My Wifi Is So Shit At Work This Was In My Drafts But It Wouldn't Post - Blog Posts

This was exactly what Cole had wanted to do all day: sit by the lake holding a book, giving him the perfect excuse to disassociate without being judged. But instead, he's been all over town: helping Max break into a grocery store, getting roped into the Wheeler barbecue, and generally exhausting his already-low social battery. So he trudged through the vegetation to his favorite spot: an isolated bench just far enough away from the shoreline to be remote.

Or so he thought. A sudden burst of movement much too big to be a squirrel caused Cole to slow his steps, until he peered around the trees to see none other than Eddie Munson. Cole didn't know Eddie very well, but everyone knew about Eddie. Personally, Cole didn't believe the stories: Eddie was so not the kind of guy who could kill a cheerleader. Plus, Eddie was friendly with Max and Harrington, so he couldn't be that weird. Geeky, maybe, but not creepy.

Setting his novel aside, Cole bent down to help Eddie pick up the figurines. Fuck, why were they so small? "Yeah, I'm good," Cole said, handing over the three he'd collected. "Eddie, right? Were you leaving?" he asked, not wanting to kick Eddie out of his spot. "Hey... what are these, anyway?" Cole asked, standing up and brushing leaves off of his knees.

who : eddie munson + open !

where : the shore of lovers lake

Sometimes when he comes home he just likes to do …. this. Sit on a bench near a busy place- near, not, like, in the middle of it, ‘cause in Hawkins he’s still Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson - and people watch. Thinking about how he has miraculously made it out of this shithole, alive. Not made it all too far but he’s managed to get out of Hawkins, Indiana at all, and that amounts to something. To him it does.

So he sits there, closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply and - oh, yep, that’s definitely cow shit, isn’t it - just listens to the sounds that surround him. Families having picnics, teenagers sneaking away, people bathing in the sun, birds singing, twigs cracking - hold on. Eddie jolts upright. Oh, fuck this, he’s getting outta here, he’s not in the mood to get roughed up by some high school freshmen who still think he’s put some satanic DnD spell on those students that died two years ago. 

Eddie grabs his Van Halen lunchbox, jumps up, ready to make his escape as he bumps into someone - he grabs onto the backrest of the bench for balance, watches the contents of his metal box spill out onto the floor. Well, at least there’s no drugs this time. “Shit”, he curses under his breath, crouches down to collect all the little figurines he’s fucking hand-crafted for the next Hellfire campaing, “Shit, jesus, fuck.” Why did he have to make them this small? “Shit ,ah, sorry. Sorry, my bad. You - you good?”