Willow was right - the matching hair earns attention the next day at school. Although, trendsetter might not be the best way to describe the two idiots.

With her refreshed hair, Willow experiences as many stares as she had when she first dyed her hair. It makes her internally cringe and begin to wonder if Hawkins would ever outgrow its rumor mill. The stares are bad enough, unwanted attention being handed out to Willow with each student she passes as she rushes down the hallway towards O'Donnell's classroom that morning. Her and Eddie had finally arrived at school with time to spare, giving her the time to stop by the bathroom before class. When she'd departed from Eddie's side, he had left her with a quick peck and promises of seeing her in class, and every student in their vicinity had immediately taken to their whispers.

She was wearing his jacket again, now smelling like him once more. And she had spotted her black scrunchie on Eddie's wrist this morning as he drove. Subtle ways they showed each other off, minute details that say ' I belong to someone'. The two of them together shouldn't still be such a novelty, but it was for the Hawkins' student body, especially with their rise in bravery with public displays of affection. That had brought on a whole new wave of attention. A whole new hush of words between their peers, a whole new raving of rumors about the couple.

She'd heard it all at this point: Eddie had brainwashed her, Eddie had performed black magic and had her under a spell, Eddie had finally convinced her to join his Satanic cult, Eddie was going to sacrifice her to 'the Dark Lord' because she was a virgin, Eddie had taken her virginity as an offering - it never ended. It got under her skin bit by bit, especially when her virginity was brought into the conversations she was excluded from.

Why the hell do they care so much? Who cares if I've had sex? Or haven't?

It also roused her that every rumor was so focused on one aspect - that Eddie had tricked her into whatever relationship they had going on. No one believed that Willow was dating Eddie out of her own free will, that it was her choice. No, no one could possibly ever choose to date the freak. He had to have had some dirt on her, gone through an elaborate plan to convince her to do so.

Ironic, given it was her elaborate plan that started their relationship to begin with.

When she's back in O'Donnell's classroom, sitting with her back to the front of the classroom as her and Eddie casually talk over their desks, one of the girls sitting near them begins to stare. Willow ignores it at first, used to it at this point, when it dawns on her why the girl is staring. The side of Eddie's face closest to the girl is the side with one of his frizzy curls brushing up against it, and the light is hitting it just right to make the end shimmer maroon. Almost the same shade as Willow's hair.

Another subtle detail of belonging. Another string tying Eddie to Willow.

She reaches out suddenly, and Eddie freezes up mid sentence during his ramble about Hellfire's next campaign. The strand of hair wraps around her finger delicately.

"Uh... Red?" Eddie nearly stammers, staring at her in shock, "What are you doing?"

The girl is still staring.

"It turned out nice," she says, and when he continues to look confused, she lifts the end to bring it closer to her own hair, emphasizing the matching tones, "The strand. I told you it was a good idea."

He's blushing. "O-Oh, yeah. Yeah, I guess it was a good idea. Still mad, though. I will get my revenge."

He uses one of his character voices for the final sentence, and she pulls a face, scrunching her nose as she rolls her eyes. He's trying to break the tension and it's working.

The girl stops staring, spinning in her chair as O'Donnell walks in, muttering under her breath, " Freaks ."

Eddie hears that. The entire time, he'd seemed oblivious to the girl, but her insult caught his attention. Willow freezes her playing with his strand of hair as he narrows his eyes.

"Excuse me? Didn't quite catch th-" he starts, but is quickly cut off by O'Donnell starting class.

Willow tries not to linger on it, to push it to the back of her mind as her hand drops from Eddie's hair and she focuses on the lesson for the day. There's talk of deadlines, a reminder of their project. Willow only had a few chapters left in The Hobbit, and had been completing the reading journals as she went along. She had predicted Eddie had done the exact opposite, not even sure if he read any further than what they had read together. So when O'Donnell reminds everyone that there's more work to be done than just reading, she turns to give him a joking glare, only to find him looking distracted at the girl who had insulted them in the beginning of the class. His eyes are glazed over, and for a moment, Willow is worried.

But the class, and therefore the world, carries on. She isn't allotted the time to be concerned about Eddie nor bring it up to him. When the bell rings, he's quick to stand, unusually so, hardly saying a word to Willow. For the first time in weeks, he doesn't walk her to her Spanish class, hardly giving her a peck on the lips before telling her he'd see her in chemistry. The worry only grows for Willow.

She's still thinking about it when she stops by her locker before third period, trading out her books for what she'll need in Edwards' class. She hasn't even gotten the chance to slam her locker back shut when she hears the jocks behind her.

"Well, well, well. Look at this ," she hears Jason before she turns to face him, standing not even a few feet away, Chrissy Cunningham clinging to his arm. A few other jocks are near him, and they all stare at her with troublesome smiles.

"Jason," she says curtly, nodding before shutting her locker, readjusting her backpack. She's not in the mood - all she wants right now is to get to class, to get to where Eddie is.

She should've known he wasn't going to allow that. She's lucky he hasn't made a spectacle of her since she broke up the fight between him and Eddie.

"Keeping the red hair, I see," Jason muses, taking a step towards Willow that sends her stumbling back a bit. When her back meets the cool metal of her locker, he begins to grin, knowing he has her trapped, "A bit darker than what you had before. You know what they say about red hair, though, don't you?"

Willow can see Chrissy's grip grow tighter on his bicep. She wishes that the girl would speak up, would pull her boyfriend away and let them get on with their day.

"N-No," she stutters, cursing her lack of confidence. These days she'd found herself overflowing with it, but only when Eddie was at her side. By herself, she was still just as measly and nervous as she'd always been. It was a curse.

The other jocks chuckle as if they're in on a joke, as if they already know Jason's next words. Which makes sense, given she has no doubt she's been their topic of gossip for a while now.

"Girls with red hair, they're easy. Some would say they're whores . But you know all about that, don't you? Given you're the Freak's slut, after all."

It shouldn't cut Willow so deeply. Normally, Jason's words can be taken at face value. But these words, the subtle dig at Eddie while also insulting her, crawls under her skin and stirs irritation in the pit of her stomach.

Chrissy immediately gasps, "Jason!"

She's scolding him, looking genuinely upset, but the damage is already done. Her words fall on deaf ears for both peers. Willow is already pissed, and fairly embarrassed, and done with Jason's shit.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she spits between gritted teeth, shoving past the jocks and being sure to ram her shoulder into Jason's, the same one she had hit with her backpack the day she broke up his fight with Eddie. He doesn't even flinch, and she has half the mind to circle back and hit him harder.

Instead of flinching, or paying any mind to Chrissy's defending of Willow, he grabs her by her forearm. It makes Willow's entire body go cold. "Oh, c'mon. We're just having fun, baby," he's clearly talking to Chrissy, but his eyes are staring down Willow, who forces herself to return the eye contact, "Right, Red ?"

Eddie's nickname for her. Something sacred, a name usually laced with care and affection, now weaponized against her.

She can feel the burn of bile rising in her throat.

"Let go of me, Carver," her words are meant to be hard, but they come out a whisper. She hates the angry tears that are blurring the edges of her vision.

"Oh, struck a nerve there, did I?" Jason is practically sneering, eyes squinting as he continues to stare her down. But then, suddenly, his face smooths over and a devious look overtakes his features, " Oh , maybe you don't know. Maybe the Freak won't fuck you, will he? Maybe he's just using you. Is that it, Red ?"

Willow doesn't stick around to hear anymore. She's quick to yank her arm out of Jason's gasp, pain shooting up her forearm from how tightly he had been grabbing her.

There's a red handprint curled around her arm.

She can still hear him as she's walking away, the other jocks' voices mingling with his as they mockingly moan out Eddie's name. High pitched moans, breathy gasps, all clearly meant to be impersonations of Willow. The tears on her face are hot when they finally make their way down her cheeks. Every pair of eyes are on her as she rushes down the hallway and away from the scene.

It shouldn't bother her. It's all fake. And Jason and his clique had never gotten under Willow's skin before this way. But something about the way Eddie had gone cold with her today after the comment from the girl in homeroom had her vulnerable, her armor weakened at his lack of communication - there had been a hole in her hard exterior, and Jason had taken the perfect shot to wound her.

She keeps her head down before wiping the tears off of her cheeks and chin furiously. She was angry . Angry that she let them get to her so quickly, angry that she had reacted so pathetically. Angry that Jason's comment on Eddie not having sex with her had struck a nerve she'd been so unaware of being exposed. Because the deal was no longer about Steve Harrington, the deal was about borrowed time now - and why hadn't Eddie made any moves on her? If she had chosen any other boy, any other fake boyfriend, would they have already made moves on her? Would any other boy have held out and kept things so strictly platonic?

Would any other boy have to be convinced in order to kiss Willow?

The bile is back as she enters Edwards' chemistry classroom. The tears have faded, but the rage remains. For herself. It was useless to be angry at Jason, or any of the airheads that followed him like lost puppies. It was useless to be angry at Eddie, who had just been a perfect gentleman the entire time of their fake relationship. No, Willow internally rages away at herself, at all her imperfections and all her flaws that made her undesirable.

All the reasons that had gotten her into this mess to begin with - all the reasons that Steve Harrington had never returned her feelings.

The pity party of one burns brightly on her face as she doesn't spare a single student a glance, making a beeline for the table in the back that Eddie is already seated at. She almost considers sitting somewhere else for the period, but that would only cause more issues.

There's still a red imprint of Jason Carver's fingers on her arm as she slams down into the chair beside Eddie, making him jump and look up from the notebook he was doodling in.

"Hey, Red-" he starts, but the nickname stings, a reminder of Jason now rather than their friendship.

She snaps, "Don't call me that."

It's unfair to the boy beside her. But her cheeks were still crimson, a single tear track that she'd missed running down the right side of her face, out of Eddie's sight.

When she spares Eddie a single look, he looks wounded and confused, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she stiffly says, trying to not shake as she drops her bag to her feet and pulls out the books and notes she needs for the class.

"Red, something is obviously wron-"

"I said don't call me that," she interrupts again, voice cracking this time. When she meets Eddie's concerned gaze, she clears her throat, feebly trying to soothe over her attitude by adding, "Please."

That's when he catches sight of her arm. She'd had the sleeves of his leather jacket rolled up, having gotten warm in Spanish, and forgotten to pull them down after her encounter.

"Who did that?" he immediately demands, reaching out and hardly getting the chance to brush his fingertips over her wrist before she's yanking her arm away, quick to pull down the sleeves.

"Don't worry about it."

"Willow."

Her name. Not Red, not sweetheart, not doll. He's deathly serious as he continues to stare at her arm, even now, as it's clad in leather once more.

"I said don't worry about it, Eddi-" she begins, but he ignores her pleas and grabs her arm slightly more aggressively. She doesn't have the chance to pull away this time as he yanks the sleeve up, staring at the imprint.

He doesn't say a word for a moment, gaze boring uncomfortably into the mark in a way that makes Willow wiggle in her seat.

" Who did this to you?" his voice is stoic, eyebrows furrowed. His rings are cold on her skin from the air conditioning of the school halls, fingertips digging into the bottom part of her wrist as he keeps his grip firm.

He's pissed. She hasn't seen him angry often, but it doesn't take a genius to note the way his shoulders have gone tense and his lips have pressed together tightly.

She knows it's useless to brush off the question again, so she takes the chance of being honest. "Jason."

Eddie's eyes flit up to meet hers, " Jason ? You're telling me Carver did this?"

"Yeah," she whispers softly, unable to hold eye contact for long. If she does, she might start crying again, and she's not in the mood to make a fool of herself in this class.

He catches sight of the tear track next, now that she's turned to face him. He doesn't hesitate to reach up his free hand, cupping her cheek and letting his thumb swipe away any wetness left. "When?"

"Just now, in the hallway," she feels pathetic, focusing in on one of the windows behind Eddie's head. She has to stop herself from leaning into his touch.

Eddie's touch is still gentle on her face, his grip on her wrist softening, contradicting the fury in his words, "I'm going to kill him."

It's the way he says it. She believes him. She believes if he had the chance, he'd run out of this classroom, find Jason Carver, and follow through with putting him in an early grave.

" No ."

She won't let him do it. Not for her.

"He put his hands on you, Willow-"

"He's put his hands on you plenty of times."

"This is different. I'm going to kill him."

There's something unspoken there. In the air between them, Willow can feel his unspoken words.

This matters because it's you. He put his hands on .

She shouldn't fan the fire, but she finds herself blubbering nonetheless, "He just- He came up to me. He was talking about my red hair, how it makes me a slut, how I'm a whore because I'm with you-" she can see Eddie's anger grow, impossibly so, and it makes her snap her mouth shut, cutting off the word vomit momentarily.

"Sweetheart-" he starts, doing as she asked, not calling her Red .

It's only making her feel worse. She wants Eddie to say the name again, she wants to hear it in his gentle tone rather than Jason's mocking one, to hear the affection he holds for her laced through the single syllable. She wants to take back the snappy attitude she'd started with him.

So she hammers the final nail into Jason's coffin, finally explaining, "He called me Red . Like it was a bad thing, like it was an insult."

Her eyes close tightly. She hated that Jason did that, that he had taken the nickname and shot her straight through the heart with it. That's what fueled her reaction. It was Eddie's nickname for her, but Jason Carver had said it like a swear - he had said it like something dirty, something to be ashamed of.

Eddie's fingers trail over the handprint once more. It was fading more as the seconds ticked by.

"I'm going to kill him," he repeats himself, breathing hard as he stares at the physical remanence of the altercation.

Willow shakes her head, hard and with finality, "Please don't. I think you're a bit more useful to me not in jail for attempted murder."

She says it to attempt to pull a chuckle, or any sort of laughter from him, but it fails. There's not a trace of humor on his face when she finally sets her sights back on him.

"Red-" he starts, but immediately corrects himself, meeting her eyes yet again, " Willow . He put his hands on you. And I protect my sheeps."

"I'm one of your sheeps now?" She attempts to joke.

"You know what I mean," he's still not joking back with her, "I care about you, and Jason isn't going to fuck with someone I care about."

She sighs, lifting the hand that Jason had grabbed from his gentle caresses and bringing it over the hand still on her face, "Can't you just fuck with him without getting hurt in the process?"

"You seem so sure I'd lose in the fight," There it is. His humor, seeping back into his tone weakly as he stares at where her thumb trails over his knuckles. With each stroke, she can see tension leaving his shoulders.

"Never said that," she corrects him, "But... Every time you've fought with Jason, you end up with a black eye."

"You say that as if I've gotten into more than one fight with him this year."

"Last year."

"Pardon me?"

"Last year, you got into like, three fights with him. I may not have known you, but you're hard to miss, Eddie. Especially when you're constantly trying to kick Jason Carver's ass and failing."

Something lights up within him at her admission that she'd noticed him in previous years. The confirmation that she knew who he was, that they'd always been running circles around each other. He hadn't been the only watchful one.

"Failing is putting it a bit harshly, don't you think?" he asks, hand finally falling from her face reluctantly.

She smiles widely for the first time since she walked into the classroom, and his heart soars. It's written all over his face. "I think it's putting it nicely . Figure out another way to defend my honor. Without breaking your pretty face in the process."

He doesn't point out how she just called him pretty. He doesn't really have the chance as they are interrupted by the bell and Mr. Edwards' starting class. She sneaks glances at him throughout the lesson, watching the way his face contorts as he's clearly deep in thought. It reminds her of O'Donnell's this morning - he feels far away from her again. Lost in his own mind, in his own thoughts, somewhere she almost senses she can't reach him.