takes place during chapter xxvi
AFTER A FEW DAYS OF HUNTING HIM DOWN, Mason really thought he knew who Eddie Munson was. Well, as much as two people on complete opposite ends of the social spectrum who've spent years back-and-forth bickering and mocking could know each other. Okay... so maybe Mason didn't know who Eddie Munson was at all. But he was fine with that, at least. Before the whole murder thing. Before Chrissy. Before Vecna, and before Mason had been apart of the pitchfork-and-torches witch hunt group trying to track down and haul Eddie's ass straight to jail.
But then the whole Lover's Lake fiasco hit, and Mason's frame of thinking was thrown upside-down. (Pun not intended.)
After Nancy had woken up and she and Steve climbed through the gate, it took a while before she was ready to share what Vecna had shown her. In those hours, Mason came to the decision that maybe Eddie Munson wasn't all that bad.
It was while Val was in Max's shower, Steve had taken Dustin and Lucas to grab groceries from Steve's house, and Max and Nancy were in Max's bedroom trying to recount privately that Mason and Eddie were stuck alone in the Mayfields' living room. Beyond the whole supernatural part, it was pretty awkward, and Mason honestly would have rather left with Steve than spend any more alone time with the freak. But nevertheless he sat on the stuffy couch across from Eddie, eyes downcast and mind scouring for anything he could use as common ground to start up a conversation.
Finally, after a painstaking ten minutes, Eddie sighed heavily and stood from the armchair. He stuck his hands into his back pockets and looked around the living room.
"So," he said, before his eyes landed on Mason and he pursed his lips. "You think Max has a lighter around here?"
Mason's lip curled involuntarily. "Seriously, dude? You're thinking about getting high right now? Are y—Like, are you serious?"
Eddie met his gaze and raised his eyebrows, then shook his head nonchalantly, sitting back down on the armchair. "Nah, 'course not. Just wondering, I mean. For.. for no reason, y'know."
Trying not to roll his eyes, Mason drew in a breath and leaned back on the couch, huffing out an exhale. "So.. you—you and Val, huh? What... what's that about?"
"Yeah, okay, we don't have to do this." Eddie waved his hands around, exhaling an awkward laugh. "We don't have to do the whole small-talk thing. Let's just pretend.. we're not here. Deal?"
"Yeah, deal," Mason agreed, shrugging a nod and leaning back again. "I didn't want to... either. So. So let's not. Yeah. Yeah, let—we can—"
"D–Come on, man." Eddie's lips pulled down and he shook his head, spreading his hands, his brow scrunched. "You're talking an awful lot for someone who isn't here."
Mason nodded, leaning forward, running his hands down his jeans and puffing up his lips. He glanced around, his mind flashing with images of whatever the hell was on the other side of that gate in Eddie's trailer. Finally, he burst.
"What was that, man?" His voice broke, a twinge of fear hiding behind his macho-man façade. "That—that gate thing. What was it? Was that where you guys were when—"
"Yeah, uh.." Eddie breathed out a laugh. "Yeah. I think they call it the Upside Down. You—you seriously don't know... any of this? Like, at all?"
Mason shrugged, then shook his head, raising his eyebrows. "No, man, I'm fully out of the loop. Like, seriously. All of it. The Upside Down, Fleetwood Mac, Chrissy. All of it. Especially.... especially Chrissy."
