Chapter Text
Eddie got up early in the morning because he couldn’t afford not to. It was still dark when he locked the bathroom door and pried open the top of his cardboard shoebox. He usually kept it in a hole in the wall behind his dresser, wedged between pockets of fiberglass, where only he could find it. Sitting on the lid of the toilet, he cleared off the top layer of misleading items he’d placed to repel anybody who attempted to snoop. An old blue bottle of Vaseline, a box of Magnum condoms, and a blown glass pipe that stank like pot. He rarely - if ever - used any of them. They were just a deterrent, in hopes that whoever found the box would wrinkle their nose and put it back before finding the true contents.
Eddie stood back up and pulled his shirt over his head, shaking out his long hair. With his back to the mirror, skin prickling in the cool, stagnant morning air, he grabbed the thick roll of ACE bandages from inside the box and started to unravel them. He wrapped them around his chest, tighter and tighter, until he could feel his ribs groaning and the fabric biting into his skin. He drifted a hand down his front and found the space there flat enough - he secured it and took a breath. It didn’t come in as deep, and left a slight wheeze in his lungs, but it was more than worth it to him.
Next, he pulled his pajama pants down, shook them off his feet, and put on a pair of black briefs. He grabbed a pair of bunched-up gray socks and fit them into it, creating a subtle, if not slightly uncomfortable, makeshift bulge. Running his fingers through his hair, he stepped back and tilted his head to the side to observe himself in the mirror above the sink. He pinched his sides, the unbearably womanly dip to them, and frowned. He had long since grown patches of dark, soft hair beneath his belly button and on his calves, but that couldn’t erase the shaped appearance of his hips, or the rounding of his shoulders that seemed to scream the truth behind what he hid. He felt a cold, ugly feeling scuttle down his spine, and quickly looked away to avoid the sensation of being throttled. This was his least favorite time of the day - when he was so exposed to the blatant wrongness of his own body. At least, the one he was trapped in. It felt less like his and more like an inescapable prison.
Sniffing, Eddie yanked on the rest of his clothing - a baggy Iron Maiden T-shirt, black jeans riddled with tears and chains, a handful of silver rings, and his worn leather jacket. He carded a comb through his hair just to work out the knots then spritzed it with water. He tended to let it stay ragged and unkempt, cowlicks and frizz and all, because it seemed like people thought it was more masculine that way. He loved his hair; he didn’t need a reason to chop it all off.
When he was done, he stuffed everything back into the shoebox, spread the decoys on top, and fit the lid back on. He eased the door open, eyes darting around the dark hallway and closed doors. Dull light was shining in slivers through closed blinds or turning fuzzy through the curtains, but everything was silent. Wayne had only recently gotten back from his graveyard shift at the plant, which was evident by the sound of him snoring in the living room. Eddie wasn’t sure why he snuck around like this - Wayne knew, Wayne had always known. But maybe that was just what he was used to, and it was a precaution he wasn’t ready to let go of yet.
Back in his room, he grunted as he pushed the dresser to the side. The hole was just a small, dark blot in the wall, whitened at the ridges with broken plaster. It was the perfect cubby for something to be hidden in - Eddie stuffed the box down as far as he could fit his arm, then withdrew and shook the dust off of his sleeve. He bit his lip as he shouldered the dresser back into place.
Back in the kitchen, Eddie kept the light off so as not to wake Wayne. He squinted in the coffee tin and found nothing. Instead, propping the door open with his foot, he extracted the milk from the refrigerator and drank straight from the carton for a moment. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he put it back and began to dig through the cabinets. He found half a loaf of white wonder bread and lathered it in peanut butter, folding it in two to eat it. As he did so, he wandered into the living room and looked down at his uncle.
Wayne, still in his shabby work clothes, graying hair matted by his hat, was spread across the couch with his arms over his eyes, snoring softly. On the box television across the cluttered coffee table, an old black and white film was playing on mute; the rapid sparking of gunfire, fat smoking cigars hanging out of old gangster’s mouths, half-propped fedoras and sweaty, handsome movie stars. The light from its screen shifted and morphed over Wayne’s sleeping form. Holding his half-sandwich in his mouth, Eddie grabbed an old throw blanket off the armchair and draped it over his uncle. Then he wiggled the old man’s work boots off and tossed them next to his own shoes by the door.
Swallowing the last of the bread, Eddie stepped over the low-sitting table and dug around for a loose cigarette. When he found it, he nabbed the lighter from inside of his jacket and lit it up. He took a long, thankful drag of it and found himself looking up at the ceiling. His eyes, getting used to the dark, soon found the patch of white which they were looking for. The crack which had opened up like an oozing mouth to the Upside Down had long since closed and been painted over with spackle. But he could still remember what that place was like - and where Chrissy had died, hovering right in the air where he stood now. He stepped to the side as if he could distance himself from that.
Eddie was so lost in thought that when the telephone rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He silently cursed himself, his heart pounding. It continued to blare as he strode over and hastily picked it up before it could wake his uncle.
“Munson residence, this is he speaking, unless of course you’re looking for Wayne in which case he is currently out of commission. It is in fact the asscrack of dawn so you better have a good reason for calling.”
“Munson, thank God, I can feel my blood vessels bursting over here.” It was Steve Harrington’s voice that crackled through the mouthpiece. “Robin isn’t answering, I need somebody to help me clean out this stupid pool, and I can’t remember if Henderson said he wanted cool ranch Doritos or Cheez Balls and he’s going to tell Max I was the one who broke her Space Mountain Sega card because I stepped on it if I get it wrong.”
Eddie leaned on the wall, twirling the curly phone cord around one finger and holding his cigarette with the other. He used his shoulder to prop the phone to his ear. “Jesus, slow your roll. It’s too early for you to be growing gray hairs, old man.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t agree more, which is why I need you to haul ass over here and bring your pool-cleaning skills with you.”
“Uh,” said Eddie, “no.”
“What the fuck else are you gonna be doing right now, Munson? Smoking pot and rewatching Top Gun eighty million times so you can look at Tom Cruise’s ass?”
“Is this how you get girls to date you? You harass them?”
“Well girls tend to find it charming. C’mon, Eds, please.”
Eddie stared at the cherry end of his cigarette, feeling his face grow hot. “They’re not even coming over for, like, five hours.”
“You have to baby-proof the whole house, it’s insane. Henderson dropped my mom’s dumb antique glass lemonade pitcher last time and Byers stepped on the damn thing. I thought Hopper was going to take my head off.”
Eddie found himself grinning despite himself. “Whatever, man. I’ll head over.”
“/Thank/ you.”
“You know, Robin’s probably not answering because she’s asleep right now. Like a sane person.”
“Apparently neither of us are sane, then, Munson.”
“You can say that again,” Eddie muttered.
“See you in twenty. You’re my hero.” The line went dead.
Eddie stood in the dark for a moment, holding the phone and his cigarette. He had to admit he’d been sort of dreading the pool party since plans had been made the week prior. Jonathan and Nancy were on a road trip for a college project, Vickie was visiting her grandmother, the Wheelers were going through a messy divorce nobody was talking about, and Hopper had coerced Joyce into kicking back and vacationing at a motel in Indianapolis. As per usual, Steve had found himself as babysitter again, taking the group under his wing for the upcoming weekend. He complained about it, but he’d also been the one who volunteered. He couldn’t always pretend his protection of the kids was that reluctant. He’d made both Eddie and Robin promise to chaperone - but a pool party was a pool party, and Eddie knew he’d be expected to swim. It struck him with a primal fear which rivaled only that of what the Upside Down had made him feel. Removing his shirt? Switching into some loose swimming trunks? Changing? Anyone could see - anyone could find him out. The thought made his heart speed up and his head spin.
But he figured he’d just have to insist on sitting back, popping open a beer, and watching from afar.
Maybe the sight of a glistening, shirtless Steve Harrington would be worth it.
Sighing, Eddie put the phone back on its hook and placed the cigarette in his mouth. He shoved his shoes on, then knelt before the coffee table to find his keys. As he did so, pushing aside unopened bills and Rolling Stone magazines, a small slip of paper caught his eye. It was torn at the edges, as if it had been ripped out of a small notepad of sorts. In his uncle’s familiarly messy scrawl, it read: /Campbell, 3 pm Mon. T - dose?/
Eddie hesitated. He knew Dr. Campbell - saw him nearly weekly. He thought sometimes he owed the damn man his life. For his secrecy, for his understanding. Eddie didn’t think a single grown man in Hawkins would treat him with the same respect the doctor treated him with, not if they knew his secret. Not if they knew he was transgender.
But the note was just out like that. It was far too dangerous. What if Wayne’s work buddies, or drinking buddies, stopped by and questioned it? Or what if even Robin, Steve, or one of the kids appeared with no forewarning? Eddie’s life would explode in his face. Sure, it was unlikely, but you couldn’t blame him for being paranoid.
Acting quickly, he nabbed the note and stuffed it in his back pocket. He would give it to Wayne later, remind him to be as cautious as he could. That would work.
Eddie checked his pockets again - keys, cigarettes, lighter - and unlocked the front door. The sky outside was violet, like a fading bruise, the sun spilling carelessly over the trees. The breeze that wafted in his face stung slightly, and dew sparkled like a bed of pearls on the grass. Eddie stepped outside, then shut the door behind him. He got into the car, started the engine, and cranked his windows down. He eased out of the muddy drive, and made his way toward Steve Harrington's house.