Chapter Text
May 23, 1980:
Eddie taps his fingers on the table. Cool plastic on warm skin. The air conditioner in the corner of the room is clearly working overtime; sputtering icy air through the area. He can’t say he’s devastated that he couldn’t go on the end-of-year class trip, but it’s still a little disappointing. While it would be sweltering, an amusement park would still be fun; and he doubts that when he’s in high school he’ll be able to afford the trip either.
Of course, as per usual when it comes to field trips, the only other kid in the empty room with him is Josephine Byers. While she lives in a house, it’s really not much nicer than Eddie’s own trailer. He knows about the Byers’ living situation; the whole town does. So sure; they grew up in similar circles. But she still keeps to herself- god, you’d think that having an abusive dad would’ve made her more interesting. It worked for Eddie.
But unfortunately for him; she’s sitting in the corner, stoic as ever. And the room just keeps getting colder and staring out the window feels less hopeful and more miserable. And jesus, there’s not even a teacher in the room for god’s sake- even the living embodiments of sludge couldn’t stand this-
No teacher?
He checks the room, even gets up to peek at the hallways. Alone. God if he’s dreaming, this is a hell of a lot better than his usual ones. The door’s locked, fine, but the windows aren’t. All he has to do is force one open enough to slip through and-
“What are you doing?”
Her voice calls out, gravelly and lower than he expected. He tries to remember a time where she spoke before but can’t draw anything but blanks. He can’t even remember anything about her seemingly nonexistent personality. But he really hopes she’s not the kind of kid to rat him out.
He stays cool, collected.
“Getting out of this hellhole.”
Her response is calm. Sturdy; lacking the usual anxiety that comes when Eddie trusts the wrong person. But confusing nonetheless:
“Why?”
It’s completely earnest, and he has to double-check that she’s not simply making a deadpan joke. But her face stays flat, and god is she somehow more boring than he previously thought? Because it was a low bar.
“Uh. Because there’s nothing to do here. And it’s boring. Why else?”
“Oh. Fair enough. Can I come with you?”
If he thought he was surprised before, then now his brain is just exploding. A million questions run through his brain. Why me? Why now? We’ve never talked and this is how we start?
But, to her surprise, (and his own), he just says,
“Sure.”
And now he’s sitting on a bench outside, smoking with Josephine Byers, of all people. He supposes that if any other eighth grader besides him had access to cigarettes it would be her. But still. He may have kept his cool earlier, but the moment she asked him for a light, he lost it.
They’ve just been sitting in silence for the past few minutes, which is uncomfortable, to say the least. Eddie’s whole life is loud. Blasting music, screaming voices, broken bottles. And he would fill the quiet himself, but what is he even supposed to say? “Hey, what’s the worst thing your dad’s ever done to you,” doesn’t exactly seem like a good conversation starter, but what else does he know about her?
He needs something besides the slow exhale of smoke and buzz of insects in the field. So he hums. Something he heard the other day- the radio maybe? Tongue tracing over lyrics he can’t fully remember- “A nuclear error- but I have no fear-”
“Is that the Clash?”
She sounds timid, but still excited. No joy in her voice, but certainly more energy. Her head is turned towards him, and for once he gets a good look at her face. Dark eyes, thick shadows underneath them. Her hair is a light brown, overgrown and falling into her face. And her nose is slightly crooked- broken and then set back wrong, Eddie’s seen it before.
And now he’s suddenly all too aware of the fact that he’s been staring at her for longer than what’s socially acceptable. He stammers out a reply, and seriously, since when does Eddie Munson stammer?
“Uh- maybe? I heard it somewhere the other day.”
“Do you like it?”
“Well- it’s good enough to get stuck in my head, so I think so.”
Then she smiles, actually smiles. And although it’s brief, Eddie feels as though he’s just won some sort of prize.
“It comes from their album, London Calling. That’s the song name too. They’re- um- really good.” She speaks with a sort of passion which clearly dwindles down towards the end of her rant. Like she’s just realized she’s not alone.
And of course, in true Munson fashion, he manages to make it worse.
“But that’s not really like- girl music, is it?”
Any remaining energy in her expression quickly disappears, to the point where he’s surprised she even responds.
“Well- I don’t really like girl stuff in general. I feel more like a boy anyways. What does it matter if I listen to boy music?”
A realization dawns on him- and he thinks back to articles in magazines, mostly negative, but still-
“Oh. So you’re a transsexual?”
Josephine’s face immediately colors, and she attempts to form a sentence, but the words come out jumbled. Eddie can see her obvious mortification, and decides that with all he’s put her, or him?, through, he should take the lead.
“Oh- no- I didn’t mean in a bad way- Um- I’m queer too!”
Jo looks back at him, shocked, and now it’s his turn to sink into shame. Shame and the rather horrific realization that he’s never said it out loud before. He’s known he was queer before he knew the term. Girls never really interested him. Not that they weren’t nice, or even that they weren’t interesting. But when he overheard the other kids his age mention crushes, or god forbid, porn, he felt more awkward than anything else.
Luckily for him, she returns the favor.
“Oh. That’s- cool.”
Relief floods his system, along with something else. It’s exciting, almost bubbly, and definitely positive. And it’s forcing words out of his mouth before he has time to think.
“So are you a boy?”
He stutters, and all the fear rushes back.
“Ah- I can’t- my dad would kill me-”
The fear in Jo’s voice reminds him too much of his own, and hits deep into his brain, conjuring memories of words yelled at him before he knew the meaning.
“Fuck him.”
“W-what?!”
“Fuck your dad. If you say you’re a boy- you’re a boy.”
“B-but- I don’t even-” He gestures to his hair- longer than Eddie’s, split ends fraying at the sides-
“I don’t even look like-”
“So what? My hair’s long- and I was born a boy. Besides, you can always cut it.”
He laughs, still nervous, but genuine.
“Ha- then my dad would really kill me.”
Eddie pauses to think.
“What about your name?”
“What about it?”
“Well. You need a boy’s name. Obviously. You are a boy, aren’t you?”
He pretends to not see the light shine through the shorter boy’s gaze before he responds.
“Oh- I guess so.”
“Yeah- so… What’ll it be?”
“God- I don’t know.” And then he laughs again, warm and soft, and still slightly gravelly; and Eddie feels his heart surge.
“Well. We have time.” He glances at the closest clock he can find- 3:00- time’s up.
“-Maybe not now. Now we have to sneak back into class. But I’m free most days after school. We could brainstorm then?”
He worries for a second. That his excitement at finally finding someone like him could scare the other boy off. Too eager, too loud, too-
“Sure.” Josephine says it kindly, normally. As if he was saying yes to free lunch, and not some weird hang-out for sexual anomalies.
And Eddie feels the blood rush to his face once again.
July 17, 1980:
“Joe-”
“No. I already told you. I know we both like the Clash but I am not having the same name as any of them.”
“But it starts with a J-”
Josephine splashes some water on Eddie. Despite it being nearly 90 degrees outside, the water is still too cold to swim in. Wading up to their ankles was already pushing it.
“No. Dummy.”
“Fine. God you’re so picky. You probably want a depressing name from some old ass novel.”
Eddie groans, but he’s still glad to be talking to Jo. Even if this naming conversation has spanned weeks at this point.
“Hm.”
“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re actually considering that-”
“What do you think about Jonathan?”
Eddie doesn’t want to say how right the name feels. How he wants to say it, taste the consonants, feel the vowels on the tip of his tongue. How saying it feels as natural as breathing- and what a beautiful name for such a beautiful boy- So he recites another line.
“Jesus man- is that from Dracula?”
“Wow. I’m shocked you remembered that.”
“Okay, asshole.”
Jonathan’s voice moves back into an anxious tone- higher pitched, breathy-
“‘M being serious. Do you like it?”
And he looks so cute that Eddie can’t withhold the affection from his words.
“I love it.”
Jonathan simply smiles in return, shocked and flattered, and almost smitten.
“As long as I get to call you Jonny.”
“Ew- dude no-”
“Too bad Jonny-boy, you made your bed; now you must lie in it.”
March 3rd, 1981:
“Dude- are you sure you trust me to do this-”
The scissors are shaky in Eddie’s hands, and he keeps blinking as if to try and wake up from a nightmare.
“Jesus Ed- It seriously cannot be worse than what my mom does to Will every few months.”
“Actually- fair enough, I can’t make you look worse than little bowl cut Byers.”
Jonathan laughs before reprimanding him, completely unserious,
“Lay off- he’s still my brother.. Even if his hair looks like a perpetual helmet.”
They both break off into bouts of laughter, when-
Snip.
“Eddie.”
“Um.”
“Eds, what was that?”
He glances to the floor to pick up a solid 6 inches of soft, hazel hair. It’s not a significant amount, but the length is astounding.
“The first cut?”
Jonathan only looks worried for a second before sighing,
“Eh- it was gonna come off anyway. At least you got the worst part over with.”
“And what would that be?”
“Starting.”