Chapter Text
The first time Steve sees Eddie after the whole thing (thing being secret interdimensional weirdness crap, not that needs to be stated anymore), he smiles and gets a loose, twitchy frown in response. Eddie with his hair pulled over his face, chin propped on a hand as he slouches in the seat by the wall, pressed so close to it it’s like he’s trying to quit this dimension. Dustin is saying something long and incomprehensible as Steve sits down. There’s already fries and a milkshake in front of Dustin, and he’s combining the two in a way that they definitely shouldn’t be combined. Eddie isn’t eating. Seats are sticky, which tracks, and the table is stickier, which also tracks but is really pretty gross. Steve smiles at Eddie and gets a frown in return. Wow.
“Do you think he knows that, like, we’re a part of the deal now? You don’t get to go through all this crap for free, you know, it comes with the price of being vaguely polite to the people you did it with,” he snarks to Max as he’s driving her home afterward.
“Is that a part of the deal?” she says. He’s looking at the road, but he knows she rolled her eyes. “Does that mean I’m in breach of contract?”
He splutters and shrugs a bit, because– well– “You had– I mean, you had, like, a reason, right? What’s his reason? He didn’t lose anything except a bit of ceiling off his house.”
“I mean, he saw a girl die in possibly the most horrific way anyone can die and he was a wanted murderer for a hot second there, not to mention getting his entire understanding of the world rocked by Steve goddamn Harrington — people still find that weird, by the way —”
He’s never heard the phrase world rocked outside the context of screwing, so for a second it’s like– well. Which feels weird for a moment, and he decides not to say that to Max. He says instead, “Well, he should get over it. Jonathan was nice to me when it first started, and we’d actually punched each other, so. I’ve never even punched Eddie.”
“Why do you care?”
It’s his turn to frown. “I don’t know, I guess I just–” He stops. “I don’t know.”
It turns out he cares so much he talks to Robin about it, too. She’s sitting cross legged on the counter, humming along to the DEVO record she managed to cheat her way into putting on, watching him stack tapes like this isn’t also her job (is he seriously the only one who ever does any work around here?) and he pretty much launches into it — “Do we think Eddie hates me? Because if he does then, like, totally not cool, dude. We save the world together and then–”
“And then he has the audacity not to be charmed by your winning personality?” She leans back on her hands and smirks at him. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t.” Wait. That’s not even true. “I didn’t, I mean. Because he was–” He cringes. “Because he was stealing Dustin. But we, like, talked that shit out. I don’t understand why–”
“Relax. Don’t you have bigger fish to fry? Like the beautiful, beautiful woman who just walked in? Wow, okay, nevermind, I’m handling this one–”
She clambers off the counter and goes to the door. The girl is hot, he can admit, he has eyes — but he’s distracted now and he’s not sure he trusts himself to talk to anyone about anything other than Eddie right now, which is weird, he knows that, but the guy’s stuck in his mind for some reason. Whatever.
They have pizza night that weekend, in Wheeler’s stinky basement, and Eddie doesn’t show. Again, whatever. But everyone else is there, even Nancy, who gives him a soft smile and gets sauce on her lip, which Robin reaches over to wipe away with a napkin. Steve isn’t really sure how that interaction happened. But he has bigger things on his mind, when he and Nancy are alone in the kitchen. He’s washing, she’s drying, and their hands brush as he gives her a plate but he doesn’t even register the strange look she gives him when it happens, because he’s halfway through–
“–and he’s meant to be cool about the whole thing, like, we talked it out so I don’t understand what his problem is. He’s said maybe two words to me since we saved the world, which is just rude. Isn’t it?”
“Steve,” she says. Her eyes are big and serious. “He’s not here tonight, is he? Have you considered maybe that you’re not the one he’s avoiding, but it’s everyone?”
He frowns. He thinks about Eddie not eating at the diner. “You think he’s– I don’t know, struggling?”
“With the whole thing? Probably. I mean I– well, you know.” She drops her eyes. “I think we were all nervous wrecks the first time, and this is the first time for him. You can’t blame him for dealing with it however he needs to deal with it. Give it time.”
“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, feeling a little better about the whole thing. He offers another plate. “You’re probably right.”
“Is he whining about Eddie being mean to him again?” Robin is leaning in the doorway, eating a leftover slice that’s probably cold by now. “You talk about him more than you talk about girls, Steve, it’s getting concerning. Anyone would think you had a crush.”
She’s grinning, and Nancy shoots her a corresponding smirk, but Steve doesn’t smile. The comment makes something sink in his chest, and he’s getting this antsy feeling like he needs to be outside. Nancy still hasn’t taken the plate and he jerks it at her, keeping his mouth shut so he doesn’t snap something harsh. She takes it hesitantly, looking at him with her eyebrows creased together like she always used to do and he doesn’t want to look at her right now. He drops the scourer in the basin and flicks the soapy water off his hands and walks towards the door.
“Steve? Are you okay?” Robin says, and her tone is different, apologetic, worried.
“I’m– just, I’m fine,” he says, and goes outside. And now they’re probably talking about how he’s traumatised too, which, great, not like that’s anything new for any of them at all. And Eddie didn’t fucking show. Great.
Things get even greater when Dustin shows up at his house wanting to be driven to Eddie’s for D&D. “I thought he was avoiding us,” Steve says, resolutely ignoring the way his heart is sinking to his knees.
“What? Oh, because he missed pizza night? No, no, he was just out of town for the night or something, I don’t know, he said he couldn’t make it.” Dustin is squinting at him suspiciously. “He’s not avoiding me. Is this your weird jealousy thing again? Goddamnit, Steve, can I ask you to grow up for a sec or–”
“Hey! Grow up? That’s rich, you’re still basically a child and also, no, it’s not a jealousy thing. Jealous. Like I said, why would I be jealous of your nerdy little club that’s pretty much entirely the reason everyone thought you guys were murderers–”
“I mean, the demon murder was the reason they thought we were murderers, but–”
“Whatever. Jesus, let’s just go.”
Like a total sucker, he drives Dustin to Eddie’s and prepares to drive off immediately — then he catches a glimpse of Eddie himself through the window, a thrilling grin on his face, sprawled back in his chair with his boots on the table, rhapsodising about something totally obscure and ridiculous and he doesn’t look traumatised at all, though he probably is, he doesn’t look like he’s avoiding or being rude and cold to all of them. Just to Steve.
Steve stares at him for a moment, long enough for Eddie’s eyes to move to the window and catch his through it. Eddie jolts like he’s been hit, a sort of deer-in-headlights look about him, and tears his gaze away like he can’t stand to look at Steve at all.
“Prick,” Steve says to himself through his teeth, and decides enough is enough. Fuck Eddie. This is just too much. He blasts Wham on the way back, Bad Boys, and thinks about taking Daphne out this weekend. It’s been too long since he last went on a date.
The date does not go well. Mid-flow he sees a girl wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt and forgets what he was talking about; twice he sees a dark head of hair and stares a little too long trying to work out who it is. Not Eddie, is the answer. It’s never Eddie. Daphne gets snappish and tense, which he can’t really blame her, can he?
“What is with you?” she says at the end, tapping her nails on the table. “It’s like you’re not even in the room with me.”
“I’m really sorry,” he says, and he is, because she’s pretty and he thinks he likes her and he’s really blown this for himself for no goddamn reason. For fucking Eddie, who hates him. “Let me–” But she’s already getting up and going.
Because his day (week/month) couldn’t get any worse, he learns after that Robin and Eddie have been hanging out without him. Or rather he blunders into it at Family Video, coming in already running his mouth off ready to complain about the most godawful date ever and then it’s not Robin who greets him but Eddie, dark hair dark eyes a bright smile dimming from his face at the very sight of Steve and Robin rushes in between them like she thinks he’s going to throw a punch.
“Hey, Steve,” she says, voice painfully bright and sparkly and so fucking false– “Eddie’s just– uh, just renting something.”
“Really,” Steve says in a monotone. He doesn’t move, though he’s very tempted to leave. Eddie is in fact holding a tape, a tape he shoves into a pocket before Steve can see what it is, but his face is stricken. Guilty, almost. Steve wonders what he has to be guilty about. Hating Steve? Sounds about right, given there’s no fucking reason for it. Grow up.
There’s a long, awkward silence. Eddie’s wearing a worn jacket in black denim, and it reminds Steve that he hasn’t returned the one from the Upside Down yet. It’s got Steve’s blood on it now.
“Well, I guess I should– I’m gonna go,” Eddie says, and for a moment he sounds like he did when they first found him by the lake, stuttering and trembling and feverish with fear, but he’s looking at Robin, he’s got no problem with Robin, so whatever this is, it’s not a fear thing.
“See you–” Robin cuts herself off. “Around?” She’s looking guilty too, a pleading look in her eye like she’s begging Steve not to hate her for this. Which he won’t, but he wants a goddamn explanation.
“Around,” Eddie agrees, and moves towards the door, but Steve hasn’t moved and he’s very much in Eddie’s way and he’s feeling spiteful enough to stay there — which has the side effect of them staring at each other for a moment, eye to eye and Eddie’s right in his personal space, which is a bit much when you hate someone, and his eyes flicker across Steve’s face in a way that’s kind of desperate, and– is he wearing eyeliner?
The fact is disconcerting enough to break the tension. Steve clears his throat and steps aside.
“Thank you,” Eddie says, a trace of that ironic melodrama in his voice but it’s toned down, way down, and Steve has to wonder how he gave the guy the impression he couldn’t be himself around him.
Then he’s gone.
“What the hell was that?” Steve says, turning on Robin accusingly.
She shrugs helplessly. “Steve, I don’t– I don’t know what to tell you. I really don’t think he hates you the way you think he does.”
“Then why’s he acting like I killed his dog?”
She makes a small noise and it takes him a second to recognise it as a stifled laugh. He scowls. This is in no way funny. But her voice is almost frustrated when she answers: “That’s not the way he’s acting, Steve. Really. Just trust me, he doesn’t hate you.”
“It can’t be anything else!” He throws his hands up. “And my date was shit, and I was really hoping to make an age-appropriate guy friend for once since I only hang out with children but it turns out he hates me or else acts like he hates me for no reason which is the same thing, in my book, because both make me feel equally like shit–”
Her eyes soften. “Hey,” she says gently, still awkward but in that warm way she gets when she’s being serious and nice. “I didn’t– I didn’t realise it was hurting you. It’s not fair for him to treat you like that, I’ll talk to him.”
“No,” he says quickly. “Don’t, you don’t– you don’t need to do that. It’s fine. It’s whatever, it’s not like I see the guy that much.”
She gives him a long look. He’s not sure what it means.
The tape Eddie rented was The Rocky Horror Picture Show, it turns out, and when he sees it by Eddie’s name he takes a second to stare at it, like it doesn’t quite fit. Robin likes that movie, he remembers. When he’d suggested it for movie night, knowing that, she’d burst out laughing: Sure, Steve, but prepare for your straight-ass mind to be blown out of this straight-ass world. They’d watched something else instead.
He finds Eddie’s jacket under his bed where he’d shoved it, desperate to shower off the stink and the blood and the horror of it all, and takes it out, feeling just as strange as he has all week — as strange as he has since Eddie first held a jagged shard of glass to his throat with a wild look in his eyes, a dangerous, desperate look that triggered some deep adrenaline in Steve which hasn’t really ever gone away.
It smells of blood, and sweat, and cigarette smoke, which means it smells like Steve but it also smells like Eddie, because Steve hasn’t smoked in months. He breathes it in and then curses himself for breathing it in, because what is he doing? Seriously?
He doesn’t call Daphne again. Or anyone. He avoids Robin, as much as he can, to the extent that when Keith offers a solo graveyard shift rearranging the back room in return for not working the Friday, he takes it. He’s still there at eleven, Rod Stewart on full blast — no one else here to complain — though by then it’s just a matter of arranging the tapes on the shelves and getting the hell home. Humming along to Young Turks, he doesn’t hear the knocking on the door until it becomes full-blown crashing on the storefront, and he jolts and thinks of monsters and wishes he had his bat.
But it’s not a monster. It’s Eddie.
Steve is so surprised that he just stands there for a moment, not moving to unlock the door. Then Eddie raps on it again, a manic look in his eyes like the devil himself is chasing him, which, this being Hawkins, would not be all that unusual — so Steve opens the door.
Eddie scrambles past him and sits down heavily on the floor against the counter, curling his arms around his knees and breathing in a way that doesn’t really sound like breathing at all but more like sobbing, and in between those sobs he gets out a whole load of words all at once like Sorry I know it’s– late– I know it’s– it’s– I saw the light– it– I thought it was– sorry I know– I know you’re not– you’re– sorry– I just– just have to talk– I have to talk– talk myself through it– it’s fine– I just– sorry I thought it was– and then– then you– I saw the light– I knew– knew you’d be here– sorry I just have to talk– talk through– through it– I’ll be fine– I’ll be–
As he talks, his breathing gradually becomes slower and he manages to get more words out between breaths. His hands, hooked around his shins, begin to tremble less violently. Steve is feeling pretty useless at this point. He’s crouched in front of Eddie offering useless phrases like You’re safe and it’s okay, neither of which he actually knows to be true. But Steve turns out to be pretty superfluous here anyway, someone to talk at rather than to, and it seems to have worked. Eddie tilts his head back against the counter and the tension falls out of him, though a tremor lingers in his hands. For a moment, Steve forgets the way they supposedly hate each other and feels glad.
“Sorry,” Eddie says finally. “This isn’t exactly- how I planned to spend my evening.”
“Are you–” Steve suddenly feels unbearably awkward. “Are you okay, man? Like, do you need some water, or–”
“Way to make it weird.”
Eddie cracks a twitchy smile as Steve splutters defensively: “You’re the one who–”
“Kidding. I’m kidding.” The smile drops. “Look, I’m sorry. I know it is weird, and it’s my fault for coming in here and–” His voice wavers, his breathing rising to panic again, and he clearly forces himself to continue talking: “And being a– being a mess in front of you, and I’m sorry, I just– I just freaked, and when this happens I– when this happens I have to talk through it to someone and that’s how– how I stop it and I saw the light on and I hoped–”
He stops there. Steve doesn’t dare wonder what he hoped.
“What made you freak?” he asks quietly, carefully. Eddie hasn’t made it sound like there’s something actually out there, but you can never be too careful, not in Hawkins.
Eddie closes his eyes. “It’s stupid.”
Steve is reminded of an earlier moment, a moment when he was still catching his breath from the shard to his neck and the wild, desperate proximity of Eddie himself — try us, Max said. “Try me,” he says.
“It was nothing, it really was– nothing.” Eddie’s voice has sped up again. “Just a stupid fucking– light, you know, the flickering lights like when Chrissy and the– Chrissy– Chrissy and–” His breathing overtakes his speech then. Each one seems to convulse in his throat and his mouth moves soundlessly, desperate helpless fear in his eyes–
Steve doesn’t hesitate this time. He lunges forward and grabs Eddie’s twitching hands and locks gazes with him: “It’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, just look at me, okay, you’re safe here, Vecna is gone, nothing’s going to happen here, I promise. I promise.”
Eddie breathes.
“‘s just so stupid,” he says, when his voice comes back, something unhappily like self-loathing in his eyes, “A fucking- a fucking light of all things, a dodgy light and I’m–”
“It happens. Trust me. This is kinda–” Steve thinks about what he said to Max in the car. “Part of the deal.”
He suddenly becomes aware that he’s still holding Eddie’s hands. He thinks about letting go, but the guy’s got some sort of thousand-yard stare going on and Steve’s a little afraid that if he does let go, Eddie will slip back into his panicky spiral and never get out again. No wonder the guy does drugs.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Eddie says, still looking off away, shaking his head, a bitter laugh in his voice. “I just– I dunno, I just kinda fucking feel like I’m going insane.”
“I really don’t blame you, man. I really don’t.”
He takes a deep breath, and when he exhales he seems calmer. Strangely reluctant, Steve releases his hands, and Eddie looks at him for a moment before taking them back and dragging them over his face and through his hair. “Sorry,” he says again.
“No, you don’t– c’mon, you don’t need to apologise. It’s okay. I just–” Steve stops himself, and then starts again. “Don’t you hate me? Like, I’m ninety-nine percent sure you hate me.”
Something strange happens then, a strange look in Eddie’s eyes, like distress. “I don’t– really? I don’t hate you.”
“I mean, you act like it.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. He was never intending to have this conversation, and now that they’re having it he regrets the whole thing. “I don’t– okay, it’s not like I was expecting us to be best friends after the whole thing. But we talked, didn’t we? And decided we’re cool? And then out of nowhere you’re being, well, kind of a dick.”
“Shit.” Eddie takes out a cigarette and lights it, fingers trembling less now. Steve supposes he should be glad it isn’t a blunt, but he’d probably rather that because then he could have some and it would help. “I really don’t hate you, man.” He lowers his voice, as if he’s speaking more to himself the second time, something wry in his tone: “I really don’t hate you.”
That’s what Robin said. But if not that, then what? What could it possibly fucking be?
“Okay,” Steve says in a rush. “Okay, sure, if you say so. I just– I really want us to be cool. It’s weird, with Dustin, y’know? It’s like his parents are divorced.”
Eddie huffs a laugh. It’s a nice laugh. “We can be cool,” he says. “You can have him weekdays, and I’ll alternate weekends. Don’t expect child support, though. You’re the rich one in this marriage.”
“What if I didn’t get a prenup? You took me for all I was worth.”
He laughs again. “I like it. I don’t know if I’d be smart enough for that, though. Or mean enough. Too much of a bleeding heart, me.”
Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. It strikes at something in his chest and his smile becomes a little fixed. The silence draws on. As it does, the music becomes more distinct in the background, and Eddie looks up with a faint grin.
“Rod Stewart, man, really? You save the world and you come home and listen to goddamn Rod Stewart?”
“What? He’s good. He’s good!”
“You’d never heard of Black Sabbath, so I’m not believing a word that comes out of your mouth.”
Steve isn’t going to say that he’s listened to Black Sabbath, in the long hours at the video store, though he doesn’t think he likes them. It seems desperate, almost, to be so anxious to be liked, to remember interests and catalogue them and try them out. Even if he hates them. He falls to silence again, watching the abstract coil of smoke from Eddie’s cigarette.
When he speaks again, Eddie’s tone is serious. “I do want to be friends. We can be cool, I- promise. I’m sorry for- the weirdness.”
“Okay,” Steve says again, but this time he’s almost sure he believes it. Whatever’s going on with Eddie, okay. They can start again. See what happens. “So, you wanna watch a movie? You’re in the place for it, after all.“
Eddie kicks his legs out in front of him, sprawling in that careless way of his, and smiles. “What d’ya have in mind?”
“I don’t know, what do you like? I saw you rented The Rocky Horror Picture Show, which I’ve never seen, and–“
His face changes. He pulls his legs up again, suddenly antsy, and doesn’t meet Steve’s eyes. “Look, I should probably just go home, y’know, it’s late…”
“Sure, man, sure,” Steve says faintly, disappointed for reasons he can’t name. “I guess– yeah, it is pretty late.”
Eddie doesn’t move. Neither does Steve.
After a long moment of silence, Eddie looks at him. “Does it get better? The–“ He swallows visibly. “I mean, it’s not like it’s a new thing, the, uh, panic attacks, but they’re so much goddamn worse now and I really need them to get better, like, really, so if you have any handy ideas on that score…”
Steve thinks. Thinks about the nightmares that have never gone away, and the way Christmas lights are ruined now forever and always. The way he doesn’t swim in his pool anymore because he knows that’s where Barbara died, and the way he can’t go anywhere without his bat in the trunk, ready just in case. Equally there was a solid month in there where he was afraid to go outside, and that’s gone away now. Mostly. “I mean, you get used to shit. That’s human nature, right? I’m not gonna say everything will be perfect, but — this is really horrific that I’m even saying this, isn’t it — you adapt. It won’t be this bad forever.”
Eddie lets out a long breath. “Okay. I can– yeah, I can square with that.” He’s nearly finished his cigarette, so he gets to his feet and starts hunting for an ashtray, like he hasn’t been flicking ashes all over the floor this whole time. Steve follows and grabs the one from the counter, shoving it under his nose. He stubs it out violently, some repressed emotion clearly coming to the fore there. “Listen,” he says eventually, and it sounds like it’s being dragged from his throat, “I can’t– I really can’t sleep, at home. I mean, the insomnia, again, it’s nothing new, but now…”
Steve catches his drift. “You can– if you want, you can sleep on my sofa. My parents are out of town.”
That same strange look flickers across Eddie’s face. “No, I– thanks, though. But could I– do you mind if I just sleep here? In the office, or something?”
Steve won’t pretend the rejection doesn’t sting, like all the rejections have stung, just a little bit. But he says, “Yeah, I mean Keith won’t be here until the weekend and it’s just Robin and me working in the morning, so — yeah. Sure.“
Eddie sags in relief. Steve clears some of the crap off the office couch and puts an ashtray on the floor next to it, as a hint. There’s not even a blanket anywhere he can use, but he doesn’t seem bothered about anything like that, just desperate. Steve can understand that. He’s tried to sleep on the roof more than once.
Then Eddie’s sitting on the couch/makeshift bed and Steve is hovering in the doorway and it feels wrong to leave him here alone, somehow, but Eddie’s made it pretty damn clear he’s not wanted. So he says, “If you, y’know, need anything–”
“The radio. I know.” Eddie offers him a smile, then, a true one, just like when they were laughing about that stupid divorce joke and it felt like they could actually be friends, and Steve feels so much lighter seeing that smile again. “Thank you, Steve. I do mean it. We can be cool.”
Steve smiles back, a small smile. “I know.”