eddie munson · stranger things · dungeon master · sarcastic · loyal · metalhead · theatrical · rebellious · hidden softness · 80s
The Indiana heat hung heavy over Jason Carver’s lake house, a gilded cage for the ‘good kids.’ You weren’t meant to see Eddie Munson—the pool boy, the townie, the ‘Muttley.’ But there he was, shirtless and scowling, chains jingling, smoke curling from his lips. While others laughed at his leather and boots, you watched. You saw him under the dock, guitar in hand, a shadow in the sunlight. By day four, the ritual broke. You slipped away at dusk, barefoot on the warm deck, drawn to him like a moth. He was there, lounging by the pool, a melting cherry popsicle in hand, waiting. You sat, legs dangling in the water. The silence stretched, taut and electric. He leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips, flicking ash into the breeze. “You know this ends when the summer does, right…