TW: HOMOPHOBIA

NOVEMBER, 1983

｡･:*˚:✧｡THE WHITE LIGHT above the mirror is blinding. Raymond swears it blinks occasionally, just to remind him to do the same, to close his eyes and let them rest for a millisecond before they continue to work on their own.

Raymond looks at his own reflection. His hair still looks okay, thankfully. The purple dye has almost washed out, leaving it a faded lilac colour he can't help but hate. It makes him look sick.

There's still some glitter on his eyelids, despite his previous attempts to quickly remove it with his bare hands when he saw Tommy's disgusted face. Now he's glad it stayed. He was being ridiculous, feeling ashamed in the first place.

The blood dripping out of his nose smears over his top lip. It tickles. He uses another paper towel to soak it up, but the door swinging open has him dropping the crumpled up paper onto the tiles, staining the perfect white tiles with crimson.

"Shit, Ray..." Steve walks over to him and grabs the back of his head firmly to examine the damage, warm eyes wide with concern. "Carol told me you're bleeding. What happened?"

Raymond grins. He can taste the blood seeping through the tiny gaps between his teeth. "I snorted it."

Steve sighs and takes another paper towel. He's surprisingly gentle when he begins wiping the blood off of Raymond's skin. "Man, I told you not to snort it."

"Munson said it would be okay."

"Munson--- you know what?" Steve scoffs. "Your little dealer buddy is gonna be the death of you. Screw him. If he's so smart, he can come here and take care of you himself."

"Screw him." Raymond giggles.

It would be funny, having Eddie here, in Steve's perfect house and Steve's perfect backyard, with Steve's perfect friends, meeting Steve's perfect new girlfriend. He would stick out. They would hate him. He and Raymond would get along.

He trusts Munson, in a way. Enough to know he wouldn't instruct him to do anything too dangerous. He had said Raymond could snort the meth, so Raymond did. It kicks in way faster this way, as proven by him. It's not Munson's fault his nostrils are apparently so fucking sensitive.

"You eat something?"

"Huh?"

"Ray, did you have something to eat?" Steve says every word clearly this time. "Before taking it, did you eat? Kicks in slower on a full stomach."

Raymond frowns. He isn't sure. He knows he had a big breakfast this morning, then a peanut butter sandwich at Munson's. The bread wasn't very fresh, so he didn't eat more than a few bites.

Plus, he does want it to work faster, so...

"Not really, no."

Rolling his eyes in disappointment, Steve finishes cleaning him up and ushers him out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. Raymond doesn't miss Carol's laughter as he enters, but he chooses to ignore it because if he says something now, he can't blame it on the drugs quite yet. It will have to wait.

So when the doorbell rings and perfect Nancy Wheeler shows up in a perfect little cardigan with her perfect hairstyle and flashes him a perfect smile, he is sure this is the worst first impression he's ever made --- face stuffed with pizza, cheese strings stretching from his lips to his chin.

They move the party outside pretty quickly. Raymond figures he could use some fresh air, so he joins, dipping the tips of his toes into the pool. It still tickles.

"You doing okay, man?" He looks over his shoulder to see Steve already looking at him, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Don't want you dying on me or something."

"Munson said it would be okay," he repeats his already established mantra, lowering his feet into the water. Steve shakes his head, but walks over and ruffles Raymond's hair the way he always does when Raymond speaks nonsense. It feels too fucking good. Raymond almost closes his eyes.

"You've been hanging out with Munson a lot, huh?"

He can hear Tommy bark out a laugh. "Oh, they've been hanging out alright."

He hears it. The quick, repetitive slapping of Tommy's palm against his other hand, most definitely closed in a fist, the disgusting gesture he makes to prove his point.

He also hears the muffled giggle Carol lets out before she turns it into a fake cough. "Don't be a pig!" She pauses. "Raymond, is he really?"

Raymond turns to look at her. She forces back a mocking smile and he frowns. "Is he what?"

"You know." She smirks. "Is he... special like you?"

It's loud. Steve's silence is so fucking loud. Nothing to say to drop the subject, to get his new friends to stop, not even to impress his girlfriend and be the one to help Raymond out of the situation. He's silent and Raymond's all alone.

He understands Carol just fine. He understood the first time she asked him why his nails were painted, months ago when she and her boy toy first approached Steve and him, back when his best friend was still his best friend and not a stranger trying to get bullies to like him. He understands it now, too. There just isn't the right answer.

Whatever Eddie is, it's none of his business. That makes it none of hers.

So he shrugs and rolls up the legs of his jeans so they wouldn't get wet. If Tommy or Carol even try to get his clothes wet, he'll drown them.

And they totally don't, but Steve Harrington does. After Steve's done trying to prove himself to Carol and Tommy by sucking the life out of a beer can and Nancy is done trying to prove herself to Steve by following, they all end up in the water, all except for Nancy's quiet friend.

"You're fucking dead, Harrington!" Raymond yells the second he scrambles to the edge, not exactly the best swimmer ever. The rush is present, though, and despite the temporary shock, he's grinning wide, blood pumping in his ears.

He never carries out his threat because all Steve sees is Nancy. Nancy and her big blue eyes and her beautiful hair and wet top. As he leads her inside to get her a change of clothes, Raymond follows awkwardly, grabbing a pair of Steve's old sweatpants and a hoodie. He can feel their eyes on him and how they want him out of the room as soon as possible. He doesn't need to be told everything.

He can see Hawkins High from the rooftop. All the lights are off, just like in the rest of the neighbourhood.

It's eerie. Calm. Quiet, if he tries hard enough to ignore Tommy and Carol bickering in the backyard.

"We're going inside," Carol finally announces. He looks down only to see her swaying by the front door with Tommy's lips attached to her neck. He whispers something against her skin and pulls her closer, and she giggles. "See you at school... unless you'd like to join us."

She's so fucking wasted.

"Come on," Tommy grumbles from behind her. "Don't make it weird."

"Not to sound misogynistic or anything," Raymond says and glances at the way Tommy grabs her hips possessively, "but you should really listen to your boyfriend."

The night ends like that. For most of them, at least. Raymond, however, stays on the rooftop. He has a feeling Steve's room and the guest room are both off limits. He's never stayed over in Steve's parents' room and the living room doesn't feel like the best option, either. The walls are too thin. Outside, he's the safest. The buzzing in his head melts into the buzzing of the night and he doesn't hear anything he doesn't want to.

He wonders, for a second, whether or not the phone back home rings. He hopes it doesn't because he doesn't want his parents to worry before their flight to Sydney. He also hopes it does because, maybe, if they think something happened to him, they'll come back and check on him, maybe stay a few more days.

For a second, he's sure there's a blink somewhere in the sky. Maybe it's their plane. He hopes it crashes.

Feeling dizzy, he looks down at the pool.

"Brianna, right?"

The girl seems to get scared too easily (or he's just too lazy to raise his voice and make it normal, make it not sound like a movie villain). She looks up with a small gasp, then shakes her head.

"It's Barbara actually." She offers a sheepish smile from where she sits in Steve's chair with something over her hand. "Do you---"

"Barbara, right." He nods. "Barbara, babe, would you be a sweetheart and throw me that coffee cup over there?"

He points, not too precisely, to his own paper cup, abandoned by the beer cans. The girl looks at it as though she's trying to figure out if that's the one, before she grabs it (with her healthy hand) and walks over.

It takes her a try or two to finally succeed, but once the cup is safely in Raymond's hand, he gives her a small wink and she smiles sweetly, walking over to the edge of the pool, covering the cut on her hand again.

He opens the cup and shakes out the final few drops of coffee before looking back down at Barbara to see her frown. "Is the cut deep? Can't promise I can treat it, but I can offer emotional support."

Barbara shakes her head quickly, chuckling. "No, no, it's fine. It's not serious, I just... I'm kinda tired, that's all."

"Tired or disappointed?"

"A bit of both." She shrugs. "I kind of expected this to be a little more... serious. I expected those four to stick around, I guess. Carol and Tommy, not so much. I ddn't care about them to begin with." Her expression falls. "But now she is off with him because she wants him to think she's cool and I just don't understand it. I don't understand why she feels like she needs to change for someone like that."

Raymond sets the cup aside and sits up straight, one hand in his jacket pocket before he feels the plastic of the small bag inside. "I suppose last year I'd be pretty insulted to hear you call Harrington 'someone like that', but I honestly agree. They dragged us here and now they're going to town while we're here bored." He grabs the carton straw from the cup, ignoring the screech it makes as it's pulled through the lid of the cup. "But he's just like her."

"Steve?"

"My dad," he deadpans, but as she shakes her head in confusion, he can't help his sigh of dismissal. Instead of looking at her any longer, he focuses on getting the little bag of powder open, but it's stuck. "Yes, Steve. You see, he's been trying to prove himself to these two for months now and apparently, the only way for them to think he's a somebody is for him to fuck Nancy Wheeler. See where I'm going with this?"

Barbara sighs. "They're both stupid."

"True." Raymond shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong. Harrington really likes her. He's had his eye on her for a while now, I can tell, but having these two around before, during and after is not the way to do it, just saying. He's serious about this stuff, but I'm scared they'll... ruin it for him or something."

There's no response from her and he takes his as a sign to drop the subject. He busies himself with the bag. "You little fucker." He uses his teeth to rip it open. A bit of powder remains on his bottom lip and he licks it clean before bringing the bag to the back of his hand and pouring the substance out.

It's not the cleanest surface to snort off of. The edge of the bag isn't so clean either, yet he uses it to form a decent line before grabbing the straw. He's glad it's not plastic. Last time he cut himself because he used a plastic one.

He immediately realises he likes this one much more. Barely ten minutes in and he's lying on his back, stars above him the only witnesses of his little trip as he completely ignores Barbara by the pool.

The music is louder. The bass thumps harder against his chest, in his very throat, until he can't hear anything else.

There's rustling coming from the forest. Cameras clicking, flash going off, but it's not his first time imagining it. He's witnessed everything from flashing cameras to Hawkins' freshly employed Officer Callahan in a tutu during his adventures with this particular dose of the substance.

Feeling his limbs hurt from the effort, he leans over the rooftop to check on Nancy's nice friend. She's sitting there, two clowns beside her, all polka dot shirts and funny hats. They send him a wave. One of them is pregnant. He looks like Steve. Jesus, he's high.

Quickly, he lies back once again, not willing to puke all over the place from a fucking rooftop.

"Take a look to the sky just before you die..." he mumbles the lyrics, voice breaking into the night as stars literally sparkle above him. "It is the last time you w---"

There's a snap. A crash. A scream.

Raymond feels himself still. The blood in his veins, toxic and cold runs even colder at the sound, too close and too loud and too real.

Should he sit up? Should he look down, see what's happening?

What if he's next?

What if he's next?

He leans over the edge to see the pool completely empty. No trace of Brianna. Barbara, right. Nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for that same noise. The rustling of leaves, branches snapping.

Then, it starts.

The screams grow louder, louder and louder until they're ringing, his ears are almost bleeding and yes, they've been there all along, only tuned out. Now they're back and they're ripping through his skull and it hurts because Barbara is there, right there and she's not alone.

Someone is with her. Grabbing her. Taking her into the forest. And Raymond has never seen anyone like this.

It's something, not someone.

As tall as the trees surrounding it, there's a creature. Its face isn't a face. There's no eyes, no nose, no lips. Instead, there's only a gaping hole where the face splits open into a monstrous flower of teeth and nothing but teeth. Rows and rows of them, sharp and small, disappearing into the darkness that is the creature's throat, releasing a rumbling noise. Its hands aren't hands. They're not human enough to be called that, long and branch-like claws yanking the girl into the darkness.

Fucking hell, his mind has really outdone itself this time. It's managed to make up something more terrifying than Callahan. He isn't sure how it's possible, what kind of drugs work this way, but Munson said it would be okay, so it probably will... Right?

He thinks about it for the next few hours. About the monster he'd imagined and how many nightmares it will be a part of from now on. Probably many of them.

It's still on his mind even when he wakes up to the sound of the front door shutting and to the not-so-perfect Nancy Wheeler leaving the house. Sneaking out.

Steve's hoodie hangs around her frame loosely and she clutches to the fabric like her life depends on it, eyes darting around the backyard, looking for her best friend.

She looks smaller, weaker. He knows it has something to do with his dumbass of a best friend, but chooses not to think about it yet.

"Morning, babe," he mumbles from above her and chuckles when she jumps in fear.

"Raymond, hi, um..." Her voice is high pitched in surprise. "I was just--- Steve just---"

He only shakes his head dismissively, saying that yes, he knows what's up and he doesn't really wanna know whether or not she makes something up because, frankly, he doesn't give a fuck. "I hope he was worth it."

Nancy grimaces. "Yeah, totally, uh, have you... seen Barb?"

Right.

The girl who was taken by the monster his drugged mind made up.

"She was here when I fell asleep," he mutters. "Then she wasn't."

The awkward smile on Nancy's face shifts into a concerned expression, lips pursed and eyes glassy and round, even more than before. She mutters something about going to check her car and leaves. Guilt seeping into his sobering bones, Raymond follows.

Barbara Holland's car is, in fact, empty. There is no trace of her ever returning to it and Nancy seems even more concerned now.

How could she not be? Her best friend is gone without a trace and the only one who could have seen anything is Raymond, but no, Raymond didn't see a thing, except for two big clowns and a faceless monster with hundreds and hundreds of sharp teeth. How is he supposed to say that? He can't.

"Listen, Wheeler, it was confusing..." He trails off, eyes shutting. He knows hers are fixated on him, all blue and shiny and hopeful even in the darkness, as she sits in the passenger seat of Steve's car. Of course Raymond has taken the keys and of course he'll get in so much trouble because he's terrible at this, but hey, it's the least he can do for the girl.

"What was?"

"Well, uh... she was at the pool, I was up there, on the roof. We talked, I was high as fuck and I was kinda out of it by the end of the conversation." He sighs. "There was some noise then and when I looked down, she was gone."

Nancy frowns at him and he hates it. "Noise? What kind of noise?"

"I'm not sure, it was kind of hard to tell." He swallows. "I was really high and it could have been just the wind and---"

"Raymond, please, try to remember exactly---"

"Fucking hell, I don't know!"

She flinches when he snaps, open palms slamming against the steering wheel. Arms wrapping tighter around herself, she presses her side completely against the car door, terrified.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Raymond says quickly, shaking his head. "I-I don't know why I did that, I shouldn't have yelled, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's okay, you're overwhelmed, I get it." He sees her relax only slightly, arms less tense and breathing a bit more even. "You shouldn't be responsible for my problems."

Maybe he is. He probably is. Had he stayed clean, at least conscious enough to keep an eye on Barbara, he would have seen something that would make sense. Anything. Not clowns. Not monsters.

"Um, actually I heard something like rumbling... It was strange, an animal maybe. A bear?" he tries. He remembers the chilling sound escaping the creature's throat, though he isn't sure what the creature was. "Honestly, I was just tripping. Don't take anything I've said seriously."

She sighs and rests her head against the window. Eyes falling shut, she whispers weakly, "Maybe she walked home."

"Probably," Raymond brushes it off and focuses on the road, trying not to hit something. It's going pretty well, actually, until he hears a sniffle to his right.

And fuck, Nancy Wheeler is crying right next to him and he should probably do something, but this is the second time he's talked to her in his entire life and he isn't known for being a master of comforting people.

Still, he tries. It feels forced until it's not, until she's softly explaining about expectations and hopes and the disappointment that follows once you realise you're the only one having that idea. She brings up Barbara, who never understands, who's gone now. She also brings up relationships, love, things Raymond isn't necessarily familiar with, and describes how things with Steve seem different. Like they're on different pages of the same book, with her halfway through, waiting for him, who has no interest in moving on from the simple prologue.

He offers the easiest explanation: Steve is just like that. He's dense and stupid, but he'll figure it out eventually and fix things. He always does.

With that and an awkward pat on the shoulder, he drops Nancy off, head full of Steve Harrington's bullshit, the vulnerability of his pride and reputation and images of the strange creature that's been haunting him all day long.

How is it possible that he thinks of something like that, completely unprovoked? It's not like he saw a horror movie before this and it had the same effect it has on his dreams. Or maybe it was a dream. He doesn't remember falling asleep, though. All he remembers is a drug, probably too strong.

So as soon as the trailer door opens that afternoon, he crosses his arms. "You said it would be okay."

Eddie Munson's welcoming grin falls at the comment. "It wasn't?"

Inside, Eddie shares some pizza leftovers and Raymond shares the story about his chaotic meth trip.

"Listen, man," Munson starts out, mouth full. "I don't know what to tell you. It could have been a stronger dose... or laced with something else to make you hallucinate so vividly." A smirk spreads over his greasy lips. "You have wild imagination and that's not something you should be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed, Munson. I'm fucking terrified that I watched a kid die and can't witness."

There's a moment as realisation flashes over Munson's face and no, Raymond isn't joking and Munson shouldn't, either. For once in his life, Munson should be serious and help him figure this out.

God, he wishes he could joke like that. Life would be so much easier.

"You think she's dead?" Munson mutters finally.

"No one's seen her since then." He shakes his head. "When they found that Byers boy in the quarry, I kind of--- I don't know." He feels something heavy wrap around his heart.

"You were scared it was her," Munson finishes for him. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he sinks deeper into the old sofa. When he speaks up again, his voice is strained. "I think this town is cursed."

"It feels like it."

The confession hangs heavy in the air, smelling of beer and chlorine, and Raymond can't stand it. He needs it to change or he'll lose his mind and say ridiculous things he can't prove.

That's how they end up in Munson's room, Munson lying in bed while Raymond goes over to check out the posters covering the cracked white walls.

There's a huge Metallica poster right above the bed, with Jerry Hall on the right and Simon Le Bon on the left.

"So, now that you're eighteen, are you a changed man?" he finally settles on asking, faking a grin until it, hopefully, becomes real. "How does it feel?"

"Honestly, man, I'm doing the same shit I did before."

Shrugging, Munson pulls out a cigarette. Raymond thinks he might light it, but he doesn't. Instead, he plays with it absently. He's trying to quit.

"Hopefully with someone your age or older, Munson," Raymond adds. Then, just to mess with him, he makes up something he isn't sure is true, just to check something, "Teen girls love older guys. They might get you in trouble."

There's hesitation in the way Munson looks away from him for a moment, before seemingly shaking away all previous thoughts to focus on Raymond and see his reaction. "Would guys?"

Raymond holds back a victorious grin. He loves it when he's right.

Very slowly, he takes a few steps towards the wall he's been looking at for a few minutes now. There's a mirror on it and he can see Munson leaving the bed, walking over to him, waiting. He knows what Raymond's looking at.

Raymond reaches over and tugs at the handcuffs hanging next to the mirror, letting his smirk show. Munson gives him a confused frown, the cigarette now between his lips. "What are you doing?"

"Checking these out." Raymond raises an eyebrow and finally turns around when Munson gets too close. "A bit tiny for a male wrist, wouldn't you agree?"

As expected and without any hesitation, Munson reaches out, his arm seemingly trapping Raymond against the wall. Raymond, however, knows he's reaching for the handcuffs.

"See?" Munson mutters, easily clasping the cold metal around one of Raymond's wrists. "Not necessarily for girls."

He thought he could keep a straight face. He really did,  but now, with Munson this close, knee brushing against Raymond's thigh and eyebrows raised in triumph, he needs to breathe. To breathe away from this.

"Children, too, got it." Raymond pries his hand away, clearing his throat as he pushes past Munson to sit down on the edge of the bed. "I might need to have a chat with Chief Hopper. He'd love to talk about you."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just can't keep my name out of your mouth." Munson shakes his head.

Raymond doesn't reply. He simply lies down, eyes fixated on an Iron Maiden poster, silent until he feels the bed dip with Munson's weight. Raymond's prepared to shoot back a snarky comeback, to catch him off guard and gain some advantage, but the playfulness in his face is gone.

Munson's expression has softened into something calmer, something Raymond hasn't seen before. "What's wrong, mate?"

"I'm sorry."

As Munson sits down beside him silently and finally lights his cigarette, Raymond almost laughs. "What for?"

"Putting you in danger. Giving you something that could have caused even more trouble." Munson shakes his head. "I'll talk to Rick, see if he knows what's up. Until then, try to stay clean."

Raymond knows that won't be an issue. He's tried all different kinds of drugs, but he's not addicted. Sure, many parties will be way less fun to attend and many boring evenings will remain boring, but he'll live.

"Sure thing." He shakes his head. "Not your fault. You didn't know."

Munson chuckles, no real amusement behind it. "That's exactly the problem. I should have."

Not entirely sure how to reply, Raymond settles on the silence this time. He takes the cigarette from between Munson's lips and lies back down.

In the corner of his vision, Munson chuckles.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
hell yes this duo. also STEVE AND RAYMOND'S FRIENDSHIP BEFORE IT ALL WENT TO SHIT?? sign me the fUCk up.

i just wanna say i don't exactly have any experience with drugs and stuff so if it's inaccurate, which it probably is, kindly correct me.

i was gonna make it a regular dose and make him completely expect hallucinations to happen, but i wasn't sure if that's how meth works so i made it a stronger dose, something eddie wasn't careful enough about and BAM, my inexperienced ass is saved and angst is added, i'm a genius.

thoughts??? ideas??? anything???

aLSO it's important to mention that i have chapter 8 completely ready to be published. howEVER, much to my dismay (and lara's, love you ,bubs), it'll have to wait. chapter 9 is kinda delicate and 8 and 9 need to be connected nicely and i might need to change some things in 8 in order for 9 to make sense so yes, until 9 is figured out, 8 will have to wait. that's not too long tho, probably a week or so

until then PLEASE comment and vote. share this with people you think might enjoy it but most importantly comment!! it's not about the number of comments, it's about communication. i don't have millions of reads but i want those of you who do read this to feel safe and comfortable enough to interact with me here, that's important to me<3

anyways i hope it was worth the wait. please take care of yourselves, i love you all<33