(May 1986)
Somehow, Sadie manages to scrape through the remainder of the first half of school with no further incidents, her arms curled tightly around the books she will need for the latter half of the day after lunch. She is so focused on making it to the cafeteria without meeting the eyes of anyone lingering in the halls around her, though, that she doesn't really grasp where it is she intends to go. And it isn't until she nearly collides with a shorter figure, baseball cap crammed down over a full head of curls, that she comes to, a gasp escaping as she staggers backwards and nearly upends someone else's lunch tray as a result.
"Shit! Sorry! Was hoping to catch your attention before you—ran me over."
"I didn't—I'm sorry, I was—who are you?"
"Dustin," The kid replies, managing a smile even in spite of Sadie's obvious confusion, "Come sit with us."
"Us?"
"Hellfire Club."
Sadie blinks as comprehension sets in. As she realizes what it was she had been prepared to do. It had all seemed so simple. So instinctive. Just like any other day, she had been heading for Jason and Andy's table.
But today is hardly any other day. And Sadie knows without a doubt that the table that once held people she considered friends—family—will no longer be welcoming at all.
"I don't—I'm not sure that's such a good idea," She says, frowning as she takes in Dustin's expression, and realizes very quickly exactly what he must think her reason for declining the offer must be, "No, not—it isn't—it's nothing to do with—with Hellfire. Just—I just don't want to draw any—any attention to you."
"Um—you do know that Eddie is the leader of Hellfire, right?"
"I do."
"Then you should know there's literally no chance in hell we make it through lunch without drawing attention to ourselves on like—a daily basis."
"I—"
"C'mon," Dustin persists, grabbing at Sadie's arm, albeit gently, and steering her back to the table where Eddie is already seated, even in spite of her half-hearted protests along the way.
"I don't want to cause any trouble."
"You won't."
"Not even from—your own friends?"
"Nope."
"Dustin, are you sure that—"
"Is he sure that what?"
Sadie jumps in response to the words, despite recognizing the voice almost immediately, her cheeks warming as she feels Eddie's arm wind around her shoulders to pull her against his side. And she is aware of the looks they are earning from the others gathered around the table. Some of them seem skeptical, and others merely startled, but Sadie is somewhat relieved to note that none of them appear to be openly hostile.
In fact, one of the other guys stands as well, heading over to where Sadie stands between Dustin and Eddie with a somewhat amused smile.
"Blink twice if you're here against your will."
"Ha-ha. Very funny."
"I know you, Henderson. This wouldn't be the first time you've dragged some poor soul over to our table to torment them," The newcomer quips, ignoring Dustin's roll of the eyes in favor of turning to Sadie instead, "Gareth."
"Sadie."
"Oh trust me, I know. You're pretty much all Eddie ever talks about when he's not plotting campaigns."
"I—really?"
"Okay, maybe we can find something else to talk about," Eddie cuts in, steering Sadie to a place at the table beside his own seat, and pointedly avoiding looking Gareth in the eye in the process. By some miracle, Sadie doesn't seem to be put off by the teasing. In fact, she seems somewhat amused, even with the slight flush against her cheeks.
He's torn, in that moment, between kicking Gareth under the table, and tackling him in a hug for erasing the obvious distress from Sadie's features. But he doesn't have the chance to do either, the sudden sensation of Sadie's hand resting on his own diverting his attention in seconds flat.
"Are you—are you sure this is okay?"
"Absolutely."
"Eddie—"
"I'm sure," Eddie promises, slipping his hand out from under Sadie's so that he can thread their fingers together and deliver a small squeeze, "You good?"
"Better, now."
"Good."
Sadie delivers Eddie a small smile, and he squeezes her hand again before releasing it altogether, the gesture somehow calming any lingering nerves she might have rather quickly. And she is able to shift so that she is seated more comfortably, with her books on the floor beside her chair, her eyes widening a bit as Gareth leans across the table to address her directly.
"So—you and Eddie, huh?"
"What—what about us?"
"Gareth—"
"No, Eddie, it's—it's okay," Sadie assures, pausing a moment for a steadying breath, and turning back to Gareth before going on, "We—we've been friends for—for forever, really."
"And you're—staying at his place?"
"He told you that already?"
Sadie doesn't know what to think of that. Of how quickly Eddie has divulged that particular bit of information to his friends. And she is trying to stop herself from jumping immediately to worry. To wondering how quickly the truth will circulate through the school. But it's hard. It's hard to resist thinking of what will happen when it does.
She adores Eddie. She appreciates what he is doing for her more than words can say.
She is also terrified of what will happen when everyone knows the truth. And Sadie realizes with a start that it isn't just what could happen to her.
More than anything, she hates the idea of something happening to Eddie because of her own mistakes. Andy might not want the entire school knowing his ex-girlfriend was associating with a so-called freak, but if the knowledge became widespread, he wouldn't have any reservations about striking first and thinking later.
"Sadie? You okay?"
"Sorry, I—yes. Yes, I'm fine."
From the looks on their faces, absolutely no one at Eddie's table believes her answer to Gareth's inquiry, and her cheeks flush for what feels like the hundredth time as she ducks her head down to feign a sudden fascination with the table beneath her hands. She bites her lip, because already she fears she is making a fool of herself. That Eddie's friends will think her stupid, or simply dull.
Sadie can't entirely pinpoint exactly when she started caring what they thought of her, but then she wonders if it isn't just instinctive at this point. That the desire to please everyone—a desire that had been forced into her being from day one, thanks to her mother—is behind it all.
She wants this to be different, though. She wants to believe she cares for the opinions of Eddie's friends because she cares for Eddie, himself. She cares for him more than she has cared for anyone in a very long time.
A fact that is only magnified when she feels Eddie scooting closer to her, the warmth of his hand coming to rest against her back, midway between her shoulder blades, nothing short of comforting whether she deserves such a thing or not.
"If you want to go, just say the word. I'm more than happy to get out of here for the rest of the day."
"No, I—I'm fine."
"You don't have to torture yourself, you know."
"I know. But you need to keep up your attendance if you want to graduate."
The snort Eddie gives in response to Sadie's attempt at a joke gives her more encouragement than is probably warranted, but she seizes on it anyway, a strange sort of relief nearly overwhelming her at how easy it seems to be for him to read her thoughts. And she knows it's always been that way. It's always been so effortless, it may as well be as simple as breathing.
Sadie feels a sudden swell of gratitude for Eddie. For his friends, for letting her be with them, seemingly without question, or at least none that are spoken aloud. And she is suddenly determined to do whatever she can to show them such a thing as best she can, her heart leaping into her throat as she leans forward, and hopes what she is about to do will not come across as anything other than a genuine desire to engage with them on their turf.
"Do you think you could—maybe—tell me about the campaign?"
Eddie and Gareth blink at her. Dustin's mouth drops open in obvious shock. But Sadie is more than thrilled to realize that they all quickly recover, a laugh escaping much to her surprise as all three of them start trying to explain at once, only to end up talking over one another as a result.
It may not be the exact reprieve she might have expected, but it's a start.
And Sadie is far more grateful for it than she can ever put into words.
…
(Present Day)
When Sadie comes through the door, Steve knows almost immediately that something is wrong. Eddie isn't with her, but that is not what alerts him, surprisingly enough.
What tips him off is the hollowness in her eyes. The thin line of her mouth.
Sadie's chin is trembling but she is somehow resisting any overt show of emotion, and Steve runs a hand over Chrissy's curls before leaving her to her television show and moving to follow after her mother instead as Sadie drifts into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator door to peer aimlessly inside.
"What happened?"
"I told him."
"Told him what?"
The look Sadie gives him is answer enough, and Steve acknowledges the cool twist of dread in his stomach as she closes the refrigerator door and turns away from him to lean against the countertop as though it is the only thing capable of keeping her upright. He doesn't know if he should go to her, or if she would recoil if he got too close.
Steve stands nearby, feeling more than a little useless, until Sadie's breath snags around a sob, and then he is finally moving forward, pulling her towards him while her arms wind around his waist.
"I—I ruined—everything," Sadie sobs, clinging to Steve as she had been the countertop, her tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt, "He—he hates me."
"He doesn't hate you."
"He does. How—how could he not?"
"Did he say that? Did he say he hated you?" Steve questions, suddenly tensing because if Eddie really did say those exact words, there will be absolutely nothing that will stop him from going after the metalhead himself. But he feels Sadie shaking her head, her own frame going taut in response to his words.
Steve is more than aware of her instinctive penchant for defending Eddie Munson, so he supposes it should come as no surprise that she is doing so now.
"No. No, he—he didn't."
"Then why—"
"Steve, why wouldn't he?" Sadie demands, the words choked—cracked, as though whatever had been holding her together has suddenly fallen into pieces, broken beyond repair, "I—I kept his child from him for—for years."
"You had your reasons."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Make excuses. Defend me. I don't—I don't deserve it."
Steve feels Sadie pulling away as soon as she says the words, her feet carrying her back to the countertop until she leans against it, facing him even though she is not quite looking him in the eye. And he wishes there was something he could do to help her. Something he could do to erase the heart-rending guilt that etches itself into her expression.
He hardly knows how he would react if he were in Eddie's shoes, but there is no doubt in his mind that Sadie never made any of the choices that led her here with the intent to cause Eddie pain.
"I'll talk to him," He offers, aware of the alarm that flares in Sadie's expression, though he can't entirely explain why she would feel such a thing at all, "Maybe tomorrow, I—"
"No."
"Sadie—"
"You don't have to fix this for me. I—I'm not entirely sure anyone can."
"Is he at least going to see her?"
"I don't—I don't know," Sadie admits, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "We didn't really get that far."
"Jesus Christ," Steve mutters, dragging a hand through his hair, a part of him wondering if Eddie really could find out he had a daughter, and still choose to walk away, while the other part of him doesn't want to believe such a thing of someone he has always considered to be a friend. If it were him—if Nancy had come to him years after graduation, and told him they had a child together—he would never walk away.
And Steve knows how much Eddie adored Sadie. He suspects he still adores her, even now.
He can remember how those two had been around each other in the summer, before Sadie left. Joined at the hip. Laughing softly as though they were sharing in some private joke. Attuned to one another's every move.
Even if Steve had made a point of teasing them—telling them to get a room, just to see Sadie's inevitable blush—he had always admired their bond. Maybe he had even been jealous of it, after thinking he could have something like that with Nancy, and then finding out he had been wrong.
He has to believe Eddie will come around. He has to, because he isn't sure he can watch Sadie tear herself apart in her guilt for much longer.
And perhaps that is why, even though Sadie asked him not to, Steve is already resolving to talk to Munson. To get a feel for where things stand.
As Sadie slips past him, and heads to the den to be with Chrissy, instead, Steve knows he owes both of his friends absolutely nothing less.
…
(May 1986)
When Sadie returns to her locker after the final class of the day, she is almost hopeful. Encouraged. The relief she had known sitting with Eddie and his friends at lunch seems to have carried over, propelling her through the remainder of the day, and giving her a small sort of shield to use against the lingering stares and whispers of hushed conversation.
For a minute, she doesn't even notice the word painted across her locker in bold black letters. She doesn't see it, because she is almost giddy at the thought of being free of the burden of holding herself together for the remainder of the day.
It isn't until the burly redhead whose locker is to the left of her own shifts, sending her a smirk and a snort of derisive laughter that some of that giddiness fades, reality sinking in her stomach like a stone as the word on her locker suddenly blares as brightly as a neon sign.
Whore.
She freezes, staring at the word as though looking at it for long enough will make it go away. But it never moves. Doesn't even budge. She can hear someone commenting on the state of her locker nearby. Laughter. The sound of a large throng of footsteps heading her way down the hall.
Someone jostles against her back, knocking her forward until she is forced to fling out a hand to catch herself from colliding, face-first, with the locker, but even then, Sadie's thoughts come to her through a thick fog. Her limbs don't seem to want to move.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice screams at her to run. To get out of here before she can become any more of an exhibit to mock than she already is. But Sadie cannot move. All she can do is stand there, staring dumbly at the singular word scrawled across her locker, aware of the numerous students stopping to ogle in the hall around her, until a hand suddenly locks itself gently around her upper arm.
"C'mon. Let's get you out of here, 'kay?"
Sadie isn't aware of exactly when she decides to allow that pressure against her arm to guide her away from her locker and towards the door at the opposite end of the hall, but suddenly, she finds herself squinting against the sudden blare of sunlight against her eyes. She is still following the gentle grip on her arm almost blindly, aware of soft words being spoken that she can't quite bring herself to hear.
It is almost like she has gone entirely numb to everything around her, her heart ricocheting against her ribs until a familiar van comes into view at the far edge of the school's parking lot.
Eddie. Eddie is the one who took her away from her locker. The one who saved her from the stares and laughter and barely-hushed commentary from their classmates.
He is always the one saving her. Always.
The realization is enough to have some of the numbness keeping her trapped within her own mind to fade, and it is not long before a ragged sob escapes, her hand clapping over her mouth as widened eyes fly to Eddie's face when he turns to face her in response.
"Christ, Sweetheart—"
"Don't—Eddie, please don't—"
Sadie doesn't even know what she is begging for—what she doesn't want Eddie to do—but he seems to be aware of it, himself, a faint nod coming in response, before he is moving to open the van's passenger side door. She can see his jaw clench. She doesn't miss the twitch of a muscle there, as well.
For a moment, Sadie almost wonders if she has somehow managed to upset him, but before that thought can take hold, Eddie is turning back to face her, brushing a tendril of hair away from her face and behind her ear as the hardened lines of his features soften once again.
"Go on. Let's get you home."
Home.
She knows Eddie is referring to the trailer. Knows he is calling it her home, too. And she is grateful. More grateful than she can truly put into words that he does not seem to mind her in his space.
A part of her wonders how long that will last. How long it will take before Eddie tires of her. But a still greater part wants to simply savor how things are right now, at least between the two of them…
Sadie climbs into the van, and Eddie shuts the door before moving around to the driver's side, his hand automatically reaching for hers after he puts the key into the ignition and starts to drive away. Their fingers twine together easily, and he gives her a small squeeze while her head turns to look out of the window, trying to hide the sudden sting of oncoming tears.
The numbness is fighting to come back in spite of her efforts to push it away, seeping beneath her skin with each moment of the drive that passes, such that Sadie can barely feel the warmth of the tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks.
She doesn't even realize they are rolling to a stop beside the trailer until Eddie's hand squeezes around her own again, her muscles jumping as she looks to him for a moment, before exiting the van, and wandering with leaden limbs to the trailer door.
Eddie is quieter than Sadie thinks he has ever been, unlocking the door, and allowing her to slip inside first. And as the door clicks shut behind him, Sadie finds herself captured in a suddenly compelling need to escape the numbness that keeps her held in place. She finds that she wants nothing more than to feel something—anything that can take that numbness away. Not pain, though. Not grief. She wants something else, entirely.
She remembers Eddie kissing her the other day. Remembers her own foolish decision to pull back, putting a stop to anything further until she had ended things with Andy. And she had. The entire school likely knew of it by now.
That part of her life is done. Gone for good.
And Sadie wants nothing more than to simply move on.
Unreasonably steeled by the thought, she steps closer to Eddie and leans up on tiptoe to press her lips against his own. Her fingers tangle in his hair, and she can feel his hands falling to her hips as he stumbles backward against the door.
She presses her torso against his, relishing the low groan that reverberates through his chest, and before she can think twice, her fingers are scrabbling at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to remove it, and causing her nails to scrape against his stomach a bit as a result.
"Sadie—"
"Mm?"
"What are—shit—what are you doing?"
The question comes out stilted, Eddie's breath catching in his throat as Sadie's fingers run against his heated skin to remove his shirt entirely. Shock, and instinctive desire seem to have rendered him momentarily motionless, and Sadie uses that to her advantage, her palms searing against his bare skin as she leans up on tiptoe again, to press her lips to his. Even though some part of him is protesting, knowing that with everything she has endured in just this one day at school, now is hardly the time to allow her to continue on this particular path, Eddie can't seem to summon the wherewithal to resist turning them around until Sadie is the one pinned against the wall…
It would be a lie to pretend he hasn't dreamed of this—wished for it—for far longer than he cares to admit, and for a moment he simply allows Sadie to take the lead, his mouth chasing her own almost greedily while his hands slip beneath the hem of her shirt to pull her close.
It isn't until he feels Sadie's hands slide down his chest, her nails tickling at his abdomen again and provoking a groan before they start fumbling at his belt that Eddie comes to his senses, his hands grabbing her wrists as gently as he can, and causing her to stagger back from him just a bit in response.
"Don't do this, Sweetheart."
"Do—do what?"
"This," Eddie says, lifting a brow as Sadie continues to stare up at him, something in her expression giving him every reason to believe that even she is not fully aware of her own actions, and the consequences they carry with them, "You don't—you don't want this."
"I do."
"Sadie—"
"I do," Sadie insists, desperation clawing around her heart, and forcing her to attempt to capture Eddie's lips again, only to find herself rocking back on her heels, disappointed as he pulls away mere seconds later, a horrifying realization slowly dawning in her sluggishly churning mind, "You don't."
"Sadie—"
"You don't. You don't want this, and I—God, I just—"
The words strangle in her throat, and Sadie pulls away from Eddie's grasp completely, suddenly unable to risk looking him in the eye. Shame causes her cheeks to burn, and she lifts a hand to dash at yet another tear, frustration making her heart thunder in her ears as she tries to ignore the snide voice at the back of her mind that claims she should have seen this coming all along.
"I'm sorry."
"What—Sadie, what the hell do you have to be sorry for?" Eddie asks, automatically stepping forward to reach for her, only to realize she is scrambling away from him in seconds, flat. And he can see it in her eyes. The pain she is trying so valiantly to keep at bay. The fear of his rejection, because how else could she possibly interpret his attempt at saving her from herself?
She can't see it, and Eddie realizes he is stupid for expecting her to, because clearly her grief over Chrissy—her heartache over how everything she had once known so certainly in her life is imploding before her eyes—has made her vulnerable. Almost fragile.
He could kick himself at least a hundred times over for missing it, but Eddie hardly has the chance, because Sadie is biting into her lip while unshed tears shine in her eyes, taking another step back as he tries to get closer to her once again.
"I'm just what—what they say I am," She murmurs, swallowing past the lump in her throat as the air in the trailer suddenly becomes thick enough to be stifling, the memory of the word painted over her locker door at the forefront of her mind, "I'm a—I'm a whore."
"Sweetheart, don't—"
"I'm sorry."
The apology stuns Eddie for a second time, because he cannot in any way fathom why it is even necessary. And his stomach twists at what Sadie is calling herself. Whore. As though anything some idiot scrawled across her locker could ever be even remotely close to the truth.
Eddie can see that it is true to her, though. That Sadie had seen the word, and taken it to heart.
She is slipping outside before he can stop her, the trailer door slapping shut as Eddie utters a muted curse and scrambles to locate his previously discarded shirt so that he can drag it down over his head before heading after her, himself.
He maneuvers his way down the porch steps and jogs part of the way into the yard before seeing her, heading off in the direction of the Mayfield's trailer. And even though it pains him, he lets her go, at least for the time-being, trying to take some manner of comfort in the fact that she will not be alone.
Comfort that is admittedly rather short-lived, since Eddie is starting to wonder if he hasn't wound up ruining the small flicker of something other than friendship that had sprung up between them in recent days for good.
…
Hello, lovelies! And welcome to another new chapter in Sadie and Eddie's AU! I am so, so happy to be moving forward, bit by bit, in the plot, and I hope the mix of flashbacks and present events isn't too confusing and/or boring. I'm trying to show the development of Eddie and Sadie's relationship while they were still in school alongside how they are slowly starting to come back together in the present. But of course if any of you would prefer something else I am certainly willing to try that as well!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! Special thanks to last chapter's reviewers: firstofhername, BlackRoseBooks, and phoward for leaving such lovely feedback the last time around! I am so, so very grateful for your support, and I can only hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last!
Until next time…
MOMM