Chapter Text
September 1981- 1982
: The First Week Back
Chapter Twenty Four
The first week of September brought a cruel, crisp wind that chased away the lingering summer humidity, replacing the lazy warmth of August with the biting chill of autumn. It carried the sharp scent of freshly sharpened yellow pencils, floor wax, and the heavy diesel exhaust of idling school buses. For the students dragging themselves through the doors, it smelled like the suffocating, unyielding hierarchy of Hawkins High. The building itself felt like a pressure cooker, ready to crack under the weight of new expectations and old grudges.The hallways were a chaotic battlefield of social restructuring. Eddie Munson was officially moving into his junior year. Despite being younger than most of his peers, he possessed a razor-sharp intellect and an erratic, untamed energy. He walked down through the sophomore wing with his head held high, using his tattered denim vest like a suit of armor. His fingers tapped a restless, hyperactive rhythm against his thighs, his eyes darting across the crowd as his ADHD processed every single face, movement, and whispered insult.
He was older now, his edges sharper, and the heavy, metallic clack of the switchblade resting deep in his pocket served as a quiet, dangerous warning to anyone who remembered the violent hallway and locker room incidents from the previous year."Look at him," Carol whispered, her fingernails digging into Tommy's arm as they leaned against a rusted water fountain. Her eyes were sharp and vindictive, constantly scanning the hallway for easy targets to tear down. "Thinks he owns the damn place just because he survived another year without getting expelled. He’s still just a freak in a dirty vest."Tommy didn't answer immediately. The dark purple bruising from his brutal encounter with Bear back in July had completely faded from his skin, but the psychological rot had only deepened. He had spent the remaining weeks of summer taking his humiliation out on anyone within arm's reach. He snapped at Carol, treated her like absolute garbage in public, and pushed Steve around, desperate to prove to the world—and himself—that he was still the apex predator of Hawkins High."He's a dead man walking," Tommy muttered, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly snarl as his knuckles turned white against the cardboard edge of his notebook. "He just doesn't know it yet."
Further down the hall, the social landscape continued its violent shifting. Ronnie Eckers, an incoming freshman, walked past the lockers with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of an oversized leather jacket. She didn't offer a single glance to the upperclassmen staring her down, completely immune to their judgment.Gareth stood by his locker, watching her heavy boots click against the linoleum with a faint, lingering sigh. Over the long summer months, his massive crush on Ronnie had slowly withered away into a comfortable, platonic reality. Under her brutal, relentless tutelage behind the drum kit, he had gotten incredibly good, but she treated him more like a younger brother or a clueless apprentice than a romantic prospect. He wasn't quite stage-ready for a real band yet, and Ronnie never let him forget how much harder he needed to practice.
Shaking off the thought, Gareth’s eyes drifted toward a different part of the hallway, landing squarely on Chrissy Cunningham. The freshman cheerleader was laughing gently, her strawberry-blonde ponytail bouncing with every movement as she listened to Nancy talked about their class schedules. Standing right beside them was Barb clutching a stack of heavy binders tightly against her chest like a shield, while Vicki stood on the perimeter, nervously adjusting the latches on her clarinet case.Gareth felt a familiar, nervous flutter erupt in his chest. Chrissy was entirely out of his league, totally untouchable in her pristine black and orange uniform, but she was one of the few popular girls in the school who ever looked at the outcasts and smiled without an ounce of pity or disgust.
Suddenly, a loud, violent locker slam echoed down the corridor, the sharp bang causing an incoming freshman named Jason Carver to jump nearly out of his skin. Carver was visibly trembling, his wide, panicked eyes locked onto the back of Eddie’s denim vest as the older boy moved through the crowd. Terrified, Jason scrambled over toward sophomore Andy Harper, who was standing with a tight-knit circle of varsity athletes. Andy looked pristine and imposing, his slightly broad shoulders filling out his brand-new black and orange letterman jacket."Andy, man, hey—we gotta stay away from him," Jason stammered, his voice hushed, frantic, and thin with genuine terror.Andy frowned, his eyebrows knitting together as he looked over Jason’s shoulder. He watched Eddie, who was currently laughing loudly, throwing his head back as he discussed a complex D&D module with Jeff. "From Munson?" Andy asked, a condescending smirk playing on his lips. "He’s just a loudmouth freak, Carver. What's your problem? He’s harmless." "No, you don't get it," Jason whispered fiercely, his face draining of all colour as he leaned in closer. "My older brother Joshua... he told me about them. He swears it's true. He said Munson’s family does weird, sick shite out in the woods by the trailer park. Said they’re deep into the occult. Witchcraft, Andy. True, literal satanic garbage. Joshua swears he saw them doing some kind of blood ritual out by the quarry last summer. The guy is dangerous."
Andy’s smirk vanished. His eyes narrowed into slits, his gaze hardening as he watched Eddie continue his theatrical trek toward the junior wing. Eddie was flapping his hands dramatically, completely unbothered by the world, walking backward as he explained a critical dice roll to Grant.The rumor settled into the crowded hallway like a single drop of black poison falling into a clean well. Jason didn’t believe in ghosts or monsters, but he believed in bad elements, and he believed his brother."We'll keep an eye on him," Andy said quietly, his voice carrying the heavy, self-righteous weight of a boy who already believed he was the appointed protector and moral compass of Hawkins High. "If he brings that freak shite anywhere near the team, or anyone else, we'll handle it permanently."
Across the hallway, Steve Harrington stood frozen by his own locker. His eyes felt heavy, his face fixed in a practiced, completely cool expression that masked the absolute chaos raging inside his head. He had heard Carver's whispered, frantic warnings. He had seen the dark, predatory way Jason and Andy had stared at Eddie. And most of all, he could feel Tommy’s eyes burning holes into the side of his face—a lethal, silent threat hanging heavily in the narrow space between them, waiting for Steve to slip up.Steve looked down the long, suffocating hallway, watching the wild halo of Eddie's dark tight curls disappear around the far corner toward the junior homerooms. As the boy vanished from sight, a wave of internal homophobia tore violently at Steve's gut. It was a constant, sickening whisper in the back of his mind, telling him he was a monster, a freak, and completely broken for wanting to follow that dangerous, beautiful boy into the dark.With a heavy, metallic thud, Steve slammed his locker door shut. He stepped blindly into the flowing stream of sophomores, utterly terrified of what this year was going to do to him, and even more terrified of what he might let it reveal.
The oppressive heat of the mid-week lunch rush did nothing to dull the toxic tension brewing inside the Hawkins High cafeteria. By Wednesday, the rumour Jason Carver had dropped into the hallway had mutated, spreading through the student body like a viral infection. The air was thick with the scent of greasy rectangular pizza, stale tater tots, and the overwhelming musk of Aqua Net hairspray and Drakkar Noir.At the end of a long, scratched Formica table, Eddie Munson sat completely tuned out from the low hum of gossip around him. He had too much on his heavy plate to care about mundane high school drama. Between organizing the first official Dungeons & Dragons campaign for the Hellfire Club, scheduling grueling garage practices for his metal band Corroded Coffin, pulling shifts at the auto shop, and making hand-to-hand weed sales just to keep cash in his pockets, his schedule was booked solid.But his real obsession started long after the streetlights flickered on. Eddie spent his nights armed with a flashlight and a heavy iron tire iron, combing the pitch-black woods and the rocky precipices of the quarry. He was hunting. Hunting for leftover acid eggs, three headed spitting lizards, fire starting deformed spiders, pulsing vines, or any other lingering, otherworldly traces. He carried the terrifying, isolated weight of what he had witnessed, unable to tell a single soul without risking a one-way ticket to a psych ward. None of the guys believed him so....
Compared to literal, flesh-eating interdimensional monsters, the judgmental looks of teenage suburbanites meant absolutely nothing to him."Hey! Freak!"The sharp, aggressive bark of Andy Harper’s voice cut clean through the cafeteria’s white noise, instantly silencing the surrounding sophomore and freshman tables.Eddie didn't look up immediately. He slowly chewed a soggy tot, casually tossed a heavy twenty-sided die into the air, and caught it with a lazy, practiced flick of his ring-adorned wrist. Only then did he lean back, his dark brown almost black eyes meeting the united front marching toward his domain.Andy led the charge, his orange and black varsity letterman jacket practically glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights. Jason Carver walked a half-step behind, his jaw set in an intense mix of righteous fury and absolute disgust. To their right was Tommy Hagan, a cruel, predatory smirk plastered across his face, clearly eager for any opportunity to reclaim the social dominance he’d lost over the summer."You talking to me, gentlemen?" Eddie asked, his voice a theatrical, mocking drawl. He spread his arms wide over the table like a demented king greeting his subjects. "Because last I checked, the jock section is on the opposite side of the room. Did you meatheads lose your playbook, or did you just get lost looking for the locker room?"
"Shut your trap, Munson," Jason spat, stepping hard into the space. He slammed his palms down on the edge of the table, causing Eddie’s carton of chocolate milk to rattle violently. "My brother saw what you and your trailer-trash family do out in the woods. We know about the rituals. We know what you're conjuring up out there."Eddie raised a sarcastic eyebrow, letting out a sharp, barking laugh that echoed against the cinder block walls. "Oh, Joshua? The guy who failed remedial math twice? Yeah, I’m sure he’s a regular expert on the occult. What exactly did he see, Jason? Did I turn a stray cat into a toad? Did I put a hex on your varsity jumper?" "You think this is a joke, you psycho?" Tommy snarled, stepping forward to use his broad, athletic frame to crowd Eddie against the table. "We don't want your satanic, witchcraft garbage polluting this school. You’re a disease, Munson. Out in the woods doing weird, twisted, perverted shite with other guys? Is that what your little club is really about? A bunch of freaks getting off in the dark?"The cafeteria went dead silent. The accusation hung heavily in the air, instantly shifting from a rumor about local witchcraft to a malicious, targeted attack on Eddie's sexuality.
In 1981, it was a lethal social weapon, engineered to completely alienate a person and ruin their life.Tommy Hagan leaned in, his voice a venomous, low whisper that carried perfectly to the adjacent tables. "Yeah, Eddie. We’ve all seen the way you eye the guys in the locker room. You’re a disgusting little queer, aren't you? A freak in the woods and a total fairy in the showers."Jeff and Grant instantly stood up from their plastic chairs, the legs scraping loudly against the linoleum as they moved to back Eddie up. But Eddie held up a single, steady hand to stop them, his heavy rings catching the light. His heart hammered violently against his ribs—not out of fear of their small-minded insults, but out of a desperate, panicked need to protect his real secrets. If these idiots looked too closely at what he was actually doing in the woods at night, they would uncover things a thousand times worse than witchcraft.
Eddie leaned forward, bringing his face inches from Tommy's. The lazy, theatrical smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened stare that belonged to a boy who had looked into the abyss. "You boys have a hell of an imagination. Truly. It’s almost impressive. Maybe you should join Hellfire, we could use a new dungeon master with a knack for fiction. But if you’re gonna accuse me of crimes against your precious social ladder, bring some actual evidence next time, narc. Otherwise, get the hell away from my table before I show you exactly what a freak can do."A few tables over, Steve Harrington sat frozen. His fingers were clamped so tightly around his plastic fork that the cheap prongs were actively bending out of shape.He heard every single syllable. The words satanic, witchcraft, and queer echoed in his ears like consecutive gunshots. Every single instinct in his gut screamed at him to stand up, to shove Tommy into the nearest vending machine, to tell Andy to shut his mouth. He wanted to defend Eddie. He wanted to drag him away from the wolves.But the terrifying weight of his own internal homophobia clamped a violent, invisible vice around his throat. If he stood up for the school freak now, the spotlight would shift. They would look at him next. They would notice the way his eyes trailed after Eddie in the hallways. They would realize exactly why he had grown so distant from Tommy and Carol over the summer months.
Keep your head down, the frantic voice in his mind whispered, a sickening, repetitive loop of self-preservation and deep shame. Don't look up. Don't let them see your face change.Steve forced his gaze downward, staring intensely at the untouched, lukewarm mystery meat on his tray. His jaw was clenched so hard his molars ached. He could feel the heavy, judgmental aura of the cafeteria suffocating him. He felt like an absolute coward, but the sheer terror of being exposed as the very thing Tommy was mocking kept him completely paralyzed in his seat.
Tommy glanced back toward Steve's table, fully expecting his old best friend to chime in, to offer a cruel chuckle or a supportive jeer to seal the deal. Seeing Steve sitting completely silent with his head down, Tommy let out a disappointed, mocking scoff, turning his attention back to the target."This isn't over, Munson," Andy warned, pointing a rigid, threatening finger directly at Eddie’s chest. "We’re watching you. The second you slip up, we're handling you permanently." "Can't wait, big boy," Eddie quipped, though his voice lacked its usual sharp, theatrical punch.The varsity trio turned on their heels and strutted away, soaking in the fearful, awed whispers of the watching underclassmen. The cafeteria slowly returned to its chaotic, low rumble as the immediate danger passed, but the poison remained, floating in the air.Eddie sat back down, his fingers trembling just a fraction as he picked his twenty-sided die back up from the table. He didn't look over at Steve's table. He didn't need to. He knew exactly how the world worked, and he had a old style tin lunch box full of weed to sell and an twisted creatures to hunt down before the sun came up.
The third-period bell rang like a death knell, fracturing the tense atmosphere of the cafeteria and forcing the student body back into the grinding gears of the school day. The lockers slammed in a staggered, metallic chorus down the hallway as kids scrambled to avoid tardy slips.In the boys' locker room, the air was thick with the suffocating humidity of steam from the showers, the sharp tang of Right Guard aerosol, and the damp smell of mildewed towels. It was the absolute inner sanctum of the varsity hierarchy, and right now, Steve Harrington felt like an intruder in his own skin.Steve stood in front of his locker, blindly staring at the combination dial. His hands were still trembling slightly from the cafeteria incident. He had stripped off his button-down shirt, leaving him in a plain white undershirt, but he couldn't bring himself to change into his gym shorts. The echoes of Tommy’s voice calling Eddie a queer and a fairy were still bouncing around inside his skull, loud and accusing."Hey, Harrington! Think fast!"A tightly knotted, damp gym towel caught Steve square in the shoulder with a sharp snap.Steve flinched, spinning around to see Tommy standing near the benches, a smug, relaxed grin on his face.
Andy was right next to him, unlacing his high-tops, looking thoroughly pleased with himself after their midday performance."What the hell is your problem, Tommy?" Steve snapped, his voice sharper and raw with a frustration he couldn't fully contain.Tommy raised his eyebrows, letting out a mocking chuckle as he leaned back against the rusted metal lockers. "Whoa, chill out, man. What’s crawled up your ass today? You were totally spaced out at lunch. Usually, you’d be right there helping us put that trailer-trash psycho in his place. You just sat there like a total dweeb."
Maybe I just think it's stupid," Steve muttered, turning back to his locker and violently grabbing his gym shirt. "Spreading rumours about witchcraft and... and all that other garbage. It's totally bogus, Tommy. He's just a guy who plays a nerdy board game."Andy looked up from his shoes, his eyes narrowing into a hard, suspicious glare. "It’s not just a board game, Harrington." "My brother doesn't lie. "Jason Carver said. "Munson’s a freak, and he's bringing that sick, perverted lifestyle into our school. You putting up a defense for him now?" Andy growled out. The locker room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter. Steve's heart did a violent, panicked flip in his chest. The trap was springing, and he could feel the cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. If he pushed too hard, if he defended Eddie for even a second more, the target would move straight to his back."I'm not defending him," Steve lied, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He forced a heavy, dismissive sigh, mimicking the casual arrogance he’d spent years cultivating. "I'm just saying it's a waste of time. Who cares about Munson? He's a total loser. I just don't want to hear about him while I'm trying to eat my lunch. It's radical overkill, man."Tommy watched him for a long, agonizing second, his eyes scanning Steve’s face for any sign of weakness. Finally, the tension cracked, and Tommy let out a loud laugh, slapping Andy on the shoulder. "See? Told you. Harrington’s just moody because his hair didn't hold up in the humidity today. Don't worry, Stevie. We'll clean up the school so you can eat your mystery meat in peace." Steve forced a fake, hollow chuckle, nodding along as he quickly pulled his gym shirt over his head, using the fabric to hide the deep flush of shame burning across his cheeks. He had survived the interaction, but the self-loathing inside him was mutating into something toxic.
Meanwhile, on the complete opposite side of the building, the relative quiet of the library offered a temporary sanctuary. Eddie Munson sat tucked away in the back corner, hidden behind a towering stack of outdated encyclopedias and National Geographic magazines.He had a notebook open in front of him, but he wasn't studying for his upcoming history quiz. Instead, his pencil was furiously sketching a map of the woods near the quarry, marking specific X’s where he had noticed strange, unexplainable anomalies—snapped branches that looked melted, patches of dirt where the grass had completely withered into black ash, and deep, grooved tracks that didn't belong to any deer or raccoon in Indiana.He was so engrossed in his drawings that he didn't hear the soft click of saddle shoes approaching his table...
The fifth-period bell rang like a violent, metallic gavel, sending a jolt through the stifling air of the upstairs hallway. It was that brutal mid-afternoon slump where the building smelled heavily of floor wax, teenager sweat, and the institutional stink of Salisbury steak lingering from the cafeteria.Eddie Munson stood by his locker in the junior wing, completely ignoring the wide berth the under and upper classmen were giving him. The cafeteria hit from Jason, Tommy and Andy had done its job; the rumours were officially airborne. As sophomores and freshmen passed his locker, they nudged each other, whispering words like cult and fairy under their breath, keeping their eyes glued to the linoleum so the freak wouldn't catch them staring.Eddie didn't give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
He had a cigarette tucked securely behind his ear for later, and his hands were busy sorting through his battered locker. He shoved his copy of the Dungeon Master's Guide into his heavy canvas backpack, right next to a couple of plastic baggies of homegrown weed he needed to move before the final bell.But his hand lingered on the cold iron tire iron resting at the very bottom of his locker, hidden under a pile of dirty flannels.He didn't care about Jason’s self-righteous crusade. He didn't even care about Tommy’s pathetic, loud-mouthed slurs. What kept Eddie’s pulse racing at a frantic, hyperactive rhythm was the drawing taped to the inside of his locker door—a crude, charcoal sketch of a strange, pulsating vine he’d found twisting out of a sinkhole near the quarry three nights ago. It had looked dead, but when he poked it, it had twitched.
Acid eggs, he thought, his jaw tightening as his brain locked onto the memory. Or whatever the hell those things were. He was entirely on his own with this. If he told his uncle Wayne, the poor guy would think he’d finally lost his mind. If he went to the cops, Hopper would probably lock him up just to keep him quiet. So, Eddie kept his mouth shut, sold his weed, ran his campaigns, and spent his midnights playing a deadly game of hide-and-seek with things that shouldn't exist in Indiana.He slammed his locker door shut with a loud, aggressive bang that made a trio of passing sophomore girls flinch, giving them a wicked, wide-eyed grin just to watch them scurry away faster.Down at the intersection of the main hall, the varsity crowd was holding court. Jason Carver was leaning against the trophy case, his arm wrapped around Chrissy Cunningham’s shoulders. Chrissy looked immaculate in her black-and-orange cheerleading sweater, her strawberry-blonde ponytail bouncing as she listened to Andy Harper recap a play from morning practice. She didn't look toward the junior wing. She didn't look at Eddie. To her, and to the rest of the pristine world she belonged to, Eddie Munson was just background noise—a dangerous, dirty element you avoided at all costs.
Steve Harrington was leaning against the opposite wall, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his junior varsity members-only jacket. He was supposed to be listening to Chance brag about some girl from the middle school he’d flexed on over the summer, but Steve’s eyes were glued to the hallway traffic.Then, he saw the tattered denim vest.Eddie was walking with that loose, theatrical stride of his, his dark tight curls bouncing around his shoulders as he headed toward the exit for his free period. He looked entirely untouchable, completely unfazed by the toxic cloud of rumours trailing in his wake.For a split second, as Eddie crossed the intersection, his dark deep almost black brown eyes darted over the crowd and landed straight on Steve.
Steve froze. His breath hitched in his throat, and a cold, heavy dread dropped straight into his stomach. He didn't move a muscle. He didn't nod. He didn't even let his face change expression. He just kept his head slightly down, his eyes fixed in a blank, cool stare, letting the internal homophobia choke out any urge to acknowledge the boy. Don't look. If you look, Tommy will see. Jason will know.Eddie’s gaze lingered on Steve for just a fraction of a beat. There was no anger in Eddie's eyes—just a sharp, knowing look. A look that said he knew exactly what kind of coward Steve was being. Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, Eddie tapped a rhythmic beat against his own thigh and disappeared down the stairwell toward the parking lot."Hey, Harrington, you even listening?" Tommy’s voice broke through the fog, sharp and irritating. Tommy nudged Steve’s shoulder with his elbow, a nasty smirk on his face. "I said, we’re going to Benny’s after the final bell to get some cokes. You in, or are you gonna keep acting like a total space cadet?"Steve forced his eyes away from the empty stairwell, swallowing down the bitter, acidic taste of self-loathing. He cleared his throat, forcing a casual, effortless grin onto his face—the King Steve mask he hated more and more every single day."Yeah, man," Steve said, his voice smooth and hollow. "Yeah, I'm in. Let's get the hell out of this place."