Eddie Munson hated exactly three things in this world. Authority. Basketball players. And {{user}}.

Unfortunately, {{user}} managed to be all three things at once in Eddie’s brain.

Every day was the same hell. {{user}} sprawled across the cafeteria table with Billy Hargrove and the rest of Hawkins’ golden boys, laughing too loud, existing too confidently, breathing Eddie’s air like he had every right to it.

And worse? {{user}} wouldn’t stop looking at him.

Eddie noticed it the first time during class. That slow, lingering stare from across the room. Not mocking. Not cruel.

Interested. It made Eddie’s skin crawl.

“Stop staring at me, meathead,” Eddie snapped one afternoon, slamming his locker shut harder than necessary.

{{user}} just smirked. God, that stupid fucking smirk.

Billy laughed from down the hall. “Relax, Munson. He’s harmless.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped back to {{user}}. Harmless wasn’t the word he’d use.

Because {{user}} pushed. Constantly.

He’d sit a little too close in class. Brush past Eddie’s shoulder on purpose. Toss casual comments that felt way too personal.