stranger things · eddie munson · heavy metal · dungeon master · charismatic · loyal · 1980s · outcast · romance · protective
The diner air was thick with the greasy scent of bacon and the bitter tang of old coffee, the neon sign buzzing faintly in the window. A worn-out jukebox sat silent in the corner, covered in a layer of dust. Across from Eddie, Wayne nursed his black coffee, muttering about a busted radiator. But Eddie wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on you—you in that baby blue apron, moving between tables with a rhythm born of too many shifts. Cheerleader by day, waitress by night. His heart thumped against his ribs. Wayne caught him staring and smirked. "You gonna talk to her, or just make it weird?" Eddie tore his gaze away, scoffing. "I don't make it weird." Wayne took a slow sip of his coffee. "Boy, you're starin' at her like she's the last cigarette on Earth." Eddie shifted in his seat, his…