#Writing(withacapitalW)

[withacapitalp]

Daisies

Read it on ao3 instead

Eddie was never a deep sleeper. Years of living in cars and on couches taught him to always have an ear out. Always be able to wake up in an instant, always be alert, ready to fight whoever might be coming at you. Living with Wayne helped to ease that compulsion a bit, but in general, Eddie was never truly fully relaxed when he slept. Everything that had happened over Spring Break hadn’t helped matters in the slightest. 

So he was awake the second Steve started to choke. 

He was so quick that Steve was still asleep, curled up on his side in the absolutely adorable way that usually made Eddie smile. There was no smile tonight, just an anxious little whimper and a boy frozen in fear, because his partner was choking on nothing and not waking up. 

“Steve?” Eddie whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand and touching Steve’s shoulder. “Baby?” 

Steve continued to gasp, his chest heaving in a strange and awful way as he tried and failed to breathe. Eddie was about to do something more, anything to make him stop, when Steve’s eyes opened. He was the picture of panic for all of two seconds, before he was sitting up, roughly coughing. 

He hacked out a few more harsh sounding noises, before he spat into his open palm, taking a relieved breath as whatever was lodged in his throat came out. Eddie would’ve been relieved too, confused, but okay now that Steve was safe. 

And then he saw what was in Steve’s hand. 

A daisy. Steve had just coughed up a fucking daisy. And, judging by the completely blasé expression he had on his face as he looked down at it, this wasn’t the first time. 

What the fuck?

Eddie had seen Hanahaki before, just once. Some girl in middle school had fallen in love with a dumb jock, a classic move that had felt like a cliche to him at the time. When the jerk rejected her in front of everyone, she had collapsed to her knees in the middle of the cafeteria, spitting out thorny roses till she passed out. 

She lived, but just barely, and had gotten the surgery to remove the roses wrapped around her lungs. By the next week she was happy as a clam, living without a single memory of the incident that had left the rest of the school in total shock. 

Seeing it now gave Eddie the same exact feelings he had all those years ago. A deep sense of discomfort from encroaching on something that incredibly intimate, an odd mix of revulsion and jealousy, and a deep seated wish to be anywhere but where he was at this moment. 

It was even worse now that it was Steve. 

His boyfriend slid out of bed, quietly padding over to the ensuite without even so much as a glance Eddie’s way, leaving behind the flower. Steve didn’t shut the door all the way, so Eddie could hear him cough a few more times. As he did, Eddie picked up the daisy, examining it. 

It was just a regular daisy, white as snow except for a few spots of blood sitting innocently on its petals. Nothing special about it, nothing significant. Apart from the fact that it was Steve’s daisy.  

Steve’s daisy for someone that wasn’t him. 

“Who?” Eddie asked when Steve came back into view looking utterly exhausted. His voice was flat, lacking any of the emotion he usually had. It was like someone had torn his heart out, and now he was just hollow, hollow, hollow. 

Steve hummed in confusion, quirking his head to the side as he leaned his entire body against the doorway, blinking slowly. 

“Who is it?” Eddie clarified, holding up the daisy. Any trace of sleepiness vanished from Steve’s features. He stood up painfully straight, even took a step back, like Eddie had screamed instead of whispered. 

“I’m not mad,” Eddie rushed to say, trying to calm Steve’s quiet panic. He wasn’t mad, his heart was just shattering, falling to pieces on the floor between them. Was that better? “I…I just want to know.” 

He didn’t just want to, he had to. He had to know who had stolen Steve’s heart, or if it had ever been his to claim in the first place. Had Steve had the daisies the entire time? Was he just humoring Eddie anytime he said he loved him? Eddie didn’t want to think that Steve had entered into their relationship out of pity, or some sense of obligation, but any and all confidence Eddie had previously had flew out the window the second that daisy had appeared. 

Were they from Nancy?

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Steve muttered, avoiding eye contact as he played with a loose thread on his pajama pants. 

He looked oddly vulnerable there, half dressed and making himself smaller than he was, hiding in the doorway instead of curling up in Eddie’s arms where he belonged. On any other night, Eddie would coax him to bed with promises and teasing little jabs that made him both laugh. 

But not tonight. Tonight there were daisies in the bathroom sink and one in Eddie’s hand ruining everything they had built. 

“I deserve to know when my own boyfriend is in love with someone else,” Eddie hissed, harsher than he meant to. There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and fuck, maybe he was mad. Not really at Steve, but at the world. The chaotic black universe that they lived in, whatever awful god lived out in the cosmos that had chosen to damn him specifically. 

Whatever deity existed that loved to give Eddie good things and snatch them away the second he got comfortable. 

“They aren’t- I’m not in love with someone else,” Steve protested weakly, still looking anywhere but at Eddie. 

Eddie scoffed, holding up the daisy between them, pinching it in between his thumb and forefinger like it was something exceptionally disgusting to hold. He had the rabid urge to tear the flower to shreds, destroy it before it could destroy everything they had. 

“It’s not like that,” Steve insisted stubbornly, finally looking up at Eddie with fiery eyes. He went to keep going but the determination disappeared and an odd expression overtook Steve’s features. He braced himself against the door frame, bringing one hand up to his mouth as another bout of coughing overtook him. 

Eddie watched Steve struggle, losing any of the merciless rage that had been rushing through his veins as he watched the love of his life attempt to take a breath. When Steve slid slowly to the floor, Eddie was there, kneeling beside him with a soft hand on his shoulder. 

“What can I do? Do you need me to call someone? You need a hospital, don’t you? This is serious, and you can’t breathe. Should I start doing CPR or the Heimlich or-” Eddie cut himself off with a jolt, biting his tongue to stop any more panicked rambles from escaping. 

He was spending way too much time around Robin. 

Steve shook his head, still coughing. Two more daisies tumbled out into his hand before he dragged a long breath in, letting his head tip back and hit against the jamb. 

“I took my meds,” Steve whispered, his voice ragged and painful sounding, “It’ll clear up. I just have to get out any ones that actually sprouted. It’s not dangerous, it just hurts.”

He said it so plainly, in such a Steve way. Like it didn’t matter at all that it hurt, or that it seemed pretty goddamn scary to choke on daisies on the regular. 

Despite everything that was happening, Eddie let out a soft little incredulous laugh, reaching over and kissing Steve’s forehead. It was probably a strange thing to do, all things considered, but Steve was smiling now, giving Eddie a starry eyed look that made it all inexplicably feel okay. 

“How long have you- why not just get the surgery?” Eddie asked, reaching out and grabbing the hand that wasn’t currently full of daisy blossoms, “It’s way safer-“

“No,” Steve said, soft, but firm. He carefully placed the blooms down next to them, toying with the petals before squeezing Eddie’s fingers and rubbing the column of his throat, his eyes far far away. “I won’t.”

Won’t. Not can’t. Steve would not do it, which meant whoever they were for mattered to him. Hanahaki surgery was one hundred percent- not only did it get rid of the flowers, but the emotions that had caused them in the first place. You never remembered the person who had made them grow. 

Eddie quickly ran through their friends, all of the people in Steve’s life. He could only think of one person who Steve could be in love with, one person who didn’t love him back. At least, not the way Steve probably wanted her to. 

“Nancy,” Eddie stated rather than asked, already knowing the answer. Steve still loving Nancy wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Nancy had made it clear that she didn’t love Steve like that, and they had both moved on. Maybe Steve could still love Eddie part of the way like this, maybe that could be enough. Having a bit of Steve’s heart was better than none at all. 

But Steve shook his head, still fiddling with the petals of his daisies. 

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Steve whispered, looking utterly miserable. He coughed half-heartedly, but no flowers emerged. When Steve was done he sighed, closing his eyes and worrying his lip the way he always did when he was trying to keep his emotions steady. 

Eddie was missing something. Something obvious. It should have been a big glaring neon sign right in front of him with the most basic answer in the world. But try as he might, he still couldn’t see who the daisies would be for if not Nancy. 

Who else could Steve love that didn’t love him back? 

He should stop asking. This wasn’t the time. His boyfriend was in pain in every way, and Steve didn’t need to be interrogated. They had all the time in the world, Eddie needed to just drop it. Steve would tell him, eventually. He always did. Getting secrets from Steve took a long time, but he always gave in at some point. Eddie just had to be patient, and kind, and everything Steve was so good at. 

“Then what’s it like?” Eddie asked anyway, his curiosity overtaking the selfless part of him that was cursing his own name. 

Steve contemplated his answer for a long time, spitting up another daisy before he finally began to speak. 

“When I was in third grade, our teacher had us raise caterpillars into butterflies to teach us about life cycles. Did you ever do that?”

“No,” Eddie immediately replied, confused and slightly irritated by the sudden change of path. What did butterflies have to do with Steve’s love life? 

“We should do it together. It was fun,” Steve said, a wistful little smile on his face as he stared out in the distance, “Everyone got their own glass jar with twigs and leaves and all that, and one little green caterpillar. We could name them whatever we wanted, and Miss Katie would put their name on the jar so we would know who’s was who’s. I named mine Beatrix after the woman who wrote my favorite story.” 

None of this mattered. Was Steve trying to distract him? It wasn’t usually the way he did things, but Eddie had also never expected he was hiding something like this. 

“Wh-“

“Eventually she became a butterfly,” Steve continued, steamrolling past Eddie’s attempt at asking what the hell was going on. He was speaking, and he wouldn’t let himself be interrupted. Eddie settled back, trying to hide how annoyed he was. 

“Beatrix was a monarch. She was so pretty, Eddie, I wanted to keep her forever. But Miss Katie said we had to let them go, or they would die. So we all brought our jars home, to let them free with our parents.” Steve was forced to stop here, another vicious round of choking producing three daisies, all bloodied. He placed them in a row with the other three, all six staring up accusingly at Eddie, like he was the reason they had appeared. 

But he wasn’t. That was the whole problem. 

“I knew exactly what I was going to do. There was this patch of daisies at the end of our garden. My mom had planted them when she and my dad first got married, and they were her favorite flowers. I thought she would like to let Beatrix live there, so we could see her till she flew away.” Steve explained. 

Eddie had seen the daisies before. The garden itself was mostly gone by now, just empty plots of dirt with chicken wire around them, but the daisies were still there. They had lasted almost till November, pretty drops of white that stubbornly bloomed for as long as they could. 

They looked just like the flowers Steve was coughing up. 

A dark pit started to form in Eddie’s stomach as he took in the implications, the dots beginning to form a macabre picture that made him wish he had listened to his better instincts before. He shouldn’t have asked, he shouldn’t have pressed, Steve should have told him this story when he was ready. 

But…maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe Steve would have carried this alone forever. 

“When I got home my parents were already gone. They had something they had to do, I can’t even remember what it was. The sitter was supposed to get there in an hour, but I was by myself. Just me and my butterfly,” Steve cut himself off with a single laugh that sounded more like a gasped out sob, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is so stupid.”

“No,” Eddie said firmly, holding Steve’s hand in a death grip, reaching out and taking the other one too just for good measure, pulling it away from his face so he couldn’t hurt himself, “it isn’t.” 

Steve gave him a millisecond long smile, instantly going back to the somber mask he was wearing before. 

“I wasn’t supposed to play outside if my parents weren’t home, but why should I listen? They weren’t here. They left again. My mom left again. She never used to leave before that year, but it felt like all she did was leave then. I went outside and over to the daisies, and I sat in front of them, just… just wanting my mama. Wanting her to come back, wanting her here with me, wanting her to love the daisies again like she used to,” Steve said, ducking his head down and lowering his voice till it was almost nothing. 

They both knew he didn’t just mean the daisies, but neither mentioned it. 

“I can still remember it, the first one. I thought I just had to cry, but couldn’t for some reason. Then I realized I already was crying, and there was still that feeling. The one you get when your throat closes, and you can’t breathe because there’s something blocking it up,” Steve untangled from Eddie, reaching up to his throat again. 

Eddie had seen him do it a thousand times. He had thought it was related to the bats, some phantom feeling of a tail still wrapped around his neck trying to strangle him. Even given a million years, Eddie never would have gotten to the truth. 

“I coughed up a flower. A daisy. It looked just like the ones right in front of me. I thought I was dreaming, but then I couldn’t stop coughing. I woke up by myself in the hospital,” Steve said, finishing his story with a whisper and a bitter little smile. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, trailing off. He had no idea what to say, how to try and help. He needed to help, needed to do something, but what could Eddie do in the face of over a decade of knowing his love for his mother was unrequited? 

“I love you,” Steve said, still reassuring Eddie, because that was who he was. He cared about everyone so much more than he cared about himself, even when they didn’t deserve it. “These don’t- they’re-“

“I understand,” Eddie replied, cutting Steve off as he reached over and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. Steve went easily, tucking himself against Eddie’s chest as he shook with another round of coughs. “Well I don’t know if I could ever understand, but I love you, and I’m here.” 

The coughs subsided, but Steve’s shoulders continued to shake. Eddie hugged him impossibly closer, laying his cheek on the top of Steve’s head and closing his eyes to block out the image of the daisies. 

“I love you. I love you, and I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

[withacapitalp]

Corroded Coffin gains a weird reputation in the metal world for having really accessible concerts.

It's still a metal concert. There's no avoiding killer loud music and rowdy crowds, but they do so many things other bands don't. They hand out CC themed ear plugs and headphones for free as merchandise, even though it loses them a ton of money to not charge, they're one of the first bands in the scene to have an interpreter who travels with them and signs at their shows, they offer free tickets to all personal assistants, they refuse to play venues that aren't wheelchair accessible. They won't even accept 'temporarily' wheelchair accessible. Places that put up a hasty ramp that will easily get torn down after they leave are unacceptable.

It becomes a pretty big deal as they gain publicity and fame. Fans know going in about the things that are always the same at every show, and they end up creating a stir in the metal community about making concerts something everyone can enjoy.

And the most important thing (for Eddie at least) is they never do pyrotechnics or strobe. Ever. There is no flashing lights, so sudden bursts of fire at any Corroded Coffin show, not even for the openers. They won't even play big concerts with other huge bands if they're going to have those special effects. Managers and fans alike have practically begged for these things, but the band always shuts it down. No discussion, no explanation, just a simple 'no'.

The real fans know the reason. They know that it's all for the lead singers found family, so they can go to any show they want to if they decide to. It's for the family, but especially the sweater loving weirdo who's been going to their shows since 1986. The one who never misses so much as a rehearsal, even though he doesn't really like metal music. The one always sitting on the sidelines wearing industrial grade neon orange headphones, heart eyes, and a big smile.

[withacapitalp]

She’s still here.

It’s been seven days since she showed up. Or, at least, it’s been seven days since Steve noticed her. If she died the night of his party, the way Nancy said she did, then it’s been ten days. 

He can still remember the first one. His grandfather. Steve was six when Grandpa Joe died. A freak heart attack when he was in the middle of brushing his teeth. Steve had been forced to go to a strange room filled with people wearing black who were talking in soft hushed tones and crying. 

His dad said that his Grandpa was in heaven, a far away place he could never come back from. No one listened when Steve attempted to tell them that Grandpa Joe was right there. 

Steve kept trying, explaining that his grandfather wasn’t in that box. He was sitting next to Grandma Annie, brushing his hand through her hair while she sobbed into her hands. He even waved to Steve, and he was speaking, but Steve couldn’t hear him. 

Grandpa Joe had faded at the funeral. One minute he was sitting next to Steve, trying to say something, and the next he was gone. Steve’s dad had been forced to carry him out of the church when his son had started screaming about not being able to hear. 

After that, he stopped telling people when he saw the ghosts. He acted like they didn’t even exist. 

In the end, it didn’t really matter that he could see them. They only ever lasted for a few days after dying anyway. The longest he had ever seen was five. There was no point in interacting when there was only one way things could end. Eventually the spirit burned through whatever energy was still keeping them tethered and they would fade away. 

At least, that’s what he always said to himself. 

But she’s been sitting by his pool for seven days. Maybe ten. And she didn’t show any signs of fading. She just sat there on the diving board all day and all night, staring down at the water and dragging the toe of her sneaker along the surface. 

It was like she was a skipping record, repeating the same five seconds over and over. 

Steve usually tried to ignore them, he had a rule about speaking to the ghosts. They weren’t supposed to be here anymore, and talking to them only delayed the inevitable. 

But if she was staying this long, then she needed something, and Steve felt like he owed it to Nancy to at least try and help. 

So for the first time since his grandfather, Steve approached a spirit and called their name. 

“Barb?” 

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock pt 14

Part One Part Thirteen Link to Ao3 Part Fifteen

Thank you to @stevethehairington for betaing and @thefreakandthehair for always being the world's best cheerleader/support!!! Also everyone @angstflayer-council for motivating me to finish this chapter. I hope you guys like it!! ALSO I FORGOT TAG LISTS FOR PART THIRTEEN SORRY YALL I FIXED IT THIS TIME

Step Fourteen: Ask for a Second Opinion

Eddie and Wayne had a routine for gig nights. 

First Wayne would get home from his shift and go about his normal business. Shucking off work clothes, grabbing a quick cold shower, fixing himself a sandwich with whatever leftovers they had in the fridge- the same thing he did every night when he came back from the plant. Then, when all that was taken care of, he would turn on the radio to listen to the news, grab a beer from the fridge, and pull out the most important thing in their trailer. 

The waffle iron. 

It was an ancient thing, a giant heavy slab of metal that had been passed down from Great Granny Munson herself. Eddie was ninety nine percent sure it would outlive him too, but that was just a fact of Munson life. The cord for the waffle iron was frayed in about half a dozen places, and it smoked if it was powered on for longer than an hour at a time, but there was no denying that the beat up old thing made the best damn waffles Eddie had ever had. 

If Eddie had it his way, they would eat waffles every single day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They were his all time favorite food and when he had first moved in with Wayne they were all he would eat. Eventually the two of them had come to a compromise- Eddie could have waffles on Sundays, birthdays, holidays, and any day he brought home a test with a grade that had a B or higher. 

And gig nights. 

Of course, that addition had come later. Wayne hadn’t allowed him to play at the Hideout until he was legally an adult. It came from a good place (It was just one of the many many ways Wayne had tried to keep Eddie from becoming his father.) but it was still annoying being forced to wait that long. 

The waffles kind of made it worth the wait though. 

The next part of the routine was Eddie. Eddie would come home egregiously late, and they would eat together. As they ate through ridiculously high stacks of delicious syrupy goodness, Eddie would tell Wayne everything that had happened.

Nothing was off the table. Eddie would tell Wayne about whatever drugs he took, if he drank, if he dealt, whatever his uncle asked about. By now he had learned that Wayne was just looking out for him. And as long as he was honest, Wayne would let him keep doing what he was doing. He just wanted to be in the loop, and that was a small thing to ask. 

This was the first gig night that Eddie was home before Wayne. 

“I didn’t know how to make the batter,” Eddie said as soon as Wayne opened the door, causing the man to jump out of his skin from being started. Eddie gave his uncle a nervous little grin from where he was sitting on the couch, tapping his fingers against his thighs in incomprehensible patterns. 

“And I was also worried about turning on the waffle iron. Figured you wouldn’t wanna come home to a burnt down trailer and a pile of bones instead of your beloved beloved nephew,” Eddie joked, trying to cut through the tension that had been surrounding him since he came home two hours ago. 

The anxiety fueled energy running through his veins was making it impossible to sit still, impossible to make eye contact as Wayne stared at him with a raised brow. 

“What’d you do?” Wayne asked as he hung up his hat with a put upon sigh. 

“Nothing! Geez Wayne, have a little faith,” Eddie complained, tossing his head back and giving an exaggerated groan. This was easy. Playing a game and making a show of things was something Eddie could do in his sleep, and it was so much more simple than the alternative. He even looked Wayne directly in the eye, just to really sell it. 

“You just think I’m a good for nothin’ troublemaker, don’t you? Spill it, old man, I already know the answer! I am distraught that even my own flesh and blood thinks I’m only capable of tomfoolery.”

Wayne grunted, crossing his arms and giving Eddie one long slow look, peeling back all the layers, lowering all the walls. 

“What’d you do?” Wayne repeated, his tone short and to the point. 

Eddie wilted like a flower. His shoulders hunched inward, and his gaze shot straight to the floor. He dragged one of his socked toes across the carpet in the living room, avoiding his uncle’s piercing gaze. 

“Nothin’” Eddie mumbled, “we just got cut short, that’s all.”

That wasn’t even scratching the surface, but they both knew that. There was no way Wayne was going to leave it at that. 

Sure enough, his uncle just hummed, walking into their small kitchenette and pulling open the fridge.

“Y’all ended early ‘cause of the power outage?” Wayne asked, rhetorically, already knowing the answer. 

Eddie stood up from the couch, coming over to the bar and sitting on one of the stools, nodding glumly as he let his head fall in his palm, still avoiding eye contact. 

“Then what’s wrong?” Wayne asked, passing Eddie a beer as he took a sip from his own and grabbed the eggs. 

“I’m annoyed that our show ended early?” Eddie said, hating that it came out as a question. 

It wasn’t a question, he was annoyed about that. The power outage just wasn’t the thing that was bothering him. 

“And?” Wayne pressed, carefully unwrapping the cord of the waffle iron and gingerly plugging it into the socket. The red light on the front lit up, promising delicious fresh waffles in just minutes.

“And I messed up this super easy riff which pissed me off,” Eddie added, his stomach clenching up as he continued to avoid the actual problem. 

The issue was, he was probably one of the worst liars in the world, and Wayne could smell bullshit a mile off. 

“Eddie, you know our rule,” Wayne said, sounding like the epitome of patience as he whisked batter, his back still turned to his nephew. 

“…Always be honest,” Eddie mumbled, his cheeks flushing as he was forced to recite the single rule Wayne actually had for him. 

Eddie could run as wild as he had to, do whatever it took to get through being a boy like him living in a town like Hawkins, but there couldn’t be secrets between them. Wayne couldn’t protect him if he didn’t know what Eddie was dealing with, and Eddie couldn’t trust that Wayne would always support him if he didn’t give him the chance. 

Normally repeating those words was a comfort, a cathartic tradition that settled Eddie’s soul. No matter what he told Wayne, he would still love him, still support him. Nothing Eddie could do would make his uncle abandon him. 

Today it just felt…invasive. 

“If you can’t talk ‘bout it yet, you can say that,” Wayne reminded him, looking over his shoulder for a second so Eddie could meet his eyes for the first time that night, “just don’t pretend like nothin’s there.” 

It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t want to talk about it. He was actually pretty desperate to, but he didn’t know where to start. He hadn’t intentionally forgotten to tell Wayne about Steve, but he hadn’t come up at all in the last six weeks, and with everything that happened earlier, there was no easy avenue to explain. 

“And I’m worried about my friend,” Eddie admitted quietly, starting with the only thing he was absolutely sure of. 

He was worried about Steve. Really, really, worried.  

“Which friend?” Wayne grunted, pouring out the batter for the first waffle with a satisfying hiss of the iron, “Gareth? Or Jeff?” 

“Steve,” Eddie replied, taking a sip of his drink before he clarified, “Steve Harrington.” 

“Richard’s boy?” Wayne wondered, doing nothing to hide his shock at a Harrington mixing with a Munson. 

“Yeah, but he’s nothing like how you’d expect!” Eddie said quickly, rambling away his anxiety as he drummed his fingers on the countertop. “I mean I thought he was for a while, but he’s actually really cool and sweet and thoughtful and funny and stuff. Like he brought us cookies today before the gig, and he babysits all these weird little nerdy kids too! There’s this whole-“

“Eddie, breathe,” Wayne chuckled, giving his nephew a fond eye roll as he put down a plate in front of him. An absolutely ginormous waffle stared back up at Eddie, already glistening with butter and maple syrup. 

It was perfect. Glorious. Eddie’s stomach was growling. 

“Why are you worried about ‘im? Did somethin’ happen tonight?” Wayne asked, turning back to the iron and starting on his own waffle. 

Eddie launched into his story as he dug into his treat. He started straight from the beginning, right from the first time Steve had accidentally sat at their lunch table all the way to tonight and the panic attack in the middle of the parking lot. He even admitted to the tiny crush that he had once had that was burning a hole in the back of his mind every time Steve smiled at him. 

But there was one big glaring hole in the middle. 

Eddie didn’t say a word about the bet. 

He tried to. He really honestly did. But every time Eddie got close to it, he started to think about the disappointed look Wayne was going to give him, and the deep sigh that was coming with it. Wayne never yelled, never insulted him, but there were times Eddie would have honestly preferred if he did. 

Anger would be so much better than the deep shame that always came with knowing that he had done something Wayne would disapprove of. And this was definitely something Wayne would disapprove of.  

“Then he just left with them, Wayne!” Eddie exploded, finally at the end of the surprisingly long story. Both waffles had already been consumed, the dishes were in the sink to soak, and the two of them were sitting on their beat up old couch, with Eddie’s head resting against Wayne’s shoulder. “Steve got in the car and drove off. With his ex-girlfriend. And the guy she cheated on him with!” 

“Sounds like you’re more upset about that part then he is,” Wayne said, the smile in his tone evident. “Is that what’s actually botherin’ you about all of this?”

“Wayne,” Eddie snapped, cutting off his uncle’s teasing before he could even start. He pulled away, sitting up and waiting until his uncle met his eye before continuing, “this is serious. There’s something wrong. Really wrong. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to help him if he can’t even tell me about it.”  

Because that’s what Steve had said. Not that he didn’t want to tell Eddie. That he couldn’t tell Eddie.

That Eddie wouldn’t have even believed him if he could.  

Which was insane, because Eddie was pretty sure Steve could say that he had seen the second coming of Christ, and Eddie would believe him. Steve could tell him that aliens existed, and Eddie would believe him. Steve could even spout off about characters from Dungeons and Dragons coming to life and dragging him on a quest and- 

Well, Eddie wasn’t sure he would totally believe that, but he would definitely listen at the very least! 

Steve wasn’t even giving him a chance to prove him wrong. He was just locking this all inside, holding it and bottling it and expecting it to go away when it wouldn’t. Eddie had been there, and he knew that trying to force something down only made it come up even worse later on. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said with a sigh, instantly putting his nephew on edge. It was a sigh Eddie knew well- the one Wayne gave when he wanted to tell him something that he knew that Eddie wasn’t going to want to hear. 

“You can’t help him if he ain’t ready to be helped.” 

Wayne’s hesitation there was right. Eddie definitely didn’t want to hear that. 

“That is such bullshit-“ 

“Kiddo,” Wayne said, cutting Eddie’s rant off before it could even really start with just one word. 

Eddie’s jaw shut with a snap, and he dragged a sharp breath in, looking at Wayne with wide eyes, trying to silently convey exactly why he was wrong. 

His uncle’s tough exterior melted away, and a gentle sympathy took over. If it was anyone else, Eddie would have bristled, gotten angry, pushed them away. On anyone else, that look would be 

pity. 

With Wayne, it was just kindness.

“Is it just the fact that you have feelings for this boy that’s makin’ you so damn persistent?” Wayne asked in a soft tone. 

Eddie instantly reared back, a surprised laugh bursting out of him. 

“No, Wayne I used to have a crush on him,” Eddie stressed, trying to make Wayne understand. “Back when we were younger. Years ago! It’s gone now.” 

“Eds,” Wayne said in a no-nonsense tone, “be serious.” 

“I am,” Eddie retorted, a heavy blush staining his cheeks as his heart hammered in his chest. “I don’t have a crush on him anymore. I don’t. I can care about my friends without it being a gay thing, so just drop it!” 

“Eddie, I’ll drop it if you can look me in the eye right now and tell me you don’t have any feelings for that boy,” Wayne challenged, keeping his cool as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the cushions, waiting. 

“Well that’s stupid, Wayne. Of course I have feelings for him,” Eddie sneered. He got up and began to pace, unable to hold it all in anymore as he continued to rant. 

“I care about him like I care about all my friends. It’s not like he’s nothing to me, but he’s just a friend, that’s all. I just think that it’s really cool that he was brave enough to join our group, and it’s sweet that he’s trying so hard. He isn’t half-assing it, and he doesn’t half-ass anything! Steve puts his whole self into everything he does and everyone he cares about, and caring that much is such an easy way to get hurt, but it’s like he’s not even worried! I mean, you should see the way he is with the kids! We’re just friends, that’s all, and that’s fine. I don’t need it to be anything more. I don’t want it to be anything more. Look we have a few stupid inside jokes, and some moments, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like I love him, I just-“

Eddie cut himself off, taking a sharp shaking breath in as the reality of it all came crashing down on his head. He took a stumbling step backward, trying to breathe as he staggered back to the couch and fell down into his seat. 

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, burying his face in his hands, the lump in his throat constricting his breath as his eyes burned. “Fuck.”

A warm hand fell between his shoulder blades, and Eddie blindly tipped on his side, letting Wayne’s arm curl around him as he burrowed into his uncle’s side. 

“It’s alright,” Wayne murmured, rubbing his thumb against the side of Eddie’s head as his nephew tried to catch his breath. “It’s not wrong for you to feel the way you do. It’s not somethin’ you can control. It’s not a bad thing.”  

“I know,” Eddie croaked out, hating the way he kind of didn’t believe the words. 

This wasn’t his first crush, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Eddie had always known who he was, and he had never pretended to be anything else. He wasn’t ashamed, but he couldn’t help the fear that still lived inside. 

That fear… it was terrifying, and painful. He hated being scared of himself, but he still was. Eddie was scared of the way people would look at him, scared of the way the world would treat him if they knew for a fact instead of just assuming. Scared of the way things would change. 

Scared of the way Steve would probably hate him if he ever figured it out. 

Steve. That’s what this was all about. It wasn’t about how Eddie felt. Tonight was about Steve, and how worried Eddie was for him. 

“Okay but even if I am attracted to him, that’s not why I want to help him,” Eddie said, carefully pulling away from Wayne’s grip and rubbing at his dry cheeks. No tears had ever come, but Eddie did it anyway, just to be sure. 

“Then why?” Wayne asked, genuinely curious. 

Why? 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” 

Eddie looked up at the other boy, furrowing his brow. 

“Why not?” Eddie said with a shrug, going back to his notebook. He was scratching out another tik-tac-toe board to add to the dozens that were already on the page. 

“People aren’t just nice,” The boy insisted, giving Eddie a guarded look. “They always want something.” 

“I want to make this afternoon a little less unbearable, and I want to make you feel better.” Eddie offered, quirking his head to the side and offering the pen to the other boy. “Is that enough?” 

They stared at each other for a long second, until the other boy’s face broke into an incredulous smile and he ducked his head down. 

“You’re really weird,” He said with a soft laugh, taking the pen. It was a lovely sound, like birds singing in the morning, or the first soft strum of a guitar as practice began. 

Eddie needed to hear it again.

“He needed me,” Eddie said softly, lost somewhere in between now and the memory. “Still does. I think.” 

Did Steve need him? Eddie wasn’t sure. All he knew was Steve needed someone and Eddie was the one who knew it. 

“Then be there for him,” Wayne suggested, patting Eddie twice on the back as he stood and walked over to his bed, beginning to pull it out, “You don’t need to know why he needs help to support. Sometimes all someone needs is someone to be there.”

“You’re right,” Eddie replied, sensing the end of the conversation coming. Exhaustion was tugging on his eyelids, and Wayne was beginning to yawn,. “I just wish I could do more.”

“I think you’re doin’ more than you realize,” Wayne offered, settling on the side of his bed and stretching. 

“Thanks Wayne,” Eddie sighed, turning and heading towards his room. 

“Is there anything else on your mind?” Wayne said from behind, stopping Eddie in his tracks. “Feels like you might’ve left something out.” 

Eddie paused, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap. He knew that if Wayne could see his face, he would’ve been done for, but just with his back, there wasn’t enough to prove he was right. 

Briefly, Eddie wondered if Wayne was a psychic, or had some sort of power to know when Eddie was keeping a secret. It felt like there was a big yellow sign above his head, shouting that he needed his uncle to help him before it was too late. 

I think I’m doing the wrong thing, Eddie thought, desperately working his throat, trying to force the words out, I think I’m doing something mean, and it’s going to end up hurting Steve. Badly. I’m doing the wrong thing, and I don’t know how to stop it before he gets hurt.

“No,” Eddie whispered, hating himself for the lie, “there’s nothing else.” 

Taglist: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

[withacapitalp]

How to Rehabilitate a Jock in Four Months Part 13

Part One Part Twelve Link to Ao3. Part Fourteen

This is the stoncy chapter I've been talking about y'all enjoy!

All I want is to be left alone, in my average home

But why do I always feel

Like I'm in the Twilight Zone?

Click. 

No one heard a single word you said

They should have seen it in your eyes

What was going around your head

Click

Mama, oooh

I don't want to die,

I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.

Click. 

Static. 

“Just leave it off Jonathan?” Nancy murmured. Jonathan shrugged, clicking off the radio and  putting his reaching hand back on the steering wheel. Ten and two, perfectly safe.

Did that matter to Nancy? She had always made a fuss about Steve driving one handed, but he had ignored her, even joked about her being a nag. He thought it was fun, the teasing little jabs that a couple gives each other when they’re young and dumb and in love. 

Was this one of the million things he had missed about Nancy? Was that why she had stopped loving him? 

Hell, maybe she never even started.  

Or maybe Steve was just overthinking things. None of it mattered, not really. Not anymore. It was a bunch of inconsequential details, that was all. Nancy just didn’t want to listen to the never ending changing sounds of Jonathan trying to find something on the radio. Steve was also grateful it was finally quiet, even if the tension filling the silence of the car was threatening to crush his lungs flat. 

“I don’t think it’s your fault.”

That was his voice. He had just said that. 

Why the hell did he just say that?!

Steve snapped his mouth shut, eyes widening as he realized he had just spoken without even meaning to. He hadn’t even really been thinking about it, but now it was out in the air for all of them to deal with. 

Jonathan flinched violently when he heard the words, like Steve had just hit him right in the jaw, and Nancy’s entire body was stiff as a board. Steve’s own limbs were locked up, joints starting to ache from how straight his spine was. 

“You said-“ Steve cut himself off with a frustrated little sigh, looking out the window at the trees rushing past them. He forced his body to relax, taking a deep breath the way Joyce said to. 

“I don’t think it’s your fault,” He repeated, quieter. 

That’s what she had said before, after he told her off. She said it was her fault they broke up, so that meant she blamed herself, right? Or that she thought Steve blamed her? He didn’t, and he didn’t want her thinking that he did. 

That was probably why she wanted to be friends so badly. All this time he hadn’t really gotten it, but now it was starting to make sense. She just wanted to get rid of the guilt, or maybe she pitied him. 

It wasn’t real. It was just Nancy being Nancy- trying to make things better. 

Steve wasn’t really that sure this was better. For any of them. Maybe knowing that he didn’t blame her would be enough to make Nancy give up pretending that she cared, when he already knew what he was to her. 

Bullshit. 

The quiet had stretched out too long, every second grating on Steve’s already frayed nerves. But just as he went to speak, to tell her to forget the whole thing, Nancy finally replied. 

“I thought you didn’t care that she was dead.”

Oh. 

And the fog was back. 

When the power had gone out, a fog had fallen over Steve. Thick white clouds and emptiness with nothing around him to hold onto. He wasn’t in his body anymore, just nearby. Jeff had helped him start to find the light, but now Nancy’s words were throwing him dead into the center of the mist. 

“I thought it didn’t matter to you. That my best friend was dead, and no one noticed,” She continued, her voice breaking.

It was good he couldn’t feel anything right now. 

If he could, he would probably act stupid about this. Get mad, or be angry, try and hide all the other bigger, more confusing, emotions down under things that made sense. But, since he couldn’t feel anything, Steve thought. 

He thought, and thought, and thought; wracking his brains, treading the water as he tried to think about what else he could have possibly done to show Nancy he cared. He had gone to every dinner at the Hollands with Nancy, every memorial. Steve had even gone to Barb’s funeral, and that had happened after they broke up. 

The only thing he didn’t do was the one thing that could put them all in danger. Steve had just tried to keep everyone safe, because Barb was gone, but Nancy was still here, and Steve could help her. 

But apparently that was the only thing that had ever mattered. All the rest was just bullshit.  

“I haven’t gone in my pool since that night,” Steve managed to say through the fog, “not once.” 

It was true. He hadn’t gone in any other pool either. The smell of the chlorine made him nauseous now, and the feeling of water on his skin left him anxious and jumpy. He had given up his spot on the swim team, and Nancy had never asked why. She thought he didn’t care, but she didn’t even notice that. 

Eddie would have noticed. 

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, viciously thrown out of the mist by that idle, ludicrous thought. Eddie might’ve noticed, but that didn’t mean anything. Why on earth would it matter if Eddie would have asked? 

But Eddie noticed tonight too, a strange little voice said in the back of his mind, Eddie noticed when you ran off, and he went looking for you. 

No. No. They all went looking for him. They all did, because they were his friends. It wasn’t like Eddie- It wasn’t like Steve-

“I’m really tired,” Steve whispered, lacing his fingers together to try and make his hands stop shaking, his mind pulled in too many directions to form a coherent thought. 

“Same,” Nancy agreed with a humourless laugh. 

“Yeah,” Jonathan sighed, taking the last turn into the cul-de-sac. 

If there was going to be any more conversation after that, it was quickly put on hold, because the second Jonathan’s headlights flashed across the front of the Wheeler house, the kids were spilling out the front door. 

Somewhere along the drive, the power must have turned on, because all of the lights were on in the house. Bright gold light spilled along inky black grass as Jonathan smoothly pulled into the driveway, throwing the parking brake just in time for the kids to practically slam themselves into his car. 

“Geez, easy guys!” Jonathan barked as he shot out of the car, inspecting to see if there was any damage. Steve and Nancy got out slower on the other side, coming around as the kids began their interrogation, throwing words and bodies directly at Steve. 

“Where were you?!” 

“Why didn’t you answer your walkie!” 

“What is the point of party rules if you don’t follow them!” 

And on and on. It was another long ass lecture, one Steve was not interested in hearing. He wanted to snap and tell them all to knock it off, but just a single look over made him close his mouth and force another deep breath. 

They were good at hiding it, shoving it deep under anger and indignation, but Steve knew his kids. 

Dustin’s face was buried right in the middle of Steve’s chest, his hat knocked off in the calamity, and Lucas was practically glued to his side. Mike was yelling, but he had his eyes firmly on the ground, a tell tale sign he was tearing up, and Max hadn’t even spoken yet. Even Will had pulled away to nestle against Jonathan, wide eyed and worried, alternating between looking at his friends, and their babysitter. 

He had scared them. Badly. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, apologizing easily as he made direct eye contact with Max, who was staring him down. “I shouldn’t have left my walkie where I couldn’t get to it quickly.”

“Where were you?” Dustin demanded, still latched onto Steve like a koala. 

“I went with Eddie and Hellfire to go see his show,” Steve explained, gently starting to extract himself from both Dustin and Lucas. “I told Hopper about it, but he must have forgotten to tell you guys.”

Was it particularly nice to blame Hopper? No, but Steve could do damage control later. Right now he had to get his kids back to at least a somewhat controllable emotional state.

“A show?” Mike said incredulously, crossing his arms. He looked up from behind his bangs for a second as he spoke, quickly going back to glaring at the ground. 

Progress. At least a little bit.

“He’s in a band,” Steve replied. “They’re called Corroded Coffin. They play metal music.”

“Cool name,” Max said shortly, speaking for the first time since he got there. Steve nodded, mentally counting. 

One and Two in his arms, Three and Four standing in front of him, Five with Jonathan…

“Where’s El?” Steve asked, his heart dropping to his feet. The looks the kids shared only made the feeling worse, and Steve could feel his hands starting to shake. 

The fog was rolling back in.

——————————

“She hasn’t woken up at all since Hopper dropped her off,” Lucas explained in a hushed tone as they went down the stairs. It was hard to manage with all the kids still crowded pretty close around him, but Steve managed the best he could. 

El was lying on the couch, snuggled tight under a handmade blue and yellow quilt. Her curls were poking from one end, and mismatched polka dot socks peeked out from the other. 

“What happened?” Steve wondered, walking over in a daze and pulling the corner of the blanket back to look down at El’s face. 

“Apparently they were watching a movie, and then the lights started to flicker,” Dustin said as Steve squatted down to examine El more closely. 

She was sleeping still, but not peacefully. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes darted back and forth behind her eyelids. Whatever dream she was having, if it was a dream at all, was not good. 

“She sat up, gasped, and then just… passed out,” Will added, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t feel anything when the power went out, not really. Maybe a shiver? I dunno, but my mom went with Hopper to check the lab out.”

“We’re lucky my parents are out with Holly visiting Nana for the holidays,” Nancy said. 

“Very lucky,” Steve said hollowly, not really feeling lucky at all. He took El’s wrist as he spoke and felt out a pulse, just to be safe. 

It was there, strong and steady. The tension melted from Steve’s shoulders, and he sighed again, keeping his fingers pressed against her pulse point. 

“She’s fine,” Mike insisted, sitting on the floor next to Steve and staring at El, still avoiding looking at Steve. 

“Of course she is,” Steve agreed, unable to help the smile on his face. “Like you would ever let anything happen to her.”

This was enough to crack through Mike’s icy facade. He looked up at Steve for a second before sighing and roughly jabbing his elbow in Steve’s direction. It was the closest he was going to get to forgiveness, and he would take it. 

Besides, he had bigger things to worry about now. El was waking up, and not in a good way. She had started to whimper, her head tossing and turning. Then, just as Steve was going to try and shake her awake, she sat straight up, eyes wide open. 

“Steve?!” El said, panic and fear heavy in her tone, cutting straight through his heart. She looked around in a panic, curls flying as she seemed not to notice any of them near her. 

“Steve!” El yelled again, sounding even more terrified. 

“Hey, I’m right here,” Steve said, reaching over gently and putting his hand on El’s back.  He went as slow and careful as possible, but El jumped anyway, letting out a small scream of fright just at being touched, which only made Steve’s heart hurt more.  

The second she realized it was Steve that had his hand on her, El launched herself at him, practically welding her arms around his neck and squeezing on just the wrong side of too tight. 

“Had a bad dream,” El whimpered, nearly inaudible from where she was buried into his shoulder. Steve hugged her back, lifting her off of the couch and into his arms, gently rubbing his hand up and down the way Hopper had done for him the other day when he had his migraine. 

“It’s okay, it’s over now,” He said, trying to soothe her. 

“No,” El insisted, squirming her way out of Steve’s hold so she could latch her hands around his 

forearms, fingers pressing in hard enough Steve was almost worried he would have bruises. 

“You were holding something silver,” El started, her voice going dead monotone as her eyes glazed over. She wasn’t seeing him, just looking now. “You thought there was not enough time, so you made a choice.”

“Ellie,” Steve whispered, using his nickname for her to try and pull her from wherever she had gone. 

“Me for them,” El said, steamrolling right over Steve’s attempt, “you kept thinking that over and over. Me for them. Me for them. Me for them.”

She continued to say it, lowering her voice to barely a whisper as tears pooled in her eyes. 

“It’s okay, Ellie, it was- it was just a dream,” Steve said helplessly as El burrowed back into his arms, shaking her head. 

Whether it was or wasn’t, she was miserable, and Steve couldn’t leave her like that. He  wrapped her in a firm hug, blindly turning around to give Jonathan and Nancy a confused look, hoping they had some sort of answer. 

Unfortunately they were clearly just as perplexed by El’s sudden downturn into weirdness, and the kids seemed downright freaked out. 

“There is always enough time, Steve. Do not run,” El murmured, sounding utterly exhausted. “It is not you or us, and I do not want you Gone.”

Gone. The word El used because she couldn’t even think about the other one. 

“I’m not going anywhere, El, I promise,” Steve swore, hoping that would be enough to stop whatever this was. 

“If you run, it will get you.”

A cold shiver ran down Steve’s spine at El’s declaration. Judging by the looks the others were giving him, they had felt the same thing. It was more than just the words of a traumatized child in the throes of a nightmare. It was…

It was…

It was just more. More in a way that made Steve want to let the fog come back. He wanted to not feel anything, wanted to be blank, but he couldn’t. He had to fight it, because everyone was looking at him for an answer, and Steve didn’t have one yet. 

“You were watching a movie before with Hopper?” Steve asked, going with his instincts. 

“Yes,” El said slowly, unsure of why Steve was asking her. She furrowed her brow, pulling an absolutely adorable confused look. “It was called The Unsinkable Molly Brown.”

“My mom really likes that movie,” Mike said idly, mostly talking to himself. 

That meant that the Wheeler’s definitely had a copy. And El hadn’t finished the movie. 

“We should finish it,” Steve declared, coming up with a plan at the speed of light. “Mike, go get it.”

“What?! No,” Mike said, more shock than actual denial. “We can’t just sit around watching a movie! What if something happens?”

“Then something happens,” Steve shot back immediately, using his snarkiest tone of voice. He stood up, easily lifting El alongside him and dumping her onto the couch next to Max and making both girls let out unexpected laughter as they were jostled around.  

“Until Hopper and Mrs. Byers get back, we have a job… building the world’s best blanket fort,” Steve said, placing his hands on his hips and squaring his shoulders. 

“Yes!” Dustin hissed, holding out his hand for Lucas to smack. They had instantly caught onto Steve’s infectious energy, grabbing Max and Will and planning a layout that would be ideal for holding all six of them. 

As they began to debate the pros and cons of grabbing chairs from the kitchen upstairs, Steve turned to Jonathan and Nancy. Jonathan looked dubious, and Nancy wasn’t much better, but they weren’t arguing against him, and that was what mattered most. He only had one more hurdle to get over, and apparently Eleven was going to do it for him. 

“I enjoyed your old fort,” El said softly, giving Mike one of her tiny wonderful smiles, “it was fun.”

Mike melted into a puddle of goo, like he always did when it came to her. If it was just Steve, the answer would be no. If it was the party and Steve, the answer would probably still be no. Even with his sister and Jonathan thrown in, it wouldn’t stop Mike from pitching a fit.  

But El? There was nothing that boy wouldn’t do to make her happy. 

“Fine. I’ll go get the stupid movie,” Mike grumbled, stomping towards the stairs. Dustin blew past him in a rush with Will hot on his heels. 

“I’m stealing your pillow, Mike!” Dustin yelled from the top of the stairs, sounding positively gleeful. 

“Like hell you are!” The boy snarled, taking the steps two at a time to catch up with his friends. 

Steve could hear them arguing all the way to Mike’s  bedroom, happy fighting that meant his distraction was working like a charm. 

That was what he was best at. He couldn’t stop the monsters, he couldn’t make the fog go away. But Steve could light some candles and make shadows on the walls with his hands to tell a story. He could create something for them to focus on that wasn’t fear, for as long as they would take it from him. 

That had to be enough. It was all he had to give now. 

“Alright Mayfield, where do you want to start?” Steve asked, turning towards his favorite redhead. 

——————————

There they were, all six of them sleeping in a pile. Again. 

El in the middle, her face now lax and soft with peaceful sleep. Will on one side, Dustin on the other. Lucas and Max resting their heads on her stomach with Mike holding her hand over Will’s chest. 

And there Steve was, just sitting there watching them. 

Again. 

It was probably going to start being creepy at some point, but Steve couldn’t stop. There was a part of him that was convinced if he looked away, maybe even if he blinked for too long, they would disappear. A single moment, and they would be gone, and it would be his fault for not watching.

At least there wasn’t any pool light to shine on them now. Just the soft orange glow of the street lamps filtering in from the high basement window. 

“Hey,” A voice said from behind him, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. 

“Hey,” Steve replied, not bothering to turn and look as Jonathan eased himself down, sitting crosslegged on Steve’s left. They sat quietly, both staring at the sleeping kids in companionable silence. 

“Our parents used to fight a lot,” Jonathan said, cutting through the quiet. His voice was soft, low so it didn’t wake the kids, but sitting this close, Steve could hear every word. 

“Mom would send us to our rooms, but it didn’t matter. When they were screaming at each other, you could hear it all the way down the street.”

You could hear it in the woods too. Steve could remember a few times he was walking through the forest and caught the barely there sound of Mr. and Mrs. Byers arguing. 

He had tried not to listen, but the curiosity had been too alluring. Steve’s parents fought cold, cold to the point of freezing. They hurt each other with pointed words in a polite tone, or icy silences that made even Steve shiver. To them, being the first one to yell was losing. Then you were ‘overdramatic’, ‘irrational’, and above all ‘wrong’. 

There was something so foreign about the way the couple screamed at each other, but still so compelling. Like there was no hiding their feelings, no need to push down the pain. They gave it to each other loud enough for the rest of the world to hear, and everyone in town knew almost every detail about their extremely messy separation. 

Almost no one knew that Steve’s parents rarely ever slept in the same bed anymore. They continued to remain the perfect couple, a pillar of the town’s upper class society. It was a dirty little secret, the kind that kept Steve up at night. 

He still wasn’t sure which way was better. 

“So I used to put on music for us,” Jonathan continued, unaware of Steve’s thoughts. There was a ghost of a smile on his face, the kind that seemed to be solely reserved for Will and Nancy,.“The Clash, Bon Jovi, The Police. Whatever would be loudest.”

It seemed that even quiet kid Jonathan was loud when he had to be, truly his parent’s child. Another little quirk of his for Steve to remember, even if he had no idea why Jonathan was telling him this story. 

“I get it now. Why you act the way you do,” Jonathan whispered, watching Will like a hawk. “You don’t want this to be the only thing they know. You want them to still get a chance to let this go someday, even if we never will.” 

A familiar rush of envy shot through Steve’s veins. Jonathan was just so damn perceptive, able to cut straight to the heart of an issue in a way Steve could never do. Steve was perceptive, but never on purpose. It was like there was this secret part of his brain that processed things and gave him little tidbits whenever it felt like it. 

Jonathan just understood. 

“Do you think it was just a power outage?” Steve murmured, needing to know if Jonathan felt the same way he did. 

“I don’t think it will ever just be a power outage anymore,” Jonathan said with a sigh, hitting the nail perfectly on the head, “not for us.” 

“Fuck,” Steve swore, hating the way Jonathan’s words made tears prick at his eyes. It was just so damn exhausting, annoying in a way that was impossible to explain. Steve had survived as long as he did by being able to let things go. Nothing stuck, nothing held on, and he was safe. 

But there was no letting go anymore. 

Steve had memories, and Steve had migraines, and Steve had kids. They needed him to remember, because they needed to be able to rely on him. He had to remember because how else would he keep them safe? 

It was sacrifice, and Steve didn’t mind it, but damn if it didn’t make him so tired all the time. 

“At least you aren’t going crazy all by yourself,” Jonathan offered, ducking his head down the way he always did when he was being genuine or kind. Like he was scared to see what people would do when he was nice to them, or nervous if he looked they would take it differently. 

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, leaning over to bump their shoulders together. It was silly, but a little bit of the awkwardness was gone. Not just the awkwardness of staring at a bunch of sleeping preteens, but also the awkwardness that seemed to permanently exist between him and Jonathan. 

The door from the house to the basement creaked open, light spilling down onto the kids. Jonathan looked up, and Steve risked a glance away from them as well. If Jonathan thought it was fine, it probably would be. 

Nancy was slowly making her way down the stairs, balancing three steaming mugs with the precision only she seemed to have. Both boys jumped to help her, each grabbing a cup before walking back to their spots. 

“The kids?” Nancy asked as she sat on the couch nearby them, taking a sip from her mug. 

“All good,” Steve reassured, looking down at his own drink. Hot chocolate, foamy and smelling absolutely divine.

He took a sip, letting it burn the roof of his mouth just to give himself something to do. The awkwardness had returned with Nancy’s arrival, sitting like a rock in all of their stomachs. Unconsciously Steve began to count the seconds, timing his breaths to beats of four. 

Four. In.

Eight. Hold.

Twelve. Out.

Sixteen. Hold. 

Twenty. In-

“I should have noticed,” Nancy murmured, cutting through the silence.

Steve blew his breath out early, glancing over at Nancy. She was staring down into her cup of cocoa, but her eyes darted up to meet Steve’s as soon as she spoke, needing to see his reaction. 

He couldn’t give her much. Steve didn’t know what she had apparently not noticed. 

“That you never went in the pool anymore,” Nancy continued when she realized he didn’t understand. “You always loved to swim before.”

Oh. 

Steve placed his mug on the floor next to him, going back to staring at the kids. 

“It was wrong,” Nancy started, brave as ever, unable to hide the way Steve always did. “I knew it was, but I knew you loved me, and you wouldn’t hurt me, and I was just so-“

She cut herself off, sounding uncharacteristically choked up. Steve couldn’t see, because he wasn’t looking at her.

“But I knew it was wrong to start dating you again. And I’m sorry.”

Was she sorry that she had dated him, or sorry she said yes? Did all of that mean that there really wasn’t anything that mattered between them for an entire year? 

Steve didn’t want the answers. He didn’t even want to talk about this. He wanted the fog and he wanted to hide, and he even wanted the awkward silence from before. 

Anything but this. 

“Nance-” 

“I hurt you, Steve,” Nancy said, interrupting him before he could stop the conversation. 

She said it so plainly. A statement of fact, not opinion. Steve had justified everything by telling himself he was a shitty boyfriend, that he had done a bad job, and that’s why they didn’t work. 

He had never even let himself really consider that it was Nancy and not him that had been a bad partner. That just wasn’t how relationships worked. He was the one that did the wrong thing, he was the one that didn’t work hard enough. 

But Nancy hadn’t noticed he didn’t swim anymore. 

“And I made myself think that you had done something to cause our problems,” Nancy said, with a laugh that bordered on a sob. Steve was glad he wasn’t looking at her. If she was crying, he wouldn’t be able to have this conversation. “I made it so you didn’t care enough, or that you didn’t notice, when the truth was I refused to let you in. I had to make it your problem, because I couldn’t handle it if it was just me doing the wrong thing.”

“You didn’t hurt me on purpose, Nancy,” Steve said dumbly, inserting himself in the middle of her self-deprecating spiral, unable to listen as she took the entire weight of their failed relationship. 

“Does that matter?” Nancy asked.

“It matters to me,” Steve said, his voice firm and his tone set. 

He forced his body to stand, walking over to the couch and sitting next to Nancy, risking a look over to see her face. Sure enough, there were tear tracks on her cheeks, and just seeing them was enough to make Steve want to balk and forget the whole thing. 

But he didn’t waver, didn’t stop, because if Nancy could be brave enough to do this, then Steve had to be too. 

“I meant it, Nancy, when I told you that night that it was okay,” Steve said, leaning his forearms on his knees. “You weren’t happy with me and…”

He gathered his courage, needing to admit the thing he hadn’t even really been able to say to himself before tonight. 

“And I wasn’t happy either.”

“What?” Nancy breathed, turning to stare at Steve with complete bewilderment in her eyes.

Just saying it was like cutting the strings holding him up. Steve’s entire body sagged in relief and he wasn’t afraid to look at Nancy now. 

“I made myself think I was, or that we would be able to get there,” Steve explained, finally fully realizing what he had been feeling in the weeks since their breakup, “but that night that El closed the gate? When I told you to go with Jonathan and let me stay with the kids? I felt this… release. Like we could both just finally breathe, because we were broken up, but we weren’t losing anyone. I wasn’t losing you, and you are never going to lose me.” 

That was at the heart of everything, wasn’t it? Nancy had lost Barb, and she didn’t think she could go through that kind of pain again. Steve knew she could, he was pretty sure there wasn’t a thing in the world that would knock Nancy down permanently. But she didn’t know, and the fear of that was enough to make her act a little crazy. 

He could get that. He was still counting the kids. 

Steve opened an arm, and Nancy hugged him tightly, the same desperate clutching hold that she had given him earlier in the parking lot. 

“I do care about you, so much,” Nancy whispered harshly into his ear, saying the words like she needed to make herself believe them, “I do care. I do.”

“I know,” Steve replied, shocked at how true it was. He did know how much Nancy cared. She cared more than anything, but she was scared about that. All that bravery, all that courage, and she was still terrified to say she loved, because she thought it would hurt worse when loss came. 

It was funny how similar they were. Steve could see that now. 

“Everything’s okay now,” Steve told her as they broke apart. 

“Is it?” Nancy asked dubiously, turning to Jonathan who shrugged. 

“If it isn’t, then we’ll survive. We always do,” Jonathan pointed out, coming over and sitting on Nancy’s other side. She leaned against him and he hooked his chin overtop her head, raising an eyebrow towards Steve. 

“Still have your bat?”

“Well it’s in my car that’s sitting in Eddie’s driveway, but I think we can probably make a pit stop before the devil dogs get us,” Steve offered. Nancy and Jonathan both immediately began to laugh, trying to smother down giggles and snickers so they didn’t wake up the kids. 

“What?” Steve said, teasingly defensive. “Mad that I have friends?”

“D-d-demodogs, Steve,” Nancy said through her tamped down laughter. “Devil dogs are a p-p-p-pastry!” 

All three of them lost it. Nancy hid her face in her hands, and Jonathan put his forehead against the crown of her head, his shoulders shaking. Steve bit down his grin, watching the two of them with a soft golden glow sitting in his chest. 

No, things weren’t perfect, and they probably never would be, but there was something about getting to laugh about all of this that was incredibly cathartic. 

“Okay what is going on with you and Eddie Munson?” Nancy finally asked when she had control of herself again. 

“What do you mean, Nance?” Steve asked, grabbing his mug and holding it close. 

“You’re like total opposites,” Jonathan explained, still grinning. “It’s like Freaky Friday.”

Nancy snorted, and Steve sputtered as he tried to defend himself and his friend. They weren’t that different, at least Steve didn’t think so. Eddie was sweet, smart in a kind of unconventional way, and he was always trying his hardest in everything he did. He noticed everything, but he didn’t always have to comment. At least, not in a way that was too deep. 

They were similar in the ways that mattered. The ways that mattered to Steve anyway. 

But there was no way to explain that, was there? Not one that would make sense to anyone but him. 

“He’s safe,” Steve said simply, wrapping it all up in just two words. 

Nancy and Jonathan shared one of those secret couple looks after Steve spoke, communicating without words as they processed his explanation. But before either of them could comment, bright headlights raced across the windows. Someone was outside. 

Instant mood shift. The easy going warmth between the three of them had disappeared, replaced by a panicky cold that made Steve’s hands tremble and his mind go blank. Nancy stood and the two boys got up right after, all three moving as a single unit out of the basement and up to the driveway. 

Hopper and Joyce were getting out of his car, hopping down with drawn weary looks and slumped shoulders. Nancy grabbed Jonathan’s hand, and, after a moment of hesitation, she grabbed Steve’s with her other. They let Hopper and Joyce approach them, both groups staring the other down in the strangest standoff Steve had ever seen. 

“Well?” Nancy asked, still brave. 

“Nothing,” Hopper answered with a sigh, “no gate.” 

No gate. 

It should have been a relief. Steve should be happy now, calm and content. Instead it was a hollow victory, an achievement that only made him feel worse. 

“That’s not possible,” Jonathan insisted, and Steve had to agree. After everything they went through tonight, that was it? 

“There’s nothing there. Owens took us through the entire lab. Everything was still condemned, locked up tight. We even went down to the basement, and there was no gate,” Joyce explained, rubbing a hand over face and wrapping her arms around her middle. 

“It was just a power outage,” Hopper said, as if that was the end of it. 

But it wasn’t. It would never be the end of it. There was still too much unanswered. 

“El passed out,” Steve protested, speaking up for the first time since they came outside.  Not only had she passed out, she had also had some sort of vision about him that ended in him being Gone. That didn’t feel like just a power outage. 

“And she’s a traumatized kid,” Hopper replied, using the same soft tone he had when they were sitting together on his steps. “She’s entitled to a few overreactions.” 

An overreaction? Was that really all this was? But then what had Steve seen in the woods by the trailer park? Why had the headlights on Eddie’s van flickered? 

He wanted to tell them, wanted to explain why he was pressing the issue, but Steve couldn’t make his mouth form the words. They just swirled around in the back of his mind, dark and stormy. 

“We made sure. There’s nothing there,” Joyce said, reaching over and holding out a hand for Jonathan. He pulled away from Nancy and went to his mother, both of them starting to speak in low whispers. Hopper stepped closer, giving Steve a once over. 

“Seems like you and El both are going for the whole MTV punk thing,” Hopper teased. Steve gave him an unimpressed look, and Hopper held up his hands in surrender. “No hate, just pointing it out.”

“I went to Eddie’s show tonight?” Steve reminded him. Recognition flitted across the man’s features and his good mood soured ever so slightly. 

“Ah, yes, drug dealing Eddie Munson,” Hopper said with a sigh. Steve stuck his tongue out, annoyed that he was so focused on that one single detail. So what? Eddie sold drugs. He wasn’t the only one who did, and at least he wasn’t cutting them with ridiculous shit like Marty Feldman liked to. 

“Where’s your car?” Hopper asked, clearly hoping to change the subject.  

“At Eddie’s place,” Steve promptly answered. Hopper huffed out a sarcastic little laugh and Steve scowled. 

“What?” He challenged, daring Hopper to say something. 

“Nothing, nothing,” Hopper said, making himself the picture of innocence. He put his hands on his hips, leaning back on his heels with a sigh, “Listen, I’m gonna go in and grab El, tell the kids everything, make sure they’re okay and aren’t about to go trespassing to make sure things are settled. Do you want me to give you a ride to go get it? Or maybe you should just stay at the cabin tonight, and-“

“Steve already said he was staying here,” Nancy said in a rush. She was still holding his hand, but she squeezed it tight when she spoke, “Jonathan and I asked him. That’s still okay, right?”

Oh. She was talking to Steve. They were both looking at him, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah, that works,” Steve lied smoothly, turning to Hopper with a shrug. “Sorry, Hop.”

“Whatever works, kid. Just an offer,” Hopper shrugged. Jonathan and Joyce walked over and Hopper and Joyce started towards the basement, leaving the three of them standing alone in the driveway

“I just- I don’t want you to leave. Not yet,” Nancy explained when Steve turned to her with an absolutely bewildered expression. 

For so much of their relationship, it felt like Steve was always the one asking her to stay. There were a thousand times in their relationship Steve had wanted to hear those words coming from her instead of him. And because of that a part of him wanted to leave. 

That little bit of him wanted to lash out. Leave her in the dust and see how she managed it. It would be easy to do that, to put up a spikey wall to keep her out now that Nancy was showing her own vulnerability. 

But that vicious little part of him was overwhelmed by an easy love for Nancy. Not romantic, not the same yearning painful ache he had carried for a year and half. This was warm, soft, coated in something that Steve knew was love, just not the kind he was used to feeling. It was nice, and Steve didn’t want to leave. 

“Okay,” Steve whispered, lacing their fingers together. 

“Steve’s staying tonight,” Nancy said to Jonathan. Steve had a second of being worried he was overstepping, afraid Jonathan was going to be less than thrilled at the impromptu sleepover. But Jonathan just gave Steve one of his rare smiles, grabbing Nancy’s other hand. 

“Good,” Jonathan said, dragging them both back towards the house.

Tag List:

[withacapitalp]

Countdown Pt 3

Part One Part Two

Tw: Slight suicidal ideation and general grieving

--------------------------------------

They only carry a couple things with them on the run. 

Surviving the apocalypse isn’t pretty, and it’s easier to make a quick escape if they’re always traveling light. Essentials only, with a few sentimental items so they don’t completely lose their minds. 

Nancy had her journals, Max had her skateboard (even if she couldn’t use it right now), Will brought a pack of colored pencils, and Steve was pretty sure Hopper had somehow saved a half a pack of smokes. 

And Steve….Steve has a shoebox. 

It’s an old thing, held together with duct tape and decorated with sharpie doodles. Wayne had given it to him right before he left town, along with the necklace that Steve kept around his neck every moment of every day. 

He’s never let any of them look in it. They think he’s insane, but they’re not the ones with zeroed out timers.

This shoebox is all he has left of his soulmate. 

What’s inside would seem like junk to most people. A handful of rocks of varying size, shapes, and colors. A leather cuff with spikes that Steve had immediately put around his timer wrist to hide it from view. A matchbook from a gay bar in Indianapolis, a Spalding bouncy ball. Some hand-sewn patches with logos he didn’t recognize, three different mini figures, a dozen faded beautiful photographs, and a single mixtape. 

Only Robin knew about the mixtape. He had only told her in case they needed a song for him. That mixtape was the only thing in the world that had the song that could save his life. 

But the most important thing in that box was the letters. 

He read one every night. He had promised himself he wouldn’t read more than one. It was routine. When it was his turn to be on watch and the rest of their family was sound asleep, Steve would open his shoebox, pull out a letter, and read it. 

The first one is probably his favorite. It was written in dark red marker on yellow construction paper, the edges ripped and torn with age. The marker bled through the back of the paper where the child who wrote the letter had pressed down too hard, and Steve could imagine the way his fingers must have stained from the ink. Blood red. The same way his fingers were stained when he died. 

7/4/1971 

TWO SULMAYT,

HI.

I AM EDDIE MUNSON. I AM FIVE YEARS OLD. I LIKE TRUKS. YU SHUD LIKE THEM TO. WE CAN WATCH THE BIG TRUKS! 

WHAT IS YUR NAMY? 

BIE

LUV EDDIE

P. S. I HAD A NANA FOR BRIKFEST. YUM. 

There was a picture of two giant monster trucks under the words, and a tiny thing Steve assumed was a banana under the postscript. Steve keeps that one tucked in his jacket pocket, just in case he ever loses his bag or his precious shoebox. 

He keeps the first in his side pocket, and keeps the last one in the breast pocket right above his heart

6/13/1986

Hi Love,

The first one says ‘Two Sulmayt’ but every one after that starts with ‘Hi Love’. 

Steve can’t help wondering if Eddie would have eventually called him ‘Love’ if they had gotten more time. 

Well, if you’re reading this, then I guess my plan to be the one that lived really didn’t work out. Damn, that sucks. Probably a little bit more for you than for me. 

I don't know how you dealt with knowing we only had five days, but I thought it was kinda fucked. Like damn, really? Five? The universe sure has a funny sense of humor, doesn’t it, Love? Or maybe it just hates me. That is also a very real possibility. 

Maybe. But if the universe hated Eddie, then it must hate Steve more for making him continue to live. For giving him other people to love, people to care about, people to force him to not give up. 

Anyways this is how I dealt with it. If you only get five days to have me, I’m going to make sure you know me. Or know who I was at least. One letter a month for the last 12 years, and a bunch of random one off ones from when I was little. Before I lived with Wayne it was kind of catch as catch can with paper and stuff, and I was also like seven, so how many letters do you really want from a seven year old who still can’t spell ‘Difficulty’?

I know how to now, by the way. Mrs. D, Mrs. I, yada yada. Do you ever wonder why all those women are married? I think that’s stupid. Forced conformity, even in our nursery rhymes. 

That joke always made Steve laugh. He’s read this letter so many times it’s starting to come apart at the creases, but it still made him pause and chuckle. 

Anyways. This is yours. Eleven letters a year for twelve years is one hundred and thirty two. Adding in the ones from before, it’s probably around a hundred and fifty. It’s not the same as having me around, but if you spread them out, you might get thirteen years or so before you have to start rereading them. 

Or read them all in one sitting. Do whatever you want. 

Steve had counted. It was one hundred and forty one. He read one new one a night, because every single day they survived seemed like a miracle right now. 

He only had seventy three more left. 

Not like I can stop you, haha. 

That’s probably not as funny to you as I want it to be. Sorry, Love. 

It wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. Steve wanted Eddie here, wanted him to tell him to wait. He wanted Eddie to write him more letters. 

Oh, I also included a bunch of stuff I thought was too cool to lose, and a mixtape with songs that I wrote for my band. I thought you might want to get to hear my voice. It’s probably stupid, but you don’t have to listen to them if you don’t want to. 

Steve listened to it. They had been forced to scrounge up new batteries for his walkman three times because it kept dying. 

Everything in this box is yours, Wayne has strict instructions to give it to you. And, anything of mine Wayne doesn’t want is for you too.

Wow. A whole trust fund of trailer park trash. Some people leave their soulmates huge inheritances. I left you rocks and pictures and a shit ton of letters. Aren’t you lucky, Love? 

He was lucky. He had seventy three more letters. Seventy three more reasons to survive another day. 

After that…Steve wasn’t sure if he would be lucky anymore. 

Now if you’re good at math- which I hope you are, because I’m terrible at it- then you might be saying to yourself ‘Is my soulmate an idiot? Does he not know there’s twelve months in a year?’ 

No. I’m actually incredibly smart, even though my grades don’t really show it. I rewrite this top of the box letter every year on my birthday, and then I burn the last one. It’s a fun, extremely morbid, tradition. 

I’m 20 today, Love. I wonder how old you are a lot. I hope you’re close to my age at least. Maybe you’re like fifty years older than me, and I meet you when you’re on your deathbed, and that’s why we only have five days. 

They had only gotten five days because Steve hadn’t just taken Eddie and run. He should have just told Eddie to go as far from Hawkins as possible the second he realized. Fuck the rest of the world, fuck stopping the apocalypse. The best part of Steve was already dead. 

Two whole decades, but somehow I’m still in high school. I failed. Again. I wrote a lot about it in my letter last month, so I’m not going to talk about it again. Suffice to say I’m pretty bummed. I mean, c’mon, even Steve Harrington managed to graduate last year, and that guy barely even went to class during senior year. 

That part of the letter always made his stomach turn. He hated the reminder of all the wasted time, the little nudge that always told him it was his fault they barely had any time. 

If he had only looked up. 

Oh, well. This one is it. ‘86 baby! I’d say I want this to be the year I meet you, but I really want to graduate, so maybe hold off for just one more year? Stay wherever you are for just twelve more months, Love, just to be safe. Then I can put a picture of me flipping off my principal in this box for you. I’ll add my diploma in too, just to prove to you I did it. 

Eddie wasn’t going to get a diploma. 

If you wait a year, I’ll give you twelve more letters. So just wait one more year. By then, I think I’ll know what to say to make this better. I’ll know what to do to fill the gap I know you’re going to have. I’ll have something to say that will fix all this. I say that every year, and I never do, but hey, ‘86. 

Nothing anyone said would fix this. Nothing Eddie could write would fill the hole left in Steve’s soul. Nothing. 

I’m sorry. 

I say that every year too. 

Steve didn’t want apologies. He didn’t want letters. He didn’t want a hard to hear voice on a single mixtape. 

He wanted Eddie. 

Well. Happy birthday to me. One more year without meeting you. Eleven more letters. You better be doing something just as nice for me in case it's you that bites it, or I’m bringing your ass back just to kill you again. 

Steve didn’t care if Eddie killed him. Eddie could reappear right now and immediately shoot Steve and he would die happy. He just wanted one more minute. Just a little more time. 

…Wait just a little bit longer. I’ll have better words next year. 

Can you do that for me, Love?

P.S. You should read the first letter I wrote to you, just to appreciate how eloquent and charming I am in this one. 

Eddie called him ‘Love’. Eddie asked him to wait. Eddie wanted to have the right words. He wanted to live long enough to save Steve from his own broken heart.

Steve wishes he had waited.  

[withacapitalp]

Tell Him (Nothing) Everything Pt 1

Happy Valentine's @excaliburstark !!!! I was your Valentine so I wrote you a super fun 5+1 fic!! I never expected to do Rockstar Eddie or Modern AU just bc they had never appealed to me before, but then once I started writing this I just couldn't stop! I hope you enjoy it

Read it on ao3

Wayne let Eddie waste away for a record four days, three hours, and fifty two minutes before he finally put his foot down. 

“You need to get outta here,” His uncle said, crossing his arms and standing in front of where Eddie was lying on their lumpy comfy couch. 

Eddie tried to look past him and continue to watch whatever daytime soap opera was on, but Wayne just stepped into his field of vision, continuing to give Eddie the no-nonsense look of total reproach. 

He hated that look. Wayne only ever used it when he was right about something. 

“Kicking me out already?” Eddie said, sitting up and stretching, “I’ve only been here a few days, but if I’m already being a bother, I guess I’ll go crawling back to LA,” 

“You bought the damn house, boy, I’m not kicking you nowhere,” Wayne sighed, completely dodging the silly argument Eddie had tried to tangle them in. 

He sat down next to his nephew and put a big warm hand between Eddie’s shoulder blades, forcing him to be grounded in the moment instead of floating off wherever his mind wanted to go. 

“You can’t sit here all day long. It ain’t healthy,” His uncle whispered, becoming disarmingly gentle in the way only Wayne seemed to be able to accomplish. Eddie felt the open wound in his chest start to bleed again, and he shook Wayne off of him with a harsh tug. 

“Yeah, because I’m so concerned about my health right now,” Eddie snarked, fully intending on disappearing up the stairs and going to lie in his bed instead of on the couch where Wayne could nag him. The exhaustion was pulling on him again, weighing him down like lead. 

Unfortunately for Eddie, Wayne was more agile than he looked, and he got to the stairs before his nephew did. 

“Eddie,” Wayne snapped, cutting himself off with a frustrated sigh, before he could say anything more. He took off his cap and rubbed the top of his head, looking for something to say. 

“At least go take a walk in town or somethin’. You need fresh air and sunlight,” 

It wasn’t what Wayne wanted to say. Eddie knew that they were both fully aware of what Wayne wanted to say, but they were also both aware Eddie wasn’t ready to listen yet. 

“There’s plenty of air in here,” Eddie muttered stubbornly, staring down at the ground between them. He felt like a petulant child and not a twenty seven almost twenty eight year old man, but he didn’t want to budge. The idea of being out in the world made him feel sick to his stomach. Eddie didn’t want to be recognized, didn’t want people to come up to him and ask for autographs, or photos, or-

or ask him to talk about her.  

“This is Hawkins, Indiana, Eds. The only people who would recognize you are currently in school. No one here over the age of eighteen would listen to anythin’ like your music,” Wayne said, somehow already guessing where Eddie’s mind had gone, “‘Sides wasn’t the whole point of you comin’ home to be in a place where you could walk around without bein’ afraid of people seein’ you? What’s the point of bein’ here if you do nothin’ but stay home and mope?”

It wasn’t moping. Moping was what happened when you got dumped, or a pet ran away. Eddie had moped when Corroded Coffin’s second album flopped, and after he got laryngitis and had to miss Gareth’s big 25th birthday blowout bash. 

This wasn’t moping. Eddie was…was…

“I’m just tired, Wayne, that’s all,” Eddie said softly, the lie barely audible, even to himself. 

“We both this ain’t tired, Eddie,” Wayne said, gently but firmly calling his nephew on his bullshit, “You don’t handle grief well. And you never have, but-”

No. No. 

“I’m not talking about this,” Eddie interrupted, looking up with slightly deranged eyes, desperation making his voice rough, “I’m not. You promised we wouldn’t have to talk about Chri-”

Eddie cut himself off with a strangled gasp, hating the way just the first syllable of her name made tears start to prick in his eyes. 

“About it,” Eddie amended, his voice completely flat, “You promised we wouldn’t have to talk.”

Wayne studied him without pity. Empathy, sure, there was floods of it, because Wayne had lost her too, but no pity.

That was the real reason Eddie had come back home, fleeing Los Angeles in the middle of the night with barely a half scribbled note of explanation to the rest of the band, and instructions not to follow him despite all of them knowing where Eddie was going. 

Wayne was the only person in his world who wouldn’t pity him right now. 

Eddie could barely stand pity on his best day. It had always gotten under his skin, but right now it was making him go feral. He could only stand so many of Jeff’s sad little glances, and Archie’s quiet attempts to get him to open up. Even Gareth was too much right now. All of them were suffocating him. It was already hard enough to breathe as it was. 

But at this moment, Wayne’s empathy wasn’t much better. It felt like the entire room was slowly being drained of air. 

“Well. Two options,” Wane finally said, putting his cap back on and fixing Eddie with a determined grimace, “You can go out for at least forty five minutes- get some air, take a drive, maybe even come home with some lunch. Or we can sit here and have a nice long talk about our emotions. Your choice.” 

That wasn’t a choice. There wasn’t any choice in that at all. Both Eddie and Wayne knew that, but they also both knew that Wayne would follow through on that threat. He had done it before, and he would do it again, if necessary. He would do just about anything if it meant helping Eddie, even when Eddie didn’t want help. 

“You’re the worst,” Eddie groaned, stomping over to the front door and grabbing his sneakers. Wayne watched with smug satisfaction as Eddie laced up his shoes and grabbed his phone, tucking it into his back pocket before coming over and wrapping his uncle in a fiercely tight hug. 

“I love you,” Eddie mumbled into Wayne’s shoulder. He couldn't leave without saying what Wayne meant to him. Not anymore. Not after what had happened. 

“I love you too, Eds,” Wayne replied, letting his nephew hang onto him for as long as he needed. 

“Forty five minutes at least,” Wayne reminded him as they parted, standing in the doorway and watching as Eddie began trekking down the sidewalk towards the middle of town. 

It barely took ten minutes to get to the town square, and soon enough Eddie was sloping down a fairly busy sidewalk, getting side eyes and judgemental looks from housewives who couldn’t help staring. 

Good to know that some things would always stay the same. 

Eddie had only lived in Hawkins for five years, from the ages of eight to thirteen, along with sporadic visits from time to time since then, but it felt like nothing had changed. 

And maybe it hadn’t, not really. Hawkins was a timestamp town, the kind of place that looked the same no matter what decade it was. One of the deep tracks on Corroded Coffin’s first album had been about Hawkins. 

Well, not exactly, seeing as his bandmates weren’t from Hawkins, but they all grew up in small towns, so they were all able to come up with a pretty banging condemnation track together. 

Crawling out of the place that tried to take my soul, my heart, my mind. 

Creating a cookie cutter version which took the deal the Devil signed. 

Eddie never gave Hawkins the satisfaction of making him one of their sons. When people asked, he said he was from Indianapolis, which was half true. That was a better backstory anyway- a hardscrabble kid from the bad side of the tracks that had collected a bunch of his friends, a couple of second hand instruments, and a dream to change the world. 

No, Eddie wasn’t a fan of Hawkins. 

But oh, Chrissy had loved it here. 

The only reason Eddie had ever come back had been her. If he had it his way, Wayne would just come visit him whenever he wanted. Eddie could afford the plane tickets. But Chrissy saw some magic in the cul-de-sacs, the long winding corn rows, the people who would clutch their pearls whenever they saw the two of them walking down the street. 

Eddie had never understood it. 

And now he never would.  

There it was. The feeling of a phantom limb. Was it possible to have that if you still had all four? It was a sensation he would never be able to explain, a physical sense of loss that ran through his veins like poison. Eddie’s hand was empty, when it should be clutched onto someone else’s. There should be a sweet little light by his side, skipping along the sidewalk and teasing Eddie for being way too scary looking to survive in Hawkins. 

Eddie’s other half was missing, and he didn’t know how to begin making the world make sense again. 

He was so focused on that feeling that he didn’t see the glass door in front of him until it was way too late. Eddie crashed right into it, face fully smashing against the glass, collapsing on the ground with a loud curse and a stinging pain in his wrist from landing on it wrong. 

See. This is what happened when Eddie tried to go outside. He should’ve just stayed home and put his fingers in his ears, singing nonsense until his uncle gave up on trying to make him acknowledge his emotions. 

Instead here he was lying on the ground in the middle of Hawkins fucking Indiana at what had to be ultimate rock bottom. 

“Oh my gosh!” A deep voice from above him said, a tanned hand invading his vision, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed, taking the offered hand and letting himself get pulled up, “I’m o-”

Oh. My. God.  

Eddie lived in the pretty people capital of the country. Not only was he the lead singer of a world renowned band who was an out and proud bisexual, he was known to be somewhat of a slut. Suffice to say Eddie had both gorgeous women and gorgeous men throwing themselves at him almost constantly. 

There was no short supply of people who wanted a night with The Eddie Munson. 

But none of them held a candle to the man in front of him who was still holding onto his hand. 

“Oh, that looks like it hurts,” Small Town Adonis fretted, finally letting go only to lean in close and take Eddie’s chin in his hand. Eddie stiffened as his head was turned from side to side, giving the other man a better view of whatever bruise was starting to bloom on his jaw. It was a perfectly convenient excuse to oogle, so Eddie did. 

The stranger was a couple inches shorter than Eddie, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in muscle. He had broad shoulders and a strong square jaw that was probably deliciously sensitive. His hazel eyes were hidden behind thin wire frame glasses that only added to his charm, and his hair was to die for. Eddie usually prided himself on being the person with the best hair in the room, but this guy might have him beat. 

And, he was wearing a lemon sweater and a bright blue apron that had cat paws printed all over it. 

That shouldn’t have worked for Eddie. 

It was so working for him. 

“No worries,” Eddie said breathlessly, his heart still racing as he let the stranger move his face around as he pleased. All of his exhaustion had vanished at the speed of light, replaced by a warm feeling in his chest and a blush that was beginning to grow on his cheeks. 

“I don’t think anything is broken, thank god,” The man said, relieved. He stepped back and readjusted the sign that had been holding open the door to his shop, “Here, come inside and I’ll get you an ice pack. Maybe a lemon bar on the house? If you like lemons?” 

He seemed pretty nervous, and Eddie internally rolled his eyes, some of his attraction fading. Of course the guy was going over the top. He was probably worried that his little podunk shop was about to go under, all because a rockstar happened to crash into his open front door. 

“You don’t need to do all that. I’m not gonna like sue you or anything,” Eddie said, letting the tiny fluttering crush that had begun to bloom wilt once more. Once again he wasn’t real, just something to be gawked at. 

But the stranger wasn’t gawking. He was almost glaring. 

“Well, I would hope you weren’t thinking about suing me seeing as you walked into my door,” The man said, his voice dripping with derision. He even had his hands on his goddamn hips like some PTA mom. 

Wayne telling Eddie that no one in town would recognize him was one thing, but actually seeing that people wouldn’t know him simply by sight was another thing entirely. 

Since Corroded Coffin went viral in 2012, launching into stardom at the speed of light, Eddie had been forced to live with the fact that everyone knew he was. That was the tradeoff. You get everything you ever wanted, become a rockstar like every kid dreams of being, and the world gets to own you. At seventeen he had naively signed off on that, and now at twenty seven there was no way to go back and throttle that kid into actually thinking about the consequences. 

But the man in front of him had literally no clue who he was. 

It was strange. It was bizarre. It was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.  

It was… enthralling.  

“You really don’t recognize me?” Eddie pressed, needing to be sure. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had pretended they didn’t know who he was. Lots of people wanted to get close to him for one reason or another. Eddie had to practice constant vigilance, or risk having everything he worked for blown apart. 

“Should I?” Apron Man asked, looking concerned. He raised a brow and looked around the fairly empty street, as if trying to parse out exactly why Eddie would be someone he should know. 

Wonderful. The beautiful man was in fact a rare angel that knew nothing about Eddie, and Eddie was now officially the weirdo who had not only smacked his face into the door, but also maybe threatened to sue and demanded that a total stranger recognize him. Just perfect.

“No um we’ve never- I’m-” Eddie cut off his fumbling with a groan, pulling his long curls in front of his face and wishing he could disappear off the face of the earth, “Sorry I must sound like a lunatic,”

“Or someone with a concussion. Trust me I’ve had plenty of them,” The man said with a kind smile. He put one foot in the doorway of his store and waved his hand behind him, “Come on in! I’ll check you out, and we can see about that lemon bar,” 

Eddie silently followed the man like a lost puppy, marveling at the inside of the store. It was a cafe, the walls painted a soft creamy yellow and decorated with hand drawn paintings of cats in various positions. There were tiny round tables with squashy arm chairs, and a high bar by the counter with comfy looking stools. 

The smell of cinnamon hung in the air, and Eddie’s entire body instantly relaxed. It was like sinking into a warm bath, everything in the room designed to put a person completely at ease. 

Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. 

“Here. Welcome to Claudia’s,” The stranger said kindly, handing Eddie a blue freezer pack and gently pushing him towards one of the arm chairs. . 

“Thanks. I’m Eddie…” 

He trailed off, considering his next words. Eddie Munson. Even if the man didn’t know his face, he would probably know his name. Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin. Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll wrapped up into one real life person. He could be honest right now, tell this stranger the truth, and see how he changed once he knew. 

Or he could play a little game, get a little distance from the person he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anymore. 

“I’m Eddie.” He repeated, more firmly and more sure of his decision. 

“Well, Eddie, Eddie,” Apron Man teased, making Eddie’s cheeks heat up in a furious blush, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve Harrington.” 

[withacapitalp]

Companion to this

“Hey Steve, what’s this?” Robin called from the back of his closet, holding up an old fabric bag that he instantly recognized. 

“It’s nothing!” Steve yelped, snatching it away, immediately wincing at how suspicious that was. If Robin wasn’t curious before, she sure would be now. 

When she had suggested they raid his closet and look for more things to donate, Steve had assumed they would find things that would bring up memories, but he was not ready to talk about that with anyone. Not even Robin. 

His best friend raised a brow, giving Steve a deadpan look. 

“Is there a non-weird reason you are trying to hide the fact that you have clothes that are clearly for a teenage girl hidden away in the back of your closet?” 

“It’s….they’re Carol’s clothes,” Steve explained, letting his shoulders slump. 

“Carol’s? Why do you still have them?” Robin asked, disgust coloring her tone at the mention of his former best friend. 

Steve loosened the drawstring, looking inside. He already knew what he would find inside- a navy blue skirt, a striped sweater, two tubes of lip gloss, and a couple satin ribbons- but even just seeing them was enough to make his breath catch. 

“Give me a twirl,”

The first spin had felt ridiculous, but the second had made his heart feel light, reminding him of the time his parents brought him whale watching in Cape Cod. Wearing the skirt felt just like leaning over the edge of the boat and letting the cool ocean breeze dance along his cheeks. 

“She wanted me to have them,” Steve shrugged, carefully redoing the knot, hiding the clothes once more. 

“Well, put them in the donate box I guess,” Robin said, already disappearing back into his closet, “Unless you just want to throw them away! Good riddance,” 

“Yeah, good riddance,” Steve echoed, waiting until he was sure Robin wouldn’t see before sneaking over to his bed and stowing the bag under his bed where he hoped she would never find it. They didn't fit anymore, but they were his first, and he wasn't ready to give them up just yet. 

[withacapitalp]

Juno inspired one shot where Steve (who has *always wanted a big family) assumes that Eddie is on board with adoption because why would he date him not being prepared to have kids eventually? And Eddie (who does want kids but is terrified of fucking them up or losing the life he's wanted to build) goes along with it bc no way are they gonna find someone to give two queers a baby.

And then one of their friends ends up getting pregnant and she doesn't want the baby but she does know how badly Steve and Eddie want the baby so it looks like everything is perfect.

Except only days before their surrogates due date, Eddie finally panics and says he doesn't want a baby. At least not yet. They're not even 30 yet, and CC is just taking off, and if they just wait a few years then Eddie will have lived all his dreams. Except they both know they really can't wait a few years, because when is an opportunity like this coming again/Steve is ready for this baby they have everything ready.

But Steve, who lived with a parent who didn't want him and one who did, tells Eddie that he either needs to get on board or he needs to leave and not come back.

Eddie leaves

[withacapitalp]

Tell Him (Nothing) Everything Pt 2

Part One Link to ao3

Chapter Two- Second Mistakes

After their disastrous first meeting, Eddie found himself going to Steve’s bakery pretty much every single day. He would wake up, shower, put on at least semi-clean clothes, and walk down to Claudia’s just in time for the morning rush to be over. In fact, the only days he didn’t were Saturday and Sunday, because those were the days that Steve’s brother and his friends would hang around the cafe on and off all day. 

Needless to say, Wayne was ecstatic at this sudden one eighty. He had no idea what had happened to drag Eddie out of his depressive spiral, but he was happy about it all the same, and Eddie was happy that his uncle was happy. 

There was definitely enough happiness to go around. 

He and Steve entered into an easy kind of routine. For five or six hours straight Eddie would sit at the countertop on the far end of the bakery, writing lyrics and bars in his ratty old notebook while Steve ran his cafe and offered Eddie little nibbles to ‘taste test’. 

When things were busy Eddie liked to hop the counter to ring people up while Steve packed boxes of sweets and made drinks. And, when things were slow, Steve would turn the music up and dance around while he cleaned. Eddie was forced to put his pen down and watch the sinfully silly delight. There was no point in trying to pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring at Steve’s ass as he wiggled his hips and wiped down tables, singing along to ABBA and Bonnie Tyler in the goofiest voice Eddie had ever heard. 

Arguably, that might have been the best part of their new easy whatever this was, but Eddie knew there was something better. 

No, the best part was the talking.

Eddie hadn't realized how quiet he had gotten until he was back to jabbering all day long with someone who was easy to talk to. Steve just had this way of getting Eddie to open up, and for the first time since Chrissy, he felt like he had found someone to chat with that didn’t completely exhaust him. 

It was mostly because they never talked about anything too heavy. They definitely got to the personal- Steve’s brother, Dustin, was a frequent topic of conversation as Steve fretted about raising him ‘properly’- but they never got to the painful. Eddie didn’t ask why Steve was raising his thirteen year old brother at only twenty three, and Steve never wondered why Eddie was in town when he clearly didn’t belong in a place like Hawkins. 

It was fun. It was easy. 

It made Eddie feel completely guilty.

He wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to have good things anymore. He had been given the best person in the world, and he had destroyed her, so the universe had decided to give him another wonderful person? 

Didn’t it know Eddie was a ruiner? 

Well, if the universe hadn’t figured that out yet, then Eddie had resolved to not feel all that guilty about being selfish and keeping Steve when he knew he shouldn’t. He would hoard this happiness until the world righted itself and remembered that he didn’t deserve it. 

But for now, it was ten o’clock, and the cafe smelled like berries. 

“Helllloooooooooo, hungry customer waiting!” Eddie called out, obnoxiously ringing the bell over and over, needing to drown out both his thoughts and the disgustingly cheerful bubblegum pop playing over the speakers. 

“Get out!” Steve singsonged back, his voice growing louder as he came closer. 

“You’d miss me too much, Angeleyes,” Eddie replied, walking to his usual spot and hopping up onto the bar stool, not bothering to wait to see Steve come out from the back. Angeleyes was just one of the many nicknames Eddie had come up with for Steve’s…interesting music choices. 

“Don’t make fun of ABBA, or I won’t let you sample my new recipe,” Steve pouted as he walked over holding a still steaming tray of delectable goodies. His apron was a soft sea green today, the paw prints an icy blue that matched the polo he was wearing. 

Eddie couldn’t stand how cute Steve was, he really couldn’t. 

“What’s this one?” Eddie asked, reaching over. 

“Watch!” Steve immediately said, pulling the tray back so Eddie couldn’t burn his fingers, “Blackberry lemon crumble bars,” 

Steve put the tray down and carefully placed one on a plate, making Eddie’s coffee the way he liked while they waited for the bars to cool down a little. 

“I went out with Dustin and the kids this weekend and we picked a ton of them,” Steve said, passing over the plate and the cup. Eddie broke the treat in half, delighting in the shower of crumbs that fell on the china plate shaped like a cat.

The second the flavor hit his tongue he let out an absolutely sinful moan. At the start Eddie had tried to play it up, enjoying the way his noises would make Steve turn bright red, but he quickly realized he didn’t have to exaggerate anything. Steve’s food was just that good. 

“Sunshine, I’m gonna propose marriage,” Eddie said, his mouth still full, “Be ready for a big fat ring. I’ll wife you up, and then you can just travel the world with me and bake.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Steve automatically said, laughing softly and ignoring Eddie’s flirting the way he always did. He leaned over the counter, grabbing the other half of the bar and eating it much more delicately, somehow avoiding making a complete mess, “You should’ve come with us. It was a nice hike,” 

“Yeah, you lost me at the word ‘hike’. I don’t do hikes,” Eddie joked, conveniently avoiding the real reason he would never spend any time with Steve outside of this cafe, the reason he never came on weekends. 

Because not only was the idea of meeting Steve’s little brother was kind of intimidating (A child prodigy with a dungeons and dragons obsession? Yeah that kid was way too cool for his own good), but Eddie also knew that if Dustin didn’t like him, Steve would probably never talk to him again. 

Or worse, Dustin might recognize him. Then Steve really would never talk to Eddie again.

“Alrighty no hiking. Then what do you do all day? Besides coming here to bother me,” Steve teased, opening the display case and beginning to place the rest of the bars in a neat uniform row. 

“Nothing,” Eddie replied, grabbing his notebook and getting ready for their usual routine to start. He had a pretty good idea for some lyrics about berry kissed lips and tart lemons dripping sour into open wounds. 

“Sounds pretty boring,” Steve said idly. 

“Relaxing,” Eddie countered, looking up from his book, “You forget- I’m on vacation,” 

Well, bereavement. If running away from your entire life to hide at your uncle’s house in Podunk, Indiana could count as bereavement. 

“Ah yes, vacation from this mysterious job of yours that I’m not allowed to know anything about,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. There was no heat in his voice, no edge to his tone, but Eddie’s stomach was starting to drop anyway. 

They knew all kinds of things about each other. Eddie knew all about Steve’s time as a high school jackass, and Steve had heard the calamities of Eddie’s own teenage years, but then there were gaps. Huge gaps. Big glaring gaps. Mostly on Eddie’s side. 

He couldn’t share most of the things that had happened in his last ten years without revealing his secret. Still, the longer he held onto pretending he was normal, the worse the fallout was going to be when he had to admit he wasn’t. 

“You can ask,” Eddie eventually said with a fake casual shrug, “Just no guarantees I’m gonna answer,” 

But he would. He had decided that if Steve pressed, if he really wanted to know, he would spill it all. The ball was unknowingly in Steve’s court, and that took the pressure off. Steve was the one who decided when this all ended and reality snuck back into their little corner of the world. 

“Nah, you’ll tell me whatever it is when you’re ready,”  Steve replied easily, once again keeping them both in suspense. The bell on the door jangled behind Eddie, signaling that customers had just entered. Steve greeted them with a big smile, and then he was walking away from Eddie who unabashedly stared at Steve’s back.  

Sunkissed Small Town Atlas, what I wouldn’t give to be on my knees holding your world?

God, Eddie was going to Hell. Those lyrics were even too dirty for Corroded Coffin. 

He wrote them down anyway. 

“By the way, Dustin burned me some new CDs of stuff he likes,” Steve said later that day when it was just the two of them again. He was elbow deep into the espresso machine, trying to fix something that was broken with the milk frother, and Eddie was about two seconds away from jumping into help him, “I told him that you’re into metal and rock too, and he said that these would be more your speed,”

“Burned CDs,” Eddie said with a soft laugh, coming around the counter and picking up the plastic cases Steve had nodded towards, beginning to rifle through them. They were covered in sharpie doodles and careful writing of every song. 

The kid had taste. Most of this was the stuff Eddie grew up on. 

“Hey, not all of us can afford music streaming,” Steve shot back, popping his head out of the machine for a second to stick his tongue out at Eddie before burying his face back into the mechanics. 

It was good that he did, because if Steve hadn’t, he would’ve seen the way Eddie’s jaw was dropping as he looked at the hand drawn devil mask on one of the CDs. An extremely familiar devil mask.  

“Corroded Coffin?” Eddie whispered faintly, all of his extremities starting to go numb. 

Was this Steve’s subtle way of telling Eddie he was caught? Was he trying to pull a joke or something? 

“Oh yeah, you’ll see a lot of them. He’s totally obsessed with that band,” Steve replied, cursing loudly as the machine began to spit water at him. Eddie abandoned the CDs and hurried over, helping Steve to do battle against his machine 

“Dustin really likes them?” Eddie said out of breath, panting as they both tried to come down from the high of fighting against the coffee demon. 

“Obsessed,” Steve gushed, grabbing the case with the Corroded Coffin CD and waving it around as he walked over to the player hooked up to the speakers, “He has all their music, a bunch of their records on vinyl, posters and everything. I even saved up to get him and his friends tickets to go see them live,”

Steve’s tone dropped at the last sentence. His brow furrowed, and his face pulled into an uncharacteristic frown as he slipped the CD in. The sound of Eddie’s own voice began to fill his ears. This was one from the before time, back in their MySpace/Youtube era before they recorded their first album. 

The kid really was a fan. 

It’s raining down. 

All around. 

Hellfire. 

God, sometimes it was hard to not cringe at his old lyrics. Sixteen year old Eddie really thought he was a genius. And his voice was still too high, it hadn’t fully dropped back then. Eddie decided to distract himself from the way the song made him want to curl up in a ball and die, focusing on Steve and the way he still seemed upset. 

“You sound disappointed. Not happy that your baby brother is a metalhead?” Eddie asked, keeping his tone light and hoping that would give Steve an out if he didn’t want to talk about what was bugging him. 

“Oh no, as long as he’s safe and happy I don’t care,” Steve said dismissively, waving a hand around his head, “I guess I just- you know the tickets I got him? The ones to see this band? They’re totally useless, because they canceled their whole tour.”

“The entire tour?” Eddie blurted out, rearing back with a jolt. 

He knew that they had to cancel at least the first few dates because he had disappeared, but the entire eight month tour?! They weren’t even supposed to start touring until next week, and Indianapolis was still three months away. 

The other guys were that sure Eddie wasn’t coming back…

To be fair to them, Eddie was also not so sure he was going back. But that had to be a shit ton of money, and without a lead singer or a manager-

Eddie had royally screwed his bandmates. His brothers. He had been so focused on what he needed, he forgot they needed him too. He forgot that without Eddie Munson, there was no Corroded Coffin. 

Chrissy would’ve killed him for that. 

If he hadn’t killed her first. 

Eddie couldn’t help the soft noise that escaped from his throat, and he walked on wooden legs back to his usual corner, tucking himself into the seat and trying to curl up and be as small as possible. Not only was the guilt back, but it had grown devil horns and demon wings, exponentially worse now that Eddie could no longer ignore how many people he was screwing over. 

“There’s a really big mystery about it. Apparently something happened to their manager and she died?” Steve continued to babble, completely unaware of the burning fire poker he was jabbing into Eddie’s chest, “The lead singer, Freddy something, was close with her, and after that he just kind of vanished. It was a big media circus,” 

Freddy. It wasn’t funny, because nothing about the situation was funny, but Eddie laughed anyway. He laughed, because if he didn’t, he was going to start crying. The laughter bubbled out and spilled across the countertop, sounding nothing like Eddie knew himself to sound like.  

“Eds?” 

Steve’s warm hand cupped his face, and when Eddie looked up a watery blurry version of Steve was looking back at him, and when he blinked to clear his vision, he became aware of the tear tracks already cutting through his face. 

Oh. Apparently he could do both. Eddie had never laughed and cried at the same time, but here he was. 

“What happened?” Steve asked, letting his thumb softly brush against Eddie’s cheek, wiping away the tears in a move that was so intimate it sent shivers shooting down his spine. 

The last person who had done something like this for him was Chrissy, and that comparison was just one shade too much for him. Eddie untangled himself from Steve and hopped down, going around the counter and grabbing the black apron with white paw prints that Steve left out for him, tying it around his waist and attacking the dishes in the sink with ferocity. 

Steve let him, sitting back against the counter and waiting. He had learned in the last few weeks that there were moments where Eddie just needed to do something physical to work out whatever was happening inside of him. The first time it had happened, Eddie had just paced for an hour straight, and he was sure Steve would kick him out when he was done, but the younger man had simply shrugged and offered for Eddie to do the dishes the next time instead.

‘Might as well get some free labor out of it’ had been Steve’s reasoning, and Eddie had wanted to kiss him right then and there. 

“Dustin’s pretty upset I bet,” Eddie finally croaked out after he finished rinsing out one of the cat themed mugs. It wasn’t just his bandmates he was letting down, but also all of the fans that had been loyal to them for years and years. 

Eddie was letting everyone down. 

“Well, he was at first, but he’s trying to be understanding about it. He said it was like if I lost Robin. I can’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like,” Steve said cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure that they should just drop the fact that Eddie had been crying only moments before. 

When Eddie didn’t say anything he crept closer, leaning into Eddie’s space to grab a towel and begin to dry the cups on the rack. 

“Are you o-” Steve began. 

“I’m glad Dustin isn’t too disappointed,” Eddie cut in, unable to hear those words. If he heard them again, then he would tell Steve the truth. 

He wasn’t okay. He didn’t know if he was ever going to be okay again. 

“I am too. I just wish I hadn’t spent so much money on those stupid tickets. That was Christmas and his birthday gift all in one,” Steve sighed. Eddie flinched at the sound, looking down at the soaped up canister in his hands instead of at the man he had personally screwed out of hundreds, possibly thousands, of dollars. 

“You didn’t get a refund?” Eddie asked, unable to believe that the other members of the band wouldn’t give everyone their money back. 

“Well some of it,” Steve said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, “I got the price of regular admission tickets back, but I got a bunch of extra stuff too- good seats, backstage passes, the works. All of that was apparently nonrefundable.”

“How much was it?” 

Eddie didn’t want to know the answer, but he needed to know. He was apparently a masochist now. 

“Backstage passes for all six of them plus me to chaperone?” Steve asked rhetorically watching Eddie wince in sympathy, “Yeah, I was feeling that loss for a few months,”

Eddie didn’t have any more dishes, but he had lots of energy, so he grabbed a washcloth and began to wipe down the counters, avoiding Steve’s eyes which he could still feel locked onto his back. 

“Geez, you must really hate that lead singer, huh?” Eddie was attempting to go casual, but he was so far from it that it wasn’t even funny, “I mean the dude just disappears because one person died?” 

Any second now Steve was going to call him on his weirdness, and Eddie was going to have to blurt out the entire terrible story and try to beg for forgiveness. 

“No, not at all,” Steve replied without giving it any thought. 

“Really?” Eddie breathed, turning around to stare at Steve with wide eyes. Steve shrugged, going back to fiddling with his coffee machine. 

“I don’t really know what happened, but if I lost Robin? I wouldn't want to talk to anybody, let alone jump up onto a stage and try to perform, or act like nothing happened. I think everyone just feels bad. Apparently the fans are still leaving him lots of tweets and stuff. Dustin told me some hashtag was trending for him a couple weeks ago,” Steve said, grabbing his phone with the obvious intent to show Eddie. 

He was going to look up Corroded Coffin. Which would lead directly to tons of headlines with Eddie’s face plastered on them. 

Eddie was up and moving before he even knew it.  

“What are you doing?” Steve asked slowly as Eddie grabbed his wrist and pulled it down, making sure Steve couldn’t look at his phone. 

“I don’t wanna see it.” Eddie said in a rush. 

He didn’t want his secret exposed, but he also didn’t want the reminder of who he was. He wanted to keep being Steve’s Eddie. A stranger with funny little quips and a refined palate. He wanted to be able to keep being this person for a little while, whoever he was. He didn’t want to go back to being the Eddie that had lost his Robin.  

“Please,” Eddie said, lowering his voice to a whisper. Steve stood there blinking at him for a second, staring at Eddie like he couldn’t really make sense of him. 

“Alright,” Steve said, finally hesitantly agreeing. Eddie breathed out a long slow sigh of relief, leaning back against the counter and letting go of Steve’s wrist. 

“You’re a really nice person, Steve Harrington,” He said with a tired grin. 

“And you’re a very confusing person Eddie Eddie,” Steve shot back with an incredulous little laugh. He pushed off of his own counter and held a hand out, “But you are a good taste tester. Now come back here and help me make this next batch of crumble bars perfect. I think it might need a frosting,” 

Eddie went willingly, the sound of his own voice over the speakers filling his ears. 

[withacapitalp]

Dustin's ankle was shattered by that fall and they left Eddie behind

Who wants to bet good money that the reason Eddie's body got left behind was because Steve was busy carrying Dustin as he screamed at Steve for dragging him away ?

[withacapitalp]

Tell Him (Nothing) Everything Pt 4

Part One Part Two Part Three Link to ao3

Eddie was either dreaming or he was dead. 

That was the funny thing about dreaming of the past- you just watched. It was like putting on a movie you’ve already seen, the ending was never a surprise. 

Except when it was. 

He was in his apartment in LA- the big penthouse that Chrissy had helped him choose. It was right in the center of town, with big windows all around, and an open floor plan that made everything feel surprisingly cozy despite the size. 

Everything was exactly the way it had looked when Eddie was last there. His jackets were all over the couch, because he was trying to decide which one to wear to the party that night, and there were empty red solo cups from the drinks that he and Chrissy had made together. She didn't want to go to the party, not after everything, but Eddie had pressured her into at least pregaming with him. 

He shouldn’t have made her drink that night. 

Eddie turned his head away from the kitchen and there she was. Kneeling on the loveseat by the window, her strawberry blonde hair uncharacteristically down instead of up with her usual ponytail and bow. Chrissy was holding a cup, quickly slamming the rest before turning to Eddie. 

“Maybe you sh’ld jusstay.” She said, her words slurred and barely audible. She had her eyes downcast, but he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks and the way she was biting the inside of her cheek. 

“Chris-” 

“Please stay, Eddie.” She said, interrupting him. She looked up, her red and puffy eyes on full display. She looked like a total wreck, the way she had looked for weeks leading up to that last night. “‘M ‘fraid of bein’ alone tonight. Please just stay.” 

If Eddie was a good person, he would have abandoned his jackets and walked over to her. He would have wrapped his dearest person in a big hug, holding her close and promising that he would always be there for her. That she didn’t need to be afraid, because he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. 

But he wasn’t a good person. He was a terrible person. 

You heard her. Just stay, he silently begged his past self, knowing he wouldn’t listen. He never did. Fucking stay, you jackass. She’s your best friend, and she’s scared, and she doesn’t want to be alone. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay. 

Instead Eddie’s body sighed, and his mouth opened without permission, parroting the words he had said to her that night. The words he would never be able to forget. 

“Chrissy, this has got to stop,” Eddie sighed. His body began to move forward as he rounded the couch and walked over to her, grabbing the cup out of her hand and beginning to clean up. 

“Whassgot t’stop?” She said from behind him, her voice small and frightened.

“Look, I get it. I do,” His past self said. Internally Eddie rolled his eyes at his former arrogance. He hadn’t known anything. He was a stupid fool. 

“You’re scared of him, and I understand why, but look around Chrissy. It’s been five weeks, and he hasn’t even tried contacting you-”

“Because I blocked him!” Chrissy interrupted Eddie. When he turned around, her knees were up by her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. “I had to block him on everything-”

“I know-”

“And then the letters-”

“I know-”

“And the flowers! Eddie! The flowers!”

“Chrissy, those could have been from anyone!” Eddie shouted, throwing his arms up. She flinched back, either from his sudden movement or his volume, or both. It was probably both. 

This was the moment. This was the big chance. This was the part where Eddie figured out if it was a dream or if it was death. If he had died, this was where things would go differently. This is where he would stay. 

“Chrissy…you know I have to go,” Eddie said softly, coming over to kneel down in front of her. 

Not dead yet. Just a dream. 

A nightmare. 

“He knows I’m here, Eddie,” She whimpered, uncurling just enough to grab his hand in an ironclad grip. Her fingers were freezing cold, but it felt like he was burning. Like the touch was permanently branding him. “You don’t have to go, you just want to go. And I’m asking you to please stay.”

She’s right. You don’t have to. It’s just a party. The other guys could go and schmooze with the higher ups at the record label. You know that, Eddie thought, waves of self-loathing drowning him in agony.

You just don’t want to be here anymore. You don’t want to listen to her cry, you don’t want to try to help, and you’re sick and tired of taking care of her. That’s why you’re leaving. You want a break.You want to flirt with random people and not feel tied to making sure she’s okay, when you’re the reason that she’s even in this mess. You did this to her, and now you’re leaving her because you can’t handle it. You know those roses were from Jason. You know that she’s right, but you’re so sure that he won’t try anything. You know best, don’t you Eddie? You know best, and because you know best, you’re gonna get your best friend killed. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Eddie said instead of responding to Chrissy’s callout. He tried to lean over to kiss her cheek, but she swerved away, standing and immediately stumbling. He jumped to help her, but she thrust her hands out, keeping Eddie at a distance. 

“Don’t bother. Stay out all night long,” Chrissy sneered, slowly righting herself into a straight position. She rolled her eyes, blinking rapidly as she turned away from him. “I’ll just sit here completely terrified and alone while you drink or smoke or find some adoring fan to drag into a bathroom for the best fifteen minutes of their life! That’s what matters, right? You get to do what you want.”  

“Chrissygirl,” Eddie tried again, using the little nickname he had come up with for her the day they met. 

“Go ahead, Eddie,” She said, cutting him off with an incredulous little laugh. Chrissy strode over to the door and opened it for him as she continued to shout. “Go have a blast being a super cool rockstar, and I’ll sit here and wait for my ex to come and kill me!” 

Eddie groaned, letting his head fall backwards. 

“Kill you? I know you’re upset, but don’t be overdramatic, Chris,” Eddie scoffed. “Jason’s a creep, and a total nutter, but he’s not dangerous. All he did was maybe, maybe, send you some roses.”

“He did send me those roses,” She argued back, stubbornly crossing her arms. “Which means he knows that I’m here, Eddie. He knows I’m here, and he knows you’ll be at that party tonight, which means he knows I’m going to be alone!” 

“Chrissy, you’re being paranoid,” Eddie sighed, straightening up and putting a hand pretentiously on his chest, pulling an exaggerated tone. “Jason would never commit an act of violence against a precious woman. His faith would never allow such a thing!” 

“I hate when you treat me like I’m crazy. You talk to me just like he used to,” Chrissy muttered.

“You’re being ridiculous,” He spat out. 

“You’re being selfish,” She whispered, her eyes filled with tears as her lip wobbled, “You’re only going because you want to get laid.” 

Even though Eddie couldn’t feel it, he knew this was where he had gotten mad. This was where he had grabbed whatever jacket was closest and jammed his arms into it, shoving all of his worry down and replacing it with incredulous anger that made him say things he didn’t mean. 

“That’s not- You’re so- I’m the lead singer, Chrissy! I’m the face of the band. You don’t get that because you’re just someone who sits on the sidelines and watches. Without me, no one would care,” Eddie argued.  

“So the boys don’t matter? Because they’ve been going to everything without you and done just fine,” Chrissy said with an incredulous laugh, stepping backward. “Admit it- you’re just mad that I moved back in and you haven’t been able to get your dick sucked in a couple weeks.” 

Eddie reared back as if Chrissy had slapped him right across the face. He knew she didn't approve of his… active sex life, but she had never so blatantly condemned him for it. 

She's just scared. She doesn't mean it. She's just terrified of Jason and she should be. She's right. Don't let it get to you. See past what she's saying and look at her, He silently begged himself, trying to force his body to stay right where it was this time. 

Eddie began to walk out the door. 

But as he passed Chrissy in the doorway, she grabbed him again, her hand latched around his upper arm in a death grip.  

"Would you stay if I got on my knees and worshipped at the feet of ‘The Eddie Munson’? Is that the only way I’ll get you to care?” Chrissy asked, smiling up at him as the tears finally started to spill.

She was right of course, he was being selfish. But Eddie, much like most self centered egotistical assholes, didn’t like being shown the mirror. He never wanted to see his own ugliness thrown back at him. 

“Go to hell, Chrissy,” He hissed, yanking himself out of her grip and walking down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of her crying following his every footstep.

He had made it okay back then, or tried to at least. Eddie had told himself that she was overreacting, that she was drunk, that Chrissy just needed to get over herself. He had told himself everything except the truth- that his best friend was scared, alone, and vulnerable, and Eddie had just made things a thousand times worse. 

But it would be fine. A few hours, and Eddie would go straight home. He would apologize and they would sit on the couch watching movies all night long. Maybe he’d even sing for her a bit to help her sleep, Chrissy always liked that. 

Eddie was good with his words, smart and sharp and quick. He just needed a few hours to cool off, then he would come home and know exactly what to say to fix things. 

But that’s not going to happen, Eddie thought as he stood in the elevator, still seething, you’re never going to get a chance to fix anything. 

Those were the last words he ever said to Chrissy. 

From here things always got fuzzy. Sometimes Eddie got to the party and stayed for awhile, sometimes he turned around, sometimes he even saw what happened between Chrissy and Jason, even though he had never actually watched the security camera footage. It existed, but he had never had the courage to watch it. 

Because he was a coward. A coward, and a monster. 

This time, the dream pulled a fast one. Eddie pushed open the door of their apartment building, and somehow he was opening the door of the penthouse. It was dark now, like it had been hours and hours. 

They were going straight to the main event apparently. 

“Chrissy?” His past self said into the darkness. 

His body moved forward, but Eddie stayed where he was in the doorway, watching it all unfold like a ghost. He was trapped there, couldn’t even move his fingers, or close his eyes. Captured, forced to relive the worst moment of his life over and over. 

“Chrissygirl, are you asleep?” 

She’s not asleep. You know that. Don’t turn on the light. Don’t do it. Don’t turn on the light. 

Eddie watched himself feel around on the wall for a moment before turning the lights on. Now he could see it all. His apartment, the windows, the open floor plan, the jackets. 

Chrissy standing in the middle of it all, shaking and crying. Jason standing behind her, a deranged smile on his face and a gun in his hand. 

Eddie wanted to scream. Maybe somewhere he was. He could hear something, an unfamiliar noise, something that normally wasn’t a part of the moment. But it was too soft to be a scream, too indescribable. 

“Look who finally decided to come back home,” Jason said, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound. Eddie could barely even hear Chrissy crying now, and that wasn’t right. She had been so loud, she had sounded so scared. 

This wasn’t right. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie heard himself say, the words barely coming out. Normally he was lost in this moment, unable to do a thing, but now Eddie found he could close his eyes, focusing on nothing but the sound. 

Not sound. Music. It was music. 

Soft music. Nothing like the stuff he liked to play. It was the kind of thing Chrissy liked to listen to. Gentle melody coming from a comforting voice, and something warm slowly sliding up and down on his back. 

The dream was gone. Eddie was in the black nothingness. There were no gunshots, no screaming, not even crying anymore. Nothing but the darkness, the music, and the warmth. 

Two drifters, off to see the world… there’s such a lot of world to see.

Eddie knew that song. Where did he know that song from? 

Chrissy’s favorite movie. A movie she made him watch over and over, despite Eddie completely hating it. A song that reminded him of late Sunday mornings and stacks of pancakes and the smell of Chrissy’s blueberry shampoo. 

The darkness began to take shape, slowly but surely, as Eddie drifted towards wakefulness. There was something soft underneath him, his head resting against a pillow. The only thing that didn’t fade was the music. That stayed, along with the sensation that Eddie could now identify as a hand rubbing slowly up and down on his bare back. 

Moon river… and me. 

The voice continued to hum in the quiet gravelly way someone does late at night. Eddie took in a slow deep breath, relishing the feeling for one moment more before pulling his eyes open. 

“There you are,” Steve whispered, keeping his hand right where it was as Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I-” 

Eddie coughed, his throat unexpectedly dry. Steve helped him to sit up, grabbing the glass of water on the bedside table and handing it over to Eddie who drank it greedily. 

“I didn’t know you liked Audrey Hepburn,” Eddie said, trying for a lighthearted remark that might cut through the sudden awkwardness. 

“I wanted to see if it would help. You were crying in your sleep,” Steve murmured, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. Experimentally, Eddie swiped underneath his eyes, and sure enough, his cheeks were damp. 

“Huh, would you look at that,” Eddie remarked, not really sure what else he could say. 

“It’s okay,” Steve commented, pausing for a second before he scooted a little closer, pushing into Eddie’s space, “but you do it a lot.”

A lot? 

It had only been a month since their first date, and this was only the fourth or fifth time Steve had stayed the night. What constituted as a lot? How many times had Steve seen him like this? 

Had Eddie ever said anything? Did he tell Steve things he couldn’t remember now? Was that how Steve knew to sing that song?

“Can you leave?” Eddie asked impulsively. It was getting hard to breathe, and the vulnerability was holding him by the neck in a choking grip.

“Eddie-”

“Please just go,” He repeated, resisting the urge to bury his face in his knees. Steve had already seen him look plenty pathetic tonight, he didn’t need to give any more displays of weakness. 

Steve tried to protest a few more times, but Eddie stonewalled him, letting his face fall into a perfectly blank mask and acting like he couldn’t hear Steve at all. It was kind of a dick move, but Eddie was two steps away from a full meltdown, so he couldn’t really be bothered to care. 

Finally, Steve got up and walked out of the room without another word, leaving Eddie at the mercy of the silence and the loneliness that followed him like a shadow. 

The second he was alone, Eddie flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. An empty white canvas stared back at him. Nothing to distract him, nothing to drag Eddie away from the darkness that was starting to take over. Steve had pulled him away from the end of the nightmare, but now that there was nothing but the ceiling, nothing but his thoughts, he was back in that moment. 

“Eddie? I’m cold.”

Phantom goosebumps raised up on Eddie’s arms as he shuddered, closing his eyes. He was cold, but it felt like his hands were hot. Burning hot, and sticky with blood. 

“I need to….t’tell you somethin’.”

He had never gotten that feeling to go away, had he? Most of the time he could pretend it wasn’t there, but there were days where he would spend hours in the bathroom scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, only to still come away feeling stained by her blood.

“No, I need to… I have to tell you.”

He had asked her not to talk, begged her not to actually. Eddie couldn’t really remember exactly what he said, but he memorized every word she had said. They played on an endless loop in the back of his mind. 

“Not your fault. Not you… love you.”

He was going to be sick. 

Eddie stumbled as he practically threw himself out of bed, falling onto his hands and knees in a move that was probably going to leave bruises. He staggered upwards, lurching like a drunken bear towards the door and into the hallway. He was almost in the bathroom when a smell caught his attention, easing the nausea. 

Apples. 

Everything smelled like… apples. 

Eddie paused, taking another deep breath in. Apples. Apples, and a strange scratching sound coming from the kitchen. 

Wayne was spending the night in Indianapolis with friends. Either Steve was in his kitchen, or someone had conveniently broken in right after Eddie told Steve to leave. Eddie put his mental breakdown to the side, too intrigued by the odd turn of events. 

It was Steve. He was still in his ratty old shirt and pajama shorts, the same ones Eddie had called sexy a few hours ago, just to make Steve roll his eyes and blush in that oh so beautiful way he always did. Steve was moving around the kitchen with a purpose, standing by the open trash can with a paring knife in one hand, and an apple in another. 

“What are you… doing?” Eddie asked hesitantly, staying in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Do you know the secret to making the perfect apple pie?” Steve asked, continuing to peel apples in a studiously efficient manner. “There’s actually two of them. The first one is keeping your butter really cold. Pie crust always needs to be chilled, but your butter should be cold when it goes in too. That’s how you get really good flaky crusts.”

He pointed to a cling wrapped ball of dough resting on the counter as if it was evidence, putting the peeler down and storing the dough in the fridge, stopping by the knife block to grab a chef's knife and starting to chop up the apples. Four cuts down each side, then careful thin slices at a pace that was almost dizzying. 

“I don’t understand,” Eddie said, stepping in and sticking close to the table. His stomach was back to normal, but the swirling thoughts in his head had yet to fade. 

“The second one is Claudia’s secret. She used to use half granny smith and half honeycrisp in her recipe,” Steve continued as if Eddie hadn’t even spoken. “Granny smith apples are tart and hold their shape well, so your filling stays good and firm, but honeycrisps are sweet and mix with the caramel to create a delicious gooey center. She told me I was never allowed to tell anyone that except for Dustin, so you better keep that to yourself.” 

“You don’t make pies,” Eddie finally stammered out. A lot of things were confusing about this moment, but that seemed like the easiest mystery to solve out of all of them. 

“I only make one when someone really needs one, because my pies taste sad now,” Steve replied, keeping his voice soft and solemn as he finished chopping up the apples. 

Or the pie thing was apparently the most confusing mystery. 

“How can something taste sad?” Eddie asked, completely bewildered by the concept of a ‘sad’ pie. Steve hesitated, holding the chopping board full of apple slices mid-air as he contemplated how to explain. 

“You'll see I suppose,” He finally muttered, dumping the apples into a large glass bowl and grabbing the cinnamon. Eddie watched him toss the apples quickly before picking up a saucepan. 

“It was cancer, by the way.” Steve said suddenly as he stirred something sweet smelling on the stove. 

“What was cancer?” Eddie questioned. 

“Claudia.” 

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water right on top of Eddie’s head. 

He knew Claudia was dead, and he knew it hadn’t been that long, but there was knowing all of that, and there was being confronted by the stark reality that Steve had lost his mother. A mother he clearly had adored. 

Silence reigned over them like a dictator. Eddie couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to, and Steve seemed to be working his way towards finding the right words. He got through a fair bit more of prep work before he finally spoke up again. 

“When I was twenty, she started getting headaches. I told her to go to the doctor, but she kept saying it was stress. ‘It’s just stress, Steven, leave me be.’ Then one day we were working in the cafe, and she just collapsed out of nowhere.” Steve flipped the crust into the dish, putting the rolling pin to the side and turning off the stove. “I picked her up, carried her to the car, and drove like a total lunatic to the hospital. Scariest day of my life.” 

Twenty. What was Eddie doing at twenty? Partying and living it up and at the height of his career. Certainly not worrying about Wayne dying. He wasn’t thinking about losing his family. 

“It was an inoperable brain tumor. A glioblas-something or other. She liked to joke that she was too smart, and so God had to try and steal some of her goods.” Steve huffed out a soft laugh as he dumped whatever was in the pan over the apples, stirring to coat them all till they glistened and smelled absolutely divine. 

“How long?” Eddie asked faintly, half shocked at his own boldness, half needing to know the rest of the story. 

“They gave her a year. She died less than six months later,” Steve said, placing the apples in the crust and rolling out the second ball of dough. “Just long enough to transfer the bakery into my name and make sure her will stipulated that Dustin was only ever to be in my care.” 

Twenty. At just twenty Steve not only had taken on the responsibility of the family business, but also agreed to raise his little brother completely alone. If Eddie had been handed that situation, he would have run for the hills. He never would have quietly shouldered all that responsibility that Steve seemed to carry so effortlessly. 

“I was so mad at her,” Steve whispered as he slid the pie into the oven. 

“At her?” 

Eddie could understand being mad, but it made no sense to be mad at Claudia. It wasn’t like she wanted to get cancer. Was Steve mad that he had to take care of Dustin? Steve had always talked about Dustin like he was the most wonderful person in the entire world, but maybe things hadn’t always been that way?

All at once, Eddie realized that there was a lot he didn’t know about Steve. He always felt like such an open book, but here was this huge giant thing he knew nothing about. What else was there? It was like Eddie had been walking blindly towards a chasm this whole time, and he could finally see it. 

“Her, the world, everything. I was just so fucking angry,” Steve said, frustration lacing his tone. He closed the oven door, sitting down on the kitchen floor right beside it. “I felt like I had been cheated. I barely got any time at all, and she was just gone. It was like the universe saw I finally had something good, and- and-”

“Took it away because you didn’t deserve it?” Eddie filled in. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding tightly. It was the first time he had really turned around since Eddie had come into the kitchen, and Eddie could see everything on his face. The worry, the rage, the grief that still sat plain as day on every one of his features. 

All at once the growing distance between them vanished. Eddie might not know every detail, but in the most important ways, they were the same. They had the same pain, the same burdens, the same emotions to hold onto. There were differences, big ones, but underneath that, at the core, Steve could understand what Eddie was going through better than almost anyone right now.  

“What changed?” Eddie asked quietly, standing up just long enough to move to sit next to Steve on the floor. 

“Dustin,” Steve replied, a small smile full of fondness overtaking his face as his eyes went soft. “Dustin got into a fight at school. He always got bullied, but when I went in they told me he started the fight. And it wasn’t even with one of his bullies. It was with Mike.” 

“His friend Mike?” Eddie interrupted in shock. 

He had never met the kids in person, but he had a pretty good idea of who they were from Steve’s stories. Mike seemed like a bit of a hot head, but Dustin was logical, and sweet as a button. Sure, some of that was probably brotherly bias, but it still felt wildly out of character for Dustin to be the one starting a fight with anyone, much less one of his best friends. 

“Yeah, his friend Mike,” Steve said, stopping to turn and give Eddie a glance. The utter adoration in his eyes nearly bowled Eddie over, and he was forced to take a sharp breath in. 

All Eddie had done was remember the name of one of Dustin’s friends, but Steve was looking at him like he hung the sun, the moon, and all of the stars. 

“What’d you do?” Eddie asked, coughing awkwardly as he broke eye contact, unable to handle being given all of that love when he didn’t deserve it. 

“I brought him home, and I tried to do the whole parent thing. The lecture, the grounding, all of it. Dustin just stood there and stared at me,” Steve said, falling back into his story easily. “And I got mad, because I was always mad then. I yelled at him, I grounded him for a year. He still just stood there and… and stared.” 

Steve stopped here balancing his right elbow on his knee and pinching the bridge of his nose. Eddie froze for a second at the sudden display of emotion, before awkwardly reaching over and intertwining his fingers with Steve’s free hand. Steve pulled away ever so slightly on instinct, but quickly latched onto Eddie just as tightly, dipping down for a second to press their heads together before going back to his original position. 

“Then when I was finally done he just rolled his eyes, and said that he didn’t care. That he didn’t know how to care about anything anymore.” Steve sighed, letting his head rest against the oven door and closing his eyes. 

“That’s when it hit me. I couldn’t stay angry forever. I couldn’t focus on what the universe had taken from me, because I still had people who needed me. I had Dustin and he needed me here to tell him that there was still good in the world,” Steve stated. 

Eddie bit his lip so he wouldn’t scoff or do something equally disgusting. It was a good sentiment, a wonderful one actually, but Eddie just couldn’t see it. How could a good world exist when people like Chrissy and Claudia died the way they did? What was the point of pretending like things were ever going to be good, when it was so clear they wouldn’t? 

Then he thought about it again. Steve hadn’t said a ‘good world’. He had said ‘good in the world’. There was an almost imperceptible difference there, but it was an important one. 

Maybe the world wasn’t good, Eddie wasn’t sure if he could ever believe it was, but there was good in it. Steve was determined to find that good, if for his brother than for no other reason. 

It was funny, somehow Steve didn’t realize he was the good in the world. Eddie couldn’t think of anyone who had brought him more good. 

“So, I picked Dustin up, carried him into the kitchen, and I made him an apple pie. And he cried, and I cried, and the next day we started over,” Steve said, like it was the simplest thing in the entire world. 

“Just like that?” Eddie said unconsciously, completely unable to comprehend what Steve had just said. 

Start over? How? 

“Just like that,” Steve repeated, giving Eddie a tiny smile. He squeezed their hands together, looking behind them and into the oven. 

“Pie’s ready,” Steve whispered, leaning over and kissing Eddie’s cheek, “Go sit at the table, I’ll cut you a slice.” 

As Steve busied himself with getting the pie out of the oven, Eddie hovered over to the fridge. There were dozens of magnets from all of the places he had gone to, everywhere he had toured. Postcards and pictures, and there, in the middle, a picture of him and Chrissy. 

It was an early one from the days when they still all lived in Indianapolis. Chrissy was wearing cutoff jean shorts and a big blue sweater, and Eddie was in his usual band tee and ripped jeans. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders, and Chrissy’s head was tossed back in a joyous laugh. 

A soft hum came from behind, and Eddie grabbed the picture, slipping it out from under the magnet from Tokyo and coming to the table to sit with Steve. 

As Steve handed him a blue china plate, Eddie silently handed Steve the picture. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t give a story like Steve had given him, but it felt unbalanced to leave things the way they were. 

“Grief is a stone in your shoe, Eddie,” Steve murmured as Eddie cut off his first bite. He was looking down at the photo with a strange expression on his face. 

“A stone?” 

“It’s always there, and you can always feel it. Some days it’s just a little nuisance, something you acknowledge, but move past. You can even forget it’s there. And some days that stone is all you can feel. You just want to scream and you need everyone to know that there’s a fucking stone in your shoe and it hurts,” Steve took a slow deep breath, scooting his chair around to Eddie’s side.

“I know you’re still getting used to your stone. But you aren’t alone,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder and resting his head against the same spot. 

Eddie lifted his spoon to his lips. The pie was good, warm and sweet with a hint of tartness and a flaky crust. It was delicious, but there was a melancholy in it. Something that was real, that tasted like how he had felt every day since that night. 

“She was My Person,” Eddie managed to get out, putting down his spoon and squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that always came when he thought about Chrissy. “My Robin.” 

Steve didn’t say anything. He didn’t give any of the meaningless apologies that people seemed to love so much. He just sat there, sharing the moment, letting Eddie live in his pain. 

“This pie does taste sad,” Eddie said with an incredulous little laugh, choking on his grief. 

“But still sweet,” Steve added, reaching out and grabbing Eddie’s spoon. 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured, turning his head so he could kiss the top of Steve’s head, “Still sweet.” 

Tags: @dangdirtydemons @excaliburstark @thehumblefigtree @estrellami-1 @grtwdsmwhr

[withacapitalp]

Tell Him (Nothing) Everything Pt 3

Part One Part Two Link to Ao3

Chapter Three: Three Reunions

“Oh, I’m in so much trouble. I need some help, and I couldn’t think of anyone else to go to. So here I am to bug you again. Congratulations, you get to listen to my problems. Again. Too bad you can’t even stop me!” 

Silence. Nothing but silence. There wasn’t even the sound of birds. 

“I brought you flowers. Violets and white roses. I went to that florist you really liked. I actually know the people that own it now. Well, Steve knows them. Apparently one of their kids is friends with his little brother so he got me a hookup. I didn’t tell him why I needed the flowers, but I think it was okay. He’s good at not asking. It’s nice.” 

Eddie could write a song about this. The quiet, the silence that was both freeing and confining. The way the violets and roses were held together with a soft blue ribbon that matched her eyes. 

It wouldn’t be like any other song he wrote, but that was good. A song for Chrissy was going to have to be special, maybe the most important one he ever sang. 

“I haven’t told you about him. Steve. He lives here in Hawkins, if you can believe that I fell for a small town hick. That’s a joke, and it’s not really that nice. I shouldn’t say that. He’s not a hick. He’s actually really sweet, and thoughtful, and funny, and… He owns a cafe in the middle of town called Claudia’s. I bet you went there when we came home to visit, it’s totally your kind of place. Maybe you even knew him. He’s only a few years younger than us, so you might’ve been in school together or something. You were the Prom Queen, and he was apparently a big time jock. I hope you guys never kissed or anything, that would be so weird.” 

The good thing about going to the cemetery early in the morning was that it was always empty. Eddie was the only person there, so he could sit with his back against Chrissy’s headstone and babble freely without any worries of who might be listening in. 

“I really like him, Chris. Like actually really like him, not just really like him because he’s giving me attention and I’m lonely.”

That was the thing she always worried about. She was viciously protective of Eddie, and she approached every one of his potential partners with high scrutiny over their intentions. 

If only he had done the same. 

The band even had a joke about it. No one Eddie ever went out with got the ‘Chrissy Stamp of Approval’. None of the dozens of men and women who wanted her best friend were good enough for him in her eyes. 

Steve would’ve passed her test. Eddie was sure of it. 

“You know that thing you always told me? About how I was going to find someone who just made things easy? I think I finally did. I’ve been so tired since… since everything, and when I’m with him I’m not tired. I’m- I’m happy. I don’t know if I deserve that. Actually, I know I don’t deserve it, but I am happy. Really happy, Chrissy, which isn’t fair, but it is true.” 

Chrissy would have hated to hear him say that. She never liked when he put himself down. But without her around to check him on that, Eddie’s mind had no reason to stay away from the dark thoughts that lingered on the edges of his psyche. 

“He’s just so kind. He always has time for me, even when things are busy. And he never pushes, even when I can tell he wants to. He’s raising his little brother, who is a huge fan by the way, and he takes care of this entire horde of kids that Dustin is friends with. I’ve never met any of them, but I can just tell they love him as much as he loves them.” 

Eddie could tell by the hand drawn cards that littered the back wall of Claudia’s and the endless photo albums that Steve had on his phone. He could see it in the soft smile Steve wore any time he spoke about any of the kids, and the way he always saved extras of their favorite treats.  

Normally, Eddie was terrified of people with children, petrified by the thought of fucking someone up like his parents had fucked him up. Wayne had healed most of those wounds, but ultimately Eddie had still sworn that he would never have any kids. He even got a vasectomy when he was 19 just to be a hundred percent sure that there would never be an accident. 

Now all he wanted to do was meet Steve’s kids and do a solo show, just to rock their socks off. 

“I can practically hear you in my head. ‘Why not just ask him out already then, Munson?’ Well, he doesn’t know me. I mean he knows me, but he doesn’t know that I’m ‘The Eddie Munson.’” 

He could practically hear her groaning, begging him to come down from his inflated ego trip and realize that he was the same as any other person. 

“I’m not the same as any other person though, Chris. You know what it’s like. Anyone who dates me gets put through the ringer. The paparazzi, the fans, the gossip rags, the YouTube channels, the Instagram stalkers. Steve’s life is so- small isn’t nice to say, but that’s what it is! He has this good little life that he’s carved out for himself and his brother in this small town world, and dating me would implode that. And it’s not like I can just walk away forever. I’m going to have to go back eventually. The band needs me, and the fans need me, and…and I don’t know who I am anymore if I’m not ‘The Eddie Munson’.” 

He was someone Steve liked, he knew that much. They had been flirting pretty much the entire time but since his mini-freakout in the cafe, it had taken on a much more serious air, and their casual touches were starting to linger. 

One of them was going to make a move soon, and Eddie needed to figure out what he wanted before that. 

Well, not what he wanted. He knew what he wanted. He just didn’t know if that was the best option. 

“I wish you were here. You’d know what to do…” 

But she wasn’t. Chrissy wasn’t here. She was in the feeling of strumming a guitar, the sound of rain outside, the smell of Steve’s baking. Chrissy lived in a thousand different ways, she just wasn’t here anymore, and the closest Eddie could get to talking with her was sitting by her grave and talking to the air. 

In other words, he couldn’t talk to her at all. 

“I have to tell him first. I’ll tell him everything, and then I’ll let him decide if he still wants me. Today’s a good day for it anyway, right? It was supposed to be a special day. Now it’s just special for a different reason.” 

With that Eddie stood up, stretching and rubbing at the spots that had gotten locked up from sitting on the ground too long. He put the flowers down where he had just been sitting and lighty ran his fingers over the top of her white marble headstone, reading the same inscription he had read a thousand different times. 

Christiana “Chrissy” Cunningham

December 25th 1996- February 14th 2022

“And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.”

Wayne had helped him pick it out. He was the one who suggested burying her here in the first place. Chrissy hadn’t had any family left but him and Wayne, and no one would ever look here to disturb her. They had a private funeral and everything, only the two of them and the rest of the band. Not another living soul knew where she was buried, and Eddie wanted to keep it that way. 

After everything, Chrissy deserved a place to rest where no one would ever hurt her again. 

Well, he wanted just one more person to know. 

“When Steve knows everything, I’ll bring him here. Then you can give him your ‘Stamp of Approval’.” Eddie whispered, a soft smile flickering across his face as an unexpected gust of wind pressed against his back. 

He didn’t believe in God, or the Devil, or any of the things the world tried to push, but he did believe in Chrissy. She lived, even if she wasn’t here, and when he was able to look past his own grief, he knew she wanted him to live too. 

“Happy Not the Start of Tour Day,” Eddie called back towards her grave as he walked away. He was starving and only a certain man’s beignets would be enough to fill his belly right now. 

And, like Eddie had called upon the God of Beignets himself, Steve was walking towards him just a few rows away, carrying a pink Claudia’s box. The naive part of Eddie was focusing on how cute Steve looked this morning, but the rest of him was instantly on guard. 

How did Steve know he was here?

“I didn’t know you did deliveries,” Eddie called after he had strategically walked about a dozen gravestones away from Chrissy. Just minutes ago he had wanted to show Steve where she was, but now every red flag he had was lighting up. 

Steve looked up when he heard Eddie’s voice, furrowing his brow and quirking his head to the side. 

“Eddie?” 

If he was putting on an act, then he was doing a very good job of being completely confused as to why Eddie was in the cemetery too. 

“In the flesh,” Eddie said coolly, jamming his hands into his pockets and inching a little bit closer, still keeping a safe distance away. He had put his trust in Steve so far, but maybe that was a mistake. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve echoed, staying right where he was. 

“I asked you first,” Eddie challenged.

“I’m uh, visiting someone,” Steve said after a hesitant pause, playing with the twine bow on the top of the box. 

The hesitation was another red flag, but Steve’s body language was the thing that really set Eddie on edge. His shoulders were hunched, and it looked like he was trying to make himself small enough to disappear. Worst of all, his eyes were downcast, which meant Eddie couldn’t get a read on them. 

Steve was an open book, but only when Eddie could actually see that book well enough to read it. Currently he could only get half the story, but it wasn’t a good half. 

“I would hope you’re here to see someone. The only other explanation is that you’re stalking me,” Eddie said bluntly. There were only a few things to do with stalkers: Ignore them, which was a bad plan; Get a restraining order, which was a bad plan; Confront them, which was a bad plan. 

There were only bad plans in this scenario and anxiety was starting to press down on Eddie’s chest, making it hard to breathe. 

“Because you’re someone people are always stalking,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. The casual bitchiness that Eddie usually loved was now a threat, and he bristled at the comment. By his count, Eddie had gone through at least twenty three stalkers, and those were just the ones that had been serious enough to merit intervention. He had no idea how many people were actually stalking him at any given time. 

And if Steve was number twenty four, then Eddie might really just stop trusting people all together. 

“Seriously, why are you here?” Eddie asked, trying his best to stay calm. 

“Dustin had food poisoning yesterday, so we couldn’t come see her. I asked Heather to look after the store for me while I came to bring these. I don’t really like coming here, but Dustin is adamant that a sweet tooth is eternal, so we have to bring her treats,” Steve explained, holding up the box with an affectionate roll of his eyes. 

That sealed the deal. It wasn’t often that Chrissy got on camera or took the spotlight, but she had been a frequent face on Eddie’s instagram, usually for food pics when they went out. He even had a story that was called ‘Chrissy’s Confectionaries’ just for all the candids he had of every dessert they had shared. 

But how did they find her? How did they know she was here? 

This was supposed to be a safe resting place. It was supposed to be sacred. Now it was destroyed the way everything was. There was nothing secret, nothing that didn’t belong to the world. This was supposed to be the one special place no one would ever bother her again. 

“How do you find out where Chrissy is?!” Eddie demanded, stomping over and getting right in Steve’s face. Steve was pretty, and Eddie thought he was nice, but this was an absolute violation of trust and privacy, and he would not let Steve think it was okay just because his little brother wanted to do it. 

If he even had a brother.   

“Chrissy? Who’s- Eddie I…I’m here to visit my mom,” Steve stuttered out, grief coating every word in sticky black tar. He stepped back, clutching the box close to his chest with one hand and gesturing down to the headstone between them with the other. 

It was a solid granite headstone, a soft red that stood out in the early morning sun. There were yellow tulips planted on either side of it along with a bunch of rocks, a few metal angels, and some tiny cat figurines sitting on the ledge. It was the words that caught Eddie’s eye though. 

Claudia Marie Honore Henderson

November 11th 1979 - October 28th 2019

If pies were books,

Yours would be Shakespeare’s letters.

Eddie read it once, then twice, then a third time. 

Still there. This was still real. 

“Wow,” Eddie whispered, blowing out a harsh breath before letting out one incredulous laugh and pushing his hair away from his face. “I am a complete and total douchebag.” 

A small smile broke through the hurt expression on Steve’s face and he gently nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s with silent forgiveness. 

“Not complete and total, but I’ll give you two douchebag points,” Steve joked, lowering himself down to kneel on the grass in front of Claudia’s grave and patting the spot next to him, “You can share these with me to make it up.” 

Eddie sat down quickly, crossing his legs so they wouldn’t bounce and looking at her grave again. There was nothing on Chrissy’s but the flowers he brought with him. Before, Eddie had thought it was kind of classy. The smooth blank white marble with nothing but the words he and Wayne had chosen. 

Now it felt almost barren, empty, missing the homey touches that Claudia’s grave had. Claudia’s showed how well loved she was, personal things that still made her real. Chrissy’s was just empty. 

“Not pie?” Eddie asked as Steve untied the string and opened the box to reveal three tiny brown cakes with dollops of whipped cream and drizzles of caramel sauce on top. 

“She chose that quote, not me,” Steve replied, handing Eddie a napkin and a cake. He chose one for himself and put the last one in between the angels and the cat figurines. 

Eddie bit into the dessert, automatically closing his eyes and savoring the flavor. It was spicy and sweet, ginger and brown sugar colliding on his tongue in an explosion of deliciousness. The caramel stuck to his lips, messy and oh so good. 

It would be his favorite thing yet if Steve didn’t look so miserable. 

“I never make pies anymore,” Steve murmured, not touching his own cake. He was staring off somewhere in the distance, lost where Eddie couldn’t seem to reach him. “They just don’t taste the same.” 

Eddie knew that feeling. He had it every time he picked up a guitar now. He could play a song perfectly, hit every note at the exact moment he was supposed to, but it didn’t sound the way it should. Music was almost hollow now, a missing element that he couldn’t find no matter how much he practiced. 

He briefly considered telling Steve, empathizing with the loss, sharing the secrets that were weighing him down. 

“Henderson?” He asked instead, hoping that changing the subject would draw them both away from their thoughts. 

“That’s um,” Steve trailed off, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and staring down at his lap. Eddie’s heart ached for him and he briefly hated himself for the foot that had apparently taken up a permanent residence in his mouth. 

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me anything, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay, I want you to know.” Steve said softly, cutting Eddie off. He still didn’t look up, but some of the tension in his shoulders faded. “It’s a really long story though, so maybe another time?” 

“Whenever you want,” Eddie offered, taking the leap and reaching over to take Steve’s hand. Steve looked up with glossy eyes, squeezing his fingers and brushing his thumb against the side of Eddie’s hand. 

“And Chrissy?” Steve asked hesitantly. 

Eddie could tell him. They could sit here for the whole morning talking back and forth, sharing those long stories. He had planned to tell Steve the truth today anyway. Now was the perfect time. He just had to open his mouth and start. 

“Also a really long story,” Eddie sighed, mentally screaming at himself. 

He was such a coward sometimes. 

“Whenever you want,” Steve echoed, bringing their joined hands up and kissing the back of Eddie’s hand. It was a bold move, the boldest either of them had gotten so far, but it only cemented what they both already knew. Whatever was going on between them was more than just friendship, for both sides. 

Eddie could pull away now, and maybe that would even be the smart thing to do. In the long run, they would both only get hurt by this, so maybe he should just stop it right here and now. 

Instead, he scooted over so they were sitting leaned against each other, putting their hands in his lap and tapping a melody on Steve’s arm as he finally picked up his cake and began eating it. 

Steve apparently didn’t talk to Claudia like Eddie talked to Chrissy. He just sat with his eyes shut, taking the moment to breathe deep and be present. Normally, Eddie hated silence, needing to fill it with music or words or just about anything, but this was peaceful, nice even. The sunshine that Chrissy now lived in kept them warm, and the breeze that held her spirit brushed past them, and Eddie could just hold the moment instead of needing to understand it. 

He wasn’t sitting by her but he was close enough, and he had Steve, so things were okay. 

“Let’s go back to the cafe, huh?” Steve said after a while, gently butting his head against Eddie’s. “I’ll make you a coffee.” 

“I want a decaf nonfat white mocha with extra caramel chunks and oatmilk,” Eddie joked. Steve groaned, standing up and holding out a hand.

Every day there were at least three or four people that came in with absolutely ridiculous coffee orders, and every day Steve and Eddie would try and decide what the most outlandish one was. Eddie tried to get Steve to be grateful, because LA had about thirty or forty thousand people who had orders like that, but Steve always just gave him the stink eye and said that no one should be asking him for oatmilk in Hawkins, Indiana. 

Sure, he had it, but it was the principle of the thing. 

“Bye Claudia,” Steve said as they straightened up, “Me and Dustin are being safe. I promise.” 

“Don’t worry he’s got me to protect him. Well, me to call 911 if anything goes wrong,” Eddie amended, giving the headstone a two fingered salute. Steve laughed his first real laugh of the day, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he tugged Eddie away by their still connected hands. 

They continued to hold hands for the entire walk from the cemetery to the cafe, chatting about nothing and everything in the way they always did. By the time they were turning the corner towards Claudia’s, both of them were extremely relaxed, free of any tension or stress that might have lingered if they went on their own. 

“Hey! Eddie!” 

Nevermind. Eddie was rigid as a board. 

“Who’re they?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked at the three men sitting at one of the tables in front of his cafe. 

“No one,” Eddie blurted out, pulling his hand away from Steve’s and bouncing on his heels, filled to the brim with nervous energy, “On second thought I think I might skip coming today. And tomorrow. And maybe next week.”

“Eddie-” 

Steve didn’t get a chance to say anything else before there was a body slamming directly into Eddie, the smell of Gareth’s cologne overwhelming his senses.

An unexpected hit of homesickness came right along with him and Eddie found himself holding onto Gareth in a death grip, burying his face in his oldest friend’s shoulder and shaking ever so slightly in his grip. Jeff and Frank quickly pushed themselves into the hug, and for the first time in months the part of Eddie’s heart that belonged to his bandmates quietly slotted back into its place. 

“It’s been 84 years,” Gareth groaned after their way too long hug, holding onto Eddie’s upper arms and shaking him. “Never again man, never again. I can’t be stuck with these two sticks in the mud for that long. It’s been so boring.”

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked for the second time that day, in much higher spirits than he had been the first time, “I told you guys not to try and find me.”

“Well maybe if you answered your phone every so often we wouldn’t have to go halfway across the country chasing you,” Jeff scolded lightly, Frank nodding sagely along with him. 

“How did you even know where I was?” Eddie asked, wracking his brain. The answer immediately popped into his mind and Eddie’s eyes narrowed. 

“Wayne,” He grumbled. Curse his big-hearted, too good, meddling, loving uncle. 

“Eddie, we knew you would be here without him telling us,” Frank said with a roll of his eyes, “But when we dropped our stuff off at the house, he said to go to the bakery in town because the cute guy you’re obsessed with owns it.”

The other two broke into smirks, and all three turned to look at Steve with mischievous grins. 

“I hate you guys,” Eddie said, blushing furiously and wishing that the ground would open up to swallow him whole. 

“Obsessed, huh?” Steve said. His cheeks were dusted with a rosy rouge, but his eyes were locked onto Eddie’s, and he was wearing a very cute, very annoying, smug little smile. 

“He is pretty cute,” Jeff said in mock appraisal. 

“Cute enough to completely blow off a country wide-” 

“Steve, these are my friends. Gareth, Jeff, and Frank,” Eddie said, cutting Gareth off before he could say anything else. “Guys, this is Steve, my…”

Eddie trailed off, unsure of how to end that sentence. Friend? Crush? Something more? 

“Employer,” Steve decided for him, holding out his hand for the rest of the band to shake. 

“Employer?!” Jeff practically shouted as Gareth took Stvee’s hand and began wrenching it up and down. 

“You don’t pay me?” Eddie asked, just as stunned as the rest. Steve had just kissed his hand not even a full hour ago, and that was the word he chose to explain them?  

Employer?!

“You sit in my cafe all day long eating and drinking for free. I think that I deserve at least a little manual labor in return,” Steve said in explanation, giving Eddie a full shit eating grin. 

Oh. He was being messed with. Eddie snorted, holding back his laughter as he tried to give Steve a dirty look. Judging by the way Steve was slowly graduating to a full on beaming smile, he was failing pretty spectacularly.

“I am so confused,” Frank said from behind them. “Eddie, he does know that-”

“Well, Mr. Bossman,”  Eddie quickly interjected, throwing his friends a look that told them to shut their mouths or face the consequences, “Would you pretty please feed my friends while we catch up a little bit?” 

Steve, never one to do anything half-assed, brought out enough mini-quiches to feed an army, an entire tray of ginger cakes, and even some of Eddie’s favorite coconut cluster cookies. The rest of the band had apparently been traveling all night long, and they dug into the food with glee, praising Steve until the tips of his ears were red and he had to walk inside to ‘make coffee’ just to escape the flood of compliments. 

The perfect time for Eddie to come clean. 

“What do you guys think?” He asked, softly opening the question up to his best friends. They were the make or break now that Chrissy couldn’t be. 

“He seems nice,” Frank said politely. 

“He’s a great fucking cook,” Gareth said less politely, picking up the crumbs left on his plate. Jeff rolled his eyes and turned to Eddie. 

“How long have you been dating?”

Great. They were jumping straight into the hard questions. 

“We aren’t,” Eddie said slowly, making all three of them stop short and stare at him with increasingly incredulous looks. 

“Well, I assumed the employer thing was a joke but now I have to ask,” Jeff said, sighing deeply before continuing, “Are you banging your boss?”  

“No!” Eddie immediately shouted, shutting his mouth with a snap and shooting his gaze towards the inside of the cafe. 

Steve was futzing around with something on the counter and either hadn’t heard Eddie’s shout or had ignored it, too used to Eddie’s tendency to be as loud as possible. The tip of his tongue was poking out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully placed caramel drizzle on some concoction he was preparing. 

God, he looked so fucking delectable. Now that the thought of banging was there, he couldn’t escape it. The thought of what that tongue might do-

No. Nope. Stop. 

Eddie was so weak. 

“We’re not- I don’t- it’s not like that,” He finished weakly, groaning and letting his head rest on the table in front of him. 

“Have you asked him out?” Gareth asked. 

Eddie shook his head, keeping his forehead still pressed down against the metal. A brief pause from above him as the band had a silent conversation, and Frank spoke in a very hesitant tone. 

“Does he know?” 

‘Does he know’ was such a blank statement. Does he know you have feelings? Eddie was pretty sure he did. Does he know that you watched your best friend die? No. Does he know why you’re in Hawkins? No. 

But Eddie knew what they were asking. 

Does he know that you are ‘The Eddie Munson’?

He shook his head again ever so slightly. 

“He doesn’t know you’re a world famous rockstar?!” Gareth burst out. Eddie’s head flew back up and he gave Gareth a death glare. 

“Keep your voice down!” He hissed, looking back in the cafe. Steve was still by the counter, now ringing up a little old lady, giving her a gentle smile as he handed over a pretty pink box. 

“Does he live under a rock?” Frank asked, staring at Steve through the window like he was from another planet. 

“Be less obvious,” Eddie complained, rubbing at his temples. “He doesn’t live under a rock. He lives in Hawkins fucking Indiana and he hates social media. Steve barely even uses his Instagram, and that’s only to look at pictures of his best friend who’s traveling the world right now as a guitar player on some lesbian cruise.” 

Remembering all that truly was a testament to how much Eddie liked Steve. He had never laid eyes on Robin Buckley, but he already knew she was Steve’s other half; she co-owned the cafe, she spoke five languages, and she played four instruments- one of which was guitar, hence the whole ‘running away for three months to play guitar on a lesbian cruise’. 

Chrissy would have adored her. 

“You have to tell him, Eddie,” Jeff said softly, giving Eddie a look. “He can’t find out from tabloids or paparazzi or something. It’s a miracle no one’s recognized you yet.”

“I know. I know. I’ve tried,” Eddie said, slightly desperate. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on the end of his curls. “I tried more than once, but every time it gets close I just-”

Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, and the next breath he sucked in was unexpectedly shaky. 

Fuck. 

“If I tell him, then I have to tell him everything,” Eddie said, his voice breaking into a whisper halfway through, “and I can’t- I don’t know how-”

“That’s why we came here, even though we knew you didn’t want us,” Frank said, cutting off Eddie’s weak attempts at explaining himself. 

“Because of Steve?” Eddie asked. 

“Because of Chrissy,” Jeff clarified, making the lump in Eddie’s throat grow three times bigger. “Today was supposed to be the day.” 

The day. The start of their big tour. The tour that was going to lead to a new album, that was going to get them that Grammy, that would put Corroded Coffin in the history books forever. 

The tour that Eddie had completely screwed up. 

“Guys… I’m sorry,” Eddie started, getting cut off by Jeff’s hand on his arm and Gareth shaking his head. 

“Don’t start down that road, man. Once you let that monkey on your back, you’ll never get it off,” Frank said easily, spitting wisdom like it meant nothing to him. “She was your best friend.” 

Best friend. What a stupid way to categorize Chrissy. Steve said Robin called him her platonic soulmate, which felt better, but not quite right. Steve just called Robin His Person. His Person, always in a way that you could physically feel the capitalization. 

His Person. 

Chrissy had been His Person. 

“I can’t talk about her yet,” Eddie admitted quietly, feeling shame and smallness covering him like wings. “Hell, I can barely even say her fucking name.” 

“You needed time. We were happy to give it to you,” Jeff said, pulling Eddie down off the cross he kept trying to nail himself to. 

“But seriously, stop shutting us out. We miss her too,” Gareth tacked on, rubbing fruitlessly at his eyes. He had always been a sympathy crier, and even the hint of any of them breaking down sent him into tears. “We miss you, dude.”

Eddie had missed them too. He hadn’t realized it, but the entire time he had been in Hawkins, he had been looking for them. His bandmates had been with him since they were teens, all of them scared and unsure of the future, but so full of hope it hurt to look back and think about it. They had put their faith in him, and he put his trust in them, and they had made something amazing. 

Something Eddie had pushed away the second he could, because he was so sure he didn’t deserve good things, so sure the universe would take them away anyway. 

Maybe that was why he couldn’t tell Steve yet. 

“And if you don’t lock this guy down, I’ll be missing his amazing goddamn quiches too,” Gareth said after they had all taken a second to cool down. He lifted the last one up and shoved it into his mouth in one bite, immediately coughing as he choked. 

“Chrissy would want you to be happy, Eddie,” Jeff said softly as Frank pounded on Gareth’s back trying to dislodge the pastry. “If Steve is gonna make you happy, she would say go for it.” 

“I know,” Eddie replied just as quietly. He had said the same thing to himself a dozen times, but hearing it from Jeff somehow made it even more real.  

Speaking of Steve, he was walking over with a full tray of drinks. 

“Alright I have one black coffee, one latte with a pump of hazelnut syrup and skim milk, and one iced matcha latte,” Steve rattled off as he put down drinks in front of Eddie’s bandmates. He paused after Jeff, giving Eddie a tricky little grin and putting down a colossal cup that was dripping whipped cream onto the saucer it was on. 

“And for you, a decaf nonfat white mocha with extra caramel chunks and oatmilk,” Steve declared, both of them breaking into giggles at the sight of the monstrosity. 

Just like that the weight that had been holding every single cell captive was gone, erased by the light that Steve brought with him everywhere he went. 

“This is disgusting,” Eddie said after taking an experimental sip. 

Steve slid into the open seat next to him, dipping his finger into the whipped cream and dabbing Eddie’s nose before licking it up. This led to an inevitable war of whipped cream till they were both sticky with caramel and laughing breathlessly, the rest of Corroded Coffin watching silently. 

“Hey Steve,” Gareth said, catching the younger boy’s attention, “Wanna go on a date with Eddie tonight?”

It was like the very air stopped still. 

“I’m sorry?” Steve asked, his voice raising up about five octaves. Eddie placed his palms flat on the table, giving his former best friend a triple layer death glare. 

“Gareth!” Eddie hissed.

“You’re being a baby bitch about it,” He said, shrugging unapologetically and looking far too casual for the absolute chaos he was creating. 

“Eddie thinks you're nice and hot,” Frank tacked on. Eddie let out what could only be described as a primal screech, mentally preparing to murder his bandmates right after Steve got up and ordered them all to leave his cafe and never return. 

“He’s scared to make the first move, so we’re making it for him,” Jeff stated, driving the final nail into Eddie’s coffin. “Please go out with him. He’s a mess and he needs someone who can force him to eat a vegetable every once in a while.” 

“Oh my god,” Eddie said quietly to himself, burying his face in his hands. He was going to have to throw himself into the Quarry, or let a semi run him over. There was no coming back from this. None. 

“Eds?”

He didn’t want to look up. He just wanted to just stay right here until he actually turned to stone. Maybe he could. Maybe he just never needed to move again. 

But he did look up, because it was Steve, and Eddie was a total goner for him. 

“Are your friends fucking with me, or do you actually want to go on a date?” Steve asked shyly, looking at Eddie with those stupid big eyes that made him want to give Steve the entire goddamn world. 

He couldn’t give him the whole world. That wasn’t possible. But, Eddie could give him the truth.

Or, he could give Steve a part of the truth, at least.

“I actually want to go on a date,” Eddie admitted, taking the leap. He wrapped a curl around his finger and chewed nervously on his ring, unable to look Steve in the eye. “But only if you want to, I mean.” 

There was a full fifteen seconds of silence in which Eddie was sure he was going to lose his mind. Then a gentle hand pressing at his jaw, turning his head so he was looking Steve in the eye. 

“Well, I have to check that Joyce can watch Dustin, but if it’s okay, why don’t you meet me at The Hawk tonight at 7:00. I’ll get the tickets if you buy the popcorn?” He offered, cheeks a deep red. 

“Sounds good,” Eddie agreed breathlessly, feeling his heart attempt to leap straight out of his chest and into Steve’s hands. 

“Then it’s a date,” Steve said, biting on his lip to try and hold back the huge smile trying to make its way onto his face. “I’m gonna get you a real coffee.” 

Steve was up and gone in the blink of an eye, practically flying into the cafe and disappearing into the back despite all of the coffee supplies being right up front. Eddie watched him go, dazed and shocked as the rest of his bandmates shared victorious high fives and happy whoops. 

“What just happened?!” Eddie practically screamed the second his brain came back online. 

Tags: @dangdirtydemons @excaliburstark

[withacapitalp]

Fuck It Up

Read it on ao3

“No,” Steve said firmly, lifting the latch on the counter and ducking away from his best friend, “Absolutely not. I think that is quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“Actually, I think it’s the best. The Nobel people are going to be calling me any minute now,” Robin replied, skipping after him and grabbing some of the tapes out of the pile he was carrying. 

Steve shot her a look, continuing to put VHS cases back where they belonged. When Robin didn’t budge or back down, he sighed, handing her the rest of his pile and putting his hands on his hips. 

“So, your brilliant solution to my problem is to ask Eddie to be my Valentine?” Steve asked rhetorically, raising a brow. “You do remember that the whole problem is the fact that I have a crush on him in the first place, right?” 

“I just don’t think the crush is the problem!” Robin shot back, attempting to throw her arms up in the air and fumbling the last few cases that were in her arms, “The only problem here is that you’re being kind of a pussy.” 

Steve groaned and walked away from her, going back to the counter. He pulled himself up onto the stool they had there, spinning around idly and trying to distract himself from the dilemma at hand. 

Robin was wrong. The crush was the problem. Actually it wasn’t just a problem—it was the thing that was going to implode the amazing life that he had carefully created for himself. 

“You know I’m right,” his platonic soulmate stated, hopping up onto the counter and nudging her foot against the chair so Steve was stuck facing her directly. “You asked me to help you.”

“Help me get rid of it, not help me ruin everything,” Steve clarified. Robin let out an extremely long moan, putting both of her hands on his shoulders and shaking them both. 

“Steve! He! Likes! You! Back!” She shouted. 

“You don’t know that. Everyone’s acting like it’s a given he likes me back, when it isn’t,” Steve said, untangling himself from her grasp. The anxiety was starting to creep up his spine again, making the entire world start to grow right before his eyes. 

This was the problem with falling in love with your best friend. Steve was practically a pro at crushes by this point in his life. For most people, it took a while to fall in love. They would go back and forth, trying to decide if the feelings were real enough, if the person was worth the risk. 

Steve didn’t get that privilege. He fell in love like falling asleep, and when he did it was hard and fast. 

When he had a crush, his mind would get stuck on a single person like glue, and there was nothing that would make the feelings go away until they ran their course. Normally he didn’t really mind it. He actually enjoyed the process. Knowing that eventually the love would fizzle out meant that he could have fun with the swooping delirious happiness that came with spending time with someone he was attracted to.

But this crush hadn’t faded. It only got deeper as time went on, and Steve was going to go insane if things kept going the way they were. 

“Steve? What’s actually going on here?” Robin asked, lowering her voice into that gentle tone she liked to take when she knew she was starting to tread in dangerous waters. He let his head droop, taking a long deep breath before looking back up at her. 

“He’s my best friend, Birdie,” Steve whispered, knowing Robin wouldn’t take offense. She was his soulmate, something that transcended the word ‘friend’. “I don’t wanna fuck that up. No crush is worth that.” 

“It’s Eddie, Steve. He’s not going to hate you or anything, you know that,” Robin said, softly knocking her shoulder against his, knowing that Steve responded best to tactile displays of affection. 

He leaned his body into hers, staring out at the rows of tapes and letting the worries plaguing his mind out into the air around them. 

“I’m not worried about that. I know he would let me down easy. I’m worried about things changing. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, or awkward, or like he has to feel some way that he doesn’t…I just don’t want to have everything change again,” Steve admitted. 

That was the reason he hadn’t said anything. Normally Steve had no problem with making his feelings known. Hell, he had told Nancy he loved her only a month into their relationship! 

But this was different. This was Eddie. Smart, funny, sweet Eddie, who had fallen into his life out of nowhere, but had become so integral to Steve’s day to day that even just the idea of not having him exactly as he did now made Steve’s heart creep up into his throat. 

“Change can be a good thing,” Robin said after a long pause. She tilted her head back and looked at Steve from the very side of her eye. “You’re not going to know until you ask,”

That was true. Not asking left them in the weird limbo tango of (fake?) flirting and deep introspective talks that had Steve reeling. It had been heaven at first. Now the not knowing was complete torture. AT this point, even finding out Eddie didn’t want him would be a relief. 

But that meant he had to somehow get the courage to tell Eddie how he felt. And that was scarier than taking on a dozen fully grown demogorgons. 

“Look, if it doesn't go well, I’ll be right here to nurse your broken shattered little heart,” Robin said, hopping down off the counter and ruffling Steve’s hair. “But I’ll bet you ten bucks I’ll be telling this story to your kids and making them see how much of a Dingus their Daddy Steve used to be before he finally told Papa Eddie he wanted to date him.”

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, ignoring the instant fantasy that popped up from Robin’s words. Eddie, a little older, chasing around a tot who was shrieking in glee. A tiny little darling with long dark curls and big bambi eyes…

No. Nope. No. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous. Addictive, but dangerous. 

“Why do I love you so much?” Steve groaned, dragging himself into a standing position. 

“Because I’m the best,” Robin declared, handing Steve his keys and starting to push him towards the door. “Now go home early and figure out a plan. I’m sick of listening to you pine.” 

“I’m your boss,” Steve pointed out. Since Keith had high tailed it out of Hawkins, Steve was officially the manager of their dear dear Family Video. 

“Go!” Robin shouted, shoving Steve out the door with a wave, “Just tell him!” 

If only it was that easy. 

---------

“Nancy, normally you’re the smartest person I know, but that might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Eddie stated, dragging a hand through his hair and glaring daggers at the phone in front of him. 

“No, it’s just not what you want to hear,” Jonathan said, blowing out a long column of smoke and idly watching it hang in the air above them. Argyle snickered from where he was lying on the floor next to his boyfriend, holding out a hand to take the joint

“Zip it peanut gallery,” Eddie snapped without any heat, leaning his chair onto its two back legs and staring up at the ceiling of his new bedroom. 

It was white. 

He missed the weird designs that came from the water damage of the trailer. 

“Where did that phrase come from?” Jonathan mumbled. 

“I think it’s from Charlie Brown,” Argyle whispered back, not being quiet in the slightest, “You know the peanuts?” 

“Oh yeah!” Jonathan exclaimed, giving his boyfriend a dopey smile. 

Both of them began to hum the theme song to Charlie Brown. 

“Wow, my friends ladies and gentlemen,” Eddie said, gesturing to the non-existent crowd. “So supportive, so helpful in this time of great crisis.” 

“We would be more supportive if you weren’t being such a baby. You know what you have to do,” Nancy’s voice was tinny through the speaker phone, but Eddie could just tell she was rolling her eyes. 

“I have to go, but I’m still right!” she said, calling out quick goodbyes to all three before hanging up. Eddie put the phone back on the hook and let out a quiet growl, throwing himself onto his bed and burying his face in the pillows. 

They had been talking for five hours straight, and he was still as mixed up as he had been when they started. He had called Nancy in a fit of desperation after Argyle and Jonathan had asked if Steve and he wanted to go on a double date, still not understanding why they weren’t already a couple. Unfortunately for him, she had agreed with them, and told Eddie to go for it. 

“He’s my best friend,” Eddie said for the thousandth time, throwing the pillow onto the floor and hitting his head against the mattress, “He’s…He’s Steve!!” 

“Steve who has a huge crush on you too,” Jonathan pointed out. 

“That’s not the point, Jonathan,” Eddie said, giving the younger boy a haughty look of derision. “The point is, he hasn’t asked me either. Maybe he doesn’t actually want anything more out of this?! Maybe I’m going to fuck it all up.”

“Maybe he’s scared,” Jonathan countered, not looking exactly sober, but definitely seeming way too aware to be totally high. 

Scared? Steve? 

The dude had torn a demobats guts out with his teeth. Steve wasn’t scared of anything or anyone. Eddie was the coward between the two of them, hence why he was in complete and utter turmoil about his neverending crush. 

“My dude. It’s simple,” Argyle said, sitting up and shaking his head. “Do you want to always wonder what might’ve been?”

Well, Eddie had called them over to give him advice, and that was some pretty damn good advice. 

Eddie had spent most of his life hating guys like Steve Harrington. He had hated Steve specifically in fact. Not only was he the king of the school, he was also disarmingly pretty, which was exceptionally frustrating for teenage Eddie. 

And then he had gotten to know him, and it was even worse. 

Because Steve was good. There was no other word for it. Steve was one hundred percent certified good. Sure, he could be a bitchy little brat at times, but beyond that was a soft heart that opened up to just about anyone who got past that first wall. A soft heart, a brave soul, and loyalty that ran deeper than the grand canyon. 

How was Eddie not supposed to fall for that? 

So Steve was good, and for some reason he thought Eddie was good, and every minute they spent together left butterflies in Eddie’s stomach. Eddie might’ve been able to stand it if they only ever interacted in group settings, but they were always alone, always just the two of them. Steve came over when he couldn’t sleep, which was pretty much every night, and Eddie went over to his whenever he was lonely, which was pretty much always. 

They had fallen into step with each other in a way that was so natural it hurt. Eddie had never met someone who so easily accepted him exactly as he was. It was like he never had to explain anything, never had to dial himself back. He was so used to being ‘too much’ that being ‘just enough’ to Steve was dizzyingly wonderful. 

Did Eddie really want to risk that? Could he handle losing that steady warmth and devotion? 

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t,” Argyle tacked on, interrupting Eddie’s thoughts. “Take it from me brochacho, you don’t want to look back and wish you’d taken the chance when you could.”

That was the other side of the coin. There was the fear of things not going well, and also the fear of missing out on what might’ve been the best thing he ever did. 

Did Eddie want to forever wonder what might have happened if he had taken the leap? Did he really want to start running again? 

“No, I don’t,” Eddie finally sighed, grabbing the phone. 

If he was going to do this, then he needed help.

--------

 “What kind of ending was that?!” Dustin exploded as the credits on the movie rolled. The rest of the party began to join in with confused nods and disgusted looks. 

“So what…happened?” Will finally asked, looking at the rest of them in hopes that at least one of them understood the end of the movie. 

“No clue,” Mike said, staring down at the box. 

Picnic at the Hanging Rock had been a Robin recommendation, one of the many she had given them when she found out how they planned to spend Valentine’s Day. 

The Party had decided that since they were all single (for the moment) the best course of action would be an all day movie marathon of cheesy Valentine’s horror movies. It was a very specific niche, but surprisingly they had found a ton of them at Family Video. So armed with a dozen movies, a ton of junk food, and the desire to forget Valentine’s existed, the seven of them were camped out in the Wheeler’s basement for the foreseeable future. 

“Ugh I need to get that out of my head,” Lucas shuddered, grabbing a fresh bag of M&Ms and ripping it open, taking some and passing the rest to his sister “What’s up next?”

El looked down at the cases, picking up two and examining them.  

“Bride of Frankenstein or My Bloody Valentine,” she read slowly, handing both to Will before holding up the big blue bowl in front of her, “Also we need more popcorn.” 

But as they began to call quick not-it’s, the phone rang. All seven kids paused for a second before they were all scrambling to be the one to answer it. Max beat them all, mostly because she was willing to actually beat them all. The rest of the party quickly sidestepped her crutches, except for her one unfortunate victim. 

“Hello, Wheeler Residence,” she said with a smug smile, watching Mike hop on one foot and give her a super dirty look. Just as she reached the phone, Dustin’s walkie talkie sitting in the corner crackled to life. 

“Hey brats, where are you?” Steve’s voice floated across the room. The entire group looked between the walkie and Max, unsure of which new distraction they should be focusing on. 

“Hi Eddie,” Max said into the receiver, only adding to the mystery. 

Eddie and Steve were both calling at the same time? And not together like they normally would?

“Can you hold on for just one minute?” Max said to the phone, making the decision for all of them. “Thanks.” 

She carefully muted the phone and maneuvered over, getting settled with the rest of them in a cluster around the walkie. 

“What’s up Steve? Over,” Lucas said, taking point. 

“I need help,” Steve said, making the entire group stiffen up. 

‘Help’ could mean a thousand things, but the use of the walkie and the cryptic message spelled all kinds of trouble. 

They had almost made it a whole year. Couldn't they just get through one full year? 

“You need to say ‘over’,” Lucas reminded him, giving them all a minute to steel themselves against what might be coming. 

“I wasn’t finished, jackasses,” Steve said irritably, unintentionally making them all loosen up.

If something was wrong wrong, then he wouldn’t be annoyed with them. Bitchy Steve meant things were safe. Whatever it was, this was normal. Blissfully normally. 

“I need your help with something. Over,” Steve tacked on at the last second to avoid another lecture about walkie-talkie etiquette. 

“Uh yeah, we got that. What do you need help with?” Erica said, laying on the sass thick to hide the fact that she still looked pretty spooked. 

“I need help….setting up a date for me and Eddie,” Steve finally said, making the entire group collectively lose their shit. They kept their hands off of the walkie-talkie as they shouted at each other in glee. 

It had been months of watching Steve and Eddie dance around each other, endless weeks of blushes and shy compliments and meaningful little touches. It was adorable, but it was also painful, and it was finally about to come to a happy ending! 

Even Mike seemed excited, or at least happy at the prospect of not having to watch Eddie and Steve flirt anymore. 

Max waved her arms around, getting the rest of them to quiet down before she grabbed the walkie-talkie from the table

“Steve, we’d love to help but we need one second, over,” she announced. Steve agreed, and she silently began to point towards the phone, making gestures that only Erica seemed to understand. The youngest quickly got up and scampered over to the phone, holding it up to her ear. 

“What do you want, Eddie?” she asked, getting straight to the point. The party watched as her eyes widened in glee, and she held a hand over her mouth to smother any laughter that wanted to escape. 

“Oh? You want our help with wooing Steve tonight?” she said when she got control of herself, waving at all of them to try and keep them silent. “Absolutely. We’ll be over in a few hours to figure out the details. Bye!” 

“Steve, we’re gonna be over in half an hour. Over and out,” Max said the second Erica hung up the phone, slamming the antenna down just as they all began to howl with laughter. 

“Wh-wh-what is going on?” Will managed to stutter out. 

After months of waiting, had their two babysitters finally both decided to confess on the same exact day?! Was this real?!

“Chaos,” El said with a sage nod. 

“Excellent,” Mike replied, smirking as they began to put their heads together and plot. 

Valentine’s had just officially become fun. 

------------

“What the hell?” Hopper said the second the back door of the truck closed. He was glaring at Steve and Eddie from the rearview mirror, making both of them shrink in their seats. 

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Eddie muttered. 

This was the wrong thing to say. Exceptionally wrong. Both of them flinched as Hopper took an exaggerated breath in, his hands clenching up around the steering wheel. 

“I just had to leave Joyce in the middle of Enzo’s because I got a call from El saying you two got arrested for arson,” Hopper said calmly. Too calmly. Most people thought an angry Hopper was a dangerous Hopper. Everyone in their family knew better. 

A calm Hopper was a dangerous Hopper. 

“So I’m going to repeat,” the police chief said, his peacefulness rapidly evaporating into pure fury. “What the HELL?!” 

This was the point where it would be best to just start begging for mercy. They should just give Hopper whatever he wanted and hope it was enough to put out some of the flames of his fury. This was the moment to just spill their guts and hope for the best. 

The problem was neither of them even understood how they had ended up in this situation. 

From Steve’s perspective, the kids had agreed to help him set up a late night romantic picnic by the lake. It was a perfect idea, because the lake was where Eddie and Steve had really had their first moment together. They had even offered to put little lanterns out on the water, just to make the whole thing absolutely perfect. 

From Eddie’s perspective, the kids had been helping him to set up a fantasy boat ride on Lover’s Lake. Not only was it one of the most romantic places in Hawkins, it was also a great way to rewrite the start of their journey. Lover’s Lake could be a good place for them, instead of a place that reminded them of a narrowly avoided apocalypse. 

Yet somehow the night had ended with a boat on fire in the middle of the Lake and a call to the cops from a very distressed old lady. 

“Our children are little demons,” Steve finally said, hoping that would be enough to explain.  

“I- you-” Hopper stuttered out a few more starts to various sentences before he just stopped himself, angrily starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot. They drove in complete silence, Steve and Eddie sitting as far from each other as they could in the back, both staring out the window on their respective sides. 

Hopper slid into the parking lot outside of Enzo’s with ease, tires practically screeching as he put the car in park and turned in his seat to face both boys. 

“Here is what is going to happen,” Hopper started, enunciating each word with completely cold rage, “I am going to go back inside, to enjoy a nice, quiet, peaceful evening with my new wife. You are going to stay here and talk.” 

“About what?” Eddie asked hesitantly, sharing a brief look with Steve, who seemed just as petrified. 

Hopper sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. 

“I really don’t like getting involved. If I had my way, none of you would date until you’re thirty,” he muttered, pursing his lips and turning to face forward again, undoing his seatbelt as he continued. “But this little dance of yours has now become a health hazard, so you’re going to talk out whatever is going on here, and not set the forest on fire while you do.”

With that he exited the car, slamming the door for emphasis and trudging towards the restaurant, leaving Steve and Eddie in the most uncomfortable silence they had ever had. 

This was somehow even worse than the charged silence between them when Eddie had been holding a broken bottle to Steve’s neck. 

“Today’s been such a disaster,” Steve finally groaned, burying his face in his hands. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed with a hollow little laugh, wrapping his arms around his middle and hunching his shoulders, “Definitely not what I had planned.” 

“What were you planning?” Steve asked softly, afraid to get his hopes up, but unable to keep them completely down. 

After all, Eddie had also been at the lake for some reason. Maybe it had something to do with him. 

“I have no idea,” Eddie responded, snuffing out any flame that had started to spark in Steve’s chest, “What were you planning?”

“No clue,” Steve murmured, hating the way all of his courage had instantly disappeared. He had spent the better part of the day psyching himself up for this exact conversation, and he had thought he was ready, but face to face with everything he could possibly want, he faltered. 

“I just-” Steve trailed off, searching for the right thing to say, the right thing to do. 

Finally it hit him that there wasn’t going to be one. There was no perfect way to confess, no ultimate act that would ensure things went right. All he had was the truth, and the truth was going to have to do. 

And apparently, Eddie had been thinking the same exact thing. 

“I don’t want to fuck this up,” they both blurted out at the same time. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

All at once, it was easy. The same easy that everything was when it was them. Steve and Eddie both took a moment to laugh, and Eddie slid over till they were pressed up against each other, the distance suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. 

“You like like me,” Steve said teasingly, unable to help the huge smile that was growing on his face. 

“Oh my-” Eddie cut himself off with a snort, raising his eyes to the sky, “Yes darling, I like like you. I like like you a whoooole bunch.”

Steve turned so they were face to face. It was dark, but the street lamp outside gave off just enough light that they could see each other. Eddie had the same silly grin as him, and his beautiful doe eyes were sparkling. 

“Be my Valentine?” Steve whispered, reaching up to cup Eddie’s cheek. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Eddie replied, leaning forward and giving Steve the best first kiss he had ever had. 

[withacapitalp]

Rexie

I'm gonna toss this one under a readmore just to be safe bc I jump right into a heavy topic TW: Eating disorders TW: Disordered eating TW: anorexia

Steve knew what an eating disorder was. 

It was something girls had. Specific kinds of girls. It was the pencil thin girls that Carol used to look at and smirk about.

‘Looks like Rexie got another one’ she used to sneer whenever she saw a cheerleader bring in a salad for lunch, or watched as another one of their friends skipped going to the cafeteria altogether. Steve tried to get her to stop saying that, it didn’t seem all that nice, but Carol told him he would never get it. Rexie never came for boys after all. 

So Steve knew he didn’t have an eating disorder. 

He just…didn’t like to eat sometimes. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t force himself. He could have if he wanted to. There was nothing stopping him from eating, he just didn’t want to. Simple as that. There were just certain days where every food he saw looked completely disgusting, and the thought of eating a cookie made him want to vomit. 

The feeling always came on suddenly. Sometimes he would get through making an entire meal only to have to throw it away as soon as it was done because the sight of the full plate made him queasy. 

But it wasn’t a problem. Hell, there were moments where it even seemed like it was a good thing. Where other guys on the team would get out of control and order five burgers after practice, eventually getting fat and losing their spot on the team, Steve would have a lemon water and stay in perfect shape. His teammates always asked him what his ‘secret’ was, and Steve would always have to say he didn’t have one. 

Because it wasn’t really a secret. Steve had never tried to hide that he stopped eating sometimes. No one was ever home to see the trash can get full when it shouldn’t be, and if Steve skipped actually grabbing a tray at lunch, no one batted an eye. 

Rexie never came for boys after all. 

[withacapitalp]

Hi!!! I love your ageswap AU on your AO3 daily drabble fic! I am a general sucker for Age Swap fics because dynamics and I really enjoyed reading yours!

Oooo thank you so much!!!! @riality-check took it and ran in the coolest bestest way (if you haven't read her Sophomore Year post, check it out!) and there are sooooo many ideas!!! For now, take a little snippet from a future part. TW: Child abuse

“I hate him,” Jonathan spat out, staring daggers at the stupid baseball glove sitting on his bedside table.

“Jonathan,” Will sighed, in that ‘I know better tone’ that made Jonathan’s head feel like it was full of bees.

“No! He hurts you, and I hate him,” Jonathan said, turning his glare to his brother and daring him to say differently. Will met his eye without flinching, holding his gaze until Jonathan backed down, cheeks burning with shame. 

It wasn’t fair. Dad was the one that hurt Will. Mom was the one that let it happen. Why was Jonathan the only one that felt bad about it? 

It just wasn’t fair. 

Jonathan dragged in a shaking breath, bitter roots growing jaded ugly flowers in his chest. 

“C’mere,” Will said softly, coaxing his little brother over with a gentle touch on his arm. 

Jonathan crashed into Will’s side with a sigh, letting the tension leak out of his body bit by bit the longer that they sat together in silence. Jonathan wasn’t a big talker, and Will seemed to be the only person in the world who didn’t need to fill all of the space in a room with words. He was content to just be, letting their shared energy make things better.  

It was just one of the reasons that Will was his favorite person in the world. 

“I know it’s hard for you to see all of this. I try to keep you out of it, but I know I don’t do a good enough job,” Will whispered, his voice tinged in a grief that sat heavy on his shoulders. 

“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan immediately argued, looking up at his brother who continued to stare out the window. 

“I don’t want you to be angry at the world,” Will said, powering through the debate that they had been having their entire lives, “I don’t want you to stop trusting people. Things are hard now, and Dad is…well, Dad,”

Will groaned, rubbing at his temple and clearly searching for the right words to explain what he wanted Jonathan to understand. 

“Look, what I’m trying to say is there are good people out there, Jonnie. You’ll find yours, and they’ll be your family just as much as me and mom are. Like Mike and Max and the rest are my people, my family. I don’t want you to get so afraid of the bad people, that you stop looking for the good ones,”