Work Text:
It was 1998, a late Friday night. 3:24 a.m., to be exact.
Steve Harrington was sitting in a plush, green armchair in front of his new big, shiny TV. The flashy, colorful ads were reflected rapidly in the lenses of his reading glasses that were perched upon his nose.
Last couple of weeks he often found himself in this position after spending long hours just tossing around in his bed. The nightmares had returned, icy cold tendrils of terror reaching for him even in the warm safety of his cozy flat. At some point he was sometimes too anxious to fall asleep, opting to just spend the time in the living room with a movie or a crossword.
He was watching MTV right now, a channel he rarely ever put on these days. He was 32 after all and didn’t really care about the newest music releases anymore, preferring to just stick to his old records that he kept on the highest shelf of the huge bookshelf tucked in the corner of the living room. It was pure luck that made him stop on MTV that night, while endlessly surfing through the channels to find something that would put his frenzied mind to rest.
He was staring at the screen with empty eyes, not really paying attention to it, logos coming and going. It was getting boring. Some cheesy soap opera would do him better, he thought. His hand was already reaching for the remote, when a rerun of an interview with Rob Halford, former member of Judas Priest, was announced.
Steve felt a little spark of recognition at the name of the band.
Judas Priest.
Where had he heard it? Was it some kind of new wave band that Robin used to terrorize him with back in Hawkins? No, that was not it. Must’ve been something different. The name sounded like –
He clumsily got out of the armchair, knees hitting the fuzzy carpet painfully hard. A little grunt left his throat. He opened the cupboard under the TV, rummaging through all the knick-knacks and trinkets in there. Someone really should clean up here soon, he thought briefly, hands snaking through all the items. The TV was flashing with the show’s intro now.
“There you are,” he whispered, taking out a dusty Nike shoe box.
“STEVE’S OLD STUFF” was written in blocky, black letters on the lid.
A goofy smile appeared on his lips as he opened it. He was greeted with a pile of photos, which he carefully scooped out and layed down on the carpet next to him. Nancy Wheeler and his younger self were smiling at him from the picture on the top of the stack.
There were a couple of tapes tucked in the box, mixed with some old tickets and postcards. Bingo. It should be somewhere in there.
Steve looked through all the playlists written on the little plastic boxes, his eyes focused and brows furrowed. No Judas Priest. Was his memory this bad?
And then he saw it. The last tape, hidden under a fraying black bandana. His fingers carefully lifted the fabric, putting it to the side.
“for s.h.” was scribbled in a messy handwriting on the top of it, little sketched out bats scattered around the letters.
He grabbed the mixtape and flipped it over, finger following down the list of songs written on the back in the same scribble. There it was.
- Raw Deal - Judas Priest
It was underlined, with a little exclamation mark next to it.
He didn’t really have any more time to dwell over it, as Rob Halford appeared on the screen.
He was dressed in all black, positioned in front of a backdrop in the same color. His hands were laced in front of his knees, nails covered with dark varnish. But what took Steve by surprise was the fact that his head was perfectly round and… bald. Weren’t these guys supposed to have heads full of luscious locks?
Then he opened his mouth and said something that left Steve even more stunned.
“I think that most people know that I've been a gay man all of my life and that it's only been in– in recent times that it's an issue that I feel comfortable to address.”
Steve blinked a few times, mouth opening up.
Oh.
He did not expect… that.
He looked down at the tape in his hand, fingers squeezing its corners a little. Halford’s voice was barely reaching his ears now, as he descended into his memories.
-
“An issue that has been with me ever since recognizing my own sexuality. Something that I've been comfortable with forever. Something that I feel has a moment and this is the moment to discuss it.”
-
It was June of 1986 and he was doing his usual thing at work. That is standing behind the counter and pretending to look busy.
Robin was back in the horror aisle, putting all the tapes back in their place after a group of middle schoolers went through it. She would sigh every few minutes theatrically, making Steve snort a little every time.
It was a slow afternoon. The weather was nice and most Hawkins inhabitants opted to spend some time outside rather than watch a rented movie, leaving Family Video mainly empty. Lucky for them.
The door jingled and Steve groaned a little. He braced himself against the counter, a charming smile appearing on his lips, eyes coming up to look at the newcomer. He was met with the sight of none other than the newest addition to his little friend circle - Eddie Munson.
It was kind of unexpected, but they grew quite close after the whole Vecna ordeal. Steve found himself oddly drawn to the strange man. They weren’t the closest, but they did make time for each other every once in a while, usually meeting up with Robin and whatever friend from the school band she brought along. It was still that point of their friendship that made it kind of awkward for them to hang out alone.
His customer service smile merged into a more genuine one as he waved at Eddie from behind the counter enthusiastically.
“Munson!” He exclaimed and put down the clipboard with some document he had been doodling all over. It could wait.
“Hi, Harrington,” he greeted. He was a little jittery, devoid of his usual theatrics and flourish. “Hey, Robin.”
The girl’s head popped up from behind the shelf as she grunted out a quiet greeting and then disappeared in the aisle again.
“What can I help you with today?” Steve asked, chin in his hand.
“I have something for you.” His big, brown eyes went a little wide, as he toyed with the skull ring on his finger. “It’s a little silly, actually.”
Steve tilted his head to the right, looking up at his friend. Eddie looked really nice like that, eyes big and shiny, pink lip worried between his stupidly perfect teeth. Just a casual remark. Steve was not blind.
“Yeah? Doubt it. Try me, Edward.”
Eddie seemed to loosen up a little at the name, a quick snort coming through his nose.
“Well, Steven,” he leaned over the counter, keeping the distance between them relatively big. His tone turned conspiratory. “I just thought that it’s kinda embarrassing that we’ve been friends for so long and you still haven’t heard what Black Sabbath sounds like.”
Steve’s gaze involuntarily focused on Eddie's hands that were now perched upon the counter, slim fingers playing with the heavy, silver rings.
“Sooo… I made you a little mixtape.”
The fingers suddenly disappeared and went under the jean vest he was wearing. It was new, as the one that he had lent to Steve became completely messed up with blood.
“You don’t even have to listen to it. I know it’s not your kind of music and, uh, yeah.”
His hand emerged with the tape. He placed it on the countertop, still covering it with his pale fingers.
“No, no. I will listen to it. I’m really curious about the Izzy dude.”
Without thinking about it much, he put his hand over Eddie’s to get the tape.
“Ozzy,” he corrected quickly, hand flying away like Steve had burned him.
“Yeah, right. Ozzy.”
He smiled at Eddie, which he returned weakly.
“I’ll see you around then, yeah?”
He already started to walk backwards, towards the exit.
“Yeah. See ya, Munson.”
“Salutations, Robin,” Eddie added quickly, kind of like an afterthought, before ducking behind the door.
“What was that?” Robin looked at him over the shelf, eyebrows raised in question. Steve just shrugged.
-
"I was constantly held back. I was, I– I allowed myself to be intimidated, I allowed myself to do certain things and one of them was not to– to step forward and just come out as a gay person."
-
Steve didn’t get to listen to the tape for more than a week. He worked overtime a couple of times, other days occupied with his babysitting duties. He was simply exhausted the whole time, the mixtape forgotten on the nightstand of his room.
It was a Wednesday afternoon when he finally got some time to focus his full attention on the tape. He put it in his cassette player and relaxed on the bed, eyes trained on the song list scribbled on the back. Eddie’s handwriting was awful. His doodles were pretty nice though. He’d have to ask him if he did some more ambitious art.
The music, on the other hand, was... Terrible, to be frank.
It was fast and loud, most of the lyrics hardly understandable. It hurt his ears, which were used to things like ABBA or Tears For Fears.
He could understand why Eddie liked it so much though. It was rapid and buzzing with enthusiastic energy, just like the man himself. He frequently seemed as if some kind of electricity was jumping under his skin, body constantly jittery with it.
When the tape ended, Steve quickly grabbed a pencil from the desk and rewinded it.
He listened to it an embarrassing amount of times throughout the next two days. He couldn’t quite explain why he did it, when the shrilly guitar solos and fast paced drums were honestly migraine-inducing for him. It was just… Enticing.
-
"If you want to go through your Priest collection, you'll be surprised to see how many innuendos, how many metaphors I used. Some obvious and some not so obvious. That was my way of getting my message out for those people that care to explore that. There are as many gay metal fans as there are other fans of music. You know we are everywhere and that's– that's the way it is."
-
A couple of days after his initial listen of the mixtape, Steve found himself in front of the Munsons’ trailer. A six pack of beer was tucked under his arm, two more in the trunk of his car. It was already a late evening, as he impulsively decided to visit Eddie after his shift.
When Eddie opened the door, he was wearing flannel pajama pants with a considerable amount of stains on them and a Metallica t-shirt that was worn-down so much he could barely read out the band name. His slightly matted hair was gathered at the back of his neck in a low ponytail, loose curls framing his face.
He wasn’t quick enough to mask the shock appearing on his face, mouth opening to probably ask something, but he was cut off by Steve’s voice.
“I wanna hear more. And I got beer!”
So he ended up on the floor of Eddie’s bedroom, back against the wall. The other man was sitting cross-legged across from him, their knees bumping from time to time.
Steve was on his second can of beer, when Eddie put a Rainbow record on.
“I liked this one the most,” he noted, when Starstruck started playing. He threw the other man thumbs up.
“Yeah, I figured you would. It’s not really a metal band, but it’s Dio and the lyrics are great,” Eddie smiled at him proudly, eyes turning into crescents.
He looked so happy when he could talk about music, Steve noted mentally. So content and carefree when he lost himself in the tune of guitar. His head would lol to the side, eyes scrunching up merrily with a wide smile. It was a good look on him, his mind supplied.
And Steve just couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked so different without his usual attire of jean, leather and metal. It was kind of jarring to just see him be casual.
His hand was itching to tuck away a loose strand of hair that fell out of Eddie’s ponytail. Well. No explanation for that. Just a weird impulsive thought.
“Why are ya staring at me like that, Harrington?” A lazy smile stretched out across Eddie’s lips, as he returned Steve’s gaze.
He could feel his cheeks reddening. Gee, embarrassing. Steve Harrington blushing like a schoolgirl.
“It’s just weird. To see you in your pajamas.”
Eddie snorted at that, hands lacing loosely and resting against his abdomen. He wasn’t wearing any rings that day.
“You thought metalheads sleep in leather jackets and ripped jeans?”
The smile on his lips was playful, brown eyes full of mirth and something Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He shrugged, mouth corners quirking up involuntarily. Eddie had an infectious smile.
“Yeah, and that you eat bats alive for a good night's sleep. You scary lot.”
“No, that would be you, Mr. Ozzy,” he pointed a finger at Steve. “You think I’m scary?”
His tone turned dramatic, teeth baring in a way that resembled a classic caricature of a vampire, hands clawing in the air.
“Nah. Maybe last year. Not now though. You are way less scary than you seem.”
Eddie didn’t respond immediately and his smile slowly fizzled out, hands falling down to his sides. He was just staring at him now with a blank face, head a little tilted. His eyes were a mystery to Steve. There was always so much emotion in those deep brown irises that he couldn’t seem to ever decipher.
“You are way less scary too, Steve Harrington.”
Steve exhaled through his nose at that.
“I used to be scared of you in high school, to be honest. Me being a freak and nerd,” he confessed quietly, eyes falling down to his hands. He was playing with them nervously. “You weren’t really the guy I’d love to bump into, ya know.”
Steve sighed a little, nose scrunching up.
“Yeah. Sorry about that, I was a little shit,” he smiled a little, middle finger circling the brim of his can and smearing the remnants of beer around. His hand was already a little sticky from it.
“You were. That’s why I was so taken aback when I finally got to meet you after all of the poetics Henderson waxed about you.”
Steve perked up a little at the mention of Dustin. It was like an involuntary reflex.
“I didn't want to believe it. I was on edge all the time, waiting for you to finally admit it was just an act and punch me square in the jaw or something. Got my fair share of that throughout my long high school career,” Eddie shrugged, his shoulders tight. “But you are genuinely just a nice guy.”
“I’d never do that. Not to you.”
Eddie’s eyes locked onto his, lower lip trembling for a fracture of a second.
“Why?”
Steve was caught off guard by the haunting look the other man was giving him. Suddenly he was hyper aware of every little muscle movement in his face.
“You are… My friend.”
The last word was a little choked up.
“Never thought I’d hear this coming out of your lips,” Eddie chuckled a little, head shaking in disbelief. “This whole thing feels like some kind of fever dream. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Drinking beer together and listening to Rainbow.”
He looked as if he was bracing himself to say something more, words already bubbling up in his throat. Steve hesitated for a second, before scooting closer to the brunette, sitting next to him. He left a couple of inches between them, resting his hand on the unoccupied fragment of the floor, next to Eddie’s. He bumped his shoulder into the other man gently, reassuringly.
“You know, I’d… I’d sometimes stare at you in the corridors. When you were still in high school.”
Eddie was stubbornly looking down at his lap, not sparing Steve any glances. Not that it would help. His eyes were unreadable, as always.
“I was so jealous. You would always have this group of people– of girls around you and they were all just… Bewitched with you. And you’d sometimes smile at them. This dazzling smile of yours.”
Steve could actually feel the gears turning in his head. Eddie’s words sounded kind of… Familiar.
“It made me so unreasonably angry. So I just stood against my locker, full of quiet rage and envy,” he chuckled a little. “Just staring at them staring at you. A weird little chain reaction of staring.”
Ah!
He could almost see the comical little lightbulb that appeared above his head, as he finally put the pieces together. It was almost weird how he got the same kind of confession again.
“Oh, did you have a crush on one of the girls that liked me?” He questioned resolutely, a compassionate smile on his lips.
Eddie’s eyes widened a little, head slowly turning. He looked confused.
“What?”
“A girl? Why else would you be jealous?” Steve sounded genuinely lost. He was so sure that he got it right this time.
Eddie shook his head, smiling bitterly. His fingers flexed a little against the floor.
“Steve…” It was barely above a whisper, voice strained. “Not about a girl.”
The look in his eyes was, for the first time ever, clear as a day for Steve. It was the same look Robin gave him when she confessed that it was, in fact, about a girl.
Oh.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Eddie looked like he was bracing himself for a punch, whole body tense.
A memory flashed before Steve’s eyes. A fifteen year old boy, splayed on the filthy school hall floor, short curls scattered on the greasy tiles. His eyes are big with fear, nose sipping red down his chin and onto his light t-shirt. There is a boot on his heaving chest and vicious laughs echo all around the hall. Teenage Steve laughs too.
Eddie’s expression now was eerily similar to the one on his face that day. The same rabbit-like fear. As if Steve was some kind of wolf that would devour him whole, but also insult him first, just for good measure.
A wave of immeasurable misery washed over Steve and he didn't even think about it when he grabbed Eddie’s hand in his and squeezed it hard.
“Eddie… I–” His throat tightened. He was at a loss for words. It hit him like a truck - it was just as much his fault. He was a part of the problem.
The brunette smiled a little at that. He couldn’t remember Steve ever calling him by his first name, apart from the time when he was at the brink of death.
“It’s alright, it passed. Don’t worry about it,” he squeezed his fingers back, body slumping a little in relief.
“I don’t care about it,” he replied quickly, eyes glittering with earnesty. “About you being a– You know. But I care about you as a person. A lot.”’
“I care about you too.”
It was silent in the room. None of them even noticed when the album ended, plunging them into silence. It was not uncomfortable, but there was still a noticeable tension in the air, leaving the atmosphere a little heavy.
Both of their eyes were trained on each other.
Steve maneuvered his fingers a little in the grip, slotting them between Eddie’s. Their hands were slowly growing sweaty and a little sticky from the beer smeared on Steve’s skin.
“You are safe with me, Eddie. I promise.”
Eddie looked as if he was on the brink of tears, eyes even more shiny than usually. And for the first time in his life, he believed those words.
-
"Um, I think that it's difficult for everybody, you know, in– in making the decision to come forward and step out and be who you are. Especially if you're a teenager, that's where a lot of– a lot of the anxiety begins."
-
The following couple of months were a blur of happy memories for Steve.
He would spend way more time with Eddie after that night, the secret shared between them bringing them closer than ever.
Steve could see how much more relaxed Eddie was around him, noticed how the metaphorical weight was lifted from his shoulders. His smiles were more genuine, occasional touches more lingering and devoid of the previous nervousness. And there was more of them. So much more.
Eddie would sling an arm around his shoulder, when they stood next to each other, chest bumping into him. He would ruffle Steve’s hair when visiting him at Family Video, hand extending over the counter. He would grab his wrist in the dark of the night, when showing him the way through the woods. Their shoes would always bump under the table and their thighs would touch while watching a movie together.
And God, did Steve enjoy these touches from the other man. He was an affectionate person after all and Eddie was one of his best friends. Of course he liked them. No question about it.
Robin would laugh about it sometimes, lamenting how he was ditching her for Eddie. Of course he liked them both, a lot. But he couldn’t quite explain why he was gravitating towards Eddie so much. Maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t had a male friend his age in such a long time. Because as cool as Robin was, it was sometimes easier to relate to a fellow guy.
That was the easiest way to explain it. And Steve liked easy explanations best, so it must’ve been it.
And then Eddie kissed him and everything fell apart.
It happened when they were both piss drunk, hanging out at the lake. It was brief, barely even there, preceded by gentle fingers on cheeks and a sweet murmur. When Steve thought about it years later all he could really remember clearly was the sensation of cold rings against his skin.
When Eddie pulled back, his wide eyes were suddenly like an open book. Steve could all of a sudden see everything that he couldn’t understand before that moment. It was like something broke, some barrier that was keeping him from seeing the whole picture.
There it was - the love, the longing and the fear hidden behind the dark irises. All directed at him, all caused by him. It made him feel sick to the stomach.
He scrambled back, away from the loving eyes and warm lips. Stood up and looked down at the man left on the sandy ground. Looking like a scared rabbit again, apologies spilling out of his lips in a frenzy. Steve couldn’t really hear them, his ears filled with ringing.
The worst thing about it was that Steve wanted it. He wanted it so bad. But the thought of being touched by Eddie so intimately, so gently, with his eyes full of love and wonder... It made him both freeze and want to run away, all at once. It felt like being plunged into the icy depths of the ocean, lungs burning with the lack of oxygen.
He was terrified of it. The unknown. Even if the mystery was so enticing and sweet, its eyes dark like sugary molasses.
He knew that Eddie would never hurt him. Never intentionally. But he was a man. And that was both his only and fatal flaw.
Steve took one last look at him. Took in his pale face, messy hair and askew jacket. How he looked so pretty in the moonlight, even in his misery. And then he bolted, sneakers slipping on the wet stones.
He was the coward that ran away, after all.
-
Steve would never see Eddie again after that day, leaving him with the sight of the scared man under his feet burned into his brain as the last memory of him.
He later learned that he left Hawkins that very night, informing only his uncle about it.
It took Steve nearly a week to find the note left in his mailbox, as he wasn’t really expecting any mail. It was a little smudged with the rain that gathered inside during the few days.
I’m sorry , it read. You were the best thing that could ever happen to me in this hellhole. I guess now it’s the time for me to run away. Thank you for keeping me and my secret safe. Won’t bother you anymore. E.
-
The next time he heard about him was in 1990.
Eddie was apparently dead. Had been dead since 1988.
Steve never learned how that happened, was too much of a coward to dig deeper. It was easier to live in ignorance.
Maybe it was just a drunk driver, who didn’t see Eddie’s dark silhouette on the side of the road. A car ramming into his body, taking his life in an instant. It was easier to imagine him dying because of something so mundane, like a car crash. Steve didn’t even want to consider any other options.
There was a grave somewhere in Ohio, apparently. He didn’t really have the guts to ever visit. But he hoped that there was someone who cleaned it up, maybe even sometimes put some flowers on it. Eddie deserved to get flowers. Steve often regretted that he never got to be the one to give them to him.
-
“Maybe it is– is– it's of some help, you know, that well, there is an individual that has been successful and has been able to achieve dreams and visions and goals in life and not let the issue of sexuality be something to hold them back.”
-
There were silent tears streaming down Steve’s face now, mind back to present, his body sat in front of the TV. His knees were aching from the position, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was entranced with the words coming out of the speakers.
His glassy eyes were trained on the singer on the screen. There was the same look of relief on his face, so reminiscent of Eddie that one night. It made Steve sob out loud.
God, Eddie, how I wish you could see this. You deserved to hear this.
He hugged his knees tightly, the tape still clutched in his right hand. He was wailing now, teeth sunken into the soft material of his flannel pants. He was such a stupid coward.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if he didn’t push Eddie away that day.
Would he still be alive? Would they be friends?
Something more ?
Would Eddie be squeezing Steve’s hand in excitement while watching this programme? Maybe even record it on a tape, keep it in a box with his collection of horror classics.
“Steve? Baby, what are you doing?”
All of a sudden there were thin arms encircling him. Long, straightened hair tickled his cheek.
“What’s wrong, hun?” His wife whispered, small hands rubbing his shoulder lightly. He just sobbed harder, crushing his nose against his knees. It hurt to do that, but nothing hurt more than the pain in his chest at the moment.
“It’s okay, Steve. I’m here. It will be okay.”
“No, it won’t,” he mumbled wetly in between the sobs. He unraveled his body and embraced her back, snotty face hiding in the soft, warm neck.
“Shh, baby. Is it the nightmares again? It’s not real. You are safe. We are here and you are safe. Breathe with me, sweetheart,” she whispered sweetly into his ear, exaggerating her breathing for him.
He took a shaky breath, letting himself be guided by her.
Steve Harrington loved his wife, he really did. But if he tried hard enough, he could imagine that the arms holding him were covered in tattoos and that the hair that was caressing his skin was forming dark curls.