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this one's for my cassie banana (@henderdads) who wanted a HAPPY grammy related ficlet. but because i wrote it, of course there's going to be a tiniest hint of angst. 🙄 ily and i hope this satisfies ur craving 💗🌷🏆
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As a gay, rock star in the late 90's, Eddie's had to keep his and Steve's relationship under the wraps. He's had to sing songs and change the pronouns from he to she.
In his heart, he knows Steve doesn't mind, knows that he understands that this is the life his boyfriend chose. But Eddie hates it, hates that he can't scream on top of his lungs, on top of the highest mountains, that he loves Steve Harrington and he, miraculously, loves him back.
As Eddie stares at the wall of awards in front of him, he thinks— knows— that not one of these gold, silver, bronze awards mean as much as Steve means to him. No award is as important as the love of his life.
People still remember the Grammy Awards on 2001. No, it's not because of the famous singers. No, it's not because of the performances. No, it's not because of their outfits.
It's because the singer-songwriter of rock band, Corroded Coffin, won their fifth grammy award and what they thought was a normal award speech would change the course of the industry.
Eddie walks up alone, accepts the award and smiles.
"Well, the band— Gareth, Jeff and Grant— has trusted me enough to do this speech without fucking it up." He laughs as he hugs the award closer to his chest.
"Thank you to the recording academy, our managers and our label, for the last 10 years. The last 10 years has been crazy and amazing and surreal. But just this morning," Eddie takes a deep breath, "We— Me and the members of the Corroded Coffin— has decided to move labels. Somewhere we'll be free to express ourselves and be out true colorful selves."
"So yeah, thank you for them and the chance. But this award," Eddie holds it up, "Is for every gay kid who was scared and who thought they were alone. It's for every gay kid who thought they will never, ever get to express themselves and thought they'll have to hide forever."
The audience starts cheering, people clapping and standing as Eddie smiles, bulldozes on, "This grammy is for little Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff Best and Paul Grant. Four gay kids, in the middle of Hawkins, Indiana, just finding each other. We're Corroded Coffin and we're the proof that you could also be free and true to yourself."
"To my boyfriend. Yes, my boyfriend. Every she in every song I wrote was originally an he. Every word and tune was meant to be for you. Sweetheart, baby, you are my whole heart. Steve Harrington, I fucking love you. This fucking grammy is for you."
He holds up the award as he starts walking back to the back of the stage. The people in the crowd give him a standing ovation.
Somewhere in New York, there's a boy, who once survived death himself, smiling and beaming so hard it hurts his jaw. He'll call Eddie later, and thank him for what he's done for people like them. He'll sleep peacefully, knowing that a few kids will sleep better tonight, knowing that everything is going to be okay.
Somewhere in LA, there's a girl, sitting on the couch with a cold champagne and confetti in her hands, waiting for Eddie and Steve to come home. She'll kiss both their cheeks, happy to have them both home. They'll drink, cheer and celebrate being out to the whole world.
But before that, just behind the curtains, a man is waiting for him, with the biggest smile on his face and tears streaming down his face.
Eddie greets him with a smile, and an earth shattering kiss on the lips.
"I am proud of you." Steve says, and Eddie melts in his touch.
"I can sing with boy pronouns now. I am going to be so insufferable." Eddie laughs.
"You go do that, be what the world needs." Steve laughs, hooking his arms with his boyfriend, walking deeper in to backstage.
"What about what you need?" Eddie asks, looking at the man beside him, the one who saved him and who's still saving him.
Steve smiles, holding Eddie's free hand and intertwining it. There's people walking around them, but they're in their own little world. For the first time, they're not hiding.
Steve holds up Eddie's hand, "I've got everything I need right here."
Steve can't remember a time he's run this fast, his heart beating so loudly against his chest. He wishes, not for the first time, that he has the ability to control time. But as he runs, four lines cracking in the sky, he has never wished for it harder than right now.
Even from a distance, he can already hear it. Dustin's crying, screaming and— Steve’s mind goes to the worst place possible. His brother, just shredded into pieces by demon bats, bleeding and dying. God, he shouldn't have left the two of them. What was he thinking? Eddie was a rookie; he was a newbie to all of this.
“Steve! Help!” He sees Dustin, sitting upright, a sigh of relief passes through him before he realizes that Dustin’s cradling a body.
Steve slides on to the ground as he reaches them. There's— There's so much blood. He doesn't think he's ever seen so much blood.
00:43 🕰️
“Fuck, Eddie. Stay awake.” Steve urges as he pulls off his coat and presses it hard on Eddie’s bleeding torso.
Beside him, he can hear Nancy and Robin catching up to him. There bags landing on the floor with a thud.
“I can't.” Eddie mutters back, barely even audible.
“No, Eddie. You have to.” Steve says, as he looks up to Nancy. Nancy will know what to do, she'll— she'll find a way.
She always found a way. She’ll tell them that it's gonna be okay, that they'll bring Eddie to the hospital and he'll be fine, “Nance, what do we do?”
Nancy's eyes are traveling all over Eddie, her eyes checking. There's something painful that passes through her face, before she finally meets Steve’s eyes and she shakes her head.
“No! Nancy! We can still go! I can carry him to the hospital!” Dustin's crying beside him, Robin has a shaking hand against his shoulder for comfort.
“Steve.” He turns, Eddie’s glassy eyes stares back at him, “You have to go. I won’t—” He coughs more blood, so much blood, “I won't make it.”
“I told you not to be a hero!” Steve defends, his eyes already filled with tears.
Steve selfishly wants to say so much more, beg Eddie to fight so Steve can know him more, ask him for his forgiveness, learn his favorite songs and his favorite bands and how he likes his coffee in the morning, smoke some weed with him, be his friend, maybe see if there's something in that small spark of electricity he felt when there hands met. Steve wants more, wants to know who Eddie Munson really is.
“I am sorry. I had to keep Dustin safe.”
00:36 🕰️
Steve nods, smooths Eddie’s hair away from his face, “You did good. You did so good, Eddie.”
Dustin’s still crying; but Robin's taken him away from Eddie. Steve knows it's about to happen, and no child deserves to watch their friend, their idol, their brother, die in front of them, in their arms.
Eddie smiles up at him, there's blood in his teeth, but it's— it's still so bright, his dimples deep and his smile beautiful. Steve wonders how long it will be after all of this before he completely forgets what Eddie looked like when smiling.
“What do you think will happen next, Steve?” Eddie asks, his breathing slowing down. In his hand, Steve can combs through Eddie's hair.
Steve chokes, but indulges him, “I think you’ll go somewhere good. Somewhere peaceful, with good lighting. You can paint those tiny little figurines Dustin keeps on bugging me to buy.”
Eddie laughs, it's small and quiet, but it's a laugh and it's the best damn thing Steve's ever heard, “That’d be great. That's a beautiful picture to paint a dying man, Steve.”
“It's the least I can do.”
00:27 🕰️
Eddie can barely move, but he raises his arm, cups Steve's face into his hand.
“Can you grant a dying man his last wish?” Eddie whispers.
Steve nods, “Whatever you want.”
“Kiss me?”
“Just fyi,” Steve whispers as he moves closer, “I would've done this too if you weren't dying.”
Eddie whimpers. Steve doesn't hesitate, doesn't even think about it, as he closes the gap between him and Eddie. There's a metallic taste in it, sweat and tears and blood all mixed together. But it's so terrifyingly sweet and tender, because it's Eddie. It's Eddie and Steve's just found everything he's ever wanted and it's all dying in his arms.
When they pull apart, Eddie has a small, content smile on his face. His hand slowly, falling from Steve’s face. Steve already misses the warm, callous fingers against his cheek.
“That was—” Eddie stares at him, “Magical.”
00:15 🕰️
“Eddie.” Steve sobs, holding his forehead against Eddie’s as he cradles him in his arms. Eddie hums softly. His heartbeat is almost skipping beats against Steve's hand, and god—
Eddie's brown eyes stare back at him. There's still that familiar twinkle in it, mischievous and real.
After all of this, Steve will miss it, he’ll dream about it, and will wander around cities searching for anything that comes remotely close to Eddie's brown eyes. He will never find it.
But for now, Eddie's eyes flutter close, so slow and soft, almost like a butterfly flapping its wings.
“I hope we meet again, Steve Harrington.”
00:00 🕰️
🕰️ 00:00
There's something so peaceful about museums. Steve never really understood his love for them, but in every city he visits, he makes sure to visit one.
Maybe it's because Steve is an architect, loves the way a building is sculpted to perfection to fit and house a collection of the world’s most beautiful pieces. Maybe it's because of his innate curiosity to learn and know the background of each piece, its history and its story.
Chicago has a few museums. The Art Museum has old and historic pieces, to new and modern pieces, all housed together in a beautiful building. He's been here before, for Robin's 16th birthday.
Steve looks down on his phone, sends a quick text to his younger sister, Robin, before turning it off. She tends to worry when he goes traveling, always worrying if he got kidnapped and taken away.
The guy on the front of the building smiles at him, checks his ticket and says, “Have a wonderful day! Enjoy the museum!”
🕰️ 00:00
Steve's not sure how much time passes as he moves along from one painting to another, from one piece of art to another.
He enters the part of the museum for the newly installed pieces from new artists. There's only a few people walking around. Across from Steve, something catches his eyes. It's a man and a younger boy. Steve can vaguely hear them fighting over what to eat for dinner: Taco Bell or Olive Garden.
Steve chances a glance at them, and almost stops on his tracks. The older man might actually be the most beautiful person Steve’s ever seen. The natural light coming from the window ceilings makes him look like an actual angel. He has long curly hair, it's all gathered together in a low ponytail that helps frame his jaw and face. He's smiling at the boy— his brother, Steve thinks— and he's got a dimple that Steve wants to poke.
Because he's a human being, the man turns, feeling the burn of someone's eyes on him.
Across the museum, their eyes meet and everything— just slowly blurs out. Steve should look away, pretend that he was never even looking in the first place, but this man has the brightest, brown eyes he has ever seen.
There's a feeling creeping in Steve's back, like he's been here before, but that's ridiculous he's never seen this man before. It's almost like— déjà vu.
The man snaps away first when his brother claps a hand in front of him.
Steve looks away in embarrassment, starts walking to the other side of the gallery to avoid the man.
A painting at the end captures his attention almost immediately.
🕰️ 00:00
Steve walks closer to it, instinctively gravitating towards it, something about the piece was calling to him.
The painting was simple. It was a landscape, but instead of the usual spring fields, with blue skies and clouds, it had a dark sky, with red specks and a bolt of lightning. Instead of green pastures, there's black vines surrounding the ground. In the middle, there's a boy, just sitting.
Steve squints at the plaque under it.
Edward Henderson
Born on March 27, 2023
Waiting, created on 2051
Acrylic on Canvas
Henderson is a new and upcoming modern artist from Chicago. Although he is a newbie, he is creating a name for himself with his vivid paintings. There's darkness in the way Henderson uses his colors, a way of showing his grief and longing.
“Waiting (the painting) came to me in a dream when I was younger. It was so real, so vivid. I was just sitting there, under the dark skies, waiting for someone, something.” - Henderson
Steve blinks at it, feels the beating of his heart in his chest and tries not to think about his own dreams, and how the painting in front of him is the perfect depiction of it.
He hears footsteps coming closer to him.
🕰️ 00:00
The man from before shows up on his peripheral view, he folds his arms and looks at the painting.
Steve's not sure how much time even passes as they stand beside each other, just staring at the painting, just waiting.
Steve turns to him first, just as the man turns to him and for a solid second, they just stare at each other.
The man smiles at him, and it's— it's bright, his dimples deep and his smile beautiful. It's like being in front of the sun and still not wanting to look away.
Steve easily returns the smile, something in his chest settling, like his heart physically sighing in content.
The man blinks at him, alive and slowly, almost like a butterfly flapping its wings, before saying, “Hello.”
They both have different stories when asked, "When did you first meet?"
Steve says it was in school, along the hallways with freshman Steve Harrington and sophomore Eddie Munson locking eyes for the first time. Eddie says it was in a party, drinking beer and selling drugs, a transaction.
Annalyn Harrington knows the truth. The truth that way before monsters, way before creatures from games came true, way before the end of the world, way before everything, that Eddie and Steve have already met.
Annalyn remembers it, so vividly at the back of her mind. She babysits her nephew— her younger sister, Amanda's son— so often. Steve is an angel, so innocent and kind. Annalyn often questions as to how Richard Harrington could've ever had a son so pure and good.
She remembers that day. It was a bright spring day, with fresh daisies growing on the fields and birds chirping in excitement.
Annalyn takes Steve out of his school a few hours early, takes him to eat at his favorite diner. When Steve begs for her to take him to the park, telling her he really wants to play and how could she say no to those brown eyes?
It's relatively empty when they arrive at the park. It's only after lunch and the kids are still in class. But there's one kid playing in the swings, his hair is curly at the ends, wearing a tattered jacket as he kicks the sands. His guardian— a man sitting on the only bench— is watching him closely. He's frowning, deep in thought.
"Go play. Be nice." Annalyn reminds Steve, more as a habit rather than a reminder. She knows Steve will be kind, it's engraved in his soul.
Annalyn sits beside the man, quietly watching as they hear Steve introduce himself to the kid.
"Hello! I am Steve!" She hears him say, waving slightly at the kid.
The kid looks at him, blinks for a few seconds before he says his name. They chatter for a few more minutes, Steve asks if he wants to be pushed and the boy says yes.
Annalyn turns to the man, "Is that your son?"
The man turns to her, "I— Yes— No— It's complicated." He sighs, gritting his teeth so hard Annalyn can see his jaw clenching, "He's my nephew. I just got custody of him today."
"Oh." Annalyn breathes out, looking back at the kid who's now pushing Steve instead. Both laughing and giggling.
"I don't know what I am doing. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a child." The man continues, clearly frustrated and scared, "But he's never got a good home and I want to give that to him."
Annalyn smiles, "Just the fact that you want to give him a good home is telling me that you'll be just fine. Don't overthink it, life's too short for that."
The man blinks at her, and it's almost the same as the look the small boy gave to Steve, "Thank you." He says, finally smiling and looking back at the kids, running around and playing tag with each other.
"Steve's your boy?" He asks.
Annalyn smiles, "Yeah, he's my boy. Not my son, just my nephew. But I love him like he's mine."
The man softens, nodding along like he completely understands— which he does.
They spend half of the afternoon there. Just playing, rolling around the grass, swinging each other in the swings. Just before the sun sets, Annalyn asks Steve to say goodbye to the boy.
There's daisies tucked in his hair like flower crowns, and she sees the other boy, with a flower tucked behind his ear. They're whispering, too intimate for a simple goodbye.
Steve waves at the boy, head sticking out of the car, waving until they can barely see the other boy anymore and until they turn the block.
When Steve sits, he turns to her and with his big brown eyes blown wide, with his whole heart in his hands and says, "I am going to marry that boy."
And Annalyn steps on the break, turns to the side of the road and has to turn to her nephew and look at him— really, look at him. Steve smiles at her, toothy and all gummy, determination bleeding in his eyes. The flowers the boy Steve just said he's going to marry still hanging from his hair.
She can't help but smile, moving closer to kiss his temple.
"Alright, Mr. Lover." Steve giggles, and she wants to hear it for the rest of her life, want to shield him from all the horrors of this world.
"Listen to me, okay?" Steve nods, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to marry a boy. But you have to promise me something, Steve? Okay?"
He nods, earnest, "It needs to be our little secret for now, okay? You have to promise me."
Steve's face droop into sadness, "Why?"
Annalyn's heart breaks into pieces, "Because people don't like it when a boy wants to marry another boy. There's nothing wrong with it, but they will hurt you and they will hurt that boy."
"They can't hurt him!" Steve protests.
"I know, honey. That's why we have to keep it a secret for now."
"Okay," Steve nods, stoic and strong, "I'll protect him. I won't tell anyone. Promise."
Annalyn smiles, "Good job, Steve. I am proud of you."
They drive back home, have dinner and build forts in the spacious Harrington living room.
She remembers that day. The day Steve wanted to marry that boy. The daisies tucked in his hair. The other little boy beaming so brightly, like it's always been meant to be. The results of the tests. The cancer coming back. The chemo is not working. The time she has left. But most of all, she remembers Steve.
Annalyn dies six months after that exact day.
It's years and years later when the story is brought back up. On one random morning when Steve visits her grave, with a bunch of tulips in his hands. Steve tells the story of the boy with the daisies to his best friend, Robin, as they sit side by side by her grave. Steve tells her, that he never saw the boy again.
Annalyn laughs as she listens.
She laughs, as another boy comes out of no where, picnic basket in hands, and daisies in the other.
"Eddie! You're late!" Steve exclaims, making the other boy roll his eyes. The boy looks different now, with longer hair, a look in his eyes that is way beyond his age. But he's happier, older.
"I am sorry, Stevie. But I picked you this."
They lay the blanket, and eat with her, just like old times, just with new friends. Annalyn wishes she could say hello, and formally meet his friends. The friends that sticked with Steve even in life or death situations.
Steve cleans her grave, "Auntie, we're here for a reason. I have some news."
Annalyn raises her eyebrows, "Eddie and I— We're engaged."
"I hope to God you don't haunt me. I just want your approval." Eddie says, making Steve laugh. It's the same sound as when he was a kid, and only Eddie (and his found family) can elicit it from him nowadays.
"Anyway, it's not legal or anything. But we're doing it with family, you know?" Steve plays with the ring in his hand, just a simple golden band, "I wish you were here."
Annalyn wants to tell him that she is, that she's always here, "I wanted you to walk me down the aisle. I want you to meet Eddie."
They stay for a few more minutes, before they finally start packing up and cleaning.
Just before they leave, Steve whispers to her grave, "Come to my wedding, okay? Move a few glasses. Maybe say hi to El or something. Just be there, please?"
Annalyn laughs, and nods, and promises that she'll be there. She watches as Steve and Eddie, hands intertwined, walk together as Robin starts the car.
Steve turns one last time, waves at her grave, his engagement ring catching sunlight and beaming. There's daisies tucked in his back pocket, like a reminder, that everything has been set from the moment we were born.
If there's one thing about Steve, he's a stubborn, determined kid.
Annalyn smirks, "Son of a bitch, Steve really is marrying the daisy boy."
I like to think that for Christmas Steve gave Eddie a box of Legos and it starts a life long obsession of Legos. Like when they finally move in to their own apartment, Eddie gets a small room for his Legos and when they buy their first house, he gets the basement. He has his own little town of Legos.
Eddie cried when they finally made a LOTR themed one and Steve had to help him build it because he's shaking with excitement.
This year, 58 year old Eddie Munson just finished the human sized Eiffel Tower lego as Steve Harrington takes pictures of him posing beside it so he can send it to Robin and Nancy (And a very envious, Dustin.)
It's weird, Eddie thinks. When Eddie and Steve holds hands, they intertwine it together. However, almost always, Steve ends up untangling it, his hand creeping up and holding him on his wrist instead. It makes Eddie feel like a child, with a mother holding on to him.
He thinks it might be his rings, thinks it might be annoying Steve. But then, he remembers Steve telling him how much he loves them.
He thinks it might be because he sweats when they hold hands for too long. But then, he remembers Steve trying to hug him after work and telling him he couldn't care less if Eddie's sweating or smells like oil.
He thinks it might be— no. He doesn't— Steve might be ashamed of him? And doesn't want to be seen with him, their hands slot together so perfectly the whole world may crumble? No. That's definitely not right. Steve is open to the people who matter, tells Dustin of their last endeavor, tells Robin about how good Eddie is to him, tells Hop that Eddie is good and kind and everything to him. He kisses him in the Wheeler basement, slots his head on his shoulders in between the empty aisles of Family Video, takes Eddie in his arms in the trailer in front of Wayne. That can't be it.
Eddie finds out in the middle of a campaign. Steve, Robin, Max and El hanging out on the sides while the boys busy themselves with defense and strategy. He didn't mean to look Steve’s way, but like a boat, his eyes will always find his lighthouse, bright and guiding in the dark.
Steve is holding Max's wrist, just like he always does with him. At first, it's weird because Max doesn't really like prolonged physical touch. They stay like that for half of the game, whenever Eddie looks back, Steve's hand is still wrapped around Max's wrist.
When Eddie calls for a break, and Steve rushes upstairs to help the boys get a snack, Eddie sits beside Max.
"Hey, Red." Max gives him a nod of acknowledgment as she reads the latest comics.
"Can I ask you a question?" Max hums in agreement, eyes still glued on the page.
"Why was Steve holding your wrist like that?" Max freezes, eyes looking up to meet Eddie's. Eddie is aware of how it sounds like, so he word vomits, "I— I am just curious. He does the same for me and I've never understood why."
Max squints at him behind her thick glasses, "It helps him calm down."
Eddie tilts his head in confusion, "Calm?"
Max takes his hands, wrapping a hand around his wrist, just directly above where his pulse is, "When he found us after the Upside Down, we were barely alive. Now, he feels our pulse and it's a reminder that we're alive, we're okay. It calms him down, helps him stay in the moment."
It hits him like a bucket of cold water. How Steve makes it his mission to burrow his head on Eddie's chest, directly above his beating heart, his hand always wrapped just above his pulse, Steve staring at his eyes first thing in the morning like he's looking for something in it.
It's a reminder that Eddie's alive, that Max's alive, that they're all alive and that they get to live and breathe in peace without the impending doom looming over the edge.
Eddie never brings it up. He lets Steve hold his pulse, splay a hand on his chest to feel his heart, lets Steve fall asleep to the sound of Eddie breathing.
Eddie's never gonna bring it up. Steve can do it for the rest of their life for all he cares.
Robin Buckley finds birthdays weird. The first one you ever have, all the people around you celebrate while you don’t understand anything. You don’t remember much of the next few ones, maybe your seventh, your eighth.
Robin’s favorite birthday from her childhood is her twelfth. It’s nothing special. But she remembers the day so clearly, her friends, grandparents and parents singing in the park as she blows out candles. She remembers playing at the park for the rest of the day with her friends and this one boy. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and a toothy smile. She remembers telling him it’s her birthday and she remembers the boy softly singing three lines of Happy Birthday as her other friends play in the background. Robin watches him make a flower crown with daisies, before offering it to her, as a birthday present. Robin takes a few daisies, tucks it into his brown hair. Before he leaves, Robin asks him to keep the daisies, to remember her by, and Robin keeps the remnants of the flower crown tucked in an old book somewhere.
Robin’s best birthday ever is her nineteenth birthday. It’s the first of her birthdays that she and Steve celebrate together as bestfriends. Steve makes a big deal out of it. He bakes a chocolate cake, garnished with shaved chocolates on top just the way she likes it. Steve drives them to Indianapolis, takes her to her favorite stores, buys her a tiny rainbow pin and tucking it in her jean jacket with the softest smile. He buys one of his own, tucks it in the sleeve of his ridiculous wine red sweater.
They go home, and at home Steve shows her his room. He’s shy, doesn’t even want to show her. His room, even with dull and colorless wallpaper has never been dull when Steve Harrington is in it. But tonight, it’s filled with the brightest fairylights, stringed around the room, turning it into the smallest and most wonderful wonderland.
“It’s the closest thing to Paris I have right now.”
Because Paris is Robin Buckley’s dream destination. Because Steve Harrington knows her, like the back of his hand. Because Steve Harrington is his soulmate.
There Steve sings her a soft, quiet Happy Birthday and asks her to make a wish. They sit in bed all night, eating the cake with two forks in the same plate, wearing ridiculous party hats, as the lights surround them.
“Someday, we’re going to Paris, watch the lights, and eat some ridiculously expensive cake.” Steve announces.
Robin laughs, “All right. It’s a deal, Dingus.” She playfully puts out her pinky, and Steve laughs, looping his pinky into hers.
Steve gives her his gifts, an old pocket book for touring Europe and a black denim jacket, with sherpa collar. It has patches sewn all over it, carefully choosen and sewn together.
“Dude, did you make this!?” Steve laughs, shaking his head, no. “Well, I didn’t do everything. But I did this.” He takes the coat, flipping it inside out. In the right chest, just above the pocket is a rainbow sewn in patch.
“Steve.” She chokes out, hand shaking as she gently caresses the patch.
Steve smirks at her, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”
Robin laughs, “Stop being so creepy!”
They laugh.
It’s Robin’s best birthday ever.
It’s Robin Buckley’s first birthday with Steve Harrington.
It’s Robin Buckley’s last birthday with Steve Harrington.
Her schmuck, her bestfriend, her soulmate, her Steve. Just gone.
All she has left is money, clothes and a box she can’t even fucking open.
She storms his closet, greedy for anything that had even the smallest hint of his smell, that ridiculous hairspray and some kind of fucking wood that she can’t name. She takes a box out, takes that ridiculous yellow sweater he threw at Eddie. The same sweater they went back for, the same one he cried over, the same one he was clutching as he admitted feeling that hint of electricity with Eddie. She sees the denim vest neatly folded in the bottom of his closet, and Robin knows she needs to give it to Dustin or Wayne or to anyone but she shucks it to the box. She takes his letterman jacket, takes the stripes polo she always made fun of, took some of his old Hawkins shirts, she knows she can’t take everything. Max and Dustin and Erica would want some, but she wants everything she can take, anything that has a smidge left of Steve Harrington. She wants— no, she needs it. Because her bestfriend is just gone.
The moment her hand furls against the familiar fabric, tears fills her eyes. Robin has cried so much in the last twenty-five days that she should be empty, she should be all cried out. But the moment her hand touches the wine red sweater, she breaks, her knees buckling as she falls to the floor with a thud. She touches the sleeves, and something prickly touches her, she knows what it is. But the sight of the raindow pin still tucked in the sleeve makes her scream, a scream stuck between a sob and a wail, as she hugs the sweater closer, Steve’s ridiculous fucking perfume sweeping her nostrils.
“I can’t fucking believe you, Steve Harrington!” She sobs, she hears the door swinging open, and she’s not even sure who’s comforting her, who’s hugging her, but they’re also shaking, chest sobbing. Robin crumples the sweater to her chest, as close as she can as if it’ll squeeze out the essence of her bestfriend.
“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this without you, please, Steve."
Robin has never cried harder, she’s exhausted, her throat is hoarse, she hasn’t slept in the last twenty-five days and someone is holding her.
If she squeezes her eyes shot hard enough, holds the sweater close enough to smell and imagine. It’s just another day, just another day, she just woke up with a the worst nightmare and Steve is holding her in his familiar arms, lulling her back to sleep, to safety with his warmth.
Robin blacks out. It’s the first night she slept all through the night since Steve Harrington died.
Robin’s twentieth birthday is quiet. The kids, Nancy, Jon and Argyle baked her a cake. It’s not chocolate, but it tasted good. They sing, and Robin acts like she’s making a wish. She doesn't have the heart to tell them that no amount of candles, or birthday wishes, can ever bring back her wish. They watch more than three movies at the Wheeler basement, eat junk, eat cake and laugh, like there aren’t missing holes in their lives.
When the time comes, they all go home. Robin goes home, hangs her black denim jacket on the wall, and just like the days before the box on top of her desk taunts her. She hasn’t opened it yet, not that she knows where the key is. Her bestfriend only decided to be cryptic when he’s already six feet under the ground. Once, Dustin saw it and smiled at her, some kind of understanding flashing in his face, “You haven’t opened it too, huh?”
“How do you want me to open this, you fucking Dingus?” Robin whispers, shaking the box.
A thud makes her turn around, the hook where her jacket was hooked fell of the wall, leaving a dent and a few holes on the wall. Robin squints at it, the hook has been there since she was a child and has never went loose. She slowly moves closer to take the jacket off the floor, when she catches glimpse of the embroidered rainbow patch.
She smiles at it, slowly caressing it, and as if he’s just behind her, a whisper of voice in the back of her mind, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”
“You fucking weirdo.” Robin laughs, tears starting to fill her eyes as she ransacks her room for a seam ripper. When she finds one, she’s laughing like a maniac as she tears a small part of it, not intending to remove the whole patch but just enough to take the key out. Robin squeezes just enough for the key to fall out. And there it is, in her hands, a small golden key.
She scrambles to reach for the box, falling to the floor as she tries to reach for it. She sits on the floor, criss-crossed as her hands shake and tears falls from her eyes. She opens the box.
It’s filled with white envelopes. A small note clipped on the lid:
If you’re opening this, I am sorry. I promise I am with you for every birthday. I tried my best to do as many as I can.
You are my soulmate, Robin Buckley. Maybe in some other universe, I will spend birthdays with you since day one. For this one, I hope this will do.
Happy Birthday. I love you.
- Dingus.
P.S. Go to Paris for the both of us, huh? Buy the most ridiculously expensive chocolate cake you can find.
Robin thumbs over the envelopes, numbering from 20 to 90. With shaky hands, she reaches for 20, gingerly opening it.
It’s a hallmark card, with three ice creams on the front. CONE-GRATULATIONS! It’s your birthday!
Robin chuckles as she opens it, her bestfriends familiar handwriting scribbled on the white card.
Happy 20th, Buckley! I hope to God you don’t get to read this card! I want to be there for your 20th and I sure as hell will be there!
In the off chance that you’re reading this, fuck, I am sorry. I must’ve done something stupid. I am sorry we don’t get to spend more birthdays together. I will be with you through a card every year.
I am so glad you were born, I was nothing without you.
Love you, Robs. Happy Birthday!
— Your schmuck, Steve Harrington
“And I am nothing without you, Steve Harrington.” She gasps, holding the card to her chest, sobs rocking her body as she slips into the red sweater she wears to bed every night.
She hasn’t washed it once and it barely smells like him anymore. She wonders when she’ll forget how he smelled like, wonders if she’ll ever find the perfect candle that smells just like him so she can light it up anytime she needs it, wonders if they’ll ever discontinue the Farrah Fawcet spray she uses in her hair even though she doesn’t need it.
Robin falls asleep with a card clutched in her hand and a sweater that barely smells like her bestfriend anymore.
Robin’s twenty-sixth birthday is when she finally goes to Paris.
She leaves everything in the hotel but the old pocket book Steve gave her and her 26th birthday card.
She buys the most expensive chocolate cake she can find, asks for two forks and finds a sit just in front the bright Eiffel Tower.
She opens her card, laughs, cries, and thinks about what Steve could have been doing beside her right now. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and toothy smile, in a wine red sweater and a scarf around his neck.
She eats her cake. It’s good. But the best chocolate cake she’s ever had was in a bed, in a bedroom filled with lights, eaten with two forks in one plate.
She clutches her coat closer, the wine red sweater keeping her warm, like it always has in the past six years.
She opens the forgotten pocket book. The one Steve gave her on her nineteenth birthday. She’s never opened it, never wanted to face the fact that she’s going alone. The cover is battered, the pages yellowing as she flips the book slowly.
A single piece of picture falls from it. It lands face down. Robin can recognize the handwriting from anywhere.
“This is 12 year old Steve in front of the Eiffel Tower! In a few years, it’ll be you and me! Happy nineteenth birthday, Robs! P.S. Don’t mind the flower! I got it from a friend! Didn’t want to remove it because it’s really old and dry.”
Robin flips the picture, and there he was. Golden hair, brown eyes, and toothy smile. The same boy she played with, but in front of the same tower she’s in front of right now.
A single dried daisy is taped on the corner.
Robin laughs, smiling with tears at the picture.
Way before they both realized, way before they even properly met, way before they scooped ice creams together, way before blood and drugs made them close.
Way before everything, there were two kids, who played together in a park, daisies weaved into their hairs.
Robin Buckley spent her favorite birthday, her best birthday, and will continue to spend the rest of her birthdays with her soulmate.
Because even beyond the grave, her soulmate will never let her celebrate alone.
Steve Harrington will be there, one way or another.
(again, i am very sorry. if it helps u feel better i can barely see through the tears while writing this)
i thought my steddie brainrot is dying but i guess not. i was watching this modern family episode where the state of california finally legalizes gay marriage. cam and mitch try to one up each other on proposing to each other and my mind just went THIS BUT WITH STEDDIE.
They wake up just like any other day before Steve's iphone (damn) is ringing annoyingly and it's Max screaming on the other line that it's finally legalized! Eddie and Steve don't immediately jump to the "yay we can get married!" but more to the "yay people are finally truly seeing us!"
Eddie leaves to open the store and Steve goes to the daycare he works in. It's a normal day.
But Steve already has a plan. It's already been laid out, it's been planned for years now and all he needs to do is to execute it. He tasks Robin and Max to help him. Asks Eddie out for dinner that night before he leaves.
On the other hand, Eddie's just having the best day. The pride flag hung outside his record shop seems more vibrant than ever, when Nancy comes stalking in the shop, asking him about his plans.
"Come on! You told me Steve's been saying he wants you to be more romantic! This is your chance, Eds!" And Nancy is right, because well, when was she ever wrong? Anyway, Eddie tasks Nancy and Dustin to help him plan the proposal that same night.
Eddie calls Steve, asking him to go get lunch with him at the same place where they first ate when they first moved to California. It's a dingy little diner but it's been their favorite restaurant. Steve smells the proposal as soon as he parks his car on the parking lot and sees Nancy's car parked in the back alley. He calls Eddie with some excuse, saying he can't come.
Steve tells him to just meet him at their favorite formal restaurant, it's a place overlooking a cliff, it's the same place they eat at for every big milestone. Opening the store, getting promoted, the kids having kids, Wayne finally getting together with Claudia, those kinds of stuff. Eddie clocks the proposal right away when he sees Steve wearing a buttondown and his best pair of pants. Eddie feigns nausea and says he might actually vomit from the heights.
Steve calls Robin and launches Plan B. The backup plan was Robin and Max will put two rocking chairs in front of their old fireplace with two beers and a vinyl. Robin asks why, Steve tells her why. He was only 20, 5 months fresh out of the hospital when they need to fight Vecna again. The night before that, they have a big sleepover. While everyone was asleep Steve and Eddie slipped out to get a smoke.
He remembers the fear, the way Eddie's hand shook as they share a cigarette, the way the pale moon lit his face.
"Hey, if we ever get out of here alive, what do you want to do?" Steve asks, Eddie shrugs.
"Dunno know. I don't even plan on going past 23." It breaks Steve's heart, breaks it into a million pieces and suddenly, he wants to fight for Eddie.
"Come on. Just imagine. You're 50. What do you want to do?" Steve prods, making Eddie look back at him. His eyes search Steve's face, his eyes twinkling from the stars.
"I don't know. Maybe have a couple of beers with you. In front of a fire place. In a rocking chair. Playing an old vinyl I stole from Wayne."
It's so specific, so special. It's just for the two of them. Steve wants to be courageous, so he grabs Eddie by the lapels of his leather jacket and kisses him like the world is ending.
That's Plan B.
Eddie calls Nancy and Dustin for Plan B. Of course, there's a Plan B. Eddie asked Nancy Wheeler and Dustin Henderson for help. Eddie instructs her to go into their shared bedroom and bombard it with stick on glow in the dark stars.
When Nancy asks why, Eddie tells her why. He remembers being 21, just 5 months fresh from the hospital and having to go into hell again to fight this monster that brought him to his family.
The world is ending tomorrow and Steve Harrington is kissing him under the bright stars. When they pull away, the stars doesn't even compare to the way Steve lights up, the way his eyes shone in the dark and the way he just looked at Eddie like he was the stars.
That's Plan B.
Nancy, Robin, Dustin and Max all die of laughing when they all bump into each other in the Harrington-Munson house. They talk about how this two idiots have loved each other for so long, survived the world ending together just so they can kiss each other under fake glow in the dark stars or rock on a rocking chair in front of a fire place, and realizes that no one deserved this more than those two.
All plans go out of the window when they get a flat tire. Steve's useless in automobile so Eddie does it, but he accidentally pushes it too far off the edge and it falls down a steep cliff. They laugh, falling in their asses on the road as they wait for help.
They share a single cigarette, they don't usually smoke that much anymore but they had nothing else to do, so they smoke one. The stars above them are shining and twinkling as it looks down at them, the moon smiling along.
"This reminds me of the night before we finally killed Vecna." Steve says, smiling through the smoke.
"You mean, the first time you kissed me?" Eddie smirks, elbowing his boyfriend.
Steve leans down to kiss him and it still feels exactly like the first time they kissed, the only difference is that there's no fear anymore. Just familiarity and comfort and that tenderness that Eddie always has for him.
They break apart, take one look at each other and understand. Steve pulls out a ring as Eddie pulls out his. They laugh and kiss again before slipping each of their ring into each other's finger.
It's a proposal that doesn't need words, doesn't need big gestures because no matter what happens, they've always been meant to be. Ring or without a ring, they've always belonged to each other since that night under those stars.
