oh my god lorna well, that happened pls pls pls
“Well,” Buck sounded as out of breath as Eddie felt, taking a brief pause before he continued speaking. “That happened.”
Eddie felt – well, sticky. He’d never enjoyed this part – the after, of sex, when the endorphins that raged through your body started to calm down, and you were left sort of just – well, sticky. It was kind of gross, frankly, when the excitement wore off.
“Yeah,” Eddie managed, gaze fixed on the ceiling of his bedroom. He’d missed a spot, when he’d repainted, one corner slightly yellowing compared to the crisp cream of the rest of the paint. He made a mental note to fix it later.
“We should – well, we should talk about it.” Buck’s presence next to him was overwhelming, honestly. Eddie didn’t have the biggest bed in the world – not compared to the utterly ridiculous California king that Buck had in his loft – and they weren’t exactly small people. Buck was huge, actually, broad, and strong and all-encompassing, able to hold Eddie down in a way he hadn’t known he was very much into until an hour before.
Willing his face to return to a normal colour, instead of the bright red it definitely was, there and then, Eddie hummed. “We should.”
“You should start.”
Eddie snapped his head to the side, fixing Buck with a glare. “Why should I start?”
Buck’s smile was devastatingly familiar, a reminder of how well Eddie knew the other man – and a reminder of how they might have just ruined everything, sleeping together. Sex made everything complicated: that much Eddie knew. It had always been the additional level of complication in his and Shannon’s relationship, a sticking plaster for their problems that only ever served to cause more problems.
“You don’t have to,” Buck grinned, propping his head in his hand, unashamed in his nakedness in a way Eddie could only be jealous of, given he was clinging to his thin top-sheet, as if that could hide the fact that he was bare-ass naked in bed with his best friend. “I just wanted you to look at me.”
Eddie rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the ceiling. “You’re an idiot.”
“You’re freaking out,” Buck pointed out.
“And you’re not?”
“Not as much as you, clearly.”
“We just had sex,” Eddie hissed, sheet fisted tightly in his grip as he twisted, looking at Buck. “What else am I supposed to do except freak out?”
“Was it bad?” Buck asked, sounding as though he already knew the answer to that.
(He did – of course he did. Eddie, quiet Eddie Diaz, hadn’t been able to hold in the breathy noises and strangled moans as Buck had touched him, too far gone to be embarrassed about the way his voice had hitched in his throat as he’d begged and pleaded for more. Eddie didn’t beg. Except – well, he clearly did, when it was Buck who’s teeth were grazing against the thin skin of his neck, making him question if God maybe was real, after all.)
Eddie huffed. “You know it wasn’t.”
Buck grinned. “Just making sure. You know, 38% of –“
“If you quote a statistic at me right now, Evan Buckley, I will kick you out of my bed and never let you back in it again.”
Buck instantly quietened. For a second, at least. “Again?” he asked, uncharacteriscally nervous sounding, the confidence of the man who’d pressed finger shaped bruises into the dips of Eddie’s waist gone.
“That’s why I’m freaking out,” Eddie sighed. “Because now I’ve had you, I don’t think I can stop wanting you. And I’ll probably ruin everything, because I think that – I think that if I get to have you, I’ll stop being able to pretend like I’m not in love with you, and then I’ll definitely ruin everything, and – and I really need a shower,” he grumbled, wincing at the sticky feeling plaguing his entire body – or it felt like his entire body, at least.
“I think I can solve a lot of those freak outs,” Buck hummed. “Because I love you, and you’ve got an ensuite.”
“W-what?”
“You’ve got an ensuite,” Buck said. “There’s a shower, like, ten steps away.”
“No – no, the first bit,” Eddie felt like he was about to pass out. Was it insane, to be more nervous now than he had been when Buck had kissed the breath out of him in his kitchen? Because he was – more nervous.
“Oh!” Buck’s eyes lit up. “I love you,” he said, as if it were entirely obvious: as if Eddie should have already known.
“Oh.”
“Is that okay?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” he smiled at Buck. “It’s more than okay.”
“Good,” Buck beamed, pressing a sloppy kiss to Eddie’s gaping mouth. He was sort of still in shock. “I’ll start running that shower.”
He was gone, before Eddie could reply, warbling a song Eddie didn’t recognise in a key it probably wasn’t supposed to be in, the sound of the shower filling Eddie’s otherwise quiet room.
“I love you too,” Eddie called, realising he hadn’t said it yet.
“I love you!” Buck yelled back. “The water is hot, hurry up!”
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Picking Fights with Plaster Casts.
Pairings: Steve Harrington x F!Reader
Warnings: Sexual Assault and Harassment, Canon Level Violence
Author’s Note: Wayhey first fic on the new blog!!
Summary: He may still be nursing a broken hand, but like hell was he going to let anyone treat his girl, who wasn’t his girl, like that.
It was a stupid idea, both punching a hole through his wall and the subsequent events that followed. But, God knew, Steve Harrington was an idiot.
His reasoning behind his actions was never quite revealed, much less explored, but the broken hand that he was left with opened up a seemingly never-ending list of questions from Robin. The small video rental that occupied their time from noon until close was rife with business today. It was Saturday, by far their busiest of the days in the week, yet the pair never seemed to mind. The job was simple; help customers pick out a movie; ring up said movie as a rental; ensure that the movie was returned; sit and wait for the next customer. Mundane, boring, but miles better than their previous occupation. The simple green vest and name-tag were significantly more comfortable than the sailor themed get-up, complete with a tied neckerchief, and a sailor's hat.
Steve was thankful that his new uniform was much more attractive than his last, he still couldn't help feeling disheartened that he even had to wear the uniform at all. The former ‘king of Hawkins High’ stood alone behind the counter of the ‘Family Video’ almost upset. Last year he would have been out at a party, not stuck working for minimum wage with a huge plaster cast on his right hand. He handed over some children's film to a family, paying practically no attention to what it was. Eyes trained on someone who had just entered through the heavy glass doors.
Panic flooded the brunet’s features as he slid into the back room. Coming face-to-face with Robin, who was pulling off her coat. The shorter girl had just begun her shift.
“Evening, Dingus”
“Robin I need you to start out front” he practically begged, “I’ll clean up back here”
“Clean up?” She smirked, something was up. “Let me guess, Y/N’s here?”
Teasing him was just too easy, and something that never would have happened when the two were at school together. But previous circumstances had allowed them to become close, and Robin had learned that Steve was an open book. An open book turned to the page dedicated to you.
“She doesn’t know I work here and I don't really want her knowing.” He sighs, “I’m trying to impress her”
A roll of Robin’s eyes cued the ding of a bell. Someone was at the counter waiting to be served. “You owe me” She sighed, pushing herself through the two-way door. Steve peeked through the crack as Robin recited the rental terms and conditions. Picking up a nearby mop to use as an alibi.
The mop leant against his shoulder as he used his non-broken hand to guide the soapy water across the linoleum floors. It wasn’t easy, but Steve was proud of what he’d achieved. The simple things in life began to excite Steve. Robin slid the door open as he broke into a slight celebratory dance. She chose not to make fun of it.
“Hey, Steve? You might wanna see this”
He leant through the threshold. Brown eyes scanned the room until across they met yours. Your vision was slightly blurry with the tears that filled them. In the parking lot, cornered by some drunk seniors that you knew from school. You tried to push one of them off of you, but it was no use. The three boys chanted words of harassment, and one even trying to put his hand down your jeans. Your friends just stood and watched, Your best friend giggled at your expense.
“You did it for Tommy, why won’t you do it for me? Huh, Princess” One spoke, almost spitting in your face. He was so close you could smell the mint from the gum in his mouth. It almost made you sick.
“Get off of me, please” Even when being assaulted, you were always so polite.
“God, Y/N stop pretending to be a prude, we all know the real reason why you stay single. So you’re not tied down to one man.” another hissed, earning a chorus of laughter. It made Steve see red.
Robin waited for his reaction. She would have given the group a strong word herself had she not been so frightened. All three of the boys were bigger than Steve, but they towered over her. Before she could even ask the boy next to her whether she should call the police, Steve had already thrown himself over the front counter, and to the front door. It slammed against the wall as he pushed through, causing the group to turn.
His hand throbbed as he threw the first punch, knocking the guy into the shop window, In his peripheral vision he saw Robin pick up the phone from the counter, undoubtedly calling for the sheriff's department. Another punch was thrown as the gathered crowd grew larger. Steve’s nose was bleeding, his opponent was much stronger than him but he stayed resilient, hitting the guy with his cast-covered hand once more. He may still be nursing a broken hand, but like hell was he going to let anyone treat his girl, who wasn’t his girl, like that. A final blow to the stomach had the group scattering away.
Steve was advised to take the rest of the day from work. His hand was bloody and clearly needed medical attention. Instead, He sat alone on an outdoor bench. Eyes closed and head hung. He didn’t move until you stood near.
“Thanks for that” you almost whispered, “you didn’t have to”
Admittedly this was the first time you’d spoken to him, you felt guilty that it was under these circumstances.
“I know” Steve smiled, “I couldn’t let them do that to you though, just basic morals”
“Still. Thank you”
The atmosphere was comfortable as you sat next to him on the uncomfortable wood. Yet you both stared straight ahead. Unsure of what to say next, too afraid to look at each other.
“I’m Y/N, by the way”
“I know” he smiled, before letting it fall, “I don’t mean that in a creepy way, I just mean that you were in the year blow me in school, and you know some people that I know. I don’t stalk you or anything, cause that would be weir-” He cut himself off, “I’m Steve”
“I know”
Steve nodded, a smile returning to his face. He fiddled with the edge of his vest, nerves getting to him. Usually calm, collected and a true ladies man, he let out a shaky breath. You never would have recognised the man in front of you had it not been for his mop of soft brown hair.
“Your hand. Is it hurt?” You asked, “Do you need to go to the hospital?
Steve shook his head softly. “No, it was broken before.”
“And you still fought with it?”
A soft smile and a chuckle. “Worth it” he whispered.
You reached for the cast on his hand. A tender moment interrupted as the sheriff's car pulled up. Steve’s heart pounded, not in fear, but in love. “Hey, Y/N?
“Mhmm”
“You wouldn’t want to go out sometime?” he stuttered, “with me?”
“Christ sake, Harrington, I thought you’d never ask”
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MotorMouth
Chapter Two: 2121 Holland Road
Pairings: Eddie Munson X Appearance Neutral OC (Valerie Lipton)
Warnings: accidental cuddling, drug mention, slightly perv!eddie, death depictions,
Author’s Note: Chappy twa wayhey! U can also find this on Ao3 and Watty if u want it. p.s. ye i talk about not liking Billy in this - its purely valerie’s opinion, idgaf what u guys actually think
Summary: Eddie runs. Unsure where to go, he finds solace in the home of his drug supplier, and coincidentally, his best friend.
4k
The door rattled loudly. Eddie thrumming it with both fists, the glass-paned wood wiggling on its hinges. He tried the handle but the door was locked. Valerie slept on the sofa, woken by the abrupt knocking.
“I’m coming!” she shouted, slowly standing from her seat, and walking to the door. She was in no rush, knowing exactly who was there.
At the turn of the lock, Eddie bust through the door, almost taking the girl to the floor with him. He crawled backwards on his hands and feet, cowering away from the door in fear. “Usually when someone screens your calls, it means they don’t want to talk to you,” Valerie Deadpans, finally taking in Eddie’s shaken appearance “What are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer, panting as if all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He knew he’d have to explain, but he also knew she’d never believe him. “I thought you said the Ket was for a client?” Valerie questioned, attributing the boy’s demeanour to a bad trip. “I asked you not to drive when you’re like this, Eddie!”
She lectures him. Usually, he would reply with a witty comeback or joke, but at this present moment, it was the last thing on his mind. Eddie rose from the ground, staggering over to the brown leather pouffe in the living room. He sits on it gingerly. A weird sight to see, considering he’s usually so quick to make himself at home anywhere he goes.
Eddie rests his face in his hands. Elbows pressing deeply into his knees, “Vee” he calls out; broken; defeated.
Valerie’s position falters, she wants to be mad at the boy, angered at his behaviour from earlier, she wants to yell at him for driving under the influence, but his paranoia and fear are something that she’d never seen before. Eddie was an excitable boy, he couldn’t stay still, or quiet, for a single moment. But, right now, he was more stone than the statues of the Erechtheion.
She closes the open door, kneeling at the feet of her best friend, her own hands cover his, peeling his fingers from his eyes, “What’s going on with you Ed?” she whispers, “What did you take?”
The boy shakes his head, finally lifting it from his palms. His eyes are bloodshot and watering as they dart around the room. “I didn’t take anything,” He starts, stuttering through his sobs. Eddie Munson was not a crier. “I can’t- I can't talk about it right now”
“Then you don’t have to”
There is a weight that is lifted off of Eddie’s shoulders. Valerie guides him upstairs and to her bedroom. “I assume you’re staying here?” to which Eddie can only nod.
Valerie’s room is the perfect mix of expected and out of the ordinary. In such a large house that she only shared with a vacant father, she’d chosen the smallest of the bedrooms. Tucked almost in the attic of the house, and with walls covered inch to inch in posters and pictures. A singular window above a messy desk, littered with papers and loose crumbs of weed. An assortment of alphabetised Rock vinyl filled a bookshelf, across from her twin bed, a complete juxtaposition to the floral pink bedspread, and crystal-knobbed bedpost. She pulls spare blankets from her wardrobe and makes a bed on the floor for Eddie, who wriggles out of his jeans and jacket. Seeking any form of normalcy, he aims for a quiet night's sleep. Left only in his underwear and Hellfire t-shirt.
Valerie tries not to look, a curious mind keeping her eyes drawn to the undressing boy. She feels bad that she has nothing for him to change into. Fighting the urge, she changes herself. Shimmying a nightgown over her head and on top of her clothes. As she pulls them off from underneath - careful to watch her modesty - she reaches for her panties, unsure of whether or not she should take them off since Eddie was there. She did so anyway, quickly tucking them into the hamper of dirty washing near her door.
Eddie crawls under the blanket on the floor, Valerie watches him in the mirror as she cleans her face. Eddie’s eyes latched to the laundry basket before flicking to hers. A gulp.
A digital alarm clock displays 11:47 in bold red lettering. The pair get comfortable in their respective beds. Valerie is almost out like a light, she always slept better when Eddie was near. Even if they were supposed to be fighting. Eddie was the complete opposite, tossing and turning on the hard floor. He sits upright, eyes resting on his best friend’s lilac, cotton-covered back.
“V?” he calls out, earning a hum in reply. He’d woken her but she didn’t mind, “Nevermind”
“You sure?” She asks, eyes still closed, trying to preserve her sleeping stance.
He hesitates, contemplating his question once more. “Can I-” he starts but is interrupted by Valerie’s movement. The corner of the comforter lifted high in the air. An unsaid invitation to join her in the bed. Eddie took it gladly.
It was a different experience, and something that they’d never done before - share a bed- not since they were children. When there was no leg hair on Eddie’s part; or boobs and hips on Valeries. Each only covered by a thin layer of fabric. It’s almost an immediate regret, but he stays there anyways. Laying shoulder to shoulder, but not quite touching, until morning.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
It’s Valerie who wakes first, crushed by Eddie’s arm over her torso. Her nightdress is pushed up to the bottom of her hips, and Eddie’s pale thigh slotted between her own. She can feel the heat of his legs on hers, butterflies erupting in her stomach. What the fuck? She thinks.
He snores softly next to her, drooling. Valerie watches him closely, observing how his eyelashes flicker as he sleeps, and how strands of his wild hair have fallen into the corner of his mouth. She bites back the urge to fix them.
“Stop staring at me, weirdo” he mumbles, eyes still unopened. Unphased by the position they’d found themselves in overnight.
Valerie flicks his cheek with her middle finger and thumb. “Morning my sweet princess,” she coos jokingly, “was your bed to comfort?”
“It was alright, though I seem t o have found a much more comfortable bed though the night” he smirks, pushing himself fully between her legs, and laying on her chest.
It’s meant as a joke. An effort to lay on her completely - trapping her under his weight. But he’d forgotten their lack of clothing, and Valerie was far too aware.
“Oh, Eddie! Uh-” She gulps, surprised and awkward, “Uh, I'm not wearing any underwear”
His eyes blow wider, notice finally taken of their position and scrambling off. Valerie shimmies her skirt back down her legs as Eddie stutters an apology, “I uh- I forgot. Sorry”
“No, no it’s fine.” She smiles awkwardly, “Just move on, it didn’t happen.”
“Yeah, We’ll forget about it.”
So they did; and proceeded to cook breakfast. Eddie tried his best to flip the pancakes, completely unsymmetrical and lumpy - despite the fact that they were from a bottle mix that only required milk. Valerie came downstairs soon after, laundry basket in tow. She excused herself to the back door, and down the stairs into the grass. She takes down the pegged-up t-shirts, jeans and blouses from the washing line. Eddie watched her as she climbed back into the kitchen. A strange type of domestic bliss despite the situation.
“So are we gonna talk about it?” She asks, entirely tired of skating around answers.
“I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it” he answers, “It was awkward, I’m sorry. But, I honestly just forgot-”
“Not that Ed,” she interjects, eager to forget that morning “What happened? Was something wrong with the deal? Was it with Chrissy?”
His movements stop, breathing quickening and his back stiff. He takes a moment before returning to the pancakes. Pouring a fresh one onto the hot frying pan. “You won't believe me,” he dismisses. Fingers drumming rhythmically on the countertop. “I wouldn’t believe me.”
Valerie stalks closer, pushing herself onto the countertop next to the hob. She is careful not to touch the pancake mix with her clean jeans. She pulls her clean work uniform from the pile of washing she just took inside, buttoning it up over her vest top.
Eddie’s gaze is avoidant until she speaks: “Try me”
And he did; taking his time to unveil every secret he could remember from the night before, every insignificant detail down to the colour of Chrissy’s eyes before they burst out of her skull.
It put Valerie off of breakfast completely, “And where is Chrissy now?” she asks, still trying to keep Eddie’s stare.
“I left her there”
Valerie hops off of the counter, turning the hob off and reaching for the car keys that were hanging nearby. “Okay,” she breathes, “Well then we gotta go see if she’s okay. See if Wayne’s home”
She catches Eddie’s hand before he pulls it away sharply.
“No, Val no,” he cries, eyes starting to pool with tears again, “Please stay with me, I gotta hide! The police are gonna think I did it.”
The kitchen air is tense and filled with the smell of shitty pancakes. Eddie stands fully dressed, including his reeboks. He looks ready to run at any moment.
“Do you think I did it?” he whispers, brown eyes full of fear.
He’d seen a lot of scary things, but nothing had his heart racing more than the thought of Valerie not being on his side.
“Do I think you flew the head cheerleader magically into the air, breaking all of her bones, and bursting her eyeballs from her skull?” She blinks, “No”
Relief.
“So you believe me?”
Valerie breathes in deeply, exciting the kitchen and plopping herself on the couch. She found the remote in the same place as she left it the night before. “Not exactly, Ed” she replies
“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”
“Are you 100% sure you saw that,” she starts, switching the television set on, flicking through the channels “Definitely not just a bad trip?”
“I wasn’t on anything Val! I swear-”
His protest is interrupted by the sound of Breaking News on the television. The backdrop, is a scene of Eddie’s trailer park. Eddie takes a rattled breath as the reporter reveals the death of a ‘Hawkins High School Student’.
“Believe me now?” He whispers.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Eddie paces across the living room. Brain buzzing with thoughts, inhibiting him from stillness for even one second. Valerie is the embodiment of that stillness, still sat on the couch. Eddie chitters away to her, speaking every thought that came to him; how it could have happened; plans of how he could run away; a question of whether or not she’d go with him.
He talked so much that he barely noticed the girl rise from her seat and shrug her coat on.
“And where do you think you’re going?” he exasperates, finally noticing her.
“Work?” she replies, much too calm given the current situation. “If I'm going to be harbouring a to-be fugitive, we at the very least need money.”
“What if they come here? Won't this be like the first place they’d check”
“Boathouse” She states, tossing the keys at him. “I’ll be home at 5”
⋆·˚ ༘ *
It’s a usually short shift that seems to drag on. The threat of her best friend’s arrest loomed whilst she stacked shelves at a surprisingly busy Melvald’s General Store. The foot traffic had picked up massively since the big fire at Starcourt.
It was rather lucky that she only knew one of the victims that night, most people in the town knew many. Valerie thought it was disgusting that the shop owners of Main Street took such happiness from the loss of the mall. It was as if they’d ignored the grief that came with it altogether.
Billy Hargrove was a regular customer of hers. Never once agreeing to a deal with Eddie. It was probably because of the impact it would cause on his precious social status. Valerie had nothing personally against the boy, they spoke minimally and it was always civilised, she just never agreed with his prejudiced views, and the way he obviously treated his younger sister. He had severe anger issues, that much was obvious.
Billy threw a glass at her during a party once when she refused to sell him. She’d overheard what he’d said about the only black boy in their grade and refused to follow through with their deal until he apologised for it. He never apologised, dying in the fire a mere week later. She felt guilty to think he deserved it.
In any other scenario, Valerie would maybe scrape an ounce of remorse towards the death of a fellow student, no matter how much she disliked them. But, in Billy’s case - though brutal - she was glad he was dead. One less bigoted racist in Hawkins might actually do some good.
She thought a lot about that during her shift. A lot about the overwhelming amount of deaths her small town had suffered over the course of the last few years. The crime, and cover-ups of the government. Her father’s arrest. The disappearance of her co-worker’s son.
“Hello? Are you even listening?” Donald waved a wrinkled hand in her face, “Valerie, it’s 4:45, you finished 15 minutes ago”
She just blinked confusedly in response, checking her swatch. The small hand was unmoving - causing the watch to read 3 hours previous.
“Oh, Shit!” she exclaims, “The battery must have died,”
“Ah, happens to me all of the time” Donny laughs, “i’ll take care of this, you run along home”
That was someone who wasn’t prejudiced, strange for an elderly white man, but Valerie appreciated it nonetheless. Her father was no secret in Hawkins, though much more a whisper than actuated fact.
The drive from the main street to Holland Road was slower at this time, with cars full of workers waiting to get home. Wives probably cooking meatloaf or a pasta bake. Highly unlikely that anyone joined Valerie on her quest to get home to her potentially murderous best friend before the police did.
Her car crawled to a stop beside a burgundy BMW. A registration plate she didn’t recognise, and nobody waiting at her door.
She sprints directly for the boathouse. Collecting her old baseball bat on the way. A group of dark figures shine flashlights into the window of the boathouse. Valerie’s arms lift the bat high, ready to strike. She walks forward as the group tries the door handle. She shouts before they can enter. “What the fuck are you doing back here” she calls out.
Steve Harrington is the first face she recognises as she scans the profiles of the intruders. Dimly lit by the outdoor light. Each armed with a flashlight, they jump at her entrance. Her eyes meet that of Dustin’s
“Henderson?” she asks, confused.
“Hey Val, Uh Long story-” he starts, holding his hand out defensively as she lowers the bat. She still holds it tight though - just in case. “We’re looking for Eddie, we’re here to help.”
Her eyes flicker between the three others that join him. “All of you?”
It’s a genuine question, yet entirely defensive at the same time. Could you blame her? They weren’t exactly the usual type of people to be seen together.
“Yes. Friends.” He starts, introducing the group he’s with, “You know Robin, I believe you go to school together. And this is Max-”
“Hargrove?” Valerie interrupts, recognising the redheaded girl.
“No, uh Mayfield.” She replies.
“But you’re Billy’s sister? No?”
“Step-sister” she clarifies. A smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes on her face.
Valerie just nods, returning to Dustin so that he can continue his list of introductions “And this is-”
“Steve Harrington” The eldest of the group interrupts, holding a hand out for her to shake. He pushes his hair from his face, a cheeky smirk on his lips.
“Yeah, I know who you are,” she deadpans, refusing his hand’s gesture, “And what makes you think Eddie’s here?”
Steve steps back in slight embarrassment, Dustin’s face furrowing in confusion “He is? Isn’t he?”
Valerie opens her lips in an effort to lie, she is fully prepared to tell them that she hadn’t seen Eddie since they were at school and to maybe try Gareth’s house, but her efforts were unnecessary as the sound of the boat creaking gives away the position of anyone hiding inside.
Robin pushes the door open and the group file inside, “He seriously isn’t here guys” she lies, trying to keep their attention from the boat where she knew Eddie was hiding.
Max looks at the table full of assorted crisp packets and bottles, “Someone was here” Max observes, garnering the attention of Robin. Valerie can’t help but bite back profanities, if Eddie was going to keep himself a secret, he’d have to learn to tidy up after himself.
“Maybe he heard us,” Robin hypothesises, “Got spooked and ran?”
On the opposite side of the boathouse, Steve pokes around with oar in hand. He jabs it sharply into the tarp above Rick’s old fishing boat. Valerie prayed Eddie wasn’t in there.
“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar” Dustin jokes,
“I know you think you’re being funny, but considering the fact that most people in this room have nearly died a thousand times,” Steve continues to bash at the boat. Valerie almost wants to tell him off, but can’t for fear of suspicion, “personally, I don’t find it funny in the sligh-”
His rant is interrupted, as he is quickly pushed up against the boat wall by Eddie. A broken beer bottle pushed to his neck. The group shout in fear once again. Dustin calls out, trying to get Eddie’s attention, but the long-haired boy is shaken, and defensive.
“Eddie, drop the bottle” Valerie warns, stepping close to the two boys, she holds her back to Steve, trying to pull Eddie’s gaze. He shakes as he pins Steve to the wooden slats. “Steve drop the oar” She tries, slowly reaching to take the glass from Eddie’s hands. His pupils are wide, making his already dark brown eyes even darker.
Steve drops the oar and it clatters to the floor, the loud noise causes Eddie’s grip to tighten, the sharp glass pushing further into his neck. “Eddie, It’s Dustin. This is Steve” Dustin tries, Eddie’s head snapping towards the sound of the voice.
“What are you doing here?” he grunts out
“We’re looking for you!”
“We're here to help” Robin chimes in, still anxious that her best friend is under attack by a potential murderer.
Eddie’s eyes flicker to Valerie’s, who just nods in agreement with the group. She may not trust them implicitly, but right now anything that could talk Eddie away from the ledge he’d found himself on was imperative.
“Eddie, we’re on your side” Dustin tries once more, and Valerie can tell he’s genuine. “I swear on my mother. Right guys?”
A chorus of variated agreements follow. Eddie still pushing the glass deeper into Steve’s neck. Any harder and it would’ve drawn blood.
“Eddie, please?” Valerie whispers.
The boy drops his hand, stepping away as Steve falls to the floor. Valerie crouches next to him, lifting his neck to check for injury as Max and Robin crowd. Steve catches his breath before looking into her eyes. They flicker between Valerie and Eddie, who is leaned back against the wall next to them.
“Eddie we just want to talk,” Dustin punctuates, gently reaching to take the bottle from Eddie’s grasp. He flinches when Eddie holds it tighter, “Okay”
“We just want to know what happened,” Robin tries.
“You won’t believe me.” Eddie sniffs, eyes finally looking at the group. He watches Valerie who is still checking on Steve. “Even she doesn’t believe me”
The group turn to Val as she whispers to Steve, she looks up finally at the feeling of eyes on her. “I do believe you, Ed”
“You don’t believe that it’s real”
“That what’s real?” Max asks, “Did you see something?”
“He had a bad trip, doesn’t remember what happened.” Valerie tries to explain, but Eddie just scoffs.
“This is exactly what I mean,” Eddie sniffs again, “You won't believe me.”
“Try us”
⋆·˚ ༘ *
The group crowd around Eddie as he retells the story of what he saw. Valerie elected not to hear the gory details again, wandering to the outside of the boathouse. She pulls a cigarette from the box and brings it to her lips. She lights it and inhales deeply. Choking on the exhale as Steve bumps into her.
“Shit, sorry” he whispers, careful not to interrupt Eddie’s speech, “Not that good with gore, if I’m being honest.”
Valerie nods, taking another puff, “You guys shouldn’t be fueling this,” she starts, “it’s not good for him, he’s clearly not okay.”
“You really don’t believe him?” Steve realised, taking in the younger girl as she smoked. Still dressed in her Melvald’s uniform. Steve recalls if he’d ever seen her in there before.
“I believe that he believes it, yeah.”
“But you don't believe him?”
Valerie hesitates, talking another sharp drag, burning the tobacco almost down to the filter, “I believe he saw something, I just don't believe it actually happened”
They stand until she finishes her cigarette, taking a final puff before offering it to Steve. He accepts her offer, bringing it to his lips. He notices the residue from her lipgloss circling the rim before taking the last toke. They hear Eddie finish his story inside, the boathouse growing silent.
“Look, Maybe you should hear this part,” Steve suggests, “might clear things up for you as well”
“Why are you guys so hellbent on lying to us.” She accused, crossing her arms as Steve stubs out the cigarette.
“Because we’re not lying.”
Steve pushed the door wide with one arm, Valerie sliding underneath it and into the cold walls of the boat house. Eddie sits against a table ledge, hands rubbing his eyes. A sign he was stressed.
“Listen, what I’m about to tell you might be a little difficult to take” Dustin starts, inviting Valerie to sit down as he continues, “You know how people say Hawkins is cursed?
She nods, eyes looking to Steve for a rection. Why she seemed to trust him? She had no clue. Perhaps it was the lingering feelings of a childhood crush on the former ‘King’ of Hawkins High. Or maybe it was just because she was good at reading people.
“They’re not way off,” Dustin continues, “There’s another world, a world hidden beneath Hawkins, sometimes it bleeds into ours”
“Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie perks up, interested and believing.
“There are some things worse than ghosts”
“What the fuck could be worse than ghosts?” Valerie jabs, though is ignored by the group.
They continue to question Eddie about what he saw, Valerie almost wants to ask them to leave, to fuck off and bother someone else, but they seem understanding of her best friend. They seem to know what was going on.
Eddie trembled, “You know I tried to wake her man, but she couldn't move. It's like she was in a trance or something.”
“Or under a spell” Dustin commented
“A curse.”
“Vecna’s curse?” Valerie chimes. Both Dustin and Eddie’s heads turn to her. Neither of them expecting a genuine statement from the girl, but they nod anyhow.
“Who’s Vecna?” Steve questions on behalf of the rest of the group. Clearly not DnD players, or people who knew anything about the game whatsoever. He was asking for a genuine answer, yet Eddie and Dustin continue to act as if this were a game of DnD and not the current story of their lives.
“An undead creature of great power” Dustin begins, “A spell caster”
“A dark wizard” Eddie continues
“Some fucking Dungeons and Dragons guy” Valerie finishes, standing up from her spot.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
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