I shouldn't be doing this.

Chrissy knows this is wrong the entire walk. She stumbles countless times, her hands shake and her palms sweat, and her heart is beginning to painfully ache from how hard it thrums the entire time.

I really shouldn't be doing this.

The only thing that keeps her legs striding forward, that allows her to ignore the nagging voice in her mind, is the promise of relief. All she had to do was meet up with him, hand over the cash weighing heavy in her backpack's front pocket, and collect the illicit substance that would offer her mind a break.

That's all she wanted - a break.

She felt like she was losing her mind these days. Sleepless nights, nightmares when she did manage to rest, horrid headaches, and most recently, hallucinations. She had already slipped the subtle note into the boy's locker before her incident in the bathroom, but then that had happened, and now she knew she needed what he could provide her with. She had no choice. She needed a break.

She trips over another branch, gasping and putting all of her focus on not rolling her ankle, when she feels a drip from her nose. A still-shaking hand brings up the edge of her cardigan, swiping and looking down to see a stain of red.

Her nose is bleeding. It must be the weather. It must be stress.

She rubs beneath her nose a few more times before she arrives in the clearing, being sure to erase all traces of the random nosebleed, as she glances around nervously at the surrounding trees. There was something menacing in the tangle of barren branches over her head, the foliage still not quite growing back despite spring being upon them. They were all scraggly bark, sharp edges and daunting spiderwebs. Even the grass was still an off shade of yellow, faded of all color with no signs of blooming flowers.

The forest was carrying the scent of death. She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be doing this, but she still has to.

It happens quickly; she fumbles her way around the picnic table, head swinging her ponytail violently as she glances at each and every sound of nature, when suddenly, she hears a clock.

Just like in the bathroom. Just like in her dreams.

"Hello?" she calls out, her voice echo being the only answer.

She doesn't see it at first, eyes scanning wildly for where the chimes are coming from. They continue to taunt her. Each chime sends a shooting pain through her skull, a throbbing in her temples as her eyes water and her breath quickens.

Why is there a clock in the woods?

There's a tree off to the side of the clearing. It's large, not nearly as substantial as the one beside the picnic tree, but still holding its own. And in the center of its wide trunk, a grandfather clock is nestled deeply inside, still chiming, still mocking Chrissy.

She takes a step back.

The clock chimes again.

Another step, another chime.

The pattern continues four times before Chrissy watches the center of the clock's face begin to crack. Spiderweb fractures begin to widen, spreading out across the entirety of the face before finally, the glass breaks.

She gasps, and watches in horror as black massed crawl from the hole formed in the center.

Spiders.

Her scream is stuck in her throat, constricting further with each breath as her steps become more frantic, blindly trying to put distance between herself and the clock. But she can't take her eyes off of it, vision glued to the terrifying image that her mind has conjured. It's a car crash - it's terrible, it's haunting, and she can't look away.

Her body collides with something warm. Another body. The scream finally tears loose from her vocal chords, echoing into the woods around her.

This time, there's an answer.

"Whoa! Hey, hey, hey, hey," Eddie Munson's frantic voice sounds from behind her, making her turn quickly to see his nervous features, "Sorry," he pauses, chuckling breathlessly, "Didn't mean to scare you."

Even with how uncomfortable his smile comes across, there's a warmth that radiates off of him. It's in his raised palms, it's in his wide brown eyes. It's twisted in with the slight upturn of his lips as he attempts to make himself appear the opposite of his reputation; Eddie Munson appears like a beacon of safety rather than the dangerous, deluded man the hallways of Hawkins High whisper about.

His face relaxes as his eyes flicker over Chrissy's still shaking form, leaning as he takes in her frenzied state, "You okay?"

She can't answer him, only creasing her eyebrows together ever so slightly as she turns to look back at the tree.

The clock is gone. The chimes are nowhere to be heard.

Tears fill her baby blue eyes, entire face twitching as she resists the urge to mutter as if she were the deranged one.

I'm losing my mind.

She lets Eddie guide her over to the picnic bench, still not answering his question.

She wasn't okay. But that's why she's here; she's here to buy something from him that will make her okay.

She can't help but jump as he slams his metal lunchbox onto the table carelessly, removing his denim vest in one smooth movement from over his shoulders, bunching it together in his hands.

He usually wears a leather jacket. She remembers seeing him around in it from time to time. Most of her memory comes from the previous year, though. This year, she's caught sight of that leather covering the frame of someone different.

A fiery redhead who's on track to be the top of their class. Images of scarlet hair billowing over a worn leather collar, her hazel eyes rolling at the man in front of Chrissy. He's almost unrecognizable, really, without the girl glued to his side. She's become like an accessory to him-

No. Accessory isn't the right comparison. Willow Jenkins was the furthest thing from some throw away piece of jewelry, and even someone like Chrissy could recognize it from the glimpses she'd got of the two together. The way Eddie's persona melted when his arm was slung around her shoulders, the way he turned into soft brown eyes and shy grins whenever the girl laid eyes on him.

Chrissy had always been a bit envious. He'd always looked at her in a way no one could quite place, no words quite capable of describing the shimmer he gathered in his irises for her. It'd been there since that day in chemistry class, the first and only day Willow had sat beside Chrissy. He'd charged into the class, very late, a storm of chaos and discrepancy, but it had faltered the moment his eyes landed on Willow at that front table. She had calmed his storm.

He looked at her the way the men in the books looked at the loves of their lives. He looked at her in a way Jason Carver had never looked at Chrissy, and it left the blonde fairly jealous.

She finds herself bouncing her knee and glancing down at her lap, tugging at the edges of her skirt and trying to stop overthinking it so much. If someone like Willow felt safe around Eddie, then someone like Chrissy should feel safe around him.

Even without knowing the girl well, Chrissy can't imagine she'd date someone dangerous. She was too quiet, too kind, too sweet for that, wasn't she?

She doesn't catch the look that graces Eddie's face. But the boy notices the fretful look, the worry, and he tries half-heartedly to comfort her clear anxieties.

"There's, uh, there's nothing to worry about, okay?" he tosses the vest onto the table in front of them as he sits himself down on his respective bench, "No one ever comes out here. We're safe."

He smacks at the lunch box once he's seated, fiddling with the locks and pulling it closer in front of him as Chrissy's face still scrunches with worry, her eyes still darting about.

"I promise," he insists, flicking open the lunch box.

He's clearly out of his comfort zone. He focuses on the contents of his lunch box, choosing to not look up at Chrissy for a moment, and she takes in his own fiddling. The rapt of his fingers against the metal before him, the way he presses his lips together and breathes deeply through his nose. He eventually brings up a hand to press over his cheek and mouth, leaning into his elbow as he briefly looks at her before his eyes avert once more.

"So, how does this work exactly?" Chrissy finally asks, eyes peeking into the small baggies she can see over the edge of the metal before she looks up at Eddie, face contorted with those same anxieties.

They're both out of their comfort zone.

"Ah, just like any other old sale," Eddie explains, his hand dropping to cross his arms as he shakes his head subtly, looking around at the trees around them before focusing on Chrissy, "Except, uh, cash only," a nervous grin breaks, but Chrissy's knee continues to bounce, "And for, uh, obvious reasons - no receipts."

Chrissy doesn't respond.

Eddie takes the stride, and if Chrissy wasn't mistaken, she'd believed he wanted to get this over with as much as she did. "I'll do you a half ounce for, uh... twenty," he pauses, grabbing one of the plastic baggies out of the box and swinging it around nonchalantly, "What do you say? It's plenty of bang for your buck, should last you a while-"

He's cut off when there's a snapping of branches behind them. Chrissy gasps and immediately turns, every nerve in her body on fire as she starts to tremble again only to catch sight of a chipmunk, scurrying up the side of a tree.

She only relaxes slightly, shoulders falling and embarrassment creeping up her spine at her disproportionate reaction to something so silly. But she couldn't shake the feeling - the feeling that they were being watched.

Maybe it wasn't that they were being watched, though. Maybe it was just Chrissy being watched.

She doesn't immediately turn back to face Eddie, and she hears a soft sigh before the sound of rustling and him closing the lunch box.

"Hey, uh, we don't need to do this," his voice is strained, hiding behind another hand to prop up his face, annoyance beginning to trace his features. He clearly had somewhere else to be. "Just give me the word, and I'll just walk away. Oka-"

Chrissy interrupts him, watching his hands flourish in front of him, about to tug the lunch box back into his body and clearly do as he had just promised, "No! No. It's not that. I don't want you to go."

What she really means is I don't want to be alone.

Eddie Munson was plenty of things. He was scary, and he was temperamental. He was loud and crass, and when it came to strangers, he didn't have an ounce of trust within him left to spare. But he was still a person, and Chrissy was still hung up on the clock she had seen in the tree. The clock that had vanished. The clock that had spit out spiders.

She was getting what she came out here to get. Relief. The only thing standing in between her and that opportunity to turn it all off, just stop feeling that awful prickling at the back of her neck, was all her anxieties that were coming to fruition.

Besides, Eddie wasn't a bad guy. He may be all those things people said he was, but he was also kind beneath it all. Chrissy knew he had to be, because she had seen him with Willow. She had seen him with sparkling eyes and infectious laughter, and she had seen the girl cling to him for comfort in the middle of the busiest of rooms in the school.

But maybe he was only soft for her. Right now, the only thing he was offering Chrissy was a look of annoyance that slowly conformed to confusion, still dragging the lunchbox down onto the bench beside him rather on the table.

"It's just..." she forces herself to continue, hand brushing over the rough edge of the wood. She continues to drag her skin over the prickling splinters, sure to regret it if one lodges itself in her skin, but for now, it was something to focus on rather than her racing heart or cloudy mind, "Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?"

She keeps her gaze downcast, her words falling terribly vulnerable with a hint of sadness. Eddie is the last person she should be confiding in, especially about this insanity that has been plaguing her, but something in her gut says he won't judge her.

There's movement in front of her, and she looks back up to catch Eddie's head tilted, staring at her more curiously now. She said the right words. He's no longer annoyed or on the defense, face riddled with fascination more than anything.

"Um," he drags out the single syllable, once again doing that thing where he won't look her in her eyes. Instead, his eyes dance around their surroundings with a comfortable familiarity that Chrissy wishes she could also be filled with. "You know, just... on a daily basis."

His grin is boyish in nature as he cracks the joke, looking into her eyes and giving her a glimpse of the Eddie she sees when he's walking down the halls at Willow's side. A version of him that isn't so tense, that isn't so caught up in what others are thinking of him or when he'll have to block the next punch. His defense is falling.

"I mean, I feel like I'm losing my mind right now, doing a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins High," there's nothing but gentle joking lacing each syllable that falls from his lips. His face has turned expressive, lilting with each word and letting his mouth fall open in the end to let out a breath of air that could easily be turned into a laugh with a bit of effort.

Quickly, Chrissy realizes why he's nervous. She may be losing her mind, clinging onto what's left of her sanity for reasons she can't compute, but so is he. He's waiting for the other shoe to drop; for the drug deal to be a trap, or for her to humiliate him.

She isn't quite smiling, so Eddie pushes it further. He digs within himself, opens the chasm of tricks he'd used with reckless abandon when he first met with Willow, seeking out any ounce of charm to help Chrissy feel more comfortable.

Contrary to the school's belief, he didn't revel in people being utterly fearful of him. Especially when they were in a vulnerable position like he and Chrissy were, alone in the woods, no one around if anything dangerous occurred.

He knows if it were Willow instead of Chrissy meeting with some guy she didn't know, he wouldn't be delighted in the guy making her feel scared, leaving her to brew in her discomfort.

"You know, this isn't the first time we've, um... hung out," he knocks his knuckles against the wood, so soft it isn't heard over the breeze.

Chrissy only looks lost, "No?"

"You don't remember?"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"That's okay," he assures, digging even deeper. Think, Munson. How the Hell did you get Red to not freak out at being alone with you?

He does the only thing he can think of. The one thing he does that always makes Willow laugh, even when she's furious with him.

He fakes stabbing himself, a bit rougher than necessary as he throws himself backwards into the ground.

It works. Something between a gasp of shock and delight falls audibly from Chrissy's lips, her wide eyes following him as he stands up quickly.

"I wouldn't remember me either, Chrissy," he calls out theatrically, his voice booming through the woods. It's a stupid move considering the premise of their meeting - if anyone hears him, and come looking, he could get busted. That would not fare well for him. But, he does it anyway in the hope of comforting Chrissy at least slightly.

There's leaves covering him and his hair, and he swipes away at them, dusting himself off as Chrissy begins to laugh at him.

"Honestly, um... do I have stuff in my hair?" He pulls a face of faux concern, because he can see the leaves out of his peripherals, running his fingertips through the curls to get the debris out.

Willow was going to kill him if she found any leaves later. He'd just have to win her over by offering to let her wash it, maybe even braid it as she loves to do.

Chrissy only laughs harder at the blatant joke, which eggs Eddie on. She's no longer stiff or shaking, and that's enough for him. She's relaxing. Eddie has achieved in convincing her he wasn't some terrifying murderer who lured her out here under the guise of drugs.

"You don't remember me?" he asks in a high-pitched tone, face scrunched in disbelief as he crosses his arms and takes a few dramatic steps towards Chrissy.

The poor girl is still giggling, shrugging her shoulders hopelessly, "I'm sorry!"

"Middle school," he finally supplies, nodding as he continues to pace around a little, "Talent show. You were doing this cheer thing. You know, the..." he pauses and mimics the shaking of pom-poms, Chrissy smiling wider, "The thing you do. It was pretty cool, actually. And I... I was with my band," he scrunches up his face, sure that Chrissy isn't going to remember, but it was worth a shot.

She does. She remembers, lighting up as she jumps in, "Corroded Coffin!"

Eddie is immediately clapping his hands, letting out a few noises of delight at her memory. "You do remember!"

"Oh my God!" Chrissy continues, "Yes, no, of course! With a name like that, how could I forget?"

The tension has snapped, and suddenly, the conversation is carrying as easily as if they were two old friends simply catching up. The prickle along the back of Chrissy's neck has vanished, and Eddie is seemingly more in his element.

"I dunno," he muses, tone light and teasing, "You're a freak, I guess."

Her mouth drops in disbelief at his words, gaping as she tries to find the right words, "No, you just... you looked so-"

"Different?" he supplies, nodding, "Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed and I didn't have these sweet old tatties," he gestures over his forearms to the artwork inking his skin, Chrissy not even noticing previously.

"You played guitar, right?"

"Uh-huh. Still do, still do," he looks down bashfully, a smile tugging at his lips, "You should come see us. We, uh, play The Hideout on Tuesdays. It's pretty cool. Re- Willow is usually there along with some other friends, and a crowd of about.... Five drunks."

Chrissy lets out a soft laugh as Eddie finally walks back to the table, all of the nervousness left behind, "You know, you're not what I thought you'd be like."

"What?" Eddie tugs a curl up over his face, hiding his smile, "Mean and scary?"

"Yeah," she sighs.

"Yeah, well, I actually kind of thought you'd be mean and scary, too," he lets her know, finally taking his previous seat.

"Me?" she gasps, a look of pure disbelief taking over her features. As if she couldn't imagine someone like Eddie being scared of her. As if she couldn't fathom the power she had over the Hawkins High population.

"Oh, yeah. You're terrifying," he jokes, finally settling down before her.

A comfortable silence takes place before Chrissy finds herself speaking up again, "How is Willow? We haven't talked in forever. I mean, not that we talked much to begin with."