𝚆𝚎'𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚜

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚜.

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙸𝚏 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜,

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚎 𝚖𝚎.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚊,

𝙸'𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎.

𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

When Lennon stirred from her sleep, it was eight in the morning and she was curled into a mess of limbs and sheets. Her eyes fluttered open and she was faced with an old Iron Maiden shirt that she happily knew the scent of all too well.

She felt her eyes fall shut again when she took a deep breath of the fresh cotton. She pulled back to see Eddie laid there asleep with his face partially covered with wildly curly hair and a look of pure relaxation on his face.

She didn't want to wake him but she also knew that if Brontë got back to an empty house that she would be in deep trouble so she had no choice.

Once they left his trailer, the ride there felt painfully short. She truly didn't want to part ways. As irritating as he could be, she still adored him. She even liked his snarky remarks and blunt jokes. He was quite possibly the most authentic person she had the honor of meeting. He was very straightforward, which was odd considering he liked to toy with peoples interpretations of him.

He liked scaring people. He liked getting people mad. He liked provoking emotion out of people whether that be through music or his outbursts at school.

She even liked all that about him; all the parts that annoyed her and made her angry. She liked it all.

"What were you dreaming about last night?" Eddie smiled to himself as he pulled into the front of her house.

"Why?" she questioned with a look of confusion on her face. She couldn't remember what she was dreaming about the night before. All she knew was that she had fallen asleep with Eddie on top of her and when she woke up, he was beside her. Otherwise, she felt well-rested.

"Oh, no reason," Eddie shrugged and crinkled one side of his nose nonchalantly. "You were just... talking a little..."

He wasn't going to plainly tell her he could hear her muttering his name in her sleep. He wanted to see if she could recall it herself. It would have been far too presumptuous of him if he had.

"I didn't say anything weird, did I?" she groaned, feeling embarrassed at the mere thought of making a fool of herself in front of him. Though, some would disagree and say she had already done enough of that. He caught her in a handful of lies and misconstrued acts. Only a fool would get caught.

"Mmhm," Eddie started to smirk impishly. "Not weird, no," he chuckled, turning towards her and meeting her skeptical gaze with one of adoration.

"What did I say?"

She knew he knew based on the way he was looking at her. She just really hoped it wasn't revealing some dark, demented part of her soul that should have never been revealed. Or, realistically, she hoped she didn't mention Vermont at all.

"Nevermind," Eddie quickly cast his gaze away with a lingering smile on his lips. "I uh... I will see you at Heather's party tonight," he shot her a sideways glance and winked, gaining confidence in himself and extinguishing her uncomfortable suspicion.

Lennon huffed out an incredulous breath as she shook her head in disrelish. "With Billy," she reminded him.

"Mmhm," Eddie smirked. "With Hargrove."

He didn't respond in a manner she expected. He didn't seem fazed. He didn't even seem jealous now. He was so annoyingly protective in the cafeteria on Friday. Why was he acting so nonchalant now?

"What?" she questioned nervously. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she furrowed her brows and felt her heart rate increase as she sat in suspense. She needed to know why he was so calm.

Was he planning something? Did he know something she didn't? Did she forget something something between them last night? Was he going to get revenge on her and bring a date of his own? Did something happen to Billy that would cause him not to go? What did Eddie do?

"Don't worry about it," he chuckled. "Now, I don't think sitting in front of your house at the ass crack of dawn is good for your reputation," he poked fun at her confliction. "So, I'll see you later, Lennon," he unlocked the doors and watched as she sat still, examining him in all his glory and hating how chuffed he seemed after reminding him of who she was going to see him with.

"It's nine-thirty, Eddie," she ridiculed him.

"It's too fucking early is what it is," he shot back. "I'll see you later, sweetheart," he grinned, lifting his hand and theatrically waving her goodbye.

"You're up to something... and I don't like it," she grumbled, opening the door and slowly getting out of his van.

Eddie sat in satisfaction as he watched her climb out of the pasenger seat and stand just outside the door with a look of distrust in her glowing green gaze.

It was the fact Eddie didn't even try to defend himself that made Lennon even more suspcious. If she were wrong and she had nothing to worry about, he would've said something to correct her. But he didn't. He just kept staring at her like he knew something she didn't; and when in regards to Billy and the public view, she didn't find comfort in the thought.

"You better not have any tricks up your sleeve," she warned him, throwing her duffel bag over her shoulder and leered at Eddie from afar.

"I'll make sure to come in short sleeves then," Eddie said charmingly.

"Of all the things," she shook her head and scoffed. "This is the one time I don't trust you, Munson."

"You love the suspense," he scrunched up his nose with rosy cheeks. "It's why you love horror movies," he ran the tip of his tongue over the edge of his teeth in thought, waiting for her to protest and waste more time with him.

But instead, like how he managed to unnerve her earlier, she smiled.

"Sure," she sang out, looking down at his mouth as he played with the sharp edges of his teeth right before her eyes. "I'll see you and your cute little tongue thing tonight," she giggled, closing the door in between them and causing him to stop fiddling mid-length.

He realized she was right and rolled his eyes amusingly, dropping his tongue back into his mouth and shaking his head. He watched her as she made her way to the front porch and didn't leave until he saw her disappear inside. After that, he worked his way back home to finish Wuthering Heights and once that was done, he was going to take a nap for the rest of the afternoon.

***

Lennon hopped in the shower to wash all the makeup and hairspray off her body but all she could think about was the idea of Eddie lain over her.

She kept smiling to herself and when she got out, her cheeks felt taut and ached almost as badly as her legs after the winter final.

She looked herself in the mirror and caught herself smiling childishly.

"For fucksake..." she sighed, taking a deep breath and trying to clear her head of him. She felt like a child after their first kiss. It was ridiculous how enchanted she was by him. She didn't think she'd be so distracted but there was something about him that she couldn't get enough of.

She put on some moisturizer and leave-in conditioner before she realized why Eddie might have been so chuffed with himself before he left.

Her eyes widened hysterically and her mouth fell open with shock when she saw the small heart-shaped bruise left on the side of her neck where Eddie tried leaving a hickey.

"You have got to be kidding me..." she rubbed at it as if that would make it disappear but she was obviously too horrified to have known any better. "That cheeky bastard," she grumbled under her breath, quickly moving for the concealer she figured out how to use since moving to Hawkins and covered the mark as best she could before her brother got home.

She didn't know when he would've done that. She knew it couldn't have been this noticeable in the theater. He barely had his lips on her neck for even a second before she pushed him away. Then she wondered what he might've done when she was asleep. But she knew she would've woken up if he had done something though, she there was no way he defiled her while she was unconscious.

Then it hit her.

When he was laying on her chest after she pulled him across her abdomen and laid in bed with him, he had kissed her chin.

Things were blurry that night. She thought he had just kissed her chin and maybe pecked her neck in an attempt to get more comfortable. But maybe not...

She was more than tired. She was utterly exhausted that night. She hadn't realized he was kissing her neck when it happened but she remembered it clearly now. She remembered the feeling she got when the flesh of his lips were pressed against her skin. It sent butterflies into her belly but the dopamine must have also triggered a wave of melatonin because she remembered the gust of fatigue that followed it.

That's when he must have done it. It was all she could come up with to explain it.

But how the hell did he manage to not only sneak a 'love bite' as he would say, onto her body without he noticing, but also shape it into a heart right over the vein shooting down her neck? The image made the hickey-heart look like it had an arrow struck through it and even though Lennon was furious and desperately trying to get rid of it, she couldn't help but smile.

He was unbelievable.

Just as she marked her neck with a dab of powder, the front door opened. Lennon threw her concealer back into the drawer with the rest of her makeup from the countertop and Brontë made his way inside.

"Brontë?!" Lennon called out curiously, seeing as if she actively seeked out attention first that it would take away from her own situation.

"What?!" he called back irritatedly.

"Well, shit..." Lennon rolled her eyes as she tried to act inconspicuous exiting the bathroom. "I was just making sure. No need to sound so angry," she chuckled nervously, plopping herself down at the breakfast bar to find Brontë scurrying for some meds in the lower cabinet.

"My head is pounding," he complained, taking a handful of pain medication and ducking under the faucet. "Who else would it'uve been?" he groaned before taking a swig of water.

Lennon didn't want to sound paranoid even though she knew that was what was happening. Brontë worried enough about her. He didn't need to worry about her constant fear of being watched and sabotaged too.

"A murderer," she joked nonchalantly, bending over the tabletop and folding her arms over one another as she watched Brontë start his recovery from his hangover.

"That's good," he nodded his head and shut the tap off. "You're making jokes. That's good."

He surprised Lennon.

She thought he was mentioning her comment to be good in the sense she was being safe but it wasn't that at all. He was mentioning her comment as a step in the right direction.

She strayed away from joking about investigations, the law, the justice system, and especially missing persons and murder trials. She had lived through them and they most certainly weren't something to joke about.

They were terrible.

"Yeah," she said wearily. "I guess..." she drew off cautiously, not realizing he was right. She had joked about Ted Bundy with Eddie but that was as far as she ever went with anybody since her fathers sentencing.

Maybe she was recovering...

"You're different," Brontë said flatly, pressing his backside to the counter top by the sink with his eyes tightly shut as he avoided the suns rays from the windows and sliding glass door. "You seem... happier," Brontë smiled softly to himself before being unable to hold it due to the throbbing pain in his skull.

"It's..." Lennon sighed, taking a moment to consider everything that happened since starting school. She was tired and exhausted but it didn't hurt anymore. Her head wasn't reminding her of what she went through all the time. They still existed, but they weren't constant anymore. She didn't even realize the change until now.

"I've been busy," she stated blandly.

"Nah," Brontë replied simply. "It's more than that," he sounded kind when he kept his voice low and soft. "I don't know if it's a book you're writing or someone you met, but you don't act like the sister I saw back home," Brontë opened his eyes and met Lennon's studious gaze from afar.

He mentioned someone. He mentioned someone and Lennon couldn't pull herself from the word. Surely... surely it wasn't someone... Surely she was just growing a tolerance. Or the distractions... maybe the distractions were working...

But no matter what excuse Lennon tried using for her changed behavior, she couldn't get over the mention of it being because of someone she met...

"Maybe because it hadn't been a home for while. Since before you came back..." she admitted. "It's just a house, Brontë. It... it stopped being a home when Rion disappeared," she mellowed in her earlier happiness when she started thinking about her transition into this new world in Indiana.

She just wanted to run away from it all. She couldn't bring them back or clear her fathers name or bring justice to her mother and brothers deaths. So what was the point?

She was just left wondering why nobody thought to do something about the real killer. She knew the person who killed her mom, and her brother, and those other people... She knew they were still out there. But again, what was the point?

As far as she knew, the murders stopped as soon as her father was arrested. The coincidence was too fitting. The jury and the judge didn't think it could be anyone else, and if people weren't still being murdered like her family, what was the point? Vermont was seemingly as safe as it was before they ever moved there. If people were still dying, then maybe Lennon would try to do more. But there was no more death. So there was no point in fighting it anymore... All she could do was forget and run.

"That's not what I mean, Lenny..." Brontë grumbled, standing up straight and mimicking Lennon to lean over the breakfast bar to meet her eyes with sincerity. "Your teachers say nice things," he told her matter-of-factly. "Steve says you seem happy. Your grades haven't fluctuated. You have friends... You seem happier," he shot her a look of sympathy which worried Lennon.

He wasn't the sentimental type of person. He was always very playful and blunt with her. He was always mean in the endearing kind of way. He hadn't looked at her like that since the first time they saw each other after their dad was arrested.

She would never forget that moment.

She hadn't slept and she hadn't seen anyone she could trust for days. The people she thought she knew, the ones she thought she loved and respected, they betrayed her. They lied and warped the truth and she knew it. She didn't have anyone. Her mom was on a metal slab, her brother was being examined by coroners, and her dad had been arrested. She was utterly alone up until Brontë and Miss Riordan came for her.

She would never forget seeing her big brother after that. How he walked in looking pale and worried and heartbroken. She would never get that image out of her head. His stunning eyes were glossy and blisteringly blue against the whites of them which had turned red. He had been crying and hard too.

She crumbled right in front of him. She fell apart the instant she saw him.

They never hugged before that. She couldn't recall a single moment from their childhood that they had ever hugged one another. But that all changed that day. She never held anyone that tightly in her life and when their sobbing stopped and their eyes met again, he looked and sounded just like he did now.

It was one of the reasons she didn't mind his harsh comments. She would take the bickering and the arguing over having to see him like that again: in pain. It was more tolerable.

But he was looking at her with those blue eyes of his which used to look cold and mocking before, but he had care encapsulated in them now; and Lennon didn't like it.

"I'm fine," she nodded her head, hoping her lack of conversation would let him know she wasn't agreeing or disagreeing with his statement. "You..." she pointed at him diligently, feeling a need to reinforce their brother-sister relationship over their guardian-minor one. "You're different too, brother."

"Uh-uh," he smiled and shook his head very slowly to prevent an even worse headache than he had prior. "Don't change the subject."

"Don't act so smug," she shot back, matching his smile and giggling. "Is it a girl?" she pondered.

"We're not doing this," he scoffed and stood up again and started to move for his room.

"We're gonna do this eventually!" she smirked, filling her voice with humor as she shouted at him as he made his leave.

"Shut up..." he grumbled, pulling his hands to his temples and disappearing upstairs for the rest of the day.

Lennon chuckled and moved into her room to start figuring out what she was going to wear to the party that she didn't even want to go to... with somebody she didn't want to go with... while also being around the person she did want to go with... but being unable to be with them...

It was never going to end...