Against all odds || Stranger Things 4 | Hellcheer

Chapter 7

It's only because his stomach is growling too loud that Eddie offers to go grab a bite in his trailer. He would have stayed sat on the roof of his van with Chrissy curled up against him all night. He made a fool of himself going down, while she gracefully jumped off the hood. She laughed, though, so it was worth it.

Now he stands in his kitchen, making mac'n cheese out of a can, with his uncle's radio playing some Lesly Gore song. If it wasn't for Chrissy humming the tune, he would have changed the station. She hasn't opened up yet, he doesn't want to push it.

There's an awkward silence when she asks for the tiniest portions of food. Eddie feels the shame burning on his face. She's used to better than that! He jokingly compares it to the school's food but she responds with a queasy smile so he moves the subject to movies. To his surprise, her face lights up at the mention of Star Wars.

*

Chrissy follows Eddie to his bedroom, glad to take the plates of food out of her sight. He's insisting on showing her the Empire Strike Back poster he got his hands on – which is probably his way of saying he stole it.

"There's a colony of leprechauns under my bed," he jokes, "they're the ones making all this mess."

"I have a brother," she giggles, "I know what a boy's room looks like."

Although Eddie's room does seem to have been under attack. There are so many things everywhere she doesn't know where to start. As he fumbles on his desk, her eyes linger on his nightstand. Catching sight of what seems to be a pack of condoms near the overfull ashtray, she gets hit by a wave of heat and quickly looks away.

Thankfully, before the recall of her last nightmare overwhelms her – Slut! Whore! – she spots something she'd never thought of seeing here: nail polish! She takes the tiny black bottle with an amused smile and glances at Eddie.

"Yeah, uh... That was..."

She giggles. "Let me guess, you couldn't put it correctly on your right hand?"

His eyebrows lift up, she laughs harder.

"It takes some practice. But this is your lucky day, because I'm quite an expert!"

It takes little to no convincing to get Eddie to sit down and put his hand on a pillow. He rambles about how he's seen some people – whose name she doesn't know but she guesses they're members of his favorite bands – with their nails painted in black and how it looks so metal. She just enjoys the routine of applying the polish and makes fun of his taste in jewelry when she realizes one of his rings is a hog's face.

"Now you can't touch anything for the next 20 minutes," she announces when she's done. "Especially not your hair!" she adds when he moves one of his hands toward it.

"What if I need to scratch my nose," he mocks.

She rolls her eyes, then stares down at the bottle. Her mother never allows her to wear anything else but light pink... She opens it up again, and paints her left thumb nail before examining the result.

"Pretty cool, uh," says Eddie.

She nods, but puts the polish away. She'll have to get rid of that before her mother sees it.

"So, uh... What do you want to do now?"

She looks up at him, then smiles as an idea comes to her mind.

"Normally, after doing your nail, I should brush your hair."

He bursts into laughter. "Whatever pleases the queen!"

*

Eddie makes a big deal of being loud about the fact that having a hair routine is very low on his priority list. It helps cover the fact that he gets very warm every time Chrissy's fingers brush his face or his neck when she gathers his hair back.

He's sitting on a pile of cushions, against the couch from where she's brushing his hair. Sometimes he feels her knees in the back of his shoulders too and gets torn between wanting more contact or keeping a safe distance. Thankfully, the brush gets stuck in a knot often enough to snap him out of it.

"I'm just saying, a little conditioner wouldn't hurt," she says. "This is supposed to be relaxing but all I'm doing is pulling your hair!"

"Just stop when you've had enough," he shrugs.

"Oh no, not until you've experienced the real bliss of smooth hair brushing!"

She struggles on a few more tangled portions before they get there, but he understands what she means. It does feel really nice. So much he could fall asleep, especially with the soft rustle of the brush and the nostalgic tunes from the radio being the only sounds in the trailer.

Chrissy slips her hand in the back of his neck to comb his hair from underneath. The gentle scratch of her fingernails gives him shivers. He closes his eyes as she alternates between the brush and her hand. He better not get used to this...

Then, the brush stops.

"I'm scared," says Chrissy, in the tiniest voice.

Eddie opens his eyes but doesn't dare to move. It's only when he hears her sobbing quietly that he turns around to face her. He's got to ask.

*

Chrissy shuts her eyes and turns away. The unsettling sensation that the monster of her nightmares is near makes her shiver again. It's not quite like when she had those visions, it feels distant, like an echo...

Eddie climbs on the couch to sit next to her. "Is somebody...hurting you?"

She looks at him and suddenly realizes what he means. It makes sense with his history, but it gets her sick with guilt. For all his obliviousness, her father would never lift a hand on her and she hates that she might have implied he was.

"It's not like that," she mumbles.

She already regrets saying anything at all. How could she possibly explain what she's scared about? If she did to any of her friends, the whole school would know within days, and she would be the new freak.

"Look," he says with a genuine concern on his face, "you don't have to say anything, just...just tell me what I can do."

She pulls her knees to her chest and buries her face in them. Eddie moves closer.

"Hey, come here..."

She nestles against Eddie, grasping a handful of his t-shirt, desperate for him to tell her everything is fine. "Just stay, please," she whispers.

"I'm not going anywhere...Jesus- Chris, you're shaking!"

She can't say if it's the fact that he used her nickname, or because he holds her tighter, but she bursts out in tears. He slips his hand under her knees and swipes her legs across his, pulling her even closer. She shifts to a comfortable position and, in the warmth of his arms, cries herself to sleep.