Just Call My Name (And I'll Hear You Scream): Chapter 6

A Stranger Things Fanfic

It wasn’t until the next morning that Chrissy realized she hadn’t technically asked Eddie to go with her. It had been implied, of course. Heavily so, in her opinion, but given their previous misunderstandings, she wanted to be absolutely sure he knew what she wanted, preferably as soon as possible.

The problem with that was, despite staying up late, her body still automatically woke up too early for the people around her (the lack of sleep hadn’t caught up yet, but it probably would soon), so when she woke, she crept out of bed, slipped out of her and El’s room, and made her silent way past Hopper asleep on the couch and into the kitchen where she found The Hobbit lying just where she’d left it.

She tried reading to distract herself, but she had trouble focusing on the story when it kept reminding her of Eddie reading over her shoulder, looking at her with those big dark eyes, and telling her he would go anywhere with her. She threw her head back and dropped the book, rubbing her hand over her pounding heart.

When Joyce and El got up, she picked up the book again, pretending to read it. They didn’t seem to notice she hadn’t turned the page in several minutes.

The sounds of the girls in the kitchen woke Hopper, and it didn’t take much longer for Will and Jonathan to get up as well. When Eddie finally, finally got up, Joyce, Hopper, and El had moved into the living room to play cards, and Jonathan and Will were fixing breakfast. He poured a bowl of cereal and sat between her and Will.

“Morning,” he muttered sleepily.

Her nerves wouldn’t let her wait a minute longer. “Would you run away with me?”

She realized exactly half a second later that was exactly the wrong way and place to ask when Jonathan spilled his orange juice, Will leapt up to help him clean it, and Eddie dropped his spoon, staring at her so blankly she feared he had forgotten their previous conversation.

He blinked slowly a couple times, then a wide smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes spread across his face, and he leaned back in his chair. “Wow, Cunningham. You sure know how to make a guy feel special. Is this like a limited-time, call-now kind of thing, or can I eat breakfast first?”

“Oh, um, no, you can eat breakfast. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have, um . . .” she sat back in her chair, feeling her heart sinking and hoping he couldn’t see on her face that she had taken his words apparently too literally.

But she could wait. Of course she could. She would wait as long as he wanted because he had been there for her every time she needed him most, but that didn’t mean he felt the same about her. She had just gotten too excited and made assumptions. She could wait.

Except he didn’t bring it up again that day.

Or the next.

Not to say no, after this they were done, have a good life. Not to say he needed more time to think. Nothing.

Every day she woke up afraid Joyce would say they were leaving and Eddie wouldn’t have made up his mind. When she decided living in suspense was worse than getting the rejection over with, she pulled him aside, broaching the topic again, forcing a laugh and making it clear he could say no. She didn’t expect anything from him.

(What she wanted didn’t matter.)

He gave her a strange look she couldn’t interpret, then smiled and cracked a joke about it before changing the subject.

Which–wasn’t that exactly what he had done before? He hadn’t wanted time to decide; he was deflecting. (Or maybe she was just hoping.)

She needed to know, so she brought it up a couple more times just to get the same results. Slowly the anxious knot in her stomach untangled, replaced by confusion.

That night, she waited for the other teens to go to bed and Joyce and Hopper to go outside, then she cornered Eddie in the kitchen.

“We need to talk.”

He whirled around, then put his hand over his heart and sighed. “Sheesh, Cunningham, you gotta stop sneaking up on me like that.”

When had he started calling her by her last name? She felt a twinge in the bottom of her stomach where the knot had been.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak. I just–I wanted to talk to you.”

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, and why did it feel like he was pulling away from her? “Okay.”

She swallowed hard and stepped towards him. “You keep making jokes every time I ask you to leave with me. Is that–is that just because you like joking around, or do you think I’m the one making jokes?”

His eyes widened slightly, and his arms tightened around his chest like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. “I, um, I thought this was all hypothetical. I mean, why would you want to be stuck with me as you try to get your life together? I, uh, I seem to have the opposite effect on people.” He smiled, as though making another joke, but she could see the pain in its tightness.

“Eddie–” She reached for his arm, but stopped when he tensed. She paused, wondering how she could make him understand how she felt. She let out a long, slow breath. “You, um, you asked me why I didn’t tell you goodbye before I left Hawkins.”

She bit her lip as she saw the confusion flash on his face. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you goodbye because I knew I couldn’t.” He turned away, and she knew he didn’t understand. “I couldn’t say it. If–if I had tried, I knew I would have asked you to come with me.”

His eyes snapped to hers, and she heard his sharp intake of breath. His eyes caught hers, searching, just as they had the day before she left, when she stumbled and scraped her knee, knowing that would just be one more thing for her mom to yell about.

His hand had stretched out then, reaching for her, but she didn’t think he was aware of it. She had known in that moment that if she asked him to take her far away, he would. Knowing she had that power was terrifying, and she knew she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t tear him away from his friends early. Couldn’t keep him from that diploma he was so desperate for. So she had turned away and walked home, never looking back for fear of running right back to him.

She didn’t know what he saw in her face now, but his eyes fell shut, and his jaw tightened. “Don’t–don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

He opened his eyes, staring straight into hers, and she felt locked into place. He opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. Her heart pounded, and her breath caught in her throat. She wished he would just tell her already because she was fairly sure the suspense would kill her.

“When you say things like that, it makes me want to kiss you.”

Oh.

Those words were electrifying, sending a tingly feeling running all the way to her fingers and toes, and suddenly she understood why he was always moving. (But he wasn’t moving now. He was still, so still, waiting for her.) She wanted to pull him closer, to play with his hair, to run her fingers over the tattoos on his arms, to cup his face in her hands. She lifted her chin, and when had they gotten so close?

“Then why don’t you?” she asked, feeling braver, bolder than she could ever remember feeling before.

Panic flashed across his face. “I–but–” He shook his head. “You don’t–you don’t really want that.”

“I think I can decide what I want for myself, Eddie.” She didn’t know what her expression looked like, but he flinched, eyes darting away for a second.

“That’s not what I–sorry, but–” He studied her for a moment, and she was tempted to kiss him herself, but she didn’t want to force him into anything.

“Are you sure?” he asked finally. All she could do was nod.

His hands settled lightly on her shoulders, and she could hear him suck in a sharp breath before leaning closer. His eyes fell closed, but she kept hers open until his lips brushed hers, almost afraid he would run away as soon as she wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t a kiss. Not really. His lips just ghosted over hers, as though he were just waiting for her to pull away. She did.

“Eddie?”

He stepped back and dropped his hands, keeping his eyes carefully averted. “Mmhmm?”

“You–you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but–but I wanted you to actually kiss me.”

His eyes snapped to hers, and he studied her. His mouth opened, and she thought she might scream if he asked again if she was sure. He shut it again, then swallowed and stepped forward again. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, okay.”

She wasn’t prepared for the force with which his lips crashed into hers, sending a wave of heat rushing through her body and forcing her to take a step backwards. His hands caught her arms, pulling her closer and steadying her, and she couldn’t help melting against him, sure he was the only thing keeping her upright. Her hands latched onto his shirt, bunching it in her fists.

One of his hands fell from her arm and came to rest under her chin so he could tilt her head back, kissing her harder as though he would never get another chance. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him to kiss her again and again and again . . .

Her hands tightened on his shirt, needing him closer, needing to make sure he wouldn’t disappear. He pulled away, and she couldn’t help the whimper that slipped out of her mouth, but he didn’t go far, only leaning a few inches from her face.

He chuckled dryly, unable to hide his expression of what she could only describe as awe. “And here I thought I was crazy to even imagine kissing you.”

“You can kiss me again,” she blurted out, then blushed. “I mean, you don’t have to, and you certainly don’t have to now, but . . . you can later. If you want.”

His eyes widened and he cursed, except, it didn’t quite sound like a curse. Not with that tone of, well, reverence. “Okay.” He slid his fingers through her hair. “Okay.”

She realized she still had his shirt twisted in her hands, and she let go, though she pressed her hands against his chest. She could see him swallow as she did. “You never answered my question. I want a real answer. It doesn’t have to be now, but I need a real answer.”

“And what question is that, princess?” After his hand under her chin, his fingers in her hair, and his lips on hers, the nickname shouldn’t have made her heart skip a beat.

“Will you run away with me?”

“Yes.” And that was it. No hesitation, no uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” she echoed. He had left Hawkins on his own now. He had no reason to stay with her. She hoped, she hoped, but she didn’t want him to regret it.

“I told you, I’d go anywhere with you, Chrissy.”

Eddie woke fairly certain he had kissed Chrissy Cunningham the night before. Even more surprising, she asked him to.

Pushing that thought out of his head to deal with later, he got up and threw on some clothes before heading into the kitchen for breakfast–where, it turned out, Chrissy was. Alone. Sitting on the counter, reading.

He hesitated in the doorway, tempted to sneak out, but she glanced up and set the book down, just beaming at him. “Hi!”

“Um, hi,” he said. She waved him over to the counter, and, against his better judgement, he followed, stepping in front of her. Before he realized what she was doing, she wrapped her legs around his waist, latching onto him like a koala.

“You’re trapped,” she giggled, and when she beamed up at him, her nose wrinkling in amusement, he knew she was absolutely right.

“Is there, um, any way to free myself? A magic spell or something? I need to eat breakfast.”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head in mock contemplation. “I suppose . . . a kiss!”

That felt like an open trap laid out in front of him. He swallowed. “Oh.” She grinned, tilting her face up towards his. He leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly. “Am I free now?” She pouted, just to remind him how far gone he was.

Someone cleared their throat, and they both whirled around to find Jonathan standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised. Chrissy squeaked and let go of Eddie, who backed away and poured himself a bowl of cereal without meeting the other boy’s gaze. He glanced over at Chrissy, now thoroughly engrossed in her book again, then grabbed his bowl and darted into the living room, flopping onto the couch beside Hopper.

Chrissy followed him not long after and sat on the floor to join in the card game El, Will, and Joyce were playing. Eddie buried his face in his food and tried not to watch them. Not to think about her legs around his waist, her lips on his–

He felt her watching him throughout the day, but he ignored it. Soon the Byers and Hopper would go home, and it would just be the two of them traveling alone. That would make things . . . harder to ignore, but it would be okay. He just needed a little space. The same distance he had maintained up until last night, and everything could go back to normal.

(His heart clenched at the thought.)

The day dragged on slowly but steadily to the conversation he knew he and Chrissy needed to have. He did his best to ignore the time until Hopper turned the tv on and everyone piled onto the couch to watch Miami Vice. Chrissy sat on the opposite end, which Eddie was grateful for given how close everyone was squished together.

The show went off earlier than he expected, and El and Will went to bed. Jonathan followed not long after, and Eddie was tempted to go to bed himself, tempted to run away again, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Hopper left the tv on, but Eddie doubted anyone was actually watching it. He felt Hopper glance at him often, waiting until he and Chrissy left them alone like they did most night. He ignored him.

Joyce suggested she and Hopper do the dishes. Eddie neglected to point out how few dishes had been used for supper as they got up. Chrissy watched them leave, then slid closer to Eddie. “Eddie, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

She tucked her feet under her and leaned forward on her hands to get closer. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and turned back to whatever infomercial had just come on. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.” She rocked back and pulled her hands into her lap. “Did–did I do something wrong?”

He jerked toward her. “No! No, of course not. I’m just . . . being stupid.”

Her frown deepened, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “You’re not stupid.”

“I think all my teachers would disagree.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re brilliant.”

He turned away and closed his eyes as he felt her slide closer. “You’re smart, and you’re sweet, and you’re pretty–”

“Pretty?” he asked, sure he must have misheard.

“Hmm.” Her hands cupped his jaw, and he opened his eyes as she turned him back towards her. His eyes locked onto hers and he couldn’t breathe. She searched his face, then grinned at him. “Yep. Definitely pretty.”

No one had ever called him pretty before, especially not so gently, and it was stupid, it was so stupid, but he couldn’t help the way it made him want to cry, couldn’t help the way it made his heart skip a beat, and he definitely could’t help leaning forward, kissing her gently, despite his earlier resolutions.

She froze at his touch, and when he pulled back, her eyes were wide. “I–” he swallowed. “You said I could kiss you again.” He hadn’t actually intended to. “Was–was that okay?”

A smile broke across her face, lighting up the room and making his face burn. “That was perfect.” Then she kissed him again, and he realized he had made a mistake.

She leaned closer and closer, until she finally just climbed into his lap. She cupped his jaw in her hands again, curling her fingers into his hair, and he knew she couldn’t possibly know what she was doing to him. She couldn’t possibly know the torture of her finger tips brushing his scalp, couldn’t know the ache of her lips, gentle, pleading, against his. If she knew how much it hurt, she wouldn’t do it.

He tipped his head down, pulling away from her. “Chrissy,” he groaned. She giggled and kissed him again, but he pulled back. “Chrissy, stop, please.”

She jerked away, pulling her hands away and wrapping her arms around herself, avoiding his gaze. “I–I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–I should have asked–I’m sorry.”

She pulled back, starting to slide off his lap, but his hands reached for her on their own, settling on her hips. “No, wait!” She froze, still not meeting his eyes. “Just–just give me a minute.” He hated how desperate he sounded.

She looked up now, a timid smile flashing across her face. “Okay. I can, um, I can do that, but, Eddie, tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

He’d spent all day thinking of what to say. How acting too . . . close now would only make them uncomfortable later. How they needed to be careful. But now, staring into her pleading eyes, his hands on her hips, the memory of her kiss on his lips, he couldn’t say any of it. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

She frowned. “I’m not going anywhere.” A careful grin spread across her face. “Well, actually I am, but only because I don’t think this Dr. Owens wants us to stay at this house forever.”

He couldn’t laugh. “I mean after.”

She tilted her head. “After? After what?” Fear flickered across her features. “You said we’re leaving together. You meant it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, of course, but after–after that.”

“What do you mean? After what?”

“When–when this is over.” He gestured between the two of them. His eyes darted away, and he lowered his voice. “When–when you decide you don’t want me anymore.”

She sucked in a breath, drawing his eyes back to her, and he was startled to see her glare. “And what if I don’t? Why do you get to decide what I feel? Did you think I was only asking you to stay with me for a month?” She leaned forward, bunching his shirt in her hands the way she had the night before, and her skin seemed to burn through the thin fabric.

“I care about you, Eddie. I–” She sucked in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “I think I love you, and maybe–maybe that’s too much to say right now, but I’m staying with you as long as you’ll let me.”

Her words echoed again and again in his head, and he knew he couldn’t be dreaming because not even in his wildest dreams would she tell him she thought she loved him. She didn’t say anything else, and he realized she was waiting for him. “As long as I’ll let you?” he laughed. “Chrissy, I’ve been half in love with you since middle school.”

Her lips parted, and her eyes widened, searching his face. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but she must have found it, because her lips pressed against his–then she pulled away suddenly, a guarded look falling across her face. “And now?”

He grinned. “Well, it’s definitely not just half anymore–”

Her lips captured his before he was done, and this time he didn’t pull away. As she tangled her fingers in his hair, he found the ache had vanished, replaced by a burning warmth spreading through his chest. His hands tightened on her waist, drawing her closer.

“Don’t leave me,” he begged when she drew away.

She smiled, pushing his hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear. “Never.”

Jonathan watched Chrissy and Eddie fix lunch, carefully avoiding touching or speaking to each other, and rolled his eyes. He doubted their pretended avoidance was fooling anyone with those giddy looks they kept exchanging.

The phone rang.

Everyone stared at it, exchanging nervous glances. His mom answered it. “Hello? Who’s this?” Her eyes widened. “Really? That’s–great.” She frowned. “Yes, well, mmph.” The phone slammed back into the receiver.

“What was that?” Hopper asked as she wrinkled her nose at the phone.

She looked back up, grinning. “We can go home!”

Will and El cheered, Hopper smiled, and Jonathan noticed Eddie squeeze Chrissy’s hand. “Ok, let’s get everything packed up, and then we have a little cleaning to do,” Hopper said.

It took a surprisingly long time to finish lunch, collect everyone’s things from scattered around the house, and pack their bags in the van. Then they came back in to pick up their mess. El and Eddie started washing the dishes they had used that morning, Chrissy and Jonathan’s mom swept the rooms, and Hopper, Will, and Jonathan made the beds.

They heard the phone ring again. Jonathan looked up at Hopper and frowned.

“You answer it,” the older man said. Jonathan nodded and went back into the living room to get it.

“Hello?”

“Jonathan, thank goodness,” a man panted. It sounded like Dr. Owens, but he wasn’t sure. “Tell your mom you can’t leave. I just heard that Colonel Sullivan disappeared a few days ago, and no one’s heard from him. Do not leave the house, do you hear me? Do not–”

Jonathan never heard the rest of the sentence because he dropped the phone when the door exploded.

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