didntrun | (no subject)

Honestly, these days, Eddie thinks his Uncle Wayne might be a little proud of him.

He's been here awhile now, almost two months, and he's nearly finished with summer school, which will finally get him set with his high school diploma, and he's got a job. A proper one, too, not selling drugs out of a tin lunchbox, but working part time at a record store, with Steve Harrington, of all people. So yeah, he thinks his uncle would probably be sort of proud, even if they were both kind of garbage at ever talking about their feelings.

Wayne was a good man, though, and he'd been good to Eddie since he'd started taking care of him all those years ago. Most of the time, Eddie doesn't mind being a bit of a fuck up, but the times he does mind, it's only because of his uncle.

Maybe Darrow is good for him in that regard. Maybe the Upside Down had been, too. He had learned a lot about himself in those five days, he's learned a bit more in the past two months. It feels kind of good.

But Eddie isn't about to become a completely different person and he's still curious by nature, interested in things that people in Hawkins would have considered weird or even wrong and that's why he's standing outside a store called Leviathan, looking at it with wide, excited eyes.

When he opens the door, he sees a familiar head of white blonde hair and a grin lights up his features.

"Well, holy shit, if it isn't my fireball throwing saviour," he says cheerfully.

Threaded | Flat

Sabrina sits perched on the edge of the counter, legs crossed, working with a decently sized mortar and pestle. She glances up from the book with the directions for this particular mixture, and smiles with real warmth. "Hey, it's you! You're looking a lot better without a demon bat chewing on you."

Not that far away, Salem's curled up in one of those window-hammocks for carts, enjoying the summer sun while it lasts. Throwing a lazy yawn in Eddie's direction, the familiar settles back in to sleep.

"Come on in," Sabrina calls, waving him further into the shop. "I'm prepping a couple of mixtures for paste and poultice making, but nothing too gross." While the dried herbs currently getting ground to dust don't look like much more than bits of dead plant, it's a pleasant enough smell, a forest just starting to dry out for autumn. "How's it going?"