He can’t be alone where Chrissy died, but he can’t tell anyone that. So he sleeps in his van. Parks it down the street from Steve’s, close enough to see the light on in the living room. And Close enough to feel like he isn’t actually alone. It works for three nights but on the fourth, Steve finds him. There’s a knock on the driver’s window. Eddie jumps so hard he hits his head on the roof.
There’s Steve standing there in pajamas, hair a mess, holding a baseball bat like he was ready to swing. “Eddie? What are you doing here?”
“Shit—hey, Steve.” Eddie forces a laugh, scrubs a hand over his face. “Uh. Thought you’d be sleeping.”
Steve doesn’t buy it for a second. His eyes go sharp. “Are you okay? Are the kids—”
“God, no, they’re fine,” Eddie says fast. “It’s not—” He stops. Bites his lip hard, trying not to cry. His voice cracks anyway. “I can’t sleep in my trailer, man. I can’t even be near the thing. Ever since—”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.
And Steve’s face does something complicated. Then he just says, “Come inside.”
“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m okay here. Really. Van’s got—” he gestures vaguely, “—seat reclines and everything.”
Steve stares at him. “Eddie.”
“Like hell you are.” But Steve doesn’t push. Not yet. He just stands there in the cold for a minute, then says, “Lock your doors,” and goes back inside.
Eddie thinks that’s it. Until the storm hits two nights later.
Rain slams the van so hard it sounds like the sky’s splitting open. Thunder cracks and Eddie’s right back in the Upside Down, back with the bats, back with Chrissy—
The passenger door wrenches open. Steve’s soaked, furious, not asking this time. “Get inside. Now.”
“Eddie, please.” Steve’s voice breaks. “I can’t sleep knowing you’re out here.” And Eddie looks at him. Rain in his eyelashes. Terrified and stubborn and so, so tired.
He climbs out of the van.
Steve doesn’t say I told you so. Just throws a blanket around his shoulders and walks him inside.
