He remembers dying in Dustin's arms, knows what it felt like to choke on his own blood and feel himself fading, and yet when he opens his eyes he's somewhere else. Certainly not Heaven, but also not the place he was sure all drug dealers and metal heads ended up eventually. They try to explain it to him, but none of it makes much sense. All he knows is that when he pinches himself he can feel it. He's alive. And that brings tears of joy to his eyes.
They hand him a key and drop him off at some fancy apartment building. He rides the elevator up, wondering if it's his imagination or if lights seem brighter, sounds louder, etc. When he turns his key in the door and opens it, he yells out to his new roommates in a sing songy voice high on life.
Admittedly, it's been more than a little depressing since Allison and Peter got zapped back to wherever. She tries not to think too much about where they went because, while Peter might be fine, Allison won't be. Granted, she has a handful of really good friends here, still, and she's doing a lot better having Klaus around than she probably would if he'd also been sent off, but it's been too quiet in this apartment for the last couple of weeks.
Needless to say, it's a bit of a surprise when she hears a key in the lock and someone calling out as they let themselves into her space. New roommate. Well, it was going to happen sooner or later, she supposes.
Lydia gets to her feet and pushes a few stray hairs out of her eyes, pausing for a second in front of her mirror to readjust the messy bun piled on top of her head so that it's centered again, before stepping out of the bedroom to greet the newcomer.
"Hey, hi," she calls out with a small smile and a wiggle of her fingers in a wave. "It's just me and, now, you. I'm Lydia," she introduces herself and gestures for him to let himself further inside and make himself at home, first beckoning him and then waving an arm toward the couch. "Bedroom on the left is yours," she says. "Bedroom on the right is empty. Mine's in the middle." The bedroom on the left was Peter's and that feels okay to give away. The bedroom on the right was Allison's and that...doesn't.
The cloth grocery bags and the various items inside them are none too quiet as Prim waddles from the bus stop and into the apartment building. Her pink skirt shifts with every movement, the lines of white and green surging forward with every step forward. It isn't the first time that the lanky teen has been thankful for the fact that she's on the first floor of the apartment building. If it weren't for that fact she's pretty sure her arms might buckle under the weight of the bags that have slid into the bend of her elbows (which are starting to rub pink against her skin given she's wearing a plain white v-neck t-shirt, let alone the ones on her forearms and clutched in her hands.
But she needed some things - both to cook and for her cat and school.
As Prim rounds toward the door that has become her home here in Eglaf, the teen struggles to try and reach the keys in her pocket. She's looking down at her bags, trying not to spill them out, and she doesn't realize that there's someone in front of her apartment door until she barrels into the stranger, accidentally smacking him with multiple cloth grocery bags and watching as highlighters, markers, and catfood go spilling out of the bag to thonk on the floor as apologies spill from her lips immediately. "OH! I'm so sorry I didn't realize you were there until it was too late - I'm sorry - did I hurt you?"
The questions come out with every bit of caring behind them as Prim sits the bags down without a second thought for the things spilled on the ground - her focus instead landing squarely on the person in front of her and the concern she has for any damage or harm she might have just accidentally done.
He probably should've heard her approach, but he was so focused on staring down at the key in his hand that he had missed it entirely. He looks up in surprise as he's run into, and bagged items escape in every direction.
He laughs at her question because it seems so absurd after what he's just been through. Being bumped into with a bunch of grocery bags is nothing compared to being ripped apart by demobats. "No, you didn't hurt me," he says, quick to reassure her as he bends down to start helping her retrieve her groceries. Her genuine concern is a little off putting considering they're total strangers. He immediately assumes she must be a sweetheart.
"I've battled many cans of cat food and come out the victor before. Don't worry." He says, dropping a can back into one of her bags. He looks up at her as he stretches for one of her rolling highlighters. "Do you live here?"
Yeah, well, maybe in that game of yours, but it was just a little jarring to watch the little shits descend down into a tunnel and put themselves in danger. I'm just glad it worked out in the end.
[ Eddie prided himself on being an excellent judge of character. After all, he'd had two extra years to study the ins and outs of high school and all the groups within it's ecosystem. There were those that fell easily into one or two groups based on their looks or abilities. Then there were those who had the ability to move between groups, moving up and down the hierarchy ladder with ease. And last, there were the outsiders. Those who didn't quite fit in with any of the predefined groups or adjectives. The ones that sat by themselves at lunch, or didn't dare to enter the lunchroom at all. He'd stumbled on Jeff and Gareth in the library two years ago, sneaking bites of their lunches when the librarian wasn't looking and talking about Lord of the Rings. Dustin and Mike had been fresh meat, targets too easy for the picking in the way they stood out like a sore thumb. He'd taken them in, calling them sheep, and inviting them into the Hellfire Club. It'd been one of the best decisions he'd made to date, not only widening the number of their Party - they'd added Lucas shortly after - but also because he'd easily become enamored by their hero worship. Flattery worked for him.
Hawkins' High newest addition, however, seemed a little less vulnerable than the two boys had been. He'd watched her for nearly a week, eating lunch by herself with her nose buried in a book. When she looked around it seemed to be with a certain air of affected apathy, completely unimpressed with her surroundings. She wasn't like the other girls with their clownish make-up, puffed sleeves or loud hairbows. She was down to Earth. Grounded. Sharp.
This particular Friday, Eddie decides, is her lucky day. Instead of making his way to the table with the other Hellfire members, he pulls out a chair across from the new girl and drops into it, leaning back to regard her. ] I'm Eddie. And you are?
[Moving to a small town from a large city is bad enough, but doing it during her senior year of high school is the stuff nightmares are made of. Well, for most people. For MJ, her grades had been good enough back in New York that she barely needs to pay attention at this small hick school, often having to correct the teachers when their textbooks include misinformation or when they simply don't explain the material properly. It's not exactly earning her a lot in the way of friends, but she's never really been one to quantify happiness by way of how many friends she has.
Which is probably for the best, since that number has always been in the single digits even when she'd finally gotten comfortable at her old school.
Here at Hawkins, she's more concerned with getting her diploma and getting a decent scholarship into college, any college, and getting on her own two feet. Being social isn't a high priority and she makes sure that much is read in her body language, doing her best never to make eye contact with anyone unless it's to pointedly stare until they awkwardly look away.
But there's one person who doesn't seem to flinch when she meets his eyes, and she's not sure what to make of that. There's a lot she can presume based just on his appearance, but none of that helps her figure out why he'd pay her any mind when he seems to have his own little niche of friends that are never too far away. That's why she starts a little when he suddenly drops into a seat across from her at lunch, jolting her out of her reading of The Mismeasure of Man and making her look around to see if someone's put him up to this.]
Reading. Or trying to.
[Despite that, she holds her place in her book with a finger as she looks him over again, trying to figure out his angle. At least he hadn't tried to sit next to her and invade her space, so that's something.]
MJ. And before you ask, the well-defined curls are genetic, so I can't recommend any products to help you on your haircare journey. You seem to be doing better than most guys on that front, though, so good for you.
[ He'd been a little surprised to find out that his little sheep were dabbling in weed, not because he thought there was anything particularly wrong with it, but because they were definitely the most straight laced of their odd group. Eddie knew from experience that this was because they were still trying to figure themselves out and who they wanted to be. He'd hoped by taking them under the wings of the Hellfire Club they'd be able to avoid feeling like they had to jam themselves into any of the acceptable adjectives that High School offered - jock, nerd, geek, etc. Of course, that meant they ran the risk of being called freaks by association, but in his eyes that was an acceptable caveat. At least as freaks they could define it however the hell they wanted to.
Personally, he had no problem with selling to Freshman. That's when he'd started, shortly after his dad had gotten himself locked up for good, and he was able to sleep at night knowing that while Freshman looked like children, they were of marrying age in some States. Occasionally he dabbled in harder things if they were requested by trusted customers, but for the most part he was able to get by on weed alone and that was easier and less soul crushing than having a real job.
Next to Lucas, who had seemed to abandon the Hellfire Club in favor of the basketball team, Mike seemed like the less adventurous of the group. Eddie had a feeling that he could talk Dustin into anything if he presented a good case, but Wheeler was harder to read. He seemed easily led, but occasionally would push back with enough force that it left Eddie secretly impressed. Not that he'd ever actually show him. Eddie knew the thrall he had over the Freshman was because he seemed novel and rebellious. To show any kind of real affection would be seen as weakness.
But after all the shit that had gone down with the Upside Down and nearly dying, Eddie really didn't give that much of a shit any more about maintaining an air of mystery. Dustin had come through for him in a way that no other person ever had, believing he was innocent when the whole town had turned against him. Mike had been on the other side of the country with the girl with super powers and had managed to come through for all of them. These sheep of his, who he thought had needed protection, had ended up being the ones to protect everyone else.
So when Hellfire ends for the night and everyone goes their separate ways, Eddie packs up his supplies, calling after Mike who is the last to shuffle towards the door.]
Hey, Wheeler. Where do you think you're going?
[ Nancy might murder him in his sleep, but honestly, if Mike has anything close to the nightmares that Eddie does since learning about the Upside Down, the kid needs this. ]
[ Uh-oh. Mike immediately casts his mind back to things he might have done that day. The 20 was a legit roll he hadn’t done anything to the dice and everyone had witnessed it. He hasn’t even said anything particularly rude, or at least he doesn’t think he has, sometimes he doesn’t realise until it’s pointed out to him.
Maybe it’s because he skipped a week last week and Eddie knows he wasn’t really sick, he did genuinely feel nauseous and tired but he wasn’t provably sick, just unable to convince himself to get out of bed and go about his day following a night interrupted by terrible dreams that he’d woken from what felt like every hour.
He turns slowly, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack and trying to keep any emotion from his face. Sometimes it feels like Eddie can see straight through him, like he knows what Mike is thinking and wouldn’t that be embarrassing because sometimes he has to wonder if he wants to be Eddie or kiss him or both. It only got worse when Eleven officially ended their relationship even following Will trying to meddle and mend them, breaking off a piece of Mikes heart in the process because he wanted the feelings to be Wills and they probably weren’t. ]
Am I in trouble?
[ it comes out with more of an attitude than he intended ]
[ If there's one thing Steve Harrington was known for in high school — well, it would be hard to narrow it down to specifically one thing, but "big house, no parents" was certainly up there.
Back in the day, that meant parties whenever he damn well felt like it. But ever since he came barreling back into the Byers' swinging a nailbat at a goddamn Demogorgon, those days have long since past. These days, it mostly means having a place where the kids can run wild when the Wheelers' basement isn't available. And ever since Starcourt burned down and the school year started up again, it's been way too quiet.
At least Robin stops by, crashing at his place with whatever VHS she's snatched up from their workplace, demanding that he educate himself. More often than not though, "big house, no parents" means it's empty. His parents come and go but in the last month in particular, they've been more keen on the go part. A quick vacation to Bali turned into something extended and, last he heard, they were slumming it in some big expensive penthouse up in New York while his father ran the business and his mother kept her watchful eye on him. He'd been invited — sort of, anyway, but he didn't have it in him to leave Hawkins. Not now, anyway.
So his days are split between working shifts at Family Video — because of course it didn't get trashed in the "earthquakes" and of course Keith seriously thinks people want to come out and rent Splash in the middle of all that — and keeping an eye on everyone else. That meant babysitting, of course, from shuttling the kids back and forth to the hospital as Max and Eddie recovered to just trying to distract them in general. But it also meant occasionally getting into his car late at night when he couldn't sleep (which was often) and doing a drive around town. The Wheelers and Sinclairs. Henderson. A few blocks over to where the Byers/Hopper flock was trying to settle back in. Then off to check on Robin before heading towards the trailer park, doing a quick loop to check on Max and Eddie. And then back again, to sit on the couch and press the heels of his hands against his eyes until maybe sleep decides to take him.
This was one of those nights. Steve steps in to his big, empty house and tosses the keys to his car onto a small table as he shuffles by before collapsing on the couch with a groan. At least it was way past most of the little shits' bedtime. ]
[ Eddie's still trying to deal with the whole - almost dying - thing. He's definitely not where he was before, but he's getting there and after weeks in the hospital he's ready to get the hell out of there. He doesn't stray far from home, but the others come to him. Henderson, Hellfire, Wheeler, Buckley, even Harrington take turns dropping in. It's kind of nice, when it's not suffocating, but it does keep him out of his head. Out of the nightmares and the almosts and the holy shits that really happeneds.
His dad had been pretty gifted when it came to cars. Stealing them, sure, but also repairing them. He'd taught him a few things before he'd gotten him locked up. One of them being the sound of an expensive car at the beginning of the need for a brake job. He's heard Steve's BMW come down the road and seen his headlights sweep across his wall a few times before he actually decides to do something about it.
He grabs his keys and climbs into his van, heading across town to Steve's house. When he gets there the lights are on and Steve's hood is still warm. He makes his way to the giant double doors and rings the doorbell. When Steve opens the door, Eddie crosses his harms, tiling his head slightly.]
[ He does remember that, actually. He'd watched Nancy stomp upstairs and Steve following closely after, hoping that Nancy was about to give him hell. Of course that'd been before he'd known that Steve wasn't a douchebag. ]
Indiana is a far cry from Maine, but Carrie isn't complaining. People don't bully her here, not the way they did back in Chamberlain. Of course, being forcibly transplanted there right after telling Momma that Tommy Ross invited her to prom and she'd agreed to go meant being dropped into the middle of a shark-infested ocean. It's nearly prom here, too, and Carrie White is completely invisible.
So, while she's not being treated to another round of CARRIE WHITE EATS SHIT spray painted all over her locker, it's still lonely. She still has to eat lunch in a bathroom stall because no one wants the weird new girl in her frumpy dresses and with her unruly curls dragging them down with her. The one time she spoke in class, she learned that Hawkins High School is fundamentally no better than her own old one. Though...she also learned that day that not all of Hawkins High would rather point and laugh than listen.
Getting an answer right when it wasn't cool to know the answer will forever be her fate, she's sure — and now she has to fight her instinct to please the teacher in order to stay off her classmates' radars — but maybe that's okay if there will always be another misfit to tear them down. Maybe he hadn't meant to come to her defense or to rescue her from humiliation, but he'd done it all the same.
With nothing else to occupy her time, Carrie learns his name is Eddie Munson and she quickly falls down a rabbit hole of fact-gathering, slipping from an enamored curiosity into a quiet obsession, learning everything she can about him and, by extension, Dungeons and Dragons. That's quite a feat, to be sure, given she can hardly read anything about it where Momma might be able to find it. Lord knows, Momma would say it's of the devil and Carrie would wind up locked in her prayer closet for hours. Eddie Munson might be fascinating, but he's not worth the prayer closet; no one is.
She can't help herself when, one afternoon when all the bathroom stalls are occupied when Carrie slips into the restroom with her bag lunch in hand. In the absence of her normal spot, Carrie finds herself instead alone at the abandoned far end of the table where Hellfire Club is discussing their next campaign. Carrie props up a textbook — Calculus — on the table to hide behind as she eats in silence, peeking over the lip of the book cover every time Eddie Munson stands at the head of the table to be seen by the whole of his group, stealing glances at her heroic savior who doesn't even know she exists. Life is entirely too cruel...
Loneliness is a terrible affliction. One that Eddie dealt with for years before he'd finally found a family in music and D&D respectively. It hadn't taken long for him to extend that same kind of saving to others that looked as lost as he'd felt before. It wasn't until his first attempt at senior year that he really started seeking out members for Hellfire, knowing that it was more than just a game or a past time. Hellfire was about survival. It was about owning your differences and refusing to apologize for them. It was about strength in numbers and feeling like you were more than just a moving target for the popular kids. And if he sought out the kids that stuck out like sore thumbs, that kept their heads down, that tried to stay invisible or under the radar, well, that was because more often than not those were the kids that needed Hellfire most of all.
He only had one class with the new girl, Carrie White, but that was enough to instantly see that she was all of the above. She tried so hard be invisible, shrink into herself and hide behind her hair, that she ended up getting more attention. He'd spoken up that day in class because the jock that was picking on her was a grade A asshole and Carrie hadn't done anything wrong but get an answer right. She didn't exactly seem like the type that would be into D&D, but she also didn't seem to be making any friends. He'd thought about talking to her, but he knew that he could come off as intimidating and part of him was afraid that Carrie might open her bright blue eyes wide and just run away in fright if he didn't approach her just right.
So imagine his surprise when one day she settled at the edge of the Hellfire table on her own, even if the propped up Calculus book was a clear sign that she wanted to be left alone. Too bad Eddie had never really been good at social cues. His gaze keeps drifting in her direction as he talks to the Club. He catches her eye once and grins at her, but she quickly ducks her head down behind her book, which makes him laugh. The other guys exchange looks as Eddie jumps up on the table and walks deftly between the lunch trays and the two empty tables beyond to kneel in front of Carrie's book.
He props his chin on his hand and peers over her book. "Hi."
It's been a long week. A long, miserable week, actually, and it's still only Wednesday. Carrie's been out of school all week so far and the only reason she's in today, she suspects, is because the main office called her mom and said she'll need a doctor's note to stay home another day.
She tries to stay as invisible as possible throughout the school day, biting her own tongue so hard to hold back a cry of pain when she's bumped into several times in a row by the football players running recklessly through the halls between classes that she tastes blood. In classes, she keeps her head down and hides behind her hair. Even in the class she shares with Eddie, she doesn't look at him beyond the obligatory recognition when she comes into the classroom and he's beaten her there. At lunch, Carrie finds an empty table and takes up as little space as she can manage at the end of it, hiding herself behind propped up textbook so as few people as possible will notice that she's trying to catch up lost sleep by resting her head on her arms crossed on the table. Beyond the nosebleed Momma caused her when she'd hit Carrie in the face with a new, hardcover copy of the Bible before shoving her into the new prayer closet — this one, too small to nap in like the one at the house in Maine — and locking her in for the entire weekend and two days following it, there aren't any outward signs of what she endured being cramped in that tiny space or being beaten in the back of the head with that same Bible. Her shoulder still screams from the protruding nail in the wall that she'd been pushed into in the closet; her neck and back ache from her attempts to sleep sitting with her back up against the closet door.
Under no circumstances, Momma had made it very clear, is she to be seen with those Devil-worshipping boys ever again, and so when Mike Wheeler walks past her table as she's setting it up and asks what she's doing, Carrie pretends not to hear him. She pretends not to be able to feel Dustin's eyes drilling through her textbook when she can hear snippets of Mike trying to explain to him that she must be mad at them or something.
Carrie nestles her face down against her arms and closes her eyes, letting tears slip down her cheeks while nobody can see them. She misses her friends. Carrie finally made friends — more impressively, plural, not just one — and she's terrified of being seen spending time with them again, lest Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Carver have another "quick chat" with Momma about Carrie's questionable "attempts at outreach." She's not sure which is worse, being an outcast because everybody hates her or being an outcast because she's making it happen herself to avoid another beating and prayer closet stint. Probably the latter.
Eddie's glad to see Carrie walk through the door of their class together after she's been out for two days. At first he thinks she must have been sick. She definitely looks a little pale and worn down when she crosses the classroom to take her seat. He waits to catch her eye as class begins, but she doesn't look his way once. In fact, it's pretty clear by the way she's quick to exit the class without looking his way that she's avoiding him completely.
It doesn't take a genius to decide that it's because of the withering glare her mother had given him when she'd caught him grinning at Carrie as they came out of the grocery store last Friday. He'd been lighting up a cigarette as he waited for Wayne to pick up something for dinner when he'd caught sight of them leaving. If looks could kill he'd be six feet underground and then some. He hadn't missed the way she'd yanked Carrie close, either, as if he was going to reach out and snatch her in broad daylight to do God knows what.
It'd pissed him off, if he was honest. He knew what people said and thought about him and for the most part, he relished in his persona non-grata but this was different. He would've laughed it off normally, even teased Carrie about it, but something in the brief look that they'd shared before her mother had peeled out of the parking lot had made his stomach sink.
The Hellfire Club is quiet at lunch, each of them occasionally looking in the direction of Carrie's propped up textbook and then looking at each other, until Dustin finally asks who pissed Carrie off. They all look at each other wordlessly before Eddie sighs and rubs at his eye. "I think I pissed her mom off."
"What? How?" Dustin asks, his eyes narrowing.
"By existing?" Eddie says, deadpan. He continues before Dustin can jump all over him. "She saw me smiling at her and then acted like I was an axe wielding serial killer."
"What else happened?" Dustin asks, impatiently.
"Nothing," Eddie says, shrugging. "That's all that happened."
"Then you gotta go apologize." Eddie stares at him for a long moment. The nerve of this Freshman. This kid.
"For what?"
"For getting her in trouble with her mom. She probably told her not to talk to you, so you'll have to go talk to her."
He's right. Eddie really hates that he's right. He reaches out to pull Dusin's cap down over his eyes before shoving his chair back and getting to his feet. He moves over to Carrie's table, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down heavily, stretching his legs in front of him. "Hey, stranger."
A wingwoman is supposed to help me get girls. I think you're talking about a body guard. Do you want to be my body guard? It might involve pretending to be my very jealous girlfriend from time to time.
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Eglaf Starter
They hand him a key and drop him off at some fancy apartment building. He rides the elevator up, wondering if it's his imagination or if lights seem brighter, sounds louder, etc. When he turns his key in the door and opens it, he yells out to his new roommates in a sing songy voice high on life.
"Hello? Anyone home?"
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Needless to say, it's a bit of a surprise when she hears a key in the lock and someone calling out as they let themselves into her space. New roommate. Well, it was going to happen sooner or later, she supposes.
Lydia gets to her feet and pushes a few stray hairs out of her eyes, pausing for a second in front of her mirror to readjust the messy bun piled on top of her head so that it's centered again, before stepping out of the bedroom to greet the newcomer.
"Hey, hi," she calls out with a small smile and a wiggle of her fingers in a wave. "It's just me and, now, you. I'm Lydia," she introduces herself and gestures for him to let himself further inside and make himself at home, first beckoning him and then waving an arm toward the couch. "Bedroom on the left is yours," she says. "Bedroom on the right is empty. Mine's in the middle." The bedroom on the left was Peter's and that feels okay to give away. The bedroom on the right was Allison's and that...doesn't.
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Eglaf Starter
The cloth grocery bags and the various items inside them are none too quiet as Prim waddles from the bus stop and into the apartment building. Her pink skirt shifts with every movement, the lines of white and green surging forward with every step forward. It isn't the first time that the lanky teen has been thankful for the fact that she's on the first floor of the apartment building. If it weren't for that fact she's pretty sure her arms might buckle under the weight of the bags that have slid into the bend of her elbows (which are starting to rub pink against her skin given she's wearing a plain white v-neck t-shirt, let alone the ones on her forearms and clutched in her hands.
But she needed some things - both to cook and for her cat and school.
As Prim rounds toward the door that has become her home here in Eglaf, the teen struggles to try and reach the keys in her pocket. She's looking down at her bags, trying not to spill them out, and she doesn't realize that there's someone in front of her apartment door until she barrels into the stranger, accidentally smacking him with multiple cloth grocery bags and watching as highlighters, markers, and catfood go spilling out of the bag to thonk on the floor as apologies spill from her lips immediately. "OH! I'm so sorry I didn't realize you were there until it was too late - I'm sorry - did I hurt you?"
The questions come out with every bit of caring behind them as Prim sits the bags down without a second thought for the things spilled on the ground - her focus instead landing squarely on the person in front of her and the concern she has for any damage or harm she might have just accidentally done.
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He laughs at her question because it seems so absurd after what he's just been through. Being bumped into with a bunch of grocery bags is nothing compared to being ripped apart by demobats. "No, you didn't hurt me," he says, quick to reassure her as he bends down to start helping her retrieve her groceries. Her genuine concern is a little off putting considering they're total strangers. He immediately assumes she must be a sweetheart.
"I've battled many cans of cat food and come out the victor before. Don't worry." He says, dropping a can back into one of her bags. He looks up at her as he stretches for one of her rolling highlighters. "Do you live here?"
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TFLN @fromhellfire
Yeah, seriously. We've all got to start somewhere.
Re: TFLN @fromhellfire
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TFLN @scoopstroops
We live and die by the party, so that one's hard to argue.
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@neverdisappointed
Hawkins' High newest addition, however, seemed a little less vulnerable than the two boys had been. He'd watched her for nearly a week, eating lunch by herself with her nose buried in a book. When she looked around it seemed to be with a certain air of affected apathy, completely unimpressed with her surroundings. She wasn't like the other girls with their clownish make-up, puffed sleeves or loud hairbows. She was down to Earth. Grounded. Sharp.
This particular Friday, Eddie decides, is her lucky day. Instead of making his way to the table with the other Hellfire members, he pulls out a chair across from the new girl and drops into it, leaning back to regard her. ] I'm Eddie. And you are?
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Which is probably for the best, since that number has always been in the single digits even when she'd finally gotten comfortable at her old school.
Here at Hawkins, she's more concerned with getting her diploma and getting a decent scholarship into college, any college, and getting on her own two feet. Being social isn't a high priority and she makes sure that much is read in her body language, doing her best never to make eye contact with anyone unless it's to pointedly stare until they awkwardly look away.
But there's one person who doesn't seem to flinch when she meets his eyes, and she's not sure what to make of that. There's a lot she can presume based just on his appearance, but none of that helps her figure out why he'd pay her any mind when he seems to have his own little niche of friends that are never too far away. That's why she starts a little when he suddenly drops into a seat across from her at lunch, jolting her out of her reading of The Mismeasure of Man and making her look around to see if someone's put him up to this.]
Reading. Or trying to.
[Despite that, she holds her place in her book with a finger as she looks him over again, trying to figure out his angle. At least he hadn't tried to sit next to her and invade her space, so that's something.]
MJ. And before you ask, the well-defined curls are genetic, so I can't recommend any products to help you on your haircare journey. You seem to be doing better than most guys on that front, though, so good for you.
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@fromhellfire
Personally, he had no problem with selling to Freshman. That's when he'd started, shortly after his dad had gotten himself locked up for good, and he was able to sleep at night knowing that while Freshman looked like children, they were of marrying age in some States. Occasionally he dabbled in harder things if they were requested by trusted customers, but for the most part he was able to get by on weed alone and that was easier and less soul crushing than having a real job.
Next to Lucas, who had seemed to abandon the Hellfire Club in favor of the basketball team, Mike seemed like the less adventurous of the group. Eddie had a feeling that he could talk Dustin into anything if he presented a good case, but Wheeler was harder to read. He seemed easily led, but occasionally would push back with enough force that it left Eddie secretly impressed. Not that he'd ever actually show him. Eddie knew the thrall he had over the Freshman was because he seemed novel and rebellious. To show any kind of real affection would be seen as weakness.
But after all the shit that had gone down with the Upside Down and nearly dying, Eddie really didn't give that much of a shit any more about maintaining an air of mystery. Dustin had come through for him in a way that no other person ever had, believing he was innocent when the whole town had turned against him. Mike had been on the other side of the country with the girl with super powers and had managed to come through for all of them. These sheep of his, who he thought had needed protection, had ended up being the ones to protect everyone else.
So when Hellfire ends for the night and everyone goes their separate ways, Eddie packs up his supplies, calling after Mike who is the last to shuffle towards the door.]
Hey, Wheeler. Where do you think you're going?
[ Nancy might murder him in his sleep, but honestly, if Mike has anything close to the nightmares that Eddie does since learning about the Upside Down, the kid needs this. ]
Re: @fromhellfire
[ Uh-oh. Mike immediately casts his mind back to things he might have done that day. The 20 was a legit roll he hadn’t done anything to the dice and everyone had witnessed it. He hasn’t even said anything particularly rude, or at least he doesn’t think he has, sometimes he doesn’t realise until it’s pointed out to him.
Maybe it’s because he skipped a week last week and Eddie knows he wasn’t really sick, he did genuinely feel nauseous and tired but he wasn’t provably sick, just unable to convince himself to get out of bed and go about his day following a night interrupted by terrible dreams that he’d woken from what felt like every hour.
He turns slowly, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack and trying to keep any emotion from his face. Sometimes it feels like Eddie can see straight through him, like he knows what Mike is thinking and wouldn’t that be embarrassing because sometimes he has to wonder if he wants to be Eddie or kiss him or both. It only got worse when Eleven officially ended their relationship even following Will trying to meddle and mend them, breaking off a piece of Mikes heart in the process because he wanted the feelings to be Wills and they probably weren’t. ]
Am I in trouble?
[ it comes out with more of an attitude than he intended ]
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@scoopstroops
Don't worry about it. Come by and I'll get you more. Hero discount.
By which I mean, no charge.
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How can I say no to an offer like that?
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Back in the day, that meant parties whenever he damn well felt like it. But ever since he came barreling back into the Byers' swinging a nailbat at a goddamn Demogorgon, those days have long since past. These days, it mostly means having a place where the kids can run wild when the Wheelers' basement isn't available. And ever since Starcourt burned down and the school year started up again, it's been way too quiet.
At least Robin stops by, crashing at his place with whatever VHS she's snatched up from their workplace, demanding that he educate himself. More often than not though, "big house, no parents" means it's empty. His parents come and go but in the last month in particular, they've been more keen on the go part. A quick vacation to Bali turned into something extended and, last he heard, they were slumming it in some big expensive penthouse up in New York while his father ran the business and his mother kept her watchful eye on him. He'd been invited — sort of, anyway, but he didn't have it in him to leave Hawkins. Not now, anyway.
So his days are split between working shifts at Family Video — because of course it didn't get trashed in the "earthquakes" and of course Keith seriously thinks people want to come out and rent Splash in the middle of all that — and keeping an eye on everyone else. That meant babysitting, of course, from shuttling the kids back and forth to the hospital as Max and Eddie recovered to just trying to distract them in general. But it also meant occasionally getting into his car late at night when he couldn't sleep (which was often) and doing a drive around town. The Wheelers and Sinclairs. Henderson. A few blocks over to where the Byers/Hopper flock was trying to settle back in. Then off to check on Robin before heading towards the trailer park, doing a quick loop to check on Max and Eddie. And then back again, to sit on the couch and press the heels of his hands against his eyes until maybe sleep decides to take him.
This was one of those nights. Steve steps in to his big, empty house and tosses the keys to his car onto a small table as he shuffles by before collapsing on the couch with a groan. At least it was way past most of the little shits' bedtime. ]
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His dad had been pretty gifted when it came to cars. Stealing them, sure, but also repairing them. He'd taught him a few things before he'd gotten him locked up. One of them being the sound of an expensive car at the beginning of the need for a brake job. He's heard Steve's BMW come down the road and seen his headlights sweep across his wall a few times before he actually decides to do something about it.
He grabs his keys and climbs into his van, heading across town to Steve's house. When he gets there the lights are on and Steve's hood is still warm. He makes his way to the giant double doors and rings the doorbell. When Steve opens the door, Eddie crosses his harms, tiling his head slightly.]
Oh, good. You're up.
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@tiltshifts
That's more like it.
He give you shit too?
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Oh, shit. Sorry, man.
[ He does remember that, actually. He'd watched Nancy stomp upstairs and Steve following closely after, hoping that Nancy was about to give him hell. Of course that'd been before he'd known that Steve wasn't a douchebag. ]
For the record, you're definitely not bullshit.
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la la la la...
So, while she's not being treated to another round of CARRIE WHITE EATS SHIT spray painted all over her locker, it's still lonely. She still has to eat lunch in a bathroom stall because no one wants the weird new girl in her frumpy dresses and with her unruly curls dragging them down with her. The one time she spoke in class, she learned that Hawkins High School is fundamentally no better than her own old one. Though...she also learned that day that not all of Hawkins High would rather point and laugh than listen.
Getting an answer right when it wasn't cool to know the answer will forever be her fate, she's sure — and now she has to fight her instinct to please the teacher in order to stay off her classmates' radars — but maybe that's okay if there will always be another misfit to tear them down. Maybe he hadn't meant to come to her defense or to rescue her from humiliation, but he'd done it all the same.
With nothing else to occupy her time, Carrie learns his name is Eddie Munson and she quickly falls down a rabbit hole of fact-gathering, slipping from an enamored curiosity into a quiet obsession, learning everything she can about him and, by extension, Dungeons and Dragons. That's quite a feat, to be sure, given she can hardly read anything about it where Momma might be able to find it. Lord knows, Momma would say it's of the devil and Carrie would wind up locked in her prayer closet for hours. Eddie Munson might be fascinating, but he's not worth the prayer closet; no one is.
She can't help herself when, one afternoon when all the bathroom stalls are occupied when Carrie slips into the restroom with her bag lunch in hand. In the absence of her normal spot, Carrie finds herself instead alone at the abandoned far end of the table where Hellfire Club is discussing their next campaign. Carrie props up a textbook — Calculus — on the table to hide behind as she eats in silence, peeking over the lip of the book cover every time Eddie Munson stands at the head of the table to be seen by the whole of his group, stealing glances at her heroic savior who doesn't even know she exists. Life is entirely too cruel...
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He only had one class with the new girl, Carrie White, but that was enough to instantly see that she was all of the above. She tried so hard be invisible, shrink into herself and hide behind her hair, that she ended up getting more attention. He'd spoken up that day in class because the jock that was picking on her was a grade A asshole and Carrie hadn't done anything wrong but get an answer right. She didn't exactly seem like the type that would be into D&D, but she also didn't seem to be making any friends. He'd thought about talking to her, but he knew that he could come off as intimidating and part of him was afraid that Carrie might open her bright blue eyes wide and just run away in fright if he didn't approach her just right.
So imagine his surprise when one day she settled at the edge of the Hellfire table on her own, even if the propped up Calculus book was a clear sign that she wanted to be left alone. Too bad Eddie had never really been good at social cues. His gaze keeps drifting in her direction as he talks to the Club. He catches her eye once and grins at her, but she quickly ducks her head down behind her book, which makes him laugh. The other guys exchange looks as Eddie jumps up on the table and walks deftly between the lunch trays and the two empty tables beyond to kneel in front of Carrie's book.
He props his chin on his hand and peers over her book. "Hi."
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@scoopstroops
You mean all I really had to do all this time is ask? I thought you were joking.
What else can I ask for?
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...What else do you want to ask for?
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She tries to stay as invisible as possible throughout the school day, biting her own tongue so hard to hold back a cry of pain when she's bumped into several times in a row by the football players running recklessly through the halls between classes that she tastes blood. In classes, she keeps her head down and hides behind her hair. Even in the class she shares with Eddie, she doesn't look at him beyond the obligatory recognition when she comes into the classroom and he's beaten her there. At lunch, Carrie finds an empty table and takes up as little space as she can manage at the end of it, hiding herself behind propped up textbook so as few people as possible will notice that she's trying to catch up lost sleep by resting her head on her arms crossed on the table. Beyond the nosebleed Momma caused her when she'd hit Carrie in the face with a new, hardcover copy of the Bible before shoving her into the new prayer closet — this one, too small to nap in like the one at the house in Maine — and locking her in for the entire weekend and two days following it, there aren't any outward signs of what she endured being cramped in that tiny space or being beaten in the back of the head with that same Bible. Her shoulder still screams from the protruding nail in the wall that she'd been pushed into in the closet; her neck and back ache from her attempts to sleep sitting with her back up against the closet door.
Under no circumstances, Momma had made it very clear, is she to be seen with those Devil-worshipping boys ever again, and so when Mike Wheeler walks past her table as she's setting it up and asks what she's doing, Carrie pretends not to hear him. She pretends not to be able to feel Dustin's eyes drilling through her textbook when she can hear snippets of Mike trying to explain to him that she must be mad at them or something.
Carrie nestles her face down against her arms and closes her eyes, letting tears slip down her cheeks while nobody can see them. She misses her friends. Carrie finally made friends — more impressively, plural, not just one — and she's terrified of being seen spending time with them again, lest Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Carver have another "quick chat" with Momma about Carrie's questionable "attempts at outreach." She's not sure which is worse, being an outcast because everybody hates her or being an outcast because she's making it happen herself to avoid another beating and prayer closet stint. Probably the latter.
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It doesn't take a genius to decide that it's because of the withering glare her mother had given him when she'd caught him grinning at Carrie as they came out of the grocery store last Friday. He'd been lighting up a cigarette as he waited for Wayne to pick up something for dinner when he'd caught sight of them leaving. If looks could kill he'd be six feet underground and then some. He hadn't missed the way she'd yanked Carrie close, either, as if he was going to reach out and snatch her in broad daylight to do God knows what.
It'd pissed him off, if he was honest. He knew what people said and thought about him and for the most part, he relished in his persona non-grata but this was different. He would've laughed it off normally, even teased Carrie about it, but something in the brief look that they'd shared before her mother had peeled out of the parking lot had made his stomach sink.
The Hellfire Club is quiet at lunch, each of them occasionally looking in the direction of Carrie's propped up textbook and then looking at each other, until Dustin finally asks who pissed Carrie off. They all look at each other wordlessly before Eddie sighs and rubs at his eye. "I think I pissed her mom off."
"What? How?" Dustin asks, his eyes narrowing.
"By existing?" Eddie says, deadpan. He continues before Dustin can jump all over him. "She saw me smiling at her and then acted like I was an axe wielding serial killer."
"What else happened?" Dustin asks, impatiently.
"Nothing," Eddie says, shrugging. "That's all that happened."
"Then you gotta go apologize." Eddie stares at him for a long moment. The nerve of this Freshman. This kid.
"For what?"
"For getting her in trouble with her mom. She probably told her not to talk to you, so you'll have to go talk to her."
He's right. Eddie really hates that he's right. He reaches out to pull Dusin's cap down over his eyes before shoving his chair back and getting to his feet. He moves over to Carrie's table, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down heavily, stretching his legs in front of him. "Hey, stranger."
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@cheerlessness
A wingwoman is supposed to help me get girls. I think you're talking about a body guard. Do you want to be my body guard? It might involve pretending to be my very jealous girlfriend from time to time.
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You got any good drugs? Like, the really good kind?
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TFLN: Bigboyvibes
What would make you feel better?
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