Chapter Text
Here are the very depressing facts:
Eddie doesn’t really know shit about what he’s supposed to do.
Well, okay. Back up. He’s pretty sure he needs to save a superpowered little girl from the big bad government. And that’s the fucking issue.
He thinks she might be in the lab that Dustin very loosely mentioned. But where the fuck is that lab? How well is it guarded? Probably really fucking well and with a shit load of guns. And then, how’s he even supposed to get in? He thinks he saw a tunnel in whatever freaky vision he just had when he— connected minds? Mind melded? With the girl? Is that even what happened? If it is, then Star Trek got some things very, very wrong about hot Mr. Spock.
So. The depressing facts.
Eddie’s now an Upside-Down-Vampire-Thing. Which is… too much to unload right now.
It feels like someone snatched his character sheet from his hand and replaced it with a complete disaster of a newly-rolled character right before starting the final session. Plus, he’s got unlucky dice, his party’s all dead and he’s about to face the final boss. All under the reign of a shitty DM who cares more about grinding hope beneath his wretched heel and the shock value of a massacre after months of sweat and blood and tears. Months of work and hard-won friendship and character growth all down the drain. The world is laughing at Eddie. It truly is.
So. Vampire-Thing.
And Eddie’s somehow traveled back in time. Because the others tried to defeat the Big Bad but couldn’t. Or— maybe the cost was too much? Eddie’s not clear on all the details. He was a little in his head at the time. A little too blood-drunk and mostly-dead. Reeling from the painsong of his dying siblings. Mind filled with the girl’s wet rasps and Dustin’s furious expression and Steve’s gorgeous fuckin’ eyes.
(ahem.)
Either way, Shit Went Down and Eddie maybe formed a weird psychic link with a superpowered little girl. Who was dying. Or died. Again. Fuzzy details.
And then he went back in time. And he’s still kinda linked. Because he can feel her there. Faint, in the back of his mind. Hunched and hurting and lonely.
Kindred spirits, maybe. Because Eddie’s feeling pretty lonely and hurt right now, too.
He tries to reach out and touch that tangledaching spot in his mind, but he’s so exhausted and it’s too fucking hard. His stomach is cramping again like he didn’t just drain a liter of blood from his uncle a little bit ago. Another thing to set aside in the back of his mind to examine later.
So. More facts. He woke up late in the evening on Saturday September 8th. The girl seemed to think the date was really important, but Eddie Freaked The Fuck Out (justifiably) and now it’s Sunday September 9th and he’s supposed go to fucking middle school tomorrow?
Fuck that.
Frustrated, Eddie scrubs his hand over his face and hunches over his knees. He’s sat on the toilet seat in their little bathroom. Wayne’s got the curtain pulled around the tub as he showers, finally taking the chance to clean all the gunky blood off of him. Steam’s filling the bathroom, blessedly warm. Eddie can’t leave the warmth or his uncle, and it only has a little to do with how his knees are as wobbly as a fawn’s.
“Hey, Eds? You pass out on me, out there?” Wayne’s voice rasps through the dingy shower curtain.
“Nah, Wayne,” Eddie sighs, and plants his face in his palms. “I just—” his voices is muffled. Drained. His teeth are big in his mouth again. Too many. But Eddie’s getting used to it. He thinks if he really tries hard he’ll sound better. So. He tries really hard. Even if he’s exhausted. “I kinda w’nna sleep a thousand years.”
Wayne’s low laughter echoes in the shower, amused and tired and completely sympathetic. Music to Eddie’s ears.
“I don’t blame ya, Eddie. But it’d be nice to have breakfast with my favorite nephew tomorrow mornin’ rather than sit around waitin’ a whole millennium. The pancakes will be mighty cold by then.”
Eddie can’t help but perk up a bit, stomach rumbling. “Pancakes?” he echoes, excitement instinctive. Then, remembering the taste of blood in his mouth and the vomit in the toilet, he deflates. “Oh. Well. I- uh. Prob’ly can’t eat ‘em anyway.”
There’s a moment where all Eddie can hear is the susurrus of water hitting white ceramic, and all Eddie can think about is sleeping for a thousand years and waking up unchanged.
Can he age? Will he age? He has no idea what he looked like after living in that Other place with his siblings. The others, when he saw them, they definitely looked older. Dustin wasn’t a little kid anymore. Had Eddie aged, too? Beyond the scars he kept accumulating? It’s a terrifying thought. He’s younger now. Significantly so. If he stops gaining height and filling out and everything else that comes with the wretched teenage experience, people will notice. Pretty much immediately. And then what happens? Will the Big Bad Government catch notice of him? Drag him back to their terrifying white labs to experiment on him like that poor little girl?
Is he doomed to never eat pancakes again? Will he be forced to subsist on blood and rotten flesh for the rest of his miserable, endless life?
The quiet spiraling of Eddie’s anxious thoughts are cut short by the sound of the curtain pulling back. When Eddie looks up from his tender scarred palms, he finds Wayne staring down at him with a compassionate if somewhat hesitant expression. He looks exactly like he did the first time he asked Eddie what he wanted for dinner.
Except there’s that Eddie-size bite scar on his throat. Pink with the warmth of the shower. It hasn’t faded any more. Eddie really wishes it would. He doesn’t want to be forced to look at it for the rest of his life.
“I reckon we can figure something out for ya, son.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, voice small. Then, he forces himself to ignore the bitemark and says weakly, “You can’t jus’ call me your favorite nephew. That’s cheatin’. I’m your only nephew.”
The corners of Wayne’s eyes crinkle. When he grins, Eddie’s startled to realize that he recognizes himself in that smile. “Those two facts can coexist at once, Eddie. But if it makes ya feel better, I can say you’re my favorite kid. Of all time, even.”
Eddie can’t bear what his face might be doing right now, so he hides it back in his hands. “Rightsurewhateveroldman,” he mumbles, because he’s too embarrassed and full of love for this man who’s always been a better father to him than anyone else could ever be.
A damp hand touches the back of Eddie’s head, fingers scrubbing affectionately. Water drips down Eddie’s neck and he giggles but doesn’t flinch away.
“Now, lemme know what’s goin’ on in that head ‘o yers, Eddie,” Wayne says with one last pat to his head before pulling back to the shower. The rungs whisper along the curtain rod, hiding Wayne from view. “No use getting’ stuck goin’ ‘round and ‘round in circles and gettin’ yerself all worked up. Talk it out with me.”
A shuddery breath escapes Eddie’s lips. It’s cold against his vaguely warm palms. Curious. He’d felt so warm in the bath with Wayne’s hands gently wiping the blood from his face. He’d felt— almost human, maybe. But he’s not. He’ll never be human again. He wants to be warm again. Wholly and completely.
“I just…” Eddie curls his fingers into his face. His claws are long again. Vague hunger twists his stomach into anxious, nauseous knots. “I need to figure this shit out.”
“And we will,” Wayne says, so confident Eddie could cry.
“But— it feels like we need to figure it all out now. And like— that’s a super fuckin’ big issue, Uncle Wayne, because I was barely in the thick of it before I fuckin’ died. And after that— I wasn’t really— I wasn’t aware enough to really understand what the fuck was happening.”
Wayne stays silent, which allows Eddie to ramble on.
“Okay. Sure. I remember some shit. The Upside Down is this- this evil version of Hawkins. Like an alternate dimension or some scary shit. With hindmive monsters and strangle-happy vines and just— the weirdest fucking— I don’t even know. It was gross as fuck. Creepy as fuck. That shit didn’t make any sense at all. Like why was everything like a time capsule frozen on the same day? Why was it all rotting? But where I lived with- with— I don’t think it was the Upside Down. I think it was somewhere else. And I don’t understand how it’s connected or why it’s important or- or—”
There’s a wet hand on his head again. It scrubs soothing circles. Slow and purposeful and patient.
“Take a minute to breathe, okay Eds?”
So Eddie does. Because Wayne’s always been good drawing him out of his stupid panics. It takes a stupid amount of time, but finally Eddie’s breath isn’t coming in short, shuddering gasps and he can think again. Beyond the fear and paranoia and crazed confusion.
Wayne’s fingers tug the pointy end of Eddie’s ear. Affectionate. Proud. “Right now, just focus on what you do know. We’ll cross that other bridge later.”
Many bridges, Eddie’s stupid mind supplies. Too many bridges to cross and burn.
“Okay,” Eddie says instead. Weak and uncertain. He takes one long, rib-aching breath. Then lets it all out nice and slow through his nose. He can do this. He can do this he can do this he can absolutely do this.
“I dunno if I can do this.”
Wayne thumbs his ear again, then squeezes his shoulder. “Yes, you can.”
And, really, Eddie has no choice but to believe him.
So he starts listing the facts out loud as well as he can. As depressing and half-understood as they may be. Gradually, he learns how to talk clearly around the stupid fucking monster teeth in his mouth.
The Upside Down is a weird creepy place with monsters (mostly?) controlled by a hive mind. There’s also another Mysterious Place where Eddie lived with a bunch of demobats.
The hive mind is Terrifying (Capital T. underline a few times. circle it furiously for good measure. draw a little sad face next to it for a little flavor).
The Big Bad is huge and Terrifying, too. And tends to drag things into its hive mind. But the hive mind isn’t infallible (thank fuck). ‘Cause Eddie was able to bring his siblings back to the Light Side with a little bit of blood drinking. So maybe he’s gotta let all the creepy monsters drink his blood and they’ll be cured or whatever. He’s gonna have to experiment with that. ‘Cause why the fuck would his blood be the cure?
There’s also another Big Bad who's a wizard named Vecna and he’s creepy as fuck. Avoid at All Costs.
This shit probably started back in the 50’s with the Creel murders but the ball really started rolling in 1983 when poor little Will Byers disappeared for a week in the Upside Down. The others got involved…somehow. Demogorgon killing played a big part. So did D&D? Plus a superpowered little girl running from the government.
More shit happened that Eddie doesn’t know about. The kids adopted Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Will Byers might have been possessed by the hive mind. Vecna seems a bit obsessed with him. Gross.
Then- like. Starcourt Mall happened? Again, Eddie’s unclear but he knows there were Russians involved. Something about opening the way into the Upside Down again? For evil government purposes? It wasn’t a mall fire that killed a bunch of people but the Mind Flayer, which is…actually now that he thinks about it. The Mind Flayer might be the Dark Hungry Thing living in the Other place.
Good to know that it can somehow physically manifest right in the middle of Hawkins.
Fucking Terrifying. Underline that about a million fucking times.
Oh— and Billy shitting Hargrove was involved and got possessed before he saved his sister Max who ended up feeling really guilty about it for some reason blah blah blah.
Okay. Maybe Eddie shouldn’t trivialize it considering that whatever happened between Billy and Max fucked her up enough that Vecna fucking marked her for Death. But. Well. Can you really blame Eddie? He’d been so excited to hear about a kid from big bright beautiful California where the gay dream was alive and thriving that he’d maaaybe had too high expectations for the dude. But if there was anything queer or wonderful or kind about Billy Hargrove it was buried deep deep deeeeep down in that wretched soul of his. Like. Bottom-of-the-dungeon deep where no one will ever find it but the most reckless, idiotic of desperate adventurers. If anyone wanted to bring out the supposed good in Billy Hargrove, they’d probably end up dying in the process.
So. Yeah. Irredeemable definitely. Eddie doesn’t wanna touch that shit with a ten foot spear. Hopefully Eddie won’t ever have the opportunity to set foot near that fucker ever again.
Okay. What else what else what else…Uh. UH—
“It’s okay,” Wayne says gently from inside the shower. He’s been in there a long fucking time. But maybe he needs the comfort of warm water sluicing across his skin just like Eddie did, so Eddie doesn’t say anything. “Let’s just circle back a bit. We can write it all down later to make more sense of it.”
“Sure,” Eddie says. “Yeah. Great. That’s— that’s a great idea, Wayne. Yeah. Uh. Well? I’m— I’ve traveled back in time.”
“Uh huh.”
“And yesterday was very important for some reason. Like. I think— maybe the little girl knew the Clawed Ha— sorry. Sorry- Vecna. It’s- it’s Vecna. I think they knew each other. Before. When he was human? A-and h-he killed a- a bunch of k-kids. And sh-she sent him to the- the Upside Down maybe? Or the Other place? Like. Maybe yesterday is when it all started. A-and now there’s this scared little girl sitting in the middle of this fucking super-secret lab all scared and alone and I gotta save her.”
Wayne’s silent.
“And I don’t— I don’t really know what that’s gonna do or change but I just— I can’t leave her alone. I just can’t.”
The pipes squeal as the shower shuts off.
“But I-I might be able to find a way in? I think there’s a mysterious tunnel somewhere in the woods that’ll get me in. Like a drainage pipe o-or something.”
“Eddie.”
“But I’ve gotta sneak past a shit ton of trigger-happy fuckers and—fuck. I’m not— I’m just gonna fuck it all up, aren’t I? I’m gonna get myself fucking killed and that little girl is gonna suffer and everyone is gonna die all over again and I really—”
“Eddie.”
“—I really just don’t understand why it’s gotta be me. Like— what the fuck do I got going for me, man? I’m a shitty-ass vampire who has no idea how his body even fucking works anymore. I’m more likely to accidentally kill someone or myself than save anyone else. My track record’s pretty fucking shitty. Like— did she send me back specifically or was it just a fluke? It’s gotta be a fluke. I have no fucking idea how to do this. None at all. I’ve always been a better DM than a player. I’m much more suited to all that- that made up shit. When the only thing you gotta really worry about it getting your party killed off before the epic conclusion of a campaign instead of actually getting real people killed—”
“Eddie.”
“—surely there’s some poor fucker out there who’s better suited to do this. Like— like Dustin or- or Nancy or- or Steve fucking Harrington. Like shit, man. This fucking sucks balls. Like- I can’t do this shit on my own I- I just can’t. A-and even if I save her what am I gonna do? Take her back to the trailer to live out her happily ever after? Cooped up in here for the rest of her goddamn life? Because if she- if she s-steps outside then the Feds are gonna come knockin’ for sure and then we’re all gonna fuckin’ die. Again. And I just— I can’t handle you dying Wayne I just— I c-can’t do i-it—”
“EDDIE.”
Eddie pauses, gasping for breath. Do vampires even need to breathe? ‘Cause it kinda feels like he does. He turns to his uncle and finds a dripping hand stretched out from behind the shower curtain.
“Hand me a towel?”
Eddie’s ribs currently feel like they’re trying to strange him alive. But Eddie dutifully hops off the toilet to snatch one of the folded towels off the bathroom counter. His knees only feel a little bit wobbly. Wayne takes the towel silently, and Eddie stands in the center of the bathroom. Anxious and waiting and trying not to burst into tears.
When Wayne pushes the curtain all the way back he’s already got the towel wrapped around his waist. But now— Now, Eddie can see all the new bloody pinpricks and scratches clawed all across his uncle’s front.
Eddie sits down. Hard. Right there on the newly-bleached tile.
“I did that,” Eddie says, faint.
There’s alarm on Wayne’s face.
“I-I. I did that,” Eddie repeats, unable to process what the fuck’s going on besides that fact that he hurt his uncle. Because he remembers curling into Wayne, shakingsobbingscreaming. Hands curled into his uncle’s chest. Wetwarmth beneath his palms. Deep red flaking along his claws. A hunger deep in his belly, sated only by the pulse pressed to his lips. His teeth feel too too big in his mouth. “I’m— ’m a m’nster.”
It’s awful— truly horrific— how hunger twists his stomach at the site of rawred skin.
“You aren’t a monster,” Wayne says softly, this terrible look on his face. It might be kindness. Eddie hates seeing it there. More than he ever thought he would. Because who hates seeing kindness on the face of the person you love most in the world?
“I am,” Eddie whispers. He’s got his fists clenched tight. Pressed to his chest like he can hide them there. Like he can stop himself from hurting anyone ever again. Distantly, he’s aware of his claws breaking the skin of his palms. Blood drips down between his fingers.
“You aren’t.”
Wayne steps out of the tub. Kneels down right next to Eddie. When he reaches out, Eddie can’t help but flinch. Wayne pauses, just the slightest, but then keeps reaching anyway. He tucks Eddie into his chest. Doesn’t even seem to care that the hands that hurt him are pressed tight between them. How can he not care? Eddie’s pressed so close to the strong beating of Wayne’s heart and Eddie could just— what? Rip into his chest? Bleed him dry? Be comforted by the knowledge that Eddie will remain sated for a couple of days before he loses his mind and kills someone again?
“How do you know?” Eddie rasps, feeling so so cold against the heat of his uncle’s human body. “I’ve done— I’ve killed—”
“We all gotta kill to eat, son,” Wayne says not unkindly. “Whether it be plants or animals.”
“That’s just stupid.” Eddie chokes out a hysterical laugh, then swallows it back. He keeps his claws tucked carefully into the heart of his palms. “Y-you aren’t an a-animal. You’re a human and I’m—”
“You’re human in every way that matters.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” Wayne pulls back and cups Eddie’s cheek so he can’t avoid his uncle’s earnest gaze. “You’re my boy. My kind, kind boy. Who loves music more than anyone I’ve ever met. And— I know I’m not—” Wayne grimaces. Eddie hates the pain in his eyes.
“I’m not the uncle you remember,” Wayne says softly, carefully. Like he’s worried Eddie forgot. “I know I’ve only really had you for a couple months, Ed. Not— not seven full years. I don’ know ya as well as I should, but I still know ya. I was there the day you were born, son. This squalling li’l thing all covered in blood. So fierce and bright and already so full ‘a love. And I’ve watched ya grow into this— this fantastic fuckin’ kid. And I love you. More than anythin’ in the whole universe."
There are tears in Wayne’s eyes. “This?” He gestures to his injured chest. “This is nothing compared to the knowledge that you’re here. Safe with me. I’d do anythin’ to make sure of it.”
“I- I don’t—” Eddie can feel his face crumple. It feels just like the day that Wayne picked him up from Indy. His uncle drove out at three in the afternoon— middle of the night for him— and showed up at the station, leather jacket flung over his pajamas, willing to take Eddie in despite everything— forever this time. No question. No doubt. “I s-still h-hurt—”
Wayne taps Eddie’s cheek. Shakes his head, a little no, listen to me. Presses a fierce kiss to Eddie’s brow, his temple, his nose. Holds Eddie tight tight tight.
“You listen to me, baby boy,” Wayne whispers, all fierce love. “You were scared and hurtin’ and didn’t know what was goin’ on. You were just askin’ for comfort and I was happy ta give it.”
When Eddie opens his mouth, Wayne just shakes his head again. Insistent. “When yer scared,” Wayne continues, “it’s easy to lose control of yerself. It ain’t shameful. Ya only really gotta start worryin’ when you intentionally hurt someone else, ya hear me? And yeah, with yer new…” Wayne wriggles his fingers and it’s so ridiculous that it pulls a rasping laugh out of Eddie’s throat.
Wayne smiles down at him. “We’ll need ta work on figurin’ out what all this means, and what steps ta take to keep in control. But yer still learnin’, kid. Ya can’t beat yerself up that much. And— really? I promise, it ain’t that bad.”
Eddie frowns down at Wayne’s chest. Some of the cuts look a little inflamed. Like Wayne tried to pick up a feral cat and it just went rabid on him. “It looks like it hurts.”
“It does, ain’t gonna lie about that.” Wayne laughs lightheartedly and touches one of the long scratches on his chest. “They sure smart. Like I lost a fight with an alley cat.” He grins like it’s funny and it sorta fuckin’ is because Eddie had the same train of thought. He really is his uncle’s kid.
“They aren’t too deep, though, Eds. Nothin’ serious,” Wayne reassures. “Really really,” he says with a smile like he’s referencing their own private joke. But Eddie has no idea what he could be thinking of.
Wayne searches his face, looking for something. His smile fades when he doesn’t find it.
Eddie sniffs, and realizes there are tears leaking from his eyes and snot dripping from his nose. He must look so gross. Wayne doesn’t seem to care. “Bet you’re really regretting takin’ me in now, huh?” Eddie laughs, small and wobbly.
Wayne’s face crumples. “Never.”
Embarrassed, Eddie tucks his chin against his chest, unable to take the look on his uncle’s face.
Wayne’s silent for a moment. Then, quiet, “You remember when I picked ya up? That day in Indy? A couple’a months for me, but— damn. Seven years for you, now? So maybe ya don’t.”
“No, I—” Eddie sniffles again. Rubs at his nose. “I do.”
“Well, I betcha don’t know how scared I was, do ya?”
That gets Eddie’s attention. His head jerks up to look into his uncle’s face. “What?”
“Yeah.” When Wayne chuckles it’s a soft, sheepish thing. “I was real scared. Still am, if I’m honest.” But before Eddie can tense up, pull away, hide his monster mouth— Wayne says, “I’m so scared I can’t give ya what ya need, Eddie.”
Eddie blinks, stunned. “What?” he says, dumb.
“I ain’t got a lotta money and I work long hours. Ya need a good, stable, loving home. Someone who’s always got yer back and always got time for ya. Someone who has all the answers and knows what ta say and do when ya need help. I never set out ta be a parent. It just— the whole—” Wayne’s face twists. “The whole settlin’ down with someone ain’t for me. That’s not what I want or need. And I dunno if ya know this, but ya usually kinda need someone ta settle down with ta have a kid.” Wayne laughs again, this time a little self-deprecatingly.
“When my brother married your ma, I didn’t know what ta think. He never—” Wayne falls silent, gaze going a little distant. For a second Eddie thinks Wayne’s gonna avoid the topic of his father altogether. That first year with Wayne, Eddie’d certainly done his best to do so. But then Wayne keeps talking, like he thinks they both need this. And maybe they do.
“My brother— your pa— he wasn’t the settlin’ down type, either. Just— in a different way. Always got so caught up in his head and his schemes. He could barely take care ‘o himself and I wanted to believe that he could take care of your ma, but deep down I knew. It wasn’t a good thing.” Wayne pauses again, gaze dark and oh so sad.
“But then— a good thing did come outta it.” Wayne’s eyes glisten. Mouth softening, smiling. His gaze focuses on Eddie, and it’s like he’s gazing down at the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. “You, Eddie. And you were the best thing that could’a ever happened to this world.”
Eddie’s fists loosen, just the slightest. It’s still a little hard to breathe. There’s something knotted and warm tucked between his brittle-aching ribs.
“Every time yer pa dropped ya off, I thanked God that at least I could give ya a little respite from the shit you were goin’ through. But I weren’t your pa and I weren’t your ma and there weren’t much I could really do. Not without the law breathin’ down my neck and takin’ ya away from me.”
A sob hitches in Eddie’s chest. Wayne’s spoken like this a little before. They’ve always been open and honest with each other. But— it’s never been quite like this. And it’s never been with a younger Wayne Munson who should have no reason to want to keep a monsterkid under his roof. Not after having custody of Eddie for only a couple of months.
“And then—” Wayne chokes off, closing his eyes. There are tears on his face now, glistening in the light of their tiny bathroom. “I know— it’s been seven years for ya, kid. But it was still two months ago for me. I can’t—”
“It’s okay,” Eddie whispers. Slow and hesitant, one of his fists uncurls. There’s blood under his claws, smeared across his palms, dripping down his wrist. But he reaches out anyway. Touches Wayne’s warm chest, fingertips light upon one of the deeper scratches.
Immediately, Wayne reaches up and curls his fingers around Eddie’s own. Holds on tight. Doesn’t let go.
He’s not scared of me, Eddie realizes. The thought opens up in his mind, incandescent and strange and so so warm. That weird little razor-knot in the back of his head loosens, too. Just the slightest.
“When I got the call,” Wayne continues, voice low and rasping, like it’s hurting him to admit it aloud. “I was so scared that they’d found ya dead. When- when they called— I was so—” Wayne’s breath hitches. He curls closer to Eddie, tears running freely down his pained face. He brings their hands to his lips and presses his trembling mouth to the back of Eddie’s hand.
“And I would’a had to live with it for the rest’a my life,” Wayne chokes out, sobs on his breath. “Knowin’ that you’d never get ta grow into yerself. You’d never get a chance ta really enjoy life. Really enjoy it. I just wanted ya to be happy, Eddie.”
Wayne’s really crying hard and openly now. His eyes are squeezed shut, like he can’t bear to look at Eddie’s young face. But he doesn’t sound embarrassed. Not at all. Wayne’s always loved Eddie so openly and freely, and he’s never been afraid to admit it.
Every good part of Eddie comes from his uncle. He’s always known this. But it’s never been as clear as it is in this moment. He’s his uncle’s kid, through and through.
“I was so sure I’d failed ya, Eddie. Because I had. I didn’t get ya away from yer pa soon enough. I didn’t—” Wayne’s face is tight with pain. There are tears dripping onto their clutched hands. “I couldn’t— didn’t save yer ma. There were a thousand things I could’a done, but I did none of ‘em.”
“That’s not true,” Eddie protests, and he’s shocked to realize that the words come out on a sob, too. “That’s not true, Uncle Wayne. You’ve done so much—”
“Nah, son. I know it weren’t enough.” Wayne shakes his head, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles. “Please don’t fight me on this. I know myself, Eds. I know.”
Eddie, never content to just roll over and accept what people tell him is true, shakes the fist in Wayne’s grip. “No.” He wraps their knuckles lightly against Wayne’s chest, fury making his mouth feel more full and bloodied.
“No, Wayne. You raised me when you didn’t have to. You— you gave me a safe space where I could just— figure out how to be myself. How to love life. You gave me music and my first guitar and didn’t even mind when I practiced late into the night!” Eddie’s on a roll now. Wayne’s eyes are wide and wet.
“And fuck was I bad at it. Just- real caterwauling screeches on the guitar. Couldn’t work my fingers right even if I knew the rhythm. Sang like absolute shit. But you just cheered me on. Asked what songs I was into. Bought me sheet music from the shop on Main. Kept buying me fuckin’ records and cassettes even if we could barely afford it. You came to all my shows and wrangled your friends to come, too. Cheered louder than anyone there.”
Eddie shakes his head, bites his lip, weirdly nervous. But he plunges on. “You never yelled at me. Never hit me. Never told me I was a fuckin’ disappointment or a waste of space. You didn’t mind that I was into weird shit or how messy my room got. You put up with me pining after—”
Eddie swallows, stares all wide-eyed at his uncle. Pleading him to understand again again again. That Wayne’ll love him still. After everything. And it’s silly. So fuckin’ stupid. But it’s hard not to be afraid when it comes to this. Even when your brain is telling you everything will be alright, something scared and young and hurtferalanimal in his chest insists that this is life or death. Love or hate. Acceptance or fists cracking against his jaw.
“Even when it came to boys,” Eddie whispers, heart in his throat and shyterrifiedtrembling. “You just— let me mope all over the house. Didn’t complain when I wrote shitty-ass love songs. You made sure I felt seen a-and accepted. And you were always so worried that I was gonna run into trouble someday. Like the wrong boy, say the wrong thing. You were so protective it kinda drove me fuckin’ crazy.” Eddie laughs, raw and rasping.
Wayne’s eyes are wide and hurting, like he’s scared for Eddie but still not scared of him. And yeah, this is just one more thing his uncle’s gotta worry about. Little queer Eddie Munson who might end up on the news someday for all the worst reasons. But Eddie can’t find it in himself to care all that much. Not when his uncle is pulling him in again and holding him tight like he’s never ever gonna let go. Like he can keep Eddie safe as long as he doesn’t leave his uncle’s arms.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Wayne whispers. “You’re so so brave. I love you, son. So much. I promise you that you’ll always be safe in this home. And you’re damn right I’m gonna protect ya. Gotta make sure the boys you bring home are good enough for ya.”
Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and he can’t help but nuzzle into his uncle’s embrace. A singsong keen in the back of his throat. It rumbles in his chest for a long few minutes as he just— breathes.
When he finally finds it in himself to speak again, he realizes that he’s smiling. Crying, but smiling. He loves his uncle so much.
“You just— you’re good to me, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie tells him quietly. “Better than anyone. And, yeah, maybe sometimes I wish you’d raised me right from the beginning. But that’s not how the world works. I know that. I know the world just fuckin’ sucks sometimes. But we made it work anyway. You made it work. Cause you loved me and practically broke your back to let me know it.”
Eddie breaks off into a choked sob. God, he’s so fuckin’ tired. He wants to curl up right here and sleep for a thousand years. But— he can’t. Because he’s gotta have breakfast with his uncle tomorrow morning. Whether it’s pancakes or blood or raw fuckin’ meat, he’s gotta sit down at that table across from Wayne and know that they’re always gonna have this.
“But I ain’t done all that yet, now have I?” Wayne says, soft and slow and grieving.
“But you will.” Eddie pulls back again to level his uncle with an unwavering stare.
Wayne’s mouth is twisted, eyes crinkled like maybe he wants to cry or laugh or— Eddie doesn’t know. He’s never seen that look on his uncle’s face before.
“I’m just—” Wayne sighs, wet and shaking. Eddie can hear Wayne’s heartbeat, quick and strong. Here beneath Eddie’s fingers. Warm. Alive. That’s worth more than the hunger in Eddie’s belly.
“I’m worried I ain’t gonna be enough for ya, Eddie,” Wayne confesses. “I’ve been worried about it since that day the station called and I heard yer voice on the phone. Ya sounded— so scared, Eds. So scared and young. I knew right there and then I weren’t ever gonna leave ya alone, not if ya didn’t want ta be. And maybe even if ya did, I still weren’t gonna leave ya alone. Because ya deserved better than what life had given ya.”
Eddie remembers then, abruptly, that day in the station. He’d felt so small and scared and alone. Hunched in the police officer’s big wooden chair, legs swinging, knuckles and knees bloodied. And then— hurried footsteps. A frantic call— “Eddie!”
And Eddie had looked up. Seen his uncle skidding around the corner, big tired bruises beneath his eyes, leather jacket fluttering, pajamas softwrinkled. Eddie had stumbled up out of his seat. Didn’t even have a chance to step forward before Wayne was gathering him up in his arms. Warm and all encompassing and safe safe safe.
“I’m here, Eddie,” Wayne had murmured into his ear, rocking them back and forth, uncaring of the way the police officers stared. “I’m not leavin’ ya. I’m takin’ ya home, ya hear me? Yer gonna live with me in Hawkins. I’m not leavin’ ya alone, son.”
“Really?” Eddie mumbled, high and stricken and tear-laced. His fingers curled into Wayne’s leather jacket, creeping up the hem of his pajama top. He clutched Wayne tight with all the fear of someone who knew he was gonna be torn away.
“Really really,” Wayne whispered, and pressed a kiss to the top of Eddie’s bruised skull. “I promise.”
“You deserve the world, Eddie,” Wayne tells him now, tears still tracking down his face. “An’ I'll be honest. I don’t really know how to do this, Eddie. But I’ma do my best to do right by you. I promise you that. Vampire blues and alternate dimensions and time travel and all.”
“You aren’t even gonna mention all the gay stuff?” Eddie asks, tremulous, a reluctant smile curling his trembling lips.
Wayne huffs a laugh, smiling too. “That’s just a given, Eds.”
“Okay,” Eddie whispers, and bursts into tears again.
“Oh, baby boy,” Wayne croons and rocks Eddie in his arms like Eddie really is just a frightened little kid who’s finally found his way home. “It’s gonna be alright. You aren’t alone. You’ll never be alone, not ever again. ‘Cause I’m right here with ya, and we’re gonna figure it out together.”
“Okay.” Eddie curls into his uncle, and lets himself be comforted. He’s not alone. Not anymore. The thought brings a singsong relief to his lips, a warbling chitter echoing out of his throat. Quiet. Relieved. Happy.
Wayne presses a sweet kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “And we’re gonna do whatever it takes to save that little superhero girl. Because she gave you a second chance at life, and she gave you back to me.”
When they finally make it out of the bathroom, they’re both so exhausted that they’re barely able to stumble their way to the bedroom. Wayne manages to wrangle them both into some pajamas. Then they both collapse onto the mussed covers, Eddie shimmying into his uncle’s waiting arms so they can both drift off into deep sleep.
Neither of them notice that the long ragged scratches and messy puncture wounds on Wayne’s chest have quietly stopped their bleeding. Skin and flesh gently coaxed back together, knit into the loosest of shinypink scars.
But why would they notice?
They’re safe and warm in their home, curled together and dreaming of a shared life filled with love and laughter. Here, they’re far from the horrors of the world, and all they need is the family they’re building together.