The Break (An Eddie Munson Story)

Chapter 31: Steve Gets Jealous

A/N: No author's note from me today. I'll be back with the next chapter! This chapter contains mentions of neglective parents, abusive partners, therapy and Steve Harrington.

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It would be okay, the blonde told herself, as she tucked a rogue lock of golden hair, that had escaped her usually pristine ponytail, safetly behind her ear. The self reassurance felt hollow and devoid of comfort, as Chrissy offered a forced smile at her boyfriend, whom had walked around to her side of his car and made a show of opening the door, as if she were royalty. Chrissy had never felt more like a wretch in her life. Jason held out his hand for her to take and in return, Chrissy had to force herself not to flinch at the action.

As she got out of the car, she took notice of Eddie's truck a few parking spaces over. Only the night prior, had she been sat in the exact same shotgun seat as you, chatting freely with Eddie, just as you did. Like Jason, the brunet held put his hand for you to take, which you took without hesitation. Instead of flinching, you laughed at his antics, as twirled you under his arm and back, as if you were dancing at a ball and not in the school parking lot. You looked happy. Genuinely happy and Chrissy was glad. Someone needed to be happy and she would rather it you, than those people who lied when they called themselves her friends.

When she felt Jason's hand entwine with her, she could have thrown up there and then. Those same hands, which had caused such harm, upon her body, when he...

"Come on, babe. Let's get to class." Jason murmured to his girlfriend, as he kept their hands linked and pulled her along to their homeroom, as she merely moved on autopilot.

After a busy morning of lessons and learning, hunch had not arrived soon enough for your liking, you thought, as you lay on the bench, that was situated in the forest clearing.

You needed this, this moment of peace and quiet, before you ventured back into class and then, after the final bell dismissed you, onwards towards Ms Kelly's office, where you would be trapped for a hour. Forced to talk about matters you would rather forget but could not exorcise from your memory and so, were continually haunted by the ghosts of those you once wished would love you and of a world beyond a gate, that should not have existed but did. What lay in that unforgettable realm of decay, also lurked in the four corners of your shadowy mind. It kept you awake, when you should have been sleeping soundly. Not listening to Eddie's soft snores or mumbled in coherency, as he shifted onto his side. A murmur of your name, a reply to an unheard question, sometimes even the word 'Dad'- though that under utilised noun was usually only mentioned in the mindst of a nightmare.

You knew that, you would never be able to talk about such things to a civilian like Ms Kelly. She would never believe you and the last thing you needed was her thinking you were truly insane. You would never get to leave Hawkins, if you were deemed mentally unfit and potentially a danger to others. Not that you were, you would never intentionally hurt anyone...except the likes of Andy. Seeing how well the town reacted to someone as harmless as Eddie, your chances of them being fine with your traumatised self were slim to none.

The sounding of the afternoon bell, broke you away from your thoughts. You groaned at the prospect of having to sit through more lessons. Oh, how you wished you could spend the remainder of your time on that bench, as you had for most of the academic year. However, that was the old you. The sad you. The hopeless you. The new Y/N had a new life, waiting for them on the horizon with the person they loved and by some miracle, who too loved them back. It was to the thought of the brunet that you willed yourself to get up and grab your carelessly discarded backpack. Slinging the strap onto your shoulder, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that, it would be okay.

Yeah, you were not completely convinced either.

Meanwhile on the other side of town, Steve was distracted. For once, his preoccupation was not caused by an attractive individual, the kind that usually caught his eye, as they browsed through the nearby selection of films. No, he was engrossed in the copy of American Werewolf in London, that had been placed on the counter by a customer, who waited for the brunet to shake himself out of his reverie and charge them the hiring fee.