I had a lot of fun with this chapter, giving Lana little nods that she and Steve grew up with the same vocabulary around- just giving them similarities. It's fun to imagine a character with someone as protective as Steve around, but with as much snark as him, pushing back with his exact same energy.
Enjoy!
About a week had gone by- I hadn't gone back to school. Or seen Eddie. Steve and I had begrudgingly gotten the Christmas decorations out, lighting the tree without any ornaments, and only placing about 6 small gifts beneath it. Christmas Eve came quickly, with no word from our parents whatsoever. I'd decided to enhance our meal prep to include some more festive options, but as we both sat devouring our ham, festivity felt far away. Shortly after the early meal I had opted to make some cookies. The house smelled like childhood. And yet, it still felt like a hollow effort. Gingerbread and chocolate chips couldn't replace good old fashioned parental guidance- and god, did the two of us need it right now.
I was operating on a whim, my whole worldview feeling tainted ever since the exorcism of Byers. Steve was operating on an outdated, denial based strategy that he'd learned from other shallow high-schoolers. What I needed, and he needed, too, was a compass. Just an indicator that we were going the right direction. But frankly, with the way our relationship had been as of late, their advice would be exactly what I needed to avoid.
I turned on an old Christmas Cassette I'd dug out of my father's study, humming along to Bing Crosby as I churned the mixture. My eyes flickered to the tree, and then to the presents beneath it, and then back to my work at hand. Upstairs, hidden in my desk, was a small, rectangular package. I'd considered not doing it at all- but something had swayed me to give him a Christmas present. I'd never really wanted to before. I felt like Christmas was something expected- presents were expected of me. I had to pick them out, from their lists, pretend to care when they pretended to be surprised. But with Eddie- I was excited to give him just a little present. And I was nervous, too. I didn't know when I'd even see him next- probably at school. School would be weird, now, between us. What were we? Were we friends? I didn't even know. Nor how I wanted to approach him at school.
After the cookies go into the oven I find myself pacing around the island of the kitchen. I take a deep breath through my nose, then out through my mouth. My head bobs a little to the music, and I spin around, trying my best to feel Christmas-y. I try really hard. But I don't feel anything. The house feels impossibly empty, and everything is too quiet- despite the music in attempt to draw more color in. I slam on the power button, going to watch TV until the cookies are done.
It's 9 at night, now. With about a dozen warm cookies gathered onto a plate on my bed, I've snagged up a magazine I've read repeatedly and flip through it aimlessly. I feel so antsy. I consider calling someone up, but when I look at the phone I realize that everyone will most likely be hanging out with their family- I'm an outlier here, wanting to chat, having nothing to do. I toss the magazine across the room. Then there's just silence.
And then there's a light patter outside of my window.
It's ignorable at first, as I wallow in my loneliness. But then it happens again, louder. I cautiously make my way over to the window, snagging a lamp on the way. My hands wrap around it defensively, and I peak outside, nervous. But there's nothing on the roof. And then I watch a rock fling up from the ground below, directly hitting my window. I jump.
Annoyed now, I fumble with the lock, dragging the stuck pane up. A few more rocks come my way before I manage to pry it open.
"What the hell?" I hiss to the person below, who I can't see beyond the roof.
My heart picks up instantly as Eddie backs up, waving his arms over his head exasperatedly. "Oh, thank god. I've been tossing those for like 20 minutes, man,"
"Eddie?" I whisper, completely stunned. I look around, as if Steve will materialize in an instant. But it's just me, in my room. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm a Christmas miracle- hold the applause," He bows.
"Shut up." I mutter, realizing how visible he was to anyone inside the house while standing on the front lawn. "Get over here."
"Wow, you're pretty eager-" He teases, but I don't have the time for that right now.
"No, like, seriously, get off the front lawn." I grouched, clambering out my window and gesturing him close.
"Shit, haven't done this in a while," He muses, backing up a little. Then he bolts forward, hands barely latching onto the side of the roof. His legs fling into the side of the house with a thud, and I curse quietly at him. "Sorry, sorry- pull me up-"
I grip at his arm, heaving with all my strength. He pushes, too, and with our combined effort he ends up halfway tipped onto the roof. I drag his skinny-jean clad legs up, which are significantly chilled by the winter air, and he rolls onto his back, panting. I drop beside him to catch my breath after the effort, staring up at the sky, the cold seeping into my flannel pajamas.
I shiver. "I bet you're cold- let's get inside- Steve probably heard that, and his window's down that way."
I gesture to Steve's window, and he nods, clambering into my room after me. I shut the window, rubbing my arms to create heat, turning to him awkwardly. He cups his hands and blows into them, also rubbing at his arms. I putter about the room, before returning with a blanket. He's already turned his nosy gaze to explore, and I tap him on the shoulder with a slight frown.
"Ah! Thank you, m'lady. I was just checking out your wares." He smiles, wrapping himself up like a burrito. I can't help but crack a faint smile.
"What?" He smirks, checking himself out in my full-length mirror. We're standing right next to each other, me with my makeup half rubbed off, in fuzzy pajamas, and him studded and leathery, wrapped in a knitted pink blanket. "Huh, I guess I do look pretty hot in this."
"I'd say you look warm in the blanket." I jest lightly, and he gives me a wide eyed look of approval.
"A weak attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. Who knew Lana Harrington was working on becoming a comedian?" He teases, and to my surprise, he bumps my hip with his own.
"Oh, shut up," I roll my eyes. "You're not exactly as hilarious as you think you are."
"Me? Hilarious?" He raised an eyebrow. "Nah. Maybe naturally. But I'm more of an entertainer."
"Oh, yeah, naturally," I grin, poking at his ego kind of fun. But then I come back to earth, in my room, with Eddie, on Christmas eve. "So, like. Why are you here again?"
"Right, that." He nodded, and suddenly looked a little lost.
I raised my eyebrows at him while he tried to act confident, meandering around my room and fiddling with all my trinkets. He promptly dropped one, picking it up clumsily and attempting to reposition it correctly. As he walked around some more, I took his place, righting my little statue in the right position. He found my photo wall- which was mainly just me and Steve and some various self portraits and landscapes, in various settings with my Polaroid. He picked one up, pointing to all the different people in the photo.
"These your parents?" He asked casually, giving me a calculatory sidelong glance.
"Yup." I just responded, popping the 'p'.
"They're not around, huh?" He hums, taking the family portrait into his long-term memory.
I pull it gently from his grip, placing it face-down on my desk. "They're around. Just not around us."
"Right." He smiles, small and empathetic. "So, why am I here."
I shake my head to clear my racing thoughts. "Yeah, why?"
"I wanted to hang out." He said simply, beaming innocently.
"On Christmas Eve." I added.
"Yeah," He shrugged.
"And you waited outside for 20 minutes in the cold."
"Don't have your number, Harrington." He leaned an elbow onto my shoulder, making me feel much shorter than I was.
"Told you to call me Lana," I mumble, digging through a drawer to find a pen. It's then that I recall what else was in these drawers. "Here, sit down on my bed."
His cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink, and he crosses his arms coolly. "Well, well, Lana-"
"Just sit." I order.
He sits with a mischievous smirk, allowing me to outstretch his hand. I grip his calloused fingertips, pulling his hand towards me. I try not to peak up too obviously at him- because my face is surely bright red. I quickly scrawl out my phone number, then toss the pen to the side. In a moment of complete mental shutdown, all I can think to do is give him a thumbs up.
"There. Uh, now- don't throw rocks at me next time." I babble, shifting my weight on the bed nervously, the package moving from hand to hand.
He doesn't say anything, just tilts his head down, to peak up at me through the wall of hair I'd blocked him off with. I chew the inside of my lip, giving him a hard look.
"Huh." He muses. "Never thought I'd get Lana Harrington's number."
"Don't cream your pants, Munson." I squint. "I also… I got you something."
His eyes shift down to my hands, a look that I can only describe as incredulous taking over his features. I hand him the small package, drawing my hands back quickly to clasp them in my lap. The sight of us two here must be a strange one- my tightly stacked, small, pajama clad figure completely tensed up and rigid. Him, lazily strewn against the footboard of the bed, dressed head to toe in black, denim and IPs, metal adorning in various spots flatteringly. We were complete, polar opposites.
"Come on, Lana, you didn't really-" He tried, disbelief clouding his words.
"It's nothing big. I just thought- well- I thought since you helped me at the shop, I'd give you something." I shrugged, trying to play it cool.
He blinked rapidly, as if he was in complete and utter shock. "You know, Uncle Wayne- I live with him- he and I don't really get presents. So I haven't, uh, gotten a present. For years."
I frowned. "Everyone deserves a Christmas present."
He shrugs, then fiddles with the paper, shredding it off carefully. His nimble fingers untied the bow, and he came to inspect the tape inside. On it was a carefully detailed sharpie list of all of my favorite childhood songs. He was very quiet as he read each one, a small smile curving. I watched, tense, jaw clenching. It wasn't his taste, but that wasn't the point. What was the point? I didn't want to contemplate that line of thought.
He met my eyes, and his smile only widened. Then, he unbuttoned a pocket inside of his jacket, tucking it right next to his heart. He patted his chest warmly.
"Thanks, Harrington." He grinned. "I haven't heard any of those songs since I was like 10 so I'll be happy to reminisce."
"Yeah, yeah," I roll my eyes. "Well, they're all my all time favorites, so. Thought it'd be cool for you to, you know- hear 'em. I guess."
"You guess." He hummed, leaning back with a cocky look on his face.
I shrugged. "Yep, that's what I said."
"Huh, cause if I didn't know better, I'd say that's the kind of gift you give to someone you care about," Eddie prodded playfully, wiggling a little closer.
I scowled, swatting him back. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He sighed, then, falling backwards to lay on his back, dramatically flinging the blanket from around him. "I'll get you to open up, Harrington-"
"Lana-"
"Lana." He corrected, making eye contact with me seriously. I almost regretted the correction. "Just you watch. I can really turn on the charm."
"Uh huh." I nodded at the ridiculous man.
"No, really," He stretched his arms above his head, giving a lovely view. His shirt slid up just about to his belly button, and I tore my eyes away, meeting his satisfied smirk with my own conflicted frown. "You know, Billy wasn't wrong."
"Huh?" I snap out of my distasteful thoughts. "About what? He's usually wrong."
Eddie sat up, eyes on his own hands. He was twisting a ring in place, one of his older rings. I don't know how long I'd been subconsciously keeping track of the types of rings Eddie had, but I knew that the red gem one- on his middle finger- that was an artifact from the beginning of high school. How long had I been paying attention to that?
"I do have a thing for you." He admitted, eyes meeting mine. "I just never thought I'd be hanging out in your room on Christmas Eve, able to say anything about it."
I held my breath. Then I opened my mouth, not sure what was going to spill out, though my defenses were high, so it probably wouldn't be pleasant. Luckily, he raised his hands- small, slightly sad smile quirking up.
"Don't worry, princess, I'm not looking for you to return the feeling. I just wanted to see you tonight. I actually got you something too. Well, didn't really get- more like, I have something." He rambled, before catching himself. "Jesus- you make me nervous- I'm just- here."
And he places his palm out, the hand I'd scrawled my number onto. The returning action requires trust, trust that I had to take a leap to give. And yet, I found my hand moving on it's own- and I put mine in his, our skin lightly pressing together. I caught the corner of his mouth quirk a bit at the contact. Then, he was sliding that bright, chunky red ring onto my thumb. I held my breath, in unknown territory. I didn't know what this meant, or if I wanted to.
But I think I liked it.
"There." He whispered, "Fits you great. Always wondered how that'd look."
I glance at him quickly, luckily not meeting his eyes. Then I return to our touching hands. "Is that all? You wanted to see it on?"
"Sweetheart, that's yours now." His smile slightly curved his eyes, as he released my hand.
I flexed it, taking in every angle of the ring. "What does it mean?"
He shrugged. "Just that I wanted to give you a gift."
"That's all?" I ask hesitantly, my heart feeling a little airy- is that feeling hope? Where's that from? Hope for what?
"That's all." He nodded, leaning back on his elbows. "Isn't that all you wanted it to be? I'm still the freak, friend or not."
The guy spoke in riddles. My brows pressed down as I contemplated the question- something I needed to think about alone, not with the subject here next to me, analyzing my expression. But the feeling of my heart falling- losing hope- it was enough. I was in deep trouble. I had feelings bubbling under the surface I never thought Eddie Munson would stir. I open my mouth to respond, but once again, the action is cut short.
There's a quick knocking on my door. Eddie and I both scramble, but before he can hide anywhere, the door opens wide.
"Hey, surprise of the year, mom and dad are home- oh, fuck, Lana, you're shitting me." Steve bursts in, taking in the scene in exasperation.
He glances behind himself, then slides in quickly, closing the door. Immediately his hands are waving us off the bed, disgust painting his expression.
"Don't say anything to mom and dad-" I begged, attempting to sound desperate but still sounding abrasive.
"You're on thin ice, La, I swear to god-" He hissed, shoving Eddie under the bed- definitely harder than he had to.
"God, damn it-" Eddie snarled, his hair catching on a piece of my bed.
I leaned to help him but Steve yanked me up, and turned me around. I made to snap at him, but my door creaked open, and instead I scrambled to look casual, leaning my elbow onto Steve's shoulder, creating a human barrier in front of the bed.
"Oh, there she is, our Lana," My mother coos, pushing into my room.
I instantly stiffen at the sight of my parents in my room- my sacred space. I did not want them seeing the inner mechanisms of my mind. She grips me daintily, pulling me into a hug without much behind it. My dad's behind her, quietly, unpleasant as always.
"Oh, you changed you hair," She frowned, brushing it through with her fingers. "Hm, little short, isn't it?"
"Good to see you, mom." I squinted at her, a fake smile taking over my entire face. "It's pretty late, aren't you tired?"
From behind me I hear a very faint sniffle, and then a covered up sneeze. My eyes widen, and I attempt to rub my nose, as if it were me. My mother doesn't notice, but my father's eyes dart around a bit. Steve stretched, kicking the bed a couple times, trying to quiet Eddie down.
"Man, the dirt stuck in my shoe-" He tried lamely, no dirt coming off of his shoes.
"Not in my room," I whined, playing along, but I was getting pale.
My mother looked between the two of us carefully, definitely sensing the weird vibe. "So, have you been excited for Christmas? I smell cookies-"
As she moved to push into my room, Steve and I both pivoted around my bed.
"Woah!" I shouted, feeling Eddie's hair tickling my ankle. My bed wasn't exactly big, and I used the under-space for storage. He must have been basically peaking out. "Uh, I've been- pretty sick!"
"Yeah, she was really nasty and snotty," Steve rushes, crossing his arms, trying to seem confident.
"Oh, goodness, dear," My mother frowns, backing closer to the doorway. "And you didn't tell me? Before the hug?"
"Well, I'm not anymore." I chuckle nervously, but I give a small cough, hoping to scare her away. "Just lingering a little. And I haven't cleaned anything in here since-"
"She threw up all over the side of her bed," Steve finishes, raising his brows.
I glare at him.
There's a faint snicker from under the bed.
"Oh, well-" My mother's brow stitches disgustedly. "I think maybe we should catch up in- in the Kitchen-"
"Great!" Steve agrees, pushing from the bed and urging the two out the door. My father was still looking between us, scanning for what was clearly wrong. He wasn't buying it.
"Oh, one thing-" My mother turns around, and I immediately fling back to cover the bed.
"Yeah, totally! What is it?" I link my hands over my lap, fingers turning white at the pressure.
"That ring of yours," She comes closer, giving a playful little smirk. "Class ring, new boyfriend? He much older than you?"
"No, no-" I laugh nervously, praying Eddie doesn't react from under the bed.
Steve notices it too, and rolls his eyes. "Just some loser that keeps tailing her."
I frown at him pointedly.
"Ah, shame," My mother sighs, turning to leave the room. "You're wasting so much potential, single all the time. Why do you wear it, then?"
I sputter in response. "I don't- I mean- I just got it the other day-"
"She's gonna go for him no matter what I say, she's just in denial." Steve mutters monotonously.
"I'm not- hey, Steve, aren't we going to the kitchen?" I hiss.
"Ooh, boy talk," My mother coos, dancing out the door. "I've always wanted to boy talk with you."
As soon as she's gone, I slam the door shut, heart racing. I lock it behind me. I scowl, eyes closing. "The feeling is not mutual."
Shuffling out from under the bed, Eddie brushes his hair out. He pops his jacket, some dust falling off. I watch him wearily, wondering what he'd think about that. He eyes me too, a different feeling resonating from the action. There's a tension that's been broken that was lingering for a long time. Now, a new type has taken it's place. I pucker my lips, nodding into the silence awkwardly.
"So, I gotta go downstairs-" I remind.
"Right-" He agrees, turning instantly to crack open the window.
"Sorry- about them- about Steve-"
"Nah, man, he was actually cool, covering like that," Eddie laughs weakly, stumbling out the window and onto the roof. I stay inside.
"How are you gonna get down?" I whisper, peaking over the edge.
He shrugs. "It's not that high. And I'm basically the man of steel, so-"
A rough knock on my door sends me sprawling, closing the window and yanking the blinds shut when it gets stuck halfway. But it's only Steve.
"They're gonna come back up here, and I am not covering for your ass again, so you better get-" He snarked, and I waved him off, hand on my racing heart.
"I'm coming, I'm coming." I sigh, turning back to look out the window.
Eddie had made it to the ground, only lightly muddy. I gave him a thumbs up, and he returned it. I made to shut the pane all the way, but he shouted something up to me very faintly.
"What?" I tried, whisper-yelling.
"Merry Christmas, Lana Harrington." He called again, dopey grin overtaking his face.
I couldn't help the small smile that crept up in return. "Merry Christmas, Eddie Munson."
Then, finally, he sneaked away, and I managed to slam the window shut.