Chapter Text
Your Perspective
Nancy’s waiting for you before the first bell, sitting cross-legged on the bench outside school. She looks up from her notebook as you plop down beside her, raising an eyebrow at the small smile you’re trying to hide.
She snaps her notebook shut. “Okay, spill. What’s with the face?”
You blink. “What face?”
Nancy narrows her eyes. “You’re grinning like you just aced a test you didn’t study for.”
You shrug, playing it cool. “It’s nothing. Scott and I went to the movies yesterday. Just the two of us. It was… nice.”
Nancy’s interest perks up. “Nice? So, what? He was actually tolerable for once?”
You snort. “Not exactly tolerable, but not awful either. We talked. He made a couple of stupid jokes, didn’t bail halfway through. It just felt… lighter, I guess?”
Nancy leans in, smirking. “So he acted like a semi-decent human being. That’s practically breaking news.”
You nudge her shoulder, grinning. “Shut up. I’m serious.”
She holds up her hands. “Hey, if it wasn’t a disaster, that’s progress.”
You fidget with your bag strap. “I’m not saying everything’s fixed, but for once, I didn’t feel like I was performing for a stranger.”
Nancy studies you. “Think he’s turning a corner?”
You pick at a loose thread on your sleeve. “Maybe. No idea how long it’ll last, but I didn’t leave wanting to scream into a pillow, so…”
Nancy hums thoughtfully. “Okay, that’s something.” She leans closer, eyes narrowing playfully. “But is that the only thing you’re smiling about?”
You freeze just a bit too long. “What? Yeah. Obviously.”
Nancy’s lips twitch. “Mmhmm. Because Mike may or may not have mentioned you and Dustin roasting Steve at the arcade. With a certain metalhead nearby.”
You snort, looking away. “That wasn’t a thing. Just Dustin being Dustin. And Eddie happened to be there.”
Nancy grins knowingly. “And yet here you are, grinning like someone just played your favourite song.”
“I’m not grinning,” you insist.
She raises a brow. “You’re totally grinning.”
You sigh, smirking despite yourself. “It wasn’t anything. He’s just… not what people think.”
Nancy smirks back. “Neither are you.”
The bell rings sharply and suddenly.
You both stand, slinging your bags over your shoulders.
After school, you’re already flipping through your notes when you hear the familiar scuff of sneakers against the library floor. Eddie slides into the chair across from you with an easy grin, leaning back like he owns the place.
“Hey, Princess,” he says, smirking as he rests his arms on the table.
You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You know, most people just say ' hi' like normal human beings.”
“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” he shoots back, drumming his fingers against the table. “Besides, you are a princess, aren’t you? I’ve seen that mansion you live in.”
You snort, shaking your head. “Right. Because nothing screams ‘princess’ like spending all my free time tutoring you. ”
Eddie gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were bonding.”
You arch an eyebrow. “Are we?”
He leans in slightly, grinning. “Well, I dunno, Your Highness, I did do that study sheet you gave me.” He says it as if it’s some grand achievement, as if he expects you to throw confetti and declare a national holiday in his honour.
You blink, momentarily stunned. “Wait. Really? ” You narrow your eyes, half-expecting him to be messing with you. “You actually looked at it?”
Eddie scoffs, looking deeply offended. “Wow. Zero faith in me, huh?” But his grin doesn’t waver. “I mean, yeah, I did it. You went through all that trouble making it idiot-proof, so I figured, why not?” He shrugs, trying to play it cool, but you can hear the tiniest bit of pride in his voice.
You smirk instead, deciding to push past it. “Wow. Eddie Munson putting in effort. I am a miracle worker.”
Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face. “And I immediately regret telling you.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I would give you a gold star, but I didn’t bring any.”
Eddie gasps. “Unbelievable. What kind of monster are you?”
You smirk, already digging into your bag. “Lucky for you, I did bring this.” You pull out a Moon Pie and slide it across the table toward him.
Eddie stares at it for all of two seconds before beaming. “No way. ” He picks it up like it’s the greatest gift he’s ever received. “Alright, forget what I said before, you are the best.”
You chuckle, watching as he tears into the wrapper like a kid on Christmas morning. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
Eddie takes a huge bite, nodding appreciatively as he chews. “Yeah, you officially win ‘Best Tutor.’ Don’t let it go to your head.”
For a second, you don’t know what to say. There’s something oddly sweet about the way he says it, something unspoken hanging in the air between you.
You laugh, nudging his textbook toward him. “Come on, bonding time isn’t over yet. Let’s see if that study sheet worked.”
He grins, flipping the book open. “Hit me with it.”
The library’s quieter than usual, which should make it easier to focus. But honestly? It’s not. Not when Eddie Munson is sitting across from you, staring at that study sheet like it just punched him in the gut.
You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he glares at the question you starred like it’s a ticking bomb:
“What does Shakespeare suggest about fate through the lovers’ choices in Romeo and Juliet?”
You’d circled it because it’s important. Because it’s layered. Because if Eddie can understand this one, maybe, just maybe, he’ll pass the test on Wednesday.
But right now, he looks like he wants to set the paper on fire.
He sighs, tapping his pencil, then drops his head back against the chair with a soft thunk. You want to say something helpful. Something gentle and encouraging.
Instead, you find yourself watching him.
The way he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. The frustrated little furrow in his brow. The rings on his fingers were tapping restlessly on the desk.
You tell yourself it’s nothing. Just the stress of the test. Just the usual Eddie drama.
Except lately… it hasn’t felt like nothing.
Because when he’s not being loud or obnoxious or theatrical—when he’s quiet like this, trying so hard not to let his frustration show, you see pieces of him you weren’t supposed to. Soft pieces. Good ones.
And maybe that’s the problem.
You’re not supposed to feel anything. Not for him.
You have Scott. You have a future that makes sense. Predictable, safe.
Eddie Munson is none of those things.
He’s chaotic. Uncertain. Not yours.
He’s glaring at the worksheet like it personally ruined his life.
“This is stupid,” he mutters, just as he slams his pencil down.
“What is?” you ask, though you already know.
He jabs a finger at the page like it’s guilty of a crime. “Fate. Destiny. All that crap. It’s just a fancy way of saying ‘life sucks and then you die.’”
You open your mouth to tell him to chill, but he keeps going, frustration spilling out in sharp bursts.
You can tell he’s scared. Scared he’s going to fail, that this is the end of the line. That all this trying still won’t cut it.
And god, you hate it.
Because you know how hard he’s been working. You see it, even when he doesn’t want you to.
So, you do what you do best.
You flick him.
Right on the forehead.
Hard enough to get his attention, but not enough to start a war.
He jerks back, blinking like you just sucker-punched him. “OW! What the hell?!”
You fold your arms, trying not to laugh. “You’re being a total dumbass.”
He stares at you, stunned, rubbing his head like you just delivered a knockout punch. Then, of course, he recovers with full Munson flair, one hand on his chest, voice dripping with fake drama:
“Struck down,” he moans, “by one so brilliant and beautiful. What a way to go.”
You laugh, because of course you do. Because he’s ridiculous. Because he’s making you smile when you should be scolding him. Because he just called you beautiful, and you know, God, you know, it was a joke.
Except… it didn’t feel like one. Not completely.
And now you’re looking at him, really looking at him, and for one terrifying second, you swear there’s something there. Something real.
You speak softly. “Eddie. It was just one hard question.”
He tries to brush it off, clutches his chest again like he’s been mortally wounded. “And I failed it.”
“You didn’t fail. You’re stuck. That’s not the same thing.” You nudge his leg under the table, gently. “Besides… you got the last three right. That counts.”
He goes quiet, just watching you. Like, he doesn’t know what to do with your belief in him.
“Do you think I’m gonna pass?”
“I do,” you say, because you mean it.
And because, right now, you want him to believe in himself the way you’re starting to.
Because, honestly, he’s done more in one week than most would expect.
You slide the worksheet back toward him. “Come on. Let’s fight fate together.”
He smirks—softer, less cocky than usual. “That’s dangerously romantic for a Tuesday.”
You roll your eyes, smiling. But it’s harder to focus now. Harder not to notice the heat spreading through your chest, your pulse racing like a drummer.
The way he just looked at you.
Like maybe this wasn’t all in your head.
But it has to be.
Because Eddie Munson doesn’t look at girls like you that way.
Because you already belong to someone else.
Because wanting him? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.
And somehow, it’s already starting to feel inevitable.
You try to keep your voice steady, explaining fate again, but your hands are shaking just a little.
Maybe fate is a total asshole.
Eddie's Perspective
Monday starts like any other, Eddie rolling into school, meeting up with the guys before first period, and enduring whatever fresh hell Hawkins High has in store for him this week.
They’re hanging out in the usual spot, half-heartedly complaining about classes when Jeff asks, “So, what’d you get up to after the arcade yesterday?”
Eddie shrugs, leaning against the lockers. “Went to Rick’s, picked up more weed.” Standard. Expected. No surprises there. “Then went home.”
There’s a pause. A beat too long.
Gareth squints at him. “And…?”
Eddie hesitates. He could leave it at that, let them assume he spent the rest of the day playing guitar, watching bad horror movies, or, hell, just lying in bed doing absolutely nothing . That’s what he thought he’d be doing. But instead…
Instead, he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh… studied.”
Three pairs of eyes land on him like he just confessed to murder.
“ You studied?” Grant repeats, sceptical.
“For what?” Gareth asks, frowning.
“English,” Eddie admits, feeling weirdly defensive about it.
Silence.
“Who are you?” Freaking Gareth again.
Eddie groans, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look, it’s not like I wanted to, alright? But I do wanna graduate, and Harrington actually put effort into making a study sheet.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t spend an embarrassing amount of time staring at the stupid paper, trying to ignore the way your handwriting looked so neat, so thoughtful . “Figured the least I could do was give it a shot.”
Dustin and Mike glance at each other like they’re witnessing the end of an era.
Jeff lets out a low whistle. “Damn. She must have some kinda magic touch if she got you to study.”
Eddie flips him off.
Lucas laughs. “Next thing we know, you’re gonna start doing homework .”
“Alright, let’s not get crazy,” Eddie scoffs.
Gareth, though, he’s gone all quiet. Too quiet. Eddie already knows what’s coming.
“It’s cool she did that though,” Gareth says, a little too casually.
Eddie doesn’t reply. He just nods, playing it off, trying not to think about why his chest feels tight all of a sudden.
Because Gareth has a crush on you. And you have a boyfriend.
And Eddie? He’s just a guy who studied. Nothing more. Nothing less.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
“Alright, nerds,” he says, slinging an arm around Gareth’s shoulders, mostly to distract him. “Let’s get this over with.”
The guys roll their eyes, shoving him off, but as they head to class, Eddie can’t help but think about the way you smiled at him when you handed him that stupid study sheet. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about anything you cared about.
He shakes his head. Nope. Not going there. Not today.
Eddie spots you the second he steps into the library, already flipping through your notes like the overachiever you are. He smirks to himself, taking his time as he saunters over. When he finally drops into the seat across from you, he leans back like he owns the place.
“Hey, Princess,” he says, draping his arms across the table with lazy confidence.
You roll your eyes, but there’s a tiny smile tugging at your lips. “You know, most people just say hi like normal human beings.”
Eddie grins, drumming his fingers against the table. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Besides, you are a princess, aren’t you? I’ve seen that mansion you live in.”
You snort, shaking your head. “Right. Because nothing screams ‘princess’ like spending all my free time tutoring you.”
Eddie gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were bonding.”
You arch an eyebrow. “Are we?”
Leaning in a little, he gave you a smug grin. “Well, I dunno, Your Highness, I did do that study sheet you gave me.” He says it like it’s a huge deal, like you should throw confetti and declare him a scholar.
You blink, clearly caught off guard. “Wait. Really? You actually looked at it?”
Eddie scoffs, looking deeply offended. “Wow. Zero faith in me, huh?” But his grin doesn’t waver. “I mean, yeah, I did it. You went through all that trouble making it idiot-proof, so I figured, why not?” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but a hint of pride slips through.
You smirk, shaking your head. “Wow. Eddie Munson putting in effort. I am a miracle worker.”
Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face. “And I immediately regret telling you.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I would give you a gold star, but I didn’t bring any.”
Eddie gasps, scandalised. “Unbelievable. What kind of monster are you?”
Still smirking, you start digging in your bag. “Lucky for you, I did bring this.” You pull out a Moon Pie and slide it across the table.
Eddie stares at it for a second, then lights up like a damn Christmas tree. “No way.” He picks it up, grinning like she just handed him the meaning of life. “Alright, forget what I said before—you are the best.”
You chuckle, watching as he tears into the wrapper with almost childlike enthusiasm. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
With his mouth still full, Eddie waves the Moon Pie at you. “Yeah, you officially win ‘Best Tutor.’ Don’t let it go to your head.”
For a second, something unspoken lingers between them. You don’t say anything, just look at him with something soft in your eyes, and it makes Eddie’s stomach twist in a way he doesn’t want to analyse.
You nudge his textbook toward him, breaking the moment. “Come on, bonding time isn’t over yet. Let’s see if that study sheet actually worked.”
He grins, flipping the book open. “Hit me with it.”
The library’s quieter than usual, just the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the air vents. Eddie’s been trying. Really trying. But all he can do is stare down at the question like it personally insulted him.
“What does Shakespeare suggest about fate through the lovers’ choices in Romeo and Juliet?”
It’s one of the questions you’d circled on the study sheet. A little star beside it, your cheerful, soul-crushing code for important or guaranteed to fry Munson’s last brain cell.
He squints at it, taps his pencil against the table. Nothing comes.
No clever angle. No decent thought. Just a swirling mess of overthinking and static.
His head drops back against the chair with a quiet thunk. He sighs like he’s just been handed a death sentence.
Across the table, you’re hunched over your notes, completely locked in. There’s ink on your hand, a highlighter cap between your teeth, and a chaotic cloud of colour-coded post-its around you. Arrows and scribbles stretch across the page like a crime scene diagram, but prettier.
He watches you for a second too long. Brow furrowed, lips moving a little as you read to yourself.
It should be annoying how much you care about this. But it’s not.
When you talk about Shakespeare, you don’t just get it. You feel it, like every line about fate or tragedy or doomed love hits you somewhere deep. And Eddie… he sort of wants to get it too. Not just to pass the test. Not just to prove something.
He wants to impress you.
Wants you to look at him like he might actually belong here. Like he’s not just some burnout you’re stuck tutoring.
But when he looks back at the question, all of that good intention starts to unravel.
He tries to write something. Crosses it out.
Tries again. Garbage.
The irritation creeps in slowly, spreading through his chest like spilt ink. He can feel it building—the pressure, the frustration, the sense that no matter how hard he tries, it’s never gonna be enough.
Fate. Fate ruins everything. Great. Super. How poetic.
He tosses his pencil down with a clatter , slumping back in his chair. “This is stupid”, he mutters.
You glance up. “What is?”
“This.” He jabs his pencil at the page. “Fate. Destiny. All of it. It’s just a fancy way of saying ‘life sucks and then you die.’”
You arch an eyebrow, but he’s already on a roll, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.
“I don’t get how I’m supposed to explain how some made-up characters got doomed by fate when I can’t even figure out what the hell that means.”
You tilt your head. “It’s not a trick question, Eddie.”
He groans louder, running both hands through his hair. “Everything feels like a trick question! I study, I actually try , and I still screw it up. You know I’m gonna fail that test on Wednesday, right? I’m gonna bomb it, flunk out, not graduate, and then I’ll be stuck in Hawkins forever, working for Rick and getting high in a van until I rot.”
You blink. “…That’s dramatic. Even for you.”
“I’m being realistic! ” he snaps. “This is just how it goes. Maybe that’s my fate, Munson the screwup. Can’t pass English, can’t get out of Hawkins, can’t…”
Flick.
Right between the eyes.
“OW, what the hell?!” He jerks back, hands flying to his forehead.
You look at him calmly, like you haven’t just assaulted him. “You’re being a dumbass.”
He stares at you, wide-eyed, rubbing his forehead like you’ve delivered a fatal blow. “Struck down,” he groans dramatically, slumping in his chair, “by one so brilliant and beautiful. What a way to go.”
And there it is, that tiny shift.
You pause. Smile faltering just a bit.
Beautiful.
He said it like a joke, but he meant it. God help him, he meant it.
Your eyes meet his across the table, something warm and flickering passing between you. You don’t say anything at first. Just tilt your head, looking at him like you see him. Not the guy who keeps failing, not the burnout with the loud mouth, but him.
“Eddie,” you say softly. “It was one hard question.”
He leans back in his chair, dramatically clutching his chest. “And I failed it.”
“You didn’t fail. You’re just stuck. That’s different. Besides,” you say, nudging his leg gently under the table, “you got the last three questions right. That’s not nothing.”
He doesn’t know what to do with that. With you, sitting across from him, giving him that look like maybe he isn’t some hopeless mess. Like maybe he’s capable of more than just barely making it.
He lets out a soft laugh, more breath than sound. “You really think I’m gonna pass?”
“I do,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
And the worst part is… he almost believes you.
You slide the worksheet back toward him. “Come on. Let’s fight fate together.”
He smirks, trying to keep it light. “That’s dangerously romantic for a Tuesday.”
You roll your eyes, smiling again, but there’s still something warm lingering in the space between you.
As you start walking him through the question again, your voice low and patient, Eddie ducks his head, pretending to adjust his notes, and scribbles something in the back of his notebook before you can see:
Maybe fate’s just a cruel joke, making you want someone you know you can’t have.
But damn it, you want her anyway .
He closes the notebook quickly. Tucks it away.
There was a moment just now. A real one.
A moment that wasn’t supposed to happen.
But did anyway.
And that’s a problem.
Because you’ve got Scott. The perfect boyfriend, the golden boy everyone expects you to have.
And yeah, Gareth’s nursing some quiet little crush he’s too afraid to say out loud.
And Eddie? Eddie’s not the kind of guy who’s supposed to want things like this.
But he does.
God help him, he wants you anyway.