Chapter Text
The rest of the school year is markedly less eventful.
Thank God.
It only takes a week or two for the thrill of “the freak and the cheerleader” to die down, as the student body is vastly disappointed to learn that they’re a pretty normal couple. Maybe a bit more brazenly publicly affectionate, but there’s no demon babies, so who cares?
Jason doesn’t try to start any more fights. He takes his suspension and, apart from the occasional dirty look for his ex-girlfriend, he keeps his distance. He is, admittedly, a passive-aggressive dick to Lucas, but Lucas brushes it off. Basketball’s over and Jason’s graduating, so it’s not like it’s going to be a problem for very long.
So, yeah. Turns out it’s not as bad as Max thought; maybe it was just the unknown of it all, but, now that it’s all out there… Well. Things have a funny way of working themselves out.
Eddie’s black eye fades well before prom, and he actually takes a couple of decent pictures with Chrissy, both of them dolled up—a black suit (no tie) and a yellow dress (with matching flowers that Eddie successfully picked out on his own). Of course his favorite picture is the one where he’s throwing up the devil horns, tongue lolling out, Chrissy caught mid-laugh, but it just so happens that that one’s Chrissy’s favorite, too. They both keep a copy in their respective wallets.
Her parents were apparently… not stoked, when Eddie picked her up. Her dad’s since come around—Chrissy told him she’s happy, that Eddie’s good to her—but her mom’s been a real pill about the whole thing. Max sees a lot more of Chrissy around Forest Hills lately but, even though a lot of her so-called friends have dropped her, too, she seems a lot happier these days. She’s still got Betty and Carla, and Max and El, so that’s something that hasn’t changed.
And she’s got the boys now, too. Max knows how worried Chrissy had been, that she wouldn’t fit in with Eddie’s crowd, but the nerd squad takes to her like bees to honey. She’s sweet and pretty and she bakes up a storm for Hellfire sessions, and she draws the gnarliest stuff for their campaigns, too—which, Dustin claims, makes Eddie very clearly hot and bothered for her. He has, more than once, postponed a session by a good hour and a half whenever Chrissy shows him a new sketch and he just has to make out with her right away.
(Dustin walked in on them once; he’s been haunted ever since. Max had done her best to console him—she’s been there, she knows the feeling—but it’s hard, because he gets this far-off look in his eye whenever someone brings it up. You can practically hear him dissociating. It’s comedy gold, what can she say?)
Eddie and Chrissy graduate, but they don’t run out of Hawkins as quickly as everyone expected them to. They stick around to enjoy the summer, splitting their days between their friends and what Eddie calls grown-up time, which makes Chrissy smirk and the rest of them groan miserably—except Steve, actually, who’s got a newfound respect for Eddie, what with bagging the cutest girlfriend and getting his ass kicked for it. Steve Harrington is, notoriously, no stranger to getting his ass kicked, so Max supposes it’s some kind of camaraderie.
(Boys.)
There are bonfires and car rides and shopping trips and sleepovers, rainy days at the arcade, and the really hot ones spent watching triple features at the movies. It’s a good summer after a really stupid year, but it’s a really stupid year that worked out for the best, too, so Max has a hard time looking back at it with anything less than begrudging fondness.
In mid-August, everyone gathers at the Munson trailer to help Eddie and Chrissy pack up the van. He scored some regular session work at a studio in Chicago, and Chrissy’s taking art courses at Columbia. They’ve both been squirreling away money to make their grand escape from Hawkins for years, and now that they’re together they have more than enough for a cozy apartment and living expenses to tide them over.
Eddie had cracked a joke about them doing the starving artist thing, which Mrs. Henderson found appalling, so she sends Dustin over with so many groceries you’d think they were prepping their bomb shelter. Chrissy’s so touched that she cries; Eddie kisses her temple and jokes, “You see what you did, Henderson, she’s falling apart!” but he’s a little misty-eyed, too.
Once the van is packed, the boys start grilling, supervised by Wayne, who doesn’t trust them to not burn down the whole park (which, fair). Eddie and Chrissy are leaving first thing in the morning, so it’s one last hurrah until they come home for Thanksgiving.
“You’ll have to come visit us,” Chrissy tells Max, both of them sitting in dusty old camp chairs. “You and El can catch a ride with Betty and Carla when they come, they want to have a girls’ trip.”
If Chrissy had said something of the sort a couple of months ago, Max might not have believed it. But these people are her friends now—real, honest friends—and that’s not changing, regardless of the distance. Chicago’s not that far, anyhow.
They’re quiet for a bit, lazy and content after a hectic day. The boys are whooping about something or other, and El is teaching card tricks to Betty and Carla on the porch. Chrissy’s looking at Eddie with this goofy little smile, the same way Eddie looks at her, and Max really can’t believe (in a good way!) that this is where they’ve ended up.
“I know I’ve said it before,” Chrissy says softly, “but thank you, Max. I really can’t tell you that enough. This year… It was hard, at the beginning. And I know you didn’t put me and Eddie together with any intentions or anything, but. You cared enough to say something, when you knew something was wrong. And it just—oh, this is silly.” Chrissy scrubs a hand down her face, across a bashful smile. “But it really did change my life, you know?”
“Yeah. I mean.” Max shifts in her seat, still a bit uncomfortable with this kind of affection, but she’s getting used to it. She takes a swig of her soda. “That dope was so into you, he would’ve done something about it eventually.”
“You think so?”
“Honestly? Yeah.” She really does. Eddie had told her, months ago, that he’d needed a little help, but Max thinks they would’ve gotten here on their own, too. It’s like… a soulmate thing. “I’m happy, though. To help. You guys drove me insane for awhile there, but you’re good together.”
Chrissy’s got her hands on her cheeks, squishing her smile. “We are, huh?”
“Don’t get a big head about it, jeez.”
That gets a laugh, bright and happy as it carries on the summer afternoon breeze. The sound makes Eddie perk up and look over, face breaking into that big stupid grin when he catches Chrissy’s eye.
Max snorts into another pull from her Mr. Pibb. “See, there you guys go again.”
“I know,” Chrissy says, almost sympathetic, but she makes grabby hands at Eddie, anyway. “I just. Can’t help it.”
Neither can Eddie—duh—because he rushes over at her beck and call, practically tackles her into her chair, peppering her face and neck with loud, smacking kisses. “Love of my life, what do you need, I am at your service—”
Mike, Lucas, and Carla all boo, and Dustin and Will make exaggerated kissing noises that are not entirely unlike the ones Eddie’s still planting all over Chrissy’s face. He doesn’t stop, though, just flips them off over his shoulder and shouts an apology to his uncle when Wayne yells at him to Mind your manners, you little punk.
“Yeah, punk,” Chrissy teases, and Eddie kisses the giggles out of her mouth.
“I hate you guys,” Max sighs, weary and not the least bit indulgent or fond or anything like it (nope, no, and even if she is, they don’t need to know about it).
Eddie flips her off, too, and makes a face at her as soon as he manages to dislodge himself from Chrissy’s lips. “Well too bad, Maxine, because Chrissy loves you and I think you’re just okay.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No problem.”
Max snorts, and Chrissy smiles, and maybe it’s been kind of a stupid year, but it’s a really good night to cap it all off—she can give Eddie and Chrissy that much credit, at least.
And when they come home for Thanksgiving, they’re wearing matching engagement rings—“Yeah, Wheeler, I know it’s unconventional,” Eddie says, and blows a raspberry, “but that girl owns my ass and I want everybody to know it”—and Max thinks, hey, maybe Eddie and Chrissy were none of her business to begin with, but she sure is happy that she butted in.