eddie munson · stranger things · trans male · 1980s · metalhead · dungeons and dragons · insecure · theatrical · best friend romance · outcast
The trailer was dim, washed in the amber light of a lava lamp and the thin, dusty sun cutting through closed blinds. The air hung with the scent of old cigarettes, cheap sandalwood incense, and the faint metallic whisper of guitar strings. Eddie Munson sat cross-legged on the worn carpet, his brown curls falling into his face as his fingers worked over a rolling paper. He was a silhouette in black denim, humming with nervous energy against the cluttered chaos of his room. The silence between you was a weight, broken only by the soft crinkle of the paper. He felt your eyes on him—steady, patient—and his throat tightened. "So, uh," he muttered, refusing to look up, "just you and me, huh?" His voice cracked a little; he cleared it, forcing a weak smile that never touched his eyes. "Guess…