This is not exactly a retelling of Heartstopper with Stranger Things characters; it's more of an AU/Fusion where I've placed the ST characters in the HS setting to see how they dwell in it. I guess it's not really that necessary to know about Hearts...
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The next math class with Byers doesn't arrive until Wednesday, and I find myself in the hallway waiting, somewhat more cheerfully than usual, to enter the room. Since Monday I haven't found a good reason to cheer myself up when I'm at school. Brenner is torturing me and practically insulting me with every opportunity he can find. I hate him. And while the rest of the teachers are no better either, they are not as terrible and threatening as he is. I've thought many times about filing a complaint against him, but I know I don't have the courage to do so, just as I know that such a move would only leave me more exposed to his rage. I sigh, as I move on to the next song on my playlist as I start walking.
I notice how something crashes against my body and I find myself face to face with Harrington. The smell of his potent cologne clashes at the same time as his body, making me stop for a brief moment, realizing that it is a perfume that pleases me more than I am able to recognize. The boy looks at me as he gives me a triumphant grimace before saying:
"There are other ways to flirt with me, Munson," he says.
"Fuck you, Harrington," I say as I smile and try my best to get into the classroom before him, to try to get back at him. But I know it's not working. I have to find other ways to mess with him, because at this rate he's going to win our feud competition.
"Eddie!" Byers' voice calls out to me. I bite my tongue as I slowly turn on my heels. Shit; I didn't expect her to be inside the classroom already. I look at her with wide eyes, and start moving my hands slowly, as if I can keep her from seeing that I'm taking off my headphones. "The phone, please. And try not to let it happen again. Please," I sigh and walk over to the table, drop the cell phone on it, and Byers picks it up and puts it in the drawer. "Go sit down, go on".
I walk slowly, almost embarrassed towards my table, from where Harrington is looking at me again with that triumphant look that I'm beginning to hate. Well, maybe it's not hate, because as I sit down, I find myself smiling, waiting for the kid's next jab.
"Again? How can you be so clumsy?" he laughs.
"And it's only the beginning," I reply, pressing my lips together in a grimace.
"You should look for a solution, don't you think?" he says as he looks away from me. I guess this is my chance to strike back.
"Do you think I'm that stupid?" I ask him, forcing him to look at me, and very slowly I reach into my pocket, pulling out part of the screen of a second phone. I see him smile, and put my real phone back in my pocket. I would be very angry if Byers took this one away from me. "I only have that one to listen to music," I explain.
"I don't think you listen to music, Munson. You're more the type of listening to baby cries to relax".
"You're an asshole," I say with a chuckle.
"Why would you say that? Angry 'cause I'm right?"
"It's not my fault I can't relax listening to Taylor Swift like you". He opens his eyes wide, as if clearly offended. I've found a way to make him bitter, and I smile as much as my lips will let me. "Are you a Swiftie, Harrington?!".
"Shut up!" He tells me first, trying to overcome the volume of my laughter that keeps coming out of my body against my will. "It's not true, it's not true, stop laughing, it's not true!" he says before punching me in the arm, not too strongly. I feel everyone's eyes on us, but I don't care, because I really can't stop laughing.
"The more you say that the less I'm gonna believe it," I tell him in the small gaps of air I find in my laughter. "It's okay Steve, I'll still respect you even if you have the musical taste of a 15 year old girl".
"It's okay to laugh at me, but not at Taylor. I can't forgive you for that, Munson," he says as he manages to look away from me, feigning annoyance.
I try to drop the joke, but I guess I'm incapable, because without realizing it, a few minutes into the class I nudge him and say in a whisper:
"I really can't believe you listen to Taylor Swift".
"She makes good music, Munson. It's not my fault you have the musical taste of someone born 50 years ago," he also answers me in a voice so soft I can barely hear it, so I move slightly closer to him before answering.
"I like being an older person, do you have a problem with that? Where did you drop your respect for the elderly?"
"You're my age, asshole".
"Steve, Eddie! Please pay attention," Byers says, calling us to attention.
Harrington looks away from me for a brief second before saying:
"You really are a fucking asshole, Munson. No wonder..." He looks at me for a brief second before he finishes speaking, cutting off whatever he was about to say. "Whatever. Doesn't matter".
"What?" I reply, nudging him with my elbow.
"It doesn't matter, Munson, it's silly".
"Tell me," I insist.
He looks at me with a frown on his face, his lips puckered. Only after noticing that Byers wasn't looking, he tears a piece of paper from his notebook and writes something on it. When he finishes he hands it to me and I can read, "I'm sorry, I was going to say something bad, and I regret it. I didn't mean to hurt you. It was a silly thing to say. I'm sorry I thought it." I start to look at him quizzically, what the fuck could he be referring to? Now I'm even more curious, or maybe it's just that I want to find an excuse to keep picking on him. For some reason I end up writing on the back of the paper, "tell me, Harrington, I'm not gonna take offense". I pass the note back to him and he takes a while to read it, when he does, he furrows his eyebrows again and looks at me once more, shaking his head; looking for one last chance to get me to give in, but what he doesn't know is that this way he's not going to get anywhere.
"Come on, tell me," I beg him as I step lightly on one of his feet. Now he looks at me, pissed off even. I don't care if he ends up revealing this big secret to me.
He breathes in and then sighs. He tears off another part of the last page of his notebook, soon to be nothing more than a memory. I glare at him as he writes and then he hands me the paper, on which he says, "I'm sorry." I clench my jaw angrily and pick up the note between my fingers, and my pen in the other, determined to write him something like, "You're pussy, Harrington," but to my surprise there are letters on the other side. "I was going to say that I didn't wonder you were bullied. That's why I didn't say anything." I crumple the note with my fingers, as a horrible whirlwind of fire burns from my stomach to my throat. This fucking asshole was right, he was going to say something stupid to me and he was going to hurt me. I feel terribly angry. I can see out of the corner of my eye how he looks at me sympathetically, but I decide not to even spare him a glance, because I feel hurt, but especially because I know this was my fault for insisting so much.
After what seems like minutes I feel his foot against mine, and almost as if I've forgotten what just happened, I turn to look at him.
"I'm sorry?" he says in a whisper seeking my forgiveness.
I give him a thumbs up as I look away from him, he knows I'm still certainly angry, so he decides not to bother me for the rest of the class, and I should thank him for that, because right now I'm not in the mood. The only good thing I can take from this is that our feud is progressing appropriately.
