Eddie (self-insert x character)

Chapter 1

"Wait so you actually WANT to find Munson? And talk to him...willingly?"
My best friend looked at me with a disturbed expression.
"I mean I knew you liked the weird dudes but damn. A murderer is definitely the worst one yet."
I rolled my eyes and began pacing my bedroom.
"Yes I want to talk to him because he's not a murderer. None of it makes sense. Why was Chrissy in his trailer? How could she have taken hard drugs when she's never done that kind of thing in her life? Then there's the whole no evidence suggesting he even laid a hand on her thing, and..."
I paused my passionate train of thought when i heard my friend snort. Looking up, they gave me a look of sheer disbelief.
"Wow...you're really sticking to your guns on this one aren't you?"
My face fell a little seeing that none of my revelations had gotten through to my friend. They were always the first to bring me back to reality and normally I appreciated their realistic pessimism but right now I just needed them to trust me.
Seeing my hurt look, my friend stood up and grabbed my arm, pulling me back onto the bed with them.
"Look. I know you really like this guy but you don't even know him, babe. Have you ever even talked to him? He's been at Hawkins 2 years longer than he should have and I bet you can't even describe what his personality is like. He's cute in a freaky way, I'll give you that, but he's bad news."
I frowned and stood up to pace again. I was listening to my friend's concerns even though I  respectfully disagreed because at least they were looking out for me. Even so, I don't buy into the town gossip and felt a little disappointed that my friend had fallen for it.
"You always think my crushes are bad news."
My friend scoffed and flopped down on the bed, annoyed at my persistence.
"Because they were. But none of your other crushes have been accused of homicide, need I remind you."
Fair point.
"But accusations aren't the same thing as proof! I mean he's a little weird but in a totally harmless way. His friends are the dorkiest kids I've ever seen, even the ones with Mohawks and the shredded leather pants. They play a fucking make-believe game that involves rolling dice. Does that sound like a killer agenda to you?"
My friend sat up and sighed. I continued pacing but gave them the respect of looking up to show I was still listening.
"You just don't know him like that. Maybe he's not a killer. But he sounds like a loser at best and everyone in this town thinks he murdered a sweet little cheerleader like Chrissy in cold blood. No chance you're convincing anybody he's not guilty when he was the last one to see her alive."
The words stung but I knew they were right, at least about not being able to convince the town to call off their witch-hunt.
If the police couldn't convince people to stay in their houses and comply with their orders, what hope did I have convincing the mobs that Eddie was innocent?
They were also right about me not knowing Eddie. At least not anymore.
But I was determined to find him and talk to him about what really happened. I didn't know why but I couldn't shake the thought of him being terrified and alone somewhere.
Pushing past my friend, I ran to the garage and began digging around the junk my family had tucked away in the far corner.
My friend, who had followed me out there, stood in the garage doorway with a confused expression.
"What the hell are you looking for?"
Ignoring them, I dug deeper.
It has to be here somewhere.
Finally my hands touched the matte plastic surface I was looking for and I yanked it out of the pile. Trinkets clattered at my feet as I held up the object victoriously and my friend beckoned me towards them to get a closer look.
"A helmet?"
Grinning, I spun on my heel and walked over to the opposite corner of the garage where a teal bike covered in dust lay decrepit and hidden behind some plywood. Arching a brow, my friend watched me tug the bike out and inspect the wheels. Satisfied with the amount of air in them, I leaned it against the wall and scurried past them back into the house.
Running into the kitchen, I pulled out some baggies and began assembling sandwiches of different varieties. Sidling up beside me, my friend reached for the sandwich I had just completed.
"Ooh is this for me?"
"Hey paws off. These sandwiches are for fugitives only," I scolded.
Scoffing, they sat at the stool across the island from me and watched my frenzied sandwich making with a mildly entertained look on their face.
"You are really committed to this bit. Bravo. If I didn't know you I'd think you might be serious about finding this kid."
Ignoring them, I began rummaging through my cabinets in search of snack items.
Raising their voice to be heard over the clatter, my friend called out to me.
"Thing is, I DO know you! So I KNOW you're not joking about all this but I'm asking you as a friend,"
They paused and waited for me to turn to face them with chip bags clutched in each hand.
"Let this go. Please. You might be right but it's not worth it."
I met their eye and sighed, setting the chips on the counter. Thinking they had won me over, they continued, their voice rising.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'll admit that the case doesn't add up completely. Not everything. But you know you have to let this go, right? It's for the best."
That was enough to convince me that I was on the right track.
They knew I might be right and if a skeptic like my best friend could admit the case sounded phony, maybe others might have noticed it too.
"At least you can admit it," I said, walking around the island to pick up my backpack sitting on the stool next to them.
Seeing this, they arched a brow.
"Yeah but what are you-"
I frantically began stuffing the sandwiches and the chips into the bag, stopping briefly only to swipe some bottled water from the fridge and tuck it into the bottom of the bag beneath the food.
My friend huffed and stood up, ready to block my way out of the kitchen.
"Dude. You just agreed to let this go."
"No, YOU just agreed that I was right and that means I have to find him! Maybe I can't clear his name," I reasoned, backing up and opening the drawer behind me to grab the house keys.
"But I can still hear him out. See for myself if his story makes sense."
Looking angry now, my friend slowly advanced on me as I continued to back away from them. Sensing their attention was focused on keeping me in their sights rather than where I was going, I led them around the island and looped my way back towards the garage door.
"You know I can't let you leave now."
Still clinging to the hope that they could talk me out of it, they spoke in a forced calm tone.
"I understand that you feel like he's a misunderstood guy who needs someone to believe in him. And in any other circumstance I would let you find out for yourself that the guy you like is bad news. But he might have killed a girl and you might meet this guy yourself and decide he DID kill her. And then he'll kill you and you'll find out the hard way that the town was right!"
With this last word, they lunged for my bag and I dodged their grasp, running out into the garage and slamming the door behind me. Knowing the sticky door only bought me a few seconds, I slid my wrist through the helmet strap where it lay on the ground and let it flop at my sides while I straightened up the bike and ran it out onto the driveway. The garage door burst open behind me and with a gasp I clambered onto the bike and began pedaling as fast as I could.
I could hear shoes slapping the concrete and knew my friend was chasing me.
"Stop! You know this is a bad idea," they called out, already sounding winded.
Knowing that if I turned around and saw their expression of concern I might reconsider, I refused to look back and reminded myself why I was doing this. Feeling pumped with adrenaline, I began pedaling faster and the footfalls behind me grew fainter.
"I'm sorry! I promise I'll come back," I called over my shoulder.
Though their voice was barely audible in the distance at this point, I heard a soft
"You'd better."
Smiling, I pedaled onward and began rationalizing where I would hide if I was a freaky cute Metalhead running from a crime I may or may not have committed.