Chapter Text
"I like you so much it makes me sick and I wouldn't change it
I like you so much past the point of trying to fake it
Take it on the chin, I'm down
Like the dog you keep around
Oh, I like you so much, so much, so much."
—Alex Lahey, Makes Me Sick
***
From his seat at the breakfast table, Eddie could feel his uncle watching him in that way he had. That if you don't start talking I'm about to start prying, way.
Well, too bad. Eddie shovelled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, glowering. Old man could pry the information out of his damn corpse.
Wayne poured himself a fresh cup of coffee, then sat across from Eddie. He regarded him with annoying, practiced patience.
“You still going to that thing tonight?” He asked. “That Christmas party?”
Eddie's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. Fucking unreal, goddamned uncanny. How the hell did he always know exactly what the problem was?
To Wayne's credit, he did not look smug.
“Dunno,” Eddie mumbled. “Maybe. Maybe not. Haven't decided yet.”
Wayne nodded. He sipped his coffee. Eddie had a disturbing sense of deja vu and couldn't help but think back to all the times they'd done this before.
He could see himself, 15, his hair shorter and messier, slouching at the table as Wayne sat across from him, calm as ever. Sipping a beer or coffee, looking at Eddie with such a placid expression that Eddie wanted to scream. If Wayne had just yelled or demanded Eddie talk to him or threatened to ground him until he died, it would have been better than this.
But Wayne had never shouted. Not even after getting off the phone with yet another teacher, or the Hawkins High principal (or, a few times, someone from the Hawkins PD). He just sat there and waited for Eddie to tell him his side of the story.
But Eddie wasn't some angry, messed-up kid anymore. He was 22 (an adult, at least in theory). He hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't even been accused of anything this time.
The problem was much less simple than that.
“You seemed excited about going, before,” Wayne said lightly, watching Eddie's face. “Seemed like you were having a good time hanging out with those guys. Hell, Tuesday night, I got home, and you were practically bouncing off the trailer's roof.”
Eddie scoffed. “I was not.” He definitely had been.
Tuesday had been… well, it almost felt like a dream. Like something Eddie made up in his head. It would have made a lot more sense if he had. The things that happened just didn't seem to fit with reality.
It wasn't just kissing Steve. It was… all of it. Hanging out together in the first place, how easy it was to get along. Then, back at Robin's house, sitting by a fire and hearing Steve say all that stuff.
He'd been so determined not to let himself start having feelings for the guy. Then there Steve was, talking about how he'd had a crush on Eddie for months?
It didn't feel possible.
But even with his very active imagination, Eddie knew he hadn't made it up. Couldn't have made it up.
Even now, days later, he could still recall the feeling of Steve's mouth against his, the way his hands had moved over his chest, the quiet way Steve groaned when Eddie took one of his fingers in his mouth and sucked on it.
Without the threat of either Robin or her parents coming back at any moment, Eddie didn't know what would have happened. But they hadn't let themselves get carried away.
At least, not a lot.
All three Brewster-Buckleys had come home at the same time (Robin's parents had picked her up from Vickie’s on the way back from running errands). That had been about two hours after Eddie and Steve had arrived back.
They'd spent almost that entire time making out. There had been some quiet talking, in between. Eddie couldn't even recall most of what they'd talked about, just whatever. Stupid things. Nothing. Everything.
Only one thing really stood out. In the quiet dark of the empty house, Steve had told Eddie what he’d been hiding from Robin for the last two weeks. He wanted to major in social work, wanted to work with kids. He’d felt so good about the choice once he’d landed on it; it made so much sense to him.
Steve had always liked kids, and all that time spent with Dustin Henderson and his friends had shown him he was good with them, too. He cared, he wanted to help. To look out for them.
When Eddie asked what happened, why he’d changed his mind, refused to tell Robin what he’d decided, Steve didn’t seem to have a real answer. “Don’t know,” he’d said quietly. They were sitting on the floor at that point, and Steve had lapsed into silence, staring into the fireplace. “I’ll mess it up. I mess everything up; why would this be different?”
Watching Steve, Eddie could see something burning in his eyes that had nothing to do with the fire they were in front of.
Eddie turned Steve’s face toward him and kissed him. He didn’t know how to make Steve believe that he was so much better, so much smarter than he seemed to think. Didn’t know how this lovely, sweet, funny guy who once had seemed so on top of the world could think so very little of himself. All he’d been able to do was kiss him, run his fingers through Steve’s hair and try to murmur something reassuring.
It wasn’t much later that Robin and her parents had come home. Then they’d put on a movie, and Robin's Dad had made them hot chocolate. The three of them had sat in the living room, joking around and talking over the movie, barely watching it. It had been nice.
Every now and again, Eddie had caught Steve looking at him from behind Robin’s head. Each time, Eddie had made himself look away quickly, or else he’d give it all away. Start blushing or something embarrassing. And Robin would know, and her parents would know and that would be bad.
Still, he’d allowed himself a quick moment or two to look at Steve. Just a glance, like he’d already been checking that it was real. That Steve was real, and the way he looked at Eddie meant what he thought it did.
And fine, fine. He’d gotten a little… excited about it. Wayne hadn’t come home until late at night (or very early in the morning, more accurately), but Eddie had still been awake, revved up with unnatural energy he could not be rid of.
He wanted to scream, wanted to stand on the roof of the trailer in his boxers and shout about Steve fucking Harrington and his goddamned mouth and that insane smile of his.
Obviously, he wouldn’t do any of that. He couldn’t even tell Wayne what he was all worked up about (well, maybe he could, but he hadn’t ever talked about that stuff with him, and he wasn’t totally sure how to bring it up).
But that was Tuesday. It was Saturday now, and four full days had passed. Eddie hadn’t heard a single word from Steve.
He might have been able to explain away Wednesday. The storm that started Tuesday afternoon had picked up steam Wednesday, and the winds had knocked out many of the phone lines. But the storm had died off, and everything was up and running again Thursday afternoon.
But still, radio silence.
A reasonable voice at the back of Eddie’s brain told him that phones worked both ways. Steve hadn’t heard from him, either. That was fair enough, but it hadn’t been Eddie who’d confessed to a crush, who’d made the first move.
Of course, maybe that put the ball in his court. Maybe Steve was sitting in front of the phone in the Buckley’s kitchen, staring at it, waiting for Eddie to call. Wondering why he wasn’t. Deciding he’d be better off having a crush on some other, way better person. A girl, probably.
Eddie had more or less spent the rest of the week turning these kinds of thoughts over and over in his head. He’d decided he should call Steve about 14 times and then talked himself out of it again.
Now it was Saturday, and he hadn’t called, and he hadn’t gotten a call either. So he didn’t know what to do. Mostly, he thought he’d mope about it some more.
Wayne was still watching. Waiting for a response, an explanation. Eddie didn’t have one.
“I think I might be an idiot,” Eddie mumbled, staring down at his soggy cereal. “I think maybe I messed something up.”
“It’s been four days. What the heck could you have messed up so badly?” Wayne asked.
Eddie stirred his spoon listlessly through the milk and puffed up Cheerios. “Four days is a long time,” he protested. “I didn’t call someone, when I should have.”
“One of those kids you’ve been hanging out with?” Wayne asked. Eddie nodded. “So after whatever happened on Tuesday… you didn’t call. Well, just go back over there now. Sort it out.”
When Eddie didn’t respond, Wayne gave a tired, long-suffering sigh. “Kid, I love you, but you're stubborn as a mule. Always have been—you know you were two weeks late, being born?”
Eddie scowled. “Maybe I just realized that I was never gonna get to spend as much time with my Mom ever again.”
Wayne considered this. “Fair enough.” He put his coffee mug down and folded his hands on the table. “Eddie, if you think you made a mistake, just go do something about it. Go find whoever this person is and say how you feel.”
Eddie fixed his eyes back down on his cereal bowl. “What if I didn't make a mistake? What if… I mean, neither of us called. What if that was on purpose?”
“If you get your heart broken, I'll be here. I mean it when I say I love you. No matter what. You know that, right?” Wayne said. Eddie nodded. “If you go to this person, maybe it won't work out. But I'm here for you.”
It was occuring to Eddie that this conversation had taken a very pointed turn. I love you no matter what. That wasn't just the kind of thing Wayne threw out casually, whenever.
And he also hadn't said go find this girl , or if you go to this girl , maybe it won't work out.
I love you no matter what.
Eddie looked up at Wayne, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He'd never said anything, but it kind of seemed like Wayne had figured it out anyhow.
***
Eddie made up his mind. He wasn't going to the party.
It was too much, all of it. It was too fast and too new and just way too much. He was in over his head and a fucking idiot to start something with Steve in the first place.
It wouldn't work. How could it? They were too different, had nothing in common… and whatever Steve thought he saw in Eddie, it wouldn't last.
Eddie was just a novelty to him. Hell, maybe guys were in general. Steve was probably going through a phase. He was all hot for the trailer trash nerd now, but after a few months, he'd get bored and go back to girls.
Or at least guys that made more sense.
Sure, it had been great, spending all this time with him, getting to know him. And kissing him had been… well, kind of a high point of Eddie's life.
But he knew better than to trust that. Good things did not happen to him. Not without a catch. Not without something bad waiting to follow along.
He knew that. He'd always known it, and trusting it had kept him safe. No matter how different he felt or how different his life was, Eddie knew nothing had really changed.
He’d let his guard down with Steve. Let those big hazel eyes and earnest smile trick him into forgetting something very important, a fundamental truth of the universe. That he, Eddie Munson, was a bad sort.
And that did not invite something as good as Steve.
So he wouldn't go. And he wouldn't see Steve again. And it would suck, but in the long run, they'd both be better off.
Eddie had made up his mind.
Unfortunately, there was something he hadn't counted on: Robin Buckley.
It was Robin who answered, when Eddie finally called (with absolutely every intention of giving some shoddy, thin excuse for missing the party). He'd really been hoping to get one of her parents (or, even better, the answering machine).
“Hey, Eddie!” She'd sounded so excited to hear from him, and he had immediately felt like an asshole.
“Hey, Robin… look about the party tonight,” Eddie had started.
“Oh yeah, I was actually just about to call you,” she said. “Could you come a little early? We’re decorating the tree, and it would be fun to hang out before all my parents' friends start showing up.”
“Right, but the thing is—”
“Come on, it'll be fun!” Robin said, bulldozing over him. “We’ll decorate the tree, we’ll watch crappy made-for-TV Christmas movies and mock them. We can start early on the eggnog—what else have you got going on?”
“It's not that, it's just—”
“Okay, so it's settled. We'll probably start decorating around two, so you better be here by then, yeah? Great, see you soon!”
Then she'd hung up. Eddie had stared at the phone in his hand for a long time, listening to the beep of the dial tone and wondering what the fuck had just happened.
Two hours later, he found himself standing on the front porch of the Brewster-Buckleys home, holding the gifts he'd picked out the other day, with Steve. What the hell was he doing? He never should have let this happen. Robin was only one random girl. Since when the fuck was he some kind of pushover? He wasn't.
Eddie didn't do jack shit unless he wanted to do it. He didn't take people's crap, and he didn't let anyone bulldoze him.
So how in the fucking world had this happened?
Obviously, Robin was some kind of heinous witch. It was the only thing that made sense.
With a deep sigh, Eddie rang the doorbell.
***
Inside, the house was a flurry of activity. He was let in by Robin’s mother, who introduced herself as Mira before bustling off again, leaving Eddie standing alone in the foyer. Feeling stupid, Eddie shuffled his feet and then made his way into the living room, setting the gifts he’d brought on one of the many accent tables.
“Dad, you’re wrong; Gran’s ornaments are not in the closet under the staircase,” Robin called, coming up from the basement. She spotted Eddie and grinned. “You’re here!”
Eddie nodded, as if to confirm that he was, in fact, here.
Before anything else could be said, Robin’s dad stuck his head out of the kitchen. He was wearing a stained, ratty-looking apron, and there was what Eddie very much hoped was gravy splattered on his cheek. “No way, that is definitely where I put it,” he protested. Spotting Eddie, he frowned. “Robin, is this a new boy?”
“No, it’s the same one; Steve’s just a skilled shapeshifter,” Robin said dryly.
Her father seemed to accept this. “Very cool. Nice to meet you, New Steve. I’m Robert.” He looked back to his daughter. “Check again; if it’s not there, I owe you a thousand dollars.”
Then he vanished back into the kitchen.
Robin rolled her eyes. “Like I’m ever going to see that money,” she said. “Come on, help me go look again.” She headed back down to the basement, gesturing for Eddie to follow.
“Uh, speaking of Steve,” Eddie said, trailing behind Robin. “The old one, I mean. Where is he?”
“Oh, my moms got him chopping wood in the backyard, so we can keep the fire going during the party.”
Eddie had the vivid mental image of Steve in one of those plaid jackets he associated with lumberjacks, ruddy-cheeked, sweating as he hefted an axe over his shoulder and brought it down on a log, then wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He felt queasy.
“Can you hold this?” Robin asked. She’d propped open a little door underneath the staircase, and was pulling out boxes. One she stuck in Eddie’s arms before resuming her search. “I told him it’s not here, I’ve looked twice already. He just doesn’t know where he put them, and he’s trying to make it seem like I’m the one—” She broke off. “Aw, fuck.”
“Did you find the thing?” Eddie asked. He set the box she’d given him down and went to look.
At the back of the little cupboard was a plastic bin, clearly labelled Gran Christmas Ornaments, 1981 - Fragile!
Robin looked at him, and Eddie smirked.
She glared. “If he asks, we found these somewhere else.” She heaved the box out with a grunt, passing that to Eddie as well. “You distract him, I’ll make a run for the attic and pretend that’s where they were. Then we take this secret to our graves.”
They headed back upstairs. Despite Robin’s insistence about dying with the secret, she made no move toward the attic. Instead, she set the box on the kitchen table and sullenly crossed her arms. “Fine, it was there,” she muttered.
Robert looked between the box and his daughter, and an enormous grin appeared on his face. “So you owe me a thousand bucks now, huh?”
“No,” Robin said. “That wasn’t the deal. You said you’d give me money if they weren’t there. We never talked about me giving you anything. Actually—”
Whatever else Robin said was lost on Eddie. The backdoor slid open, and Steve stepped inside, a bundle of logs in his arms. He wasn’t wearing a lumberjack jacket, because why would he suddenly have that, but his face was red from being out in the cold, and his hair hung damp with sweat in his face. Once he’d set the wood down, he ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, pushing it back. He was breathing hard, but he grinned at Robin. “Your lumber, little lady,” he said.
“Oh, thank you, sir,” Robin said, affecting a high-pitched voice. “So good to have a big strong man around.” She looked at her father as she said this.
“What? I’m cooking! I’ve got a bad back!” Mr. Buckley glared at Steve. “Quit being a traitor. I like new Steve a lot better…”
Steve frowned, confused, before finally noticing Eddie, standing like a deer in headlights in the corner. Their eyes met. Eddie resisted the urge to bolt.
“His name is actually Eddie, Dad,” Robin said. “I told you he was coming.”
“Sure, sure…”
“You’re here early,” Steve said, in a tone that seemed surprised he was here at all.
Coming had been a bad idea. He was such an idiot. Of course, Steve didn’t want to see him again, that’s why he hadn’t called. It had been on purpose. He’d obviously overcome whatever temporary insanity had led him to so much as look at Eddie in the first place.
Eddie glanced down at his feet. “Um, yeah. Robin called.”
“Right,” Steve said. “Right, she said she was um… gonna do that. I just didn’t think…” he shook his head, giving a tight-lipped smile. “Never mind.”
Steve pulled off his jacket and hung it up on the back of a kitchen chair. He went to the sink and filled up a glass of water. Eddie watched him, only vaguely aware of the fact that Robin and her father were watching him do it. He thought the two of them exchanged a glance, but he didn’t much care.
Maybe he’d gotten it wrong, and it was his mistake. Him who hadn’t called. And Steve hated him now, wanted nothing to do with him because he’d poured his heart out, and Eddie had just made out with him and then blown him off. What a jerk, what a fucking asshole. Eddie wouldn’t ever talk to himself again, either.
“Um, so do you guys wanna…?” Robin gestured out to the living room and the waiting Christmas tree.
Steve nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
The two of them headed toward the living room, and Robin paused, turning back to look at Eddie. She opened her mouth, but then caught sight of the way her Dad was smiling.
Robin’s eyes widened, and she looked up, suddenly noticing the mistletoe hanging right over her head… and Steve’s.
“Guess you missed that one,” Robert said with a teasing grin. “Come on, Rob, it’s bad luck.”
Right, the mistletoe minefield. Eddie had been too preoccupied to notice, but there was a lot less mistletoe up now than when Eddie last set foot in the home of the Brewster-Buckleys. Robin, evidently, had been going around and taking them down.
“Coulda sworn I’d got all the ones on this floor,” Robin seethed, her shoulders squared.
“Mr. Buckley,” Steve said, in a voice that said friendship laws prevent me from punching you, so I’m trying to be polite.
“Mr. Harrington,” Robin’s dad said back, in an equally clipped voice. He was clearly oblivious to his daughter's discomfort.
That sucked because for the most part, Robin’s parents seemed cool. And she clearly got along with them… but obviously, no family was without their issues.
No matter. Unlike Steve, Eddie didn’t much care what the Buckleys thought of him. And as for bad luck, well, what the hell would a little more do?
Eddie moved to the kitchen entrance, stood up and grabbed the mistletoe down. He shoved it in his pocket. “Sorry, can I borrow this?” he asked. “My friend Gareth and I have a bet going, to see who can steal the most mistletoe.”
Robin’s dad glared at him. “That’s a weird bet, new Steve.”
Eddie shrugged. Obviously, Mr. Buckley would be rethinking which Steve he preferred. “I mean, you guys have so much of it, I just figured it’s no big deal, right?” He looked at Robin, who was wearing a very grateful expression. “Is it okay?”
“It is totally okay,” Robin said in a rush. She grinned at her father. “Right?”
“It’s bad luck,” he said again. “Taking your life into your own hands, kid.”
“I didn’t touch it.” Robin held up her hands, showing her innocence. “I’m a free bird.”
Mr. Buckley returned to his cooking, and the three of them skirted into the living room, away from his quiet irritation.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Robin hissed. “Seriously, Eddie, you have no idea. They’re already so pissed I’ve been taking them down, I just… I can’t keep having these, ‘but what’s the big deal, it’s just a kiss!’ arguments with them. They want to know why, and I…” Robin pursed her lips, holding her hands at her elbows.
She looked up and caught Eddie’s eye, and he saw, quite clearly, that she was afraid.
What’s more, it was suddenly very obvious why.
Eddie knew that fear. He’d felt it every day since he was about 13, and he’d finally figured out that the things he thought about boys, how he felt about boys—well, it was way different than what everyone else felt.
“No problem,” Eddie said. “Us losers gotta stick together, right?”
“I don’t understand why they can’t let it go,” Steve said. “They’re nice people, and Robin, I know they love you. Even if they think we’re being stupid and we’re ultimately destined to be together—” Steve rolled his eyes. “Shouldn’t you getting upset be enough?”
“I think they’re just confused. They don’t get why they can’t tease me about this,” Robin said under her breath. “They don’t understand.”
“Well, until they come around, consider me your official mistletoe snatcher,” Eddie said.
They got to work decorating the tree. Alongside the box of ornaments Eddie and Robin found in the basement, they had four more boxes packed full of decorations; lights, tinsel, garlands, and bulbs of all different shapes, sizes and colours. And that wasn’t even all of it, apparently.
“Steve, can you go ask my Dad where the candy canes are?” Robin asked, pulling a seemingly endless line of sparkly silver garland out of a box. She balled it up in her hands, searching for where it ended. “Oh, and the big star, I don’t see that anywhere.”
“Why can’t you go ask?” Steve protested. He was standing on his tiptoes, trying to get a bright blue bulb ornament in place near the top of the tree. His blue sweater rode up a little as he reached, exposing the small of his back.
“Eddie, careful!” Robin scolded. Eddie jumped. “Gran’s ornaments are crazy old; if you squeeze them like that, they’ll break, and then you’ll have to explain to an 83-year-old woman why her most treasured belongings are destroyed.”
Eddie gulped and grimaced, looking down at the little glass bulb in his hand. “Shit, sorry,” he mumbled. He went to fix it to the tree as Steve stepped back, admiring his own handy work.
“I think we’re gonna need a ladder or a stool, at least,” Steve said. He did not look at Eddie as he spoke. In fact, Steve hadn’t really looked at him all, since that weird moment in the kitchen.
“Great, you can also ask my Dad for that when you ask about the other things,” Robin said, rummaging through yet another box. Steve glared, but Robin didn’t look up to see it. Then he stomped off to the kitchen.
Robin glanced after him, then stood up and whirled on Eddie. “Okay, ‘fess up. What the hell happened on Tuesday, and why is everything weird now?”
Eddie, who was still trying to make sure the glass ornament was hung safely on a branch, froze. “Uh… what?”
“You heard me, Munson. I don’t know what happened on Tuesday before I got home but I know it was something. And come on, I’m not an idiot. You’re being so weird around each other. He won’t tell me anything—” Robin jerked her thumb back toward the kitchen. “Which is weird enough on its own. So. You, talk.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude,” Eddie said. “Kind of think you’re the one being weird.”
Robin did not look impressed. She crossed her arms over her chest, fixing her eyes on him. “You know what I mean,” she said, lowering her voice. “Come on, Eddie. I know you know about me, alright? That I’m… you know.” She shifted around uncomfortably. “Don’t pretend you weren’t just checking Steve out, alright? Just tell me what happened. I can help!”
Eddie’s mouth opened to protest, but he shut it again. Why bother denying it? She’d just confirmed his own suspicions about herself; she was safe. She was like him. And she wanted to help, apparently.
“How?” Eddie asked, aware that he sounded like a sulky child. “How can you help?”
Both of them jumped as Steve came back into the room. “Okay, I’ve got the candy canes,” he said, setting down a small box on the couch. “The big star is in the basement, and supposedly the ladder is too, but he didn’t sound all that sure when he said it.” Steve shook his head. “But since I’m errand boy, I’ll go look, okay?”
Robin gave him a big, showed-all-her-teeth grin. “Thank you mightily, Steven,” she said, using her Southern Belle voice. “We would just be simply dyin’ without you.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but grinned back. He tipped an imaginary hat. “My pleasure, missy.” He headed downstairs.
Eddie looked at Robin and spoke as quietly as he could. “Okay, I know you just said you were gay—” Robin scowled at him, glancing toward the kitchen, even though Eddie had practically mouthed the word. “But I gotta ask. You sure you’re not dating? Or, like, married?”
Robin punched him on the shoulder. Not hard, but Eddie made a big deal about looking hurt and rubbing the spot.
“Look, Steve is into you, okay? Whatever happened on Tuesday, I can’t even remember the last time I saw Dingus so happy.”
Eddie’s stomach sank. “Oh,” was all he could think to say.
“Yeah, oh.” Robin sighed. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I—he didn’t call either! And… I mean, did he say he was waiting for me to call?”
“Not exactly,” Robin admitted. “I’m just figuring that’s what happened.” Another furtive glance toward the kitchen and Robin lowered her voice again. “Tuesday after you left and most of Wednesday, the guy’s on cloud nine. Then he got more bummed out every day. Wouldn’t tell me why, which was obviously suspicious,” she said with a huff. “So here’s my theory. Something happened Tuesday. You guys made out, hooked up, whatever. Then you didn’t call. Now it’s weird.” She raised her eyebrows. “Am I right?”
Eddie glared. “He didn’t call either,” he said again, like a toddler. Robin looked like she wanted to hit him for real this time. “Fine, I fucked up!” he hissed. “It’s too late now, and he probably hates me. There’s no point.”
“Uh-huh, sure.” Robin went to one of the boxes and grabbed more garland, scooping it up in a massive silver bundle in her arms. “If you seriously believed that, you wouldn’t be here.”
Eddie’s mouth fell open. “You made me come!”
Robin laughed. “Okay, first, that’s Steve’s line,” she said. Eddie shut his mouth. Damn. He definitely got why Steve was fake-married to her. “And second, when have you ever done something you actually did not want to do, just because someone else demanded it? Hmm?”
Well. She had him there.
Fuck.
From somewhere down in the basement, Steve shouted, “Robin, I can’t find the star. What does the box look like again?”
“Smallish white box. Check under the stairs,” Robin called back. She looked at Eddie. “Eddie’s coming to help.”
“What? No, wait—” Eddie protested, holding up his hands. “He doesn’t want my help.”
Robin didn’t seem to care. “Go on, butthead.” She gave him a small shove toward the door. “Go fix this. Eddie, I promise you. I know Steve. You still have a shot, seriously.”
Eddie hesitated. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he went down to the basement.
The stairs seemed to take longer now, as if there was suddenly double the amount that there had been when he’d gone down the first time. He moved slowly, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not turning around and running away.
Down the rabbit hole he went.
In the basement, Steve emerged from the little closet. “I really don’t think it’s in here,” he said. “Do you want to take a look?”
“Uh, sure,” Eddie said. “Maybe we should pull some stuff out, it can be kind of hard to see everything with all the crap in there. Here—” Eddie pulled out a box and handed it to Steve, who set it aside. He cleared a little path into the closet, rooting around for the small white box Robin told him had their tree topper.
“Unless it’s one of these boxes, it’s seriously not here,” Steve said. He gestured to the pile of boxes they’d pulled out. “And these are labelled, ‘Robin Clothes, Age 8’ and ‘Robert Cooking Books, 1973.’”
“Considering the freaking chaos of this house, they sure are organized,” Eddie mumbled, dusting his pants off. “Yeah, you’re right. I think we gotta call it.”
Eddie cringed immediately. “I mean, not call it, I don’t… not that calling is bad, I just…” he ran his fingers through his hair. Steve watched him, arms crossed, frowning. “Do you hate me now?”
“What?” Steve asked. He sounded genuinely surprised. “Why the heck would I hate you?”
Nervously, Eddie stepped closer. He lifted his shoulders up and then let them drop. “I didn’t call. After Tuesday…”
“It’s fine, Eddie,” Steve said. Eddie’s head snapped toward him. “Like I said, it sucks when you like someone and they don’t feel the same way. But I don’t hate you, come on. Look, let’s just go tell Robin we can’t find it, okay?”
Steve turned away, and Eddie’s stomach lurched up to his chest. He’d fucked up, he’d fucked up so badly. But Robin was right; he had to fix it.
“That’s not it!” Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist, stopping him. “That’s not why I didn’t call.”
“No?” Steve said, his voice quiet. Reserved. He did not turn back around. “Why, then?”
“Because… because it just didn’t make sense, you know?” Eddie said. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the chunky skull ring on his index finger. “You saying you liked me, kissing me…” He let out a long sigh. “A week ago, I had this whole idea of how you were and how I was, how the world went. Guys like you were assholes, douchebags. The enemy. And now… now I don’t know anymore. Because you’re not an asshole, Steve, and I liked hanging out with you. Like, a lot. That really freaked me out. But you said you liked me, and-and you kissed me, and I just—”
He was fucking it up, making everything worse. Saying all the wrong things. He didn’t know what the right things would sound like, didn’t know what the hell he could say to make Steve understand.
Steve turned around, and Eddie could not read his expression. Not confused or angry, but not thrilled, either. It was something more sad than anything else.
“I get it,” Steve said. “You can’t trust me. It makes sense.”
Eddie shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. Just bear with me okay, I’m fucking bad at this.” He took in a deep breath. “I like you, okay? Fuck, Steve, I like you so much— ” he took a cautious step toward Steve, saw his mouth open in surprise.
“And that fucking terrified me. Because I have this idea in my head of how it's all supposed to be and stuff like this? It’s not in the cards for me. So I didn’t trust it. I-I convinced myself it wasn’t true or that you’d come to your senses and realize what a freak I am, and I’d just get hurt.”
Tentatively, Eddie reached out and brushed his fingers along Steve’s hand. Steve started a little, but did not move away.
“All this bullshit, everything I thought about guys like you; the rich guys, the jocks, the popular people everyone loved… I didn’t just make it up out of nowhere,” Eddie went on. “It kept me safe, for a lot of years. Because… those were the kind of people that hurt me. Hurt me a fucking lot.” He snorted. “I think I needed that stuff back then, but we’re not in high school anymore. I don’t want to let all that bullshit keep holding me back.”
Steve nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I get it.”
And this time, Eddie thought he did.
“Do you… I mean, if I blew it, I understand,” Eddie said. “I got way into my own head, and I’m sorry. I should have called.”
“I could have called, too,” Steve said. Eddie stared at him. “I had your number. I just… I think I did the same thing, y’know? Got all in my head.” He sighed, ruffled up his hair in that way Eddie was starting to get a little obsessed with. “I have another confession.”
“Yeah?” Eddie said. He tangled his fingers together with Steve’s, stepping closer still. “Let me guess, you have actually been stalking me for months?” Steve laughed. “I’m flattered.”
“No, not stalking,” Steve said. “But uh… some lying.” He cringed. “I may have already had a Christmas present for Robin,” he confessed. “I’ve had it for months. I mean, what you picked out is way better but—yeah. I just… after we were talking on the train, I kind of thought this was my only shot.”
Eddie just stared at him. None of it made sense. Steve liking him , for months? Making up some flimsy excuse just to spend time with him? The math just did not add up. But he simply did not care anymore.
He stuck one hand in his pocket, pulling out the mistletoe he’d grabbed earlier. “I uh, I know this is supposed to be above our heads,” Eddie started, holding it up for Steve. “Can I kiss you anyhow?”
Steve looked at the bundle of green leaves and little white flowers in Eddie’s hand. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile, and he nodded. Not wanting to waste a second, Eddie grabbed the front of Steve’s sweater and pulled him forward.
The kiss was slow and sweet, less desperate than their first one, less frenzied. Eddie wanted to get lost in that kiss, to live forever in this one moment.
Good things did not happen to Eddie Munson. But it wasn’t a rule, and he was starting to accept that it wasn’t something he could count on anymore, either.
Because sometimes… they did.