Fight or Flight (Eddie Munson x Y/N)

10. "Library Girl"

You take a deep breath before you walk into the library....before you take two steps back out of the metal doorway.

Then turn on your heel to walk two steps back toward it, close your eyes and give an exasperated sigh. Now you're just pacing...

What was Eddie's problem?   you think. And more importantly, why do I care? He seemed like a nice dude at first, someone you could maybe hang out with. Someone who could teach you guitar and liked decent music. He wasn't bad to look at either, although you had sworn to yourself this was a year of empowerment not, sex. Definitely not sex.

You couldn't shake your initial gut reaction of who he came across as. It felt genuine. And afternoon seemed like the exact opposite. Was every guy in Hawkins fucking bipolar or was there something about you that seemed to bring it out in them? Or were you just overthinking the inner workings of a stupid high school boy...who was apparently stupid enough to be held back, twice.

You sigh again. That's not fair either, you tell yourself. Just shut up and help him with the tutoring, do a good thing, and if that's the last time you talk to him, fine. You read him wrong and that's that.

You talk into the library and search the tables for that hair and the Dio jacket he always seems to wear.

Lo and behold, you see his back to you, sitting at a corner table, way in the back of the library, almost like he doesn't want to be seen in such a place. Bad for his bad boy image, you think, and can't help but give a small smirk.

You feel a short burst of butterflies as you draw closer, thinking of how to best break the ice after the cafeteria exchange, hoping the whole next hour won't be awkward. And as you get ever closer, you notice what he's actually doing in the chair--he's reading.

"...guess you can read after all," you say quietly once you're right behind him, giving a small smile. You're not risking a big smile in case he's clearly still not up for being friendly.

"Yeah...at least I can read what your boyfriend would call 'satanic worship propaganda,'" he says, before he looks up at you with a sarcastic smile. "Other people call it The Hobbit."

Your brain doesn't even register the continuing nasty tone in his voice, but rather the fact he said you had a boyfriend.

"What boyfriend?" you furrow your brow, shaking your head in confusion. Who could possibly be your...

"Carver made it pretty clear when he metaphorically peed all over you today in front of the whole cafeteria. Kind of hard not to notice." His eyes are locked onto yours for this verbal assault, the darkness of them piercing your own. You can't look away from them, but you do see him clasp his ring-clad hands together as if he's check-mated you in some sort of verbal game of chess.

"Yeah, well if Jason ever gets that close to my face again, I'll neuter him," you retort harshly, keeping your eyes on him while placing your bag down and sitting across from him.

"Whatever you say, princess," Eddie chuckles.

"I'm serious," you reply a little too sternly...and a little too loudly. You feel the silence echo around you and can feel pairs of eyes as they turn in your direction. You feel your face get hot and you look down, concentrating on the carvings on the wooden table in front of you.

"I don't like to be touched," you mumble, the words cascading out of your mouth before you can catch them.

Wow, embarrassing overshare, you think, concentrating as hard as you can on the knife and pen carvings on the wood table in front of you.

You're wondering if that's what he's thinking, because seconds that feel like minutes have passed by--and he's still looking at you, silent, his face knitted in what seems to be...concern? contemplation? regret for agreeing to be tutored by an insane girl?

You clear your throat and let out a small, nervous laugh. "Anyway, uh---since you can clearly read...do you want to work on Ms. O'Donnell's essay assignment on disguise and deception in 'Twelfth Night?'

His expression hasn't changed. "Sure," he says slowly, quietly...softly. "That's a good place to start."

"How are you with writing?" you say, looking back up at him, putting on your tutoring hat to distract you from the so-far mortifying session.

"Not great," he lets out his own nervous, breathy laugh. "I know what I want to say," he taps his temple twice. "But when I try to write it down, it never quite sounds the same."

You smile. His warmness is back. Wait...was he being cold before because he thought you were dating Jason? Guess you're not the only one who hates that asshole, you think.

"Alright, so instead of writing, just tell me, person to person...what are your thoughts about deception and disguise in the play?" you lean forward toward him, slowly folding your hands on the table in front of you.

"Well," he mimics your movements and tone, moving in even closer. "When Viola finds herself stranded, she only tells that one guy-- the Captain-- about her secret--that she's really a dude. She's afraid to be attacked by assholes because she's a chick traveling alone, and she knows she's safer from them if she's disguised as a man. But everything she does gets screwed up--misinterpreted I guess-- because of the masks she puts on for everyone else. But the problem is she can't fix any of it without being honest about her secret, without revealing who she actually is."

Your throat catches and you feel you can barely breathe. Whether it's the fact you've been studying his face during his analysis, watching his full lips as they danced around each other; or the fact that his analysis was much deeper than you anticipated it would be; or the fact his words hit way to close to home for your comfort level--you're not sure--but all you can breathe out in that moment is, "Wow."