Alternative ending to part 2 (which has not been published yet. I know I said I wasn't publishing stuff on here anymore but 🤷
JANUARY 1990
A week into January was when Dustin thought it best to visit Eddie’s grave. Sure, it was the coldest month of the year but, God it would be worth it.
He bit his thumb for most of the journey until Steve noticed and tugged his hand away from his mouth. Steve told him to put his glove back on in the gentlest voice and kept his eyes on the road. The roads were icy this time of year, so Steve had to be extra vigilant.
Dustin had this itching feeling that someone may have found it and defaced it. He prayed to God, or whoever was out there, that no one had. He would feel ten times worse than he already did.
Steve pulled up to the side of the road, parking in almost the exact same spot they’d parked in months ago.
“Shall we?” Steve asked once they had stepped out of the car, extending his arm, and holding out his gloved hand for Dustin to take.
And he did. Gladly. Gratefully.
The twigs snapped and cracked under the pressure of their boots as they treaded carefully towards the clearing. The woods were beautiful around this time of year: trees wore icicles on their branches like earrings; the solid soil frozen in place, so much so that birds have to resort to feeding off the artificial feeders supplied by the residents of Hawkins; the snow from a few days before was dwindling in its supply.
Suddenly the trees surrounding them became familiar and Dustin’s heart began to beat just a little faster.
Then the clearing came into view and he felt his heart stutter.
He halted so suddenly that Steve stumbled into his back.
“Dustin, what are you- holy shit,” Steve said incredulously. Dustin felt a gloved hand grasp at his own, gripping it tightly, telling him that Steve could see it, too. And Dustin didn’t think he could even move, let alone curl his fingers around Steve’s.
He inhaled shakily.
Through the exhale, he barely managed, “…Eddie?”
The figure seemed to stiffen where they were crouched in front of the grave. Slowly they began to rise, spinning on their heels to face them.
Eddie looked like shit.
With his grossly matted hair, shorter than when Dustin had last laid eyes on him, the ends were jagged like they'd been slashed off. His headband was seemingly long-gone. Hell, he was wearing completely different clothes. To be fair to him – something Dustin definitely wasn’t going to be after this – even he wouldn’t want to wear the same clothing for- what was it? Nearly four years.
“Hey, Henderson,” Eddie greeted, a sheepish look taking over his face.
“H-How? I don’t understand,” Dustin found himself torn between hugging the guy and punching him so hard he breaks his own hand. Instead, he settled on doing nothing apart from taking a shaky step forward, feeling Steve’s fingers digging into his hip and steadying him.
“Trust me, Henderson, it’s a really fucking long story.”
The rage he was suddenly feeling bubbled up in his chest and exploded out his mouth, yelling out things like: “We mourned you! We made a grave for you! And now you’re just here?!”
“Technically, I escaped a few days ago. I really don’t want to get into it. And I really need to shower.”
“Damn right,” Steve agreed, though bitterly, scrunching his nose in disgust. “I can smell you from here.”
