CW: Al Munson
...
'Live a little.'
Al's words haunted Eddie. In the darkness of the night, in the blankness of the pages, and the growing silences between himself and Steve.
He felt like such an asshole, especially after walking away from Steve. The picnic must have been planned in advance, and a lot of effort was involved from both Steve and Charlie, but Eddie had ruined it.
He didn't know why he was being such an asshole, especially to Steve. But every time he opened his mouth, nothing good came out. Eddie felt guilty, angry, and ashamed. He couldn't pull out the depressing spiral he'd found himself in, and unfortunately, it was easier to snap than admit something was terribly wrong.
On the walk home, Eddie made a plan. He would make dinner for Steve, and he knew the perfect meal since Robin had told him that Steve loved ravioli with creamy sauce. He was looking through his phone for the recipe, walking up to the front door, when he almost bumped into someone. Looking up in surprise, his heart sank when he saw it was his father. "What?"
Unperturbed by Eddie's rudeness, Al smiled and held out his arms. "Nice to see you too, Junior. Is that any way to greet your dad?"
"What do you want?"
"Well, I was hoping to meet my granddaughter."
Eddie's heart froze. He was about to ask how Al knew about Charlie but then realized making a public statement about his daughter was probably the giveaway. His only thought was to keep Charlie safe, and the idea of letting Al anywhere near her was abhorrent. "She's not here," he finally said.
"You left her alone somewhere?"
The almost imperceptible patronization in his voice made Eddie's shoulders hitch up, defensive and stung. "She's with Steve. And I trust him more than I would you."
Al's face crumpled into a familiar expression of self-deprecation and hurt. He was older now, his hair greying and the lines of his face deeper. It only weakened Eddie's resolve, and unwillingly, he found himself softening. The prolonged silence only made it worse, and Eddie was about to apologize when Al snapped out of it and grinned, seemingly unaffected. "Let me make it up to you. I know I've been out of your life longer than either of us wanted. I'll prove to you that I'm here to stay now."
Despite how unlikely that was, Eddie wanted to believe it. But he knew from experience that Al Munson wasn't the type of man to stick around. They both had criminal records to prove that.
"How?" Eddie asked cautiously.
"Let's go somewhere private and talk. I know you're something a big shot now, and I don't want to ruin your image." He grinned when Eddie scoffed, putting an arm around his shoulders to lead him away from the house. "Rick gave me keys to his bar. Said we're welcome there anytime."
"Dad-"
"I know, I know. You don't drink. Doesn't mean we can't talk, though."
Eddie hesitated for a fraction of a second, but the pressure around his shoulders and heart was strong. He gave in, following Al down the street. "Fine. But only for an hour or two. I've got plans tonight."
But those plans seemed to be faded as quickly as they had formed.
The bar was mercifully empty when Al unlocked the door and led the way downstairs, turning on the dim lights. It made Eddie wonder if this had all been planned since Rick was nowhere to be seen. Cautiously, he sat at the bar as Al went behind the counter and began mixing drinks. He made two, setting one in front of Eddie without comment before sipping the other.
"So you don't drink anymore?" He asked in an almost casual tone. "Someone tell you to stop?"
"No. I chose to stop. For Charlie."
"Charlie." And Al's smile was genuine, soft in a way Eddie had never seen before. It made him oddly jealous. "Does she look like us?"
"Yes."
"Munson genes run strong," Al said proudly, ruffling Eddie's hair.
Pulling back with a grimace, Eddie tried to fix the damage, ignoring Al's laughter. "I'm not a kid anymore, Dad."
"You'll see one day. Even when your kids are grown, they're still kids to you. I see you as that gangly teenager with the smile and charm to convince Rick to deal with us. That's who you are, Junior."
I'm not. That was what Eddie wanted to say, but he bit back the retort. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
Al leaned across the bar, and he actually looked concerned. "You don't look well."
"I'm-"
"Don't say you're fine. I'm your dad, no matter how much you try to deny it."
Eddie huffed, and his eyes fell on the glass of innocent-looking liquid before him. For an insane second, he wanted to grab it but fought the urge, shoving it away instead.
"Who else can you talk to?"
Steve.
Eddie took a shaky breath and stood to leave. "I need to go. I told you I have plans."
"What about your old man? I haven't seen you in years. At least spend some time with me." There was that look again, the hurt that aged Al and made Eddie feel guilty. It always worked, and slowly, he sank back into his seat. "You haven't told me about your work yet. Or my grandbaby. What's she like?"
"She's already got a Papaw. She doesn't need another or the confusion." He'd explained to Charlie that Wayne wasn't his dad and, therefore, not technically her grandfather, but just as clearly as he saw Wayne as his father figure, Charlie saw him as her Papaw. Neither of them tried to stop her, and Eddie wasn't going to confuse her by introducing Al, not least because he was likely to disappear again.
For the first time, a shadow of anger crossed Al's face, and Eddie felt vindicated. If he'd wanted to be in Charlie's life, he should have stuck around in Eddie's.
But then Al's expression smoothed out, and he was smiling. "Do you remember learning how to play guitar?"
The question surprised Eddie. "Yeah?"
For a while, his father had landed a real, bonafide job in their hometown, working with Wayne at the power plant. Eddie remembered those few months the clearest because they were the most stable, and they had been like a real family, dinner on the table every night, learning to play guitar with Al in the evenings when he came home from work.
Until, of course, Al had grown bored and gotten involved in some scheme or another. The end result? Eddie, alone in the house at the age of eight, never to know stable family life again. But he never stopped playing because, somehow, it had made him feel closer to his absent father.
He thought about Steve teaching Charlie to play piano and smiled.
Mistaking the reason for this, Al chuckled. "Yeah, you were so small, sitting on my lap, holding that old acoustic for the first time. A natural the moment you touched the strings."
"Charlie likes the drums," Eddie relented softly. "But she can play guitar and some piano. Ronnie likes to rub it in my face that Charlie takes after her."
"What else does she like?"
"Dungeons and Dragons." Eddie actually laughed when Al pulled a face. A real, aching laugh that left him breathless. It was the first time he had laughed like that in weeks. A little lightheaded, he got up to peruse the small fridge behind the bar, settling on a water bottle. As he unscrewed the top, he caught Al watching him with an odd mixture of disappointment and grudging surprise. "She likes games. And math? I don't know where she gets that from."
"Her mother, probably."
Eddie shrugged instead of answering. Had Allie been good at math? He couldn't remember, and they had been too shitfaced most of the time even to consider math or anything else really. In hindsight, he realized he didn't know anything about her. Had he ever? If Charlie asked one day, what would he say?
"So what happened to her?"
He blinked, coming out of the revere to look at Al questioningly.
"Her mother," Al elaborated. "Where is she?"
"No clue. Doesn't want to be involved and haven't seen her since she signed away her parental rights."
"Such a shame. Most kids love their mothers, and you were no different. Always at her heels when you were a baby. Took you months to stop crying when she was gone." Al had an odd, impassioned tone as he spoke, watching Eddie work through his grief all over again at the mention of his mom. "Never been the same since."
"I miss her." Eddie felt eight years old again, standing over his mother's grave, and his heart ached. Wayne had dragged him away in the end when the rain started to pour, and Al had disappeared into the closest dive bar he could find.
"Oh, she's still here. I see her a lot in you."
"Yeah?"
"Definitely. Especially the resigned aura about you." Eddie reared back, confused and a little hurt when Al laughed. He shook his head, downing another shot with a groan. "Oh, Junior, you're more like your mamma than you know. Held back by your morals instead of living your life. I told you, you gotta live a little instead of chaining yourself down for others."
'Live a little.'
"Charlie…"
"You think a drink will make you hurt your daughter?"
"No, but-"
"So what are you so afraid of?"
'Live a little.'
Everything. Nothing.
'Live a little.'
What was he afraid of? One drink couldn't hurt, surely.
Eddie hesitated for just a second and then snatched up the glass. The alcohol burned his throat, but the warmth that blossomed inside was like an embrace from an old friend. Coughing, he looked up at Al, who nodded approvingly.
"And you're still alive."
He was. Laughing in relief, Eddie held out the glass for Al to refill. It was almost magical the way the liquid glinted in the dim lighting. But then, Rick had always known how to keep his patrons comfortable. Even the padding on his seat was thick. It would be so easy to spend night after night here with his father, drinking and talking in comfort.
Then his phone rang, making Eddie jump, and he fumbled in his pocket to pull it out.
"Steve," Eddie said, and it felt like someone had reached into his chest to grab his heart and squeeze. What the fuck was he doing? He stared at the call, unable to pick up but fixated all the same, until the screen went dark again. "I should go."
"Must be hard trying to live up to everyone's expectations. Especially when they always judge you for the worst."
"They don't…" But Eddie's defensive sentence trailed off when he remembered how Steve had looked that night when he'd come back from this place, and he'd smelled the alcohol. Al was right; Steve had judged him and then chose to believe the worst before Eddie could even say anything. Swallowing thickly, Eddie shook his head. "That's not true."
"Your face says otherwise. We don't want to think the worst of the people we love, but…" Al refilled Eddie's glass, and he drank automatically. "… sometimes they're the ones who end up hurting us. I'm gonna hit you with some advice, Junior. Has he ever asked you to do something for him?"
'…Just... take a break. You need to rest. Can you do that? For me…'
An echo in his head, Steve's words coming back to haunt him. Eddie gripped his glass so tight he was surprised it didn't shatter. Steve had said that, tried to convince him with words, manipulated him into taking a break when, in fact, he should be working. Something cold stole over his chest, and he drank again to chase it away, setting the empty glass back on the bar with an echoing clink.
His silence was answer enough, and Al nodded. "I thought so."
Eddie's words came through numb lips like he didn't quite believe them. "Steve wouldn't- he loves me."
"Does he?" Al's casual tone hurt. But so did the truth behind it. "I loved your mamma dearly; God rest her soul. But I don't think she ever loved me quite the same. It's a curse to love someone so much and know they want you to change, to know you're just not good enough."
Not good enough.
Eddie felt like the breath had been stolen from his lungs. All his life, he had been trying to get out from under his father's shadow, cursed by it, until he fled Hawkins. In the early days of Corroded Coffin's success, people always wanted more. And it was still happening. More songs, more attention, more time. More, more, more.
He felt like a sponge, wrung out and frayed, empty.
Snatching the bottle from Al's hand, Eddie took a large gulp and winced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why am I not enough?"
"You are Junior, just gotta find someone who sees that and doesn't try to change you. All you're gonna do is end up hurting yourself, and the person you'll see in the mirror will be a stranger."
Eddie nodded, drinking again.
Al had always been true to himself, never bending to anyone's will. Eddie wished he was strong enough to do that, too. But he always caved, wanting the approval and love of others. Was that what he was doing with Steve? Being what Steve wanted instead of who he truly was?
"Who am I?" he asked aloud, voice mournful like a bereavement.
"You are Eddie Munson." Al put an arm around him and shook his shoulders. "And nobody can take that away from you."
Eddie Munson.
But who was that?
The question haunted Eddie as he stumbled home hours later, head swimming from the alcohol and Al's words. And there was Steve, worry on his face and the accusation in his eyes. Eddie couldn't handle it, not when he didn't even know who he was, who they were. It could wait until the morning.
Everything could wait.