Back to the Future (sort of)

by Ugly_Hag

Summary:

"Most series are super dark. All of those self-insert fanfictions never took into account the dangerousness of the climate and environment they are going into. Could you imagine being randomly dropped into Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones?"
________________

“Of fucking course it had to be this series, it couldn’t have been…I don’t know, Parks and Recreation or Winnie the fucking Pooh.”

Notes:

Technically this is cannon because Eleven can open dimensions to parallel universes.

Chapter 1

“Of fucking course it had to be this series,” Elena muttered angrily while restacking the shelves of records in the back of the dingey music store, “it couldn’t have been…I don’t know, Parks and Recreation or Winnie the fucking Pooh.”

 

She grabbed the box of headphones that needed cleaning, “I don’t even like this show, but nooooooo I just had to watch it to stay relevant with the times.” Finally making her way into the back work room, Elena huffed and dropped the box of headphones on the ground. Immediately a brown dust cloud of filth, regret, and other unidentified residue billowed up from the 1970s vomit green shag carpet.

 

“Disgusting,” Elena thought bitterly, she had been in this dimension for 4 weeks, but that had been quite long enough.

 

///////////////// 4 weeks and 1 day ago

 

“Can you believe they killed off Eddie?” asked Thea, Elena’s best friend who made her marathon the entire new season of Stranger Things.

 

“He was the best thing about the show this season,” Elena doesn’t even look up from her phone, “it’s sad, but I saw that coming from a mile away. The pain hurts more when you are emotionally invested. The showrunners know what they’re doing.”

 

Thea laughs because Elena being emotionally invested in the show? That girl was on her phone the entire time, scrolling twitter and reading episode summaries so she’d know what would happen ahead of time- an unfortunate common occurrence.

 

“How is reading the plot summary page on Wikipedia considered being ‘emotionally invested’ again?” Elena flips her off.

 

“First of all I have anxiety so I like to know what kind of commitment I’m getting into, second of all I do what I want.”

 

Thea laughed, “Ok, whatever. But wouldn’t it be cool to be able to jump into the series and stop it from happening?”

 

Elena ponders her question, “I mean…I guess? Most series are super dark though. All of those self-insert fanfictions never take into account the dangers of the climate and environment they are being dropped into. Like, for example, could you imagine being randomly dropped into Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones?”

 

Thea rolls her eyes. “Well obviously it would never happen in real life. It’s just a thought. It would be cool though.”

 

”If you say so.” 

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

“But it did happen in real life, and it is very much not cool.” It could not be a coincidence that they had a conversation about self-insertion into fandom realms the day before Elena was mysteriously transported into the Stranger Things dimension.

 

One second she was in 2022 driving back to college in the California high desert, and the next she was in 1985 standing in the Indiana wilderness. After a major break down, with many screams and tears, Elena walked 3 miles to the nearest gas station where she noticed things were very different from her world.

 

Most people might think that clothing would be the first noticeably different thing about time/dimension travel, however Elena found this not to be the case. What stuck out to her were the phone booths with the gigantic yellow phone books, and gasoline selling for $1.12/gallon. “What the actual fuck is happening.”

It was when she saw the memorial for Jim Hopper and Billy Hargrove (and all the other people who became the meat blob) in the newspaper that she realized what had happened.

So now, here she is- day after day, working at a dusty psychedelic music store from the 1960s and living at a motel that charges by the hour. How is she going to get home, you might ask? She has no fucking clue. Eleven left for California, and Elena didn’t pay enough attention to the show to have a full understanding of what is going to happen for the upcoming season. She’s living her best Marty McFly life, hopefully nothing too traumatic happens.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2: The Mermaid

Summary:

The 80s is boring.

Notes:

Hello good people of Ao3. NO ONE took this from me, so now I have to add on to it T.T Anyway, I hope you like this idea/concept.

 

Please steal this from me, you have explicit and implicit consent.

The 80s is boring.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. There are a lot of activities and events to partake in. The 80s is boring if you have no friends, no social life, and no form of mindless self-indulgence- all of which Elena is lacking. No wonder the Stranger Things kids were obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons, what else is there to do in middle America circa 1985? Nothing. The answer is nothing.

It’s Labor Day Weekend, which means Elena’s been stuck in this weird, purgatory-esque dimension for 57 days. To make matters worse, despite today being a federally recognized holiday, the owner of the Mermaid Cove Music Store put Elena on the work schedule.

“Everyone’s a socialist until they’re short staffed, and then suddenly – miraculously- they become a capitalist, and your requested time off doesn’t matter,” Elena grumbled to the universe.

The owner of the Mermaid is Robert Price- an aging Beatnik who, if rumors are to be believed, attended Columbia University with Allen Ginsberg. Originally from Hawkins, he moved back to town in the late 1960s to open a music store with Charles, his “roommate.” No one mentions that Bobby and Charlie have been living together for 20+ years.

Bobby was nice enough to give Elena a full-time position at the music store, even with her weird clothes and odd way of speaking. Ever since the events of July 4th the people of Hawkins have been wary of strangers.

Elena was supposed to have this day off to research, but that’s obviously not going to happen. It’s been 57 days since she arrived in this dimension, and nothing has changed about her situation. It’s neither gotten better nor worse, and- if she’s being honest- she’d even take the worse situation at this point. At least then there would be a purpose for her entire life being uprooted from her home dimension. At least then there’d be a reason why her life was ruined.

But alas, stagnant it remains. The good part of working on Labor Day Weekend in a small town is the lack of foot traffic inside the store, because the 2022 “Karen” has nothing on the 1985 lead-poisoned “Karen.”

The front door opened. A customer.

Elena rolled her eyes, and tried to muster the strength to put on her sales associate persona. While it’s unlikely that Bobby and Charlie would fire her for “bad customer service,” she doesn’t want anyone shit talking the Mermaid. Dusty and Psychedelic she may be, but this job is the entire reason Elena’s not currently homeless.

“Welcome to the Mermaid! Is there anything I can help you with?” Elena beamed. For whatever reason it was easier to put on an excited persona, despite her being bored out of her mind.

“No,” was the staccato’d response.

Giving a once over of the newcomer Elena choked on her spit. It was the red headed girl who died at the end of the last episode. The one whose step brother had that filthy mullet before getting impaled by the meat blob.

“Okay! Well…if you need anything, I’ll be right here.” Elena awkwardly gestured to herself, as if they weren’t the only people inside the store. The teenager’s response was to grimace smile before walking around the room.

Sighing with anxiety, Elena silently observed the girl. Her flat and dull hair was tied into a ponytail, and her hoody/sweat pant combined with the unwashed face screamed ‘I AM DEPRESSED.’ Why didn’t anyone notice she was feeling this bad before the start of the new series? The easiest answer is because it’s 1985, and people don’t believe in therapy. ‘No wonder Gen X is so fucked up.’

The red head continued to walk around the store, stopping occasionally to look at tapes. She seemed to gravitate towards the genre of rock Elena likes to call “Dad Rock,” and wasn’t that a goddamned shame. She’s living in the era of Whitney Houston, Prince, and Heart – and she’s going for the dad rock?

But then, Elena remembered something important. The teen had used music to stop the Freddie Kreuger Wannabe’s curse. She used that “Hill” song by Kate Bush…the same Kate Bush whose new album was delivered last week. Oh fuck.

“H-hey!” the sudden breaking of silence made the younger girl jump. Poor thing. “Would you like to listen to this new album we just got? It’s by this British singer.” The girl looked distrustful, as if Elena was trying to lure her into the back of a van with candy. “It’s totally…funky fresh.” The girl lifted one singular, red eyebrow over Elena’s bad attempt at 1980s slang.

“Seriously, this album’s so good that I’ll even buy it for you!” Great, now the other eyebrow lifted as well. This is what she gets for trying to be a good person, shame and humiliation.

“If I say yes, will you leave me the fuck alone?” the deadpan voice only made Elena cringe in self-loathing even more.

“Totes megoats!”

Rolling her eyes, the girl takes the album and goes into the listening booth, a relic from when vinyl records were the source of music. Now kids had their Walkman’s. If Elena knew more about tech history, then she’d invest into Apple and Microsoft. Who needs to go back to your dimension when you’re rich?

15 minutes pass. Then 30. Now 45. That girl is still listening to the album. 50 minutes after starting Kate Bush’s “Hounds of Love,” the girl comes out. Her face is flushed and her eyes rimmed red. Yikes.

“So. What do you think kid?”

The girl starred at the tape in her hand for a moment, before meeting Elena’s green eyes, “it’s funky fresh.”

The choking laugh left her mouth before she thought about blocking it. The audacity of this brat. “What’s your name kid?”

The girl hesitates, “Max.”

“Well Max, I believe I owe you an album,” and for the first time in a long time, Max smiles.

It’s only later that evening when Elena is laying down on her “massaging” (vibrating) bed at the motel that she realizes that she may have messed with the plot of the show. What if Max was supposed to find that Hill song on her own, in some kind of “eat, pray love” situation? What if it’s a Butterfly Effect thing, and everything changes and there’s no way to know what’s going to happen next? "Or," Elena thought, "what if I was meant to show her that album…what if I’m one of the characters driving the plot?”

Ain’t that a bitch of a situation.

Notes:

In 2013 tumblr speak, we would call that ending "meta." lol but tbh I never quite learned the def of meta, but I'm going to continue to use it.

Chapter 3: Midwest Emo's

Summary:

Elena meets a drug dealer, survives a hostage situation, and tries to "Dorothy" her way of the story.

Notes:

Well good people, it's me ya girl. Eddie is surprisingly difficult to write. I tried to make this one longer, but idk if I succeeded. Remember you have permission to use this idea as inspiration for your fics :D

“…and my great great grandmother was a Cherokee princess, and she fell in love with a my great great grandfather during the Civil War. He was General Lee’s most trusted man!” The woman speaking bragged, her husky voice crackling in delight.

Elena wanted to die.

The worst part about working in customer service is the amount of time spent fake smiling. For some people, the worst part is dealing with the different personalities of their customers, but Elena’s always thought the fake happy persona was particularly soul crushing.

For example, the wife of the new Mayor of Hawkins has been talking for 30 minutes about her family history. Her family’s very racist history.

Elena had only asked about her day, and whether she was buying the new George Michael album for herself or her children; 30 minutes later, and Elena can confidently say she knows at least 3 family secrets and has enough information to steal this woman’s identity.

This must be why scammers target the elderly.

Getting the courage to respond in a way that’s not going to get her fired, Elena smiles a little bit too wide and responds with a high pitched “wow,” her eyes wide with fake enthusiasm.

When will this torture end? Every excuse has gone on deaf ears, and the woman is now following her around the store. Bobby knew this would happen, the traitor. As soon as he saw who would be walking into the Mermaid, he practically threw himself into the back office- his denial ponytail fluttering in haste with his movement.

The universe decided to take pity, as in that moment a knight in shining armor came to rescue Elena from the dinosaur holding her captive. That knight was Eddie Munson.

“Hey! Hate to interrupt all this- ” he gestured in their direction, as if the magic fingers properly described the scene before him, “but is Bobby in? He special ordered some music…stuff…for me.” His hesitance on his reasoning for interrupting the current hostage crisis ended with a smile that made his eyes light up. How the fuck does he do that?

The women just stared: one in horror and one in delight. The series had Eddie stuck wearing his club shirt the entire time, a detail which made Elena initially think he didn’t have any other clothes, but this Eddie was wearing a black shirt with heavy bleach stains sporadically decorating the front. The sleeves had been cut off and showed off the multitude of tattoos on his toned arms. His dark jeans were ripped, and his Doc Martens were scuffed. He looks good when he’s not dirty and scared.

“Let me help you!” Elena decided that the universe had bestowed upon her the gift of having a reason to leave the hostage situation she had found herself in. Elena practically tackled the metalhead and forced him to follow her into the backroom, with Eddie squawking in surprise at the bold movement.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Lawrence! I need to help this customer, have a nice day!”

Mrs. Lawrence sniffed in resentment, took her George Michael tape and left the store. Thank God.

Reaching the back room, Elena shut the door and leaned back against the wall. Sighing in relief and reveling in the silence. Or, at least she was, until a deep, honeyed, and measured voice said, “not that I don’t like being dragged into a dark room by a lovely maiden- such as yourself- but I lied about Bobby specially ordering me music.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

There was an odd choking/gasping sound. In the dim light Elena could see that the guy was blushing Guess there’s not a lot of “maidens” in Hawkins willing to hook up with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. What a pity. She turned the light on.

“I meant that metaphorically.” Elena met his stare, which was surprisingly intense for a 3-time high school senior- one who apparently wasn't used to a girl's attention. It honestly was nerve wracking, having someone pay this much attention to you. Elena was getting used to being overlooked and outright avoided by the Hawkins population. Everyone kept their distance aside from Bobby, Charlie, Max, and now Mrs. Lawrence.

Eddie crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the room, his full lips curling into a telltale smirk, and Elena could tell he was about to say something witty that would have her scrambling for an equally witty reply. Unfortunately, it was at that time that Bobby decided to interrupt by opening the door. It made for an awkward experience.

The three of them stood in silence for a good 15 seconds, staring at each other and daring someone to be the first to speak. Being the eldest in the room, Bobby cleared his throat and addressed Eddie, “Did you bring what I ordered?” Elena’s mouth dropped aghast.

Elena didn’t quite know how to process this information. On one hand, it's clear that Bobby’s no stranger to drugs, as the man mentioned Timothy Leary with more familiarity than any normal person should. However, this is the 80s! The time of Reaganomics and the ill fated “War on Drugs” that disproportionately affected black and brown communities. And, what the fuck was a guy like Bobby doing buying drugs from Eddie Munson? Why couldn’t he grow his own bud like a normal human being, instead of relying on a guy who everyone is going to think is a cult leader in 6 months.

Eddie, who must have seen the look of abject look of horror on her face, grinned and winked before exiting the small room.

“If you don’t tell anyone about mine and Munson’s dealings, I won’t tell the US Government about your lack of records. Capisce?” Bobby’s voice was cautious and firm, spoken like a closeted gay man living in a time where having an ounce of marijuana on your person could be 10 to life in jail. It was also the first time he’d ever outwardly mentioned Elena’s mysterious lack of identification.

The audacity of this retired wannabe hippie, “As if!” Elena scoffed, “snitches get stitches and end up in ditches.”

Bobby blinked, the bald top of his head shined from the lightbulb overhead and contrasted with the two long locks of hair that stubbornly refused to fall out. “I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means. If that was a threat, you really need to work on your landing.” He backed out of the room, leaving Elena alone to her own devices.

What a grump. May half of his weed be cut with oregano. Charlie was the nice one in their relationship, while Bobby was the angry skeptic. Elena’s convinced the only reason he hasn’t turned her into the Government is due to his extreme hatred of the US Government. If he knew the truth about the Hawkins Lab, he’d leave this small town ASAP. Most people would. Elena would, if she could.

She still hasn’t quite figured out how to break the news of her mysterious arrival to the Hawkins kids, especially so soon after being tortured by Russians. I mean, that’s got to leave some form of paranoid trauma. It’s also made more difficult that she has no proof of her dimension hopping to convince the kids, and- to be honest- a huge part of her doesn’t want to change anything.

While she didn’t exactly focus a huge amount of attention on Stranger Things, she knew the general gist. And yes, the specific deaths/halfway deaths are sad and depressing, but it’s better to know what’s going to happen when it’s going to happen. Changing things sounds like an easy way to get herself accidentally killed.

After 10 minutes of questioning her life, Elena emerges from the backroom to witness Bobby arguing with a tall man with flippy hair. He must’ve already paid Eddie for the drugs, because the metalhead is nowhere to be seen. “Just because you managed to survive jumping out of the second story window during the Mall fire doesn’t mean I owe you a lifetime of free record spins, Harrington!” Wow, Bobby sounds fondly exasperated.

“And I’m telling you that if you saw the things I saw, and felt the things I felt, that I deserve more than a lifetime of free record spins!” The man’s deep voice sounded agitated, with a contradictory tone of happiness. He was enjoying the banter that Bobby was offering. “I deserve to have a dedicated booth! A golden plaque with words ‘Steve Harrington’s Record Booth: Trespassers Beware’ on top!”

Elena snorted at the imagery. The man jumped half a foot. He tensed, raised his hands, and whirled around to glance at all corners behind him. When he saw it was only Elena, who normally didn’t inspire any sort of fear, he finally lowered his hands. Except...‘He’s still tense…’ His muscles were tight, and looked ready to run or fight.

It reminded Elena of her grandpa who served in Vietnam, or of her own veteran father, who served three tours in Afghanistan.

The hair gave him away. This was the guy who always got the shit beaten out of him every season. The one the internet likes to joke about being a babysitter. The one clearly suffering a textbook case of PTSD.

Electing to ignore Steve’s adverse reaction, Bobby instead snorted. “Can’t your daddy afford to buy you a fancy Walkman like everyone else in this goddamn town?”

Harrington, once assessing that Elena was not a threat, whined. Legit whined. “It broke during the fire. C’mon man, I’m on my work break and I need to leave my head for a while.”

Sighing loudly, and looking to the ceiling as if it held all the answers (it doesn’t, Elena has checked) Bobby concedes. “This is the last time. This isn’t a charity. Elena!” Bobby called to her, “Get Harrington set up, will you?”

Elena mock saluted, because despite everything she’s still an asshole employee working for her even bigger asshole of a boss. She was about to turn to Steve and tell him to follow her, but the guy was already on his way to one of the last listening booths. Clearly this is not his first time convincing Bobby to let him use the listening booth.

She was about to help him, when he turned and snapped a “I know what I’m doing” in a low voice. Elena raised her ands and backed off, the universal sign of ‘I mean no harm.’

Are all of the Stranger Things kids extremely traumatized? From the two she’s met so far – Eddie doesn’t count- she can make the education guess that the rest are equally as fucked as Steve and Max.

Steve listens to the Tears for Fears song “Shout” on repeat for 45 minutes, until he has to leave to go back to work.

What the fuck.

He needs to unpack all that, because that cannot be healthy.

As he left the Mermaid, Elena lets him know to find her on the days he wants to use the listening booth, as she can deal with Bobby. Instead of thanking her- like she partially expected- Steve Harrington’s handsome face scrunches up into a light sneer before he walks out. He clearly has trust issues.

Elena rolls her eyes, "Ok Drama King." She looks at the clock. It was only 2 pm, which means four more hours to go until she can be back at the motel. Elena sighs in despair, and – not for the first time- closes her eyes, clicks her heels, and says “There’s no place like home.” A squinted eye confirms the fact she is still very much in the Stranger Things dimension.

Motherfucker.

Chapter 4: Underage Drinking

Summary:

Elena meets the Goonies

Notes:

Guess who's back back again, Ugly Hag's back tell your friends. I live bitches. This chapter probably isn't the best. No one has stolen this yet. Please steal this, if not I have to keep providing mediocre writing :(

TW: Sylvia Plath, Depression, Herpes, Mono

Elena’s mother had a motto. It didn’t matter whether Elena skinned her knee, had a fight with Thea, or had a difficult teacher; Meryl Brown’s favorite statement to say in any difficult situation was “Don’t complain; just work harder.” While sound advice in certain situations, Elena recognized some outliers. Her mom had never experienced spontaneous interdimensional time travel that led to you being forcibly ripped from your universe into a universe that should not exist, with no easy method or way to get back. 

To honor Meryl, and prove her wrong at the same time, here is a new complaint Elena has about 1985:

No one ever talks about the sheer amount of pollution in the 1980s. Leaded gasoline combined with pressurized hairspray and unregulated factories leads to bad air conditions, and it’s fucking with her 21st century lungs. It doesn’t help that everyone and their toddler smokes cigarettes, no wonder cancer is so prevalent. No wonder the world is dying. What the fuck. Elena has worked tirelessly for nearly 90 days trying to find the best method to find her way home, and the only thing she has to show for it is asthma and a growing wardrobe.

Now, with the scheduled programming.

She is- for once- neither working nor laying on her vibrating bed and lamenting life. Bobby and Charlie are living their best closeted gay life in Chicago for early Halloween, and told Elena to keep the store closed for Fall Break. Well, actually, Bobby’s exact words were, “you are the most depressing person I have ever met, and I knew Sylvia Plath. Take time off before I have to claim your body in the morgue and bury you in a potter’s field because you couldn’t handle the real world.” Which is the exact thing a mean, gay former Beatnik, Columbia University alumnus would say. 

Charlie was more subtle with his statement by saying “go out and meet some friends!” Ok, she’ll ‘go out’ and ‘meet some friends’ by way of walking through a secluded park at night because Elena is Hardcore.

‘That’s a little extreme. I actually just slept all day and have expendable energy because I’m really depressed. Hey, acceptance is the first step.’ 

So there she is, a girl out of her time, walking in the park at 2 am in a Sci-Fi horror, online tv show in 50 degree weather and looking like a sister wife wearing only a thrifted pink cardigan and a long brown skirt, all because her life is a fucking joke. All in all, Bobby and Charlie were right. She was depressed, possibly even more than Sylvia Plath. 

The days seemed to be on repeat and researching without Google is actually really fucking hard. ‘I can’t go to the Goonies, they’ll probably think I’m from the outside or the upside-down or whatever, and I definitely don’t want to be a government experiment.’ 

Wait. 

A twig snapped. 

There were muffled voices coming from inside the woods. ‘This is where I die. I’m going to be murdered in a Netflix show and it’s not even during a part that’s televised. Typical.’ 

The voices became louder and four shadow blobs emerged from the woods, and Elena would have freaked out more if she didn’t see the blobs shape into Eddie Munson and some of the Goony boys.

‘Since when do they go outside ?’ 

“I’m tellin’ you maaan, El is more than just a girl, she's the besttah thing that’s ever happened to mee!” some lanky kid with a seriously bad haircut slurs loudly, moving his arms like an awkward gazelle.

“All I’m saying is you’re what? 14? Why are you committing yourself, man? There are so many girls in the sea, why limit yourself?” Eddie’s voice is smooth, but the man is clearly high. The two other boys start guffawing, all except for the annoying one, who scowls at the rest of his supposed friends.

“Fish, Eddie.” One kid manages to say in between the laughs.

“...what about it?” 

“There’s more fish in the sea, not girls,” another joins in, it’s the one Max broke up with. Elena made a pros and cons list with her. Despite this kid having more pros, Max broke up with him anyway. Ah, to feel the sting of young love.

The silence was deafening. Eddie slowly turned and looked at the boy, his eyes filling with melancholy. Putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, he said in the kindest voice, “Lucas, it was a metaphor. I think sports are melting your brain, buddy.” 

Elena couldn’t help it. She laughed. The absurdity of it all. Here she’s been trying to avoid this particular group of kids and of course she stumbles on them while they’re under the influence in a fucking park at 2 am. 

Despite being drunk and possibly high, those traumatized children were quick to suss out where the sound was coming from. 

Eddie, ever the valiant knight and so unaware of the universe he was really living in, took charge yelling with all his might, “Approach, Fair Maiden, step into the light and tell us whether you are friend or foe!” 

Well shit. 

“‘Tis I! Elena the Strange. Seller of records, helper of Bobby Price, and neither friend nor foe of this noble group.” Might as well milk this for what it’s worth. 

The yellow overhead light, so reminiscent of the first time Elena had seen Eddie, washed everyone’s faces in this eerie warm glow. Eddie’s eyes, however, were lit with mischief- it’s probably not everyday someone actually responds with the same energy he puts out. 

“Elena of the Mermaid!” Eddie raised his cigarette in greeting and bows, his eyes crinkling and mixing the guyliner with the oil of his eye creases. His trenchcoat, plaid shirt, and work boots combo were giving serious Judd Nelson/“Breakfast Club” vibes. That’s probably what he was going for. “If you be neither friend nor foe, what are your intentions with us this fine evening?”  

‘...he knows my name?’

“Eddie of the…medicinal services ?” smooth, Brown, real smooth. “The only intentions I have are to promenade in this park,” this is what happens when you work at a record store and only have a mean gay boss as your only social interaction, you forget how to talk to cute boys. “So, not to pry, but why are you wandering the woods at 2 am with drunk kids?”

The Goonies were clearly offended by this question. “I’ll have you know that in 4 years I will be an adult and in 5 years I will be voting for the next president!” Jheri Curl screeched in anger, his puffer vest straining with the exertion of his arm movements. Elena raised an eyebrow. 

“Good for you cupcake, but you’re still a kid and you shouldn’t be drinking, and he-” she stopped to point to Eddie, “should not be providing you with alcohol. Eddie, you’re like what, 20? 21? Why are you giving alcohol to children, weirdo.” 

By this point in time Eddie had crossed his arms in some clearly disguised method of defense. He rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully, the pink flesh becoming darker with each swipe of his finger. Goddamn it, why do the hot ones always die? He opened his mouth to speak, but the pissy one answered for him, “Eddie did not give us alcohol, he’s walking us home from a senior party. We drank there!” 

Ah, so that explains why the kids look like they walked out of a Flock of Seagulls music video. “You three are too young to be going to parties and it’s too dangerous for you to be walking out in these woods.” Each kid took a different emotion on their face, the annoying one scowled, the curly haired one grimaced, and Max’s ex looked ashamed. 

“We didn’t even drink a whole lot, honestly, we mostly shared and took sips from other people,” Max’s ex said in earnest. Kids are so stupid. 

“Great, now you get to explain to your mothers why you have mono and herpes. Congratulations.” Now they all look sheepish. Good. “And it’s so cold! The only one wearing a proper jacket is Eddie!” 

The kids immediately looked affronted, “Oh you’re one to talk Molly Ringwald, that’s the thinnest sweater I have ever seen!” 

“Do you want to buy me a new jacket? No? Then mind your business,” Elena huffed. 

“HYPOCRITE!” 

Elena was mid response when she felt something wrap around her shoulders, Eddie had given her his jacket. It was an old leather jacket, probably thrifted, and had the smell that usually lingered around second hand clothing. She was speechless. Truthfully, this was probably the 4th time she had ever interacted with Eddie, the first time talking to him outside of the Mermaid. 

“Oh, thank you, you don’t have to do that…” 

“Nonsense!” Eddie was jovial, “What sort of Knight would I be if I allowed a fair maiden to die of hypothermia? Come young squires, we shall take our leave!” Eddie scruffed the kids and forcibly moved them forward, but Elena could see one or two looking back at her every once in a while. 

Walking back to the motel, Elena tried to look at the jacket as best she could. This might be one of the things Eddie wears when he dies 5 months in the future. 

‘I’m gonna be sick.’ 

Notes:

TAKE THIS FROM ME

Chapter 5: Jack Kerouac's Couch

Summary:

Elena becomes homeless

Notes:

If you are reading this in your email notifs, hiiiiiiiiiiii <3 I live bitches. I posted a chapter earlier and then completely and totally hated the ending. It changed the plot of the story, and I had to delete and change it. Despite having said many times for several years for someone to steal this idea from me, to my knowledge no one has taken this story. Ya'll. Come on. At this point it's consensual plagiarism. :(

 

TW: Homelessness, prostitution mentioned, Jack Kerouac, Depression

“I cannot live in these conditions!” Elena whines under her breath, “why has God forsaken me?” she wails to heaven with tears in her eyes, begging for some divine being to listen. Some primordial God to take pity on her circumstances. As usual, her cries fell upon deaf ears.

The motel closed. 

The motel closed. 

The motel closed. 

“What the fuck am I s’posed to do now?!” yelling as if the Universe gave a fuck that it had- once again - inconvenienced and uprooted her life. As it turns out, the state of Indiana did not look too keenly on motels charging by the hour. State authorities opened an investigation into the business practices of the motel owner, who turned out to be a local drug dealer/pimp, and thus Rick was thrown in jail, the motel was closed until further notice, and Elena was currently homeless. All within the week before Halloween.

There’d be no more “massaging” bed, no more stained walls, no suspicious thumps and cries in the night. Truthfully, Elena doesn't mind leaving the Motel and never coming back, but this was her space. The only thing she could say was hers in this dimension, and now it’s gone due to some business owner with a shitty nickname. 

“Fuck you Reefer Rick!”  

______________________

As luck would have it, shelter exists in the form of the Mermaid’s back supply room. The room's secluded and nice enough with a small bathroom and an even smaller bathtub, but the decade old couch has clearly seen better days. The fabric feels like a very used towel, and the color can only be described as ‘formerly pink,’ and- truth be told- there's a faint aroma of mildew. The couch probably sat in Bobby and Charlie’s basement for years before changing its residency to the Mermaid. Given Bobby and Charlie’s past, who knows what kind of things this couch has seen. Disgusting.

“Don’t get any ideas. This is not permanent, and I should be docking your pay for the extra electricity it’s going to cost for housing you temporarily.” Bobby complains, as if he wasn’t the one who offered room and board in the first place. 

‘I guess it’s true what they say, if you live long enough you become a villain.’ 

“Yeah, yeah,” Elena waves dismissively, “for someone who is supposedly anti-establishment, you’re sure sucking the tit of capitalism.” And boy, were those the wrong words. Elena could see the former Beatnik puff out his chest, his beer gut bulging slightly from his shirt. Fortunately for her, Charlie comes in before Bobby could begin his lecture on how ‘youths of today don’t understand the complexities of social change.’

God bless Charles Borja-Price. While not technically married, Charlie has been with the same man for 20+ years, that’s basically marriage- especially if the man in question is an asshole like Robert Price. “Bobby said you probably didn’t have any blankets or pillows, so I brought some extra linens we have laying around the house!” 

Elena pauses. 

“Here are some towels as well.” Charlie sets down a floral comforter set with matching floral towels that someone from 2022 would only ever see while visiting their Grandma. “Bobby also mentioned that you probably didn’t have time to eat dinner during your long walk. I hope you like tuna casserole.” He hands Elena a yellow and avocado green patterned 1970s casserole dish. 

‘…what?’ 

Elena's stomach clenches painfully- however, unlike previous times, it was due to emotion rather than hunger. She’s been stuck in this interdimensional world that should not exist, surrounded by people who do not know her, and yet here are two people who care that she’s unhoused, cold and starving. It doesn’t matter that Elena hates tuna casserole, she’s not going to complain to the only people in this dimension who have been kind and caring to her needs.

The silence stretches awkwardly, with the interdimensional traveler not knowing what to say in the face of such generosity. “Don’t get soft on me now, kid,” Bobby gruffs, looking anywhere but her. 

The “as if!” reply is half-hearted and emotion filled, but no one mentions it.

Bobby, being the grump he is, looks around the room to find something to bitch about. “And don’t do anything weird on that couch! That was a gift from Jack Kerouac!” Elena just rolls her eyes, as if she wanted to fuck on a couch that Bobby had most likely fucked Jack Kerouac on.
.
.
.
Well, who knows- afterall, she does still have Eddie Munson’s jacket.

_________________

 

That night, laying on the pink tiny Kerouac couch in the backroom of the Mermaid, Elena contemplates her life and winces at the blisters on her feet.

Ah. Her “long walk.”

“I’m going to start the ACAB movement early, I swear to God, how the fuck are you going to evict a girl from her house and then get her a shopping cart when she asks for a ride with all of her stuff?”

Does complaining help the situation? No, but it makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

“It’s not like I have much stuff to begin with.”

Looking around the darkened room, and the unassuming lump of leather catches her eye. She really should return that back to Munson. It had been a few days since she last saw the man. Truthfully, she was existing in a liminal space where she equally wanted to see Eddie but also never see him again. Truly bizarre. 

His focus and intensity makes her nervous. Every interaction had him staring into her eyes like he could- and would- discover all her secrets if given the chance, it doesn’t help that he’s charming and nice. It also doesn’t help that she knows his end. As handsome and charming he may be, no matter what she does the story will end the same- Eddie being eaten by bats. Fucking bats. Fuck those bats.

But, it would be rude to not return his jacket. Perhaps controlling the environment in which they meet will make her feel more grounded and less observed.

“Tomorrow,” yawning outloud, manifesting to the Universe. 

However, the Universe had different plans. Typical.

Having to live and work in the same building is torture. Some people (idiots and workaholics) would think it makes life easier, but Elena sees it for what it really is- wage theft. How can she take any time off if her “time off” is technically located where she works? And Bobby is taking full advantage, knowing that her gripes about overtime could be superseded with a well timed “your overtime check is paying the overnight heating bill so you don’t freeze to death.” 

This is why the Universe made him bald and why Kurt Vonnegut didn’t invite him to the release party for the new novel “Galapagos,” a detail that Bobby has been complaining about for several months. But, I digress. 

So, here she is on her day off, working the front of the store because Charlie and Bobby went to brunch, and completely unable to return Eddie Munson his leather jacket. Luckily for her, due to Bobby’s fear of “Big Brother” there are no rudimentary video cameras to record her switching the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed,’ and turning off the lights, and there are especially no customers to watch her take out the Dungeons and Dragons Players Handbook she borrowed from the library. 

‘If everything in this godforsaken show can be explained through DnD, I will study and become the most knowledgeable person in this dimension and find my own way home!’ Yeah, who needs the overpowered teenaged girl who can open portals to different dimensions when you have the power of desperation and a nerd bible on your side? 

“Me. 100% me.” 

“What?” a voice asks from the dark.

Jumping a foot in the air with a scream, Elena looks into the darkness and sees…Max. Of course it’s Max. Where else would a high school freshmen need to be at 10 am on a Friday? “How long have you been standing there, and shouldn’t you be in school?” 

The red head shrugged, eyes downcast and jaw clenched, clearly not wanting to give an answer. Elena sighs. No matter how much she’s tried to gently push Max towards socializing with peers or establishing clear boundaries of ‘I am an adult and you are a child- we cannot be friends,’ the teen does not listen. At all. It’s so very frustrating. Elena’s all but given up trying to set those boundaries, and instead is just trying to live with the fact she’s friends with a kid who will die in 5 months. 

“The only thing we’re doing today is having some dumb pep rally for the football team.” Max complains while dropping her stuff on a nearby table. “The most interesting thing I’ll miss is watching Munson and his cult of nerds hit Jason Carver with a spit ball.” She ends her reasoning with a dramatic huff, falling into the chair next to Elena, there’s clearly more to the story she’s not sharing.

There are topics that Max refuses to touch, and Elena doesn’t pry. She’ll open up on her own time, when she feels comfortable enough. A few weeks ago Max confided in Elena if she should break up with her boyfriend, and Elena- never one to shy away from a girl exercising her autonomy, but also understanding that Max should not be isolating herself- came up with the idea of a pros and cons list. 

They met up at the video rental store next door and Max wrote out all her reasons. There were so many pros and very little cons, but nonetheless poor Lucas Sinclair was kicked to the curb. They still run in the same circles, but Max is really doing her best to punish herself by pushing everyone away. Everyone except for Elena, which is why she’s not trying too hard to distance herself from the depressed teenager. 

“So what you’re saying is you are purposefully avoiding a social event with your age appropriate peers so you can hang out with a 21 year old homeless woman inside a hip and groovy music shop?” Her voice dry. 

“Yep, pretty much, and technically Eddie Munson’s the same age as you, so not all of them are age appropriate.” There's a pause before Max’s eyebrows scrunches in confusion, “homeless?” 

Elena sighs, the pain of her eviction still fresh, “Reefer Rick’s property was seized, including the Hawkins Motel where I lived, so now I’m technically homeless.” Rolling her eyes because ‘ugh, fuck Reefer Rick’ until she sees the worry in Red’s eyes. Oh, shit. “But, have no fear, Bobby and Charlie have provided a place for me to stay. I even get to sleep on a couch that Jack Kerouac bought and probably slept on!” the enthusiasm was so sweet that it nearly gives Elena cavities. Max trades her worry for disgust. 

‘Wow, someone doesn’t like Kerouac.’ 

She pauses then hesitates, disgust turning into contemplation. “We have an extra room in our trailer,” the words spoken lowly, hesitatingly, as if afraid of being rejected. “Mom’s been looking for someone to rent out that room, and she would definitely prefer it being a girl.” She pauses for a second before sounding more confident, “I will ask her today.” 

Oh god. No. 

‘On one hand may be I could save Max and Eddie, and even that blonde cheerleader, but I have no idea what I’m doing! What if Vaca planned this?’ 

She is going to say no. She had to say no, she cannot get attached or change anything. But, Max is looking at her earnestly, and a tiny magical thought makes its way through: what if I could help Max out of her depression and then signal for Eleven to beat Vaca’s ass? It would be better than reading DnD handbooks in the dark and sleeping on the Beatnik version of a casting couch. And, most of all, may be she can save Max from the fate that surely awaits her if Elena stays on the continued path. 

“Okay. Sign me up Scotty.” 

“You are so lame, I rescind my offer.” 

Notes:

Since ya'll are not respecting my wishes, please let me know how it's going. My writing's not the best, but I am trying my best :( Anywayz, I don't think it's too terrible when you consider my last dip into fandom writing was a Harry Potter fanfiction on Quizilla in 2007.

Notes:

I wrote this because I wanted to read something like this but couldn't find anything like this. I don't know if I will update, as this is the first fanfic I have written since like 2007 lol BUT please feel free to steal this concept. If you like this idea and you want to use it for inspiration YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION.