Chapter Text
Fuck, he knew Chrissy Cunningham was fucking trouble from the first fucking moment she literally bumped into him in the woods. Not that fun kind of trouble that he’d occasionally run into after one of Corroded Coffin’s shows or at a concert. The fun kind of trouble that maybe started out with a fifth or a joint and ended in a make-out session or if he got really fucking lucky, getting lucky.
But Chrissy wasn’t that kind of girl. She wasn’t that kind of trouble. She was the kind of trouble that involved him feeling deeper things. Deeper feelings. The kind of feelings that could lead to potential heartbreak or even getting his ribs kicked in…
Like what was happening to him right now…
Andy’s foot connected with Eddie’s midsection again as he laid curled up in a ball on the ground. The fucker missed his ribs this time but still knocked all the wind of him.
“Fucking freak,” the jock growled as he wiped the back of his hand across his upper lip, smearing the blood that was pouring out of his nose across his cheek, “Trying to take something that doesn’t belong to you…”
If Eddie had any air left in his lungs, he might have spat out the truth, that Chrissy doesn’t belong to anyone, but instead he desperately wheezed in coppery air in an attempt to fill his deflated lungs. He opened his eyes that he must have closed at some point and could barely see her through the blood that dripped into them, but he could see enough.
He could see that she was crying, sobbing really. That ugly kind of sobbing where you choke on your own snot and you’re hiccupping the whole time. He’d seen her cry like that before when they were out there in the fucking wilds. She cried and he held her and stroked his fingers through her silky hair and told her not to hold back, to let it all out and she did.
Fuck, he wanted to hold her again, especially since her piece of shit boyfriend sure as fuck wasn’t doing it. He was technically holding her but not like he should be doing when someone watches a person getting beaten to a fucking pulp. Jason was holding her less out of comfort and more to keep her struggling and squirming body from breaking free of his grasp so that she wouldn’t get in the way of Andy or Chance beating the shit out of “the freak”.
Fucking hell, how the fuck did he end up here in the first place? He was usually much better at staying out of the way of punches and kicks. He’s a lover, not a fighter.
He was in that one fight in his sophomore year that he somehow won and because of that no one had messed with him all through the rest of high school, including his two extra years. No one wanted to fight him, not the former king of Hawkins High, not any of the jocks, not even that asshat that had usurped Harrington’s throne, but that all changed last Friday when he broke one of his most important rules, do not get involved in your client’s life.
You’re their drug dealer, not their friend… Reefer Rick’s voice rang in his ears, anyone who says that you’re their friend is only looking for a free ride…
Eddie couldn’t help but wheeze out a laugh. A free ride…
That fucking meathead Andy must have taken fucking umbrage with his laugh because he scowled and kicked Eddie again, but it was too late. Eddie couldn’t stop laughing, cackling really. An insane, wheezing cackle that caused Chance and Andy to back up as it bubbled out of him through his bloodied teeth, but he couldn’t stop because it was so fucking funny.
He was getting the shit kicked out of him for being stupid and breaking all of Rick’s patented drug dealing rules and yet, if Eddie could go back and do it all over again, he’d do the same fucking thing…
One week ago
“Whatta ya mean… stronger?” Eddie’s eye narrowed as he looked at the scared cheerleader sitting across from him at the picnic table. Not even a few seconds ago she was laughing with him… well more like at him, but he did that shit on purpose because…
Well fuck, he didn’t want Chrissy Cunningham to be afraid of him, but of course someone like her would be afraid of him. She was good and beloved. She was high school royalty and he… wasn’t. He wasn’t even close to the court. He wasn’t even a fucking serf. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you. He was trailer park trash. He was the spawn of a criminal. He was a loser who was beneath her…
And yeah… maybe at first he did want her to be afraid of him because he was so fucking sick of all the “good” people in Hawkins treating him like fucking dirt. So maybe he kinda wanted to watch her sweat. Maybe he wanted to watch the queen squirm a little bit. Maybe he wanted to see her tremble in fear after descending from her place among the angels to tarnish her halo by buying drugs from the devil.
That shitty, devilish part of him wanted that until the point where he actually saw it. Saw her fear. Heard her ask in a small, shaky voice if he ever felt like he was losing his mind. Felt her shiver vibrating through the battered picnic bench, shaking him to his goddamn core and fucking hell, he hated it.
So, he acted like a fool for her. He rolled around in the leaves and dirt and duff, like the good little jester that he was, until the queen smiled. He joked and she laughed, and he even built up the fucking nerve to invite her to come see him and the band play even though he knew that a girl like her would never set foot in the fucking dump that they played at. He even offered her a huge discount, basically giving her the weed at less than cost, and oh could he hear Reefer Rick berating him from his jail cell in county lock up.
You’re not their friend! You’re not their confidant! You’re their fucking drug dealer, so don’t ask any goddamn questions and just sell her what she wants! …And stop giving her a discount!
Usually, he had no problem following those rules. He didn’t give a flying fuck about his clientele. He didn’t care about the preppy kids looking to score uppers and downers or the jocks that bought weed or shrooms from him and they didn’t care about him either. It was good system for everyone until…
Goddamn it, even as Rick’s voice thundered in his head, he still couldn’t help but want to know why she needed something stronger than pot. Fuck, maybe he could talk her out of it because… Fuck, if she got addicted to anything, the whole fucking town of Hawkins would string him up.
Yeah, that’s the fucking reason I’m asking, he felt his upper lip twitch, I don’t fucking care about her. I’m just watching my ass, so I don’t end up locked away like you, Rick.
“I…” she looked down at her hand that she was rubbing nervously against the edge of the table, “I can’t sleep… I feel like… There’s something waiting underneath… I just need something so I can sleep and not dream, okay?”
“O—kay,” he nodded as he shifted his jaw, “I have some Special K, but not on me.”
“Like… cereal?” She looked up and knitted her brow.
He huffed a laugh, “No, like ketamine,” she still looked confused, so he elaborated, “Basically animal tranquilizers.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, I have some back at my place,” he packed the baggie of weed back into his black lunchbox and closed it, “I can get it for you tonight.”
“I have a game—”
“Me too,” he smiled and gestured to his shirt, “Hellfire… you know, DnD stuff.”
“Oh,” she smiled as she looked at the logo on his chest.
“But we can get it afterwards…”
“Okay,” she nodded and turned to get up off the bench.
“Hey, I was wondering,” he licked his bottom lip and fought against his better judgement as he asked her, “What did you mean that you feel like something’s waiting?”
“It…” she bit her lip and looked down at the bench she was now straddling, “It’s sounds crazy…”
“I think we’ve established that we’re both losing our minds, so…” he grinned as he held up his hands, palms up, and shrugged.
She huffed a laugh and turned to face him again, but her smile faded as she sat back down at the table. She looked down at her lap and her voice was so quiet that she sounded like she was a million miles away, “I feel like… Like there’s something underground, something waiting for me to be alone and dream so it can claw its way up when I’m vulnerable and…”
She was quiet for a moment after her voice faded, but then she looked up and scowled at him in defiance even though he hadn’t said anything, “I know it sounds like I’ve seen Nightmare on Elm Street too many times, but I swear what I’m saying is real! I can feel it!”
He nodded quickly, “I didn’t say—”
“I know you’re thinking it,” a tear leaked out of her eye, but she quickly wiped it away before it could mar her perfect make-up, “But there’s something… under this town and I can feel it… reaching for me…”
She sniffled and quickly wiped away another tear and started to stand up as he blurted out, “Why don’t you leave?”
“I…” She stared at him before she sat back down again and gripped the edge of the table with both hands, “I can’t just run away from home—”
“No, not runaway, I mean not really,” he huffed a quick laugh, “I mean just get out of town for a bit.”
“I…” her brow creased as she looked into his eyes.
“I mean, it’s fucking spring break,” he grinned, “It’s not like we have school next week. Maybe get your boyfriend to take you camping or something…”
He forced himself to keep smiling even though the bile burned the back of his throat as he said that fucking word that associated Jason fucking Carver with Chrissy because it was just another reminder that no matter how great that he and Chrissy got along during this drug transaction, that was all it fucking was…
“Jason’s going out of town with his family to their lake house…”
“So… go along too.”
Fuck, saying that also made his throat burn…
“I can’t,” she shook her head, “His parents’ wouldn’t… It just wouldn’t look right.”
“What about your friends, can’t they—”
“Everyone has plans that they wouldn’t be able to break and—”
“Well… You know… Fuck it, I’ll take you camping then,” the smile slipped off of his stupid fucking face as he realized what the fuck he had just said. What he had just fucking offered.
By the stunned look on Chrissy’s face, he knew that his stupid fucking mouth went too far this time. What the fuck was he thinking!? Oh yeah, she’d definitely go along with this fucking plan. She had to have been itching for him, the fucking King of the Freaks, to take her, the gorgeous and popular head cheerleader and Queen of Hawkins High, on a fucking camping trip for a fucking week during fucking spring break—
“Okay…”
“Huh?” His mouth gaped open as he looked across the table at Chrissy who still looked stunned, but she was nodding.
“Oh, sorry…” she looked down quickly, “I thought you were serious, I shouldn’t’ve—”
“No! No, don’t be sorry. I was serious,” he could feel a goofy grin spread across his face when she looked up and smiled at him, “I am serious. I just… I didn’t expect you to say yes… so quickly…”
She huffed a laugh, “Me either.”
He chuckled as he asked, “Where did you wanna go?”
“I dunno,” her smile faded a bit as her brow creased, “I’d never considered leaving so… I just know that I don’t want to be here.”
“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, “We can figure where to go when we leave—”
“Can we go tonight?”
“Tonight?” his mouth gaped open a bit.
She nodded, “After each of our games? We could meet here in the parking lot and…”
“Yeah,” he nodded as he tried to act like this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him… a girl, any fucking girl, skipping town with him late on a Friday night... “Yeah sure, we can go then…”
“Okay good,” she stood up and put on her backpack, “I have to go home and pack…” she turned towards him, “Umm, how much?”
“I dunno,” he stood up and was running through the mental calculations of how much food and clothes they would need to pack, “Depends on how many days you want to go, but we could always find a laundromat if we don’t have enough clean clothes—”
“No, I meant,” she bit her bottom lip for a moment, “How much… should I pay you…”
“Oh…” The realization that this trip, this chance to be together and get to know each other, was purely a business proposition for her hit him like a punch in the nose. He could feel his lip twitch and his eyes sting because this was like every other fucking thing in his life, transactional… “I umm…”
He took a deep breath in and tried not to let his disappointment show through as he smiled, “Fifty bucks, Cunningham.”