surprise! early update. there'll be another new chapter tomorrow. pov's are marked in bold. yada yada yada. alright, i'll let you all get to it. i probably won't have any author's notes for the next few chapters.

Eddie waits for the storm, but it never comes.

On Thursday, he takes the time to greet Willow especially delicately, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of tears or pain. He knows very clearly what day it is - the anniversary of Parker's death. He had already made plans for them to spend the entire night together in an effort to not only distract her if she needed it, but be there if she needed to have a breakdown.

She's fine. It baffles him, but she's perfectly fine. They have the movie night they'd previously planned for the night before, before Eddie got in over his head, and everything went just fine.

On Friday, he believes that maybe the breakdown was delayed. Surely, she was going to come out to his car and insist they ditch the day. The storm would have finally arrived and he's prepared for it. But she comes bounding out to his car, going as far as to bring him a handful of sour Warhead candies to 'start off Halloween the right way' since he'd mentioned they were his favorite, and he's left baffled as he watches her nod her head along to Black Sabbath the entire drive. Her eyes aren't rimmed red, her hands aren't shaking. He doesn't question when he pecks her for show later that day at lunch and she tastes like the same sour treats she'd gifted him.

She's fine. Even when the night comes and she invites him over to pass out candy with her. Even as they accidentally ignore a few passes of poor children, opting to leisurely make out instead.

She's fine, and he hadn't planned for that. He's at a loss.

He's not much of a grief expert. The only death he'd ever experienced that had left him particularly scarred had been his mother, and he'd been too young to properly go through the grieving motions without a helping hand from Wayne. His uncle had kept the happy memories alive and the more painful memories buried away. He still missed her of course, especially in the summer, but it didn't feel comparable to what Willow had experienced. Most years, his mother's death anniversary passed him by without him realizing.

But Willow had told him the way she dreaded Halloween, how the anniversary haunts her. So he had planned for her armor to crumble, for her to lay down her weapons and seek out solace in him. She doesn't.

The only talk involving anxiety of the holiday had been revolving around Harrington's stupid plan of a 'not-party', as Willow phrased it.

"Come on," she pleaded from the couch on Thursday night. He was in the kitchen microwaving them some popcorn, "Steve really wants us to go."

"Need I remind you what happened at the last party with Steve?" He tried to remain gentle in his tone. He was still treading carefully, still awaiting the storm.

"This will be different, it's a not- party," she argued, standing and walking to where he stood in front of his microwave. He nearly jumped out of his skin when she wrapped her arms around him from behind, leaning up and pressing her chin into his shoulder. He knew it was a comical sight given their height difference, and the image of the outside view fueled his butterflies. They were bruising, as they always were when she partook in such casual affection with him. "You'll be there. Besides, I've learned my lesson. Drunk Willow is a woman of the past."

He couldn't help but turn around to face her, twisting in her arms and looking down at her puppy dog eyes. He couldn't say no to her. But God, he wished he could have in moments like this. It was a terrible idea.

"Fine. But if Harrington tries to start any shit, I won't hesitate-"

"To kick his ass. I know. He won't," she reassured him as he finally gave in.

He swallowed hard, lost in her eyes, "I mean it. I don't want to see you hurt again."

"You won't."

So he agreed. And now, on Saturday, he knows he can't go back on his word.

She's too excited, planning out their costumes giddily and insisting he gets ready with her at her house. They're going as pirates - to honor the D&D character he'd created for her, she'd explained.

He's currently sprawled out on her bed, already dressed in his costume and watching her rush around to find the necessary components of her ensemble. His eyes follow her, back and forth and back and forth, as she paces the room and grabs the flowing white dress she'd picked for the occasion. Even in her distress, she has him entranced. He could watch her for hours partaking in the most mundane of tasks and never get bored.

He's a goner. He's long since accepted it, facing the fact that the girl in front of him was always destined to be his downfall. He could tell you the exact moment that she'd gotten her hook under his skin - that night at the Hideout. At first he considered it might have happened during the night they'd gone to Lover's Lake in his van, but that had felt too late. Then he'd pondered if it was at Scoops Ahoy, watching her argue with Robin over an unknown topic at the time as Steve had served him and Gareth, but that had felt too early. He'd spent most of his alone time these days thinking about it, mulling over it until it had driven him to the brink of insanity.

It had to be the night at the Hideout. The image of her standing outside with him, snarky and vibrant as if they weren't strangers, her red hair practically glowing around her in the subtle lighting. The way his jacket had hugged her body so naturally in the summer breeze, as if it had been stitched together solely for that moment. The way he had called out to her one last time before she'd stormed back inside, desperate to hear her voice one more time even though he knew he'd royally pissed her off.

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

"Still is. Clearly."

Eddie didn't understand the girl in front of him, so vehemently defending the asshole sitting inside the bar right now.

"I...Yeah. Sometimes. I promise he's gotten better though, if that's any ease to your mind," she threw herself against the wall beside him, and he tensed slightly at the sudden closeness. If either of the two shifted, their shoulders would bump.

He watched her shiver for the umpteenth time that night. Suddenly, he has a bright idea. A ridiculous one.

"You don't have to ease my mind, Red. Also, here," he shrugged out of his jacket, deciding he had nothing to lose.

The girl beside him was one of Harrington's friends - an untouchable. She'd probably sneer at the offering of his jacket, refusing it on the basis of pride. He didn't know much about Willow Jenkins, only seeing her around in the hallways at school with Robin Buckley, but he knew enough about the crowd that Steve Harrington surrounded himself with.

Except he'd been lying if he said that the red-head didn't confuse him. The fact that she'd come out here after him alone was enough to pique his interest, dangerously so. It was an unexpected move - he didn't think any of the group was going to follow him after the confrontation with Harrington. He'd figured they were all going to sit around and continue to talk shit about him. How he was a freak, how Steve was in the right for being such a jackass, how they should just forget he'd ever been an asshole because Eddie wasn't worth their time.

Yet here she was. Defending Steve still, but also finding it in her to admit he was in the wrong. She had caught Eddie off-guard. She had flipped the script on him.

And maybe a little part of him wanted to get to know a girl who could surprise him so easily.

"C'mon, you're shivering like all hell. I promise it's not contaminated," he tried to joke when he realized she wasn't accepting his peace offering. Okay, maybe he was wrong about her. Maybe she was going to reject him, just as he had expected, and the script would chug along as he had figured it would.

But then, she accepted it. Another shiver racked her body, and her hand reached out and took the leather from him. He was rendered speechless as he watched her pull the jacket on carefully, going as far as to fully wrap herself up in it, inhaling deeply.

There wasn't an ounce of disgust on her face. It lights something in the pit of Eddie's stomach, embers glowing to match the lit end of his cigarette. It's the beginning of something that he knows is surely nothing but trouble. His mouth nearly falls open wide enough that his cigarette drops from his lips.

"'Atta girl," he sighed out around the filter. He was awestruck. A small smile tugged on his lips, reaching up and removing the cancerous stick before it really did fall out of his mouth. It was down to the butt anyway, finished and signaling it was time for his second one.

"Thank you. Y-You didn't have to....I mean, I- Thank you," she stuttered through her acceptance. He was incapable of lying to himself; the blush on her cheeks had been adorable.

"Any time. Even if you are a friend of Steve's," he regretted the words the moment he said them. It brought them both back down to the reality at hand - the argument that had taken place, her friends that were waiting on her, the way that the two of them were not meant to cross paths. It doesn't matter how much she intrigued Eddie, because this would never happen. They would never be friends.

She was just being nice. The same as he had been when he gave her his jacket.

"You admitted yourself you provoked Steve at times."

God, she was still defending him. It was admirable, but it still irked Eddie. It doesn't matter that she'd pointed it out in a kind tone. It didn't matter that she'd taken the time to follow Eddie and apologize. At the end of the day, she still belonged to guys like Harrington, not freaks like Eddie.

"He started it. If he never bothered me, I would have never provoked him."

"What are you guys, five?"

"Actually, eight."

Shit. He was getting caught up in the banter, flowing so easily, so effortlessly, between the two of them. Even though he'd put physical distance between them as he lit his second cigarette, he still felt a tug in his chest - a pull to her he needed to ignore.

"Right, my apologies," she rolled her eyes, snarky attitude making Eddie's heart skip a singular beat. A cursed sign he needed to cut the interaction short. "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."

He hadn't been able to hold back his scoff. The cigarette did little to soften its blow. "Why are you trying to defend him so hard?"

He couldn't think of a single reason that a girl like her would feel the need to defend any guy so sincerely. He was starting to see that she thought that Steve Harrington was genuinely a good guy. Then again, it was fitting of the interactions he'd overheard her involved with in passing during school.

She may act as if she doesn't know of him, not completely, but he knows of her.

"I'm not! I'm just saying."

"You very much are, Red."

"Stop calling me that."

"Why?"

"Because."

There it was again. Harsh tugs, pulling him into the back and forth they'd created. Most of his sour mood had melted away, much to his dismay.

He just stared at her. Partially in awe, and partially in teasing. He hadn't even realized he was grinning at her until he watched her pull into his jacket as a defense under his entertained gaze.

She was nervous. Of course she was nervous, he had a reputation. Girls like her are always nervous around him. They always believed the whispers of sacrifice, of the Devil worship, of the danger.

"What?" her voice didn't reflect the nerves. She kept it steady. She was faring better than any of the girls at school ever had; most would usually be scampering back to their pristine lives, far, far away from him at this point. So with a final tug on his chest cavity, he let himself fall into the moment.

"I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"For a reason."

"I gave you a reason."

"Because is not a reason. It's not even a full sentence!"

"Didn't expect the super, super senior to know that ."

There it was - the other shoe had dropped. He shouldn't have let himself fall into the moment. There's a roaring in his ears, a bitter twang on his tongue. For a moment there, he had let himself believe that she didn't care, or maybe she hadn't heard, about the rumors. But the stabbing insult proved she knew of his reputation, of his failures and tall-tales. It proved that she was judging him. He didn't even hear her weak apology properly, hardly grasping at it as he accepted that this was all in fact a fluke.

Whatever. She was just another one of Harrington's groupies. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. And he decided to tell her as much.

"It's fine. Spoken like a true Harrington groupie."

He struck a nerve. It was written across her face, as if he had just slapped her.

"I'm not his groupie."

"Right. And he's not still drunk, inside, waiting for you."

She finally got the memo. He could see the realization of who she was, of who he was, weighing down her shoulders.

"Right."

Something churned inside of Eddie when he saw her begin to shrug back off his jacket. Despite everything that had screamed at him to let the interaction go, to take it at face value and let it live there in the past, in that night, he couldn't. He couldn't even finish his cigarette. All his mind was focused on was his most foolish idea to date.

"Keep it."

"What?"

"The jacket."

"No, I'm not keeping your leather jacket. Not happening."

"No, seriously, I insist."

He felt the beginnings of a small smile creep onto his lips, and forced it into the shape of a smirk. It was easier to come off as overly cocky, overly flirtatious, overly everything . His entire brand had been built upon being too much. It kept those he had no interest in gated on the outside, and weaseled out the ones who would stay. He wouldn't bring that entire persona down over a girl who made his stomach flutter.

"Why?"

He could have told her the truth. He wanted an excuse to talk to her again. Even if it was just another snarky conversation, teetering on the constant edge of a fight. Instead, he chose a little white lie.

"Consider it one last dig at Harrington for that night."

"He isn't going to care. Keep your stupid jacket."

Yes, he is. He's going to care a ridiculous amount. But that's not why I want you to have it, he thought. She was clearly blind to the eyes Steve had been making at her all night. But he had seen them, even from the stage. It was why he approached the bar after the set - he had to see it up close, the Steve Harrington unable to get the girl.

"Yeah, right. Mister 'she's too good for all of the Hawkins' boys'. Definitely isn't going to get under his skin," he threw his head back with uncontrollable laughter. Steve's words hadn't gotten under his skin at the time, but now they made his neck prickle. The only reassurance he had was that clearly, he had been right. Willow Jenkins was too good for all of the boys in this town, even the fallen king of Hawkins' High.

He's so wrapped up in the comedy of it all that he nearly missed the effect his words had on her. But he looked back at the perfect moment. She was pissed.

"Jesus, you both are such dicks. "

It was probably the first and only time Eddie Munson would be lumped in with the likes of Steve Harrington. He could live with that.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he had already begun to put physical distance between them. The asphalt crunched beneath his shoes.

He had set his plan into motion. All he had to do was wait. Either it would work, and he would be seeing more of Willow Jenkins, or it would fail miserably (as most of his plans did) and he'd lose his favorite leather jacket. But losing his favorite jacket to the closet of a girl like her, a girl who had invaded his brain in such a short conversation, didn't sound so bad.

She was nearly out of his sight, nearly at the door of the bar. He didn't even realize he'd called out to her until he was staring into those soft, hazel eyes again. Filled with space for kindness. Currently overflowing with disdain for him.

"What do you want, Munson?"

God, he hoped he got to see those eyes again. Even if they were only in his dreams.

"Red's your color."

What a lame, miserable thing to say. Pathetic, really. But it was all he could come up with, deciding to part ways on a complimenting note rather than just pissing her off. He hoped it bettered his chances of her finding him come the first day of school. Even if she looked at him with all the frustration in the world, like she did now. Even if she didn't believe what he'd just said and thought he was still just fucking with her.

He wasn't. He meant it. He'd never seen a girl look so beautiful in maroon.

Willow wasn't what he had expected. He kind of liked it.

It had to be the night at the Hideout. The night that hadn't left his mind for four months, even before she'd approached him with their deal. He'd gone home that night and let himself picture a thousand scenarios. Daydreams that were only partially valid since he had insisted she kept his jacket, a lame attempt at guaranteeing he'd have an excuse to see her again. He'd imagined her shamelessly approaching him in the hallways and handing back the jacket with a snarky insult. He'd imagined her meeting him in secret in the woods, returning the article clothing in a clandestine moment where their hands would brush and maybe he'd find a friend. Maybe he'd find more.

Eddie from four months ago had no clue of what was to come. Just like her first impression on him, she'd continued to surprise him. She'd taken the scripts he'd written between them in boredom, ripping them right from his nimble fingers and tearing them to pieces before his eyes. Every time they were together, she continued to shock him in the most wonderful way. At this point, she was the most exciting and most anticipated part of each of his days. He wanted to spend a lifetime letting her exceed his expectations and following her lead.

He sometimes considers telling her. How easy it would be to admit it all to her in theory - she's had him a foolish mess ever since her lame attempt at diffusing the fight between Steve and him that night. He'd never seen anyone defend someone else like that. He'd wished at that moment that she would defend him with such velocity one day.