"Still Just A Screw Up, Carver" - Eddie Munson & Y/N Sequel

FIVE ~ Livin' On A Prayer

After I'd stormed out on Steve and Robin I just got in my car and drove and drove to clear my head. I cannot believe Steve told me he loved me, he knows that I love him too but not in the same way he apparently feels about me. And to say he only kept Eddie as a friend so he could "fuck" me?! I've never been so fucking mad in all my life and this is coming from someone who got thrown out and disowned by her own family for getting pregnant. I pretty sure I'd ended up out of Hawkins by the time my head felt even a little less clouded, making a u-turn and whipping my car across to the other side of town. I couldn't and didn't want to fix all the shit with Steve right now, but there was something I could maybe fix and that was Eddie.

What people don't know about Eddie Munson is that he's actually a hopeless romantic with a soft heart. Like, as much as the first summer we spent together was just filled with endless sex, most of the encounters were actually planned out by Eddie and normally ended with something sweet like dinner or a movie at his place. That's how I knew I could fix things with Eddie, if I really tried hard enough. I had to appeal to that soft romanticist within him, make him remember how special things were when we first started seeing each other. It was a fucking long shot, but I think I knew exactly what I needed to do to get him to at least talk to me.

~ Eddie POV ~
Bored shitless and still stewing on the couch in front of the TV after getting back from Wayne's earlier, he called to say he was watching the kids while their mom was as work so I popped over to surprise them. He told me he'd been talking to her about what went down between her and me, she'd told him a bit more about what happened with Harrington and now it came to happen but I didn't really wanna hear it. I know I've got no right to judge who she's sleeping with since we're not actually together anymore, but did it really have to be Steve?! When I first met him in high school I thought he was a total ass, typical basketball jock but when Henderson vouched for him I learned that he was actually a pretty decent guy. Well he was, or maybe he still is, I don't know. Wayne did pass on Y/N's pleas that I speak to her and I want to... I just don't know what I'm supposed to say to her.

Still slumped on the couch with some shirt on the TV providing background noise to my endless thoughts, I heard a car pulling up outside the apartment block but it's a well populated block so I didn't think much of it. Dragging myself off the couch, I started to head to the kitchen for a beer but was alerted to the sound of footsteps on the other side of my front door. There was a light knocking followed by more footsteps, this time time they were hurried and moving further and further from the door. Turning in my heels, my attention was set on the front door and who it could be on the other side. When I peered through the peephole I saw only the empty hallway leading to the stairwell but my gut was telling me to open the door anyway. As expected, when I opened the door there was nobody there and no sound of anyone waiting in the hall or stairwell, as I went to shut the door I noticed a small, folded scrap of paper tucked just under the doormat. As I opened it I could tell it had been torn from a kids colouring book, the picture half coloured in with Ronnie's name poorly written on one side. Flipping the page over it read only a few words in blue crayon, but not in Ronnie's handwriting...

"Eddie...
Benny's Diner - 8pm tonight.
Please? x"

I spent more than an hour sitting on the couch, staring at the clock while still clinging desperately to the scrap of paper in my hand. I could tell from the handwriting who the note was from and the meeting location absolutely confirmed it for me. I still wasn't sure whether I was even gonna go, but something inside me was screaming at me to see what she needed to say but I don't know if it was my head or my heart, either way it was deafening. I kept watching the second hand tick it's way around the clock, perched on the edge of the couch as my eyes occasionally flick to my car keys on the coffee table and back up to the clock. My leg bounding so frantically I can see the coffee table shuddering from my movements, I can't make myself sit still as I endlessly ponder the potential evening ahead of me should I go to the diner.