Boltedfruit Archive

His throat is itchy. Dry.

Steve’s bending down, mouth open and waiting at the water fountain. Right when he presses the metal button flat, cold water barely skimming his tongue, Eddie Munson bumps into him so hard he goes spinning off into the wall.

Eddie’s hands in his shirt stop him from making impact. He breathes hard, spluttering and a little wet, throat absolutely parched as he meets Eddie’s strangely frantic eyes.

“Don’t drink the water. Whatever you do, don’t drink the town water, man,” Eddie tells him, fingers twisting his nice polo.

Steve shoves him off. “What the fuck, Munson?”

Eddie lets him. He steps away, casts a suspicious glance around them, up and down the hall. It’s busy, filled with students. A handful of lockers down, Nancy and Jonathan are standing close, making eyes at each other.

She kisses him, smiling easy. Jonathan’s hand skims her ass.

She giggles.

Steve frowns.

Then Eddie’s back in his space, eyes elsewhere, down the opposite end of the hall. Steve turns, half wanting to be away from the stink of pot., half curious what has the school’s super senior talking to him and so freaked out.

Following Eddie’s stare, he finds Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham making out against a locker. Carver’s hands are roaming places that Steve would personally save for the privacy of a bedroom.

Eddie shakes himself. He looks quickly back at Steve before patting his shoulder once, squeezing firmly before letting go. “I saw you use the fountain yesterday. Just don’t drink the water. Any of it.”

It leaves him off kilter the rest of the day.

At home when he’s making himself dinner, he turns the faucet on to wash his hands. Cups them intending to have a quick drink because his throat is still not feeling great. But then he remembers Eddie’s wide eyes, how he looked scared.

It’s Hawkins. There’s nothing in Hawkins to be scared of, surely.

He lets the water slip through his fingers. Watches the tap run for a while.

He looks at the pot of vegetable soup simmering on the stove.

He shuts everything off and orders takeout.

–

Eddie crashes his lunch, slams into the seat across from him before sliding seamlessly over to sit next to him instead. He shoves a slice of apple into his mouth, eyes wide and roaming over the rest of the cafeteria.

Steve sighs. “Munson, we’re not friends. What are you doing?”

“Did you drink the water?”

“Munson.”

Eddie waves him off. “Well, did you?”

“No.”

Eddie nods. “Good. That’s good.”

“Why?”

“Notice anything weird lately?”

“About?”

Eddie gives him a bewildered look. He jerks his chin at the table where Nancy and Jonathan are. She’s sitting in his lap.

Giggling.

Steve feels familiar ire burn in the pit of his stomach. She never did that with him.

“I guess.”

“And Chrissy, right? And a lot of other people too. I’m not saying it’s something in the water, but man…what if it is?”

“What if there’s something in the water…making girls act horny?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “No! Look around. Get back to me when you learn to open your eyes.”

With a final dramatic look around them, Eddie stands with his tray and scurries off. He doesn’t return to his usual table, where they play that game the kids love so much.

No, instead, he hightails it out of the cafeteria altogether.

Steve sighs down at his lunch. He’s lost his appetite.

–

So yeah. Nancy and Chrissy are acting a little stranger than normal.

He doesn’t even seriously consider Eddie’s words until he sees Nancy take Jonathan’s hand in her own and sucks on a finger. Right in the middle of lunch, where anyone can see.

And people look. They watch.

No one calls them out. No one laughs. As if frozen, they watch, entranced, as Jonathan sticks two more fingers in her mouth. And Nancy lets him.

It’s kind of disgusting.

Steve knows she would never.

And hell would freeze over before she did anything so dirty in public.

He sees her drinking from the water fountain after, then Jonathan.

They giggle. Neither of them were gigglers.

Steve wonders what else he’s missed.

–

Days pass.

He and Eddie share looks across halls. Steve watches, because he’s observing or some shit, and wants to actually see something that proves Eddie right before he purposefully goes and talks to him.

Two days in, he accidentally finds Chrissy moaning in the back of an empty classroom, Carver’s hands under her skirt. He splutters, because how else is he even supposed to react, and makes to walk out before they even notice. But then he hears Chrissy calling his name on his way out, hears her say, “Come back!”

He keeps walking.

Three days in, his math teacher stands with his crotch pressed against one of the desks in the front row, eyes dark and locked on Carol, who under any other circumstance would be brazen enough to flirt, but with a teacher? Not even Carol on her worst day would lick her lips and reach out to brush her knuckles under their teacher’s growing bulge.

And Steve is appalled. Calls them both out for it. Feels hysterical when he says, “What the actual fuck?”

And they just laugh.

The entire class laughs.

Steve looks around the room, sees their soulless eyes, the stiff way they hold themselves.

Frozen. Empty.

He needs to find Eddie.

–

He finds Eddie in his van the neck day before class. He raps the window and sees Eddie’s shocked face flicker before he rolls down the window.

“…Steve?”

“Why is everyone suddenly on the verge of having sex with each other?”

Eddie’s expression shifts, gives a grim smile.

“Get in.”

–

They drive to the woods, to the old lab.

Eddie parks a ways off, fingers tapping anxiously on the wheel.

“I was selling Hagan an ounce a few weeks ago, late at night, right here.”

“Okay?”

Eddie points to the top of the building. “There was a light on.”

“This place was shut down in the seventies, man.”

“There was a fucking light on, I swear to god.” He ducks low, casts another look deep into the trees on Steve’s side. “I’ve been parked out here every night since, waiting. The same light goes on. Then a few nights ago, I saw these goons in hazmat suits just over there. They were carrying barrels. The big kind, the kind you see in meth labs.”

“How do you know what a meth lab has?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “They were chemicals, Steve. Big bad chemicals,” he says, “for big bad wolves.”

He turns back to the labs top row of windows.

None of them are broken, which Steve finds odd. In middle school, he and Tommy used to wander out here and throw stones just for fun.

He’s broken plenty of these windows himself, but all of them are pristine. New.

“I think they’re poisoning the water. If you follow the path I saw them taking, it goes to the treatment plant a few miles out. There were tire tracks.”

Steve’s gut sinks.

“Okay. Okay.”

“You believe me?”

He meets Eddie’s eyes, feels sick to his stomach. But something tells him something is wrong, tells him Eddie’s got no reason to lie, tells himself his throat hasn’t been itchy or dry since he started drinking bottled.

“Yeah,” Steve tells him, “I do.”

The relief in Eddie’s face makes him flush.

Steve asks, “So what now?”

“Now we save the town.”