The Freak, Eddy Munson.
author’s note: hey guys ! i apologize for the cliffhanger, but i fully plan on making a part 2! also, this is my first fanfiction about eddie munson and stranger things overall (unless you wanna count the byler fic i wrote in 2017 when i was like 14) so the characters in the story might be different than in the show, but that’s just due to being new.
the story is about a feminine reader (Y/N) who moves from the snowy state of Colorado to the state of Indiana, specifically Hawkins out of desperation for a story. a bunch happens, some unexpected hookups and friendships. also, everything that happened in the show happened in this story, three years prior in ‘83.
disclaimer: drug talk, cussing, smut, talk of mental illness.
“Hi, I was calling about my daughter's schooling? We just moved from Colorado, I signed all the forms, I just wanted to make sure everything was in line for her to start tomorrow. Thank you! Yea, her name is Y/N, Y/L/N. Appreciate it so much! Thank you, bye-bye" Your mom paced as she spoke to the school on the landline, appearing stressed.
you were dreading this day. you often wondered why you couldn't have just stayed in Colorado, where you grew up, everything you knew was there. Your father, however, had other ideas. "Any publicity is good publicity," he would state, which would make Hawkins, Indiana the absolute perfect place to flourish. He would often talk about his future career goals, how reporting about the strange things occurring in that town would show all of his higher ups just how amazing of a reporter he was, you guys would thrive there. But you just didn't buy it. Rumors spread like wildfire over state lines, it's not like things that happen in Hawkins happen everywhere else, any other day. The radios, television stations, newspapers, you just couldn't escape it. For your father, this cesspool of a town was a aspiring reporter's dream breakthrough, but for you, it was misery.
"Ah, so throwing me straight into that hell hole, huh? You couldn't have given me one day to settle in?" You grab your finished bread from the toaster, as well as the strawberry jelly from the fridge, and stare at your mother.
"Y/N, please don't start this again. You nagged the whole drive here. Wasn't that enough for you 'settling in'? It seems to me you've known this was going to happen, and you've been preparing for that. Besides, education is important. The sooner the better, smart girl." Your mom sighs, setting the phone back on the wall and making her way to you. She gently places her hand on your left shoulder and states, "making new friends won't hurt, you know."
"Mom you know that's bullshit. I'm going to stick out like crazy here. I stick out everywhere. Didn't you learn from last year? Those kids were relentless, and that was in a state I grew up in! I can't imagine what it'll be like here."
"Nonsense." Your father interrupts, heading to the fridge to grab some orange juice, "If you're anything like your pops, you'll know you'll get through this. Starting out with negativity will only worsen your chances darling."
"Calm down, Y/N! There's a few boxes in the van still, would you mind?" Your mom suggests. You roll your eyes at her and flail your arms in irritation. "Thanks honey! It's so nice to know I can depend on my daughter without the attitude," she sarcastically states, "teenagers."
You begin unpacking all of the boxes in your room in agony. This was the biggest issue with your parents: they didn't hear you, only listened. It always left such a hole in your heart, like you're screaming only to realize nobody can hear you, and they'll proceed as normal while you're stuck hiding. You would think to yourself about how one simple day to readjust would be nice, but in a family that only cares about academics & proving your father, nobody could be bothered to care about that additional day. Only you know how much that would've helped you.
Instead, you sit on your bed, staring out of the broken blinds of the bedroom in your new house. It astonished you, how you went from a nice home in a nice suburb of Colorado, a house you grew up in, to move to some trailer park for some conspiracy theory.
Time passes, you start to disassociate into the nothingness of the Indiana sky until your sight is interrupted.
Across the street, you notice a man exiting a van. He's cute, kind of mysterious, and you found yourself lost in thought by the mere sight of him. He had this long brown curly hair you almost melted over, and you could see the back of his denim outfit perfectly. You couldn't help but want to know more about him, but also couldn't help but dismiss him. "He's probably older," you mumble to yourself, trying to dismiss the thought of him & boys away from your cluttered brain. After all, you haven't even started school yet. Who knows if the same curly haired weirdo will inhabit the same space?
"What?" Your mom questions as she taps on the door, not waiting for a response before entering.
"Oh, nothing. I was just watching the neighbors." You sigh, and close both the blinds and curtain surrounding the transparent glass that held you captive.
"Can you remind me again, exactly why we're here? Why we left the three story, decently maintained house I grew up in?" You continue.
"Like fuck mom, I learned how to walk there, talk there. Does that seriously mean nothing to you? As opposed to some theory dad is chasing?"
"One, watch your language. I'm not gonna tell you that again. Two, Y/N, you know how he sees things," she sits on the bed next to you and lightly sets one leg over the other, rolling her eyes with the quick motion. She always did this when she was ready to talk serious,
"Why don't you just give it a shot, huh?" She asks, as if the answer wasn't entirely in front of her eyes:
- You didn't want to restart and make up for almost eighteen years of your fucking life. Duh.
But to be honest, that wasn't the only reason. This whole town *was* the reason. Michigan would've been okay, you were hoping for Minnesota for hockey, but Indiana?
But the more you thought about it, the more the other factors seemed to rear their heads more presently, as she seemed to dismiss them entirely:
- This whole town was defined by a rumor, the same stupid rumor that involved the Indiana Government and some, like, ten year olds,
- Your dad was never going to seriously find anything even *slightly* interesting here, unless he exposed the town for it's sheriff or chemically discolored appearing water, or Bigfoot that lives in a lab somehow.
and a bunch of other reasons, reasons you were so pissed off over, you didn't even want to think about comprehending.
"This is fucking stupid," you mumble in response. Your mother seems to almost ignore the comment, brushing you off as quickly as you spoke moments prior.
"And you never know," she continues, "this could very well be the groundbreaking story he deserves. Would it kill you to have hope?"
"I'm restarting my whole life in some freak show town because dad is a wannabe reporter. Sound about right? Yes, it would kill me to have even an ounce of hope."
"You're so dramatic, in the nicest way possible. Wouldn't you want this to be worth something? Is it really worth that much to be correct? You know, why don't you find something you're passionate about?"
"Yea, I guess." You shrug, and look at the stained carpet beneath you.
"All of our savings are tied up for this move, this is going to be a really stressful time for us, and we can use all the support we can get." She stares at you with a pout, not a sad pout like kid's make when they don't get their way, but more the type of face you make when you really just want to express that empathy & receive sympathy from somebody. You sigh, but nod, and reassure your mom the best way you can. After all, why be a dick when they're going through just as much? Even if you didn't mean it, even if you already hated it there, your agreeing seemed to shift your mom's mood, and that's all you cared for.
"I'm sorry," you finally speak, "I'm just scared."
"We all are, hon. Your father included. But it's okay, just please at least give this new town a chance."
You didn't want to agree. You wanted to shout, tell her that no matter how much she tried, she could never make this house a home, you wanted to breakdown. Mixed emotions were reoccurring throughout this moving process, going from wanting to throw a fit like a toddler, to wanting to sucker punch your dad in the face for even thinking about coming up with the idea. God, how you wanted to just look at your parents, both at once, and tell them how it is. Tell them exactly how messed up it is to downgrade in such a way, over a story that was mostly hearsay like a game of telephone. You heard so many things in your head, all ranging from the "fuck you"s, to the "care about your child more", all deprecating comments you would much rather keep to yourself, for your sake & theirs. You let out a sigh, and choose to spare your mom her tears, and your dad the fighting.
Your alarm clock blares precisely at 5 in the morning, the sun isn't even up. You sigh, and struggle to turn the alarm clock off, staring at the blank ceiling for a moment before ultimately deciding to stand and prepare for your day.
You dreaded this, for you weren't the same as the other girls you had often went to school with. In Colorado, kids didn't bother you because you kept to yourself. In Colorado, you had a band, and nobody cared because you didn't talk outside of your circle. In Colorado, you were neither present, nor thought about, and that's exactly how you liked it. But kids tend to pick on the new student, regardless of the school. Like in the TV soap-opera, wannabe-relevant drama programs your mom watches. It's exactly like that. That's the only thing you can point out being accurate with those pictures.
Three years prior, in 83, the news was flooded state wide with a missing child's case, and with it came all of the rumors and criticism. You never knew exactly what happened, kids in your old school said they heard from their parents that the kid was neglected, especially by his father, and there was a police chief in on hiding the disappearance. Other rumors speculated as far as to accuse the child's own mother of the kidnapping. Or the father, who (again) was not involved, nor seemed to publicly care. Or somehow, a monster. Bigfoot, you told yourself. They're hiding his ass here.
Nonetheless, to this date, you don't know what is the truth, other than the kids involved in this case closely still attend Hawkins public school, maybe even your new high school. *Most* of the children were specifically kept hidden, had their names changed in articles, the best attempt at anonymous television hearings the 80s had ever seen, all thrown into Witness Protection, supposedly. All but the missing kid: Will Byers. That sounded selfish to you, forcing these little kids to hide like that, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd be their new target. Maybe there was more to the situation than you knew. Maybe Bigfoot was secretly Will's best friend.
The thought of this upset you more, though. Not more upset at Will, not at yourself, not at those other kids, but at your dad. After all, he wasn't a goddamn detective. He was barely a reporter.
Your mind flooded with awful scenarios, some of which you could partially admit to yourself were completely impossible of occurring, but that didn't stop your brain.
You hop in the shower, and walk to school, as you see the back of some van as it screeches from behind you, speeding ahead. Maybe the dame from yesterday.
"Asshole! Your parents ever teach you slow and steady wins the race prick?!" you speak in response to the tires squealing like a barn animal as they pass you, but the driver was too far gone to hear the insult.
You walk the few miles, and make it to your new high school a little late, without a care. You had a plan: lay low. If you were late, they'd simply never notice.
But regardless, without a shadow of doubt,
Here you are. You've just entered Hawkins High School, home of the tigers, standing firmly on the school yard. Your family has just moved from Colorado, to Indiana. you arrived in Indiana the morning before. Now you're here, terrified but also irritated. Actually, the more you thought about it, anger consumed that fear. You wanted to break somebody's kneecaps. Everybody's kneecaps. You started to want somebody to say something to you, almost.
The bell rings, as students flood in. You check the paper schedule your mother wrote you, and head to your first period.
"Oh, perfect timing Ms.Y/L/N, everybody I'd like to introduce you to your new classmate, Y/N!" Your teacher smiles. You didn't even mean to be on time. The whole plan was to show up late, to make it easier, but tossing and turning kept you up all night so frankly you were up too early to be late, even if you took hours to get ready. Immediately, you look around at the unfamiliar faces in the crowd that induce paranoia. "Where are you from? What brings you to our lovely little town?"
"Our cursed ass town, you better leave while you can" An unidentified man mumbles from the back.
"Munson, shush. The town isn't cursed just because you can't graduate. Maybe pay attention to your grades, and not some mumbo jumbo curse, hm?" Your teacher snaps back. You choose to ignore her questions, and during the ruckus of her unnecessary conversation with the other student, you decide to instead proceed to an empty seat in the back row. She seems to pay no attention, before continuing her subject: English.
As for the teacher, she was this little old lady, maybe 4'11" with a gray mop on her head. Easily 70's. Your first impression of her showed you that as long as you kept your chin facing the vinyl flooring, and she didn't seem to have a first impression of you.
You pull out a notebook and start to draw, and make little song notes on the lines surrounding the doodles.
You were a singer, in a band from Colorado. It stressed you out to think that they might replace the singer. You started to plot different outcomes, and in your notebook wrote, "solo artist?"
Again, your teacher seems to almost take no notice, and rambles about the importance of English in "the real world".
Oh, how you hated that saying. It used to make you wonder if your existence took place on a fake world, and if not, then where that dumbass saying arose from. You would hear people say it to you often, people like your dad who had no idea what "the real world" was themselves, and instead chose to preach a sentence they knew nothing about. You hated that saying. You were never the type of person that needed to hear it, you weren't like the rest of these kids.
"Solo singer, huh?" The familiar voice preaches.
"Sorry?" If you were being completely honest with yourself, you didn't even realize how quick it took you to space out. It took you longer than you'd like to admit that he read what you wrote in your notebook, immediately after the thought coming to the conclusion to cover your notebook with your arms. He laughed, and you looked away from him. You could've swore you wrote that sentence moments ago, almost making you annoyed that he felt like he just *had* to say something.
"No, seriously though, you play anything?"
"Munson! Y/L/N! Would you like to enjoy the discussion?"
"Honestly, not really." You speak before even processing your next thought.
"Well, Ms. Ancient English Teacher, I think she said 'not really'. She's kinda quiet though, so maybe I misheard her. Don't worry, I'm trying to get her to talk more," he winks at you. You roll your eyes, and your teacher simply shakes her head at you both, letting a small word slip before inevitably continuing: "Degenerates."
Not long after your teacher resuming her rambling about "real world grammar", the bell rings, and you find yourself being the one of few last people to exit the classroom. But before you could even walk through the hallway, you're bombarded by a man you've never talked to.
"Hey sweetheart," the voice said from next to you. You proceed to try and pick up your pace, your locker was only a few more down. But he was adamant, "Hey, wait up!".
For a moment, you thought to yourself, "already? I just got here."
But after his endless attempts at getting your attention during this small walk, you decide to listen to him, and stood in front of your locker so you could not only see the person you were talking to, but also you would have room to make an exit if need be. That was apart of your brain though, always making a mental note of each exit. It's how you learned to cope in Colorado, so this felt like second nature almost. Except for the tall lanky stranger in front of you.
"You stalking me yesterday?"
"Um.. excuse me? I don't even know who you are." You realized at that moment who you lived across from now. Can't complain, though. He was douchey, but it turned you on, as much as you hated to remind yourself that.
"You just moved into my trailer park, right? Forest Hills?"
"Well, sure, when you're the freak of the school you need somewhere to put the caution signs." You rolled your eyes in response. Oh, how fascinating, the freak kid likes to talk about being a freak, real turn of events. The truth is, anybody at this age is immature, not because they choose not to be (which might be the case for some people), but because their brains simply can't comprehend it. And if you fit any young, impressionable mind into a box to define them, it starts to become their whole personality, everything they talk about is how they're this, or how they're that, how people do/don't like them because they are this/that, blah blah blah. Your classmates aren't mature. He isn't mature. You aren't mature. Hell, your parents aren't even mature. You think about how you ended up here, in this dead end town, in that old worn down trailer that barely has gas, going to some poor excuse for a school filled to the brim with these white-picket-fence-American-dream idiots, barely living. You only became more irritated by the sight of the school, don't even get you started on the kid with the name tag labeled 'freak' standing in front of you.
"Okay, sure, well I'm going to be late to my second period so if you'll kindly move-" You didn't necessarily care to hear it, and you certainly didn't have the time to hear him ramble about being a freak. You tried to maneuver through the space between the two of you.
"They'll eat you up here, ya know. God knows I want to." He mumbled, moving ever so slightly to let you pass. You refused to make eye contact with him, and instead proceeded to bump into him as you walked passed, placing your headphones back over your ears. You could feel the presence of his eyes burn through the back of your skull, and just to confirm it, you turn around and make eye contact with him. For a label, he was pretty attractive. He stood in that same place he just talked to you at, biting his lip with his arms crossed. You choose to break the eye contact, and continue to second period.
As much as you hated to admit it, everything you heard in middle school was right. Kids in the school would talk about how their siblings in high school say its hard, and the other kids are mean. Soon a trend started, where kids around you wrote in their composition notebooks about "How To Survive Highschool", some of which had all the simple generic rules of surviving anywhere. But nonetheless the lists ranged with different kids, some writing about how making friends was the *most* important, other kids writing about how playing sports for scholarships were important, whatever. Truth be told, not all of them were that far off. But there was one key all of them were missing: Do Not (under any circumstances) Fit Yourself in a Box. Stay to yourself, those people aren't going to matter after high school, and they aren't going to help you graduate.
The day went on as normal until lunch. You did your best to not stand out as the weird kid, and went mostly unnoticed, until it came to bring groups like this. Lunch was always the hardest, regardless of what school you went to, regardless of what state you were in. People this naive tend to thrive on the others around them, and will jump in on any given circumstance, to fuel their own ego and in attempt to make everybody *think* they're cool. You've witnessed the generic "band geek" join in on bullying of the weird kids in your own school, anything was possible. Still, you tried to keep your head low.
"Hey, you new here?" A voice from behind you speaks. You choose to ignore her, and continue waiting in the lunch line for the lunch lady to fill your tray. She continued to make little "psst", and "hey", remarks at you in an attempt to catch your attention, but when that didn't work again, she began to speak once more. "Uh.. hello?" She presses again, but the outcome is the same, you proceed further, tray in hand, trying your best to tune out the annoyance. "Look, I'm not trying to like, start anything, but I've been seeing Munson staring at you. Little stalker can't take his eyes off of you. I'm just trying to let you know, from woman to woman, he's bad news." 'Okay,' you thought, 'I'll bite.'
You turned around in pure irritation, everything around you went blurry as you faced her to share eye contact with her. This was the moment you thought about earlier that morning, with the kneecaps. Even though this girl wasn't necessarily picking on you, the phony kindness and pretending like she knew you got old quick.
"Yeah, okay, well from woman to woman, I couldn't be bothered to give a shit. I'm not interested in the freak you seem to think you're better than, or anybody here. As a matter of fact, I'm not even interested in this food. So thank you *so* fucking much, you made me lose my appetite." You storm out of the line and throw your tray away. You're not the type to normally snap under pressure like this, but you were waiting for a moment *somebody* would approach you. That anxiety of waiting, only made you more furious in the moment. You hear footsteps trail behind you, the same girl as before, "Hey! Wait!"
You make it to the bathroom, and she follows you. This time, you feel your blood start to boil. Who is this girl and why won't she leave you alone? What does she seem to want? And why does she seem to care so much about what you do?
"Oh, my god, what could you *possibly* want this time?" You sigh in exhaustion and almost exaggeration, and turn to face her, the only other girl in the bathroom.
"I think we got off on a bad foot here, my name is Chrissy."
"Thanks? Is that all you came in here for? To tell me your name?"
"Yes!" She says a little too excitedly, "Well, no. Kind of? I mean, not necessarily. I was-"
"Spit it out, Chrissy." You scoff.
"Look, this town, these people, aren't normal."
"Clearly. Day one and I have 'the freak' and 'daddy's money' on my ass." You air quote in response, throwing your shoulders down. "Oh, you must be talking about the monster that hides in the woods and destroyed your beloved mall? Look, I don't mean to be a bitch, but I moved here *because* my dad is chasing your crazy town conspiracy, I don't want to hear about Bigfoot here, too." You attempt to move past her, but she shifts.
"I'm not only talking about Hawkins." She mutters, "The whole world knows about that. I'm talking about here, what *truly* goes on behind closed doors, the people that try to hide those stories, IN this high school. Eddie Munson is a satanist, nobody's ever reported him but he makes satanic sacrifices with that Hellfire Club. The basketball team is trying to get more evidence though." You couldn't help but laugh in response, which fumed her.
"I'm serious! They play this stupid game that hails the devil! Dungeons and Dragons." She whispers, almost fearfully.
"You haven't heard of it? Its all over the papers right now, they make these sacrifices to satan, and listen to this devil worshipping music, they *really* hurt people, Eddie Munson mostly." To be truthful, you never bothered to read anything in the papers, news bored you.
"The news bores me." You weren't sure what else to say.
"No, listen! Sure, it's all rumors, but I don't trust him. You have to stay away!"
"Okay." You sighed in agreement, "whatever." You couldn't lie to yourself though, the extreme amount of worry on her face might've also worried you, and also might've further stressed you out. You hated rumors. You hated stupid high school drama shit. You hated everything Chrissy was. But her opinion seemed genuine, and from a place of worry. Besides, there's always a catch to guys that hot, anyway.
"I never asked your name, I heard the teacher say it in third period but completely forgot?" She says, almost hinting to ask your name. You didn't even realize you had third period with her. Your guess is you were zoned out for most of the day, as usual.
"Nice to meet you, Y/N, wanna come over after school maybe?" Normally, you would decline. But you almost felt bad for treating her like shit in the lunch line, and your mother is always talking about how making even *one* friend wouldn't hurt. This went against everything you stood for, keeping to yourself, laying low, graduating, and leaving this Jersey-Devil-Bigfoot-Infested town, but Chrissy intrigued you.
"Sure, I'll bite." You respond, just like you thought before snapping at her. She tells you to meet her in the parking lot after school, and tells you what car is her's. You part ways, and take the opposite hallway to your next period.
"Hey mom, yeah it's Y/N. Listen, I'm with my friend Chrissy-" You call, and your mom cuts you off in excitement, asking all sorts of questions about your new friend. Her genuine excitement made you smiler harder than you'd like to admit. "MOM! Mom, calm down, I'll tell you all about it when you get home," you sigh to her, cutting her off, "I love you so much, bye mom!"
"Not too many friends?" Chrissy asks, sitting on her bed.
"Not necessarily. I just moved from Colorado here, my dad's chasing some story."
"Oh, yea, our 'crazy town conspiracy'!" She chuckles, throwing air quotations.
"Yeah, sorry, I guess I'm just a little on edge. Is there anything else you can tell me about Munson?" You sort of accidentally blurt out, while you sit in her chair across from her and cross your arms, scratching your upper right forearm in nervousness. This wasn't like you. Even in Colorado, with the close circle you did have, you never hung out. You were always satisfied with calls on the landline, or talking in school, it brought far too much anxiety to "hang out". Also, it went entirely against your beliefs, and your own "High School Survival Guide", but you would get tired of remembering that. Chrissy was your exact definition of a high school girl before you talked to her: varsity cheerleading team, dating the biggest jock in school Jason, good grade achiever, teacher's pet, white picket fence family, everything down to a T. You didn't quite know what about her made her so different, maybe it was your brain tricking you, but it didn't seem like she really wanted that, either. After all, why would she willingly go up to the new girl, who didn't talk, was reserved, told off Eddie Munson, and flipped shit at her? She was looking for a way out. At least, that's what your brain suggested.
"Girl, I told you to stay away," She starts.
"Sure, whatever, but what's up with him?"
"Lives with his uncle at those ran down trailer parks. Mostly loves alone though, that man works nights so Eddie gets to do his practices and shit alone," she laughs.
"Always a catch, huh." You sigh.
"Yes, as in, he's super-"
"Super hot. All I'm saying is of *course* he has to be into some weird shit."
"You're better off finding another guy at school. Like my boyfriend, Jason Carver, he's totally yummy!"
"What teenager says 'yummy'? What are you, my mother? Got a novel to go with that? Little bath time?" You both laugh. It felt so good to laugh.
"Oh, shut up! I'm serious, though! I know a few people that know Steve Harrington, you seem like his type, I'll set you up!" She smiles, as if you've lived in this same town your whole life and *just* so happen to know who Steve Harrington is.
"Who... is Steve Harrington..." You ask.
"Are you kidding?! Only the king of Hawkin's High, you've never lived until you've seen Steve "The Hair" Harrington shotgun a beer at a party!" You look at her absolutely dumbfounded, because again, you had no idea who this man was.
"Shush! I'm setting you up! I don't care! You need to get laid!"
"Fine, fine!" You agree, only because you know it'll make Chrissy shut up about it. Who the hell is "The Hair", anyway?
"By the way, don't apologize for earlier. You started to a second ago. This town leaves a weird feeling on people, especially that high school."
"Why did you decide to follow me?" You blurt.
"Because, silly, I can see you. You want friends, don't want to fit in. I was that way at a time," she sighs, and looks down, "until I met Jason. He brought on a crowd I could've never imagined."
"Like in a bad way?" You ask.
"Sometimes, yeah. But other times, it's okay. You learn to grow with the eyes constantly on you, you can't really avoid that dating the most popular guy in Hawkins and being in the varsity cheerleading team."
"You should try out!" She suggests, but you laugh in response. She seems almost taken back by this.
"Yeah, sorry Chrissy, not my thing. I'll mess around with 'The Hair', I'll be your friend, but cheerleading is a no-go for obvious reasons." you point to yourself, your unbrushed hair that covered a good part of your face, and your outfit that you literally pulled from your dad's closet. Flannel jacket and baggy black and gray jeans, mom's tight shirts, as always. Everybody in Colorado could recognize you from the back — you were the only girl dressing like you smoked weed without ever actually trying it there.
"Oh, come on, please? You're perfect for it! They'll love you!"
She continues to on and off press you about joining the whole time the two of you hang out. She does your makeup, and styles your hair, which is normally far more girly than you'd like. You never wore makeup, and normally wore your hair down and over your face as a method to avoid being perceived anyway. Everything you did was in effort to never be noticed, never be thought about, and always be ignored. But this time, with Chrissy, everything felt so hyperfeminine. You really wanted to feel more comfortable with Chrissy, more than you'd like to admit. But this was never you. This.. was exactly what you *didn't* want. Eventually, after enough prying and probing about the subject, you're able to at least think about it, and tell her so.
"Fine. I'll think about it, okay?"
She seems excited, and suggests you stay the night, to which you agree. She picks out some of her cutest clothes for you to wear the next day, and you both continue through your night as normal, you listening to Chrissy's gossip, and learning more about her custom "Survival Guide":
- Stay classy when needed, be a slut when needed,
Chrissy ended up calling her friend that knew "The Hair", and suggested a double date for the two of you, in addition to Jason and (obviously) Harrington, which again, you felt like you needed to say wasn't you, but Chrissy wouldn't care about all of that.
She finally tells you it'll take place *that* night, after you've probably asked six hundred times or so.
Not enough time to prepare, both mentally and physically (though, Chrissy's probably already got "physically" covered, you being her little doll in her little chair in her big pretty doll house and all). You felt yourself beginning to have a panic attack.
"Oh my god, are you a virgin?"
"Sorry girl, you just seemed worried. Tripping me out."
"Because I *am* worried, you've been talking on the phone for, like, ever, why didn't you think to tell me it was gonna be tonight?"
"Last minute surprise! Don't worry, *I'll* bring your game!"
Chrissy sneaks you out of her bedroom, and into her car so you two can go on a double date. She begins telling you every good little thing about this Steve, almost so flirtatiously you could tell even *she* wanted him at a time. You didn't see what she seen in you, or what anybody did as a matter of fact, so dates were always hard. Even then, you haven't been on an *actual* date in forever. All you've been prone to is meeting some dude at his house, hooking up with him, and leaving. That's all you've been accustomed to, especially in your old High School.
Finally, the two of you arrived at a diner. Steve and Jason were talking like they had been there for hours prior, like they had known each other. As you found out, Steve already graduated, but when he was there, he literally reigned King in those halls. Everybody either wanted him, or wanted to be him, supposedly. And he was an attractive man, but something about a man *knowing* he's attractive, is a turn off.
"So, Y/N, tell all of us about yourself! I know very little, but Jay and *especially* Steve know nothing about you! Anything cool you're into?" Chrissy smiles as she hints to you, taking a sip of her milkshake.
"Uh, you know, I write a shit ton of music,"
"Boring!" Jason chuckles. This is the exact reason you hated jocks, even if he was kidding. You roll your eyes, super exaggerated, so he thinks you're joking back. So much for making friends.
"No, I think that's like, totally cool!" Steve smiles, almost desperately. You laugh in response, with a quick "thank you," and brush it off.
You spend the night talking about Colorado, and your old friends there, Steve stopped being into it an hour prior and Chrissy was blowing Jason in the back seat. So it was complete silence. Awkward, frustrating, and gross silence with the occasional slurping sound from the seats behind your's. Steve drove you home, and you didn't really care. For all you knew, they'd have an orgy. It wasn't really a big deal to you. Steve tried to initiate coming inside, but you laughed in response.
"Nice try, tiger. You were into me for maybe the first ten minutes."
"Maybe talk about something other than Colorado and how much you hate high school!" He laughs back. It made you happy to know at least there wasn't any animosity.
When you got home, you instantly ran into your mother who had a million questions about your nightly adventures. You knew how lonely she was, ever since your dad took on writing full-time, and you've always been the only child.
"Uh, I went on a date," you state, smiling at her as you walk through the kitchen and into the living room. "No big deal though, we didn't really hit it off,"
"I'm sorry baby," she sits next to you, laying her feet on the coffee table as she laid back on the spring exposed couch. She always thought the pillows would cover them. They did not. "What happened?"
"Just no spark. I'm boring. Plus, I couldn't get this other guy out of my head, I just felt weird the whole time."
"Ouh, a crush? Better not be that boy from across the street you were staring at yesterday. I seen him come home today, and he is bad news. I could practically smell the blood on him!"
"One, not a crush, and two, why does everybody keep fucking saying that?!" You shout, standing up. "I wasn't looking at him yesterday, christ mom! I was simply looking outside."
"He's bad news!" She responds, only slightly moving forward from her once comfortable spot. She stares at you, not breaking eye contact, like she's trying to let you know she's serious. It's a joke. This whole situation is a joke. That look she always gives, is a joke. Here you were, just trying to throw her a bone for once, but she started before you could even finish. You hated that. Both of your parents were this way, it's why you didn't get along with either of them.
"Can you think of *anything* original? Like, why, because he plays some stupid ass game, he's also giving satan a handjob, right?!"
"No! Hell no! I'm just trying to be nice because i know how upset you are *all* the time, because dad's always in the room with a tinfoil cap on and you're stuck in the bathroom reading Fabio novels. I couldn't even finish my *one* sentence!"
"You teenagers. You don't get it,"
"It's not even the game, Y/N, look at him! That long brown hair, those satanic eyes, I bet he's been to jail, or worse, you never know what he could-"
"DROP IT!" You yell before she could even finish.
You hated fighting. That's part of the reason you never wanted to be recognized as a real, living human being. Anything that could have the slight inkling of confrontation threw you off like it was some sort of odor, making you entirely agoraphobic in your worst times, like back in Colorado. Not that you couldn't fight if you had to, because you could, you had male cousins teach you, but you hated the attention. You hated the eyes following you, hated pretending to be anything other than simply non-existent.
"I don't know why you think you can talk to me like that, but this is done. If you ever so much as think about speaking to me like that," she comes up to you with her hand raised, "you will be out of my house quicker than you can even process the first letter in that sentence. Got it?"
"Now the boy? You said you were thinking about somebody else! Tell me about him, what does he look like?"
"Long brown hair, and satanic eyes. I'm going to sleep. Night."
The next day, Chrissy picked you up and finally met your mom. Your mom was absolutely thrilled to see her, and even more excited that you had a friend. This always made you feel so socially awkward, her acting like you're 3 years old at your first sleepover all over again. But you couldn't even lie, the older you got, the more that was a reality. You just loved being alone.
"We're gonna go mom, okay?" You hugged your mom goodbye, and went off to school. That day, as Chrissy told you, you were gonna try out for the cheerleading team. It was weird for you, and you'd almost rather die, but your mom mentioned it could be nice to have on college forms and that's all you've thought about since.
The thing with cheerleaders, and jocks, or just people like that overall, was they were their own special kind of label. As much as you could say you hated high school, and everybody in it, on and on for days — you could *especially* talk about those people. The same people that just make you blow steam through your ears, eyes and nose, they're so piercingly nauseating to be around. They bring a whole definition to the word "label", and embody it. You never wanted to be somebody like that. For example, when Chrissy told you that, you pretended to be getting ready in the bathroom for twenty minutes but you actually sobbed the whole time. Something about feeling so included, only made you feel more empty.
Which didn't make sense, but also did, in a way. You realized how your mental anguish was weighing in you particularly heavy today, and you just wanted to be done with the day.
"Hey girl, what's up? You barely talked the whole way here?" Chrissy smiles, wrapping her arm around your waist as she tags along next to you.
"Yea, really bad day is all," you half smile. You were telling the truth to her, for once. For some reason, you were up again all night tossing and turning over that same Munson boy everybody's telling you to stay away from. It wasn't even out of interest, but lust rather. You couldn't get the idea of what he would taste like on the tip of your tongue, you couldn't keep your mind away from his body for so long it was starting to affect your days in such a manner. But what she didn't *fully* know, wouldn't *fully* kill her.
"Oh, totally! Everybody has them, as they say. But hey, I was wondering if you'd come over after school? We can do makeup after cheer!"
"Hey, that's *if* I get accepted," you hoped you wouldn't.
"Bullshit, of course you will! You're like, my best friend, and I'm basically head of the team!" Oh shit. Right.
"Oh, goodie! Yay!" You said super unenthusiastically, but also nervously.
"Quit stressing! You got this!" But as she lets her sentence out, Jason came over. You hated cheesy love, but kind of adored the amount of love he had for her. Every time he seen her, he told her just how much he loved her, and lifted her off the ground as he hugged her. He was also very, immensely protective over her, like pitbull protective. Love was always your guiltiest pleasure, and your biggest secret. It was easier to convince yourself you hated it, anyhow.
"Hey, Y/N! How are ya?" Jason asks, lovingly smacking your shoulder and bringing you under his wing as well.
"I've been better. Nervous."
"Oh, look at you, little miss cheerleader!" He laughs. It was very obvious that you didn't quite fit into that scene.
"Yep!" You laugh back, throwing up a thumbs up.
"Well good luck, you got this," he says, shaking you.
"I was just telling her that Jay! See, I told you Y/N!" Chrissy was always *somehow* giddy in the morning. Jason and I continued to just talk with her, and joke with her before the morning bell. You guys always had plans to meet up after every class now, as if you didn't just get there the day prior. It felt nice to have friends, especially this quick, in such a shitty town.
The first bell rang, and that was your sign to separate, Chrissy and Jason their way, and you your's. You go back to your regular self, chin facing down and staring at the linoleum. You didn't think you've ever felt so confused, or so manipulated. You wished you hadn't met Chrissy, that you would've lived like this forever, things might've been better, although you almost hated that version of events more.
Everything about this made you feel so gullible, and torn. You almost hoped Eddie would be in class today, just to give you that serotonin boost for later.
Today, he decided to sit behind you.
Your english teacher continues to go off about the same book you read already, given your old high school were in a few units ahead by eleventh grade. You kind of liked this though, because it meant that you already knew the answers, and absolutely did not have to do a damn thing that whole period. It made relaxing nice, the longer you were left away for the better.
You feel a piece of crumbled paper by your feet, and turn around to make eye contact with him. He smiles at you, and winks, before putting a single finger over his mouth.
hey, seen you talking to head bitch in charge. everything good?"
You lightly smile before quickly hiding it, and shake your head. Why he felt like it was any of his business was astounding.
not that it's any of your business, but yes, why?
you crumble it up, and reach back to jokingly toss it at him. he smiles at you back, before quickly urging you to turn around, "come on sweetheart, you like your reputation don't you?" He whispers into your ear. You absolutely classified this as enough for fuel later, but the more the merrier.
"Nod if you agree, got it? Now's not the time for words." He states, again in a whisper, sparing the ears around him. You nod a few times, and not too fast, to not seem to eager.
"Good girl," he breathlessly responds, "do what I tell you and just pass the note the way I did. Watch me, and nod if you agree." He demonstrated, after writing on it once more and winking at you, by crumbling it up and putting it at the leg of the desk, backpacks blocking it, and reaching with the hand closest to not cause any commotion. This time, you quickly nod. No other man had ever made you feel so ready, so quickly. A huge part of swearing off of love, is often forcing yourself to hate it and not want any part of it. Meaning, you never wanted this. Even now, you weren't sure if you did want that, but you did know you wanted him.
You do as he says, and reach with the hand furthest back, quickly glancing over the teacher and other kids in the class. Once in the clear, you unfold all the creases and crevices it holds. You were even prepared with a response just incase she heard it, "I just messed up the notes I was taking before, needed a restart" or something cheesy like that.
you know, i see the way you look at me?
yes doll, it's not that hard to tell.
sorry? i don't just put out for anybody.
i never suggested you do. i just know the facts; i. you are exactly "my type", ii. we can have the best sex you will ever have (aka i'll give you the best dick you've ever had), iii. you're hot & i need you
meet me in the locker room. i'll leave the class first.
no, bathroom in the south hallway and i'll leave first. nobody will suspect it i leave first and you just happen to need to leave, they'll know i'm following you.
oh yea, creep. you're on ♡
oh, hearts now? we're on that status??
shut up and figure out a way to fuck me
He keeps the note after laughing a little bit at your response. Something about what you said got to him, and that only turned you on more.
"Hey uh Ms. Oldie-But-Goodie, I need to go take a waz, cool?"
"Fine, Eddie," She sighs. You can feel him standing up behind you, and he quickly mumbled "yep thank you". He taps your shoulder twice, but the shoulder facing away from people, and a motion people couldn't see. With another quick motion, he drops his hand, implying five minutes. The way his confidence radiated caused you to almost soak through your underwear, luckily the teacher (or anybody else, for that matter) never gave a shit to pay attention to Eddie because everybody continued their notes as the two of you shared a smile before he vanished.
You watched the clock slowly, anticipating the clock to strike five minutes. When it finally did, everybody was working silently per suggestion of pulling out workbooks. You raised your hand, telling your teacher you forgot it in your locker. To your surprise, she was actually more than okay with it. She told you to take your time, and wrote you a hall pass even. You had no time to think about how weird that possibly was, before Eddie scooped you up from the closed door behind you, and kissed your lips in one swift motion.
"Come on sweetheart," he smirks, leading you across the school to the South bathroom. "This one is the only one that can lock from the inside, and you can't unlock it from the outside."
"Perfect." You smile back. He locks the door behind you, and places you on top of the counter by the sink mirror. He begins placing small warm kisses down your neck as he paces his way to your breasts. He knew what he was doing, handling you with care as he felt on you. The heat between the two of you became sharp, and the normal school noises that inhabited the hallway became silent. Everything around the both of you stopped, besides the two of you. It was deafening, and absolutely incredible.
He continued to make out with you, intertwining his fingers with your hair and grinding to fill in the empty spaces between the two of you. You could feel him through his jeans as he gripped on the key spots on your body, like your lower back and thighs. He traced his fingers over the center of your lower half, lightly grazing his hand over your panties. You let out a sharp moan, aching for him as he teases.
"Slow down, princess," He smirks. He begins making eye contact with you while he continues, pressing harder as he traces his finger up and down. Everything around you felt like it was on fire, the desire became roaring. He painted a picture with his fingertips as he grabbed you, holding you ever so perfectly you could feel almost every piece of him on your dripping core as he strokes upon you. You couldn't take it anymore, and he could tell. "You want me?" He stares at you, almost with a pout. He was saying it mockingly, which turned you on even more.
He began kissing further, before pushing your bottoms to your ankles and moving your panties to the side. He smiled as he inserted himself into your tight entrance, slowly but passionate.
He began gripping on your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, sweaty skin slapping amongst each other. You whimper under his touch, and whine for him. Clapping continued to ring against the walls, bouncing off the tiled walls of the public bathroom. He muttered sweet and savory nothings, watching with intent your every move. He forced himself so deep inside you, you could feel him in every inch of your core. You began to moan his name, and absolutely beg for more.
The pressure became too much, but in the best way possible. You'd been with guys like him before, the guys who smell of musk and beer in the best possible way, the guys who have the edgier look. But they never took care of you the way he did, never talked to you the way he did. You cried out for him as he continued, not paying attention to exactly how loud you were, and ignoring the effects of doing so.
"Eddie, fuck!" You shutter, biting your lip.
"Tell me how good that is, princess," He spoke with hoarseness attacking his vocal chords.
"So good, Eddie, please don't stop!" You yearned.
"Yes, Eddie," you whimper, your legs shaking in delight, straddling him as the walls surrounding you collapsed and pulsed. You felt every ounce of pressure escape through your moans, and you could feel every nerve ending in between your fingers as you gripped onto the sink. You writhed, and wiggled below him, begging him for more. The pressure build up had caused your whole body to shiver, little bumps covered your spine as he was covered in your mess. You loved seeing him so astonished, like he was truly taken back by your center, and the result of his madness.
Everything was in slow motion, you could only focus on him bouncing off of your pelvis and those sweet brown eyes staring back at you as he did so.
He moved your t-shirt and flannel as he continued, lifting up your top and playing with your nipples with his tongue. This caused you to moan more, and almost immediately build up that same pressure once more.
He went faster, thrusting his hips to match your sweet spot. Eddie picked you up, and moved you more at an angle, so he could caress your breasts while he urged you. He smiled at you from your chest, staring up at you with those same lovely and full brown eyes.
"Eddie, I'm about to finish again," you moan, begging him to continue. He moved up from your chest, gripping on your hair as he moans in your ear, picking up his pace once more. This time, you both came at the same time, his pulsing inside of you only made your orgasm more unnerving and numbing. He loved seeing your eyes rolled back, and worshipped you for the sight.
"Good girl," he speaks, trying to regain his balance as he helps you come down. "You could take out planets, doll," he laughs breathlessly, placing his lips in your forehead as he kissed. He pulls your shirt back down, and proceeds to fix his jeans. He smiles at you. You hop off the counter, and turn to fix your hair and outfit to appear less suspicious. He appears behind you in the mirror, placing his arms around your waist as you continue.
"I hope we can do this more," He smiles at you.
"Me, too," you agree, turning around and kissing him.
"No commitment though. I can see you're kind of enjoying your time here, wouldn't want to ruin that."
"Enjoying?" You turn around to face him, "barely! I like having friends though, but that's about it."
"Which again, my presence will ruin, no?" He smiles, "don't worry, I'm good at keeping secrets." He kisses your head.
"Who goes out first?" You ask in response. He hands you a zip up from his backpack.
"I want you to zip this up, hood included, and walk out to the closest bathroom."
"Damn, didn't know this was a spy mission," you chuckle, taking the hoodie.
"Well, sweetheart, when you're moaning somebody's name as loud as *you* were, it's important to be cautious," he pokes.
"Deal," you sigh half jokingly, "so I run to the nearest bathroom, make it into a stall, and then what?"
"Take the hoodie off, put it away, and pretend to use the bathroom. I'll leave shortly after, and we'll make our way to second period?"
"Oh fuck, first period! Do you think she's gonna question?"
"Nah, she probably forgot two minutes after we left. Even if people seen us both gone, I highly doubt anybody would make the assumption."
"Okay. Thank you, Eddie Munson," you smile, grabbing the zip up as you place it over your flannel.
"No, thank you, Y/N. Shall we meet again?"
And then you proceed. You zip it up all the way like he stated, hood included, and make your way to the closest bathroom and quick. You do exactly as he suggests.
The bell rings shortly after, and you find yourself in the hallways with Chrissy again.
"Girl, you look vibrant!" Chrissy laughs, "get laid?"
You wanted to question how she was able to look at you and know, but instead pushed it away.
"You and Steve actually hit it off maybe? Snuck him in? Oh, my god, I need details!"
"No! Absolutely not!" You respond, almost shocked.
"Woah, okay, virgin, calm down!"
"Not a fucking virgin." You sigh.
"Nobody gets that defensive, unless they're ashamed of *who* they were fucking. I'd be that way, too, if I was fucking somebody like Eddie Munson," she laughs. You can tell she meant it to be a joke, and there was absolutely no way she would've known that for certain, she just picked somebody she hated to talk shit about. But your mind couldn't help but race, why would she say something like that *now* of all times? You nod in agreement, and silently wait for Jason to distract your friend.
"Woah, ya okay? You got silent," she states.
"I fucked some random senior in the bathroom. I don't know him, but that's why I seem 'radiant'." You lie. The anxiety consumed you, you definitely did not want her to assume you were sleeping with Eddie, even though you actually were. If it was some random senior, she wouldn't ask too many questions. Hopefully.
"Girl why didn't you tell me! I wouldn't have judged!" She exaggerates, "who? You got a description?"
"Yeah, ginger hair and blue eyes. Kinda short. I lied about it because I don't know who the person is,"
"Makes sense!" She smiles, half ignoring you as she sees Jason enter the same hallway. She does his usual, picking her up and spinning her into a hug. He kisses her forehead, and again, put both arms over the two of you, like he usually did. This time, he must've seen Eddie enter the same hallway and stare at you.
"Hey! Munson! Fucking keep your eyes to yourself, freak!" He shouts to the boy.
"Cheerleaders, huh?" He says, looking at mostly you as he proceeds past the two of you.
"Watch it! You make even just *one* more look at her, I'll end your shit!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever Jason Carver. Don't you have anything better to do? Like play with balls with your teammates?" He says. He rolls his eyes once more as he turns around, and blows a kiss to you.
"Hell was that all about, Y/N?" Chrissy asks.
"Isn't it obvious, Chris? The freak has a crush on our girl here," Jason laughs.
"Yea, right!" You awkwardly laugh back.
The end of the day approached sooner than expected. You were so nervous about cheer tryouts. Your plan was to totally flop it, even Chrissy wouldn't take on a cheerleader she knew wasn't good. You told yourself that, above all, you knew you had to embarrass yourself. Something that might even humiliate the cheer squad enough that they *never* ask you to join again.
The only issue with that was you weren't an improvisational person. This act was going to be hard to fake, especially given the fact that you *willingly* had to humiliate yourself. Or maybe that wasn't an option.
You had meant what you told Eddie earlier, you liked having friends, a lot more than you credit. Before, you were content, you had that small group of friends that you never hung out with outside of the school walls, they never asked how you were (or cared to, for that matter), and you were in a place of minimalism satisfaction. You thought you might've been happy then, might've found your purpose, even. You imagined living life quietly, secluded, continuing to live every day like you weren't a real human being. But when you fell into this sinkhole of a town, into this shitty high school with what-you-thought-were-shitty people but turned out to be potentially-not-so-shitty people, you found yourself to be even more content than before. Was this happiness? And if it was, why not suffer through a few uncomfortable things to continue the high?
You decided to give it a shot inevitably. You tried to tell yourself you didn't care what Eddie thought, or his cult of freaks, or your parents, or the other people in school, but you most definitely did. When you looked into the mirror, you seen somebody completely different now.
In a matter of days, you went from somebody who couldn't care less what other people thought because you were practically in a world by yourself, somebody who was okay with (and actually preferred) being secluded. You wore what you felt comfortable in, what everybody identified as satanic because it was "grunge" or "punk", and didn't care about the devil worshipping rumors. You didn't care to acknowledge them, the rumors, or anything outside of yourself inside your own brain. You were content. But now, everything seemed to matter. You wanted to stay happy, wanted to stay in the moment, and maybe worried about potential rumors.
As much as you hated it, you had to choose between cheer and Chrissy, or Eddie.
Something that maybe made you genuinely happy, or a quick fuck in the bathroom.
"I really appreciate you guys for being so patient during that brief wait," Chrissy started. To be completely honest, you didn't even realize there *was* a brief wait. You almost started to space out again, wondering how much time had passed, but you managed to snap yourself out of that rabbit hole. "But stakes are especially high today. We will be accepting three of you today for the fall, which I know doesn't sound like a lot, because it isn't." She continued.
"Typically, per season, we have three of our *devoted* girls drop for different reasons, and we're already approaching our beloved big first game, so we need replacements." She smiles at you, as she paces the gym floor in front of the bleachers. You flash a smile back, before quickly looking down. The last thing you'd want is a rumor about *only* getting accepted in the cheer squad because you kissed Chrissy's ass. "Alright girls, lets get up and moving! I'll show you the cheer, and we'll see who performs best!"
She takes a few graceful steps back, turning on the radio before standing in a star pose, throwing her pom-poms up as she sways her hips from side to side. She makes eye contact with the crowd, smiling, as a good performer does. You made sure to take every mental note you could, although part of you knew Chrissy wouldn't let you fail. She then forces her pom-poms down, continuing to move her hips in the same direction. She places her head facing the gym flooring, rocking her arms in a rhythmic motion as she almost punches the air beneath her, before staring back at the crowd and smiling as she places both pom-poms sky high and flashes them. After this move, she combines them together and forcing them back down, coming back up in the air while separating them and shaking them. She then arches her back, rotating her bottom half slowly, before picking up those same pom-poms and doing the same trick.
"That's it for now! You'll have much more to learn if we accept you, but we didn't want to overwork you girls today. After all, our squad is a family," she states, winking at you. "Now, if you girls will get up, we'll trade spots, and I'll start the music again!"
And as she says, the groups switch places, leaving four (what you could only assume to be) judges on the bleachers. The music starts up, and you start repeating the same moves - star pose starter, smile, pom-poms in raised in glory in the air, hips going side to side, pom-poms down, hips still moving, smile, rhythmic kicking the air's ass beneath you, coming back up and smiling again, flash pom-poms, shake ass.
Chrissy lets out a screech in excitement, "you all did so good! Oh, you guys are gonna make this a hard decision for the squad. If you'll excuse us, we have to deliberate. Talk amongst yourselves!" She smiles at you once more, before exiting with the three other girls that were sitting on the bleachers. Yep, definitely judges.
What feels like hours pass of you staring out wondering how you'll ever recover if this flops before the squad re-enters the gymnasium. You felt that it was especially important to remind yourself how much this slight misery could lead to even more happiness. Isn't that how shit works though? The cliché sayings like "suffer through", "brighter on the other side", weren't helping you in that moment, and especially wouldn't help if the cheerleading gig was a no. You thought of all the ways to tell your mom you wanted to transfer again, just incase, despite how much you hated yourself for it. The old you couldn't have cared less about this shit. It made you upset mostly, but also angry.
"We have our results!" 'Shit,' you thought, but as she begins reading off the names, to your surprise-not-so-surprise, you were one of the three! You let out a sigh of relief, but half of your mind was pre-occupied thinking about how Eddie and you could never happen again. You worried he'd be hurt, but at the same time, you knew he *wouldn't* be, which almost hurt more. After all, the two of you literally hooked up once, and in the school bathroom at that.
"Hey! I'm so proud of you!" Chrissy smiles, pretending she wasn't the key factor in your accomplishment.
"Couldn't have done it without you!" You smile, half heartedly.
"Of course you could've! You were practically born with that skill, I could tell watching you. All the judges said your name first and I was so excited because I *knew* this meant you'd be cheering!"
"That's so sweet, thank you,"
"Speaking of which, did you maybe want to come over? We can practice the rest of the cheer! And just talk, you know?" Chrissy smiles, reaching her hand out, "what do you say?"
"Sure, why not?" You smile.
"Girl's night!" She chuckles, grabbing your arm as you walks with you out of the high school.
Something about this experience felt so warm. You genuinely felt happy, even if it meant you'd have to pose as a cheerleader for a minute.
As soon as you hop into Chrissy's car, she starts explaining something about how the two of you would be going to a mall outside of Hawkins. She didn't particularly *hate* your style, but you could tell she wasn't a fan, but that's what had made it so unique to you. However she did have a point. Soon, everybody's eyes will be on you the same way they're glued to Chrissy.
"So," she starts, "what do you say we get you out of this get up?"
"Chrissy, I just sat down."
"Right, right, but to play the part you must first look it, no?"
"There's a mall just outside of Hawkins-"
"The last job I had I was sixteen working at a place helping kids sled in Colorado, I have literally no money, I'm sorry, I-"
"I invited you, not asked you to pay. Please, my treat! Anything to get you out of these bummy clothes?"
"Damn, bummy huh?" You laugh, "sure. I'll allow it, but only this once! Next time, I got you."
"Yeah, yeah." She smiles, "Now, to the mall!"
Chrissy picks out the Gap store, and insists you try on as many small skirts and tight tops as you can. She smiles at the ones she loves, pours at the ones she hates. At one point, you stepped out in something you thought she'd love, and she puked (rather, pretended to).
"Style is like, the most important thing in high school," She speaks,
"And how so? Is graduating not on the list?"
"Okay, dummy, obviously! But I mean as far as popularity goes. Some of the outfits you picked out are so cute! But I want to get you a few more, that way you have something else for when you aren't staying the night!"
"Didn't know we agreed upon moving in, seems a little fast!"
"Oh, shut up! Now, go to the trendiest isle and think to yourself, 'would Steve bang me in this?'."
"'No Connection', yeah, I get it. But a boy is only good for one thing, fuck a 'connection'! You think me and Jay had one to begin with?"
"You said 'me and Jay', but that's not really the proper way to-"
"Okay, smart ass, come on!"
At the end of the day, Chrissy bought you seven different outfits, all small skirts with tight tops she thought would suit you and your body well. She said the body is the most important thing to (and on) a woman, which you obviously didn't agree with, but there was never enough time in a day to go on the proper anti-misogyny rant, so you strayed away from the idea. You didn't respond to her comment, though.
She insisted on dressing you the next day, still. She said you could leave the bags at her house, and she would take you tomorrow, and you could drop the bags off at your house the day after before school. The plan didn't make sense, because she could just take you home now, but you could tell Chrissy loved the idea of dressing her own little personalized doll.
Hours went on after the two of you got back home, with Chrissy sitting in front of you, doing hair and makeup she thought would not only suit you well, but bring out your best features. She used color theory in comparison to your eyes for eyeshadow, lipstick that would compliment the eyeshadow but not grossly over-do it like a bright blue eyeshadow and fuchsia lip stain. She told you she had been doing makeup for as long as she could remember now, and reassured you when you felt like it didn't fit right on your skin.
"You look beautiful, Y/N," she smiles.
"Thank you," you just hoped Eddie didn't see you, and make this harder than it already was.
The morning comes sooner than you'd hope, and next thing you know you're up two hours earlier than normal, dressed up as Chrissy's Mini-Me, nervous as hell to take on the day. But she's supportive, and tells you she has your back. In your mind, fitting in might be the only way to avoid what you initially thought was the inevitable bullying, and maybe you could drop the image by college, when you're ready to leave this mess of a town. You packed your other clothes in your bag, just to be on the safe side.
The last person you wanted to see today was Eddie Munson. All night, all you thought about was him. The thought of him kept you awake, tossing and turning in Chrissy's abnormally big bed throughout the early hours of the morning, it was a damn good thing Chrissy knew how to cover dark circles, and made her skill apparent with you.
She told you she'd meet up with you after every class, which felt reassuring.
Regardless, first period struck quicker than you had prepared for, resulting in you and Chrissy separating ways.
When you entered your classroom, you seemed to get even more glances than the day previous. You couldn't even blame these people, everything had happened so quick, it was shocking even for yourself. One day, you enter this unfamiliar high school, hating all of the people occupying both the school, and the town, you stayed to yourself, dressed differently, and kept your head down. But that was yesterday. Now, you're in Chrissy's clothes, a small skirt and a tight short sleeve shirt, with her sneakers, her makeup, and a high pony tail she styled. You felt almost reinvented, for better or for worse, and adjusting now was even harder. You didn't know how to flaunt your style, the key to confidence, it was like you were the same you, in Chrissy's skin.
One of those eyes particularly was none other than Eddie Munson himself, but not in fascination. Instead, disgust.
You decided to avoid the back seats, because that's where he frequented. You didn't want to hear the freak talk about his freak problems, or try to inflict those same freak problems onto you. Despite how much you had thought you changed, and despite how much you thought you were into Eddie, you still had the same end goal: Lay low, get the fuck out of here. Now, there were just extra steps.
But Eddie avoids that hint, and instead of taking the back row of seats, takes the seat right behind you in the first row. You gulp, but not out of fear, out of irritation.
Your teacher comes in, and she's ready to continue on another English related (but also partially unrelated) tangents, trying to avoid eye contact with her or moving too much to catch his eye. But his eyes never left you.
Thirty minutes had past without you catching a single piece of information before you're passed a note from behind. It's from him.
We need to talk. I'll leave the class first, wait five minutes, follow behind.
You lightly roll your eyes, and look up at the teacher. To your surprise, she was actually standing facing the chalkboard. Again. Just as she was when the two of you snuck out before. She hadn't said anything to either of you about how the two of you didn't come to class, meaning Eddie's suspicion that she was too old to remember. You thought people would take advantage of that, the way you and Eddie did, but apparently most people cared about their education to some degree. Nevertheless, you decide you'll meet up with him, but again, nobody can see you two. You look around at the classroom, a few kids were asleep, therefore proving the thought about them caring about their education to be false, but who could avoid napping this early? You probably would, too, if it weren't for Munson. However, others were taking the notes the teacher forced them to. Now was your time. The same way it had been before.
You wrote a further note.
unless this is about me, and the cheer squad. eddie, we have to stop seeing each other. but i'll be fine with one more meet up.
You crumble up the piece of paper, and drop it below you, underneath your chair and his desk. Again, the exact same as it was before. You take one more glance at the people surrounding you, every single one of them doing the exact same thing they were moments prior. You let out a sigh of relief, you were in the clear. The last thing you'd want was to damage your newfound reputation before you were really ever able to lay in it, especially since getting on the cheer squad.
He kicks the piece of paper to his hand subtly to make sure the teacher doesn't hear and turn around, otherwise foiling his plan. You hear him let out a sigh of relief behind you as well, and you couldn't help but worry.
"Hey Teach, I gotta take a leak." Eddie blurts. Nice, really classy.
"Go ahead, Munson, but if you aren't back in ten I'm going to assume you're skipping again, and I will get the principal. Do not push." She responds, not turning away from the chalkboard in front of her. Eddie supposedly snuck out of class often, and she always said the same bottomless threats, but inevitably never followed through.
"Better make it quick." He whispers.
You do exactly as he says, wait the five minutes, and come up with an excuse. At this point in time, she's suggesting her students open a page in their workbooks, and start their homework. You knew this would make the perfect excuse, the same one you used last time.
"Um, Ma'am? I left my workbook in my locker, do you mind if I go get it?"
"Oh Ms.Y/L/N, you must be more prepared than this. Seems like you're often forgetting that workbook, right? Unless that isn't you, but I'm never mistaken. But I'll allow it this once more. Please, just make it quick, Ms. Cheerleader."
He was waiting outside the classroom door still, and as he heard the door open he jumped, hoping it wasn't the infamously harsh teacher.
"What?" You asked him. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the gym, knowing it was empty for the first period. You had maybe twenty minutes left of that period anyway, and five before the principal went searching for Eddie per Ms. Infamous' request. You didn't necessarily want to follow him, and the whole walk there spoke out about it, "where the fuck are we going Munson? The principal will be out any minute looking for you, and you're going to royally doom both of our asses, do you even get that?"
"If you don't want to follow me, don't. I'm not taking you anywhere you didn't agree to. Do you still want to talk, yes or no?" He hisses, sharply.
"Sorry, princess, I didn't quite catch that. What?"
"Huh. See I knew you could use your voice for something other than moaning my name." He smirks, you do your best to just brush him off. No way the freak, of all people in this hell-hole school, would be the one to turn you on.
Finally, you're in the gym. He leads you behind the bleachers, and pulls out a cigarette. "Want one?"
"You can't smoke in a school, Munson."
"Can't fuck in school either, but you weren't complaining about that. But, suit yourself." He shrugged.
"Give me one." You stuck your fingers out, and he placed a stick between your fingers. After all of this, God knows you'd need a cigarette anyhow. He smirks, and lets out a quick, "well okay", with a slight scoff. He lights it for you, and you take a long drag.
"So," he starts, "if you're doing this, what are you doing hanging around Chrissy, sweetheart?"
"Woah, what?" The question made you cough. Or it was the smoke.
"Honey I know I didn't stutter." He takes an even longer drag.
"Not that it's your business, but we're friends." You sigh.
"Friends?" He chuckles at your response. "Yeah, right, the social outcast and the varsity cheerleader. Sure, makes a cute match." He shakes his head and looks at you once more. "Seriously. What are you doing?"
"You don't even know me, Munson, why do you care so much? Don't you have pigs to go slaughter or something? You think just because you banged me means you know everything? Please."
"Ouch!" He states, putting his hand over his chest and stumbling backwards, "That one hit."
"Munson. I'm done with this little game you're trying to play here. You have maybe two minutes before the principal comes searching for you, and I won't be here for that bust. So again, what the hell do you want?" You're irritated now, his shitty responses to you almost felt more disrespectful than how he was the first time you had the unfortunate opportunity of running into him, and definitely more than the interaction you shared in the bathroom. You hated the way he acted like a friend who's known you forever, acted like he knew *everything* about you enough to simply *know* when your behavior was off.
"You seriously *are* new here," his tone shifts to condescending, "as I explained last time, Y/N, that old hag says that every time. I guarantee she's too old for this job, and doesn't even remember who I am." He had a point, she was fairly old.
"Okay, then aside from that, what do you want?"
"To talk to you." As if it wasn't obvious.
"Clearly." You hit your cigarette again, not breaking eye contact with the freak.
"I know who you are," He states, "not you, but what you believe in. You don't want to fit into the high school stereotypes." He starts lightly pacing.
"Even then, *you* fit into a high school stereotype."
"'The Freak'. Like some sort of nut house, or circus show."
"Oh, what, did *she* tell you this?"
"I'm capable of making my own opinions, and my own decisions. Just because I'm a cheerleader now doesn't mean any of that has changed."
"Clearly." He says sarcastically, raising his hand and pointing at your outfit. He wasn't dumb, he knew it was her outfit. Anybody could assume so.
"Okay, fuck you. I don't have to deal with this."
"Hey, stop," he attempts to grab your wrist.
"I don't-" you started, looking at his hand on your wrist, but nonetheless stopping in your tracks.
"Freak out if you need to." He says.
"What? You don't even fucking know me, Eddie!"
"I can tell you need it. Say what you need to say." You could tell he was being genuine, but that almost seemed to worsen your anger. Why is he doing this? Why is *anybody* doing this? Why won't people just leave you the fuck alone?
"What do you want from me, Munson!" You shouted.
"Oh, my god, fine!" You shouted once more, "You want me to talk, I'll fucking talk!" You took a few steps back from him.
"I hate it here," You started, "Everybody's just so close minded and stupid, which I already knew, but coming here only shows me that truth more! We're young, we're stupid, and our brains simply can't comprehend it. And if you fit any young mind into a box to define them, it starts to become their whole personality. I thought I would be happy being a cheerleader, because Chrissy makes me so happy, but it's not *me*, nobody knows *me*." You looked at him in his eyes sharply.
"You're no fucking different, Munson!" You pointed at him, "You're no different! You're a label, and it's all you can seem to talk about. 'I'm a freak' this, or 'I'm a freak' that, or how nobody likes you because you're a freak, like grow up!" His eyes seem pained. You didn't want to hurt *anybody* from the beginning. If people would've just left you alone, the way you intended, the way you wished, you wouldn't be here. And neither would he. You take back your tone a bit, but you aren't necessarily finished with your point.
"You're not mature. I'm not mature. Nobody in this fucking school is mature. I've been here one day, and all I've been doing is conforming to a label. Like you! Like Chrissy! Like this whole goddamn infectious school. I don't know or care if the rumors are true about this shithole town, but I do know one thing, this town is a virus! And you know what," you continue.
"My parents aren't even mature. I was from Colorado! Sure, shit wasn't perfect, but I was better off not tied down to a label! I had three friends, we called after school, we talked during school, that was it and I was perfectly happy. Now I'm here because my piece of shit dad thinks he can fulfill some dead end dream, in this dead end town, in that dead end, old worn down trailer, going to this dead end, poor excuse for a school filled to the brim with these white-picket-fence-American-dream idiots, and I'm barely fucking living. I'm a cheerleader, somehow, like I even want to be doing this or want to be here. Just because I 'conformed' doesn't mean I feel any different, or am any happier." You stop.
He pauses in silence. You could tell he's at a loss for words. But when he finally opens his mouth, he smiles. "So you were stalking me?"
You were absolutely dumbfounded. Is that seriously all he heard?
"You're joking? That's all you heard?"
"'in that dead end, old worn down trailer', I knew that was you! I seen you, you looked lost in space. I asked you that the day I met you, before the bathroom interaction, of course."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You sigh. You throw your cigarette on the ground adjacent to his shoe, "you know, I still don't know if everything they say about you is true, you might've made me finish, but I don't want anything to do with you." You harshly continue. You start to walk away, but he didn't seem to be finished.
"You know, Y/N, you're fitting yourself *right* into that box you hate. This isn't on me, this isn't on Chrissy, this is on you. You're worse than 'the freak'."
The bell rings. Oh shit. Chrissy's classroom is three doors down from yours, and the gym was on the other side of the school. You didn't continue before sprinting as fast as you could to her class. The last thing you heard from Eddie Munson's mouth was, "unbelievable."
"Chrissy! Hey!" At this point, you're out of breath, and little strands of hair are starting to poke out of your high ponytail.
"Girl, what happened to you? You look like you saw a ghost!" She chuckles, wrapping her arm with yours.
"I left first period early, and completely forgot where my locker was!"
"It's like, close to your first period though? Right?"
"Oh, good, thank you! Must've slipped my mind!" You try to brush it off, but she stops you in your tracks, staring at you blankly.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"No," You weren't able to process the question before answering, "I mean, shit, yes! Yeah! Absolutely! I'm actually doing great." Shit. She was definitely not buying your bluff, and it might've been time to think of a new excuse, but you were frozen. You've been like this since you were a kid, confrontation was impossible for you, and anxiety was frequent, when times like this happened you always found yourself lost outside of your mind.
"Well, okay," She brushes it off. You feel a huge weight lifted off your shoulder as you try to pace your brain back to normal. "I'm always here, you know? Like if you need me,"
"Right, thank you, same goes to you."
She walks you to her locker and talks about Jason standing up for her in first period, supposedly the teacher called her out for an inaccurate answer and he just did not like that. Jason was known to be a prick, and she stated that, but she couldn't help how it made her feel. You were kind of grossed out, Jason was the embodiment of what you hated in a person, he had his own special label. Jason walked forward, grabbing Chrissy and lifting her, spinning her in his grasp, "hey baby!"
"Hey J!" She giggles. It's cute, but relationships were never something you were particularly into. One time, you went to a school dance in 6th grade per request of a boy in your class, and he tried to french kiss you with cheeto crumbs in his gums, and worse, cheese fingers. Ever since that point, the whole idea of men sort of felt repulsing. To be fair, that wasn't it. There was a whole separate occasion when you were eight learning how to read big books, finding one of your mom's "novels" that also turned you away from the idea. You've always felt like a hopeless romantic though, even if you didn't want to admit it, the couples you'd see in school or at parties always made you feel so incredibly lonely. In secret, you'd even read romance novels. And what happened with Eddie, only made you more of a hopeless romantic. You wanted to say you almost liked him, that attention to detail, everything. But you just told him you wanted nothing to do with him. You couldn't help but ask yourself if you were making a mistake. Regardless, you just try to space out just enough to tune out the whole romance shit, mostly out of a broken heart, but something catches your eye.
Eddie walks down the hallway, he seems... devastated. For a moment, you felt awful. You felt a feeling you never felt before, empathy and almost sorry, as much as you hated to admit it.
"Hey Munson! Keep your eyes to yourself, bitch!" Jason shouts, he must've seen him looking at you. "Y/N, you want to stay away from him"
"I know." You say loud enough for him to hear as he walked closer, but continued to look away from him. You leave Chrissy with Jason, and Jason with Eddie. All you wanted to do right now was be alone. Something didn't feel right with the situation. Did you maybe hurt his feelings? Was he just trying to help? Did you really want to be associated with Chrissy and the jocks? But most importantly, who is Eddie Munson?
Third period came too fast, and that was the class you had with Chrissy. She seemed worried about you when you entered, and immediately approached.
"Hey, you okay?" She sympathetically smiled.
"Uh, yeah. Just needed to step away." What was going on with you? Why are you acting like this?
"I could imagine, Eddie is kind of a scary sight!" She chuckles.
"Chrissy, can we please? Just sit down?" You ask, walking past her and sitting in your seat. You couldn't help but space out all period. Chrissy kept looking at you, and asking, "are you okay?". You would just nod.
What was so frustrating about this, is the fact that you simply couldn't process how much would happen in such a quick matter of time moving here, it was something your brain couldn't simply comprehend, like the kids in this school were vultures, and they could smell you before you roamed the halls. How did you get involved so deeply, when all you wanted to do was be left alone? It was stressful, it was irritating, and you hated yourself for constantly asking yourself how Eddie was doing. It was damaging.
Finally, the bell rang. Chrissy tried to approach you again, and ask if you would hang out with her again after school. She has this idea that some self care would be perfect for your messed up emotional state. But she didn't know even the smallest bit about it. You didn't want to let her down, but you also didn't want to be around anybody. You told her that after lunch, you were going to leave.
"Why? What's going on with you?" She asks sincerely.
"I just," you started, but as soon as you opened your mouth, that same feeling struck you. The disassociation started, the panicking, the confrontation related anxiety attacks, everything. "I'm having a family emergency!" You lied.
"Oh, my god, shit are you okay? Is your family okay?"
"What?" Shit. You stared at her blankly, almost forgetting the lie you just told her. "OH! Yes! Wait, no! My mom uh," and then everything went blank. You just stood there, shrugging, trying to speak.
"Don't worry, Y/N, I totally understand. Sit with us at lunch, okay? I'll make sure I watch the exits so you can leave. After last summer, this school has been a prison, they'd never understand a 'family emergency' unless a parent called. We got you!"
"Oh, okay. Thank you Chrissy." You smiled, even though it felt fake.
She grabs your arm and the two of you walk to her fourth period meeting spot. Of course, on the journey, you see Eddie, the school was only so big. He still looked stressed, but when he'd make eye contact with you, you could sense his anger. That's really the only emotion you could sense in those deep brown eyes, frustration, irritation, and anger.
"Thought you didn't want to see me anymore? Stop looking." He said loud enough for you to hear as he walked by. This made Chrissy stop dead in her tracks, and become so angry it was mostly violent.
"Munson! Watch who the hell you're talking to! You wouldn't want me to get Jason right?" She shouted back. People started to stop, and watch the fight.
"Why don't you ask your little best friend what happened, huh? How the fuck are you gonna tell somebody you never want to see them again, and then look at them every chance you get?" He was looking at you while he was shouting, focusing his anger at you as he approached closer. "This is exactly what I meant about you being in that box you hate so much, Y/N. Look at you. It's sad. Leave." He paused, only to get closer, allowing him to be quieter with his words. "Nothing. Is going to stop me from graduating, and leaving this wasteland town, this year. Especially not you, or your little cheer squad friends. 86' is *my* year baby, and yeah, you were good in that bathroom, but not good enough to stop me. If you want to hate me, then hate me baby, clearly you're not the only one. And the feeling's mutual." He puckered up to the air, and stepped back, holding eye contact with you.
"What is he talking about?" She looked at you, "I told you to leave that freak alone!"
"Ah, yes, the freak. How many months ago was it that you were asking 'The Freak' for drugs? 'Do you have... something stronger?' Remember that, Chrissy? Not so pretty and perfect now, coke face!"
"What, are you afraid the whole school is gonna know about you wanting your fix from none other than the freak, Eddie Munson, himself? It's not like I said, out loud, to the whole school," he pauses, and shouts as loud as he possibly can, "HEY GUYS! LITTLE MISS CHEERLEADER HAS A DRUG PROBLEM!" He again pauses, and smiles at Chrissy.
"Funny enough, you said I wasn't as bad as you thought, your exact words were you thought I was going to be mean, but I wasn't. Who was there when daddy wasn't? When Jason wasn't? And then you get right back on top of Jason, the professional, what is it he does now? Toss balls in a laundry basket? Oh yeah! Professional Balls Fondler."
"Munson, he's gonna kick your-"
"OH I hope he does!" He shouts back. He places his hands on his head, both fingers in the air to imitate horns, and sticks his tongue out. "Good day to you, Chrissy, and Y/N. 'The Freak' has better shit to do than argue with the cheerleader, and the emotionally confused outcast." He bumps into you as he passes.
"What the hell was his deal?" She said afterwards, flailing her arms. You didn't even respond, instead ran to the doors, with Chrissy yelling your name behind you. You knew this school was a prison. You knew you'd get in trouble for leaving. You couldn't care anymore. The bright blue sky of the early Indiana morning shined behind you as you ran what felt like miles from the school. Something about this hurt more. You'd been in fights with friends before, even dating back to Elementary in Colorado, everybody has disagreements and that's bound to happen. But this was nothing like that. This wasn't some children disagreeing at recess and not being friends for a week. He wasn't your friend, there was no reason for this to hurt. But regardless, his words hurt you, and you couldn't understand why so much.
You didn't stop until you were certain you were far enough away from the school. You didn't know the extent of which Hawkins was a prison, but you didn't want to be unlucky enough to find out. You had ran so fast, for so long, the sky started to appear blurry, and little dots blocked your vision around you. You started panting, and sweating horribly, before pulling your backpack temperature water bottle out and taking a swig. The sun was so bright it was starting to give you migraine. You were never the most active one, especially in spur of the moment decisions . If you had any less sense, you'd lay down and take a nap here. For obvious reasons, you made your brain decline, despite all the reasonable excuses it tried to muster up, and you proceeded walking. But even then, by the time you stopped, you still had a long walk home.
Your brain started thinking endlessly about Eddie's words, and you realized he was right. But you'd never admit that to him. You were far too stubborn, far too hot-headed. If he was right, you'd simply show him, but never speak to him again. At least, that's what you told yourself. You told yourself that the moment you got home, you'd call Chrissy, and tell her you'd rather be seen as an outcast than a cheerleader, and that would be the end of it. You told yourself you would go home, and change into *your* clothes, lay in *your* bed, do *your* homework, and finally start thinking for yourself for the first time since you've been here. But again, that's what you told yourself. The likelihood you'd follow through with any of those ideas was low, you set a bar for yourself so low you were practically in hell with Eddie, limboing with satan himself.
Finally, you were at your house, bracing yourself for all the questions your mom was practically guaranteed to ask. By now, it was pretty late, you had taken your time walking the few miles home and the sun was bound to start setting any second.
When you entered your house, both of your parents were sitting on the couch. This was a frightening sight, because every time they were sat in this position, it meant there was going to be a family fight.
"What?" You blurted, setting your bag on the floor.
"First of all, what the hell are you wearing?" Your dad said, slightly raising his voice. He was always the modest type, despite how much that angered you. Anything above the knees was a no-go for that man.
"I stayed the night at Chrissy's house, these are her clothes."
"We hardly have time for the whore-talk, Y/N, any other circumstances, you wouldn't hear the end of it." He responded.
"Believe me. I know." You sighed, rolling your eyes as you attempted to walk to your room.
"Who's Eddie Munson?" Your mother asked, as if she didn't already know.
"What?" You asked in response, clearly exhausted. Oh, how you were so tired of hearing that name, or thinking about that man.
"Chrissy called. Said you've been chatting it up with a new boyfriend?"
"B-Boyfriend? Hardly!" You shouted, "why does it matter anyway!"
"Do you know who that kid is, Y/N! He worships the devil!" Your mom blurted.
"Based on what? A board game?"
"It's more than that. You're so naïve, it's repulsive! If you had any sense, you'd read the damn paper! They sacrifice shit in that 'game'!" Your dad chimed in, standing up and practically stepping in front of your mother to shout at you. "Seems all helpless and innocent, until that pervert satan worshipper kills my daughter!"
"Oh, my god, will you shut the hell up?" Exhaustion hit your vocal chords harder than the previous sentences prior, you were so tired of the 'devil worshipping' topic, it had been thrown around like crazy relating to literally everything this year: music, games, hairstyles, anything! It was redundant, and annoying.
"Y/N! Don't you dare talk to us like that!"
"You know what? Fine. I'm sorry. I will never speak to Eddie Munson, the devil worshipping freak, OR my newfound friend Chrissy, the whore, ever again. Are you fucking happy now? Leave me alone!" You stormed off, borderline pushing your dad out of your face as you continued.
"Y/N, get back here this instant!"
"I'm almost an adult! Stop treating me like a damn kid!" You slammed the bedroom door behind you, and locked it. The locks on every door were probably the only good part about this trailer.
You fell back into your bed, crying the moment your face it the pillow. You just kept telling yourself just how much Eddie was right.
Your parents left you alone all night, but that didn't prevent the hours passing slowly as you laid awake in bed. You peaked out your window, at Eddie's house.
"Ugh, fuck it!" You said out loud, turning on your flashlight and grabbing some clothes out of your closet. You finally fixed your hair, the way *you* did it, and not the way Chrissy did it.
Now you're here, standing in front of Eddie Munson's door, questioning everything. Before your brain can even process it, you're knocking.
"Y/N what a pleasant, and unexpected, surprise!" He says sarcastically.
"Can I come in? My parents will kill me if they see me out here. Chrissy told them everything."
"Oh! You're cheerleading best friend didn't have your back? Shocker, I must say. Come on in, darling."
"Why are you here exactly?" He asks, stepping back inside his trailer. It was oddly pretty if you looked only in the living room, the place had its own smell that wasn't necessarily bad but potent.
"I'm sorry." You mumbled, "and I told myself I wasn't going to apologize, I wasn't going to admit you were right, I was just gonna leave her and be my own person, ignoring you forever. But then I got home,"
you were starting to ramble, and pace.
"They flipped shit at me. For no reason. And I'm just so tired of hearing satanism being correlated with every single thing, especially you, because I just can't stop thinking about you."
You looked at him and held eye contact, before immediately looking back down and continuing.
"The Eddie I seen in the gym, he grabbed my wrist and told me to let it all out. Nobody has ever done that before. And I started asking myself, 'this big, bad, satan worshipping guy, why would he do that?' Unless he wasn't the same person they were saying."
"Honestly, doll, I don't know what to say."
"Good, because I'm not done. I laid awake, for hours, thinking, 'can I say anything? Can I even go to his house, right now, and tell him I'm sorry? Would he even listen?'"
"That's beside the point. I just, I didn't mean to be an asshole in the gym. I'm just so tired, and I hate it here."
"I can see right through you, you know." He stated, holding his hand out. You take it, and he leads you to the couch, allowing you to sit down as he grabs you some water. "The thing is, I'm a hopeless romantic. When I seen you, I had never seen somebody so... perfect for me. I didn't know how to talk to you, what to say, you were just in your own little world. But when I seen you with Chrissy, it just, I couldn't describe it. I hated seeing somebody conform like that."
"You know, it's not that hard. A lot of it is in the body language. You just, seemed more tense around her. Like you had something to hide."
You nodded in agreement, before looking back down at the flooring of his living room.
You smiled at him, and thanked him quietly.
"Is that why you're here?" He asked, staring at you lustfully.
"Yes. I couldn't stop thinking about you."
"Couldn't stop thinking about me, huh?"
Something about the way he said it, made you feel something you'd never felt before.
Like all the disgust you felt when thinking about romance, about guys, vanished in that moment, leading you to decide to play into this.
"Not at all," you smirked, looking back into his eyes. "But, I can't help but ask, why are you awake so late, Munson?"
"Would you believe me if I said I couldn't sleep?"
"Couldn't get my mind off of you. I haven't been able to since you got here. You know, I hate to admit, I seen you move in. I must've looked at you long before you looked at me, and when I met you in the hallway, I couldn't stop thinking about this exact moment."
"This exact moment, huh?"
He pulled you onto his lap, straddling your legs over his.
"Yeah." He mumbled, looking at you as you sat on his lap. You knew if he kept looking at you this way, kept talking to you this way, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself. He's not what he appears to be. You stared down at his lips.
"If you want a taste, all you have to do is use your words." You nodded in response, but he just chuckled. He moved his face closer to yours, and repeated himself. "Use your words, sweetheart."
"Please," you muttered. He smiled at you once more, shaking his head.
"I need you, Eddie," you spoke quietly.
"Your wish is my command, princess."
He began kissing you, grinding into your hips as he picked up the pace. Your hand was tangled in his hair, individual strands created fines over your fingers as you matched his movements in sync. Nobody had ever made you feel like this, or even close. You felt so bare, so vulnerable to Eddie, in all of the best ways possible. You could feel yourself tearing apart with every thrust, every bite he placed on your bottom lip, and you wanted him so bad it made you ache. Your heart was racing, your mind was nowhere but everywhere at the same time, your skin felt tense and deserving, and all you wanted was him.
"If you don't take me right now, I'm going to lose my mind."
"As I've said before love, your wish is my command."
He stood up, and reached for your hand upon doing so. You accepted, taking his hand, and in one swift motion, he was attacking your lips before you were even fully able to stand. His hand placed on the small of your back, balancing you perfectly upon his embrace. He lead you to his kitchen table, his lips still not leaving yours.
You propped yourself up, intertwining your fingers with his jeans waist band as he crashed into your mouth.
"Fuck, Y/N," he groans against your bottom lip, "I can't take it anymore,"
He takes your bra off with one swift motion, and begins kissing down your neck, leaving chills as he travels down. He began caressing your bare nipples with his tongue, sending a chill down your spine while doing so. You're barely able to keep up with your breathing, as he slips a finger in between your legs, stroking over your covered bottom half.
"Please, don't stop," you plead, as you pull on his hair with one hand, the other hand supporting his on your lower half. As he begins moving his finger faster, you feel the wetness through your panties. The underneath of your skin felt like it was on fire, and you simply couldn't take it anymore.
"Please," you begged, not even caring if he realized the change in tone.
You felt the heat from his mouth trickle all the way down to your own waistband, before he removes that barrier as well.
He smiles at you from your core, as he slowly pulls your panties down, exposing your wet center. He then pulls them over your knees and to your ankles, tossing them to the side in one smooth motion. He lightly travels one of his hands up your leg, spreading your legs to make an entrance for himself. The other hand was placed at the small of your back, holding you center for his next move.
"I love this view," he whispered, before burying his head in between your legs. He ran a tongue along your soaking folds, causing you to release a breathless moan.
"How does it feel, princess?" He asked. He felt so absolutely amazing, you wanted to tell him how you ached for him so bad it made your skin crawl, but you couldn't process words enough to tell him so. You nod quick, before he lightly chuckles, continuing.
He switched from licking between the lips surrounding your center, to kissing your clit, blowing cold air as he pleased. He began to pick up the pace in the movement of his jaw, taking everything in as he drew patterns on your clit with his tongue. You were a moaning mess. Your skin felt hotter now, everything around you felt numbingly silent, all you wanted was him. "Fuck, Eddie, you feel so good," you muttered, before you could even process the words in your brain.
"You taste so good," He continued his pace, until he decided to push his tongue in your tight entrance, slowly at first, but fastening as he pleased. You arched your back until it felt like you were sitting straight up, his hand still pressed on the lower small of your back. He continued with that pace, until everything around you felt heightened. The air felt heavier, the numbing silence got stronger, there was this whole body clenching tension. You felt yourself building up.
"E-Eddie I'm close," you moaned, without a care about how loud you were. He just laughed in response, and sped up. You let go of his hair, and gripped the table with both hands and you felt yourself release, practically screaming his name.
"Good girl," he smiles, with you all over his chin. He continued to feel inside you with his tongue, allowing you to come down. When he feels your body calm down, he stops to come up and glance over your body. He wipes his chin, and hold your hand. "How was that princess?"
"Absolutely amazing, please," you moan, still not fully regaining your breath, "I want all of you, Eddie."
His eyes light up from your response, and he nods, "I'd do anything for you." With that, he begins tugging at the belt attached to the right jeans that are pressing his bulge. You smile at the sight. This moment felt so different than anything you'd ever experienced, and you couldn't help but continue to think that same thought. He made you feel so good.
Finally, his jeans were to the floor, and he was standing back over you. He places his right hand behind your head, lightly gripping on your hair, as he pushes his way into your mouth with his tongue. He pressed himself against you while he kissed you, you could feel his erection through his thin boxer shorts. It made you want him more. He started kissing down your neck once more, occasionally nibbling and sucking the skin almost bare, but you didn't care. In that moment, you could only think about him, and about how good he was to you. Without a second thought, your hand meets the top of his back, leaving crimson lines as you dragged down. He moaned against your mouth once more, sweet and sinful nothings.
You traced your fingers over the scratches, leading your hand down his back and to his front. Suddenly, you find yourself feeling against the same member that is pressed against your center. He groans, and moves you to the edge of the table.
"I'll go in slow, stop me if there's any pain, unless you're into that," he smirks. You didn't want to bore him with the kinky stuff now, all you wanted was him. You watched him slowly pull his boxer shorts to his knees, then again over his ankles. Size, or lack thereof, was never an issue to you, you were a virgin before. Not only that, but you never had the desire to care about that. However, to say you were surprised with him, would be a complete understatement. You would've never expected *all* that from Eddie All-Hail-Satan-Munson. "Earth to Y/N," he starts again, you finally snap back into reality and chuckle. "Like what you see?" He softly chuckles to break the silence.
"Absolutely. Take me, Eddie." You watched as he slowly placed his tip at your entrance.
He wraps his left arm around your right shoulder, pulling you closer, as he uses his right hand to hold him up firmly against the table. Your ass is almost completely off the table, but he uses that to his advantage. You gasp as he pushes himself deeper inside you, "keep going," you whine. He softly scoffs at you, "somebody finally learned how to use her words." You throw your head back in complete infatuation as he pushes his length inside you fully, "Eddie, oh my god!" You shriek, again, clearly unapologetically.
"Look at me while I'm inside you." He demands, starting to speed up his thrusts. You were no longer able to hold back, and couldn't hide the uncontrollable moans falling from your lips. You simply nodded, and allowed him to continue. He locked his hips every thrust, making sure he hit *every* sweet single sweet spot he could. You stared into his endless brown eyes, and begged him to continue to remind him just how elated he made you, just how good he felt inside you. You tuned out everything around the two of you, and instead focused on the sounds of skin clapping together in sync. You watched as his bangs stuck to his face, sweat and clothes on the table, everything felt so passionate. He was able to reach spots you never imagined, convincing you at several points he was in your lower stomach. You told him this many times, and he would stare back in awe, letting profanities leave his lips like a poem.
As he speeds up his thrusts, he moves the arm holding you up vertically, and you put your around his neck to hold yourself better. He uses this opportunity to follow up your spine with his other hand, holding your other shoulder. You were now in his arms, him and your's. Never breaking rhythm. He begins going faster, creating a trail of small kisses from your jawline all the way down to your collarbones. He would graze over your ear with his lips, either groaning, or whispering profane nothings you weren't even sure he realized were being spoken, telling you how tight and wet you felt, how beautiful you are. His thrusts continued to bounce in all the right spots, leaving you to feel the same pressure as before, only second fold. Your brain feels like its about to shut down, you're shaking, and you had that same numbing feeling throughout your whole body.
"I can't," you started, "can't hold it anymore,"
"Then let go sweetheart," he groans back. Suddenly, the pressure is diminished, and with it comes that same release of all tension, leaving your body to feel almost limp, and relieved. At that same time, you feel him twitch inside you, groaning your name as he releases. He continues for one short moment, slower, allowing you to come down.
"My god," he stated, staring at your naked body covered in sweat beneath him, "that was-"
"Phenomenal." You finished for him.
"Yeah. Oh my god." He breathlessly lets out.
After questioning for about ten minutes about the experience, Eddie finally excused himself to get you a change of clothes. You grew to adore the sight of him, as much as you would've wanted to hide that. You didn't know if this fling should be just that, or if he potentially wanted something more. That was the only issue about this whole experience. Well, that, and the obvious questions of sneaking back in, what you were gonna do if you were caught, the whole nine yards. If you were caught, you'd be kicked out. No questions asked. Also, what about tomorrow? About Chrissy? Would you have to hide this from her, so she wouldn't tell your family? What else was there to do? Leaving her in the dust simply wouldn't work, she clearly had your family's landline.
"Hey, Y/N," Eddie waves his hand in your face, whistling. "You okay?"
"For sure. Yeah." You quickly respond, still darting your eyes slowly back and forth, trying to regain control of your brain for a moment to process.
"Y/N, seriously, what's up? Was it something with the sex?" He places a Hellfire shirt and some boxers adjacent to you, and stands back in front of you.
"Not at all, Munson," you said, putting the baggy t-shirt over your head, "just, you know, terrified."
"What is there to do now?" You hop off the table, pulling the boxers to your lower waist. His shirt was bigger on you, with the bottom half caressing just above your knees. He smiles at the sight.
"I think I kind of love seeing you in my clothes," he continues to stare at you, dodging your question.
"Eddie, seriously." You say, "if my parents find out, I'm kicked out, or dead."
"Then, don't let them find out?" He pointed out, as if it was that easy.
"If I just ditch her like last week's mail, she's probably gonna have a thing or two to say to my parents."
"Good point, she'll sing like a choir."
You pause, and stare at him in irritation. Frustrated at his response, you cross your arms and slightly pout. Is he really not seeing the whole point? Like, that's not exactly what you're trying to explain?
"Right, sorry," he continues, "Y/N, it pains me to see you forced into this. The truth is, if you continue to pretend to be her friend, you're going to be stuck being *her*, and not *you*. She's going to suck all the life out of you, all of those cheerleaders and jocks are like that. Hence I try to stay out of it, but somebody wouldn't listen to *me*. Real quick though, I was correct. Not that that matters." You roll your eyes at his comment, choosing to ignore his remarks. Instead you face away from him, stare at the wall, and let your brain do what your brain does best: Over think.
"What if I do just ditch her? The worst my family can do is kick me out,"
"You wouldn't lose yourself to her, and as long as I'm here, you'll never be homeless." You turn back to him.
"Duh. I love having you around princess," He smirks, kissing you on your forehead. He uncrosses his arm and sighs briefly, "However, I don't think you should go home *just* yet." He stares at you once more, tapping his finger on your nose before turning around and continuing, "now that is mostly selfishly, because I want you here with me, but also just logically."
"I'm not following?" You say, hinting at him to continue.
"Well doll, the whole damn park probably heard you scream my name so lovely tonight. Don't know how mom and pops would handle their daughter being intercoursed by the satanist boy across the street." He jokes.
"Why don't we go out? You and me?"
"Right now? At 4:03 in the morning? On a Thursday?" Instead of responding, he simply places his hand out, reaching for your's. You laugh, "you're an idiot, Munson," but take his hand, of course. "Where will we go?"
"That's a surprise, doll."
You and Eddie hop into his van as he drives to the hill close to the Hawkins High School. He smiles at you before taking the key out of the ignition.
"Hey, I'm sorry for earlier," he apologizes, staring into your eyes, "I don't hate you, I could never hate you, I was just hurt."
"The thing is, you told me to vent, and then couldn't even take it,"
"Well, there are ways to vent without intentionally *trying* to hurt somebody." He states, "even then, I was still wrong for what I said and outing us like that. You didn't deserve that."
"Thank you. I forgive you, Munson. And I'm sorry for what I said to you, everything they say about you is wrong, and you deserve better than that."
"Thank you, sweetheart. And hey, for what it's worth, I love this style, too."
"I don't." You laugh. He reaches your hand out in effort to grab yours,
He grabs your hand and exits with you on the passenger side. "Last one to the top gives the other oral?" He laughs.
"You're on, Munson, but you should know I took track in middle school."
"Oh, I'm frightened." He chuckles. On three, the two of you ran as fast as you could to the top of the hill, him surprisingly beating you by a long shot. He was there one moment, and the next, you could see him in the distance of the dark night sky.
It was beautiful. The wind was bitter, but in the most calming way possible as you rushed through the breeze. At the end of the day, you realized just how happy he made you. And you never wanted this to change, despite the way everybody else seemed to feel about it.
