Chapter Text
Eddie glanced around his easel, but not at the vase Miss Gram wanted them to paint, he stared instead at the profile of Steve "The Hair" Harrington. It shamed him deeply that the jock drew his attention, but he argued with himself that aesthetically Harrington was attractive, so why wouldn't he paint him? He wasn't exactly a Greek god, but his smile could melt ice.
Eddie turned his attention back to his canvas and lost himself in shading. He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he dragged his brush delicately around the jawline, deepening the shadow there.
"Wow, that looks really good."
Eddie jumped, nearly biting his tongue as his head jerked back. Standing behind him, an easy smile on his face, was the man, the myth, the legend. He was screwed.
"Uh, thanks?" Eddie managed to suppress the squeak in his voice. He braced himself against whatever attack Steve decided to throw.
Steve gripped the back of his chair and leaned in. "Dude I can't even paint the damn vase. This is awesome."
Eddie's brow furrowed. "Yeah?" He loosened, breathing easier. "Well you'll try to paint the vase and get an A for trying, I'll get an F for ignoring the assignment."
Steve hummed. "Why don't you just draw the vase around me? Like it doesn't even have to be great, right? Just draw some lines around my head, and ta-da, you followed the assignment."
Eddie's lips quirked up. "What you're saying is I can blatantly break the rules and also not fail? Well shit, maybe we should have more classes together," he joked.
"We have English together, don't we?" Steve tilted his head down to look Eddie in the eye. "You argued with Mister Tibbets about Romeo and Juliet."
"It's not a romance," Eddie insisted. "A couple of kids off themselves because they're dramatic. Give me Benedict over Romeo any day."
Steve blinked at him. "Uh sure. Anyway, nice painting." He patted his shoulder before he straightened out. "See you in English, Munson." He wandered back to his chair, and added black paint to his tray.
Eddie's stomach did not flip because Steve complimented him. Nope. It was clearly indigestion. He didn't blush at the compliment either. He was probably just sick. He had a fever, that's all.
The next time he glanced around his easel he stared stubbornly at the vase and refused to let his eyes stray. He did not have a crush on King Harrington, that would have been self destructive and dangerous.
Eddie stepped out into the brisk January air. It snowed lightly, and it crunched under his boots as he walked around the back of the school. He warmed his fingers against his jeans, trying to get the blood flowing before he fumbled to light a cigarette. He hated the cold, always had, but suffer he must. It was one of the woes of meeting up outside to sell pot.
Tommy H made his way over, looking left and right as though being extra suspicious would save them from getting fingered.
"Hey quit that," Eddie scolded. "You look like your buying drugs."
"Maybe because I fucking am," Tommy snapped back. He stuffed his hand into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. "Just give me a couple joints.
"Five bucks for two." Eddie puffed on his cigarette and watched him.
"Seriously? That's fucking insane." Tommy pulled out a ten. "You're robbing me, Munson."
Eddie took the ten. "I put the work in. You want better prices then roll your own." He pulled a baggy out and took a joint out, handing the remaining four to Tommy.
"I should kick your ass," he threatened, but Eddie knew it was empty. He was the only dealer at school, it provided him a little protection.
"Whatever, man. Don't buy if you don't like the prices." Eddie stuffed the bill in his jacket pocket and made a shooing motion. "Screw off. You're acting suspicious, I don't need the attention."
Tommy flipped him off but left.
Eddie took the last drag off his cigarette and flicked it away. He turned to leave when a voice called out to him.
"Munson?"
Eddie turned to find Steve Harrington trudging down the alley behind the school. Unlike Tommy, Steve gave off an air of nonchalance and confidence that made his presence feel as natural as breathing.
"Harrington," Eddie greeted carefully. "Wasn't expecting to see you. Need something?"
Steve shrugged. "I may not hang with Tommy anymore, but his mouth is big enough to hear in Indianapolis." He smiled faintly. "I was wondering if I can buy a joint or something."
Eddie sold to most of the popular kids. Most of the freaks too. Never Steve "Mr. Clean Cut" Harrington. He never smoked. He drank at parties, but never too much. He slept around but never forced it on girls. His reputation exceeded him, and Eddie hated him on principle. No one was that squeaky clean without a dark side.
"I suppose I can help you out." Eddie plucked the joint from behind his ear. "This is all I have on me," he said. "I guess... two dollars."
Steve pulled out his cigarettes and a five. "Cool. Thanks." He pressed a cigarette between his lips and handed Eddie the five. "Just keep the change, man." He slid the joint into his pack and put it back into his jacket. "Hey you got a light? Mine died."
Eddie wasn't sure he was comfortable with all the time he spent with Steve today. If the summersults his stomach made were any indication then it made him sick. "Yeah," he drawled. "Here." He held out the zippo, it had a skull on one side, and Eddie's band name on the other.
Steve lit his cigarette and turned to lighter around to look at it. "Cool lighter," he said, handing it back.
"Mmm hmm, it was a gift. My uncle Wayne picked up an appreciation for zippos in Vietnam. He has his own personalized one."
Steve nodded. "That's really cool. My dad... well he manged to avoid going." He leaned against the brick wall. "So what is a corroded coffin exactly?"
Eddie laughed. The whole situation was just so surreal. "My band. The skull is just metal, but Corroded Coffin is my band."
Steve perked up. "You play in a band? Man that's cool! What do you play?"
Steve Harrington called him cool. He almost pinched himself. "Metal, mostly. I'll dabble in rock though. I mean Zeppelin? Technically not metal, but I spent months perfecting Dazed and Confused."
Steve grinned. "I prefer The Song Remains The Same, but I only play acoustic, so I don't look into their harder songs."
Eddie felt a prickly warmth spread over his shoulders. Oh he was fucked. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "You, uh, play guitar? And listen to Zeppelin?"
Steve flicked his thumb nail over the butt of his cigarette, and the ash blew away in the gentle breeze. "Yeah, my nanny's husband played, and he taught me." Steve avoided Eddie's eyes. "I was eight when I started? Thirteen when I started learning on my own. It's cathartic, you know?"
"Oh yeah, I know. I just didn't think you'd know. Apparently you're just chocked full of secrets, Harrington."
Steve's posture stiffened, but the pleasant mask he wore remained. "No secrets here. Just boring old me." He dropped the rest of his cigarette and put it out under his heel. "Hey thanks for the ... help. I'll see you in class." He waved and just as suddenly as he appeared he was gone.
Eddie got the distinct impression that he said the wrong thing, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. He shook himself from his stupor and set off toward his van. It was all stupid anyway. He could crush on the popular straight guy, but he knew it would burn him. He had to avoid him, for his own good. How hard could that possibly be? After all their years going to school together they only just interacted. He'd be fine. It'd be easy peasy.