It had been three weeks.

Three weeks ago, my whole world turned upside down. Literally. Ever since, I'd been spending more time with the whole group, learning what I could- being completely confused as to how the situation was so normalized. I'd learned about Will, witnessed the lead up to his exorcism, been dragged into the tunnels linked to the Upside-Down, and got a rundown on Eleven. I'd prodded harder about Steve and Nancy's past, and eventually he had given in and recalled what actually happened to Barb- and finally, everything was starting to piece together. And still, it was falling apart. I didn't know how to go on after this. Steve assured me nothing would change- he wouldn't let it- and I should enjoy being a normal teenager while I had the chance. But it had all shifted. Just the way he looked at me was different. Like he was assessing if I would have another breakdown- which was possible at any secon,d really. I didn't want to go to parties, to talk with anyone that hadn't experienced that night. And on top of it all, I was evading Billy at every corner. He'd shown up at one point, gotten into a huge fight with Steve that was coming for a while now- and ever since, he'd been seeking me out. At school, on the phone- I was lucky he hadn't come to my house in person. I could only imagine the fight that would ensue.

Tonight, I turned on my stereo, clambering out onto the roof. The music eased some of my more erratic thoughts, but a new level of self-reflection was still present. I found myself pondering everything I'd known, lately- whether it was how good different music could be when I gave it a chance, or how much of my life had been in shadow of the horrors that lurked in Hawkins. Suddenly, different types of things seemed important. Others felt like small little details that had become pointless in the grander scheme.

I was completely draped in a blanket, which was doing it's best to shield me from the beginnings of winter- but failing miserably. I chilled, and decided to head inside. Nights had fallen quicker, with it only being 6 and the light of the moon already beginning to illuminate the ground rather than the sun. The cassette player clicked, and my tape came to an end. I hadn't even been listening to most of it- in fact. I'd been replaying the same four cassettes for weeks now, finding solace in one of the only other new parts of my life- one that seemed far less a foreign concept. I popped the tape out, turning it in my hands.

I'd pulled my jacket on quickly, zipping down the stairs.

"Woah! Hey, hey, slow down," Steve called, hands on his hips, and I skidded to a stop.

I pointed to him, backing up very briefly. "I'm fine and in stable condition and I'm stealing the car."

"That doesn't sound stable!" He grouched in response, annoyance practically emanating off of him in waves.

I rushed away, snagging the keys hung up by the door. "I'll only be out for, like, an hour."

"Lana," Steve called, and though I had one foot out the door already, I paused in place. His tone was now one of frustrated concern. I backed up a little, giving him a hard look.

Steve shrugged exasperatedly, hands flicking with the motion. "You gotta know why I'm worried."

I roll my eyes, but there's guilt I have to swallow down. "I'm fine. We're fine. This whole situation- it's fine. Totally over it."

"Yeah? Because I'm not even over it." Steve calls my bluff, crossing his arms at me. "I mean- you don't talk to me about anything outside that night, you don't leave your room unless it's for school. Neither of us are over this."

I find myself looking around exaggeratedly, as if the surrounding area will answer the very obvious question I breach next. "And this helps my situation… how?"

"Listen, I'm not good at the talking about feelings thing- but you can talk to me. About feelings. Whenever. I'm cool." Steve nods awkwardly, foot beginning to tap anxiously after the offer.

"Yeah, well," I mumble, turning to head out the door. "It's not like I really have anyone else that'll get any of this shit, so I'll hold you to that."

"Lana," He calls again, this time with an elongated, pitying sigh at the end. With that verbal cue, I leave.

The road is long and dark at night- or at least it always seemed moreso. It kinda was nice to be driving again, though. I'd basically been Steve's passenger bitch since the event. After he'd completely crushed the demogorgon's head in and kept his cool the whole time, I'd decided he was more fit to handle surprise road conditions. Driving again felt vulnerable, for some reason. I couldn't help my shaking leg bouncing to the music I'd cranked up, my brow furrowed in concentration as I scanned my surroundings.

The ride went without a hitch, as much as I thought that I'd have to fight for my life. The red glow of the record shop got my heart going, but in a different fashion than the car ride did. I hadn't spoken to Eddie since I got the cassettes that day with Veronica. I hadn't spoken to Veronica, either, for that matter. But now, standing out front of the store, looking in and wondering if he was working tonight- I found myself more anxious than I thought I'd be. Maybe this was a disorder, now. I didn't know what to do with that information, other than to step inside, despite every inch of my body trying to claw me backwards and away.

The ding of the bell was soft, as I nudged the door open slowly. The low hum of the neon was about the same volume as the quiet music playing in the night, some kind of rock I didn't recognize. That was the first clue that Eddie was around, and I shook my hands out, prepping myself to make contact. The next clue was the light snoring that was only audible when you stepped a bit further into the empty shop- apparently, no one was doing their Christmas shopping here on a Thursday night. He was seated in a rolling chair and had his feet propped onto the counter, a comic draped over his face as his arm hung lazily at his side. But his curls peaking out the side of the book made it clear, no doubt- that was Eddie. I found myself in the strange position of either having to wake him, or puttering about the store as I pleased without distraction. Surprisingly, I didn't prefer the latter. I needed suggestions.

I gently tapped his foot, then sprung back, hands clasped. But he didn't stir. I frowned, then, a bit more frustrated, I knocked on the counter- hard. Still, he remained unconscious. Finally, I gripped his feet, launching them off the side of the counter. He released a yelp, before I watched as the chair rolled away, and he fell flat on his ass- arms flailing in a failed attempt to grab something to stop the fall. He sat in a heap for a second, squinting his bleary eyes up at me as I loomed atop him, partially concerned, partially annoyed.

"Harrington?" He mumbled, seemingly still partially asleep.

"No, it's Farrah Fawcett," I responded monotonously, fixing him with a glare.

"Nah, too pretty, gotta be Harrington." He grinned, pushing himself back up and crossing his arms, leaning forward easily. The counter keeps us about a foot apart.

Clearly, the comment made me blush. What can I say? I was a simple woman. I didn't retreat at the close range, meeting his eyes with determination. I crossed my own arms, mimicking him.

"Whatever." I managed to get out, and somehow, I didn't feel like I was winning. He had this ongoing thing- like a contest with himself- how uncomfortable he could make other humans around him. And though I couldn't necessarily compete, I didn't want to let him know he was succeeding.

He cracks a smile, drawing back and using the liftable door to get around the counter, unlike the last time. "So, you've come back to my lair,"

I turn to look around the shop. I don't want him to see that his goofy little quips actually made me smile a little.

"I actually was hoping you could recommend me something new," I admitted, not daring to look him in the eyes.

I fail, peaking over for a second to find him looking very smug, grinning wide at me, hands tucked under his biceps. "Oh yeah? Your taste may be salvageable, yet, Harrington."

"Yeah, whatever- so what do you recommend next?" I rush, looking at my nails inconspicuously. I attempt to speak in his terms, to present amicably. "On my… music journey."

"You've come to the right man, my lady," He clasps his hands behind his back seriously, standing at attention and pacing around the shop. "Which cassette did you like best? Joan Jett?"

I was partially surprised he'd even remembered the cassettes he'd sold me. He was clearly preoccupied that day, and it was weeks ago, now.

"Actually- yeah." I shrug.

"I knew you'd like her," He tilted his head, and it was as if his eyes were analyzing everything about me. I tugged at the hem of my shirt, not liking the feeling. How would he 'know I'd like her'? We knew almost nothing about each other. Him, less than I did.

"Sure, you did," I scoffed, "We're basically strangers, Munson."

"Are we?" He questioned, wandering around the shop as he considered different tapes.

I stood in place, fixing him with a hard look. "You know nothing about me."

"I know that you have science in 6th period," He hummed, holding a tape to the light casually. "I know your brother's your best friend, even if you fight with him in the halls- pretty loudly."

I roll my eyes, shifting weight. "That's stuff I do, not about me."

"Yeah?" He meets my gaze for a second, and his signature intensity prods my head. "I know in 5th grade you performed 'I Want You Back' by the Jackson 5 during our talent show. I know you never actually get wasted at parties, because you're afraid of losing your sense of control."

I draw in a sharp breath through my nose. I wouldn't let him know he'd nailed that one on the head. He came back, three different cassettes in his hands. He got closer than I expected, and he was still walking forward. I didn't like playing chicken, but I found myself leaning away. Then, I took a couple steps backward. He seemed completely comfortable- he loved bursting people's personal bubble, I'd come to know.

"Thanks to you, I know," He continued, this time voice deep, serious, and yet his expression still calm and casual. "What your lips feel like pressed against mine."

I couldn't help it when my eyes flickered down to his lips at that. I held my breath, both my lips pulling between my teeth as I stared blankly below his eyes, not daring to move. I swallowed hard, feeling his breath fanning over my face. He crouches a little, aligning our eyes as he put his hands to his knees. Then, a pained smile begins to form.

"I know you were one of the first ones to call me a freak and make it stick." He mused, sadly.

My heart sunk. I'd almost forgotten I'd done that- but it was in the back of my head the past few times I'd spoken to him. How long had he been keeping tabs on me? It had been years since I'd done that- even longer since I'd performed in the talent show. My expression turned hard as I came to realize how much of my life he'd witnessed- and I couldn't tell if it was because of my general social presence, or because he'd been paying very close attention. Either way, I didn't like this. Being known. Steve knew me. Bop magazine knew me. Eddie Munson- he shouldn't have known me. I had been keeping tabs on everyone else's secrets so meticulously that I had neglected to note how mine were faring. And now, I had much bigger, much more dangerous secrets to keep than ever.

Still, standing here now, right before the shop was set to close- making Eddie spend time picking me out music and getting offended when he did well- I felt bad. Bad for one thing only.

"I'm sorry I started the freak thing." I mumbled in shame, looking away and gripping my arm tightly. "You didn't deserve that."

He gauged my reaction carefully, close enough for me to catch a brief whiff of whatever cologne he was adorned in. Frankly, it smelled pretty nice. It was spiced, with earthy tones. I stood very still.

"Why?" He only asked.

"Why'd I do it?" I sighed, and he nodded in response. I shrugged, shifting my weight again. "I don't know- you were loud, you threw stuff around, and you called me snobby,"

He bobbed his said from side to side, weighing what I'd said. "I guess I was a little bit of a shit, wasn't I?"

"You were a kid." I shrugged. "I'm a little snobby."

"I'm kind of freaky." He winked, and I flushed.

"Yeah, well, anyway- I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd remembered that."

The tension in the room seemed to have abated, and he bumped my shoulder. I felt my shoulders release- I hadn't even known how tight they'd gotten. I offered a small smile, then took my bottom lip between my teeth as I considered my options. I released it, blowing out a puff of air.

"Truce?" I asked carefully, and I offer my hand.

His brows raised, and he opened his mouth to say something snarky, I assumed.

"This is time sensitive," I warn.

He chuckles, and then his warm, tough hand is in my own. His rings are cold, though, and chunky in my palm. I give his hand a quick shake then pull away quickly.

"Truce." He agrees firmly.

I nod, glad that was over with. Then, awkwardly, I feel like I need to address a point he'd brought up earlier- one I'd been skirting around. In the meantime he finally broke away from our standoff, taking the mystery cassettes to the register. I could only assume he was so confident now that he wasn't going to be asking me for my opinion on the matter, but I actually didn't mind. I asked him to pick me music out, and he did.

I felt my hands ball into fists as I considered how to breech the topic- then it all decided to just spill out. "Hey- thank you, by the way. For the last party."

"Spin the bottle?" He questioned, his voice even, not looking away from the register.

"Yeah," I blushed, "That. Billy's kind of stalking me- and I-"

"Hey, no problem, babe." He winks.

I release a shaky breath. "Ok, cool."

His eyes flicker to me with a spark of mischief, glancing sidelong, then his gaze returns back to the register. "So you don't want to kiss me?"

I gape, feeling like someone's shut down my whole bodily system. My brain isn't responding, and my breath hitched. I don't know. All I can do is gape openly, searching for the words. I'd never considered that possibility until now- kissing Eddie Munson. I finally move to say something, but he cuts me off.

"I'm just fucking with you," He grins, but there's something behind his voice. Almost like he'd cut me off to avoid the answer I would have given him- like he didn't want to really know.

I blink, glad I didn't have to try to explore that thought now. I nod mutely.

"$31.23," He reminds, and I groan.

"God you're sapping me of all I have," I whined, playfully.

When I got home I popped in one of the three cassettes- a Scorpions tape. He'd also picked out the newest Queen album and a second Van Halen album. I took out my journal, gripping my pencil between my teeth as I kicked my feet in the air. I had completely neglected it after the Upside-Down incident, not feeling like it was very important anymore. But I felt a surge of inspiration, and I wanted to write down all I knew. So that night, I wrote about Eddie Munson.