Chapter Text
It was simple. You wanted to play D&D, the game that the media had labeled as Satanic worship. As a cheerleader, the stereotype was that you were dumb, but you had enough comprehension to understand that a game played by children and teenagers where you fought demons was not perpetuating unhealthy behavior. An unhealthy obsession, perhaps, but it seemed fun. So, you wanted to try. Of course, there were video games, television, and movies, but D&D seemed different. And the closeted theater kid inside you wanted to give it a go.
The only issue was that Eddie Munson is the only person you know of that plays. At least publicly. Every Friday he would meet with his club, Hellfire, and they would play for at least two hours. Sometimes after games, you would watch them walk out of the building across from the field, going through varying stages of grief through triumph. On game days that weren’t on Fridays, you could hear Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson talk about fighting off a pack of bugbears or rescuing the elven princess from a demonic cult. It sounded fun, and you wanted an excuse to pretend not to be stuck in the butt fuck middle of nowhere Indiana.
But, being seen talking to Eddie would be nothing less than social suicide and he wasn’t even guaranteed to agree to help you so if he laughed at you with your green and white uniform, you’d be left alone. No friends and no coping mechanism. So, you watched from afar, pretending to listen to Chrissy go on about her trying out for Indiana State’s cheer team. Across the room, Eddie sat with his group of misfit boys, picking at his food with his black lunchbox clutched close. He was talking animatedly about something, you couldn’t pick out the details. The two younger boys seemed enthralled by his monologuing, though, hanging on every word. You kept running through how to ask him, where to ask him, and even what to ask him. You couldn’t walk up and just ask to join Hellfire, they were incredibly exclusive–just like the cheerleaders. So, you had to ask him privately. Just asking him to join you somewhere privately was extremely presumptuous.
“Hey, are you listening?” a hand waves in front of your face as you jump, breaking you out of your stupor.
“Sorry, what?” you ask turning back to look at your friend and her stupid blond boyfriend.
“Is Munson up to something again? Fucking creep,” Jason comments and you shake your head, turning back to listen to Chrissy.
“No, sorry, just zoned out. How did the tryout go?” you ask her and she continues to describe the harrowing process of getting up there with a million other girls that looked exactly like her. Smiling and nodding, the internal monologue planning out your conversation with Eddie could wait.
It was by sheer dumb luck that you even encountered him. There was a mob of Freshmen walking your way, stuck together as if they had no idea how to walk through crowds. Moving to the side, you huff, glaring at them when you walk face-first into a firm chest.
“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, glancing up at the poor person you just shoulder-checked on accident. As you look up, your eyes meet sparking brown ones.
“Don’t worry about it princess,” he states, smiling at you slightly to the point where you see his dimples peek through. You didn’t even know he had dimples.
Eddie moves out of your way quickly to follow the flow of the crowd when you grab onto his leather jacket, the material crunching under your grip. This was your chance, you’d never have the balls to approach him after this. As he looks back, frowning at you holding onto his jacket. You grasp at the words you pre-programmed in your head as they suddenly flutter away, leaving you in an instant. What was the game? You knew what you were asking, but what was it called?
“I was wondering,” you start, trying to word the phrase carefully so as to not appear overly enthusiastic. “I heard you have… that you know—how to do that thing.”
Words stumble out of your mouth clumsily and you hope he understands, or at least that he knows you want to talk privately. He stares blankly at you and the looming fear of rejection kicks in before you let him make a decision.
“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone,” you mutter, turning to walk away but Eddie speaks up before you can go.
“Meet me in the forest behind the football field after school. There’s a picnic table–you’ll recognize it when you find it,” before you can turn back and ask him what he means, the crowd thickens and you lose him in the hustle and bustle. Perhaps that was where his club met, or he just wanted to teach you how to play privately. Whatever it was, it was the easiest way to talk to Eddie, in whatever capacity he deemed necessary.
The rest of the day is spent impatiently waiting for the end of the day. You bounce your leg during English, staring out the window to the field, making up scenarios about how it could go. You expected him to laugh at you, but you could deal with a bit of humiliation. Being a cheerleader was training enough for such situations, the others were such bitches sometimes.
But the end of the day came quick enough. The grass crunched underneath your shoes, a welcome sound to drown out the deafening silence. Warm sunlight shines upon your skin, bringing some feeling back into your extremities. Your fingers were freezing from the nerves, so it was comforting to have a sort of warmth.
Passing the treeline, you find the picnic table in the small clearing, taking a seat on one of the benches. The forest was quiet, with the occasional sound of a small animal in the background. No one really ventured into these woods after the Byers kid went missing and then was found again, so it was understandable that Eddie wanted to talk here. The place where people would be least likely to find you. A crunch of the leaves brings you back to the trees where you spot Eddie, standing out in his dark clothing against the vibrant green of the evergreens.
“Hey there, brought the stuff,” he winks, holding up his black lunch box as he sits at the table. Brought what? Brought his dice? That was a thing they needed for D&D, right?
“Oh, good,” you try to manage a smile, wrapping your arms around yourself to prevent your body from shivering. The look on his face as he pulls off his jacket makes you think you did a worse job of hiding your anxiety than you realize.
“We don’t have to do this,” he places a hand on his box–he looks about ready to walk away when you shake your head eagerly.
“No, I really want to learn. Please,” you add, hoping that the desperation bleeds through.
“Alrighty. Well, there’s nothing huge to it. Taking a hit may seem daunting, but you just have to breathe in as deeply as possible,” he opens his box and pulls out a bag full of what you quickly realize to be weed. Your breath catches in your throat as he holds it out to you.
“I’ll do you a half-ounce of Indica for, uh, twenty–what do you say?” you stare like a deer in headlights, your eyes wide in disbelief. It’s not that you cared he sold drugs, to each their own, it’s that you walked into the forest expecting to learn how to play D&D but got a drug dealer instead.
“Should be enough to last you a while–like four joints if you’re frugal with it,” he smiles, holding out the Ziploc bag. Your mind is broken, only tv static playing as you try and put together the pieces so that maybe at the end of it, you can repair all the damage that you’ve done.
He looks back at you, trying to gauge your reaction. You blink a couple of times as he throws the bag back into the box, shutting it.
“Look, if you came out here on a dare for your cheerleader friends, we can just walk away. You look freaked out as it is,” he places a hand over his mouth, begging you to say something, anything to break the silence.
“I didn’t come because of them,” you start, urging the words to come out of your mouth.
“Then are you looking at me because it’s your first time? You don’t have to be scared, it’s not rocket science or anything. I promise it’s simpler than it looks,” you didn’t expect as much kindness as he offered, it was a bit endearing to hear how eager he was to teach you how to roll a joint. “I can even show you, but–shit–I didn’t bring a grinder. I swear to god, I always pack one in my box.”
“I didn’t come for the drugs,” you continue, watching the color drain from his face.
“You didn’t—shit, shit, shit“ he instantly drops the bag into his lunch box, slamming it shut and grabbing it off the table. “Forget you saw anything, really. It was nice talking to you.”
Eddie stands and begins walking off, through the woods, but you quickly get up from the wooden table and chase after him, your bag bouncing up and down against your back as you run toward him.
“Wait! I won’t tell anyone I promise! I came for D&D!” you urge, slamming into his back as he stops in his tracks.
“I’m sorry,” he turns back slowly, his brows furrowed. “I must be hallucinating, what did you just say?”
“I want to learn how to play D&D. You run that club–Hellfire–right?” you ask timidly, gripping onto the straps of your backpack tightly as a sort of lifeline.
“You, a prissy, little, pom-pom wielding cheerleader, want to learn how to play Advanced Dungeons and Dragons written by the father of role-playing games himself, Gary Gygax? That D&D?” he asks.
“I think so–the one where you fight the bugbears?” he nods. “Then yes. That one.”
Your voice is small as you talk, but he hangs on every single word. It must be silly, seeing you desperate to learn how to play a children’s game right after he just tried to sell you drugs, but at least the words came out this time.
“Are you sure I didn’t just crack my head open, because frankly, I’ve had trips less weird than this,” he asks and you shake your head.
“Is it that hard to believe that I want to learn how to play?” you pull on your backpack straps nervously, the weight of them suddenly becoming too much as reality begins to sink in.
“Could the eagles fly to Mordor–of course, it’s hard to believe because it’s a possibility but the understanding is that it could never happen. Not in a million years, or a trillion, but here I am,” he sighs and rubs his forehead, trying to make sense of it. “Well, alright, you want to learn how to play. But, why?”
“Because it seemed fun?” you shrug as you speak, fiddling your fingers to get rid of the nerves, “I always heard Mike and Dustin talk about it behind me at the basketball games when they should have been cheering on Lucas. I don’t know–running around in a world where you could do anything–where you could be anything sounds like fun to me. I want to be more than a straight-A student that’s a part of cheer and waves around a green pom-pom while shaking my ass in front of the entire school. Is it that hard to understand?”
There’s a silence as your words hang in the air, the forest bearing witness to the weirdest conversation that you’ve ever had. Eddie’s arms swing slightly as the tension bleeds from his body, his black lunch box rocking with illicit substances.
“Well, when you put it like that, then I guess it sounds pretty alright to me,” he nods as the two of you stand in silence for a moment.
“I won’t throw you into the hellfire, not just yet–the boys would eat you up, and then you’d never want to be around us again,” he grins as a nervous laugh bubbles up out of your chest.
“We could meet up after cheer practice, it’s not a Friday so you don’t have club right?” you ask and his eyes sparkle as he tilts his head.
“You remembered,” he turns and begins to walk toward the field, your feet moving alongside his as the two of you emerge from the treeline.
“We can’t go to my place, though, my parents would freak,” you tell him and watch his face drop a little. “Not that I care about their opinion! I just don’t want you to get yelled at, you’re already much nicer than most of the cheer team.”
“No offense taken, sweetheart. We can go back to mine, it’s usually empty,” you nod and smile up at him, a hop in your step. “Although I have to say, you must be brave going straight into Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson’s trailer.”
“It’s nothing compared to the disgusting parties Jason hosts at that stupid abandoned building. I’m sure the worst thing I might find at your place is mildew–I once stepped in vomit at a party and had to throw away my favorite cheer shoes. I’ll never forgive him for that.”
“Well then, I’ll see you at five.”
The hours passed surprisingly quickly once the first big hurdle was taken care of. You went through cheer practice easily, the dancing and tumbling were muscle memory and you felt more than prepared for the next pep rally. But as the sun began to set and you changed into more reasonable clothing, you met Eddie outside where his van was parked.
As you walked up, he continued to look past you until he realized that you were coming to talk to him.
“Oh! It’s you–you look so different without the skirt and slicked back hair,” he waves his arms around, gesturing toward your outfit. Most people walked around in their cheer uniforms, and it was required for most days when there were big events, but it was more comfortable to change out of it. You didn’t want to be sporting your Hawkins High School pride all the time.
“Is it weird to see me in anything other than green and white? I know the dark clothing must look off-putting for someone expected to be so bubbly and out there,” you look down at your pants and band t-shirt, it wasn’t that odd, right?
“It’s not bad–just different!” he offers and smiles nervously. “Well, your chariot awaits, my liege.”
You shake your head and laugh as he bows to you, climbing into the passenger seat. The van definitely smelt of weed and smoke, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as you expected. There were a few cans littering the floor and clothes strewn about, but it was decent for a teenage boy. Once Eddie turns on the car, instantly Metallica blares over his loudspeakers, shaking the car with how much the bass is turned up.
“Sorry, installed a subwoofer in here a while back to really feel the music, but it can get pretty intense for people who don’t expect it,” he smiles apologetically, turning the volume nob quickly to the left to shut off the sound.
“No, you’re fine! It’s kind of nice hearing the music out loud and not just through my headphones. I can rarely play it aloud, my parents hate my music and it’s not like cheerleaders listen to metal,” you shrug and lean over, turning the volume back up again.
Eddie blinks as you look over and he stares in awe for a moment as you bang your head a little to the music. Your hair falls into your face as you laugh, frowning curiously.
“What?”
“You are full of surprises, today, princess,” he turns the key in the ignition, the van coming to life as the two of you pull out of the parking space and make your way down the road incredibly fast. In most instances, this would be terrifying. Being in a car with almost a complete stranger listening to the devil’s music and shooting down the road at illegal speeds. But, there was something familiar and comforting in the way that the light hit just right with the sun setting and how Eddie’s hair blew around in the wind as he blasted music with the windows down.
Pulling into the trailer park, Eddie slows down in front of one of the first trailers, parking the car in the make-shift driveway. You hop out, looking over at the small trailer. It wasn’t much and it definitely didn’t compare to your large house out in the suburbs but it was small and homey and much more lived-in than the pristine, perfectly cut grass of your cookie-cutter house.
“This is, uh, my castle,” he smiles tightly and gestures awkwardly, as you smile brightly, looking over at the small porch with a little green couch. How many days must he have spent enjoying sunset whilst smoking a cigarette to relax after a long day?
“It’s nice, it’s so much quieter out here,” you sigh and take a deep breath of the fresh forest air. Walking up the steps, Eddie holds open the door as you walk in, taking a look around. He grimaces and quickly moves into action, picking up the used mugs and old food wrappers, and dropping them into the sink and trash respectively. You don’t really notice it, though, as you run your hands along the walls, taking in the little pieces of personality. The hats hanging on the wall, the mismatched mugs hanging on the wooden fixture. It was nice seeing life in a little house, as embarrassed as Eddie may be.
“Sorry about the mess, the maid took the week off,” he smiles tightly lipped as you look around. “Why don’t we head back to my room? I have all my stuff there.”
“Now that you know I don’t want drugs, I definitely see how everything I said could have seemed like it because that definitely sounded like you are insinuating something,” you laugh, following him back to his room. “Do you live here alone?”
“Nah, my uncle works down at the plant most nights so he’s probably left already for his shift. Why? You afraid of being alone with me?” he cocks an eyebrow at you as you roll your eyes.
“I’m not daft, I don’t believe anything anyone has to say about you.”
Stepping into Eddie’s room, you look around at the various band posters, most notably the paper poster with a band called ‘Corroded Coffin.’
“That sounds cool, is it some underground metal band that’s up and coming?” you ask and point toward the poster. Looking over, you see a sort of flush on his cheeks as he clears his throat.
“It’s my band,” he smiles and awkwardly looks away, muttering something to himself as he kisses his fingers and strums the electric guitar.
“Oh! And the Slayer flag’s really cool too–did you go to a concert?”
“I’m sorry,” he sits on his bed, bouncing slightly because of the springs. “You know who Slasher is?”
“Of course I do, I told you–I listen to metal,” you insist, looking around but not touching even though you wanted to dig your fingers into his cassette tape collection. It looked incredible.
“Am I on drugs right now? Did I crash my car and now I’m in heaven? This has to be a joke. Did your cheerleader friends put you up to this because I’m having a really hard time believing that a cheerleader listens to metal music and wanted to come over to my house to learn how to play D&D. Am I hearing you correctly?” he stares at you incredulously from the bed, his face in his hands. He peeks out from between his fingers as you smile brightly.
“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I wouldn’t have gotten into the van with you if you weren’t sober. And, I’m not sure your idea of heaven includes me because I’m just another cheerleader–so that’s a no for drugs and a no for heaven,” you shrug and he flops back onto the bed, staring up at the mildewy ceiling. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, I can just leave.”
“No!” he sits up quickly. “Don’t leave, you’re perfect–I mean, I’m just trying to catch up with reality. But we can get started.”
Eddie grabs a small velvet bag and a stack of books, pulling them onto the bed with him. You leaf through the pages, opening up to the library card stuck to the inside of the front cover.
“You were supposed to return this a couple of months ago,” you tell him and he shrugs.
“No one wants it anyway,” you huff out a small laugh as he begins to explain the rules. “So, Advanced D&D, or Dungeons and Dragons, if the first game of its kind really. It all boils down to one single die–a d20, or a twenty-sided die.”
You truly could listen to Eddie speak all day, hanging onto his every word. And he’s never demeaning in the way that he answers your questions when you ask him what an ability score is or how you get anything done when you have literal free reign over whatever you want to do. There are rules of course, but they’re more like guidelines.
“So, okay, how do you cast spells?” you ask, reading over the description for a magic user, specifically a druid. It seemed like a good class, but you weren’t exactly sure how the system worked. Looking over at Eddie, you crane your neck to see him tossing a small ball up and down.
“It’s based on your intelligence–you know, one of the ability scores that I told you about–so the higher your intelligence, the better off you are and you have more spells,” he plops down on the bed beside you, making you bounce a little as it settles. “And then the spells you have are cast at specific times and have specific requirements. For example, Magic Missile always beats a Fireball.”
He leafs through the books and finds the page, pointing to the section. His chunky rings glitter in the low lighting as you read eagerly, questioning how all this information is stored inside his head.
“How do you remember all of this?” you ask, staring at him leafing through the papers nonchalantly. It’s nothing to him, all three hundred pages of it. The information comes easy, and you wished that something came to you as easily as this did to him.
“Hm, after years of playing and writing, I guess it just comes naturally. And besides, there’s a reason my hair is so big–it stores all my intelligence,” you scoff and nudge him.
“I’m serious, you’re pretty smart! It’s kind of incredible,” you smile as he smiles back at you shyly. It’s just the two of you staring at each other and you can’t help but take a moment to get lost in the mischievous sparkle of his brown eyes. He’s so close that he smells of cigarette smoke, weed, and Old Spice, but it’s a welcome blend. Your noses almost touch before you clear your throat and turn back to the book, a warm flush crawling up your neck onto your cheeks.
“Okay so, I was thinking half-elven cleric.”
After a couple of hours, you have a character drafted up. Cel Evenstar, after your favorite character from Lord of the Rings because of course you’ve read it, you weren’t uneducated and it stands to be one of the greatest pieces of fantasy literature to have ever existed.
“Now, you just have to find someone to play with,” he proposes, closing all the books and packing away the dice. “Lucky for you, I just so happen to know the guy who runs Hellfire Club.”
“Already? Don’t you think they’d freak out about how newbies aren’t allowed to play or that I’m not prepared enough? I mean they probably have years ahead of me,” you clutch the folder that Eddie lent to you close to your chest, full of papers and notes you took over the last couple of hours.
“If they have anything to say, they’ll be going through me,” he winks, a smile growing on your face as you check the clock.
“Drive me home?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”