Chapter Text
Eddie Munson is a fucking liar.
He doesn’t enjoy it or anything… well, that itself is a lie. Sort of. It depends on the reason he lies, if he enjoys it or feels guilty. If he’s lying in the face of bullies to get them off his ass, or to mock them, or trick them? Hell yeah, he enjoys it.
Lying to be near a cute boy who has no damn idea he exists?
Eddie feels like a dirty fuckin’ sinner.
He’s eighteen the first time he does it, fresh out of his first senior year, feeling like shit and desperate for anything that’ll make him forget how much of a failure he is. Despite Wayne’s assurances that it’s fine and all he has to do is try again, Eddie feels like shit. He’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t fuckin’ fail, that he’d get his diploma, something to separate him from his father.
Because, yeah, sure. As if doing the bare minimum and graduating high school would be enough to change Hawkins’ mind about him. As if it would be the evidence they need that he isn’t just a carbon copy of the man who provided half of his genes.
He doesn’t even know why he bothers showing up to the last day of school. It isn’t like his attendance will change anything. He isn’t graduating. He’ll be stuck back in these haunted halls for another goddamn year.
It’s only a half-day, no real structure. Half the kids are in whatever classrooms are hosting pizza parties, and the other half are crowding the hallways, scrambling for yearbook signatures. He has to use his elbows to push through the masses.
Eddie’s yearbook is sitting at home, shoved under his bed in shame. He’d never wanted a yearbook his entire high school career, not even when he’d bribed the Yearbook Committee to take pictures of Hellfire Club instead of ignoring them like they had been since the club had been formed.
He’d begged Wayne for one this year, a keepsake to look back on and say that he did it.
Except he didn’t do it.
What a waste of twenty bucks.
He’s about to duck into the counselor’s office to ask if he’s still allowed to run Hellfire next year or if they’re gonna take that away as punishment or some shit, when he hears a voice ring out above the screeches of the unruly freshmen that are running rampant.
“Steve, hey!”
Eddie hates the way his head shoots up, the way his attention is just as easily captured by stupid fucking King Steve as every other poor soul with an attraction to stupid fucking boys.
He spots two dainty little hands poking up through the crowd, waving, a silver charm bracelet dangling from one wrist. He knows, immediately, that it’s Nancy Wheeler. Everyone had watched in awe when Steve gave her that bracelet in the middle of the lunch room, back around Christmas.
Fucking showoff, flaunting his money around like a prick.
A handsome prick.
Eddie watches as Nancy makes her way through the crowd, hoping deep down if he keeps track of her, she’ll lead his gaze to her boyfriend. God, he really is a freak.
“Nancy!”
Eddie’s eyes shoot across the hall to a row of lockers, and he can just about make out Steve’s head of hair poking out of the crowd. Steve is already pretty tall, but the fucking height his hair gives him is ridiculous. It looks like a fucking duck’s ass, so why is it kinda cute?
Eddie rolls his eyes at himself and starts shoving past people to make it across the hall.
A little eavesdropping never hurt anyone, right?
Steve’s standing at the end of the row of lockers, and separating the row from the beginning of another is a water fountain.
“Beat it,” Eddie growls to a pimply freshman who’s leaning against the water fountain.
The kid’s eyes widen, and he scampers off like Eddie’s a serial killer and not an up-and-coming super senior with a goddamn schoolboy crush. Like his heart isn’t beating out of his chest from being less than three feet away from Steve Harrington.
Eddie ducks down and presses down on the button just as Nancy makes it through the crowd and squeezes past him to get to Steve.
“Hey, baby,” He hears Steve coo lovingly, and Eddie rolls his eyes as he sips at the water.
“Hey!” Nancy giggles, and Jesus, her laughter is like, cute, or some shit. Eddie’s heart doesn’t have any room for ladies, but he would understand the appeal, if he heard a boy laugh like that.
And, as if the universe is punishing him, he hears Steve giggle right back at her, then the disgusting smooching sound of a kiss. Eddie’s sure he’s been sipping for a bit too long so he stands up a bit straighter and bangs on the side of the fountain as if it’s giving him trouble.
“Will you sign my yearbook?” Nancy asks all cutely, and Eddie finds himself mocking her under his breath.
“Of course, only if you sign mine,” Steve replies, that same fuckin’ cutesy voice.
Good God, fucking gag.
Eddie gives the fountain a particularly hard kick and relishes in the way he feels Nancy’s messenger bag shift against his arm as she jumps at the noise.
He can feel Steve’s, no doubt, judgmental eyes on him as he ducks back down to start sipping again, and he tries not to shiver.
“Sooo,” Nancy begins, “Barb and I are gonna go to see Sixteen Candles friday, if you wanna come?”
Eddie huffs. Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they? Not like the new Indiana Jones is also playing at The Hawk or anything. Personally, Eddie would rather gawk at sweaty Harrison Ford any day, but apparently some random chick flick is more important than that.
Eddie barely picks up the sound of Steve giving a regretful hiss. “I’m starting lifeguard duty at the pool that day, remember?”
Eddie fucking chokes. He backs away from the fountain and starts hacking his goddamn lungs up, and it only worsens when he feels a huge fucking paw make heavy contact with his back, patting him until he’s got the water out of his airways.
He’s wheezing when he hears Steve ask, “You good, man?”
Eddie barely manages a nod before he’s darting away, hoping the stupid fucking coughing fit was a good enough excuse for the red on his face.
He just about slams the door of the counselor’s office open as he makes his escape.
Ms. Kelly jumps in her seat, spilling a bag gummy bears across her desk.
“Sorry,” Eddie wheezes.
So, there’s his motive for why he finds himself at Jeff’s house, asking him if he wants to go to the pool on Friday.
Jeff just got back from the orthodontist, something about getting a tooth removed in preparation for getting braces, Eddie doesn’t really know. But, he’s still a little woozy from whatever anesthesia shit they’d slipped him.
Not woozy enough to forget a certain confession Eddie’d made last year, when he was trying to make little freshman Jeff feel better about not knowing how to whistle.
“I thought you can’t swim?” Jeff’s words are garbled by the gauze in his mouth, but Eddie hears him loud and clear.
He’s getting called out for his bullshit.
Eddie gasps, lies through his fucking teeth. “Pshhh. Yes I can. Who told you that?”
“You did?” Jeff says, frowning with a little wince. Shit, maybe the stuff was wearing off.
And, listen, Eddie hates lying to the people he cares about. It makes him feel greasy and gross. However, this is a life or death situation. The life of his Steve Harrington spank bank is on the fucking line.
He needs to get an eyeful of those moles again. The last time he saw them was when he’d taken a drive around town to clear his head and came across Steve playing basketball shirtless with his stupid jock buddies.
He’d broken the speed limit to get home and jerked himself raw.
So. A little white lie couldn’t hurt.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” Eddie lies, waving his hand. “I could swim laps around you.”
“Sure,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes. He shuffles further into the floral couch cushions and sips around his milkshake. “If you drown, can I have your acoustic?”
Eddie’s black acoustic? The one his mom left behind? Oh, Jeff’s hilarious.
“No, fuck you, that’s getting buried with my cold, waterlogged body!” Eddie hisses quietly, hoping to all hell Jeff’s grandma doesn’t hear him. He doesn’t want to get kicked out for cursing again.
Jeff squints at him. “You said you wanted to be cremated and spread out at a Dio concert.”
“I say a lot of things,” Eddie huffs. He feels his hair tickle at the back of his neck and grins excitedly. He reaches up and tugs at one of his curls, pulling at it to check the length. “Speakin’ of Dio, how long you think I got?”
Jeff appraises him with careful, yet bleary eyes. “With how long your hair takes to grow? It’ll probably be a while.”
Eddie flops back onto the couch with a sigh. “Fuck Jason Carver and his gum. He set me back so far.” He tugs at his hair again. “It was at my shoulders!”
Jeff slowly pats his shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy.”
Eddie’s leg bounces as he pulls into the Hawkins Community Pool parking lot. He can already see Steve’s stupid, fancy BMW perfectly parked in an employee spot. Just to be spiteful, Eddie parks crookedly next to it, taking up an employee spot of his own.
Beside him, Jeff is watching him, an eyebrow raised pointedly.
“What?!” Eddie snaps.
Jeff shrugs. “I’m just waiting for you to bail out. It isn’t too late.”
From the back, Frankie groans, “Please bail out, I don’t wanna be here!”
Eddie undoes his seatbelt a little harder than he has to, making it click loudly.
“Yes you do,” He says simply. Then, he opens his door and hops out, spreading his arms and grinning widely. “Come on, boys! What’s the harm of some fun in the sun?”
“There’s plenty of harm,” Frankie grouches as he throws open the back doors. He jumps the distance to the ground and glares at their surroundings. “That pool has to be full of piss. And there’s no shade. We’re going to be piss-covered while we have heat strokes.”
Jeff rounds the van with a smug smile. “He’s right.”
Eddie throws a punch at his arm, but Jeff laughs and darts back.
“Besides,” Frankie continues, “What happened to the creek in the woods behind Forest Hills? I like the creek in the woods. There’s shade, the water is cool, there’s no piss. There’s no people.”
Jeff snorts. “There’s no Steve Harrington at the creek, Frank.”
Eddie actually does land the punch this time, growling, “Shut the fuck up!”
Frankie’s eyes catch onto the famous burgundy BMW, and his jaw clenches before he lands a punch of his own on Eddie’s arm. It fuckin’ hurts, too. Frankie’s just about fuming when he pokes his finger into Eddie’s chest.
“You dragged us here to stare at King Steve?” He laughs in disbelief. “You really can be a selfish idiot sometimes.”
Eddie doesn’t really know what to say to that. He knows without a doubt that it’s true. He’s dragged Jeff and Frankie along with his shenanigans since he met them in marching band last year. They were two little freshmen who needed some guidance. Most of the shenanigans were fun, but sometimes he needed them to be his moral support, like when he had to tell Wayne that he broke the neighbor’s window… or when he wants to stare at Steve Harrington at the community pool.
So, he attempts to lighten the mood. “A selfish idiot that you guys love and support, otherwise it would be super uncool?”
Jeff and Frankie share a look, partly amused, partly exasperated. Jeff cocks his head a bit to the side, because he and Frankie are fucking freaky and can communicate with each other like that, and Frankie sighs.
“Yes,” he relents. Eddie perks up, but Frankie raises a finger. “But!”
“But what?” Eddie groans, tilting his head back.
“We want Benny’s afterwards.”
Eddie blows out a relieved breath. Yeah, he can do Benny’s. He gets free food on account of Benny and Uncle Wayne being grossly in love and shit, or whatever they call it. “We’re good friends, Eddie,” or “We’re close, boy.” That’s just code for being unofficially married as middle-aged queer men, in Eddie’s opinion.
There’s no explaining away how he and Wayne look at each other.
“Alright,” Eddie agrees, knowing damn well he got lucky, because he only has enough cash for gas and literally nothing else.
They make their way to the entrance, already wincing at the sound of children screaming. They go right on through, not even bothering with lockers. Eddie had their belongings locked up tight in his van, and he didn’t exactly plan on straying far from whatever table they set his keys on.
The screaming amplifies when he opens the door leading to the pool. It’s bright and overwhelming, the light reflecting off the water, neon bathing attire burning into his vision. Everything smells like chlorine and sunscreen.
He reaches up and pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes from where they’d been resting on his head.
“Dude, there’s, like, no babes,” Frankie grumbles as they stare out at the absolute clusterfuck in front of them.
“Unless you’re into moms,” Jeff says, nodding towards a line of women lined up on the edge of the fence, lounging on a row of chairs.
“Gross,” Frankie murmurs.
Eddie scans the pool, searching for the lifeguard chairs. There’s two, and neither of them are occupied by Harrington.
Jeff notices and barks a laugh. “Looks like Eddie’s babe isn’t here either!”
Frankie turns around, a bright grin taking over his face. “Great, let’s leave!”
“His car is here, you jerks,” Eddie says grouchily, then grabs Frankie’s arm. He starts dragging him along, making his way around the edge of the pool, hoping there’s a good shallow spot where he could at least pretend he knows how to swim.
As they go past the line of moms, he can feel their hungry eyes staring at him and the two tattoos on his chest. His skin crawls at the attention and he quickens his pace, his grip on Frankie’s arm tightening. There’s something so concerningly wrong with the mothers of Hawkins and their failing marriages, if they spend their free time gawking at shirtless young men down at the Community Pool.
Then again, that’s what Eddie’s here for. The difference being, y’know… there’s only a one year difference between Eddie and the guy he wants to stare at as opposed to the 20+ those women have on them.
When they make it to the shallow end, Eddie realizes just how terrible of an idea it was.
“Why are we over here?” Frankie groans. “This is where all the little screamers are.”
It’s packed full of little kids, all screaming and splashing away like their lives depend on it.
“Yeah, Eddie, why are we over here?” Jeff asks, holding back a laugh.
Eddie’s jaw clenches as he sends him a scathing glare.
“If we’re gonna be in the piss pool, can we at least be on the side where there’s a lower concentration of it?” Frankie pleads. He points at a little red haired dude in a floatie, who’s just standing there with a blank face. “I’m pretty sure that one’s peeing right now.”
It’s confirmed when the little shit starts wading away, shouting, “Lemonade, lemonade!”
Eddie sighs deeply and looks at the deep end. It’s still crowded, but there’s less little kids. Fear strikes through him when he sees the water depth measurements on the side of the pool. Eight fuckin’ feet. He gulps as he thinks about how fucked he’d be if he fell in.
Just when he’s about to call it quits and bail, Jeff nudges him.
“Hey, look,” He whispers, nodding over to the lifeguard on the deep end.
She’s climbing down from the chair. Eddie frowns, doesn’t understand, but Jeff says, “Dude, look who’s taking her place.”
Eddie’s eyes widen when he sees Steve fucking Harrington, shirtless, glistening with sweat or sunscreen or both, grinning his perfect grin, greeting the girl with a high-five. Eddie stares at their exchange, at Steve’s red shorts, his hairy legs and even hairier chest.
He’s got sunglasses perched in his perfectly coiffed hair that’s somehow not deflating, even in this heat. There’s a whistle dangling around his neck, and Eddie wants to see him blow it. He wants to blow it. He wants to blow St–
“Earth to Eddie!” Frankie shouts, making Eddie jump with a yelp.
“What do you want?” Eddie doesn’t want to drag his eyes away from Steve, but he does, looking at Frankie and Jeff, regretting ever bringing them along.
“Let’s go over there,” Frankie hisses, pointing at the deep end. “Everyone would benefit!”
No, everyone would not benefit! Eddie would die! A terrible, wet, soggy death!
Another glance at the deep end grants him with the mind-numbing image of Steve climbing into the chair, his arm and back muscles working, his moles on full display, his ass–
“Okay,” Eddie mumbles, his feet carrying him off without his permission.
Once he actually gets to the deep end, though, he doesn’t know what to do. Jeff and Frankie beeline to the ladder, but Eddie just watches, frozen in fear, as they climb in. He can’t get in, he can’t fucking swim! What is he gonna do? Sit at a table and mope?
“You just gonna stand there, or…?” Frankie asks where he’s swimming at the edge of the pool.
Behind Frankie, Jeff eyes him, daring him, a smirk on his lips that just screams, Admit it, admit you lied, admit you’re stupid, admit it, admit it, admit it.
Instead, Eddie takes a quick look around and sees that all around the edges of the pool, there are people who are just sitting with their legs in the water. Then, he sees a woman spreading an extra layer of sunscreen on her kid’s face.
“I, um, I forgot to put on sunscreen,” Eddie lies. He didn’t forget, he slathered up in that shit, hoping to protect his tattoos. “I’m gonna sit right here, put some on, and… acclimatize.”
“Acclimatize?” Jeff asks, entirely too amused.
“Yeah, Jeff, acclimatize,” Eddie snarks defensively. “Jerk.”
Frankie looks between them, confused, then says, “The water’s actually really nice.”
“Must be all the piss that warmed it up,” Eddie says, reaching into the pocket of his trunks to pull out the tube of sunscreen that he’d found in Wayne’s tackle box.
“Oh, come on, why’d you have to ruin it?” Frankie groans, shuddering at the thought.
Eddie rolls his eyes, sets his keys on a nearby unoccupied table, then plops down at the edge of the pool beside where Frankie’s got his arms propped up. He scrunches his nose at the feeling of the sunscreen on his fingers when he squeezes some out. He hates the feeling, hates it even more that he’s an idiot who’s about to have more of the shit on than necessary because he’s a little lying liar who lies.
Frankie drifts away and starts playing around with Jeff, more rough than he probably should, but not rough enough for Steve to give a shit, apparently. Eddie looks up nervously, hoping these idiots haven’t caught his attention, that they won’t get them kicked out before Eddie’s gotten what he came here for.
He finds Steve watching carefully over a group of little kiddos whose mom was turned around, talking to another mother. It doesn’t make Eddie’s chest fill up with fondness, not at all. After all, it’s literally Steve’s job. In fact, Eddie’s sure Steve probably has his eyes closed under those sunglasses, and his head just happens to be turned that way.
Totally.
He has to tell himself these things so he doesn’t go and fall for Mister Straight Man Jock Supreme King Steve Harrington.
He’s just here to look.
And look he does.
Steve’s unfairly beautiful in the sunlight. His golden brown hair looks like it was meant to be highlighted by the sun’s rays. Even from a distance, Eddie can make out the constellation of moles that dot the other boy’s skin. His skin is already tanned from the sun and has been since spring.
He must always be outside, Eddie thinks.
He wonders what Steve does outside. Wonders if he’s always hanging out with his jock buddies or if he spends time by himself, basking in the sunlight in his own backyard. He wonders if he’s different when he lets his guard down, if he trades the snide remarks in the hallways for something gentle and soft when he’s alone. He wonders if Steve ever goes to the park and sits on the swing set.
That thought quickly transforms into picturing Steve walking hand-in-hand with Nancy Wheeler, and his mood sours.
Nancy Wheeler, smart, soft-spoken, yet headstrong when need be. Eddie would love to hate her, but there’s nothing to hate. She’s perfect in every which way. Perfect enough to tame Steve Harrington, at least.
She’s to blame for Steve being less of an asshole and making Eddie question everything he ever thought about the boy. It was so easy, being attracted to Steve, when he knew he was an unattainable asshole. He’s still unattainable, just… just nothin’. It’s best not to even think about it.
Eddie draws out rubbing in the sunscreen for as long as he can. However, he can’t use the whole tube. It isn’t his, and he’d hate to make Wayne buy more because his nephew is a stupid fuck-up who lies to his best friends so he can stare at a pretty, straight boy in a happy relationship with a sweet girl.
He carefully gets up to place the tube with his keys. Frankie cheers when he sees, Eddie standing.
“Eddie the Evil, Sire of Shadows, Harbinger of Hopelessness!” Frankie chants excitedly.
Lord of Liars, Eddie thinks.
“He approaches!” Frankie continues, shaking one fist in the air.
“You getting in?” Jeff asks, an eyebrow raised doubtfully.
Eddie’s mouth opens, goes to say something like, I’m gonna go take a leak, or something similar, but then Jeff’s eyes go all wide, and his own mouth is opening.
“Look ou–” is all Eddie hears before heavy weight crashes into him, knocking him off balance.
He’s falling, falling, falling, and as he hits the water, he hears Jeff yelling, “He can’t swim!”
Water rushes all around him as the weight of his body and the inertia of the fall drag him down. He’s holding his breath, but he doesn’t have much to hold. All he knows is his heart is like thunder in his ears and he can’t fucking swim.
But then he feels strong arms wrap around him from behind, a warm body pressed close, and then they’re going up, up up.
There’s too much sound all at once, and the water on his face stings too much for him to open his eyes. He’s forcibly pulled out of the water and set down onto the concrete with a wet plap. He tries to take a breath, but gets rewarded with vacuuming a drop of water on his lip into his fuckin’ windpipe. He coughs and splutters helplessly, his wet hair plastered to his face as he tries his best not to empty his stomach on the hot concrete.
He sucks in a lungful of air as soon as he can, gasping like he’s never breathed before.
“-re okay, you’re okay, Eddie, you got this,” Says a soft voice, a large, gentle hand rubbing comforting circles on his back. “Just breathe.”
Eddie lifts his head, and with bleary eyes, realizes it’s goddamn motherfuckin’ Steve Harrington hovering close to him, comforting him. He doesn’t even give a shit about the small crowd that surrounds them or that Jeff and Frankie are close by, he just stares at Steve until he’s caught his breath.
“I’m okay,” he croaks, an attempt to see if Steve will back off.
He doesn’t
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, still rubbing his back. “Did you hit your head going down at all?”
“Uh, no, don’t think so.” Eddie’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What knocked me over?”
To the side, Jeff snorts, but he still looks worried. “It was a little girl.”
Eddie sits up a little bit straighter. “Is she okay?”
Steve laughs, and Eddie looks at him in wonder, at the way his hazel eyes sparkle with amusement under the worry that’s still aimed at him.
“Oh, she’s fine,” Frankie says, his voice wobbling with anxiety. He nods over to a little girl in a purple bathing suit, getting scolded by her mother. “She didn’t fall in. She was running like a bat out of hell, avoiding sunscreen, apparently? She bumped you hard enough to knock you over.”
“Yeah, Harrington here ran even faster to come save your ass,” Jeff snorts. “You were barely in the water for a minute, man.”
“Yeah, well, it sounds sort of important when there’s a big splash and someone yells, he can't swim!” Steve remarks, a little grin on his lips.
Eddie’s entire body fills with embarrassment.
“My hero,” He drawls sarcastically, ducking his head. “I, um… thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Steve says, giving Eddie’s back a final pat.
When Steve pulls away, Eddie has to stop himself from chasing after him. He shakily stands up with Jeff’s help and wraps his arms around himself because he feels like he’ll blow chunks otherwise.
Steve seems to be pretty certain that Eddie’s fine because he nods with finality, hands on his hips.
“I gotta get back to my post,” he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. Eddie nods, deciding to keep his trap shut to avoid further embarrassment. Steve turns to go, but he hesitates and turns back to them, eyes on Eddie. “And, Munson? You really gotta be more careful around water. Seems like every time I see you, you’re choking on it.”
Eddie’s sure his face does something absolutely fucking deplorable in response to that, and then Steve is walking away, his red shorts now tighter on his skin due to the recent soak. He stares and stares until Frankie nudges his shoulder.
“Can we go now?”
Eddie lets out a shuddering breath and nods.
Later, when they’re sitting in their usual corner booth in Benny’s Burgers, heaping plates provided on the house by Benny himself, Eddie glares at the condensation dripping down the side of his coke glass.
He knows my name. He remembers me making a complete fool of myself the other day.
Benny slides into the booth beside him and starts asking about Wayne, and Eddie puts on a smile, but in the back of his mind, he reprimands himself for the absolute shitshow of a day he put himself and his friends through. As he talks to Benny, he makes a silent vow to himself.
No more stupid lies just so he can stare at Steve Harrington.
No. More.