Eddie Munson Drabble - Blog Posts

This right here is some good stuff

Three. (Eddie Munson x Reader with powers) ongoing series

After the events at starcourt mall last year, Y/N thinks she can finally put all of that behind her and get on with her normal life. Well, as normal as you can get when you grew up in Hawkins lab and have superpowers. But when Dustin and the others begin looking for Eddie to clear his name, of course she was going to help, and maybe unknowingly fall for the wanted Metalhead.

Season 4 rewrite:)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Trying to post a new chapter every day:)

Why must I be so rabid for him

The Little Things (Eddie Munson x Reader) completed series

Y/N gets to know Eddie more and more as she paints his nails, does his eyeliner and gives him tips on skincare. How interested is he in these things? Or are they all excuses to spend more time with Y/N?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

This fic right here is my everything I am in love!!!!

Pushing it (Eddie Munson x Cheerleader! Reader) completed series

Eddie is surprised when popular cheerleader Y/N comes up to him with a favour to ask; pretend to be her boyfriend. But will all go to plan when Eddie meets Y/N’s parents?

Part 1

Part 2

gotta reblog this because

1- its fuckin amazing

2- i need to draw this its not a want its a need

Bandanna anon back again, different thought this time. Ok so Eddie lives (obviously, why wouldn’t he?) but he has to go to the hospital where they shave his head in order to give him stitches and just Eddie with a buzz cut 😌 convincing Eddie you still love him without his hair 😊 Eddie growing it out and having these little ringlets that you fight him to not tease out 😍 Eddie’s hair growing back as a reminder of him healing 🥰

bandana anon i love youuuu *mluah* 😛

as a traumatized and healing bitch i love this. i 👏🏻 love 👏🏻 this 👏🏻

eddie x hopper!reader bc parallels 🥺

Your father is up before anyone else in the house, as always. You roll out of bed to find him at the kitchen table, reading the day's newspaper and nursing his second cup of coffee. Instead of saying good morning, he just grunts at you.

"How's he doing?" he asks as you help yourself to what's left in the pot.

It's an odd question, coming from him.

Jim Hopper had always hated the "him" he was referring to - the scruffy miscreant who he'd busted multiple times for vandalism, petty theft, public intoxication, possession...

He hated him even more when he found out his eldest child had fallen hard for him.

Even more when the way he found out was walking into your room one evening after he'd snuck in, finding the boy in a precarious position between your legs.

But since the earthquake, he'd softened. He saw the way Eddie looked at you, the way he risked his life to protect you, and suddenly a criminal history didn't matter as much.

He was troubled, sure. But he was good to you. He made you happy. And that was enough for Jim.

"He's okay," you reply. "Nightmares again last night. Couldn't sleep."

Your dad hums, sympathetic.

"Those'll stick around for a while."

As if on cue, the man in question emerges from your bedroom, looking as ragged and sleep deprived as he feels. He wears a gray beanie over his newly shaven head, hiding the ugly gash that lies beneath. He doesn't meet your eye, popping a cigarette into his mouth and slipping onto the back porch. You sigh.

"Still upset over his hair, huh?" Jim comments.

"Yeah," you confirm. "It, um... It reminds him of his dad, I think. How he used to make him shave it."

Your father is also familiar with the elder Munson, the crime that got him thrown into prison with a life sentence. More so with the abuse he used to inflict upon his son, since he was the one who answered many of those calls.

"Munson was a scumbag," Jim grumbles. "Hard to believe a kid as good as Eddie came from him."

You smile at the compliment, which your dad shares over the edge of his paper, pursing his lips together to try and hide it. Coffee in hand, you open the back door and join Eddie, sinking down beside him on the porch steps.

"Mornin', angel," he greets you.

You lay your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, keeping you warm against the spring chill. In the distance, what remains of downtown Hawkins smolders, sending ribbons of black smoke into the clear blue sky.

"How's your head doing today?" you ask.

He doesn't answer, opting instead to take a long drag of his cigarette.

"... You've gotta show me at some point."

Eddie huffs, flicking ash into the tray your father keeps on the back porch.

"You don't wanna see it," he mumbles. " 's pretty bad."

"So are the ones on your neck," you remind him. "But you let me kiss those."

He side eyes you, and you can tell he's trying to argue the sense you somehow manage to talk into him. You were the one who dragged him back through the portal when he tried to be a hero, after all.

"... You're not gonna like it," he finally admits. "I'm not... I'm not me anymore."

"You still eat Froot Loops for dinner," you contest. "That's pretty you."

He tries to fight the laugh that bubbles in his chest, the resulting smile warming your heart with just how genuine it is. You haven't seen him smile like that in far too long.

"I'm just worried you're not... You're like, serially into guys with long hair," he continues. "My hair was what got you to notice me in the first place. What if... What if you're not... What if I'm not attractive to you anymore?"

You sit up, taking his face in your hands; almost a little too aggressively, because he flinches the slightest bit in surprise.

"Eddie," you say. "Do you know what the sexiest thing about you is?"

He stares at you blankly.

"That stupid demon voice you do when you're playing a villain in a campaign," you tell him. "The over the top, snarly, borderline feral voice that comes out of you when you get really into it. It's ridiculous. And I'd be lying to you if I told you I didn't cum so hard the couple times it's come out during sex."

Eddie's eyes pop, mortified.

"I've used it during sex?"

You laugh, nodding as you lean forward to peck his lips.

"Yes. But my point is that you're goofy, and dramatic, and clever, and sweet, and so shamelessly you that this-" you pat the beanie covering his head "- doesn't matter to me. What matters is that you're safe. That you're still with me."

Eddie raises a hand to your cheek, gently running his thumb over the high point of the bone. He gazes lovingly, dreamily down at you, a bemused smile curling his lips.

"I don't deserve you," he murmurs.

"You deserve me more than anyone."

---

"Stop."

You lift the comb out of Eddie's hand, kissing him on the cheek as you do.

"They're cute. Leave them."

He tsks, snatching the comb back up when you set it on the bathroom counter, resuming the process of teasing out the ringlets his hair has started to grow into.

"It looks better longer," he growls, frustrated. "I hate my fuckin' hair."

"Can I have help?"

El appears in the doorway, holding her own set of styling tools. Her hair has also grown out quite a bit, now at the awkward length where it has to be styled every day or else look totally unpresentable. You gesture her inside, perching on the closed lid of the toilet as she sits on the floor in front of you, letting you work your older sibling magic. In a matter of minutes, her locks have been tamed; she bounds up to the mirror beside Eddie to inspect your work.

"It's coming back," she notices, looking up at him. "Your scar is almost gone."

He hums, running a contemplative finger over the raised, darkened bit of flesh peeking from his hairline. The scar runs all the way around his skull, down the back of his neck, but it's disappeared under the nest of dark brown curls that have grown in since his stint in the hospital.

He grins at her in the mirror, pointing to her wrist.

"So's yours," he notes, indicating her tattoo. "Ink's fading."

El smiles back, positively beaming. Her hand lifts to trace the bats etched above his elbow, a habit she's picked up in the months since Eddie moved in. She loves him like a brother. It makes your heart want to explode.

"I like your hair like this," she admits. "You look better than before. You're healing."

Eddie pauses, his face crumpling like he's about to start sobbing. You hide your smile behind your hand as he takes a deep breath, regaining his composure, then takes one of El's own curls between two fingers, pulling and releasing so it bounces like a spring. She giggles at him, playfully smacking his hand away.

"You're lookin' better too, short stack," he says. "Guess we're both gonna be okay."

Opinions?

Eddie Munson One–Shots? Would you like me to start Writing Them?

:D

Eddie with black dancer s/o Hip Hop , Modern ect. And her struggles of being a black dancer

"Knock them dead."

Eddie Munson x Black!Reader

Author note: Hopefully, you enjoyed this, and sorry if this wasn't what you wanted also; I didn't know what you mean by modern, so my bad, I gave it a little bit of a twist yk; hopefully, this to your liking. (sorry for the long wait)

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞: Fluff and bits of angst(?)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 936

*ೃ༄ You danced for hours, and your feet became sore, blisters forming on your feet; practicing for your debut show, you couldn't mess it up, not with the chance you got from the table.

Sweat poured from your body; you refused to give up; it wasn't in your will; you were going to master it and not even caring that your legs were going to collapse on you.

Your coils bouncing from your sudden moveth,

Your reflection bounced off the mirrors, mimicking your moveth, music booming from the boombox, and your shoes were almost worn out.

This was your chance to enter stardom, and you let anyone take that light from you, not on your watch, dreaming of being an idol of girls like you, of looking up to you as an inspiration, breaking the wall and barriers of socially and racial segregation.

Tired..that was the only thing in your mind, but you weren't going to rest; you heard the door open, and that was the only time you stopped and looked to see who it was in the studio.

You turned off the music and went to the door.

Eddie; he was standing there holding the water bottle you accidentally left while rushing to the studio.

"What are you doing here, ed?" you walked to him; even though your legs might just stop, you endured it.

"I'm here to give this back to you, Y/N." Eddie handed back your water bottle; you took it from his hand.

"Thanks!" there was a pause; it was a bit awkward, "Well, uh, it seems that you worked up a sweat," Eddie said; you chuckled at his comment, "I guess so,"

Another pause came in, "Well, uh, I going to head back-" you reached for his hand.

"N-no, please stay, Eddie, with me here in the studio." you pulled him back.

"Is everything okay, Y/N" Eddie gently cupped your face; when he said that to you, you tried to keep yourself composed, but even you those words hit something inside of you, some sort of vulnerable, turned you into a crying mess.

Tears stained your face, rolling down your cheeks; you couldn't keep them in anymore; you couldn't hide your problems, especially when you were in them.

"I-I'm sorry," you muttered; Eddie didn't even respond to you; he hugged you, your face gently hitting his face, your salty tears staining his shirt.

Your heavy breathing echoed the room; Eddie hugged you tightly and kissed your head, "You know, can talk me, Y/N,"

"It's just I don't feel good enough and don't I'm strong enough to endure everything that is going on, E-Eddie, I'm sorry-" your sentence was cut off by Eddie kissing you with reassurance, "I know you're trying your best, Y/N, but don't over exert yourself trying, okay... your too important to me" Eddie hugged you tightly.

After that was a comfortable silence, "You should rest; you look like you are tired, babe."

"No, I have to," Eddie's finger pressed to your lips to motion you to stop talking, "Nonsense, some rest won't hurt you, Y/N."

"I guess so," you muttered.

You left the studio with Eddie and went to his trailer; you were currently on his bed laying on his lay, him playing with your hair, as you voiced your problems to him; he was a really understanding guy, and you were thanking god that you met him, and he was your own boyfriend, people were wrong about him being a freak, he's just a guy getting through life.

"I-i feel like I won't do good at all." you looked up to see his face.

"Babe, you're the Y/N Sinclair, you can do anything you want, and I believe in what you do" Eddie held your face and nuzzled it.

"Thank you, Ed, for being with me" you got up from his lap and hugged him enjoying his warmth and presence, wishing you could stay like that together with him.

╰┈➤ A Few days later

It is the day of your recital. The day you were practicing your ass for, the day to show them all what you can do.

You were in your costume, breathing in and out, a bit hesitant about the outcome.

Fiddling your thumbs, thinking about everything, your heart was beating out of your chest, butterflies in your stomach.

You opened the curtain slightly, looking at the people in the crowd and the judges; seeing your family made you feel better, but you were still anxious.

You felt a sudden tap on your shoulders; you flinched to see it was Eddie, but how did he get backstage.

"Eddie, you scared me" you rush to hug him; you were glad he was here, there to support you.

"You thought I would miss your dance performance, princess" he hugged you back and kissed your face.

"I'm so glad you're here, Ed!" you smiled with glee.

"2 mins to showtime, Y/N," one of the directors yelled.

With Eddie here, you were less anxious than before, but you had to perform; you were tense.

Eddie held your face; you were looking at him, "Y/n, you're going to do great, and I know you're going to do great, and rock that fucking dance floor." Eddie kissed you on the forehead and looked at you.

You looked at him with awe, taken back at his words, "I will," before you walk to your position.

"..And Y/N," he yelled at you; you glanced back at him

"Knock them dead," he smiled; it seems you just needed that boost to surge your confidence.

This was definitely going to be a core memory.

The Time Before - Eddie's Movies

260 words

an: hey!!! life's been pretty crazy with exams and everything, and since I haven't posted in a while, here's a little fluff for you all! I've been obsessed with all the Godzilla and Kong movies recently, and wanted to put something in here because I think it fits Eddie so well! Hope you enjoy!

cw: fluff, slight mentions of child abuse

================================================Eddie had never gotten the chance to watch many movies at his former house; when his father was home, he would hog the tv, caring only to watch football games. The second time Eddie was placed in Wayne's care, Wayne decided to rent as many movies as he could that seemed like they would interest his nephew. Wayne laid them all on the shelf below the coffee table in careful piles.

Eddie had been quiet so far into his stay, much like the first time he was brought to Wayne, only much more enclosed, enveloped in himself. Wayne barely saw him leave his room, seeing it as a protective barrier from his brother's actions.

After they had finished dinner one night three weeks into Eddie's stay, Wayne suggested they put on a movie. "You go pick. They're all underneath the coffee table," he suggested. Eddie walked into the living room and picked the first one on the stack. He wasn't very interested at first, but once the opening scene of Godzilla vs. Megalon started, he was sucked in.

Practically attached to the movies, he spent the next two days watching every movie he could find. Godzilla, King Kong, and the Universal Monsters became his companions over the warm summer when his hair finally started to grow back out. Boris Karloff was his idol, and he even received a poster that has been tacked on his wall since his 12th birthday.

He wouldn't admit it until years later, but he cried at Kong's death at the end of King Kong (1976).

The Time Before Masterlist

The Time Before (Part 1) here

The Time Before - Wayne's Time in 'Nam (prologue/part 2) here

The Time Before - The Early Days (part 3) here

The Time Before - Vivianne Peretti (part 4) here

The Time Before - Eddie's Movies (part 5) here

All the works can now also be found under the #xxforestfairyxx's The Time Before

And on Wattpad!

The Time Before

2,592 words

an: This is my first time writing, so please be kind!

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of smoking, mentions of disease, hospitals, cats (?), angst, sadness (Let me know if I missed anything!)

================================================

Wayne Munson classifies his life into two parts. The separator is that one fateful night that his young nephew was dropped at his front door in the middle of the night by a teary-eyed mother who offered a promise of her return. This marker leaves two pieces; the time during Eddie, and the Time Before.

The Time Before is not something that Wayne likes to talk about. The Time Before was so far away now it didn't seem real. If he thought about it too much, he would question if he hadn't just dreamed up the whole thing. But no; it was real. All of it.

He had a child, Lisa. Lisa was now just another memory from the Time Before; what seemed to be someone else's life. Someone else's child. She was happy: little blonde pigtails springing from the sides of her head, soft cotton clothes so small he couldn't believe that any human could start out that tiny. He could still remember the smell; god, the smell. It was baby powder and springtime. That's the way he remembers it. He was so careful about smoking around her, too; he didn't want her to smell like an ashtray. He would only smoke outside when she wasn't there so that the smell of tobacco wouldn't stick to her clothes or hair.

Lisa's mama was a one-night escapade; the kind of thing that's great in the moment and never happens again. After getting home from 'Nam in the early 60s, he and his buddies indulged in the nightlife that they missed out on during their stints. He never even knew her name. But when the baby was left on his doorstep with a small bag of supplies and a note for explanation, Wayne worried. He had never planned on having kids. He didn't know if he could give this little girl the life she needed. But he tried.

He had no idea what he was doing, but as she grew he realized that he must've done something right. She was talkative by the time she turned three; ever the conversationalist. He beamed as he realized she got that from him. In fact, she got most of her traits from him; her musky blue eyes, her eagerness to move, her inability to sit still. He knew that was going to be a problem once she started school, but goddamnit, he didn't care. In his eyes, she could do no wrong.

It lasted five years. Five years of trips to the park. Five years of ice cream runs. Five years of little grabby hands that were telling him, 'Pick me up, Dad, please?' Five years of her short little giggles that were so contagious that even after she dumped all the baking flour onto the floor and made a snow angel, he couldn't be mad. He was never mad at her for long.

But, unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. Wayne knew that. But he always thought that he would be the first to go. That it would last longer than it did.

When Lisa woke him up for the third time crying in the night, he thought it would be fine. He convinced himself it would all be fine. She had been sick for the past three days. It looked like a typical cold; she was running a fever, coughing, sneezing. But it had gotten worse in the last few hours; she was waking up to puke. She had so far thrown up three times in the last hour. She was complaining that her stomach hurt. He was trying to get her to calm down and go to sleep. But she kept crying, saying her stomach hurt.

When he ran into her room for the third time that night and flipped on the light, he knew something was really wrong. Her hands we clammy as they grabbed at him, holding onto his arm tightly, and her skin... a sinking feeling grew in his chest as he realized that her skin had grown jaundiced and pale. The small girl would shake in his arms every time she coughed, sobs racking through her body as she moaned and clutched her stomach.

He knew he had to do something. She was getting worse by the second, drifting away in his arms. He wouldn't let that happen. He scooped her up in a blanket and brought her out to the car, laying her on the front bench seat next to him and holding her as close to him as possible. She had stopped crying by the time he had pulled out of the driveway, her breathing shaky and forced. He knew he was repeating the words, 'Don't worry, Lisa, you're gonna be okay. Daddy's got you, don't worry, you're gonna be okay,' but he couldn't actually hear himself. It all felt so far away, and the sound of her labored breath seemed to ring in his ears.

He was thanking the lord that there was no one on the roads because he was pushing his truck as fast as it could go. he was desperately clinging to the small girl as he tried to remember the way to the hospital.

As they pulled up to the emergency room and he threw the truck into park, he knew. He could feel the loss. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was too late. But he was determined that it wouldn't be true. It wouldn't end that fast. He already had her backpack at home, and he was planning on surprising her with it next week. She was set to start school in two weeks, and he had bought all the school supplies he thought she would need. The backpack was blue, her favorite color, with little stars and moons all over the whole thing. It already held a pencil case filled with colored pencils and erasers, a lunchpail that matched the backpack, and three Dr. Seuss books that he was gonna start reading to her. Maybe she would even start reading them.

But all his hopes were thrown out the window the minute that he walked into the emergency room. He watched as his little girl was put on a stretcher, her tiny body not even taking up half of it. She looked so frail as the doctors and nurses wheeled her down the hallway, the fluorescent lights stinging his eyes. Everyone poked and prodded at her as he ran alongside, holding onto her hand. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her limp hand. He couldn't even hear what the nurses were saying, he just kept telling her, 'It's gonna be okay, baby, I'm here.'

He was sitting in the waiting room, watching the clock on the wall. The doctors came out two hours later.

His vision seemed to blend together until everything was just one big mush. He couldn't hear. He doubled over in his chair, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. Lisa was gone.

They told him it was Viral Hepatitis. Two Words, Six syllables that took his baby girl away.

He had waited too long. He knew it. Maybe if he had just taken her ten minutes sooner, maybe if he had just driven a little faster, maybe if... maybe if... maybe if...

He mourned not only his little girl but the things that she never got to do. She would never go to school. Never drive. Never have another birthday party. Never make friends.

He lost so many experiences with her. He would never get to see her grow up. He would never get to go to a father-daughter dance. He would never get to give her suitors the if-you-hurt-one-little-hair-on-her-head-you-will-never-be-heard-from-again speech, never get to move her into her college dorm, never get to walk her down the aisle.

~~~

After Lisa died, Wayne decided to have her cremated. He knew he had to get out of that house, the reminders of her everywhere. He couldn't stand the idea of not being able to visit his daughter, so he thought he could take her with him and visit her anytime. He might even bury her little urn somewhere close, just out of respect for the dead.

He cleaned out the house, packing all of Lisa's things that he wanted to keep into a small box. He took all the pictures off the walls and his clothes, loaded them all up in his old pickup truck, and made the dive all the way to Indiana.

~~~

Even though he had started off strong in the new trailer, he couldn't seem to adjust. He didn't eat, didn't go outside, and didn't sleep. Every time that he wore himself down enough to pass out on the couch, he would only get about 2 hours before having another set of dreams about Lisa. He would wake up in cold sweats with tears running down his face. And the worst part? He couldn't even remember the dreams. Just the fact that they were about her.

He was miserable in this new town. He didn't even think about looking for a job for the first two weeks, but as money started to disappear, he had to look through the Help Wanted section of the newspaper.

He'd also decided that after Lisa, he needed something else to take care of. So he got a cat. He didn't know why he needed a cat; a dog would have been a lot more sensible. A dog can watch over you and protect you; maybe he could've even trained it to go hunting with him. But he decided to buy a cat. It was a tiny black ball of fur that he named Flopsy because one ear flopped down like a Bunny rabbit while the other one stayed up.

That cat was one of the best things that ever happened to Wayne. When he felt lonely, it was almost like she could sense it. She would curl up in his lap or on his chest and lay there, just keeping him company, as he watched the television.

~~~

It wasn't even six months later when there was a knock at the door. He had just finished a cigarette (he had since thrown out the rule of only smoking outside) and was finally starting to nod off when a sharp knock at the door brought him back to consciousness and he went to answer it.

In those six months, Wayne had tacked down and managed to hold on to a job at the mechanics shop two miles down the road. He was good with cars, his entire childhood was spent with his father, who was the most professional (and honestly-priced) mechanic in the entire state of Georgia. His father had taught him and his brother, Alfred, whom they all called Al, everything there was to know about cars, and it was one of the only things the man could remember the ins and outs of to this day.

When he pulled open the door, his eyes immediately danced over the figures outside. It was so dark out that he couldn't see their faces, but he could tell that one was a woman, just shy of his own height, and a small boy, at least ten, huddled behind the woman's leg. When his vision finally adjusted to the dark of the night, he recognized the face of Vivianne, his brother's wife.

Al Munson was a screwy guy, as Wayne used to say. He and his brother were polar opposites. Their father always used to say that Al had less sense than God gave a goose, and he was just about right. Al had landed himself in jail five times before he was even eighteen, and it only got uglier from there.

Al had started to mess around with Vivianne when they had just graduated high school. And she was so blind to his actions that she stayed with him, even at the advice not to from her soon-to-be brother-in-law. They had a baby a few years before Wayne, but he was still fighting in Vietnam at that time and hadn't heard anything about a child until now.

When Vivianne sat down at his kitchen table, her face covered in tears and snot, she explained that Al was going to put her in the ground. She knew it. It had been a long time coming (Al wasn't always the most even-tempered guy) but it wasn't until she had the baby that she started taking his abuse seriously.

"I don't care about what happens to me anymore, I've made my bed and now I have to lie in it. But I couldn't stand to see that little boy get left alone with his father. He would kill him, I'm sure he would."

Wayne recognized what she needed before she even asked. "I'll take him."

He didn't think about his answer; he didn't think about all the things he'd need to do, he'd need to buy a bed and clothes and food that was healthy and be able to keep a watchful eye on a new child. But somewhere deep in his heart, he wanted to take care of a kid. He thought that if he could make a difference in even one child's life, he should. For Lisa.

Vivianne left the trailer with the promise to return soon (one Wayne never believed would come to fruition), and Wayne went over to the couch and sat by the young boy. Flopsy, the cat, had taken an interest in the kid and was sitting up next to him, staring at him. The child seemed nervous, holding his bag in his lap and sitting straight up in his seat, which couldn't have been easy due to the plush cushions on the couch that seemed to want to swallow you up every time you sat down.

"Her name's Flopsy," Wayne announced, picking her up and placing her on his lap. "Do you want to pet her?" he asked softly, looking at the boy. He made no reply, just slowly moved his hand over her soft head. Flopsy immediately started purring, and the sound startled the boy, making him snatch his hand away. "No, no, no, that means she likes it. She makes that noise when she's happy," Wayne tried to explain, but the boy's fears of the cat had returned.

They sat in silence for a long while, the only thing making noise being Flopsy, who was meowing softly to be fed. Wayne eventually got up from the couch, walked to the kitchen, and refilled her food bowl. She seemed content, and he moved on to the next problem at hand: where the boy was going to sleep tonight. Wayne had an extra room where he had stored some junk when he first moved in and never got the chance to clean it out, but there was no extra bed in there. He was also not going to make the kid sleep on the couch, so he went into his own bedroom and took the sheets off the bed, replacing them with fresh ones. He cleared his side table ashtray, while he was at it, and a few empty coffee cups that he brought to the sink.

"You can sleep in there tonight, and tomorrow, we'll go out and buy you a bed and some sheets, okay?" Wayne explained to the young boy, pointing a thumb to his bedroom. The child turned to him, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he had arrived, and asked in a meek voice, "How long am I staying here?" Wayne didn't know how to answer this question. To be quite honest, he didn't know. He didn't know if Vivianne was ever going to come back and collect this kid, or if Al would come to take him. Technically, Wayne had no guardianship over him, so Al could come anytime he wanted to. Just the thought of that happening made Wayne shiver. "I don't know, kid. But it'll be good for you to have your own bedroom in case you do stay or if you come and visit," Wayne decided. The child nodded his head slowly, his small mop of curls bouncing along with him.

"What was your name again, kid?" Wayne asked, looking at him, hoping he would answer the question.

"Eddie."