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flowercrowngods · 1 year ago

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part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 04: here come the tears

a/n: the people have requested a surprise eddie pov and i have decided to pull a eurovision and ignore the public vote, just a little bit. but you get a tiny eddie pov, as a treat 🤍

Steve is crying. It's 1:07 a.m. and Steve is crying. And there is nothing Eddie can do about it as he's lying in bed, his heart breaking further with every passing second that they lie there in silence, quiet sniffles carrying over the phone.

Steve is crying and Eddie is breaking. Steve is not talking to him and Eddie is breaking. Steve is not okay, and neither is Eddie. They're both breaking.

And Eddie doesn't know what to do about it, how to fix it. How to make it better. How to tell Steve that he misses him, how to ask him to talk to him, how to keep him. To stop him from slipping through his fingers further and further until all there is is silence.

"You know," his mind wanders back to years ago, his heart cracking at the memory. "I had the biggest crush on him for the longest time. Forever, really."

He remembers the way Steve's eyebrows shot up, his eyes round with... shock? Surprise? Or maybe something bad?

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Eddie had chuckled, fiddling with the straw in his drink to give his hands something to do. "Remember that kiss?" Steve nodded. "Well." Another chuckle, awkward this time, and possibly too revealing.

Steve grinned at him, a self satisfied smirk that wavers just a little. "So you're saying you did fall madly in love with me, Munson?"

Eddie's breath had hitched a little because Steve remembered those words so perfectly that had since doomed Eddie completely. But he covered it up with a laugh so easily, he was sure Steve didn't notice.

"Maybe," he grinned. "But eh, that's in the past."

It wasn't a lie; not really. But wasn't the truth either.

The truth was that Eddie had moved on. The truth was that it's the kind of crush that was never really a crush. The kind that is a Forever more than anything else.

The kind that will always be there, a flame burning inside my chest that carries your name and keeps it alive, keeps me warm. The kind of flame that will always be ready to become a bonfire again. Just say the word, Stevie. It's written in the universe. Say the word and I'll be yours.

"Good," Steve said after a while, and Eddie remembers frowning, remembers that he wanted to ask what that tone was, what Steve was thinking. If he was worried or disgusted or felt betrayed that Eddie's been so hopelessly and helplessly in love with him.

But all he said was, "Yeah. Remember Chrissy? We're kinda official now."

And Eddie had known then just as he does now, that he'll be a happy man with Chrissy. She's his best friend, a sunshine on bleak days. She's no Steve, but she makes him happy. He had to move on from Steve – to try – and allow himself his own kind of happiness. He'd never expected to find it with Chrissy, but he loves her so much. He's grown to love her in the past years – not the movie kind of love, not the all-encompassing Steve kind of love, because that flame inside his chest can still only carry one name.

But life is not a movie. And love is not always a fire. But he's still warm, still content, still happy. And so is Chrissy. She knows about his flame, says she understands. Eddie thinks he has one of her own, but he never asked; just held her that night, creating more of that silent happiness.

…Is he happy? Lying in bed, listening to Steve's quiet breaths that are barely audible over the phone, remembering the kiss, the confession, the Forever that he tried to move on from, he wonders what he's doing. Wonders if that contentment is worthwhile if it somehow lead him to losing Steve.

Did he miss something? Did he fuck up without realising?

He can't ask; Steve won't talk.

All he can do is lie there and feel that flame that still carries Steve's name after ten, eleven, twelve years scorching his insides.

All he can do is wonder if the whispered, "Good night, Stevie. I miss you," is some kind of goodbye. All he can do is lie awake all night and wonder where they started losing each other.

~*~

Missing Eddie is worse than loving him. Missing Eddie makes it feel like all the heartbreak songs are written for Steve and his pain that will persist.

It’s been three months since the engagement party, and the sharp, biting heartache that cut into his lungs every time Steve tried to take a deep breath has dulled now, turned into a constant ache, an emptiness, the sorrowful traces of where an I love you turned into an I miss you.

He’s barely talking to Eddie anymore, and with every passing day he just misses him more.

Steve types the words I miss you over and over and over again, but never hits send. Just stares at them, wondering if Eddie knows. Wondering if he’s doing the right thing. He isn’t. There is no right thing. Nothing is right. Not without Eddie.

He scrolls up in their chat, past Eddie’s questions if he’s okay, past his very own I miss yous, up and up and up to the strings of hearts, to the inside jokes, to the gentle teasing, to the You’re my favourite persons, to the happiness and joy and good, good times.

He scrolls and scrolls until his phone vibrates and tells him there’s a new message in the chat. Steve frowns, his hollow heart racing as he scrolls down again to see Eddie’s new message.

Eddie Munson: — Can I come over?

Steve frowns.

— why? are you okay?

Eddie Munson: — No. — Nothing is okay. You’re gone and you’re not talking to me and I miss you and I’m losing you and I don’t know why — I dont know anything. — I just wanna know, wanna talk, wanna understand — I wanna fix this. I fucked up, I think, and I wanna make it better. — I need to talk to you — Please. Please can I come over

Steve swallows hard, as he reads the incoming messages over and over again, watching the little bubble that says Eddie’s typing still. Watching as it disappears and reappears, reading until his eyes begin to sting and his vision is blurred with tears for the first time this week.

Letting them fall as he types,

— no. please dont

Eddie doesn’t reply to that, and Steve breathes out long and hard, throwing his phone to the side, not caring where it lands on the couch as he slumps over to the other side, turning up the music even louder.

Oh, can you tell I haven’s slept very well Since the last time that we spoke. I said, ‘Please understand I’ve been drinking again And all I do is hope.’

It consumes him, this song and the way it was written for him. The way it was written about him. Because he has no right to ask Eddie to stay. He’s the one who’s leaving. He’s the one not telling Eddie what is wrong, why he’s pulling back so suddenly.

I’m not strong enough for the both of us. What was I supposed to do, You know I love you. Please, stay.

Please stay. Please, please, please stay. It’s about him. It’s about Eddie. About them.

And Steve listens to it over and over again, not caring that his neighbours will know it by heart by know, will be so tired of him wallowing for weeks and months, and will come knocking soon. He doesn’t care, not when Mayday Parade are singing, All the love’s still there, I just don’t know what to do with it now.

He types that into Eddie’s chat. Doesn’t hit send. Sends it to Robin instead, and gets a shaking hands emoji in return. It makes him smile as he re-starts the song.

~*~

That night, he wakes around 2 a.m. to a missed call an hour ago and one new message on his mailbox. He lifts his phone to his ear with shaking hands and bated breath, a pit opening in his stomach when he hears the Judas Priest song that’s been in his Sad Eddie playlist since the beginning.

His heart cracks open when he hears Eddie’s sniffle, a heavy sigh, and another sniffle, followed by a little, Fuck.

“Stevie? I’m… You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to just— to just disappear. To slip through my fucking fingers, or float away like a— a dream, when you wake up, and you wanna go back to sleep because it was a good dream, and you— I don’t wan’ you to be a good dream Steve. You’re like… Fuck, man!”

Eddie’s voice is breaking, and so is Steve’s heart as his hand begins to tremble and he sits up in bed, closing his eyes, squeezing them shut because he doesn’t want to see the world as Eddie’s rambling at him.

“I miss you. I miss you so much, and I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t… I don’t wanna miss you. How do I get you back, Stevie? Please just… God, please just talk to me. I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just tell me, just say the word. Just… Just say the word, please.”

There’s silence after that, only Judas Priest’s Here come the tears over and over as the song is ending. Steve is crying as he listens to Eddie’s silence.

“Just. Just… Please, Stevie.”

The call ends then, the line cutting to the staticky voice instructing him to save or delete the message. Steve saves it. He doesn’t know why.

He also doesn’t know why he’s scrolling through his contacts with trembling hands and hits Call when he reaches Eddie.

The call doesn’t even get to the second ring before it’s picked up already.

“Stevie?” Eddie sounds breathless, wild, and just a little hoarse. Like he was still crying.

“Hi,” he says lamely, still shaking, a little breathless himself, and with absolutely no idea what he should say.

“I’m… Hi.”

Silence falls, and Steve wipes at his eyes. He’s still in bed, just sitting there with his phone pressed to his ear, and the ball that’s coiled inside him is growing larger and larger with each passing second that he doesn’t say Sorry, that he doesn’t say I miss you, too. That he doesn’t say I love you.

“Can I come in?”

He blinks, the question throwing him off his thought spiral. “Huh?”

“I’m sort of… outside your building right now.”

Why, he wants to ask. No, he wants to say. You’re gonna see, you’re gonna know, you’re gonna hate me forever.

“Okay,” he breathes and climbs out of bed, blanket around his shoulders despite the summer heat, because suddenly he’s freezing. He buzzes Eddie in, listens to him on the phone as he walks up the stairs, neither of them thinking of hanging up, and opens his doors with shaking, trembling hands.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @imzadidragonfly @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript (sorry if i missed anyone just give me a shout if i did <3)and thanks to everyone who said nice things about this 🤍🌷

come back tomorrow/later for [redacted] | read here

#steddie fic #steddie #steddieweek2023 #steddie week fic #steve harrington whump #eddie munson whump #dio words #hi uhm. please nobody be mean to eddie for moving on or think he's emotionally two-timing chrissy i swear i'll try to make it make sense #but moving on is good and healthy pls don't give him shit for it <3 sometimes in life that's what happens #also thank you all for being so nice to me legit all your comments and tags keep me going 🥺😭🤍🌷 thank yous

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demodoggonetired · 1 year ago

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Steve walks into their shared apartment to a scene of Eddie face down on their surprisingly plush, thrifted sofa. Various campaign notebooks, sketches, and dnd guides left to spill out his bag onto the floor.

"I'm home!"

The only response is a tepid "hHh." as Eddie further burrows his face between the cushions and backrest of the couch.

Setting aside his bag and keys, Steve strides over to his boyfriend.

"What's that all about?"

The huddled form emits another "hn."

"Is that so?"

"mm."

He takes a seat beside Eddie’s head. Runs a soothing hand along the other’s shoulders, fingers splayed wide. Applies pressure with the heel of his palm.

Eddie melts further, this time with a minor release of tension. The presence of the other already a balm in itself.

“Does that mean game day ended badly?”

Still mostly curled ridged and with as little motion as possible, Eddie shakes his head negative.

“No?” Steve asks, incredulous. “So then your 9-hour ‘Super, Ultimat-‘ uh… shit… ‘Super. Ultra. Perfect-‘“

“sumpoe.” Eddie corrects punitively into the cushion.

“Sorry, so then your 9-hour ‘Super, Ultra, Mega, Perfect, One-Shot Extravaganza’ went off exactly as you wanted. And then instead of napping in our comfortable bed--that you’d insisted on slathering in pillows because you, and I quote, ‘Wanted to feel like you were being smothered by geese and also just like the jumbles of texture’--you chose to stay out on the couch? Do I have that right?”

“mhm. too bright. couldn’t make it.”

Steve glances at the bay window adorning their living room-kitchen area. Thankfully, enough time seems to have passed since Eddie returned home. The sun now set, the room awashed in its final red hues.

Even still, as Steve manages to coax him to turn over onto his back, Eddie’s face remains tense. With a sneaking suspicion, Steve smooths out the wrinkle in Eddie’s brow and prompts further, “Yeah? Anything else?”

“head hurts. stomach. nauseous.”

Yea, exactly as he figured.

“Babe, did you eat anything today? During the 9 hours y’all were at the table?”

…

“was distracted.”

Steve sighs then gives a reprimanding pinch to Eddie’s cheek. Not hard. He has some mercy for his ailing boyfriend.

Said boyfriend retaliates with a half-hearted, protesting squawk and grabs the offending hand, cuddling into it and biting Steve’s pinky finger.

Steve lets it happen.

Instead he choses to stare into the kitchen, subconsciously rubbing small circles into Eddie’s temple even as he’s nibbled. Thinks over what supplies and lighter foods they currently have.

Half to himself, he comments “I think we still have some saltines left from Robin’s Soup Experiments last week. That should help soak up the stomach acid and get something in your stomach.” He looks back at Eddie laid across the cushions. “You can take some pain meds after that if you want.”

“mkay.”

Steve goes to stand, except-

“Eds, you’ll have to stop biting my hand if you want me to go get the crackers.”

“nope. mine now.” Another, harder bite is given to the digit.

“Hey- Ow, ow, Eddie, Eds, stop.” A responding, equally harder pinch but this time to Eddie’s nose, lifting up and extricating his finger as he does so.

“haaa- cheater. appreciate my love bites.”

With a snort, Steve walks towards the kitchen and begins to collect his well-used, headache-relieving arsenal.

- - -

Later, after saltines and buttered pasta have been eaten and hot towels have cooled, the two lay cuddled in their indeed comfortable and pillow laden bed. Strong, dexterous fingers card through the other’s curls. Gentle nails along the scalp to chase away any lingering pain.

“Thanks, Stevie. You’re a true lifesaver.” He snuggles into Steve’s chest just that little bit further. “My brain and stomach would have exploded without your care.”

“Well we can’t have that, you need those.”

“Then I’d never be able to DM another Sumpoe day for the group again.” Eddie untucks his head just enough to look at Steve imploringly. “Then you’d have to inherit the job of Dungeon Master as my next of kin and they’d Eat. You. Alive, Stevie!”

“Damn. Guess I better get to studying then, just in case.” The sarcasm drips off in waves.

Not one to be deterred, Eddie sits up and over Steve in a flash. Eyes sparkling with mischief and new ideas as his hands come up on either side of Steve’s face and grab into his jawbone. The hand that was running through Eddie’s hair now dislodged to his shoulder.

“Steve, Stevie-love, Bunny-bear, you’re so, so right. You need to be my DM assistant for our next one shot.”

Matching his level of dramatics, Steve presses back into his designated pillow and drapes a hand across his forehead.

“Noooo. Don’t make me do it, I’ll be the one to pass away. I can’t keep up with all your funny little lizard voices.”

“But Stevieeee,” Eddie whines. He leans down so he’s level with Steve’s ear, feels the other shiver as he breathes out before adopting one of his ‘funny little lizard voices’ “I wants it!!”

Caught off-guard, Steve breaks, laughing as he flips them. “You’re such a nerd.”

Maintaining his kobold voice and batting his lashes, “But Stevie, I’m your little lizard nerd.”

“Hmm and damned if that doesn’t make me the lucky one.”

And should the next time Eddie hosts another Sumpoe, he happens to find a perfectly packed lunch with tidbits of all his favorite snacks, well then Steve’s just not ready to accept that inheritance yet.

#forgetting to eat all day due to distractions and giving yourself a hunger headache? couldn't be me (i forgot how much they SUCK)#sorry Eddie get projected onto (affectionately )#thank you everyone for your kind words on the last fic #i offer you more slice of life because apparently that's what i keep finding myself writing lol #Steve ‘I will pack my loved ones lunches to show I care’ Harrington #in the way of #he never had anyone pack him a lunch as a kid so he would be over the moon to do it for others yet externally begrudging (and only a select #he’d be the type to think the little notes you can buy to put in your kid’s lunch are THE SHIT (he’s right)#he’d write sassy little responding comments on all the over the top motivational saying ones #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my posts

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