Despite being terrible at self-promotion and forgetting for a week, I am VERY excited to announce my Steddie Big Bang project for @steddiebbang '26.
Team: 015
Artist: @miserablekingsteve
Rating: E
Beta: @lilac--sugar
Summary:
Words: 30,000~
When Eddie Munson wakes up, Hawkins is being dismantled, its people being scattered by a government desperate to bury the truth. Eddie is forced into a new life in a strange city far from everything he’s ever known. He tells himself it’s enough to survive. It has to be.
But Steve Harrington refuses to accept distance as an ending.
Haunted by guilt, grief, and a love he waited too long to name, Steve sets out across a fractured continent with Robin at his side, determined to find the people they’ve lost. A journey of reckoning. Of who they were, who they’ve become, and what it means to choose each other in a world designed to keep them apart. Love deferred, identity reclaimed, and the fragile, stubborn hope that even after everything, you can still find your way back to the people who matter most.
Tags and teaser below the cut :)
Tags:
Eddie is in a coma the first time Steve says, ‘I love you’. Unconscious and unable to reply. Over the next few years, the memory will grow cloudy and unreliable. The doctors will spend a lot of time explaining that, although it can happen, it’s probable that he is not remembering the specifics of conversations. It’s more likely that he remembers visits from familiar voices, can recall ambient sounds and comforting music. But Eddie knows for sure that isn’t what it is; he is positive that he heard the first time Steve told him that he was probably in love with him. That’s not something you just let slip out of your brain, even if your body remains asleep and incapable of responding. When the hottest man in Hawkins admits that he’s fallen for you, you hold onto that information, even if you can’t convince yourself to shake yourself awake and demand answers at the time.
Government Detention / Imprisonment (non-legal, temporary), Forced Relocation, Loss of Autonomy, Post-Final Battle Against Vecna, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Childhood Friends, Slow Burn, Trauma & Recovery, Road Trips, Platonic Soulmates, Eddie Munson Runs Away, The Party Sticks Together (Eventually), Does the author love Winnipeg or hate it? We will never know.
Excerpt:
Steve Harrington is a pendulum, always has been. He swings back and forth between being the boy who was not serious enough to handle much of anything, and the Harrington Heir who was way too serious about everything. Even before the Upside-Down, Eddie had known that. Over the seven years of not-quite-friendship, Eddie had learned not to predict which version he was going to get.
The secret of their association had never really bothered Eddie; being a freak in a small town prepared you well for the reality that friends you had in private didn’t always translate into the ones you had at school. He’d genuinely liked seventh-grade Steve, from that first moment he'd shown up like an apparition to Eddie's secret forest fort behind the park.
The first version of Harrington he’d met had whimsy and joy etched into his bones. He made dumb jokes and thought deeply about things that the other boys would never admit to caring about. But he was also the boy that Wayne had warned Eddie about when he’d moved to Hawkins. He was A Harrington, with a capital H, and Eddie understood very early on that that designation came with many more roadblocks than money could solve. Steve is so scared of his own softness, his own fanciful soul, that he shoves it down beneath hairspray, unkindness, basketball, and flirting with the girls he’s expected to flirt with.
The fear takes over as they hit high school, as the stakes of being Different become more painful. Eddie had understood it, even at the time. He knew the pain of isolation intimately. His understanding came at a cost, though. When Steve stops coming around at all in the middle of his junior year, Eddie’s understanding turns to bitterness. Then, Eddie doesn’t graduate. Then, Steve’s little cronies seem to realize he’s a great target for their low-brow bullying. The longer he gets trapped in Hawkins, the harder it is for Eddie to ignore them. Suddenly, it turns him into a villain in the story of far too many people at school. He isn’t scary, not even a little bit, but he leans into the safety net the Scary Persona affords him. Leans into the asshole behaviour and the loose morals that do more harm than D&D ever has.
Eddie knows the truth about Steve because he’d been right beside him for years. But how many times is he, Hawkins' own impish Puck, meant to put up with the swing? How many times are they all supposed to pretend Steve hasn't hurt them all? How many times is he going to stand in a proverbial boathouse, broken bottle in his hand, and pretend Steve is just a stranger, a jock, an asshole who intimidates Eddie for fun?
He can’t quantify the confession, can’t get past the fact that he’s seen Steve at both his best and his worst, and can’t decide which version is sitting beside his hospital bed.
Is it the one from the picnic table, twelve years old and afraid of the dark? Is it the one from the third-floor men’s room, demanding free cigarettes in exchange for not letting his friends steal his bag again? Is it the sixteen-year-old who’d push Eddie against a wall in the dark corner of his bedroom while a party raged downstairs? The one whispering that it was fine if Eddie tugged his hair a bit as his tongue found purchase along the column of his throat?
That memory always sparked heat in Eddie’s chest. It wasn’t the only time their hidden friendship had crossed boundaries into something else, but it was the clearest in his mind. Probably because Steve’s expensive cologne had filled his senses as nimble fingers gripped his jacket. The way Steve had whispered his name like a confession against his skin.
But Eddie’s body hadn’t obeyed as Steve spoke words that seemed essential for him to get out; he couldn’t ask when exactly this ‘love’ had developed. Was it during those childhood forest adventures? After the Upside Down turned everything on its head? Or somewhere in the murky middle, when they had pretended to be nothing more than reluctant acquaintances passing in school hallways.
So, though he hears it, though he even fully understands, the first time Steve Harrington tries to tell Eddie Munson he loves him, Eddie decides to stay in a coma rather than sort that all out.
It will be a while before Steve works out how to say it again.
Tags: Found Family, Eddie Munson Lives, Gay Eddie Munson, Post-Stranger Things 4 Vol. 2, Fix-It, Presumed Dead, Blood and Gore, Survival Horror, Blood Loss, The Upside Down (Stranger Things), Eddie Munson in the Upside Down, Dustin Henderson Needs a Hug, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Bad Parent Al Munson, I Love Wayne Munson, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grieving Dustin Henderson, Protective Wayne Munson, Protective Steve Harrington, Vecna is Defeated (Stranger Things), Background Demogorgon (Stranger Things), except not rlly shes more like the raptors in Jurassic park, Smoking, eddie finally gets that cigarette, dungeons and dragons logic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, One Big Happy Family, Survivor Guilt, mentions of Vietnam
Summary:
'I love you man.' Were the last words Eddie Munson whispered. Well that's what he thought before he awoke red bolts of lightning striking across the dark clouds of the Upside Down. Vecna was dead which was a good thing, but that also meant, no gates. How was he going to get out? And would the screeches in the distance become a problem?
or the one where; Eddie gets left behind then writes goodbye letters to his loved ones in their favorite books. And maybe, just maybe there was a sliver of hope of getting home.
This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was fics with letters.
Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!
So I've decided to continue the murder mystery fic and I've also given it a name for the purpose of tracking chapters. I'll probably put this up on AO3 later. Thank you so much for the amazing response on the first part!
(Part 1 is here)
Steve sits on the couch, a blanket loosely draped over his shoulders, eyes fixed on the carpet. The threads blur together, meaningless. Things are happening around him, things he should probably care about, but he just can’t. It feels like being locked inside his own body, pounding on the walls, unable to get back to the surface where voices make sense.
Nancy paces in front of a whiteboard she found in his dad’s study and dragged to the living room. Back and forth, back and forth. He’s sure she’s stopped more than once to ask him questions, but the words slip by as if they’re made of smoke. Nothing sticks. Nothing makes sense. How could anything make sense ever again?
Sure, his parents are gone a lot. But they always return eventually. Always. How’s he supposed to teach his brain that this time’s different? That no matter how many times he listens for the familiar sound of his dad’s car pulling into the driveway, it’s not coming? Would he even stay here, or would he have to pack up and find somewhere else to live?
Would that even matter if the police don’t find the real killer? What happens then? Is he gonna go to jail?
“Hey, Steve.”
The voice cuts through the fog. He blinks, sluggish, and Eddie comes into focus. He’s kneeling in front of Steve, hands reaching for his face. Cool metal rings kiss his skin, grounding him. Eddie’s expression is open, patient, like he has all the time in the world.
“That’s it,” Eddie murmurs. “Come back to us, Stevie.”
Steve swallows hard. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, the words dragging.
“No apologies,” Eddie says, shaking his head. His thumbs smooth over Steve’s cheeks, gentle. “We just need that brain of yours for a bit. Think you can help us?”
Steve huffs, voice slightly clearer now. “Don’t know what you need my brain for. Don’t know anything.”
“I don’t buy that for a second.” Eddie taps his temple lightly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “You’ve got more up there than you think.”
“Are you with us, or do you need a little more time?” Eddie’s thumbs linger against Steve’s cheeks, steady and warm. His voice is soft, coaxing. “It’s okay, you can take as much as you need.”
Nancy stops pacing, marker still clutched in her hand like a weapon. Her voice cuts through the fragile calm.
“We don’t know how much time we have before the crime scene gets wiped clean.” She points out. “We can’t waste any of it waiting.”
“He’s not a damn computer, Nancy.” Dustin snaps from the other corner of the room, arms crossed, sharp and defensive. “You can’t just hit reboot and expect him to be good to go.”
“Henderson’s right.” Eddie’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away from Steve. “Easy, Steve, one breath at a time.”
Before Nancy can respond, the couch dips beside Steve. Robin slides down next to him, her presence a sudden burst of energy in the heavy air.
“Here,” she says, pressing something cold against the back of his neck. “Try this.”
Steve flinches at the shock of cold, a soda can, icy and sweating condensation. The chill jolts him, pulling a gasp from his lungs, like breaking the surface after too long underwater. The cold burns sharp and undeniable. But it makes him feel solid again. Robin grins like she’d just scored a win.
“Better than caffeine,” she quips, though her eyes are soft with worry.
Eddie exhales slowly as he watches Steve’s eyes lose the dull haze that had settled over them, the fight draining out of him. Still, his hands stay on Steve’s face, like an anchor in a storm.
“Thanks,” Steve says to both of them, taking the can and pressing it to the other side of his neck, letting the cold ground him. “I’ve got it.” His hands tremble around the aluminium.
“Anytime.” Eddie backs away, giving him space. “Welcome back,” he smiles.
“What did I miss?”
“Well,” sighs Jonathan. “I hate to break it to you, man. But we don’t have a lot to go on. Barely anything really.”
“Thanks for that encouraging attitude, Jonathan,” Robin shoots back, her voice dripping sarcasm. “Real helpful.”
“Just being honest,” Jonathan shrugs.
Nancy turns, uncaps the pen and begins writing headings on the whiteboard. She’s all business now. “We need motive, means, opportunity. Someone wanted Steve’s parents dead, the ‘who’ and the ‘why’ are our motive. They were found in the woods, but were they killed there, or were they moved? And when? That will give us opportunity.” She caps the pen again. “Any questions?”
“Yeah, they were found in the woods just outside Hawkins,” Mike says. “But which direction? And how long will it take us to find out?”
“That, I don’t know,” Nancy admits. “But if we can find the exact spot and look around, we might be able to get another lead or figure out how they were killed; the means. Motivation’s the only one we can really theorise about without going anywhere.” Her gaze sharpens on Steve. “Are you absolutely sure you have no idea who could’ve done this?”
“I know plenty of people who hate my dad, but no one who’d kill him, Nance.” Steve shakes his head, frustration weaving itself into his voice. “He’s a prick, but he’s not evil. And my mum is... was,” his breath stutters, “people liked her. I don’t know. I told you, I don’t know anything!” His grip tightens on the can like it’s the last thing holding him together.
Eddie takes a seat at Steve’s other side and places a hand against his back, between his shoulder blades.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “It’s not your fault. You can’t know every detail of their lives. Hell, I don’t even know what my uncle gets up to half the time.” He pauses. “Maybe you don’t have the answers because no one’s asked you the right questions.”
Nancy tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“He’s right,” Robin says, her face lighting up. “Let’s face it, Steve couldn’t possibly know the answer to the same question everyone keeps asking him over and over about who would want to kill his parents. It’s not like he spends all his time following them around keeping tabs on anyone who seems to hold a grudge against them. Instead, let’s try something we know that he does know.” She looks at Steve. “You said you were there when they left, right? Did they act weird? Say anything unusual?”
Steve’s expression shifts, memory crawling back. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “They went just over a month ago, but the week before that, they were really… off. All week.”
“Off how?” Max questions.
“Yes, explain,” Nancy demands, uncapping the whiteboard marker again.
Steve noticed it the second he walked into his room.
The nail bat. His anchor, his insurance, the one weapon he kept nearby just in case was gone. The corner where it leaned against his dresser was empty, dustless, like it had never been there at all.
His chest tightened. He checked under the bed, behind the closet door, even the laundry hamper. Nothing.
By the time he stormed down the stairs, his pulse had spiked, and an anxious tension had built up inside him.
“Mom. Dad.” He snapped, sharper than he meant it to, then tried to reign it in as much as possible. He knew they wouldn’t help if he came into it with an attitude. “Have you seen a baseball bat?” He quickly tried to come up with a reason why he would have it. “It’s a prop, for Robin... she’s doing... a play.”
He shook his head at his own excuse. If his parents bought it, they were even more oblivious than he previously thought.
To Steve’s surprise, he found both his parents in the kitchen. The newspaper hid his father’s face from view while his mother cooked breakfast for the three of them, the smells of coffee and bacon lingering in the air. Steve felt like he’d entered the twilight zone. He looked back at the doorway as if he was expecting to see a portal there.
Since when did his mom cook for them?
She looked up with a smile that was almost too sweet.
“Steve, be a dear and get some plates for us, will you?”
Nodding dumbly, Steve did what his mother asked. As he set the three plates down next to her, he tried again, his voice much softer this time.
“Mom, my baseball bat? Have you seen it?”
“Oh, honey. That awful thing? We got rid of it.”
Steve froze, forgetting about how uncanny it was to see his parents using their kitchen like normal parents. “You did what?”
“You don’t need something like that lying around. You might hurt yourself. Nails sticking out everywhere. It’s dangerous.”
His father chuckled, shaking his head. “Tell Robin if she needs a safe replica made, I know a guy who works in theatre and TV. There’s no need to carry around something she could seriously hurt someone with.”
Dangerous. Steve wanted to laugh, or scream. That’s the point. It was made to fight monsters.
But the way they were looking at him was gentle, almost indulgent. It made his throat close. They weren’t dismissive, not cruel, not the usual distant Harrington cold. They were being sweet. Sweet in a way that felt wrong, like a mask pulled too tight.
He couldn’t argue. Not without sounding insane. Not without saying ‘I need it because monsters are real, I’ve fought them and I might need to again in the future. Who knows?’
So, he swallowed the panic, let it burn in his chest. “Right,” he muttered. “Sure.”
His mother reached across the counter, touched his hand. “We just want you safe, Stevie.”
That name, that tone. It made him flinch harder than any Demogorgon.
This was the way he’d always wanted his parents to speak to him. Like he was a person who mattered to them. But now it just felt weird and off putting, like he was waiting for them to start laughing and tell him it was a joke at his expense.
His father cleared his throat. “We’ll be out this weekend. A little trip. Will you be alright here?”
Steve blinked. They never asked. They never told him. They just left, and he’d come home to an empty house, lights off, fridge half‑stocked.
“Uh… yeah?” he said automatically, though his stomach twisted.
His mother smiled again, too warm, too rehearsed. “Good. Take care of things here for us. Okay?”
Steve nodded, but his mind was already racing. No bat. No backup. No warning. His parents acting like alternate universe versions of themselves.
Was this a Vecna thing? No, it couldn’t be. They had definitely killed him, right?
“I’m just- I just have to... go get something from upstairs.” Steve said, already halfway out of the room.
“Okay, sweetie. But don’t be long, your breakfast will go cold!” His mom called after him.
He went back upstairs, shut his door, and pressed his forehead against the wood.
The room felt smaller without the bat in it. Vulnerable. Exposed.
It felt like his parents had taken away his means of protecting himself from harm on purpose to ensure he would be left defenceless in the face of danger. And now, Steve Harrington was afraid, not of monsters, but of the people who were supposed to keep him safe.
He grabbed for the walkie talkie on his nightstand. “Is anyone there? Over.”
After a few seconds it crackled to life in his hand. “Holy shit, you actually said ‘over’ this time. What’s wrong? Over.” Dustin asked.
Steve rolled his eyes. “Changing Dustin’s codename to ‘Little Shithead’. All those in favour?”
“Uh, yeah,” Steve answered, starting to pace up and down the length of his room. “Just a quick question. Is that really you guys?”
No wait, Vecna would just say yes anyway, wouldn’t he?
“Actually, no.” He backtracked. “Someone tell me something only you would know about me. It’s important.”
Dustin and Robin answered in quick succession.
“You have a secret collection of cookbooks. When you reach a certain level of stressed you start baking.”
“During our last shift, you told me you got drunk once and kissed both Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan. You said Tommy H was the better kisser.”
“I’m never telling either of you anything ever again,” Steve grumbled.
“You have a birthmark on your right butt cheek shaped kind of like a heart,” Nancy piped up.
“That’s enough, thanks,” Steve said, his cheeks burning.
“Wow, we’re learning all kinds of new things about you today,” Eddie pointed out. Steve could tell he was doing that delighted, shit eating grin of his. The bastard. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Things felt a bit unreal for a second, I guess,” Steve answered truthfully. He didn’t mention his parents, he never liked to bring them up around the people who felt like his real family. It felt like two different worlds that shouldn’t mix. “We did kill Vecna, right? Like he’s definitely gone? No chance of him coming back?”
Will responded this time, his voice certain, final.
“He’s gone, Steve.”
Steve breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, thanks. I have to go. I’ll talk to you guys later.”
As he dropped the walkie-talkie on the bed, he heard Dustin’s voice say, “Don’t forget you’re giving us a lift to the arcade today! Over and out!”
Over the course of the week, things only got weirder with his parents.
They actually spent time with him, asked him about things he’d mentioned that he thought they’d paid no attention to at the time, like his friends and work. His dad watched a game with him and his mom smiled and pretended she knew what was happening on the screen. They looked at old photos together and laughed at his dad’s yearbook photo.
His mom even hugged him at one point. It took him hours to get over the shock.
When Friday morning arrived, his parents almost seemed to be reluctant to be packing their things into the car.
Steve’s mom had given him a tearful goodbye and told him to take care of himself, which was already bizarre enough, but then his dad approached him. He dragged Steve into a crushing hug. Steve’s shoulders went stiff, but his dad only held him tighter, until he relaxed and hugged back.
“I’m so proud of you. Sorry I didn’t say that more often.” He said softly. “You’ve really built a nice little life for yourself. One with good people in it. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”
Steve smiled, awkward, but inside he was shaken. They weren’t supposed to say things like that. They weren’t supposed to see him like that.
“So, hang on,” Will says slowly. “It was weird because… they were acting like normal parents?”
“Yeah.” Steve frowns. “My parents have never done any of that. They’ve always treated me like they didn’t care if I was there or not.”
“Wow,” Jonathan says. “That explains a lot.”
“It’s almost like-” Dustin starts, then hesitates, second-guessing himself. “Never mind.”
Steve’s head snaps up. “What is it, Dustin? What were you going to say?”
Dustin takes a breath, words tumbling out. “The way they were talking to you… it’s almost like they knew they weren’t going to see you again.”
Steve blinks. “Huh?”
Think about it,” Dustin presses on. “They were weirdly nice that whole week, asking about your life. Then suddenly they’re off on this random trip, upset about leaving, and your dad’s telling you he’s proud of you, that he wished he’d said it more often. They knew. They must have known.” His voice lifts, like he’s cracked the code. “Why else would they start caring now?”
The room is silent.
“Oh.” Steve stares at the floor, shame twisting in his chest like a blade. He feels stupid for believing, even for a second, that they’d finally decided to be parents. Of course there was a reason. There was always a reason. He’d never been enough on his own.
“Steve, I didn’t mean for it to come out like-”
“No, it’s okay, Dustin.” His voice is flat, brittle. “You’re right.” He stands abruptly, dropping the can he was holding on the couch, the blanket sliding to the floor. “Why else would they?” He storms out, slamming the door so hard the walls shudder. His chest heaves with harsh, angry breaths. On the driveway, he kicks his mum’s favourite plant pot, watching it shatter against the concrete, soil spilling like guts.
“Fuck.”
The front door opens and closes behind him.
“Please,” Steve says without turning, voice raw and defeated. “Just leave me alone.”
“No can do, Sir Steve,” Eddie says quietly, resolutely. “You can scream, break every damn thing in this yard if you need to. Hell, I’ll help you smash the rest of the pots if it makes you feel better.”
Steve’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t look up.
“But I’m not walking away,” Eddie continues, his voice firm but gentle. “Not when someone out there has it out for your family. You think I’m gonna let you stand out here alone like a target? No chance.”
Steve swallows hard, jaw clenched. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Good,” Eddie says with a faint grin. “Because I’m not here to babysit. I’m here to make sure you don’t fall apart alone. You want to rage? Rage. You want to cry? Cry. You want to sit here in silence? Fine. But I’m staying.”
Steve accepts that he’s not getting rid of him.
“Why would they do this?” He bursts out, anger and hurt bubbling up under his skin. “They know all I ever wanted was for them to give a shit about me. And the one time they do,” he laughs bitterly, “it’s when they know it’s about to all be taken away. Like they just wanted to twist the knife one last time. ‘Here’s what you’ve been missing your whole life, Steve, and now we’re taking it away.’”
Eddie steps closer, his tone careful when he speaks. “I don’t think that’s what they were thinking.”
“You don’t know that!” Steve snaps, “You don’t get it, Eddie. You don’t fucking understand what it’s like!” The words hang heavy, meaner than he intended.
Eddie doesn’t flinch. He folds his arms, gaze calm. “I’m going to ignore that, because I know you’re hurt. But don’t tell me I don’t understand what it’s like to wonder why someone whose job is to care about you just… doesn’t.” His voice softens but carries weight. “My mum was great. And then she passed away. My dad? Absolute shithead.”
Steve looks up, startled by the edge in Eddie’s tone.
“He didn’t want a son weighing him down,” Eddie continues. “Came home and acted like he was going to do better every now and again. But a life of crime, gambling and substance abuse was just way more interesting than me, I guess.” He meets Steve’s gaze, unflinching. “So yeah, I do understand, Steve. I probably understand better than anyone.”
Steve’s breath catches, anger bleeding into something else, something aching. He unclenches his fists. For a moment, he looks like he might speak, but the words don’t come. Eddie doesn’t push.
Steve’s shoulders sag, guilt flooding in. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low. “I didn’t mean that.”
Eddie nods. “I know.”
Steve walks back toward the front door, sinking down to sit on the doorstep and ignoring the cold that seeps into the bottom of his jeans. “God, parents suck.”
A half smile tugs at Eddie's mouth as he joins Steve, their thighs pressing together as he settles. “Yeah. They really do.”
“They give you nothing but stress, then expect you to move mountains for them.”
Eddie leans back on his hands, staring out at the dark street. “And when they screw up, somehow it’s your mess to clean.” His tone is light, but there’s an edge beneath it, old scars.
Steve glances sideways at him, eyes glassy. “Feels like everything’s on me now.”
“It’s not. You’ve got us. You’ve got me.” He shifts slightly, turning so he can really look at Steve. “And just so you know, you don’t have to act all tough and unshakable with me. Not about this. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine or hold it together. I’m not gonna judge.”
Steve looks down at a crack in the concrete by his feet. “Feels like if I let go, I won’t stop.”
“Then don’t stop,” Eddie says simply. “You’ve been carrying so much. You’re allowed to break a little.”
Steve’s throat works, but no words come. Then, after a beat, he huffs out a laugh that’s more breath than sound. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that later,” he says, voice rough but teasing. “Hope you’re ready, Munson. You’re gonna regret saying that when you’ve got a lap full of crying ex-jock.”
Eddie grins, eyes warm. “Bring it on, Harrington. I’ve survived worse.”
Steve shakes his head, a flicker of something lighter crossing his face before the weight settles back in. “We should go back in,” he decides. “There’s something else I need to tell the others about. Something my dad said.”
Eddie arches a brow but doesn’t ask yet. He just stands, offering a hand. Steve hesitates, then takes it, letting Eddie pull him up. They walk back to the door together, the night air clinging like a warning.
Inside, the room falls quiet as they return. Dustin opens his mouth, guilt written all over his face. “Steve, I-”
“Don’t.” Steve cuts him off gently. “You don’t need to apologise, Dustin. I know you didn’t mean it like that. It’s fine. I promise.”
Dustin swallows hard, nodding, relief flickering across his features.
Steve drops onto the couch again, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “Before my parents left,” he begins, voice rough, “my dad said something weird. Like… really weird.”
Everyone leans in.
His dad stepped back from the hug and patted him on the shoulder. “Stay safe. If you need anything, there’s a list of phone numbers and other useful information in the top left drawer of my desk in the study. And promise me one thing?”
“What?”
“Keep the basement door locked,” his dad said, his voice grim. “I’ve been preparing it for some work that needs to be done and it’s not safe to go down there.”
Steve blinked at him, confused. He didn’t remember seeing his dad go down there.
“Can you promise me that?”
“Yeah, sure.” Steve shrugged. “Everything will be fine, don’t worry about me.”
“And you’re only just telling us this now?!” Dustin explodes, eyes wide. “Steve! What the hell?”
Steve throws his hands up. “If I’d gone to you right after it happened and said, ‘oh hey, my dad just made me promise to keep the basement locked while he’s away, how weird is that?’, would you assholes have tried to look in the basement?”
“Uh… yeah?” Max says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course we would’ve. Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah,” Lucas concurs. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“Exactly,” Steve says, jabbing a finger at them. “That’s why I kept my mouth shut. My dad has asked for one thing this year, one, and I’m not about to ignore it and end up impaled on some rusty pipe. Or let one of you reckless maniacs do it.”
“Of all the times to go all lawful good on us, why is it always when it’s a matter of life and death?” Dustin complains loudly.
“Because it’s a matter of life and death,” Steve argues. Looking at Dustin with a disappointed parent expression.
“Eddie, back me up!” Dustin commands.
Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. “Woah, hey I’m not fighting this battle. Honestly? I’m on Steve’s side. We’ve had enough injuries between us for one lifetime.”
“Unbelievable,” Dustin mutters. “I thought you were the fun one.”
Robin ignores them and leans toward Steve, brows knitting. “Okay, but why would your dad say that? He’s never cared about home projects before. And ‘keep it locked’? That’s… ominous.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “And he never mentioned anything about it before. I haven’t seen him go down there in years. It’s just storage.”
Jonathan exhales slowly. “So, either he’s lying about it being dangerous and there’s another reason he doesn’t want anyone going in there… or someone else has been down there.”
The room goes still, the weight of that possibility hanging over them like a storm cloud.
Nancy suddenly interrupts, a thoughtful look on her face. “I’m more interested in what’s in that drawer in the study.”
Mike grimaces. “Seriously? A desk drawer? When there’s a locked basement practically screaming ‘open me’?”
Nancy fixes him with a look. “After all the times Steve’s proved he can handle himself, his dad suddenly leaves him a list of phone numbers and ‘useful information’? He didn’t even say what it was. He just called it useful.” Her voice drops, deliberate. “What if it’s useful for solving their murder?”
Steve rubs the back of his neck, guilt and confusion twisting together. “I didn’t think much of it at the time. I just figured he was being responsible for once.”
Nancy straightens, her voice firm. “We need to check that drawer. If there’s a clue, it’s in the study.”
Mike groans. “Seriously?”
“Mike,” Nancy snaps, “if the basement’s dangerous, we’re not rushing in blind. We start with what we know.”
Eddie leans back in his chair, arms folded. “I’m with Wheeler. Drawer first. Then we figure out what the Harringtons are hiding under their house.”
Steve mulls it over, tension coiling in his chest. “Fine. Let’s go.”
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Dustin: It's called "Guitar or Steve". I give you actual quotes I've heard Eddie say, and you guess if he was talking to his guitar or to his boyfriend?
