I Made a Promise to the Moon

I am in all truth attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my efforts of determination. Please, trust me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be loveable. Likeable. Important. And that's my easy a. My life was never eventful, until last year. Just don't ask me about it. It has nothing to do with me.

Last year, I died.

Gone. Poof. I ceased to exist from the centre of the earth. And of course with my luck, I was also wanted for murder. You heard me- the worst crime anyone could ever commit. So I did what I know best, I fled. So I guess I really was dead to begin with. It wasn't some kickass life revelation, I witnessed, no it was far more darker.

It all changed when an all too familiar face walked into my life once more, I had nothing else to do than plan dumb and try not to get caught.

I don't mean to say that. I really don't. I know what was supposed to happen that night and my courageous act of kindness did nothing to prevent it. You could even say it was for nothing. I'd trust you on that one, another thing Eddie the Banished fucked up. I never would have imagined it. Even in the worst of my nightmares, this time there was no monster under the bed. I wasn't going to last five minutes.

I might have just climbed in a coffin right then and there. But that wouldn't do anything for me now. There is a feeling. A thought or a sensation that rings in my head whenever I think of it. There's something so entirely hollow about my idiotic self.

The panic soon set in after I retreated to a small town in Idaho. I knew no one I knew would find me there. So I started to live- like really live again. I got a job, made some new friends, I even started giving out guitar lessons for twenty pounds. All was good. Was- notice it was emphasised?

It brought me back to the old times, friendship and heart ache. I stared at The King of Hawkins High himself, nearly choking on the tea that was nearly empty.

This felt incredibly narcissistic. A part of me was stressing over seeing Steve, but a little part of me has been waiting all of this time. I watched as he fixated over his hair, brushing a few strands to the side then back again. He hated it, that's what I loved about him.

"You're here..." He says, brushing down his button up. "What are you doing...here?"

My smile widened, there were no problems when I was with Steve. Everything seemed to have gone still.

"Glad you're back, Munson."

"Can say the same about you, Harrington."

He hugs me, my rings brushing against the back of his neck, making my glance change into more of a watching look.

Steve had never looked so dishevelled before, his hair was messy, his vans matched the colour of his jeans. Blue. My favourite colour.

I wondered if Dustin was with him. I quickly looked behind him, hoping he was. I needed to yell, "Henderson!"

"He's not with me Eddie," he says.

Looking disappointed, I fiddle with my thumbs, the spikes on my jacket nearly catching as I pass the corner.

"Right..."

"We thought- we thought you were dead."

"It's quite remarkable you're here actually, I can't wait to tell the others."

I picked out a record, waiting until it spun around for the second time.

"That's the thing, you can't."

He looks taken aback, "what do you mean I can't?"

I sigh, looking into his saddened eyes, "no one can know I'm here, Steve."