"Hello, everybody! We're Corroded Coffin!" None other than Eddie Munson yells into the front mic.

Willow doesn't know how to react as she takes in the scene in front of her. She'd heard rumors that Eddie played the guitar, but it had never occurred to her he might have a band. A band that actually plays gigs. A band that he was the lead in.

"Holy shit ," Robin echoes Willow's shocked statement, leaning in closer to catch a better sight of the boys on stage.

Steve has already turned back around to face Willow. "Since when did the freak have a band?"

Willow is about to agree with him, encompassed with shock and confusion, when the drummer counts in the first few chords of the band. The song is familiar, but Willow can't put a name to it. She's almost entranced as she watches Eddie play his guitar, fingers moving at what feels like an impossible pace to her. With each movement, she can see his rings glint in the terrible lighting that's pointed directly towards the stage. She can't look away, clearly gawking as her mind now has to process Eddie Munson and his secret band on top of all else she's learned in the last twenty four hours.

She's only pulled from her trance when Steve clears his throat.

"This is insane," she grumbles, focusing on her coke in front of her.

"That's one way to describe it," Steve agrees, throwing back the rest of his drink. Robin is still shamelessly staring at the band on stage, seeming to enjoy the performance as she nurses her drink.

Steve waves over the bartender and orders another drink, but Willow can't hear him clearly until he turns to her. "So, I gotta ask, why the hair change?"

"Why not?" Willow counters, raising her voice over the music.

Steve shrugs, smiling softly at her. "I dunno, didn't take you as a fiery redhead, I guess."

"Can I be honest?" Willow questions, and Steve is leaning in even closer to her, his knee bumping against hers, "I meant to just go more boring ginger. But somehow, me and Robin royally fucked up."

Steve throws his head back in laughter, Adam's apple bobbing and hair bouncing. Robin takes notice in the conversation now, sending a suggestive glance Willow's way.

"What's so funny?" Robin asks, her shoulder meeting Willow's as she presses in close enough to hear the conversation.

"I was just telling Steve about how shitty of a hairstylist you are. You aren't getting a tip, you know," Willow teases softly, leaning against Robin and tilting her head.

From there, easy conversation flows between the three friends, as it always does. Robin and Steve continue to throw back drinks, and Willow eventually moves onto a second coke. She manages to stay focused fairly well, but still catches herself glancing towards Corroded Coffin on stage. She may not know Eddie well, but she can tell he's passionate about music. He's throwing himself into every song as if he's performing at Madison Square Garden, not just some hole-in-the-wall dive bar. And he's talented. As his fingers fret along the neck of his guitar, Willow is left in momentary awe at the sound that it emits. It's not her favorite genre of music, something heavier and grittier than her taste, but it's still mesmerizing and enjoyable.

"Willow? Earth to Willow? C'mon, are you even listening?" Robin is waving her hand in front of Willow's face during a moment of weakness in which she's infatuated with the performance.

"Huh?" Willow questions, realizing her body had twisted to the side to enjoy the performance more. As she glances around the bar, she realizes she might have been the only one truly focused on the band.

"We were talking about new jobs. Robin thinks she can get us all hired at that Family Video off of Oak street, would you be down?" Steve explains, looking slightly irritated. Or maybe wounded. Willow isn't quite sure what the explanation for the crease between his eyebrows would be.

Nevertheless, Willow nods excitedly, "All I'm hearing is I'll get paid to annoy you guys while you try to work this time around. I'm so down."

Robin giggles, clearly growing tipsier, "Exactly! Imagine how fun that would be! Besides, then we'll always get first dibs on whatever new movies come in. We wouldn't want a repeat of what happened with Sixteen Candles."

"Hey!" Willow defends herself, remembering the incident she was referring to clearly, "It's not my fault that Jenny Adams is such a bitch."

" No, never. You're an absolute angel and definitely didn't trip her after she snatched that last copy from you," Steve joins in the teasing, "You definitely didn't smirk when you saw the rug burn on her knees."

"I didn't!" Willow laughs loudly, and it's then that she realizes the bar has become increasingly quiet.

Corroded Coffin has finished their set. She tries to slow herself as she whips to look at the stage this time, raking in the sight of a sweaty Eddie who's grinning back at his drummer. Willow finally realizes the boy situated on the drums is Garth, the same friend who accompanied Eddie at Scoops.

"So, what's going on between you and Munson?" Steve asks, his voice dripping with something sour. Willow looks at him, and that crease is back between his brows.

"What do you mean?" Willow is confused, genuinely confused. She's never expressed interest in Eddie, or even discussed him. Honestly, she forgot he existed until he showed up at Scoops last week.

Steve waves his hand lazily between Willow and the stage, trying to come off as nonchalant. He's failing, miserably so, as he says, "You've been eyeing him all night, just like you did last week at Scoops."

"Haven't we already had this conversation, Steve?" Robin interrupts, words surprisingly clear for how drunk she was clearly becoming as she swayed in her seat, "Who cares if Willow likes him? She can look. She's a free woman."

"I never said she couldn't!" Steve's hands are now thrown up in defense as he and Robin stare each other down, now speaking without words. Even sober, Willow doesn't understand the communication happening in their gazes.

"Someone just sounds a little jealous if you ask me," Robin finally settles her eyes on Willow, smiling like a fool. Her eyes were glossy, but Willow could still find that troubling sparkle in them when she was up to no good.

Steve scoffs, truly scoffs. Willow tries not to read too far into it as he says, "Why would I be jealous?"

Willow is looking back at the stage, trying to even her breathing. The band is nowhere to be seen.

"I don't know, you tell me, Steve ." It's the way Robin says his name, as if daring him. She clearly knows something that Willow doesn't, and Steve seemingly wants to keep it that way.

She wishes it wouldn't bother her so much. There's an ache, though, there in her ribs, as she processes the way he'd brushed off being jealous. The scoff, the tone in his voice as if him being jealous of a man catching Willow's attention was absurd.

And it was. Steve didn't like Willow, not in that way, and Willow had convinced herself that she'd come to accept that. She had to accept that. That's how reality works.

"It's just like I said at Scoops," Steve is slurring his words slightly now, "I think she's too good for all of the Hawkins' boys, not just Munson."

It happened in slow motion. As Steve says this, glaring down Robin, Willow catches movement from the corner of her eye. Brushing behind Steve is Eddie Munson, in the flesh.

She's hoping, praying even, he didn't catch his name brought up in the conversation. She should know now she's not lucky enough for that.

Eddie steps up to the bar counter besides Steve, clad in a leather jacket he wasn't wearing on stage. His hair is a mess, frizzy and wild, and Willow can see his bangs stick to his forehead from sweat. At first, it seems they've gotten away with it. Steve and Robin are still in their own imaginary fighting ring, fists held high, and Willow is holding her breath. And then, painfully slowly and subtly, Eddie glances at Steve at his side after putting a hand up to the bartender.

"Didn't know you knew my name, Harrington. Try not to wear it out."

Steve freezes, and Robin immediately diverts her gaze to Willow, who has her gaze on the counter. Jesus Christ , she thinks, we look guilty as hell .

"Munson!" Steve jumps to life, putting on far too peppy of an attitude, "Didn't even see you there! How've you been?"

The confusion is clear on Eddie's face when Willow jumps and glances up at Steve's outburst. Eddie takes a second, slowly assessing Steve before his eyes glance across Willow and Robin.

"Jesus, you're plastered," he muses, smirking softly. Robin lets out a snort, nodding in agreement and swaying in her chair again . Willow reaches out a hand to steady her. "So are you. Guess I missed the memo."

"Memo?" Robin hiccups, "No memo here, Eddie. Just a couple of friends, having a good time, you know. Just the us'," Robin drags out the last syllable of her sentence, growing heavier against Willow's hand that was still propping her up straight on her stool.

"This is how you guys spend every Friday night? Weird. Never seen you here before," Eddie muses, eyes finally meeting Willow's. He raises his eyebrows, smile widening at her.

"It's not," Willow corrects her friends, "This is our first time. Or at least, my first time. And Robin's. Steve said it was the only ba-" she cuts herself off as the bartender comes down to Eddie and hands him a drink that looks similar to Willow's same glass and dark color. She even sees bubbles of carbonation floating up through the drink.

Eddie says a small thank you, nodding appreciatively and taking a sip before returning his focus to Willow. "It was the only what?"

"What?"

"You were saying that Steve said it was the only something."

Willow waits for the bartender to go back to the other side of the bar. When she does speak up, it's softly, almost a whisper, "The only bar that doesn't card."

"You don't have to whisper. They know what they're known for, sweetheart," Eddie laughs shortly.

Willow isn't given a chance to respond as Steve straightens up the moment Eddie says 'sweetheart'. "So, Munson, I didn't know your little band was still a thing."

Willow has to physically hold back from rolling her eyes, recognizing the pissing contest that was about to ensue. Robin clearly recognized it as well as she finally held herself up without Willow's hand. The two girls exchange a look, matching wide eyes and pursed lips.

"Yeah, yeah, not to brag but," Eddie says, completely unphased by what Steve was trying to do, waving towards the stage, "We're pretty badass, as you probably saw."

Time slows as Steve is glaring at Eddie, his eyes flickering to Willow before saying, "I've seen better."

Eddie's attempt at a friendly smile immediately falters.

"So what are you drinking, Eddie?" Willow interrupts the two, leaning onto her elbows and trying to get the attention of the two boys. Her heart's racing with anxiety at the confrontation between the two. She knows Steve had a bad week, and now that he's drunk, he's reckless. She doesn't want to break up a bar fight tonight. Especially not between Steve and Eddie.

Eddie, surprisingly, doesn't ignore her question, "Coke. And really, Steve? I'm curious. What band was it? Was it maybe your own?"

Steve opens his mouth to respond, clearly ready to continue to stir shit up, but Eddie beats him to it, his smile no longer kind. He looks like a genuine asshole as he says, "Oh wait, I forgot. You can't play an instrument, just girls, right?"

"At least girls like me, freak," Steve snaps, palms smacking onto the bar top.

"Okay, nope," Willow stands up, leaning over and yanking what drink was left in front of Steve away, "You're cut off. You're being mean, Steve."

"Oh, I don't think it's the alcohol that's making him mean," Eddie bitterly laughs, "Harrington here is a natural born asshole. Have a good night."

Eddie storms off, leaving behind his coke. The bartender glances up, but no emotion crosses his face.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington," Willow grumbles, Steve looking up at her with soft eyes. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?" he asks innocently. She knows it's an act.

She shakes her head as she wiggles away from the bar, away from Steve, and points at Robin. "Keep you and asshole here out of trouble. I'm doing damage control."

"We don't need damage control! He's a freak, Jenkins!" Steve drunkenly complains.

Willow hardly hears him as she's briskly walking out the door that Eddie had just stormed out of moments before. She isn't even sure he's outside, he could already be in his car and driving home for all she knows. Maybe he's squealing out of the parking lot and planning ways to kick Steve Harrington's ass.

Honestly, Steve deserves it.

The moment she walks out the doors, the summer night engulfs her. It's still fairly warm, but there's a cool breeze that warns of autumn. Her eyes adjust to the minimal lighting outside as she smells Eddie before she sees him. It's hard to miss the scent of a cigarette, especially as the smoke hits you in the face.

"Eddie," she sighs, making her way over to where he's leaning against the wall, lit cigarette between pursed lips.

He looks shocked to see her, immediately pulling the cigarette back and blowing the smoke out quickly in the opposite direction of her, "Hey there, Red."

"My name's Willow," she corrects, taken back from the nickname.

"Nice to meet you, Willow. And before you ask, I'm not apologizing to your little friend," he flicks the ashes off of his cigarette towards the ground between them.

"Good, don't. He was being an asshole," Willow encourages, taking a step closer and wrapping her arms around her body. "I was actually coming out here to apologize for him. I'm pretty sure he's too drunk to do it himself right now."

Eddie laughs bitterly. "No, yeah, of course. Makes sense that Harrington can't apologize for himself."

At this, Willow finally becomes defensive. She knows Steve was being a dick, and understands why Eddie got upset, but she knows Steve wouldn't act this way sober.

"He's had a hard week," she means to sound more confident than she does, her voice breaking softly as her eyes start to flicker to the trees around the building. A shiver runs down her spine, "Cut him some slack."

"He never cut me any slack."

At this, Willow grows curious. And then it all clicks, "You knew him before Wheeler?"

"Everyone knew him before Wheeler," Eddie sighs, raises his eyebrows and leaning in Willow's direction after a drag of his cigarette. She notes the way he's still making the effort to blow his smoke away from her. "But yeah, we knew each other. He'd harass me at school, I'd egg him on like a little shit, his little gang would give me more hell... You know, the classic friendship cycle. Just two peas in a pod."

Willow now moves even closer to Eddie. She tells herself it's because she wants to hear more from an outside perspective of Steve before she properly became friends with him, not because the thoughts of monsters in Hawkins are still fresh.

Another shiver runs down her spine.

"I'm sorry. He definitely used to be an ass-"

"Still is. Clearly."

"I..." Willow can't even defend him, she knows it. It doesn't look good on Steve's part when Eddie was acting friendly before he stirred everything up. She finally turns and throws her back against the wall next to Eddie, "Yeah. Sometimes. I promise he's gotten better though, if that's any ease to your mind."

"You don't have to ease my mind, Red," there's that nickname again, a soft sigh from his lips, "Also, here."

Willow is confused when Eddie places the last bit of his cigarette between his lips, his back leaving the wall as he's suddenly shimmying out of his leather jacket. She's too stunned to speak as he suddenly holds it out to her. When she doesn't immediately reach out to grab it, he tilts his head and shakes the jacket lightly.

"C'mon, you're shivering like all hell. I promise it's not contaminated," he jokes, smiling around the cigarette. She decides the jump in her chest is from nerves at the prospect of her friends missing her longer, of possibly coming to her rescue drunkenly and finding her in Eddie 'the freak' Munson's leather jacket as he smokes beside her.

Another breeze blows, another shiver runs, and Willow finally takes the invitation of the jacket. As she wraps herself up in it, she inhales. The remnants of cigarette smoke are the most overwhelming scent, but she can catch hints of several other boyish smells, something woodsy beneath it all.

It's kind of nice.

"'Atta girl," Eddie encourages as he takes the cigarette from his mouth. Smoke is leaking out from between his lips as he finally tosses the butt to the ground and stomps on it.

Willow is sure she's blushing. She hadn't expected Eddie Munson to be charming in the slightest, honestly. "Thank you. Y-You didn't have to....I mean, I-" she cuts off and looks down at her outfit for the night. Maybe she could have made a better choice than the thin t-shirt she had on. Fleetwood Mac's Rumors album cover was wrinkled as she had tied up a knot in the shirt to crop it slightly. She finally stops her stuttering and settles on, "Thank you."

"Any time. Even if you are a friend of Steve's," he says, and it brings her back to the situation at hand. The argument between him and Steve. Her friends, inside, drunk.

"You admitted yourself you provoked Steve at times," Willow makes yet another lame attempt at defending Steve, still feeling that tug to him.

"He started it," Eddie replies just as lamely, shoving hands into his pocket as he fishes out his pack of cigarettes and lighter, "If he never bothered me, I would have never provoked him."

She wants to laugh, recognizing how childish this all was. The feud between the boys was baseless. "What are you guys, five?"

"Actually, eight," Eddie corrects with a teasing glint in his eyes, no longer leaning against the wall next to Willow. He's not standing directly in front of her, more off to the side, as he places a fresh cigarette into his mouth and lights it.

"Right, my apologies," Willow rolls her eyes, "Anyways, like I said. I know he wasn't the greatest person while in high school, but he's gotten...better. Normally. He's just had a week from Hell and too much liquid confidence."

"Why are you trying to defend him so hard?" Eddie's question is muffled by the cigarette.

"I'm not! I'm just saying," she straightens her back, taking a step towards Eddie. He immediately takes the cigarette from his mouth and holds it out away from the two of them. It's a small gesture, but she notices it all the same and appreciates how he clearly doesn't like to force second-hand smoke down other's throats.

"You very much are, Red."

"Stop calling me that."

"Why?"

"Because," she doesn't have a good reason, except it makes her chest clench every time he says it. And that was a good enough reason.

He just stands there, with a wide and foolish grin, hair like a halo around his face. A couple of paces of silence bounce between them before he expectantly raises his eyebrows.