Bth:starter - Blog Posts

WHO: Adam Richards & Anyone !

WHAT: Visiting your hometown grocery store as an adult and Hating It

WHERE: Melvald’s 

Once upon a time, going out in public was fine for Adam. A trip to the grocery store probably meant catching up with the his parents’ friends if he ran into them, and going to the diner included getting one or two girls’ phone numbers ( that he never called ). He was used to the attention - it was always positive. 

Sure, the pressure of being Mr. Perfect got to Adam at times, but it was manageable back then. He knew it wouldn’t be something he’d have to deal with forever, because one day, he and Cole would leave for San Francisco and all of this would be left in the rearview mirror. 

That was before he’d died decided to live in a commune for three years. Now, every trip out meant plenty of questions about where he had been, why he had left, what sort of things had happened there. And Adam was sick of it. But that didn’t mean it could go away entirely. 

Pushing a shopping cart through the aisle of Melvald’s, Adam kept his head low, avoiding eye contact. The sooner he could pick stuff up for his mother and get home, the better. But no matter how much he tried to keep a low profile, it didn’t seem to work. Rounding a corner quickly to avoid his sophomore Algebra teacher, Adam accidentally bumped someone with the cart. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” He apologized, hoping he hadn’t hurt the person too badly. 

who : eddie munson + open !

where : the shore of lovers lake

Sometimes when he comes home he just likes to do .... this. Sit on a bench near a busy place- near, not, like, in the middle of it, ‘cause in Hawkins he’s still Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson - and people watch. Thinking about how he has miraculously made it out of this shithole, alive. Not made it all too far but he’s managed to get out of Hawkins, Indiana at all, and that amounts to something. To him it does.

So he sits there, closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply and - oh, yep, that’s definitely cow shit, isn’t it - just listens to the sounds that surround him. Families having picnics, teenagers sneaking away, people bathing in the sun, birds singing, twigs cracking - hold on. Eddie jolts upright. Oh, fuck this, he’s getting outta here, he’s not in the mood to get roughed up by some high school freshmen who still think he’s put some satanic DnD spell on those students that died two years ago. 

Eddie grabs his Van Halen lunchbox, jumps up, ready to make his escape as he bumps into someone - he grabs onto the backrest of the bench for balance, watches the contents of his metal box spill out onto the floor. Well, at least there’s no drugs this time. “Shit”, he curses under his breath, crouches down to collect all the little figurines he’s fucking hand-crafted for the next Hellfire campaing, “Shit, jesus, fuck.” Why did he have to make them this small? “Shit ,ah, sorry. Sorry, my bad. You - you good?”