Blue hotel
Every room is lonely
Blue hotel
I was waiting only
The night is like her lonely dream
Blue hotel
Blue hotel

Blue Hotel - Chris Isaak

They stopped the first time closer to Colorado's border than Kansas. Eddie had never been this far from home; the farthest he'd ever gone was when his class had taken a trip to Indianapolis in the 5th grade.

Oh, the leaps and bounds he was making now.

They stopped when both were too exhausted to drive and it didn't seem like there were any police on their trail.

They purposefully avoided the nice hotels; the name brands that Eddie recognized and Chrissy identified. They instead found a place where it seemed you went when you didn't want to be found.

It was also cheaper.

For the first time, Eddie considered that maybe they should have kept the bat with them for safety, especially because until they settled somewhere (and god, that was weird to think about) they'd be staying in places like this that took cash and asked zero questions.

The person at the front desk was a teenager that was likely far underpaid for the job. But, he looked at them lazily, the sort of way that settled Eddie, because he wasn't committing their faces to memory at all. If the police did come sniffing, Eddie doubted he'd muster more than a scratch of his head and a shrug.

"One room, please," Eddie said, taking out his wallet, "Just for tonight…I think."

The kid spun in his wheeled chair to a row of keys, "King or two double beds?"

The way that Eddie and Chrissy fell over themselves to ask for two beds did pique his attention. And Eddie knew they should have been more casual about it.

"We're siblings," Eddie said, "Going to, uhm, a funeral. Dear old pop kicked the bucket, eh? So you see that's why-,"

He had this bad habit of rambling when he got nervous. Like now.

He could see the kid scrutinizing them, thinking that they didn't look like siblings. If similar genetics were hundred-dollar bills, theoretically, Eddie and Chrissy would still be flat broke.

So Eddie, unfortunately at the same time that Chrissy said that they were half-siblings, said they were step-siblings.

Chrissy and Eddie looked at each other, realizing their mutual contradiction, hoping that this pimply kid wouldn't care.

After a long moment, the kid just shrugged.

"Who am I to get in the way of kinky shit," He muttered, clearly assuming they were playing a sexual fantasy of some sort. It's what this motel was likely used for anyway.

And it was better, wasn't it? For the desk agent to assume they were trying to add spice into their lives or they were a pair of local teens that needed to get it on, rather to think even for a second they were two murderers making a run for it?

As Chrissy took the key, Eddie noticed a thick splat of blood on her collar. It was unmistakable. It looked like blood.

As she turned, Eddie quickly threw his arm over her shoulder.

She jumped at the unexpected contact, but Eddie didn't explain himself until they were well out of sight and had found their room.

"Blood." He said in a low, almost out-of-body tone. He was too casual. Or not casual enough. How does one bring up the last remnants of a late ex-boyfriend? Now that he had Chrissy in a good light, it was flecked everywhere. He hoped the front desk agent didn't see it or think too much of it. It almost looked like freckles, having dried a dark brown against her pale skin in the intervening hours.

His fingers ghosted against her cheek, wiping one of the flicks into a messy, ugly line across her cheek. It looked like a wound, and he had to swallow back how he saw Jason in his last moments. It was the way the blood just crept. At first, Eddie had thought maybe it was alright; there wasn't any blood on his fair-colored locks. But the blood had come slowly, menacingly, creeping and soaking his skull. And Eddie had realized it wasn't a darkened hairline he'd been looking at, but a gaping hole in Jason's head.

Someone, one of them, had to keep it together. He didn't think it was fair for him to unload that responsibility on Chrissy, so, despite his now quivering hand, he shoved that mental picture down as far as he possibly could.

She reached up tentatively, fingers shaking. When she drew them back and looked at the crumbling remains of Jason's blood on her face, she only made it outside the hotel room before she was barfing on the concrete walkway.

"You should get cleaned up," Eddie said, "And then we should sleep some." He went to touch her shoulder, a comforting gesture but stilted himself before he got there, wondering if they were at that sort of point yet. She noticed, her eyes tracing his hand in the flickering lights illuminating the hall.

Chrissy pressed herself against the threshold, wiping her lips, "I don't even know you," she whispered brokenly, "Not properly. I know your name, I know you're two years older, and I know you're kind and empathetic…or I think you are," She scrunched her eyes shut, "But I'm putting my entire life in your hands and I just…" He saw tears collect at the corner of her eyes, "I think I'm in a bad dream, Eddie."

"I know, I know," Eddie whispered. He'd had many out-of-body moments whilst driving in which he considered the absurdity of this as a whole plan.

The fact that he'd seen someone die tonight.

And then the best idea between a group of high schoolers had been for him to uproot his life and run.

Not just that, but to run with the beloved cheerleader of Hawkins High, who previous to two weeks ago, he doubted even knew his name.

He felt a fierce need to protect her, though.

He felt a bit culpable in the way things went down. He felt, in some way, responsible for how Jason went crazy. He wasn't exactly assuring Jason's fears of sleeping with his girl. Mostly because it was absurd. The claims Eddie Munson had any association with Chrissy (other than drugs, and even that seemed unrealistic) was frankly laughable, but Jason just took it and seethed and festered with the thought.

In hindsight, Eddie knew that poison. The darkness that grips and strangles and chokes and whispers and those whispers are so, so sweet. It was the same nonsensical whispers that had sent his parents off this mortal plane of existence, but when he saw Jason slipping, he thought the best course was to lay it on thicker. He didn't group Jason with his parents. His parents, two adults with poor decision-making skills that were actually dangerous compared to a high schooler who happened to be pretty good at basketball? It seemed inconceivable to imagine that the trauma his parents had unloaded on him could be equal to what Jason was planning.

Chrissy had been trying to protect him when she'd hit Jason.

She had no idea he'd fall and crack his head open, but if Eddie hadn't been such a coward or had handled that better, or if he'd turned down Chrissy from the start, no one would be here.

So he was going to do whatever it took to make sure Chrissy survived this. No, more than that, thrived. It would give him so much-needed meaning in his pathetic life, he thought to himself. He might actually walk away from his existence having done something good and pure.

She claimed it was fine, but they both knew she had thrown far more away than he had to escape the police.

Besides, her assertion wasn't mean, or untrue. It was something that was too heavy to unpack right this moment.

"Come in," Eddie sighed, "And take a nice hot shower. I'll call around and see if there's a pizza place or something." He said, taking initiative. He'd never taken leadership of anything in his life before, but found himself stepping into the role with more ease than expected, "And then maybe we just…talk."

Chrissy looked up, detaching herself from the wall, "Talk?"

"You said it yourself. We don't know each other. I think we need to change that if we're going to make this work," He said, "Or we don't have to." He added, feeling stupid.

"No, no," Chrissy rubbed her eyes, "You're probably right. I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

"Nothing about this is stupid," Eddie assured, "If you feel sane right now you're either mentally unwell or you've done this before and to be honest? I don't think it's either of those things."

"No, you're right. It's my first time…" She came in and locked the door, closing the blinds, "Going on the run for killing my insane boyfriend with a kid I tried to buy drugs from." She winced, "It sounds really bad when you say it out loud."

Eddie found the phone between the beds. The bedspreads looked like they hadn't been changed since the 60s; they were a garish green color that made him think of vomit. How could anyone get their sexy times on here with such an awful, offending color beneath them? These were the questions Eddie had.

"Go, shower. I'll take a turn after you." He still smelled like a forest. The musk of it, the dirt crammed into his skin from where he'd fallen on the ground. He'd also washed his hands in a gas station a few hours back, but he noticed there was still blood caked underneath his fingernails.

He found a place still open for delivery that seemed cheap enough. He dialed the number, humming Metallica to calm himself down. Just as the restaurant picked up, he realized he had no idea what Chrissy liked to eat. He turned to ask her but realized that the lock on the bathroom door must be faulty because he got a good view of Chrissy in the shower. Or, at least her silhouette illuminated by the light shining through the curtain.

His words caught in his throat and for a moment, he was entranced.

He was, after all, a healthy teenage boy. He knew an attractive girl when he saw one.

But he wasn't a homewrecker (even if her boyfriend was now dead), nor did he mix business with pleasure, so any thoughts pre-running he just shoved away.

And, he hadn't really had time to think about her in a romantic or sexual way, what with having watched her former boyfriend die in front of both of them less than 24 hours ago.

"Sir?"

He winced hard. As a proper rebellious, metal-loving teen, being called sir was something that made him want to gag.

"Right, sorry." He blinked three times, turning himself around, chastising himself for acting like a creep, "Just bring two pies; one pepperoni and one cheese."

Utterly basic, right? She had to like one of them, he reckoned. Safe. Easy. Non-threatening pizza. Not the abrasive flavors he usually liked (jalapeno with banana pepper and onions). His stomach turned even thinking about that now, and yes, a very plain pizza was exactly the ticket.

Chrissy came out in a wave of water vapor, her hair curled into a towel, her body thinly covered by another one. Eddie averted his eyes to anywhere but where she was.

"Can we get nice towels somewhere?" She sighed, "It seems stupid, but if we're going to be on the run, I'd like some towels that I can call my own." She looked down, "And clothes. That seems like something we…forgot. And tooth-brush. And toothbrushes. Well, okay, we didn't bring anything reasonable."

"Guess we're not getting 'As' in 'how to get away with murder', huh?" Eddie asked, trying to joke. Chrissy was half-listening, opening drawers.

She carefully pinched the towel against her body as she rummaged for a paper and pen, "I'm making a list," She announced, "Of things we need to survive this."

"Okay, sure, you do that," Eddie mumbled. Despite what everyone probably thought, he was no great master in terms of the opposite sex.

"The shower isn't very hot anymore. Sorry," Chrissy said, looking up, "My clothes are rinsing in the sink."

"No problemo, muchaco," Eddie said and immediately wanted to punch himself. Who the hell was he, saying phrases like that? "There's pizza coming soon. If I'm still in the shower when it arrives."

Chrissy pinched her nose, "Food, right," She said, but it sounded off, "Uhm, is it possible for you to get me something to wear? Anything. I think I saw a gas station just a block down."

"Right now?" Eddie asked. At her slightly embarrassed nod, and realizing neither of them should go around starkers, he agreed. So, despite the fact that all Eddie wanted to do was sit in the spray of a mostly-cold shower for about four hours, this was what being Chrissy's protector meant. And he was never going to complain. The walk was almost enjoyable if he banished the never-ending stream of worries bouncing around his head. He found the gas station in question and flattened a few bills in his palm. He was always worried about not having enough to keep the trailer running for him and Wayne. Scrimping and making concessions to live on less was normal to him. But could Chrissy do that? He honestly wondered and was concerned. A girl like her probably never had to truly go without anything, so this would be something he'd have to keep an eye on. Perhaps he should be totally in charge of the money, he mused.

The options weren't numerous, but what did he expect? He managed to pick up a tube of toothpaste, a set of two brushes, underwear (and god, he was having a hell of a time picking that out as it was), and a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt for them both. They wouldn't look like Chrissy and Eddie at all in these get-ups; more like tourists that had no style or taste.

But it would do. It was cheap and it would do until…until they decided what was next.

By the time he arrived back, the pizza still hadn't arrived.

"I guessed your sizes," He said, "Sorry, not exactly a shopping mall."

Chrissy was handling this far better than expected, "Well, it's what there was, right? It's fine." Still, she held up the tee shirt with a hint of apprehension.

"I'm gunna…" Eddie pointed to the bathroom, "Erm…shower."

"Okay," Chrissy said, still immersed in her list.

By the time Eddie did come out of the shower, feeling like an alien in the clothes he'd picked up, pizza was here. But Chrissy hadn't eaten more than one slice.

"Aren't you starved?" They hadn't stopped for a full meal until now.

Chrissy, who was curled up on her bed, gave a slow shake of her head.

It was fine, though, he figured. Maybe it was starting to get to her again; the reality of it all. Frankly, Eddie was surprised he could eat, other than the fact his stomach was screaming. It didn't taste like much and he was unsure if that was the pizza place or the feeling of dread that was now rising within him.

He demolished an entire pizza and felt sort of shitty afterward.

They in fact did not talk and get to know each other, because Chrissy just pulled the blanket over her head and fell asleep.

And that was alright with Eddie, who was starting to feel off-kilter anyway.

Damn, he wished he'd told Steve to also grab his stash of weed.

Running for your life kinda sucked. It sucked a lot more when you couldn't get high and forget about all the ways the cops might track you down and kill you.

At least , a tiny voice reminded him as he turned off the lights, at least you're not alone in this.

Yeah, the figured. That was something.