise.” Eddie flattens himself against the door,
bracing his feet on the wall across from him to keep it securely closed. He feels the impact of
the first couple bats as music starts to play in his room – hopefully it’s enough to keep them
funneling through the gate.

Dustin leaps over his legs where they’re sprawled in the hallway, the real version of his guitar
nestled safe in his arms, and makes a break for the door. He stops with an outstretched hand
inches from the stove burner, clearly torn on whether or not he should be indulging this.
Eddie yells, “Go! I’ve got this!”

He only dawdles for a second more, before turning on the gas valves and running out the
front door. Eddie lets out a sigh of relief. He’s gonna try his best to make it out of here, but
this hare-brained plan could go wrong real quick and he’s glad Dustin’s out of the danger
zone if it does.

The same Metallica song he was playing himself less than five minutes ago blares through
the trailer, still loaded up in the tape player from all the hours Eddie’s spent trying to learn it
the past couple weeks. He thinks it’s working, and he dials up the volume even more by
banging his fists against the door and yelling at the top of his lungs. More and more bats are
swarming in the bathroom. For all his insistence on not running, it goes against every
ingrained survival instinct in the human body to just stand there while danger builds behind
him. Even so, Eddie keeps that door shut. He ran when he was supposed to, but they’re past
that – now it’s time to stand his ground for as long as he possibly can.

He knows he’s running out of time when they start to chew through the cheap material of the
door. Teeth pierce his skin, a bite on his neck that he quickly leans away from before it can
rip his throat out or something. One of them gnaws at his right side in a twisted, half-
reflection of the wounds he bandaged up for his friend last night. He can’t raise an arm to
swat it away without losing his grip on the door, though, so there’s nothing to do but endure
the two tiny rows of teeth slicing shallowly into him over and over. It’s not enough to do
more than add some of his own blood to the existing stains on the carpet, but it stings like
hell. Steve’s composure under pressure is even more impressive now.

It doesn’t take long to reach the point of no return. The sheer mass of creatures that have
come through the gate is stifling, even with a barrier between them. If he stays here any
longer, then either the bats are going to burst all the way through the door around him or he’s
going to pass out from the gas fumes starting to reach him from the kitchen. Either way, he’s
fucked. Eddie takes in a deep breath, wincing as it aggravates his freshly injured side, then
throws himself down the hallway towards the front door as fast as his exhausted legs will
take him.

He grabs the lighter off the counter on his way out the front door. Steve and Robin spent all
of their prep time assembling Molotov cocktails, stressing how sensitive these creatures are
to fire. He really hopes they’re right and that Dustin got himself clear of the trailer as his feet
hit the ground. For just a moment, he second guesses himself. He’s sure Wayne will forgive
him for everything else that’s happened this week, but this might be a step too far. Can’t back
out now, though – they’ve already let the bats through, and he has to finish the job. Eddie
fumbles the lighter open with shaky hands before tossing the tiny flame back into the trailer.
The gas flowing through the unlit stove burners ignites before him in an explosion that sends
him flying. The heat is unbearable, cutting straight through his gear as he’s thrown through
the air and slams into a car about ten feet away. He slumps into the dirt, choking to try and
catch his breath now that the impact has pushed all the air out of his lungs.

He should probably be feeling pain right now, but his head’s too fuzzy for it to register.
Everything blurs together as he lies flat on his back, the sky above him and pillar of flame
beside him going dark as his vision fades. The stinging on his right side is back in a new spot
closer to his hip. One of the bats must have survived the blast and picked up where it left off.
It’s weak, and clumsy, and not nearly the threat it used to be, but he still can’t move his arm
to swat it away. What an embarrassment, to just lie there and get lazily chewed to death by a
single bat he couldn’t manage to blow up. It’s the last conscious thought that passes through
Eddie’s mind before the creature goes limp on top of him and he blacks out.

March 28, 1986

There’s a steady beeping somewhere around here that would probably be really annoying if
Eddie could hear it properly. He briefly considers trying to find out what it is, but he’s been
awake for all of ten seconds and this is already the most pain he’s ever experienced in his
entire life. Even with the telltale dulling sensation of whatever painkillers he must be on right
now, every inch of him from top to bottom is in agony, and a movement as small as fluttering
open his eyelids to look around the room might actually kill him.

Noises are coming through muted and distorted, echoing in his right ear in a way that makes
it difficult to tell where they’re coming from. His skin itches all over, and feels like it’s both
on fire and freezing at the same time. There’s something blocking most of his face and he
wants it off, but he can’t lift his arms enough to make it happen. Eddie’s starting to panic,
even if it’s subdued by what feels like some high-quality drugs in his system. The last thing
he remembers, he was running out of his trailer. Clearly, something went wrong and he got
himself pretty fucked up. It’s more of a struggle then it should be, but he finally gets his eyes
open.

He’s lying shirtless in a hospital bed, but he guessed that much already. Bandages stretch over
large swaths of his torso and arms, the destroyed edges of a few of his tattoos poking out
from underneath. It’s hard to catch his breath, which, ironically, makes him freak out and start
breathing harder. He’s on the verge of another full-on spiral when the door to the room creaks
open.

“Yeah? That’s what you’re gonna do? Bite me, Callahan.” Eddie can’t turn his head enough
to actually see who just walked in and the sound is still off-kilter, but that delightfully bitchy
voice could only belong to one Steve Harrington. He tries to call out, but his voice only
comes out as a muffled groan. It’s enough to get his guest’s attention, though, and he’s able to
hear footsteps once they rush closer to his bed.
“Holy shit. You’re awake?” Steve asks. What an overwhelming relief it is to have eyes on
somebody he knows. He’s still not sure what’s going on, but he can’t be completely screwed
if another member of the monster squad is here. Steve only looks kinda bad, which is actually
kinda good considering what they’ve been up to the past week. That ring around his neck
from the bats is nastier then when he last saw him, and there’s bruises circling his wrists
where they peek out under a long sleeve shirt. There’s only a hint of a wince when he leans
over the bed to press a button near Eddie’s head. It summons a small army of nurses to poke
and prod at him, checking over all his bandages and flooding him with way too much input to
deal with while the world is still spinning around him. It helps that Steve doesn’t leave his
side. Even with a couple of the nurses giving him the stink-eye, he glues himself to the bed
with a white-knuckled grip on the railing and doesn’t budge.

They take notes, and measurements, and more notes. Eddie didn’t know you could get this
much medical information from one person. It’s a good thing they can get most of their
answers without any more from him than a nod or a shake of his head because his throat is
killing him. The nurses file back out to wherever they came from once they’re satisfied, and
the room gets a whole lot less claustrophobic. One doctor stays behind, shooting a pointed
look at Steve in an ill-advised attempt to get him to leave. Predictably, Steve just raises an
eyebrow and plops down in a chair, arms and legs crossed and here to stay. Eddie can’t help
but smile as the doctor sighs and starts to go over everything that’s wrong with him. It’s a
pretty long list. He knew his plan had the potential to go sideways, but he really did a number
on himself. Two ribs are broken from his fall and he’ll probably have some minor scarring
where the bats chewed on him, but he knew about those already.

The real kicker is all the consequences from blowing up the trailer. Hollywood apparently
doesn’t do a very good job depicting the reality of explosions, and how far you need to be
standing from them to not turn into a rag doll. He’s been unconscious for about a day and a
half, partially from a moderate concussion sustained on impact and partially from an
obscenely high dose of pain meds that’s starting to wear off. His left eardrum is ruptured,
which explains why sounds around him are all muffled right now. There’s an invasive,
poking sensation in his side that turns out to be a rubber chest tube sticking out of him and
draining air out of a partially collapsed lung. The worst of it is the burns hiding underneath
the bandages on his torso and arms. Eddie put Steve’s borrowed blue jacket back on before
the fight for a bit of comfort and the material went up in flames as debris flew from the
trailer, burning down to his skin before Dustin could put him out.

It’s a lot to take in one sitting, but it also could have been a lot worse. He’s alive – that’s the
important part. The doctor pulls off the oxygen mask that’s been covering his face and sets it
to the side with strict instructions to put it back on if he starts feeling short of breath. He
really wants to be done discussing all of this, so he shoots the doctor a thumbs up and hopes
it will get him out of here faster. It’s still not just him and Steve in the room, though. Officer
Callahan snuck in at some point and is already gearing up for some detective work.

He barely gets a full word out before Steve interrupts him. “Yeah, I don’t think so. He just
woke up. You can do your whole Barney Fife act later.” Callahan’s mouth snaps shut, but he
doesn’t move to leave. Instead, he willingly enters a battle of stubbornness with Hawkins’
resident babysitter, and that’s a losing battle for anyone over the age of 15. Steve levels him
with a scathing look, eyebrows raised and lips pursed in a dismissive frown. If Eddie pulled
this shit with a cop, they’d have the cuffs on him for his attitude in five seconds flat. His new
friend’s rich boy privilege is coming in handy, because Callahan turns on his heel and walks
back through the door with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

As soon as he’s gone, Steve grabs a bottle of water and a straw from the table nearby and
holds it in front of Eddie for him to take a drink. It’s a little embarrassing to have the subject
of so much recent emotional turmoil help him sip at his water like he’s some kind of invalid,
but it’s also kind of nice. Plus, he is some kind of invalid, so he might as well milk it while he
can. Once he’s drank his fill, Steve cuts him off before he can say anything.

“Take it easy. They said you probably inhaled some smoke, so it might hurt to talk. Guess
you’ll have to let other people do most of the talking for a while. I know that’s hard for you,
but…”

Eddie tries to glare at Steve and his pleased grin, but even he can tell it just comes across as
fond. Gross, he’s all high and sappy. He takes the warning to heart, though, and keeps his
sentences short and sweet. “Wha’ happen’d?” he asks.

Those two half-words are enough to kick off a violent coughing fit that has him groaning in
pain. Steve winces in sympathy at the sounds coming from his lungs, and before Eddie can
find a way to hurt himself even further, he explains, “We won, first of all. Don’t want to bury
the lede, there. Vecna’s super dead.”

He sags into the mattress, relief flooding through his entire body. They actually did it, and
this wasn’t all for nothing. His thoughts immediately shift to worrying about everyone else. If
he managed to get himself hurt this badly on distraction duty, the people actually fighting
could have it a lot worse. Luckily, he’s talking to one of the other most overprotective
bastards in Hawkins, and Steve’s already reading his mind before he has to push the words up
through his ravaged throat.

“Everyone’s alive. A few other people got hurt, but everyone’s gonna be okay,” Steve says,
getting a chair situated on the same side of the bed as his undamaged ear. Eddie circles his
hand in a gesture for more information. There’s a lot of wiggle room between not dead and
100% okay, and he needs details.

“We had a thing with the vines in the Upside Down, but nothing serious. Dustin tried to get
your jacket off of you before it could do any more damage and it burned the shit out of his
hands. The worst of it was at the Creel house, honestly.” Eddie hears the beeping of his heart
monitor speed up, suddenly hoping the reason Chrissy’s not the one by his bedside right now
isn’t because something went horribly wrong. Steve seems to realize his mistake right away.

“Chrissy’s fine! Sorry, she’s fine. She’s, like, the only person who didn’t really get hurt. She’s
good,” he rushes to explain, and Eddie’s heart stops racing enough to hear the rest of it. “Max
is the only one as bad as you - her room’s down the hall. Vecna was in her head too long so
she’s got some really bad broken bones. And Lucas is taking after me, apparently, cause he
got his face beat in. Carver showed up.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in alarm. He hadn’t expected Jason to be a problem for anyone but him.
Steve’s face is almost gleeful as he says this, and it seems out of place until he continues.
“You’ll have to get the whole story from Lucas – the kid tells it way better than me – but
apparently Chrissy kinda saved the day. She turned on the waterworks, convinced Jason that
Lucas, like, kidnapped her or something and got him to walk her out, and then knocked him
out with a brick. Swear to god.”

He can’t help but laugh, no matter how much it hurts. Chrissy’s always been tougher than
anyone gives her credit for, but that’s badass even for her and he couldn’t be prouder. Steve
goes on to tell him that their uninvited guest is pretty much the only reason he’s not
handcuffed to his bed. The cops arrived at the Creel house to find Jason knocked
unconscious, Max with some of the same injuries as the other murder victims, and three
eyewitnesses who have spent every minute since then swearing up and down that it was self-
defense, that all of their running and dodging the past week was due to fear of what this guy
might do. Combine that with the fact that Jason was the only witness to Patrick’s murder they
can actually confirm, and it seems like Hawkins PD has a new prime suspect for the whole
ordeal.

“It looks like they’re gonna end up pinning it all on him, but you’re still a…what did they
call it? A ‘person of interest?’ Just until it’s official,” Steve says. “That’s why it’s just me
here. They’ve got officer dickhead watching the door, and anybody they questioned about
this stuff isn’t allowed to come see you yet. They didn’t want to let anybody in at all, but
Nancy went on this whole spiel about how you’d be in danger here on your own, and I
honestly think Powell just didn’t want to deal with her anymore so he’s been letting Robin
and I keep an eye on you.”

“He bought that?” Eddie whispers, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Making exceptions for
him isn’t usually the police department’s style. Even with everything they can twist around to
point at Jason, he’d still expect them to be treating him with a healthy dose of suspicion
rather than letting his friends stand guard at his bedside.

“What can I say? Pretty easy to convince him that people have it out for you when somebody
blows up your trailer with you inside,” Steve says, sporting a disapproving frown that the
mothers of Hawkins would kill to have in their repertoires.

He’s clearly pissed, but Eddie’s counting his blessings that this shook out the way it did. He’s
hurt, sure, but he kept the bats off the others and didn’t do anything stupid enough to get
himself killed. “Wasn’t inside,” he says, but even he knows it’s a weak defense.

Steve rolls his eyes, and says, “Alright, smartass. You know what I mean. You promised no
stupid hero shit and you almost got yourself killed anyways.”

It’s hard to get his thoughts out the way he wants to when he can’t string more than a few
words together without hacking up a lung, but he needs Steve to understand. “No hero shit.
Bats got through…”

Eddie squeezes his arm, wordlessly begging him to hear what he’s trying to say, and Steve’s
face softens. He doesn’t look pissed anymore – just drained. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Dustin
explained what happened, it was a good play. You just really scared us.”
He’s caught off guard by just how upset Steve is. Now that he’s really looking, there’s signs
of wear and tear that weren’t obvious at first. He’s worn down and stressed, his usual gravity-
defying hair hanging limp around his face. It’s only been a day and change, but the personal
objects all over the room suggest he’s been picking up a lot more shifts here than Robin. The
two of them have gotten a lot closer over the past week, and the guy clearly has a protective
streak to rival Eddie’s own, but he’s not sure how to deal with all that being directed at him
so intensely while he’s still on this much morphine. “Didn’t know you cared so much,” he
mutters, trying to break through the tension with some levity.

It’s a mistake. Steve glares at him, actual heat in it for the first time since the boathouse, and
snaps, “Dude, shut up, of course I care. After all that shit we just went through?”

“When we got back to the gate, you guys were gone and the whole place was barbecued,”
Steve says, voice strained. Eddie hadn’t thought about that. His plan had robbed the others of
an escape route. “We had to go all the way back to the lake. Our walkie got ruined in the
water so we had no way of calling anyone. It was hours before we got out and figured out
where Chrissy and the kids were, and by the time we got to them they were all sobbing in the
damn waiting room with no idea whether you would make it through the night. So yeah, it
scared the shit out of me. Don’t joke about that.”

Eddie couldn’t respond to that if he tried. Steve looks distraught at the thought that he might
not have made it, and it’s making him all warm and guilty inside in equal measure. He
tightens his grip on Steve’s arm in what he hopes is an apologetic gesture. Maybe he’s
drugged up enough to be imagining things, but he could swear that he pulls his arm back to
grab Eddie’s hand instead as they drift into a comfortable silence.

March 30, 1986

Eddie listens to Steve with rapt attention, like he has been as often as possible since waking
up. He’s slowly hearing the full story of everything that’s happened in Hawkins the past few
years in all its gory detail. It’s taking forever. They have to take a break every time Steve says
some shit like ‘and then Max literally almost drove us all into an early grave’ or ‘all that
attitude and the kid can’t even fit in an air duct,’ sending him into fits of laughter that make
the burns on his chest feel like they’re ripping open again.

They’ve developed a bit of a system. Eddie’s damaged ear is the one closest to the hallway
and the small bite on his neck stretches uncomfortably if he turns his head too far to the side,
so Steve sits in a chair facing the door to keep tabs on anyone coming and going. After a
couple days of this, Eddie’s gotten good at guessing who’s walking through the door based on
facial expressions alone. It helps that there’s only about three people it could be. If Steve’s
face is blank but polite, it’s the doctor. If his face is openly dripping with mocking disdain
that cows lesser men into submission, it’s Callahan. And if his face lights up with a delighted
smile that kind of makes him look like a golden retriever, it’s Robin.
Today, his face does something different. There’s a commotion outside the room, with raised
voices and slamming doors. Steve’s eyes flick up to the door as they talk and Eddie tenses.
When they convinced the police that he might need people to watch his back, they hadn’t
really been lying. Shouting outside the hospital room of a widely disliked murder suspect
can’t be a good sign. The door opens and Steve goes quiet, eyes widening and mouth
dropping open in shock as he trails off mid-sentence. Eddie’s spent a lot of time staring at his
face the past couple days – he’s stuck in a hospital bed and it’s a really pretty face – and he’s
never seen it do that before.

It’s enough to make Eddie wince his way through a turn to the side. He’s sure his face is a
dead ringer for Steve’s when he sees Jim Hopper standing in the doorway. They may not have
gotten all the way through the story of last summer’s battle yet, but he’s fairly certain that this
man is supposed to be dead.

“Hop?” Steve whispers from behind him, and the late chief almost cracks a smile. It looks
like everybody’s full of surprises today, because he didn’t know Hopper’s face could do that.
It’s only ever looked at Eddie with exasperation or a faint air of disappointment.

“Heard you guys had a bit of a situation, here.” It’s the understatement of the century, and
Steve lets out a disbelieving laugh, still in apparent shock about the ghost in the room.
Eddie’s not sure how to feel. The chief is in the know about the Upside Down, so that wins
him a couple points at least, but he’s still a cop. A cop who goes way back with his uncle and
who let him off with a warning the one time Eddie was dumb enough to get caught dealing,
but a cop nonetheless.

“You…How are you…what?” Steve stammers.

Hopper chuckles, and says, “Think we’ve got more pressing shit to talk about.” He turns to
look at Eddie. “Got yourself arrested as soon as I’m gone? Bit on the nose, even for you,
Munson.”

Eddie’s still hesitant to trade quips back and forth with the guy. Steve is clearly on good
terms with him, but Steve’s also the kind of person police officers bend over backwards to
make life easier for. He’s been practically spitting in Callahan’s face recently with no
consequences whatsoever. Eddie watches the newcomer carefully, voice measured as he says,
“Not like it was on purpose, chief.”

“Not chief, anymore. That’s kinda why I’m here. You mind if I sit?” He nods at a second
chair, and Eddie just shrugs. Not like he could stop him. Hopper grunts as he gets off his feet,
clearly in a lot of pain, and says, “Those jackasses get left in charge and they fucked it all up.
I had to come tear ‘em a new asshole, the way they handled this. Even if you had done it,
they still made just about every mistake they could have possibly made.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, significantly more on board with this conversation than he
was a moment ago. It sounds like Hopper’s already all the way on his side here. He tries to
scoot up further in bed, but it’s hard to move with his burns and this damn tube sticking out
of his side. Steve notices in an instant. He practically lifts Eddie all by himself with his hands
under his arms, and he’s actually a little thankful for how red his injured skin is when it hides
how much that bit of light manhandling makes him blush.
“I mean that Powell was a pretty damn good officer but he clearly wasn’t ready to be in
charge,” Hopper says. “Releasing suspect names, leaks in the department, inciting a panic –
those are rookie mistakes. And all their evidence against you is circumstantial. You’re
connected to the crime scenes, but the only thing they have to suggest you were actually there
for the murders is the word of some whack-job ranting about a cult.”

Eddie’s eyes light up. This sounds like amazing news, but he needs to make sure. “What are
you saying, exactly?”

The older man smiles at him for the first time in as long as Eddie’s known him, and says,
“I’m saying you’re free and clear, Munson. Hawkins PD no longer considers you a person of
interest and Carver’s gonna go down for it. Not exactly the truth, but it's close enough, and
we can’t go around telling people about the Upside Down without the government crawling
up our ass so it’s the best we got.”

If this was happening a couple of weeks ago, when Jason was nothing more than a uniquely
hateful high school bully, Eddie might feel bad about this. Now, though? He really doesn’t
give a fuck. The guy whipped the whole town up into a frenzy to literally hunt Eddie down,
pulled a gun on Lucas, got one of his meatheads to go after Erica. Hell, he almost got Max
killed. Carver can rot for all he cares.

All Eddie can do is throw his head back into the pillows and laugh, no matter how much it
hurts. He’d made peace with the fact that there was no version of the world in which they
actually pulled this off, and he’s never been happier to be proven wrong. He wipes away a
couple tears with the hand not clutched tight in Steve’s own, and looks back up when Hopper
clears this throat. There are a few last-minute pieces of information that barely make it
through his elated haze. He’s cleared in the eyes of the law, but public opinion might not be
as forgiving, so he should probably keep his head down for a while until things cool off. The
idea of continuing to hide away in any capacity after everything the past week frustrates him
to no end, but if that’s what they think is best then he can try and roll with it.

More importantly, he needs to decide if they’re going to tell Wayne the truth before he can
see him. The mood in the room goes somber. Hopper makes it clear that if he wants his uncle
to know what really happened, then he’ll talk to the lab and figure out a way to get him
legally in the loop, but it’s up to him. Steve squeezes his hand, but stays quiet.

Eventually, Eddie shakes his head no. He already woke up this morning in a cold sweat
thinking about that horrible place, and he can tell it’s not going to stop any time soon. Let
Wayne believe this was all some religious asshole trying to drive the social outcast out of
town, an escalation of all the nonsense Hawkins has already put Eddie through. It basically
was, and it’ll spare him the nightmares he and Chrissy are doomed to. Hopper nods in
understanding, and says, “I think that’s a good call, kid. I’ll bring ‘em in.”

He pulls Steve out of the room with him, though he seems reluctant to go, and Eddie only has
a few minutes to hate being alone before Chrissy bursts in and rushes over to him. Wayne
follows at a much slower pace, both of them with suspiciously wet eyes that surely match his
own. She pulls herself up to sit cross-legged on the hospital bed by his side and wraps him in
a gentle hug, careful not to press on the bandages covering his chest.
Eddie knows all too well how much of a scare he gave them all after talking with Steve, but
when he tries to apologize, she just shakes her head and holds him a smidge tighter. Thank
god that Dustin had it together enough to explain what happened – he’s not sure he could
have lived with himself if Chrissy had spent the past two days thinking he tried to be a
martyr.

Wayne ruffles his hair as he takes one of the chairs next to the bed. He’s still adamant that his
uncle not find out what actually happened, but he’s gotta hear it from the source that they
actually broke the curse. He catches Chrissy’s eye, and asks, “Are you okay? No…
symptoms, or anything? You’re good?”

She understands what he’s really asking in an instant, because she’s the best damn person on
the planet. “I’m good. Headache’s gone, no more seizures. Even had the doctors do another
scan just to be sure. Must have just been some freak thing, I guess.” There’s an amused,
knowing lilt to her voice as she sits back to meet his eyes. He can get the whole story later,
but for now at least he knows she’s okay.

“Pretty sure we should be askin’ about you just now. Doctors told us everything, we’ll get
you taken care of, son.” Wayne’s voice gets shakier by the word, and breaks entirely as he
finishes his sentence. His uncle’s always made it clear how much he cares about him – it’s
never been in question – but he’s usually done it stoically with that trademark no-nonsense
attitude of his. Eddie’s never seen this version of the man, with his face buried in his hands
and shoulders shaking from the effort of keeping himself composed, and he’s not sure what to
do with it.

“Wayne, I’m okay,” Eddie says. “I mean, I’ll be pretty banged up for a while, but I’ll be
okay.”

Wayne wipes his eyes, clearing his throat as he says, “I know you will, Ed. You’re always
okay after shit like this. But you should get to be more than just okay and I’m sick and tired
of this damn town not lettin’ ya be.”

His heart breaks right down the middle at the grief on Wayne’s face. He might not know the
whole story, but the parts he does know are just more of the same shit Eddie’s dealt with his
entire life. All the negative attention wasn’t easy for either of them, but he didn’t know it
weighed on his uncle this much. He pulls Wayne in and holds him close, wounds on his torso
be damned.

“I’m sorry,” he says, starting to choke up himself. How could he not get emotional when
someone like Wayne is crying by his bedside? “For everything, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop that,” Wayne scolds. “You don’t got anything to apologize for.”

Oh, if only that were true. Everything they’re selling as the story behind the murders works
for him. Eventually, he might even be able to accept that none of that was his fault. The
trailer is a different story. It was necessary in the moment to keep his friends safe, but that
was still a choice he made. He blew up the best home he’s ever known and left him and his
uncle with no place to go. There’s nobody else to blame for that one. He can’t meet Wayne’s
eyes as he says, “The trailer. All our stuff is ruined. I…”
“The hell did I just say?” Wayne snaps. The words would sound angry from anybody else,
but Eddie knows him better than that. That’s all love, if you know where to look. “I ain’t
gonna sit here and listen to you blame yourself for what those people did to you. Things are
just things, Ed. I had a bag of my stuff with me when they forced me out of there, and we’ll
replace the rest.”

It’s not as simple as that, and they both know it. Money’s always been tight and replacing
nearly everything they own surely comes with one hell of a price tag. Eddie’s guilt isn’t
relieved all that much by his uncle’s words, but he sets it aside for now. Against all odds, he
came out of this thing with more wins than losses, and he wants to give himself some time to
enjoy the company of his family after the longest week of his life.

March 31 - April 6, 1986

He takes it back, actually. Spring break might have been the worst week of Eddie’s life, but at
least it flew by. The longest one is the week he spends contained to a hospital bed with fuck-
all to do except try not to scratch his itchy, burned skin right off his body. They removed his
chest tube not too long after his chat with Hopper the other day, but it seems that only marked
the beginning of the medical carousel he doomed himself to when he threw that lighter.

Every single day, a nurse has to slowly peel off all his bandages, wash out his burns, and
rewrap them. It takes almost an hour, and Eddie doesn’t think her touch is anywhere near
gentle enough considering the state of his skin. Maybe there’s just no way to treat this kind of
thing that doesn’t suck. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, some physical therapy asshole forces
him through stretches that hurt so badly that it can’t possibly be good for him. When he
points that out, though, they tell him it’s the only way to make sure his skin heals in a way
where he’s able to move right, so there’s nothing to do but just grin and bear it. They end
their regularly scheduled pestering by poking around at his right ear, then finally leave him in
peace.

It's a giant dose of awful first thing every morning that leaves him irritated and exhausted
with no outlet for it. He could always knock himself back out afterwards with the pain meds
hooked up to his IV, but they don’t actually do that much except make him feel all loopy
when he wakes up. The only thing that keeps him from completely losing his mind is the fact
that his friends flow in and out of his room in a near-constant stream that means he’s rarely
ever alone.

Jeff, Gareth, and Walter come to see him once and he appreciates the hell out of it, but they
won’t ever know the whole story and it paints the whole conversation with a layer of
awkwardness he’s never had with those three before. It’s all the people he fought with that
really lift his spirits. The Hellfire freshmen bounce between his room and Max’s whenever
they’re able. Lucas understandably spends most of his visits at his girlfriend’s side, but he
finds the time to tell Eddie all about Chrissy’s heroics. It’s the best thing he’s heard in ages,
and he wishes he could have seen the look on Jason’s face.
Mike pops in with the two kids he hasn’t met, Will Byers and El (Jane?) Hopper (Byers?)
They’ve called her, like, five different combinations of names so far and he has no idea what
the hell he’s actually supposed to call her. He doesn’t see much of those three either after that
first visit. El usually wants to double check that her friend is free of the curse for good, Will
seems a bit annoyed at him for some D&D related drama he can’t even begin to understand,
and Mike just hovers awkwardly between the two in a web of tension that gives him a
headache to watch. He very swiftly decides he doesn’t want to know.

Dustin, on the other hand, is practically glued to his side for days’ worth of visiting hours.
The last time the kid saw him he was on death’s door, and now he doesn’t let Eddie out of his
sight for any longer than he has to. He runs into the room the first time it’s open to visitors
for what might be the most awkward reunion hug this hospital has ever seen, with one of
them unable to get too close without aggravating their bandaged and burned chest and the
other holding their arms awkwardly out to the side so they don’t aggravate their bandaged
and burned hands. The sight of him fumbling with the zipper of a backpack he can’t grip
properly racks him with guilt, but when he tries to apologize for getting him hurt, Dustin
won’t hear a word of it.

“You were right,” he says, voice thick with unshed tears. “The bats would have gone back,
you were right. You just…don’t do that again, man. That was awful.” Eddie has no plans to
blow himself up again anytime soon, so it looks like they’re both in luck.

To nobody’s surprise, Wayne and Chrissy visit him every single day. Eddie’s delighted to
discover that Steve and Robin stopping by on a near daily basis isn’t that surprising either.
They show up with food, or homework, or various groupings of 15-year-old accomplices and
bring even more life to this soulless grey room. If the price to pay for their company is the
knowing look on Wayne’s face every time they leave the room, then so be it.

The surprising one is Max. She’s just as banged up as Steve said, and being kept in the
hospital for observation after she needed surgery to repair her broken limbs. Once they got
casts fitted to her legs and one arm, they hooked her up with the wheelchair she’ll need while
healing so she can practice in the controlled environment of the hospital. It’s bold of the staff
to assume that there’s any environment on earth that could stop Max Mayfield from being a
menace if she put her mind to it, but her excursions find her in his room more often than not
and he appreciates the company.

She’s the same fiery presence she’s always been, just quieter. A little subdued in moments
where she wouldn’t have been before. Whatever Vecna did in her head during that last fight
really put her through the ringer – she’ll probably be having nightmares the longest out of all
of them. She actually admits that she’s not doing too hot. It’s done through clenched teeth,
long after visiting hours have ended and everybody else has cleared out, and she flees from
the room immediately afterwards, but Eddie knows the significance of it.

For a while, his biggest worry is not knowing where he’s actually going to go once he’s out
of here. He blew up his only home and most of his belongings, and Wayne’s been relocated to
the apartment complex across town. In normal circumstances, the easy solution would be to
move right back in with his uncle, but the dirty looks Wayne’s been getting from the other
residents suggest that joining him there wouldn’t exactly fit with the plan to keep a low
profile. Staying with Chrissy is out of the question, obviously. Mrs. Cunningham would
rather dance naked in the street than let him set foot in her home. The issue weighs heavy on
his mind until it comes up over dinner one day, and Steve instantly offers up his guest room.
Eddie says yes so quickly he practically dies of embarrassment once they left the room. How
could he not?

A week after waking up, he leaves the hospital at an ungodly hour of the morning just to be
on the safe side and avoid the wandering eyes of any displeased townsfolk. They hand him an
intimidatingly long list of discharge instructions on his way out the door. Take it as easy as
possible to reduce the strain on his recovering lung. No smoking for a long time, if ever. No
loud music while his eardrum heals. Daily doses of antibiotics to make sure all his open
wounds don’t get infected outside the hospital.

The kicker, as always, is the burns. They itch and pull as Eddie moves – putting on a shirt for
the first time almost reduces him to tears – and there’s a lotion they’re sending him home
with to help his skin from being completely ruined, but the doctors were very clear. He’s
going to feel miserable for at least the next few weeks and some bad scarring is unavoidable.
If he wears the fancy compression sleeve they gave him for the deepest burns on his left arm,
it should stave off the worst of it, but his skin will never go completely back to the way it was
before. It bothers him more than he’d like to admit, the idea of bearing visible reminders of
his time on the run. That amount of scarring is noticeable, and being noticed in Hawkins isn’t
as fulfilling as it used to be now that it’s almost gotten him strung up by a mob.

On top of that, he’s spent the past two weeks dependent on other people’s help to get by and
it looks like it’s gonna stay that way for a while longer. He’ll need his friends to carry things
for him, and help with his bandages, and put lotion on the one burn on his back that he can’t
quite reach. They’ll be kind about it, obviously, but he’s prepared for it to grate on his nerves.
Steve seems to understand that when he comes to play chauffeur. He sticks close as Eddie
slowly lowers himself into the passenger seat, but isn’t all over him like the nurses were
when walking him out of the hospital. He never thought he’d reach the point where Steve’s
hands not being all over him was a good thing, but here they are. Chrissy and Robin are
already in the back, and the four of make their way back over to the Harrington house. If he
never has to see his hospital again, it will be to soon.

Steve set him up in the guest room on the ground floor, completely eliminating the need for
stairs while his lung isn’t doing too great. He walks through the door and freezes when he
sees more of his own belongings sitting in the room then he ever would have expected. The
guitar leaning against the wall isn’t a surprise. There’s a reason he had Dustin grab it that
night. His Hellfire shirt, leather jacket, and vest are all washed and folded on the desk, but
there’s more objects scattered around the room that he either forgot about or thought were
lost forever.

He spies the lunchbox and tapes from his van, and some clothes of his that Chrissy
accumulated at her place over the years. There’s a couple of shirts he recognizes as Wayne’s,
donated from the bag he managed to pack up when the gate in the bathroom caused agents to
evacuate him.
 Steve must have really left no stone unturned in his search for as many of Eddie’s things as
possible. There’s an old book that’s been collecting dust in his locker at school, a VHS copy
of The Thing that he loaned to Jeff months ago, and a few mugs with some very distinctive
scorch marks sitting on the desk. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that much. There’s
probably more stuff than this sitting in even the most unused rooms of the house. But it’s
something when he thought he destroyed everything, and it touches him to his core. The
gesture’s so thoughtful he almost can’t bear it, turning in a circle to make sure he doesn’t
miss a thing. He clears his throat, not nearly as subtly as he would hope, and says, “Steve, I…
I don’t even know what to say. Thank you, man. This is…”

Steve gives him that patented Harrington shoulder squeeze, lingering close with a kind smile.
“Don’t even mention it. It was like a scavenger hunt. And my parents don’t really care what I
do with the place when they’re gone, so…stay as long as you want.”

It’s the first morning of freedom Eddie’s experienced since the start of spring break, and he
spends it tucked close to Chrissy’s side, dumbfounded that he managed to come through all
this and land on his feet in something good.

Chapter End Notes

We're through Season 4 and everyone's okay! There's only a few more chapters to finish
this thing (and I've already got them started, so no worries) You might also notice that
the chapter count went up, but that 14 should be final.
 Let me be your fortress
Chapter Summary

With Vecna out of her head for good, Chrissy goes after what she needs

Chapter Notes

I tagged this slow burn, right? Enjoy a jam-packed chapter for your patience

CW for Chapter 11: lots of discussion of the the mind-boggling complexities of being
queer in a conservative small town (based on my own experience being queer in a
conservative small town)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

April 26, 1986

Chrissy barely slams on the brakes in time at the stop sign near Steve’s house, flinching as
another driver speeds through the intersection in front of her and lays on the horn. All she can
do is send them an apologetic wave and shrink back into the leather of the seat. She’s usually
a really careful driver, but it’s difficult to focus on things like road safety when she’s so angry
she can barely see straight.

It doesn’t even seem possible, but her mother’s gotten even more unbearable since everything
that happened over spring break and today might have been the last straw. She had to get out
of that house before getting sucked into a full-on screaming match over her mother’s
insistence that Chrissy join them at church tomorrow morning. Along with some other
couples in the neighborhood, they’ve set up some kind of weekly post-service meeting to
help Jason’s parents until his trial this summer, to support another ‘fine, upstanding, Hawkins
family’ while their son is being put through this horrible ordeal.

As if Jason didn’t do this to himself. He might not have committed the two actual murders,
but Chrissy’s been doing some reading to try and figure out how the upcoming trial might go,
and everything he did that week – all the threats of violence, and assaults, and attempted
murders – would be more than enough to send him to prison for just as long. That’s not even
including everything he pulled with Eddie last spring. People like her parents, however, seem
content to ignore all that and act like he’s never done anything wrong in his life.

It’s unbelievable, honestly. Her parents barely even know the Carvers beyond reputation or
vapid small talk at PTA meetings, and it’s been years since the Cunninghams have set foot in
church outside of Easter and Christmas, even if her mother’s own sanctimonious preachiness
hasn’t diminished at all. It’s absurd to act like Chrissy’s attendance will make or break their
efforts, like her refusal to go is some kind of cardinal sin. She doesn’t know whether her
mother is conveniently forgetting that he was trying to hunt Eddie down just a few weeks
ago, or if she remembers perfectly and wants to cruelly punish Chrissy for not listening to her
and dating somebody like Jason to begin with. Either way, they definitely wouldn’t be
organizing something like this if Eddie was still the one being accused.

It makes her blood boil, and it’s only the tip of the iceberg these days. A switch flipped in
Penny Cunningham that night when Chrissy openly defied her and didn’t come home while
trying to help Eddie, forcing her to call the police department and admit to an actual
imperfection in their family’s façade. She used to just spout off passive aggressive comments
with a disapproving frown, saving open confrontation for only the biggest of missteps. Now,
Chrissy can’t so much as breathe without her mother yelling and screaming at her over it.

Her mother isn’t the only one who’s different, though. Before spring break, Chrissy would
have just curled into herself and taken it, trying not to make it worse by looking too upset
until she could talk about it with Eddie later. After everything that happened, everything she
did to help save the world, she’s done letting her mother walk all over her. She’s stood up for
herself every time she’s had the chance, yelling back just as loud and never giving an inch,
and she’s proud of herself for doing it but it’s only escalated things.

The graduation finish line is growing closer by the day, but she’s not sure she can take it that
long. This isn’t even the first time this week she’s fled from her house in a huff. Her mother
has been agonizing for months about her prom dress, commenting on how tight the top of it
looks and making unnecessary alterations every chance she gets. Chrissy fell in love with it
the second she saw it, but it fades every time her mother goes near it. For the last week, she’s
made Chrissy try it on every day, yelling about how she’s let herself go while pulling all over
at the fabric, and a few nights ago, she just couldn’t listen to it anymore. She pulled the dress
off and stormed out on her mother mid-sentence to make the drive over to Steve’s house, like
she finds herself doing a lot these days.

With some distance from the curse’s influence, it’s been easier to talk to her new friends
about the things he taunted her with. It’s no longer a surprise for her to show up fuming after
another argument with her mother. Eddie just patted the spot next to him on the couch while
Steve searched for something fun in the pile of tapes he’s brought home with him from work.
The surprise came later that night when Steve stared down Robin, had some kind of silent
conversation with lots of weird eyebrow movements, then turned to Chrissy and told her she
should move in.

Chrissy dismissed the idea at first, certain that he was just trying to be nice, but he meant it.
She already spends most of her free time there with Eddie anyways, and according to Steve
his parents won’t be back for a couple more months, so they wouldn’t notice someone else
living here. With a strangely annoyed look on his face, he also pointed out that Eddie’s
ground floor room is the biggest in the house and could easily hold a second person.

Now that she’s had a few days to think about it, she wants to take him up on the offer more
than anything. There’s really no reason not to. She hadn’t planned on moving out until
graduation, but she’s 18 so her mom can’t actually make her stay, and she’d hardly be the first
person in Hawkins to leave a bad home for greener pastures the second they’re legally able
to. If it means more of what she’s gotten to have since Eddie started living there – the two of
them plus Steve and Robin (when she’s there, which is almost always) together as a group –
then she wants it, because she’s really started to love it.

She loves sitting around the kitchen island eating takeout after Robin steps in to help with
dinner and ruins the whole thing. She loves watching Steve and Eddie gravitate closer to each
other every time she sees them, and teasing Eddie about it later as she helps him with his
burn lotion. She loves spending hours and hours talking with Robin, both girls smiling and
laughing as they look forward to new adventures at Purdue in the fall.

The only thing giving her pause is her and Eddie. Their pretend dating act has kept them safe
for years, but by design it puts a wall up between them and others. Nobody but Wayne can
understand them all the way because they don’t know the truth, and she doesn’t want to jump
from one house where she has to fake and tiptoe around everyone else to another, especially
when that lack of understanding would hurt so much more coming from Steve and Robin.

That’s what she’s on her way over to talk to Eddie about. If she has their schedules right, and
she knows she does, then their friends should both be at Family Video and she can catch him
alone. Even if nothing ever happens with Robin, moving in to the Harrington house before
they all head off to Lafayette over the next couple months is only going to tie the four of
them closer together, and before that happens, she wants to tell them the truth. It’s not just up
to her, though. It’s a joint secret between both her and Eddie, and it it’s always been the deal
that they both have to be on board.

Chrissy grabs the spare house key Eddie keeps in the wheel well of his van, parked in the
driveway since he doesn’t drive himself many places these days, and lets herself in. One of
his tapes is playing over the house’s fancy speakers, but it’s soft enough that she can hear him
puttering around in the kitchen. She’s still adjusting to how much quieter his music has to be
while his eardrum is healing.

“That you, Chris?” Eddie yells. “Come out here a second. There’s something on a top shelf,
and I figure between your tiny arms and my mangled arms we’ve got a set of regular arms
between the two of us to reach this fucker with.”

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head as she goes to join him in the kitchen. He turns to greet
her with a wide grin on his face, the arm not wrapped in his compression sleeve stretched
high above his head for a box of cereal. Her conflicted emotions must be obvious on her face.
His smile instantly falls as he asks, “You okay?”

Chrissy pulls herself up to sit on the kitchen counter as Eddie abandons his cereal and turns
to face her, looking nervous to hear what she says next. She gets that reaction from him a lot
lately. Vecna’s curse made him quick to assume the worst whenever something may be
bothering her.

“I’m okay. Just need to talk to you about something,” she says. This whole issue is weighing
heavily on her mind. He doesn’t joke around at all, just leans against the counter across from
her and motions for her to continue. “I want to tell Steve and Robin the truth. About us, I
mean.”

Eddie tenses, but he doesn’t look completely shocked. She wonders how long he’s been
waiting for her to bring this up. He nods, and asks, “This cause you wanna try it with
Buckley or cause you wanna move in?”

Chrissy’s doing better about not ripping her nails into shred these days, but it’s impossible not
to chew at them from stress as she answers, “Both. Or, maybe neither? It’s more than that,
it’s…”

Eddie’s patient with her, like he always is, and waits for her to find the right words. This is
important, and she wants to make sure she gets her point across exactly right. “I just don’t
want to have to hide it from them anymore. We’ve always had to hide this part. And I get it,
more than anyone I get why we have to, but I hate it. I hate not being able to be myself, and I
know you do, too. That’s the whole reason we’ve always wanted to leave, right?”

He reaches out to pull her hand away from her mouth, holding it in his own as he parrots
back what he’s always said about this. “Hell yeah. Just you, me and some space to breathe,
right?”

“Exactly,” Chrissy says. “And I know we’re just going to another place in Indiana. It’s not
like we can hang a sign on the front porch or anything. But it’s way bigger, it’s a college city.
It’s space to breathe, like we always wanted, but it’s probably not gonna be just you and me
anymore.”

Eddie frowns, starting to connect the dots but not quite on the same page yet, and she
continues to explain. “Robin and I are both going to the same school, you’re coming with me,
Steve’s probably going to end up leaving with Robin. I know we haven’t really talked about it
yet, but if we’re all going to end up in the same city anyways, then it kind of seems like the
unspoken plan is for the four of us to stick together, right?”

“Yeah, I guess. Do you not want that?” Eddie asks.

“No, I do! really want it, it’s just…if we’re getting our fresh start with people we still feel
like we have to hide from, then it’s not really a fresh start at all, is it?”

Eddie’s face softens, following her perfectly now as he rubs a thumb over the back of her
hand and says, “No, I guess it isn’t.” He’s quiet for a moment, thinking it over, and she gives
him all the same patience he’s given her. It’s as much his decision as hers whether to spill the
beans or not. Eventually, he says, “You’re right. You should do it. If it’s gonna be a problem,
better to know now, right?”

“You’re sure?” Chrissy asks. This isn’t something where there’s room for uncertainty. “It’s
not just my secret, and I don’t want you to not have a place to stay if it goes wrong.”

Eddie shrugs, face unreadable, and asks, “When did you wanna do this?”
“Honestly? Tonight, if you agreed. I don’t think I can stay in that house another second when
I know there’s another option, and I just…I don’t want them to find out by accident. I want it
to be my choice this time.”

His entire face melts into a smile, and he steps across the space between them to pull her into
a hug, whispering softly how proud he is of her. The Chrissy of a few years ago, terrified of
being outed, and her mother, and basically everything it’s possible to be terrified of, would
have never even considered this. And yet, here she is, actually somewhat hopeful in the face
of what used to scare her most.

Their friends come bursting through the door later that afternoon in a flurry of noise with the
smell of burgers from the diner wafting in behind them. From the entryway, Steve calls out,
“Eddie, that song you played in the Upside Down came on the radio again, and I’m telling
you, you played it better. You’re gonna believe me one of these days, swear to God.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the compliment, but he’s obviously pleased as he hides his face behind
a piece of his hair. Chrissy shouts out a greeting for both of them, smiling at the flush on his
cheeks as he clears his throat. Telling the truth is about her more than it’s about romance –
she’d want to do it no matter what, even if her and Robin never become more than friends –
but if it allows the both of them a chance, then that’s an added bonus. Before their friends
round the corner into the kitchen, Eddie grabs her by the shoulders and whispers, “We’ve got
this. And if you change your mind, there’s absolutely no shame in that. Yeah?”

She nods, mind already made up. It’s scary stuff, but she had an evil wizard in her brain
trying to kill her less than a month ago. If she could handle that, she can handle anything.
Steve and Robin are reaching the tail end of their conversation, commiserating over the kids
harassing them at work as they enter the room. Chrissy grabs the container with her usual
order scribbled on the top and takes a seat next to Eddie on the other side of the kitchen
island, picking at the food inside even as she’s already sure she won’t be able to stomach it
just now.

There’s a brief flash of hurt confusion in Robin’s eyes. Chrissy usually sits next to her when
they eat here, and she knows the other girl automatically assumes she’s done something
wrong when there’s unexplained changes to the routine. It doesn’t feel great to be the one
putting that look on Robin’s face, but she needs some distance between them with Eddie at
her side if she wants to follow through on what she so desperately wants to do tonight.

It's one of the most awkward dinner conversations the four of them have had in the past
month, and everybody’s clearly picked up on the weird vibes. Eddie keeps shooting her
knowing looks out of the corner of his eye, waiting for her to say her piece, whereas Steve
and Robin both look baffled as they try to figure out what happened while they were out of
the house.
Chrissy clears her throat during a long pause, wanting to rip off the bandaid before the
tension becomes completely unbearable, and says, “Umm…there’s actually something we
wanted to talk to you guys about.”

“Please tell me you’re gonna take me up on moving in here. Your mom sounds like a bitch,”
Steve says around a huge bite of his burger. Robin nods emphatically, and Eddie chuckles
next to her. He’s always tried to refrain from calling her mother names because he knows
once he starts ranting about her, he’ll never stop. Steve has had none of the same reservations
when it comes to speaking his mind on Penny Cunningham since he’s heard more about the
things she’s said to Chrissy. She appreciates the validation that the way her mother acts isn’t
okay from somebody else who understands the pressure of over-demanding, chronically
disappointed parents.

“Maybe? I want to, I just…I need to tell you guys something, first.” Her voice shakes as she
speaks, quivering, but holding strong. She knows she can get through this, but it’s still one of
the hardest things she’s ever done and she hasn’t even really started yet.

Their friends both pick up on the shift in tone and set their food down to face her more fully,
giving her their undivided attention. From his place next to her, Eddie grabs her hand and
gives it a comforting squeeze, uncharacteristically silent. His eyes are locked on the others,
especially Steve, guarded as he watches for even a hint of a negative reaction.

“Eddie and I aren’t dating,” Chrissy says, cringing as she does so. She didn’t mean to just
blurt it out like that, but there it is. Eddie’s grip on her hand turns almost too tight once the
words are out. No going back now.

The others both look confused, and Steve asks, “What, like you guys broke up?”

Chrissy takes a deep breath, and says, “No, I mean…we were never actually together.”

When she musters the courage to look at them, she’s surprised by what she sees on their
friend’s faces. Steve’s eyes are wide with the beginnings of a smile spreading across his face,
and Robin looks panicked as the conversation starts to spiral beyond anything she might have
expected. She looks a bit like she might implode as she asks in a quiet voice, “What do you
mean?”

“I mean, we’ve always just been friends. Best friends, and I love him,” she says, bumping
their shoulders together to try and get Eddie to loosen up next to her, “but it’s never been the
way everybody thinks. We just…there was this thing, my freshman year. All the other
popular kids started spreading a rumor about me that I was checking out the other girls after
cheer practice.”

Steve’s eyes go even wider but he drops the smile. “Holy shit. I forgot about that,” he says.
She also forgot, for a moment, that one of the people she’s talking to used to practically rule
Hawkins High. He would have heard the whispers from his place atop the school hierarchy,
and might have even been the type to help spread it around. She knows he’s a completely
different person now, but it still leaves a bad taste in her mouth as she continues the story.
Eddie’s clearly following a similar line of thought, tensing even more at Steve’s words. It
saddens Chrissy to see it. He’s proactively on the defensive over how Steve may react, with a
cold, almost angry look on his face that hasn’t been directed towards the other boy for years.
This is exactly why she wanted to do this now. She likes these two so much, the four of them
becoming more of a unit with every passing day. Her gut tells her she can trust them with
this, but if she’s wrong and she’s going to lose them, then it’s better if it happens before they
get any closer and that loss hurts even more.

She squeezes Eddie’s hands, and keeps going. “Yeah. Well, they were right. Not that I was
staring – that’s kinda creepy – but that I’m…that I’m a lesbian. They were right about that.
And I didn’t want people to know, so Eddie came up with this idea that if we let everybody
think we were together, then people would stop talking about it and I could keep it hidden.
We’ve been doing that ever since.”

Eddie’s bypassed the level of nervousness that turns him into a fidgety mess, and has
graduated to sitting next to her still as a statue, just watching. Chrissy watches too, and what
she sees is encouraging. They don’t seem angry, or disgusted, or any of the other emotions
she would expect if they were about to turn on her. Steve looks practically gleeful and a little
relieved, trying and failing to make eye contact with Robin, who looks like she’s in the
process of rebooting her entire brain. He jabs an elbow into her side to snap her out of it, but
it does nothing.

Eddie misinterprets the silence, still wary and not wanting to leave things to chance, and
speaks up for the first time to say, “This would be the ‘if anyone has a problem, speak now’
part, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Steve’s head snaps away from looking at Robin to face him, taken aback at the hard edge in
his voice. Eddie never talks to him like that, and his face falls into something more serious as
he turns to Chrissy and says, “No! God, no. Me too. Well…wait. No, not me too, I’m
obviously not a lesbian. I just meant I’m bi, so…no problems here. Promise.”

Now, Eddie and Robin sport a matching set of slack-jawed, surprised faces, eyes glued to
Steve and openly staring. Chrissy’s sure she’s not much better, a nervous giggle slipping out
of her mouth before she can cover it with her hand. She can’t believe he just blurted it out
like that. Sure, he knows it’s safe after Chrissy broke the seal, and she’s been doing her fair
sure of blurting so far, but he just…said it like it was nothing, like he didn’t just
simultaneously soothe and torment Eddie with only a few words.

Steve’s elbow finally manages to jostle Robin back into the conversation, and she says in a
shaky voice, “R-right. Right, and I’m…I’m really glad you told us. Eddie, that’s…you’re a
good friend.”

They both look completely sincere, no trace of deception anywhere on their faces, and
Chrissy doesn’t think either of them are good enough actors to pull that off. She glances at
Eddie out of the corner of her eye as he starts to relax, wondering how he’s going to respond.
They’d gone back and forth all afternoon, talking out the ways this could go, and by the time
the others got home he still hadn’t decided whether he was going to come out too or just let
them believe he was ‘going for the ally of the year award.’ She hopes he’ll tell them. It would
feel wrong not to do this together, and she knows that hiding any part of himself bothers him
even more than it does her. The climate in Hawkins still isn’t great for him right now, though,
so she wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to keep it under wraps a while longer.

He doesn’t meet Robin’s eyes as he answers, and Chrissy squeezes his hand tight as she picks
up on what he’s about to do. “Yeah, well…didn’t only do it out of the goodness of my heart.
I’m gay too, so keeps everyone off both of our backs, right?”

Steve…laughs? Eddie seemed seconds away from bolting for the front door, but Steve’s
delight gives him pause. He looks at the other boy in confusion as he jumps out of his chair
and points at Robin. “I told you! I told you something was off, and you said I was delusional.
Oh, in your face, Rob, I knew it!”

Eddie still looks apprehensive, but now he’s more just thrown by the odd reaction than
actually scared that Steve’s about to kick him out of his house. Robin scowls, still not
completely back in the game after all the revelations, and says, “You didn’t know this. You
didn’t know anything – you were guessing!”

Steve scoffs. “No, I knew. Because, respectfully,” he says, turning back to Chrissy, “you’re a
total babe.”

Chrissy laughs in surprise at the affronted squawk from Eddie next to her. “The fuck’s that
supposed to mean? You think she’s that far out of my league?”

“Obviously not. Look at you,” Steve says, and just keeps on talking without acknowledging
the way Eddie’s face goes cherry red at his words. “I mean the four of us have basically been
living in each other’s pockets. She’s over here all the time, and I haven’t seen you kiss her
once. You expect me to believe you’re dating somebody that pretty and there’s just…
nothing? No way, man.”

Robin groans, and buries her head in her arms on the table, muttering, “Yeah, you’re a real
Sherlock Holmes, dingus.”

Chrissy exchanges a look of pleasant surprise with Eddie. She didn’t really think that either
of their friends would turn out to be bigots, but you can never know for sure, and this went
better than she could have ever dreamed. He wraps a comforting arm around her side, and
they both laugh as Steve continues to brag about his detective skills. When Robin finally
pulls her head out of the cocoon of her arms, her eyes are filled with wonder, and Chrissy
hopes she never stops looking at her like that.

April 27, 1986

“Hello?” Chrissy calls out, head on a swivel in the entryway of her house for what is
hopefully the last time. This morning seemed like the best time to come get her stuff without
running into her parents. They’ll be busy staying late after church to commiserate with other
equally intolerable people over whatever tragedy they think Jason’s a victim of. They just
want to pretend they weren’t all sitting in that town hall listening to him call for Eddie’s
blood, the hypocrites.

There’s no answer, so it seems like they have the house to themselves. She turns behind her
and waves for her friends to follow her in. Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Lucas are all here to
help her move her life over to the Harrington house. The friendship with Nancy that started
that first day they drove out to talk to Wayne has blossomed over the past few weeks, and her
and Lucas have gotten closer after their shared horror at the Creel house.

Jason was a problem for everyone, of course, but the two of them and Steve have a different
experience of it that the others can’t always understand. Even though her friendship with
Eddie is hardly a secret around town, she’s still an upper middle-class cheerleader and Lucas
and Steve are still current and former basketball players, so people who don’t have all the
facts often expect them to be on Jason’s side. It’s infuriating how many of her busybody
neighbors feel comfortable walking right up to Chrissy in the middle of the sidewalk to praise
the boy who almost got them all killed and say horrible, insulting things about the person she
loves most in the world. Her and Lucas have bonded over it, venting their frustrations to each
other in some kind of jock circle of trust.

Lucas and the others walk into her house for the first time, arms full of boxes and duffel bags.
Eddie planned on helping, too, but he woke up this morning with his burn scars pulling his
skin so tight that all he wanted to do was stay home and lie in bed. Steve kept hovering on his
way out the door, making sure he was fine almost half a dozen times, and Chrissy couldn’t
help but smile.

Robin rubs her hands together, some delightful scheme no doubt cooking in her brain, and
asks, “Okay, where are we starting? Are we stealing? ‘Cause I don’t really want to get in
trouble, but I’m totally down to steal things from your parents if that’s what you’re after. I’m
not above that.”

“Maybe we just start in her room and save the petty theft for later,” Nancy says, rolling her
eyes and walking up the stairs. It’s a gesture that would have been tinged with bitterness and
disapproval over spring break, but now it’s mostly just amused. Once she started taking
Chrissy’s words to heart, Nancy realized the same thing she did – that Robin is incredibly
likeable, and not at all about to break Steve’s heart.

Robin starts to follow Nancy before turning on her heel so fast she almost falls over. “Wait, I
almost forgot something,” she says, digging in her backpack before making a triumphant
noise and pulling out a Walkman, offering it to Chrissy. She hasn’t needed to keep one on her
person since they broke the curse, and when she looks at Robin in confusion, she says, “Your
ABBA song. You used that one for, like, anxiety attacks, right? I figured it would help you
feel better if packing up your stuff totally sucks.”

Chrissy slowly takes it with a grateful smile, touched by the gesture. She doesn’t think she’ll
actually need it while surrounded by friends, but it warms her heart that Robin thought to
bring it along just in case she might need a little comfort.
Like the well-oiled machine Chrissy saw over spring break, the five of them have her room
packed up in no time at all. She thought it might be sad, getting ready to leave the only place
she’s ever lived, but instead she’s just excited. This house never felt like home to her. The
Munson trailer had that honor, and even though it may be gone, she and Eddie have found
another place for themselves with people they don’t have to hide around. She still can’t quite
believe their luck.

They strip the room down to nothing but bare walls and barren closets, and Chrissy smiles as
her most treasured possessions are placed into containers by her friends’ caring hands. Her
threadbare childhood teddy bear, her old issues of the Weekly Watcher, a collection of
pictures of her and the Munsons. It all ends up tucked away to be ferried out of the house.

Chrissy gives her empty room a satisfied onceover on her way out the door, and she’s
halfway down the stairs when she thinks of one last thing. She waves her friends out the front
door, promising to join them in a second, and walks back up the stairs to the guest room
where her mother keeps her sewing supplies. Her prom dress lies draped over a table in the
middle of the room, stuck up with pins and tape from the latest rounds of alterations her
mother decided it needed. She grabs a piece of paper from the desk, scribbles out a quick
letter to let her mother know that she won’t be coming back, and picks up the dress, holding
it carefully in her arms as she walks back downstairs. It’s fine just as it is, and she’s not going
to let her mother rip something beautiful into pieces any longer.

May 4, 1986

In what’s becoming a familiar scene for them, Chrissy and Robin are sprawled on the floor of
her room suffering their way through schoolwork. They tried inviting Nancy once, but she’s
very particular about her study habits and it didn’t go well for any of them. Eddie’s probably
just downstairs, but school in general is a bit of a touchy subject for him these days, so he
prefers to work on it by himself.

“They realize we graduate in, like, weeks, right?” Robin complains, dramatically throwing
herself back on the floor as yet another math problem from their assignment stumps them.
“You’d think that an entire childhood of schoolwork would prove we deserve the damn
diplomas at this point, but no! They let some sadist have a teaching job and give us all the
hard stuff right at the very end. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, that’s what it is.”

Chrissy smiles from her place next to Robin on her bedroom floor. Her antics have put her
head almost completely in Chrissy’s lap, and she gives the other girl a half-joking, half-
sympathetic pat on the head as she works on her own homework.

No longer forced to dodge around a major aspect of who she is as a person, Chrissy’s felt
more like herself than she has in ages, and Robin seems more comfortable around her, too.
Something’s shifted between them for the better. She thinks it’s for the better, at least. It’s
hard not to read into the fact that even though Robin was who she and Eddie were most
confident might also be queer, she’s the only one of the four of them who didn’t use their
dinner last week as an opportunity to come out. Obviously, Chrissy would never press her
about it. Everybody deserves to handle something like this in their own time, and there’s
always the possibility they were wrong. Either way, it’s made it more difficult to accurately
assess their interactions now.

Even with this new mystery to navigate, everything’s been better since she moved in here,
just like she knew it would be. They had one awkward confrontation with Chief Powell when
he showed up on behalf of her mother, who called the police the same night she left claiming
to be worried for her safety. Maybe he still felt bad about everything that happened over
break, or maybe he remembered what she said about how horrible her mother is. Whatever
his reasons, when they pointed out that Chrissy’s a legal adult who can live wherever she
wants, he dropped the issue and they haven’t heard from him since. Her mother certainly isn’t
going to come and cause a scene in the yard of one of the most well-respected families in
Hawkins, so it looks like Chrissy’s free and clear. The only thing she had to give up was her
car, towed away from the Harrington house since it’s registered in her father’s name. She’s
still excited to leave Hawkins, but she’s managed to find some of that space to breathe she
and Eddie have always been searching for right here, and it makes the wait more tolerable.

It takes the rest of the evening, but they finally finish their work and set it aside to do
something actually enjoyable. Chrissy puts her books away in the big dresser in her room,
brushing aside her prom dress where it hangs on the back of the closet door in order to get to
the right drawer.

Robin trails her fingers through the fabric from her spot on the floor, and says, “You know, it
really is a pretty dress. Your mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Chrissy hums, and says, “Trust me, I am well aware. I don’t know if I’ll actually get to wear
it, though.”

There’s a lot of classic high school experiences she always knew were off the table for her,
but she could be on cheer squad and she could have a great night at prom. She even
convinced Eddie to put aside his well-founded hatred of conformity for one night to go with
her. That was before spring break, though. Now, he does his schoolwork almost exclusively
from the kitchen counter. Half the school either still believes he killed Fred and Patrick or
hates him for getting Jason in trouble, conveniently ignoring the fact that Jason got himself in
trouble by starting a mob. If they were intent on blaming someone else, they could at least
blame her. She’s the one who knocked him out and made him a promising suspect.

Principal Higgins has never given Eddie the benefit of the doubt before, though, and he
certainly wasn’t about to start now. Eddie was politely asked to work from home ‘for his own
benefit,’ but they all know the truth. Higgins doesn’t want him back in the halls with the
other students, and it’s clearly weighing on him. He’s still allowed to go to extracurriculars,
but most of the time he doesn’t seem to think it’s worth the effort. He seems happy enough
when they’re all together at the house, but in moments alone, he reminds Chrissy of the
version of himself from his first semester of high school, when he was still trying to keep his
head down instead of embracing his true colors. The regression in the wake of the town witch
hunt makes her heart hurt, even if she can understand it.
Robin’s being unusually quiet, and when Chrissy turns around she’s not quite looking at her,
biting her lip and clearly thinking hard about something. Chrissy just sits back down with a
couple bottles of nail polish she retrieved from the desk, and starts on her toes while she
waits for her friend to talk. Robin only gets lost in thought like this when she’s lost in serious
thought, and interrupting the process won’t help.

“You could go with me, if you wanted?” Robin finally says, voice shaky and nervous. “If
Eddie can’t go and you don’t want to go without a friend, I’d go with you.”

Chrissy almost fumbles the bottle of polish in her hand. If she were to make a list of the best
things that could possibly happen to her, Robin Buckley asking to go to prom together would
be close to the top. It’s not necessarily a date – girls without dates go to prom with their
friends all the time, and she’s still not entirely sure where Robin’s head is at these days – but
it’s enough to make her turn away to try and hide the toothy smile taking over her features. It
doesn’t matter, in the end. That smile is obvious in her voice when she agrees, and the
answering grin on Robin’s face lights up the entire room.

May 9, 1986

Miraculously, spring break didn’t ruin horror movies. Nightmare on Elm Street hits far too
close to home now, but the rest of them Chrissy can handle just fine. It’s small, in the grand
scheme of things, but late nights spent laughing at the horrible effects on the trailer TV or
afternoons with a cup of hot chocolate and the Twilight Zone in the background have always
been part of her eye in the storm, and losing that would have been too cruel.

Eddie lies across the couch with his feet in her lap, arguing good-naturedly with Steve while
Chrissy tries her best to ignore them so she can actually watch the movie. Kurt Russell is
moving through the Antarctic base with a flamethrower, sparking further debate between the
two boys.

“I’m just saying, he’s objectively hot in everything he’s in. Look at that hair!” Steve shouts,
gesturing to the screen.

“Not all of us are as obsessed with hair as you are. Some of us have priorities,” Eddie
deadpans, as if Chrissy hasn’t seen him in mild hysterics trying to tame his own mane before
playing at The Hideout, or heard him pine over Steve’s hair while the other boy’s at work.
He’s trying to appear cool and unaffected, but every one of Steve’s comments on guys in the
movies gets him flustered now that they’re both out in the open. He probably just needs some
more time to process it, the same way she did when he pointed out she might have a chance
with Robin, though his odds might actually be looking better than hers these days.

“You’re saying the hair doesn’t do it for you? I don’t buy it.”
“I’m not saying shit,” Eddie mutters, hiding his blushing face behind his hair as Steve leans
back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

He’s certainly not being subtle these days, really dialing up the Harrington charm, and
Chrissy has to excuse herself to the kitchen to keep from openly laughing. She just makes it
through the doorway before she loses it, laughing behind her hand when she hears Steve say,
“Well, if The Thing Kurt Russell isn’t your speed, we’ll do Escape From New York next. The
nail bat will convince you for sure.”

Still giggling, she rounds the corner to grab another soda and finds Robin leaning over the
counter, unopened bag of microwave popcorn sitting next to a bowl as she drums her fingers
on the counter. “Could those two be any more obvious?” Chrissy asks, still delighted by the
scene she got to witness in the living room. Robin, apparently lost in thought, jumps about a
foot in the air at the intrusion.

She insists she’s fine, just lost in thought, but it’s been happening a lot since they decided to
go to prom together and Chrissy’s not sure what to make of it. In a perfect world, it’s because
Robin’s overwhelmed with excitement the same way she is, but it could just as easily be
awkward regret. You never know how even the best of people might act with this kind of
thing. It’s the whole reason it took her years to come out to anyone other than Eddie.

“Wanna talk about it?” Chrissy asks, hesitant to actually hear the answer.

“I just don’t know how he does that,” Robin says, her voice a shaky whisper as she stares out
the kitchen window with unfocused eyes. “He just said it like it was nothing, and then
immediately jumps into flirting like you guys have known about him for years. How do you
all even…”

“Well, he knew we wouldn’t judge, I guess. It’s still scary, but it makes it safer,” Chrissy says
gently, closing the fridge when she realizes she’s been standing there with it open this entire
time. The confused, near-jealousy on the other girl’s face gives her a pretty good idea where
this is going, and she hopes Robin picks up on what’s unspoken. That they won’t judge her,
either. That she’s safe, too.

“What you said before, about why you and Eddie were pretending to be together?” Robin
asks after a long moment of quiet, and Chrissy feels her heart jump into her throat. She nods
and smiles, patiently saying nothing as she waits for Robin to continue. She gulps, and says,
“M-me too. I’m…I’m gay, too.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen where she stands. She thought that may be the case, but thinking and
knowing for sure are two different things, and a big part of her thought that if she was right
about this then Robin would have said something earlier when the rest of them did.

It’s like Robin read her mind, tripping over her words in a rush to reach the finish line of her
explanation now that she’s started. “And I wanted to say something at that dinner, but I just…
I couldn’t do it. I mean, you and Eddie have had this figured out together for ages, and I
know the whole school almost found out and that was terrible, obviously, but...I really do not
have a good track record with the whole coming out thing. I did it right after I realized it to…
a mentor, I guess? But the first thing he said was basically, ‘Congrats, glad you figured it out,
now we’ll never see each other again because being gay just got me run out of town like
Frankenstein’s monster.’ And then there was Steve, which worked out well in hindsight,
obviously, but I didn’t even want to tell him. I was just high on truth serum and he was trying
to ask me out and…and…”

The rambling stops a moment for Robin to catch her breath, and Chrissy’s head is spinning.
She knows the other girl has a real talent for packing twice the information into half the time,
but that was impressive even for her. She reaches over to squeeze Robin’s hand, a silent offer
of comfort, and her voice is just a bit less harried when she continues.

“Steve just rushes into everything headfirst, so I guess it tracks that he wouldn’t be as wigged
out about it, but…I panicked. And I knew you guys would be okay with it, but I still couldn’t
do it, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

She’s clearly on track to work herself back up, and Chrissy doesn’t even think before pulling
her into a hug. It doesn’t matter if you know it’s going to be taken well, this never feels like a
safe thing to talk about in a place like Hawkins. She’s just glad Robin wanted to share this
with her at all. Robin’s stunned into silence, frozen in place for a beat before she raises her
arms to hug Chrissy back.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Chrissy says, squeezing her friend tight. It’s the
best news she could have possibly hoped for, and also the most terrifying, because the last
excuse to not take her chance with this beautiful girl standing in front of her just got blown to
pieces.

May 12, 1986

“Well, hello to you, too. Jesus,” Eddie says, jolting up from where he was laying down on his
bed as Chrissy flings the door to his room open hard enough to slam it into the wall. She’s a
woman on a mission, in need of advice from her best friend and in need of it now.

Today at school was the first time she’d seen Robin since that amazing movie night. Eddie
and Chrissy had stayed up talking about it for hours after Steve drove her home. She showed
up to school excited to see what would happen, sat down at her regular lunch table that she
shares with Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan now that he’s moved back from California, and
things were...off. Even with all Robin’s charming rambling and tendency to put her foot in
her mouth, things have never been this type of awkward between them, and Chrissy’s not
sure what to do with that.

She just doesn’t know where they stand, now. Before Robin came out, they were going to
prom as friends. Now, it could be as anything, and she couldn’t exactly broach the subject in
front of Nancy and Jonathan at the lunch table, could she?
Chrissy tries to close the door more gently behind her, not wanting to break things in their
house, and throws herself gracelessly on the foot of Eddie’s bed. She’s pouting, if she’s being
honest, but she thinks she’s entitled.

Eddie clearly disagrees, and says, “Feel like you should look significantly happier
considering Buckley’s pretty much a done deal.”

She sighs, and says, “It’s not even close to a done deal, Eddie. Today was so weird. She
practically sprinted away from me when I tried to bring up prom.”

“So, you make her nervous. Pretty sure that’s a good sign in somebody you’re into.” She
doesn’t really answer, and Eddie rolls his eyes. “She knows you’re a lesbian, you know she’s
a lesbian, and you both turn into obvious blushing messes around each other. What could
possibly be the problem here?”

Chrissy doesn’t want to snap at him just because she’s frustrated, but he should really
understand ‘the problem here’ better than anyone. He and Steve are in literally the exact same
position. Instead, she just says, “It’s not that easy. Robin’s so nice. What if she just doesn’t
want to hurt my feelings?”

Eddie’s normally the perfect person to go to with stuff like this, always knowing exactly what
to say to help her out, but not right now. Right now, he’s laughing. It’s starting to make her
mad, before he catches himself and says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I
swear I’m not, it’s just…you two must have it bad, cause she’s really not that nice.”

Chrissy furrows her brow, confused. She has no idea what he’s talking about. Robin – the girl
who brought music along to her house on the off chance she might need it and helped with
her headaches when she was cursed – not nice? Eddie reaches over to ruffle her hair, and
says, “I stole a sip of her drink the other day, and you know what she said to me? She said she
was gonna glue bugs in my hair and lock me outside so the birds would swarm me and make
a nest in it.”

“I mean, she probably didn’t…” Chrissy starts, sure she didn’t mean anything bad by it, but
Eddie cuts her off.

“No, you don’t have to defend her. She’s funny as hell. I love it. My point is…the only
person she’s really that nice to is you,” Eddie says, looking at her pointedly while he waits
for her to get on the same page. Now that she thinks about it, he’s not wrong. The people
Robin’s the closest to in their group of monster hunters – Steve, Dustin, Erica, Max, Eddie –
all get a healthy dose of loving bullying from her on a daily basis. Only Chrissy’s mostly
immune, and that’s gotta mean something. She only shrugs at him in response, though. It’s
still too overwhelming to think about sometimes.

Eddie’s eyes soften as his laughter dies out, and he reaches for her to pull her into his arms,
running a comforting hand through her hair as he says, “You know what the problem is? Your
first go around with this stuff isn’t supposed to matter so much.” She frowns up at him. He’s
lost her again. She should…care less about Robin? What?
“All the straight kids got to practice this,” he says. “They got to run around talking about
their little kiddie crushes, and ask out whoever they wanted on little playground ‘dates’ that
don’t actually mean anything. They got to get used to all this stuff before they were old
enough for it to really matter. We didn’t get to practice ‘cause we had to hide it, so the first
time you’re ever trying is with somebody who’s actually important to you. That’s scary shit.”

She’s never been more thankful for his way with words than she is right at this moment. He’s
right on the money, for both of them. Eddie’s had a couple weekends here and there at a club
in the city, but it still barely amounts to anything, and Chrissy was always too skittish from
the incident her freshman year to go with him. She’s never even been close to something real
before, and now that she’s so close she can taste it, it scares her to death. Robin could hang a
poster in her room that said ‘If you asked me to be your girlfriend I can 100% guarantee you I
will say yes’ and she still might not be able to get the words out.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” she whispers, curling up closer into Eddie’s side.

He’s quiet for a moment, thinking things over in his head, before he says, “You trust me,
right? Like, when I tell you that I have never been more sure of anything than the fact that
Robin Buckley is head over fucking heels for you, you trust me?”

“Doesn’t make it less scary,” she says

“I know it doesn’t. Believe me, I know. But you trust me?” Chrissy nods. She trusts Eddie
Munson more than anybody else on Earth. “Then hear me out for a sec. We’ve got this.”

Chrissy complains when he sits all the way up suddenly and jostles her out of her
comfortable spot, but there’s a familiar gleam in his eye. It’s the look he gets when he’s
thought of something particularly clever and has to get started on it right away before he
bursts. In this case, it’s a plan to get her what she wants, and it’s a good one, too. Like
always, his energy is infectious and she finds herself brightening up, practically bouncing up
and down with excitement as they get to work.

May 17, 1986

Chrissy looks at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door and beams. Her dress
looks stunning, just like she knew it would, the buttery smooth fabric snug over her neck and
collarbones and cascading to the floor in emerald waves. If she stares too long at certain
places, her mother’s voice starts creeping back in and stirring up deep-seated insecurities. She
briefly thought about trying to find something looser to wear, but tonight’s important to her
and she’s gonna wear the pretty dress if she wants to, her mother be damned. She fluffs her
hair back into shape where it hangs around her shoulders, does one last twirl for a little
confidence boost, and heads down the stairs.
“Girl, if you aren’t just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Wayne says with a low
whistle from where he’s talking to Eddie by the kitchen counter. She giggles, and lets him
spin her around once. Even if Eddie’s not actually going to prom with her, his uncle still
insisted on coming over to the house to see them off and take a couple pictures. Eddie
pretended to be annoyed about it, but Chrissy’s glad he has someone like Wayne to do all the
normal, cliché parent things his actual parents couldn’t be bothered to do. He lets her go, and
says, “That Buckley’s a lucky gal.”

“Wayne!” Chrissy splutters while Eddie cackles. He tosses his keys up and down in his hand,
bouncing on his feet and ready to go. It’s not fair that he just gets to be excited about this
instead of excited and nervous like she has to be. Wayne ushers them together and holds up
an old camera he only pulls out for special occasions, directing them where to stand while
Eddie yells in exasperation. It’s corny and a little embarrassing and it takes way too long, and
Chrissy wouldn’t trade it for the world. They’ve earned a little normalcy, after everything.

They’re still laughing as they get in the van and Wayne drives off in his pickup, waving
goodbye out the window. Eddie takes a second to check he has everything he needs in the
backseat, and then they’re off to the Wheeler house. The nervousness gets harder to ignore
the closer they get, until Eddie has to grab her hand from the driver’s seat to keep her from
ripping her nails to shreds.

“Stop it. I made them match your dress and you’re gonna ruin ‘em,” he complains, and
Chrissy smiles. She loves that he’s so invested in this, so willing to help with the details so
she can just enjoy her night with Robin and hope for the best. She’s just gotta keep telling
herself that everything’s gonna go great. They pull into driveway, and he turns to her with a
gleam in his eye. “Okay, you ready? Not getting cold feet or anything?”

“Well, I’m going to if you keep talking like that,” she mutters, fighting the urge to pick at a
loose piece of fabric on her dress. Good nerve are still nerves, and they’re driving her crazy.
Eddie looks at her seriously, and she can tell he’s not going to drop it unless she actually says
it. “No, I’m not getting cold feet. I’m ready.”

They’re like the magic words, and his face breaks into a giant grin. He taps his hands
excitedly against the wheel and says, “Well, get the hell out of my car then and get up there!”

She swats at his arm with feigned annoyance, relieved by his ability to bring some light into
even the most terrifying of situations. He pulls her into a hug across the center console to
wish her luck and speeds off as she hikes up her skirt to walk up to the house without
tripping.

The door’s open before she’s even made it to the front porch, a frazzled look on Nancy’s face
as she hurries her into the house. They’re a few minutes behind schedule, Nancy’s worst
nightmare, and Chrissy jogs the last few yards. Jonathan stands behind his girlfriend, waving
awkwardly. Whatever worries Nancy had over spring break have started to weigh on her less
heavily now that her and Jonathan are in the same place and talking through things again, and
Chrissy hasn’t spent much time with him outside of school since he moved back but it’s good
to see her friend happier.
There’s no explanation for why she’s running late that won’t ruin the plan, but she apologizes
anyways on her way through the door. She’s stopped dead in her tracks, unable to even finish
her sentence when she sees Robin standing further in the entryway, looking like she stepped
right out of a fancy magazine. She’s wearing a suit instead of a dress, and Chrissy couldn’t
picture her in anything else. It’s a rich, maroon color with wide-legged pants that could
almost pass for a skirt if she moves a certain way.

The details in the outfit are the same deep green color of her own dress, the stones in her
rings and the buttons holding her sleeves together. It gives the two of them a subtle matching
effect, only slightly less noticeable than Nancy and Jonathan, and Chrissy wonders if it’s
intentional. She knows Steve’s the one who helped her put this together and he’s got a real
eye for this stuff, so it wouldn’t surprise her. It makes her even more impatient to get this
night started. Even just a hint of the two of them as a pair makes her positive how much she
wants the real thing.

She barely gets her voice back again as Jonathan drives the four of them to the high school,
laughter filling the car. They deserve a night of regular high school fun more than just about
anybody in this packed parking lot. She can’t hold Robin’s hand as they walk in the same
way Nancy and Jonathan do, but she can still stick close to the other girl’s side, elbows
jostling as they hand over their tickets and get their names checked off a list. Eddie’s van is
tucked away into the back corner of the parking lot, just barely in view and far enough from
the other cars that he can get out of here without anyone seeing him if he needs to.

A group of the basketball seniors and their dates mill about the hallway inside, with Andy
sneering at them from the crowd as they walk past. Everything they told the police was only
enough to get Jason in trouble, not Andy, even though he attacked Erica. He’s been walking
around school trying to convince anybody who’ll listen that Jason didn’t do anything wrong
and it’s all Eddie’s fault. She wishes she was surprised by how many people believe him, but
Hawkins being unfairly hostile to people like Eddie isn’t anything new.

“What, the freak isn’t with you tonight?” he taunts, malice in his eyes. “Finally realized he
isn’t worth your time, huh? Could’ve figured that out sooner and saved us all a lot of
trouble.”

“Are you done? Some people have better things to do in life than lose fights to middle
schoolers, douchewad,” Robin snaps, pulling Chrissy away from him with an arm around her
shoulders. She doesn’t want to let anybody ruin her evening, but it’s not easy with assholes
like Andy reminding her why she can’t have her best friend by her side on what’s supposed to
be a fun ending to their time in high school.

Andy’s words are slowly washed away as the music picks up inside the gym and Nancy slips
a small flask out of her dress with a mischievous look in her eyes that has Jonathan laughing
so hard he almost gets them caught. Her friends shield each other as much as they can from
the stares of any other basketball players with a problem, creating a warm little bubble for
them to exist in. She holds up the skirt of her dress to keep from tripping and dances her heart
out, swaying as close to Robin as she can.

It’s the one thing that makes things easier for her than Eddie. She can’t be as close as Nancy
and Jonathan can, but two girls can dance in each other’s space and spin each other back and
forth and still just pass it off as being friends in a way that Eddie couldn’t with another boy
even if he wanted to. Chrissy laughs and twirls to the music, waiting for the time to be right.

Eddie said to give him about half an hour after they got here, and it’s been at least that long,
so all that’s left is for her to work up the nerve to do her part. The music cuts out for a
moment, and a member of the prom committee grabs a microphone to say they’ll be
announcing prom queen and king after the next song.

Chrissy doesn’t want to stick around for that. Prom royalty is nothing more than a popularity
contest, and even with everything that’s happened, there’s a decent chance it’s going to be her
and Jason’s names called as the winners. She can’t think of anything worse than standing on
the stage to win some pointless crown based on the opinions of people who don’t really know
her and pretending that it’s a tragedy Jason isn’t here.

On top of that, the next song is a slow one. Nancy and Jonathan stay on the dance floor,
swaying sweetly in each other’s arms in a way that makes Chrissy think they’re going to be
okay no matter what. She and Robin can’t join in for this one. Not here, anyways. There’s not
going to be a more perfect moment than this. Chrissy takes a breath to psych herself up
before grabbing Robin by the wrist and whispering, “Follow me.”

Robin looks confused, but lets herself be dragged out of the gym full of slow-dancing
couples, through the back door of the high school and past the track to the woods.

“Where are we going?” Robin asks, laughing as she trips over the long legs of her suit pants
and follows Chrissy through the trees.

“Just trust me!” Chrissy says, laughter in her own voice as they make their way to the picnic
table in the woods Eddie used to deal at. Neither of them has been there since lunch that day
before everything spiraled out of control. She sees the lights she’s looking for start to peek
through the leaves. Robin must see them too because she stops trying to figure out where
they’re going, sending confused looks at Chrissy out of the corner of her eye.

They step into the clearing, and Chrissy stops in her tracks, just as gobsmacked as Robin.
Eddie really outdid himself. The tape player she’s kept in her guest room the whole time sits
on the table, cassette loaded and ready to go. They spent the past few days scrounging
through every inch of Steve’s house, and Lucas’ house, and the Wheeler’s house, and any of
their other friends who would let them in the door for as many different lights as they could
find. There are old Christmas lights, garden lanterns, some random candles from someone’s
basement. They’re scattered over the table and hung in the trees and hooked up to some
generator thing he got Dustin to help him with. She’s not sure what Eddie had to promise him
to get his help without telling him what it was for, but it was worth it. The clearing looks
beautiful, a little slapped together and unformal, but perfect for them.

Robin’s jaw is hanging open as she looks around, and her eyes are full of cautious hope when
she turns to Chrissy and asks, “What is all this?”

Chrissy wrings her hands together nervously, bouncing on her feet. She can do this. She
knows exactly what she wants to say, she just has to take the leap and say it.
“When you said we should go to prom together, you said it was as friends. But I don’t really
want to be here as just friends. What I really want is to ask you to dance, but I couldn’t do
that in there, so...” Chrissy gestures at all the lights around them as she speaks and the tape
player on the table, smiling as she sees it start to click in Robin’s eyes.

“You want to…dance with me?” she asks, like Chrissy’s speaking a foreign language and she
doesn’t want to risk a mistranslation.

“Well, yeah,” Chrissy says, trying to joke enough to lighten the mood without seeming like
she’s making fun of Robin. “That’s kinda what you hope for when a girl you really like asks
to be your prom date.”

She reaches to presses play on the tape player, still loaded up with the same trusty ABBA
tape that’s gotten so much use. It hasn’t failed her yet. I Have a Dream plays around the
clearing, softly enough to avoid the attention of anyone else taking the opportunity to sneak
around outside. Robin’s eyes are wide as she chews at her bottom lip and takes a few steps
closer. “Someone else could still come out here, you know. They might see.”

She looks terrified at the thought, and Chrissy doesn’t take it personally. It’s a scary thing
being queer in Hawkins, and not everybody like them is lucky enough to have a friendship
like hers and Eddie’s, one where you can figure out who you are and actually be that person
around each other as early as middle school. Robin has to take a leap of faith here just as
much as Chrissy does.

“Eddie went to wait in his van so he can honk the horn if he sees somebody. No surprise
guests, no prying eyes, no rumors. Just a dance, if you want,” Chrissy says, holding a
trembling hand out to Robin and hoping she takes it. If she worked up the courage to bring
her out here and it blows up in her face, she’s not sure how she’ll come back from that.

She doesn’t have to worry about it for long. Robin shakes her head, eyes full of wonder again
as she takes the last step between them and grabs her hand. “I want,” she says, but doesn’t do
anything else. Just stands there with a blush on her face and clearly no idea what to do next.
It doesn’t look like she’s ever gotten this far before.

Chrissy hasn’t either, but you don’t spend four years listening to the inner workings of the
Tigers cheer squad without picking up a theoretical move or two. She pulls Robin’s hands to
hold her waist, and the other girl’s face goes the brightest shade of red Chrissy’s ever seen.
She ducks her head to hide a smile and wraps her own arms over Robin’s shoulders and
around the back of her neck.

It’s not very graceful as they slowly move to the music in the woods. Robin’s naturally
clumsy and doesn’t seem like much of a dancer, and Chrissy’s only real practice is from her
last summer in middle school when Wayne got a few extra days off from the plant around the
Fourth of July, drank too much Wild Turkey, and insisted on trying to swing both her and
Eddie around the trailer to Alabama’s Mountain Music. She doesn’t think that’ll help too
much, here. They trip over each other’s feet more than once, and laugh at every blunder.
Neither of them cares if it’s a picture-perfect dance ripped out of a rom-com. It’s just Chrissy
enjoying a moment with a girl she adores that she wasn’t sure she would live long enough to
have a couple months ago.
“People are gonna notice you’re gone if we stay out here much longer. Missing prom queen,
vanished in the woods, you know how it goes,” Robin says.

“That’s kinda the idea. I’d much rather be out here anyways,” Chrissy says, spinning them in
a circle as her nerves start to fade in favor of plain old happiness.

“You know, this actually isn’t the first time a girl has asked me to dance at prom,” Robin
says, holding Chrissy closer as she starts to gain some confidence.

“Should I be jealous?” Chrissy asks, joking but genuinely surprised. She would have
assumed that this was all brand new to Robin based on her hesitance, but maybe it’s just like
Eddie said. Maybe it’s never mattered this much to her either.

“God, no.” Robin snorts out a laugh as she starts to ramble. “There was this girl, the first girl
I ever had a crush on, and I showed up with this idea to ask her to dance. Basically your plan,
actually, but not nearly as well thought out. It all went to shit, obviously. The cops were
trying to chase me off the premises, and I didn’t ask her, and some other girl and I ended up
doing some flailing sort of dance as friends in the middle of the gym. Not the point, the point
is…I’m really glad that didn’t work out. You’re a much better dance partner.”

Chrissy’s pretty glad that didn’t work out, too, if it brought them here. “Well, is this
everything you were hoping for, then?” she asks, smiling up at Robin as the music picks up.

“Almost.” Robin whispers it softly enough that she might have meant to say it to herself. Her
hands clench in the fabric of Chrissy’s dress, and a wave of determination she hasn’t seen
since the field before Vecna washes over her face as she lunges forward.

Chrissy’s frozen for a moment of stunned silence as Robin’s lips crash into hers with all the
lack of finesse she’s come to expect from the other girl. Their teeth clack together almost
painfully, and she’s pulling away so quickly it barely counts as a kiss at all.

“Sorry! Oh my god, sorry. That was terrible. I don’t know why I did that,” Robin says,
starting to step away. Chrissy’s hands hold tight from their place around her shoulders. Sure,
it was a bit of a disaster as far as first kisses go, but her two favorite people in the world
wouldn’t be Robin Buckley and Eddie Munson if she were put off by disasters.

It’s Robin’s turn to be frozen now, the panicked regret that should never have been in her
eyes in the first place fading away as she registers the smile on Chrissy’s face and matches it
with her own. As Chrissy slowly pulls her back in for another try, Robin looks almost dazed,
and Chrissy doesn’t blame her. She can’t quite believe this is happening either.

At most, she thought she might get a secret dance tucked away from all the prying eyes in the
gym. Instead, her and Robin come together in a second, softer kiss that has her heart
fluttering in her chest. It’s still uncertain and unpracticed, but Chrissy wouldn’t trade it for the
world as her hand moves to trace one of Robin’s sharp cheekbones and Robin’s arms tighten
around her waist. They try to keep dancing at the same time, but have to give up when Robin
trips again almost immediately and it has them laughing and smiling so wide it hardly counts
as a kiss anymore.
 It's absolutely perfect right up until it’s blown to pieces by the sound of Eddie’s horn blaring
from the parking lot. Somebody must be wandering close, searching for the wayward
recipient of the prom queen crown or looking for their own tender moment in the woods. It’s
a testament to how unbelievably happy they both are right now that raising the alarm doesn’t
send them into a panic. Chrissy just laughs and smiles again against Robin’s lips, kissing her
one last time before taking her hand, grabbing the ABBA tape, and bolting through the trees.

Chapter End Notes

Not me checking out Rebel Robin from my library for the third time to make sure I got
as many details from it in this chapter as possible.

Also, half of our lovesick fools got their act together! Yay!
 I can be the one you call when you're low
Chapter Summary

Eddie struggles to adjust after seeing Hawkins' true colors

Chapter Notes

The kudos and wonderful comments so far have been warming my heart you all - thank
you!

CW for Chapter 12: general mental health struggles

See the end of the chapter for more notes

May 19, 1986

Eddie hunches over Steve Harrington’s dining room table and feels his brain start to melt out
of his ears as he stares down the worksheet Nancy dropped off over the weekend. For all the
problems he’s had during his extra-long tenure at Hawkins High, actually being there was
still preferable to this – doing your schoolwork in complete silence and solitude because
you’ve been politely encouraged not to set foot on the grounds again ‘for your own good.’ He
knows Higgins has always had it out for him, but it’s made worse by the fact that the guy’s
not entirely wrong this time.

The few times he’s actually left the Harrington house, a few people have actually been
surprisingly lovely, recognizing him from the news and offering their condolences on the
whole ordeal. Most, though, aren’t his biggest fans. The worst he’s come up against is a
Slurpee thrown at the windshield of his van while driving and some hick in the grocery store
parking lot visibly reaching for the hunting rifle tucked into his truck bed before realizing
where he was and thinking better of it. It’s enough to make him take Higgins’ words to heart,
hunkering down and only going out into the world when absolutely necessary.

His pencil cracks under his frustrated grip, the second time it’s happened today since his
roommates left this morning and took all the joy in the house with them. Chrissy’s been on
cloud nine ever since their plan on prom night went off without a hitch. Eddie saw the two of
them sprinting back across the parking lot towards the gym with some of the biggest smiles
he’d ever seen after he laid on the horn to warn them about a couple of burnout former
customers of his wandering into the woods to light up.
Later that night, Chrissy had burst back into the Harrington house with stars in her eyes,
physically unable to stop talking about the dance and the kiss and all the other honey-sweet
happiness that comes with a crush returning her feelings. Eddie’s over the moon about it. It’s
all he’s ever wanted for her since they were kids, a sweet little love story all to call her own.
He just wishes there was less of his own bullshit going on right now so he could fully
appreciate it. Instead, he snaps another piece of lead straight through the paper of his
assignment and flings the stupid thing across the table.

The indignity of it is getting to him. Hopper warned him that public opinion wouldn’t be so
quick to recover after the police officially cleared him, but it’s like he jumped into a time
machine back to his freshman year when he was still trying to keep his head down. Or maybe
a time machine back to when he was hiding in that boathouse, like a stray dog this same
group was feeding and sheltering from the storm. Don’t get him wrong, living here with his
friends is incredible. Top five things that have ever happened to him, for sure. It’s just…

It's like everything’s shifted a few inches to the left, just enough to be a tripping hazard.
Standing out loud and proud isn’t quite the same when you’ve become intimately familiar
with how badly people want to kill you for it. Band practice with the guys isn’t quite the
same when you keep catching them staring at your burnt, scarred skin out of the corner of
your eye. Flirting with Steve Harrington isn’t quite the same when he’s flirting back, because
even Eddie couldn’t possibly find a way to deny that that’s what’s happening now.
Everything’s just a bit too different then it was before, and he hasn’t found his footing on the
new terrain yet.

Hands buried in his hair, he calls it a day. He can do that now, since he’s officially become
Eddie the Banished. If they’re not going to let him in a classroom, then he can decide class is
over at 1:00 in the afternoon if he wants. There’s a loud knock on the front door, clipped and
no-nonsense, and Eddie frowns. Steve’s at work, and even if he wasn’t he has a key to his
own damn house. Pretty much everybody else he knows is at school. Warily, he walks over to
the front door and peeks out the blinds. It's fairly common knowledge in town that he’s living
here, so unexpected guests don’t exactly put him at ease.

It's only Wayne, though. Eddie’s heart rate starts to go back down to where it’s supposed to
be. He pulls open the door with his usual theatrical grin, and asks, “What brings you out to
this high-class neighborhood, old man?”

Wayne rolls his eyes and claps Eddie on the shoulder as he follows him into the house.
“Some shithead nephew of mine lives up here. Maybe you know ‘im?”

“Would this be the satanic, cult-leading, child-murdering nephew? ‘Cause I’ve heard all
about him,” Eddie says, not even trying to stop himself from sounding bitter. He wants to
give Chrissy a few more days of new relationship bliss if possible, so if he can’t bitch about
this to his uncle, then who can he?

Wayne takes a seat at the kitchen counter, already his usual place after only a handful of visits
to the house, and frowns. “You ain’t had any trouble with that up here, have ya? Folks have
been gossipin’ at my place but I don’t want it gettin’ up here to you.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Nobody’s brave enough to come cause problems in rich people land. Steve
Harrington, my knight in shining armor,” Eddie mutters, shoving his homework over to the
side so he doesn’t have to look at it anymore. It’s not that he resents Steve taking on so many
of his burdens these days. It’s that when they were fighting Vecna, they were on a team. All
at the same level, and all with the same nightmares afterwards. Now, though? Eddie’s the
only one still actively in danger while his friends keep him hidden away and take care of
almost everything. It’s too close to how it was before they found common ground over spring
break, like Steve is on some level above him that he can’t quite reach.

“That make you the princess in the tower, or somethin’?” Wayne asks. Eddie’s feelings are
probably written all over his face every time he’s in a room with Steve, and his uncle’s just
teasing the same way he always has, but it hits too close to how he’s actually feeling these
days.

“Stop, Wayne. Steve and I are just friends,” Eddie says, picking up one of the shattered
pieces of his pencil and rolling it around under the palm of his hand for something else to
focus on.

“You want more than that, boy, I ain’t stupid,” Wayne scoffs.

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” Eddie says, embarrassed at how whiny his voice comes out.
“There’s no point trying to start something when I’m already counting down the days until I
can leave. Plus, I’m a little too worried about getting through the fucking day right now to
worry about some guy, so...”

Wayne’s quiet for a moment, serious and contemplative, before reaching over and grabbing
Eddie by the shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I’m gonna level with you here, Ed. You
been dealt a shit hand in life. No shame in admittin’ it’s shittier than most. So, if you’re
waitin’ to go for what you want until times are easy, you might be waitin’ a long while,”
Wayne says. Eddie looks away, no response anywhere to be found, but he knows his uncle’s
not wrong. “And I think we both know this ain’t just ‘some guy.’ He know about you?”

“Yeah, he knows,” Eddie says, smiling to himself. Having a group of friends who are all out
to each other instead of just him and Chrissy has been a bright spot shining through all the
recent clouds.

“And you’re safe with ‘im?” Wayne asks.

Wayne might have his suspicions, but Eddie wouldn’t out Steve, not even to somebody as
awesome as his uncle. He just nods and says, “Yeah, he’s cool. Nice change of pace, honestly.
I can finally stop lying about this for two seconds.”

Wayne’s face is stern as he says, “Now, I know you know better than that. It ain’t lyin’, it’s
keepin’ yourself safe. There’s a difference.”

“I know, Wayne. Obviously, I know. It’s just…different, now,” Eddie sighs, eyes glued to the
table again and avoiding his uncle’s gaze to keep it together. Before, being gay was the
exception to the rule. He could be himself fully in every other aspect of his life and this was
the only part he really had to hide. Now, it’s just one of many things he has to hide away and
it stings.

He wants to go back to the Eddie Munson of a couple months ago who could walk the halls
with his head held high and not give a shit what anybody said about him, but he can’t. It’s
one thing when people are just calling him a freak and tossing his books on the ground every
now and then. It’s an entirely different monster when they think he’s the actual devil. You
can’t stand your ground against a bully when there’s a very real chance that bully might have
recently been roaming the streets with a gun and out for your blood.

When he finally looks back up, Wayne’s entire face is creased up in concern. Eddie wants to
reassure him but it’s hard to find the words. He’s probably right to be worried. “I’ll be okay.
Always am, right? Just gotta make it until graduation and then I can get out of this place.”
Wayne winces, and Eddie rushes to add, “Not that I want to get away from you or anything. I
just gotta…”

“I know, son. I know you need to get out of here and I don’t blame ya. You ain’t the only with
bad memories in this place,” Wayne says. Which is only fair. If anybody understands the
need to escape a town that’s keeping you down, it’s him. Eddie heard a lot of awful town
gossip about his uncle growing up – everything from the usual insults they hurled at the
Munson family to more specific gripes about Ron’s older brother who skipped town and was
surely up to no good somewhere else – but he never actually met Wayne until he showed up
at the state CPS office in Indy. As bad as Eddie’s dad is, he’s heard that his grandfather was
worse, and Wayne didn’t even wait to graduate before doing the same thing Eddie’s trying to
do. He dropped out the second he turned 18, started driving south, and never looked back.
Made a pretty nice life for himself down in Tennessee for a couple decades.

The only thing that eventually drug him back was…Eddie, funnily enough. The way Wayne
tells it, he was sitting behind the desk at the auto shop he owned in Knoxville when he got a
call from the late Benny Hammond, one of only a few people in Hawkins he was still on
speaking terms with. Benny thought he should know that Ron Munson was finally getting
locked up, and that there was a motherless kid in the picture who would probably end up with
his grandfather if they could track him down. Already in the habit of picking up strays and
determined not to let his old man mess up another kid, Wayne walked right out, handed the
shop keys to his #2, and drove through the night to get to Hawkins. He rented the first open
unit at Forest Hills sight unseen and went straight to Indy to raise hell until he got custody.
He probably saved Eddie’s life, but he gave up his own to do it, and he knows firsthand just
how much greener the grass can be outside Hawkins.

“It’s just…that’s kinda what I’m here about,” Wayne says, drawing Eddie back out of his
thoughts. “Think you might be stuck here a bit longer than ya want.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, instantly on edge. He and Chrissy are leaving after
graduation, Robin and Steve will follow them in the fall. That’s the plan, that’s the terrain,
and he’s not sure he can deal with another upheaval.

Wayne holds out two letters Eddie hadn’t noticed him walk in with. One from the Roane
County School Board and another from the Indiana State Attorney General’s office. The
envelopes look fancy and official, and they can’t contain anything good. They’ve both been
opened already, and it relieves him more than he can express. He doesn’t want to go in to this
with Wayne in the dark if it’s bad news.

His heart sinks to the floor as he flips through the unfolded pages. The first one is his formal
disinvitation from the graduation commencement ceremony this upcoming weekend. Even if
he wasn’t allowed to attend classes in-person anymore, he thought he’d at least be able to get
some good old-fashioned pomp and circumstance at the end of six years of struggle. Out of
‘respect for the Benson, Carver, and McKinney families,’ he’s not allowed to walk in order to
avoid a disruption.

If it was just about Fred and Patrick, he’d honestly be pretty understanding about this. Fred
was a little annoying, sure, but both him and Patrick seemed like good kids. Even if they
weren’t, nobody deserves to die like that, and given how closely his reputation was tied to the
case he’d gladly step out of the spotlight to save their families further grief. The fact that
Carver’s name is on there, though. That makes him want to scream. As far as anyone knows
he’s the culprit here, but he’s rich and blond and Protestant, and this town is gonna bend over
backwards to turn him into a victim no matter what. They’d probably be throwing the guy a
damn parade if their roles were reversed and Eddie was going on trial instead.

The second letter’s not much better, a subpoena from the prosecutor for Jason’s case. Even if
he’s no longer considered a suspect, there’s no way to erase the fact that he was connected to
the murders from day one. That means he’s a key witness for the state, and therefore required
to stick around until everything’s done. He clears his throat and tries to blink back tears, but it
doesn’t fool his uncle for a second. Wayne pulls him into a hug over the counter, so Eddie
buries his face in his uncle’s denim-covered shoulder and lets himself feel like shit.

It shouldn’t be this big of a deal, and he hates that it feels like the world’s ending. The trial’s
in mid-June, so it’s not even a whole month longer that he has to wait, but Chrissy’s
graduation day – now his own after two failed tries – has been a set deadline for years.
There’s been a big red circle around it on his mental calendar as the day he finally gets out of
here. It’s been one of the main things keeping him going for so long and it’s just been
violently yanked out from under his feet in two different ways while he’s already unsteady.

Wayne stays for a good while longer to make sure he’s gonna be okay before heading out,
and Eddie doesn’t even consider trying to continue working on his assignments. They’re just
gonna send him a pity diploma he can’t actually walk the stage to get, so what’s the point?
His recently damaged lung means he’s still not allowed to smoke, so he grabs a couple beers
and goes to sit outside by Steve’s pool. Day-drinking won’t hurt anything that’s trying to heal
right now except for his mind, and that’s kind of the point. He cracks one open and sips at it
slowly, staring off into the woods behind the house and rereading the letters every time the
words start to fade in his mind, not content to let it start to scab over when he could pick at it
instead.

“Eddie? Are you here?” It must be after 3:00 if Chrissy’s back and calling for him from the
house, but he hadn’t even noticed the time slipping by. Eddie doesn’t answer. The back
door’s wide open, so she’ll figure it out. He hears the door slide shut and her soft footsteps
make their way across the patio, and she sits on the pool lounger next to him with her brows
furrowed in concern. He holds out the letters to her wordlessly, crinkled from where he’s
been gripping them all afternoon.

Her confused frown turns to one of sympathy as she reads through each letter once, then
twice. She sets them to the side and pulls him into a hug when she’s finished, her hand gentle
on the back of his head as she holds him close and murmurs words of comfort. Eddie thought
he might have cried himself out earlier with Wayne, but as he curls into her side, a fresh wave
of embarrassing tears claws its way up from the depths.

He doesn’t want to keep breaking down like a child in his family’s arms after nothing more
than a couple letters, but it’s just not fucking fair. He persevered through all that shit during
spring break and this is all he has to show for it? Hawkins turning against him even more and
his exit ramp from the nightmare pushed further down the road? Things that used to be set in
stone are now up in the air, and he just doesn’t want to deal with the uncertainty anymore.

“We can leave after the trial,” Chrissy says, carding a hand through his hair. “We can walk
right out of the courthouse and get on the road.”

“What about Robin?” Eddie asks, though he’s not sure he wants to hear the answer. Adding
love interests into this whole equation is a variable they didn’t used to have to account for,
and surely Chrissy will want to spend time with hers. He can’t even blame her. He’d be the
exact same way if he could muster up the courage to say something to Steve.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says. Eddie scoffs, because that’s objectively ridiculous, but she frowns
at him. “I’m serious, Eddie. I like her so much, and I’m so happy that she feels the same, but
for this? It doesn’t matter. The sooner you’re out of Hawkins, the better. Robin and I will
both be at Purdue in the fall no matter what, and if she doesn’t understand that we might not
see each other much for a couple months between the trial and the start of the semester, then
she’s not the one for me anyways. You and I are doing our fresh start together as soon as we
can, no matter what. Non-negotiable.”

Maybe life is fair after all, because it put Chrissy Cunningham on his side, always there to
pull him out of a spiral with a gentle tether back to the ground. Eddie takes a deep, steadying
breath as his shoulders finally stop shaking. It’s just a few extra weeks in hell. They can
handle it together.

May 25, 1986

“Get up, man,” a familiar voice says as an even more familiar denim vest hits Eddie square in
the back where he lies face down on his bed. He’s sulking, no way around it. He got out of
bed and put on a brave face long enough to wish Chrissy and Robin congratulations on their
way out the door to a commencement ceremony he doesn’t get to be in, then immediately
went straight back to his room to feel sorry for himself. Today was supposed to be the day he
got out of this piece of shit town, and instead he’s stuck here hiding from the same people he
used to parade around in front of for fun.

Or, he was, until Steve so rudely interrupted him. Eddie looks up just enough to flip him the
bird and buries his face back in the pillow. “Fuck off. Let me wallow.”

A weight settles on the bed next to him, one long line of warmth just inches away from his
side. When he peeks up again, Steve is sitting with his back against the headboard, legs
stretched out and staring at him expectantly, his face a combination of unimpressed and
concerned that only he could pull off. “You can wallow in the car. Let’s go.”

Irritation washes over Eddie in a wave that he tries to tamp down before he says something
he’ll regret. No reason to take out his frustration on one of the select group of people in this
town who don’t hate his guts. He just isn’t really in the mood to humor Steve today, a sure
sign of his shitty state of mind. “Nowhere to go, Harrington. You can thank our wonderful
educational overlords for that.”

Steve nudges him in the side, then again, repeating the motion until Eddie finally turns his
head enough to look all the way up at him. “So…you can’t walk. Doesn’t mean you can’t
watch your friends. Come on, we’re gonna miss it.”

He doesn’t know if Steve is being intentionally obtuse or just doesn’t get how dumb an idea
that is. With a huff, he pushes himself up to sit cross-legged across from Steve. “Let me get
this straight. You want me to go sit in a field full of people – ranging from those who find me
somewhat distasteful to those who literally want me dead – so they can gawk at the fact that I
don’t get to be up there with everyone else? Yeah, real winner of a plan you got there.”

“You know, the Eddie I know wouldn’t give a shit what any of them thought,” Steve says,
picking idly at the bedspread.

It’s an infuriating take, honestly. Steve might have been aware of Eddie’s cafeteria table
monologues when he was in school, but the version of Eddie he actually knows is the version
that exists in the aftermath of watching Fred Benson get slaughtered. This seems pretty in
character for that version, and he says so. “News flash – this is the Eddie you know! The
Eddie you know witnessed incomprehensible cosmic horrors and then got hunted for sport by
the people who are gonna be at that ceremony. I don’t give a shit what they think, or what
they say. I give a shit what they do, and apparently, what they do is try to kill me, so...”

“You think I’m gonna let anybody try anything? I’m not gonna just throw you to the wolves,”
Steve says, eyes flashing with protective indignation at the mere idea of anybody starting
something in his presence. Eddie can’t decide whether that makes him feel cherished or
helpless, and just lets the two emotions war against each other in his chest as the fight starts
to drain out of him.

“It’s just not worth the trouble,” Eddie says, shoulders slumping as he looks down at the
space between them. “Sitting in the bleachers while everybody else gets their diploma…all
it’s gonna do is make everyone there think they were right about me. It’s better to just keep
my head down until the trial, and go.”
“I don’t think either of us buys that, man,” Steve says, shifting close enough for their knees to
brush together where they sit in mirror image. “Look, the fight in the Upside Down? That’s a
fight you run away from. This? You don’t have to run from these assholes.”

“What happened to me not having to prove myself? Nobody thinks less of me for saving my
own hide? You were just talking out of your ass, huh?” Eddie asks.

“No, Eddie. That’s not what I mean,” Steve says, eyes wide as he leans even closer. “It just…
it seems like you’re having a hard time. Totally makes sense, obviously, but I think you’d feel
better if you came along. Got out of the house for a bit.” When Eddie doesn’t respond right
away, Steve sighs. “Look, if you really want to just stay here all day, we’d all understand.
But…if you want to watch our friends graduate, then don’t let some nobodies be the reason
you don’t go. Especially not when you’ve got us to watch your back.”

There’s a big part of Eddie’s mind loudly insisting that there’s no point in even trying to do
anything but run out the clock on his time in Hawkins. He ran once before and it worked out
pretty well, so maybe it’s easier to just keep running. But with someone leaning in close,
gently prying him out from behind the barricades, it’s easier to remember that the version of
himself he’s always been proudest of is the shameless one that holds himself tall. He might
need more backup to accomplish that these days, but if there’s one thing he’s learned the past
few months, it’s that fighting as a team doesn’t make you any less badass than taking the
world on alone.

“Jesus, fine. No need to beg. It makes you look all desperate,” he jokes, trying to mask how
deeply unsure he is about this as he grabs the vest lying on the bed. Steve lets out a cheer that
Eddie thinks is wildly disproportionate to what’s actually being accomplished here, but he
lets his friend crowd into his personal space and wrap an arm around his shoulders as they
walk down the stairs.

Eddie spends the drive twisting his rings around his fingers and fiddling with the glovebox,
seeking any possible outlet for the nerves squirming in his gut. This is the type of attention-
grabbing stunt that he would have been salivating over just a few months ago, but things are
different now. He’s seen exactly what lengths the people of Hawkins will go to in order to
stamp out his particular breed of different, so sue him if he’s not that eager to put it out on
display when there’s a perfectly nice house he could be hiding out in.

Steve has the good grace to not mention all his fidgeting until they get there. The BMW pulls
into the parking lot, and he turns to him before they get out, eyes searching and serious. “You
good? I know what I said, but if you really don’t want to go in there, I’ll take you home.”

It’s tempting, but Steve will miss Robin getting her diploma if they leave, and now that
they’re here Eddie wants to see it through. “Nah, might as well. Can’t let ‘em win, right?”

Steve beams at him, and Eddie feels himself mirroring that blinding smile without even
thinking about it. It’s hard not to, with him. They walk quickly across the asphalt to the
bleachers around the football field, and he sticks as close to Steve’s side as he dares to out in
public, soaking up every drop of safety and comfort he can from the other boy like he did in
the forests of the Upside Down. What does it say about this damn town that he’s not 100%
sure which of the two poses a greater danger to him?
Eddie can’t tell if it’s all in his head how clusters of celebrating people seem to go quiet as
they pass by, or the heavy weight of their gazes on his back. It’s probably not, considering the
way Steve drifts from side to side as they walk, keeping himself placed squarely between
Eddie and the glares surrounding them. He can’t even pretend to be annoyed by the warm,
gooey feeling the little guard dog act plants in his chest because it’s undeniably working.
Every incident-free step he takes past the disapproving glares helps him start to shed the town
hermit skin he’s been wearing for weeks and settle back into his own. Damn Steve
Harrington and his good ideas.

Steve steers him up the first set of bleacher stairs they reach, skirting past the Bensons and
McKinneys where they sit in a special memorial section in the first row. Eddie assumes it’s
only for his benefit until he notices his friend flinch away from the sight of two empty spots
next to the grieving families. If he squints, the name ‘Holland’ is barely legible on the seat
placards, and it clicks into place in his mind. It doesn’t feel real sometimes, the lives claimed
by the Upside Down before he knew it existed, and he forgot that he’s not the only one
haunted by ghosts of people who should be graduating today. Jesus, Nancy must be a wreck,
too.

Eddie leans in to bump their shoulders together companionably, offering the warmest smile
he can manage while he’s still on edge, and Steve returns the gesture with only a hint of
sadness in his eyes as he leads them towards a crowd of familiar people in the back few rows.
Wayne and Gareth sit with an empty space between them that’s obviously meant for him.
Hopper and the Byers clan take up the row in front of them, here to watch Jonathan graduate
after he transferred back to Hawkins. Dustin, Lucas, and Max are causing general chaos in
the back row. He’s sure Mike would be there too if his family wasn’t keeping him close by to
watch Nancy together.

He raises an eyebrow as he realizes they put a lot more planning into this then he let on, but
Steve just smirks and steers him by the shoulders to their friends, giving him a playful shove
into the seat between Gareth and Wayne. Steve drops down onto the row behind him, ruffling
Dustin’s hair through his hat with his knees pressing lightly on the outside of Eddie’s
shoulders. He shoots a small glare at his uncle when he hears him stifle a laugh, but the
pleased blush on his face gives the game away.

The people outside their cluster still exist, unfortunately, and the looks they send towards the
back when they realize Eddie’s sitting back there could kill, but they’re mostly just looks. A
couple snide comments get shouted over shoulders, and one asshole’s brave enough to throw
an impressively constructed wad of used Kleenex and gum right at his head, but that’s the
worst of it.

Eddie really overestimated how badly this was going to go, and he doesn’t even care that the
relatively smooth sailing is only due to the wall of people surrounding him, sheltering him
from the storm Hawkins won’t stop throwing his way. The only person ballsy enough to
approach them like they’re about to start something is Penny Cunningham, of all people. To
Eddie’s great delight, the combined glares of Steve, Max, Wayne, and Hopper are
intimidating enough to send her packing before she even gets a word out.
There’s no fanfare when Principal Higgins begins his droning speech or when he wraps it up,
and Eddie almost laughs at the fact that the one thing he has in common with most of these
people is how much he hates listening to this dude talk. When the graduates start to file up to
the stage, though, there’s a thrum of anticipation spreading through the crowd as people get
ready to cheer for their loved ones’ accomplishment. One by one they walk up to grab their
diploma, and if Eddie’s presence alone wasn’t drawing stares to their section of the bleachers,
the volume they reach every time one of their friends’ names is called would surely do the
trick. First for Robin, then Jonathan, then Chrissy, Jeff, Walter, Nancy. In the brief moment of
time between Abigail Moore and Tyler Nash’s names, Dustin and Gareth both jostle his
shoulders and Steve leans forward to whisper, “Congrats, man.” He smiles back at him in
thanks, and lets the joy of the afternoon wash over him.

Higgins retakes the stage at the end to say a few respectful words and call for a moment of
silence in memory of the seniors who passed away before they reached this milestone. Eddie
tenses with his eyes glued to the ground. If anybody’s looking at him right now, he doesn’t
want to see their faces. The reminder of why he wasn’t planning to be here today strands him
in his own mind for a moment, but he doesn’t let it keep him there for long this time. When
he shakes himself out of it, Nancy’s up there nailing her valedictorian speech, and then
they’re walking back out to the parking lot, and then…it’s over. He did it. A weight slides
right off his shoulders and shatters on the ground to have a bit of his old self back as their
group swarms through the parking lot to wait for those in their number that actually got to
walk.

Chrissy makes a beeline for him as soon as she’s through the doors of the school, face lit up
with the same delighted surprise as when he told her he’d be at the championship game. He’s
damn glad Steve cared enough to convince him to come today as he spins her around in a
hug, congratulating her as he sets her down and passes his well wishes on to the others.

“Hey, I actually gotta run, but I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” Gareth asks after a rowdy group
hug with the other Corroded Coffin boys that almost ended with them in a pile on the ground.

“For…what?” Eddie asks, racking his brains for what he might have forgotten in the past
week’s brain funk. They don’t have practice tonight, do they?

Gareth looks at him like he’s being an idiot for just a moment, before his face shifts into
obviously feigned blankness. It’s like watching a train wreck as he stammers, “Umm…forget
I said that, actually. Block that out. You heard nothing.”

“The fuck are you talking about, Gare-Bear?” Eddie asks before his friend can make a break
for it.

Gareth’s eyes shift around, trying to avoid his gaze, before he sighs and says, “Harrington
said we should all come by the house tonight. Like, a grad party thing since you got stiffed. I
should have known it was a surprise, that’s my bad, man.”

Stunned, Eddie glances over to where the rest of their friends are gathered in the parking lot.
The man in question is leaned up against his BMW, trying and failing to keep Robin from
shoving her mortarboard cap down over his hair. Even if he hadn’t managed to drag Eddie
out of the house for this, he’d made sure there was at least one celebration he could
participate in today anyways. Wonders never cease.

“He’s different than how he used to be, isn’t he?” Gareth asks. They’re watching the same
scene play out in front of them, bafflement on Gareth’s face and open adoration on Eddie’s.
“I mean, I know Henderson’s always thought the sun shines out of his ass, but he’s, like,
actually not a douche anymore. I almost can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, he’s something else,” Eddie mutters. Steve’s eyes pass over his as he struggles to hold
Robin’s arms away from him, lighting up his face in a smile when they do. Eddie returns the
wave he sends their way with a slowly expanding grin on his face. Maybe a few extra weeks
in Hawkins to get his head on straight is exactly what he needed.

May 30, 1986

“So it was thought, my friends. So it was thought,” Eddie intones dramatically as the boys
around the table lose their collective shit. He’s had Jeff, Gareth, and Walter up his ass about
when they were finally going to get around to the campaign finale ever since he got out of the
hospital. Two months later seems like enough time for him to guide the group through a fight
against a fictional Vecna without breaking into a cold sweat. It’s a good thing, too, because he
was running out of excuses to give the other three. He was dangerously close to straight-up
admitting that everybody else at the table is at risk of panicking just from hearing the Big
Bad’s name since every one of them nearly lost their own life or the life of a friend to the real
version.

Eddie’s never been the type to downplay the things he’s actually good at, and if there’s one
thing he knows for sure it’s that he writes a damn good D&D campaign. He watched his old
friend Blake like a hawk when he first started playing, picking up as many tricks as he could,
and he’s a self-professed master of it. He knows the perfect balance between existing
modules and homebrewed plot points, and how to draw players in with every word whether
scripted or off the cuff. And if he reads the room well enough to know he should handicap the
final boss a bit to ensure the recently traumatized freshmen around the table get a satisfying
win, then that’s nobody’s business but his own.

It took some persuasion, but he finally convinced the kids’ friend Will to join in this last
session. Eddie’s still not entirely sure what happened to cause the mostly healed rifts between
him and the other boys when it comes to this game, but he got the sense that if they’re
playing a major campaign, then Will being a part of it was important. He deftly worked him
in as another adventurer the party found wandering around the site of the final battle, and the
older boys stopped complaining about the last-minute change when they realized how much
easier it would be to come out on top with an extra set of hands. The giant smiles the kid
keeps sending Mike’s way as he gets comfortable and involved in the game make him sure it
was a good call.
It's loud and chaotic and wonderful, and only ramps up even more when they get to the
climax. Mike and Walter’s characters are down with the rest of the party not far behind them
when Eddie decides enough is enough. There’s, like, 8 hit points left over on Vecna, he’s next
in the initiative order, and the trick shot Lucas just came up with for his character – a flippy
thing off the wall that sends an arrow straight through his remaining eye – is too fucking cool
for it to not be the killing blow. He narrates the death of the villain with as much drama as
possible, drawing the loudest cheer out of the group of the entire night, and revels in it. Even
if it isn’t real this go-around, putting Vecna down for a second time is a rush.

It’s never easy to keep the players’ attention for long after the end of a major fight, so he ties
up the narrative with a neat little bow in about ten minutes and then leans back in his chair
with his arms spread wide open to bask in the afterglow of a good finish to a campaign, all
his players chattering excitedly around the table as they dissect every minute of it. Damn,
he’s good.

Starting to get back to himself has been like a breakthrough, a shot of new life as winter
melts over into spring. That graduation party courtesy of one Steve Harrington – getting back
out in the world and surrounding himself with friends again – really did wonders and he’s
only felt better since. The humiliation when he can’t do all the things he used to, or when he
needs a babysitter for a simple trip into town, now merely simmers off and on instead of
threatening to boil over, and these last few weeks of waiting seem more manageable than
ever. They’d be even more manageable if he could work up the nerve to do something about
whatever the hell’s going on with him and Steve, but he’ll take what he can get.

Right on time, he hears Nancy lay on the station wagon’s horn from the driveway, and the
boys start packing up their stuff to leave. He half-expects Steve to make an appearance to say
goodbye – maybe take a couple good-natured shots at Dustin on the kid’s way out the door –
but he disappeared hours ago and Eddie hasn’t seen him since. He shepherds them all out the
door, shooting Nancy a sarcastic salute that she returns with matching energy as the four
freshmen head her way.

Dustin lingers a few steps away from the front door, eyes flickering between the car and the
house with his brows furrowed. Nancy honks the horn again, but Dustin holds up a hand her
way and turns back to Eddie.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he asks. “After the trial? I heard Chrissy and Robin talking
about it at the party.” Eddie can’t quite read his face, can’t tell if he’s feeling hurt or upset or
just wants to make sure he has all the facts, but he’d never lie to the kid anyways.

“Yeah. Pretty much right after,” Eddie says, keeping his voice gentle and watching Dustin’s
face carefully. It stays blank for a moment, before he frowns and nods. It’s still not clear
what’s going through his head, and Eddie says, “You know I’d stick around a while longer if
I could, but…”

“No, I know. That’s not it,” Dustin says in a rush, looking up at him with wide eyes. “I mean,
you graduated, right? People leave this shithole when they graduate. That’s how life works,
and…and I hear what people are saying around town. You have to go, I get it. It’s just…this
was probably our last time playing, huh?”
Eddie’s face crumples and he pulls Dustin into a hug, resting his chin on top of the kid’s
head. “Not a chance, dude. You’re gonna come visit me or I’ll drag you there myself.”

Dustin sniffs, a wet sounding laugh bursting out from where his face is buried in Eddie’s vest,
and asks, “And…Steve? You guys are all friends now. Is he leaving with you?”

Eddie winces, because that’s circling too close to the million-dollar question, isn’t it? He
sighs, and says, “I don’t know, Henderson. I really don’t.”

Dustin nods and takes a step back, wiping at his eyes and trying to school his face into
something vaguely resembling happiness. “I’m just really gonna miss you guys,” he says,
voice watery. Eddie’s laugh isn’t much better as he pulls him into another quick hug, ruffles
his hair, and shoves him towards the car. There’ll be time for a real goodbye later, and there’s
no need to risk the wrath of Nancy Wheeler any more than they already have.

The house is quieter than expected after he locks the front door back up behind him. Robin
and Chrissy snuck out earlier while the kids were distracted by the fight, on their way to
whatever kind of adorable date the local lesbians are getting up to these days. It’s nauseating,
really, in the best possible way. Steve should be around here somewhere. His car’s still in the
driveway and he wouldn’t have taken off without saying something.

“Steve?” Eddie calls out to no response. He sets off at a brisk pace to search the house.
Logically, the guy’s probably fine. After Chrissy and Fred’s visions, though, people not
answering when he calls out for them isn’t his favorite thing in the world. “Earth to Steve?
Where are you, man?”

There’s a shuffling noise and a small groan from the sunroom by the door to the pool, and he
follows it. Steve is lying stock still on the tiny couch in there with all the lights off and one
arm thrown over his eyes. Eddie thinks of all the screaming that’s been going on a couple
rooms away, instantly solves the mystery of Steve’s absence this evening, and feels all kinds
of guilty about it. Robin had mentioned something about Steve getting headaches. This one
looks like a doozy, and having Hellfire over probably made it worse.

“You good?” he asks, laying a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder where he lies on the couch.
Steve groans again, and waves the hand not covering his face at him. The movement has him
clenching his teeth in pain. “What do you need?”

Steve tries to wave him off again, but Eddie’s not having it. “Don’t even start with that. I owe
you a few at this point. What do you need?”

He’s silent for another moment, then whispers, “Ice pack and a couple Tylenol.”

“Coming right up. Let’s go,” Eddie says, extending a hand. Steve peeks out from under his
arm and frowns, but goes along with it. He grabs Eddie’s hand and lets himself be pulled to
his feet and gently steered towards the living room.

“Dude, moving hurts. I was fine there,” Steve whines, stumbling over his feet as Eddie walks
him forward by his shoulders.
“That thing is a couch on a technicality at best. The gremlins are gone, it’s quiet out here. Go
use the comfy one. Much better spot to suffer in.”

Steve keeps shuffling over to the living room, and Eddie breaks away from him to grab an ice
pack from the kitchen freezer and Tylenol from the bathroom. When he returns, Steve is in
the same position on a different couch, hissing through his teeth every time a movement
aggravates his headache.

Eddie plops down onto the couch harder than he means to, instantly apologizing when it
jostles Steve enough to draw another groan from him. He sits up for just a second to swallow
down a couple pills from the bottle, but doesn’t make any move to take the ice pack. Instead,
he lies back down with his head in Eddie’s lap. He doesn’t do anything else, just lies there
with his eyes screwed shut. Eddie freezes for an awkwardly long moment, condensation from
the ice pack dripping down his wrist as he tries to figure out what he’s supposed to do here.
Slowly, with plenty of time for Steve to stop him if he’s reading this wrong, he lowers the ice
pack to his forehead and holds it there.

Steve sighs in relief, sinking into the cushions and relaxing in Eddie’s lap as his jaw starts to
unclench. The silence is unbearable, drawing too much attention to the way they’re lying.
Eddie inches his free hand towards the remote at a glacial pace, clicking on the TV for
something to distract him and setting it at a low volume so it doesn’t bother Steve even more.

Headaches have only been a minor issue for him after his concussion from the explosion and
that’s been bad enough. He can’t imagine what kind of migraines you get from three of them.
It only makes him think more highly of Steve, that he got knocked down that many times and
kept getting up to protect these shithead kids they’re both so fond of, even if he’s still bearing
the marks from it all these years later. A real knight in shining armor, indeed.

The thought knocks something into place in his brain. Something that seems embarrassingly
obvious in retrospect. His burns are almost completely healed at this point – no more open
wounds in need of antibiotics to keep from getting infected – but it’s not the end of the road.
They’ve healed into raised, red patches of scar tissue that still need lotion every day so his
skin isn’t too tight to move. He wears a compression sleeve over the worst of the burns on his
left arm every second he’s not in the shower so that they’ll eventually scar right, too.

They’re getting fewer and further between, but there are still days where everything that
happened to him leaves him barely able to do anything at all. Steve or Chrissy or one of the
kids who happens to be passing through the house will often have to reach things for him or
grab things from another room. He kind of hates it, the way it makes him feel less than the
others for having the leftover effects of their misadventures scattered all over his skin months
after the fact.

Now that he’s having a breakthrough about it, it doesn’t really hold up. He may have the most
visible marks from the Upside Down, but he’s far from the only one. Max is out of her
wheelchair, but she has a cane now to help her get around while her legs finish healing. He’s
overheard Chrissy on the phone with her late at night talking through some shared nightmare,
leftovers from the curse that plowed through their heads. Robin had to leave his hospital
room any time someone on the staff pulled out a needle. He hasn’t spent much time with
Jonathan Byers since their family moved back except to sell the rest of his stash to somebody
who’s medically allowed to smoke it. When he did, the guy told him that half the reason he
partakes is because in go-around number three, a walking corpse smashed a stool over his
spine and it’s the only form of pain management that consistently works.

The point is, every member of this horrible club needs a bit more help getting through the day
than your average teenager slash young adult, and he doesn’t think any less of them for it. It’s
basically the cost of admission. He’s got one of the more physically fucked up of their
number sprawled across his lap right now, and everything he’s gone through only makes him
more fond of the guy. It’s easier said than done, but maybe he should try and extend that
same grace towards himself. The other members of the group certainly are.

Eddie smiles as he leans back into the cushions and runs his free hand through Steve’s hair,
pressing into his temples underneath the edges of the ice pack. Steve sighs, melting even
further into the cushions, and Eddie settles in for a long night. For now, Steve’s the one who
needs a little TLC, and maybe it won’t feel quite as bad the next time Eddie needs him to
return the favor.

June 3, 1986

The next time comes a lot sooner than Eddie expected, a Tuesday night just a few days after
they finished Hellfire. He’s halfway through his mangled skin routine and it sucks, not to put
too fine a point on things. Usually, he manages it all just fine, but every once in a while,
there’s a day like today where it’s just not coming together.

The water pressure here is normally one of his favorite things in the world, but today it felt
like needles digging into the oversensitive skin on his left arm. He pushed himself too far
with his PT stretches, and the scars are pulling too tight, and he can’t reach the backs of his
shoulders or that one spot on his spine without hissing in discomfort from the movement.
Instead, he’s collapsed face down on his bed and trying to muster up the energy for a fourth
try.

Normally, he’d ask Chrissy for help, but her and Robin are out again. Supergirl had gotten
one look at Chrissy’s hair and outfit at the graduation party and decided her attendance at a
girls’ night was mandatory. She won’t be back until the morning, so he’s just got to figure out
a way to do it himself. Just as he’s bracing himself for another reach that will almost certainly
just hurt instead of accomplishing anything, he hears a knock on the frame of the door.

“I’m ordering pizza – you want anything?” Steve asks. Eddie sighs and buries his face further
in the blankets. This isn’t exactly how he wants Steve to see him, as somebody so
overexerted by a few simple stretches that he can’t put on his own damn lotion.

“A gun,” Eddie says, and luckily Steve laughs. He’s glad they’re at the point where he can
crack morbid jokes without reminding everybody of the fact that he actually almost died. It’s
one of his favorite coping mechanisms, and it’s more fun when those around him are in on
the joke.

“That’s more Nancy’s area, man. Best I can do is an improvised weapon,” Steve says as he
walks closer. His weight settles on the edge of the bed. “Seriously, are you good? You look
kinda wrecked.”

Weighing his options is tricky here. On one hand, you’ve got the overwhelming need to get
some relief for the stretching and pulling in his skin. On the other, the mortification of asking
for this kind of help from the guy he spends an embarrassing portion of his waking hours
thinking about. He’s trying to be better about that, though, isn’t he? About wholeheartedly
accepting a helping hand?

“It’s the scars, man,” he says, rolling over onto his back. “I overdid it like a moron, and now I
can’t put the fucking lotion on my back. It’s so stupid.”

Eddie covers his face with his hands, an extra layer between him and the nightmare unfolding
in his room. It’s one thing if Chrissy sees him like this. She’s already seen him at all his
lowest points in recent years and loves him despite it. Hell, he’d even let Uncle Wayne help
him out here, cause Lord knows he’s seen enough of Eddie’s shit to be used to it by now. But
Steve? No matter how well he gets to know him, Eddie can’t shake the image of him as this
larger-than-life figure, the handsome former king swooping in to save the day with kind
words and dashing heroics when Eddie’s in danger. Impressing the guy is important to him.

“It’s not stupid, Eddie. Here, hand it over,” he says, hand outstretched for the bottle of lotion.
Eddie freezes. There’s not really another way that bitching about the problem could have
gone, but it’s still…a lot, to put it lightly. They’ve been living together too long – he’s been
head over heels for the guy for maybe even longer than that – and having Steve’s hands on
him after it all might be too much. This has got to get done one way or another, though.
Might as well rip off the band-aid.

“Screw it. Knock yourself out,” Eddie mutters, aiming for casual and missing by a mile as he
hands over the bottle. He hopes he manages to hide the tremble in his hands as he holds it, or
in his arms as he moves to perch on the edge of the bed. Steve scooches over to sit behind
him, legs crossed as he warms some lotion up in his hands and starts to smooth it over
Eddie’s shoulders.

His teeth dig into the skin of his lower lip hard enough to hurt from the effort of not making a
sound. It’s heavenly, strong hands massaging his sore muscles in a way nobody’s ever done
for him before. For his own peace of mind, he tries not to think about where exactly Steve got
so good at this. It can’t have been solely for practical reasons. Revitalizing moisture seeps
into his scarred skin, bringing with it the same relief it always does. Normally, this process
helps him breathe a little easier, too, but that seems like a lost cause just about now.

They move on to the other scar that’s out of his reach, the one dead center on his spine. It’s
starting to seem like he might have bitten off more than he can chew. Steve’s hands are big,
one splayed wide across the scar and the other just barely curled beside Eddie’s hip to hold
some of his weight as he leans in at an awkward angle. Overwhelmed by the proximity, Eddie
jolts away before he completely loses it, and the sudden movement almost sends Steve
toppling to the side.

“Shit, did that hurt? Sorry, man, I thought they were pretty much healed,” Steve says, setting
the lotion aside with wide eyes. Internally, Eddie curses him just a bit for being his wonderful
self and checking in on him before he could figure out a way to take care of this on his own.
For good measure, he curses himself a bit, too, for walking right into this like an idiot. He
scoots up to the very edge of the bed to get some distance, sucking in a deep breath and
hoping it comes across as discomfort from his scars more than anything else.

“Eddie, come on. You’re, like…shaking. What’s wrong?”

“You really gonna make me spell it out for you?” Eddie says. It’s not said unkindly, but the
stunned laughter is still obvious in his voice. Steve looks confused, unsure what it is he’s
supposed to have figured out on his own. Eddie knows that Steve isn’t actually dumb. It
seems that way sometimes, but that’s mostly due to being surrounded by people like Dustin
Henderson and Nancy Wheeler, who make anyone look dumb in comparison. Still, just like
anyone, there’s moments where he simply can’t connect the dots people need him to.

This is one of those moments. Eddie wants Steve to pick up on what he’s not saying, to
understand without words why he’s such a nervous wreck, but it’s not clicking. He’s not sure
how, at this point. He doesn’t think he’s been subtle in how he feels about Steve, but
apparently there’s a disconnect there. The only way to get his point across is to just…tell
Steve. Tell him exactly why the weight of his hands has turned Eddie into a jittery pile of
putty.

Weirdly enough, Eddie wants to tell him. It worked out for Chrissy, didn’t it? Her and Robin
have spent the past couple weeks nauseatingly happy around the house just to prove it. More
than that, though, it feels like he’s running out of time. Jason’s trial is only a couple of weeks
away, and after that he’s out of here. Sure, he and Steve are most likely gonna end up in the
same city eventually, but it just feels like if he doesn’t make a move before they leave then
he’s gonna miss his chance. Maybe that’s ridiculous, but he just knows it, somewhere in his
bones. Gotta take a leap of faith sometimes, right?

“It’s not super fun for you to see me like this,” Eddie says, testing the waters. Maybe he’ll get
lucky, and Steve will piece it together from that.

“See you like…what do you mean?” Steve asks, and Eddie sighs. Might as well just spit it
out, right?

“I mean that I am painfully fucking gone on you, Steve. Probably have been since spring
break. So I don’t want you to see me like this. All stiff and pathetic cause I can’t do my
stretches right. Can’t even put some lotion on my own god damn shoulders. And the sc-…the
scars. They’re so fucking ugly, I don’t want you to see this part.”

Eddie flaps his hands at his own torso as he talks, gesturing at the distorted patches stretching
over his skin and through the tattoos he got years ago with money he didn’t have. The worst
of it is usually hidden under a shirt, and he tries to get the same effect here by curling in on
himself just enough that it doesn’t draw more attention to him, angling away from Steve as
his knee starts to bounce up and down. He’s trying to be better about accepting what he looks
like post-Upside Down, but it’s a tall order right now.

“They’re not ugly,” Steve says. He sounds sincere, almost offended on his behalf, but Eddie
scoffs anyways.

“Don’t bullshit me, man. I know how I look,” Eddie says, trying to turn even further away.
Before he can move too far, Steve’s hands are back on his shoulders. Eddie tenses in surprise
as the other boy scrambles forward to sit next to him on the edge of the bed and spins him
back around to look at him.

Steve doesn’t stop until they’re eye to eye, hands sliding off Eddie’s shoulders and up his
neck to hold the sides of his face. He could probably still pull away if he wanted to, but why
would he want to when Steve is looking at him like that? He has the same serious look in his
eyes as when Eddie was bandaging his wounds, or when they were parting ways in the
Upside Down. The look that says he’s about to impart some kind of heartfelt, life-changing
honesty that turns Eddie’s world on its head.

“They’re not ugly,” he repeats, emphatic and firm. Where Steve sometimes can’t connect the
dots, Eddie often has the opposite problem, connecting wrong dots way too quickly and
landing on an assumption that takes him ages to shake. It took him weeks before he believed
Chrissy was actually his friend when they first met.

Now, though? Now he’s pretty sure he’s got it right. When a boy you know is also queer –
more importantly, a boy you know cares about you – is holding your face tenderly in his
hands and telling you that your scars aren’t anything to be ashamed of, moments after you
told him exactly what he means to you, it’s hard to interpret that as anything other than the
biggest green flag in the world.

Eddie searches Steve’s eyes for any sign that he’s reading this wrong, and finds nothing.
They’re a little intense, but there’s nothing to suggest Steve wants to be anywhere but right
here, inches away and slowly drifting closer. The idea of doing anything with that is scary as
shit, but they’re not in the Upside Down anymore. There’s nothing life-threatening in the
room. The time for running from scary shit is past.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Eddie reaches out with a shaky hand. He curls it gently
around the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him across the last inch of space between them and
sealing their lips together. He doesn’t have any time to wonder if he’s made a horrible
mistake. Steve is kissing him back before he can even blink, sighing as he slides a hand
further back to tangle in Eddie’s hair.

It's easy to see where Steve gets the reputation people used to whisper about in the halls at
school. Eddie’s only experience to speak of is making out with one or two drunk dudes on
weekends far away from Hawkins, but even he can tell that Steve is damn good at this,
pulling Eddie in and mapping his face with those strong hands that have been driving him
crazy today. He kicks himself for waiting so long to do this and surges even closer, dropping
his own hand to grip at Steve’s waist.
“Hold on, wait a sec,” Steve pants, breathing hard as he pulls away. Eddie really hopes he
didn’t chalk this up to a win too early. Steve doesn’t retreat any further, though. He stays
close, and says, “The burns. They were bothering you, yeah? Maybe we should take it easy?”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says, touched by the concern, and tries to lean back in. Steve matches him,
leans back just as far. Eddie huffs, smile on his face and heart in his throat. “Steve, they
bother me at least a little bit pretty much all the time. I know my own limits, and I’m telling
you the only thing that could make me not fine right now is if you don’t kiss me again.”

Steve smiles, shaking his head fondly. He presses a light kiss to Eddie’s lips and follows it
with a longer one that leaves Eddie dizzy before he pulls away again. Eddie groans in
frustration, but when he opens his eyes, Steve doesn’t look hesitant anymore. He’s got one
brow raised and a gleam in his eye as he asks, “You want me to lock the door or something,
then?”

Eddie matches the grin on the other boy’s face, pulling him close and muttering against his
mouth, “Fucking absolutely I do.”

June 4, 1986

The ceiling fan in Eddie’s room wiggles out of its track a bit every few rotations. That’s what
he’s focusing on to keep from spiraling over the fact that he just woke up next to the guy he’s
been pining after for months and can’t quite believe it actually happened. Steve is still
sleeping next to him – that’s proof enough – but it doesn’t feel real.

People like Steve and Chrissy have been poking little holes in his Munson doctrine for ages
now, but he still can’t shake the idea that there’s something wrong with this picture. He
shouldn’t get to have something like this with someone like Steve, the hero to Eddie’s
sidekick role. The only reason he’s even in a house like this is because he blew up his trailer
and Steve swooped in to the rescue. He doesn’t know how to reconcile it.

“Quit thinking so loud. I was actually sleeping in, for once,” Steve says, voice muffled from
where it’s buried in the pillow next to him. Eddie can’t help but smile at the words, even if
his head’s still spinning.

“Sorry. Lost in my head,” Eddie admits softly, finally tearing his gaze away from the ceiling.
Steve tilts his head to the side, frowning up with one eye through some truly impressive
bedhead.

“Not gonna run for the hills, are you?” Steve asks. Eddie thinks it’s supposed to be a joke, but
it comes out strained, real insecurity hidden beneath it. That’s surprising to him. He would
have guessed that he held a monopoly on the morning-after freak out based on Steve’s
reputation.
“No, just…can’t believe it, you know?” Eddie asks, fiddling with the fabric on the blanket
over his chest.

“No?” Steve asks, rolling over now to face him fully. “I feel like I’ve been pretty damn
obvious.”

It’s too early for Steve to be connecting dots, it seems. Or maybe Eddie’s just so off-base that
Steve can’t even comprehend what he’s saying. That’s the more desirable option. “I don’t
know, man. People like you just don’t usually end up with people like me. Seems too good to
be true.”

“Not this again,” Steve groans. “Thought we squashed the whole ‘not who I was in high
school’ thing?”

“Yeah, we did,” Eddie says. “Just hard not to wonder if all of this is just because you had to
save my sorry ass so many times.”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve says, throwing his arms up to rest behind his head on the pillow. “You
gotta give yourself a break. That wouldn’t even be such a bad thing. I mean, you saved my
ass too. I’m only friends with Robin and Dustin ‘cause we saved each other. Who gives a
shit? But, it’s a…mute point, anyways.”

“Moot,” Eddie says on instinct, yawning into his hand.

“What?”

“Never mind. Doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, because it doesn’t. What kind of asshole goes
around correcting people’s vocabulary first thing in the morning? “What do you mean?”

“I mean the stuff with the Upside Down doesn’t matter ‘cause I was into you before then,”
Steve says, stretching casually like he didn’t just drop a bomb into the conversation.

“Fuck off, no you weren’t,” Eddie says, raising up on an elbow to look down at Steve. He’s
fairly certain he would have noticed that. “You didn’t know me before then.”

“Well, duh. It wasn’t, like, real,” Steve says. “Not like now. I was picking up Dustin from
Hellfire and it was like a ‘woah, was Munson always hot?’ kinda thought that just went
through my head, you know? Wasn’t happy about it, either.”

Eddie doesn’t know where to even being unpacking that. “You weren’t…happy about it?”

“Hell, no. Every other guy I could admit was hot was, like, an actor or some random stranger
or something. Pissed me off that the first time I was into a guy that was, like, an actual person
I knew, it was the guy the kids liked better than me who probably hated me from school and
was totally unavailable. Or, I thought you were unavailable.”

“I never hated you,” Eddie says. Steve raises a disbelieving eyebrow, but it’s true. “Scout’s
honor. You were kind of a douche sometimes, but I didn’t hate you. Mild to moderate
distaste, at most.”
 Steve snorts a laugh, and says, “The point is, the stuff with the Upside Down didn’t make me
like you or something. Just made it…real.”

“You could have told me all that,” Eddie says. That’s what’s tripping him up now. In what
world does Steve Harrington, serial dater and general ladies’ man of Hawkins, not just ask
somebody out once he knows he’s in with a chance? “’Cause, no offense, but you don’t seem
like someone who has trouble with this stuff, and I haven’t exactly been subtle either.”

“Listen, I don’t know what exactly you think my reputation is around here, but it’s all…
bullshit,” Steve says. He almost sounds sad, and Eddie makes sure to give him his full
attention. “Like, yeah, I date a lot but that’s all pointless. I meet someone I kinda like, we go
out a couple times. It’s like this fun, flirty bubble. Then we hook up once or twice and I never
hear from them again, and pop! Bubble’s gone. None of it’s real. The only real thing I ever
had was with Nancy, and even that turned out to pretty much all be in my head in the end,
so…I don’t know. If you were the same, if I was reading into things, I didn’t want to pop the
bubble and find out.”

Eddie stares at Steve, well and truly gawks, because he’s finally getting hit with the last of a
series of breakthroughs that probably should have come a while ago. He’s long since
accepted that Steve is different from what he would have expected, but it’s finally sinking in
that Steve’s just…a guy. Not the theoretically hot former ruler of the Hawkins High social
hierarchy, not some heroic white knight swooping in to save Eddie from the monsters. Just a
guy. A guy who uses words wrong, and gets killer migraines, and is nervous to go for what he
wants because he’s had his heart broken before. A guy who makes Eddie really happy, and if
that isn’t just about the best thing Steve Harrington could be.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Steve asks, eyes narrowed at the wide grin taking
over Eddie’s features.

“I just like you a whole lot. So, I guess you’ve got nothing to worry about,” he says, leaning
down to kiss the answering smile right off Steve’s face. That’s something he’s allowed to do
now. What a time to be alive.

Chapter End Notes

They got there folks!

We're almost at the end. The next update will be the last one (with both the final chapter
and an epilogue), and it'll probably take a little longer to post so I can stick the landing,
but I'm so excited to share it with you all
 Like a lighthouse from the sea
Chapter Summary

The trial of Jason Carver

Chapter Notes

In which this fic very briefly pretends to be a legal drama because I couldn't get the idea
out of my head

CW for Chapter 13: no specific/major warnings, but it rehashes a lot of stuff from earlier
chapters so be aware

See the end of the chapter for more notes

June 4, 1986

“Shhh, you’re gonna wake them up,” Chrissy whispers. Her hands bear a delightfully gaudy
coat of purple nail polish courtesy of El, and her voice is full of too much laughter to truly be
taken seriously. She grabs at Robin’s arm to keep her from tripping over the front step of the
Harrington house and tumbling headfirst into the door.

“Please. If little Stevie’s still asleep, I’ll eat my shoes,” Robin says, gesturing at her Converse
as she kicks them off to clatter against the wall. She marches straight to the kitchen while
Chrissy takes her own shoes off more carefully, untying the laces and quietly setting them
down in a neat pile. It only takes her a couple extra seconds, but by the time she’s finished,
Robin’s already sliding back into the entryway on socked feet.

“That little traitor didn’t save me any pizza,” Robin says. The look of utter betrayal on her
face suggests Steve’s committed a great offense in her eyes. “Two leftover slices in the fridge
for Robin every time you order pizza. That’s, like, sacred best friend tradition. Whole
morning’s ruined.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes. She’s not sure at what point in her life she turned into a magnet for
people with a tendency to overdramatize, but at least it keeps things interesting. Robin
disappears up the stairs – on her way to harass Steve for not feeding her, no doubt – but just
like her trip to the kitchen, she’s back almost as soon as she walked away.

“He’s not up there,” Robin whispers, eyes wide. She says it like it holds some special
significance, but Chrissy’s not sure what it is. Steve wakes up early most mornings. He’s
probably just by the pool or out for a run or something. She raises a questioning eyebrow at
Robin, who huffs. “Captain early riser is nowhere to be found, and he’s not in his room. Like,
‘bed untouched, nobody slept there last night’ not in his room.”

Robin looks pointedly at Eddie’s closed bedroom door just down the hall. It takes a moment
for the implication to fully sink in, but when it does, Chrissy’s jaw drops. If Robin’s right, it
would be the best possible news to come home to. She tiptoes over to the door as quietly as
possible and presses her ear against it, ready to make a hasty retreat if she hears something
she shouldn’t. It’s too soft to make out the words through the thick wood, but there’s
undeniably two distinct voices speaking on the other side.

Chrissy sneaks back away from the door, nodding as a blinding smile lights up her face.
Robin pumps a fist in the air as she twirls back towards the kitchen with Chrissy on her heels.
Finally. She was starting to worry those two wouldn’t figure it out.

Hopefully the smell of their morning coffee will inform the boys that they’re no longer alone
in the house before anybody overhears something they’ll regret. Chrissy grabs two mugs
from the cupboard, a salvaged Munson novelty mug for herself and a plain one for Robin
because patterns apparently ‘interfere with the taste.’

She idly traces her fingers over the cracked ceramic as the coffee brews, staring at a broken
shard around the rim that Steve glued back in by hand and wondering how on Earth it took
the two of them this long. Better late than never, at least. Armed with two steaming mugs
fixed just the way they both like, Chrissy leaves the kitchen to find Robin posted up on the
couch with her eyes glued to Eddie's door. She’s radiating excitement as they hear the lock
click and the knob turn. Eddie walks out of the room rubbing at his eyes, and Steve follows
close behind with a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Mazel tov, ya hussies! You owe me breakfast,” Robin shouts with her mug raised in the air,
too elated to care as it spills onto her fingers. Chrissy almost chokes on a gulp of her own
coffee, laughing too hard to keep it down as Steve’s face goes red. He doesn’t even bother
arguing as he flips Robin the bird and grumbles all the way to the kitchen. Eddie laughs,
bending over in a dramatic curtsy before flinging himself into the cozy armchair next to the
couch. He doesn’t blush the way Steve did until Chrissy clears her throat and shoots an
amused glance at the bruise peeking out from the collar of his shirt. Even then, he mostly just
grins like the cat that got the canary.

Steve turns down her shouted offers of help, returning before long with four plates of
scrambled eggs and toast. He drops to sit on the floor, leaning his head back against the side
of Eddie’s leg to endure more of Robin’s good-natured teasing. There’s a valiant effort made
to look annoyed with the whole thing, but his ever-present smile and frequent glances
upwards at the boy behind him give him away.

They’re all too busy eating to talk, so Eddie stretches out to grab the TV remote and turn on
some background noise. It’s a mistake, and Chrissy realizes it a breath before the others do.
When the screen flickers to life, it’s tuned to the local news station. A reporter with Ken doll
hair and a plasticky fake smile drones on about the upcoming trial of Jason Carver, now less
than two weeks away and all anybody can think about in the ‘sleepy little hamlet’ of
Hawkins.
Eddie clicks the TV off as fast as he turned it on, shoving his half-finished plate of food
across the coffee table with a groan and melting back into the chair. It’s hard to blame him.
Even after getting one of the things he’s wanted the most, this stupid trial has to find a way to
worm itself in and spoil the mood.

“I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth and ruin a long overdue morning – so feel free to
tell me to stuff it – but should we maybe…talk about that?” Robin asks. The idea of
shattering the hard-won peace in the room looks like it’s causing her actual physical
discomfort, but she’s probably right. The trial will be here before they know it, and along
with it come plans that keep getting shifted and rearranged and talked around in circles.

“I mean, Eddie and I need to leave,” Chrissy says cautiously, reaching out to hold Eddie’s
hand tight. She watches his face for any sign that he’s changed his mind after the events of
the past twelve hours, but she doesn’t find it. “This has been…amazing, living here and being
with you guys, and we’d stay here right up until it’s time to leave for school if we could,
but…”

“But you guys need to get out of town, like, yesterday,” Robin says. The two of them already
had a chance to talk about this, and there’s nothing but understanding in her eyes now. As
frustrating as it would be to spend the months before the fall semester apart, Eddie staying in
Hawkins is out of the question and Chrissy’s not about to let him leave town all on his own.

Eddie’s doing his best to gnaw his lower lip out of existence. The idea of trying to start
something with Steve before immediately leaving him behind has been a major hangup for
him these past few weeks, and Chrissy hopes this conversation doesn’t give him any reason
to think he was right to worry.

Steve raises an eyebrow at Robin, confirming something without words as the pair of them so
often do, and says, “You know we could always just…leave after the trial, too?”

Eddie’s gaze flits between the other faces in the room, searching for signs of insincerity like
he hadn’t even considered that as an option. She needs to have a chat with him later about his
inability to see that Steve Harrington would give him the world if he could.

“Could you?” Chrissy asks. The idea sends a hopeful flutter through her chest, but she needs
to make sure they’re not mindlessly rushing while things are so new. “The trial’s really soon,
and we’re leaving right after. We’re not even coming back to Hawkins to pack. That’s kind of
short notice to pick your entire life up and move.”

“It’s not like we’d be moving across the ocean or something. Only a couple hours away,”
Robin argues. It sounds rehearsed, like her and Steve have talked this through already. “And
we were gonna be there in August, anyways. Leaving a couple months early is no biggie.”

“You don’t think that’s kinda…fast, though?” Eddie asks, wincing as he says it. It’s obvious
he’s trying not to get his hopes up. He gestures between himself and Steve, and says, “I
mean, this just happened last night, and you wanna skip town already?”

“Eddie, I don’t know how to break this to you, but we literally already live together,” Steve
says, quirking an amused eyebrow as he tips his head back further onto the cushion to look
Eddie in the eyes.

“Fair enough,” Eddie says on the tail end of a surprised laugh. There’s a gleam in his eyes as
he turns to Chrissy and Robin. “Hey, if we’re shacked up on day one, I think that makes us
better lesbians than you two. How does that make you ladies feel?”

Chrissy laughs through another sip of coffee, cursed to never finish a drink again as long as
her friends can’t go three seconds without cracking a joke. Robin feigns a scowl, and says,
“Violent, Edward. It makes me feel violent.”

“Look, we were already thinking about this. Way before yesterday,” Steve says, fidgeting
absent-mindedly with a loose string on the hem of Eddie’s sweatpants. “My parents are
gonna be back end of June, and they’re…I mean, they’re not the worst parents in the world
but they’re not good, either. They just…I don’t know. Things used to be better when they
were here and worse when they were gone, but now it’s the opposite. So, if I’m gonna leave
anyways, then why not be out of here before they even get back? And it keeps us all together.
Win-win.”

Eddie’s face is conflicted, warring between sympathy and a pleased flush at the whole idea.
He looks over to Robin with a raised eyebrow, like he expects her to have the same reasons.

“Don’t look at me. My parents have a couple screws loose sometimes, but they’re pretty
sweet,” Robin says. “Not always enough just to have nice parents, though. You guys aren’t
the only ones who have always dreamed of getting out of Hawkins before it breaks you down
into bits. The sooner the better, I say.”

“You guys are serious?” Eddie asks. He looks less like he’s anticipating a train wreck and
more like a child who’s just been told the family’s planning a trip to Disneyland. “You’re not
just saying shit?”

“Serious as a heart attack,” Robin says, voice muffled from around her final bite of toast.
“We’re all supposed to have each other’s backs, right? Can’t really do that from a hundred
miles away.”

Eddie stares for a moment longer before his face cracks into a smile with a disbelieving
laugh. Chrissy smiles too, releasing his hand to lean closer to Robin. She can’t help but
wonder if Eddie would have been less nervous about his feelings if he’d known that the four
of them weren’t on the verge of splitting up for the summer. He ruffles Steve’s hair – to great
complaint from the other boy – and looks across at her, eyes sparkling.

“Well, Miss Cunningham,” he says in a comedic drawl. “Looks like we have a contract to
break.”

Chrissy furrows her brow, lost until she remembers that wonderfully ridiculous piece of paper
from the day they made their own lifeline. Steve and Robin both look baffled, so she
explains, “When this all started, I felt like I was losing my mind. Thinking that everybody
was gonna find out about me…I don’t think I’ve ever been that upset before. So, when Eddie
had the idea to pretend we were together, he wrote it all out as this fake contract thing to
cheer me up. He tried to make it sound fancy, too. Like, ‘I, Eddie Munson, do so swear’ or
something like that. It was all very dramatic.”

Steve looks so amazingly endeared when he looks back at Eddie that Chrissy feels her heart
swell vicariously for her friend. “So, you’ve just…always been like this, huh?” he asks.

“You dig it. Told me so yourself,” Eddie says. “It would have been in the trailer, though.
Probably ashes by now.”

Chrissy hadn’t realized he kept it all these years. The sentimentality of it is touching, and not
that surprising coming from him. “We don’t need it anymore, anyways,” she says, curling
further into Robin’s side as Steve reaches for Eddie’s abandoned breakfast and insistently
hands it back to him.

June 15, 1986

Chrissy’s not going to spend another night in this house after today. It’s funny, finding a place
that feels like home in Hawkins so soon before having to leave it. The house is empty except
for the four usual suspects now that the goodbye party has died down and their friends have
cleared out. She’ll see a few of them over the next week if they’re also testifying at Jason’s
trial. For many, though, tonight was a farewell, bittersweet and hopeful in equal measure as
the first of their number break free of Hawkins and its terrible shadow.

Eddie and Steve in particular seem drained now that everyone’s gone. Between Eddie’s role
in Hellfire and Steve’s long history as the designated end-of-the-world babysitter, the two
boys have a closer relationship to the younger kids. Leaving has to be especially difficult for
them. Dustin was a wreck on his way out the door. He buried his curly-haired head in both
Steve and Eddie’s shoulders one after the other in a pair of long, drawn-out hugs that Chrissy
politely averted her eyes from. It’s like they’re leaving behind a little brother.

It’s quiet and calm now in the backyard as they share two pool loungers between the four of
them, ignoring the mess that naturally piles up after even the smallest get-togethers. Eddie
convinced Steve to leave it for his absent parents to deal with instead of spending his last
night here cleaning, and nobody had any complaints. It’s not like they trashed the place or
anything.

Chrissy folds herself up to sit on the end of one of the chairs, absent-mindedly picking at the
label on her beer and waving Steve off with a smile when he offers her a third one. She’s
always been a bit of a lightweight, and she doesn’t want to be miserable for the drive
tomorrow. Eddie has no such reservations. He grabs the can from Steve’s hand and leans back
against the pool lounger from his spot on the ground, legs outstretched towards the girls.

Even before all the goodbyes tonight, Eddie’s seemed troubled as the trial’s start date
approaches. He hasn’t told Chrissy what the issue is yet, and she hopes he’s not having
second thoughts about all this. It’s obviously not ideal that the best plan they have is to pin
Vecna’s killings on someone else, but it’s Jason. She thought they were all on board.

The emotional high of the night doesn’t leave much room for those kinds of worries right
now. Chrissy enjoys the light buzz she allowed herself and takes in the scene on the patio. It’s
a snapshot of what their lives will look like once they’re settled in their college town, the four
of them sharing a drink in a tight-knit circle. It’s funny, she thinks, that even though her and
Eddie don’t really have to pretend to date anymore, the fact that they have so much practice
with it will make things easier when they inevitably find themselves in more intolerant
places.

Someone looking in might see the way Eddie and Chrissy’s eyes always find each other to
revel in an inside joke, the same way Steve and Robin do, and assume they’re two straight
couples out together. They might even guess it’s the other way around, with Steve and
Chrissy as a pair of well-to-do popular kids and Eddie and Robin as a couple of outcasts.

Maybe a particularly observant outsider or a friend they’ve trusted to know the truth will
notice the smaller details – Robin’s pleased smile at every brush of Chrissy’s hands as they
eat from the same bowl of chips, or the small, subtle point of contact Steve and Eddie almost
always share – and come to the right conclusion. For all intents and purposes, though, they’ve
just roped Steve and Robin into the act that’s kept them safe all these years, and Chrissy can’t
help but grin to herself from her perch.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her, but it settles into an understanding smile as he follows her
gaze. He’s gotten too good at guessing what she’s thinking over all these years. The two of
them really did get lucky here, to find not only each other but also a ‘matching set of
dumbasses,’ to use Eddie’s words. His smile takes on a mischievous edge, the kind that
usually means he’s about to start something both entertaining and exasperating.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking about?” he says, draining the last of his can and tossing
it on the pile. “I’m thinking about how little sixth grade Chrissy Cunningham – with her big
old pre-braces teeth and her kiddy crush on Melanie Pruitt – would have lost her shit if I told
her this is where we’d be six years later.”

Only a little embarrassed, Chrissy tosses a chip at Eddie and watches the shards tangle into
his hair as he fumbles the catch. Steve is reclining on the chair behind Eddie with half an
Oreo stuck to his forehead for a game Robin challenged him to that he’s determined to
master. He’s distracted from his efforts to look over at Chrissy with a frown.

“Wait, Melanie P. was your first girl crush?” he asks. “Oof, you dodged a bullet. She’s a total
dud. Bad kisser and she was rude to our waiter.”

Eddie cackles from his place on the ground beneath Steve, as Robin gapes at her friend.
“When the hell did you date Melanie Pruitt?” Robin asks, holding out her hands like she’s
counting Steve’s former flings on her fingers. It only makes Eddie laugh harder, slumping
over on the concrete.

“I mean, calling it dating is generous. We only went out twice, ‘cause, you know…dud,” he
says, contorting his face to try and get the Oreo in his mouth.
“Is that just your whole shtick? You discover a lesbian’s queer awakening and call her a dud?
Because that’s twice now. Getting a little stale, you know?”

“Just calling it like I see it, Rob. If you wanted a different answer, you shouldn’t have told me
you used to have a thing for Tammy freakin’ Thompson,” Steve says, mouth scrunched up in
distaste.

“Wait, is that who prom girl was?” Chrissy asks, turning to Robin with a confused frown.
Sure, Tammy was really pretty, but Chrissy remembers her being kind of annoying. Her
national anthem performance was the worst part of the championship game. “She’s…nice, I
guess.”

“Muppet,” Steve interjects, laughing himself halfway off the chair and leaning over into
Eddie’s space. “The word you’re looking for is ‘Muppet.’”

“Mock me all you like, Steven, but yours is worse and we both know it,” Robin says in a
singsong voice. It’s Steve’s turn to blush, making an aborted reach across the space between
their chairs to try and cover Robin’s mouth.

Eddie gasps, turning to Steve so fast they almost knock heads. “Who was it?”

Steve looks up to the sky, Oreo sliding off his face and onto the ground as he begrudgingly
admits, “Did you ever go to the mall when it was still here? The Jazzercise place on the
second floor?”

Chrissy knows exactly who he’s talking about, and doubles over in laughter. Just a second
behind her, Eddie puts the pieces together and looks horrified.

“Steve, no,” he pleads, eyes huge. “That Thor-looking motherfucker? You’ve gotta be
joking.”

“Okay, hang on,” Steve says, rushing to defend himself from what is probably the worst taste
of the night so far. “I didn’t have an actual thing for the guy. He’s just what made me figure it
out. Like, Jazzercise has all the weird hip-thrusting stuff, right? So, if you’ve got a hot guy
doing hip stuff and hot girls doing hip stuff and I feel the same way about both of them, even
I can connect those dots.”

“How are you real?” Eddie asks, looking up at Steve with literal stars in his eyes.

“Well come on, then,” Steve says with his face buried in his hands. “Please tell me yours is
bad too so I don’t just die on the spot.”

Eddie snorts a laugh before the corners of his mouth turn down, a bit sadder than he was a
moment ago. “Nah, mine’s boring. Middle school best friend before I met Chris, had to leave
town. Tale as old as time.”

Chrissy’s laughter dies down at the look on his face. It’s no secret that Eddie still feels guilty
about getting Lenny sent away, even if their own friendship might not have blossomed if he
had stayed. Steve picks up on the change in mood, too. He slides all the way off the pool
lounger he’s already hanging on to by a thread, dropping next to Eddie and pulling his head
onto his shoulder as he changes the topic to something lighter.

In the driveway twenty yards to the left, Eddie’s van is full of boxes packed with the sparse
belongings of four young adults who haven’t had a chance to actually accumulate any stuff
yet. The only things left unpacked are some sleeping bags and a change of clothes –
everything they need to camp out in the living room of the Harrington’s house for one last
night.

Steve’s parents haven’t answered the voicemail he left to tell them that he was moving out.
They’ve surely heard about the house’s extra inhabitants from somebody in Hawkins, but the
few times they’ve called since Chrissy’s been living here, they haven’t mentioned it. It’s no
wonder Steve was so ready to get out of here.

In the morning, they’ll wake up earlier than any of them would like. Eddie and Chrissy will
pack themselves into the van, Robin and Steve will follow in the BMW, and they’ll leave
Hawkins in their rearview mirror. The courts didn’t even attempt to find an impartial jury in
town, so they’ll drive two hours away to Indianapolis to sit through whatever curveballs the
trial throws at them. It won’t be the first awful week they’ve gotten each other through, and it
probably won’t be the last.

June 16, 1986

As they pull out of the Harrington’s driveway for the last time, Eddie’s hands grip the
steering wheel so tightly that the skin around his rings has gone white. The trial starting is
serious for all of them, but there’s an extra layer of tension in his countenance that Chrissy
can’t quite figure it out.

“You okay?” she asks, sipping at the travel mug of coffee Robin made for her that morning.

“Yeah, just fucking peachy,” Eddie snaps, then instantly deflates. “Sorry, just…thinking.”

“I think it’s gonna turn out okay. We’ve just got to push through it, right?” Chrissy asks as
they pull out on the main road. They’ve had a few phone calls with Ms. Clifford, the lawyer
prosecuting for the state, and she seems optimistic.

“He might still get off,” Eddie mumbles. The only sounds in the van are the turn signal’s
repetitive chiming and the metallic clink of Eddie tapping his rings on the wheel.

“The lawyer we talked to made it sound like…”

“You don’t get it, Chris,” Eddie says, cutting her off. He’s frustrated, clearly, but he takes
great care not to be short with her again. It’s moments like these that make Chrissy wonder
how anybody could think he’s even remotely similar to his dad.
“Explain it to me, then,” she says, gently prodding for more information.

“He didn’t do it. I mean, even if he did, it might not have stuck. Look at him. But there’s a
good chance he gets off, because he didn’t do it. ‘Not guilty’ would mean the jury did their
jobs right.”

“Eddie, I thought you agreed with this,” Chrissy says. Given everything that Jason’s done to
Eddie, both during spring break and last year, she didn’t think any of them were all that torn
up over him taking the fall.

“No, I do,” Eddie says. Chrissy believes him, but he still looks upset. “It’s just…look, I know
we can’t tell the truth, and I know he should be locked up for all the other stuff. Hell, I even
know he deserves it – it’s not look like I actually feel sorry that the jackass is gonna rot. But
just a few months ago it was me about to go down for something I didn’t do, and it was one
of the scariest things that’s ever happened to me. And now, the only way to put this behind
me for good is to hope it happens to somebody else. I know it’s a good plan but it’s got my
head all mixed up. I don’t think it’s gonna feel like a win until we’re done with it.”

Chrissy’s face softens as she looks more closely at the visible signs of nervousness all over
her friend’s body, his fidgeting fingers and torn up lower lip. She hadn’t thought of it like
that, too busy being happy that Eddie’s name was cleared and that Jason was actually going
to face a consequence for once in his life. As the van gets further away from the town center,
Chrissy turns back to Eddie with a smile.

“Bet I know what’ll cheer you up,” she says. Eddie looks at her with an eyebrow raised in
fond, resigned amusement. She rolls down the window and sticks her arm out, one tiny hand
flipping the bird at a sign that reads ‘Leaving Hawkins – Come Again Soon.’ She looks in the
rearview mirror to see Steve and Robin copying her in the BMW. A nudge to Eddie’s side is
all it takes to get him laughing and joining in. It’s not a solution by any means, but he seems
lighter as they pass the city limits.

Chrissy stashed some of her own tapes in the glovebox for the drive, but Eddie clearly needs
a mood boost more than she does. She fishes out Piece of Mind and pops it in the cassette
player. By the time they pull up outside the Indianapolis District Court building, things feel
more manageable all around.

Most witnesses will end up saying their piece and heading straight back home. Not them,
though. Ms. Clifford and Hopper both stressed that given Eddie’s connection to the case, it
would be wise to watch as much of the trial as possible so he knows every single word that
might be said about him. They’ll be staying at a nearby motel for however long this thing
lasts.

There’s no time to drive there and settle in before things start, though, so they take turns
changing in the back of the van while the others guard the door. Chrissy brought a few of her
nicer outfits. They get a lot more use now that she doesn’t have to hear her mother’s opinion
of them. Eddie borrowed some dress clothes from Steve since his wedding and funeral suit
went up in flames.
She recognizes a few faces from Hawkins as they get out of their cars, but they don’t make
any move to greet each other as they file into the building. There’s no way to tell if they’re
only here to gawk at Eddie, and that’s the last thing they need right now. Ms. Clifford, a tall
woman who looks like she stepped out of a Wonder Woman comic, looks up from her papers
as they enter the courtroom. She searches the faces in their group for Eddie specifically,
greeting him with a nod before turning back to her work.

She’s not technically Eddie’s lawyer. The trial is between Jason Carver and the State of
Indiana, not Jason Carver and Eddie Munson, but they all know that’s just what it says on
paper. Ms. Clifford has made it abundantly clear that if the defense is smart, they’ll be trying
to plant doubt in the juror’s minds by making it look like Hawkins PD let the actual killer off
the hook. If Jason isn’t convicted, it probably won’t be too long before the police circle back
around to Eddie. As long as the truth is buried under a pile of superpowers and NDAs, one of
the two boys will be going down for this and there’s no point pretending otherwise.

Chrissy follows the others to sit near the back of the room so they don’t draw too much
attention to themselves. Eddie’s nerves from this morning are spreading between them all as
she fidgets in her seat. She knows this is their only course of action, but seeing Jason
standing at the front of the room next to a smug man in an expensive suit makes the weight of
it sink in. This isn’t something to take lightly.

The two lawyers each have the opportunity to give a brief opening statement. Ms. Clifford
uses her time to decry the small-town bias that had the police looking exclusively down one
avenue and ignoring anything off that path, even the most glaring signs of madness. Jason’s
defense attorney, Mr. Taylor, paints the whole thing as a smear campaign against a concerned
citizen doing his part to find justice for murdered classmates. He has the audacity to suggest
that Jason’s being unfairly persecuted for his religious beliefs.

Chrissy fights down the urge to laugh. It's completely absurd. Jason did the exact same thing
he accused Eddie of doing – riling a whole crowd up into cult-like, zealous violence – and the
only reason he even stands a chance of getting away with it is because he used his religious
beliefs to justify it. Any reservations she might have about helping send Jason to prison are
start to evaporate as the trial kicks into full gear.

Ms. Clifford wheels out an overhead projector like they have at school, and uses it to show
photos from both crime scenes and the hospital after the final battle. Chrissy has to look away
from the sudden images of Fred and Patrick’s bodies, twisted up practically beyond
recognition. Anything related to the curse still hits too close to home, and Eddie must feel the
same, tensing in his seat next to her.

With the jurors filled in on just how horrible a case they’ve been selected for, the state’s
witnesses start to file up to the stand one by one. There are a few boys from the basketball
team sheepishly admitting to joining Jason’s violent crusade against Eddie, and people from
the town hall meeting recounting the insane speech that drove people to take to the streets
with weapons. Gareth is there, too. Chrissy must have missed him when they arrived. He rubs
at his fingers self-consciously as he describes Jason throwing him to the ground and
smashing them under his shoe, threatening to break them unless he gave up the name of
someone else to terrorize.
Hopper gives the final testimony of the day, called upon as an expert witness with
background knowledge of the town to give the jury an idea of where things went wrong. Ms.
Clifford said she wasn’t above trying to win some emotional points with the jury, either. The
hometown hero mysteriously returned from the dead with a trace of limp and a haunted look
in his eyes certainly pulls on the heartstrings.

“I hear it’s been quite a long road for you to be here with us today, officer,” Ms. Clifford says,
voice professional and cordial.

“Not an officer anymore, ma’am,” Hopper says.

“You aren’t planning to return to police work?”

“Lost my taste for it,” Hopper says. He’s a man of few words sometimes, but he really has a
gift for packing gravitas into the ones he deems worthy of saying.

“That’s very understandable. Hawkins has seen a lot since you started as chief, I take it?” Ms.
Clifford asks.

“Yeah, you could say that. Seems like I missed a big one, though,” Hopper says. It’s as close
to a joke as it’s possible to get about something like this.

“And do you agree with the way your former colleagues handled this case in your…
absence?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t. Munsons have been through enough in Hawkins. They didn’t need to be
given the runaround like that,” Hopper says. Before leaving Hawkins, those of them in the
know agreed to tell as much of the truth as possible when testifying and to leave things out
completely otherwise. Apparently, Hopper’s truth is that Eddie got screwed over, and
Chrissy’s glad that everyone in the room gets to hear it.

“You don’t think Edward Munson should have been considered a suspect?” Ms. Clifford
asks.

“No, they got that part right,” Hopper says. “The way things looked with that first murder, he
should have been their first guess. No question. Where they messed up is deciding he was
their guy and ignoring anything that popped up after that.”

“You’re talking about the defendant, correct?” When Hopper agrees, Ms. Clifford asks, “If
you were running this case, when would you have considered Mr. Carver as a suspect?”

“The minute I got out to that second crime scene. You’ve got an obviously troubled young
man with a trunk full of weapons – weapons he was intending to use on a classmate whose
name hadn’t even been released yet – and talking about people being the spawn of the devil
or something, you take him in. Even if you don’t think he did it, even if it’s just for his own
good, you take him in. You don’t let him get up in front of a crowd and start a mob. You
don’t completely ignore him as a suspect so you can go chase a bunch of kids through the
woods on a goose chase ‘cause they play some stupid game. Could’ve saved everyone a lot
of trouble if the kid was sitting in the station where he should have been instead of out
stirring things up.”

Mr. Taylor gets to ask follow up questions of each witness, cross-examining them to try and
pick apart their arguments, but he can’t make any headway with Hopper. When he wonders
why the court should listen to a former officer who wasn’t even in town at the time the
murders occurred, Ms. Clifford gets him to move on by reminding him of the definition of an
expert witness. When he insinuates that Hopper’s relationships to so many of the people
involved might be clouding the former officer’s judgment, Hopper dryly remarks that if a
small-town cop couldn’t have an opinion on anybody he knew personally, then he’d just be
sitting around with this thumb up his ass all day.

As they’re leaving for the day, Chrissy can’t help but feel hopeful. She has a decent grasp on
how trials like this are supposed to work from all the reading she’s done, and it really seems
like today went their way. Even Eddie has settled down some. He unclenches his hands when
they get back into the van to drive to the motel, rubbing at his palms to work out the half-
moon indents his nails have pressed into his skin.

June 17, 1986

Even buoyed up from yesterday’s relative success, walking into the courtroom for the second
day of the trial is daunting. Ms. Clifford’s plan was to save the heavy hitting testimonies for
today so they’re freshest in the minds of the jury. That means everybody who was inside the
Creel house when Jason showed up, and Eddie.

To say Chrissy’s nervous would be the understatement of the year. She doesn’t want to
openly lie – none of her friends from Hawkins do – but saying anything that doesn’t line up
with the official story is the worst-case scenario. Eddie’s even more of a wreck then she is,
turning one of his rings around his finger over and over again at the thought of having to get
up there and talk about spring break. Chrissy slips off the ring Eddie gave her freshman year
and holds it out to him. He needs it more than she does, today. The smooth metal spins more
easily than the other chunky ones he wears, and she knows from experience that it works
better to calm jangled nerves.

Max is up first today, and the sight of a fifteen-year-old girl with a cane slowly making her
way up to a witness stand is a powerful image. Her testimony is the one Ms. Clifford’s the
most nervous about. As the only person to survive the same brutal injuries as the other
murder victims, it would look incredibly suspicious for Max to not take the stand.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t have anything to say that helps the state’s case without making
things up. She was already trapped in her mind by the time Jason got there.

She does the best she can, answering Ms. Clifford’s questions honestly but staying vague
enough to skirt around the curse-shaped elephant in the room. With only a few minor
hiccups, the jury hears the story of a girl scared out of her mind in a haunted house while
trying to help a friend. Instead of falling under Vecna’s trance, she ‘passed out,’ only to wake
up later in Lucas’ arms to the agony of her broken limbs.

Mr. Taylor doesn’t have any reservations about poking holes in their stories, not even for a
near-victim. He digs his fingers into every crack he can possibly find and viciously tries to
widen them. You didn’t see Jason until after he was already attacked himself? You ran away
from police officers instead of staying where you should? The first murder happened right
next door to you and you expect us to believe you didn’t see anything?

Max is made of strong stuff, but it’s obviously starting to wear on her and Chrissy hopes it
isn’t going to go this way for all of them. It’s some small comfort that others in the courtroom
also seem to think Mr. Taylor’s being too aggressive, frowning at him as he retakes his seat.

Lucas is up next. This one at least should go smoothly. Out of all the people up there talking
today, his grievances against Jason are the some of the strongest. Ms. Clifford asks the
questions expertly to guide him through all the points they need to hit. Lucas somberly talks
about Jason and the other basketball boys showing up on his front door to try and convince
him to join them in their manhunt. About how scared he was for Eddie when he saw the
looks on his teammates’ faces, and how scared he was for himself when Jason burst into the
Creel house with a gun, preventing him from getting to Max and beating him so badly his
face was swollen for over a week.

He very obviously fights not to smile as he tells the story he loves so much of Chrissy’s quick
thinking, tricking Jason out of the attic to try and keep them safe. Jason’s face twitches from
his seat in the front of the room. Chrissy doesn’t know whether this is the first time he’s
hearing how blatantly she lied to him or whether he pieced it together a while ago, but either
way he looks furious.

Mr. Taylor hits the same notes he has with everybody else to try and find a weak spot. Why
were you running from the police? Why would you not share this information sooner? Did
you actually see Jason attack anybody?

He tries to bring up the rumors circulating that Hellfire’s secretly a cult, but Lucas shuts him
down like a pro. “I joined two clubs when I started high school and only one of them showed
up at my door to try and convince me to help them kill my friend. You really want to ask
which one’s more like a cult?” Lucas asks with a hard set to his jaw. Mr. Taylor dismisses
him quickly – what could he possibly say to salvage that?

The judge calls for Chrissy almost immediately after, and Lucas holds out his hand for a fist
bump as they pass each other in the walkway. She’s terrified to be up here in front of
everyone, stomach churning as she picks at her nails underneath the edge of the wood. Ms.
Clifford warned that biting them in front of the jury might make it look like she was lying,
and Chrissy’s taking every bit of her advice to heart.

“Miss Cunningham, can you describe your relationship to the defendant?” Ms. Clifford asks.

“There isn’t one, really,” Chrissy says. She’s pleased to hear that her voice is only a little
shaky. “I know him from school. That’s all.”
“You wouldn’t describe the two of you as friends?” Ms. Clifford asks.

“No,” Chrissy answers quickly, unable to keep a frown off her face that has a couple people
in the courtroom stifling a laugh. Jason’s eyebrow is twitching again. “I’m not friends with
bullies.”

“Is that your personal opinion? That Mr. Carver’s a bully?”

“No, it’s a fact,” Chrissy says. “Eddie couldn’t go more than a couple days without Jason
going after him last spring. He wouldn’t leave him alone. It got really scary.”

“To clarify, when you say Eddie, you’re talking about Edward Munson, correct? The original
suspect for these murders?” Ms. Clifford asks. Chrissy nods, and she continues, “Why the
defendant’s special interest in Mr. Munson, in your opinion?”

“He was jealous,” Chrissy answers. It’s a confidence boost that they’re starting with the
questions she can be 100% truthful about. Well, as truthful as she’s ever been about her and
Eddie. “Eddie and I started dating my freshman year. He was jealous, and he never got over
it.”

“So, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to suggest that the defendant’s actions in March were
partially because of a personal grudge against Mr. Munson, not solely because he wanted to
help?”

“I think that’s exactly what happened.” Chrissy believes that with all her heart. Jason barely
knew Fred Benson, so going after Eddie had to be more of the same harassment from last
year.

Ms. Clifford asks her to give a brief rundown of everything that happened over spring break.
It takes longer than she would have imagined, and it’s painful to dredge up the memories of
that horrible week. She starts at the beginning, with her trip to the hospital for her ‘seizure’
and the police showing up on her doorstep the next morning to question her. It’s tricky to hop
and skip through the details without saying something she’s not supposed to about the Upside
Down – she has to eliminate everything about the gates completely – but she thinks she’s
managing it pretty well.

“Can you explain your thought process when you ran from the police the night before the
final attack?” Ms. Clifford asks. This is the bit Chrissy’s been most nervous about. They ran
from the police a lot, and it really doesn’t make them look good. It’s why the defense is
bringing it up as much as possible. Ms. Clifford warned her that even though the questions
might sound bad, she should see it as an opportunity to clear things up. “Why not cooperate
with the investigation if you were so worried about your boyfriend’s safety?”

“We were all scared,” Chrissy says. “Lucas told us right away what Jason was trying to do.
The police made it pretty clear that they weren’t interested in anyone but Eddie, so it felt like
the only way to help him was to try and figure it out ourselves and just…hope we could
explain everything later.”

“And that led you to the Creel house that night?” Ms. Clifford asks.
“Yes.”

“What happened there?”

“Something was…wrong. With Max,” Chrissy says. People in the front few rows can
probably see the mental gymnastics she’s doing to make sure she gets this right. “I don’t
know exactly what happened, but she kind of just…checked out? In the attic? Lucas and I
were trying to help her when Jason showed up. He looked…I don’t know. A little insane,
honestly. Everything happened really fast after that. He and Lucas were fighting, and Max got
hurt but we couldn’t get to her because Jason had a gun. I figured that if I could just get Jason
out of the attic, then everything would be okay.”

“How did you do that?” Ms. Clifford asks.

“Well, it’s like I said. He was jealous of me and Eddie. Jason would say the most horrible
things about him, about what he and our other friends might do, so I just…said what I
thought he would believe. That I was scared and wanted him to get me out of there.”

“But that was a lie?”

“Yes, it was,” Chrissy says. “I just needed him to leave. But then we got downstairs, and he
was going to take me out of the house and away from my friends. So, I…I hit him. I knocked
him out with a brick, and the police came, and that was that.”

“So, the defendant wasn’t rescuing you from anybody? You weren’t in danger up in that
attic?”

“Not from Lucas,” Chrissy says. She keeps it short and sweet. There’s no way to say that the
real danger in the room was a villain trapped in another dimension. Jason gets halfway out
his seat, eyes blazing and mouth open to give her a piece of his mind, before his lawyer gets a
hold of his sleeve and yanks him back down. Mr. Taylor looks harried as he stands to do his
part. Even though he seems like an awful person, Chrissy feels kind of bad for him. His client
is a nightmare, and they’re fighting a rigged battle. It’s a tough break, no matter how justified
it is.

“Forgive me, Miss Cunningham,” Mr. Taylor asks, “but I’m having a hard time
understanding why we’re taking your word on what happened that night. You and your
friends spent an entire week helping a murder suspect evade law enforcement, withholding
information, wasting police resources. We’re supposed to believe you did all of this with
good intentions? That it can all be traced back to some misplaced fear of my client?”

“Your honor,” Ms. Clifford objects, “if the Hawkins police department decided not to press
any obstruction charges, then I hardly think it’s counsel’s responsibility to do it for them.”

Mr. Taylor takes the correction, and changes course. “If you had your suspicions of Mr.
Carver, why not share that information?”

“Jason’s done things like this before, and we tried to tell the police about it. They didn’t do
anything then, and they wouldn’t have done anything this time either,” Chrissy says. “And by
the time we had anything to actually tell the police, they were just letting him do whatever he
wanted.”

“You say ‘letting him do whatever he wanted’ as if it’s a bad thing. Seems to me my client
was just exercising his God-given right to express an opinion at a public forum. You think he
shouldn’t have been allowed to speak freely about the tragic death of his friend?”

“Not if he’s trying to get people hurt,” Chrissy says. Mr. Taylor’s got a talent for twisting
people’s words around. She’ll give him that, at least.

“So, after all the other lies you told to the police that week, this time you told the truth,” Mr.
Taylor says. “The first time you tell the truth, and it’s a situation that happens to paint Mr.
Carver – whom you had negative preconceived notions of – in a bad light. A situation with
no unbiased observers to give us an account of what happened. That’s very convenient, don’t
you think?”

“He showed up with a gun. He beat up Lucas. They already showed the pictures from the
hospital. I don’t know what else you want me to say,” Chrissy says. She’s not so sure this is
going well for her. By the time Mr. Taylor winds down and sends her back to her seat, there’s
blood on her thumb from where she’s been nervously tearing at her cuticle.

After a small break, the moment of truth arrives. It’s Eddie’s turn. Chrissy grabs his hand and
gives it a tight squeeze, and she sees Steve pressing their knees firmly together in a subtle
show of support from his other side. A low, excited murmur spreads through the crowd. Even
though they came all the way to Indianapolis to try and find an impartial jury, everybody
seems to know the significance of this, especially after hearing the other testimonies.

Eddie’s uncharacteristically subdued, head down and shoulders hunched as he walks, and
Chrissy hates that he has to do this. She can’t wait until they can get this all over with, get
back in the van, and go. There’s a warm smile on Ms. Clifford’s face as she approaches the
stand. Chrissy loves her for that, for her insistence on treating Eddie with kindness and
respect throughout this entire process.

“Mr. Munson, I’m of the opinion that you’ve been through quite enough already, so I’m
going to try and keep this short,” Ms. Clifford says.

“Best news I’ve got all day,” Eddie says, with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Let’s jump right in, then. What happened the night of Fred Benson’s murder?” Ms. Clifford
asks. The courtroom is dead silent, everybody on the edge of their seats.

“You all saw the pictures,” Eddie says. He’s quiet, still haunted by what he witnessed months
ago. “I saw him like that in my bathroom, and freaked out. It was just…what do you even do
with something like that? I didn’t know what else to do, or if whoever did it was still around,
and I just…I was scared. I ran, and hid, and by the time I calmed down enough to realize that
I just made myself look really fucking guilty, it was too late.”

“Watch your language in my court, Mr. Munson,” the judge says from their spot towering
over the others. Eddie holds his hands up in a supplicating gesture as Steve shakes his head
from his spot next to Chrissy on the bench. That’s gonna be difficult for him.

“Your friends found you not long afterwards, correct?” Ms. Clifford asks, hiding an amused
smile of her own at Eddie’s rough speech.

“Yep. Big old brain trust, they figured it out quick,” Eddie says. “By the time they got out
there, though, Jason was already putting people together to come after me and the cops were
convinced I did it, so…figured it was safer to stay hidden.”

“Would you make the same choice now?” Ms. Clifford asks. Chrissy frowns. It’s an
interesting question, and she’s not sure what Eddie’s going to say.

“Honestly? No clue,” Eddie says. “I mean, maybe I would have been cleared quicker if I was
sitting in a cell when Patrick was killed, but given our less-than-stellar relationship I’m not
sure the cops wouldn’t have found a way to blame me for it anyway. Probably would have
just said I went all Charles Manson and got someone to do it for me.”

“You were hiding at the Lipton residence on Lover’s Lake. Why did you leave that location?”

“Carver found me,” Eddie says. He hasn’t looked at Jason once, and Chrissy doesn’t blame
him. The daggers flying from the other boy’s eyes could kill. Ms. Clifford gently encourages
Eddie to continue.

“I heard their car pull up, and they all got out. And Jason said that he didn’t trust the police to
solve things. Guess we agree on something, at least,” Eddie says. Chrissy hears a few
scattered chuckles throughout the courtroom. Even just a couple hours outside of Hawkins,
the tiniest bit removed from his preexisting reputation, and already people can see how
naturally charismatic Eddie can be. He’s going to thrive when they finally get a place in the
city, she just knows it. “But then he goes off on this tangent about how I turned the D&D club
into a cult, and how…how he thought I hurt Chrissy. He said that he almost drove me out of
town last year, and that this time he was ‘gonna get it right.’”

“What do you think he meant by that? That he almost drove you out of town?”

“Chris said it earlier. The guy hated that I was with her and he wasn’t, so he didn’t give me a
moment’s peace last spring. You know, typical high school bully shi-stuff. Sorry,” Eddie says,
eyes wide as he catches himself mid-sentence.

“In your initial witness statement, you mentioned a specific incident that I would describe as
far more severe than typical high school bullying. Can you tell the court what happened at
Sattler’s Quarry last year?” Ms. Clifford asks. Chrissy’s breath catches in her throat. She
hates hearing this story. Hated hearing it when it happened and hates hearing it now, but it
goes a long way to show what kind of person Jason is.

“Yeah, there’s a quarry in Hawkins. There’s a road that goes all the way around the top. It’s a
great spot for a night drive if you wanna try and clear your head, but there’s a dead drop all
the way around it. No guard rails, so you gotta be careful. Carver was friends with these two
other guys at school – Billy Hargrove and Tommy Hagan – and Hargrove had this gorgeous
Camaro. Drove it like a maniac, though, and that’s saying something coming from me.”
Eddie’s gaining steam, a natural storyteller even now, but Chrissy can see his features tighten
as he speaks. Jason just keeps glaring. Whatever image he has of himself must be
unbelievably arrogant if he doesn’t feel bad about this at all.

“I was out there doing a couple laps, just thinking and enjoying the drive,” Eddie says,
tapping his ringed fingers nervously against the banister. “Then, that Camaro shows up in my
rearview, following me around the road. I saw Jason in the passenger seat and he just…got
this look in his eyes. Cold. Saw that look a lot from him that spring. Then he got Hargrove’s
attention, pointed at my van, and said…something. Can’t read lips or I’d tell you what. Next
thing I know, the Camaro’s speeding up next to me and swerving over. He clipped the side of
my van and tried to force me off the road over the edge of the quarry. Nearly did it, too. One
of my front wheels was just…spinning over the drop by the time I got the van stopped. I told
my uncle about it and we tried to tell the police, but it was my word against theirs and we all
know how that went, so…”

The courtroom was near silent when Eddie started his testimony, but his story sparked a hum
of shocked conversation that’s grown so loud the judge has to call everyone back to order.
Steve’s eyes are wide, fists clenched on top of his legs as he listens. It looks like Eddie hadn’t
yet told him all the things his old friend helped Jason and Billy do last spring. Mr. Taylor
hasn’t heard this story either, if the frustrated glare he sends Jason’s way is anything to go by.

“So, when Mr. Carver showed up at Lover’s Lake, you had valid reason to believe your life
was in danger?” Ms. Clifford prompts.

“Oh, I was sure he was gonna try and kill me again,” Eddie says. He can’t look up anymore,
eyes glued to the banister. “Patrick was there. He said they should just call the cops. But
Jason wasn’t having it, so they went up to search the house and I tried to take off in a boat.”

“And Mr. McKinney’s murder?”

“Didn’t see it,” Eddie says. “They were swimming after me, but I was just trying to get away.
I didn’t want Jason to catch me, and then after that he had the whole town chasing me so, I
just…kept running and hiding. Not much else for me to do, right?”

“Until the explosion?” Ms. Clifford asks.

“Yeah. I don’t…” Eddie trails off, and Chrissy holds her breath. None of them are happy
about the actual lies they have to tell, and this is Eddie’s. “I don’t remember much. Hit my
head, got a concussion. Woke up in the hospital a couple days later and found out they
arrested Jason, and here we are.”

Ms. Clifford thanks Eddie and sits back down. They’ve reached the moment Chrissy’s been
dreading the most. Mr. Taylor’s out for blood today, and she doesn’t want to hear whatever
awful things he’s about to say.

He seems to have disregarded the rules of the trial entirely, going on the attack from the
second he’s out of his seat. Ms. Clifford objects to every point he brings up as soon as it’s out
of his mouth, but he isn’t backing down. It’s exactly the kind of dirty tactic she warned them
about. Even if the jury is instructed to disregard most of this, just hearing it will be enough to
plant seeds of doubt.

The questions come rapid-fire, a brutal assault on Eddie’s insecurities that circles closer to the
truth of what happened than Mr. Taylor could ever know. How do you explain your
connection to both murder sites? How do you explain the fact that you were near those sites
around the time of both murders? Why were you on close enough terms with an incarcerated
drug dealer to use his house? Was Mr. Benson at your trailer for illegal purposes? What
other reason would someone like him be at a place like Forest Hills? What kind of person
sees a scene like that and doesn’t call for help?

It's awful to watch. Chrissy’s eyes well up with every question. Steve and Wayne are
practically vibrating with rage in their seats as Eddie curls further into himself, mumbling out
half-answers before Ms. Clifford can get an objection through each time.

“Your own father was sentenced to prison in this very court for grand theft auto and
manslaughter committed in Hawkins and you expect us to believe you had nothing to do with
any of this?” Mr. Taylor asks. He looks at Eddie with one eyebrow raised, regarding him like
a bug he’s rather enjoying squashing.

“Your honor, I don’t think I could even list the number of objections I have at this point,” Ms.
Clifford interjects. It’s the first time in this whole process Chrissy’s seen her visibly upset.
“Mr. Munson is a witness, not a defendant. He was cleared of all charges from the Hawkins
PD months ago. Put a stop to this!”

The judge is way ahead of her. “Sustained. Again. You’re done here, Mr. Taylor. Another
word directed at this witness and I’m holding you in contempt.”

Mr. Taylor backs away with his hands help up in front of him, a mocking imitation of the
same gesture Eddie did earlier. The smug gleam in his eye when he retakes his seat says it all.
It doesn’t matter that the judge immediately turns to the jury and tell them to ignore
everything they just heard. The damage is done, most of all to Eddie as he shuffles back to
them with a dazed, distant look in his eye.

Wayne is on his feet before Eddie sits down, wrapping an arm around his nephew’s
shoulders, and firmly shepherding him out of the courtroom. Chrissy and Steve both jump out
of their seats to follow, with their friends hot on their heels. For one brief moment of hope, it
seems like Mr. Taylor’s strategy might have backfired. Chrissy sees at least a couple people
that glared at Eddie on his way into the courtroom looking at him with sympathy on the way
out. Doesn’t make it worth it, though. Not for a second.

“I’m gonna strangle that piece of shit lawyer, I swear to God,” Max says as soon as they’re
out the doors. Hanging back to match Max’s pace with her cane means that Eddie and Wayne
have left them in the dust. They find them waiting by the cars. Eddie’s face is vacant,
nodding absent-mindedly at whatever his uncle is quietly saying to him.

Steve reaches out for Eddie the same way he would at the house. It takes him a moment to
remember they’re in public and he draws back, frowning as he says goodbye to the kids
instead. Chrissy steps forward to grab Eddie’s arm, gently pulling him into the backseat of
the BMW. Once the car door closes, surrounding them in a familiar environment, he lists to
the side to lean his head against the window with his eyes closed tight. Chrissy holds one of
his hands between her own and makes eye contact with Steve in the rearview mirror. His face
is complicated, eyes wide and brows furrowed, but he attempts a smile before turning back to
the road. It’s almost convincing.

The atmosphere in the motel is understandably tense when they get back to their room.
Practically allergic to awkward silences, Robin pulls Steve right back out of the room to go
get dinner. Eddie barely says a word as Chrissy gently urges him to do his burn routine before
he crashes. He goes through the stretches with barely a wince, even the ones she knows cause
him the most discomfort, and sits there like a statue while she helps with the spot on his back.
It’s like he’s not even in the room.

When the others return with two bags from a nearby Chinese restaurant, Chrissy’s sitting
against the headboard of one of the motel beds with Eddie’s head resting in her lap. Both of
them are watching TV without taking in anything on the screen. Steve and Robin don’t
hesitate before taking a seat on either side of her and divvying up the food.

Chrissy might not have been the one facing the worst of Mr. Taylor’s questioning, but she’s
still drained from this nightmare of a day. Taking even a few bites of their dinner seems
insurmountable. Robin notices her poking at her food without eating any of it and quirks a
brow, but doesn’t say anything. She just reaches out and dumps the contents of both their
takeout boxes together into one for them both to eat out of. Chrissy’s not sure how Robin
knew that would help, but having someone to mirror and knowing it’s not just her causing the
food to slowly disappear works wonders.

In the middle of the night as they’re all chasing sleep, Chrissy hears the telltale click of a
lighter. She blinks her eyes open to see Eddie by the cracked window, fumbling a cigarette
and trying to get the thing lit. He’s not supposed to be smoking so soon after his collapsed
lung, but the stress of today – of the past few months, really – must have caught up with him.
Before Chrissy can start shifting out of bed to go stop him, Steve emerges from their tiny
bathroom and notices the same thing she has.

He confiscates the cigarette with a face that’s an impressive mix of annoyed and concerned.
Eddie rolls his eyes, but his face crumples as he does so. Steve wraps him up in his arms,
rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back and murmuring something inaudible from
across the room. Eddie buries his face in the side of Steve’s neck as his own hands come to
rest on Steve’s sides, clutching at the fabric where it covers scars that Chrissy knows make
him feel better about his own. She smiles, turning over in her sleep to give the two some
privacy, and snuggles more tightly into Robin’s side before finally drifting off to sleep.

June 18, 1986

When Wayne knocks on their motel room door with pre-trial breakfast, Chrissy makes an
executive decision. There’s no way in hell they’re setting foot in that building today. If she
has her way, they’re not going back at all. Eddie’s talking and joking again this morning, but
he’s clearly still rattled from that lawyer’s horrible behavior. No disrespect to Hopper and
Ms. Clifford, but she doesn’t really care about having all the information anymore. They did
their part, and nothing good can come from forcing themselves to sit through more upsetting
testimony, especially since the trial is Mr. Taylor’s show moving forward.

Chrissy gets an approving nod from Wayne when she informs him that they won’t be going
with him. He heads to the courthouse with a promise to keep them in the loop if anything
concerning happens, leaving the four of them to themselves. Eddie lets out a relieved sigh as
he tucks into his breakfast, the last of yesterday’s clouds finally starting to dissipate.

For two days, they get to do whatever they want, killing time in a brand-new city to keep
their minds off of what might be happening at the trial. Steve looks like a kid at Christmas
when he sees a brochure for the Motor Speedway Museum in the motel lobby and forces
them all out to go see the racecars. For the most part, though, they stay in the insulated
bubble of their motel room and wait for the all clear.

For two nights, Wayne pops back in with dinner and a rundown on what they missed at the
courthouse. Most of the testimonies blend together, cookie-cutter people parroting the same
cookie-cutter sentiments about Jason’s respectability. Penny Cunningham was one of them,
never content to leave things lie.

A few stories stand out from the rest. Andy tried to come to his friend’s defense, but it sounds
like Ms. Clifford made him look a little silly. Somehow, he didn’t realize that the facts
painted him in a bad light. He was only with Jason in the first place to hunt Eddie down, and
he didn’t see what happened at the Creel house because he was tackling a middle schooler to
the ground at Jason’s request.

Chrissy’s pleasantly surprised to hear that Chief Powell was on their side. Mr. Taylor kept
trying to get him to justify the choices he made during the investigation, but Powell didn’t
cooperate. Instead, he echoed everything Hopper said on day one and offered Wayne an
apology on his way out of the courtroom.

When it comes to Jason’s testimony, Wayne remains tight-lipped. He only says that it
happened right before the jury got sent away to deliberate, and leaves it at that. Chrissy’s
thankful for it. They’ve heard more than enough from Jason Carver for one lifetime.

At the end of the third day, the routine changes. Wayne arrives earlier than usual, swinging
the door open as they’re halfway through a cutthroat game of pitch. Eddie and Robin have
gotten themselves banned from being on a team for any card games in the future. Ever. The
good-natured bickering dies down as they take in the somber look on Wayne’s face. It’s hard
to read until he closes the door behind him and nods.

“It’s done, Ed. Boy’s not gonna bother you anymore,” Wayne says, careful and measured. He
may not know the whole story – that Jason is taking the fall for murders committed by a dark
wizard from another dimension – but he has enough tact not to openly celebrate it. Chrissy
thinks he’s showing enormous restraint considering everything Jason’s done to his nephew.
It’s like someone popped a balloon, any leftover tension in the room flooding out as it sinks
in. It’s over. Truly over, and they can go. Eddie clearly doesn’t want to waste a second,
jumping to his feet so quickly that it almost sends Steve toppling over. He grabs his uncle by
the shoulders for a brief moment of shared excitement before he darts around the room,
gathering the few things they actually unpacked and throwing them haphazardly into his bag.

Wayne traces his movement around the room, watching with a tight smile. They all knew this
day was coming, but it still hurts to part ways. Eddie bounces on his feet by the door,
anxiously waiting as the rest of them pack up their things.

They’re in the parking lot and almost to the van when Eddie curses and turns on his heel,
sprinting back up to the room for something he forgot. Wayne rolls his eyes fondly – Eddie’s
scatter-brained forgetfulness is nothing new – and starts saying his goodbyes. He shakes
Steve’s hand and pulls him in closer, face stern as he speaks for Steve’s ears alone. Chrissy
can probably guess what that’s about from the wide-eyed look on Steve’s face as he quickly
nods, and she doesn’t envy him. Fake girlfriends don’t have to get a Wayne Munson shovel
talk, but it sounds terrifying.

Chrissy steps up next for her own goodbye – a warm hug, solid like always. Wayne’s been
more of a parent to her than her own for years, and she’ll miss him once they’re gone, no
matter how much they need to leave. Wayne holds her tight, clearing his throat as she steps
away.

“You two have been looking out for each other a long time,” he says, voice thick with
emotion. “You keep it up, you hear? You guys’ll be all right.”

She nods and wipes away a tear, then lets him go as Eddie barrels back down the stairs. It
almost feels like intruding to watch their farewell, with Wayne embracing his nephew with
one hand on the back of his head as Eddie mumbles something to him.

“None of that,” Wayne says with his trademark mixture of concern and sternness. He looks
Eddie in the eyes, and says, “Hawkins wasn’t built for you. Wasn’t built for either of us. So,
you go find yourself somewhere that is, you don’t apologize for it a single god damn second,
and I’ll come see ya there. You got that?”

Eddie chokes out an almost-laugh as he pulls his uncle back in for another hug, clapping him
on the back before pulling away and wiping at his eyes. In true Midwest fashion, they linger
in the parking lot long after their goodbyes have been said, making aborted movements
towards their respective vehicles and leaning against the frames of open car doors until they
finally part.

Their fresh start is so close Chrissy can feel it as she settles into the passenger seat of the van.
Eddie turns the key in the ignition, fumbling it once from his excited jitters. He leans out the
window with a goofy grin to send a parting wave to his uncle and blow an over-the-top kiss
at Steve’s BMW behind them in the lot.

The motel is near the highway, and they’re merging into traffic and heading north in minutes.
Eddie keeps the window rolled down, whooping in excitement with the wind in his hair as
 Chrissy laughs. He takes an overexaggerated breath out the window before turning back to
her with a grin lighting up his entire face.

“Get a whiff of that non-Hawkins air, Chris. Best damn thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.”

Chapter End Notes

That's the end of the story folks!! Enjoy a little epilogue next!
 It's your love that brings me home
Chapter Summary

An epilogue

Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

March 21, 1987

“Babe, is this what I think it is?”

Eddie’s fingers slip over the strings of the guitar in his lap, distracted from his tuning efforts
by the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. He scrambles to his feet and pads out of their room.
Steve leans against one of the shelves they’ve crammed into their apartment’s tiny living
room with a book in his hands. It’s Eddie’s old secondhand copy of A Wizard of Earthsea, the
one his friends scavenged from his locker before he moved into the Harrington house back in
Hawkins. He’s been trying to convince Steve to read it for months now, the same way he
convinced him to buy a good pair of reading glasses for when he needs them.

Before he can gloat about finally winning Steve over, Eddie notices him pull something out
from between the pages. A wrinkled piece of paper, filled with old, chicken scratch
handwriting and two very familiar signatures at the bottom.

“Holy shit. You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie says, speed-walking over to get a closer look.
He drapes his arms around Steve from behind and rests his chin on his shoulder as he reads.
It’s that damn fake dating contract he wrote up as a bit all those years ago. He was so sure it
was destroyed in the explosion, doomed to be nothing more than a nice memory.

“What is it?” Chrissy asks. She peeks over the back of the couch where she’s reading through
one of her duller psych textbooks for school. Midterms have been kicking her and Robin’s
asses, and it shows no sign of letting up.

“Oh, nothing major. Just my magnum opus over here,” Eddie says. He can feel the vibration
in his chest when Steve snorts a laugh from within his arms. “It’s that joke contract from your
freshman year. Thought it got burned up but I guess I put it in here. Just…shoved it in my
locker.”

Chrissy’s face lights up, excited to find such a fun bit of nostalgia. Her smile morphs into a
frown almost as quickly. “You took it to school? Eddie! Someone could have found it!”

“Clearly, I didn’t do it on purpose,” Eddie says. “I forgot it was even in there until right this
second!”
Steve finally reaches the end – a slower reader than most, but not letting it stop him these
days – and turns around in Eddie’s arms as he sounds out the last few words.

“’…to have our big, gay love stories.’ Is that what we’re doing here?” Steve teases, eyes
sparkling as he lets the paper drop back down to his side.

“I mean…I’m pretty fucking gay,” Eddie says, smacking an exaggerated kiss on Steve’s
cheek.

“I definitely love you,” he continues, placing a softer, sweeter kiss to Steve’s other cheek that
draws a out a pleased hum.

“And as for big, well…” Eddie waggles his eyebrows with a grin as Steve laughs, tipping his
head forward to land on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Munson!” Robin shouts. She sits up suddenly from where she was sprawled across the
couch with her head in her girlfriend’s lap. Her hair’s a little mussed from where Chrissy’s
been working her fingers through it as she reads. “I swear to God, if you finish that sentence,
I will light your hair on fire in your sleep.”

“Why is it always the hair with you?” Steve whines, tilting his head to reveal a look of utter
horror. “You go straight for the hair. Every time. What is wrong with you?”

“I know you both too well, and at your core, you are vain little peacocks too obsessed with
your hair for your own good. If I’m making a threat, I’m going for maximum psychological
terror,” Robin says. She turns to rest her chin on the back of the couch. Her face looks way
too innocent considering she just said one of the more diabolical things Eddie’s ever heard.

“Make your girl be nice to me, Chris. This is a hostile environment,” Eddie says. They all
know he doesn’t mean it. Robin’s hysterical, and the smile on his face gives it away.

“Can’t. Textbook says you need to let people express themselves authentically,” Chrissy says.
Her voice breaks into a giggle at the end of her sentence, hearts in her eyes as she looks at
Robin. Nauseating, the whole lot of them.

Robin sticks her tongue out at Eddie, who returns it with an enthusiastic middle finger and
takes the wrinkled piece of paper from Steve’s hands. This needs to be displayed, proudly
and immediately. He searches for an unused magnet and some free real estate on the front of
the fridge, but it’s not easy. It’s already packed with all they’ve accumulated at this point,
nine months’ worth of evidence of the life they’re all building together.

Most of the space is taken up by a calendar with important dates noted in red – Robin’s
upcoming French exam and a foreign film festival she wants to take Chrissy to, Eddie’s one
year appointment with a burn specialist next week to see if he can finally stop wearing this
sleeve on his arm for good, and the day the Hawkins kids will be arriving en masse.

More than one of the little hellions has their license now, and a spring break visit was too
good an opportunity to pass up. It’ll be the first time he and Steve see Dustin in person since
 the little shrimp found out they were together, and they’re probably in for an earful. Not their
fault the little genius didn’t figure it out quicker – they kinda assumed it was obvious.

Two postcards enjoy a prominent place, standing out from the rest. One’s from Wayne with a
picture of the mountains out near Knoxville, just a few concise sentences and a phone
number so they can always get a hold of him now that he’s moved back to Tennessee. The
other’s from California. Chrissy worked up the nerve to get in touch with her aunt a few
months ago, calling her out of the blue to tell her that she left Hawkins with a wonderful
girlfriend she loves very much. Her aunt squealed in happiness – loud enough that Eddie
could hear it from across the apartment – and he’s sure there’s a trip to the west coast in their
future.

Eddie’s personal favorite is a homemade thank you card with a delightfully awful child’s
drawing from one of his students. He landed a pretty sweet gig at a music store within a week
of arriving in Lafayette, easily winning the owner over with his knowledge now that his bad
reputation doesn’t loom over him in every room. His boss lets him offer lessons at the store a
couple days a week. Nobody knows more about music’s ability to save a life than Eddie –
why not pass it down to more little lost sheep?

Sticky notes with scrawled out phone numbers peek out from among all the mess. A tattoo
artist Eddie wants to call about fixing the ruined pieces on his chest. A therapist specializing
in eating disorder treatment that Chrissy’s been meeting with twice a month since she started
her own degree. A buddy of Wayne’s who owns another auto shop out here and is looking
into hiring an extra set of hands. Steve’s been bouncing around from job to job since they got
here. The freedom of being able to try things he actually wants to do instead of just what’s
expected of him has gone to his head a bit. Turns out his boyfriend’s weirdly into cars,
though, so hopefully this one sticks.

Eddie grabs one of the two novelty magnets holding up a Polaroid of all four of them – taken
the day they moved in with exhausted smiles plastered over their faces – and uses it to hang
up the old contract. It takes some maneuvering to shuffle all the pieces of paper around to
make room for it.

Chrissy pops up next to him with the cap of a pen held between her teeth, scribbling a
forgotten deadline on the calendar before it slips back out of her mind. She pauses when she
sees Eddie just standing there, staring at the fridge with a wide grin. When a matching smile
takes over her face and she tucks herself into his side with an arm around him, Eddie knows
she sees the exact same thing he does. A life so full that the evidence of it barely fits on the
vinyl surface, edges crowding over each other and papers overlapping so closely there’s no
space to breathe.

Chapter End Notes

Holy shit guys. What started as just a little idea in my head somehow grew into this
100k+ beast of a fic and I'm for real so proud of myself for actually finishing it. I'm
kicking myself for not trying my hand at writing sooner because I had more fun with
this than I have in a while. Hope you like the ending!

A special thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos along the way - you guys
have made me so happy the past few months!
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