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dreamwatch · 7 months

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STWG daily prompt 09/10/23

Prompt: balcony

c/w outing

****

“It’s beautiful, Eddie.”

And it really is. A two storey house over looking the beach. Real wood floors, so many windows, leaving the house bright and airy. The furniture was all new, too. There was a huge beige sectional in the living room and Wayne didn’t think he knew enough people to fill it. It was crazy.

And the view. There had been no money for vacations when Eddie was growing up, so save for the occasional camping trip they made do with looking at brochures from the travel agency in Hawkins. And they would plan. Make lists of all the places they were going to go. Picked their hotels and their holiday homes. Always the biggest suite available. Always with sandy white beaches and clear blue seas, swimming pools and cocktails.

This place was all those vacations rolled into one.

“You like it?”

Wayne just nods back, feels a little choked if he’s honest. He’s so fucking proud of this kid. Every achievement in his life has been hard won, no one handed him anything on a platter. Even for this, he worked his ass off and Wayne knows for a fact Eddie pushed himself, pushed the band, into touring more than was good for them. Eddie had become a workaholic over the last couple of years, something Wayne was going to have to keep an eye on. Though the distance made it hard.

The day Eddie left Hawkins was bittersweet. It broke Wayne’s heart, truth be told, but he did the thing you’re supposed to do when you’re a parent. Stood outside their trailer and sent his boy off into the world and told him the door was always open. That had been five years ago and Eddie hadn’t stepped foot in Hawkins since then.

And look at him now, buying fancy beach front property. Wayne walked out onto the balcony and shook his head. They were a million miles away from that trailer right now.

“You know I’ve a mind to take a photograph of this and stick it on a poster in the middle of Hawkins.” He spread his hands out, framing the imaginary image. “‘Welcome to Eddie Munson’s beach side abode.’ It would be worth the cost just to watch people choke.”

Eddie gives him an impish grin. “Uncle Wayne, this isn’t my house.”

He frowns back. “Please tell me we’re not trespassing, Ed, I’m on vacation son, I just want a nice-“. He stops when Eddie grabs his hands and drops a set of keys into it, a heavy key ring attached. A single silver ‘W’.

“This is your house.”

There’s silence for a while, though anyone with really good hearing would hear the cogs screeching to a halt in his head.

“I don’t understand.”

Eddie leans back against the balcony guardrail to face Wayne. “I bought it for you. I want you to live out here with me. I fucking miss you, old man, I hate it. Hate not having you close by. So. Yeah.” He ends with a shrug.

“Can you even afford this? I mean, you have a place already, can you afford another?”

Eddie nods. “I can afford it. Bought this outright, it’s yours, bank doesn’t own a single square inch. My place is mortgaged. I figure, you know, I fuck everything up eventually, so I still need a home to come back to when it all comes to an end.” Wayne tuts at him, hates the way he puts himself down. Hang over from school, and his parents. He thinks it’s so deeply ingrained he’ll never break him out if it now.

“I took the liberty of picking my room out, but the masters all yours.”

“Son, I don’t know…”

Eddie’s face falls. “You don’t like it. I should have asked. Fuck, I knew it, I shouldn’t have just assumed you’d want to move, you have a life back-“

“Eddie-“

“-and I didn’t even consider if you’d like to pick out your own home, like, who fucking does that, and I don’t even let you-“

“Eddie!”

“Yeah?”

“Calm down, son.”

“Okay.”

“I love it.”

Large brown eyes meet his, full of hope. Not without some fear. “Do you mean it? Because we can look elsewhere? Like, another neighbourhood, maybe? You know, if you don’t like this one.”

Wayne laughed. “Where’s your place? In relation to this?”

“Fifteen minute drive.”

“Hmm, fifteen minutes beats thirty hours, I think.”

“It’s only five hours if you fly.”

“Fifteen minutes beats five hours, too.”

So that’s how Wayne Munson, previously of Forest Hill’s trailer park, winds up living in a million dollar beach house in California.

—-

It’s weird, the not working, the finding of a new routine when yours has been the same for literally decades. He’s a creature of habit, likes a little order. So he still wakes early every morning. Still likes to sit out and smoke every evening. Only now he gets to do that lying on a lounger on a huge balcony watching the sunset over the Pacific Ocean. It’s a new routine he’s very happy to have.

—-

“That boy of yours working yet?”

They’re sitting, knocking back a couple of beers watching the sunset. Eddie’s been spending more time here lately, and Wayne loves it, but he’s also not an idiot.

Eddie nods before finishing the last if his beer. “Yeah. Got some modelling work coming up.”

Wayne hums.

“Don’t, Wayne. Not tonight.”

So they don’t.

—-

Eddie swings by as much as he can when he’s not touring or working. Wayne worries about him everytime he heads into LA, especially since the riots, but he tries not to mollycoddle. He’s twenty seven now. Not a kid anymore.

But he’s touring a lot. They just got back from the biggest one yet, 331 days, 189 shows. It’s too much. Wayne hates it. But Eddie doesn’t listen. So on they go.

—-

“Forgot to tell you, I got a postcard from Curly.”

“I can’t believe you still call him that,” laughs Eddie.

Dustin will always be Curly to him, and no rockstar is going to tell him otherwise.

“He’s hiking on the Appalachian Trail, did you know that? Think he’s got the Wheeler boy with him, too.”

“I did know that, they tried to get me to go with them.”

Wayne stares at him likes he got two heads. “Have they not met you before?”

Eddie splutters. “I’ll have you know I’m incredibly fit. Touring is hard work. I’m in peak physical condition, thank you.”

They laugh at the thought of Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler hiding from bears and finish another couple of beers, watching the sun go down.

—-

Wayne has started to build a new routine. He likes to walk in the early evening. He tried it after lunch one day and nearly collapsed. (He never told Eddie about that.) So now he heads out around five in the afternoon when the temperature is a little more manageable, and has a leisurely stroll around the neighbourhood or along the beach before heading back to the house.

The first thing he notices when he comes through his front door is the hold-all on the floor, barely zipped up and hastily packed.

“Ed?”

He doesn’t get a response but the sliding door is open and he just makes out the figure curled up on a lounger.

“Son?”

“Can I stay a couple of nights?” There’s a broken sound to his voice, like he’s been crying. Wayne hates it.

“You know you never have to ask.”

Wayne brings them both beers, and takes his usual seat. Just waits.

“There’s going to be an article in the press. Don’t know the details, but looks like I’m being outed.”

And there it is.

“By who?”

Eddie looks at him forlornly. “Does it matter?”

“And what does… Luke, does he know?”

“He’s leaving tonight. I just didn’t want to be there until he’s gone.”

“Good. I’ll go round tomorrow make sure he’s out. Get the locks changed.”

They sit for a while, listening to the ocean.

“Is it so bad? Hmm? You got a lot of fans now, people love you. They wouldn’t care.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie replies, sounding pained. “And it’s not just me. I have to think of the others. If they take me down they might take the band with it. And…” he looks at Wayne, large brown eyes spilling with tears. “It was mine. They had no right to take that from me.”

“You’re a public figure though,” Wayne sighs, hates he’s having to say this. “It was always a possibility, hmm? Not saying it’s right, just… just saying.”

They finish their beers in silence before Wayne cracks open a bottle of whisky Eddie bought him a couple of years back. Pricey, he knows, but if ever it was needed it’s now.

—

It’s news, for a while, but mostly in some of the shittier publications. There are jokes and taunting in some of the rock magazines, and it starts being a thing interviewers want to talk about. Their management company make sure everyone knows it’s off limits.

Wayne hates it so much.

—-

He puts up some wind chimes. He spends more time out on that balcony than in the living room, so he decides it’s time to jazz it up a bit. He’s far enough from his neighbours that it shouldn’t bother them, but he also doesn’t give a shit.

Just as he sits the phone rings, and he needs to get a line out here, because somehow it doesn’t matter who it is they always get him the moment he sits down.

He’s a little rude when he answers the phone.

“Uh, Mister Munson?”

“Yes, and who is this?”

“It’s Steve Harrington, sir, I don’t know if you remember me? Um, from Hawkins?”

Yes. Yes he remembers Steve very well. You tend to remember people when they save your kids life. Tend to remember them when they spend a lot of time with your kid afterwards.

“I remember you, Steve. Don’t worry about that. I didn’t know you were in contact with Eddie again, he’s not here I’m afraid, he’s on tour, not sure where is today-“

“Sydney. He’s in Sydney.” Steve clears his throat, and there’s something about the tone.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s okay,” Steve gets in as fast as he can, “he’s- honestly, he’s going to be fine.”

“What’s wrong, Steve?”

“He collapsed, on stage.”

Wayne feels the air leave his lungs, doesn’t realise he’s made a noise until Steve cuts in.

“He’s okay, but they’re keeping in the hospital overnight, doctors are saying it’s exhaustion, so they’re getting fluids into him and they want him on bed rest for a while. He hit his head on the edge of the drum riser when he went down, so he’s got a few stitches and he’s gonna have a hell of a headache when he wakes up. But he’s going to be okay.”

Eddie’s home two days later, Steve in tow carrying the bags, and he looks terrible. Gaunt, dark circles that need more than a good nights sleep to erase, and a gauze dressing in the middle of a dark purple bruise on his temple. He looks pitiful. Wayne pulls him into a gentle hug and he feels Eddie go loose in his arms.

“Let’s get you up to bed, hmm? We can talk later.”

After, Wayne takes Steve out on to the balcony, and closes the door behind him.

“Thank you, for looking after him.”

Steve smiles. “You don’t have to thank me for that, he’s my… he’s my friend. I’ll always look after him.”

Wayne thinks on that for a while. He can read between the lines as well as anyone else.

“I didn’t know you were back,” together?, “in contact.”

“Yeah, a few months back, Dustin’s wedding? Yeah, it um… yeah it was nice. Unexpected.” He sees the look on Steve’s face. Knows that look. Saw it on both their faces back in Hawkins before Eddie left to conquer the world.

“So, when do you go home?”

Steve taps out a rhythm on the side of his can. “I got a couple of days of leave I’m gonna take, just till I know he’s okay. But I need to get home soon, work you know.” He carries on with his tapping and Wayne thinks he recognises it, one of Gareth’s grooves. Catchy. Not that he’d ever say that to the band.

“I, uh. I’m thinking of moving out here, actually.”

There’s a couple walking along the beach, their dogs racing back and forth and in and out of the ocean. They can hear them laughing from here.

“This is a nice neighbourhood. You know, if you were looking for a place to settle.”

Wayne can see Steve smile and nod out of the corner of his eye.

“So I’ve heard.”

—-

They’re out on the balcony at one am with a bottle of champagne and three beers. He’s usually very respectful, but tonight his attitude is very much ‘fuck the neighbours’.

“So, where you gonna put it?” Wayne asks.

Eddie sways, he’s been celebrating all evening, long before he arrived here with Steve. The two of them in sharp tailored suits and shiney shoes. Wayne should get a photo before they take them off. Eddie in actual shoes.

Eddie leans over and grabs it, the gold gramophone glimmering under the balcony lighting.

“Hmm… I was thinking right over there,” he says, pointing to a litte decorative table on the other side of the sliding doors.

Wayne’s stares at him, confused. “You got to take it home, put it somewhere where everyone will see it.”

“I don’t need everyone to see it. I just need us to see it.”

Maybe it’s the champagne and the beer he’s been mixing, but suddenly it all hits him. The heat in his face, the stuffy nose. Ten years. Ten years of hard work.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” He dabs at his eyes, and he watches as Eddie wipes his on his shirt, Steve tutting at him about using a handkerchief.

Wayne grabs the Grammy and takes it inside, placing it on the table next to the photograph of Eddie and Steve that he likes to keep close by.

They spend the night out on the balcony, drinking and talking, wind chimes twinkling, and they wait for the sun to rise.

#stwgdailyprompt #eddie munson #wayne munson #steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #my writing #dreamy writes #steddie fanfiction #cw outing

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