eddie munson was the best boyfriend you've ever had.

in part, because he was a fucking idiot. you were trans-- not openly so, seeing as it was 1986. most people just thought you were a really hardcore tomboy.

eddie, on the other hand, did not. you were a boy to him, unwaveringly. to the point he forgot you weren't cis.

it was comforting, for the most part, to have someone whole-heartedly see you as a man; but it also led to mildly comical moments that led you to question exactly how large your boyfriend's mind was.

such as this one.

you were over at the munson trailer a lot, as wayne wasn't home half of the time and you got it almost entirely by yourselves.

so you had a lot of clothes there. you removed a lot of clothes there, seeing as you'd been dating for a bit over ten months.

it was a little past 5pm, and eddie was entirely absorbed in rambling about dio's last album- the band, not the artist. they were two different things, as eddie had so fervently insisted. you couldn't really tell the difference.

he fell onto his bed with a soft oomph, stretching out as if an oversized dog rolling around in the grass.

"and- god, really, it's. well, it's live, so i can't get it on vinyl yet. but s'called intermis- ah, fuck!"

he jumped off of his bed as if he had been burned, doe eyes wide with surprise. his brain stopped computing for a solid ten seconds.

there was a bra on his bed. he was a gay man. no woman had ever been in this roo-

he looked up at you for help, and- oh, yeah! that was yours!