To The End || EDDIE MUNSON x READER||

Late Nights in The Trailer Park

The ride to Eddie's place was quiet, the kind of quiet that made me aware of every little thing—the hum of the van's engine, the faint rattle of guitar strings in the back, and Eddie tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with whatever song was stuck in his head.

When he turned into the trailer park, I recognized it instantly. Wait... this is where Max lives now.

Sure enough, when we pulled up, her trailer sat right across from Eddie's. I couldn't help but smile. Hawkins really did feel smaller every day.

Before I could even reach for the handle, Eddie had already jumped out and swung my door open for me.
"Wow, such a gentleman," I teased.

He grinned. "Hey, I try."

I grabbed my bag, and he unlocked the front door, holding it open.
"After you, milady."

Inside, the trailer smelled faintly like cigarette smoke, motor oil, and cheap air freshener. There were cans scattered on the counter, and a few shirts and papers lay across the couch.

"Sorry it's a mess," Eddie said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm never home much, and my uncle—well, he's not exactly domestic."

"It's fine," I said honestly. "I can help clean up if you want."

He raised an eyebrow. "Y/N, I'm not lett—"

"Eddie," I sighed, grabbing a trash bag off the floor and holding it out to him. "Just grab another and help me."

He laughed under his breath, that crooked smile spreading across his face. "Yes, ma'am."

After a few minutes, we fell into a rhythm—me tossing cans into one bag, him picking up papers and empty bottles. Eventually, I got bored. "You got any music?"

His eyes lit up. "You know it."

He disappeared down the hall and came back holding a battered little radio. After fiddling with the dial for a bit, he landed on a station that was actually clear. The song was something loud and a little gritty—perfectly Eddie.

By the time we finished, the place looked shockingly good. Counters wiped down, dishes clean, carpet vacuumed, and even the clutter in the hall gone.

"See? That wasn't so bad," I said, checking the clock on the wall. "Only took thirty-five minutes."

"You're scary efficient," he said, leaning against the counter. "You tired?"

"Not at all. I woke up around eleven today," I laughed.

"Same," he said, and for a second, we just smiled at each other.

"Wanna clean something else?" I joked, and he laughed.

"Well, the bathroom's fine, and my uncle's room is off-limits... guess that leaves mine."

He led me down the hall, and the moment he opened his door, the red light from his lamps spilled across the hallway.

Inside, the room was exactly what I expected—organized chaos. A mattress shoved into the corner, blankets half hanging off, walls covered in band posters, and a desk crowded with papers, markers, and guitar picks.

"Okay," I said, hands on my hips. "You do your clothes, I'll grab the dishes."

"I'll take care of the dishes. You sit," he said quickly, and before I could argue, he scooped them up and disappeared.

When he came back, I was vacuuming the floor. He laughed. "Guess I can't stop you from helping."

"Nope," I said, turning off the vacuum. "Good as new."