queenofhawkinshigh | ripped up my prom dress running through rose thorns

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eddie munson

ripped up my prom dress running through rose thorns

Occasionally, Chrissy wonders if she should have tried to finish school the way Eddie did. It feels a little pathetic sometimes, having been two and a half months away from graduating and then just giving up. Every time the thought crosses her mind, though, she can't really bring herself to change her mind about it. Starting over so close to the end, even if she wouldn't be doing so for very long, just feels too daunting. There's an odd sort of comfort in the prospect of invisibility, in being no one for a change, having nothing to try to live up to, but there's terror in it, too. If people saw her for who she really is, she doesn't think they would like her at all. They certainly wouldn't think she's good enough.

Most people, anyway. Since that first day out in the woods back in Hawkins, Eddie has seemed different — different from what she expected, but also different from nearly everyone else she knows. She got the sense then that he actually saw her, and that's continued ever since. Strange as she may find it, he actually seems not to mind having her around, too. For her part, she knows there's no one here she's closer to. So while she couldn't bring herself to finish high school, she knows that it's a pretty big deal that he finally did. She can't just let an occasion like that pass without mention.

The idea has been in the back of her head for a while now, since just a little after he first told her that '86 was supposed to be his year. She's pretty sure it's stupid, and she figures the odds are about fifty-fifty that he'll wind up laughing at her, but she hasn't been able to think of anything else. In a small, plain gift box, she's put her gold 86 necklace. It may not technically be 1986 anymore here, but he still finished what he started then. And while it wound up very much not being her year after all, at least she'll have some use for this now.

She hasn't bothered with gift wrap, but she has tied a ribbon around the box, sitting now in the bottom of her purse as she waits to meet up with him. When she does spot him, she smiles, an instinct now that she chooses not to think too much about. "Hey," she says. "How does it feel, officially being a high school graduate?"

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Chrissy wants to say that it wasn't that bad — that it wasn't bad at all. Anything else seems stupid, something that she knows shouldn't be worth complaining about when she had it better than most. He's not wrong, though. Popularity was always precarious, and living up to expectations was never guaranteed; it was, at once, both a shield and a weakness, that status offering protection even as it left her more vulnerable by ensuring that people's eyes were always on her. It might have been nice just to fly under the radar, unnoticed. She suspects that it wouldn't have changed much, if anything, and it definitely would have left her with a different slew of problems, but all the same, it's hard to argue with the idea of that.

"That's pretty much exactly what it was like," she admits, expression thoughtful as she spears a piece of lettuce with her fork. Just being seen with him like this back in Hawkins would have been the end of her, as far as her reputation is concerned. The more time she spends with Eddie, though, the more convinced she becomes that it would have been worth being ostracized to have a friend like him. "Everyone watching you all the time... knowing who they expect you to be."

"No wonder I was never popular," Eddie jokes. "I wore the wrong shoes and combed my hair the wrong way all the time."

Of course, he had never wanted to be popular. He means every word of what he's said, that it all seems exhausting nd kind of lonely. Having Chrissy confirm it isn't much of a surprise to him and he knows she's probably missing some of the benefits, being here in Darrow, but he's also glad she doesn't have to deal with it anymore. He's glad no one here is watching her and waiting for her to mess up.

"I'm definitely still doing it," he adds, then grins. "But that's okay."

"It is," Chrissy says, giving him a little nod. "I think it all matters even less after high school, anyway." Saying that makes her stomach flip uncomfortably, but she tries to ignore it. Ultimately, it's a good thing, it has to be. She knows Eddie didn't really care what most people thought of him, and at least always seemed more than willing to accept the label of freak, but she imagines that it must be pretty nice not to have to deal with all of that anymore. And for her, it's nice in a lot of ways to be without so many of the sources of the unbelievable pressure she was under.

It's just hard to acknowledge that all of it was virtually meaningless, that the things she agonized over will have no real bearing on the rest of her life.

"Besides, the things that were right usually looked kind of stupid."

"I never paid attention," he admits, grinning. "It probably still looks stupid, but we're vintage now."

Which amuses me every time someone says it. His hair is so eighties he was told. His clothes are vintage, he's had excitedly said to him. Eddie just wears what he likes, he does what he likes, and he doesn't hurt people in the process, so he feels pretty good about that.

"Has anyone said that to you?" he asks. Chrissy looks more like she fits here than he does, but that's always been the case.

"I get that at work sometimes, yeah," Chrissy says with a knowing smile. What she doesn't say is that she hates when her coworkers say it, though they never do so meanly and occasionally do so with a little envy. For her, though, it's the polar opposite of what she wants. She's worked so long and hard to try to fit in, only to find herself inadvertently turned into some weird misfit relic of the past.

Eddie doesn't seem to mind, but vintage probably beats freak by a long shot. Not that she ever actually saw him as the latter, but back in Hawkins, the label tended to follow his name as a matter of course.

"I still can't get my head around it. The whole... being in the future thing."

"Thirty-five years," he says, nodding. His fingers find the 86 at his neck again and he laughs a little, then finishes off his beer. "It's crazy, right? So much has changed and nothing has changed all at the same time."

People are still more or less the same. There's more acceptance in a lot of ways, people who are kinder and generally better, but there are still assholes and bullies. They're just assholes and bullies about different things than they used to be.

"Weed is legal, music is totally different, but people still worry about the same things. They still want the same things."

"And what about you, Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks, her smile widening, almost teasing, as she leans her head in her hand again, elbow propped on the table. "Now that you've graduated high school and all, what do you want? Like, really."

Maybe it's unfair to be asking a question that she wouldn't know how to answer, especially when they've both expressed some measure of cluelessness over how turned around their lives have gotten. Maybe it's unfair to look at him and feel warm like this, all the more so for seeing the way he touches the charm that, until the day she got here, sat at her neck instead. She can't entirely help it, though. All they've been through, and she still feels like she's getting to know him, something she wishes she'd done a lot sooner.

"You know, I don't know," he answers. Eddie has never been afraid of honesty, he would give an honest answer than lie to someone he likes, someone like Chrissy, who is quickly becoming the closest friend he has here.

"So back in Hawkins, I figured I'd end up working with Uncle Wayne," he says. "At the plant. It was an okay job. Legitimate, you know? I didn't want to end up like my dad, in and out of jail until I died doing something stupid. Wayne would've vouched for me and I could have stopped selling weed and stuff."

But Wayne isn't in Darrow. There's no plant in Darrow. He's not sure what he's going to do now.

For her part, lost as she might be, Chrissy knows what she wants, in the simplest sense. She doesn't have the first idea what she would have to do to accomplish it, or even if it would be possible for her, if maybe there's just something irrevocably broken in her head preventing her from ever feeling content. That's all she wants, though, really. The details don't matter. She just wants to be happy. She's not sure she can honestly say that she ever has been before. For that matter, she doesn't know if she would be able to tell what it even feels like. It would be nice, though, to find out.

"Well, selfishly speaking, I would definitely also rather you not wind up in jail and then die doing something stupid," she says, her smile softer than a teasing one should be. "I'd get pretty bored."

She has other friends here, people she likes spending time with. None of them, though, are people she feels as comfortable around as she does with Eddie.

Edited 2022-10-22 08:15 (UTC)

"Yeah, I am pretty entertaining," Eddie agrees with a grin, leaning his chin in his hand. They might not have ever ended up here back in Hawkins, the way things were, the roles they were meant to play, but this isn't Hawkins and Eddie was never one to conform anyway. He's not here to satisfy someone else's expectations of who he's meant to be.

And he's glad he and Chrissy get to be friends.

"Well, weed is legal and I don't have a supplier," he says. "So dealing is out. Besides, the market here seems a little more dangerous than Hawkins, so I'm thinking I'll branch out. Not sure where just yet, but working at the record store is cool for now."

"It seems like it would be," Chrissy says, smiling as she finishes off the last of her iced tea. What she doesn't say, what she doesn't think she needs to, is that it seems like something people would be far less likely to look down their noses at, too. Eddie may not care all that much about what people think of him, but she still doubts it could have been easy or enjoyable to be dismissed the way he so often was, not really even given a chance. Here, he gets a fresh start. They both do, but she still has a hard time grasping what that might mean for her.

With a little shrug, she adds, "I'll have to come by when you're working sometime. You can help me figure out what's worth listening to here." Even as she says so, she has a hard time feeling like it isn't too much. While it should be clear by now that he hangs out with her because he wants to, not out of some misplaced sense of guilt or obligation, she still isn't entirely sure why, half-convinced that he'll get bored and find someone more interesting to spend time with before long.

"Definitely," he agrees with a grin. Music is something he's always happy to share with other people, even if not many people back in Hawkins particularly cared for the music he liked. There's a wider range in Darrow, more people who like all kinds of music, plenty of which he'd never even heard before this place.

"There's loads of new stuff," he tells her. "But there's access to stuff we would recognize, too. Crazier still, there are albums here from bands I love that hadn't even been recorded back in eighty-six. Blows my mind that there's this whole Metallica catalogue I've barely had a chance to touch."

"I still can't make sense of any of it," Chrissy says, laughing as she shakes her head. More often than not, at least on her own, thinking about all the years they skipped over is daunting, kind of terrifying. Like this, though, it doesn't seem so bad — more fun than anything else, if still intimidating. Being in the future does have its upsides. While she still hasn't entirely gotten the hang of it, being able to send text messages and take pictures on a portable phone is pretty neat, and she can only imagine how cool it must be to suddenly have years' worth of new music from a favorite band to listen to.

"At least it's not all new. But I don't even know where to start with the things that are."

"It's bizarre," Eddie agrees. "But also kinda cool."

Even though he doesn't know for certain, he has a pretty good idea he died back in the Upside Down. It seems likely, given how much blood he'd lost upon his arrival in Darrow and the fact that he'd needed a transfusion. The Upside Down didn't seem to be ripe with hospitals or doctors to help with that, so Eddie can't help but think he never made it out alive. Which means all the music he has access to now is music he was never meant to hear.

"What kind of music do you like?" he asks. "Tell me some artists from home you were into. I'll find you some new stuff."

"Oh, I don't know," Chrissy says with a shrug, suddenly sheepish, though she was the one to bring it up. "I'll listen to whatever, really." At least this time, she knows it's probably stupid to worry that he'll judge her or laugh at her for her taste in music. Despite the number of times she's found herself fretting over that same possibility, it's never actually happened. Besides, especially now that he works in a record store, she thinks it's at least safe to assume that he wouldn't judge her too overtly. It probably wouldn't be very good for business if he laughed at anyone who came in looking for something that wasn't to his taste.

"Some stuff that's a little older. I like Fleetwood Mac a lot," she continues, almost a question. "But new stuff, too. Or... what used to be new. I really liked Tears for Fears's last album." One corner of her mouth curls up a little. "I liked your talent show performance, back in middle school, but I've never really listened to anything else like it."

"Fleetwood Mac has new stuff," Eddie answers, brightening and going for his phone. "I mean, new stuff, too. They went on tour again something like twenty-five years after us. But this one is from 1987. Still kinda new for us, but..."

It's stupid, trying to explain time when they're both dealing with it in the same way. Chrissy knows what he's trying to say, even if neither of them can make complete sense of it. He just taps away at his phone, making sure the volume isn't too loud, then hits play on the song Everywhere.

"Oh, no way!" Chrissy says, breaking into a grin as music starts playing from his phone. The very fact of that is still pretty awe-inspiring for her, and all the more so for being able to hear music from after their time, from a band she knows. While she has no doubt that Eddie wouldn't lie to her, she's not even sure she would believe it, except that it's clear within moments that it is in fact a Fleetwood Mac song, the phone speaker making the sound slightly tinny, but the vocals distinct enough anyway.

Her teeth press to her lower lip for a moment, her cheeks suddenly feeling a little warm. Maybe it's the lyrics of the song, unquestionably romantic, or maybe it's the fact that he could so easily find this for her. Or maybe it's neither, and it's just the fact that she's listening to something she shouldn't have lived to hear. Whatever the reason, it's stupid on her part, but it's nice all the same. "They seriously went on tour twenty-five years later? That's insane."

"It's cool, knowing all these musicians just kept going, kept making music," he says, looking at his phone instead of Chrissy. Everywhere is a great song, but he hadn't really considered the lyrics before playing it and now he wonders if she'll think he's trying to tell her something, if she's going to start thinking of things to say in order to let him down easy.

He tries to think of something else, some other music fact he's learned, in order to make things feel less awkward, as least in his head. The only thing he can come up with kind of sucks.

"But then stuff like... well, Freddie Mercury died. In ninety-one, I think. It sucks."

For a moment, with Eddie seeming so focused on his phone even as he speaks to her, Chrissy feels strangely awkward. It's hard not to wonder if she's said something wrong, except she hasn't said much at all. Maybe, instead, it's her expression that gives her away. Stupid, really, to be flustered by song lyrics when she knows full well that it doesn't mean anything, when she can't even see why it should matter.

What he says next quickly distracts her from that thought, anyway, her eyes going a bit wide as she draws in a breath. "Wait, what?" she replies. "Oh, my god, that's horrible."

Her mom never wanted her listening to Queen, but she likes them all the same. She's not sure she can bring herself to say that, though, not wanting to be laughed at for it.

"Complete shit," Eddie agrees. "No one in music had a voice like his, there's just no way anyone could ever be that daring, too. He didn't give a shit what anyone thought of him."

He's a really talented musician, there's absolutely no pretending otherwise, but a big part of what Eddie has always liked about Freddie Mercury was that whole part of his personality. He never cared what others said, he never let it stop him if someone told him something couldn't be done musically or that it might fail. Maybe it would, but he still tried.

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