Fight or Flight (Eddie Munson x Y/N)

7. "Deal with the Devil"

You finish your calculus homework faster than you thought and you look up at the clock. 

Still 10 more minutes before Stacy will be done rah-rah-ing, you think. 

You thank Ms. Kelley for letting you stay and walk out of the classroom, down the hallway and out the side doors of the building, closest to where the cheer squad practices. 

The cold September air hits you hard, so you wrap your corduroy jacket around you a little tighter before reaching into your messenger bag for your Walkman. 

As you're reaching in, you feel someone grab your arm from behind you. Adrenaline immediately spikes as you feel immediate, white hot fear. You take a sharp breath in and whip around to face your assailant, until you, for the second time today, meet the dark eyes of Eddie Munson. 

"Shit," you exhale, take a step back, sizing him up. "You scared the shit out of me." 

Instead of apologizing, he grins and crosses his arms, beginning to walk a slow circle around you. "Interesting."

Immediately you're a little annoyed at his flippant response. "I'm sorry, what's so interesting exactly? The very normal fight or flight response someone has when some creep sneaks up on you?" 

You see a flicker of what looks like surprise, maybe even hurt, on this face by the accusation; but he quickly recovers. "No....no. You're smart. Yet, you've got quite a mouth on you," he chuckles. "And still yet, you're in Mrs. Kelley's tutoring room. So I guess no one's perfect?" 

You disregard the multiple backhanded compliments. "I wasn't in there for tutoring. I was in there hoping to BE a tutor. And I'm sorry, is every boy in this school a misogynistic prick?" 

He puts up his hands immediately and back up a step. "Woah, woah. Who said anything about misogyny? It's just that most girls in Hawkins are...one-dimensional." He takes a step forward again, not breaking eye contact with you. "You're different," he assesses. As if confirming it to himself, he then smiles and nods once, "You're a bit of a freak." 

"I don't like fitting into boxes," you respond, feeling your guard come down just slightly. He's not... dangerous. You're not sure how much of his bravado is an act or a coping mechanism. Damn, you've learned a lot in therapy...

"I can see that," he smiles again and takes another step forward. "Listen," he continues, breaking eye contact for the first time to look down. He almost looks shy. "I have a proposition for you. Since you're looking to tutor and I'm desperate need of a tutor...maybe we can help each other out?" He runs his metal ring-clad hand through his mane of curls. 

"I thought you didn't need a tutor. I thought this was your  year," you mock him, although you can't help but smile. The banter is nice. It feels natural. You might be a man hating bitch since you hit high school, but you can't deny the fact he's hot either. 

"It is...clearly," he says, looking back up at you. "Look, I didn't want Ms. Kelley to assign me a tutor I hate and don't have anything in common with." 

"And what makes you think we have anything in..." you begin to argue, before he holds up the front flap of your messenger bag to reveal patches adhered to the fabric: Metallica, Dio, Slayer, Black Sabbath. 

"Right..." you laugh. You noticed the Dio decal on the back of his vest as he left the tutoring room.

"Like I said...definitely not one-dimensional." 

"Alright, alright," you say, holding up your hands, as his body is inches from yours. "What do I really get out of this exchange? I'm not doing this from the goodness of my heart."

"Well, what do you want? I don't have much in the way of money but I can hook you up with a dime bag per session." 

You shake your head vigorously. "No...no drugs." Of course it isn't lost on your that this is a completely different answer than you would've given three years ago. But ever since that night, you haven't touched anything that would leave you not in control."Umm," you think aloud, until you notice his red guitar pick necklace. "Do you play?" you ask, motioning toward it. 

He looks down and touches it. "Uh, yeah, I do. My band Corroded Coffin plays at The Hideout on Tuesdays." 

"That's it then," you nod. 

"What's it?"

"You'll teach me to play guitar." 

"For real?" he says, hesitant. 

You shrug. "I've always wanted to learn how to play. I've never been able to afford my own guitar or lessons. So this is how you can repay me." 

"Done," he smiles.

"By the way, I didn't catch your name." 

"Yeah I was wondering when you'd realize that," you smile. "It's Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeats, listening to how it sounds coming off his lips. "You've got a deal then, Y/N," he holds out his hand for you to shake. 

You slowly take it. It feels warm, soft despite the calluses, strong.

"Deal," you repeat, as you see Stacy jogging up behind Eddie to meet you. "I gotta go," you say quickly. "See you tomorrow, Eddie."

You walk past him to meet Stacy, leaving Eddie once again intrigued at how you knew his name when he had never told you. He watches you as you go, a smile of wonder never leaving his face.