pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡
—
november 1984
Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.
He doesn’t have to wait long.
This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.
Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”
“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”
Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”
They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”
Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.
“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.
“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”
Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”
Steve snorts. “He is.”
“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.
Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”
Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”
“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”
It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”
A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”
Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.
“How many times have you died, Harrington?”
“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”
He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”
Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”
“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”
“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.
“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.
“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”
The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.
“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.
“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.
“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.
Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.
“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. “Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”
“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.
Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.”
Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.
“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”
The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”
It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”
Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.
“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.
“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.
Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.
“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.
“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”
“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.
But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”
Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.
“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.”
He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?
Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.
Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.
Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”
“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.
“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”
“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.
“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”
“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”
“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.
“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.
Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.
steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.5k // inspired by this post ♡
—
november 1983
It wasn’t a bad gig, as far as eternal work in the Underworld went. Eddie didn’t even have to row the boat. He was more of a figurehead. Someone for the souls to follow. Someone to guide them. Seemed like an odd thing to entrust to a dead eighteen year old from the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere USA, but Eddie wasn’t going to argue. Didn’t even know if he could. It had all gone very smoothly. All the souls doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing. Until Steve appears.
Eddie spots him sitting on the riverbank, knees pulled up. Looking a little too casual, in Eddie’s opinion, but he didn’t know the guy’s life. Some souls were more prepared than others.
“Hey, man, time to uh, get moving,” Eddie says, and cringes at himself. He’d already been spoken to about his boat-side manner. But how were you supposed to talk to people that had just died? Eddie still hadn’t quite worked it out. Was supposed to find his own words, instead of working off a script.
“Hm?” The soul looks up in mild surprise. He looks to be about Eddie’s age, and has a black eye, a split lip, and a nasty cut across his nose. Jesus, wonder what happened to him. It wasn’t polite to ask, Eddie’d been taught.
Eddie gestures vaguely at the boat. “C’mon. I’m taking you to the next part.”
“What happened to the last guy?” The guy tilts his head to the side, hair flopping with the movement.
“What?”
“The last guy who was on the boat?” The soul asks, waving a hand in the general direction of the boat. Even from where he stands, Eddie can see the bruises on the guy’s knuckles. “It used to be an older guy, tallish, beard…?”
“I… I don’t know, man.” Eddie flounders. He’d had some chatty souls before, but none that asked questions he wasn’t trained to answer.
“Hm…” The guy hums thoughtfully, nodding to himself. Shifting slightly, he settles into a more comfortable position.
“So…” Eddie stares at him with wide eyes, brows raised expectantly. “You gonna get on the boat or…?”
“Nah.”
“…What do you mean, nah?” Eddie asks incredulously. Was that even allowed? What would happen if a soul didn’t get on the boat? Would Eddie get in trouble for not collecting him?
“Not getting on the boat.” The guy smiles at him, a little crooked from the scar across his lip. “I won’t be here long, don’t worry.”
“What…?” Eddie trails off, before recognition drops into his mind. It was that smile, it reminded him of… “Steve? Steve Harrington?”
“Yeah?” Steve confirms, brows pulled together in confusion. “Wait… holy shit… Eddie, right?”
“Yeah!” Eddie leans over the edge of the boat, bringing him as close as he dares. Close enough to see the blues fade into purples in the bruises on his face. The trail of dry blood still under his nose.
“You died, like, not that long ago, right?” Steve asks, not making any moves to get closer.
“Yeah, yeah, house fire.” Eddie waves him off, not wanting to dwell on the memories of his shitty father and those last moments where Eddie tried to save the few good things he had left. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry you’re here though.” Professionalism is out the window in favour of familiarity.
“Ah, it’s okay,” Steve waves him off back. “Like I said, won’t be here long.”
Eddie knows what this is. Denial. He’d seen it many times since starting this job. “Steve…” He keeps his tone soft, just like he was taught. “I know it can be hard to accept, but you’re dead. That’s why you’re here. You have to get on the boat in order to move on.” Steve is giving him a bemused smile, and Eddie feels a twinge of irritation. He’s doing his best. “I’ll be with you the entire time, I promise.”
“That’s… nice, man,” Steve says, slight grin still on his lips. “But I’m not getting on the boat.”
“Steve. You have to get on the boat.” Eddie throws his hands down to gesture at said boat, exasperated.
“No, I don’t.” Steve gives a little shake of his head.
“Get…” Eddie loses steam for a second before gearing up again. “Get on the boat, man.”
Steve just blinks at him. “I don’t need to.”
“Get on the fucking boat, Steve!” Exasperation is in each word now, Eddie losing his patience. If it wasn’t completely against the rules, Eddie would have jumped off the boat and dragged him on by the collar of his stupid sweater. The souls had to choose to move on.
With a glint in his eye and a half smile, like they’re in on some joke together, Steve still doesn’t move. “No.”
“You’re dead, man,” Eddie snaps. Fuck, he’s losing his cool and is gonna get told off for it. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”
“Woah, woah, Eddie.” Steve holds his hands up. Placating. Another ripple of annoyance runs through Eddie. “Okay, just—I know I’m dead. But I don’t stay dead. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”
Oh, okay. So Harrington is delusional. Eddie briefly wonders just how hard he’d been hit, looking over Steve’s bruises. Was this what killed him? Eddie holds back a grimace. “Just… get on the fucking boat, man. I know it’s hard, but you have to move on. Also, I might get my ass handed to me if you don’t, so like, maybe do it for me?”
Steve laughs good-naturedly. Hopeful that he’s finally gotten through to him, Eddie can’t help but crack a smile at the sound. “So, s’that a yes?” he asks, keeping his tone light.
“Sorry, man,” Steve laughs. “Still a no.” Eddie slumps over the side of the boat dramatically, hair almost dipping into the black water. “But don’t worry. Last guy never got in trouble for not collecting me, so you should be fine.”
Pulling himself back up with an exaggerated sigh, Eddie settles with his forearms on the edge of the boat. “Okay, Harrington. I’m choosing to trust you,” he says, giving Steve a pointed look. “Can I ask…” Steve raises a brow. “What, uh… what happened? To you?” Eddie gestures vaguely at Steve’s overall appearance. The black eye, the cut across his nose, the split lip.
“Oh, this?” Steve points to the bruise. “This isn’t what killed me. Got into it with Byers. Not important, really, anymore…” He trails off before shaking himself. “This, though…” Lowering his knees, dropping his denim-clad legs to the grass, Steve reveals several deep wounds to his chest and stomach.
Eddie lets out a low whistle at them. “Christ, Harrington. You get attacked by a bear or something? We even have bears in Hawkins?”
Steve snorts. “Nah, I don’t know what this thing was. Some kind of alien-monster-creature. Face opened up all…” Steve holds his hands around his face, wiggling his fingers in a fan. “…creepy.”
Looking at him with furrowed brows, Eddie isn’t sure if Steve is messing with him, or genuinely believes that a monster killed him and that he’s not going to stay dead. Eddie stays silent, assessing him.
“Anyway,” Steve clears his throat, awkward under Eddie’s stare. “Nancy and Jonathan are probably freaking out right now, I’ll have to explain when I wake up.” He’s rambling, Eddie notices with slight amusement. “Which should be soon, though this might be the longest I’ve spent down here. Last time was quicker for sure.”
“Last time?” Eddie asks, unable to stop his curiosity.
“Yeah, the, uh, car accident,” Steve says. “Got t-boned at an intersection, died on the spot. Woke up with a broken arm, three broken ribs, and this crazy head wound.” He waves a hand around the side of his head. “Got lucky, all things considered.”
“Right…” Eddie vaguely recalls hearing about Harrington’s car wreck from last year. But surely he hadn’t died. It wasn’t impossible, but highly unlikely.
“You don’t believe me.” Steve grins at him, and Eddie feels his cheeks warm at it.
“Can you blame me?”
Steve considers him for a moment. “No, I guess not.” His head turns sharply, as though he hears something that Eddie doesn’t. “Time’s up.” Steve stands, brushing blades of dry grass off his jeans. He gives Eddie a two-finger wave. “Until next time, Munson.”
“Wait, what?” Eddie leans over the side of the boat again as Steve turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”
Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Steve huffs a laugh. “Back.”
“Steve!” Leaning dangerously far over the edge of the boat, Eddie calls after his retreating form. He watches with wide eyes as Steve quite literally fades from view, figure growing more translucent until finally disappearing completely. Unable to pull his gaze away from the empty grass field where Steve stood just a moment ago, Eddie only has one thought in his mind:
pt 3 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 2.5k // pt 1, pt 2 ♡
—
july 1985
Eddie’s not obsessed with Steve Harrington. He’s not. There’s just not much to think about between guiding souls to the boat. Not much in the way of entertainment in the Underworld. And Steve’s appearances—twice in as many years—were the most interesting things to happen to Eddie since his own death. And his returns to the living world are worth space in Eddie’s mind. At least that’s what he tells himself, to justify how much time he spends thinking about the guy.
Still not entirely convinced of the answer he was given by his superiors about souls that sometimes return to the living world, Eddie finds himself constantly thinking about the possibilities. So Eddie seeks out the last soul that held his position. The previous ferryman of his boat is more than happy to answer his questions. Turns out Eddie would eventually retire—after a 500 year tenure—so that’s something to look forward to. The older man tells Eddie that yes, some souls died and then returned to the living world, but what Steve was experiencing was something different. A curse. To die and never stay dead, it took its toll on the spirit. Chips away at it. Weakens the soul. Eddie thinks it sounds a bit dramatic, but still holds some apprehension as he wonders when Steve might return. Steve’s voice echoing in his mind long after he’s disappeared: I’ll see you next time.
This time it’s only eight months.
The spot that Eddie fixates on constantly between carting souls onward could be lit on fire by the intensity of his gaze. He stares and stares, part of him believing that if he stares long enough, he can force Steve to return through sheer force of will. The other part of him is ashamed for wanting that at all. What kind of guy wanted another guy—a good guy, a friend, even—to die again? How selfish was that? It’s just when Eddie is running down another thought spiral like this when Steve Harrington appears again.
Groaning, holding his head, Steve sits up slowly. Groggily. Eddie takes in just what he’s looking at. Steve looks the same, but different. The same in that his hair is still somehow perfect, his eyes are still hazel, and his face is once again bashed to hell and back. (Eddie wonders if he even remembers what Steve looks like without bruises on his face.) Different in that his hair is a bit longer, he looks so confused about where he is, and the outfit…
“Harrington?” Eddie ventures cautiously. “You alright, man?”
“Robin?” Steve asks, still dazed as he blinks repeatedly.
Who? “Uh, no, dude. Eddie, remember?”
Steve’s eyes focus on Eddie, who gives him a little two-finger wave, hoping that his face doesn’t give away just how concerned he is right now. The previous two times, Steve was never confused about where he was. Knew exactly what was going on. This time though…
“Oh, no…” Steve drops his head into his hands as he groans his… disappointment? Eddie tries hard not to take that personally. Watching as Steve continues to mumble curses and grievances under his breath, Eddie waits awkwardly on his boat.
“…Steve?” He finally offers. “You good?”
“Ugh, yeah, I mean…” Steve grumbles. “I know I’ll be fine. Just Robin, and the kids… I don’t know if they’re safe.” Eddie’s unbeating heart aches at how earnest Steve is about ensuring his friends’ safety. “And now I’m not there to make sure.”
Eddie nods sympathetically. “But… you’ll go back, right?” Steve glances up. It’s the first time Eddie’s verbally conceded to Steve’s ability to return to the living world. “I mean, you have every other time.”
“Yeah.” Steve nods distantly. “Yeah, I assume so.”
The guy looks so disappointed, so… distressed by his being here. It’s so unlike him. Steve has always been very casual about his deaths. There must be some real stakes at hand this time. More than monsters, which is crazy to think about.
“You, uh…” Eddie falters when Steve looks up at him, big hazel eyes shining. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
A little smile pulls at the corner of Steve’s mouth, and Eddie settles himself over the edge of the boat, crossing his arms. Steve slowly pulls himself closer, sitting right on the edge of the river, as close as he can get, and tells Eddie the whole story. Everything from Dustin Henderson—a middle schooler sounding oddly like he was Steve’s best friend—arriving at his workplace with a weird recording, to his coworker Robin Buckley translating it, to roping in Erica Sinclair—and god, Steve regretted that so much—to the elevator, to them finally getting caught.
Nodding along and only asking a few questions to clarify the story or who Steve was talking about, Eddie found himself wondering what the hell Steve Harrington’s life actually was. This didn’t even have anything to do with the monsters Steve had mentioned in his previous visits. A whole secret base of foreign soldiers hidden under a mall? It’s unbelievable. Were it not for how seriously Steve was telling the story, the fear in his eyes, the concern for his friends, Eddie would say he was making it up.
“…and they kept asking, y'know? Who do you work for? And they just wouldn’t believe me.” Steve sniffs, resting his chin on his bare knees, arms wrapped around his legs. “Last thing I remember is getting punched in the face.” He glances up at Eddie with a sad half-smile. “Again.”
“How does this keep happening to you, man?” Eddie asks, concern bleeding through his words.
“I blame Dustin.” Steve tilts his head to the side, joke falling flat. “Or maybe I’m just. Really, really unlucky.”
Eddie takes in Steve’s injuries. The horrifically bruised and swollen eye. The split lip. The dried blood under his nose. It wasn’t as bad as last time, but Eddie didn’t know how many injuries were hidden under that blue shirt. The previous ferryman’s words echo in his mind. A curse.
“Nah.” Eddie says. “I blame Dustin, too.” The kid sounded nice enough, maybe too smart for his own good, but Eddie hadn’t met him, so he didn’t feel too guilty about it. Steve gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Eddie was doing. “I’m sure they’re gonna be fine, Steve.”
“Hope so. Just don’t want them to go after Robin if I’m dead up there.”
Ah yes, Robin. Steve had spoken so highly of her. How smart she was. Brave, for joining them. Funny, though Steve didn’t want to admit it since most of her jokes were targeted at him. She sounded cool, but something about how he spoke about her made Eddie weirdly sad. Part of him wonders if, in another world, the three of them would have been friends.
“You think they will?”
“Hopefully I’ll get back before they do,” Steve says with a sigh. “Time works different here, anyway.”
Eddie frowns. “It does?”
“Yeah, it’s never as long up there. Much shorter.” Steve shrugs. “Probably a good thing.”
Brows pulled together, Eddie thinks back to the previous times Steve had visited. He was only around for thirty minutes tops. Less the first time, probably. What would that have translated to in the real world? Half that time? A few minutes?
Silence settles over them, Steve staring into the middle distance with a look of worry etched into his face between the lacerations and bruises. Eddie fixates on the cut over his lip, swollen and red. When Steve notices him staring, Eddie clears his throat and quickly looks down, then back up.
“So, what’s up with the outfit, man?” The subject change is clunky at best, but Eddie’s curiosity was getting the better of him. And it was better than the staring.
Steve finally laughs. His good eye crinkles with it, the smile wide on his face. “I told you man, it’s an ice cream shop!”
“But why are you a sailor?” Eddie matches his grin.
“It’s called Scoops Ahoy, the whole thing is like, nautical themed.”
Eddie raises a brow. “Nautical?”
“Nautical,” Steve confirms with a nod. There’s a beat of silence before both of them dissolve into giggles. “You should see the stupid hat they make us wear.”
“Wish I could.” Eddie sighs, his laughter tapering off. His brain moves faster than he can stop it, and suddenly it’s presenting him with a scenario. Eddie waltzing into the ice cream parlor, with its weird little nautical theme, leaning over the counter and getting into Steve’s face as he asks for a free sample. Steve might blush, and say that usually they’d charge for that, but for Eddie it’s free. He might adjust the hat, which Eddie pictures as a little white thing, classic sailor costume, with a blue stripe. Eddie might say that he can think of a way to pay Steve for it, taking hold of that little red tie and pulling Steve closer over the counter.
“You picturing it?” Steve asks, head tilted and a bemused look on his face.
Eddie jolts out of his fantasy, feeling hot in his cheeks. “Mhm, yep, I’m picturing. Looks pretty stupid.”
Steve snorts in response. “It is.” He sighs. “But, y’know. S’not all bad. I met Robin there.”
Robin again. Eddie identifies a feeling rising up in his chest and forces it back down, pointedly not giving it any attention. “Yeah, she, uh. She sounds… pretty cool.”
“She is.” Steve smiles, looking down at the grass.
“You… like her?” Eddie tries. He’s torn between his desire to know more and his desire to never talk about her ever again.
“Hm?” Steve’s head snaps up. “Oh, uh, I mean. She’s… in… band.” He trails off, looking unsure.
“She’s in band?” Eddie clarifies with a raised brow. “Ah, so, not your type?” Hopefully. Eddie shoves that thought down and compartmentalises it into a neat little box alongside his weird feeling to deal with later.
Steve sighs. “I don’t know, man. She’s cool, and funny, and smart. Maybe too smart for me. I guess I’m trying to, y’know, let go of all that—stupid high school shit.” He waves his hand as he says it.
Eddie’s surprised by this response. He thought Steve would say he was into cheerleaders or something like that. “That’s… cool, man.” He pauses and takes in a low breath before continuing. “You should ask her out.” He says it before he can convince himself it’s a bad idea.
“You think?” Steve looks up at him and genuinely seems unsure. Seems to want Eddie’s honest opinion.
“Yeah. I don’t think she’d go through all this and follow you into danger if she didn’t like you as well.” Eddie swallows the thing inside him that’s clawing up his throat and begging him to stop talking. “Tell her how you feel.”
“Thanks, man,” Steve says, like he’s thanking Eddie for more than just his advice. “You’re a good friend.”
A pang hits Eddie right in his chest and he smiles despite it. “We aim to please, down here, Stevie. All Inclusive Underworld Service.” He tilts his head exaggeratedly and holds his arms out, leaning heavily into his joke.
“I mean it, Eddie,” Steve continues earnestly. “It’s… nice, y’know? Having you here when I die. Familiar face. Makes me feel like it’s all gonna be okay.”
Eddie softens at his words, letting his arms slowly fall to his sides. “It is, Steve.” Eddie leans one the edge of the boat again, arms folding under his chest. “I’m glad we’re friends.” And he does mean it, despite the other feelings fighting for attention inside him.
Steve grins back at him, wide and genuinely happy amongst the cuts and bruises on his face. A few moments pass and Eddie briefly wonders how much time they have left. How much time before Steve disappears before his eyes again and leaves for an unknown amount of time. Once again torn between his want for Steve to stop getting himself hurt and killed, and his extremely selfish desire for Steve to stay with him, Eddie silently argues with himself.
“Can I ask you something?” Steve’s question once again draws Eddie out of his own mind.
Eddie shrugs. “Sure, man.”
“How did you… die?” Steve looks unsure as he asks. “Is it okay if I ask that?” He quickly adds.
“Uh, yeah.” Eddie feels himself draw in a little, retreating into himself. “I mean. Kind of a shitty story. But it’s, y’know. Whatever.” His hands flick and wave around with his words. “Um, I was doing this job with my dad and it just. Went bad.”
“You don’t have to tell me if…” Steve trails off, eyes going unfocused, pausing for a moment before he looks up again. “Damn it!”
Eddie feels disappointment crawl across his chest, knowing before he asks. “What?”
“I’m going back. I can hear Robin on the other side.” Steve sighs, seeming genuinely upset. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Oh, it’s—it’s fine.” It doesn’t feel fine. Eddie hopes it doesn’t show on his face.
Steve gives him a half smile. “Tell me next time?”
Not wanting to get his hopes up, Eddie tries to force his expression into one of mild admonishment. “Don’t let there be a next time, Steve.”
His half smile turns to a full grin. “I’ll try not to.” Steve slowly pulls himself up, brushing dry grass off his blue shorts.
“Steve, wait.” It comes out before Eddie can stop himself. “Could you… do something? For me?” The words come out stilted, and even as he’s speaking, he wonders why he’s even asking.
“Sure, man. Anything.” Steve looks at him wide-eyed and attentive.
“Just, uh.” Eddie cringes at himself, forcing the words out before he can change his mind. “Could you, maybe, check on my uncle? See how he’s going? I just—I wanna know that he’s okay.”
A beat of silence sits between them before Steve responds. He sounds so determined. Like Eddie was entrusting him with something precious and important. “Of course, Eddie. I will.”
Relief washes over him at Steve’s words. Eddie lets out a breath as the tightness in his chest fades. “Wayne Munson. He lives over at the Forest Hills trailer park.”
“Wayne Munson, Forest Hills” Steve repeats dutifully, giving a single nod. “Got it.”
“Thanks, man,” Eddie says with sincerity, looking up at Steve from the boat. “Means a lot to me.”
Steve looks at him for a moment, like he has something on his mind, but then jolts out of it. “Sorry, I gotta go now.”
“Yeah.” They continue looking at each other, somehow feeling closer now that Steve is standing, and Eddie feels the odd urge to reach out to him. Unsure what to do with that, he pushes that urge down into another compartment alongside the others to deal with later.
“Thank you, Eddie. Seriously.” Steve smiles at him, bright and sincere through the bruises and lacerations on his face.
“Anytime,” Eddie says, slightly breathlessly. And then Steve is gone, leaving Eddie with an unfamiliar emptiness inside him.
Why does Eddie suddenly miss this man he barely knows? This awful feeling inside him that begs for attention and demands that Steve return reaches through Eddie’s chest and rattles against his ribcage. A strange sadness resting within him, waiting to be dissected.
Hours later, when he’s still feeling weird and sad, a realisation hits him. Eddie didn’t even ask Steve to get in the boat.
@steddieangstyaugust 04/08 // angst with a happy ending
wc: 2.3k // rating: G // cw: language // tags: post-s4, eddie lives, eddie in WITSEC, mutual pining, phone calls
divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics
“So, where are you now?”
Steve knew he wasn’t going to get a real answer to this question—given that Eddie wasn’t allowed to say—but it was basically tradition at this point to ask.
Eddie chuckled through the receiver. “Hmm… it’s windy. And cold as balls. Will probably start snowing soon.”
Steve raised his brows. “Snow? This early?”
Dustin, from Steve’s kitchen island, mirrored his look of interested surprise, and immediately started looking over the map laid out on the countertop. It was dotted with little red and yellow stickers and various scribblings.
“Yep,” Eddie responded, popping the P. “Pretty shit going out for a smoke, but lots of trees around, so the view is decent at least.”
“Lots of trees,” Steve repeats, with a pointed glance at Dustin, who hurriedly starts marking different spots on the map.
“How’s Henderson’s map going?” Eddie asked, knowing by the tone what they were doing.
“It’s… going?” Steve responded with a shrug. “He thinks he’s worked out the movement system.”
“I have worked out the movement system, thank you very much,” Dustin snarked, not looking up at Steve. “We can track their movement from the West Coast back up North, hence the snow.”
Eddie laughs again. “Kid’s too smart for his own good.”
“You’re telling me,” Steve grumbles, moving away from the kitchen, as far as the cord allowed him to. He drops his voice low. “How you holding up?”
“I dunno,” Eddie sighs. “Same shit, different place… Same shitty government officials with the same shitty requirements.”
Steve wants to say so much, to reassure and comfort him, but holds back. Keeps it in. “How’s Wayne doing?”
“He’s alright, doesn’t love the cold…” Steve can picture Eddie looking over at where Wayne is probably sitting nearby. “Hopefully they’ll move us somewhere warmer next.”
“D’you know when that’ll be?” A small pit of anxiety swirls in Steve’s gut. As it did any time they spoke of Eddie needing to move.
“Nah, last time was six months, but time before was only three. Hopefully this is just another quick one.” Steve can hear Eddie chewing on his lip, can picture him playing with his hair.
“Steve!” Dustin calls from behind the wall. “Ask Eddie what kind of trees are around him!”
Steve snorts. “Did you get that one?”
“Tell him I have no idea,” Eddie deadpans.
Lowering the receiver, Steve calls over his shoulder. “He doesn’t know, buddy.”
“What kind of trees…” Eddie grumbles, only slightly mocking. “I guess I can’t blame him for trying.”
“It’s how he deals.” Steve keeps his voice low. “He misses you. I miss you.” His brain scolds him—too much—and he quickly adds, “We all do.”
“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, and Steve’s almost sure he hears him hit his head on the wall. “I miss you too. All of you.”
It was a thing that happened often, for how infrequently Eddie was able to call. A kind of vulnerability that Steve supposed came from the fact that they couldn’t see each other, and wouldn’t for a long time yet. They’d skirt around it, but it was there, pulled taut between them, ready to break with one wrong move.
“How much longer?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t already know, like he hasn’t been counting down the days since Eddie got taken away.
Eddie exhales heavily, the sound muffling through the receiver. “Bit under three years.” Steve can hear the sad smile in his voice.
“Right.” Steve leans back against the wall, head tilted back as longing shoots through his gut. They were almost at the halfway point. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just… couldn’t. Steve would wait.
Steve’s kicking snow off his boots at his front door when he hears the phone ring from inside. He bolts in, slipping on the floor slightly in his haste.
“Hello?” he answers breathlessly.
“Hey.”
A wave of relief washes over him. “Eddie,” he breathes.
“You okay? Did I wake you up?” His tone immediately switches to one of concern.
“No, no, I just got back from the Henderson’s,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair, willing his heart to calm down now that he’s answered the call. “We wanted to call you, but… y’know.”
“Yeah…” Eddie sighs. “I wish you could.”
The silence settles, and they just listen to each other breathe for several long moments. Steve knows that Eddie is holding back, the same way he is. Saying things that are only close to what they mean. Their quiet filled with unanswered questions and things they wish they could say. Finally, Eddie breaks it.
“Are you by yourself?”
“Yeah, just me tonight,” Steve says, shrugging his jacket off. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Eddie doesn’t laugh at the joke. Steve didn’t really think it was that funny. Their constant need to skirt around the thing developing between them led to him saying some dumb stuff. He rolls his eyes at himself.
“I don’t think I could handle talking to anyone else tonight,” Eddie says, voice growing soft. “It’d be, I dunno, too much. With you, I can just… be, y’know?”
Steve is surprised—as he often is—at the honesty. He tries to make his next words sound casual, but he’s sure he fails miserably. “I’m glad I caught you then.”
“Yeah… me too.” Eddie doesn’t let the silence linger for too long this time. “So, any new Henderson theories to update me on?”
Steve snorts. “Of course.”
Letting him talk about his day at the Henderson’s, Eddie hums in the right moments, asks a few follow up questions, makes little jokes, but is otherwise quiet, seemingly content to just let Steve ramble. Happy to hear his voice. He lets Steve talk until he’s yawning too much to complete a full sentence.
“Sorry, I should let you go to sleep, it’s late.” Eddie’s tone is gentle, but like he’d rather be saying anything else.
“Nah, it’s cool, man,” Steve argues sleepily. “Don’t wanna waste your call.”
“It’s never wasted with you.”
“Eddie…” Steve doesn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knows exactly what he wants to say, but doesn’t know if he should. If he even could. He yawns again.
“Come on, bed time,” Eddie’s voice teases.
Steve feels the pull of his eyelids, begging for sleep. “Yeah, alright… Talk to you soon?” He tries to ask it casually, but again, can’t seem to manage it. Something like pleading coming through in his words.
“As soon as I can,” Eddie promises, voice tight with sincerity. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Eddie.” Steve pauses. “Merry Christmas.”
He can hear the sad smile in Eddie’s voice. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”
“How much longer now?” Steve asks, already knowing the answer.
“Two and a bit years,” Eddie sighs. “Past halfway, at least.”
Even Steve can tell he’s trying to convince himself it’s a good thing, but neither of them feel any happiness about it.
It’s been almost six months since Steve heard from Eddie, much longer than any gap between calls before. Anxiety gnaws away at him, a constant presence whispering in the back of his mind and sitting like a stone in his stomach. The kids—barely even kids now, having graduated high school—were starting to show their worry. He begged and pleaded with invisible entities that they’d hear something soon.
The phone finally rings.
“Hello?” Steve answers with urgency, as he did every time it rang these days.
“Steve?” the voice croaks.
“Eddie!” Bringing a hand to his face, Steve’s eyes welled with tears. “Eddie, are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures him, sounding anything but. “They just had us somewhere remote. We didn't have a phone.”
“What the fuck? Can they do that?” Quiet rage slips through Steve’s chest.
“Evidently, they can do whatever they want,” Eddie seethes. “Didn’t stop me from bringing hell at every check up until they moved us again.”
Steve winces at the pain in Eddie’s voice. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. It’s fucking awful, what they’re doing to you.”
“It’s bullshit!” Eddie snaps. “I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t believe this was their solution. Like, I’m the one demonised and hunted down in Hawkins and somehow I’m the one that ends up punished for it! It’s not even a solution. All it’s doing is fucking me around.” He takes a breath. “It’s hurting me. It’s hurting us.”
To anyone else, it would sound like Eddie meant him-and-Wayne-us, or even him-and-the-entire-party-us. But Steve knew. Heard it in the way he almost whispered it. Steve wanted to match his anger, throw something, hit something. Instead, he willed it down.
“It fucking sucks,” Steve says, keeping his tone soft. “But we’re so close to the end now. It’ll be over soon.”
“I just…” Eddie’s voice lowers. Steve can picture the way the air deflates out of him. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish… you could’ve come with me.”
“Me too.” Steve lets the back of his head hit the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I miss you. So much.”
“I miss you, too.” Eddie says it like it’s painful. Like it gets caught in his throat halfway up. Like he was saying something else entirely.
“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I called when I don’t really have anything to say.” It’d been close to silent for more than five minutes before Eddie says it, voice soft. Almost timid.
The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice at all. To know you’re alive.”
The silence settles between them again. Comfortable, somehow. Eddie’s voice is smaller when he speaks again. “Only six months left.”
“Only six months,” Steve repeats, slightly more optimistic.
“We can… we can do it, right?” Eddie sounds so unsure. Steve can picture him playing with his hair. “It’ll be okay? When you visit?”
Steve knows what he means. He’s felt the same way for a long time. Scared that once they’re reunited, whatever this thing was—this delicate bubble of vulnerability—between them would burst. Each phone call found it wound tighter and tighter, pulled like a rubber band that would eventually reach its limit and snap, hurting both of them in the process.
“It’ll be more than okay,” Steve says, sounding more sure than he feels. He wants more than anything to be able to hold him. To reach through the phone and wrap his arms tightly around him, feel the rise and fall of his breath and listen to his heartbeat.
“Promise?” Eddie asks, and Steve can picture him chewing on his nails.
“Promise.”
“One month left,” Steve whispers in the dead of night. No one else is there, but something about the late hour makes him quiet. Or maybe it’s what he’s saying. Like a wish that needs to be kept secret, or it won’t come true.
“One month,” Eddie repeats, just as soft. “You’ll be here?”
“Wherever you are, I’ll be there,” Steve assures him.
He’s sure Eddie can feel it too. The thing between them growing more palpable, more solid, more real. The less time they have left, the stronger it becomes. It terrifies both of them.
The car stops in an urban area of Chicago. Steve glances around as he gets out of the backseat, giving a quick thanks to the government official who drove him. His heart races. This is it. Double checking the address on the small piece of paper, he looks up to the block of apartment buildings, scanning the numbers.
Steve doesn’t need to look for long. At the next building, standing in the entryway, with his curly hair pulled into a messy bun, shadow of facial hair around his jaw, face more angular than Steve remembers, is—
“Eddie…” The name comes out in a soft breath, like a prayer. His eyes well up and he quickly blinks, as though the man might disappear if Steve couldn’t see him.
Whatever was holding Eddie to the stoop of his building breaks. He jumps down, skipping the stairs completely and landing with a thud of his boots. He runs, as quick as his legs allow him, until he crashes into Steve, almost knocking them both to the ground. With his arms around Steve’s neck, Eddie whispers his name over and over. Steve pulls him tight, arms wrapped around his waist. Steve can feel Eddie’s heartbeat matching his—racing, pounding, about to jump out of his chest. They hold each other like they’ll never let go, afraid that all of it could be taken away again.
Finally, Eddie pulls back, one hand softly entangled in Steve’s hair, and looks at him, huge eyes filled with tears. “You look different,” Eddie says with a wet laugh.
Steve can’t help but smile. “In a good way?”
Eddie nods with enthusiasm, grinning despite the tears. “In a really good way.”
Their eyes are locked on each other, and Steve can’t hold back anymore. He leans in, cautiously at first, before Eddie gives him a tiny nod, leaning in to meet him halfway. Their lips finally meet, crashing together, and Steve gasps at the feeling. It’s messy and desperate and shy. It’s everything they wished they could say, given to each other in their kiss. Steve brings his hands up to hold Eddie’s face, feeling the tears spill over and wiping them away with his thumbs.
They pull back, laughing and crying. Steve kisses him again and again and again, on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, before finally just looking, taking in every detail of Eddie’s face. The deep brown of his eyes, the thick lashes, the faint dusting of freckles across his nose. “I’m never letting you go. Never again.”
Eddie laughs again. It sounds like a sob. “Never again. You promise?”
“I promise,” Steve says reverently. “I love you, Eddie.”
Eddie’s smile grows wider, a fresh lot of tears spilling from his eyes. “I love you, too.”
wc: 2.7k // rating: M // cw: mild language, references to sexual content // tags: angst with a hopeful ending, miscommunication, eddie makes some questionable (bad) decisions, post-s4 but vecna died, protective robin buckley
divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics
“Woah, hey, no. Absolutely not.”
Eddie is being shoved in the chest by someone before he can even register the sharp anger in their voice.
“Wait, wait, Rob, just—”
“No!” Robin smacks him on the chest after successfully pushing him back out the door of Family Video. “You do not get to see him.”
“Robin, please—”
The bell jingles as the door swings shut, and Robin is still pushing him off the curb and into the parking lot. “No, Eddie. You’ve hurt him enough, I’m not letting you do it again.”
There’s a fire in her eyes that lets Eddie know she’s more than serious, and willing to do a lot more than just shove him out the door. He holds his hands up and steps back in surrender, no doubt looking as pathetic as he feels. “Okay, okay, okay, I’m not coming in! I just…”
“Just what?” Robin crosses her arms across her chest, looking at Eddie like he’s the scum of the earth. Maybe he is. He feels like it.
Eddie sighs and anxiously pulls at his hair. His stomach rolls with nerves. “I just wanna talk to him.”
Robin scoffs and looks off to the side, understandably skeptical of his intentions.
“I know! I know, I fucked up!”
“You—” Robin cuts herself off, her sharp gaze returning to him. He flinches at the anger in it. “Do you? Do you actually know?”
“I…” Eddie had only assumed, by the way his last conversation with Steve had ended, the way all his calls had been avoided, minus the one where Robin had answered and swiftly delivered the message to never contact her best friend ever again. He had only assumed it was bad bad. “I… didn’t know.” He finishes weakly.
“And the fact that he told you—”
“I was scared!” Eddie cuts her off. “Can you blame me?”
“Yeah, I can, actually.” Robin’s tone is harsh. Eddie knows he deserves it. “After everything you’ve been through with him, after everything you know, and to just run off like that?”
Her words sting, and Eddie can’t help but hang his head in shame. “I know, Robin. But I was wrong!”
Robin scoffs again, eyes narrowed. “And it only took you, what, a week to figure that out?”
“No! No. I regretted it as soon as I left, but I…” Eddie exhales heavily. “I still—I was still scared.” The venom in Robin’s expression doesn’t change. “Please, Rob, I wanna be with him. He’s gotta give me another chance.”
“Okay, let’s get a couple of things straight.” Robin raises a finger. “One, Steve doesn’t have to do anything.” She raises another. “Two, if, and that’s a big if, he decides to give you another chance, you better be for real, Munson. I will kill you myself if you hurt him again.”
“I am! Rob, I swear, I wouldn’t’ve come back if I wasn’t. I…” Eddie hesitates for a second. Pulls on his hair again. His heart pounds wildly in his chest. “I love him, Robin.”
Robin assesses him, eyes narrowed, trying to see if he’s serious. Eddie tries to hold her gaze, hoping she sees his sincerity. Whether she sees that, or the bags under his eyes from not having slept at all the past week, or the fact that he’s begging with everything he has in him, she seems to accept it.
“Fine. But you will not do this during work. At least let him finish his shift in peace before you come and blow everything up.” Robin turns swiftly and starts walking back to the shop, not waiting to hear anything more from him.
Eddie fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter, fingers trembling as he walks back to his van. That could've gone better, he thinks. Could've gone worse too. Taking a couple deep drags, smoke filtering out with the shudder of his breath, he wills his heart to settle down. He had time to kill now. If he had to wait until the end of Steve’s shift, he would wait.
“I love you, Eddie.”
Steve’s soft voice came from above where Eddie was resting on Steve’s chest. It made him freeze, hand idly playing with Steve’s chest hair stilled. It sounded like Steve said… but no. That couldn’t be right. This… thing, this friendship, Eddie guessed he would call it, that he and Steve had been doing since all the end-of-the-world stuff, had definitely turned into something different. Yes, Eddie had very recently had Steve’s cock in his mouth. But they were still just friends, right?
The first couple of months were average enough, as far as trauma bonding friendships went. Just being there for each other, working through nightmares and panic attacks and pain flare ups. But as they healed and moved on, Eddie found himself and Steve hanging out just for the sake of hanging out.
And then there was the flirting. Eddie started it, he knows he did. A little call back to the “big boy” comment from the RV. He’d watched as Steve’s cheeks flushed a faint pink at the pet name, and found himself wanting to see it more and more. To his surprise, Steve started flirting back, catching Eddie off guard and having him hide behind his hair, cheeky smile peeking through the curls. It just seemed to be a… thing they did. It was normal to flirt with your friends.
It culminated in a night where, after sharing a joint and drinking some beers, Steve leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. Sweet, slow, romantic. Eddie reciprocated with heat and desire. Steve had laughed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulling him into his lap. They ended the night asleep in Steve’s bed, wrapped up in each other, exhausted after the bliss of touching and tasting each other. Eddie left the morning after with a shy wave from Steve. It happened again and again, the taste of Steve’s skin, the warmth of his hands on Eddie’s waist, the feeling of his chest hair between Eddie’s fingers, finding pleasure in each other’s touch, all becoming familiar.
Eddie thought he knew what this was. He thought they were just messing around, just having fun. The idea of being with Steve, in any capacity beyond this, was so laughable to Eddie, he refused to even think about it. There were moments where Eddie almost thought Steve liked him as more than a friend, but he quickly shoved them down. Pushed them deep into the recesses of his mind where he wouldn’t have to think about it. He knew Steve was just an affectionate guy. And it would never happen, so why even think about it? Eddie would just enjoy what they had. It was enough. He told himself over and over. It was enough.
But then Steve said…
“Wh-what?” Eddie managed to stutter, still frozen in shock.
Steve’s hand trailed down Eddie’s spine. “I know that it’s early, and you don’t—you don’t have to say it back. But I don’t wanna waste time. Almost lost you once. I wanna be with you, Eddie. I love you.”
Eddie’s mind sluggishly takes in what he’s hearing. When it finally catches up, he sits up so swiftly, Steve jerks back on reflex. Eddie sees the soft concern in Steve’s eyes, and suddenly his heart is pounding in his ears and he feels like he can’t breathe. Steve reaches out, back of his hand about to caress Eddie’s jaw.
“No! No, no, no, no, no.” Eddie jumps up, very aware of his own nudity.
“Woah, woah, hey,” Steve sits up, hands out like he’s placating a wild animal. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” Eddie can feel himself panicking, but can’t seem to stop it. “You just said you love me?” He can’t help the incredulity in his tone, the very idea so insane to him.
Steve’s confusion seeps into his voice. “I… I do?”
“No, you don’t,” Eddie argues instantly.
“What are you…? Eddie, what is this?” Steve’s eyes are widened with hurt, head shaking slightly. Eddie can see that he wants to reach out, but is holding back.
Frantically looking for his clothes, Eddie’s hands shake. “You—you’re just confused.” He finds his pants and yanks them on, not looking at Steve. “You don’t love me, you’re just… this is just…” Eddie trails off, looking for his shirt.
“Eddie, Eddie, look at me,” Steve pleads, fear starting to lace into the concern. “This is real, I do love you.”
Eddie refuses to look at him as he quickly pulls on his shirt, searching for his boots. “No, no, you don’t. I can’t Steve, I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” Steve finally stands up, trying to catch his eye.
Exhaling heavily, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, before looking up at Steve and seeing the pain in his. “I can’t let myself believe that.”
Steve takes a step back, looking as though Eddie had pushed him. He sees the shutdown happen, the way Steve is suddenly closed off, pulling away, grief barely concealed as he averts his gaze. Unable to stand the expression on Steve’s face anymore, Eddie grabs his boots and runs out the door. He keeps running until he gets to his van, throwing himself inside and slamming on the accelerator, not daring to look back.
He doesn’t ease up until he’s halfway back to the trailer park and feeling like his chest might explode with the quick, panicked breaths he’s taking. Eddie pulls the van off to the side of the road and hits the brakes, body jolting with the force of the stop. The conversation with Steve replays in his mind on a loop. He forces himself to take a deep breath but the look on Steve’s face in his mind’s eye makes him choke on it. Eddie finally calms down enough to stare blankly through the windshield, and he asks himself what the hell he just did.
Sitting in the driver’s seat of his van, Eddie’s hands tap on the steering wheel, jittery with anxiety. The clouds grow dark overhead. Steve’s shift ends in a couple of hours, but Eddie didn’t want to leave in case he left early. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about cornering Steve at work, but he wouldn’t take his calls, and he was sure that if Steve didn’t intend to hear him out, Buckley would have come to tell him by now.
With half an hour left of Steve’s shift, Eddie opens the door to his van and swings his legs out, his last cigarette in hand. Keeping his eyes trained on the door, he waits for the last few customers to file out. He sees Buckley flip the door sign to ‘Closed’, catch his eye, roll hers, and disappear back into the store. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, waiting to see if Steve would appear, or if Buckley would come out to tell him to piss off for good.
After several agonising minutes, the door swings open slowly and Steve steps out. Eddie had never seen him look so… wary. So closed off. Not since they’d been friends. Steve catches his gaze, and Eddie watches the hurt flash briefly in his eyes before being quickly hidden. Buried deep down somewhere Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it. An impassive mask taking its place.
“Hey…” Eddie starts softly. “Can we talk?”
Steve only raises his brows and gestures vaguely between them. Eddie figures it’s as much approval as he was going to get. He tosses the butt of his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it as he hops down from the van seat, shutting the door behind him. He takes a few slow steps towards Steve, who still only regards him with caution. Eddie rubs his hands down his jeans, trying to still the trembling. Tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. Finally, he decides to sit on the curb a few steps away from Steve. He looks out and takes in the grey sky. Weirdly fitting. After a few moments, Steve sighs and sits down, leaving a bit of space between them.
Eddie, hunched over his knees, turns his head to look over at him. Steve looks straight ahead, but Eddie could see the darkness under his eyes, the overall flatness of his expression. It made Eddie ache to realise he caused it. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that Steve wouldn’t look at him.
“I’m… so sorry, Steve.”
Steve scoffs, still not looking at him. Still unreadable.
“I mean it, Steve, really.” Eddie continues to stare, hoping (and scared) that Steve might turn his head. “I just—I panicked. I didn’t think you’d ever—”
“I get it,” Steve cuts him off sharply. “You thought we were just messing around. It’s fine. I don’t, y’know, need to hear your reasoning. For why you don’t feel the same way.”
“No! That’s not it at all.” Eddie tries to keep his voice calm, but the wobble gives him away. “I mean, yeah, I did think we were just messing around but I… I thought the idea of you wanting more than that was, y’know… crazy.” His hands continue to shake as he gestures vaguely.
Steve finally turns to him, only to give him a look that was equal parts hurt, confused, and honestly quite harsh. “What? Because King Steve could never be capable of love?”
“No, Steve, of course you’re capable of love, I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it.” It takes everything in Eddie not to reach out and take Steve’s hands in his. “I just. I didn’t think you’d ever love me.”
The silence sits heavy between them for several long moments.
Steve closes his eyes, his tone is measured. “I told you I loved you—”
“I know, and I didn’t believe you.”
“And you ran away.” Steve continues as though Eddie hasn’t spoken, looking back to him. “You told me I was confused.” The hurt returns with full force in Steve’s eyes, the slight green in them shining with it. “You said you couldn’t let yourself believe it. That I could love you.”
“I’m sorry, Steve.” Eddie’s voice cracks. “I’m so, so sorry. For all of it. I hurt you, and I wish I could take it all back. I was just… scared. Terrified. To believe it. I thought I was protecting myself. That if I let myself believe you, it would hurt too much when the rug was pulled out from under me. But I was wrong. So wrong. Nothing hurts more than knowing I hurt you, and I know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it, and…”
Steve just waits, tears shining in his eyes but not spilling over. It breaks Eddie’s heart all over again to see how much pain he’s caused. He meets Steve’s gaze with as much bravery as he can muster.
“And… I love you, Steve. I do, I love you so much. I don’t wanna be without you.”
Steve closes his eyes at Eddie’s words, turning away from him, brow furrowed. Tears trail down his cheek and settle at his jawline. “I don’t… think I can trust you.” Steve’s words are slow and thick. Measured.
Eddie feels the knife twist in his heart. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he continues. “I… I get it. I do. But I’m asking—begging you to give me another chance. Please, Steve. I’ll spend every single day proving it to you, until you can trust me again.”
Steve peeks over at him, wary. “Every single day?”
“For the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes,” Eddie promises. “I swear it. I love you, Steve.”
Eddie holds his breath, throat tight, and blinks away his own tears. Expression unreadable, Steve looks at him for a long moment, carefully considering Eddie’s words. Tentatively, Eddie reaches out towards Steve’s hand, leaving enough distance for him to decide. Steve slowly takes his hand and grips it tightly. He lets their joined hands hang between them, before finally whispering, “Okay.”
wc: 2.5k // rating: T // cw: homophobic slur, hate crime, blood/wounds // tags: post-s4 but vecna dies, eddie lives, hate crime, satanic panic, wound care
divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics
When Eddie woke up in the hospital after days in a medically induced coma, Steve felt a relief so deep it caught him off guard.
He wasn’t sure why the feeling was so intense. Maybe because it was the closest they’d gotten to actually losing someone. Maybe it was because Steve was the one to bring him back from the edge of death. The speeding drive to the hospital spent in cold fear that Eddie might bleed out in the backseat after Steve had given CPR, pushing hard enough to hear Eddie’s ribs crack before he took in a faint wheeze of a breath and his pulse fluttered weakly beneath his skin.
Either way, when Eddie finally blinked awake—groggy and fearful—relief washed warm and heavy over Steve, eyes filling with tears as he gripped Eddie’s hand tightly and whispered to him quiet words of welcoming, soft praises of having done so well, gentle reassurances that he was safe now. The fear in Eddie’s eyes slowly faded. He gave a small nod—his movement limited—and with it, placed his trust in Steve.
The trust between them maintained, lingered, grew into something strong with each day spent recovering, each whispered fear and secret shared between them, each lingering hand hold. Whatever it was, it was growing, and alongside it, a fear that it was turning into something Steve wouldn’t be able to stop.
Weeks after his release from the hospital, Eddie greeted him with a story of being chased off by friends of Jason Carver—uninjured, thankfully, but still shaken—and Steve felt the rush of overprotection fill his veins like adrenaline, and realised it might be something a little more than that. But no, Steve felt protective over all of his friends. This was no different. He assured himself that the hot spike of fury and need to protect his friend was normal. His reaction was equal to the danger in which his friend was currently in. The perception of Eddie Munson in Hawkins was still… in poor favour. Despite him being cleared of all charges formally, the town had difficulty letting go of this idea that Eddie was a dangerous individual. These were people that tried to kill Eddie, it only made sense that Steve would feel this way. This was just a normal, close friendship. Until it wasn’t.
Steve’s driving toward the trailer park, warm afternoon air flowing through the open windows, a new mixtape from Eddie blasting from his speakers. Tapping the wheel along with the music, Steve takes the turn down towards the Munson trailer, slowing as he sees something that doesn’t quite fit with the landscape. Bright red. Steve’s heart drops. He turns down the music, slowing his car to a crawl. Once close enough, he parks and throws himself out of the beemer, taking in the awful sight before him.
FREAK. DEVIL WORSHIPPER. FAG. SATANIST. REPENT. All scrawled in blood red paint across the front of the trailer. Alongside the repeated words, symbols—upside down crucifixes, pentagrams, crudely drawn demon-like figures—filling up any available space. Steve feels his throat close up, immediately rushing to the door and trying not to knock too aggressively.
“Eddie? Are you in there?” He calls softly. “It’s Steve. C’mon, man, open up.”
Steve listens intently, until he hears shuffling behind the door, the sound of what could be something shifting across the carpet. Finally, the door cracks open.
“Eddie…” Steve says with relief, but the door doesn’t open further. “Are you okay? Jesus, what happened?”
Steve can only see a sliver of Eddie’s face, one eye wide and shining with fear. “Are—are you alone?” Eddie croaks. Hearing the way Eddie spoke makes his throat tighten.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just me, man.” Steve keeps his tone as gentle as possible. “Can I come in?”
Eddie only looks at him, seemingly thinking hard, before turning quickly but leaving the door open. Steve steps inside quickly, and the door snaps shut behind him, bolts locking and chain pulled across immediately. Eddie stays facing the door, and Steve sees that his hair is half tied up, and one hand is gripping tightly at his side, fingers digging into his ribs. Despite wanting to ask more questions, Steve keeps quiet, feeling like Eddie might freak out or bolt if he speaks.
After a minute that feels like an hour, Eddie finally turns.
Steve can’t help the sharp intake of breath, the way his blood turns to ice, the flare of his nostrils in fury at what he sees. Eddie’s left eye—the one hidden by the door before—is black and swollen almost shut. The purpling extends down his cheekbone. A gash at the top of his head is open, blood seemingly hastily wiped away, but still sticky at Eddie’s hairline and down the side of his face. His lower lip is busted near the corner, bright red and swollen, still dripping blood that Eddie unconsciously licks away. With his hair partially pulled back, Steve spots purple and red on Eddie’s throat. He looks to where Eddie still holds tight at his side, and sees how his knuckles too are red and bloodied.
When he finally looks back up to Eddie’s face, he sees a look of shame. Steve feels a storm brew in his chest. He reaches out, leaving distance just in case. Eddie flinches, instinctively, before stepping forward into Steve’s space. He lets Steve trail his fingers, softer than he would have expected, along his jaw, gently shifting his head around to look at his injuries. Allows Steve to move a lock of hair that didn’t make it into the hairband, carefully avoiding the open wounds. His warm palm settles on the side of Eddie’s face that was—for the most part—uninjured. The gesture so soft, so kind, a tear spills from Eddie’s good eye.
Steve holds steady, keeps his voice low. “Who did this?”
“Steve…” Eddie whispers. “I… I tried—tried to—” He can’t finish the sentence, words catching in his throat, breath speeding up as more tears run down his face, pooling against Steve’s hand.
“It’s okay,” Steve says, soft and reassuring. “I’m here, it’s okay. I got you.”
Eddie shuffles forward, close enough that Steve can feel his short panicked breaths. Steve slowly opens his arms, hesitating, before Eddie lets himself lean against his chest. Lowering his arms with care, Steve places his hands on Eddie’s back like he’s handling glass, feeling the sharp gasp and the tremble in the other man’s body. Eddie sags against him, curled so his face is against Steve’s shoulder. He feels his heart pound with rage at whoever did this. He feels something else as well, a shame in himself for not having been there, for not protecting Eddie. If he’d gotten there earlier, could this have been avoided?
Steve pulls away, despite wanting to do the opposite—wanting to hold Eddie so tight, envelop him in care, to let him know that he’s safe—and looks over him again, taking stock of the wounds. “Can I help?”
Eddie nods, breath still shaky but much calmer, and allows Steve to guide him back to his own kitchen. Steve grabs a chair, motioning for Eddie to sit, and turns to where a first-aid kit is already opened on the counter. Alongside it, a towel with blood on it and a bottle of saline.
“Did you try to clean yourself up?”
“Wouldn’t—” Eddie hisses as he sits. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Steve looks back at him with concern.
“C’mon, man,” Eddie says with a wince. “You know what it was like for me.”
Guilt sits in Steve’s gut. He did know. Watched, more than once, when Eddie would end up surrounded by jocks—outnumbered—and one would deliver resounding punches to his face and stomach. Eddie would only ever spur them on. “Come on! That all you got? Give me another. You know how much I like it.” Words wet with blood, teeth shining with it. Eyes lit up despite the bruises forming around them. He’d get under their skin, letting them leave with disgust.
Steve doesn’t respond, instead turns back to the counter, grabbing a roll of paper towels and the saline. Holding the damp square up, Steve waits, and Eddie gives him another nod. Steve gets to work, wiping away the sticky blood around the head wound. Eddie hisses between his teeth when Steve moves over it, trying his best to be gentle. “Sorry,” Steve whispers.
“S’okay,” Eddie rasps.
The silence settles between them for a while, Eddie’s breathing finally slows to a normal, if slightly shallow, rate. Steve wants to ask again, to know who did this, but waits. Focuses on the job at hand, cleaning the remaining blood away from Eddie’s lip.
With all the blood cleaned up, Steve turns to the freezer and pulls out a bag of peas, wrapping them in a kitchen towel. He hands it to Eddie, who gingerly holds it up to his black eye, sucking in a sharp breath at the contact. The bruising on Eddie’s hands looks bad too, but they’ll have to come back to that. Looking over the first-aid kit, Steve pulls out some antiseptic wipes and adhesive bandages.
“These are gonna sting a bit,” Steve says, ripping open the wipes.
Eddie huffs a laugh. “Least of my concerns.”
Steve gives him a half smile. At least he was joking around a bit. He starts to clean around the head wound, noticing how Eddie’s good eye squeezes shut when the alcohol makes contact, and tries to move quickly. “It’s not too deep, shouldn’t need stitches.”
“How d’you know?” Eddie mutters, still wincing at the sting.
“Had my fair share of head wounds,” Steve says, still focused on the wipe in his hand.
Eddie doesn’t respond, just looks up at him with his uncovered eye. Steve moves down to Eddie’s lower lip, softly swiping at the cut, noticing the blood still in his mouth, the purple bruising that extends down to his jaw.
“Are you gonna tell me?” Steve turns to the counter, grabbing the butterfly stitch bandages. “Who did this to you?”
“Does it matter?” Eddie asks. “What’re you gonna do? Go beat them up, defend my honour?” His voice is heavy with sarcasm.
Steve gives him a quick look, before peeling the bandages off the wrapping. “I might.”
Letting Steve turn his head slightly, careful not to touch any of the wounds, Eddie keeps his good eye locked on him. Seemingly assessing him. “Just the same bullshit…” His voice is thick, his eye glassy with fresh tears. “They still think I did it. That I killed Chrissy. Nothing is ever gonna change that for them.” Eddie inhales shakily. “If not that, they’ll find some other reason to hate me. Easy target.”
“We’ll find a way,” Steve says. “Even if it means. I dunno. Even if we have to leave.”
Steve holds the cut closed, and begins applying the strips, tongue between his teeth as he concentrates, ensuring they don’t get stuck in Eddie’s hair. Eddie is watching him carefully again. “You’d do that?” Eddie asks, voice soft. “Leave—with me?”
Lowering himself to Eddie’s eyeline, he places a hand on his shoulder. “Isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you, Eddie.”
It’s far more earnest, far more vulnerable, than either of them have been with each other before. Eddie doesn’t say anything, just frowns slightly, like he’s trying to figure something out. They sit in silence as Steve works, only the sounds of their breathing and the unpeeling of more bandages in the room. All of it feels so… intimate, Eddie allowing Steve to take care of him, to clean his wounds and patch him up. They’d been close since Eddie woke up in the hospital, but not like this.
“Alright, that should do it,” Steve says, scrunching the bandage wrapping. He then looks to Eddie’s hands. “Lemme see.”
Eddie holds out his free hand, and Steve takes it in his, turning it as he assesses the damage. He flattens Eddie’s fingers, then softly curls them, handling him like something precious and breakable. “Any pain?”
Eddie shakes his head in response. Reaching over for a new antiseptic wipe, Steve keeps Eddie’s hand in his, reluctant to let it go. He cleans the small cuts—splits from punching, if Steve’s own experience told him anything. He applies a small band-aid, before motioning for Eddie to swap, taking his other hand away from the bag of peas. Repeating the process, stretching and curling Eddie’s fingers and cleaning the wounds, Steve tries to ignore the intrusive thought that tells him they’re holding hands. Now wasn’t the time for that.
Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve finally releases his hand. Clears his throat. “Can’t do much about this.” Steve gestures to Eddie’s lip, wishing instead he could let his thumb trail along the side of it. “Any others? You were holding your side before.”
Setting the bag of peas aside, Eddie moves with effort to pull up his shirt. Steve kneels down immediately. Where Eddie’s barely healed scars are still red around his ribs, deep purple bruises paint his chest and waist. Extending a shaking hand, Steve stops himself from touching, instead hovering over the skin. His breath shakes as he tries to remain calm. Whatever was keeping his emotions held back is broken at the sight.
“Eddie…” Steve looks up at him, pain in his eyes.
Dropping his shirt back down, Eddie looks away. “It’s fine. Nothing’s broken.”
“Nothing about this is fine, Eddie,” Steve tries to catch his eye again. “We already almost lost you once. I don’t think I could handle it if…” Still kneeling, Steve cautiously takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. “I can’t lose you,” he says, voice breaking.
Eddie frowns again, this time with something like pain in his expression. “I’m here, Steve. I’m okay. Thanks to you.”
Steve nods, tears welling and ready to spill over. “I just… I wish I could protect you better.”
Eddie leans closer, pain momentarily forgotten. “You’ve done more than enough,” he breathes, and their faces are so close together.
Glancing down at Eddie’s lips, and back up to his eye, he feels himself leaning in. He stops, lips parted, waiting. Eddie closes the gap, pressing his lips tenderly to Steve’s. A shudder runs through his body, and Steve kisses back as gently as he possibly can, feeling heat where Eddie’s lip is split and bruised. One hand trails up to cup Eddie’s jaw, barely brushing against the stubble growing there. Eddie rests a hand on Steve’s chest, feeling the way his heart races.
They part, Steve still kneeling on the ground and looking up at Eddie. He leans in for another gentle kiss, twice more, hopefully conveying all he wishes he had the words for. As Eddie looks at him, smile pulling at the cut on his lip, Steve makes himself a promise.
For the rest of his life, he’ll do anything to keep Eddie safe.
no pressure tags: @stevesbipanic @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @wheneverfeasible and of course, anyone who wants to throw their brain worms at me ✨
thinking about modern au metal-burlesque performer eddie and audience participant steve (who was dragged along by robin probably, at her insistence that he would definitely enjoy it).
eddie is the last performer of the night, and so far steve has definitely enjoyed the show. robin makes them sit at the table front and centre, so the dancers have interacted with them a little, waving feathered fans in their faces, tossing clothing garments at them, little touches and grazes as the performers step down from the stage to wander the audience. while it’s not really steve’s thing, it’s been a bit of fun.
then. eddie walks onto a pitch black stage. a red spotlight shines on him as a dark, heavy beat begins. eddie turns as the vocals start (music very much that filthy horny metal kind), and he looks nothing like the previous performers. he’s all tattoos and piercings and wild hair and ripped jeans and leather jacket.
steve is immediately starstruck. the whole audience is transfixed. eddie is one of those performers that does next to nothing and the audience just fucking eats it up.
letting his jacket hit the ground, he walks the stage, looking for his victim of the evening. he spots steve, in his glasses and pale sweater and soft swoopy hair and eddie zeroes in on him immediately. steve gets pulled up on stage and guided to a chair, where eddie (after confirming it’s okay) runs his leather gloved hands up steve’s arms and across his shoulders and down his chest from behind.
as the performance continues, steve is close to short circuiting, unsure how and when he became so revved up over another man teasing to take off what looks to be a band tee cut into a loose tank top, but here he is.
at one part, eddie kneels in front of steve, spreading his legs apart and head rolling towards steve’s crotch (an absolute classic) and steve speedruns his sexuality crisis right then and there because he’s gonna need this hot tattooed man on his knees in front of him forever.
eddie teases taking off his leather gloves, shoving his fingers from his other hand into the opening in a way that is so lewd. with one glove off, he brings the other to steve’s mouth and commands him to bite it.
holding the finger tip of the glove in his teeth, steve is helpless watching as eddie playfully pulls at it, like it’s hard to get the glove off, like having it removed this way is turning him on. he’s touching himself up and down his chest and panting, before finally letting his hand free of the glove.
steve quickly shoves the glove in his pocket as eddie moves to sit in his lap, rolling his back against steve’s chest, running his hands up his chest as he finally removes his shirt, only to reveal a black lacy bra underneath. eddie guides steve’s hands to his chest—steve feeling the nipple piercings hidden beneath—and lets steve unclasp the bra from the front.
the show is over way too soon, with eddie tossing the bra into the crowd. eddie brings steve up to bow, the audience going absolutely crazy for them. guiding steve back down off the stage, eddie gives him a cheeky smile and a wink before disappearing offstage.
robin is losing her whole mind over all of it, and steve is kinda sad that he won’t get to see eddie again. but robin points out that he just might get to.
because steve still has the leather glove in his pocket.
wc: 2.6k // rating: M // cw: excessive description of injury/blood/wounds // tags: previous first kiss, canon divergence, post-s4, steve harrington whump, this man is so injured it’s crazy, so injured and so self-sacrificing
part two to day 8 but can be read alone ♡
divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics
Steve drops down into the unfortunately familiar grey-blue atmosphere of the Upside Down. His feet hit the ground, and despite the bandana covering his nose and mouth, he feels the death and decay enter his lungs as he surveys his surroundings. It’s much worse than before. It’s heavier, like inhaling steam, but sits cold in his chest. A sign that he shouldn’t have returned. A reminder of how dangerous this was. The ground shakes with tremors as Steve pulls on the rope, testing its stability before tying it to the nearby destroyed remains of a trailer. In this state, he couldn’t be sure whose it was. The giant crack in the earth had all but destroyed the trailer park, but it was close enough to where they’d exited those days before, panicked and rushed, Dustin near inconsolable about having lost Eddie.
“Buddy, buddy, look at me,” Steve had said, grasping his shoulders. “We’ll come back for him, okay? I will come back for him.”
“No!” Dustin cried. “No, Steve! I can’t lose you too!”
Steve wouldn’t promise it, but he let the matter go at the time. He waited until after he’d been admitted to the hospital, receiving treatment for an infection in the bat bites. Bringing it back up once they’d all received medical attention only had several people yelling at him. He was warned, commanded, begged—repeatedly and earnestly—to not go back into the Upside Down. That it wasn’t safe. That he needed time to heal. That there would be no point. That Eddie was gone, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t want Steve to risk his life going back in to find him.
“Steve, you’re literally in a hospital bed,” Nancy had said, her steely tone covering her concern. “You can’t be serious.”
“Listen, Harrington,” Hopper had sat beside him, voice stern. “You are not to go back there. Do you understand me? We can’t lose any more people.”
But Steve wouldn’t be swayed. And so he was alone. Searching the Upside Down for a man that was believed to be dead.
His flashlight swung in an arc, illuminating the destruction around him. Deep, cavernous fissures in the ground are lit up by the flashlight. Eddie couldn’t have gotten far, with how seriously he was injured. Once the earthquakes started, Dustin said he tried to drag his body out of the wreckage, but it was almost impossible. He took cover until the shaking ground settled enough for him to walk. When he went back, Eddie’s body was gone. Steve pulls debris aside, the movement tugging on his barely healed scars, searching areas that someone could hide in. The scar around his neck burns. Steve had to find him.
Mike, Will, and Eleven were looking for Dustin, after having visited Max, when they showed up at Steve’s hospital room. As Dustin readied to walk them out, Steve asked Eleven to stay back to ask her a question—earning some distinctive looks from the others—and once the boys were gone, handed her one of the Missing Person posters that Wayne Munson had hung up around the relief centre.
“Can you look for him?” Steve had asked, desperate at that point. “If he’s still… if he’s down there, will you know?”
Eleven gave him a quizzical look, but nodded. “If he is there, I can find him.”
He’d waited patiently—tried not to fidget, to keep quiet—while she put a blindfold on, the small radio Dustin had brought to Steve set to static. The seconds ticked into minutes as Steve watched intently, waiting for an answer.
“I see him,” she finally said. “He’s… hurt. Lost.”
Steve’s heart was in his throat. “Is he… alive?”
Eleven nodded. “Alive,” she confirmed.
Feeling like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, Steve’s hands went to his hair. He’d hoped, god, he’d prayed, that it was true. That they hadn’t lost Eddie. But that meant he’d been stuck down there for almost a week now.
“D’you—can you see where he is?” Steve asked.
She was still for several moments, mouth pulled into a frown, before she shook her head. Trying not to be disappointed, he focused on the important part. Eddie was alive. For now, at least. But he had to work fast.
“Okay, uh, listen,” Steve said. “Can you please, uh, not tell anyone else? That you know this.”
When she pulled her blindfold off, she gave him a look that was far too knowing. “Friends don’t lie, Steve.”
“I’m not asking you to lie,” He quickly clarified. “But this is to keep everyone else safe. If the others find out that he’s alive, they’ll try to go back in to find him.” He takes a breath. “It has to be me, no one else.”
“Steve, it is not safe there.” Eleven looked over him. “You are still sick. It will get worse.”
“I know, kid,” Steve sighed. “But I have to save him.”
In the end, Steve convinced her to promise to keep it to herself—unless someone asked directly, and unless he hadn’t returned within six hours of going back—with the added compromise that he would tell Robin where he was going. He checked himself out of the hospital that afternoon, signing multiple forms that indicated he knew he was going against medical advice.
Telling Robin of his plan was never in question. He couldn’t lie to her. Sitting her down at his house, he asked her to please not tell anyone, to only involve anyone else if he hadn’t returned in six hours, as he promised Eleven. Robin begged him not to go through with it, reaching an almost panicked state as she tried to convince him to stay. He can still hear her tearful voice in his mind, looping over and over, a reminder of what he’s sacrificing.
“Steve, please, you can’t do this, at least not without someone to help you!” She’d held onto his arm, stopping him from loading items into a backpack.
Steve turned to her. “I’m not going to drag anyone else into this with me, Robin. This is my decision. Everyone’s already made it clear they don’t think it’s a good idea. I gotta go alone.”
“At least let me come with you!” Robin tried, following him as he searched for a flashlight. “At least you wouldn’t be alone.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “I can’t let you do that for me. It’s too dangerous.”
Robin shrugged him off, tone growing angry. “So what are you doing then?! Going alone when it’s too dangerous for me to come with you? You’re not even fully healed yet, Steve! You could die down there!”
“I have to try, Rob,” Steve sighed. “I have to. He’s trapped down there.”
“We could organise a rescue, just don’t do this alone!” Robin yelled, reaching the end of her patience.
He took her hands in his. “No one else needs to put themselves in danger. Hopper was right, we can’t lose any more people, but I can’t just leave him down there. I can’t, Robin.”
Steve knew Robin would understand, at least, why he needed to do this. The kiss. The one that haunts him. The one he and Eddie shared behind the RV, right before they marched back into hell and they lost him. Robin knew—more than anyone—what Steve would do, that his mind wouldn’t be changed. Not for something like this. Because Steve was self-sacrificing to the point of harm for anyone important to him. And this was bigger. There was more at stake—she could tell by the way he spoke about it, with how serious his tone was. She cried and held him tight, finally demanding that he come back at the first sign of danger, and promising him that they could regroup and try again. Just as long as he came back.
Heart aching as the conversation replayed in his mind, Steve shook himself. He needed to focus. The increasing pain of his scars was distracting enough, and he couldn’t afford to lose time. Already having searched for what felt like hours, Steve’s strength was starting to waver. The crimson storm clouds rolled overhead. The weight of his emotions—the guilt, the wish that he’d handled things differently—was starting to feel impossible to carry.
It ate him alive, the way it all went down. The connection between them had been undeniable, Steve constantly finding himself drawn to Eddie, and Eddie endlessly getting back up in his space. It all culminated in a shared moment that turned into a timid kiss, which quickly turned desperate and heavy. It all became too much, too fast, too real—
Steve had panicked and asked him to stop, but it just came out wrong, and Eddie wouldn’t hear him out. He’d wanted to keep going, god, he’d never been kissed like that. Not with so much heat and desire and need. But he also didn’t want it to just be that. He felt something between them that was magnetic and electric and set his heart ablaze in a way he hadn’t felt before. He just couldn’t get the words out. Left speechless by the feeling of Eddie’s tongue in his mouth and his body pressed up against him. He wished he’d just been able to verbalise what he felt. I don’t want this to be meaningless. I’m not just trying to get a quick lay at the end of the world. I think this could be something special. I want it to be.
If only his mouth had cooperated with him. But Eddie had misunderstood his faltering for rejection, and ran away… And they had more important issues to deal with. Despite wanting to approach, to explain himself and set the record straight, Steve knew it would have to wait. Except Eddie had done the very thing Steve told him not to do. Ran right into danger, played the hero, and sacrificed himself. Yes, it meant Dustin was saved, and for that, Steve would always be grateful. But Eddie was gone—lost.
Lost but alive. This is the thought that keeps him moving. Keeps him searching despite his body screaming in agony. Some of the wounds feel open, the sickly cold seeping under the bandages and mingling with his blood. His back burns and aches—the abrasions from being dragged on the ground, dry and splitting—the pain of it sinking deep into his muscles. Making it harder for him to move. Every breath is laborious, he feels like he’s drowning. Steve pulls down the bandana, coughing heavily. The strange particles in the air get sucked into his lungs as he tries to catch his breath. The wounds around his stomach bite into him, feeling worse than when he arrived at the hospital, where infection was starting to take hold. He can’t give up.
Every second feels precarious. Steve hasn’t heard the chittering or hissing of any creatures down here, thankfully, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. The atmosphere alone is dangerous enough. Like the Upside Down was rejecting his presence, and the longer he stays, the more it tries to destroy him. How could Eddie be alive in this place?
It’s been hours now. The flashlight illuminates another chasm in the ground, reminding him of how unachievable his task is. Steve drops his backpack to the ground and leans against a more solid looking destroyed trailer, the back of his head hitting it as he looks to the red-clouded sky. His legs ache from walking. Daring to look down, he notices dark spots starting to stain his shirt. He swallows heavily, mouth dry, the taste of rot on his tongue. A wave of nausea rolls over him. He wills it down, knowing that if he vomited now, the pain in his wounds would only grow, and he’s not sure he can handle that.
Dread starts to seep in, and for the first time since he arrived back here, Steve starts to think that maybe he can’t do this. Maybe he can’t rescue Eddie. Not on his own. Not in his current state. Even if he found Eddie now, how would he be able to help? He can barely support his own weight right now.
Steve slides down the side of the trailer, hissing in pain as it drags against the scars on his back. The ground trembles beneath him. Another reminder of the impossibility of what he’s trying to do. He checks his watch. Three hours since he left, half of his time is already up.
“Fuck…” Steve breathes, trying to keep his cool. He could do this. He had to do this. He reaches into the backpack, pulling out a bottle of water. The plastic cracks as he twists the lid off. The water does little to ease his nausea. It’s with his eyes closed, praying for some strength to return, when he hears it.
A… gasp?
Steve’s head turns sharply toward the echoing sound. He drops the water bottle back into his bag, pulling out his nail bat and scrambling to his feet. The sound comes again from his right. He steps slowly, bat raised. His heart hammers in his chest. Following the sound, pain temporarily forgotten, Steve makes his way carefully around the destroyed trailer, avoiding debris.
The sound gets louder. Steve approaches a chasm in the earth, two half destroyed trailers on either side. Shattered glass and half melted metal litter the ground. With the bat in his hands, the flashlight is tucked under his arm, shakily brightening the space ahead of him. He leans over the edge, feet planted wide, and looks down into the darkness. It’s shallower than he thought, cracked with blocks of earth jutting out of the walls.
With no immediate danger in his eyeline, he lowers the bat and aims the flashlight down into the cavern. As the light shines over, he sees dark splatters over the rocks, and Steve hopes it’s not blood. He looks lower, brows pulling together as he follows the splatters deeper into the rift. He hears what sounds like a rattling inhale, head snapping up, a few feet ahead of where he currently stands. Taking a couple tentative steps, he scans the depths carefully, searching for the source of the sound.
The splatters are larger, darker, decorating the earth as he follows the light. An odd shape catches his eye, and he directs the flashlight at it. Steve squints, trying to make out the object, as the light barely illuminates that far down. It takes a moment before he recognises the familiar pair of boots, anything else hidden by another overhanging piece of earth.
Steve doesn’t hesitate, shoving the flashlight between his teeth, and sliding down the edge of the chasm. He shakily drops to a set of rocks a little ways down, looking for a safe enough spot to move down again. Leaning against the rough walls, he shifts another step lower, pain in his back and sides screaming at him. It’s a precarious descent, but he manages to reach the bottom. Steve shines the flashlight ahead, brightening the space. When his eyes adjust, he takes a few cautious steps before dropping to his knees, bat falling to the ground with an echoing clunk.
Eddie lays on his side. He’s covered in dried blood, clothes torn, curled defensively with his knees up to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. Unable to see any sign of movement, Steve’s chest tightens, fearing the worst. Was he too late?
He reaches out with a trembling hand. “Eddie?” he breathes.
Eddie jolts, eyes snapping open, taking in a deep, rasping breath. His breathing settles. He focuses on the man above him. “…Steve?”
