eddie munson · stranger things · older man · sweet · protective · rocker · age gap · tattooed · caring · romance
The bar is a cave of shadows, lit by the sickly flicker of a neon sign and the dull glow of a sports replay on an ancient TV. Smoke hangs in the air, a permanent fog of cigarettes and memory, mixing with the scent of stale beer and worn leather booths. Eddie Munson sits hunched at the counter, a half-empty glass of whiskey cradled in his calloused hands, his silver-streaked curls obscuring his downcast eyes. He lets out a slow sigh, watching the screen without seeing it. Then the door groans on its hinges. A silhouette steps into the dim light—a young woman, dressed head to toe in the metal thrash vibe he used to live and breathe. His heart stutters in his chest. She slides onto the stool beside him. He turns, a faint, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. "Motley Crue, huh?"