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The clouds hang over Hawkins like an immovable force. They have been there for what seems like months, years even. By this point in the slow winter to spring transition in Indiana, you would do anything to see the sun. Everything feels dull, boring, lifeless. The only time it doesn’t is when you are sitting at the desk or on the floor of your best friend Eddie’s room. He never uses the overhead light, just soft, warm lamps with the curtains drawn. The scent of his cologne mixed with weed and incense are a permanent fixture in the air. When you were in that room with him, everything else slipped away. Thoughts of your dysfunctional family, college plans, and cruel classmates; they couldn’t touch you there.
This particular gloomy March day was no different, apart from the feeling that sat aching beneath the surface of your chest. A mixture of sadness, anger, jealousy, and fear put you on edge in what was typically your most comfortable environment. You were sitting at the little wobbly table in Eddie’s room that you used as a desk, but he mostly used it as a place to put things down and never pick them back up. While you suffered through your algebra homework, Eddie was practicing for his show tonight. He and his band play at a local restaurant and bar sometimes. They aren’t well-known or even particularly well-liked, but you enjoy going to see them. Their music is fine, you’re not as into metal as Eddie is but you don’t mind it. What you really go for is their energy. Eddie has more passion for music than someone like Madonna or Steven Tyler has in just one hand. He is normally a very animated person but when he gets on stage it’s like he transforms into a real rock star. His eyes light up and he moves around the little stage as if it's Madison Square Garden. That’s why you go. You love that version of him. Well, you love all versions of him, really. That’s why you’re sitting cross-legged in the wooden chair at the desk avoiding his gaze. Looking into his eyes would just remind you of the way he looked into someone else’s earlier today.
After lunch, you were heading to English class when you saw Eddie leaning against a row of lockers. You were going to go over and talk with him until you realized he was already engaged in conversation. Her strawberry blonde hair hung in a ponytail down her back and the outfit she wore was unmistakable. It was a white, green, and gold cheer uniform. It was Chrissy Cunningham. You worried for a moment that he was the target of yet another round of bullying by the jocks but none of her friends were around. And Eddie didn’t seem distressed or even uncomfortable. In fact, he was smiling and laughing, and so was Chrissy. When she spoke, you saw Eddie turn silent and give her all of his attention. It made you ache inside because you knew what her friends put him through but also because you wanted to be the only one he looked at like that. And finally, his face turned deadly serious and took her hand in his. You couldn’t stand it any longer so you briskly made your way towards your next class, trying not to think about how soft his hands must have felt in hers. You tried not to think about how sometimes his touch feels like it carries electricity and the fire it ignites in you.
You’re snapped back to reality when you hear Eddie’s voice carefully break the silence with your name.
“Y/n? Earth to y/n? Are you alright over there?” He’s trying to keep his tone playful, but he can sense the shift in your mood.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You speak quietly and without meeting his gaze.
He carefully places the guitar on his bed and walks over to crouch down beside you. “I’m not sensing fine. Do I need to beat somebody up? Well, it might be better if it's just a stern talking to. I don’t think I’ve got what it takes to do any damage.” You see out of the corner of your eye that he holds his arm up and pretends to flex his muscles.
You chuckle a bit at his words, but you still can’t face him. “It’s nothing… I mean… I don’t know.” You’re worried if you bring this up, it will put your feelings for him on full display. When you finally turn to him, a burst of anger and jealousy flashes through you.
“It’s whatever, don’t worry about it. Honestly, don’t even worry about me tonight either. You can invite your new best friend to the show. I’m sure she’ll love that.” You spit, adding extra sarcasm to the word love. You knew you were acting irrationally, but you couldn’t stop yourself.
As you spoke his brows drew closer together and now, he is leaning back on his arms staring up at you from the floor. “What the fuck? What are you talking about?”
“I saw you with Chrissy Cunningham earlier. After lunch.” You pause to think then add, “I just really don’t understand why you’re drooling all over her after what those assholes she’s friends with put you through. Sure, she’s like the Chrissy but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be any nicer to you than her friends have been. And why were you even talking to her? I thought it was well understood that we are not welcome by them.”
He has stood up now and has his hand on his head like he’s thinking. “Wait. Go back- ‘drooling all over her’? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you flirting with her right there in the middle of the hallway. You were making it pretty obvious, with all your smiling and laughing and hand holding.”
“Y/n, I can assure you that I was not flirting with Chrissy. Honestly, she stopped me in the hall and asked me to sell her something to cope with some shit she’s going through.” He’s fallen to his knees in front of your chair, hoping to convince you of his sincerity.
You’re not entirely sure what to say because on one hand, you believe him, but on the other hand, you saw the way he looked at her. “I don’t know Eddie.” You trail off because his proximity has left you slightly breathless.
He abruptly stands up and towers over you, still sitting. After a moment he asks, “What can I do to make you believe me?”
“Oh god. I don’t know. Just forget it.” You wave your hands and turn back to your schoolwork. You still feel his eyes on you as you go back to your algebra homework. He slowly walks over to pick his guitar back up and continue practicing.
You pass the next hour and a half like that, both silently working on your own thing. When the clock reads 6:00 pm, Eddie hangs his guitar back up on the wall as you put your book and papers away. When you’re about to grab your tattered denim jacket off the back of the chair, Eddie calls out a soft “Hey.” When you turn your attention to him, his hand is up by his heart with his index, pinkie fingers, and thumb outstretched. The sign language sign for “I love you” has always been like a secret code between you. It can mean anything from “this class fucking sucks and I wish we could leave”, to “thanks for being there for me”. Right now, it means, “I’m sorry if things are weird but I mean what I said and I want us to have fun tonight.” You love when he does the sign because you can almost imagine it meaning what it's supposed to, “I love you.”
***
When you get to Pizza King, you get a table made of plastic with wood paneling surrounding you on all sides. You leave the menus at the edge of the table since you always get the same thing. The neat thing about Pizza King is that instead of a waiter taking your order, there is a telephone at each table where you call and place your order with the kitchen.
Eddie picks up the phone and recites his lines, “Hello Mr. or Mrs. Pizza King! May we please have a large royal feast pizza with extra cheese? I’ll need two plates as well, please, one for me and one for the lady.” While the employee reads the order back to him, you have an idea. You crack a smile and give him the “I love you” sign. He knows immediately what you mean by it. He grins into the phone, “Ok, ok, thank you, love you, bye.” And hangs up. You both giggle conspiratorially even though it was a childish joke. It felt nice just to laugh with each other after the uncomfortable situation earlier. That breaks the ice that has formed between you and leads to normal conversation for the rest of the meal.
***
After you finish your shared pizza, Eddie drives you both over to The Hideout. You fall in with your typical routine where you find a table to sit and drink a soda while he meets up with his band and sets up their instruments on the makeshift stage. You have seen him perform many times but it’s always fun. Not to mention how good he looks doing it. When his hair gets a little sweaty around his face and his eyes shine with the light of a dream realized.
By the time he’s got just one song left, you’re nearing the bottom of your second coke. When you glance back up at the stage, Eddie’s eyes meet yours. He announces into the microphone, “This last song is about, um, wanting to tell someone how you feel and being too chickenshit to do it even though you kind of feel like maybe they’re into you too but also maybe they’re not and it would screw up everything you already have with them.” You hear someone at the bar yell, “Shut up!” but all you can focus on is Eddie and the words he just spoke to the entire room.
He’s focused on the floor as the first notes start to play and as it picks up, his eyes find yours again. They’re shy but sure of himself. The beginning of the song is instrumental, and you find yourself wondering, were those words for me? Did he just admit to having feelings… for me? But you suppose it's possible he could have been talking about someone else, someone like… Chrissy. But he looked at you. You listen in as the song continues. One lyric stands out from the rest: when I say I love you I mean it. He finds your eyes as he sings and raises his hand in what you think at first is the rock hand sign but then you see his thumb. It is your love sign. When I say I love you, I mean it. Your breath catches in your throat as the song comes to a close.
The band bid their farewells to the room and start packing up their gear. Eddie has his guitar case slung over his shoulder as he approaches your table. He slides into the booth across from you.
“So?” he asks coyly.
You think you have it all figured out but for fear of jumping to conclusions you ask, “What?”
He moves his arms out in front of him and leans forward on the table between you. He twists the rings on his fingers as he speaks, “Do you believe me now?”
You hesitate to answer, not because you don’t believe him but because you can’t find quite the right words to say. He carefully places his hand over yours and explains, “That song I just played, those words, weren’t for Chrissy. They weren’t for anybody,” he pauses, nervously, “but you.”
You let out a shaky breath as his words hit you. Once again, you’re left feeling speechless. Quietly, he begs, “Please say something.”
Without breaking eye contact, because you can’t bear to blink and miss this moment, you find the courage to admit, “I really liked your song… I really like you.” At this, he breaks into a toothy grin and squeezes your hand. With your other hand you give him your secret sign and he returns it, both of you feeling the relief of requited love.
“Hey, do you want to go? I really want to be with you away from all of this.” He gestures to the crowded room.
“Yes,” you give him a small smile. He grabs your hand and gently tugs you towards the door.
When you get to his car, you stand leaning on the passenger door, watching him put his beloved guitar in the back seat. The energy has shifted between you. Whereas before the show, things were awkward and full of anxious feelings. Now, there are only a few minutes of daylight left but everything feels shiny and new.
As Eddie closes the back door of his car, he steps closer to you. Eyes locked on each other; his hands find their way to your waist. “Is this okay?” he asks gently.
“Yes,” you reply. You’re so focused on him and the electricity running through your skin beneath his touch, that you can barely hear your own words. His face is only inches from yours now.
He pulls back just a little when he verifies your answer with, “Are you sure? Because if you feel like this is going too fast at any point, we can absolutely take things- “
“Eddie, this is perfect.” His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. Yours do the same and you can’t help but think about how many times you’ve imagined his soft lips on your own. This is not your imagination now. You’re both savoring the moment, slowly getting closer and closer. You feel his lips brush yours and a feeling ignites in your stomach. Finally, his lips meet yours and you melt together. Your mouth begins to open more as you feel his tongue. It all starts to blur together, your mouth moving against his. You had worried it would be awkward with all the history that you share, but it's not. You fit together like you were made for this moment.
When he pulls away, you keep reaching for more. You want to drink him in, you want to be closer to him than physically possible. Short of breath, he whispers, “Here, let’s get in the car.” You wordlessly nod, willing to do whatever it takes to feel him back on your mouth. He opens the door to the back seat again, gets in, and moves the guitar to the front seat. He motions for you to get in and growls, “Come here.” His voice dripping with desire. You eagerly step in, shut the door, and climb onto his lap. His mouth finds yours while your legs straddle his thighs, and his hands once again make their way to your waist. You stay like that for a moment and then he pulls his head back and starts kissing down your chin and onto your neck. His hands move underneath your shirt, and you feel the coolness of the metal rings on your sides and stomach. When his hands touch your breasts, you tilt your head back and stifle a moan.
He takes the opportunity to ask in a low voice, “Does that feel good, princess?” The nickname is one you’ve never heard from him, but it is your new favorite. You look back at him and nod, then hungrily kiss him again. You feel him growing hard against his jeans. It sends you reeling, and you kiss down his neck this time.
“I’ve wanted you for so long, y/n. Sorry if that’s weird but oh my god, when you come over to my place in those tiny fucking shorts and no bra. It’s like you’re trying to kill me.” His words come out breathy against your ear and his eyes are dark with lust. You hadn’t considered it but maybe you had been trying to push him over the edge with those clothes.
“I’ve wanted you too. Ughhh-“ you take a sharp breath in as he sucks at a spot on your neck, “I’ve wanted you so much, Eddie. Like when you take your shirt off when you’re practicing in your room, or when you’re on stage. Oh my god, it’s like you know how you look up there and you use it against me just by looking at me.” Your words bring a groan from his throat. He kisses you again and when you shift slightly on his lap, he moans again into your mouth.
It takes all of your strength to pull back from him. You stay on his lap, but he worriedly asks, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He pulls his hands from your stomach and cups your face.
Breathlessly you manage, “Yes this is perfect. But, Eddie, I really really like you. And I want to take it slow. I want this to be really special.” You have to force yourself not to fall back into his pink swollen lips.
He assures you, “Yes, definitely. I want this to be special too. This isn’t a one-night stand or anything- at least not for me. I want to make you feel good when you’re ready, when we’re ready.” He moves a rogue strand of hair off your face.
You smile and lean in close to his ear then whisper, “I want you to make me feel good so bad. It will happen soon, I promise.” You place one last slow, soft kiss on his mouth then move off his lap and into the seat next to him.
“Oh my fucking god, man. You’re so perfect.” He takes a few breaths and jokes, “Do you think there’s some kind of weird disease you can get from being too turned on? If there is, I think you’re gonna give it to me.” He was trying to turn the mood playful again, but it only made you want him more.
“Take me home, Munson.” You bite back a smile and climb over the seat. He shakes his head in disbelief of what your normal night turned into. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he puts the keys in the ignition and intertwines his fingers with yours. You hold hands the whole way home.