Summary: Fall break leads to a bunch of shenanigans for most teenagers. For Mads, it's pretty straightforward until Eddie suggests something that completely derails her.

A/N: We're getting closer to the canon portion of the story, hang onto your hats folks!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. As the author I do not always agree with the actions the characters take. The MC has Haphephobia. The depiction of such in the story may not be entirely accurate and I do not claim it to be so. The depictions of anxiety and OCD are based on my own personal experience and do not apply to the illnesses as a whole. There will be mentions of various sensitive topics which are updated in the tags, read at your own risk.


October 16, 1983

Just like that, it was Fall Break for the students of Hawkins High. Mads had been in town for over half a month and made little to no progress finding a way into the lab. She had found its location through some discreet inquiries Eddie had made at the Hideaway. He hadn't asked her questions, and she hadn't given him answers, just that she'd heard about the place and thought about snooping.

But Mads never did anything without a purpose, and Eddie was coming to find that out firsthand. Her less than forthcoming nature was something he expected by now. If she wanted him to know something, she'd tell him. Pushing her would only result in her withdrawing, and she'd just started to come out of her shell a bit.

He was waiting by her room with a six pack – purchased through less than legal means, of course – when she got off work. She always parked in different spots, but never directly in front of her room. The Wilson's didn't seem to care, so he never said anything. It must have had something to do with the emancipation thing.

Her hair stuck up erratically when she pulled off her helmet, bringing a smile of delight to his face. Yeah, Mads was hot. He knew it, he was a guy after all. Usually, the helmet didn't fuck up her hair so much, and she had curves that most guys would kill to get their hands on if she didn't make them piss their pants with just one glare from those big, heavy-lidded hazel eyes.

But in spite of her obvious hotness, Mads was realer than most kids he'd had the misfortune of hanging out with. He liked that about her. The rough parts, the secrets, the mystery were all cool he guessed… But there was a certain… tenacity about her that drew him to her. Most people, even adults had vapid, fleeting interests in life. Mads threw herself at everything with the same amount of intensity she had for everything, which was usually cranked up to a one-hundred.

It wasn't really surprising that she wanted to hang out with him, given her disposition, but still… It was weird. Girls usually avoided him, unless they wanted a good time, which he was more than happy to provide in spite of his feelings for Chrissy Cunningham. It meant as much to him as it did to them, zilch, nada, nothing. And he played into the stereotype of "freak" enough that most of the girls like Chrissy were afraid of him anyway.

So, why wasn't Mads? Yeah, she looked and dressed like a hippie on her way home from a funeral, but when she wasn't in total crisis mode she was as sugary sweet as Chrissy. He knew she fed him extra because he and his uncle basically lived off frozen meals; that she helped him with his homework the best she could, despite her own obvious shortcomings in the academic department; or that she desperately craved human connection so much more than many people he's met.

Eddie did have a habit of picking up society's leftovers after all.

The smile Mads greeted him with when she spotted him almost made his heart stop, and he wondered for a minute if his ginormous crush on Chrissy wasn't as ginormous as he'd thought, but he shoved that line of thinking back down from wherever it came from. It was Mads, his best friend – yeah, yeah, the ink was still drying on that document, sue him – not a pretty face looking for a good time. Not Chrissy who made his heart throb and face flush.

It was still so nice to see Mads smile.

"Hello my evil overlord." He bowed, holding out the six-pack to her like an offering. Maybe it was.

"Hello my loyal demonic subject," she laughed, accepting the beer as graciously as a queen accepting the tithe owed to her.

She had dimples.

Why hadn't he noticed that before?

Because he didn't want to notice her that way. Because she was already so broken that all one had to do was to pull back her paper-thin tough exterior and everything would shatter to the ground like glass. Because he'd be damned if he did anything to jeopardize her trust in him.

"Shall we?" She said, gesturing toward her room, jarring him from his stupor.

"Yeah… Yeah," he agreed, following her inside.

The room felt a little homier every time he entered it. She had commandeered his van so she could buy used VHS and cassette players, which were set up, just waiting to be used. Books, candles, and other personal items – like her shiny rock collection, which she picked up on their clandestine smoke sessions by the lake – filled the space. It felt peaceful, safe.

"There's chicken, roasted veggies, and macaroni n' cheese in the fridge," she told him, placing her helmet on the dresser, and grabbed an old t-shirt and sweats. "I'm gonna shower."

She hadn't badgered him about peaking in a while. Eddie's heart squeezed at the implication. She trusted him. Him. Eddie the Freak. Most girls wouldn't leave him unattended in their bedroom, much less while they showered a flimsy plywood door away.

Instead of dwelling on his feelings, he cracked open a beer and stuck the rest in the fridge, pulling out the dinner Mads had probably made the day before for them to eat tonight. By the time she had finished her shower, Eddie had set everything up at the coffee table instead of the small dining set in the corner of the room, where he sat watching TV. The wristband and scarf were in place, looking very odd with her pajamas.

"Oh," she said in surprise at her own plate, which was steaming, and a cold beer waiting for her. "Thank you."

"Welcome," Eddie said, his eyes glued to the program. It wasn't anything that would normally hold his attention, nor was it particularly good. His leg was bouncing and his plate was practically untouched.

"You good?" She asked, plopping down next to him on the couch, and cracked open her beer.

He mumbled a non-committal response, refusing to look in her direction. That was worrisome.

"You've barely touched your food," she commented, tucking into her own meal.

"M'not very hungry," he muttered, hand pressed to his mouth as his leg began to bounce even faster.

That was even more worrisome. Eddie not hungry? Something had to be very wrong indeed. Mads wracked her brain for anything she could have said or done to upset him. Perhaps she could have read his mind, but she was never one to heed a 'perhaps'. Nor did she feel comfortable picking through Eddie's head. He was her friend, not someone she wanted to manipulate.

Setting her plate onto the coffee table, Mads tucked her knees up onto the couch and turned toward him. Agitated was an understatement for how he appeared. His hair, normally stylishly disheveled, was mussed like he'd been running his hands through it – which he did when he was upset. Tense chords of muscle worked in his arms. The bouncing of his leg, refusal to look anywhere but the small TV, lack of appetite…

"Did I do something to upset you?" She asked, staring owlishly at him. It was the only think she could think of. When people were upset it was usually her fault anyway.

Eddie finally looked at her then, head snapping comically toward her, the can of his half-empty beer crumpling slightly in his grip.

"No," he insisted fervently, eyes flashing. "Why would you think that?"

"You're upset…" She hedged, as though it was obvious.

"Doesn't mean you did anything."

Well, that was new. Instead of pushing again, Mads sat there in silence, waiting for him to tell her what the problem was when he was ready. She didn't have to wait long.

"Most people are afraid of me, you know?" He paused, looking at her with a scrutiny she was unaccustomed to from people her age. "It's the way I look, how I present myself. But not you. I don't get it and it feels weird. Like, you didn't want anything to do with me at first, not because I'm… me. You're just weird yourself. I don't get that. I'm not used to it."

Silence settled between them in the few moments before Mads spoke. She stared at him with that unnerving, unblinking gaze of hers, like she was trying to read his mind. She definitely was not, but that's how it seemed.

"So, I did do something," she teased, pleased that it wasn't something horrible she'd done without realizing.

Eddie merely fixed her with a look, finishing off the dregs of his beer, then crushing the can in his fist. A warmth flooded through her at his unamused disposition. He was really bothered by this. Typically, Eddie was the type to let things roll off his back. But, as Mads had come to find out, he was actually very sensitive. Just very good at masking it behind humor and what Mads liked to call "anti-charisma".

"I once knew a man who looked the total opposite of you," she said after a deep breath. "All light where you're dark... Light hair, bright blue eyes, always wore white…" her eyes glazed over with the memory, hands fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. "He was soft spoken, polite, unobtrusive. At least he seemed that way."

Mads shook her head, as if banishing the memory. Then she pulled her damp hair back, tugged off the silk scarf she always wore and bared her neck to him. Eddie's eyes widened in shock as he took in the thin white scars rippling the sides of Mads' neck. He knew better than to try and touch them, but his fingers twitched, aching to see, to feel, if they were real.

"He did this to me." She forced herself to look at him. No more shying away.

"What the fuck…" he breathed.

"He was supposed to take care of me…" She smiled wistfully, dropping the scarf onto the coffee table. "So, no Eddie. Your appearance doesn't bother me, never did. Because it's those who try to pass themselves off as pure who are really the scary ones."

"Fuck…" he breathed again.

They were silent again, Mads toying with her rings, Eddie staring off into space.

"Besides," she continued, smiling at him. "I like you because you were nice to me. Nobody's ever nice to me."

"Shucks," Eddie mumbled, looking away in embarrassment, leg bouncing for an entirely different reason now.

"You wanna go light up in the park?" He asked after a minute or two.

"...We've been drinking," she said, picking up her plate once again.

"Right…"

Eddie picked up his own food and slowly began eating. What Mads had divulged – because he was upset for crissake – couldn't have been easy to share. She'd been attacked, how she didn't say, and she didn't have to. It must have been horrific to leave such marks on a person. And she trusted him, liked him, because he was nice to her when no one else was. He had a lot to think about.


October 17, 1983

Light streamed in through the tops of the heavy motel room curtains, brighter and warmer than it usually did on Monday mornings. Monday… Monday! Fuck!

Mads threw off her covers and leapt from the bed, ripping clothes from her closet in a frantic attempt to get ready for the day. She was late for school. If she was late then people would get suspicious and then she would be in danger. Eddie would be in danger!

A loud grumbling from the couch caused her to halt, dropping her mismatched clothes to the floor. Her head throbbed as she lurched around the partition that separated her bedroom from the living area.

"What are you doin' in there," Eddie grumbled from the couch.

Oh. Eddie was curled up in the fetal position, head on one of the pillows from her bed, the spare blanket tucked around him like a cocoon. His hair was mussed and he was blinking sleepily at her. That's right… They drank the whole six-pack and she made him stay the night because it was fall break. They had to go to the library today before she went into work, so she insisted he stay so they could come up with an idea for their project.

"It's Monday…" She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "I thought I'd overslept."

"Mmmmm…" He mumbled, snuggling deeper into the couch. "'S break, go back to sleep."

"Can't now," she groused, stumbling over to the kitchenette to make them some coffee. "I'm already awake."

"Don't gotta wake me up…" he complained into his pillow.

"Baby."

"'N articulate baby."

While the coffee brewed, Eddie began to extract himself from his cocoon, emerging from it like a shirtless butterfly. Mads thought that was how he would have described it anyway. Yes, Eddie was handsome. Very much so, and pleasing to look at, but that wasn't what drew her eye to his lanky form as he stretched. It was the small collection of tattoos which marked his pale flesh, dark lines in stark contrast.

"See something you like, Mads?" Eddie teased, flexing his arms in outrageous positions when he noticed her staring.

"I didn't know you had more tattoos," she said, turning to pour them both coffee. Then she grabbed a container of cool whip from the fridge and scooped a generous dollop into her mug.

"Cool whip?" He asked coming to stand behind her.

"It's sugar and cream already mixed together," she explained, stirring her drink vigorously. "Why not? Wanna try?"

Mads held her mug out for him to try. It had pink kitties printed all over it and she had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Eddie's metalhead self drinking from such a silly mug.

"What do you think?" She asked as she took the mug back from him.

"Not bad," he said grabbing his own mug. "I think I'll stick to regular milk and sugar though."

"Suit yourself," she said and went to sit down at the small dining table with her coffee. "There's Honeycombs in the cupboard."

"Sweet!" Eddie exclaimed, grabbing the unopened box. "I thought you didn't like these."

"You do," she said, pulling her legs up into the chair as she sipped her drink.

Eddie went quiet save for the clinking of dishware and a few sniffles that were not him getting emotional over cereal. At all. Mads was used to quiet so she didn't really notice until he sat down across from her, a full bowl of cereal and coffee before him.

"Tell me about your tattoos?" She asked, noticing a tinge of red around his dark eyes.

"These ol' things?" He said, smiling faintly. "Well, I got the bats – for Ozzy of course–"

"I thought that was an accident?" Mads interrupted, smiling wryly into her coffee.

"Who cares! It was iconic!" Eddie exclaimed, returning to his animated self again. "And I got this one," he continued, pointing to the space right above his hip. "It's a D20. And this one is Andúril, from 'Lord of the Rings.'"

He held out his forearm for inspection and Mads leaned across the table, taking in the delicate blue-black lines of the tattoo. It was simple, unassuming. Most would assume it was just a sword, even fellow fans of the Tolkien's universe. But it was beautiful in its simplicity. It was her favorite of the three.

"Its gorgeous," she said, wishing she could just reach out and trace it with her fingers.

Instead, Mads toyed with the edge of the leather wristband she always wore, debating on whether or not she should show him her own tattoo. But she didn't know how she would explain it, much less work up the courage to bare one more mark to him. Last night was different. He needed to know that. Whether or not she wanted to share was irrelevant then, because Eddie needed to hear that he was good and worthy of her friendship, however little it was worth.

Ultimately, she decided against it, listening intently as he prattled on about the other pieces he wanted to etch into his skin. A marionette because of his role as a Dungeon Master, another Tolkien piece, and something else… He wasn't sure yet.

Another pot of coffee and two bowls of Honeycombs later and they were on their way to the library. The bickering had started up again. Mads wanted to listen to Fleetwood Mac and Eddie, who appreciated the artistic talent of the group, was vehemently opposed to playing anything lighter than Van Halen in his baby. They ended up compromising on Pink Floyd and made it to the Hawkins Library without much incident.

Their project for Mr. Clemmons history class was a simple one. They had to choose an invention which still helped people to this day. However, it was so vague that Mads considered making the teacher give her and Eddie a more specific assignment but, to her credit, she only entertained that thought for a class period.

In the end, she convinced Eddie to do the project on baking mixes since it would overlap with their Home Ec. Class. The library had several resources on the history of baking mixes, surprisingly, and they were able to pull several and begin in a matter of minutes.

Eddie was unhelpful for most of their time in the library, wiggling his pencils, putting his feet up on the table, tossing things at Mads to get her attention, or just wandering around the library seemingly without a purpose. Most people probably would have been annoyed, but she wasn't. Eddie just had trouble focusing, especially on things he didn't find very interesting. And she was happy to goof around with him, or let him goof around as long as he contributed later.

As it was nearing lunch, Mads looked up from all the notes she had compiled to find that Eddie was nowhere to be found. Puzzled, she stood up to look for him, but a thought occurred to her. Hawkins National Laboratory must have local records, maybe there was something in the archives she could find that could help her get inside. Blueprints would probably be a no-go, since it was a government building and those would likely be kept in an office in the town hall or something… But looking couldn't hurt.

"Can I get the keys to the archives?" Mads asked demurely when she brought her books to the circulation desk to be checked out. "I was thinking about looking up some local stories for my project."

The librarian regarded her with thinly veiled suspicion, taking in her, for a lack of a better word, disheveled appearance. But, with another syrupy sweet smile she was easily persuaded to give up the keys, feeling more than a little dazzled.


Hard to focus was an understatement for someone like Eddie Munson. His Uncle Wayne, though he loved Eddie very much, was constantly frustrated with his bouncy nature and frequent "parent-teacher" meetings surrounding his lack of attention in class.

Eddie was grateful Mads didn't seem to mind terribly. The library was so boring and he couldn't seem to make himself sit still for more than five minutes before getting agitated again. Wandering the shelves was the only thing he felt like he could do to not piss Mads off eventually, which is why he found himself a pile deep into the psychology section of all things, reading into the history of something called "Cognitive Behavioral Therapy" or CBT.

The therapist guy, Aaron Beck or something, had developed the system as a countermeasure to lobotomies and shock therapy – which is why he was in the section to be honest, sating his morbid curiosity. He would expose his patients to whatever was worrying or scaring them while keeping them from engaging in ritualistic behaviors to "protect" themselves. His experiments saw great success in cases of anxiety and OCD, and even complete recovery in some patients without the need for shock therapy or brain surgery.

Leaned up against the shelf, a few books open on his lap – and others scattered around in discarded piles of boredom – Eddie was beginning to form an idea. If this guy was able to help people get past their fears by exposing them to… whatever they were afraid of, then maybe he could help Mads by doing the same thing?

"Eddie Munson?" A shocked feminine voice said from above him.

He looked up, expecting Mads to be standing over him, waiting for him to take her to work. But it wasn't Mads. It was a vaguely familiar looking girl with an oval-shaped face and honey brown eyes hidden beneath shaggy brown hair.

"Tris Buckley?" She prompted, cocking a brow under her long bangs. "From English?"

"Oh," he said, grinning smoothly. "You looking to buy again?"

Tris crossed her arms over her chest, leather bracelets creaking, and her weight shifted to one foot. She looked almost annoyed.

"No, dipshit," she snapped, glaring fiercely at him. Yeah, she was annoyed. "You said you were gonna tell me when your next D&D meet was so I could join. You never did."

Something akin to shame washed over him and he scrambled to his feet, grabbing the book he was reading up from where it fell to the floor in his haste.

"Oh god, Tris, I am so sorry!" He exclaimed, much louder than he should have in a library. "I completely forgot."

"Yeah. I could tell. Your head's been so far up the new girl's ass I'm surprised you can see straight," she said wryly, without malice.

A deep flush crept up the back of Eddie's neck, staining his ears crimson. "It's not like that…"

He didn't know why he kept doing that, correcting people. Or maybe he did? It wasn't like he was ashamed that people though he and Mads were together… But it bothered him. Why couldn't they just be friends? What rule was there that said guys and girls had to bang once they got close?

Yeah, yeah. He thought Mads was hot. So what? He thought lots of girls were hot and didn't want to sleep with all of them, or even date them. Take Tris for example, now that he remembered who she was. She was smoking with a capital "S", looking like the rockstar chick many guys dreamed about with her hair and clothes and lithe frame. She looked a bit like Joan Jett if he were being honest. But that didn't mean he wanted to fuck her.

Shit, he hadn't even remembered her name.

"Our next meet is the Friday after break," Eddie said, starting to stack all the books he'd pulled onto the shelf in a pile at Tris' wry smirk. "If you've got a high enough level character, you can join right in where we left off."

"I think you'll find my level nine Druid-Barbarian sufficient," she shot back, earning an impressed look from her new DM.

"I will indeed."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Fine."

It felt like a rivalry moment, but without the obvious hatred. Nah, Tris didn't hate him. He just annoyed her, which was cool. It was kinda like Mads when she first met him, so, maybe they could be friends. Bond over their mutual annoyance of him. She needed more friends.

"Eddie?" Mads called softly from the end of the aisle.

Both Tris and Eddie turned from their heated staring contest to look her way, Tris sending a knowing smile toward his periphery. Maybe he would kill her character off in the next meet, that would teach her to be annoying.

Mads' eyes were practically glowing with anger as she took in the sight of them before her. Eddie couldn't have known it wasn't because of him, he hadn't been down there in the archives and seen what she had seen. Even if he had, he wouldn't have understood.

"I'm ready to go," she said, clutching the books she'd checked out in a tight grip. "I'll meet you at the van whenever you finish up here."

Before he or Tris could stop her, could explain – what exactly, neither were sure, she stormed from the aisle, the buckles on her boots clanking loudly in the quiet space.

"Who pissed in her Wheaties?" Tris asked after a long moment of silence.

"Fuck if I know. She was fine earlier," Eddie replied.

"You better get going, don't want her to slash your tires."

That earned a snort from Eddie and he sauntered off with a wave, book in hand. He thought about sneaking off without checking it out, but that was more trouble than it was worth. Besides, he had a library card. Not that he wanted anyone to know that little tidbit. He had an image to uphold after all.


If he were honest, Eddie hadn't planned on bringing his findings up that evening when he brought Mads back to her room that evening after she got off work. But after sitting through a whole band practice with the book burning a hole in the passenger seat of his van, he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. The problem was, he couldn't seem to get the words out.

Mads was standing over a boiling pot off spaghetti, sauce and handmade meatballs – he helped mix them! – bubbling away on the next eye. The smell of baking Texas Toast overpowered the smell of burning bud. It was the good stuff, so the skunk funk wasn't as pungent anyway.

Eddie was hardly at a loss for words, except for when he actually wanted to tell someone he cared about something he thought was important. Despite his bravado, he was constantly afraid of not being taken seriously where it counted. Just as he was afraid now, to talk to Mads about this.

In fact, as he took in her reddened eyes when she looked over her shoulder to smile at him – her unexplained anger this afternoon forgotten – his mouth dried up, tongue shriveling like a prune. It was all he could do to force a smile back.

Only after they had eaten copious amounts of pasta, which was better than anything Eddie had ever eaten in his life, did he feel the words begin to come to him. The book had followed him into her room in the stack of VHS tapes he'd rented from Family Video, which was helpful since he didn't think he could explain the concept as articulately as he wanted.

"I don't understand half the shit in here but…" Eddie took a deep breath, placing the book on the coffee table without his usual flourish "I want to help you."

"What's this?" Mads asked, her brows furrowing, and picked up the book.

"I-it's a book about therapy," he said, his leg bouncing while he twisted his rings round and round on his fingers.

"I can see that," she commented, a soft humor in her voice.

She had heard of CBT before, but only because a dealer she knew kept mistakenly calling CBD oil by that name. Someone had called him an idiot and explained what CBT was before being asked to leave, much less politely than the correcting had been done.

But what Mads couldn't figure out was while she had only mentioned she didn't like to be touched and asked Eddie not to do so, she had not once told him she was afraid of it. Though with the way she flinched away from kids in the hallway, subversively creating a forcefield around her body, she supposed it was pretty obvious.

Resignation washed through her like lukewarm water. She wanted to be angry – she didn't need to be "fixed" – but the white-hot feeling wouldn't surface. Neither would the dull feeling of sadness. She wasn't going to a therapist, no matter what. That was dangerous. And she wasn't something that needed to be fixed…

"What did you have in mind?" She asked with a slightly shaking voice, eyes still on the pages of the book.

"W-well," Eddie stammered, turning toward her with earnestness. "I was thinking… They talk about removing the 'coping mechanism' when experimenting and they also talk about remaining present in the moment too, so you tend to disassociate and I thought maybe you could try to focus on something in the real world while we do that?"

Mads blinked. Eddie wasn't making much sense and was obviously getting ahead of himself, so she waited. And he stared at her, also waiting. Until their waiting turned into awkward smiles which turned into poorly stifled giggles which turned into deep belly laughs that made their sides ache and tears spring to their eyes.

"I'm not explaining this well at all!" He wheezed through fits of laughter, clasping his sides.

"You're really not," Mads agreed, wiping tears from her cheeks.

"Do over?" He asked once their laughter had finally died down.

Mads nodded, apprehension flooding her stomach. Eddie had never hurt her, not once. If he thought this could help her, she was willing to let him try if no therapists were involved. She trusted him.

"Sooooo," he began, tapping the discarded book. "I was thinking… Don't take this the wrong way, but–"

"Eddie," Mads interrupted. "Spit it out."

"Right, sorry." He smiled sheepishly. "Touching. You and me. Not anything, or anywhere gross, or anything. Just like, small touches for thirty seconds at a time or whatever. Our hands or something…"

The expectant look he gave her made her stomach bottom out. What he'd been rambling about earlier made more sense now. The disassociation when she was touched, or after the fact, the repression of her feelings. He wanted to touch her to help her get rid of the fear of it, and she would have to force herself to be aware the whole time… Fucking hell.

"Wh-when did you wanna start this?" She asked, her body unnaturally still, gaze fixated on the faded carpet.

"I'd say 'whenever you're ready' but I don't think you'll ever be ready…" He replied. Mads didn't have to look at him to feel the compassion in his gaze.

"No," she agreed, twisting her rings around on her fingers. "I think you're right."

"We don't have to do it for a long time at all," he assured her, posture and voice becoming animated again. "Only five seconds or more if you feel like you can handle it. And maybe breathing while you count will help too! And just once a day."

"Okay."

"I was thinking hands at first and then we could work up to a hug–"

"Eddie…"

"Or even just sitting close together! We would just start here with no one around. And then we could–"

"Eddie!"

Finally, he looked at her, scarlet leeching into his cheeks. She grinned at him. It was a bit wobbly, but it was still genuine.

"I said 'okay'," she repeated, nodding toward the book.

"Sorry…" He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"D-did you want to try right now?" She asked, her heart thundering in her eardrums as sharp nails bit into the flesh of her palms

Eddie's eyes went as wide as saucers. Heat flooded her body and it was all she could do to keep from jumping up and locking herself in the bathroom. Or throwing Eddie across the room with her mind.

Shit! Mads hadn't considered her abilities. If she got too overwhelmed, they could be a huge problem…

Before she could change her mind however, Mads held up her hand, sticking her pinky out. Eddie, bless him, moved slowly so as not to spook her further, stopping when his own pinky finger reached hers.

"Do you want to do it, or should I?" He asked, voice a soft whisper, a conspiratorial grin spreading across his face.

"You," she said, her own voice a harsh rasp.

Shudders wracked her body even before he touched her, revulsion – the desire, no, need, to run away – seized her. Thundering heartbeats pounded straight through her skull and she just wanted the pressure to go away, the warm feeling of his finger wrapped around hers to go away, the feeling of ghostly hands around her throat to go away.

"Breathe," Eddie reminded her, and Mads eyes snapped open – when had she closed them?, drawing in a shuddering breath through her mouth into her stomach. Then it was over. His finger was gone, but her hand was still in the air, she was still shaking. But she hadn't gone away completely. Blood and viscera weren't splattered all over the walls in a gory display of her best friend's innards.

She'd done it.

She had done it.

"You did it!" Eddie cheered, jumping up and down on the couch like a child. "Ten whole seconds, Mads! You did it!"

Only ten seconds? It had felt like hours, years even. But Eddie was so happy, so proud. Of her. He was proud of her. Excited that she hadn't freaked out, that she had stayed mostly in the moment with him.

Mads still wanted to curl in on herself, disappear into the void in her mind she went to sometimes. But Eddie was talking to her, something about "Poltergeist", "Friday the 13th", and "The Exorcist". Her vision managed to focus on the stack of movies he rented, spread out on the table.

She hadn't actually seen any of them. Horror wasn't her genre, having lived through enough of it already. Learning more about the Lab, about Dr. Brenner… his involvement in MKUltra… Jesus H. Christ, what a fucking whackjob – there was no way she could tell Eddie any of what she learned in the library archives, even if she wanted to.

But, tonight seemed like a night for trying new things. They settled on "Poltergeist", which Eddie said was objectively the least scary of the three, in his professional opinion as a connoisseur of horror movies.

Halfway into the movie, she had pulled the carton of chocolate and peanut butter ice cream from the freezer. The cool, creamy sweet slid down her throat like an icy balm. It stuck to the roof of her mouth, sending shocks of cold straight to her brain. Oddly enough, it was a pleasant sensation. It kept her grounded.

She felt before she noticed Eddie's eyes on her, begging for her sweet, creamy treat. Rolling her eyes, Mads scooped out a huge bite and held it out for him on her spoon, waiting for him to take it.

"Aren't you worried about cooties?" Eddie teased, realizing she was offering him the spoon she had been eating off of.

"I'll eat all this myself, Edward," she warned with a glittering smile. "Don't tempt me."

The wounded puppy eyes he turned on her would have brough out the hardest laugh she had in her that night, had Eddie not lunged, open mouthed for the spoonful of ice cream she held out to him, giving himself brain freeze on the large bite. No, "Poltergeist" hadn't been that scary. And neither was touching someone. Well, the latter had been quite a bit scary, but Eddie – like always – found a way to make it all bearable.


I would have had this chapter out sooner, but I was kind of pissed off by the current tomfoolery SCOTUS is pulling rn.

Credit to HearJessRoar and wilhelmina_murray for the tattoo ideas. They are saints among authors.

Title taken from "Insider" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers on the studio album "Hard Promises" released in 1981.

Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I appreciate each one! (Please don't forget to leave a review if you liked the story so far!)

This is the "mixtape" I created for this fic. It's not entirely period accurate, but I feel like these songs fit the theme of the show and characters.

playlist/2w0Fg6UPmVvj5L3EIMRYfw?si=d8e38810c96f4875