El and Uncle Hopper live in a small cabin on the outskirts of town. It's cozy, quiet, minimalistic, and I absolutely adore it. My cousin on the other hand, hates being so far away from her friends. Most weekends, when Hopper is working, her and Max spend most of their time in my spare bedroom. I don't mind it, the constant giggles and smell of baked goods and popcorn fill the lonely house with a sense of happiness it craves during the week.
I sit at the small kitchen table leveled with sugar packets while Hopper goes to the fridge, grabbing a beer for himself and a soda for me. "So, how was mom today?" I ask, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage.
He sighs, giving me a solemn look. "Not herself."
Six months after my dad died, my mom found out she had a malignant brain tumor that had spread to the surrounding lymph nodes in her body. She chose to keep that diagnosis to herself until her and I moved to Hawkins. She went through two rounds of chemotherapy to lengthen the amount of time she had left with us, but the disease has slowly eaten away at her memory and quality of life.
Three weeks ago, while I was at school. She fell, dislocating her left shoulder and lacerating her forehead. She hit the ground so hard she knocked herself unconscious. Following that, Hopper and I knew it was no longer safe for her to be alone. She needed to be somewhere she could frequently be monitored.
Choosing to remove my mother from her own home was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. Coincidentally, it was also the same day I found out about Steve and Nancy's ultimate act of betrayal.
Talk about kicking a girl when she's down.
"So, why are you hanging out with an old man like me on a Friday night?"
I shrug my shoulders, twisting the aluminum tab on top of the can. "Backstabbing boyfriend, remember?"
"Ahh, right." Hopper nods as he drinks from his chilled bottle. "I can always pull him over if you want...rough him up a little" he offers, wiggling his bushy brows.
I snort and fizzy carbonation tickles my nose, typical Uncle Hopper. I can always count on him to make me laugh.
"Seriously kid, go make friends...you're gonna need them." His voice is rough and full of emotion, but his eyes remain soft. I knew exactly what he meant...he just couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.
My mom was going to die, and he didn't want me to be alone when she did.
I stood to leave, tossing my empty can into the trash. "Guess I better go then. Lots of socializing to do."
"Be safe, Em. Call me if you need anything."
Shit, right. I almost forgot.
"Oh, by the way, El got her period" I add, patting his broad shoulders, and walking towards the door.
It's a comical sight, watching the town's brute of a sheriff crumble at the mention of such a common occurrence. Unable to help myself, I double over laughing as he chokes on his beer.
"Don't panic, old man. I already talked to her and got her everything she needs" I assure. "Just uh—don't make it weird and cut her a little slack this week, alright?"
Face red, he nods his frazzled head and gives me a look of thanks as I wave goodbye.
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After leaving Hoppers, I stop by the house to grab a bite to eat and freshen up. I'd decide on a black slip dress, tights, and my Docs. Glancing at myself in the hallway mirror, I adjust the recognizable flower in my hair, toss on my jean jacket, and quickly leave before the warm familiarity of home causes me to change my mind.
I walk through the entryway of the obnoxiously wealthy home. The floors are made of a light marble, polished so thoroughly you can see your reflection. Large contemporary art pieces hang from the walls, and a bulky avantgarde chandelier hangs from the tall ceilings. It isn't necessarily tacky, it just screams 'look at all my money''. Definitely not my style.
The smell of cheap booze and even cheaper cologne fill the air as I push my way through the mass of drunken teenagers. I've only made it about ten feet into the door before a herd of jocks around the keg shift, causing a collision.
"Crap, sorry" I mutter, meeting the eyes of a familiar freckled face. "Oh. Hey, Robin."
"Emilia! How have you been?" she asks, instantly regretting it. "Wait...not a good question. Let me try again" she laughs awkwardly. "What have you been up to? No...wait. Shit." She smacks her palm against her forehead, continuing to sputter.
"It's good to see you, Robin" I interject, saving her from further unnecessary embarrassment.
Her shoulders relax and she gives me a tipsy grin. "It's really good to see you too."
After word got out about my father's death and my mother's illness, people in town seem to walk on eggshells around me...afraid I might crumble if they say the wrong thing. It's infuriating and has only gotten worse after the rumor mill made its rounds about Nancy and Steve.
"Have you seen Chrissy or Jason?" I ask, attempting to ease the tension and change the subject.
Her thin finger motions across the room. "I think I saw them in the kitchen."
"Perfect! Uh, I'll see you around?" I ask with shy hopefulness. I truly like Robin and hate that my breakup with Steve potentially ruined my connection with her.
Robins' short pixie cut sways as she nods. "Yes, please!"
I grin widely and give her a small wave goodbye. "For what it's worth, Em" she calls after me. "He's a total idiot."
"Thanks Robin."
Okay, maybe he didn't ruin everything.
I press my way further into the house and closer to the kitchen. With so many sweaty bodies around, I feel my social meter already beginning to drain. Contemplating sneaking out before I can be noticed by anyone else, I spot Chrissy's high pony right before seeing her sweet face. Once her animated eyes meet mine, I know there's no way I'm getting out of here.
"I told Jason you'd come!" she beams, giving me a tight hug, and pulling me towards the counter littered with half empty bottles of liquor. "Come on. Let's get you a drink."
"I don't really drink Chris, and neither do you" I whine. "Isn't being here with you enough?"
"Trust me" she replies grimly, handing me a cup of red liquid that smells like lighter fluid and fruit punch. "You're going to need it when you find out who's here."
I feel the nerves in my throat tighten. "Oh" I whisper, downing the liquid without further hesitation, gritting my teeth at the burning sensation it sends to my stomach.
"I can ask Jason to make him leave if you're uncomfortable" she offers.
"No" I shake my head firmly to reassure her. "I'm gonna have to face him eventually."
It's been over a month since I found out about Steve and Nancy, and I've been avoiding them ever since. Admittedly, it hasn't been too difficult of a task, he knows better than to try and justify his actions to me. Plus, when I do see him, he's typically nose deep in the ass of his mistress.
Behind us, I hear the rowdy commotion before watching Chrissy's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, doubling in size. "Oh, come on!"
She pushes past me and into the crowd of adolescent boys tossing around a large and very expensive looking vase. "Put that down!" she yells, flailing her tiny arms. "My mom will kill me if it gets broken."
Reluctantly, I peel myself away from the kitchen and into the living room, searching for a corner to back myself into. As I reach the center of the room, my eyes land on a hot and heavy couple sucking face on the couch. By the time the realization of who I'm gawking at hits, the backstabbing pair come up for air.
Meeting my gaze, Nancy's face tinges bright red with embarrassment while Steve's seems to pale. Though I can't see my own, I'd bargain it's now a bilious shade of green. Suddenly, the flammable fruit punch threatens to lurch from my stomach.
I look like a fucking idiot. Standing alone in a crowded room, helplessly gawking at the people I'd thoughtlessly given my heart to. Bitter tasting acid burns my throat as I watch Steve stumble to his feet.
Move. What are you still doing here?
I quickly turn away, keeping my attention on my feet and their sudden urge to flee. I'm halfway to the door when a pair of worn trainers block my path to freedom.
"Three times in one day, Peters. You stalking me?" Any other day the sound of Eddie Munson's snarky insults would trigger a domino effect of condescending banter, but today it was music to my ears.
"Put your arm around me?" I ask, desperation clear in my voice.
I'm not sure what corner of my fuzzy brain the question crawled from. All I know is at this moment I feel desperate. So desperate that apparently, I'm willing to ask Eddie Munson for help. I can't bear the thought of facing this inevitable conversation alone.
His brows draw together, confused by my sense of urgency. "If this is your idea of flirting, you're really shit at it."
"Please..." I practically beg. I can hear Steve's frantic voice calling my name from behind.
Instead of an answer, Eddie only looks over my shoulder before looking back at me with darkened eyes of aggravation.
Great. Guess we're back to hating each other.
"Forget it" I sigh, grabbing the beer from the metalheads hand, tossing it back, and turning to face unescapable conflict.
"Hey...Emilia, I—uh I didn't realize you'd be here" Steve stammers, running his fingers through his infamous hair. "Didn't really think this was your thing."
Liquid courage begins to tickle my toes, causing me to impulsively laugh at his comment. "And I didn't really think lying and cheating was yours" I shrug. "Guess we were both wrong."
He sighs and places his hands on his hips. "Come on, Emmy."
"Don't...call me that" I state firmly, not a hint of amusement left in my voice. Emmy was a name reserved for my friends and family. People who cared about me. Not for him...not anymore.
Steve flinches, thrown off by the uncharacteristic harshness of my tone.
"Everything okay here, sweetheart?" A gentle arm casually slides itself across my shoulders. There's no need to meet the eyes of its owner to know who it belongs to. The silver studded fingers around the refill being placed into my hand are a dead giveaway.
He came back.
Had I not been so tangled in shock, I would have grabbed him by the cheeks and kissed him for liberating me from humiliation.
"You're here with Munson?" Steve asks, a line forming between his perfectly arched brows.
Our conversation caught the attention of others in the room, and the air between us grew quiet as they awaited my response. The problem is, I can't concentrate enough to form coherent words. My thoughts have become jumbled, startled by the way my skin tingles against the worn leather of the boy's jacket.
"So, what if she is?" Eddie replies, sensing my stumble.
Steve's jaw clenches tightly. "I wasn't asking you, freak" he spits, stepping closer to the boy.
Is he seriously jealous?...Interesting.
Maybe it's the sudden buzz, but upon instinct my body fights to step closer to Steve. A small attempt to protect my liberator. But Eddie's grip only tightens, instead placing me securely into the warm curve of his torso.
An unfamiliar tug in my chest pleads to wrap my arms around his waist, savoring the intoxicating temptation wrapped in tobacco and warm spice. I thought maybe I felt small circles being soothed into my skin through the thin fabric of my jacket. Though my entire body feels like it's buzzing with adrenaline, so I can't be sure.
"Uh—Steve..." Robin mutteres, making a small gesture with her head, and causing Steve's harsh gaze to fall behind us.
I turn my head, noticing Jason to my left and the entire basketball team gathering around us. Though I'm not brave enough to look at him, I never feel Eddie's position change. His gaze remains fixed on the pompous boy in front of us.
"I think it's time you call it a night, Harrington" Jason states calmly.
Steve scoffs, laughing at the statement. "Wait, you're making me leave?"
"It's a high school party man," Jason replies. "Didn't you graduate?"
"And? Munson's like 30. He should have graduated like three years ago!" he jokes with an arrogant grin. His eyes nervously graze the crowd around him, expecting amusement that never comes.
Like flipping a switch, something inside of me snaps and all the suppressed anger I'd been walking around with breaks free.
"God. Fuck off, Steve." I bellow, successfully pulling free from Eddie's comfortable grip.
The vein in the middle of Steve's forehead pulses as his hooded eyes meet mine. I watch them visibly shift from anger to hurt. This only fuels my rage. I grip my fists so tightly I feel the sting of crescent shapes tearing themselves into my palms. My body ripples with frustration, begging to clock him for the unoriginal insult. He wants to play the victim in a situation he created. Hell no.
With hate at the tip of my tongue, that comforting tingle returns to my skin and the bitter words suddenly become caught in my throat. Eddie's gentle, yet firm hands find themselves around my waist, pulling me against his hard torso. It's his fingertips that draw small, reassuring circles into the curves of my hips, that calm my raging fury.
"Come on, big boy. We all know your track record for getting your ass kicked" Eddie's deep voice vibrates against my back, sending a shudder down my spine and to my toes.
How is he so calm?
I don't like confrontation. I'm not loud. I don't make scenes. I've never even been in an altercation. I'm just not that type of girl. Unfortunately, I know that isn't the case for Eddie. He's used to having to face confrontation head on. The thought suddenly makes me feel sad. I press myself further into his warmth, finding it easier to release my clenched fists.
Steve seems to notice my movements, puffing his chest as he glares up at the metalhead. Eddie has a good five inches on the arrogant boy, and everyone knows this wasn't going to end well for him. Sadly, his massive ego doesn't seem to care.
"Let's just go, Steve" Nancy mumbles, pulling on his flexed bicep.
His eyes soften, looking down at the pleading girl before snapping back to me. "Fine. Good riddance" he bites as the pair make their way towards the door with Jason and his crew tailing behind them.
Eddie squeezes the curve of my hip one last time before his touch is removed, leaving my skin feeling barren and chilled. "Th—uh thank you" I stutter, handing back the drink he'd placed in my hand.
"No problem" he replies, taking a sip from the bottle, and shoving his now free hand into the pocket of his jacket. "I'd never miss an opportunity to fuck with King Steve" he grins.
That smile. Normally, I found it arrogant, but suddenly it made my dopamine levels go all silly. The indentions of dimpled cheeks made his face look soft...kind. It was like I was seeing him in a completely different light. I watched his tongue dance across his bottom lip, causing me to wonder how soft they'd feel against mine.
No, no, no. Shit...I do have a crush on Eddie fucking Munson.
Eddie inhales sharply, breaking my trance as he begins to speak. "Do you—uh" he begins, but is abruptly cut off by Chrissy unintentionally pushing her way between us.
"Oh my god, Em! Are you okay?" she asks.
I shake my head, clearing it of forbidden thoughts. "Fine." I swallow, looking back over her shoulder, and watching Eddie walk away. "Come on" I reach for her perfectly manicured hand. "I need some air."
Chrissy and I make our way outside, sitting atop the rocked walls that line the swimming pool. I tilt my head back and take a deep breath letting the cool autumn breeze sooth my heated skin.
"God Em. Did you see how jealous Steve got when he thought you were here with Eddie?" she giggles.
I roll my eyes and take a sip from the bottle of water I'd grabbed on the way outside. "He wasn't jealous, Chris."
"Oh, come on! That forehead vein of his practically had eyes!"
The image makes my head roll back as I let out a full belly laugh. "Yeah, that thing is pretty great." I sigh, pushing my hair out of my face.
"Oh my god Em, that's it!" Chrissy gasps. "You and Eddie! The perfect way to get back at Steve, and prove you've moved on."
"What?!" I snap, hopping down from the wall. "Chrissy, I have nothing to prove to Steve Harrington."
"No, you're absolutely right" she cringes, her ponytail shrinking with her shoulders. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
Shit. This...this is what that asshole has caused me to become. Short tempered and easily agitated...with all the wrong people. Chrissy has been more of a friend to me in the last month than Nancy ever was.
"Besides. Munson hates me." I rub her slim shoulder, a silent apology I hope she can understand. "And I...don't like him like that."
She blinks her knowing eyes at me. "Righttt, and my highlights are natural."
I wince at the weight of her stare. My gaze shifts from the cheerleader to across the pool where Eddie chats with a handful of seniors, no doubt purchasing their end of night party favors. The deals are made quickly, leaving him leaning against the side of the pool house with one other male. I'm not sure of his name, but I thought maybe I recognized him from one of my classes.
Jim...Jeff, maybe?
"Well, that's too bad. He really is a nice guy" Chrissy adds. "Even sold to me a couple times."
My head turns so quickly, my neck nearly snaps. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
"That Eddie's really a nice guy?" she replies.
"No, that Chrissy Cunningham...Queen of Cheer smokes pot?!"
She giggles so loudly, the infectious sound forcing me to do the same.
Taking a risk, I look back at the boy who came to my rescue. The moonlight reflects from the silver on his hands, and I shiver feeling the ghost of his touch still on my skin. My eyes travel upwards, memorizing all the unique details. The chain and bandana that hangs from his jean pocket, the worn frayed edges of his leather jacket, the detailed pins decorating his vest, his neck and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he laughs. His eyes...those mysterious whiskey colored eyes staring right back at mine.
Embarrassing heat singes my neck and face as he grins at me. He casually presses his drink against his lips, and moves his attention back to his friend. I know I should look away, but I can't seem to help myself. I was wrong before...he isn't at all cocky or arrogant. He's genuine. Unapologetically Eddie.
Well fuck.
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For months I've been at war with myself. A constant battle between feeling everything at once...suffocating sadness, grief, and loneliness. Or feeling absolutely nothing at all. Just a hollow, empty shell going through everyday motions. To be honest, I'm not sure which is worse. Drowning beneath the waves, or dying from thirst.
I lay in bed with the pained expression of Steve's face playing on repeat. The flaring nostrils, clenched fists, the downright rage. Call me crazy, but knowing I was the one that caused that...it felt good. Thrilling, even.
The realization felt like a spark, a modest dim light within the endless shadows of my mind. It was small, minuscule even...but it was there. Against it, I felt the darkness dwindle. Those deep dark corners of my mind that relentlessly mocked me....taunting me with heinous thoughts. Countless times I've come terrifyingly close to letting it claim me...surrendering to the pain.
But this spark means something. I still have a little fight left in me, and I'll fight like hell to make sure it doesn't go out again.
"Eddie," I whisper.
Maybe Chrissy was on to something.
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