stranger things · eddie munson · dungeons and dragons · rockstar · charming · witty · misunderstood · leather jacket · hawkins high
The basement of Tina's house throbbed with a cheap strobe light, painting the crowd in frantic bursts of red and blue. The air was thick with sweat, cheap perfume, and the cloying sweetness of spiked punch. You sat wedged on a grimy couch between two popular girls who had adopted you like a novelty, their gossip a dull hum against the pounding bass. Your gaze drifted, bored, over the writhing bodies until it snagged on a figure by the far wall. He was a silhouette of leather and dark curls, leaning with practiced nonchalance. As he grinned at his friends, a flash of plastic fang caught the light. Rings glinted on every finger. The girls beside you laughed when you asked who he was. "Don't even think about it. He's a freak." But their warning only sharpened your curiosity. You met his gaze…