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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl · 2 years ago

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part one part two

Hawkins, Indiana Summer 1995

Steve stares down into the glowing red center of the world. Heat rolls off the gash in the earth in waves. The smell of rotting is stronger here. He’d gone and done a perimeter check of downtown on foot before returning to the place in front of City Hall. He hadn’t found any other gates, no breaks in the asphalt, no cracking brick or crumbled stone. He hadn’t run into anyone else. Hawkins had been abandoned, fast.

Sometimes, now that he doesn’t have the gin to numb his sleep, Steve has these nightmares. They’re the same nightmares he’d been having back in ’86, the same nightmares he’d had for years since they’d first encountered Vecna. It’s the same nightmare, always. Nothing ever changes, nothing ever shifts. It starts slow, a sparkling rain on the pavement, steam rising hot into the air. The sky is always dark, no stars, no moon, clouds dense and angry. He walks through the streets of Hawkins and then the whole world starts to shake.

The world starts to shake as Steve walks past Melvald’s, past the diner where he’d kissed Eddie for the first time, past the two screen movie theater where Jonathan Byers had punched him in the face. There’s nothing for him to hold on to, his sneakers have no traction on the wet pavement. He falls, he drifts, he slides, until he’s at a crack in the world, right down the center of Hawkins, burning bright and red.

He falls, he drifts, he slides until his hands are gripping at the edge. He’s trying to haul himself back up, but the whole world is still shaking, it’s still damp from the sparkling rain. It’s slippery, hard to hold, but he keeps his grip.

And then, deep in the crack in the world, Steve Harrington hears a voice.

It doesn’t sound like anything at first. Just the slow rumble of the whole world shaking. But then, there it is again.

Deep in the crack in the world, Steve Harrington hears a ghost and loses his grip.

And then he wakes up.

He can never identify the voice, doesn’t know who it is that speaks to him from the center of the world. A part of him doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to examine it too closely. He thinks he wouldn’t like what he found.

~*~

Indianapolis, Indiana Spring 1987

Steve wakes up from a nightmare, sweating and shaking. He remembers burning, he remembers red. He doesn’t remember anything else. He doesn’t need to.

He feels Eddie’s arms tighten around him.

“Nightmare?” Eddie mumbles against the sweaty skin of Steve’s neck, before planting a small, sweet kiss there.

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. His voice is shaky, his chest feels hollow.

“Wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks, sounding more alert as he shifts their positions, pulling so Steve is on his back and Eddie is leaning over him.

Steve looks up into Eddie’s face, into his big brown eyes full of genuine concern.

“No,” Steve says, reaching up to curl his fingers into the front of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Just want you.” He pulls Eddie towards him and doesn’t miss the way Eddie smiles, just before their lips brush.

Steve is held safe in Eddie’s arms for the rest of the night.

~*~

Indianapolis, Indiana Fall 1991

Steve has been home from the coffeeshop for about an hour. He’s showered and tidied up the living room. He’s sitting on the couch in silence when there’s a knock on the door.

He swings the front door open without looking in the peephole. He knows who it is. Eddie smiles at him from the other side of the apartment’s threshold, soft and a little sad.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says, so softly that Steve almost has to lean in to hear him. He feels himself sway into Eddie’s space before he catches himself.

“Hey.” Steve tries to get his voice to sound level, to sound unaffected. Thinks he manages it, from the look on Eddie’s face. “Boxes are in the guest room.” Steve steps out of the way so Eddie can move past him into the apartment. Their shoulders brush and Steve wants to die.

Eddie looks the same, his hair a little longer maybe. His nails are painted black and he’s got more piercings in his ears, but he’s still got the same leather jacket, the same big black boots on his feet. Steve’s mouth feels dry, his throat tight. His hands feel hollow. His fingertips ache with the effort it takes not to reach out and touch.

Eddie had called him last week. The band had just finished up their first national tour, opening for a band much bigger than them. They’d been promoting their debut album. Steve had been hearing about it non-stop from Dustin and Robin, before he’d had to beg them to stop talking about it. With the money he’d made from the tour and the album launch, Eddie had been able to get a place out in LA, something of his own. He’d called Steve to see about getting the last of his things, the odds and ends he’d left behind.

Eddie walks through the space like he lives there still. Steve feels his heart squeeze as Eddie pushes open the door of what used to be Robin’s room, before she’d graduated in the spring and moved across the country. Before she’d left, too.

“Need any help?” Steve asks from the doorway. There’s only two boxes, but Steve is nothing if not polite.

“Nah, Greg’s got the car running downstairs,” Eddie tells him. Steve vaguely remembers Greg, the band’s bass player, from the shows he’d gone to when the band had still been playing at dive bars all over Indy. He remembers the way Greg’s eyes had always lingered on Eddie, trailed after him as Eddie went to get drinks from the bar or excused himself to go to the bathroom. Steve has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t say anything pathetic.

Steve watches as Eddie squats and lifts the boxes effortlessly, one stacked on top of the other. He moves out of the way so Eddie can move down the hallway, back towards the front door. He waits there, for Steve to open the door for him. Steve doesn’t move.

“Wait, I—” Steve has no plan, doesn’t know what might come out of his mouth. He just knows that there’s desperation coursing under his skin, through his veins, at the thought that this might be the last time that Eddie Munson will ever be here, in this apartment they’d chosen together. He can’t bear the thought that he will never know Eddie Munson again. He feels like his lungs are collapsing, like he can’t possibly suck enough air inside himself. His hand lifts in the space between them, like he might reach out toward where Eddie stands.

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, shifting the boxes in his hands and taking half a step backward. “Don’t do this, okay? I, uh. I can’t do this. Not now.”

Steve feels the prickle of tears in his eyes, but he nods, numbly. He knows he’s missed his chance, that he let fear overrule everything else.

He doesn’t say anything else. He just grips the doorknob in his sweaty hand and opens the door for Eddie. He watches Eddie as he steps out of their apartment for the last time, watches as Eddie walks down the hallway. When he reaches the stairs, Eddie turns for one last look.

“See you around, Harrington,” he says. There’s no smile on his face. He stares for a long moment before he takes the first step downward. A second later, he’s gone.

Steve stands in his doorway for a long time after that, eyes trained on the last place where he’ll ever see Eddie Munson.

~*~

Hawkins, Indiana Summer 1995

Steve is still staring down into the center of the world when the earth starts to shake. It feels so familiar when it starts that he’s almost resigned to it. The rain starts then too, heavy and hot. It feels like burning blood when it hits the skin of his face and his bare arms in his t-shirt. Steve looks up into the sky, squinting against the water pouring down, but he sees nothing. It’s all black, only darkness. It makes the crack through the center of the world glow impossibly brighter.

Steve’s got hiking boots on, which offer more traction than his sneakers. He manages to stay upright, for the most part, as the ground beneath him continues to quake.

But then he hears it. It’s the voice from his dreams, the one he’s tried not to examine too closely. It’s coming from the center of the world, the gash spread out in front of him. Steve swallows thickly, feels saliva pool in his mouth. There’s a painful lump in his throat, his chest feels hollow, and his fingertips ache where his grips his nail bat so tightly he think it might snap in half.

The voice calls out and that’s when the earth starts to shift, tilting sideways, and Steve has nothing but his nail bat to hold on to. His feet slide against the pavement until he’s there, just on the edge of the center of the world. The ground tips again, pushing him over the edge. With his nail bat in one hand and the other scrambling against the slippery wet pavement, Steve Harrington dangles above the burning red center of the world. The heat envelops him, humid and oppressive, until he can’t breathe. He holds on, tight, his fingernails cracking against the sparkling asphalt.

“Steve,” Eddie Munson’s voice calls to him from the crack in the world. “Steve, come find me.”

And then Steve falls.

part four part five AO3 link

~*~

Oop okay well inspiration strikes again! I think I have an idea for two more parts for this lil guy :) Thank you to everyone who reblogged and commented on the last two parts!! I appreciate it so much and it encouraged me to think a lil deeper abt this story, so thank you so much for all your kind words.

Btw if you like the vibes of this, my multi-chapter fic “sorry about the blood in your mouth (i wish it was mine)” is written in the same style (nonlinear narrative, future fic, post-breakup; I think that one is less depressing though and has a happy ending! (not sure how this will end yet, sorry!)).

Taglist (I hope I got everyone, sorry if I missed you! also sorry if I tagged you mistakenly): @starlight-archer @sly-bananabread @eddiemunsonswife @renaissan-vvitch @gamerdano @n0-1-important @orangeandthefairroadkill @hollysimone @grtwdsmwhr @spkdnailbats @fabledanzel @and-say

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