𝗥𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻 𝗕𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

𝗧𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵

author:chermanji

cw: jealousy, WLW, fingering, squirting

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Robin doesn't understand what's so special about Eddie 'The Freak' Munson.

If she's being honest with herself, which she's trying to do more these days - she really doesn't get what you see in him. No offense to the guy. He's brash, and loud, kinda sweaty, and greasy-looking, and to be fair she didn't think you were the type to dig metalheads.

Robin sighs, leaning against the hood of the car and looks at her watch. You were supposed to be done with your little hellfire thingy almost 20 minutes ago. But Robin doesn't mind waiting for you. Or at least she think she doesn't, until she sees who you stroll out with.

The two of you walk out of the theater, Robin watching from her place next to Steve's BMW. She can recognize you instantly from afar, in your breezy skirt and cardigan, always the absolute sweetest. She sees Eddie throw an arm over your shoulder, his lips coming down to mouth something against your ear.

Robin can see the way you giggle, lips pulling up into a pretty smile as you bellow out laughter for the metalhead. It makes her seethe - and she hates that she feels this way. You always tell her about him, Eddie Munson.

How cool he is, he sweet he is, how he's not what everyone else says he is. It makes her sick to her stomach in a way that she hasn't felt in a long time. Long since she had to witness Steve smooch and mooch his way with Tammy Thompson in chemistry.

That familiar ripple of envy bites up her heels and makes her curl her fists, teeth grinding on one another as she forces down the bile in her throat. What's so great about him anyway?

You could do so much better than that metalhead freak. She glares at the two of you on the field. You're talking about whatever it is that's so interesting instead of making your way to the car, music or D&D. Or maybe he's trying to get you to come back home with him. The thought makes Robin kick the blacktop with the toe of her converse, tucking a lip between her teeth.

She feels a nudge against her tummy, Steve elbowing her from his place at her side.

"What's wrong Robs?" He asks with a smile, but the underlying concern is there. His wide eyes scan over her silent pursed figure, the way she picks at the baby blue nail polish on her thumb indicates anxiousness. Robin shakes her head, a shaky grimace forming on her mouth.

"It's- It's nothing, it's stupid really." She mumbles, folding her arms across her chest as she lets her chin hang down. But her eyes still follow Eddie, how he brushes his fingers across the exposed expanse of skin at your shoulder, pulling up your sweater. Steve leans forward and turns in the direction Robin is scowling.

"Ah, I see."

Does he really?

-----

The next few weeks are spent the same. You skipping down to the theater to join in on the hellfire matches while Robin waits for the tide to blow over. Instead it keeps building, raging and billowing under her skin. You try to get her to tag along, maybe she'll enjoy it, you tried to encourage. But she always shoots it down with, "I gotta work, m'sorry bub, maybe next time." And she kisses your cheek, hopping into Steve's BMW and leaving you to huff and puff at her behavior.

She feels like she's going insane, having to watch you and Eddie. The worst part is that you two aren't even doing anything per say. You aren't making out with him or feeling him up like it's a raunchy porno, you're just- overly sweet on him. Maybe it's because you understand what it's like to be ostracized in Hawkins by a bunch of prissy things.