Archive of Our Own ^beta

“This isn’t the first time we’ve hung out…”

Eddie didn’t expect Chrissy to remember, but he proceeded to make a big show out of being heartbroken anyway. She laughed at his antics, smiled at his stupid jokes; he’d never seen such a beautiful smile. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he’d seen her smile like that before, big and bright and honestly joyous. 

But he’d seen her before. He’d been seeing her from afar for six years now, since the moment he watched her and her little friend perform their cheer routine for the middle school talent show. She’d been in the sixth grade, somehow even tinier than she was now, and she’d been the most enthusiastic little thing. His fourteen-year-old self had fallen in love at first sight, watching her shake her pompoms as he tuned his guitar, getting ready to go on with his band.

“Corroded Coffin! With a name like that, how could I forget?”

It was a rhetorical question—she’d forgotten because it had been an entertaining little blip on her twelve-year-old self’s radar. But as she’d walked off stage, he’d looked out there nervously, and when they called up his band, he almost didn’t go on. 

But then, enter the cute little cheerleader. His cheerleader.

She was so observant for a child. Seeing how nervous he was, she’d walked up to him, kissed him on the cheek, and shimmied her pompoms, whispering, “Break a leg!” as she gave him a little shove onto the stage.

He’d never had stage fright again. 

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like.”

“What, mean and scary?”

God, neither was she. He’d always assumed that her quietude had morphed from middle school shyness to teenage nonchalance, the kind that came with the social shield provided by popularity. He definitely never assumed that she ever thought of him. When she said he’d looked different, she wasn’t wrong. When he’d gotten to high school, he’d changed his whole look. He wanted some bite, some edge. He was tired of being the quiet, skinny metalhead who everybody picked on. He wanted to be tough. He wanted to be feared. He wanted to be left alone.

But never by her. 

It was where he’d miscalculated—coming across as mean and scary to everyone meant coming across as mean and scary to Chrissy Cunningham, his first crush, first kiss, Queen of Hawkins High, girl of his dreams. Cheerleader. Jason Carver’s girlfriend. Unavailable, anxious mess of a girl who was now asking to buy drugs. And if he lacked any self-preservation skills, he would’ve given them to her for free, because god fucking damnit, he was absolutely in love with her.

Fifteen for a half ounce was an insanely good deal. For her, obviously, not him. No, he was losing money on this sale. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to make her think he was… well, cool. In his own way, at least.

“Do you have anything stronger?”

He couldn’t help but think to himself, would a kiss do, princess? But he figured that wasn’t what she had in mind, even if it might just do the trick. He dreamt of getting drunk off her pretty little cupid’s bow. He would bet he could. He would bet that kissing her was as good if not better than doing anything else with any other girl. 

Well. Maybe one day he’d kiss her.

At least, he figured, once upon time, she’d kissed him.