Tossing, turning

Struggled through the night with someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lantern, burning

Flickered in the night, only you

Hawkins, March 24-25, 1986

Eddie gave her the bed, just like he said he would. And one of his t-shirts, and a pair of pajama pants that she had to roll several times at the waist to fit her. Now he laid on his floor, staring up at the ceiling, while Chrissy laid in his bed. He knew she wasn't asleep, either. She kept tossing around.

"How pissed off do you think Jason would be if he knew you were laying in the bed of a satanic murderer?" He asked, desperate to break the tense silence of the room. To his surprise, Chrissy tittered out a nervous laugh.

"Joke's on Jason," she said. "Almost a whole day with you and most of it alone and I still haven't been offed."

It was a joke, but despite the offhand way she said it, another heavy silence settled over the room. Eddie wasn't the one they needed to worry about, but Chrissy was still very much in danger. The silence was punctuated by her sniffling. There was a rustling as she rolled herself in the bed, and then her face appeared above Eddie's.

"You really won't leave me, right?" She asked, face pale in the shadows of his dark room. A hand came out of the blankets and when she held it out to him, Eddie took it without a second thought.

"No," he promised. "Of course not."

Her hand was small and soft in his own. He hadn't had time to notice that earlier, when they ran through the forest. Now it was all he thought about, running a thumb over her knuckles. They were quiet again, watching each other in the dark. Then Eddie had to go and open his mouth.

"Have you thought, like, maybe you should tell Jason? About... the thing?" Chrissy pulled her hand away, rolling onto her back and out of his sight.

"He wouldn't believe me," she said, voice soft yet firm. "Or, he would, but he would think..."

"That you're a freak?" Eddie finished for her. There was a rustle of fabric as she nodded. Then, she was leaning over the edge of the bed again, eyes narrowed at him. There was just enough light from his window for him to see her scrutinizing him.

"Why do you believe me, anyway?"

"Chrissy, we watched Max float in the damn air today, why wouldn't I believe the two of you?"

"Fair," she conceded, "but why did you agree to help me? We don't even know each other, not really."

Because you're nice and funny and hot, Eddie thought to himself. In answer, he gave a shrug. "Because you needed it."

"So, from the goodness of your own heart?"

"You're the one who said I'm not as scary as you thought I would be," he shot back. "This is part of the whole not being scary thing."

"But you don't even know me," she pressed on. From the floor, Eddie sighed, letting all the air deflate from his lungs before he replenished them with a deep inhale.

"Let's play twenty questions and get to know each other, then. It's not like either of us are sleeping anyway. You start."

"Where'd you live before Hawkins?" She asked after a beat. "Before you came to live with your uncle?"

"In a way shittier trailer park in Mooresville."

"I've never heard of that place," she said softly. He could hear more rustling. Eddie pushed himself up on an elbow to see Chrissy folding his comforter contemplatively between her fingers.

"It's not worth hearing about. So, you don't trust Jason enough to tell him about all this?"

"Jason wouldn't understand," she said again. "He doesn't understand anything that isn't his idea of right and normal."

She rolled over in the bed again, looking at him over the edge once more. "Where'd you get your sweet ol' tatties done?"

Her deflection made him laugh. "Here in the trailer park, by the local kitchen scratcher. You can practically chart Troy's improvement through them. What music have you been using to keep this tentacle creep at bay?"

"The Beatles. What Max said about the happy memories... I think she's right. I always think of listening to The Beatles with my dad when I have the tapes going. Um, what's your favorite music?"

It wasn't lost on him that Chrissy was playing it safe with her line of questioning. Eddie smiled to herself before rattling off the likes of Metallica, Iron Maiden, and AC/DC. "How'd you know something was going on with Max? Before we heard Henderson and the others yelling, I mean."

"It's cold, when he's close," she admitted. "I, um, think he was getting close the other night when I came for the Special K. That's why I was so jumpy. Do you think Dustin was telling the truth? About how their friend El has superpowers?"

"Yeah, actually. Henderson's got no reason to lie to us. And none of those guys-Henderson or Sinclair or Harrington-would be in on what happened to Fred Benson. You don't believe them?"

"I do," she said softly. "I just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one. Do you... do you think we'll be able to... beat it?"

Fear colored every word of her disjointed question. Through the darkness, Eddie met her wide, searching gaze and nodded. "What Henderson told us... they've been against some big bads before and have always come out on top. I don't see why this time would be any different. But, um, just in case... what's your favorite Beatles song?"

"Here Comes the Sun."

At her answer, Eddie looked up at the ceiling, imagining the feel of his guitar in his hands. He knew the song; Uncle Wayne was a Beatles fan himself. He mimed the opening chords on the imaginary guitar. "Okay, I know that one. I'll listen to it to be sure."

"Why would you need to know the song?" Chrissy asked, genuine confusion showing through her words.

"Uh, because the tentacle creep hates happiness, and I think it's safe to assume your favorite song would make you happy. And I don't have any Beatles on tape, but I do have a guitar." It wouldn't be quite right played on his unplugged electric, but it was the closest he had to offer. He flicked his gaze back to her face to find her wiping at her cheeks. "Shit, did I make you cry."

She shook her head. "That's just... really nice of you. Things haven't been so nice lately, you know, with everything. Thank you. Um, why did you learn guitar?"

"It was Wayne's idea," he confided. "He thought it would be a good idea for me to have a hobby to take my mind off things when I first came to live with him. I never stopped playing since. Why cheer?"

She gave him a shy smile at that one. "There's only one scene where she actually cheers, but Grease is one of my favorite movies, and I wanted to be like Sandy when I was little. I thought being a cheerleader was, like, the most amazing and mature thing you could do. Do you call your group the Hellfire Club because of the whole Satanic Panic thing?"

Eddie couldn't help the laugh that burst through his chest. "Yes, we all thought it would be funny. That's the only reason we have t-shirts made. Just out of curiosity, what's your grade in senior chemistry?"

"An A, why?"

"Once we're done dealing with the tentacle creep, if you're feeling the need to repay me in anyway, that's the class I need to pass so I can finally leave the hell hole commonly known as Hawkins High behind. Are you feeling okay, after this afternoon?"

"I haven't felt him again," she gave a shake of his head. "But... maybe he's plotting. I mean, I've been keeping him at bay without knowing it and Max flat out escaped him. How mad do you think Steve would be if we tried to give Max weed?"

They both laughed at that, the mental image of Steve Harrington absolutely losing it were he to find Max with a joint in her hand. "I'll keep some with me for you, at least. Maybe one day you'll get to enjoy a high without something scaring the shit out of you right after."

"A girl can dream. You have the twentieth question, Eddie."

He fell quiet for a moment, trying to think of one worthy of being the twentieth and trying to ignore the disappointment at their little game ending. Though he wouldn't admit it, he liked talking to Chrissy. It was the most fun he'd had talking to a girl in some time. Finally, he settles on asking the question that had been niggling at his mind since they stepped foot into the woods together earlier that afternoon.

"Why do you trust me?"

"Because you're a good person, Eddie. The other night, you could've just sold me the ketamine and made your money and sent me on my way. I-I think I would have died that night, if it weren't for you. I know neither of us realized it at the time, but... I felt him that whole day, until you gave me the weed and told me about how music helped you. You've already saved my life once, Eddie, without even knowing it."

He looked away from there, unable to hold her gaze in the aftermath of emotions coursing through him at her confession. The posters on his wall swam just out of focus thanks to the dark. Eddie took a deep, steadying breath and nodded to himself.

"Wayne gets home around six from his night shift, so if you hear banging around the house, it's him. The church bells don't start until ten. I set my alarm for eight, so we can meet Henderson and Max at nine like we planned."

Her hand reached down from the bed for his again. There wasn't even a first thought; Eddie took it immediately, like a reflex. Chrissy gave his hand a squeeze before drawing it upward and pressing a quick, light kiss to his knuckles. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Chrissy."

She rolled away from him, out of sight once more. Eddie stared up at his ceiling and listened to her breathing until it evened out and deepened. Only once Chrissy was asleep did he chance closing his own eyes.

In the morning, Eddie let Chrissy shower first. He gave her the smallest shirt he can find—a Def Leppard tee he's outgrown—from his closet. They ate pop tarts he warms for them in the toaster and stared at the kitchen clock as it edged closer to nine.

"Thank you," Chrissy said softly, breaking off the edges of her pop tart. She's only picked at it, taking just a few bites, but he can't blame her. "For yesterday. Last night. This morning."

There was an almost, rueful smile playing at her lips when she looked up at him from beneath her bangs.

"Don't mention it," he told her, the cherry pastry going thick in his throat when he swallowed. "Unless, of course, you wanna let Jason know his smear campaign isn't gonna work."

Bringing up Jason was his reminder that Chrissy Cunningham might have been in danger, but she was also best kept at arm's length. And damn, did he need it. Chrissy had braided her damp hair back and tied up his t-shirt; it was big on her. The fact that she was wearing his clothes was not doing him any good with his memory of her stupid, blonde, basketball playing boyfriend.

"I'll alert the masses that Eddie Munson, despite the smear campaign and tales of debauchery, is my knight in shining armor."

"And don't you forget it. C'mon, we gotta meet Henderson."

Outside, the day was offensively bright. Eddie squinted against the sun as he led the way to Max's trailer. Henderson opened the door before he could even knock.

"Know the Creel House?"

"Henderson, are you fucking serious?"

"Uh, yeah? I wouldn't suggest going just for the hell of it. Nancy thinks it's our best lead right now."

Eddie raised his eyebrows at Henderson, but the boy was serious. Shrugging, he tossed a look over his shoulder at Chrissy before giving her the keys to his van. "Gotta grab a few things. Chrissy will sit with you two."

The 'few things' were his guitar, lighter, and a couple of joints for Chrissy. His guitar was placed in the backseat between Henderson and Max. It wasn't lost on Eddie that she wore her headphones around her neck. "Got enough batteries?" He asked to which Max nodded. "Then let's go."

It was a quiet drive to the other side of town. Eddie parked his van behind a brown town car. "Looks like Harrington and Co. are already here."

When the shiver visibly wracked down Chrissy's spine, it wasn't lost on Eddie. Still, she squared her shoulders and opened the passenger side door. She was the first to step out of the van.

Having sat abandoned for decades, the Creel house loomed before them in all its boarded-up Victorian glory. At one point it must have been a grand house. Robin's egg blue paint still clung to the exterior, proud columns of the wrap-around porch standing tall despite the vines that had grown around them. Sinclair, Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, and Robin Buckley all sat on the lawn, waiting.

"Nancy, Robin, Eddie, Chrissy," Henderson did a quick round of introductions when they drew closer. If the others were surprised to see Eddie and Chrissy there, they hid it well. Nancy gave them no more than a nod in recognition, but Robin offered a wave. "We ready to do this? Oh, we're calling this guy Vecna, by the way."

That last bit was tossed over Dustin's shoulder in Eddie and Chrissy's direction. Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as the group moved toward the porch steps. "Do you name all the villains after D&D characters?"

To that, Dustin gave one of his big smiles, eyes disappearing behind the folds of his cheeks. The group converged on the spacious porch while Harrington and Nancy began pulling nails from the boarded door.

"What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?" Harrington asked.

"We're not sure. We just know this house is important to Vecna." At Nancy's answer, Chrissy took a step closer to Eddie. He felt her small hand slip into his.

"You good?" He asked her quietly. Meaning, can you feel him? Chrissy shook her head to his unvoiced question.

"This place just gives me the creeps."

"Maybe it holds a clue to where Vecna is. Why he's back. Why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max or Chrissy." Henderson shrugged, sending the tools in his large backpack to clanging.

"We don't think he's in here, do we?"

"Guess we'll find out," Max said, echoing Eddie's own thoughts.

"So, uh... what's that about?" From the second-floor landing, Dustin and Steve watch Chrissy pause in front of an ornately carved grandfather clock. Only a handful of seconds pass before Eddie is beside her, head dipped low over hers. He must have told her a joke, for a soft laugh drifted up to them from below.

"Honestly, I have no idea. Eddie hasn't said anything." The pair moved out of sight when they walked to the left of the living room they were poking through. Dustin waved Steve on to follow him along the second-floor hallway.

"Is she still with Jason? Did Lucas say?" They slipped into a bedroom. Dustin began pulling on drawers while Steve flipped the bed's mattress on its side to investigate the box spring beneath.

"She is, as far as he knows, but it's not like she's cheating on him, man. Am I cheating on Suzie every time I hang out with El or Max? Or make them laugh?"

"I didn't say she was cheating, I just think it's weird he's here instead of her boyfriend."

"You played basketball with the guy, can you honestly tell me that Jason would believe any of this? Or would he think Chrissy should be shipped off to Penhurst herself? Jason is the reason Lucas won't play D&D with us anymore. He says it's devil worship. We had to have Erica sub in for Lucas last week during Hellfire."

Dustin turned to find Steve frowning at that. He couldn't be too hard on Steve, though; he saw it, too. The parallels between what happened with him, Nancy, and Jonathan and what was going on downstairs.

"Listen, Eddie can be a lot, but he's a good guy. If Chrissy trusts him to do this with her, I think that says a lot."

"Yeah, maybe," came Steve's eventual reply. He wouldn't meet Dustin's eye.

"I bet it was so pretty here, before... everything." Chrissy stood beside one of the stained-glass windows, watching the intermittent sunlight play over the wooden floors. All the windows were boarded, leaving the house dim despite the fact the day wasn't even half over. Dust motes swirled through the beams of red and blue tinged light.

"Probably," Eddie conceded. "It's just so... big. I don't think I've ever been in a house this big."

He swatted at an errant moth before it could land on her shoulder. "You sure you're good? I haven't seen Max take her headphones off since we stepped foot in this place."

"I'm okay. It's scary, but—" Chrissy is cut off by the lamp sitting on a side table beside her suddenly flickering on, then off, then on again. It's rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat. She watches it for a few beats before tilting her head back to see Eddie's face gone pale.

"Let's find the others."

Stepping back into the foyer revealed that the chandelier over head was doing the same thing.

"Um, guys, last I checked abandoned houses don't have power." Robin Buckley said, emerging from the dining room with Nancy close behind her.

Steve and Dustin came rushing downstairs, taking them two at a time in tandem. Max and Lucas appeared as well, though Chrissy didn't see from which direction. Her attention was focused on the chandelier, and for good reason; she could feel—or, at the least, was imagining she can—the beat of the light. It pulsed over her with each flicker, out of time with her own racing heart.

One look at Max and she knew the younger girl could feel it, too. He's here, their eyes said to one another. "It's like the Christmas lights," Nancy whispered. "When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights came to life."

"Vecna's here, in this house." Chrissy already knew it to be true, but hearing Lucas say it out loud gave life to the cold dread settling over her heart. It bloomed, spreading throughout her chest and settling heavily in her stomach. "Just on the other side."

The chandelier above them petered out, plunging them into near-darkness only cut through by the flashlights they all carried. "Did he hear us?"

"Can he see us?" Steve asked. He and Max were echoing Chrissy's own thoughts. She stepped closer to Eddie and he took her by the arm immediately, his hand reassuring in its solid warmth.

"Wait, wait. Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out." Nancy said. Eddie gave her a look, but Chrissy only shrugged. Both of them were new to this game; best to listen to the others who had played before. Without the lights, it truly was pitch black inside the decrepit house. Where had the day gone?

"I won't leave you," Eddie whispered to her, all breath. He kept hold of her hand as he backed into a room at random, leaving them alone in the dark kitchen. Chrissy walked directly into a counter, the corner biting into her hip and causing her to give a small yelp.

She steadied herself by grabbing hold of Eddie's shoulder. Gently, he led her away from the counter and toward one of the busted out, boarded windows. Reaching a hand into his pocket, he withdrew a joint and his lighter from his pocket. The flame flickered over his features, throwing them into stark relief from the darkness. Just as he had in the woods yesterday, Eddie started the joint for her before passing it over.

"Not exactly Kate Bush, but I think it's helped before." Chrissy gladly took it from him. She hoisted herself onto the counter, blowing the smoke out the hole in the glass and boards for a few steadying hits. That was all she allowed herself before grinding out the joint on an old, dusty bowl that sat beside the sink.

"I don't think I should be completely high for this," she said, voice soft, as if she might shatter the night that had fallen around them while they were unawares. "Thank you."

"I'm starting think those are your favorite words," Eddie teased, leaning an elbow on the counter beside her. The dim moonlight had leeched all the color from his eyes. They appeared as black as the shadows around them when Chrissy met them and tried to give him a smile.

"You've given me a lot to be thankful for," she told him, meaning every word of it.

"Yeah, well," Eddie said with a shrug, gracing her with one of his own wide smiles. "Don't go spreading the news I'm a gentleman. I'll lose my street cred."

"What are you gonna do if the weed isn't enough?" Chrissy asked, searching for a change of subjects. She was thankful the shadows hid her blush. In answer, Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter, beating out a staccato rendition of the opening melody for Here Comes the Sun.

"Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter," he whisper-sang to her. There was nothing on the face of the planet, she was sure, that could stop the smile that spread across her cheeks at Eddie Munson singing The Beatles to her. An ember of warmth began to glow just over her chest, combatting the cold dread that had taken residence once again after the thing with the lights. "I'm no Adam, but I can improvise if need be. There's a reason I don't sing in the band, though, so sorry in advance if I'm not up to snuff."

"Eddie…" Her voice was thick around his name. Chrissy wasn't sure what she was trying to say in that moment, but it didn't matter. Robin's excited shout interrupted her and the moment between her and Eddie passed.

"I have him!" Ever the gentleman in leather, Eddie was quick to help her off her counter perch. He led her back through the kitchen. "I have him!"

Robin stood in the hallway, her flashlight blinking lazily before going out completely. "Well, I had him."

Steve's flashlight sprang to life seconds later, the beam cutting through the dusty darkness. "Oh, I think he's moving. He's moving! He's moving!" Steve led the way upward, flashlight held before him like a beacon. Each stair creaked and groaned beneath their combined weight. Had she the ability to force words past the fear clogging her throat, Chrissy would have apologized for how tightly she was clinging to Eddie's hand. She settled for a squeeze instead.

His response came in threading their fingers together.

"Shit, I lost him." Steve's flashlight went dark as the group of teenagers set foot on the landing.

"No, you didn't." Max strode forward, opening a door that led to another set of stairs, presumably leading to the attic. This stairway was narrow. By necessity, they climbed it single file, yet Eddie still didn't let go of Chrissy's hand.

"Hold up, guys, what if he's leading us into a trap?" The words came from Dustin taking up the rear but went unheeded. He began chanting shit to himself when there was no response from the others. Under different circumstances, Chrissy thought the boy was probably really funny.

Inside the dusty attic, a single naked lightbulb flickered where it hung toward the center of the room. Every flashlight came to life as the group drew near. They formed a circle around the lightbulb, flashlights raised skyward.

"Okay, what's happening?" Steve asked. Seemingly in answer, the beams of light strengthened, throwing everyone's features into stark contrast as fearful eyes raised toward the ceiling.

Suddenly, the glass off the flashlights began to pop and shatter. Chrissy gave a surprised shriek as her exploded, a wayward shard of glass grazing across her cheek. The flashlights shattered in tandem around the circle before the overhead light gave as well, exploding from within.

The sound of shattering glass continued to echo dully from downstairs. "Uh, I think maybe we should get the fuck out of here."

No one argued with Eddie's crass suggestion. In fact, the teenagers were nearly tripping over one another trying to get down the stairs and out of the house. Glass crunched beneath Chrissy's feet as she ran, following Eddie from the pressing terror of the Creel house and into the chilly spring night.