Chapter Text
Blood.
Metallic, thick, and worst of all, Eddie thinks distantly, it’s lukewarm. It’s supposed to be hot, and it’s supposed to flow, to pulse, not congeal like a jelly.
He never knew his blood could be so wrong. He needs it out of his mouth, now, right fucking now, christ, he’s going to be sick, he can tell by the way his mouth is watering.
Unsure of which way is up, down, or sideways, the world tilts regardless as he forces his head to the side and opens his mouth. Not much happens past a dribble of gore slipping out like a slug; he coughs, or at least he tries, the effort to take in enough air to squeeze it back out again taking all of the energy he has. It works, though, and the wrong-tasting, wrong-feeling mass of blood in his mouth and throat works its way out and Eddie can breathe, and so he does.
“...t is that?” A voice coming from somewhere, over there, wherever that is. His eyes are closed and he can’t fathom prying them open. “Who was…Steve, was that you?”
Steve?
“Uh, no…” Another voice, this one louder, sharper, to Eddie’s left.
Harrington, he recognizes. Other voices come in and go out, confused, frantic. He coughs again after another lung full of air, and the voices still before…
…an explosion of sound.
“Eddie?!”
“Oh, holy fuck, was that Munson ?”
“Eddie, oh my god, Eddie!”
There are hands, he thinks, that’s what that pain must be. On his shoulders, ghosting across his forehead, and someone is shaking him. He wants them to stop but he doesn’t know who to ask and oh, shit, that’s hot blood, now. Uh oh .
It spills from him anew, warm and wet from his lips as he opens them. A name slips out, garbled but clear enough for Nancy to hear as she lifts Eddie’s head onto her lap and tries to clear his matted hair from his forehead.
“...H…rrington?”
Her eyes snap up from where she’s sitting on the floor of the Munson trailer, cradling what she’d thought was Eddie Munson’s dead body. She meets Steve’s eyes where he’s standing on the other side of the room. They’re big, round in his bafflement.
Dustin’s scrambling on the floor, hands pulling and tugging at Eddie’s shredded clothes like he’s trying to physically pull another word from him, anything. The kid’s face is snot and tears and blood, Eddie’s blood, frantic confusion and hope. Nancy doesn’t know what to do to get him to stop clawing at Eddie like he’s trying to put hands on the fact that he’s alive.
They don’t have to figure anything out just now, though, Nancy realizes when she looks back down, readying herself to ask Eddie what he needs. He’s out cold, a trickle of blood flowing from his mouth over the back of her hand, and she hopes against all fucking hope that Robin found her way to Max’s trailer, that she’s got an ambulance on the way.