She's reported missing, just like she thought she'd be.
The report claims him to be the number one suspect. He's now been accused of two murders, plus kidnapping. If anyone sees him, she knows in the pit of her stomach that they wouldn't hesitate to take justice into their own hands.
"Hey," he starts, encouraging her to rest against the couch once more and relax her tense muscles. "It's okay. I'll be fine, right? If anyone's gonna get this sorted out, it's Dustin. Kids a freaking genius." He encourages.
Then they tell them the plan.
A very small part of him wants to freak out, lose his shit, scream at the top of his lungs, and run and hide until either all of this ends or they all die.
Obviously, he can't do any of that. He doesn't do that running and hiding thing anymore.
It's not very metal.
Max offered to sacrifice herself, shut off Kate Bush and sit in Vecna's attic until he takes over her mind so that he's distracted while they try to kill him. It's a smart idea, to get him into a trance so that Steve, Nancy, and Robin can sneak up behind him and take him out, but leaving it up to a kid is stupid and reckless and irresponsible, and Eddie's never been that irresponsible.
But then, the only other option is Chrissy. And that...
He doesn't like that one bit.
But Max is a kid. And Chrissy is a good person– the best . She would never let something happen to any of the Sheep if she could help it, and, she reminds him, neither would he.
"It'll be okay," she tells him with a soft smile, the one he loves and never really saw much of before a week ago. "Promise. I'll be fine."
He has to believe her, because he finds himself believing everything that comes out of her mouth, but part of him doesn't want to. He wants to be negative, tell her she doesn't know that, drag her out of here and flee, but he can't. He doesn't do that shit anymore. So he just nods and tosses her the most pathetic, least encouraging smile he's ever felt cross his own face.
Chrissy, his friend-turned-something-more, smiles softly back at him, cringing as she sits daintily on the old rickety floor and brushes the cobwebs away. He looks at her in awe, at the way she sits there with a gentle smile."How can you be so sure?" he asks, not wondering how she knows, but more... how she can believe it.
"I just... know," she shrugs. "I know you'll keep me safe. I know if you're here, I can fight him."
Well, that's a lot of pressure to put on one guy.
But Chrissy's strong. He knows she doesn't need him, because she'll fight off this son of a bitch just like she did last time.
"You could fight him without me," he assures her. He knows it's true because he saw the strength in her face and heard it in her voice when she called out for Vecna to come and get her the second she pulled her headphones off her ears.
"I'll still need you to put Stevie Nicks back on when I start to levitate, though," she jokes, taking his hand once he's seated across from her and leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. "I'll be okay," she whispers.
He just nods, holding himself close to her, hoping to never have to pull away and letting his brows furrow painfully when he feels her stiffen beneath his hands. He presses his palms to her cheeks, his forehead on hers, and he begs her to be careful. He whispers that he's here, that she's okay, that she's amazing and strong and perfect, and he's telling himself as much as he's telling her.
There's no way of knowing how long this is supposed to take, so he backs up slightly, hands still cradling her face and heart skipping a beat as he watches her eyes race back and forth. They're cloudy like they were that night, glazed over in the height of the curse Vecna puts over her, and it's terrifying to see her the way she looked just a few weeks ago before she was pulled up to his ceiling.
