Steddie One shots

See you 'round Harrington

Eddie's PoV
November 1979 (14 Years Old)
I stared blankly out of the window in math class, totally ignoring everything the teacher was saying to the class.

I snapped back into reality when I heard the door open, and I looked to see who it was. Our principal was standing at the the door with a very serious facial expression.

"Edward Munson can you please come with me?" He said. He posed it like a question, but I knew I had no choice and that I had to go with him.

The class let out their usual chorus of "ooohs" and "someone in trouble's" as I shoved my notebook and pens back into my bag.

Principal Watson didn't say a word as he led me to the front office. Inside the building in the waiting area were two boys, Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byers, both looking very bruised and bloody, and several police officers milling about.

"Sit." Watson instructed me, so I did.

I sat between Steve and Jonathan, who had tension so thick I could've scooped some off to butter my toast.

"What are you in for?" I asked neither of them in particular.

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"This one-" Steve jabbed his finger in Jonathan's direction, "kept flicking things at me in Science. I retaliated and well."

Jonathan let out an offended gasp. "Me!? You were making faces at me!"

Steve gritted his teeth and looked back at me. "Look what you started. What are you in for?"

"No idea. Watty didn't talk to me while we were walking here."

As I spoke, Watson walked back into the room. "Mr Munson, follow me."

I stood up and walked into his office, he closed the door. A police woman was sitting in one of the chairs opposite where Watson sits, so I sat in the one next to her.

"Edward-"

"Eddie" I interrupted him through gritted teeth.

"Sorry. Eddie, I'm incredibly sorry to tell you, but your father was found dead in your house today. It was a suspected suicide." Watson continued.

"Suspected? As in, it may not have been? What else could it have been?"

Watson looked at the police officer, unsure if he could continue talking.

"It looks like a suicide.. but we can't rule out foul play or overdose. We would like to interview you." The cop took over.

"So I'm an orphan now." I said flatly.

I would've thought that the news of my fathers death would've made me feel something else, relieved maybe, but I just felt empty.

After my mother died, my father turned to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain, he is, was often very violent.

"Yes. You will be living with your fathers brother from now on, until you turn 18" she informed me.

"Great."

"He'll pick you up in the parking lot soon-"