Intro Part to a little something I started writing this evening
The Drive-In - Part 1
Part 2 | Links to all Parts | AO3 Link
Steve sighs, hands running over the steering wheel in front of him. He glances at the empty seat next to him and checks his watch.
27 minutes.
That's how long Felicity had been gone, leaving Steve in an awkward situation. Every bone in his body wanted to get out of the car, find her and make sure she was ok, but he also felt she had bailed on him. His scouring the drive-in and calling out for her might double how much of a loser he felt already.
He taps the steering wheel a few times and groans. He wouldn't be able to rest, not knowing if she was ok, so he swallows his pride and gets out, and takes a look around.
After one hand on the hip 360 turn, Steve drowns in envy. Every fucking car around him is a God damn soft porn extravaganza, and that's precisely what Steve should be doing. Right now, in fact.
This was her idea! Go to the drive-in, play up to her little exhibitionist ways. Which, you know, weren't particularly Steve's bag, but he had made it to date four, and if this is what it would take to find love, he was going to do it.
Falling in love shouldn't be this fucking hard. It should just happen, as it did with Nance, but this time it wouldn't be bullshit, and he wouldn't get his heart ground up into chum.
Steve sighs as the memories flood his head, and he starts heading toward the food stalls. He wanted to, but he couldn't blame Nancy. He fell so hard for her, but as it turns out, he'd fallen in love with an idea of her, what she could be in Steve's future, but that didn't match up with Nancy's, and deep down, he knew that. He just struggled to accept it. They could have been perfect together, but a family wasn't her priority, and objectively, as her friend, neither should it be; she was so bright, and the world was her oyster. Steves's idea of a loving family home felt like freedom to him, but for Nance, it was a prison.
And no one has got under his skin like Nancy.
It's not like he wasn't trying. Every girl he doted on, learned their likes and dislikes, gave them gifts, laughed at all their jokes, was a gentleman, and never showed up to meet them without looking like a picture of perfection.
It was just never enough.
Steve rounds the corner and spots the voluminous wavy hair in a huddle giggling with some other girls. At least he knew she was safe now. He turns to walk away, but her friend spots him, widening her eyes at Felicity, indicating the awkwardness bomb about to go off. Felicity turns and gives an awkward smile of apology because she was rumbled.
Steve opens his mouth to ask if she's ok but is cut off before he begins.
"You know, Steve, I think I'm gonna head home with my friends. One of them just got dumped."
Yeah, me, he thinks to himself.
She's a terrible actress but not as bad as her friend, who, on command, begins fake sobbing in her own hands.
Be a gentleman. He reminds himself.
"Do you ladies need a ride home?" he says, utilizing his big bright white smile.
Felicity shakes her head in a no and looks sheepishly at the ground. He gives her a tight closed-mouth smile and nods before heading to the nearest stall to buy some popcorn and a soda.
On the walk back to the car, through hickey-ville, he wonders. What had he done wrong this time? They were in public, and he'd made sure to get the cliff notes on this movie from Robin. It had a long runtime of over two hours and frankly sounded so bizarre. He was sure it would be make-out city, which is what she had wanted.
Oh God...had he kissed her wrong? Surely not; she would have said something, right? Did his breath smell? No. Not possible. He gets into the driver's seat, puts the snacks in his lap, and checks anyway. Still minty fresh.
At a complete loss, Steve settles back in his seat to watch this Space Odyssey or whatever it is called.
Before he is even an eighth of the way down into his extra-large popcorn, the passenger door opens.
She's come back!! She gets in awkwardly, her back to him. Steve promptly stops eating and hurriedly throws chewing gum in his mouth.
"Hey," he says gently, "Everything ok?" he reaches over in the dark and puts a hand on her shoulder.
He feels her stiffen under his touch, so he takes his hand away, "Are you gonna not look at me for the rest of the night, Flick?" He gets no response, but her shoulders move in a silent laugh.
Yes! She's laughing. He's golden, back in the game Harrington. Careful to keep his hands to himself, he leans over and asks lowly in her ear, "You like that nickname? Mind if I call you that?"
"As long as I get to stay in the safety of this car, you can call me whatever you like, big boy," a flirtatious voice that does not fucking belong to Felicity speaks into the darkness.
The head turns quickly, dark waves of hair and the aroma of tobacco spin around with it, and Steve is greeted with an enormous toothy grin, "Harrington."
Steve rapidly recoils in his seat until his back is pressed up against his door, "Munson?!"
Synopsis: You and the rest of Unholy Angel, set your sights on winning the upcoming Battle of the Bands, but first Mr Harrington (your Boss) has pulled some strings so that you get to be some of the first to ride a promotional simulator for Dustin Henderson's Epic Game series The Curse of Hawkins. Your home life isn't great, your friends are your everything, but seeing a beautiful guitar in a second hand store, pulls on the thread causing your unravelling.
Warnings for the entire story: Darkfic, out of character Eddie Munson, alternative universe, present day, Death, abuse not in heavy detail but are touched on (emotional, mental and physical, harassment, violence, torture, imprisonment, coersion, unrequited love, drugs, alcohol, illness, blood, gore, food disorder, mental illness, vampirism, hypnotism, weirdness, the upside down, bats, monsters
Jukebox Hero
Plug in Baby
I Only Wanna Be With You
Obsession
All Nightmare Long
Cold Sweat
Wasted Youth
Coming Undone
Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck
People = Shit
Let Me Call You Sweetheart
Playlist
Part 2
Summary: Second part of Let Me Call You Sweetheart Series
After the infamous carnage that happened at battle of the bands you are forced to rehabilitate, but it's not just your mind set that is changing, so are your feelings towards one Vampiric Eddie Munson
Everlong - Part 2 - Next To You (Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part 2)
Warnings: References to violence, murder, injury, imprisonment. Fluff, intimacy, failed relationships, This Au's Steve Harrington's entire brood of kids, 50+ Steve Harrington, Vampire Eddie, weird dreams.
Summary: Having successfully proved they no longer need to be under 24/7 surveillance by Henderson's high tech security systems, reader moves into the basement of Mr Harrington's home. With a new found freedom, after nearly two years, you get to see Eddie in person, but something has changed. An unexpected letter arrives.
Thank you @portaltothevoid for all your help. Much appreciated 💚💚💚
@munchabunch
Since moving into the basement of Mr Harrington's house, security had been pretty tight. It was only in the last week or so it had let up a little. They had to be careful to not freak out the Harrington kids. Luckily the two eldest were living elsewhere, leaving a little bit of space, but it was still quite a squeeze with eight kids to contend with ranging from the age of two to eighteen.
Sebastian, the youngest boy at seven years old, had sat next to you one night, with stacks of photo albums to explain everything to you, just as it seemed, someone had explained it all to him.
In 1995 Steve had met Meredith, who, when observing her photos, looked extremely familiar. Her big brown eyes, long tendrils of almost jet black hair. Ripped super baggy jeans, t-shirt and long cardigan, the sleeves pulled over her hands, as she posed outside of a concert. To be specific, she looked like a female Eddie, but older.
So it was no surprise at all that the hair and alternative style passed on to their two kids, the eldest of the Harrington brood, Charlotte (Cas) and Oliver (Olly) both with those deep dark eyes both with voluminous curly hair. Cas's cropped short to her neck. Olly's trailing down to his lower back.
Next a wedding picture but not with Meredith, this was Cassandra. She had a sleek chic french Bob of naturally light blonde hair, her gown of pure white satin, no embellishments and her bouquet a simple wreath of green leaves. Their kids were the eldest that remained in the house, Ava, 18, James, 17 and Evelyn 14.
Mr Harrington had always wanted 6 children, but had seemingly grown tired of trying to find his perfect partner. So he elected to go through quite a process to find the perfect surrogate. He waited patiently for his next beautiful babe, except for when the scan showed them, there were actually three of them all snuggled up together in there. The identical triplets were 11 now, Philomena, Lucy and Jo.
Then there was Sebastian, who advised that though he did have a mommy once, he didn't anymore, and that's why Mr Harrington became his Dad.
And last but not least, two year old Edina, who according to Sebastian, just turned up one day. She was so small, a newborn. She had screamed the roof off for a few days, and seeing his Dad was so tired, Sebastian wanted to help.
He read about babies and sounds, music and different types of noise too. So he'd sat beside her crib one weekend and played her all different genres. The only combination that worked for the baby was a mixture of Metal and white noise. When Sebastian had shown his Dad his discovery, he was so pleased he "picked me up and squeezed and I thought I might die".
Mr Harrington had knelt down to Sebastian and told him, "That's your little sister in there, she's gonna look up to you. So just like today, even though she's gonna be annoying sometimes, you gotta be kind, ok? We all look out for one another here, don't we?"
Sebastian had nodded "It's the Harrington House number one rule."
And then Steve had asked if Sebastian had any idea for a name for the baby, as they both got up to gaze down into the crib at the sweet little baby, finally sleeping soundly.
Sebastian looked down at the playlist he'd crafted, "Adema?"
"Yeah, Edina. That's a good name." Mr Harrington had misheard, but the name stuck.
Whilst flipping through the photos one thing was abundantly clear: Mr Harrington loved his kids. His face when he was in pictures with any of his children, whether that was individually, birthday parties, Christmas card photos or family portraits he always had the biggest genuine smile.
The same could not be said for his love interests. Whilst he looked happy enough, it wasn't the same. After his marriage ended it was just person after person, a lot of whom Sebastian didn't know so he just moved past them. It was interesting though that Mr Harrington had kept pictures of each of them.
"There are other ones, if you wanna see?" Sebastian offered, "When Dad was at school, so funny. The eighties must have been a weird time, because the fashion…urgh."
"Thank you so very much for all of that, but maybe another time?" You felt swamped with information, but it was enough to get by on.
"My pleasure! I know everything there is to know about all of us," he said, lifting up his phone and snapping a picture of you, "and now we can add you too. Maybe we'll get more pictures if you stay?" he looks up at you hopefully.
You smiled back at him, "I'll be staying here for as long as I can I think."
You'd help out around the house where you could, but it was a very delicate line to tread. You didn't want to become missed when you might eventually leave, but you also didn't want to be seen as a sponge, so you did most of your helping on an individual basis or when the house was emptier.
The remainder of your time was spent practicing guitar, and working in the back room at Harrington's, the record store.
You were absolutely not allowed front of house.
Mr Harrington occasionally gave you the freedom to walk around town provided you wore a disguise of sorts. Just because of pure fear of messing up, you didn't stray far from the store, opting for a nearby park, for a short walk, or to just sit on the bench in the fresh air. Something you'd taken for granted nearly two years ago, but now was as precious as gold.
Today's park stroll was one that you'd been nervous about for a few weeks, for the first time in nearly two years you were going to be able to see Eddie. Not a glimmer of particles, not a voice in your head, but actually here in person.
As dusk rolled in, you had so much pent up nervous energy, sitting was no longer an option, so you paced around the bench itself. You practice how you would say hello in your head as you walk around the bench.
Hearing a twig snap, you quickly turn around towards its direction. In the shadows you can just make out his frame, of course his hair, and the unnatural glints in his eyes.
You stay very still, unsure of what to do as a whirlwind of emotions courses through you in those moments, "How long have you been there, creeping about in the shadows?" You joke.
"Oh, long enough," you hear the smirk in his voice. As he steps forward into the light of the lamppost, you are pretty sure your jaw drops a little. He's even more beautiful than you remember. His skin is pale like moonstone, his lips a rich red, and the rest of his features dark like the void. You feel like the ground is a sticky goop holding you to the spot. Your breath shakes in the cool night air, as you look him over, trying to take in every detail you can.
Fuck. You are certain that even if he wasn't trying to read your thoughts, he could hear your pulse go into overdrive. You take a deep breath and try to get it under control by looking at everything else in the vicinity. You spot a snail climbing the lamppost and try to focus on it for a few seconds, taking in all its details.
Then a sharp pain in your side makes you wince and your eyes fall back onto Eddie. Suddenly an exigency fills your mind. You charge towards him, trying to throw your arms around him, but he catches your wrists before contact, stopping you in your tracks.
"Whoa there!" He chuckles, his hands tightly grip your wrists in between you both, you can see him checking your hands.
"Um…sorry…I don't know…" you stumble over your words like someone in stilettos scrambling up a scree hill.
He gently releases you from his grip, his eyes fall back onto yours, and you look away fast. Like looking into his eyes might cause something terrifying to happen. You’ve gotten so used to the threatening drone following your every movement that you are now always cautious of your body’s natural reaction. Quickly you decide that walking beside him might be more comfortable, so you fall in next to him.
You can absolutely feel his eyes on you, but you resist looking for now. "Sorry if I scared you," you say apologetically as your fingers play with the inside of the cuffs of your jacket.
"Scared is a bit of a strong word, concerned maybe?" He says with a small laugh as he takes the first step of the walk and you follow suit.
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that. It was weird." You say half joking. It was weird, but it didn't feel wrong until you'd been stopped.
You walk around in silence for a while, now this is definitely not right for the two of you, and it does feel desperately awkward. You're very much accustomed to your own awkwardness, but from Eddie? No, this was top tier strange.
"Soooo it's good to see you. You know, in person" he says, trying to make things more normal, but your brain isn't really listening, because you're still replaying what just happened in your mind.
"Did you think I was gonna try to hurt you?" You say in almost disgust, and this time you look at him, expectantly. How could he think that, after everything?
"I…I guess I wasn't sure, especially when you came at me so quickly…just you know…habit," he says, acting out a few jabs and ducking and weaving as you walk.
This was new, you hadn't really heard him stumble over his words before that was really your department. He only returns your look once, before looking ahead again.
"Well" you say, unable to disguise the little sprinkling of hurt in your voice, "I wouldn't do that. I would never do that."
"If I told you the amount of times I've heard that lie, you wouldn't believe me," he says with a laugh.
That feeling happens again, an urgency, and you reach out grabbing his arm, stopping your stroll. He looks down at your hand and looks back up at you. You give him a serious look, "Never. Ok?"
His eyes move between yours and if you didn't know any better you'd swear he sighed. You let go of his arm and turn to continue your walk. In the lamplight something catches your eye and you run towards it. A flower. One from your dream. You run over to it and pluck it from the ground and look at it in the light, "Hey, random question, but do you know what this is?"
Eddie catches up and looks at it, "Yarrow?"
You grab your phone and do a quick search, "How did you know that?"
"I know tons of useless shit," he puts his hands on his hips, "though this one in particular isn't all that useless, maybe?"
You tilt your head at him in confusion.
He returns your look of puzzlement, "So you just ran over here to pick a pretty little flower, did you? You've no idea what this is?"
"Well. I don't know what it is, but I didn't pick it because it's pretty. I keep seeing it in…" you trail off. You sounded mad, you were sure of it. But this was Eddie, surely raving about a vivid dream wasn't that mad, when you ripped a hole to a different dimension together?
Maybe this was a very common flower. You'd seen it a bunch of times,so then it appeared in your dream.
Rather than taking the flower from you, Eddie takes your hand that is still holding it and holds it up to inspect it. "Yep, it's soldier's woundwort alright. Where do you keep seeing this, then?" he lowers your hand, but keeps looking in the same place to put his dilated pupils directly in your eyeline.
"In a dream. It's crazy. Maybe it's one of those things, you see something once and you can't stop seeing it everywhere." His eyes still trained on yours, makes you swallow nervously, "Do you still dream? You know, even though you're different?" You try to distract with a question
Eddie's other hand moves to your side, and he walks you backwards until you bump into the back of the park bench "There's nothing in my dreams, just some ugly memories," he sings deeply, but quietly. His eyes scan over your entirety, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.
You smile trying to not let your nerves show, "I know that one…Gimme Danger, little stranger."
He nods, still staring down into your eyes, speaking softly, "Do you know the next line?" He squeezes your scar tissue gently, and it's like a wave of intoxication sweeps up and crashes down on you.
"Are you…are you doing that thing you do?" You ask dreamily, remembering being caught up in this before. Unable to move, completely hypnotised by him.
"No," he says in a whisper, moving his body closer to yours, "It's not me." His eyes trace a familiar pattern, your eyes, your mouth, your neck.
Not taking your eyes from him, you gently push back your collar to reveal more skin to him. An act of submission or a silent pact. His eyes flash for a second, and his fingers dig into your side. Maybe this was a temptation too far.
Snap! A twig crunched somewhere in the darkness.Both of your heads snap towards it in alarm. You instinctively move yourself in front of Eddie. Frantically searching the darkness for anything.
Your brain scrambles like you change radio frequency. What time was it? Shit! "Listen, I'm sorry, I have gotta go. I didn't realise the time. They'll stop me coming here." The panic rises in your voice as you clutch at your chest.
"Hey, hey, ok just take a deep breath, ok? Just tell them you got distracted by something pretty, yeah?" Eddie smirks, brushing his hand over your hair, and placing the yarrow flower behind your ear.
"Yeah, you're right." Despite his teasing, it was actually reassuringly normal and stopped you from spiralling, "Maybe next time, this can be less…um…weird."
"Or weirder…" he grins. He creates some space between you, he's still smiling with his hands in his pockets. "There is something different about you though. I don't know if it's because you've been cooped up, or what, but…" he bites his lip and looks you up and down.
"Me?! I'm different. What about you? You're different too!" You protest only to be met with Eddie shaking his head.
"Nope, not really. It's just your feelings have changed," he shrugs as if to shirk off all responsibility.
"Hey, didn't we say the whole thought reading was reserved for when we aren't in person?" You are a little annoyed at this violation of trust.
Eddie's smile turns into a wide grin and he leans in, so he's close to your ear, running his fingers along your collar bone area to your other scar, the one no one asks to see. The reminder that you threw yourself in the way of that stake to save him. "Oh, I didn't have to telepath shit, Sweetheart."
You close your eyes and inhale, before shaking your head free of this witchcraft. You gesture into the night, before moving away slightly.
Faster than you can fathom he grabs for your belt loop and pulls out your phone out of your pocket. He starts tapping into it, "No passcode?"
"Not allowed," you reply sheepishly.
"Hmmm better keep it coded and PG then, right?" He says and can't help but smile as he makes you embarrassed. "There, I doubt 'Ambrose' will cause too much of a problem." He puts your phone back in your pocket, "Until next time," he says walking away, casting an occasional glance over his shoulder. A small laugh escapes each time you catch him.
It doesn't elude your knowledge that choosing the alias of Ambrose puts Eddie's fake contact at the top of your list.
You race back to the basement and burst through the door, panting.
You drop your things and race up the stairs, "S-sorry I'm late, I got distracted b-by something," you say trying to catch your breath.
Mr Harrington lowers his paper to reveal himself and Edina sitting in his lap, "Late!" She says loudly.
"That's quite right, they are late. What do you have to say for yourself? " He says with his eyebrows raised.
"I was doing my park walk, and I got distracted by something beautiful." You point up at the flower behind your ear.
Mr Harrington smiles and shakes his head at you, "Ok, well, next time, call, alright?"
You nod in agreement and head back downstairs.
You flop down on your bed and look up at the ceiling. Removing the flower from behind your ear, you hold it up in the false light, turning it around in your fingers. Your eyes grow heavy, and your blinks grow slower until finally you drift into sleep.
You open your eyes to the summer sky, a bumble bee bobs around for a few moments before landing on your chest.
“Eh, I don’t think so, Ol' Mr Bumble, that’s my flower only!” You hear a sweet Irish voice beside you playfully complain, making you giggle and the bee buzzes away. “Thas right ya coward, ya wanna buzz off now!” the voice shouts into the sky. You turn towards it, a feeling of pure happiness makes your head swim as the view changes to one of the apothecary’s apprentice sitting up and shaking his fist at the bee.
He lowers himself back onto his elbows and looks over at you, “Fancy that! Bold as anythin’ ” tutting at the bee. “I coulda taken him.” His big broad grin lowers as he looks into your eyes and then quickly back out into the distance, gently twisting the blade of grass between his fingers.
“Y’know” he says quietly, “Dere gonna come a callin’ soon.”
The blue sky disappears behind a sudden influx of heavy dark grey clouds, but he does not appear to notice at all, “I’ll have to go,” he adds.
Your hand touches his arm through the soft billowy fabric of his shirt sleeve and works its way down his forearm to intertwine your fingers.
“I hear ya, love. We could run away. Unfortunately fer you, yer mans a lotta things, but a cowards not one of dem.”
His fingers squeeze yours, “I’ll come home. Don’t you worry bout dat. Can’t get rid o’ me dat easily, I’m afraid.” He half turns to you and smiles, but you can see the worry lurking in his eyes. You sit up and reach out to stroke the back of his hair and the nape of his neck.
“I heard dey were havin’ trouble identifin’ dere soldiers. So I mighta dun something so dere’ll be no mistaken’ me.” He rolls up his sleeve to his shoulder a picture of a Rose with the name Yedda over the top and Aimon underneath.
He laughs and wipes his hand over it, “No darlin’ no amount water or dirt’ll move this. It's one of dem tattoo tings.”
You wipe your hand over it too, it doesn’t smudge or disappear. You hit him on the arm, and he laughs heartily, “Wha? Ya tink dis town doesn already judge us? Anyways dey won’t know bout it, but we will, my sweet. We will. You’ll always know it's yer man,” he nods and smiles at you lovingly before pulling you towards him ,wrapping you in his arms, and the sky turns to blue again.
It's the soft plinking sounds of your alarm sound, you get up and head upstairs to grab some breakfast.
Mr Harrington is at the stove, towel over his shoulder. The triplets in a row next to him making a pancake production line. Jo to his left, mixing up a storm, to his right Lucy is adding fruit to the stacks, and Philomena is last, blasting the towering breakfasts with syrup.
"Morning," you say cheerfully, grabbing a ready serving, and sitting down to eat.
"You've got a letter." Mr Harrington says turning around, pointing the spatula at the middle of the table.
You pause for a moment, who would be sending you a letter? Maybe it was the fan mail. You snatch it up quickly, excited almost. The envelope of textured paper is already opened as you expected.
You pull out the letter inside, and scan your eyes over it.
You must have read it four or five times to make sure you aren't dreaming, and you gently place your fork down on your plate, as the tears well up in your eyes.
"They've asked me to play a song with them…on stage…my old band…when they play Indianapolis," you lift your eyes up away from the paper and Mr Harrington is already waiting for you. His face is so proud, he quite forgets the pancakes and Lucy snatches the spatula from him, so they don't burn.
He takes a seat next to you, "What do you think? Do you wanna go for it? Everyone…well, ok…mostly everyone is ok with it, but no one is gonna stop you from playing. You'd have the normal ankle tag, and they'd have to bring back that stupid drone thing, but you'd be up there with your friends again."
The word friends stings a little. You weren't sure if that applied, but a chance to play on a stage that big was extremely tempting. "I'd be a fool not to, right?"
Link to Next Chapter Everlong Chapter 3 - The Killing Moon
Link to Everlong Chapter 1 - Stacked Actors
Link to Let Me Call You Sweetheart Part 1 Chapter 1
Link to Fanfic master list
Songs you might want to listen to whilst reading this chapter:
Author notes: This is my first Steve fic, so I hope I did ok
Steve was at that unnaturally thin part of the knife edge of his thoughts where thoughts might become actions. Where a maybe becomes a yes.
Alone in the dark of his RV living room, he sighs deeply. The TV is blaring about something Steve zoned out of well over an hour ago. The whole purpose of switching it on was defeated because his memories were much louder than it could ever be.
He thinks about the decline of the group over the last few months.
Well, the decline of one, in particular, that ultimately was the glue between them all.
His one ankle propped up on his knee, as his eyes unfocussed, stared into nothing. His thumb and index finger alternate tapping on the side of his sneaker.
The one time. THE ONE TIME. He rages in his mind. The one time Dustin was partnered up with someone else, it had all gone to shit in more ways than he had initially thought.
Dustin shouldn't have been there. Robin should have stayed with Eddie. He and Nance should have gone to that house. Dustin should have been with Lucas, Max, and Erica.
Then maybe Eddie wouldn't have played hero, and maybe Jason wouldn't have gotten the jump on Lucas. Perhaps they'd both still be here.
Like Eddie said on that boat, "You tryin' to sink us," and that's precisely what had happened. Not through any fault of Dustin's own, just that his presence in those events set things in motion that could not be stopped. Steve didn't blame Dustin. He blamed himself.
What is a kid to do when his hero dies in his arms? Do you expect him to brush it off and return to how things were? Mostly everyone else around the group seeing Eddie as a murderous satanic cult leader had not helped with Dustin's decent into...well...someone else. His protests were vocal at first, defending Eddie's honour, his legacy, but it wasn't enough to keep their spiteful words at bay, and soon Dustin was cutting people out of his life as easily as brushing dust from his shoulder. Not even Suzie survived that cull.
One bad word against Eddie, got you that look. The one that if it could kill you where you stood, it would, in a fiery blaze of Dustin's silent wild rage.
Steve could see it happening, and it was slow and discrete, but people were so caught up in other things. Max's recovery, the apocalypse, their future. Some even dared to be distracted by love interests and college, but not Steve.
All he could see was that happy, bossy, wonderful kid folding in on himself. Over and over until the folding was so small, it was a speck of who he was. His eyes, which once sparkled with possibility, now dulled with pain and frustration. The colourful wardrobe, or his unashamed interests and personality, slowly morphed into a collection of mourning clothes.
Dustin had taken a leaf out of Steve and Nancy's book how they visited Barb's family after what happened. Dustin visited Wayne whenever he could, so they could reminisce about Eddie. So they could keep Eddie alive by not forgetting him, telling stories, looking through his old belongings and photographs, and imagining what he might say to them now.
In almost no time at all, Wayne started bestowing little Eddie things on Dustin. A book that Wayne was never going to read that Dustin could escape into. An album that gave Wayne a headache, but Dustin could let his anger out to. A t-shirt that Wayne couldn't give to the drive because of the "troubling" graphics that Dustin couldn't wait to encapsulate himself in.
Wayne was only trying to please them both, to keep Eddie alive, and Dustin was always happiest after their visits, but Dustin's room, appearance, and personality were becoming a shrine to a dead man.
Steve knew as obnoxious as Eddie could be, he wouldn't have wanted this for Dustin. Eddie wanted Dustin always to be Dustin. Eddie would never have cursed any of the kids he cared about with the weight of being Eddie.
When it was just the two of them, sometimes Steve got a glimpse of the real Dustin, caring, smart, lovable, and funny, but mostly he got one of two new versions.
Broken Dustin. The one who would tell Steve about his vivid nightmares or middle-of-the-day flashbacks. The one that quoted Eddie's last words like they were his new creed. "Look after those little sheep for me. Promise me". Dustin had sobbed and pounded his fists against Steve's chest as he held him tightly in his arms until he was exhausted, more times than Steve cared to remember.
Cold Dustin. Devoid of humanity and patience. In the best-case scenario, he might lock himself away for a few days, ignore phone calls, and not turn up where he said he would be. He holed up in his room listening to static, drawing maps of nowhere, getting way too high, or passing out drunk. In the worst case, he'd lash out at anyone and everything. He is cruel to his friends and Mom, belittling or berating them. Screaming in their faces, physically threatening them because he didn't have anywhere to put all that anger.
The only blows he ever landed were on the new local bully to contend with. He'd made the mistake of saying the wrong thing on the wrong day to a member of Hellfire. On a good day, Dustin would have taken him down with a quip, an obnoxious insult, but this wasn't a good day. This guy got taken down by a chair to the face. Then as Mike detailed, the guy made the mistake of uttering Eddie's name. Apparently, Dustin didn't even wait to hear the rest of the insult before he was on this guy. He was playing amateur dentist by repeatedly hitting him in the face with a tray and, when that snapped, his fists.
Steve had stood in that office with Mrs. Henderson, looking at the bruised and swollen mess that was Dustin after the bully's cavalry had finally intervened. Steve wasn't even listening to whatever the principal had to say; it wasn't his concern. He had to fix this, but he didn't know how.
Eddie's last words were a source of love and hate for Steve. They were words that sometimes forced the true Dustin out, made him compassionate, caring for others, making people laugh, telling people he loved them often because he never wanted the first time he said it to you to be the last time. But they were also words that put the world's weight on Dustin and made him furious that Eddie had died a hero, and the only person that knew that was him.
Steve wasn't sure what to do, so he focused on what he couldn't do and worked from there. He couldn't bring Eddie back to life for Dustin. He couldn't make Dustin forget about Eddie. He couldn't convince Dustin that Eddie wouldn't want this. He couldn't turn back time and drag Eddie's corpse back with them because Steve rightly chose the living, breathing Dustin, and they were running for their lives.
Steve will never forget how his name rang across that twisted trailer park. A guttural plea from Dustin for the impossible, all wrapped up in "Steve."
He'd run towards the sound forgetting altogether about Nancy and Robin. They could make their own way.
He had to get to Dustin.
The place shook around him. Things were crumbling and cracking. He didn't know how much time he had. He didn't know what might come for them next. Vecna's body was missing.
He just knew he had to get to Dustin.
Steve had never run that fast in his life. The pain seared through his body, but he pushed passed it.
"Steve. Please!!" a sobbing, desperate cry for help that Steve would answer or die trying.
Then the scene opened up in front of him. He hadn't meant to stop running, but the visual stopped him in his tracks.
A mass of dead monstrosities encircled a shuddering heap on the ground. He was too late. Steve shut his eyes for a second and pinched his nose before running his hand down his face. Now was not the time for tears, Harrington.
He resumed his run, "Dustin!" he shouted, but there was no acknowledgment.
A few steps away from the increasing in detail scene before him. Dustin's face finally looked up at him. His eyes were almost swollen shut from crying, his little hands gripped onto Eddie, his knuckles white, and painfully Steve noticed one of Eddie's hands on Dustin, but it wasn't holding on tight. It had fallen. Lifeless.
Steve locks eyes with Dustin and crouches down to his level.
"Steve, please" this time, it's a quiet but no less desperate plea, as Dustin's fists grip so tightly onto Eddie's clothing that he almost lifts him off the ground, offering him up to Steve.
Steve wanted to say he didn't have time, that it was pointless, but he couldn't. He couldn't not try. Steve frantically recalled his first aid training from lifeguarding. He quickly held Eddie's face in his hands, his skin cold and pallid. Steve remembers looking into those dull eyes that not hours ago had been sparkling with hope. Steve goes through the motions of CPR, but he knows it's entirely in vain.
Munson, you idiot, I told you don't be a hero.
"Come on, Eddie. Please," Dustin sobbed, his hands clasped around one of Eddie's hands.
Steve kept trying until another rumble shook the ground. His hands move from Eddie to Dustin's shoulders, pushing him backward, forcing their eyes to meet.
"We have to go now, Dustin. Let's all get out of here, ok?" Steve lifted Eddie to a sitting position, both he and Dustin still crouched down, an arm each around Eddie's back, and draped one of Eddie's arms around them, "Ok, on three. Ready? 1, 2, 3!"
On the three, Steve felt the enormous weight of a body that could not support itself. He felt like it was impossible Eddie could have weighed anything close to this. Then he heard a crunch and a piercing yelp from Dustin as he fell to the ground. A lifeless Eddie threatened to follow, but Steve just about managed to grab him in time, quickly lowering him to the floor and moving to check over Dustin's leg.
Another rumble shook the ground, and Steve locked eyes with Dustin and frantically tried to hoist him up from the floor, but there was resistance.
Steve didn't respond with any words. He used all his might to tear Dustin away from Eddie by lifting him off the floor almost over his shoulder. There was an audible snap of something, but Steve did not look back. Dustin screams for Eddie ripped through the upside down and painfully into Steve's ear and heart.
Steve's brain shut it out. It was the only way he could keep it together. All he heard for a while was his own breathing, his own pulse, and his feet pounding the floor to get back home.
He didn't have time to think about how this decision might come back to haunt him over and over, but he had no choice.
He had to save Dustin.
Steve's eyes return to focus on his current surroundings, casting his eyes down to the dirty, worn carpet. Barely keeping it together in places as the threads clung to one another in a last-ditch attempt to remain a floor covering.
He gets up, turns the tv up louder, grabs a mug from the cupboard, and pours maybe the eighth coffee today. He doesn't know. He doesn't count anymore. He has as many as he needs to keep going.
Steve feels a sting of pain in his throat and his sides. It's psychosomatic, he told himself, just before the second wave of burning pain. He thumps the cupboard overhead hard and keeps back any noises his body wants to emit. He's not trying to be quiet. He just doesn't want them to win. Pretend it's not happening. But it gets what it wants.
His mind sends him back to a relatively safe place in Hawkins. He's sitting at Dustin's bedside. Dustin will not look at him. Steve was pretty sure he had only got in here because he turned up with everyone else to visit, but he outstayed them all.
He reaches his hand out to Dustin's arm, and it's pulled out of his reach sharply. Steve remembers taking a deep breath, one to push his tears back, but two so he doesn't lose his temper.
Steve understood why Dustin was mad, but Dustin couldn't understand that it was the only choice Steve could make.
"Dustin, come on, man. I know you're pissed at me. I get it. I do." Steve tried gently. He wanted Dustin back on his side, but more than anything, he wanted Dustin to stop beating himself up about it.
Dustin folded his arms, his eyes glancing at the ceiling, still avoiding Steve, "You don't get it. You don't know what it feels not to be strong enough. If I could have held him up, we could have got him home, Steve. Maybe Nancy or-or-or Robin could have held him up." then the tears came, "Jesus Christ, Eddie. Why?" Dustin roughly rubbed the tears from his eyes like he wasn't allowed them.
Steve hung his head, resting his hand on the mattress. His fingers were still reaching out. "That's just not true. We have no way of knowing how far we could have gotten with a-a weight to carry like that. I was struggling. Nance and Robin would have been in the same position."
He raised his head to look at Dustin again, "And you know full well how many times I've had my ass handed to me. How many fights I've lost, mistakes I've made. You didn't do anything wrong, Dustin. This is not your fault." Steve tried to drive those words home, but all it earned him was Dustin turning his body away from him more.
Steve was clutching at straws. He was sure that what he did next might have gotten him cut off like some of the others. Thankfully, in the end, Steve had a use in the future.
"Eddie would have done the same," Steve reassured Dustin and, in some way himself.
Then he had Dustin's eyes on him, but how he wished he could erase that look from his memory.
It started with a turn. An eyebrow flash, eyes wide full of fear and pain. It winded Steve like no physical blow ever had.
In hindsight, It was a look of heartbreak and disbelief. Steve had just let him down, broken his heart. Broken the pedestal Dustin still had him placed on even though he was mad. It was a look that read. You too, Steve? An ultimate betrayal.
Unfortunately, at that moment, Steve misread that look. He thought he finally had Dustin's attention and understanding, so he continued to reassure him.
"From what you told me. Those things were gonna break down the door, maybe swarm the gate, maybe even get through. At you. Eddie wouldn't let that happen. So he tried to lead them away. Leaving the gate clear for all of us, but he didn't want you to follow him. And you know those precious seconds kept those things from coming back to the house too. In his mind, he was keeping us all safe, " then it just falls out of Steve's mouth, "Even though I specifically asked you both not to do that."
Dustin's eyes narrowed spitefully and refilled with fresh tears, but these were ones Steve caused, "Get. Out." Dustin says firmly.
Steve sat there in disbelief. He had just tried to express he understood Eddie and that he believed Eddie was a hero, but all Steve could manage was a confused look, and he almost laughed or scoffed, "What?"
"You heard me. Get the fuck out of here!!" Dustin's voice is being forced through his teeth with venom. The tone sends Steve back to that boat shed. "Don't bullshit me, man!"
"Dustin, hey, I'm on your side," Steve attempted to soothe him and reassure him, "Eddie wouldn't have wanted you to get hurt or put in any danger."
"Don't talk like that," Dustin seethed, "You don't know him. You don't know him like I do" punctuating his words, Dustin poked himself hard in the center of his chest.
"Hey, settle down." Steve puts his hands on the sides of Dustin's upper arms with some pressure. Dustin tried to wriggle free, but Steve made him still so that he would hear him, "You're right. I didn't know him. Not like you, but he told me all about you, and I saw him with you. That man adored you."
"DON'T TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE THAT!!!" Dustin yells; it verges on a scream as he forcefully shoves Steve away.
Steve remembers being so confused at the time, "Dustin, I am trying here. I can't tell you enough. I'm on your side, ok? Look at me. I'm not lying."
"THEN STOP TALKING ABOUT EDDIE LIKE HE'S DEAD!!" Dustin's face crumples, and he lets out a grunt of frustration, throwing a glass against the wall and smashing it. It wasn't aimed at Steve. It wasn't even close.
The sharp intake of breath Steve did in realisation overwhelmed him entirely, and he couldn't hold back his tears this time, so he hid them.
Steve flung his arms around Dustin, squeezing him tightly to him, a hand clasped at the back of his head, as his whole body shook with violent sobs. Steve's chin rests on Dustin's shoulder, leaning their heads against one another.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Steve repeats over and over, squeezing Dustin tightly. Steve's own tears were streaming down his face now. The dam had burst, and he couldn't stop them.
Then he realises he's not being pushed away anymore; he's being pulled in. Dustin squeezes him so tightly, stroking the back of Steve's hair, "I got you, Steve. I got you, man."
Steve has to stop himself from lurching forward and crumbling into Dustin completely.
In between trying to catch his breath, Dustin says, "Wayne said he thinks he's going mad. Says he can hear him sometimes, calling for him." Dustin's body is almost convulsing as he tightens his arms around Steve.
"I told him a lie. I told him I did too. I told him it was some psychological bullshit. Your brain tricks your senses, making you think something is there that isn't." Dustin whimpers, "But that's just not true. The same thing happened to Joyce and Will. It happened to us."
Steve stopped crying, like a switch in him flipped. He couldn't do anything a few minutes ago, but now he could do what he does best. Harrington was gonna save the day.
He pulled back, clasping his hands around Dustin's face, fighting back the emotions with a promise, "I'm gonna find him, and I'm going to bring him home. You hear me?"
His brain lets him claw his way back to the present. He opens the cupboard, grabs a handful of painkillers, and washes them down with his coffee.
That's how he'd ended up here, scouring what was left of Hawkins, following Dustin's suggestions or leads. The only evidence they'd found was the bandana and his spear and shield.
Steve layers up, adorning himself with as many weapons as possible that won't burden him if he needs to run. He swings his trusty bat over his shoulder, pulls Eddie's bandana over his mouth and nose, and steps outside to start another search.
"Eddie??!" he calls out, but he only gets the familiar reply. A chorus of hideous screeches.
