Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hawkins wasn't a dull town by any means.

Small, sure. A tad dreary in the fall but this little slice of Indiana had personality, and a track record for the strange and unexplainable. Welcoming in the day and unnerving once night came around. Plagued by a myriad of disappearances, deaths and incidents. Growing up here had been challenging to say the least. Between the open jaws of Hawkins High and the horrendous mentality bred in there and each yearly bout of fear-inducing happenings it was a miracle anyone came out of it unscathed. But here she was, the eldest Henderson, falling gracelessly into adulthood and manning the counter at a musty music shop in the heart of town.

It was a quaint gem, tucked a few blocks from the video store her long-time friend Robin Buckley worked at and sustained by a loyal clientele of the same several faces. Ruddy walls covered in shelves and framed posters, aisles of boxes housing a plethora of vinyl's across every genre imaginable, a corner devoted to the latest record players and Walkman's, instruments propped and hung in every available space behind her. It was a music lovers dream.

Who knew she'd end up back in Hawkins? Months after the Starcourt Mall incident and gazing out at the grey sky beyond the window while humming idly along to whatever record she chucked on earlier today. Elbows perched and chin set on the heel of her hand while free digits prod the row of cassettes at her side, catching the clatter of them tipping over like dominos within their tray.

People dashed past, heads veiled by umbrellas and coats and hands as they rushed under awnings or ducked into waiting cars. The rain had everyone scurrying like rats. Slowed her day to a snail's pace. At this point she's half tempted to lock up shop and head home for the day but it seemed the universe had other plans for her this dour Monday eve.

The door swings open moments after she cops the screech of tires outside, a mop of dampened curls bobbing at the edge of her vision as she turns to swap out one vinyl for another. A beat of silence passes, the sound of boots across varnished wood drawing that unexpected customer out of sight before a familiar riff carries through the store. She spins on her heel, planting her palms on the counter with a lean and finally letting her gaze trail after the only other person present. Foot tapping away in time with steady drums and catching silver-clad digits skimming through their newest arrivals. Back angled toward her. Clearly on a mission.

But why did those rings strike a chord with her. That mess of hair so recognisable. Even the style…

She stiffens the very moment she recognises that faded patch adorning his denim jacket, eyes scanning gradually from top to toe in a fit of welling panic before her gaze rises. Fully expecting to be met with the back of his head so she could turn tail and dive into the backroom. Instead, she's faced with a set of rounded brown eyes she knows all too well. Realisation rising in tandem if the look she's offered is anything to go by before a new voice cuts through the melodic grit of Stevie Nicks' heartfelt crooning.

"No way." He mutters, volume rising with a touch of quieted disbelief. "Henderson?"

Standing across the way, mindlessly drumming the edge of the Iron Maiden album in his grasp and staring at her as though he finally lost the plot, was none other than Eddie Munson. Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast, known metalhead and infamous supplier of some rightfully questionable substances. While many referred to him as 'the freak' and treated him no different to a pest she thought of him as a friend way back when. A pretty damn important one at that.

"Munson.." It's almost a whisper, a breathless exclamation, anxiety melding with smothering guilt.

She recalls so much in one mere second, memories flashing by like a spill of polaroid's, too many to linger on as that inner eye wanders. Band practice and a Hellfire shirt currently tucked somewhere deep in her wardrobe, a few gifted tapes featuring music he was determined to get her into, skipped classes and snack runs, rants about campaigns she missed in hopes of enticing her to play more often. Three years ago. Three whole years apart.

Eddie's shock was understandable. She graduated before him, promised to stay in contact and use her winter visits to catch up before walking out of that hellhole and dropping off the face of the earth. He had envied her at the time. Began his final sprint with the group of outcasts they'd established together and mourned the loss of someone who gladly stuck by his side from the start. Then, that envy became hurt when the first month passed without so much as a call. Hurt became concern once winter came and went without a trace of her, concern to anger until eventually he elected to move on.

Only for Dustin Henderson to wander into his life and tear open that aching wound. Of course, he asked about her. How could he not? And his response was a floundering excuse that left Eddie wondering if something happened between the siblings. The kid never mentioned his sister and he never brought her up after that but the reminder hung heavy over his head. Life went on and he assumed she'd ditched this town altogether the second she got the chance. Left them both behind. Kinship bloomed before Dustin even realised.

His gaze drifts, mind running because his legs can't, and lands on the record player perched behind her. Anything to avoid that mess of emotions painting her face while his own morphs into something unreadable, lips set in a line so firm she preps for an outburst very much expected and perhaps even deserved…

It never comes.

She's left bewildered, tempted to pinch herself when his chin dips and a snort sounds. His next words bringing with them a cocktail of nostalgic dismay. "Out of all the people I expected to haunt me you… you were last on that list."

Eddie makes a sweeping gesture, a whoosh of air following the vinyl he grips a touch tighter than he realises while his torso dips. Akin to a theatrical bow. Peering at her through upper lashes, that fringe of frizz, she almost feels like a guest star he's moments away from introducing. "And yet…" With a small hop he straightens, meandering up to slap his purchase down between her braced hands only for that decorated set of fingers to splay across the mascot he oh so ironically shares a name with. Voice bouncing from a muted shout to a deathly murmur in one dread inducing sentence. "And. Yet. Here you are."

There's the intensity that reeled her in to begin with, shoulders rising in response to the wild, almost feral glint in his stare. He's hunched, leaning just enough that she has to look down on him but she still feels so very small. Jittery. Swallowing down the lump in her throat and wetting her lips. "Eddie-"

"How long?"

She nearly jumps out of her skin, letting out a lame sound of confusion.

Her palms are clammy where they bracket his one.

Fingertips trace bold lettering through thin plastic, making it halfway only to pause at the first vowel in 'Maiden' before he elaborates. "How long have you been working here?"

That ever changing tone all but gives her whiplash, from hushed demand to timid broaching. The way his head tips causes a curtain of untamed tresses to partly obscure her view despite the obvious uncertainty lacing his words. She can imagine the look on his face. This isn't the question he wanted to ask but it would do, to lessen the inevitable blow both of them knew lay along the horizon. Her attention falls past his shoulder. "Four months."

As if admittance lifted the lead from her limbs, small as it was, she rings him up. Silence looms far longer than either appreciated before another song weaves through the store.

Still the same old story…

A sharp inhale. He meets her head on once more, lifting his weight and studying her with a near frantic quality in those searching eyes. His hip rests against the worn leather draping the only physical barrier between them. Twisting intricate rings. Fidgeting.

What price glory.

"But…" She begins, diligently drinking in the details of the album cover below. "I've been back since last year. Properly, I mean." Lashes lace as she braces for the worst.

You make it easy… in the still of the night.

In the still of the night…

Returning to Hawkins had never been in her life plan, not permanently anyway, but when you'd seen what she had and the only family you cared about remained in perpetual danger it was an easy decision to move back. If only Eddie knew that she had, indeed, returned that November in '83 following the worst few months in college imaginable, kept her promise only to be faced with the unthinkable. Alternate dimensions and monsters and still the scariest thing looking back was Steve Harrington standing by her side and ready to face the unknown.

She left the state after that. Needed time to process what she'd been through while burdening her father, mooching off him as she collapsed in on herself. It took a phone call almost a year later from a rather proud Dustin, listening to him recount yet another terrifying encounter with a world they barely understood even if it resembled their own, that left her thoroughly rattled. So much so that she packed and landed right back in her family home once summer rolled around.

Just in time to get a job at the newly implemented Starcourt. Get acquainted with the resident 'stud' and downright awful human being known as Billy Hargrove mere weeks before… before things went to shit for a third time. Her at the heart of it. Any friendship she had outside her immediate circle of traumatised peers became collateral, Eddie simply being one of the first because she couldn't stand anything happening to him had she turned up at his door all that time ago. Couldn't imagine having the mental fortitude to rekindle a connection that remained suspended in time and coated in rosy hues only for him to get dragged into the dark underbelly of Hawkins with her.

She had to keep him safe.

How still my love.

And then Dustin just had to go and mention how he joined the high school D&D club, her momentary pride that Hellfire continued even after her and Eddie moved along swiftly souring when her younger brother oh so gleefully let her know the Dungeon Master was some guy who'd been 'held back' called Munson. Her and Dustin hadn't exactly been close before the Upside Down showed its ugly face, he knew nothing of her estranged history with the man he excitedly prattled about, but that didn't stop her from begging he never let Eddie know she was back. After some bribery and an explanation he both demanded and sympathised with he gave his word. And so began her year of avoiding her dear old best friend.

Until now. She knew the risks of working in one of few places he might chance to visit but she'd been doing well to evade him so far. Perhaps this was karma. Repentance for being such a dreadful friend. For staring at the phone for hours at a time only to decide for them that this would be the cut off. It's not like she could explain why this was for the better, not truthfully, and that only makes this encounter so much worse.

The defeat cloaking his dropped shoulders when she tries for a glance only makes her heart clench that much more. "And you didn't tell me because?" Doe eyes are looking anywhere but at her. With brows pinched and lower lip trapped between her teeth she slides that record towards him, drawn to the collection of pins donning his chest. A collection she contributed to. "Because things have been hectic for me, for a long time."

In the still of the night…

"Too hectic to spare me even a moment of your time? A call? A second thought maybe?" The response is instantaneous. Agonising. Like the smack of a scooter against your ankle and twice as painful. Her lips part but Eddie is quicker, wound tight as a spring and rife with tension. "Jesus, Henderson, it's been three years and that's all you can give me? Three fucking years of me wondering if you were-"

The door swings open. His voice dies as a greeting falls towards the woman before him, digging around in his pocket while she scrambles to respond. He couldn’t afford to lose his composure like this. Needed time to mull over the clusterfuck of emotions hijacking his train of thought. A few crumpled bills take place of the vinyl and he's turning on his heel lest she recover quick enough to call after him. Left to helplessly watch as another takes his place at the counter. For a breath, as a regular of hers begins the usual inquiry for the same tape they always fail to have in stock, her eyes follow Eddie as he clambers into his van. The rain long demoted to a drizzle. She can hear the muffled thunder of a song she almost forgot before the door closes and he's pulling down the street, leaving her to stare dumbly after him until a call of her name brings her back to the present.

It takes more effort than usual to plaster on a smile. "About that cassette you asked for-"

How still my…

Chapter Text

The rest of her day passed in a muted blur of indistinguishable faces ever shifting with the weathered chime of the register, muscle memory tugging her through the last leg of her shift and yet distraction lead to more mistakes than she’s willing to own up to. A dime too many passed back across the counter, shaken hands pushing a hole through fragile bags, more than a few toppled displays as she flit about the store in hopes of keeping herself busy.

Who knew one encounter, one measly, half-baked excuse for a conversation could throw her off so thoroughly. Or perhaps it was simply the shock of seeing him at all that had her miss the lock several times in her rush to close up shop. Ignorant to the chill seeping through canvas footwear with every puddle she strode through and desperate to get home, trudging through glistening streets, the glare of passing cars bouncing from the road into squinting eyes while her pace quickened. Getting caught up in her head, especially this late at night, wasn’t exactly practical but her mind discarded consideration in favour of tossing his words against the confines of her skull over and over and over…

‘Three fucking years of me wondering if you were-’

Okay? Missing? Dead? She could only imagine his dramatics under better circumstances, fighting off an easy curl of lips because now wasn’t the time and mentally reprimanding that stupid, giddy part of herself that delighted at blatant concern because of course he’d be concerned.

Eddie thought of you…

That unwelcomed voice between her ears draws brows together, mouth dipping at the corners. Even if Eddie did think of her half as often as he implied he hardly entertained sweetened sentiments. More than likely seething. Hoping to see her again if only to spit in her face.

After all this time. All these years. He still worried.

She clears the steps and shoulders open the front door just in time to give her poor mother a heart attack, palm splayed over her breast and chest heaving. Dampened soles are carrying her down the hall with enough speed to send her jacket whipping about her waist and over the threshold towards a waiting bed in record time.

He still cares.

Her mothers calls and exasperated mutters fall on deaf ears. Unceremonious and boneless as layers are shed, soaked shoes toed off and lungs pushing forth an exhale, she flops down with a telling shriek of springs and offers a lame shout of reassurance before one worried parent follows after her; that worn pillow cradling her cheek and eyes once again on the nearest window.

The very same window Eddie would climb through on sleepless nights just to bother her with whatever fanciful fantasy novel he just finished, show off the latest ‘borrowed’ item he nabbed, hurriedly imitate that evenings homework just to avoid a lecture so he wouldn’t be late to practice. And then, the moment the sun bled through her blinds, he’d be falling right back out onto lush grass with a cheeky grin and narrowly avoiding nosey neighbours. Some quip about midnight meetings and the cheesy romance movies she loved so much earning him a flustered glare.

Rolling across the covers, arm dropping over the edge of the bed, she reaches beneath and hooks digits the second cool plastic kisses her fingertips. The rattle of cases assures her she found exactly what she was looking for. Settling on her stomach and draping her upper body over the mattress she lets her head hang, fingering through neat lines of CDs until she caught sight of a familiar cover, sliding off her sheets akin to a slug so as to better reach the trusty player also stowed away under her bedframe. Just as she moves to plug it in there’s a knock at her door.

“Mhm?” Falling back into motion she offers a peek over the expanse of her mattress, watching that hatted head inch into her room before slipping the disk wrapped about her finger into the CD player. The springs complain for a second time and as those first notes of Don’t Stop Believin’ rise from her lap the elder between them can’t assuage the trepidation clawing at her nape. “What’s up, Dusty?”

She tries for another glance and finds he can’t meet her eye. Oh no. Dustin hesitates, despite all the confidence he’d garnered over the years he knew the request pinning his tongue to his lower jaw would only end in her vehement rejection without the right brand of careful footwork. A conversation he dreaded having since getting home.

“So, Hellfire Club is this Friday.” Comes his tentative opener. Her stomach twists. “And things are getting really intense, like, so intense that our session might go on for a bit longer than usual-” His words come quicker the longer she remains silent, stagnant. Staring at him with an unreadable flatness across her face. The youngest Henderson might hate that look more than the glower he received as a result of unfiltered sass, would prefer the latter right now paired with pitched retorts to this empty attentiveness.

“And since mom won’t let me go if I have to walk home so late I told her you’d pick me and the others up after your shift. I know Steve usually handles this sort of thing but he’s got a stupid date this weekend and Robin can’t drive and you know I wouldn’t come to you unless I really needed to.”

At this point he was spitting out words at a pace she had to focus to keep up with. Panicking because she already seems on the verge of telling him to shove it and leave her be. So much for being tactical about this.

“You don’t even have to come inside, you can wait in the car but I really need to be there on Friday, you have to understand!” Wild gestures and desperate eyes. Pleading within an inch of his pride. “We’ll be out the door before Eddie has the chance to stand, I promise, he stays back to clean up anyway-”

Her palm lifts before he can work himself into even more of a tizzy. “Eddie knows I’m back.” Her brothers jaw drops, a mix of hope and pity fluttering through his gaze. “He came into the store today, one of the only people to bother shopping for unnecessary shit on a miserable evening.” That hand comes to drag down her face, eyes reading stressed and conflicted when they meet his over the finger draping the bridge of her nose. His mouth opens. “Language!” Their mother cries from somewhere near the front of the house.

With a shared flinch, silent as his sister apologises in a softened yell, and folded arms he tries again. “Well, you didn’t actually think you could hide from him forever, did you? Especially with the job you picked. I mean, you were practically a sitting duck...” Her brows knit, jaw cradled as fingers drum along her cheek. He falls quiet.

“I’m only telling you this so you know you don’t have to cover for me anymore.” Perhaps, if she stared hard enough, there was a silver lining to this sudden string of unfortunate events, an opportunity if she played her cards right. That or life simply wanted to fuck her over. She relents. “I’ll pick you up-”

Dustin lights up, so bright and full of relief she almost goes blind.

“But!” He deflates ever so slightly. “If you’re even a second later than we agree on, any of you, I’m telling mom about your horrible grades.” It’s an empty threat but… her neutral flippancy is enough to send him scrambling with an outpour of thanks, dashing out the door as if she’d change her mind any second.

The moment he’s out of sight, leaving her door ajar and earning a shout of annoyance before his own slams closed, she rises to shut it over and drop back onto the comfort of her sheets. This Friday. This Friday she would speak to Eddie again. Properly. She needed to. While doom and terror no longer loomed over head, the gate had been closed, the Upside Down detached from their reality, she wasn’t quite ready to try for companionship again… not when she’d have to straight up lie to his face in place of an honest explanation for… everything.

But the thought of him growing to resent her brought a compromise to mind. If she couldn’t wriggle back into his life without spilling her guts, without giving him reasons so unbelievable he might actually denounce her existence entirely, the least she could do is make sure they were on good terms. Especially with Dustin spending so much time with the Hellfire Club. Her brother looked to Eddie with near the same reverence he did Steve, a revelation that she couldn’t fault him for, and if her ex-companion was still the amicable softie she remembered under all those ‘scary’ layers he’d share the sentiment.

He’d be civil for the sake of coexisting. She’d retain her distance for the sake of her own sanity.

The song dancing about her room only registers once an arm drapes her eyes, splayed across her bed and letting nostalgia take place of a possible future that made her stomach lurch. Torn between regret and bitter contentment. She should bury this cassette somewhere, let these stupid, sappy, painful memories die alongside it but… her sentimentality kept it tucked away for days such as this.

Keep on runnin’, keep on hidin’

Journey, the first band to worm their way into her pool of synth pop and weepy rock and earn her any brownie points with the man currently devouring her consciousness. She recalls the long discussion that followed his surprise. Countless names thrown at her while he dug through her collection with newfound hope and came up disappointed. So much so that she spent the next hour defending her music taste. Funny how his influence hit home after they parted ways, a bud of homesickness sprouting new appreciation for heavier stuff.

Keep on runnin’ away…

It’s okay.

Sweet memories shrivel up and rot away as that chorus finally sinks in. Like a personal attack neatly wrapped in one deceivingly upbeat melody. There’s a grimace, body lurching up and over to give the pause button on the CD player a shove. How dare Neal Schon call her out like this. So blatantly. But, those lyrics inspire stubborn determination.

She would fix this, even if only partly. Just enough to make life in Hawkins bearable for both of them.

Chapter Text

Her newfound resolve diminishes that very evening.

The days leading up to that coming weekend were nerve wracking. Staring towards the street beyond during work, jolting whenever someone came through the door or called her name, snapping awake when bugs tapped the window in the night. Even her mother copped how tense she seemed, fluttering about when home like a deranged moth. It was no different to the days following the Mind Flayer, audits metaphorically perked and keeping herself busy. The only difference being the slight disappointment following each Eddie free hour that sailed by… a bitterness of her own making taking hold for vainly hoping he would seek her out.

Even now, parked outside Hawkins High, a part of her awaited the sight of his frame resting against the hood of her car or standing across the way. Leaning in a doorway she couldn’t bring herself to approach at this point in time and eyeing her expectantly. Taunting her like some bushy haired phantom. With a groan and resounding thud her skull meets the steering wheel, ignoring the drone of some person or other echoing from the radio. Letting the minutes drain away. If she remained like this any longer she’d be left with a leather-pattern indent across her forehead but caring enough to sit up took more effort than she was willing to expend… until she caught the flash of red numbers on her dashboard.

Quarter to nine. Almost an hour over their usual cut off.

It was now or never.

With a tug at the handle and her sole planted against the kick panel she shoves her car door open, stumbling out on weak legs and scattering gravel, stomping towards that building with all the initial grace of Bambi on ice. Faded denim meets chipped paint, elbows doing most of the work until emergency doors swing open only for muted silence to greet her. Darkened school hallways and barely blinking florescence descends and for a startling moment she’s right back where she had been two haunting winters prior.

Waking in a dystopian hellscape that felt familiar yet chillingly wrong. Dim and drab and infested with filth. The cries of grotesque creatures ricocheting off every surface. Shadows that dwarfed her. The hairs on her nape stand to attention, arms prickling, knees bending just so should the need to flee arise, blotting out any semblance of rational thinking for an instant. Her first step is much too loud in this deserted high school but with enough internalised reassurance her lungs stop stuttering, gaze set on the spill of steady light pouring from an open room.

Her ears stop ringing long enough to recognise hushed voices. Outraged exclamations. A hearty cackle that soothes the adrenaline pumping through her veins and brings on a fresh spike of unease in dizzying succession, stifling the fond warmth threatening to sear her insides.

With a breath to temper the alarm tugging her muscles taut she comes to a stop paces away from what usually served as a haven for theatre kids, waiting until bellowing excitement cools to another fit of murmurs and then dead silence. Her curiosity outweighs hesitance, arms folding as she props herself against the doorframe and peeks inside. Right through draping curtains.

A deepened drawl seeps from the lovingly decorated room that greets her, attention drifting from mellow lights to medieval props to the club logo hanging proudly over a throne she couldn’t forget if she tried. Upon that very throne, appropriately so, is Eddie. Eclipsing his set up to deliver tonight's closing monologue with an air of deadly promise, fully immersed in the story he’s crafted, pitching vocals that much lower for sake of emphasising the assumed villains parting words.

The table he performs so passionately for are eating it up, hung on every word and leaning in with growing apprehension. A fond smile steals her lips, eyes peering past the backs of the kids she was here to chauffer as dismay sounds right down the hallway, some figures standing to better display their upset over having to wait for the conclusion of this particular campaign while others threw their arms overhead. Eddie reclines with a grin that showcases teeth, dimples on display and fingers laced. Brimming with pride. Thriving off the high of having something he diligently crafted hook his beloved party of misfits.

Meandering steps take her inside, landing a few strides shy of the group while they get to clearing up, a set of previously blazing eyes widening subtly only to muddy with guarded uncertainty when they meet her own. As though he wasn’t sure what to make of her. “Henderson.” Eddie quips, an edge there that draws confused attention towards an equally perplexed Dustin before the party finally peers over his head towards the sibling in question. “Munson.”

A collective gasp rings out among that triad perched closest to the head of the table. Her features soften in reply. Tone fond. “Boys.” The rest of Eddie’s loyal band, three teens he lured into his circle during their first year of school, were caught between telling her off and barrelling towards her. Settling for a variation of the former if puffed chests and crossed arms were any indication. Trying their best to appear irked rather than relieved. The contrast between them and their bristling leader is stark.

“What brings the estranged to our humble abode?” That entertainer flair returns, a hand filled with dice swaying her way. Gaze imploring. His attitude switch almost throws her off as a palm lands atop her sweet brothers head while he packs, earning a swat when she makes to steal his cap but her gaze never leaves those big, bovine eyes studying her from across the way. “Might wanna roll for wisdom on that one, Eds.” She’s rewarded with chortles no matter how short lived, Gareth trailing into a choked cough when Jeff’s elbow meets his ribs. “I’m here to make sure these nerds get home safe.”

Lucas appears offended she’d even think to call him something so very heinous despite the character sheet in his grasp, Mike and Dustin groaning simultaneously. Because how dare she embarrass them like this in front of a group they clearly idolised. As for the man at the receiving end of her dorky quip, the eldest Henderson expected equal disappointment, maybe even a witty retort, but her target’s gone silent. Suspiciously so. When her head lifts, sparing the teens her teasing, Eddie looks flabbergasted in such a subtle way. Like someone who saw a ghost and didn’t want to spook the rest of the room.

It’s not her terrible humour that has him stunned, not the cautiously playful glint in her eye or hint of silly satisfaction on her lips, but that damned nickname. A nickname used by so many and still, hearing it from her has him dipping his chin to cut open view of his face with a veil of tresses. How long had it been since anyone addressed him like that? All hopeful and honey eyed and soft around the edges. As if he hadn’t almost lost it with her days prior and stormed off like he couldn’t escape fast enough. Having every intention of pretending he never saw her to begin with.

Mike breaks the silence, brows vanishing beneath the hair draping his forehead. “So, you all know each-” “Well, we better get to the car. See you next week, Eddie!” In swoops Dustin, bag haphazardly thrown over his shoulder and grasping his friend by the bicep, hauling him out and ignoring a plethora of complaints while Lucas trails behind. Their failed attempts at whispered bickering pull a snort from her, head hanging while the Dungeon Master in question finally comes back to reality. Just in time to watch a set of keys sway in her grasp, heading after the kids with a wave over the shoulder.

Eddie flounders.

He’s around the table so fast the remaining few could swear he jumped the damn thing, dice abandoned, skidding to a stop by her side and extending an arm that almost slams right into her chest. “Woah, hey, hold on-” There’s an expectant glance cast his way, inquiries on her tongue that die in wake of the severity in his gaze. An internalised dilemma twisting his features. His tone plays for languid jest and falls short by an octave. “You owe me a nice, long, heartfelt talk, Henderson.”

Well, shit.

Fight or flight kicks in.

She feels trapped under the muted layer of pleading in his voice. His face. Unintentional yet devastating. “Eddie, I really can’t…” She couldn’t give him details, couldn’t recount what left her trembling at night, couldn’t even begin to explain what lead to the fire at the mall without sounding like a madwoman. Unhinged and trying to scare him off. But he was right to demand something.

She doesn’t miss the bracing lift of his shoulders and her attention drifts to the far from subtle eavesdropping going on across the room. His eyes are fixed on the side of her face.

Would he ever grow out of that puppy dog stare?

“..not tonight.”

That mere crumb of promise should have him perking, cheering, but there’s a reluctance there. Sinking into the lines of her face and morphing that frown into a grimace. The arm loosely blocking her exit drops as he studies her, really takes her in because the longer he stares the more he comes to realise there’s something off. A level of wary tension draping her.

It was hard to imagine this woman steadily shrinking in on herself as the same girl he had to hand drag off jocks, eager to toss her bag into his arms and throw herself at whatever unfortunate soul looked at them wrong, seen perched outside the principals office puffed and muttering more often than not.

And when she wasn't busy badly charming her way out of a suspension she was by his side.

Willing to join him on tabletops during his spiels no matter how much attention freaked her out. Itching to try giving him a stick and poke tattoo he still brandished with pride despite whining about infections. Offering genuine feedback on music she claimed to be 'just noise' while carefully helping him paint his beloved bands title across an old bedsheet.

He hardly expected them to fall right back into each others lives like nothing happened, didn’t want some tearful reunion full of spilled guts and reminiscing, but the least they could do is have a conversation. He’d take a once off chat and a lifetime of awkward pleasantries over this severance and prompt dismissal of their past. Couldn’t stand the idea of her continuing to duck around him as she had, apparently, all year. The apprehension he’d witnessed twice now. That face stricken with dread because of him.

The person in his memories wouldn’t avoid him, wouldn’t fail to meet his eye, wouldn’t leave him in the dark… yet here she stood. Doing all three.

What happened to her?

What changed?

“Not tonight.” He echoes absently, mind still churning. But another time. Eventually.

Before he can so much as form his next thought she takes the response and runs with it, darting past him and starting down the hall. “Glad we’re on the same page! See you around, Munson.”

A shout of her name leaks into the night air, hefty doors swinging to a shut behind her as she ignores a frantic Eddie and falls into the drivers seat. Stabbing the ignition and giving a twist that has her wrist straining. The kids piled into her car, previously chattering, jolt hard enough to rock the thing, tossing swears about as her reliable old BMW hums to life. With rushed apologies she cranks down the radio and drops her foot. Tearing out of the parking lot and garnering a new string of complaints from her passengers.

Everything and nothing registers at once.

There’s a shadow in her rear view mirror when she chances a glance towards Hawkins High, a dull throb at the ankle when her foot finally lifts off the pedal, a set of worried eyes to her right she pointedly ignores, perspiration draping her spine. Adrenaline pumps through her veins, leaves her hands clammy where they grip the wheel, but her whole body nearly slumps right over the moment they’re on the road and the light ahead turns red.

Only one word surfaces through the static in her mind, lungs shuddering back to life.

Coward.