Eddie fucked up. Royally fucked up.

It was simple before. Playing pretend with Willow came as easy as breathing to him. And it might be because he wasn't pretending - every time he held her hand, every time he hugged her, every time he called her pretty or flirted with her. He meant every single moment of it.

Which is why when Willow, in a haze of weed, suddenly asks him to teach her how to kiss, he can't do it.

He almost does. They were close, noses brushing and he could smell the mint on her breath. But then she had said the words that reminded him that to her, this wasn't real. That the delusion of the possibility of something real between them was one sided.

"Just practice."

He really couldn't go to the party. The sheeps had been far too excited for this new campaign, especially Henderson, and he didn't want to be the cause of any disappointment running down their faces.

Of course, it might have been even worse to witness the disappointment on the face of the girl that was suddenly sitting on his bed, suddenly looking so damn sad .

But he couldn't kiss her. He couldn't bring himself to do it when it was under the disguise of all the fakeness; practice , as she had called it so eloquently. And so instead, he had torn himself away from her in record speed, he had insisted that he take her home, he had avoided looking at her for as long as he possibly could. But sometime between turning onto her street and then her driveway, he'd snuck a glance at her, and he couldn't take it anymore.

The moment she was out of his car and at her front door, something snapped inside of Eddie Munson's chest.

He was setting himself up for a doomsday clock. He already knew he was gone for her, it became more apparent with each passing day to him, but the seal of his fate lied in her lips.

And just like an idiot, he ran up to her and kissed her.

He could lie and say he regretted it, he could chalk it up to nothing more than a mistake. Maybe there was still weed in his system that had fueled him. Sure, that would work as an excuse. But he knew , he fucking knew it wasn't the weed for him. It was just her - her and her ridiculously soft hands, her and her gentle looks, her and her tremendous heart that she, for some god-forsaken reason, trusted him with. It was the way the strands of her faded-crimson hair were falling against her cheeks, the way her face lit up when she'd throw her head back in genuine laughter with him. It was in the way she carried herself into every room when he was at her side, a ghost brought to life, ready to leave the sidelines. And he was selfish - God, he was so goddamn selfish - because all he cared about in that moment was her lips on his, his lips on her. He wanted her to wrap him up in her so damn tightly that no one could tell they were two entirely separate entities.

When her lips were cold against his, he'd taken it as a rejection. He had been ready to apologize, to let her cuss him out and go back home with his tail between his legs.

She didn't do that. She didn't let him peep a word. Instead, she surprised him.

Instead, she kissed him back like she meant it, and for a second, he got to pretend it was real. For a brief moment in time, Eddie Munson had the girl. He'd never felt a rush like that; not when he was on stage with Corroded Coffin, not when he was running campaigns he'd spent months writing, not when he got anything above a D in his classwork on rare occasions.

Eddie Munson had nothing to compare the experience of kissing Willow Jenkins to. He really didn't want anything to compare it to unless it was another kiss between them.

So he had fucked up. He had let himself fall, terribly fast and terribly recklessly, right into the scenario he had wanted to avoid.

He was falling for her. He wasn't getting out of this fake relationship unscathed anymore.

In practicality, he doesn't think there's a timeline that exists where he ever did to begin with. He was always a goner. Now, he was just a goner who could only daydream about the sweet lips of the prettiest girl he'd ever set sights on.

It's why the next day, he calls the Jenkins' residence, leaving a message with Willow's mother that he was sick for the day and couldn't pick her up for school. He didn't even have the guts to ask for her.

"Jenkins' residence," a kind voice chirped over the line. At first, Eddie's heart nearly bursted, until he realized the voice was far more mature than the girl that was terrorizing his mind currently.

"Hi! Hi, uh, this is Eddie Munson," he stuttered out lamely.

"Hello, Eddie Munson," he heard the teasing tone that Willow had clearly inherited, "Are you calling for Willow by chance? She's still asleep, but I can go get her-"

"No!" he nearly yelled, before correcting himself and clearing his throat, "Sorry, no. Um, I just wanted her to know I'm not feeling well today, so I'm staying home. I-I usually give her rides to school."

Willow's mom was silent for a few moments before finally saying, "Ah, I see. I'll let her know when she wakes up. Thank you for calling and giving her the heads up."

"Any time," he breathed, trying so hard not to picture Willow at that moment, curled up in her bed, hair splayed around her face like a rouge halo.

He was a coward. A coward that couldn't face her, not yet.

He'd take the day away from her, easy enough given that he knew the party was tonight, and sort out his emotions. He wouldn't ruin this. They could move on, pretend he never impulsively kissed her, twice , and carry on with their ingenious plan to get Steve Harrington to admit his feelings. He could do this, he could fake it so well that Willow Jenkins would never notice the shift in his Universe the moment his lips met hers.

Or so he thought.

The first person to call him out on his shit was Wayne.

"You're home," he notes when Eddie leaves his bedroom around noon. It was a casual beginning to the conversation, his eyes quickly glancing up at his nephew over a cup of coffee and the daily newspaper.

Usually, Wayne would be asleep, which is why Eddie could get away with ditching so much in his previous attempts at senior year. "Yeah, woke up not feeling great."

"Thought you said you weren't skipping this year."

"It's not skipping, it's just a sick day," Eddie argues pointlessly as he begins to fuss around the kitchen to make himself a bowl of cereal.

"Right," Wayne drawls, still holding up the newspaper in front of him despite no longer reading it, "Was that girl over here yesterday? Thought I heard some commotion while I was tryna sleep."

Eddie stops dead in his tracks, box of Coco Puffs nearly dropping from his hand, "Shit, did we wake you up? I'm sorry, we'll be quiet next time-"

"What were you two doing?" Wayne keeps up with his casual tone, but the newspaper is beginning to hang lower and lower, leaving his eyesight completely.

"Just hanging out," Eddie mutters, now embarrassed, staring down his bowl. He's already blushing at the mere mention of Willow, from his uncle no less. How the hell was he supposed to act cool when he actually saw her again?

Wayne hums, but he clearly isn't buying Eddie's nonchalance, "Just hanging out, huh? You know, I had an interesting conversation at the store the other day."

"Oh? Pray tell," Eddie is turning to the fridge to escape his uncle's scrutinizing look, rummaging for their jug of milk and letting the cool air fight his crimson cheeks.

"The nice lady checking me out, Mrs. Branton, asked me if you were seeing a girl."

Fuck.

Neither Willow nor Eddie had really elaborated on if they'd keep up their act with their families. He had no idea what story she was telling her mom, and he simply avoided the topic with Wayne.

Play dumb, Eddie. Play the dumbest you've ever been in your life. "Oh? And why would she think that?"

"Because her daughter had told her all about the red-head on your arm at school. Now, you know me, I'm a curious man. Asked if she just meant some carrot top, or one of your club members," Wayne folds the newspaper and Eddie is facing him once again, milk jug on the counter, "But nope. She said it was some girl with firetruck-red hair. Said that apparently, you two have caused quite the gossip with how you've been acting."

Goddamn it .

"Oh, well, yeah. They probably mean Willow but-" he pauses, trying to avoid stuttering as he tries to figure out a cop out, "Willow... she's... she's my friend. We hang out and stuff."

Wayne groans as he scoots back his chair, shaking his head at his nephew, "Don't lie to me, boy. You match her hair right now."

"So what?" he childishly attempts to defend himself. He wasn't getting out of this mess.

Maybe this was his eternal punishment for kissing Willow. This awkward, uncomfortable conversation with Wayne.

"So, are you two dating or not? Do I need to give you the talk? Should I be worried about leaving you two alone?"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie immediately huffs and grabs his bowl of cereal, putting the milk back into the fridge quickly, "I've done... stuff ... before, so please spare us both of that talk," he groans as he walks around to stand in front of Wayne.

"You didn't answer my question, boy. Are you two dating?" Wayne persists.

Eddie sits his bowl on the table after a moment of contemplation. He could just take it to his room and hide away from this conversation. Maybe even catch a few more hours of sleep before Hellfire tonight, because Heaven knows he spent the entire night tossing and turning, thinking about Willow and her lips.

Fuck it. She never told me I couldn't tell Wayne we were dating, did she?

"Yes, we're dating," he deadpans, ignoring the tugging in his chest.

Eddie was tired of the game. And he supposes he always forgets that up until moments like this, moments where he talks about her to those close to him. When Hellfire found out about her, they'd teased him mercilessly - they still do - and it led to one too many times of Eddie defending her. The boys had quickly learned that this girl, for some reason, was a soft spot for their so-called leader; that in itself had piqued all of their interest. He had never mentioned just how many conversations he'd had to dance around during lunch time at school with Garth, or Jeff, or Henderson about her. Just as he was doing now, with his uncle Wayne.

Wayne is quiet, leaning back in his chair and watching as Eddie sits and shovels cereal into his mouth to avoid having to say anything more.

"What?" he grumbles around a mouthful, "Now you don't have anything to say?"

"I knew there was a reason you were showering every day, washing those sheets of yours," Wayne finally hums, eyes squinted at his nephew. His next statement takes Eddie off-guard, "She's good for you."

Eddie swallows hard, eyes trying to read the older gentleman across from him, "Good for me?"

"Yes, good for you. God knows I spent years trying to knock some sense into that head of yours. If she's managed to do it this fast, then I like her. Keep her around," It's not a suggestion - it's an order. Eddie had figured that Wayne was okay with Willow given the fact he never scolded the boy when he'd found them studying. In fact, he didn't even receive a dramatic talk when he walked back into the trailer the next day, not a single mention of the fact he never returned home like he said he would. Wayne stands and starts to make his way to the couch, but not before stopping in front of Eddie to warningly wag his finger, "Now, I'm going to try and sleep. Don't go waking me up unless someone is dying."

"Wouldn't dream of it, old man," Eddie sighs with relief. He's finished with the cereal by now, and takes this as his cue to take his bowl to the sink before escaping back to his room.

He tries to not overthink the conversation. He really does.

But maybe Wayne had a point. Willow might drive him to the brink of insanity at times, usually completely unaware of it, and she might be a bit more head-strong than he expected his taste to be, but she was good for him. Eddie had found himself putting far more effort into the mundane things that had previously become too routine for him to care for: he had started combing his hair out after showers in case she ended up running her fingers through it, he'd tried to stop chain-smoking so much, he was finally applying himself to his school work. For the first time in nearly three years, Eddie's teachers don't seem disappointed in him.

And if Wayne was noticing enough to say something, then Eddie knew he was in too deep.

She was going to be the death of him, and he was going to let her be. He had become a bystander at his own funeral.

---

Sleep evades Eddie in the hours leading up to Hellfire club. Which only makes it worse for everyone else, because it leads to their Dungeon Master being especially cranky.

He's also struggling to focus. Every time he so much as blinks, the back of his eyelids are painted with the image of Willow, lips swollen from kissing him and lashes kissing her cheeks as her eyes flutter shut. But in all fairness, it had been a frequent thought that was distracting enough before it had become a reality for Eddie.

"Eddie?" Henderson's voice cuts through, causing Eddie to look his way. Clearly, he's just said something relating to the campaign, but Eddie is somewhere far away from the drama room mentally.

"Sorry," he apologizes immediately, shaking his head as he attempts to clear his mind. He's about to clear his throat, put back on his dramatics for his friends, but Gareth interrupts quickly.

"I think it's time for a smoke break."

Everyone immediately turns to look at him, and all he musters is a shrug as he looks up at Eddie expectantly. "Pretty sure that I'm the one calling the shots here, Gareth the Great."

"Yeah, but it's been hours and my ass is numb," he turns to Jeff and bumps him with his shoulder, "Isn't your ass numb?"

"Mine is!" Mike chimes from across the table, earning Dustin's elbow in his ribs.

Eddie sighs heavily, realizing he could use a cigarette himself, "Fine. Fifteen minute smoke break," he begins to grin wickedly before turning to the three freshmen and adding, "Or juice break, for the freshies."

He doesn't even wait around to listen to their complaints at his joke, shooting up and exiting the room as quickly as possible.

Fresh air. I just need some fresh air, and then I'll be back on my A game.

Gareth and Jeff follow him wordlessly down the hallway, easily keeping up with his quick steps before he bursts out the double doors around the corner and is met with the fairly chilled night air of Hawkins.

"You two would suck at being spies," he pipes over his shoulder as he walks a bit, finding a dark enough wall to lean against before he yanks his pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

Gareth just scoffs, "Yeah, well, you suck at being Dungeon Master tonight. What gives?"

Jeff is just nodding in agreement, eyebrows peaked as he watches Eddie light his cigarette.

"I already told you guys I was sick today-"

"Bullshit," Jeff finally speaks up. He holds out a hand and Eddie provides a cigarette wordlessly, "I'm calling it right now. You're thinking about her."

Eddie immediately rolls his eyes as Gareth starts to agree. Once he nods his head, Eddie suddenly decides to not be as generous with his cigarettes, not even offering him one despite his hand being held out.

"She's my girlfriend, dip shits. I'm supposed to be thinking about her."

"Not if it's interfering with our campaigns," Gareth argues, finally reaching and snatching the pack from Eddie's hands.

Eddie only glares in return, causing him to be sheepish when he finally returns the pack one cigarette lighter, "It's not interfering with our campaigns. I'm just fucking tired."

"Probably because she kept you up all night, doing every nasty thing under the sun!" Jeff bumps his shoulder against Eddie's as he gives him a knowing look, and Gareth groans.

Eddie doesn't realize they're expecting a response (he didn't even realize that Jeff's comment should elicit one) until they are both watching him with hawk eyes as he takes another puff of cigarette.

"What? I'm not indulging you with details of my sex life, you fucking pervs."

He's being genuine. Even if him and Willow did have a sex life, none of his friends would be hearing a peep about it. He couldn't imagine doing that to her; to reduce her to nothing more than locker room gossip. No, if Willow ever went that far with him (and she wouldn't), then he wouldn't be an idiot and take it for granted. He'd worship the ground she walked on, probably, but never run to tell his friends all about it.

"You've never been shy about it before, dude," Gareth points out.

Jeff is nodding, "Yeah, remember that one time you forced us to all listen about that girl who flashed you her tits for free weed?"

"Or the girl who gave you head in the Hideout bathroom?"

"Or the-"

Eddie interrupts, not in the mood, "Okay, okay. I get it. I tell you guys way too much," His voice is snappy, but then he's picturing Willow, forehead pressed to his and looking at his lips in a daze. His entire demeanor softens an embarrassing amount, "But not with Red, I can't. She's..... She's different ."

Gareth makes a gagging sound, "God, spare us. What happened to our badass leader?"

"He's been corrupted," Jeff teases in a ridiculous voice as he finishes off the cigarette he'd bummed off Eddie.

They definitely weren't getting any more cigarettes off of him.

"I'm not corrupted," Eddie flatly says, but neither boy looks very convinced, "Jesus H. Christ, I'm not! When was it a crime to like a girl? And respect her? Fuck off, both of you. Go find Craig to piss off or something."

Jeff is chuckling, actually listening to Eddie as he stands up straight and starts to make his way back inside the school. Gareth hesitates, though.

"You coming, man?" Jeff questions, but Gareth only answers by holding up what's left of his cigarette.

Jeff shrugs and heads inside, leaving Eddie and Gareth alone.

"You know, it isn't a crime to like and respect a girl or whatever," Gareth suddenly says, standing across from Eddie with a childish grin, "But they might give you jail time for loving a girl."

"I don't-" Eddie is about to correct him, say he doesn't love her, but the words won't roll off his tongue. It's as if his mouth has been wired shut until he finally settles on a different defense, "We're just having fun, man."

"I've seen you ' just having fun ' with girls before. You're fucking whipped."

"I won't hesitate to brutally kill you off, Gareth the Great, when we get back inside."

"Yeah, but you know who you would hesitate to kill off? Willow the Witch, dude. She's got you under her spell," Gareth pauses, and Eddie is ready to tell him to keep her name out of his mouth, but he continues on before the taller metalhead has a chance, "Speaking of which, you should bring her around more."

"Why? The club has never needed a girl before," Eddie mutters as he leans down to put out the butt of his cigarette.