Coward • Eddie Munson

Chpt 5- The Freak

a/n: okay yes i know Ghost technically wasn't a band in the 80s but let me live this moment and in my opinion, Eddie would deff listen to Ghost.

side note: i really hope y'all are getting my Dr. Suess reference.

cw: alcohol consumption

ciao :>

—lau <3

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"You know... you don't really talk about yourself much. Kinda makes me feel like I over share things."

Despite not being a morning person at all, Eddie had still made it by 10. To be honest, you told him you needed his help even though you've made this same recipe many times before. Asking someone to hang out with you was not one of your specialties.

On today's menu: Raspberry Lemonade Cupcakes.

"That's because I hate talking about it," you respond nonchalantly, whisking the pinkish batter together in a large bowl.

"Why? Didn't have any friends there either?," the misfit quizzes, drawing a smiley face in the leftover flour on the counter.

You gasp in offense, bumping your hip against his roughly, "I did too! And what do you mean 'either'? I have friends here."

He laughs, grabbing your arm to stop himself from falling over. The motion surprised you enough you almost fell with him.

"Eddie! You got my arm covered in flour!," you giggle, wiping the powder off. "And besides my last town isn't a place you would've wanted to live in."

"Mm~ really..?," he mused, propping his head up on his hand while peering up at you.

The way he did that made you feel weird.

"Uh- yes. It's cursed just like Hawkins," you comment, turning back to mixing the batter.

"Ah, and what gives you that idea?," the male ponders, standing up straight all the while keeping his gaze on you.

"Kids would go missing and something bad always happened every 27 years," you explain, pouring the batter into the cupcake pan.

"Like how that Byers kid went missing and came back from the dead?," he proposes, observing you insert the pan into the oven.

"Not really."

It wasn't anything like what happened in Hawkins. To make matters worse, Hawkins was probably safer. And there was no way you were going to tell him about the clown, he wouldn't believe you.

"Anyways, why haven't you started on the icing yet?," you divert the subject.

"Cause I don't got a fancy apron like yours," Eddie mumbles, crossing his arms.

"Ugh, you're hopeless," you exhale, attempting to conceal your progressively growing smile.

"Hey, I don't wanna get stains on this limited edition masterpiece," the metal head exaggerates, gesturing towards his Metallica shirt.

"Well then today is your lucky day, jerk," you huff.

As you resumed mixing the yellowish icing, you suddenly got hit with an idea. A very mischievous one.

Before Eddie had time to react, you dipped your finger in the icing and wiped it on his cheek.

"Gotcha bitch," you cackle, watching him touch his face in confusion.

"You little shit," he breathes.

Immediately, he lunged for the bowl, lifting it above his head so you couldn't reach it. For a moment, you didn't know what the fuck happened, it was like you blinked and it was gone.