the chain

watch the sun rise

The woods are almost perfect. It's quiet because nobody really thinks to venture out here. At least not during lunch. The sun breaks through the trees, leaving gaps of light on fallen leaves and branches. The old, wooden bench has names carved into it. You even recognise some as you read.

Carol Perkins '84

King Steve Harrington.

You roll your eyes, making a mental note to tease him about that when you see him next. The tips of your fingers trail over the carvings, landing on the one closest to you.

X E.M X

Maybe once you graduate, you'll add your own name to the table. Maybe Dustin, Mike, and Lucas can even add theirs, eventually. You smile faintly at the thought. This would be a perfect place to read and get some writing done.

"Look at you," Eddie drawls, slamming his metal box onto the table in front of you and smiling when you flinch, "looking up from your homework."

Yeah, almost perfect. Eddie frequents this place and no matter how long you're here, he always breaks the peaceful silence. Granted, you only ever come here to see him.

"Look at you, still annoying as ever," you shoot back, watching as he swings a leg over the table to sit, "there's no crowd of basketball players to taunt out here, you know. You can lower the volume."

"Huh?" He practically shouts, eyebrows furrowing as he raises a hand to his ear, "What was that?"

Rolling your eyes, you slap your hands over your ears, "God, alright, just tell me how much it is so I can leave."

"Sorry?" Eddie stands from his seat, leaning over the table and practically laying on it. His face contorts as he pretends, "Speak up, dear!" You shove him back gently and he sits down with a huff. He cocks his head at you, his voice softer now, "Hey. Be gentle with me."

"Don't make me steal it from you, you know I will."

He pulls back, hands reaching the box and pulling it towards him, "That's dangerous for you."

"Is it?"

"Yeah," he nods honestly, "I know what town you live in. I know what school you go to. I can find you."

"By the time you do, I will have smoked it all," you shrug sweetly, giving him a sympathetic smile.

"Bookworm turns to the dark side?" He raises an eyebrow at you, accusingly.

"If you keep yelling, yeah, maybe," you respond, fishing through your pocket for cash, "same as last time?"

"Uh," he cringes slightly, hands tapping the metal box rhythmically before opening it, "actually..."

Your face falls, "Oh, come on."

"Business is business, baby."

"You upped your prices three months ago, Eddie," you remind him, watching as he pulls the contents from his box. It's a black box, old as shit, metal with papers, filters, and most importantly, the pot. You have a sort of... civil agreement, you and Eddie Munson. Despite your animosity towards one another, he's the person you come to when you need to unwind - which isn't a whole lot, lately. The Upside Down has been relatively quiet since last year, which you're thankful for.

"That's the thing with running a business," he begins, sliding a ziplock bag in your direction, "gotta make some money somehow."

Letting out a sigh, you shoot him a suspicious look, "What the hell are you hoarding money for?"

He leans back, hands pressed against his seat. Eddie looks at you, confidently, "Gonna graduate and leave this place."

You look at him, the outcast kid in your year level, and you think about what the future holds for him. There's nothing you can condemn about it, leaving Hawkins is probably a really, really good idea. "Oh, really?" You raise your eyebrows at him, "Where are you gonna go? Detroit Rock City?"

"Actually, I- wait, Detroit Rock City?" He pauses, staring down at you for a moment before he leans forward on the table, "You listen to Kiss?"

"Huh?"

"Kiss?"

"I'm just here for weed, man, I don't want to kiss you," you mock him, smirking at your own joke and ignoring how he rolls his eyes. Part of you kind of enjoys seeing him get frustrated and taken down a peg. Maybe that's why you have this type of friendship with him - though neither of you would ever call one another a friend. Unbeknown to you, Eddie feels the same way. He doesn't mind doing deals with you, he actually looks forward to teasing you, despite how mean that sounds.

"Your attempt at replicating human humour has failed," he tells you, resting his head upon his hand, "you're still a machine."

"If I pretend to be hurt by that comment, will you stop heinously overcharging me?" You wonder, setting your cash on the table.

Eddie thinks it over, eyes turning slightly soft when he looks down at you. "Hm," he licks his lips for a moment before leaning forward a little, "No."

"Asshole."

"Loser."

"Nerd," you narrow your eyes at him.

"Loner."

"Freak."

"Everything is such a pleasure with you!" Eddie smiles sweetly, clasping his hands together triumphantly, "I really love our friendly, little chats."

"There's nothing friendly about you," you shove your cash towards him, "Is that enough? I can't believe I'm singlehandedly paying for you to leave Hawkins."

He squints his eyes, examining the cash, "Hm, something inside of me wants to charge you more."

"Fuck off."

"Jesus, I'm kidding," he widens his eyes at your tone, picking the notes up from the table and stacking them upon one another. Eddie looks down at the cash, shaking his head, "You really are humourless, sometimes I think you don't even have a personality."

"Aw. You think about me?" You taunt, brushing off his judgemental gaze. Asshole. What the hell would he know about you?

"Only in moments of deep despair when I'm filled with rage and hatred."

"That's cute," you reach out to grab the packet but he grips your hand before you can take the weed. Eddie meets your eyes.

"You know," he continues, his voice slightly deeper and serious, "if you happen to be looking for actual fun, there are other things I can give to you."

"How about you give me peace and quiet instead?"

"I'm being serious," he snaps his hand away, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh, sorry, Eddie Munson's being serious now," you give him a nod, stashing the weed into your backpack, "Fine. Tell me."

"I have a stash of shit back at my place," he says, closing the metal box and setting it aside, "Special K. Depends on how you take it but it's sure to be a good time."

"What's it like?"

"Peaceful - for me at least. But you feel happy, like really happy. I get my best inspiration when I'm on it," he admits, mimicking a guitar in his hands and wiggling his fingers on the invisible strings. Eddie watches you, noticing how you bite your lip as you think, "Think about it, okay?" He adds understandingly, "Come to mine after the game if you're keen."