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004

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you don't know what it's like, you don't have a clue
if you did you'd find yourselves doing the same thing too

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 the broken pavement towards the little trailer. They lived across from one another and she'd been over once or twice since they'd moved in but it wasn't enough. Jean was lacking in the babysitter and friend market.

She didn't bother knocking because she knew the door would be unlocked. She peeked her head inside and called out in a tentative voice, "Ms. Hargrove?"

The trailer had wooden walls, much like Jean's but theirs was decorated differently. It gave off a very Max-esque vibe. Funky colored rugs layered on top of the cheap carpet, floral couch, floral curtains in soft pastels, and the TV sitting on a cute table. But she spied the cigarette ashtray on top of the old newspapers and magazines, along with a few empty cans of Coors.

"In here, honey!" called Max's mom and Jean entered fully, finding their small kitchen easily.

She offered the woman a kind smile, leaning against the wall in the little room. "Is Max home? Thought I'd offer her a ride to the game but now that I'm thinking about it..."

"She probably doesn't want to go?"

Jean nodded with a small laugh. "I also thought I'd come by and just check in," Jean could smell alcohol in the room, the tangy spiced smell that made everything seem too clean, "and offer up some of my services since spring break is coming up. If you need anyone to watch MAx or even go get groceries, I'm happy to do so."

"You know I'm fifteen, right?" said Max from behind her and Jean smiled.

"You're never too old for a babysitter, especially me. Plus I could put you to work, you don't know what I have planned up my sleeve." She kept her arms crossed and watched as Max walked through the room, her body racked with tension and it reminded her of Chrissy. Things weren't right here and Jean could see that better than she could sense it. "You going to the game tonight?"

"You know I'm not."

Jean glanced at Mrs. Hargrove with a smile and then motioned with her head for Max to follow her out of the room. "You can't keep avoiding us forever, you know."

"Why do you care?" The younger girl crossed her arms tightly and Jean could see the anger building up behind her eyes.

Ever since Billy died, she'd been pulling away. Isolating. Jean realized she should've done more to help, to be more of a present figure in the girl's life rather than dropping by unannounced every so often and forcing Max to go on walks that were pointless in the long run.

"Why wouldn't I care?" countered Jean as they neared the front door.

"Because you're you."

"And you're you." Jean crossed her arms, mimicking the girl's stance. "What's the point? You know I love ya, kid, so why does it matter if I'm going to make you go to the game or at least hang out with me later?"

Max narrowed her eyes but Jean could see her cracking, slowly.

"Or would you rather sit in bed alone?"

The girl sighed softly, shifting from either foot as she glanced past Jean and back into the kitchen. "I just think I...shouldn't go out tonight."

Jean frowned but could understand. Her grandfather before he died had been a drunk. Not an alcoholic but a drunk. Max's mom was going through it worse than Jean's parents. She'd lost her husband, her home, and had to pick up odd jobs to even continue to pay for the roof over their heads. She wished the woman hadn't isolated herself like her daughter.

"Want me to bring you back any dinner if we go out after?" asked Jean with a frown. "I'm sure I can get Eddie to stop somewhere on the way home."

Max shook her head, her hands glued to either elbow. "Mom's gonna make something."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You positive?"

"Yeah."

"O–kay."

Jean, still with a frown, grabbed Max by the shoulder and pulled her in tightly for a hug. The girl froze but ultimately dropped her arms from her elbows to wrap them around Jean in a small squeeze.

"This'll all get better soon," she whispered, hoping Max trusted her. "The hard part's almost over."

Max didn't say anything but only nodded before pulling back and opening the door for Jeanie to leave. The older girl offered Mrs. Hargrove a final wave goodbye before exiting the trailer and heading back across the street to grab her cheer bag from her place. She had about twenty minutes before Eddie would leave so that gave her enough time to apply a little makeup and get the back and then skedaddle.

Her trailer was different from Max's because of all the little trinkets her mother still had lying around on top of dressers and inside bookcases. Her family loved to read and they could only sell so many of their favorite novels before the bookstore stopped taking them. Something about them being too loved, too worn, for someone to want to buy right now.

But weren't the loved ones the best? They held so many memories, so many little thoughts, it seemed silly to turn them down.

Mandy Scott loved to read so much that every day for work, she'd bring one of her little novels to read during her short lunch break. Her husband, Brandon Scott, would do the same while they ate their discount apples and carrots.

Her family were health nuts, even though they appeared at the Robert's barbecues and ate the juicy ribs and steaks and chicken they'd cooked. They were making up for it through their carrots and lite ranch dip. Jean wanted to get behind it but she was much more of a snacks girl (or, well, she was more of a steal Dustin's snacks girl).

The floors in the trailer were a dark blue carpet that was scratchy if you walked across it barefoot. The walls were panels of dark wood that would catch your skin and give you splinters if you weren't careful enough. The curtains weren't like Max's floral but a solid light blue as if her mom had wanted it to match the carpets and then the rug in their bedroom.

Everything was different shades of varying blues, all working off the other to create some sense of home. Even their couch, which was a scratchy brown they'd gotten after selling the beautiful white one from their home before, was lined with blue decorative pillows (they'd also gotten those from selling the bigger ones they'd originally owned). The only things that hadn't been sold and traded for something smaller or more practical were the things kept away in their bedrooms.

She didn't often go into her parents room but they tried their best to make it seem like the one at the old house, which had been a three story thing with beautiful white pillars and soft blue painted window shutters. Jean had tried to do the same with her own bedroom but had given up. This was a new era, she wanted this change. The only things that were left the same, that she'd tried desperately to copy, was the small wall by her bed of pictures of all her friends. She even had a framed photo of her and Heather on her vanity, where she'd often have to turn it away when she was doing makeup to keep from crying.

Even though they had this new place to live and it wasn't the same as it had been before, it still felt like an adventure. Well, more so now that she had a good escape when needed. Her parents weren't angry people, they didn't argue (maybe over little things but never screaming), and they always treated Jeanie fair and kind and valued her opinions and thoughts, but she liked that she had somewhere to go when things began to feel suffocating. Eddie was right next door, waiting for her to come over or waiting for her to peek her head out of her window and wave him over. Even though her parents knew about him and their friendship, he still insisted on climbing in through her bedroom window because it made things more fun, like they were doing something they shouldn't have (even when he'd be at their small kitchen table eating dinner with them five minutes later from nearly getting his belt buckle caught on the window sill).

Her family was good. Her family were good people. They were just given an impossible situation and were dealing. While Jeanie was still selfish and feared for her reputation, her parents weren't afraid. They had people over, they've gone to their friends' homes, they weren't judgmental. Their friends had taken it perfectly normal, because it was. Sometimes, people were just dealt the wrong cards but that didn't mean others needed to emphasize on that wrongness. It meant friendship, unity, and common ground.

Jean was just a little behind them on that front. She was trying to catch up, trying to act like this is normal and nothing to be ashamed of, but it was taking time. But all good things did.

She drifted through her small living room and back into her bedroom with the posters of boy bands and hunky actors and the metal bands she crooned too late at night. The photographs of her friends smiled back at her as she bent down to grab her cheer bag, her fingers splaying across her comforter and the soft blanket she wrapped around herself when she'd get tired (or sad).

Fixing her hair one last time in the mirror, scrunching it up so it poofed, she left. Her father was walking in through the door as she was making her way towards it and he smiled. He had nice eyes, a deep brown like the earth.

"You headed off already, kiddo?"

She nodded, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Might be home late, gonna be at Eddie's."

"Tell that boy to come over more often," said Brandon with a chuckle. "The Robert's are having a cookout and you know how they liked giving us the leftovers, we'll need someone to finish them off for us."

"I'll let him know," she said back with a smile. "Love ya." She pressed a dry kiss to his cheek and he patted her back as she quickly left, throwing over her shoulder, "Tell mom I left her the next copy of that series she's reading in your bedroom!"

Some sci-fi book she was obsessed with. Jean had swiped the next book from the library. She'd placed it on the dresser near their bed when she first got home before heading to Max's and she could only hope her mom hadn't gotten the next book without telling her, but that was a later problem.

Stepping down the metal steps to the grass and the gravel driveway next to the trailer, she spotted Eddie already waiting for her in the van. He had his hand out the window, clapping his hand against the door as he smiled at her.

"Took you long enough," he said with a grin, "we got demons and jocks to kill!"

She rolled her eyes and rounded the front of the van, pulling open the passenger side door and climbing inside. He was wearing what he had been earlier but something about it made her skin crawl with glorious goosebumps.

You can't like him like this, whispered the voice in her head as her heart whispered something different, you don't like him the way you think.

"Are you campaign ready?" she asked, propping her feet up on the dashboard and rolling down her window manually at her side.

He nodded as he backed out of his driveway, his tires skidding and screeching against the pavement. He spun the wheel with his palm, using one hand to turn and the other to bring the cigarette to his lips. They were going to smoke before but time had gotten away from them when Jean had seen Max get home from school (yes, her whole ruse of hoping Max would be home had been a lie, but Jean loved to lie, so where's the harm?).

"They're going to need a roll of twenty," he explained, "if they even get the chance at beating Vecna."

"And that's..." She frowned, counting on her fingers. "Eleven, eight, and one working together?"

"Combination power kill, basically."

She held out her hand and he passed the cig off to her, smoking blowing in a slow stream from his mouth. She inhaled slowly after wrapping her lips around the butt, feeling the smoke coil inside her chest before she exhaled.

"You have any luck with Max?" asked Eddie as she handed the cigarette back to him. "Seeing as she's not in the van with us, I'm worried you didn't strike gold like you were hoping."

"She's gonna kick it at home," said Jean with a shrug. "Her mom's drinking, Eds, it doesn't look good over there."

"You gonna talk to her?"

"Who? Her mom?"

"No," he shook his head. "Max."

Jean shrugged. "I don't think anything I have to say will help." The trees were passing them by in a green blur and she let her hand drift outside the window to feel the wind. "The Robert's are gonna have a cookout soon, dad wants you to come over to finish off our leftovers, but I'm gonna try and get Max and her mom to come by, too."

Eddie's hand patted at her thigh and she had to pretend it didn't bother her as she kept her eyes on the moving trees. He said, happily, "What better way to lower your swords and shields than by going to a cookout?"

"That means you're gonna finish off our leftovers?"

"If your dad says so, then so it shall be."

He turned the music on as her cheeks finally died down from their heated pink the second he had touched her. Black Sabbath played loudly through the speakers and she noticed out of the corner of her eyes that he was drumming his fingers against the wheel and she began to bob her head to the drums.

"People think I'm insane," they say together, "because I am frowning all the time."

There was a smile on his face when she finally glanced at him and she knew it was because she knew the song. Every time she'd start to sing along to one of the songs he was sure she wouldn't know, she'd watch that smile come creeping up his face.

The chorus came along and she looked at him as he looked at her as they sang loudly, "I can't see the things that make true happiness, I must be blind!"

Eddie looked as if he were about to say something to her, his eyes fluttering and roaming over her face but he closed his mouth with his smile and turned back to the road.

There were moments when she'd think he'd finally say it to her, that he's in love or something and she'd have to hold back all the ways she'd make him feel the same back. Moments alone with him in his bedroom made her want to confess. It made her want to crawl up inside his chest and squeeze his heart until he understood that he wasn't alone in this world, that he didn't only have his uncle and his club, that he had her for as long as he wanted her (and she hoped it would be forever).

She was a hopeless romantic like that. Or just a desperate one.

"You're okay," he whispered into her hair. "You're okay, Jean, you're safe."

She was shaking, her body so tense it was trembling like she would lose her stomach at any second. She'd only been asleep for thirty minutes before the nightmares shook her awake and she couldn't stop the shaking, her shoulders and neck so hard from the tension that it felt like if she even moved, her muscles would burst.

His arms were wrapped tightly around her middle and she was so clearly engulfed in his arms that she should've snapped awake and realized just how perfect a moment like this could be but all she could think of was Billy chasing her down that hallway. Billy with the black veins protruding from his skin. Billy slamming Eleven's head against a wall.

Billy coated in blood and holding his guts.

Heather a heap of gore.

"Jean, please," Eddie was desperate, like she was, "you're okay, I promise you. You're safe with me."

He thought she was thinking of the fire she had just escaped from but he wouldn't get it. She wouldn't hurt him by letting him know, she wouldn't allow him to be caught in this mess.

He pressed the length of his body against hers, molding himself to her like a warm blanket but she couldn't feel anything through the throbbing in her hip, along her side where the stitches were angry and raised and fighting.

Billy with his knife. Billy sawing. Billy cutting. Billy killing.

Eddie had his hands clasped together across her chest where her own hands were folded against herself. He was cooing to her, whispering and humming through her hair as she shook and shook until exhaustion took its hold and she was gone from this world.

She wished she could've gone entirely but things never did work out in her favor when she needed them to.

"What're you thinking about?" asked Eddie in a soft voice as he turned the radio down as she kept her eyes on the houses they passed.

They were getting closer to the high school and she suddenly didn't want to jump around in a gym and squeal and cheer. At least Lucas would be there, he made it worth it.

"Honest or truth."

They had this game, sometimes, when they'd talk that there was an honest answer, one you'd have to be so truthful that even the angels and gods wouldn't be able to refute it or you'd have a true answer, one where you could handle it with as many white lies as you needed. She liked this game, it made it easier to breathe when she could lie, but Eddie loved honest. He loved it good.

"Truth."

She knew the only time he asked for truth was when he knew it was difficult for her. He could read her so easily that, sometimes, it terrified the shit out of her. How could one person know her this well?

"The fire," she murmured, which was her half-truth. "Just thinking about the people we lost and how Jason's gonna use it to his advantage again."

"He's a dick."

"I know."

"You gotta just ignore him."

"I can't."

Eddie sighed. "I know, which makes him a fucking dick." He pulled into the parking lot and made sure he had a good spot near the high school entrance and the gym so she didn't have to walk too far in the dark. When he had the car in park and the keys in his hands, everything still and quiet, he murmured, "You haven't talked about the fire in a while."

She nodded, her eyes still locked outside her window, even after she'd rolled it up. "There's not much to say."

"You never say their names."

"Sure I do," she scoffed. "I...I talk about Jack and–and Melissa."

"But never the others." He knew better than to say their names. He knew what reaction it would bring from her. "And, listen, I wasn't there for Jason's big asshole speech but Lucy told me what happened–"

"Lucy and her big mouth," muttered Jean with a scowl.

"–and she's worried about you, like I am, too."

"I'm fine, Eds, swear."

She couldn't even look at him. She wasn't fine but he didn't need to know that, she didn't need to burden him with all her thoughts of blood and fire and monsters that shouldn't exist. Making a move to open the door and make a run for the gym because she didn't need people seeing her in his van, he grabbed her arm and pulled her gently closer.

"I think you should spend the night tonight."

Her brows furrowed and she gave him a curious look.

"After a rough day..." He sighed, releasing his hold on her. "You usually have nightmares on the bad days and I don't want you to be alone tonight." He saw the look on her face that she hoped read appreciation but instead, made him fumble quickly, "Or at least stay after Chris leaves, we can use that new bong I got from that shitty gas station."

The one that was shaped like one of the presidents heads.

"I'll bring my favorite blanket," she told him and before she could catch herself, added, "and we can make a date out of it." Her face was swarmed with such an intense blush that she could hardly even speak before she opened the door and nearly fell out into the parking lot, scrambling for her bag and her words. "I–you–didn't–uh–yes–okay–uh–bye!"

She didn't stop swiftly pumping her arms and legs until she was safely inside the gymnasium and her heart didn't stop beating wildly until the last quarter of the game when her heart did a somersault.

They were down and Jean could feel her sports aggression come pillowing through her body like a grenade. She threw her poms in the air, watching as the basketball coach finally put Lucas in and she let out an ear deafening howl over the rowdy crowd.

Steve was somewhere behind her in the crowd and she glanced back, his eyes were on her in a way that did strangely feel pleasing but she waved her poms and jumped with joy and he grinned. He'd come in with a girl, someone Jean didn't really care for nor care enough to remember because her mind had been elsewhere but Steve had made an impression in her mind (like always).

He'd arrived later than the cheerleaders and the band but he made an effort to glance back at Jean and Robin as he walked in. It was when Tammy Thompson came in to sing the national anthem did all three of them fight back a roar of surprise and huge sneering smiles as she sang (terribly). Jean had been friends with the two for a while but it'd been last summer that struck a chord with Robin even more so than normal. She'd been friends with Steve through school and had admired him, as he was a year older, but she'd grown to admire him in an entirely different way once she saw him fighting Demogorgons and the Mind Flayer.

"Steve?" she asked, frowning.

"Yeah, Steve."

"Steve?" she said again, more forcefully with all the shock in her body going to her mouth. "Like, Steve?"

Dustin was shaking his head, groaning. "We don't have time for this!"

"You're going to let Steve Harrington save your asses?" She shook her head and plucked the crowbar off the dirty floor, clutching it tightly in one hand. "Hell no, he's not saving shit." She glanced back at the kids with a firm nod of her head. "I'm your babysitter, I'm the one who should be protecting you."

"Is it really this hard to believe that I could be a better babysitter than you?" asked Steve from where he was crouched and Jean glared.

"Yes."

Steve rolled his eyes and Robin held back a laugh. "I've done this before, Scott, I can handle this."

"Yeah," she scoffed, "not today."

(Jean was beginning to think Steve's date was someone named Brenda...)

The score of the basketball game was ticking up slowly, both teams making steady progress but the clock was nearly finished. It was almost time out, and not the fun time not that Jean liked when all the cheerleaders got to throw their arms and legs in the air and do intricate routines and flips and jumps while simultaneously singing and chanting in perfect harmony and rhythm. Cheerleading was no joke.

She could see Nancy off to the side near the doors with the rest of her newspaper crew, one of them being a scrawny kid with glasses that Jean knew as Fred Benson.

Jeanie was screaming then, suddenly and it erupted from her throat with her cheers and wild howls. Lucas was on the court, fighting for the ball in a pile on of boys and Jean was jumping up and down.

"Yes! God!" shouted Zoya, her poms pressed against her head as she watched the madness.

Jean gripped Zoya's shoulders as she jumped up and down. "Go, Lucas, go!"

The boy had the ball in his hands, the clock was nearing zero and he was throwing. The ball arced in the air gloriously, like an arrow from a warrior archer, like a can of beer being tossed to Jean herself.

The buzzer was going off but the ball was still in the air, aimed just for the basket. It hit the rim, bouncing against the backboard before hitting the rim (it was playing with them) and the crowd was deadly silent. Jean's air supply felt like it would burst right out of her lungs.

Lucy had her fist in her mouth and Zoya had her eyes shut but Jean couldn't look away because the ball was hitting the board and then, suddenly, as if by true magic, the ball was falling through the net.

The scoreboard changed to a perfect seventy vs. sixty-nine and Jean let out a whoop.

"That's my boy!" she screamed, pointing a finger at Lucas as the crowd stomped their feet and sent up their own poms and noise clappers as the basketball team rushed the court for Lucas. "That's my freshman!"

The crowd across the gym, all dressed in pathetic red, hung their heads in shame. They hadn't been expecting Lucas's shot to go in.

Jason got into the circle of jumping and cheering boys, picking Lucas up by the waist and hoisting him up into the air. He'd made the winning shot, he'd gotten them the critical points, and Jean felt like crying. This was her kid, her boy!

The second Lucas's feet were back on the ground, Jean was running across the court and throwing herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his sweaty neck and buried her face against his as she rocked him violently from side to side.

"Jean!" he laughed, trying to get her to stop but she just squeezed harder. "Jeanie, come–on–"

"I'm so proud," she squealed, still rocking him, speaking against his cheek. "I'm just so damn proud of you, Sinclair!" When she pulled back, she clamped her hands on either side of his face and grinned at him. "You're a winner, kid, you're the winner!"

He blushed and averted his eyes but he was still grinning.

"Mr. Varsity," she whispered even though the people in the gym were louder and echoing, she still whispered to him. "Mr. Big Shot."

She wrapped one arm over his shoulders and sent him rushing back into the celebrating crowd, Zoya pulling him into her and giving him a messy noogie as she shouted, "Hey, assholes, this freshman beat you! This freshman kicked your asses!"

Lucas tried to hide his face but Zoya was presenting him like a king. From the other side of the gym, near the doors, she caught Steve with his date (Brenda?) and he waved towards her. She gave him a happy wave back and even threw one towards the band as they filed out. Robin was too lost in a strange conversation with another girl, one that Jean was glad Lucy hadn't seen as the blonde walked over.

"Hey, I think Z and I are gonna grab a bite to eat," said Lucy, jerking her thumb towards the doors. "Rest of the squad is going but want me to pick you up something for later?" The girl knew Jean had other plans, ones with Chrissy and Eddie and she was thankful she was being so inconspicuous about it.

Jean shook her head. "I'm sure Eds got it covered."

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "The boy rarely ever has anything in that damn fridge besides beer and whatever shitty leftovers from the Roberts and...god," she groaned, "and bologna, Jeanie. You sure you want to eat that?"

"We'll be fine," she said, drawing out the fine as long as she could as she nudged the girl in Zoya's direction, who stood chatting happily with Patrick and Katie. "Get some of the boys to go with you, they'll love to celebrate."

"But not without Chris and you."

"Especially without us," chuckled Jean. "It gives Jason the chance to actually grow a personality outside of basketball and his girlfriend."

Lucy sighed, her arms folded over her chest and her leg was bouncing as she glanced around. "He'll be insufferable."

"Not to you," murmured Jean, forcing Lucy's hands in her own, a tangle of poms and sweaty fingers, "because you'll be too busy looking at Robin."

Lucy's cheeks flushed pink.

"Heard she's going out with the rest of the band, maybe they're going to the same place you are." Jean had simply overheard it during the dull parts of the game. She was a snoop. An eavesdropper.

"Then I really wish you were coming," grumbled the other girl before wrapping her arm around Jean's waist as they walked to find their bags. "I can't even speak around her. It's like–like my brain seizes, I can't think or form a sentence," her eyes went wide, "I'm a complete nut!"

"You'll have Zoya with you," Jean offered, bending down by the bleachers and swinging her bag up and over her shoulder. "She's a better wingwoman than me."

"Hell no I'm not," said Z from behind them. When Jean turned, the girl had her hands on her hips and was scowling. "Look, look at that expression on Lucy's face! Even she knows I'm shit!"

Lucy swallowed thickly. "You're only shit because you tend to throw us to the wolves with these things," she said, "and then we get eaten before we get the chance to even–even–" Her face was bright red. "–express ourselves!"

"See?" said Zoya, coming in between them to throw her arms around both their shoulders. "This is why you should be coming with us, you're our glue."

"Then what'd that make me?" asked Chrissy as she slid up beside Lucy, taking her hand and swinging their arms. "What'd that make you?"

"I'm clearly the guns," said Zoya, flexing against Jean's shoulder. "Lucy is our sweetheart, our mom, and you Chris? Well, you're our princess."

"Kinda lame that I'm only the glue then," said Jean with a slight frown. "Can't I be something cooler like, I don't know, I'm a good ringleader."

"You just want to be the center of attention," said Zoya before adding, "like me." Zoya glanced at Chrissy as they walked out. "We're all just your knights, guarding and leading the way."

Lucy swung Chris's arm up and wrapped it around the back of her shoulders. "Fearsome knights, blazing glory, fighting for redemption and–"

"Love," said Zoya and Jean together.

During a time, which felt long ago, Heather had been one of their knights. They'd had this conversation before, what their roles were and what they were becoming to one another. In a different timeline, there had been four knights trying to protect a princess but now there were only three.

This life was a dangerous game, much more dangerous than anyone had expected.

"Blow on these, will you?" said Zoya, holding her nails out in front of Jean. They were painted black.

Jean blew softly as Zoya painted Chrissy's hand a delicate pastel pink that matched the color on Lucy's toes. Zoya was the best at painting nails out of all of them and Jean was never one to turn down a free mani.

"Which color do you think would look best? Hmm?" said Heather, holding up a bottle of bright red and one that was just slightly darker.

Jean had to squint to see the difference but Lucy took hold of both and held them up to the dim light in Zoya's pretty bedroom. Lucy studied the shades before lowering them and eyeing them closely next to Heather's chest.

"This one," said Lucy, handing back the slightly darker shade. "It'll match your lifeguard uniform."

Heather smiled, brushing back the loose strands of her hair, curly and brown, away from her face. She plopped down on the rug, adorned with old newspapers to save the pretty white from getting stained.

"When does your first shift even start?" asked Zoya, not bothering to look up as she painted a little white flower on Chrissy's middle finger.

"Beginning of June." Heather had a soft smile on her lips and she leaned closer to whisper, "Billy's gonna be working with me."

"He is not." There was a strange agony in the way Zoya spoke. She had a vendetta against Billy Hargrove after a terrible night with him at the beginning of the school year.

Heather nodded solemnly. "I might have a shift or two with him, I'm not sure about the schedule yet. I'm thinking of shoving him into the pool, maybe I'll get lucky and he'll hit his head in the shallow end."

"I hope he drowns."

"I thought the sex was good," said Jean. They'd hooked up once and that was all it took for Zoya to grow so rageful that she even threatened to chop off all his pretty hair at a party a week later.

"Yeah but he–" She made a motion to her neck and Lucy was the next to speak.

"But I thought you liked that."

"Yeah," said Zoya, rolling her eyes, "but not by him."

"He's violent," said Chrissy in a soft voice. "He treats his sister terribly."

Zoya moved to Chrissy's other hand as Jean still offered soft blows on Zoya's painted hand. The air had changed around them at the mention of Billy, like it always did. He was a sore subject.

"It's too bad he's hot," said Heather with a deep sigh. "Things could've been fun if he wasn't a dick."

"And a monster," added Lucy.

"And an overall douche," Zoya said with a settled look on her face.

"I don't know how Steve lasted a whole basketball season with him," sighed Chrissy, her eyes going from serious to dreamy with no doubt from the mention of the team. Her beloved Jason played. "He's too physical during practices, making the game seem like a chore to avoid getting knocked to the ground."

Billy Hargrove. A nasty man and a nasty subject, even if he was good to look at and fun to flirt with when drunk (but that had all been before him and Zoya and his rage).

"Anyway," sighed Zoya, "I saw Robin at the mall the other weekend."

Lucy sat up from where she had begun to brain the ends of Heather's hair. "And you just now thought to tell me?"

"Yeah, Luce," laughed Jean, "when'd you become so obsessed with her?"

Lucy fought back an awkward smile but looked down at her hands when she began to speak. "I'm her lab partner and well...I don't know. I like the way she smells."

"The way she smells?" Jean was sitting forward, forgetting all about the air she still needed to blow on Zoya's half dry fingers.

"Yeah," muttered Lucy. "Like...uh...sweets and old books and honey and..." Her face was turning pink. "...and the way old clothes smell when they're in the closet for too long."

"Like mothballs?"

Her cheeks were flaming. "Yes. Like pretty mothballs."

"You sure you don't wanna grab dinner with us?" asked Zoya as they left the gymnasium and out into the cool spring air. "There's gonna be a party at Benny's after."

"Can't," said Jean, "me and Chris have prior engagements and looky there–" She motioned towards the high school doors where Eddie was now leaving with his notebooks crammed under his arm full of all his dungeon master notes and scrawlings. "Our ride."

"We'll...we'll see you tomorrow, okay?" said Chrissy. She'd already said her goodbyes to Jason, kissing him softly on the cheek and congratulating him on the win.

Zoya and Lucy, with their arms still draped over the other's shoulders, gave them a smile and waved them off like they were kids going away for camp. It sure felt that way, mostly because any camp Jean had gone to as a child had been filled with debauchery and things she should not have been doing.

(like drugs in the cabin with the counselors; skinny dipping in the lake; kissing that boy behind the trees; kissing that girl underwater; stealing the flask from her group leader)

Chrissy and Jean waited until the parking lot and all the basketball bunnies were gone before approaching Eddie's van. He rolled the window down as they approached on his side after slinking out from the dark. There was a clear hint of mischief in his eyes when Jean threw open the sliding door and let Chrissy crawl in first.

There was an anxiety crowding in Chrissy's eyes and Jean gave her a verified smile (it read: we're fine, you're safe, we're going to have fun). Eddie patted the door outside of his window and Jean pulled the door shut once she was inside.

"You ladies ready?"

Chrissy gave him a small nod and Jean sat forward, wrapping her arms around the passenger seat with a grin to meet Eddie's gaze.

"You know it, captain."

The van rumbled and groaned as they left the parking lot and Jean lounged back on her elbows, stretching her legs out and letting her feet play with Chrissy's. The girl sat on the other end of the van, clutching the side door handle so she wouldn't move or get too jostled around. She looked up, her eyes big and nervous, but gave Jean a smile as she nudged her back with her dainty shoe.

"I'm going to climb the tree," announced Chrissy. She stood in her little cloth shorts, her hair was shorter and pulled back with a bow clip. She was thirteen and had scrawny legs, all tan and lengthy.

"You're going to fall," sang Jean while she was lounging underneath the tree. It was full of bright green leaves and thick branches.

Chrissy pouted. "No, I'm not."

"You so are."

"Zoya didn't!"

"Doesn't matter, Zoya climbs all the time."

Zoya, hanging upside down in one of the branches, giggled. "My mom calls me spider monkey."

"Lucy fell and now she's inside getting a bandaid for her bloody knee," said Heather, her arms crossed and standing near Jean. She was offering the girl some nice shade. "You're going to fall, Chrissy Cunningham, and then we're gonna have to carry you inside too."

Lucy, hobbling back down her front porch steps grumbled out, "I didn't need to be carried–"

"Yeah but you liked it, anyway!"

She pouted but continued to hobble over before sitting down next to Jean. She looked up and stared at Chrissy's determined face and said softly, "You gotta stick to the thicker branches, Chris, or you'll fall like me."

Her branch had snapped.

Chrissy ignored them all and approached the tree. She didn't care what they thought or said and Jean admired that in her. Chrissy said she was going to climb the tree and she did.

(she got all the way up past Zoya and only required minor assistance getting down)

"You looked really beautiful tonight," whispered Jean to Chrissy in a voice that Eddie couldn't hear over his loud music. He was playing Judas Priest and Chrissy was still pretending to enjoy it.

Chrissy's head ducked down but Jean could see the blush across her cheeks every time they passed under a street light.

"You were stunning," murmured Jean, scooting closer to tuck a strand of hair behind Chrissy's ear and pull her against her. Their hands slipped together, fingers clasped. "I was surprised Jason could even pay attention, his eyes were always searching for yours."

"You're such a romantic," said Chrissy, rolling her eyes but smiling. "We've got a date tomorrow, he's going to drive me to the park for a picnic."

"God," said Jean on a breath, "he loves you and it's sick."

"You're only jealous."

"Well, duh."

Chrissy eyed the front seat wordlessly and Jean had to elbow her.

"Don't you dare."

"I didn't say anything!"

Jean pointed a finger at her. "I know what you were thinking, Chrissy Cunningham, now shut it."

The girl giggled and Jean felt her shoulders shake her own. She squeezed their hands softly and leaned over to rest her head against Jean's shoulder, still laughing softly. "You think I don't see the way you look at him?" she whispered so quietly Jean almost didn't catch it. "I always thought it was so weird you never accepting those dates from Billy or Andy or Chance or–"

Jean nudged her and she smiled.

"–or any of those guys. They've been asking for years and now...I finally get it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Jean, feeling the pound in her chest push awfully tightly against her lungs and ribs.

"It's okay," whispered Chrissy as Eddie turned into his driveway and she lowered her voice even more, "it's okay to love him, Jeanie, it's okay."

Is it? Is it?!

Eddie turned the music down and announced proudly, "We're here!"

He opened his door and jumped out, sliding open their door with a grin. He stretched his arm out as if to present his trailer to them. Jean scooted out first and Eddie held out his hand for her and she took it, ignoring how warm he was and how perfectly their hands fit (because she should not be thinking about that).

"M'lady," he crooned and she rolled her eyes.

The air was always different here at his trailer and she crossed the driveway towards the stairs as Eddie helped Chrissy out of the van with his mischievous charm. She knew the door would already be unlocked so she opened it and headed inside to grab a beer from the fridge.

Chrissy and Eddie entered shortly after she'd popped the cap off using the corner of the counter like she'd done a thousand times.

"Hey, listen," said Eddie with a sigh, heading for the counter to start picking up old food containers and bags, "sorry about the mess." He gave them a grin over his shoulder. "The maid took the week off."

"You, um..." Chrissy was taking it all in, her eyes running up and down the walls and floors. "You live here alone?"

"Well, besides Jean's constant company, my uncle lives here," he explained. "But, uh, he works nights at the plant." He was fiddling around in the drawers in the hallway which led to his bedroom and Wayne Munson's nice room. He continued to look through the small tins and containers as he spoke. "You know, bringing home the big bucks."

Jean took a sip of the beer. "He's actually a pretty cool guy. He lets me come over, he'll come over to ours," she jerked her thumb to the left, "he's a really smart guy, too."

"You're just bragging," muttered Eddie but he gave her an appreciative glance.

Jean smiled and held the beer out for Chrissy and she took it in unsteady hands. "The Mayfield's live across the road, we're totally surrounded by friends here." She nodded at Chrissy, urging her to calm down and when she finally took a sip from the beer, Jean relaxed.

The living room looked different from the Max's and Jean's trailers. There were old baseball hats tacked to the walls, a nice array of bottles and cans of all types on a long mantel over the door that stretched the long wall. The home was filled with little knick knacks Wayne and Eddie had collected over the years.

"Do you have a favorite?" asked Jean, standing barefoot on the couch to read what the hats said.

Wayne, standing behind her, scratching the side of his face. "Depends on the mood I'm in, kid."

"But if you had to have one?"

He thought for a moment. "The red one, with the checkmark."

"Where'd you get it from?"

"She always ask so many questions, son?"

Eddie laughed from the kitchen, still splitting up their meal. There was an episode Magnum P.I. on that night.

"So?" urged Jean, sipping her soda.

"Buddy got it for me," explained Wayne. "I needed a hat and he, well, got it for me."

Jean sighed, deeply. "The story's lame, Mr. Munson–"

"Wayne."

"The story's lame, Mr. Wayne Munson," said Jean with a sigh. She liked calling him Mr. Munson and whenever he tried to correct her, to say that she was practically family, if still didn't feel right. "See, I like this blue hat with the little rainbow circle. Now, I think you got this one for Eddie after he buzzed his head because you didn't want him to get any sunburns," Eddie made another laugh, clearly enjoying her retelling of what never happened. "He didn't wear it though because, between you and me, he only ever wears black because it's cool and all other colors suck."

Wayne chuckled and murmured, "Got it for Eddie when he was five, he wore it once."

Jean spun around on the couch, pointing a finger at Eddie with a grin. "See? Now that's a funny story!"

"How long does this take?" asked Chrissy, licking her lips.

"Sorry?" said Eddie, glancing up.

"The Special K," she murmured, the beer can shaking slightly in her hands. "How long until it kicks in?"

They'd spoken about it outside of Jean's awareness, it seems.

"Well, uh," Eddie gave Jean a nervous glance, "it depends on if you snort it or not. Uh, if you do..." He opened a small tin and hung it upside down, shaking. Nothing came out. "...then uh, yeah." He was grinning when he looked up, holding a larger tin. "It'll kick in pretty quick." He opened his container and his smile fell. "Oh, shit."

"You lose it again, Munson?" asked Jean, taking the beer from Chrissy to take a long sip.

"No, I didn't lose it," he barked back. "I've got it."

"You sure you have it?" asked Chrissy and Eddie gave them both a long look which made Jean grin.

"I've got it, swear," he told them. "It's...somewhere." He jerked his thumb back towards his bedroom and said, "Help me look, Jeanie, you were helping me cut last time."

She nodded, passing the beer back to Chrissy and muttering, "I'll be right back and then we can have some fun, okay?"

Chrissy nodded, clutching the beer to her chest with both hands and for a moment, she looked just like a little kid. Just a girl, wide eyed and curious.

Jean followed Eddie down the hallway, the trailer smelling softly of smoke and whatever leftovers Wayne had taken to work with him that day. She entered Eddie's bedroom, taking in the posters on the walls like she always did. It was as if he didn't like the sight of the wall underneath so he had to cover it all.

His guitar hung on the wall across from them, against his mirror where Jeanie had taped up a few photos of them from the summer prior (before things got bad and scary).

"Check under the bed," said Eddie and Jean made a face and he rolled his eyes. "You know I keep all the porn in my closet."

She ignored him but dropped to her knees to pull the mattress off the floor. He didn't have a box spring or headboard, not like Jean did. His bed was on the floor, which he liked. There was nothing to stop him from reaching over to grab something off the floor when it fell off the bed at night.

She'd rolled onto the floor a couple times when she was drunk and it was a hell of a lot nicer than falling from a bed a few feet off the ground.

"I'm seeing old magazines and that's it," she sighed, dropping the mattress before glaring at him. "There was a playboy here, you ass."

"Well, put it with the rest."

"I'm not gonna touch your sleazy magazine! I don't know what could be on it–"

"There's a lot worse on the bed and you touched it just fine."

She growled under her breath but grabbed the magazine anyway and crossed the room to peer into his closet. All leather and black and the one nice suit he owned hung from hangers. She found his crate of albums, cassettes, and porn easily. The closet wasn't that big and he wasn't that great at hiding things.

"You find it yet?" she asked, taking a moment to look through one of the magazines he had. A lot of the women had brown hair and she had to stop herself from reaching up and playing with the end of her ponytail.

"No," he sighed, closing his drawers one by one. She turned and he mumbled, "We used the desk...then I put it here...and I..." He made a happy noise and popped open a black container and she peered over his shoulder.

"We put it there to hide it from Wayne," she muttered as if struck by a eureka.

"Because he'd come home early," he added with a grin. He looked back at her from his crouch and she wondered what would happen if she just reached down and played with hair framing his face, the strands by his cheeks.

His smile faltered for a quick moment and it took her a second to realize she was doing just what she'd thought. Her fingers were feeling how soft and light his hair was and he rose to stand, slowly. He kept his eyes on her and when her hand dropped from his hair, he took it into his own.

"You thinkin' of ways to style me later?" he murmured in a low voice, his pupils large in the dim light of his bedroom.

A small smile came to her face and she reached forward, leaving his grip, to play with the ends of his hair again. "Maybe, you want me to try a crown next time?"

"And make me a king?"

"King of rock, duh." With her fingers still messing with the strands, she looked up and met his gaze. "You sure you want to give Chris this? I thought we'd agreed on smoking not–not snorting. She's not ready."

He blinked and it was like the darkness that had pooled in his eyes disappeared. "She's struggling, we both can see it. If this can help her sleep..." He shrugged.

"She can't become dependent on this shit, though."

"Like you and me?"

"Yes!"

He smiled and she realized just how close they were standing. She didn't move, even when he spoke. "If she freaks out on it, then we can go to weed but I don't have anything much stronger than what we smoked the other night."

She crossed her arms. "But that knocked us on our asses, Eds."

"She doesn't need a black out," said Eddie. "She needs a good time and a long night's sleep."

She sighed deeply and leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder where her forehead met his collarbone. His free hand touched her shoulder gently, like a heavy comforting weight and he pushed her back just enough for her to pull away and finally look back up.

"It'll be okay," he murmured, "but check the drawer and see if you can find any of what we smoked last night. We can let her choose, okay?"

Jean nodded, letting out a slow breath that removed the heavy pull in her chest.

"Okay?" he said again and the look in his eyes told her that she had to respond.

"Yes," she whispered, giving him another small nod.

He gave her a small smile and said over his shoulder as he left the room, "Should be in one of the jars, you'll know the one."

"Yeah," she muttered as he left, "the half empty one."

She heard him talking out in the hall but ignored it to search the dresser. Wading her fingers dangerously through his sock draw, she found the jars pushed to the back and found the one they'd used. It had intended to just be a test run of the new batch he'd gotten but it'd been so good they'd smoked nearly half the jar. She'd slept better than she had in ages but she didn't think Chrissy would be ready to smoke nearly half as much.

Pushing the jars back inside, saving the one in her palm, the lights in his room flickered. She stood slowly, looking around and noticing that the lights were pulsating. On, off, on, off, through the entire trailer.

"Hey, Eddie?" she called nervously, the lights continuing the flicker ominously. The electricity was buzzing, like bees in her ears. She backed out of his bedroom, into the hall, and called out again, "Did you forget to pay the electric bill again?"

"Hey–hey–!" Eddie's voice was urgent and loud. "Don't come out, okay, just–just stay in there–"

"Eddie?" she snapped. "What's going on? Hey, Chris, he just forgot to pay–" She turned and froze. Chrissy was standing in the center of the living room, her hands limp by her sides. Her eyes were blinking awkwardly, like she was short circuiting and Jean whispered, "Chrissy?"

"I–I don't know what's wrong with her, okay?" murmured Eddie, running his hands over his face. He walked back to the girl and waved his hand in front of her. "See, look? Nothing! Nothing's there!"

Jean approached her friend slowly. Under the strange flickering lights, Chrissy's skin looked pasty and gleaming with fresh sweat. Her eyes rolled around like a pinball machine. There seemed to be no life, no recognition on her face as Jean waved her own hand in front of her.

"Chrissy?" she whispered, feeling panic surge up into her throat. "Chrissy, you gotta snap out of this, Chrissy?!"

Eddie was hyperventilating beside her. "Chrissy, I don't like this! I don't like this, Chrissy, wake up!" He shook her shoulders and still the girl didn't move or wake.

Fear was sending its paralyzing tendrils up and down Jean's body, freezing in her legs and hands. This wasn't something she'd ever seen before, it was otherworldly and she had this awful sickening feeling that it was something from beneath them. The Upside Down was seeping back through the earth, capturing people, turning them and Jean's stomach did a terrifying flip.

Eddie was patting her shoulders, trying to shake her out of it when he froze. His hands were on Jean in an instant, gripping the sides of her hips so tightly she thought he would tear through skin as he pushed her behind him.

Jean's mouth fell open as Chrissy lifted off the ground, her pretty white sneakers dangling just out of reach from the floor as she continued to be lifted into the air.

"What's happening?" wheezed Jean, feeling her lungs and heart squeeze. "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck–!"

Chrissy's body slammed upwards and flat against the ceiling and Eddie fell backwards, trying to scramble away. He rocked back into Jean and they were both sent to the floor as Jean let out a wild scream. There was nothing in her friend's face, no sound from her body except the thunk of it hitting the trailer.

"Get behind me," snapped Eddie in a breathless voice. "Jean, get the fuck behind me!"

She was scrambling back on her hands, scooting across the floor as Eddie got to his knees to reach for her when the first crack echoed through the home.

Not even a scream could come up from Jean's mouth as she watched Chrissy's arm bend back and snap, her bones breaking in two. Her legs went next. Both of them snapping to the left, her knees purpling and her skin turning blotchy with every gruesome crack of bone.

Blood ran down from Chrissy's eyes when her mouth opened and her jaw fractured, hanging open like a marionette puppets would when not in use. Her other arm went next, scrunching inward as the bones shattered and Jean expected blood to come shooting out from her broken skin but the blood didn't come from her broken bones.

It came from her eyes as they burst open, sinking into her hollow face.

Jean let out a scream and she didn't know if it could be heard over Eddie's terrified wailing, but Jeanie felt it come straight from her gut and out of her chest. There was something inside of Chrissy doing the same thing, pulling and tugging and trying to be released. Something had been inside of her head, snatching her eyeballs and wrenching them backwards, trying to pull her arms and legs back into her body.

"Chrissy!" Jean screamed, trying to get to her feet as Chrissy's limp body fell from the ceiling and didn't even bounce when it hit the floor. "Chrissy!"

Eddie got her around the waist before she could throw herself down at her friend's side. He pulled her roughly back, his entire body vibrating from his trembling. "Don't, don't–!"

She yanked herself away so hard she fell to her knees, sobs stuck in her chest as she heaved. There was terror lacing through her bones, making her feel numb, and she hadn't felt this way for so long. She thought she'd escaped it, she thought she was free–

"We need to go, Jean, we need to go right fucking now!"

Jean reached out slowly and brushed a strand of hair out of Chrissy's face and her skin was cold to the touch. Even her blood, which ran freely from her hollowed eyes and nose, felt cold. Life had been drained completely, like some dark wizard had come inside of her and stripped it all away.

"Jean, come on! Come on!" His hand was on her shoulder and she was screaming at him before she could stop herself.

"We can't leave her! We can't just leave her here alone!"

Eddie was shaking his head, hands on either side of his face. "The police will fucking arrest us if they see us here, they'll fucking arrest me, Jean! I've–I've got drugs everywhere here, man, and now–now–"

A dead body.

"Grab a bag," she instructed in a low voice as the tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "Fill it with your drugs, anything incriminating." When he didn't move, she barked, "Now!"

She needed to work fast before the suffocating numbness captured her completely. She could feel the way her brain was beginning to fog up and slow down. Her body was trying to protect her from this trauma and she knew she would go into a numb state with no words or thoughts or feelings but she could fight this, couldn't she?

She could fight this because this was Chrissy.

Chrissy on the cheerleading squad. Chrissy the princess. Chrissy the girl with the soft pink lips and the blue eye shadow she loved so much. Chrissy with her pretty smile and kind words and friendly gaze. Chrissy, who didn't judge people. Chrissy who loved everyone.

Chrissy, her best friend.

Another one, gone. How many more will be taken next?

"We need to go somewhere," she said once Eddie had come back, panting heavily. They were so close to a panic attack it wasn't funny. "Somewhere to lay low."

You've done this before, Jeanie Scott. You've survived worse.

But this is Chrissy! This is fucking Chrissy!

"I know–" Eddie swallowed. "I know where to go." He was nodding to himself, repeating the words like a mantra that could keep him going.

She nodded, her fingers lost in the ends of Chrissy's ponytail and she hadn't even realized it. She nodded again and murmured, "You're gonna have to carry me to the van."

"Huh?!"

"I–I can't move, okay?" Her legs were so numb underneath her she didn't think she'd be able to move for days. "You'll have to carry me out." Even her hands didn't feel like they could work. But she could feel the softness of Chrissy's hair between the pads of her fingers and she could feel the blood against her bare knees. There was blood leaking from Chrissy, somewhere.

Was it from the broken bones? Did they really shattered through skin or had she imagined it? Had she seen Heather's face as Chrissy? Or Billy's? Was this even Chrissy at her lap, broken and empty and limp and like a fucking doll–

Jean made a slow mental checklist in her head as Eddie approached her, trying to drown out her other thoughts.

They had their bag of drugs. Her cheerleading bag was in the van, along with Chrissy's. The beer they'd been drinking was spilled across the floor, which could be incriminating. Jean's parents were next door, unknowing. Max was across the street, unknowing. The lights had flickered and the energy had changed. No one had seen them together but with Chrissy in Eddie's trailer, he was fucked. Wayne was fucked.

They were all fucked.

"Grab the beer bottle," instructed Jean and Eddie snatched it up, stuffing it away inside his bag. There was no magical fire to get rid of evidence, not when Chrissy's body was here and Wayne needed a place to live.

Chrissy's body.

Jean felt sick but she swallowed it down the best she could. Eddie's arm slid under her knees and the other braced her back. He was stronger than he appeared to be and every time he'd lift her up, it shocked her. She watched Chrissy as he walked her out with a quick pace, nearly running, he didn't want to stick around longer than they needed but it was Chrissy.

Jean needed to be with her. Jean needed to hold her hand, broken fingers and all.

Tears fell down her face, leaving a hot and wet mess against her cheeks and under her chin. She felt sweaty and sticky and once the hot air outside hit her, she wanted to be sick. She couldn't leave Chrissy here all alone but she couldn't let Eddie get caught, she couldn't allow him to have his life ruined for something he didn't do but running...running meant you're guilty.

(and they weren't guilty. not by a long shot)

"We can't leave her," Jean moaned as Eddie opened the sliding door and sat her down. "We can't–"

"What else are we supposed to do?!" cursed Eddie back, his eyes wild and his hair tangled. He was terrified, she needed to understand that. He had never seen destruction like this before, he was scared. "Someone will find her here and they'll arrest me! Arrest us!"

"But it's Chrissy!"

You need to call Steve. You need to call Dustin. This isn't normal, this is something they'll know how to handle. We've done this before, we can handle this.

What was she going to say to Zoya and Lucy? What were they going to do when they found out and Jean was a suspected murderer?

"We have to wait it out," said Eddie, closing the door on her and pulling open his. "Whatever the fuck that was, it could come for us and–and–"

Jean was nodding as he got into the driver's seat and started the van.

"What even was that?!"

A curse. A monster. A Flayer?

"It took her into a fucking trance, man, and it could come for us and I'm not letting it get to you, so–so we have to go," he said and Jean guessed it was only to keep himself sane. "We have to go, alright?!"

She forced herself to nod and he saw her in his mirror. He pressed on the gas and his van skidded across the driveway and into the street. He shifted gears, jerkily, and the van lurched forward and out of Forest Hills Trailer Park like lightning on wheels.

She watched in his rearview mirror as his trailer got smaller and smaller the further they got and a pit opened up inside of her. Chrissy was dead and she was running.

But it was the only thing she could do, the only thing she could do to keep him safe.

She had to keep him safe.

AUTHOR'S NOTE━━i hate following the plot bc i love chrissy but....it had to happen and i hope i did it write/gave her justice idk UGH (this is all slightly unedited so ignore any errors/make them known so ill fix it !!)

what do u think about jean and eddie here tho? like yall ok w them running? w her reasons to run? i wanna know what yall think lolll

 vote/COMMENT (pls pls i beg) and ill give u a special kiss the next chap <33