Scandal follows Eddie Munson wherever he goes. He doesn't mean for it to, it just does. And, like, sure, he should've known that cavorting with a bunch of topless models in a hot tub in a chalet in the Swiss Alps was a bad idea, but 1) he's gay and 2) even if he wasn't, does anyone really care if a rockstar has an orgy these days?
Well, it turns out that they do. They do so much, in fact, that he hasn't known a moment's peace since the photos leaked. Every time they go outside, they're mobbed. Their socials are a disaster zone.
Chrissy, Jeff, Gareth, and Freak are sick of his shit, worried that this will ruin the world tour, which doesn't make any sense. All publicity is good publicity, right?
Anyway, he's not surprised when he, Chrissy, and the rest of the band are whisked away in a fancy car with dark-tinted windows, thinks they're about to fly home for a break. And honestly? Good riddance to Europe.
Imagine his surprise when he exits the car mere feet away from the sun soaked Mediterranean.
"Oh no. No, no, no." He says, trying to force his way back into the sedan.
"Oh, yes." Chrissy links her arm with his. "You need to lay low for a few days and this was the best I could manage on short notice."
He glares. "You know I hate boats."
"You do not," Gareth accuses.
"You're just mad at facing consequences for your actions," Jeff adds.
"I didn't do anything!" He wails.
Freak pulls out his phone, reads, "Munson, 26, has always been open about being gay, out of the closet since Corroded Coffin's first gig. Now, though, his sexuality is in question. Multiple women have come forward to claim they slept with the rockstar. And, while many of the women in the photo have said that Munson was 'deeply uninterested' in them, the fact remains that his antics are more Motley Crue than Troye Sivan."
Eddie groans up at the sky. "Why would I be anything like Troye Sivan!? I'm in a heavy metal band! And he's around boobies all the time! Honestly, has no one been to a rave?"
"Not since the 90's." Chrissy smiles brightly, continues up the dock.
"I'm never forgiving any of you for this."
"It's a luxury yacht, Eddie. You'll survive," Gareth says.
He very bravely does not point out that he's wearing black jeans and an over-sized black hoodie and black platform Doc Martens, so obviously he's not the type of person equipped for any kind of boat.
The conversation ends but only because, when they get up to the main deck and the crew waiting for them, he sees the most beautiful man in the world. Artfully messy sun-bronzed hair, strong jaw, classic nose, skin dotted with freckles. Aviators hide his eyes, but even the sunglasses look good on him. Not to mention the little white uniform that shows off all of his many many muscles.
Eddie stares at him, blatantly, unabashedly, totally missing the introduction to the rest of the crew.
As soon as he's left to his own devices, he locks himself in his cabin. Not even the chance to gawk at that hot guy can draw him out of his pout. They can force him onto a boat, but they can't make him enjoy it.
He lasts until afternoon the next day, when Jeff barges in, surprising him enough that the throws his phone with a very un-rockstar yelp.
"You have to come out." Jeff's arms are crossed over his chest.
"Nope." Eddie relaxes back into his pillows. "Not until this is over."
"So, you're going to stay in your room for a week?"
"Guess so."
"Orr, you could come out and enjoy yourself instead of pouting over what your own actions caused."
"My actions!" He shrieks. "My actions! I stumbled on a bunch of topless French models in a hot tub, and I'm at fault?"
"No, you being drunk enough to get in with them was the problem."
"I wasn't even that drunk! I just thought it was funny. They did too!"
Jeff sighs. "You get yourself into a situation more than any person I've ever met."
"See? It's not my fault."
"I mean. It kind of is. I suspect any other guy would learn how to avoid this."
"I'm not leaving."
"Man, Chrissy isn't going to let you stay in here."
"Too bad."
"She told me to carry you out, if I had to."
"You wouldn't."
"If you come out, you can chat up the cute bosun."
"The bos-what?"
"Bosun. The guy you were ogling when we boarded. His name is Steve. He's really nice. He--"
"I was not ogling him."
"Eddie. You looked like you wanted to eat him for dinner."
"I'm not leaving the room." He sing-songs.
Look, would he have fought so hard if he'd known that Jeff was strong enough to toss him over his shoulders and fireman-carry him out of the room and up the stairs? He would not.
Instead, he screams the whole way from his cabin to the deck, where he's unceremoniously deposited into a lounge chair next to Chrissy. She's in a hot pink bikini, sipping a cocktail.
"Good to see you." She deadpans.
He glares. "Et tu, Chrissy?"
From behind him, a rich voice calls out, "Glad you could join us." It is, of course, the hot bosun. He waves when he catches Eddie looking in his direction.
Eddie sinks down in the lounger, Chrissy stifling giggles against her elbow.
---
The thing is, Steve is nice. He's nice and he's funny and he's hardworking. He's good with the other deckhands, Dustin, Max, and Lucas; strict but fair and good at keeping everyone on task. The stewards, Nancy, Robin, and El, all love him. Sometimes, he'll be down on all fours scrubbing the deck, and his t-shirt will bunch up, reveal a tantalizing glimpse of his taunt stomach that makes Eddie feel like a feral dog.
He's out on the top deck reading a copy of The Hobbit that Dustin loaned him, when Steve comes around the corner.
"Oh! Eddie, hey." Steve smiles. "Didn't realize there were any guests still up here."
"Do you need me to move?" He asks. He swings his feet over the side of the lounger.
"Not at all. Just wasn't expecting you." Steve's puttering around, picking up the detritus of the day. "I'm glad we've been able to overcome your expectations of boats."
His squeak is indignant. "It wasn't about the boat! I was brought here against my will!"
Steve smiles at him, eyes glittering. "Yeah, what a horrible punishment, boarding a luxury yacht for a Mediterranean cruise."
Eddie grabs at his chest, mimes being shot in the heart. "Stevie, how could you? All this time I thought you were on my side."
"Eh," he shrugs. "You were kind of being a baby."
He falls off the lounger at this. "The killing blow," he wails.
Laughing, Steve extends a hand, helps him to his feet. Their eyes meet and Eddie's struck, once again, by the way the hazel shines so gold, even at twilight.
"I'm being punished," he says, looking away.
"Again, getting on a chartered yacht for a week is not much of a punishment."
"I have a tendency to find myself involved in shenanigans."
"The topless women," Steve says.
Eddie groans. "You know about that?"
Steve does a real bitchy thing with his eyebrows that makes Eddie very warm in places it shouldn't. "Everyone knows about it."
"Okay. I'll have you know those boobs meant nothing to me, which is why it was fine! We had fun! Also, I am very, very gay. Like. The gayest."
"Oh, I know." Steve grins.
He doesn't know what to do with that. Changes the subject instead. "I hadn't clocked you for someone who listened to our stuff."
"I don't. Or well. Not really. No offense. The kids love you guys. And Robin. It's just--it's really loud? Not really my thing. Some good lyrics, though."
"No, I get it." He nods, licks his lips. "I write most of our songs." He's not sure why he says it, what he hopes to get from it.
"I know," Steve says.
"Oh." Eddie smiles down at his hands, The Hobbit. Before he can say more, Chrissy calls him down for dinner.
---
It's no secret that the Corroded Coffin boys are diehard dnd fans. They've done interviews about it, posted video of their sessions on YouTube and TikTok. Everyone knows they play, everyone knows Eddie DMs, so, he supposes, it's only a matter of time before Dustin and Lucas asks if he would DM for them.
The band, Chrissy, Lucas, Dustin, Max, Nancy, El, and Robin all agree to play. When asked, Captain Hopper snorts, doesn't take his eyes off the horizon, and Steve tells Dustin, "You know nothing in the world will make me play that game, kid. I'll try to stop by, though."
Eddie is totally in his element, everyone is having a blast, even Captain Hopper stops by. And Steve--he shows up after fifteen minutes, stays the whole time, can't keep his eyes off Eddie. He's not sure if it spurs him on, makes him more wild and dramatic, but the game is electric, the mood high.
It's an amazing night, one of the best of Eddie's life, and that's really saying something. They go late, well into the morning, but he's too hyped to sleep. He's pacing across the deck when Steve appears.
"You were great tonight." He says.
Eddie feels like he's effervescing. "You should think about playing sometime."
"Nah." Steve ducks his head a little. "Wouldn't be the same without you leading."
There's not a ton of space separating them, but he closes the distance anyway. "That could be arranged," he says, voice low.
"Yeah?" Steve meets his eyes, doesn't look away.
"If you want."
The air between them goes heavy, tightens, the silence lengthens.
"I can't," Steve breathes. "I'm working."
"No, yeah," Eddie nods. He steps back, runs his hand through his hair. He's never said no to something like this, never to someone like Steve. "I'm avoiding--"
"Situations." Steve finishes.
"Oh, but, Stevie, you're a situation I want very much."
"Take me on a date tomorrow."
"It would be my pleasure," he says.
He should leave but--he does love an occurrence, so he lets the impulsivity fly-- leans forward, places a soft kiss at the corner of Steve's mouth.
Thinking about Steve and Eddie when they first get together. Steve worries because they are so different and is afraid Eddie will think he is boring. He throws himself into all of Eddies interests and hobbies and one day it all boils over.
Steve knew he was going to get a migraine that day the minute he woke up. He could feel it in the way his jaw was clenched and his head was already aching. But tonight was important, Eddie had a gig at the hideout and he had to be there. He’d listened to Eddie give passionate grandiose speeches about becoming famous one day and how music was his passion, his life. So Steve popped an ibuprofen drank and extra glass of water and went to work.
Keith wasn’t in so he kept the lights off in the store as long as the sun allowed him, then wore sunglasses as he vacuumed under the flickering florescent lights. By the time he clocked out his head was pounding and he could feel his pulse in his sinuses. But he just took another ibuprofen, kept the sunglasses on and drove to the hideout.
By the time he made it Corroded coffin was 10 minutes away from starting so he had no chance to see Eddie. Instead he tucked himself away in a booth at the back of the bar with a water. He took the few minutes he had to pop in some earplugs and rest his eyes, praying and hoping to all hope he could just make it through Eddie’s set.
When the bands name was called Steve’s eyes popped open. He was greeted with aura’s all around wherever he looked no matter how hard he tried to blink them away. He tried giving his head a shake and immediately regretted it, slumping down in the booth and clutching his hair as he waited for the pain to reverberate its way through his skull.
He just needed to make it through Eddie’s set then he could go home and lay in the dark, sleep it off. He couldn’t disappoint Eddie he had to be there. He clutched the table and he forced himself up and out of the booth, using chairs for balance as he stumbled his way as far into the crowd as he could. Each bump against him sent shocks of pain bouncing through his head but he kept going as far as his feet would take him, finally stopping when he his steps stuttered and he couldn’t catch his breath anymore.
And after all that what did it was the first tap of Eddie’s finger against the mic sending ear splitting feedback through the speakers. Steve crumpled like his strings had been cut, his knees slamming against the sticky bar floor as he went down.
The next thing Steve knows he’s laying on a couch, someones hands are in his hair massaging his scalp and all the lights are off.
“Whu?” He makes to get up but the hands in his fair stop him, along with a familiar voice.
“Lay back down baby.” Eddie spoke softly, and he coaxed Steve into laying back down. “You went down pretty hard and its going to hit you soon”
“M’sorry.” Steve mumbled feeling his face go hot. “Please tell me you at least played?”
“Oh god no, the minute you went down I hopped off that stage and hauled you back here, I could tell what it was from the sunglasses and earplugs.” Eddie kept his voice gentle and his fingers continued to move, migrating down to Steve’s temples.
This was horrible Steve had ruined it all, he could feel the tears begin to sting his eyes. “God I’m so sorry.” Steve sat up, resisting Eddie’s gentle attempts to lay him back down. “I- please.” His voice broke, his hands flew up into his hair right where’s Eddie’s had been but his grip was much less soothing. “Please I swear I didn’t mean to. I can make it through concerts and shows, I don’t even get migraines all that often.” He began to plead, his eyes wild as they leaked tears, straining to make out Eddie’s face in the limited light from a crack in the door. “Just please don’t dump me, I swear this just it was bad timing on my part. Please don’t dump me Eddie.” Steve’s sobbing was adding to his headache but he was too far past it all to care, the sinking feeling of his heart in his stomach was more prevalent anyways.
Even in the limited light of the room Steve could see Eddie’s brows furrowing. He opened his mouth again, ready to beg and plead some more but one of Eddie’s hands coming up and gently cupping his face stopped him in his tracks. His mouth snapping shut when Eddie’s thumb reached up to wipe his tears away.
“Honey you need to slow down, and breathe.” Eddie instructed calmly, his free hand coming up to rest against Steve’s chest. “Nobody is leaving nobody so breathe for me okay?”
Steve followed the movements of Eddie’s shaded body , sinking the flex and release of his ribs and stomach to the outline of Eddie’s.
“I’m sorry.” Steve whispered again once his heart was no longer racing and he could breathe on his own again. He couldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes though, and only did when a warm calloused finger tipped it up.
“You have nothing to apologize for baby, why don’t you tell me why you’re so worried about me dumping you though?” Eddie’s head tilted, his hands roaming up and down Steve’s arms slowly.
“We’re just so different and I’m so scared you’re gonna wake up one day and realize you could be so much happier with someone more like you. So I started getting into all your hobbies to show you I can be interesting too.” Steve felt stupid now that he had to admit it out loud.
“Oh baby, I like that we are so different. You don’t have to be anyone but who you are, because thats the Steve that I like. And for the record I’d never be upset at you missing a show for Migraine by the way.” Eddie ducked his head to the side to catch Steve’s eyes.
“But music is so important to you, it’s your passion!” Steve tried to protest.
But Eddie shook his head, his hands migrating up to cradle Steve’s face. “Yes but, Stevie baby hear me when I say this; I love you, I would never ask you to hurt yourself for me, that’s incredibly selfish thats not what love is.”
“I- really, your sure its okay I won’t always be able to come? Even when you’re rich and famous?” Steve questioned his heart still not believing it.
“Of course honey! If anything all the money I make being rich and famous will be used to spoil you anyway. I’ll get you any and all help for your migraines too. We are a team baby.” Eddie pulled Steve into his chest.
Steve instantly melted into the embrace, clutching at Eddie’s clothes and he rocked the two of them, one hand back in Steve’s hair to try and distract from the migraine.
Okay, I know it's been months, but this picture of JQ as George Harrison is h a u n t i n g me.
I keep thinking, what if it's the early 60's and like, like, what if El and Will run away to San Francisco together because Will's trying to find himself, and Steve and Robin offer to go after them? And the offer is genuine, but Robin is dying to get to SF and Steve (loves her and) is happy to be anywhere other than Hawkins.
They find El and Will, but none of them leave, and that's when Steve meets Eddie Munson, enigmatic musician and third most popular member of the biggest band on earth.
Steve hasn't ever considered he might be gay, but the way he can't stop thinking about Eddie has him questioning everything, and the mounting requests from his father to come home and take over the family business, be the heir he was always supposed to be, have him overwhelmed.
Eddie isn't shy about his interest in Steve, doesn't seem to care much if someone is a boy or a girl, but he has demons Steve can't begin to comprehend. Constantly frustrated that his bandmates and their fans don't take him seriously, dabbling with drugs, pressure to hide the "enjoys sex with men" part of his rock n' roll lifestyle, he's far from wanting a relationship.
It's a torrid, tempestuous love affair, one they both insist is just sex, it means nothing, it's something easy, convenient, thoughtless. They always come back to each other, though, no matter who else they fuck, or how much time passes.
Steve is written into all of Eddie's songs, and Steve's life shifts and contorts around Eddie, always Eddie. It doesn't matter that they're obviously in love, that they'd stop the world for each other.
thanks so much for the response to this little angsty series!
continued from part 1 and part 2 ,
continued in part 4, part 5
---
wondering where I am, lost without you
part 3
"Hey, asshole!"
Eddie roused from his pathetic nest in the bed in the big empty house he'd shared with Steve all too briefly, and for one heartstopping moment he thought Steve had come home. That he'd come home to talk to Eddie, to let him give the apology he'd thought about all last night after Steve had left as he cried himself to sleep.
But it wasn't Steve's voice.
He heard heavy, determined footsteps coming down the hall and then Robin was in the bedroom, scowling over him with her hands on her hips, a pose so familiarly Steve that it made Eddie's eyes ache with suppressed tears.
"Robin?" Eddie croaked, eyes bleary and swollen, throat thick.
"Where does Steve keep his suitcase?" Robin asked briskly, giving him a look of open disgust. Considering he'd spent the entire night clutching the giant stuffed alligator he'd found haphazardly stuffed under the bed and sobbing into its lurid green plush, that was fair. He must look like a disaster.
"What?"
"Steve's suitcase. Where is it?"
"I-..." Eddie sat up and cast his gaze around the room. In the daylight, he could see that it was shockingly bare. Steve hadn't added any of the homey touches they'd had in their shabby old apartment, no pictures or decorations hung, no movie ticket stubs or polaroids stuck to the vanity, no band posters, no clothes strewn around from nights out at the bar or a dance club. With a rush of shame, Eddie realized he had no idea where Steve kept anything in this house.
"Fucking useless," Robin grumbled, then proceeded to look around the room for the suitcase. She found it in the walk-in closet and Eddie heard her opening drawers and throwing things into it.
"Fuck! Wait! Why does he need his suitcase!" Eddie threw himself out of bed, getting tangled in the blankets and thumping to the carpeted floor. "Buckley?!" he called, voice panicked.
"Because he's staying with me, asshole." Robin wheeled the suitcase into the en suite bathroom and Eddie scrambled up to follow her, panic well and truly seizing him now. Steve wasn't coming home. When he'd tried calling him in the night, it had gone straight to voicemail, and Eddie had left two probably incoherent messages he'd recorded through sobs before he gave up. All his texts went unanswered.
"For how long?" Eddie asked, and he hated how small and helpless his voice sounded.
Robin just gave him a look like he was her boot and she'd stepped in something on the street. "However long he wants. I have the extra bedroom since Max moved out. I told him he can move in if he wants."
"Move in?" Fuck, he'd started crying again. He didn't even care that Robin was seeing it.
Robin paused in her confused inspection of Steve's vast array of hygiene products neatly arranged around one of the sinks. There were two sinks, one for each of them. Eddie's side was completely bare. He couldn't seem to drag his eyes from the sight of it.
"Do you have any idea what you've been doing to him for the last six months?" Robin said, and some of the anger had drained from her face so that she looked openly curious, like it was a real question, not just rhetorical.
Through his despair, Eddie's defensive anger was still apparently slithering somewhere in his gut and before he could stop it, it struck out. "You mean supporting him, putting him through college, giving him a nice home? Yea, I know what I've been doing." Immediately, he wished he hadn't said it. His cheeks burned and he looked away, unable to hold Robin's now furious gaze.
"I don't know who you are anymore, Eddie. I thought you were the guy my best friend fell in love with at his first job in the city when we finally made it out of Hawkins, when we worked at that dingy bar on Main and I got so tired of hearing about the hot singer in the band. And you were so sweet. I thought you were so good for him, good for each other. I thought you were the guy who picked up the pieces whenever Steve's parents blew back into his life just to fuck him up again and then leave. Who was there for him like no one had ever been before, when he was sick with migraines or in his bitchy moods or his bouts of self-hatred. But you know who you sound like? Richard Fucking Harrington."
Eddie flinched like he'd been slapped. And that made him angry again. "Fuck off, Buckley. You don't know what I've done for us! How hard I've been working to make all the years Steve spent breaking his back at menial jobs worth it! To succeed for him, for us!"
Robin rolled her eyes. "Yea, and you don't know how many nights I've spent here helping him through his migraines or holding him when he cries because you've ignored his texts for days at a time."
"I never ignored him!"
"You once went six days without answering any of his texts or calls and then had your jackass manager call to apologize and say you were busy, and then it was another two days before Steve actually heard from you."
"I told him I was sorry!" Eddie's voice broke around his tears as Robin laid all of his sins at his feet. He'd known he and Steve had been growing distant, but hearing it laid out made him burn with guilt.
"Yea, and you sent him a lovely apology bouquet," Robin said.
Tears rolled down Eddie's cheeks and he tried to defend himself, but his throat was too tight. He could only get out a choked sob.
Robin's voice was a little gentler, the bite having gone out of it at the sight of his distress, his obvious shame. "Eddie, you met Steve after he'd gotten away from his parents. I grew up with him. Do you know how old he was the first time they left him alone?" Eddie did. When Steve had told him, he'd been shocked and overcome with indignant rage for the neglected child Steve had been. "He was eight. They left him completely alone for four days. They bought him a new bike when they came back. And then they left again the next week. Do you see what I'm saying? Steve spent his entire childhood needing connection and having money thrown at him instead. I spent years trying to convince that boy he deserved love, that his parents were wrong for withholding that love and expecting him to be grateful. And you just shit all over that." Her voice was low and calm, but there was still anger simmering beneath the surface. Eddie didn't blame her. He was angry with himself.
"How do I fix this?" he gasped, trying to swallow a sob.
Robin shook her head, went back to dropping hair care products into a plastic bag. "I don't know. I don't know if you can. I don't know what you said to him, but he was a wreck last night."
Eddie let out a broken sob at that, remembering the look of devastation on Steve's face when he'd flung those words at him. Lies. It had all been lies. There was no one in the world better than Steve, no one else in the world Eddie wanted but Steve.
Robin's phone dinged and she pulled it out of her back pocket, frowning down at the screen. "It's Steve," she said.
"Steve?" he said, hope rising in him almost against his will. Foolishly, he scrambled back to the bed to fish his phone out of the blankets to see if Steve had tried to text him, had texted Robin instead when Eddie hadn't responded. The only messages were from his manager and his agent.
The look Robin gave Eddie was one of pity. "He wants to know if you want the Beemer back," she said quietly, voice almost gentle.
"Fuck," Eddie croaked, collapsing back onto the bed, face in his hands. His shoulders trembled as he tried to contain himself. "Fuck, Stevie," he said miserably.
"Do you?" she asked.
"No," Eddie said, lifting his tear-stained face to look at her, vision blurred. "No, it's his. It belongs to him." The thought of taking back the car filled Eddie with a dread so deep it made him shiver. It felt like his last physical connection with Steve, like if he severed that last string holding Steve to him, he might never see him again. He'd given the Beemer to Steve, it was his, that wasn't a lie, but it was technically in Eddie's name. As long as Steve still had it, Eddie could let himself believe Steve was coming back, that this wasn't forever.
Robin nodded and texted Steve back, then finished packing the suitcase and rolled it out with her. Before she left the bedroom, she turned back to Eddie, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Eddie, I love you. And you know I love Steve. You fucked up. Find a way to fix it." The blow of her words was softened as she put her fingers in his hair, cradled the side of his head for a moment. "I believe in you. I believe in both of you," she said quietly.
Eddie nodded, his eyes closed, face tight and ruddy with old and new tears. When Robin was in the hall, a thought occurred to him. "Don't forget his backpack!" he called out, voice rough. "It's by the door. He keeps all his classwork in it."
"Thanks!" he heard Robin call back. Little wheels on the hardwood. The front door opening and closing.
this is a follow-up to part one, continued in part 3 part 4 part 5
warning, it get angsty. but there will be a happy ending!
---
wondering where I am, lost without you
part two
Unfortunately, Eddie didn’t get to call Steve the next day and when he texted Steve that night, he finally got a response, “its fine I’ve been busy with midterms.” Eddie asked if Steve got his flowers and stuffed alligator and all he got back is “yea it was cute thanks.”
This pattern continued for the next two weeks, the impersonal texts, the short answers. Eddie tried to call sporadically when he got time between shows and interviews and promotion events and after parties, and Steve even picked up once, but before Eddie could start the conversation he wanted to have, his apology for forgetting Steve’s birthday, asking about the distance he senses in Steve’s texts, he got another call from his agent. He tried to tell Steve to hold while he took the call but Steve just huffed and Eddie could practically hear the roll of his eyes as Steve told Eddie not to worry about it, he’d talk to him later.
Which pissed Eddie off. He knew CC’s sudden success and subsequent tour had put a strain on their relationship. They hadn’t seen each other in three months. He missed Steve. They’d been together for four years, and those had been tough years when they were barely scraping by on Steve’s meager retail earnings while Eddie tried to get the band off the ground.
But it was finally paying off! Eddie had bought them a house in LA, a bigger house even than the one Steve had grown up in. He’d bought Uncle Wayne a modest house out in the country, too. And a new truck! All the blood, sweat, and tears Eddie had poured into his career for the last four years was finally paying off. Did Steve think he was doing all this for himself? He was doing it for them. He was putting Steve through college, making sure he could achieve his dreams like he’d helped Eddie achieve his. And sure, Eddie was having fun, he enjoyed the parties and the traveling and the shows, but there was nothing wrong with enjoying your work.
And just because Eddie had forgotten Steve's birthday, he was getting the cold shoulder?
The few weeks he'd had to sit in this and stew on the unfairness of it, the ridiculousness of Steve's hissy fit over something so minor, was perhaps the reason why it all blew up so spectacularly when Eddie finally made it home, exhausted and sleep-deprived and just ready to sink into his boyfriend's arms in their own home and decompress.
That was not what happened.
Steve looked down at the little giftbox Eddie had presented him with upon his arrival home with an unreadable expression. Eddie had come home with a smile and a hug and a belated birthday present for his boyfriend, ready to put aside the whole thing if Steve was willing. Eddie was hoping the few weeks since his birthday had given him time to step back and see that it really wasn't as big of a deal as Steve seemed to be making it out to be in his head.
"What's this?" Steve asked flatly, standing in the kitchen where he'd been in the middle of cooking dinner for himself. Eddie hadn't commented on the fact that there was clearly only enough pasta for one person.
"Your birthday present! Happy birthday!" Eddie said, trying for a smile, trying to catch Steve's eyes.
"A Cartier watch?" Steve asked, looking dispassionately at the sleek blue watch in the box.
"I saw you admiring them in one of your magazines. I picked this one out for you, thought you'd like the blue." It was a lie, one of his agent's office assistants had picked it out, but it didn't matter. It was the one Eddie would have picked. Steve always looked amazing in blue.
Steve dropped the box on the counter and turned away from Eddie, back to the pasta boiling on the stovetop. Steve still hadn't made eye contact with him. "My birthday was last month."
A wave of anger swelled up in Eddie. He was fucking tired. He'd just spent nearly six months on the road, hadn't had intimate contact with another human being in three months since the last time he'd come home to visit, he wanted to take a hot bath with the boyfriend he adored, get one of Steves famous hot oil massages, and just relax and not be told what to do or where to stand or what words to say for the first time in half a year. And Steve was acting like a spoiled child.
"You're really going to do this?" Eddie asked, trying and failing to keep the anger out of his tone.
"Do what?" Steve still hadn't looked at him.
"Pout about me missing your birthday party?"
Steve slammed a wooden spoon down on the stove and whipped around, finally making eye contact with Eddie. And Eddie could see he was furious. His eyes were bloodshot and glossy, his mouth twisted into a snarl. Well, good! Eddie was furious too!
"You didn't miss my birthday party! You forgot my birthday!"
"It was one fucking day! It's just a birthday! I'd been in interviews and the fucking studio the whole day and I was fucking exhausted. I spent my birthday on the road this year and you don't see me crying about it like a child!"
"I called you on your birthday, Eddie! I texted the other guys to tell them all to wish you a happy birthday because I knew you wouldn't have told them it was your birthday. I was on the other side of the country from you, and I was busy too, with classwork and babysitting and creating content, but I was still thinking about you!"
"Oh, sure Steven, pull out the fucking guilt trip. Did you learn that one from Diane?" Eddie knew things were going downhill fast when he brought up Steve's parents, a fucking flaming dumpster barrelling down the mountain side. But he was so angry, he couldn't keep himself from dredging up the ammo he would usually give a wide berth in their arguments. Their fucked up childhoods were off limits and logically, Eddie knew this, but his mouth was getting away from him in his anger.
"Eddie, I really think you should stop talking." Steve's hands were shaking, his shoulders hunched, and Eddie was sure he mirrored the look.
But Eddie couldn't stop. "No. No, I'm not going to stop talking. Because I forgot your precious fucking birthday, the day Steve Fucking Harrington came into the world. Should be a national holiday, the way you're acting!"
"It's not just the birthday! It's everything! It's the unanswered texts and calls! It's the missed facetime appointments! It's how you forget I exist until it's convenient for you, until you're tired and the tour is over and the album is recorded and the interviews and the parties are done and you want some comfort!"
Eddie could feel his eyes burning with tears, his gut burning with shame, because he knew this was true. Well, not true exactly, because he thought about Steve all the time. He loved Steve more than anything. Steve was his best friend, his other half, his person. But he could see how it looked that way to Steve.
So Eddie did what he always did when he felt threatened. He swung wild. "Oh, poor little rich boy stuck here in his big house with his fucking brand new BMW and his college tuition he doesn't have to pay for with all his adoring TikTok fans that he only has because his boyfriend is famous! How you've suffered!
"I didn't ask you to buy me a house! I didn't ask for the car or for you to pay my tuition! You offered, Eddie! And I'm so fucking sick of being financially blackmailed and ignored 90% of the time like I'm some kind of trophy boyfriend!" By now, Steve's eyes were filled with tears and his whole body was trembling with rage.
Eddie was holding back tears, too. They were both angry criers. Eddie barked a sarcastic laugh. "Trophy boyfriend? That's what you think you are? If I wanted a fucking trophy boyfriend I could do a lot better than a former jock bully turned wannabe influencer and babysitter who fucking peaked in high school!"
The shock and hurt that flashed across Steve's face felt like a knife in Eddie's gut. His mouth snapped shut. "Fuck, Steve, I didn't mean-"
"Fuck off, Eddie," Steve said, and his voice wobbled around his suppressed tears. The sound of it broke Eddie's heart. Steve grabbed his keys and his jacket by the door.
"Steve, please, just stay here and talk to me-" Eddie tried again.
"Fuck off and go find someone better," Steve said bitterly before he slammed the door behind him.
Eddie collapsed onto his knees on the cold marble floor of the kitchen, his sobs echoing in the huge empty house.
He heard Steve's car pull out of the driveway. The noodles on the stove hissed as they boiled over.
I am absolutely blown away by the response to this series! Thank you all so much to everyone who has liked, reblogged, and commented to say that I made you cry lol. I promise this will have a happy ending. thanks so much for sticking through this with me.
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 5
---
wondering where I am, lost without you
part 4
Every way Eddie looked at it, he was in the wrong.
Eddie knew some things about himself. He knew that he could be a little self-centered sometimes. He was passionate and ambitious and he could get tunnel vision sometimes. He could sometimes put his own needs before others. He also knew that he could get nasty when these things were brought to his attention, because he really did love his people and he wanted to believe he was a good friend, a good nephew, a good boyfriend. He wanted to believe he was a good person and when he realized he'd hurt someone he had a tendency to lash out, to try to reframe it so that he wasn't the bad guy. Again, the self-centeredness.
Being back in the house he'd bought for himself and Steve last year with the earnings from the band's first album was... depressing. And not just because Steve wasn't here with him.
The house looked like a showroom, the same as the day they'd toured it with the realtor. It was as if Steve hadn't settled in, hadn't made it into a home. Like he wasn't comfortable here. Like he was staying in a stranger's house or a hotel room, like it wasn't his.
Eddie remembered the day they came to look at the house. It was beautiful and grand, the kind of house he'd always dreamed of having someday, as a kid in the trailer park, watching his uncle break his back at the factory just to put food on their little pull-out cracked linoleum dining table. A house with heating and cooling and all the room they could ever need for hosting holidays and a huge kitchen for Steve to cook in, a pool for all their friends. A home for their family. He'd been so proud that he could give this to Steve, that he hadn't cared that Steve hadn't been as enthused about it. Steve had wanted an apartment, a nicer one than the one they'd had, but he'd said they didn't need all this space and grandeur. Eddie suspected it reminded Steve of the cold, empty house he'd grown up in.
It wasn't meant to be empty. Eddie hadn't meant it to be empty. They had friends. A large network of found family. Only...
Robin had an apartment in Riverside, Nancy lived in the city, and Argyle, Jon, and Will had a bungalow in Long Beach. But other than that... everyone else was at least a day's drive away. Dustin was on the east coast. Everyone was busy with their own careers, their own families, Dustin, Mike, El, and Lucas were all at college. Steve's support group was scattered and busy. Steve was busy, too. He was a full-time student and still worked part-time at a convenience store, even though Eddie had told him he didn't need to do that anymore.
And Eddie hadn't been here. Steve had been alone in this big, cold, empty house.
They'd talked about what the tour would mean for them before Eddie had left on the road. They'd known it would be hard to be apart for so long. But Eddie had promised to call, to facetime, to keep Steve updated, to fly home when he could. Eddie was chasing his dreams, and Steve understood that. Steve had started school. They were both chasing dreams. But they were meant to do it together.
Somewhere along the way Eddie's manager had become more demanding. The band hardly ever got to rest, every day it was interviews or performing or fan encounters or writing or recording, and it was especially taxing on Eddie as the face of the band. He'd let himself be sucked into it, had put his career before himself and before Steve. Eddie had always wanted to be famous, had wanted to play his music for the world, wanted the attention and the money and celebrity. He'd wanted to be known and admired and yes, to share his passion for his music.
But since he met Steve, he'd always known he wanted Steve there with him, every step of the way. Wanted to spoil Steve, give him everything he deserved.
And Eddie had given everything to Steve that he thought he deserved, but not what Steve needed. He'd been selfish. He'd lost sight of what was important to him. He wanted the music career, he wanted the fame, but he needed Steve. He'd give everything up to have Steve back, to make him happy. Give him what he needed.
It had been a week since the fight with Steve and he still hadn't responded to any of his attempts to reach out. Eddie had wanted to drive to Robin's house, to make Steve listen to him, make him talk to him, but Robin had advised against it. Told him to give Steve time to think.
Eddie was afraid that if he gave Steve too much time to think, he'd realize he was better off without him.
Eddie had been fielding calls from his agent and manager trying to schedule him for interviews and recording all week, talking about shows. He'd turned them all down. He'd been working nonstop for six months. He deserved some time off. More importantly, he didn't think he could muster the energy to work when he knew how Steve was hurting, knew how he'd been the one to hurt him. He had to make this right first. Steve had to come first.
Eddie, swaddled in his nest of misery on the bed, dug out his phone and pulled up his convo with Steve (Stevie with little hearts and a crown), and scrolled back through their messages. Eddie never deleted conversations, so he could scroll all the way back through the year if he wanted to.
There were the messages he'd sent this week, unanswered.
steve, please
please talk to me
stevie, please pick up
im so sorry
imsry pleees stvie pick up pllase
plese pick up i need to taaalk to yo
pick up steve please jst talk to me
As he scrolled back, he saw a gradual change. The unanswered messages moved from the right side of the screen to the left.
Steve had stopped responding to him altogether this past week, but in the past month since his birthday party, his responses had been sporadic and short. Eddie could now see that Steve hadn't texted him first at all this past month. Eddie wondered if Steve had been trying to see something there, refusing to text Eddie first to see how often Eddie would reach out to him first. He was ashamed to see that there were days in between their correspondences, and most of them were surface level stuff.
The months before that were characterized by Steve sending him goodmorning and goodnight messages, asking how his day was, if he'd eaten, how the interview went, telling him he saw the interview on TV, pictures of his meals, pictures of himself doing homework, I miss yous, just Steve reaching out to him over and over again and Eddie responding sporadically, telling him how busy he was, and with promises to call at certain times. He'd broken way too many of those promises.
He got back to messages from when the tour started and they were filled with their usual chatter. Selfies, pictures of where they were, messages of how much Eddie missed Steve, how proud Steve was of Eddie. In the beginning they had texted every day. He remembered that they had called nearly every day, facetimed a couple nights a week.
He came back to the conversation from their first night apart. Eddie had been in a bunk on the tour bus. He remembered listening to Jeff's snores in the bunk below as he tapped away on his phone with Steve.
Steve: i miss you already eds
Eddie: i miss you too baby. so nervous 4 the first show tmr
Steve: ur gonna be amazing. uve bn working for this for years. ur there bcause ur amazing and you deserve this. Im so proud of you
Eddie: thanks baby. im proud of you too. im so happy i could help you go back to school you deserve it
Steve: dont 4get me when ur famous ;)
Eddie: lol never baby. how could i 4get dat azz
Steve: ur so dumb. i love you
Eddie: love you too sweetheart. goodnight
Eddie was crying again. He dropped his phone and buried his face into the pillow that still smelled like Steve's shampoo and let himself sob for a long time. He didn't know how he'd let this happen. How he'd lost sight of the person he'd been before the band had exploded into success. How he'd lost sight of the most important person in the world to him, the man who'd supported his dreams, who'd loved him through everything, loved him when he was just a face in the crowd, one of hundreds trying to make it big. Steve had always believed in him, and he'd given Eddie the courage to keep going, to believe in himself, to keep trying.
He wished Steve had told him how he was feeling. Eddie should have noticed how far away from him he was drifting, should have kept his promises, should have said no to his manager when he was being spread too thin, should have made time for Steve. He knew this. But he wished Steve had talked to him before it had gone so far.
But he knew his boyfriend, knew that he hated to admit anything was wrong. He was the type to weather the storm quietly, take the hurt and bottle it up, and make the most of what he had. Eddie knew this came from being raised by two emotionally distant and critical parents. Steve was used to putting on a brave face, gritting his teeth and baring it. Eddie had become good at reading him over the years, good at getting him to talk when he started to withdraw. But Eddie hadn't been here this time to do that.
He had to find a way to be there for Steve now.
After he'd stopped crying and gathered his resolve, Eddie opened his phone again and dialed Steve. Instead of going straight to voicemail, it actually rang a few times and Eddie got his hopes up that maybe Steve would pick up.
He didn't.
Eddie left a message. "Steve, I-" he cleared his aching throat "-I know I hurt you. I shouldn't have said what I said. I didn't mean any of it. I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry for how I've hurt you these past few months. You're-" His eyes ached with tears and he swallowed them down. He couldn't break down again on Steve's voicemail. It wasn't fair on Steve. Steve was the one hurting. "You're the most important part of my life. I want to apologize to you in person. You don't have to forgive me. You just... you deserve to hear it. I don't know if you're listening to these messages. Please just... maybe text me back to let me know you got this one. And take your time. Let me know if and when you're ready to talk. Please. I love you. Always."
He hung up and let a few tears roll into his hairline, soaking the pillow underneath his head.
A few minutes later, his phone dinged. It was Steve. Eddie's heart raced as he opened the message.
Steve: you can come to rob's tmr night at 7 n we'll talk
Eddie let out a sob, this one relieved. "Oh, Stevie," he whispered through a tentative smile. His fingers trembled as he responded.
Eddie: thank you, i'll be there at 7
Then,
Eddie: do you want me to bring ur face cream? buck 4got it
Steve typed for a while, stopped, started typing again. A few minutes passed before his message finally came through.
Steve: yea, thank you
Eddie frowned, wondering what Steve had typed out before he changed his mind and sent this instead. Then he got out of bed and went to shower for the first time in days, a sense of hope blossoming in him.
___
alot of people have expressed how mad they are at eddie and i agree, he's been pretty shitty. i hope i haven't made him unsympathetic though. he's flawed, and we even see that it canon (I'm thinking of when he refused to move the D&D campaign for Lucas's championship game which was pretty shitty) but i fully believe that given the chance he would have recognized how he hurt his friend and made it right. he's a good person, and he made a mistake.
thanks so much for reading! I hope i didn't forget anyone in the tags. (a few of you it isn't letting me tag you?? idk if that's something in your settings? idk, i tried, I'm so sorry! you're still in my tag list so you're down there but it's not linking)
Also, feel free to message me or ask or anon me, rant at me about it, comment on it, I LOVE hearing your thoughts, seriously i eat it up. Someone reblogged with a long add-on rant about it and I loved it so much, thank you!
