rockstar!eddie who only sees you when he’s in your city. doesn’t tell you when, doesn’t hit you up or anything— you really only know he’s coming because of the plethora of billboards and ads that pop up around the time of the performance.
and he doesn’t even really have to call you to let you know he’ll be coming over, you just know— as soon as eddie lands in your city, you’re his.
that’s how it is, that’s how it’s always been.
and you don’t exactly think you’re the only girl. the only one he flees to when he touches down in a new city— but you’re glad you’re his girl for this city. out of the millions of people he could’ve chose in your town, he chose you and that’s enough to get you to open your door for him post show, let him smoke all your shit and spend hours fucking you.
you don’t bother going to the shows— you did once, hated the scene of bitchy groupies that throw themselves at him and you never went again.
so he just comes to you.
probably doesn’t even bother taking a shower or wiping off all that sweat and liquor from another hectic show, just books it straight to you.
plays house with you for a day or two. calls you his girl, fucks you hard and rough and then slow and soft and then rough again. he says he missed you, doesn’t know how he lasted a year without your pussy, swears he’ll lose his mind if he goes that long without seeing you again. snaps a few photos of you. some cute and wholesome, naked and shying away from the lens with the sun beaming through your window. and the others are raunchy, dirty and gross. you split open on his cock, spread open for him. you on your knees for him, worshiping his cock. you cumming on his tongue. you with his necklace swaying between your tits, sweaty and bruised up neck on display.
he keeps them. tucks them in his pants. probably forgets they’re even there, honestly, only remembers them when they fall out in the next city as he’s pulling his pants back up after fucking some random girl.
feels his chest twist up, thinks about booking a flight to you because despite the fact that he’s a fucking player to his core, he really does have a soft spot for you. you really are his girl. his number one girl, best of them all.
doesn’t matter though. because even though you’re eddie’s girl, he still leaves you for another year. it’s just easier this way, really.
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am i gonna put you in the book acknowledgements am i gonna be able to say your name without flinching am i ever gonna get a word in edgewise am i ever gonna recover the time i spent with you. computer virus kid; i arrived in your life already begging to be let in. somehow insecure i could even be your friend. like you had a line outside the door and we were all shifting our weight, begging.
you're so fucking good at that - at making people feel like they need to earn you, like you're a commodity none of us can afford. no kindness or careful communication could work on you - you were so good at just going-ghost, about deciding someone just wasn't cool-enough. something about that is super ironic. even the parts of it that weren't romantic felt like a romance book. i wanted you to like me so badly i scrubbed myself clean just so you'd spare me - what. your favor? a look?
okay okay okay. it's just a friendship - if it was even true that we were friends, if you even saw me as someone you trusted. on reddit someone would tell me girl literally just cut her out of your life, it's not that difficult. even i was aware of how fucked up the whole situation was. like, why the fuck do i even care about your approval? you're like, not even that fun to be around. you are often a little bit cruel.
but for almost four years of my life, i thought i had found someone like me. somebody who liked the same things i do. someone who liked to read and who liked making jokes with esoteric references and who spent maybe too much time on the internet and who was absolutely a little bit pretentious. i don't know, something about that was powerful and addictive.
i keep thinking about our last conversation. about how i said - okay, enough is enough. you pushed me too far, you really hurt my feelings.
and how you laughed and said - you think you're the victim?
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RIP Mike Wheeler’s heterosexuality
“Is being gay contagious?”
Steve stares at his phone groggily before putting it back against his ear. “…Mike?”
“Is it?”
“It’s three in the fuckin’ morning is what it is.” He rubs his nose, Mike’s words finally catching up to his brain. “Seriously, Mike? No it’s not fucking contagious, you’re not gonna get the gay disease or whatever from me. I promise you’ll keep liking girls.”
He’s a little hurt, even though he knows the question is innocent. They’ve been asking a lot of questions, like the inquisitive little assholes they are, but none of them had seemed like they weren’t okay with it. Until now.
“…that’s not what I meant,” Mike says. Steve realizes that his voice sounds shaky, even over the phone.
“Then what—“ he cuts himself off, realizing halfway through his bitching that there was only one reason Mike would call about this. “Oh.”
“Can you pick me up?”
“It’s three in the morning,” he repeats, even as he starts wondering where he left his keys. “Your mom…”
“Steve,” Mike pleads. “Please?”
He sighs. “I’m on my way.”
Mike is sitting on his doorstep when he pulls up, head in his hands. Steve doesn’t have to get out of the car, he stalks to the passenger door with all the vitriol of a boy with too many emotions to hold in, and wrenches the door open hard enough that Steve worries he’s going to break it.
“Watch it, noodle arms,” he says, trying to pretend this is normal. Maybe if he acts like it’s not well past midnight, Mike will relax.
It doesn’t work. Mike slumps in his seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. “Can you just drive?”
Steve drives. Doesn’t really know where they’re going, but it doesn’t matter. Just away seems to suffice.
He eventually pulls into a side road
“I’m scared to even touch another guy now! Because apparently hugging is gay when you’re older, and so is sleeping in the same bed, and telling your friends you love them, and…and I’m fucking scared all the time, ‘cause what if they’re right? How do they know? How can they tell by just fucking looking at me? It’s bullshit!”
“Shit, kid,” Steve says, heartbroken. “Shit. C’mere.”
He pulls him close, and Mike turns his face into the crook of his neck, shaking. His shirt collar starts to get damp.
“I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I thought it was normal, I thought everyone was just…so scared all the time, and we just didn’t talk about it. But then you said that thing about being afraid and pushing it down, and I didn’t— I tried to ignore it. I tried so hard not to think about it, Steve, I swear I tried.”
“I know you did,” he says quietly. It hits him that he might be the only one who really gets it. Eddie gave up denying it long ago, deciding to evolve into something else for them to focus on. Robin’s a girl. Which doesn’t mean jack shit in most cases, because being a lesbian fucking sucks in a town like Hawkins, but girls aren’t as obsessive about it. Sometimes when they compare notes, Robin will just stare at him.
Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he mumbles tearfully into his shoulder.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve says with a surprising amount of vehemence. He grabs Mike by his scrawny little shoulders, pulls him away so he can look directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing, do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves a swift kick in the balls. Got it?”
Mike responds by bursting into loud, messy sobs.
Steve just keeps holding him, running a hand through his hair and soothing him gently, like he wishes someone had done for him or Robin or Eddie when they were young. Finally Mike pulls away, embarrassment starting to set in.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve asks instead of a meaningless platitude he knows Mike wouldn’t accept.
Mike gives him a suspicious look. “I guess.”
“I’m scared too. All the time.”
“No you’re not,” Mike snorts. “You don’t need to make me feel better just because I’m a pussy.”
“I’m not joking,” he says. “Why do you think I dated girls? Why do you think I went through so many lengths to hide it? It’s fucking terrifying, man. But you know what makes it less scary?”
“Dating girls? Marrying a woman?”
“No.” He pokes Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “People. Friends who love and accept you. Friends who know what you’re going through, even.”
“Do you…” Mike chews his lip. “Do you think Nancy would be okay with it? With me?”
“Absolutely I do. She was okay with me, wasn’t she? And I was her boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your family, right? Sometimes people don’t care if someone is… people don’t care until it affects them. Do you think Nancy is like that?”
He knows Nancy isn’t like that, but that's a talk they’re going to have to have themselves. “I really don’t,” he encourages. “I think she’d be really glad to know this part of you, actually. She loves you.”
“…I know,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t… we made this dumb no secrets pact the first time the Upside-Down happened, I don’t know why. It’s stupid. But…I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”
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