the first time you crossed paths, you had been getting ready to start your first day at the last school year. senior year...finally. no more high school bullshit, no more failed romances, no more drama-well...that is if you're not from hawkins, indiana, a town seemingly cursed. with a lot of emotions pent up, you hop into your vehicle — a hand me down from a relative of yours — and started driving towards what would be the beginning of the end.
minutes later, you're found in front of hawkins high school, hundreds of teenagers talking amongst themselves, some of them about how high school would be like (poor little things) and some about how they cannot wait for the damn school year to be over. with your backpack in hand, you walk towards the inside of the school, but...before entering, at the school front doors, you're found with the (in)famous eddie munson.
well, "found with" is an overstatement, he doesn't even look your way, neither do you his, you simply smell the cigarette that was sitting between his pink lips, huffing and walking past him. how can they allow a student to smoke outside of school? 80's magic, i suppose.
quickly, you put your backpack in your newly assigned locker, which was not at all you. you think about your previous locker, which had your name written all over it —not literally— it was just...you, decorated with pictures of you and friends, you alone, your friends alone, celebrity crushes and whatnot.
the hall begins to empty, the school bell all too familiar, all too missed and at the same time hated rings loudly in your ears, as well as everyone else's. that doesn't stop the few teenagers arriving late to give a shit about it, though.
as you take out your schedule (which you're not familiar with just yet) you let it drop accidentally, while doing so, you notice the locker next to yours is being opened, you only see the shoes and jeans of this person. black boots, ripped jeans, a handkerchief dangling from the back pocket of these. as you pick up the sheet of paper, the same mysterious person disappears, leaving you with the doubt of who your locker neighbor might be.
the first time you exchanged words, was a week after. not that you didn't notice every time (as infrequent as it was) he grabbed a book from his locker. he was kind of an enigma, you thought. always in his business, never bothering anyone, yet he got weird glances every single fucking day. you noticed, so you knew he did too.
as the inevitability of time goes by, marking the end of the day, 2:15 on the dot, you go to gather your things, when he is there as well. his unusual uneasiness makes you wonder if he lost anything, he seemed...crazy. that's the word. grabbing one by one the books in his hand and in exasperation throwing them to the ground while he cursed himself. you walk towards your locker, which was mere inches, centimeters, away from the panic.
"y-you haven't seen a black lunch box, have you?!" he asks you, fear- no, terror on his voice.
"i'm sorry, i haven't" you blink at him, pity in your voice. obviously, whatever was inside this box was extremely important. that or he was just very hungry. "shit, shit, shit. rick's gonna kill me" he murmurs to himself.
"um...cafe- in the cafeteria, maybe?" your suggestion makes him turn to you.
prettiest. eyes. ever.
"yeah, you're right...i didn't even look in there. thanks" he hurriedly walks down the hall. you're left with the doubt once again, he was an enigma.
he wasn't. or so you'd found out later on.
the first time he smiled at you, was the day after.
friday meant a lot of things. liberty from the hell we call school for two days is one of them. partying, is another one of them.
music blasted in the house of a random popular kid you honestly couldn't bring yourself to care about. you and your friends were inevitably there because...let's be honest, we are nobodies in high school if we don't put ourselves out there. whether for the best or for the worst, you found yourself in a party where people from previous school years were in. you don't know how they keep getting invited, maybe it's a mystery for another time.
