Go Easy On Your Fanfic Writers.

The Time Before

2,592 words

an: This is my first time writing, so please be kind!

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of smoking, mentions of disease, hospitals, cats (?), angst, sadness (Let me know if I missed anything!)

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Wayne Munson classifies his life into two parts. The separator is that one fateful night that his young nephew was dropped at his front door in the middle of the night by a teary-eyed mother who offered a promise of her return. This marker leaves two pieces; the time during Eddie, and the Time Before.

The Time Before is not something that Wayne likes to talk about. The Time Before was so far away now it didn't seem real. If he thought about it too much, he would question if he hadn't just dreamed up the whole thing. But no; it was real. All of it.

He had a child, Lisa. Lisa was now just another memory from the Time Before; what seemed to be someone else's life. Someone else's child. She was happy: little blonde pigtails springing from the sides of her head, soft cotton clothes so small he couldn't believe that any human could start out that tiny. He could still remember the smell; god, the smell. It was baby powder and springtime. That's the way he remembers it. He was so careful about smoking around her, too; he didn't want her to smell like an ashtray. He would only smoke outside when she wasn't there so that the smell of tobacco wouldn't stick to her clothes or hair.

Lisa's mama was a one-night escapade; the kind of thing that's great in the moment and never happens again. After getting home from 'Nam in the early 60s, he and his buddies indulged in the nightlife that they missed out on during their stints. He never even knew her name. But when the baby was left on his doorstep with a small bag of supplies and a note for explanation, Wayne worried. He had never planned on having kids. He didn't know if he could give this little girl the life she needed. But he tried.

He had no idea what he was doing, but as she grew he realized that he must've done something right. She was talkative by the time she turned three; ever the conversationalist. He beamed as he realized she got that from him. In fact, she got most of her traits from him; her musky blue eyes, her eagerness to move, her inability to sit still. He knew that was going to be a problem once she started school, but goddamnit, he didn't care. In his eyes, she could do no wrong.

It lasted five years. Five years of trips to the park. Five years of ice cream runs. Five years of little grabby hands that were telling him, 'Pick me up, Dad, please?' Five years of her short little giggles that were so contagious that even after she dumped all the baking flour onto the floor and made a snow angel, he couldn't be mad. He was never mad at her for long.

But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Wayne knew that. But he always thought that he would be the first to go. That it would last longer than it did.

When Lisa woke him up for the third time crying in the night, he thought it would be fine. He convinced himself it would all be fine. She had been sick for the past three days. It looked like a typical cold; she was running a fever, coughing, sneezing. But it had gotten worse in the last few hours; she was waking up to puke. She had so far thrown up three times in the last hour. She was complaining that her stomach hurt. He was trying to get her to calm down and go to sleep. But she kept crying, saying her stomach hurt.

When he ran into her room for the third time that night and flipped on the light, he knew something was really wrong. Her hands we clammy as they grabbed at him, holding onto his arm tightly, and her skin... a sinking feeling grew in his chest as he realized that her skin had grown jaundiced and pale. The small girl would shake in his arms every time she coughed, sobs racking through her body as she moaned and clutched her stomach.

He knew he had to do something. She was getting worse by the second, drifting away in his arms. He wouldn't let that happen. He scooped her up in a blanket and brought her out to the car, laying her on the front bench seat next to him and holding her as close to him as possible. She had stopped crying by the time he had pulled out of the driveway, her breathing shaky and forced. He knew he was repeating the words, 'Don't worry, Lisa, you're gonna be okay. Daddy's got you, don't worry, you're gonna be okay,' but he couldn't actually hear himself. It all felt so far away, and the sound of her labored breath seemed to ring in his ears.

He was thanking the lord that there was no one on the roads because he was pushing his truck as fast as it could go. he was desperately clinging to the small girl as he tried to remember the way to the hospital.

As they pulled up to the emergency room and he threw the truck into park, he knew. He could feel the loss. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was too late. But he was determined that it wouldn't be true. It wouldn't end that fast. He already had her backpack at home, and he was planning on surprising her with it next week. She was set to start school in two weeks, and he had bought all the school supplies he thought she would need. The backpack was blue, her favorite color, with little stars and moons all over the whole thing. It already held a pencil case filled with colored pencils and erasers, a lunchpail that matched the backpack, and three Dr. Seuss books that he was gonna start reading to her. Maybe she would even start reading them.

But all his hopes were thrown out the window the minute that he walked into the emergency room. He watched as his little girl was put on a stretcher, her tiny body not even taking up half of it. She looked so frail as the doctors and nurses wheeled her down the hallway, the fluorescent lights stinging his eyes. Everyone poked and prodded at her as he ran alongside, holding onto her hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her limp hand. He couldn't even hear what the nurses were saying, he just kept telling her, 'It's gonna be okay, baby, I'm here.'

He was sitting in the waiting room, watching the clock on the wall. The doctors came out two hours later.

His vision seemed to blend together until everything was just one big mush. He couldn't hear. He doubled over in his chair, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. Lisa was gone.

They told him it was Viral Hepatitis. Two Words, Six syllables that took his baby girl away.

He had waited too long. He knew it. Maybe if he had just taken her ten minutes sooner, maybe if he had just driven a little faster, maybe if... maybe if... maybe if...

He mourned not only his little girl but the things that she never got to do. She would never go to school. Never drive. Never have another birthday party. Never make friends.

He lost so many experiences with her. He would never get to see her grow up. He would never get to go to a father-daughter dance. He would never get to give her suitors the if-you-hurt-one-little-hair-on-her-head-you-will-never-be-heard-from-again speech, never get to move her into her college dorm, never get to walk her down the aisle.

~~~

After Lisa died, Wayne decided to have her cremated. He knew he had to get out of that house, the reminders of her everywhere. He couldn't stand the idea of not being able to visit his daughter, so he thought he could take her with him and visit her anytime. He might even bury her little urn somewhere close, just out of respect for the dead.

He cleaned out the house, packing all of Lisa's things that he wanted to keep into a small box. He took all the pictures off the walls and his clothes, loaded them all up in his old pickup truck, and made the dive all the way to Indiana.

~~~

Even though he had started off strong in the new trailer, he couldn't seem to adjust. He didn't eat, didn't go outside, and didn't sleep. Every time that he wore himself down enough to pass out on the couch, he would only get about 2 hours before having another set of dreams about Lisa. He would wake up in cold sweats with tears running down his face. And the worst part? He couldn't even remember the dreams. Just the fact that they were about her.

He was miserable in this new town. He didn't even think about looking for a job for the first two weeks, but as money started to disappear, he had to look through the Help Wanted section of the newspaper.

He'd also decided that after Lisa, he needed something else to take care of. So he got a cat. He didn't know why he needed a cat; a dog would have been a lot more sensible. A dog can watch over you and protect you; maybe he could've even trained it to go hunting with him. But he decided to buy a cat. It was a tiny black ball of fur that he named Flopsy because one ear flopped down like a Bunny rabbit while the other one stayed up.

That cat was one of the best things that ever happened to Wayne. When he felt lonely, it was almost like she could sense it. She would curl up in his lap or on his chest and lay there, just keeping him company, as he watched the television.

~~~

It wasn't even six months later when there was a knock at the door. He had just finished a cigarette (he had since thrown out the rule of only smoking outside) and was finally starting to nod off when a sharp knock at the door brought him back to consciousness and he went to answer it.

In those six months, Wayne had tacked down and managed to hold on to a job at the mechanics shop two miles down the road. He was good with cars, his entire childhood was spent with his father, who was the most professional (and honestly-priced) mechanic in the entire state of Georgia. His father had taught him and his brother, Alfred, whom they all called Al, everything there was to know about cars, and it was one of the only things the man could remember the ins and outs of to this day.

When he pulled open the door, his eyes immediately danced over the figures outside. It was so dark out that he couldn't see their faces, but he could tell that one was a woman, just shy of his own height, and a small boy, at least ten, huddled behind the woman's leg. When his vision finally adjusted to the dark of the night, he recognized the face of Vivianne, his brother's wife.

Al Munson was a screwy guy, as Wayne used to say. He and his brother were polar opposites. Their father always used to say that Al had less sense than God gave a goose, and he was just about right. Al had landed himself in jail five times before he was even eighteen, and it only got uglier from there.

Al had started to mess around with Vivianne when they had just graduated high school. And she was so blind to his actions that she stayed with him, even at the advice not to from her soon-to-be brother-in-law. They had a baby a few years before Wayne, but he was still fighting in Vietnam at that time and hadn't heard anything about a child until now.

When Vivianne sat down at his kitchen table, her face covered in tears and snot, she explained that Al was going to put her in the ground. She knew it. It had been a long time coming (Al wasn't always the most even-tempered guy) but it wasn't until she had the baby that she started taking his abuse seriously.

"I don't care about what happens to me anymore, I've made my bed and now I have to lie in it. But I couldn't stand to see that little boy get left alone with his father. He would kill him, I'm sure he would."

Wayne recognized what she needed before she even asked. "I'll take him."

He didn't think about his answer; he didn't think about all the things he'd need to do, he'd need to buy a bed and clothes and food that was healthy and be able to keep a watchful eye on a new child. But somewhere deep in his heart, he wanted to take care of a kid. He thought that if he could make a difference in even one child's life, he should. For Lisa.

Vivianne left the trailer with the promise to return soon (one Wayne never believed would come to fruition), and Wayne went over to the couch and sat by the young boy. Flopsy, the cat, had taken an interest in the kid and was sitting up next to him, staring at him. The child seemed nervous, holding his bag in his lap and sitting straight up in his seat, which couldn't have been easy due to the plush cushions on the couch that seemed to want to swallow you up every time you sat down.

"Her name's Flopsy," Wayne announced, picking her up and placing her on his lap. "Do you want to pet her?" he asked softly, looking at the boy. He made no reply, just slowly moved his hand over her soft head. Flopsy immediately started purring, and the sound startled the boy, making him snatch his hand away. "No, no, no, that means she likes it. She makes that noise when she's happy," Wayne tried to explain, but the boy's fears of the cat had returned.

They sat in silence for a long while, the only thing making noise being Flopsy, who was meowing softly to be fed. Wayne eventually got up from the couch, walked to the kitchen, and refilled her food bowl. She seemed content, and he moved on to the next problem at hand: where the boy was going to sleep tonight. Wayne had an extra room where he had stored some junk when he first moved in and never got the chance to clean it out, but there was no extra bed in there. He was also not going to make the kid sleep on the couch, so he went into his own bedroom and took the sheets off the bed, replacing them with fresh ones. He cleared his side table ashtray, while he was at it, and a few empty coffee cups that he brought to the sink.

"You can sleep in there tonight, and tomorrow, we'll go out and buy you a bed and some sheets, okay?" Wayne explained to the young boy, pointing a thumb to his bedroom. The child turned to him, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he had arrived, and asked in a meek voice, "How long am I staying here?" Wayne didn't know how to answer this question. To be quite honest, he didn't know. He didn't know if Vivianne was ever going to come back and collect this kid, or if Al would come to take him. Technically, Wayne had no guardianship over him, so Al could come anytime he wanted to. Just the thought of that happening made Wayne shiver. "I don't know, kid. But it'll be good for you to have your own bedroom in case you do stay or if you come and visit," Wayne decided. The child nodded his head slowly, his small mop of curls bouncing along with him.

"What was your name again, kid?" Wayne asked, looking at him, hoping he would answer the question.

"Eddie."

“You’d spent a year in a state of near hyperventilation ruminating on how he’d be alone, without you to protect him but more worryingly, you would be without him - the one person you loved most in every way.”

UGGGH OH MY GOD this is getting too personal

Your writing is just *chefs kiss*

finally, it's here. my first real series. loosely based on the film love, rosie. it's a devastatingly slow burn and full of angst and longing. i hope you guys enjoy.

after the events of season four, your best friend eddie munson moves on leaving you behind, in love with him and concealing a secret you never hope he discovers.

follow #enam3l love lola

At age 8 you met Eddie Munson for the first time and you were sure he was the prettiest person you'd ever seen. Your Grandmother had visited a womens refuge to drop off old clothes, pots, pans, things she owned but didn't need. There she had spotted a young woman, beautiful with cascading brown curls but a panicked look on her face and tears on the brink of falling. Attached to her leg was a boy, wide eyes anxiously scanning the alien surroundings. Drawn in by the sweet boy who looked your age, your grandmother approached the woman.

Over the next hour she had learnt their history and their circumstances. Within the next two hours your Gran took advantage of her own means to develop a plan for the pair. By that evening your dinner table had two extra settings arranged. No longer just you and your Grandmother, you were now joined by Eva Munson, your new housekeeper and her son - Eddie - who from under his mop of dark curls assessed you across the grand dining table with big bright eyes, the colour of the special chocolates you were only given at Christmas. He was pretty and precious like the delicate porcelain dolls you were only allowed to gaze at in your Grandma's reading room and you instinctively wanted so badly to take care of him. 

At age 11 and on the cusp of puberty, you realised Eddie Munson was not just pretty like a flower or doll, he was beautiful and kind like the unexpected saviour of a fairytale. With three years of best friendship under your belt, you understood that Eddie was not like any boy or even man you had ever met. He was not selfish or cruel like your father and he wasn't obnoxious and boring like the sons of your Grandmother's fancy friends, who until Eddie arrived, you had been stuck amongst. He was endlessly interesting, you could listen to him all day although he wouldn't allow that, always insisting on hearing your ideas too. Eddie had once asked you why your favourite book was Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. With a wicked smile you had replied because those spoilt children got their comeuppance and you could only dream about that happening to the many Augustus Gloops and Veruca Salts in your life. Slightly downtrodden, Eddie had chuckled glumly, 'I guess I am Charlie, poor and can't believe his luck .' 

Gasping and horrified at Eddie's lack of self belief, you furiously shook your head and began to explain,

'No! You're Willy Wonka. You are brilliant and yes, a little bit mad and no one can appreciate just how special you are.'

At age 14 you decided before anything, now more than ever, you had to be Eddie's sworn protector and you pushed your crush deep into the darkest corner of yourself. The content bubble that for the past five years you had been living in - consisting of yourself, your Grandmother, Eddie and his mom - had been burst. Eddie's mother died. Your best friend, already different by nature began to separate himself further from the world. His eyes became a little sadder. His clothes became darker. His music became angrier and louder. Your games became more complex, rarely concluding with a happy ending. His now shoulder length curls were buzzed. But most importantly you knew at this age, teenagers were getting meaner and you were not long off from starting High School. Whilst your heart ached to live out your teenage romance with Eddie, his heart was broken and he was in mourning. Your best friend, already an easy target for bullies, was more vulnerable than ever and protecting his heart was far more important than yours. 

At 17 as you watched Eddie's hair grow longer than ever and him truly come into his own, you had to work harder than ever to ignore it. Painfully aware your bodies were fully developed and hormone filled, you attempted to delude yourself that you weren't achingly in love with your best friend. You distracted yourself with meaningless flings and boyfriends who couldn't hold a candle to Eddie. High School was relatively smooth sailing for you, your respected name courtesy of your Gran gifting a protective shield. The higher echelon of students may not have liked you especially, god knows you loathed them but they respected you. Academia wasn't an issue, you excelled in plenty and even subjects you didn't particularly like or have a talent for, you were still able to do more than satisfactory in. The same couldn't be said for Eddie. You were truly his defender, your presence limiting the hate campaign that built against him. But when you weren't by his side, he was subjected to torment for his hair, his clothes, his passions and his background. Since his mom died, Uncle Wayne took him in and the trailer became his home. Despite Wayne working hard to provide a good and loving home, a trailer was still a red mark against Eddie's name to vapid teens. You were grateful still his warm personality and ability to seek out those in need, resulted in Hellfire Club. Now Eddie had allies. 

At 18 it was clear you would be graduating without Eddie. Whilst you could speak about his talents endlessly, your bestfriend was too creative, thought too abstract for academic life. As you stood on the stage alone, your heart cracked at the thought for the first time in a decade, your best friend wouldn't be by your side. You'd spent a year in a state of near hyperventilation ruminating on how he'd be alone, without you to protect him but more worryingly, you would be without him - the one person you loved most in every way. Realistically he would still have the younger boys from Hellfire but you'd have no one, alone in New York without your comfort blanket. The one fear that ate away at you was now that you were gone, Eddie might fall in love. He'd already developed a few admirers from becoming a local feature of The Hideout with his band Corroded Coffin. 

By 20 you were alone and Eddie-less in New York studying for your second year. He'd again failed to graduate and was on his third attempt. Whilst you loved your degree, the city and new friends it was undeniable it would all improve with his presence. Nearly every night you exchange stories over the phone and attempt to visit but as time passed, schedules became more hectic. With Hellfire and the band occupying the forefront of his mind, you felt like a ghost from his past growing more faint by the day. Each hook up tale from the bar chipped further away at you, each new person in his life pushing you further down his list. You'd ended up with boyfriends you loathed in selfish attempts to fill the Eddie shaped void in your heart.  

Now you're still 20, fearing Eddie won't be joining you in turning 21 in a few months time. He lays there before you, hand under yours and still absent of his inherent warmth. Alabaster skin near void of life, dark circles round his eyes matching the spreading mass of purple bruising across his torso. Already red seeps through the white fibres of fresh bandages. No longer in your arms, where he belongs, Eddie Munson lies in a hospital bed. Unconscious to your words and touch, oblivious of the tears that trickled down your face and splashed over his tattooed forearm. Flittering between life and death before you could even confess you were in love with your best friend. 

UGGGGH MY HEART

billy

Indiana Snow

an: We've just had our first snow of winter and everything looks so pretty! In honor of the first snow, here's a winter Eddie one-shot, a product of my boredom! Hope you enjoy it! (NOT related to 'The time before')

blurb: Andrea Emerson is back from college, but not even a week into her winter break, Hawkins receives a freak blizzard. Her brother, Gareth, has recently suffered an injury and calls in his bandmate to aid Andrea.

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The snow was coming down in small, sticky clumps when I woke up on a chilly morning in the middle of December. I could feel the blistering cold through my socks as I walked down the creaky stairs, trying my hardest to not wake the rest of the house up. I made my way into the frightfully cold kitchen, where a note taped to the fridge caught my eye.

Wanted to get out before the snow started. There are sandwich materials in the pantry. Josie's food is in the fridge. Love, Mom

Right on cue, I could hear my sister's tiny footsteps padding down the stairs. She came around the corner into the kitchen, her hair sticking out in every direction while she rubbed her eyes. "Hi, bubby," I said, picking her up and kissing her on the cheek. She was only two but had recently figured out how to climb out of the crib. "Hi, Andy," She sighed and laid her head on my shoulder sleepily.

Josie and I spent the rest of the morning making breakfast and coffee while watching the snow out the window.

Eventually, Gareth came downstairs, befuddled by sleep, and had breakfast. He glanced out the window, immediately refusing to shovel any snow. He sprained his ankle a week ago anyway, so I wasn't planning on him doing much. "I will take Josie out to play, though," he exclaimed, his statement punctuated by an excited squeal from Josie. I sighed heavily, marching to get my boots and coat on.

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What a great way to start winter break. Not even three days back from college, and already freezing my butt off while shoveling snow. I wasn't making any good progress either, barely getting the steps clear enough to get out of the house without falling over.

About half an hour into shoveling, I heard a voice behind me. "Hey, stranger." I turned to see Eddie, clad in a winter jacket, holding a snow shovel. The snow whipped around us, leaving snowflakes in his hair, which was held back in a ponytail. He looks like an angel, I thought. The idea bounced around in my mind briefly before I banished it. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "I came to help," He said, motioning to the shovel.

"You guys sure did get a lot more snow than we did at the trailer park. That probably has to do with how many cars drive up and down those roads. It's so much... prettier here." He said, looking out in our yard. Our house was nothing to look out for, nothing notable. It was small, with barely enough space for all of us. I made a slight noise of agreement before getting back to shoveling, Eddie following close behind. "Jesus, this snow is packed. I think what you need for Christmas is a snowblower," he exclaimed. I laughed mildly, watching a grin break out across his face.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, heaving snow to the left of me. "Shoot," He replied. "Were you actually 'In the neighborhood' and just happened upon me?" I asked. He let a few moments pass before heaving out a long sigh. "Not really," He finally answered. "Your brother called me." Bingo. "Oh." Even I could hear the disappointment bubbling in my voice. I'm gonna kill that brat.

"But I'm happy to do it. What other day do I get to spend with a college girl?" He grinned at me. "Shut up," I said, trying not to let him see me smile at such a stupid joke. "Well, tell me about it. How is college going?" He asked. I sighed. "It's good. I like it; it's just so... much. The schedule is really intense." I explained. "Geez. Sounds rough," he said. I was also tempted to ask him about school, but I knew there wouldn't be much to say. I could tell he took a hit on his self-esteem each time he had to repeat senior year.

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"Well, it looks like we're about done here," I said. After almost two hours in the snow, we had finally cleared the driveway and the sidewalk. He held his hand up for a high five, which I missed by about a mile. We both let out awkward laughter, eye contact slipping away. There was another minute of awkward silence. "Hey, I think we've got some hot chocolate inside," I suggested in a singsongy tone. "Hell yeah. I'm freezing my balls off," he said, letting out a chuckle of laughter. I walked past him, smiling, and let us into the house.

We shed our coats, boots, and scarves by the front door and entered the kitchen. Eddie followed me as I went through the cabinets, grabbing various supplies. Josie came running over, and I picked her up, cradling her in my arm while the other stirred cocoa powder into a few mugs. "Josie, you remember Eddie," I said, turning her to face Eddie, leaning against the counter next to me. He waved to her. "Can you say 'Hi'?" I prompted. She waited a few minutes while smiling at him and then said a slow 'hi.' He shot her a grin and returned the greeting. She giggled and hid her face in my neck. Me too, girl. Me too.

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The following afternoon was very calm, with Eddie and Gareth escaping to the basement to practice a little one-on-one. We drank our hot chocolate at the kitchen table, laughing the whole time as Eddie or Gareth cracked a joke.

"Why in God's name would you call Eddie, of all people?" I asked while shutting the door behind the cold. "Well... um.... I thought he would be the most willing?" He said, scratching his head. "And why is that?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Because the guy loves you! I mean, do you really not see it?" He exclaimed. I scoffed. "Come on. Is there any other guy in this town who would subject himself to a day of manual labor just so he could spend time with you? He was practically begging me to give him an in like this." My heart thumped in my chest, and I could feel my cheeks blooming with heat. "Shut up. He does not," I said, walking down the hallway back into the kitchen. "Seriously. He doesn't shut up about it. It's a little weird, sometimes, to hear the kind of shit he says about my sister," He said. I focused on doing the dishes, pretending not to hear him. He sighed and finally gave up, walking down the hallway.

My mind continued to race in all different directions. He likes me? How is that even possible? I mean, we never even talked to each other, even though he was best friends with my brother, and we were originally supposed to be in the same year. It was all just... weird. Besides, I've been away at college for the past year! Sure, he was cute in high school and possibly even cuter now, but why would he ever have feelings for me?

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i love wearing jeans. i feel so beautiful. like bruce springsteen

I know a lot of you feel like Eddie would be automatically attracted to a fellow metal head or even the overly gorgeous cheerleader type… but for some reason, in my mind, I see him drawn to a soft, warm smiled, ultimate girl next door hippie type. A Stevie Nicks type, if you will. Fashion stuck in the 70s, probably hand me downs from her mother and sometimes her father (let’s be honest, men’s fashion back then was amazing). Turquoise jewelry a stark contrast against the metal chains Eddie wears.

Of course, she’d have to be a music lover too. But maybe their taste is different, but still similar enough to have a connection over it. Like maybe her repertoire expanded from Bob Dylan, to Roberta Flack, to Carole King, to Eagles, to Simon & Garfunkel, to Aerosmith, to Skid Row. I see her as an admirer of all music, maybe even a fellow musician herself, wanting to follow in the footsteps of her idol, Stevie Nicks.

Like their entire relationship is a total personification of the song Leather and Lace.

It. Just. Makes. Sense. To. Me.

My Aesthetic is Napoleon riding a horse into the wedding

The Time Before - The Early Days

masterlist here

1,962 words

an: I'm so glad people are enjoying this series. It's crazy to me that I'm garnering this much support in so little time. I really appreciate you guys!

If you have any requests for the next part of this series, please let me know!

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of abuse, Eddie's dad being an asshole

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Eddie had been with Wayne for two weeks so far and had not said more than two syllables at once to the man. Wayne thought him shy in the beginning, but this passed even shy.

After a trip to Hawkins' local Mattress Emporium, they returned to the trailer with a twin-sized bed, mattress, blankets, sheets, and a few extra pillows. Eddie hadn't replied when Wayne asked him which sheets he wanted, just shrugged his shoulders.

During his time in the Munson trailer, Eddie had tried to make himself as small as possible. He wouldn't answer any of Wayne's questions on what he wanted, just shrug his shoulders so Wayne would have to make a decision.

The boy was so quiet he spooked Wayne. He wouldn't even hit the creaky floorboards. It was like he wasn't walking, just floating. Wayne couldn't believe that Al, his bull of a brother, could have raised a child such as this one. But then again, he strongly doubted that Al had much to do with raising the boy.

Once the room was finished and Wayne had set up the bed for him, the boy rarely if ever appeared out of his bedroom. He only appeared to be fed or to use the bathroom. Wayne felt as if he was still living alone, with the addition of another cat-like being who didn't seem to like him.

At first, it was like reopening the wound that losing Lisa had made in his heart. Many nights were spent thinking of ways he could make the boy like him, make him more talkative. But Wayne realized that the most he could do was to leave the child alone. After spending ten years with Al, anyone would go practically mute.

~~~

The first night that Wayne seemed to make any sort of breakthrough with Eddie was after dinner. The boy had been living in the trailer for about three weeks at this point, and dinner had been an almost silent affair, per usual. The only sounds that were made were either from Flopsy begging for food or Wayne replying to her, trying to get her off the kitchen chair next to him. Eddie ate his spaghetti and meatballs in silence, taking turns staring at the cat or down at his lap, never at Wayne.

But after dinner, Wayne was on the couch, nursing a beer and watching Mama's Family. This had become his new tradition, every night he would prop himself up in the living room, most nights falling asleep there. Eddie had retreated to his room, per his regular evening routine, and Wayne expected to watch TV for a few hours alone and then go to bed himself. But he only got through the theme song and opening credits before he heard a door creak open down the hall. Eddie and his mop of curls bounced their way around the corner and into the living room.

He silently sat down on the couch next to Wayne. He looked up, shocked now that his nephew, the ghost of a boy, was finally sitting next to him by choice. "Hey, kiddo," Wayne said, ruffling his hair gently. He didn't flinch, didn't move. Wayne had to hide his surprise by taking another swig of his beer, averting his eyes to the television.

All was calm in the Munson trailer, quiet for the night.

~~~

Eddie spent five weeks with Wayne before his father came looking for him. He showed up at the trailer while Wayne and Eddie were playing a round of cards at the kitchen table, but as soon as Wayne pulled open the door and revealed his brother, Eddie scampered back into his bedroom silently. "Wayne. Long time no see, brother," Al said, pushing past him into the small trailer. "Don't 'brother' me, Al," Wayne said through gritted teeth. Over the past few weeks that were spent with Eddie, he learned a thing or two about what his brother liked to do with his half-smoked cigarettes and rodeo belt. Al looked back at him, a mocking smile plastered over his expression. "What's got your panties in a twist, huh?" he asked. "What do you want, Al? Money? Is that it?" Wayne said, scoffing. "Jeez, where'd your manners go? Aren't you gonna invite me in? Give me a tour or a cup of coffee? I love what you did with the place," he replied, looking around him. The false admiration was dripping from his voice. "Al, when have you ever been welcome in my house? What do you want?" he said, putting a hand on his hip. "I think we both know the answer to that question, Wayne," Al finally said, dropping the smile from his face. Wayne tried his hardest to not let his eyes wander to Eddie's door.

"Why do you want to take him? You know you don't care about him, Vivi told me. She told me everything, Al. You act like he's a burden for you. He's happier here," Wayne said. Al took on a menacing stance. "You better quit sticking your nose in places you don't belong. It got you in trouble once, don't think it won't again. Besides, last time I checked, that boy is my son. Not yours," he gritted, making sure to stand a few steps closer to his brother than was comfortable. Wayne sighed. As much as he hated his brother, he was right. Eddie was not his son. Even just thinking that felt like stabbing a hole clean through his chest. He had to give the boy back, as much as his mind yelled at him that it was a horrible idea. Al wasn't backing down. "Fine. Let me go get him," Wayne decided, walking down the hall to Eddie's room. He knocked on the door. "It's just me, kid. Promise," Wayne offered, and soon the door was opened just enough for him to slip through.

Eddie stared up at his uncle with glassy eyes. "I'm sorry, kid. You're dad's gonna take you home tonight, okay?" Wayne said. He quit looking into the boy's eyes because the sight of it was bound to make him tear up. "But this is home," the small child spoke. Wayne sighed. "I know. And I promise, you're gonna be home soon, okay? Give me a little while to sort it all out, and then I'll bring you home, okay?" He promised. "Why don't you go pack up your stuff."

With that, Eddie packed his clothes and toothbrush into his small backpack. Wayne stood in the corner, watching the child solemnly. Once Eddie had finished, he spent one last ditch effort. "Please, don't let him take me," he pleaded quietly. Those six simple words almost broke Wayne entirely. "Kid, I've gotta. But I swear on my life that you'll be here soon, okay? Real soon. Promise," he said, squatting down to the boy's height. He was utterly surprised when the boy wrapped his arms around Wayne's neck, hugging him for the first time. Wayne hadn't been hugged by a child this small since Lisa was with him. He spent a few moments in shock, before wrapping his arms around the boy and enjoying the embrace.

Eventually, the pair let go and Wayne walked Eddie down the hallway. He watched a shift happen in the boy; it seemed like all the joy and talkativeness had disappeared from his body once he had walked within 5 feet of his father. At the same moment, Al started on his berade of the child, immediately pointing out what was wrong with him. "Boy, who let you keep your hair this long? Your mama? I ain't gonna be seen with no hippy of a son. Stand up straight, too," he complained as they walked out of the trailer door and into the night. Eddie quietly obeyed his every direction. Wayne was silently thanking his stars that the boy was as compliant as he was. It would be easier for him that way. Al had always gotten along better with people he could boss around.

Wayne finally understood why the boy was so quiet; he could barely get a word in edgewise with how much Al reprimanded him.

Watching his nephew walk out the door without even having a chance to say goodbye felt like a kick in the stomach. He was suddenly winded and tired and decided to sit down on the couch, flipping on the TV. Before he got the chance to change the channel, he caught the end of Mama's Family.

"That's what family is all about. Doing things that make you miserable," the laugh track cued.

Just that simple phrase, just two sentences, was the last nail in the coffin for Wayne. He felt his waterline brimming with tears, and quickly changed the channel, wiping his eyes.

When he couldn't move on from the thought of his nephew, all alone with his brother, he got up and walked down the hallway into Eddie's room. He sat down on the bedspread, which was spaceman-and-alien-themed after Eddie couldn't make a decision at the store.

~~~

Six months later, Wayne was woken up at three o'clock by the telephone ringing. He answered and was met with the voice of the police. "Mr. Munson?" the voice asked. "Yes, that's me," he replied, trying to rid his voice of sleep. "We have your brother, Alfred, in custody. You're the closest living relative of his son. Would you be able to come and get him?"

Wayne didn't waste a second. He said yes without hesitation.

Within five minutes, he had tugged on a pair of work jeans and was in his truck, reversing out of the trailer park. It took him 15 more minutes to pull into his brother's driveway, the house illuminated by the flashes of red and blue emitted by the police cars. Wayne pulled himself out of the truck and jogged over to the police officer. "Hello? I'm Mr. Munson, I've come to pick up Alfred's son," Wayne explained. The officer shook his hand. "Jim Hopper. Chief of Hawkins Police. We've got the kid sitting in one of the squad cars. He's a little freaked out right now. I mean, we all are. In all my years working here, never have I worked a case with as much gore as this one," he explained. Wayne must've had a look of confusion on his face because Chief Hopper elaborated. "You are aware that Mrs. Vivianne Munson was considered a missing person for a few months. We found traces of her blood and flesh in the house and a bag of her body parts buried in a field close by. I mean, his fingerprints were all over everything." The moment after he explained, Wayne was sorry that he ever let his brother take that boy away.

He gathered himself as Hopper walked him over to his nephew. The boy was sitting in a squad car, the door open, his feet hanging outside. He looked wildly different than the last time Wayne had seen him. His father had shorn his lovely curls down to his scalp, and he sported dark rings underneath his eyes. He stared at the ground, his hands clenched into fists. "Eddie?" Wayne called, shoving his hands into his pockets. The boy didn't make eye contact with him, or anyone else for that matter. He just got up from the car, walked past Wayne, and got into the passenger seat of his truck. Hopper and Wayne shared a look, until Wayne shrugged and walked back to his truck.

"He took her," Eddie muttered quietly. "What was that, kid?" Wayne asked, his eyes focused on the road. They had been driving for some odd time by now, and the truck had been silent thus far. "He took her. From me," Eddie repeated, louder this time. Wayne didn't know what to say. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and focused. "Yes, he did, son. He did. He's gonna pay for it, too, okay?" Wayne explained. The boy finally looked up at him. "It won't bring her back, will it?" he asked. The man looked over at him for a sheer minute and saw his eyes gloss over with tears. Angry tears. Hot, burning drops that trickled in steady streams down the boy's cheeks.

He cried quietly, almost silent, until they pulled up at the trailer and Wayne patted his back. He was sobbing at that point, cries racking through his entire frame in the passenger seat. He held his face in his hands, letting the tears fall into his palms.

"Listen. My Pop wasn't good to us either, you know? But guess what; I made it through. I know you can too. Hell, if I can, you most definitely can, kid. You got more spunk and courage in your little pinky than I've got in my whole body, hmm?" Wayne explained once the boy had stopped crying. "You can make it through, Eddie, I know you can. You're better than your past. You're better than this." This would be a phrase that Eddie would hear from his uncle many times in the coming years.

Eddie, only eleven years old, looked up at Wayne with huge, glossy eyes and a twinkle he had only ever seen in Lisa, and that was when he knew. He knew it would be the last time he ever let that boy go.

I’ve seen a couple before but I’m surprised Eddie Van Halen & Valerie Bertinelli’s pics aren’t used for Eddie Munson more. They’re perfect, a literal goldmine, she was living the y/n life before it was even a thing!

Long-haired guitarists are the reason I sleep at night.