#what if I told you that this is kind of a true story asdfghgfds

[rogueddie]

Finally being invited on one of his parents trips is... well, Steve tries to be normal about it, but he's excited. He's only been invited on two. Three if he's counting the one to Chicago for a big family get-together, which he doesn't.

The only problem comes up when they sit him down and ask about all the scars he has. They want the trip to be a fun time, a nice family get-away where they can give their little boy a little peace from the chaos of Hawkins.

When he struggled to think of an excuse, his mother softly asked if he did them himself.

Reluctantly, he ducked his head in feigned shame, nodding.

His mother hurried to her feet, almost sitting on him in her effort to squeeze onto the one-man seat with him, wrapping him up tight in her arms. She whispered promises of love and safety.

His father had a look like he'd swallowed a lemon, but he too promised to provide the support than Steve needs to get through... whatever he's going through.

Steve swears to them that he's dealt with it, he's over it. He's just trying to move on now.

"Fucking hell," Eddie hisses when Steve finishes telling them about it all. "You can't be real. They think you did that shit to yourself?" He gestures to Steves stomach.

"I don't think they know about those. The older ones do look, uh... suspicious."

He rubs the thin ones on his left wrist, where a demogorgons claws had caught him in that last, big fight. Eddies hand is gentle when he pulls said wrist closer, thumb brushing over the scars.

"You do make a good point."

"I'm gonna miss you," Steve mumbles.

"It's just a week."

"Yeah, tell me about."

And he's right- he's barely stepped off the plane, a short 5 hour flight, and he's already homesick. He wishes he could've thought of a way to convince his parents to let him invite a friend.

Once they're settled in, though, it's alright. There's a lot of activities, a lot of places to visit and a lot of things to try.

On their second day, they try to start the routine of spending most of midday at the beach. His parents sunbathe, whilst he swims in the sea. The water is cool, a relief from the heat.

They always make him put jeans on after.

It doesn't matter how many times he points out that it's more than uncomfortable- not only in the heat, but with the lingering water. They insist that he puts jeans on.

They'd gotten him the new jeans special. They're supposed to be thinner, better for heat.

"It just seems unnecessary," Steve had said when they'd first presented them to him. "I have so many shorts!"

"Sweetheart, your scars," his mother had pointed out. "People will look. You don't want to make us look bad, do you?"

For three days, he went along with it. He tried to ignore the discomfort. But the heat was too much. The water making the material rub uncomfortably against his skin.

On the fourth day, as he's drying himself, he hesitates. He stares at the jeans his mother holds out for a moment.

"What if... I don't wear them, right now? It's so hot and my legs are still wet. Just until we get back to the hotel."

"Steve, no, that's not a-"

"Please. Just until we get back to the hotel. Just today."

"You've already made up your mind, haven't you?" His mother sighs, shaking her head when he gives her a sheepish smile. "Fine. Get your things."

He's so happy, comfortable in his swim shorts, that he walks with a bounce in his step. The breeze on his legs is almost soothing.

He's tempted to skip as he starts up the street.

There's a bright little drinks shop up ahead that he spots. The advertisement signs have pictures of ice creams and smoothies, things that look tasty and cold.

He turns to ask his mother if she'd like to stop there for a drink, to cool down after sunbathing. But she's not behind him.

There not far behind him, so he stops. He grins when they look to him, waving... his hand slowly dropping when he realizes that they stopped walking, as soon as he stopped.

But they're looking to the map. Maybe they're lost.

When he starts walking to them, they turn, walking a few steps that match his own. The only thing in that direction is the beach.

They don't want to be seen with me, he realizes.

He turns back around, slowly walking to that little drink shop. Although, he's not sure he needs to buy anything to cool him down. His insides feel numb enough now.

He sits at one of the tables outside, wondering if his parents will even try to sit with him or just... abandon him.

They do sit with him, pretending like nothing happened. It's the same attitude they have when they get in the taxi, after distancing themselves on the walk there too. The promised trip to the mall abandoned without word.

Steve spends the rest of the little vacation in his room. He lies about being tired, not feeling too well, whenever they try to invite him out with them.

They buy him the top he'd been eyeing. They seem to think that the little gift, and bragging about it being expensive, will make him feel better. He's sure that it's not an apology though.

On the plane ride home, it's odd to think about how excited he'd been. How hopeful.

The only comfort is Eddie. He goes straight to him, immediately after dumping his suitcase in his room, not even bothering to unpack.

He's furious when Steve explains what happened.

"I've never liked your parents," he announces. He points to Wayne, who looks just as angry. "Wayne gets it. Assholes, right?"

"Assholes," Wayne grunts, nodding stiffly. "You deserve better than that, son."

"So much better," Eddie agrees, pulling him closer so he can kiss his cheek. He keeps littering his face with kisses, until Steve laughs. "You deserve the world, big boy."