Chapter 39: Counting the Days

"He was with you like she was with me

More than a best friend, a guiding light

But lessons learned and now we have to burn

Our fires in the night"

Thursday. March 20th, 1986.

POV: Winter Reid

"Okay... so..." Theo says, walking backward ahead of me down the hall. "I know you said you don't wanna go to Benny's Burgers after the game tomorrow night-"

"The abandoned restaurant where you jocks drink warm beer and arm wrestle?" I interject, clutching my books over my chest and arching a sarcastic brow. "Yeah, I think I'll pass."

Theo smiles his easy, lopsided smile. It's the same look he always fixes me under, no matter how difficult or sarcastic or anxious I get. He takes it all in stride with the same smile and self-assuredness.

"So, I thought we could do something else," he says.

"We?"

"Yeah, when we win the championship-"

"Someone's confident," I tease.

"Winter..." he warns, still smiling but not loving my interruptions. "We're going to win, and I want to celebrate with you."

His sneakers squeak to a halt, rubber grinding against linoleum, and I step around quickly to avoid colling with his chest. Theo turns to follow, sidestepping and watching my profile as I march down the hallway.

"You should be with your friends!" I assert. "Male camaraderie, beating your chests, et cetera..."

"I don't care about that," Theo shrugs. "And in the rare chance that we lose... I'll probably be sad."

I glance over to find him rearranging his stupidly handsome face into something of a pout, with knitted eyebrows and one hand over his heart.

"You can make me less sad," he adds.

"Hmph," I reply.

"Come on..." he pleads, pout spreading into a grin.

"I've been told I'm not very comforting," I reply. "All I can do is transfer my anxiety over to you. And I'm not sure you've ever felt that before in your life."

"Well, that's true," he responds easily. "But I find you comforting."

I finally stop walking, now at my locker, and spin the combination, which is futile because it never works for me.

"My parents will be at the game," Theo declares proudly, pressing his forearm against the metal above my head, his other hand settled on my lower back, fingers slowly dragging back and forth.

"Really?" I ask, feeling a twinge of nerves at the idea of meeting Theo's parents.

"Of course," he smiles. "We're about to shatter a 22-year losing streak. My dad has to be there to shake hands and kiss babies."

"Right..." I drawl, glancing over with a small smile. "The Mayor's Son Leads Hawkins High to Victory - great headline. Do you think you'll be on the front page?"

"Probably," he grins, inching closer and brushing his lips against my cheek.

"Wow-" I breathe, leaning away and refocusing on the combination. "Sounds like the Herbert Ross movie is writing itself."

Theo's lips persist, planting a small kiss on my jaw.

"I don't get that reference," he sighs. "And I am choosing to ignore your sarcasm."

"I'm just saying," I tug on the lock, but it mockingly doesn't budge. Its numbers are like tiny eyes staring back with judgment. "That's a great small-town bucket list item."

I spin the numbers, tug once more, and get mocked again. It doesn't like my fingers, it only ever works for one person.

"Ugh," I grunt, releasing the lock and causing it to bang against the metal. "Stupid lock."

Theo's fingers tighten over my lower back. His lips continue their descent along my jaw and down my neck.

It tickles, and I want to squirm away as he casually shows affection in the crowded hallway.

"So..." I say, wiggling my shoulders and tilting away from Theo's kisses. "After the game?"

He leans back, wrapping his arm around my lower back and pulling me against him.

"After the game..." he says softly. "Let's go somewhere."

I glance away from my locker to meet his brown eyes, twisting myself slightly so I'm not squished sideways but now facing him.

"Where do you want to go?" I ask, my voice coming out a little meek.

Things have been speeding up in our relationship, and going somewhere after what will probably be one of the most important nights in Theo's life sounds like it could be significant.

It sounds like one of the items on the list I keep in my head might be scratched off, and a soft panic trickles into my bones.

"Camping," he smiles.

I'm caught off-guard, and the panic freezes, momentarily replaced by confusion.

"Camping?" I repeat.

"Yeah!" He beams.

"Camping in the woods?" I clarify.

"Sure, why not?"

Because I hate the woods.

"My mom will think you've kidnapped me," I blurt, my brain offering it up as an excuse that seems kinder than saying - Theo, the forest scares the shit out of me.

"Just tell her you're at Helen's."

I reply with a flat, stern look.

"Isn't that what you've been telling her anyways..." he asks, his voice tilting playfully, the arm around my back tightening. "When you stayed over at mine?"

I feel a sudden tension spread through my muscles and suck in a deep breath.

I did stay over at Theo's all last weekend. Helen begrudgingly served as my alibi, although I know she was upset I blew off our plans just to fall asleep next to Theo.

I'm surprised his parents didn't notice I was there, although the dominant parenting style around here seems to be call me if you're dying, otherwise, I don't need to see you.

Virginia Reid has always been a busy mother, and she never cared much about my whereabouts because she knew there were only two places I could go.

My bedroom, or Eddie's.

My mom trusts me, and I'm usually so overly cautious that she doesn't even notice that something is going on.

But, I've slipped up a little, and now she's more suspicious, not falling asleep until I get home, waiting for me with hands clasped at our kitchen table, going into work fifteen minutes late so she can witness me hopping into Eddie's van and riding off to school.

I haven't introduced her to Theo, and he's never even gotten out of his car at Forest Hills, but I'd like to keep it that way.

I'm building my own little reality, one that my mom would cross her arms and scrutinize, then say, babydoll, we need to talk when she's found something amiss.

I don't want that. So, what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

"Anyway," Theo presses forward. "My family has a cabin up by the lake."

"Oh, so there's a roof?"

I'm sure by now, Theo would prefer I leap into his arms and squeal over the idea of a weekend away together, but I'm still mildly panicking, and for some reason, I believe he'll drop the subject if I make enough jokes.

"Yes," he sighs, reaching out to brush away a wavy strand that's escaped my ponytail.

"And indoor plumbing?"

"Uh-huh," his thumb swoops down to settle over my chin.

"Are there aesthetic wood-burning fireplaces?"

"Two," he replies firmly, gripping my face lightly with his fingers and giving me his that's enough Winter look.

"Sounds nice," I reply quietly, watching as the spark returns to his brown eyes and swallowing hard to quell the panic rising in my throat.

My brain is warning me, no, but a more primal part of me howls, yes.

That part of me likes how Theo holds me so close and wonders how he might hold me close in his cabin, perhaps in front of a roaring fire or beneath a handmade quilt in the master bedroom.

I sigh deeply, knowing I'm about two seconds from caving.

I've gotten much better at recognizing my needs, speaking my mind, and protecting my boundaries, but I'm only a teenager. Despite all my therapy and soul-searching, there will always be a big, red, tempting button in the back of my mind.

The button that reads press to set logic on fire & follow the mad, frenzied beating of your dumb, hormonal, yearning, romantic heart.

Yes, it's a lot of words to fit on a button. It's a large button, okay?

Theo smiles, leaning in for a sweet, soft kiss, and I know I'm going to smash that goddamn button.

"You could've given me longer than a day's notice for a camping trip," I sigh.

"And give you more time to come up with an excuse not to go?"

I narrow my eyes.

"I wouldn't do that-"

"You would," he pecks my lips. "We haven't been dating that long, but I know you well enough to know you think too much."

"That's fair," I mumble.

He laughs, a bright, easy sound that tapers off into a lopsided grin.

"So, tomorrow night?" His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he suddenly looks nervous.

I'm not sure whether that's about the game of his life or being alone with me in a cabin afterward.

"Yeah," I nod. "Tomorrow night."

His hands cup my face to deliver a deep kiss, one that leaves me without any oxygen in my lungs and causes my free hand to flap against his chest pathetically.

I'm stunned a little when he pulls away and surprised to find that his easy, confident expression has darkened.

"Do I need to get snacks or something..." I ask, searching his face and feeling a stir in my gut at how he looks like he wants to kiss me again, but not stop this time.

"I've got it," he replies, voice firm and even. "I'll get everything ready."

"Okay..." I whisper the stir in my stomach now a mini tornado.

"Do you have to go to your meeting with Ms. Kelley now?"

"That's tomorrow," I sigh. "I pushed it until the very last second... on the very last day before spring break."

"Okay," he replies easily. "I'll walk you to class then?"

"You go ahead," I sigh. "I still need to extract my books from my locker... might have to grab the fire ax and do some hacking."

"Want me to try?"

I stare down the lock, a simple metal thing I probably should've removed ages ago. But I never did because Eddie has always been beside me, ready to spin the numbers with two fingers, unlatch it with a smirk, and swing open the door.

It's silly, but it's always been one of our daily rituals.

Arguing over music in the van, him opening my locker, and saving me a seat beside him at lunch even though I, more often than not, wound up in the library.

"No..." I shake my head and grip the lock in my palm. "I've got it."

"Alright," Theo replies, craning his neck to catch his lips with mine.

I tilt my chin back slightly, allowing him a bit more room, and wait until he pulls away, his fingers tightening then releasing against my back.

"See you after school," I say softly.

He smiles the same lopsided smile I've tried to sketch but can never seem to get right and turns away down the hall.

I watch as he passes by other students, some jocks, some nerds, some stoners, and offers each of them a low high five or a friendly nod.

I've never met the mayor, but his son seems destined for the same path, possessing that undeniable blend of good looks, ease, and kindness.

Jason Carver fancies himself the same way, but he walks down the school hallway with an intimidating stride and heavy footfalls that announce his presence.

People stare back at him because they fear their ambivalence will equal punishment. He sets the stage, and the students run like actors around him, not overtaking the spotlight or heckling from the audience.

Theo doesn't strike fear in anyone, just love.

"God, it's like he's trying to be the second coming of JFK," a bitter voice sounds out behind me.

I exhale deeply and squish my eyes shut, losing the image of Theo as he rounds the corner, his fingers running through his hair, his feet chivalrously sliding out of the path of an oncoming group of freshman girls.

Eddie has said exactly what I had been thinking, although in his own defensive way and less like my soft admiration.

"It's a bit early to start campaigning for prom king, isn't it?" Eddie adds with a wide grin, leaning against the locker beside mine.

"And what are you campaigning for?" I answer easily. "Most likely to set fires for fun?"

"Better than the ruler of this hellscape," he shrugs.

"Some people like it here," I reply haughtily, fumbling with my lock.

"And we're not those people," Eddie shoots back, the back of his hand bumping mine, pushing it from the lock so he can get his fingers around the dial.

I drop my hand with a soft huff, watching as he does what he always does, solving a problem with an absurd amount of confidence and indifference to the outcome.

He doesn't care whether or not my locker opens, so it does.

And he doesn't care to shudder in front of Jason Carver or the jocks, so they hate him.

He doesn't even seem to care about the things I care about, which lately has been focusing on my little reality with cheerleading and Theo, and it drives me crazy.

No, Eddie Munson just shows up, says something sarcastic, and swoops in to open my locker.

I should've just gone for the fire ax. At least then Eddie wouldn't have the self-satisfied expression on his face that he's wearing now.

"There ya go, ma'am," he smirks.

"I could've done it myself," I mutter, even though we both know that's a lie.

"Oh yeah?" He asks. "Then why are you late for class? Or... it that because you were too busy canoodling your boyfriend in the hallway?"

I grind my teeth and pull out my chemistry notebook, shoving it into my bag and resisting the urge to rise to Eddie's taunting.

"I don't canoodle," I mumble, zipping my backpack shut.

Eddie laughs at me, and if I look over, I'm sure I'll see his bottom lip jutted out and sparkling, teasing brown eyes.

Why he insists on teasing me, I will never quite know. It seems to be his default setting.

He's always been a bit of a rascal, wreaking havoc and avoiding consequences by charming anyone in his path.

Eddie talks a bit too much and listens too little. He likes eyes on him, likes performing at the Hideaway, sitting at the head of the lunch table and the throne in the drama room.

He softens around me. I know that. He pauses, waits for my reaction, throws pebbles at my bedroom window, lets me slide cassettes into his radio, and asks for my opinion.

Or at least... he used to.

That's how we functioned as kids. Even though our personalities should've clashed more than complemented, it worked.

I calm him down and keep my attention on him long enough for him to realize he doesn't need to perform.

He pulls me out of my comfort zone and my head.

I always thought he popped into my life without warning, plucking me from the shadows and gracing me with his presence.

But that's not true - I chose him just the same as he chose me.

And I realized only recently that he needs me just as much as I need him.

I've always wanted every part of him, but I won't tolerate his shields.

They weren't for me because I was too close. None of his defenses would work - his charm, his jokes, his disruption. I could slip behind it all and poke at his heart, waiting for him to settle on the floor, for his waves to calm, and for him to be still.

He's pushing me away, though.

Everything has shifted, and his flimsy shields have transformed into walls. His smiles are forced, and his words are sharper.

I always thought I was the exception... but maybe not.

My palm slaps the locker door, shutting it was a loud bang.

Eddie's smirk falters, his eyes darting over my hardened expression.

That's the worst part of all of this. I still want to pull him onto the floor, put on a record, and force him to be still. I don't want to look at him with disappointment, or irritation, or judgment.

He won't stop, though. He keeps barreling forward, tumbling down some twisted path that he's decided he must trudge. And he's not looking back... and it's getting harder to be near him.

"So..." he clears his throat. "Tomorrow night's the big game."

"Uh-huh," I reply halfheartedly, turning to march down the hallway with my arms crossed over my chest.

Eddie moves beside me, ready to put on his best show and lure me back to his side, but I know him too well, and I know when he's faking it.

"The boys and I are finishing The Cult of Vecna," he pushes on, slipping into a subject more in his comfort zone. "I've got a plan to end with a bang, y'know... etch my legacy into stone."

Is that what's been bothering him? Having to leave it all behind?

"You're not going to do another campaign before summer?"

"Nah," he grins, happy that I seem to be giving him my full attention now. "This is last call. The final showdown."

"Oh..." I crinkle my eyebrows.

I can't help but wonder if he's okay with that, although he seems just as self-assured as ever. But still, it can't be easy to move on from this chapter of his life.

"It's gonna be epic," he laughs lightly.

"So, you decided not to go easy on them?"

"Of course not," Eddie scoffs, moving sideways to stare at my profile, but I walk with my head tucked down. "It's my final gift to the club. Why would I go soft now?"

"Perhaps because there's more strength to be found in being soft than hard."

Eddie snorts in response.

"It's true-" I glance over sharply. "Those freshmen see you the way you want them to see you."

"And what way is that?"

I bounce up the stairs, causing him to fall behind. He hesitates at the landing but shrugs easily and follows me.

Eddie waits for me to speak, and I realize now I'm the one with all his attention.

I'm melting him.

I know that because he would've let me go up the stairs and exited through the side entrance if he didn't care.

But he's watching me, and we're occupying another silence, but this one feels normal. It feels like a silence I always led him into, one where Eddie would drop his shield and lean closer.

It feels like us.

My heart beats a little faster because we haven't aligned like this in weeks, and I don't want to let this moment slip through my fingers.

I pause just outside my classroom, turning to stare at him. Eddie stares back, his fingers twitching slightly, his deep brown eyes looking expectant and a little lost.

I smile softly. If he's lost, that's fine by me. I'll take his hand and guide him, just like always.

"You're brave," I say quietly. "But not heartless. You're realistic, but you don't love misery. You've seen dark shit and want to protect others from it."

His mouth tightens, but he makes no move to smirk or push me away. He's listening, finally, and I can't stop.

I talk a half step closer.

"I'm sorry that Hellfire is almost over... but I think it's a good thing, too," I murmur. "Maybe it's time you let them see the real you."

"They don't want that," he replies harshly.

My smile falters, but I press forward.

"You show those kids how to survive here," I reply, my voice firm and steady. "They want to be you, but they need to know they don't always have to play defense."

"That's just how it works, Winnie. We've always had to be tougher than most."

"I know that," I agree, raising my hand and tugging gently on my necklace. "But... don't you want to know what it's like to not have to fight? To see what it's like to be... I don't know... normal ?"

Normal isn't necessarily better, but our childhoods were anything but ordinary. And I suppose when you've lived in a raging ocean all your life, a boring, calm sea looks like paradise.

"Hmph," Eddie sounds out, although it's not judgmental, but thoughtful.

He's not judging me, because he doesn't do that. Eddie understands how bright and alluring the center is, and even if he doesn't succumb to its warmth, he gets why I can't seem to help myself.

Why I can't stop trying... why I need to see it through.

"All I know is you see the best in people," he finally says, shrugging slowly as he does. "And you're stubborn as hell."

I bite back a surprised laugh, watching as Eddie's lips tilt into a closelipped smile.

"And that you're safe now..." Eddie falters, swaying left to right. "Safer, at least, with him."

My smile shrinks on my face, my brain emitting a soft buzz as I take in Eddie's words.

"Is that what you really think?" I ask, the question shoving its way from my mouth, clearing the path for an even sharper one. "That Theo protects me better than you can?"

Eddie looks taken aback, although I feel no surprise in the aftermath of my words. We've always been honest with each other, even if the truth stings.

He opens his mouth to reply, but can't even conjure a lie. The truth is written all over his face.

"That's absurd, Eddie," I whisper, shaking my head and stepping closer.

I feel like I've found some truth he's been kicking dirt over, burying a lead he never wanted me to follow.

He leans away slightly, his fist open and closing, fingers stretching, lips tilting upwards.

Eddie always twitches when he's uncomfortable, shaking or bouncing his knees. He doesn't want the feeling to settle, can't let it incapacitate him, if he did that every time something bad happened he'd fall to pieces.

"Yeah well, you're the one that deserves to get out, Winnie," Eddie mumbles, staring down at his shoes, his converse sneaker tapping a beat against the tiled floor.

His face flushes slightly, having been stripped bare by my questions. He hates the feeling - control slipping from his grasp. Eddie lives on a highwire, a careful balancing act of jokes and charm, but right now he's off-balance.

"That's how it goes, right?" He forces a breathy laugh, eyes still glued to his sloppily tied laces. "We're growing up... and you're moving forward. Away from the trailer park, away from m-"

Eddie's words die on his lips, an accidental confession he tries to sever, but I hear it anyways.

Away from me.

His words pierce my heart, a sharp stab followed by an urge to throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him until all the hurt leaves his body.

"You think I'm going to leave you?" I ask softly.

"I think you need to keep following the sunlight," he says, equally as soft, but laced with melancholy.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know how you see the best in people... but you do," he clarifies, lifting his head to meet my eyes.

He's not off-balance anymore, he's steady.

"You're going to keep trying, Winnie... it's your nature."

He's right.

I know he is.

But the timing seems all wrong.

I'm finally moving forward but when I look over my shoulder, Eddie isn't there anymore.

We're right back to the conversation on the swings. It's like we're stuck in a whirlpool, moving in wide lazy circles that have become tighter, frenetic, faster. I'm waiting to be sucked down the middle, for the cycle to end.

Either we'll go under, losing each other in the dark, or we'll reemerge, grasping for the other like a life raft.

"I'm just tired of being numb, Eddie," I blurt, the words hasty, the sentiment desperate. "I- I'm tired of being afraid of life... aren't you?"

Eddie doesn't reply, just stares back impassively, his fingers begin to twist a ring on his left hand.

"Aren't you tired of running, Eddie?" I ask, stepping closer. "Maybe... maybe we don't have to run. Maybe it'll finally work out this time. Don't we both deserve to be happy-"

"There's no point," he says sharply.

I freeze, leaning away and searching his face, hoping to find a sheen in his eye, a twitch of his lip. Anything that I could wedge between, something I could latch onto to pull him back to me... but he's serious.

"There's no point," he repeats in a soft whisper. "Time is up, Winnie."

His words prompt me to take a sharp breath, which feels like a razor blade digging into my chest.

How did so much change so fast?

Before, he moved like lightning, and I more like a rolling gray cloud following behind. Somehow, we've switched places.

He let me move in front of him, closer to the sun, and I liked it. I do like it, but I want both.

I want his storm and the sunlight, but it doesn't seem possible.

I'm drifting in one direction, and he in the other.

I should've seen this coming. I should've known Eddie's support and check-ins were only for him, so he could see that I was better... so he won't feel so guilty when he leaves.

Stuck in this whirlpool, my senses dizzying. I can't grab onto him, can't hold him still and make him listen.

And it pisses me off.

I've never seen him give up so easily, and every nerve within me zaps with anger. He's stepping back, tucking his head, tying his shoelaces tight, ready to bolt.

"I'm right here," I repeat, my words smothered with kerosene, my tongue the match. "Don't act like I'm the one pulling away."

Eddie doesn't say a word but straightens his spine, his ringed fingers entangled but no longer fidgeting.

He seems so resolute, and I guess he's made his choice. Whatever that may be, he's drifting away, leaving me in the sun, and retreating under his sky.

I turn without a word, pulling open the classroom door and slipping inside.

Mr. Horowitz's drawl stops momentarily, not to deliver a jab, but his voice halts as he takes in my crumpled expression.

My body slumps into my desk, my arms covering the surface and my head tucked down.

My teacher clears his throat and keeps talking, and I feel a few droplets slide a path from the corner of my eye and down my nose, hovering until they plop, creating a small puddle that only I can see.

Hot tears begin to follow, and I release them without knowing which pool they've sprung from.

Sadness? Guilt? Anger?

A thought strikes me, a moment of clarity between my watering eyes and quaking shoulders.

All my life, I've felt like I lived in the ocean. The same ocean that was just across my front yard and down the sandy shore.

The water is where I live, and I've dreamt of its waves in moments when I've felt so lost.

The waves I named as others - my father, my mother, Eddie. Other crests, other currents, all out of my control.

But I'm not floating through the ocean.

I am the ocean.

It's my feelings and fears spilling over. It's the pool of my grief and the depth of my anger. It's the high of the swell, the peace after a storm.

My whole life, I've been looking for something: a rescue boat, a lighthouse, a sliver of rocky coastline.

But it's always just been me. I am made of my experiences and my pain, but I thought I needed to escape the water... to leave myself.

Eddie won't save me, my mother can't fix the past, and I am not drowning.

The tears slow to a trickle, and I wipe my cheeks, sitting up in my chair and staring down at the wet desk.

Ahead and across the room, I sense Robin craning over her shoulder, keeping a watchful eye, but I don't meet her gaze.

With the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I wipe the desk, clear the saltwater, and reach into my backpack for my notebook.

It drops with a thud, and I hurriedly swipe the pages, past the bullet-pointed notes, past the drawing of Eddie, to a new page.

My pencil digs into the paper, and I copy the board. My ears absorb the tail-end of Mr. Horowitz's lecture, and my limbs slump.

I feel okay, a little worn, a little bruised, but I am okay. And Eddie will be okay.

I'm sure everything will work out, just as I am sure the anxiety will return, perhaps a nightmare too, but it's nothing I can't handle.

Why should I fear my emotions? Why should I fear myself?

After all, I've never been afraid of the water.

And I always make it to the surface.