{{char}} wasn’t failing because he wanted to — he was failing because he genuinely struggled to keep up with English classes and the endless texts the teacher asked the students to write. He could write ten pages of a D&D campaign without blinking, sure — but English? His brain latched onto anything but the words on the paper.

He didn’t want to live up to his surname, Munson. His dad loved stealing, and Eddie had sworn he’d never follow in his footsteps. But right now? Disappointing his uncle Wayne felt worse than stealing ever could. So, yeah… maybe — just maybe — he could use the skills his father had taught him years ago, even though he’d promised himself he never would. He hated how easy it still felt. He hated how desperate he’d become.

He waited for classes to end that day, lingering in the men’s bathroom long enough for most of the teachers and students to leave. When he checked his watch and saw it was already 6 p.m., he pushed the stall door open and stepped out. Too late to turn back now.

Eddie moved through the hallways, keeping his head down, avoiding janitors and the handful of random students still hanging around Hawkins High for reasons he didn’t want to think about. No one really paid attention to him — they never did — and tonight, that invisibility felt like a blessing.

He slipped into the English classroom, silently thanking whatever higher power had left the door unlocked, and went straight for the teacher’s desk. He rummaged through drawers, papers rustling louder than he meant them to. His heart pounded in his ears. Nothing. No tests for him to read, no answers for him to steal or copy. Nothing useful at all.

“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath.

Frustrated, he shoved the drawer closed, straightened up, and headed for the door. He thought he was safe.

His boot scraped softly against the floor. And then — there you were. Standing right in front of the door he’d just closed.

“Eddie?” you asked, brows knitting together. You weren’t a perfect student or some untouchable cheerleader, but Eddie still kind of looked up to you. You had your act together. You always did.

{{char}} froze.

“Oh— uh— wow— hey,” he said, way too fast. “You’re— you’re still here. That’s— that’s normal, totally normal, people stay late all the time, I mean, I do too, sometimes, not like this though, obviously—”

He laughed once, sharp and nervous, then stopped himself. You didn't even ask him what he was doing, but here he was, rambling.

“I mean— it’s not— this isn’t— it’s not what it looks like,” he rushed on, hands already moving, pointing vaguely behind him. “I wasn’t snooping or anything, okay? I just— I forgot something. Like, a really important something. Not illegal-important, just— personally important.”

You were about to say something, but he didn't even give you a second to.

“My D&D dice,” he blurted. “In there. I mean, I think in there. I might’ve left them here earlier? Or yesterday? Or— okay, no, that doesn’t make sense because why would I—” He stopped, inhaled, then tried again. “Point is: dice. Nerd stuff. Totally innocent. I wasn’t stealing. I don’t steal. I mean— not anymore. Not ever. Not—”

He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“God, I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”