Chapter Text
Monday, 17th March 1986
Much sooner than he's expecting, the faint glow of dawn begins to filter through the old blanket he’s got tacked up over the window. Although he's sitting on his bed, his eyes haven't closed once all night and he's still wearing all his clothes from yesterday. Jules is curled up on her side facing him. She's still dressed too, but she's asleep. Not that it's done anything to erase the worry lines stamped into her face.
And no fucking wonder. He's spent the last eighteen hours freaking the fuck out. She's been carrying this worry for two goddamn months. He nearly died when she said it. Two months. As soon as she wakes up he's got to ask, why? Why wait all this time. Why wouldn't she tell him?
He bangs his head back against the wall. Does it really matter now? She's pregnant. Fuck that's a terrifying word. But she is. She's pregnant and she still would have been pregnant no matter when she told him. That test tube in the trash would have turned blue whether she took the test yesterday, last week, or even last month.
An icy cold wave passes down his body. Shit. The test. Wayne will be home soon. He buried it in the trash in the kitchen, but it's big, and all it takes is for something to shift and for Wayne to catch sight of the box…
She's only just told him. Only just found out for sure. There's no way she wants Wayne to barge in here, box in hand, demanding answers right now. And, honestly, he’d like a little time to work out how to have that conversation himself. He checks his watch. Just gone six-thirty. Wayne will be home soon.
He slides carefully off the bed and creeps out of the room to the kitchen. He rams a few more odds and ends of trash into the black bag, there's enough to go around, before tying it off and pulling it out of the can.
Out of habit, the second he's outside their door, he shoves a cigarette in his mouth. The first drag is long and very, very welcome. Smoke and cool morning air accompanying him on the trudge through the trailer park to the garbage cans up by the road. Christ, if any of the neighbours see him they'll probably think he's disposing of evidence. He can't remember the last time he took the trash out, let alone at this time of the morning. He doesn't even know whose can is whose, just shoves the bag into the first one that has the space.
He walks quickly back to the trailer quickly, probably looking even more suspicious to the neighbours. His brain whirls every step of the way, trying desperately to figure out an excuse just in case Wayne's truck pulls up behind him. ‘I just thought I'd do something useful?’ At this time? He'd never buy it. Relief surges when he makes it back home with no sight of anyone, especially his uncle.
The early morning isn't winter cold anymore, but the sun hasn't emerged through the trees yet so there's a chill in the air. The nicotine and the fresh breeze cut through the sludge of tiredness and dry crusted panic fogging up his brain. It's the only substitute for sleep and peace he has, so he hops up onto the porch to finish his cigarette.
Early morning in Forest Hills is always too quiet. There's no one around, only a few chattering birds to break the silence. He taps his foot against the side of the trailer as he smokes, determinedly forcing his mind to the new Metallica album. Anything except the crushing weight of his world crashing down around him.
Shit, they were supposed to go to Indy to try and get the fucking tickets yesterday, Ozzy and Metallica. The thought flickers across his brain, followed immediately by bitter recrimination. Tickets? He's worrying about concert tickets? Now?
He stubs out the butt on the concrete next to him and tosses it, not caring where it lands.
Back inside, he leans up against the kitchen counter with a sigh. He should feel tired, but the nicotine has amplified the nervous energy buzzing in his chest.
Jesus fucking Christ. Jules is pregnant. He's not cut out to deal with this. It's taken everything he has to try and live up to her faith in him and not be another Munson drop out. To keep his head held high despite being still in fucking high school at almost twenty years old and now this? She needs him so fucking badly, but there's no way he'll be able to pass this test.
He thinks about the stash of cash beneath his bed. He slips Wayne as much as he can. As much as he’ll take. Enough to stave off the scary letters with the big red writing at least, but the rest of that stash, a little over $300, was earmarked for the future. Combined with Jules’s savings it was meant to get the two of them out of town and on the road for a summer of adventure. See where the wind took them. Money for gas. Food. Buy a mattress for the back of the van until they found somewhere they felt like staying. Anywhere that wasn't Hawkins.
He looks around the trailer. They can't stay here. It's bad enough Wayne has to deal with him still hanging around when he was supposed to be out of here the second he turned eighteen. Adding another person into the mix, let alone a...well, it just wouldn't work. Not here. Would their combined funds be enough for a deposit and a month's rent instead? He digs his fingers into his tired eyes. Shit, what about doctors appointments? How much does that cost?
For a brief second he has the wild, hysterical, thought that maybe her mom might help, but, fuck, that's a dumb idea. She might be a nurse but the old bitch will probably be glad to see it all go wrong for them. He can almost hear the gleeful yelling, the spiteful, 'I told you he'd ruin everything'.
There's a creak behind him and he leans around the corner to find Jules emerging from his room. His heart clenches tight in his chest. Her face is swollen from fitful sleep and all the crying; her hair's a mess, stuck to her face one on side and sticking out on the other. Worse than he’s ever seen before, and they've made some pretty big messes together over the years.
“Hey,” he holds his hand out to her. She takes it, and he pulls her into the kitchen and into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her. The faint, familiar scent of her hair tickles his nose and he squeezes a little harder. Fighting back the shame at how much comfort he's getting from the embrace. Shouldn't it be him comforting her right now? She's the one who's going through it after all.
“You want coffee? Something to eat?” he offers.
A shudder goes through her body.
“God, no.”
“Is that...um…?” Morning sickness. A lump in his throat stops him saying it. He doesn't need to, she nods against his chest anyway. Jesus, how long has she been having that? How has she been hiding it? How did he not notice? His heel starts to tap absently against the floor, fingers joining in the nervous rhythm against her back.
“Maybe I should go,” she says. All he can see is the top of her head, but her voice sounds so small and defeated.
Oh Jesus. He can't bear the thought of being alone with this. He refuses to let go, even when she tries, not very seriously, to move.
“No.”
“But I’ve got work, and you’ve got school," she says, voice thick with emotion. Shit, is she going to cry again? "And I think…”
“Fuck school,” he rasps.
“Eddie…”
“I’m serious, fuck it, and fuck the diner to. I need a day, and so do you. Call Patty, or don't and just let her deal for one shift. You covered like a hundred last week, the least she can do is give you one.”
“But…”
The front door creaks open. He doesn't let go of Jules, but they both turn towards the sound. Wayne pauses in the doorway, his tired face stuck in an expression of surprise.
“You two’re up mighty early,” he drawls. Jules stiffens in his arms.
“‘Spose,” Eddie shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. The look on Wayne's face suggests he's missed the mark by a fair bit. Or maybe it's just the time of day and how they're standing acting like a neon, 'we've just had bad news' light flashing above their heads. Fortunately, his uncle only considers them for a moment, before deciding not to comment further. He lets out a quiet snort instead, his way of saying, ‘suit yourselves’.
Wayne bustles inside and collapses onto the old couch, letting the door fall shut behind him. It bounces on its hinges a couple of times before settling in a roughly closed position.
“Wanna go for a drive?” Eddie murmurs to Jules. She looks up at him, chewing thoughtfully on her lip.
“Ok,” she whispers.
“You take care now,” Wayne calls after them tiredly as they head out of the door.
They drive in silence through the grey of the early morning. Eddie even turns the radio down. Yesterday all he wanted was distraction, but this right now doesn't feel like a moment Metallica should drown out. After they leave the payphones, the ones on the other side of town to the diner, he doesn't really know where he's going. He just keeps driving until somehow they've made it up to lovers lake. He parks up on the opposite side of the water to Rick’s place, unable to help a glare in its general direction.
Whether it's the location or his head just being all over the place a sudden irrational anger at Rick, of all people, swells inside. If he hadn't got caught with those pills, Eddie's stash wouldn't be running low. They’d have more money right now, and he’d have the ability to keep earning instead of watching his business slowly trickle away. And while money might not make them older, or magically get him his diploma, it sure as hell would mean he wouldn't have to be so damned worried about where the hell they're going to live or what sort of dead-end, soul-sucking job he’s going to have to get now.
His hands tighten against the steering wheel.
It's such a ridiculous line of thought. None of it is Rick’s fault is it? Rick didn't get her pregnant, he did. He's the one who's done something stupid, and he can't even remember what it was. He's been up all night trying to work it out. The best he can figure they must've gotten too wasted some time to remember breaking a condom, or forgetting one entirely.
“Are you mad at me?”
She sounds so worried, all his anger drains away in an instant. She's not even looking at him, staring down at her hands in her lap as she twists her fingers together nervously.
“Shit, no babe, of course I’m not.” He reaches out, the distance and centre console making his attempt at putting an arm around her shoulder awkward as hell. “You should be mad at me. I mean I should've, I don't know, pulled out, or something…”
“Every time?” she scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He starts to protest, but she snaps a terse, “stop!” before he can regurgitate all the self-recrimination whirling around his brain.
"We used protection,” she says firmly, “and you never did anything I didn't want.” She looks back down at her knees. “It's not your fault, it's just…one of those things.”
They fall silent, staring out at the muddy brown water of the lake lapping softly against dirt and pebbles. His arm’s starting to ache but he can't move it. It's all he's got. He has no idea what to say, or what to do. How the hell do they even begin to work this out? It's too big, too scary.
“I don't know what to do,” she whispers. “I just don't know.”
Do you want to keep it? He's thought it more than once over the last few hours. The question rises up to the tip of his tongue, but there's no way to ask without it becoming loaded, heavy enough to break them. She's already wound so tight it's like sitting next to a ticking bomb. Asking that will make it seem like he thinks there's a right answer and a wrong answer, which she has to guess, when he's not even sure if there is another option, or what his own answer to that question is. That idea, that answer, if it's coming, has to come from her. She's the one going through it either way.
“Maybe we need to talk to, like, a doctor or something,” he says slowly, carefully.
“Here?” She whirls to face him, panic in her eyes. “I can't, I just…I can't…” She shakes her head wildly. Shit.
“Ok,” he rubs her arm with his free hand, “it's ok. We don't have to do anything today.”
“But we're going to have to soon,” she says, her chest starting to heave, “and I don't know…”
She trails off, face pale, looking back down at her hands, which are shaking in her lap again.
“Hey, just breathe a minute. In and out, it'll be ok.” Maybe. God, he hopes so. He's never seen her this worried about anything, ever. Never felt so inadequate as a boyfriend. As a fucking human being. Why the fuck did she chose him? He's nowhere near equipped to help her deal with something this big. He keeps stroking her arm slowly, praying it helps her calm down. It sort of works.
"Come on,” he says, “let's get in the back.”
It feels weird to suggest it at a moment like this. Early in the morning and with no sense of eager anticipation. The eager anticipation which led to this particular problem, he thinks bitterly. But she nods and he tentatively lets go of her shoulder.
The van doors creak and bang in the quiet. The seats obscure the pale morning light coming in through the windscreen, making it bright up by the roof and leaving a lower level of gloom beneath. It feels oddly comforting. Like the day, and reality, can't reach them here. He shoves the mess around to clear a space to sit, spreading out the old blanket he keeps back here to make it a little more comfortable. She throws herself down on it, leaning up against the back of the front seats. Blankly staring at the closed back doors of the van, and he sits next to her. Throws an arm around her shoulders properly this time. She rests her head against his side.
He doesn't know how long they sit like that for. Long enough for the sunlight to strengthen outside. For brightness to begin to grow above their heads.
“I'm not normally a fan of running away, but I wish we could just go,” she sighs eventually.
“What do you mean?”
“Wouldn't it be great to just vanish before anyone knows? Go somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere big and busy. I’d never have to tell mom, or deal with anyone in town."
It's like lights switching on in his brain. Getting medical care here, for this, scares her worse than almost anything. And while he was planning on keeping in touch with Wayne, she'd been adamant about leaving her mom without saying anything. So what if they did it now? It wouldn't solve all their other problems, but getting out of this small dumb town where he's just another Munson screw-up wouldn't be the worst thing.
“Why couldn't we?" he says. "There's nothing wrong with running sometimes.”
She pulls back, eyes searching his face.
“Do you think…could we really…?”
“We were leaving anyway. Maybe this just…shifts the timeline a little.”
“Maybe,” she breathes.
Wednesday 19th March 1986
Since Sunday, he's learned it's impossible to maintain terror over a long period of time. It doesn't go away, instead it hardens into a sort of brittle crust of unease. A constant discomfort.
Somehow he's managed to hold things together at school for two whole days. Playing off Monday's absence as a spur of the moment day in Indy and hiding all his worry behind banal DnD talk which he could carry on in his sleep. He's not quite sure how they got through Tuesday night at The Hideout without anyone asking why they both looked so tense. She didn't say a word all evening, hiding herself away in the seat farthest away from anyone. Every muscle in his body remained clenched for the whole evening as he gave what was probably his worst performance ever. Expecting any moment for someone to somehow work out what's wrong and blurt it out for the whole bar to hear.
He hates leaving her. The last bell of the day hasn't even finished ringing by the time he's back at the wheel, driving straight from school to Patty’s Diner. The engine chugging out of rhythm with the music blaring from his radio. He's just in time, too. Right as he screeches to a stop outside the door opens and Jules emerges. It looks like she's cleared out in a hurry. Jacket and bag jammed under one arm, her name badge still attached to her ugly uniform dress and hair pulled back in the way she only ever wears it at work.
There's no spring in her step like there always used to be. Her eyes dart left and right as she makes her way to the van. But there's a sense of purposefulness that he hasn't seen in a few days. Not even this morning, as she determinedly ate some plain toast in front of her mother while he kept answering back to Grace Rowland's litany of jibes. Since there's no way he's letting her face her mother without him, after two days these have run the full circle from his hair, to his tattoos, his musical preferences, DnD, his father, his lack of education, and back around again. Whatever, it’s nothing he hasn't heard before, and it kept the focus on him and away from her daughter's pale face, clenched jaw, and lack of coffee.
“We have to talk,” Jules says in a rush as soon as the door slams shut behind her.
The ever present knot in his stomach clenches tighter. He tries to swallow down the worry.
“Ok.”
“O’Donnell’s final isn't for another month is it?”
“Six weeks," he confirms.
She takes a deep breath.
“I can't wait here for that long Eddie, I’m sorry.”
His heart's pounding. He's trapped her here for more than a year past the date they should have left. Has she finally reached her limit? She nearly left last year after the whole debacle with his dad, but is this the real breaking point?
“I don't know if it's because I know for sure or just how it is but these past few days everything's been getting worse,” she continues. “I’m sicker. Even the smells at work are getting to me. I’m scared all the time. Having to pretend to my mom that everything’s normal for that long? I just don't think I can.”
“Let me talk to Wayne,” he says quickly, “he might not be thrilled about it all, but he’ll let you stay with us until we leave, I know it. We'll deal with your mom together.”
“But I don't want to have to deal with her, don't you see?" she rages. "This is not how it's supposed to be. None of it is. I can’t stop thinking about how she is, and how I can't imagine ever treating any kid that way, let alone my own. I don't want her to be any part of this. I don't want her anywhere near me, or you, if I can help it. So you can tell Wayne if you want, I’ll even go and do it with you, but I can't stay in Hawkins. Not any more. I need to get away.”
Before he can ask what that means for him, for them, there's a tap on his window. Eddie just about leaps out of his seat, he’d been so focused on Jules, and so scared about the next words to come out of her mouth, he hadn't even noticed the cop car pulling up behind them.
Deputy Callahan's pinched, sanctimonious face glares in through the window. Despite everything, Eddie suppresses a smirk. The moustache the cop has worked on for years still looks like someone pasted it on. Does he even know how ridiculous he looks trying so hard to emulate old Chief Hopper? Either no one's told him, or else he's too stubborn to listen.
Callaghan jabs his finger towards the ‘No Parking’ sign decorating the sidewalk next to the van. Eddie sighs. He hadn't even thought about it. Apart from finally busting Rick, the cops in this town have gotten even more useless since the old Chief’s death last summer. He waves his hand dismissively at the cop, muttering under his breath. Not wanting to risk any kind of conversation, Eddie gets the van started and pulls away. The dude’s useless anyway. The worst that'll happen is he’ll find him with a bogus stop or a ticket later.
While Wayne won't have left for work yet, her mom won't have arrived home, so he makes his way across town to the dull little street where Jules and her mom live. The silence between them is so loud it can even be heard over the wail of Creeping Death. It's tense, on his side at least. Is she set on leaving him behind? Or will she demand he abandon school at last? He’d do it too. Shit, if she asked he’d leave tomorrow even though the certainty of that thought, given what he’d be leaving for, terrifies him.
She pushes open her door the second he parks on the street by her house, striding away while rummaging in her bag for her keys. He trails behind her, feet heavy, burdened by a lead weight of dread. Inside, she heads straight for the kitchen to grab a slightly wrinkled apple from the neglected fruit bowl, taking a huge bite.
Impatiently, he waits for her to chew and swallow, leaning up against the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the living room.
“So you want to go,” he says when he can't wait any more. His nerves make the words come out a little more aggressive than he’d meant. He takes a breath, trying and failing to get his muscles to relax. “Am I invited?”
“For God's sake, don't do that,” she sighs tiredly, “of course I want to go with you, but you have school to finish, I don't see how…”
"I will leave right now if that's what it takes,” he spits.
“Don't you dare!” she fires back, waving the half eaten apple through the air. “You promised me you were going to pass this year. There's no way I'm letting you walk away now when you're so close.”
“So what do you suggest?! The two things don't work together.”
Jules stalks past him to throw herself down on the couch. There's a crunch as she takes another bite of the apple. He crosses his arms tightly across his chest, digging his nails into his palms to make himself wait for her answer.
“I don't have to go far," she says eventually, eyes fixed on his, wide and worried, "what if I went somewhere like South Bend, or Indy? Even Chicago wouldn't be so bad. Close enough for you to visit, but far enough that I can see a doctor there, and have the space to work out what to do in peace. Then when you've got your diploma we can either stay there or move even further away.”
He restrains the, 'if' which immediately springs to mind. Whether or not he'll pass that final exam and get his diploma at last is the least of his worries now.
“You want to live apart for almost two months?”
She growls in frustration, throwing her hands in the air
“Of course I don't want to!" she wails. "None of this is what I wanted, but I don't see what else we can do. If my mom finds out I’m going to have two months of hell no matter where I am in Hawkins, and I can wave goodbye to having any kind of space to decide what to do about my own goddamn life.”
Her voice breaks around those last words and, shit, it suddenly feels like his chest is about to collapse in on itself. He sits next to her.
“I'm so fucking sorry Jules, I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“I told you, it's not your fault.”
The fire in her eyes is equal parts welcome and terrifying. He reaches out, pulling her into a tight hug.
By the time Jules’s mom’s car pulls up she's changed out of her work uniform into her comfiest jeans and sweater, and he’s reluctantly agreed that they'll drive up to South Bend as soon as spring break starts. They'll begin their search for somewhere for her to live there, where they can get help from his old friend Paul. As the engine cuts out, Jules bends to retrieve the leftover tuna casserole she's heating up from the oven, trying desperately to be done so they can vanish before…
The door opens.
“Oh, you're here. Again.” Grace Rowland scowls at him.
“Good to see you too, ma'am.” He pastes a wide, mocking smile onto his face. “It's been too long.”
“Here Eddie,” Jules shoves a warm plate into his hand. He looks down at her and she nods her head towards her bedroom door.
“We can't afford to keep feeding strays!” Grace calls after them as they retreat, but neither of them respond.
He's expecting more yelling, but she goes quiet once Jules's bedroom door closes. He can still hear her clattering around the kitchen, but for whatever reason she's decided on ignoring them tonight. Thank Christ.
He sits next to Jules on the rug, their backs up against her bed. Sound travels in this little house so they talk quietly as they eat. She suddenly seems ravenous, stuffing the slightly crispy noodles into her mouth in huge bites.
“I'm really sorry,” she murmurs between mouthfuls, “I wish I could stay, and just deal with it a little longer, but…”
“No, it's ok,” he stops her, “you've put your whole life on hold for me. If there's any time for you to choose what’s best for you, it's now.”
Once she's finished she stares at her empty plate morosely. He takes it from her, kissing her as he does, catching the side of her mouth.
“I can handle the short term pain,” he says, attempting to make it flippant, hoping that will make her feel better about it all. It feels like shit, but at least they have something resembling a plan now. “I'll come see you every weekend. And at least I'm not running off tonight and abandoning the Cult of Vecna. We’ve been building up to the thrilling climax all semester.”
A ghost of her usual smile tugs at her cheeks. He sighs, it's been a hell of a few days. He sets the empty plates down on the floor and reaches across her to the bottom drawer of her dresser. He rummages around the underwear and socks until his hand closes around something flat and solid. Flashing her a grin of triumph he sits back, brandishing the small, half-empty bottle of cheap bourbon.
“A toast!” he declares quietly, unscrewing the cap and taking a small swig. The liquor burns his throat and warms his chest. “To getting out of this shithole, no matter what!”
She chuckles and grabs the bottle from him.
“To getting out of this shithole!” she raises the bottle towards him, then brings it to her lips.
His heart suddenly stops beating, he snatches the bottle from her, almost dropping it in his haste. A little bourbon sloshes out and lands on his jeans. The astringent smell wreaths around him, the aroma of headaches and bad decisions.
“What the fuck, Eddie?” she hisses.
“You, um,” his cheeks burn, “you can't have this right now.”
She stares at him for a beat or two, the outrage on her face gradually dropping into a kind of appalled realisation.
“Shit, are we really going to do this? I mean…it's us, can we even do this?”
“I don't know,” he answers honestly. Carefully, he screws the cap back on the bottle and drops it to one side. She's staring off into middle distance. He shuffles closer and throws an arm around her shoulder. She lays her head against him with a sigh.
Friday 21st March 1986
As quietly as he can he pulls on his clothes. He doesn't have time for a shower, but he's pretty sure there's a can of cheap deodorant in the back of the van. At least his Hellfire shirt is clean.
The duvet shuffles, and Jules’s tousled hair emerges from the beige pile on her bed.
“Hey, sleepy-head,” he whispers, so it won't wake her if she's still asleep.
“What time is it?” she croaks.
“Almost eight, I just heard your mom leave.”
He's timed his departure this morning carefully against Grace Rowland, wanting to make sure she was really gone before he emerged. He can speed across town and make it to school only a little late.
The duvet rustles again and her arm emerges, raised up in the air in a sleepy and silent request for a cuddle. Of course it works. He slides back onto the bed next to her. The arm collapses down around his neck while he does his best to squash her through the layer of soft duvet. She wriggles closer, like a cute little slug.
Her hair falls to one side, revealing her ear, so he leans over and grabs the lobe with his teeth. She giggles as he growls, pretending to gnaw at her for a second, until he drops the games and kisses behind her ear, then follows her jawline to her mouth. When he reaches his destination her arm around his neck tightens. Her mouth opens so his tongue can dart inside.
Warmth spreads through his chest as they kiss, slowly, lazily. The duvet squashed between them and beneath his hands making everything all soft and cozy.
“You’ll be late tonight, right?” she whispers when they break apart.
“Hellfire Club,” he confirms, “but after that I'm all yours." He strokes her hair gently. "Tomorrow we pile into the van early and hit the road. Spring break is ours, babe, we'll find somewhere for you to go. Maybe even a place you can move into before school starts again. Clear all your stuff out while your mom is at work and vanish, just like you wanted.”
She smiles at him, and he kisses her again.
“Don't forget, we'll tell Wayne too,” she says. A little shudder goes down his back at the thought of having that conversation, but he keeps his face stoic. That's one worry he can keep away from her.
“Just as soon as we’ve sorted your stuff out,” he says, as steadily as he can. Hoping it won't be obvious that he's trying to delay it as long as possible.
He rolls off the bed carefully, not wanting to disturb her cozy cocoon when she doesn't have to get up yet. He searches around the floor until he finds his sneakers and keys.
“Have fun with your new customer today,” she calls as he reaches the door.
He snorts. “I bet she won't even show. There's no way The Queen of Hawkins High is seriously planning on buying drugs from the freak. It was probably a dare or something."
Jules shakes her head at him.
“Just don't let her sweet talk you into giving too big of a discount.”
“What do you take me for, some kind of pushover?”
“Absolutely.” She flashes him a cheeky grin.
He picks up a sock from the floor and tosses it in her general direction. Laughing, she takes shelter beneath the duvet.
“I’ll deal with you properly when I get back,” he snarks.
“Promise?” She peeks out, eyes twinkling at him, the lower half of her face still hidden beneath the duvet.
“I promise. I love you!”
“Love you too!” she calls after him as he makes his way to the door.