“Oh she’s cute.” Robin points over to a table near the bar.
Steve follows her finger and the blonde in the pink pleated skirt is, in fact, very cute. “You should go talk to her.”
Robin gives him a look, “Literally everything about her screams ‘straight’ so no thanks,” she takes a sip of her cocktail, “Don’t feel like getting humiliated today.”
Steve rolls his eyes, “I doubt she’d humiliate you but suit yourself.” He stands and fluffs up his hair a little, “If you won’t, I sure as hell will.”
Before his friend can protest, Steve’s strutting over to the girl’s table. She looks up at him when he stops and leans slightly against the chair opposite from hers.
“Hi!” she greets before he can say anything. Her whole face lights up as she smiles. She’s definitely cute, but not exactly what Steve had in mind for the night.
“Hey,” Steve flashes his own smile, “I was just telling my friend how cute you are and wanted to know if I could maybe buy you a drink?”
Her face goes pink, but her smile falters slightly and a small frown forms. “Oh that’s so nice of you, but I’m actually a lesbian,” she seems genuinely upset at having to break this news to him. “I’m really sorry, you seem lovely.”
Steve’s eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains, “Oh, god, sorry I should have asked,” he laughs, “That’s totally my bad.”
She shakes her head and leans forward in her seat, “Not at all, sweetheart!” there’s a slight southern accent slipping through and her smile is back. “You couldn’t have known, I know I don’t exactly look the part.”
“Well, since I’m already here,” Steve smirks, glancing over his shoulder to where he can see Robin watching the scene unfold. Her eyes snap away once she realizes he’s looking at her. “My friend over there is single and also extremely gay.”
Chrissy looks over and her smile turns coy, “Now she’s cute,” her eyes snap back to Steve. “She’s the one who told you to come over?”
“The opposite, actually. She thought you were straight so, I came over instead.” Steve explains.
Chrissy nods, glances over her shoulder and then stands. “Well, I’ll just have to go over there then.”
Steve smiles, “I’m Steve, by the way.”
“Chrissy.” The blonde extends her hand and Steve shakes it. “Thank you for letting me know the girl I’ve been eyeing is queer.”
Steve gives her a two-finger salute and goes to walk away, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.
“Do you like men, by any chance?” Chrissy asks, her smile alluding to something.
“Is it that obvious?” Steve laughs.
She gives him a once-over, “The tight shirt sort of gave you away.”
“Fair enough. Why do you ask?”
Chrissy points over to a curly-haired guy covered in tattoos, who’s ordering at the bar, “You should go talk to my friend, Eddie, he’s been blabbing about the hot jock in the polo since you walked in.”
Steve swallows, he’d seen the guy when they walked in, but hadn’t allowed himself to look. He was the kind of hot and scary Steve usually avoided due to their usual disdain for preppy guys like Steve. But surely if he kept Chrissy around, he couldn’t be all bad.
“I don’t exactly seem like his type.” Steve points out, giving Chrissy a nervous glance.
She laughs, “Oh please, pretty boy with big eyes and a great body? You’re everyone’s type.”
“Not yours.”
“Trust me honey, if you were a masc lesbian I’d be all over you right about now.” Chrissy winks and Steve can feel his face heating up.
“I don’t want to bother him…”
Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Just use the same line you used on me, he doesn’t bite.” she pauses, “Unless you ask really nicely.”
Yeah she isn’t exactly easing his nerves with these little jabs.
“He looks like he carries a knife.” Steve’s just stalling at this point.
“I know he seems kinda mean and scary, but he’s really just a big ol’ softie, trust me,” she pats his shoulder, picks up her drink and starts walking towards Robin, “Now I’ve got a pretty lady to talk to, so get! Go make a move on the scary metalhead, Steve!”
Steve watches her go, his amusement growing at the sight of Robin’s panic when Chrissy plops down at their table.
Mustering up the courage to walk to the bar, he turns but immediately bumps into someone. The person manages to steady their drink and somehow prevent Steve from falling on his ass, grabbing him around the waist.
“Shit sorry!” Steve finds his footing, only to nearly lose it again when he looks up to find his face a few inches away from the aforementioned friend of Chrissy’s.
Eddie smiles, squeezes Steve’s waist once before releasing him, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”
Steve’s face must have been bloodshot at that point. Two people had called him sweetheart within the span of a few minutes. At this rate his brain was going to malfunction entirely.
Eddie studies him for a second, his eyes twinkling, before looking over to the now unoccupied table. He frowns, looking around the bar.
“She’s over there.” Steve points to where the two girls are deep in conversation.
Eddie’s eyes look from Steve to Chrissy and back again. “Were you heading back there?”
“Uh, no, actually,” Steve clears his throat. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “I was told to go talk to the scary metalhead?”
Eddie’s grin returned, showing off his dimples. Steve was allowing himself to stare at the man now, and god was he stunning.
“Scary? That’s rich coming from the girl who literally carries a knife with her.” Eddie sits down at the table and looks at Steve expectantly, “I don’t bite,” he gestures for him to sit, so he does.
“Apparently you do if I ask nicely,” Steve says, then feels his face heat up again when he hears what he said.
Eddie laughs, loud and beautiful, “God, she really knows how to play wingman, huh?”
Steve’s starter is Charmander because they turn into Charizard. Steve is expected to be Dragon Type Pokémon Trainer like his parents so he feels that will be the best start to his parents wishes. But things change when young Steve and Charmander encounter an injured Eevee. Steve and Charmander rescue the Eevee and nurse them back to health. Eevee decides to stay with the pair and join Steve on his journey. Steve decides he wants to evolve Eevee into Umbreon. He tries his very hardest, having such a strong friendship with his Eevee as well as his Charmander. He didn’t realize that Eevee knowing Draining Kiss would be an issue. Steve, Eevee and Charmander are sitting around a fire one night. Steve was brushing Eevee’s fur while watching Charmander munch on their apples. Eevee started to glow and Steve jumped back. ‘This is it!’ He thought! He went and picked up Charmander and watched his Eevee start to evolve. He’s confused when he sees the glowing silhouette start to transform. He notices ribbons forming around the Eevee. Once they’re done transforming, Steve sets Charmander down and approach his Pokémon. Eevee didn’t evolve into Umbreon. No, they evolved into Sylveon. Sylveon seems so happy, and Steve can’t help but feel conflicted. His parents hate Fairy Type Trainers. They would hate to know that his second Pokémon is a fairy type. But Steve looks at Sylveon and how beautiful they are. At how Charmander looks so excited for their friend. He thinks about the memories they have already made, the battles they have fought together, and the love he has for them. Tears well up and makes up his mind. ‘Screw his parents’ he thinks. He’s going to become the trainer HE wants to be. Not what he’s expected to be. The next morning Charmander evolves into Charmeleon. And Steve sets out to meet his next Pokémon.
Eddies favorite camboy was this one guy he stumbled upon a little over a year ago. He was scrolling through his twitter feed when a mutual of his reposted a 0:30 sec clip. It was of the most beautiful guy Eddie had ever seen. Golden mole doted skin, big hazel puppy eyes, red bitten pouty lips, and a long sharp nose. His body reminded Eddie of a jock. Broad and thick and hairy, oh god was it hairy. He was bouncing on a neon blue dildo and his cock was in cage. He looked so fucked out, Eddie nearly came right then and there. After that Eddie was a subscriber on everything. Even would sometimes splurge a little and buy him something on his wishlist. @Kingscoop was Eddies dream boy and fantasized about him almost every night. It was to the point that even Jeff, Garath, and Grant knew and teased him relentlessly about it. One day during band practice Jeff even made a joke saying, “What if one day you run into him what would you do then?” Eddie remembers Grant saying Eddie would probably cream his pants. But no it was sweet little Garath who guessed right saying “Nah, knowing Eddie he’d probably say something stupid then run away”. Eddie rolled his eyes and scoffed at his friends knowing that him meeting King would never happen. Until it does. Because Eddie is standing in his new student apartment shaking hands with his new roommate Steve Harrington aka @Kingscoop, saying you have a pretty mouth before turning on heal and walking straight into his room and slamming the door.
“Mama,” Steve whispers, as she holds his hand up the front steps. “I don’ like the hugs.” He’s in his Sunday best, itchy sweater and stiff pants, shoes that hurt his toes. He doesn’t like days like this. Days where he meets a lot of people he doesn’t know, where they hug him and touch him and press kisses to his cheeks.
“Hush,” his mom whispers, patting his hand, “they’re being nice, Steven, so be nice back.”
“I don’ like it.” He says again, and he feels his voice begin to wobble, and he tries to swallow it down, because his dad always gets so mad when his voice wobbles.
“Steven,” she hisses, her grip tightening around his small fingers, “do not embarrass me.”
And then the door opens. Her grip stays tight, and he stays still as people press their stuffy hugs into his skin. Stays still when tall women smack sticky kisses to his cheeks and when taller men ruffle his hair, swallowing down the wobble in his throat.
He lets it go.
And, at the end of the party, his mom is happy. Gives him a chocolate, and tells him he’s been good.
So when his mother decorates his room the way she wants, when his protests fall on deaf ears and when his mother’s voice goes cold- when his father signs him up for baseball and football and basketball and swimming, when Steve’s concerns are swept away and his father’s gaze turns stern, when his parents treat him like a doll to be dressed up and passed around, he lets it go. Because his protests, his concerns and feelings, aren’t worth their anger. And those thoughts and feelings and concerns are always so consistently brushed away, like they’re nothing, he eventually learns that it’s not worth the breath. And his mother is so happy when his room looks the way she wants it to. His father puffs up his chest and looks proud when Steve makes varsity his sophomore year. And Steve just wants that to stay.
So boundaries are hard, because he never learned how to set them. His parents’ anger is all he can imagine when he wants to say no. His parents smiles are all he sees when he says yes to what he shouldn’t. He’s blind when others go too far. Can’t hear the difference between acceptable and not.
Because if it makes him uncomfortable, if it stresses him out, if he doesn’t know how he’s going to manage, he swallows it down. He forces himself to accept it. Because if his parents taught him anything, it’s that no one wants to deal with him when he’s upset. When he’s frustrated over the littlest things. Over the things that other people can handle. And if it will make someone else happy, then he’s to grin and bear it.
So he’d thought he was doing the right thing with Nancy. Thought brushing away his own grief and worries and sadness about Barb is what she needed, what she wanted, because he was doing what everyone had always expected of him. What had always worked- sucking it up. Swallowing it down. Accepting it, so he could focus on her.
But that’s not what she had wanted, in the end. Said it was bullshit. As if because Steve hadn’t talked to her about it meant he hadn’t felt it. And Steve had almost fought back, almost said his piece, almost let out the bubble of hurt and pain that he’d swallowed down and let grow for so long.
He hadn’t, though. The bubble stayed trapped. Stayed in his chest where it made it hard to breathe on the worst of his nights. So real it felt physical, felt like if he pressed his hand to his chest hard enough he could feel it under his palm.
Robin popped it, though. Through the drug-induced haze of Starcourt she’d wheedled her way into his chest like no one before ever had. Let his sadness and his fear and his worries wash over her, and she’d hugged him, and hadn’t made him feel stupid or small when his voice wobbled. She nodded and squeezed his hand at all the right parts, said his parents should go fuck themselves and that he’s better without Nancy, that he’s going to find someone better for him than Nancy.
It’s hard to argue with Robin, especially when she gets that fierce look on her face and squares her shoulders, sticking herself in the mud, immovable. When she says things like they’re fact.
And after they escape, when people start saying SteveandRobin and RobinandSteve like they’re one and the same, she tells him, firmly, when he’s being a people pleaser. When he’s being a doormat. Asks him again and again what he really thinks and what he really wants, until, haltingly, slowly, he can say all of those things to her. Because he knows she cares. Knows that no matter what he says or how he responds, she’ll be by his side. That she, and she alone, will never be mad if his voice wobbles.
~~~~~~
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” Eddie says, voice sharp. “Was your plan to just silently resent me over something I had no clue you were mad over?”
Steve grinds his teeth, like he always does when he’s frustrated, something that always sparks a migraine later. “No.” He insists, crossing his arms over his chest, “it just wasn’t a big deal.”
Eddie’s scowl deepens. “Well you’re pissed, so it’s obviously a big deal, Steve.”
But the problem is- it’s not a big deal. If Eddie had just not needled when Steve said he was fine then none of this would be happening. Steve’s anger would’ve blown over just like every other time, and they would be fine.
“Are there other things you’ve been pissed at me for that you never clued me in on?” Eddie’s voice is sharp, sarcastic, but Steve can’t help but cringe at the question. Because of course, of course there are other things Eddie does that annoy him. That get under his skin. Especially since moving in together, where stupid shit tends to pile up, much more so than when they had lived apart. But to Steve, bringing it up is just not worth it.
“Steve.” Eddie’s voice has dropped, serious and stern, now. “You’re joking.”
Steve uncrosses his arms to rub his palms across his face. “It’s not-” he starts, voice weak, “it wasn’t like that- I just didn’t want to start something over nothing.”
“You not telling me when you’re upset is something, Steve!” Eddie’s voice rises. Frustrated. Angry. And this is what Steve had meant- it’s just easier when he doesn’t bring it up, when he can swallow down his own frustrations so Eddie doesn’t have to feel it. “When have we ever been the people who keep things from each other?” Eddie continues. And now there’s hurt in Eddie’s voice, too, distress and bitterness bleeding into each other as his cheeks flush a deep red. “Do you not trust me?”
And Steve wants to tell Eddie that he’s wrong. That Steve does trust him- because it’s not a lie. Steve does trust Eddie. Trusts him with all of the good parts of himself. With his joy and his laughter and all of the things that make him smile, but it’s different with the difficult things. The things his parents didn’t want to deal with. Things he didn’t want to burden onto Eddie. Things Steve… maybe hadn’t trusted him with.
The silence stretches, loud and horrible, because Steve doesn’t know how to explain. Doesn’t know how to reveal what he’s only ever shown to Robin, who had done all of the heavy lifting for him in that bathroom.
Steve worries further at his bottom lip, the skin raw and sensitive, now, but he doesn’t know what else to do.
After too long, he manages, “I didn’t want to upset you.” His voice is wobbly and soft, and Steve knows at once that it was the wrong thing to say. Eddie looks away, his flush spreading to his nose as he drags a hand across his face.
Eddie shakes his head. Once. Twice. “Steve, I-” but he trails off, gaze over Steve’s head. His hair is messy. The bun that his hair had started in at the beginning of the day now frizzy and unkempt, his eyes glassy and face red as he frowns into space.
“I think I need a minute.” He eventually says. “I need- fuck. I don’t even know.” Eddie picks up the keys he’d deposited on the counter not thirty minutes ago, not even needing to don his jacket again as he walks out of the room.
Panic blooms in Steve’s chest. Because this is- Eddie’s not leaving. He can’t be. It’s not- Eddie wouldn’t just leave.
But Eddie’s grabbing his shoes. Loosening the laces on his heavy boots as he pulls them on in their narrow hallway.
This is worse than anger.
“Eddie,” Steve says, his voice wobbly and weak, “love, I-”
But Eddie interrupts, face properly twisted as he turns to face him. “How am I supposed to believe that!?”
Something cold and sharp spills in Steve’s chest. For a moment he can’t breathe. Air escaping him as he stares into Eddie’s crumpled face. After too long, breathless, Steve asks, “what?”
Eddie’s mouth turns down. “That you love me? How am I supposed to believe that when, apparently, you don’t even trust me enough to tell me when I’ve upset you?” Eddie’s breathing heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling as that ice in Steve’s chest expands. “How am I supposed to believe you love me if you don’t trust me, Stevie?”
Eddie shakes his head again, causing more hair to fall out of his loose bun. “I just really need a minute.” He repeats, clenching the keys tighter in his palm. Steve can see the skin of his hand turn white under the pressure. Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, his lips parting before his jaw clicks together again.
Eddie opens the door, and closes it sharply behind him.
The sound of the latch clicking rings in the now empty apartment. It vibrates in Steve’s chest. In his fingertips.
Because Eddie’s gone. He left- and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.
The dinner he’d made is still sitting on the stove, going cold. The movie he’d picked up from Family Video is still sitting on the coffee table.
Steve puts away the dinner. He stacks the movie in line with the ones they own. Between The Fly and The Breakfast Club. He puts away the magazine he’d been reading as he waited for Eddie to come home.
He goes to the bathroom. Brushes his teeth. Washes his face. Flosses. He goes to their bedroom and tosses his jeans and boxers in the hamper. Pulls on a pair of Eddie’s sweats. Takes off his socks and tosses them on top of his jeans.
He gets as far as pulling back the blankets of the bed before the tears start. A wall, preventing him from crawling under the covers of their bed without Eddie. He tries to steady himself. Tries to take big, calming breaths, but soon he’s on the ground, curling his arms around his legs and resting his head on the tops of his knees. His breathing is erratic and shallow, his tears darkening his pants.
Because this is how it has always gone. And he’d tried so hard to prevent it, this time. He thought this was different. That they were different. Thought the better for him than Nancy was Eddie.
He just wanted Eddie to be happy. And Steve wanted to be the one to do it.
But, in the end, he wasn’t enough. In the end, what he felt had outraged Eddie enough to leave. Steve’s hands shake at the thought of Eddie’s anger, his face twisted as he asked if Steve even loved him. But this, alone in the apartment that’s theirs, is worse than Eddie’s anger.
He breathes. Tries to keep the hiccups at bay.
He wonders why his love is always the wrong kind.
Eventually, he’s able to pick himself up off the floor. He goes into their living room and curls up on their lumpy old couch and tugs up the blanket Robin had gifted him as a housewarming gift until it’s tucked under his chin.
He should’ve been better. Should’ve stopped the warble in his voice as he tried to explain, because he knew, really, that Eddie wouldn’t want to deal with him when he’s like this.
~~~~~~~
I'm gonna make it better ❤️ people have asked if I do tag lists in the past and I do! If you want to be tagged, just let me know.
Eddie started finding notes in his locker his sophomore year. The first couple of them, he just tossed without reading. He didn’t need to read what those asshole bullies wanted to say about him. But curiosity won out after two weeks of constant notes and he finally opened one. It was the single most impactful thing he’d ever read.
I think you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.
He kept that note. And every other note he got from that point on. If anyone were to ask Eddie what he regretted most in his life, it would be those two weeks of notes he tossed without reading. Ten slips of paper with unknown writing that he wishes he could get back. Add them to his ‘mystery boys notes’ box. And he was a mystery, the note writer. Anonymous. Unknown. Impossible to catch.
Eddie held out for a month. A whole month before he decided to stage a stake out. He watched his locker like a hawk. In between classes, during classes, lunch, after school and even one absolutely horrible day where he came in an hour before school started. But the mystery boy had to be invisible. He never saw anyone approach his locker but his daily note was always there. And Eddie; poor, unfortunate, infatuated Eddie dealt with mystery boys’ notes from ‘82 to ‘85. Four agonizing years of the most heart-warming, loving notes.
I wish I was as brave as you.
Did you change your shampoo? Your hair looked so soft today.
God, your eyes have to be the biggest fucking eyes I’ve ever seen. So pretty.
I like how long your hair is getting.
Saw you walking down the hall today and I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more.
They started cute. Compliments here and there, even a doodle every once in a while. Hearts and smiley faces. But as the months and years went by, the mystery boy got deeper. Confessions and secrets.
I think if I had a different dad, we would’ve been best friends.
Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never talked to?
I dream about us.
I’m a boy. I’m sorry.
I want to hold your hand. Those rings are something else.
I saw you trying to catch me. Adorable.
I wish I could take you on a date. Not give a shit what my dad would say or what people would think.
I wish I could be brave enough to talk to you.
You’re still the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.
I’m graduating this year. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. I think I’m going to try to figure out a way to keep dropping these off next year. I don’t want you to forget about me.
The notes didn’t continue when the school year started. Eddie was embarrassed to admit he cried that first night. He wasn’t sure how the mystery boy was going to be able to get the notes to him but he fully believed it was going to happen. He went five weeks with no daily note in his locker. And then, it showed up on a Monday. He almost missed it, the tiny slip of paper.
Sorry this took so long. Had to figure out how I was going to sneak these in here. I don’t think I’ll be able to call you pretty every day of the week this time around but I’m going to try my best!
And mystery boy was right. The notes were always there on Monday. Just Monday. But Eddie didn’t complain. One note a week after five weeks of nothing almost had his heart bursting from his chest. It also narrowed down his search. Sort of. Mystery boy was either coming in on those Mondays to drop off the note, sneaking in on the weekends when the school was empty OR after school on Fridays. And look, he’s failed to graduate high school two times in a row now but he wasn’t stupid. Did it take him three months after the notes to start again for him to realize who it was? Yes but to be fair, for two of those months it was Eddie wallowing in denial.
Five weeks into school was when he restarted Hellfire. Three weeks before that was when he brought in those new little freshman sheepies. The same freshman sheepies that got picked up by Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who graduated last year. Steve Harrington who he catches staring at him from his beemer in the parking lot every Friday night before he takes the kiddies home. Steve who he categorizes as someone who is so far out of his league that it just couldn’t be him. But it’s been three months and there isn’t any other former Hawkins high student running around in or near the school. And now that Eddie’s almost certain Steve has been mystery boy these past few years, he can’t wait. He’s been in love with a figure made out of slips of paper for four years and his nonexistent patience has truly run thin.
He calls for a break 15 minutes before they normally end their sessions. Tells the boys he needs to run to the bathroom and almost sprints out the door. His locker sits in the hallway just around the corner of the drama room. The door closing shut echos through the empty hallways, alongside the squeaks coming from his shoes as he hustles towards his locker. He freezes as soon as he turns the corner.
Steve probably only had 30 seconds after hearing the door open and shut to process what he was going to do. He could’ve run or hid, maybe pretend like he just needed the bathroom while he waited. But Eddie watched him pause as they made eye contact instead. Watched as Steve looked him up and down. Watched him relax and lean back against the lockers behind him with a lazy smirk. His arm slowly moved up and Eddie could see a slip of paper held between his fingers. Steve didn’t break eye contact with him at all as he proceeded to shove the paper between the vents of his locker. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Staring. Broken when Steve pushed himself off the wall and walked towards him. He didn’t stop. Side stepped around Eddie before they could collide. A faint brush of his fingers along the back of his hand as he walked past him. And Eddie just watched him pass. Just like he watched him slip that note in his locker, he watched Steve walk back down the hall and out the front doors.
He waited only five seconds after the doors closed behind Steve before he jogged over to his locker. Grabbed the note and shoved it into his pocket before running back over to the drama room. Told the guys that they stopped at a decent spot and would meet again next Friday. Walked with them to the parking lot to head home. To catch a glimpse of Steve. And there he was, sitting in his beemer, staring again. This time though, Eddie smiled at him. He smiled at him and pulled the note out of his pocket. Opened it right there in the parking lot while he stared back at Steve. It only took him a few seconds to glance down to read. And as soon as he did, he threw his head back and laughed. Cackled really. He looked back at the beemer and saw Steve with the widest grin. Watched him lift his fingers off the steering wheel and wiggle them at him before he started pulling out of the lot. He looked back down at the note in his hand and chuckled again. Who knew Steve Harrington knew DnD well enough to draw a perfect rendition of an eight sided dice?
kaledo-art
annaxmalina
jbbartram-illu
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
stormborns
gummygunk
