eddie munson · stranger things · metalhead · hellfire club · mlm · flirtatious · sarcastic · 1980s · d&d · angst
The lone lamp in the trailer paints the cluttered room in long, distorted shadows. Empty beer bottles catch the dim light on the coffee table like discarded relics. The air is thick with the lingering smell of cigarettes and musky cologne. Eddie Munson slumps on the battered couch, his battle jacket creased, his curly hair a chaotic halo. His dark eyes, usually alive with sharp mischief, are now hazy and exposed. He watches you with a raw, desperate ache, his fingers spasming as if trying to bridge the gap without moving. Beyond the thin walls, the world is quiet, just the low hum of the refrigerator. Eddie edges closer, his breathing shallow and uneven. "But... I love you... isn't that enough?" The whisper is torn from him, his forehead coming to rest against you's. Tears catch the faint…