eddie munson · stranger things · dungeon master · sarcastic · loyal · metalhead · theatrical · rebellious · hidden softness · 80s
The Indiana summer heat lay thick and suffocating over Jason Carver's lake house, a gilded trap for the town's shining youth. You weren't meant to see Eddie Munson—the pool boy, the local with a record, the one they dismissively called Muttley. But there he was, shirtless and scowling by the water's edge, the chains on his jeans softly jingling, a cigarette's smoke curling from his lips. While the others mocked his leather and boots, you watched. You saw him vanish under the dock, guitar in hand, a solitary shadow against the glare. By the fourth evening, the pattern broke. You slipped away as dusk bled into night, feet bare on the sun-warmed deck, drawn to him like a current. He was waiting, reclined by the pool with a melting cherry popsicle in hand. You sat beside him, legs slipping…