They have ants.
They must be new. Eddie's never seen them before.
It feels strange, almost, to see them in such a nice house. Sacraligous. Like people who have homes like theirs are somehow immune to the little insects. Like they know not to bring such a mundane issue to the wealthy.
There were ants at the trailer. Not all the time, Indiana spent more of its year in winter than summer, the little guys slumbering away inside their nests under their plot of land until it became warm.
Eddie's never given them much thought until now. They were just a thing. A small, mildly annoying thing that happened.
He watches as they make their way across the windowsill and down onto the white countertops. They bump heads, trading information back and forth, heedless of Eddie standing right there. They don't care about him, they probably don't even see him, too focused on whatever little morsel they've found to think about whose house they're invading.
The front door opens, clicks shut.
It's only 1:08 in the afternoon. No one should be home yet, but they both are.
"Eddie?"
"We have ants." There are strong arms wrapping around his waist. Warm air tickling his ear.
"Oh, yeah, I guess we do." Steve knows when not to ask. It's why he left the studio. He couldn't listen to Robin ramble and try to pry his feelings out of him right now.
"We've never had ants before. I wonder what they found." He says, voice hollow, eyes blurring as he pushes back the tears.
"Don't know. Probably not worth it, though," Steve says, because he gets it. He always hears what Eddie isn't saying. Even when he's saying a lot already.
They stay like that for a long time, both of them watching the little worker ants crawl along their walls. Steve rocks them back and forth, just a little, as the sun moves slowly through the frame of the kitchen window.
"I thought it was over. I thought they buried it." Eddie finally breaks the silence. Lets himself break the seal and think about it. Lets himself forget the ants and remember the past.
"I did too."
Eddie knows that if he turns on the TV, he'll see it. Headline news. The gruesome death of a kind girl from a nowhere town in Indiana. A manhunt for a 19-year-old boy. A complete lack of supernatural reality or ensuing serial killer coverup.
It had all been destroyed. It was supposed to be destroyed; it was part of the deal. Burn all of the newspapers and the wanted signs and the police reports before they can leave the destroyed borders of Hawkins, rework the story while the town is too busy rebuilding to notice or care.
Give Eddie his life back.
But something survived the purge. Just one little thing, and somebody found it.
Maybe they were looking, maybe they weren't. It doesn't really matter in the end because once one of them finds it, the whole network knows where to look, where to find more.
"How can you get rid of ants, Steve?"
Sigh, clench, release.
"I'm sorry, babe. You can't."