Diamonds and Dragons ~ Eddie Munson

Chapter Two: Princess

Eddie Munson is on one of his usual psychotic rants in the parking lot as I pull into the dreary high school, his arms flailing and meaningless words pouring from his mouth as he speaks far too loud for this early on a Monday. Now, as this is an almost daily occurrence here at Hawkins High, I usually wouldn't have even given it a second thought but of course, as is my current luck, today he's making his manic movements between the only two remaining spots allotted for the cheerleading team while his crowd of delinquents surround him, lapping up his every word like lost puppies and filling any and all neighbouring spaces. Groaning deep in my chest, I pull up as close as I can without committing a, albeit very tempting, felony before rolling my window down. "Munson. I'm going to say this in the nicest way I possibly can. If you don't move your ass, I will hit it with my car and no amount of fantasy armour or dice throws will protect you from a tonne of metal," I tell him, putting on my sweetest voice despite the glare etched across my face. He turns to me, his eyes almost feral and the grin accompanying them wild. "Oh look. Princess y/n's here looking to get her own way as per usual."

"Eddie, I'm not kidding. I've had a really shit past few days and while I'm sure mowing you down would make this one that much better, I'd rather not deal with the paperwork."

"And what could possibly have gone so wrong in your perfect little life? Did daddy get you the wrong colour pony? No, that's not it. Did Mummy forget to iron your pretty little uniform? Hmm, no that's not it either. Did Carver mouth of to the wrong person again?"

I feel my grip tighten on the steering wheel before I speak further, gritting my teeth.

"Munson. Move."

"Make me, princess."

I'm out of the car before my brain catches up with my body. The last thing I want right now is a public screaming match with Eddie Munson but yet I don't stop until I'm directly in front of him. Logically, I know that I could just go find another spot but I refuse to back down.

"Munson. Move your fucking ass."

He stares down at me, a lopsided smirk crossing his face.

"Where have these claws come from? And what is that?"

He gestures to the jewel sticking out from my nose, reaching a hand out to touch it before I bat it away.

"None of your fucking business."

"Tell me and I'll move."

"You are fucking insufferable."

"So I've been told. Largely by you, oddly enough."

"Fucking Hell. Fine. Jason cheated on me. Is that what you wanted to hear? My perfect fucking relationship was just two years of bullshit while he fucked everything that moved. Are you happy now?"

There's a glimmer of something remotely close to apologetic or even hopeful behind his eyes but it disappears in mere moments, falling back behind his mask. True to his word, he steps aside to free up one of the spots without saying anything further. I can feel the pre-pubescent gaze of his followers boring in to my back but before any of them can even think of trying to hit on me, I'm back in my car and pulling into the free spot. His eyes stay on me like a hawk as I then reach for my bag and rush inside the school, cursing the Lord above for how late I probably now am.

The building's interior is somehow even more drab and depressing than the exterior. Posters line the walls, all unfortunately following the school's strict colour and font guidelines. White clocks sit in random locations on the walls, reminding me of the slow march of time passing me by. First period must have started judging by the haunting emptiness of the hallways. I beeline past the grey lockers and directly into the women's bathrooms, mouthing silent prayers and pleas that it's empty. It is. Almost instantly, my bag drops to the ground, my hands gripping onto the closest basin for stability. My knuckles turn white from the pressure. Breaths heave in my chest, my eyes squeezed shut like a wall blocking any tears from falling despite the brutal sting. I can't think of anything but Eddie and the way my gut wrenches at the mention of his name. The way he spits mine like it's poison. The way he forced a confession from me like the conceited bastard I've always known he is. So obsessed with making his own point that he forgets that Little Miss Perfect has feelings too. He knows I hate when he calls me that yet all that nugget of knowledge makes him do is use it even more just to get under my skin. As I said, conceited, self obsessed, creepy (alongside a few other choice words) bastard.