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Starcourt Mall, Eddie sneers mentally as he enters through the main entrance. It’s late in the afternoon, hopefully a time where all the snotty-nosed kids have to head home for dinner so Eddie won’t be as miserable walking around the glittery, bright, neon, perfumey mall. He despises so much about this place, but when Henry, the sixty-something owner of Hawkins’ local music shop, said he couldn’t find the parts Eddie was needing to restore an old guitar his uncle found, Eddie turned to the mall. And only after Henry said that it was okay. Eddie didn’t want to take any business away from the kind old man, but he really wanted to make this guitar playable…
So Eddie puts on a brave face, keeping his chin held high and his eyes forward as he walks down the long line of shops. He’s not exactly sure where the music shop is so he’ll have to take a pause at the next map he sees since he refused to stop at the one near the front door. He’d rather not be seen by any of his fellow students if they decide to come to the mall on this random Thursday afternoon. He’s travelled half of the mall by the time he finds the next map, with a mom and her daughter on one side while the other is left free. Eddie quickly saddles up next to the board, eyes roaming the wood.
It takes Eddie all of three minutes to locate the store, much too long for his liking. He points a finger on the board, right on top of the store he needs to go to, using the momentum to take a step back and then another before he turns on his heel. The problem is that Eddie hadn’t been expecting such a commotion behind him. He freezes as he’s quickly passed by a blur of black hair and long, pasty white limbs that he recognizes as Mike Wheeler. A redhead follows after, a young girl he thinks might be the sister of Billy Hargrove - an asshole who likes to call the girl a bitch, but her smile tells Eddie she’s anything but. Lucas Sinclair is right behind her, making quiet threats that he’s going to get her, to which the redhead laughs gleefully at. Eddie knows this ragtag group of kids, or he’s seen them around town at least. Plus, their names were all brought up constantly when Will Byers was still missing. So Eddie knows there has to be a few more in tow. His guess is proven to be true a second later when Will runs by, his bowl cut (much like the one Eddie had in fourth grade) flying in the wind.
“Come on!’ Will says, amused. Eddie watches as the young kid looks over his shoulder just as another one whizzes past Eddie, just not as fast as the others.
Eddie has to bite back a grin when he sees Dustin Henderson, one hand on his hat and the other holding his bag around one shoulder. Eddie’s not quite sure what that kid has stuffed inside but it’s a lot of plastic - flat pool floaties? Eddie wonders what the hell those nerdy kids are getting up to, and even finds himself missing the days where he was free like that. Running around and enjoying summer break.
Eddie takes a step out into the wide aisle, watching the kids grow smaller in the distance. He’s stuck in his reverie of reminiscing, so he’s a little confused when Dustin looks behind him - as if he’s looking right at Eddie - and says, “Steve, hurry the hell up!”
Eddie briefly wonders Who the hell is Steve? since he was pretty sure that was the extent of their group of nerds, but he doesn’t have to wonder long. He’s hit from behind by what feels like a sack of bricks. Eddie was hit so hard that he falls forward, landing on his hands and knees. The smack of smooth cement against his joints doesn’t feel the best, so Eddie winces just as another body falls to the ground beside him.
Eddie looks up just in time to watch all of his belongings fall out of his bag when the stranger’s foot kicks the bottom of it, and subsequently the stranger’s things cascade to the ground when said stranger throws their arms out to try and catch themself. Eddie recognizes the face of Steve Harrington very quickly, even when he’s got his cheek pressed against the ground with a grimace pinching his face tightly together.
“Shit,” Steve groans, taking no time to recover from the fall. He’s up on his hands and knees, scrambling to get his things tucked back into his bag that’s a few feet away from him and Eddie. Only then does he realize that it’s not only his things on the ground but also Eddie’s when he picks up a D&D book. Steve’s head snaps up to Eddie, eyes wide, brows knitted together, and those insanely plump lips of his softly parted.
“Oh shit,” Steve says, glancing back down to Eddie’s things for a moment. Eddie’s heart feels light in his chest, anxiety creeping in when he thinks of all the ways that Steve could react. He might try to be a tough guy and blame Eddie for all of this- “I’m so sorry,” Steve apologizes as he goes to scoop up Eddie’s things first, hands shaking. “You came out of nowhere, I just-” Steve shakes his head as he grabs the pile of Eddie’s books, lifting them to shove into Eddie’s hands.
Eddie blinks, watching Steve Harrington fall into a rambling mess. His usually well-kept hair is falling into his face as he continues to shake his head, lashes fanning out against his cheeks as he blinks in amazement. He’s really confused on how he didn’t see Eddie - but Eddie’s not surprised. People like Steve Harrington never see people like Eddie Munson.
“Steve!” Henderson shouts from the other end of the mall.
“Yeah, hang on a second,” Steve shouts back, his patience wearing thin. He has most of his things back in his bag - Eddie thinks he saw swimming goggles, but now he realizes that Steve is wearing a… a sailors outfit? His mind is spinning from this interaction, and the fact that Steve looks alarmingly good with a red neckerchief tied around the base of his throat.
“Eddie, I am sorry,” Steve says again, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He seems to make a point of saying sorry, as if Eddie won’t believe him. It’s stuffed awkwardly now, nowhere near organized, but Steve’s in a hurry. The jog seems to have brought a flush to his cheeks, red and only accentuating those cherry lips of his. Eddie’s so busy staring that he barely heard his name- Wait. “It’s these brat kids-”
“You know my name,” Eddie says, his face stolid as he continues to stare at Steve.
That gets Steve to meet his eyes again, having been hiding under his fringe in embarrassment. Fuck , he’s still just as pretty as the first day Eddie saw him. Eddie was a sophomore then and Steve a freshman. Now Eddie’s stuck in his senior year and Harrington graduated. A lot has changed, but Steve remains to be just as pretty as ever.
“‘Course I do,” Steve says, confused by Eddie’s words. He seems almost offended, uncomfortable that Eddie would say such a thing. “We had history and English together. I sat in front of you. We were in the back…” Steve says as if Eddie needs reminding. Eddie really doesn’t, but he can’t help but stare blankly. Steve doesn’t only know his name but he knows that he and Eddie shared classes? Eddie woke up in another dimension today. He’s sure of it. Steve misconstrues Eddie’s silence for lack of memory, so he continues, “You would always distract Mr. Kay by asking him questions about his weekend so we never got homework,” Steve looks at Eddie, wondering if any of this is ringing a bell. Eddie must look lost because Steve gains a smirk with his next addition, “and you always made me laugh in English when you’d read every serious part in a funny voice. And, I mean, when you quoted Pride and Prejudice back at Mrs. Sarkowski, that was hilarious. What did you say again? ‘I have not the pleasure of understanding you’- ”
“Steve! What’s taking so long?” Henderson returns by himself, apparently abandoned by the others. He’s out of breath, leaning over to place his hands on his knees as he tries to regain some energy.
“Will you relax?” Steve replies sassily, rising to his knees. “They’re not going anywhere. I’m their ride.”
Dustin sneers at Steve petulantly before he notices Eddie on the ground. Dustin straightens up instantly, his face paling at the sight of the senior. He smiles, tense and awkward and missing teeth, but Eddie smiles back with pursed lips. He even offers a small wave, lifting his silver-coated fingers to wiggle at the staring child.
“H-Hi!” Dustin greets, stumbling over his words. Eddie must intimidate him- “Hi Eddie. I’m-I’m Dustin. I’m going to be a freshman next year! My friends and I - we play D&D too. We’re actually hoping to join your club-”
Oh. Eddie hadn’t been expecting that. But this does give him a chance to show off a bit in front of Steve - now that he’s somewhat recovered from the whiplash Steve just gave him.
“That’s good,” Eddie says casually, smirking when he sees Steve glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Hellfire could always use more faces. Makes the campaigns more exciting, after all.”
Dustin beams, apparently thrilled at being treated so kindly by Eddie Munson. Who would have thought Eddie would actually have some freshmeat looking up to him? Usually he only terrifies the freshman. While Henderson continues to flourish under Eddie’s welcoming attitude, Eddie glances at Steve, wondering if the other looks impressed. On the contrary, Steve actually looks annoyed as he narrows his eyes at Dustin.
“Come on, we need to go,” Steve pushes at Dustin’s shoulder, nudging him a step away from Eddie.
Eddie stays where he stands, crouching back down to put his things back in his bag. He’d been too caught up in staring at Steve, listening to him as he regaled Eddie with tales about Eddie . Eddie can’t help but smile to himself as he slides his books back into his bag followed by his pencil case.
“What did you do, Steve?” Dustin says under his breath, but still loud enough for Eddie to hear. He sounds scolding, which makes Steve defensive in all the ways Eddie finds cute.
“You did that,” Steve accuses grumpily, catching Eddie’s eyes when he looks at the other over his shoulder. Steve turns away shyly, pushing on Dustin’s shoulder to try and get him to walk the right way. “I was chasing after you idiots and I ran into him. That’s why you don’t run in the mall-”
“I don’t recall taking control of your legs and making you run, Steve,” Dustin snips sassily, making the two of them sound like exhausted brothers. Dustin’s voice grows lower so Eddie has to strain his ears to hear. “I really want to get in his club next year, Steve. Don’t ruin this for me.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Steve whispers back, turning around as he and Dustin only get farther in the distance. He raises his voice, waving at Eddie apologetically. “Sorry again! It's all my fault. I’m just-” Steve throws his free hand up in the air, doing his best way to mime an oops, “-a klutz, I guess!”
Eddie stands slowly and Steve’s eyes follow him the entire time. Eddie feels powerful knowing that he’s the only one in this mall right now that’s holding Steve’s attention. He quirks his mouth to the side, smirking at Steve as Dustin grabs his wrist to lead Steve. He seems to need the extra help since he still hasn’t looked away from Eddie yet.
“Don’t worry about it, Harrington,” Eddie returns, voice low as his eyes drop to Steve’s ass. A daring move to do when Steve’s looking right at him. His eyes flit back up to meet the other’s, wondering if Steve’s eyes have gotten wider or if it’s just Eddie’s imagination. Either way, he gives the two one last parting statement, “See you around.”
Steve’s eyes linger on Eddie’s until Dustin tugs on his hand, impatient with the speed Steve’s walking.
“Come on,” he hears Dustin complain before Steve finally turns back around, picking up speed as he and Dustin burst through another set of doors and out into the surrounding parking lot.
Eddie stays rooted where he is, watching until the two disappear behind a row of cars, yards away from Eddie. Another minute passes with Eddie simply standing there, the interaction he just had with Steve running through his mind like a highlight reel. He still can’t believe it, but he’s at least got his legs working again. He steps away from the map, turning forwards as he journeys on to the music store.
He smiles to himself, shaking his head as he mutters, “Steve fucking Harrington,” under his breath.
-
Eddie notices his missing sketchbook after getting home. It’s 9PM, the sky is growing dark, he has work tomorrow, but Eddie’s sketchbook is missing. Is it something he needs right now? No. Is this giving him an excuse to go talk to Steve Harrington? Yes. Does Eddie think it’s the craziest idea in the world to show up on Harrington’s doorstep asking for a sketchbook that Steve might not even have? Also yes. But Eddie sees his chance and God damn it if he doesn’t try to take every single opportunity handed to him.
Eddie’s in his van, his body making the decision well before his mind does. He’s pulling out of his dirt parking space, checking one last time to make sure he left the porch light on for his uncle. He gets home late and Eddie likes to make sure he has a light so he doesn’t have to stumble in the dark. The street lights turn off around midnight anyway, so after he’s made sure of that he pulls out onto the road, headed in Harrington’s direction.
When his thoughts get too loud, Eddie turns on the radio, drowning everything else out with clashing symbols, loud guitars, and thunderous singing. It helps ease some of the pressure, nodding his head along with the lyrics, mouthing a few as he goes. It feels like he made it to Steve’s house in a blink of an eye. Possibly because he seems to have blocked the drive out from his increasing anxiety.
Eddie decides it’s best to park on the street instead of Steve’s driveway. Sure, Steve seemed friendly in the mall today but that could change when he’s home, somewhere he’s comfortable, and not wearing a ridiculous uniform. Eddie still hasn’t been able to get the image out of his head. A ridiculous but stupidly cute uniform.
Eddie shakes his head as he turns off the van, swallowed by darkness when all lights in the car fade. The only light left is from the moon filtering through the trees surrounding Harrington’s stupidly big house. Eddie can’t believe how out of his element he is here, how idotic he’s being for thinking this is okay. For thinking that this is some sort of chance he should take, but for what? To get closer to Steve? Only to pine over him like some sort of lovesick puppy? Steve would never want to be seen with Eddie anyway. Eddie, who Hawkins’ best have so lovingly nicknamed The Freak.
And yet, despite the insecurities ringing like alarm bells in his head, Eddie takes one glance at the house and knows he’s going for it. There are no cars in the driveway so maybe Steve’s not home, maybe he’s out with some friends, listening to Today’s Top Hits in his stupid BMW, maybe he’s on a date with some pretty girl that tells Steve all the things he wants to hear, or maybe he’s in the shower, getting ready for bed, running product through his damp hair-
“Fuck it,” Eddie growls before he flings his door open and jumps down into the gravelly shoulder. He shuts the door with a bit too much passion, cringing when he hears the slam echo through the woods. Regardless, he walks up Steve’s driveway, rolling his keys and keychains through his left palm while his right hand hides in his front pocket, running his fingers along his silver lighter, comforted by the familiar engravings.
Before Eddie knows it, he’s standing on Steve’s front step, only graced with a very dull yellow porch light. This wouldn’t help anyone see their way home… It makes Eddie wonder if Steve’s parents are home before dark. If they have that luxury whereas his uncle doesn’t. Rich people jobs are like that, right? An easy nine-to-five with thousands saved in the bank - not a worry in the world.
Eddie grits his teeth, rolling his eyes at his own bitterness. Whatever. He won’t let his situation define him. He won’t let his money, or lack thereof, ever change who he is. He’s a poor kid living in a trailer with his uncle. Trailer trash, abandoned orphan, a highschool burnout one second away from dropping out. Eddie’s a lot of things, and people say that Eddie’s a lot of things. But he has an idea of who he is and what he wants. And right now he wants to hear Steve Harrington say his name again.
Jesus Fuck, this is a terrible idea. But Eddie lifts his hand and knocks on the door three times. And then he waits.
He hears nothing but silence and the noises of the forest around him. The chirping of noisy crickets, the leaves rustling around as squirrels race through the underbrush, the hoot of an owl far in the distance. Eddie’s almost a little jealous. He doesn’t get these nice, peaceful sounds where he lives. He hears old men yelling at each other at six in the morning and motorcycles rev at three in the morning before speeding down his street, not to mention Mr. and Mrs. Avery arguing from dusk ‘til dawn.
Eddie sighs into the night air, coming to terms with the fact that Steve must not be home. He turns on his heel, prepared to head back to his van and wallow in his embarrassment at having driven all the way out here just when the door opens behind him.
Eddie stops moving, listening to the creaky hinges of the Harrington home. He would have expected pristine, noiseless hinges for such a beautiful house.
“Eddie,” Steve says, full of relief that Eddie can’t help but be confused.
Eddie turns to look at Steve over his shoulder, brows knitted together. Suddenly Eddie knows that no matter how this interaction turns out, coming here was worth it. Seeing Steve Harrington in a small pair of swim trunks, higher than mid-thigh, and a loose tank top that shows off his tan, toned arms. Eddie’s favorite part of Steve’s outfit, though, has to be the pink ankle socks he’s wearing that are definitely too small for his feet.
“Hey…” Eddie trails off, tearing his eyes off of Steve’s body. God, he was being too fucking risky at the mall today, checking out Steve’s ass, but he can’t do that shit here. Steve could be an ass and tell Eddie to get lost, but Eddie would feel even worse if he made Steve uncomfortable. So he stares off at the edge of the forest, scratching his head. “I think a couple of my things got mixed up with yours today. At the mall.”
“Oh, shit,” Steve’s face contorts, regret in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m-”
“Sorry?” Eddie smirks, hoping he can lessen Steve’s apparent guilt. “It’s fine, man. It’s just my sketchbook that’s missing. It’s not a big deal but it’s, uh, it’s a little important to me.” Eddie lies. The sketchbook is old and only has a few pages left, and sure, he loves his sketches and planned on keeping them to look back on down the road, but Eddie could easily stomach the loss if that’s what it came to.
“Of course,” Steve steps back into his house, one hand on the door and the other on the door frame. Eddie assumes Steve’s going to tell him to wait here, only for Steve to continue to surprise him. “Come in. I just got back from the lake with the kids so I haven’t even checked my bag.”
Eddie blinks, then looks behind him as if he’s expecting someone to jump out and yell HAH! Got you! Idiot. Maybe Steve’s old friend Tommy. He always always a raging fucking douche. But no one’s there.
“Eddie?” Steve says, worry lacing his tone. “Do you see something?”
Eddie’s shocked when he feels Steve brush against him, his arm warm from the sun he got at the lake. Eddie can see the pink sheen to his skin, glistening under the moon, and distractedly thinks about how it would feel to trail his lips up Steve’s arm, to run his tongue against Steve’s heated skin-
Steve has his hand on Eddie’s sleeve, gripping fiercely as his eyes scan the outskirts of the forest. His face has paled considerably and his gaze is so focused. Paranoid. Afraid. Eddie’s not sure what he just triggered but he wants to take it all back.
“No,” Eddie answers quickly, swallowing when Steve’s head snaps in his direction. They’re so fucking close. Eddie can smell the lake on Steve, can feel a drop of water fall from a lock of Steve’s hair onto his knuckles. He really did just get back, Eddie notes. Steve wasn’t lying about that. “No. Sorry, I just-” Eddie’s throat audibly clicks as he swallows again, motioning lamely out to the trees. “Admiring your place.”
“Oh,” Steve ducks his head for a moment before he takes a short glimpse at the forest, as if he’s sick of looking at it. As if he never wants to see it again. “Yeah. I used to really love it out here.”
Eddie wants to ask what changed, but an image of short red hair and big-framed glasses goes off in Eddie’s head. Barb. He remembers Barb. He remembers that Steve and Nancy were the last two people to see her alive. She came to Steve’s house and was never seen again. Maybe Eddie should have left a note for his uncle… just in case Eddie disappears next.
“Let’s go inside. I’ll go look for your sketchbook,” Steve says emptily.
Eddie hadn’t imagined this is where their interaction would end up. Steve Harrington looking so sad and frightened that Eddie wants to throw a blanket over his shoulders and tell him everything will be alright. Who would have thought Golden Boy would have so much going on? Eddie thought he had it bad, but one look at Steve tells him that Steve’s pretty miserable.
“And here I was worried you were looking through it,” Eddie jokes as he steps over the threshold and into Steve’s home. It smells… new. Like it hasn’t even been lived in. Eddie finds that odd, but he doesn’t ask.
Steve cracks a smile as he shuts the front door behind them, twisting not one lock but two before he looks at Eddie. “You drawing a bunch of freaky shit, Eddie?” He jokes, lifting his brows as he slips past Eddie in the foyer of his own home. Eddie tries not to think about how much space there is around them, yet Steve touched him, his arm grazing against Eddie’s chest.
“That’s exactly what you would expect from me, isn’t it, Harrington?” Eddie continues to rib the younger as he follows Steve into his house. Silently, Eddie wonders if he should have taken his shoes off. Fuck, he doesn’t want Steve to think he’s a heathen. Eddie has some manners. Just not… many.
Steve huffs out a laugh as they enter the kitchen, which is already brightly lit so Eddie can see all of the shiny gadgets and incredible counter space. Holy fuck, Steve’s kitchen is bigger than Eddie’s entire trailer and he really needs to stop thinking like that or else he might self-sabotage-
“My bags over here,” Steve says, jogging away for a moment and into a very comfortable looking living room. But, once again, Eddie’s caught off guard by how clinical it all looks. He feels like he’s in the office of some doctor, or something. There are fake plants and maybe some real ones, he’s not quite sure, and the couch is huge and inviting but it looks like it hasn’t been sat on once . Eddie stops studying Steve’s living room in favor of watching Steve bend over, grabbing his bag from where it was resting against the side of the couch.
Steve’s ass might be the best ass Eddie has ever seen. That’s probably not a very objective opinion, but it’s been an ass in many of his fantasies. So much so that Eddie’s believing he might be in one right now. This isn’t actually real. He’s only having a very long, drawn-out wet dream of Steve fucking Harrington. It wouldn’t be the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but Eddie’s reminded that this is all too fucking real when Steve turns back to him with his bag clutched in his right hand.
Eddie bites down hard on the inside of his cheek as Steve approaches, reprimanding himself for those horrid thoughts of his. But can he really be blamed for wanting to bend Steve over his pristine kitchen counter and have his way with him? Eddie feels hot shame for even thinking such a thing as Steve makes his way to Eddie.
“Hey, by the way,” Steve begins sheepishly as he pours the contents of his bag out on the counter, right in front of Eddie. Eddie watches all of his things cascade out; an expensive looking watch, a purple bucket hat that can’t belong to Steve, a few empty snack wrappers and a few snacks that haven’t been opened yet, a half-empty bottle of sunblock, two notebooks that have torn covers and pen scribbled all over, and those recognizable BMW keys. “Dustin really looks up to you.”
Eddie looks up at Steve’s face as Steve reaches into his bag to pull a few more things out. There’s a piece of folded notebook paper with Mom written on it, two friendship bracelets that were made in sky blue and powdery pink, a VHS tape of E.T., and, finally, Eddie’s sketchbook. An old, leather-bound book with gum still cemented between the cover and the first page.
Steve puts his bag on the table last, still holding the sketchbook. He opens the cover, blinking in confusion when he notices the first page move with it. Eddie watches as Steve’s pretty face scrunches together, reading the first page carefully.
“This book, the one before your very eyes, belongs to Edward Munson-”
Eddie reaches out to snatch the book out of Steve’s hands, blushing when he hears Steve laugh.
“That’s really cute. Seriously,” Steve chuckles, his voice attractive and deep and making Eddie’s heart pound faster. Steve turns towards Eddie, reaching out to touch the sketchbook. Eddie only lets him graze his fingers against it before he pulls it away, holding it out of Steve’s reach. Steve takes a step closer in his chase for more amusement, his bare feet stepping on top of Eddie’s shoes, on top of his toes, as he reaches half-heartedly for the sketchbook. “Come on, Munson,” Steve smirks, tilting his head to the side as he attempts to convince Eddie to hand it back. “Let me finish reading it-”
“No,” Eddie answers simply, holding the sketchbook behind his back. Steve cocks a hip to the side, losing an inch in height to Eddie. They’re relatively close in stature, probably the same height even, Eddie realizes, but a part of him wants to believe he’s taller. He stands taller, at least, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders against Hawkins’ stunning King.
“What if I said please?” Steve suggests innocently, lifting his brows to his hairline and pouting his lips out at the proposition.
Eddie has to bite back a grin, which he’s pretty sure he’s failing at, but it’s so fucking hard not to flirt with Steve fucking Harrington. Eddie said it before - he’s an opportunist - and Steve’s not threatening to kick his ass so… Eddie's going to play as much as he can before he has to leave.
“You could try,” Eddie teases, voice low and amused, and Harrington definitely just looked at his mouth. Eddie’s sure he did. How could he not notice those gorgeous brown eyes of Steve’s falling, going blank for just a moment as he studies the shape of Eddie’s mouth before he forces his eyes back to Eddie’s. Eddie wais patiently, calm on the outside but dealing with a a complete fucking hurricane of thoughts and emotions within.
Steve chews on the inside of his cheek, his pretty mouth scrunched to one side as he contemplates his options. Finally, Steve cocks his hip to the other side before saying, “Or you could just let me see.”
“Oh?” Eddie pretends, lowering the book to the space between him and Steve. He looks at the book for a moment before he shrugs and extends his arm. “Sure, I guess I could.”
Steve’s eyes widen for a moment, surprised at Eddie’s easy acceptance. But when Steve reaches for the book Eddie yanks it back to himself in a blink of an eye. The action is so smooth and quick that Steve lets out a disappointed whine before he has a chance to hold it back. His brows tent together in the middle, looking at Eddie with betrayal in his eyes.
For a moment, Eddie’s overwhelmed by just how fond he has come to feel about Steve Harrington in the matter of one day. But it’s hard not to crumble when Steve’s looking at him like this. Steve schools his expression a moment later, trying to look tougher by furrowing his brow and crossing his arms, but it’s too late. Eddie had seen his soft brown eyes and pouty pink lips.
“Haven’t heard please yet,” Eddie takes a step closer, well aware that he’s encroaching on Steve’s personal space. Steve doesn’t back down though, doesn’t take a step back, he just watches Eddie wiggle himself closer, cockily, before that sour look of his shifts into a grin. Eddie smiles back as Steve puts a hand on his chest and pushes him gently back.
“Okay, okay,” Steve laughs softly to himself, head ducked for a moment as he studies the tile under their feet. He clears his throat, looking shy as he meets Eddie’s eyes. He attempts to hold his gaze but simply can’t, so Steve looks away while Eddie continues to stare at him. “May I please see your sketchbook?”
Eddie pretends to ponder, tilting his head back and forth gently as he appears to weigh his options. Finally, he holds the book out between them again. He smiles when Steve’s expression softens, looking surprised that Eddie’s actually allowing him to see it. Maybe Eddie’s not as obvious as he feels - because he knew the moment the word please left Steve’s lips, his willpower was going to crumble.
Steve reaches for the book slowly, eyes flitting up to Eddie as if he’s expecting the book to be yanked away again. Steve still looks surprised when his fingers graze the edge of the sketchbook, and then he takes it quickly out of Eddie’s grasp, taking a step away from Eddie. As if Eddie still planned on taking it from him.
“Now I’ll know all your freaky secrets, Munson,” Steve jokes as he meanders to the other side of the counter. Eddie hadn’t realized until now that it’s a modern bar with stools underneath. He watches Steve tug a stool out with his foot before he plops down on top, carefully setting the sketchbook on the granite in front of him.
Eddie continues to stare up until Steve looks up at him expectantly, giving Eddie a weird look. Eddie’s seen those looks before, the kind of look that says why the hell are you here? Panic shoots through his heart until Steve nods towards the open space beside him.
“Are you going to just stand there or come over and explain all of your devil-worshiping art to me?” Steve smirks at the end of his question to let Eddie know he’s joking, and Eddie’s never felt more relieved.
He takes a slow journey around the counter to Steve’s side, watching Steve pull the stool out with the help of his bare ankle. Eddie grabs the edge of the stool, pulling it a bit more so that he has some room to breathe. He thinks this close proximity to Steve is starting to have an effect on his brain. He keeps having moments where being with Steve feels like the most normal thing in the world and the most strange, unbelievable happenstance all at the same time.
“Most people are afraid I’m some satanic weirdo. But you sit here and make jokes about it.” Eddie says his observations out loud, staring at the sketchbook as he finally takes his seat. Steve’s watching him, Eddie can see that out of the corner of his eye, so he looks up to meet Steve’s gaze.
“There are far scarier things in the world than you and your metal music, Eddie” Steve jokes lightly, rolling his eyes. “You’re still a weirdo though,” Steve says like it should be obvious.
Eddie snorts in surprise, then shakes his head in amazement.
“I think you’re the weirdo here, Steve,” Eddie retorts, his tone gentle.
Steve turns to Eddie’s sketchbook, smiling to himself as he runs his finger along the edge of the cover. “That’s not such a bad thing,” Steve shrugs, “Every single one of those kids I watch are complete weirdos, but they’re good kids.”
Eddie hums thoughtfully, then looks at Steve contemplatively. “Yeah, about that - I never would have pictured you as a babysitter but you have a whole shit load you have to watch, huh?”
Steve barks out a laugh, those eyes of his scrunching at the corner. Eddie admires his profile for a moment while Steve nods, adorning an exhausted look. “Always the babysitter,” Steve says under his breath before he flips open the cover of Eddie’s sketchbook. “Now stop distracting me. I need to find all of your sacrificial satan drawings.”
“Sacrificial,” Eddie repeats, sounding condescendingly impressed. “That’s a big word for you, Harrington. Good job.”
Steve rolls his eyes again, throwing a middle finger in Eddie’s direction moments before he flips to the first page.
“I should tell you that I’ve had this since sixth grade,” Eddie adds on, suddenly bashful. The first fifty pages in this book are a little embarrassing. It’s obvious the artwork was done by a child, with shaky lines, poor shading, and some pages are filled with artwork that Eddie traced.
“Shush,” Steve grins as he continues to flip through each page, taking the time to study each drawing before moving on to the next. “I need to think of what I’m going to say when they ask me what the mind of Edward Munson is like.”
Eddie blushes at Steve’s teasing, at his attention. Yeah, Eddie still can’t believe he’s fucking here. He can’t believe he’s showing his sketches to Steve. He’s barely let his friends see what he’s drawn. Part of him wants to talk about this at band practice tomorrow night, but part of him thinks the others won’t believe him. Hell, he barely believes himself.
There are a few pages in the book where it’s nothing but words, some scratched out, new words strewn above. Lyrics, poems, ideas for campaigns written around randomly. Steve cranes his neck to the side to read something that Eddie decided to write vertically, for whatever reason, but Eddie clamps a hand down over the page.
“No reading.” Eddie hurriedly adds one rule, keeping his hand securely on the page. He’s not even sure what he wrote. He hasn’t looked through his old pages in forever, but he knows that it has to be the utmost embarrassing ramblings of a pre-teen. And… things with Steve are going well. He doesn’t want to risk humiliating himself.
“Fine,” Steve grumbles petulantly. He reaches out to grab Eddie’s pointer finger, lifting his hand off the page and setting it back on the countertop.
Steve is successful in distracting Eddie long enough that he’s able to flip the page and move on. Meanwhile, Eddie’s staring at the hand Steve just touched, thinking about how warm Steve’s touch had been.
“Eddie,” Steve’s voice brings him out of his reverie. He turns to find Steve shaking his head at the pages. “You’re really good.”
Eddie glances down at the pages to find a sketch of Skull Rock, complete with the full forest surrounding it. The next page is Skull Rock at the end of Fall, where the leaves are barren and spiny branches reach out into the sky. Eddie always liked the contrast of things in Hawkins. Bright, colorful, and inviting, like so many people find Summer to be, compared to the spooky, gray, dreary feeling that so many people associate with Fall.
“I would’ve shown you this sooner if I knew you’d give me such high praise, Steve.”
“Yeah,” Steve retorts dryly, adorning a sardonic smirk. “I’m sure you’ve been dying for my opinion.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. He just watches. Takes in the way that Steve’s careful with every page, getting closer to the end of the book. Eddie still has some open pages at the back, so he knows Steve’s coming upon the end quite fast. Steve, though, looks disappointed when he comes to find blank pages remaining. He flips through the last few pages, hoping to find something hidden amongst the empty pages.
“Wow,” Steve says as he flips back to the last page Eddie drew on.
Every part of the page is covered in charcoal. It’s a simple drawing, Eddie thinks. A rose in an old beer bottle. Eddie had found a wild rose bush in the middle of Hawkins’ woods, so he trimmed one rose and brought it home. Eddie has listened to his uncle talk endlessly about wanting his own garden. Uncle Wayne would wish for just an acre of land just to plant some flowers. So Eddie brought the rose home on a day he was feeling hopeful. He trimmed the stem down, found the closest thing he could to a vase, and put the damned thing in the center of their kitchen table. Eddie sat there with his sketchbook in his lap, feet up on the table, and drew until his uncle came home. He still remembers how Uncle Wayne’s eyes lit up when he walked in through the front door.
“I drew that a couple weeks ago,” Eddie says, suddenly sheepish. He tilts his head to the side, scratching at his temple just to do something with his hands. “It was a good day,” he says plainly, wanting to offer nothing else in this moment. The vulnerability of this all is really starting to settle in and Eddie’s starting to feel a flight response kicking in.
Steve must pick up on it when he glances at Eddie because he takes one last lingering look at the drawing before gently closing the cover. He runs his fingers along the front, mesmerizing Eddie with the way he so delicately touches the leather binding. It’s almost erotic, or at least Eddie’s mind is making it so. Steve's fingers are light, his fingers posed in such a careful way, as the tips of his first and second finger touch the scratches and tears on the surface.
“Can I ask you something?” Steve inquires, hiding under the fringe of his hair. He looks bothered, his face pinched as he looks down at Eddie’s sketchbook.
“You just did.” Eddie cracks wise. He’s always been unable to control his smartass, or so his uncle says.
Steve laughs sarcastically, short and dry, so Eddie gives him the benefit of the doubt.
“Sure,” Eddie agrees, “Can’t promise I’ll answer it though.”
“Okay,” Steve says softly. “I didn’t, like, ruin Dustin’s chances of being in your club next year, did I? I know you don’t like me but don’t hold it against the kid.”
Eddie blinks in surprise, wondering for a brief moment why the hell Steve Harrington cares so much about some punk kid. The Steve that Eddie went to school with was rumored to not care about anyone but himself. Not that Eddie ever knew him personally. He just sneered at Steve when he saw him through the halls, maybe made a smartass comment about being ‘in the way of his royal majesty’ a few times in passing, but Steve never started it. He’d maybe tell Eddie to shut up every once and a while, but he only ever sounded tired.
Was Eddie the asshole in this situation?
“No,” Eddie answers hurriedly when he realizes he left a pause long enough to make Steve nervous. “I’ll find him on the first day. Personally invite him myself.”
Steve brightens at that, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his soft lips. Eddie stares at his mouth distractedly.
“Really?” Steve breathes out, his shoulders falling in relief.
Eddie nods, then leans in and smirks before saying, “Want me to pinky promise?”
Pink blossoms across Steve’s nose and pools into his cheeks as he turns bashfully away, laughing cute and breathy. “No, I believe you. Just… don’t forget?” Steve asks gently, looking back up at Eddie with a plea in his eyes. “Summer’s just started and he’s going off to camp, and I’m sure you’ll be busy too-”
“I won’t forget, Steve,” Eddie promises, holding Steve’s eyes so he knows he’s serious.
“Okay.” Steve presses his lips together firmly to prevent any more nervous rambling.
Silence falls upon them, where Steve still plays with the cover of Eddie’s sketchbook and Eddie watches.
Finally, Eddie steps off of the stool with a smile.
“You know, Harrington,” Eddie begins, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve looks up only to focus on where Eddie’s hands lay on his biceps, rings glinting in the light. “You almost make me think we could have been friends.”
Steve mirrors Eddie’s smile, something soft and regretful. He shrugs and says, “Yeah… maybe.”
Neither of them say that it’s not too late. They still could be. Because even now they know that there’s an order to things in a place like Hawkins. Even now they’re held under a silent law of high school where Eddie’s type and Steve’s type don’t mingle. They see Hawkins alumni acting the same way, no matter how old. There’s a hierarchy and there always will be.
“I’ll lead you out,” Steve says politely, scooping up Eddie’s sketchbook with him.
Eddie stays where he is and finds his heart beating louder when Steve does it again - he brushes against Eddie, shoulders touching, hips colliding just enough, and Eddie’s mind is reeling from the fact. Steve has all this room in his big lavish house, all this extra space where Eddie isn’t, and yet he can’t seem to stop bumping into him. As if Eddie has a gravitational pull that Steve can’t resist.
Eddie glances over his shoulder when Steve passes, and a bolt of excitement electrocutes him from the inside when he sees that Steve’s doing the same thing. Looking at him over his sunkissed shoulder. Eddie almost grabs him then and there, almost yanks him back and kisses him. But Eddie doesn’t have a death wish. He takes opportunities when he sees them but this would be a complete fucking shot in the dark. And Eddie’s played enough D&D to have a good grasp on his odds. And his odds, in this instance, are not in his favor.
So he lowers his arms, hiding his hands in his jacket pockets, and follows Steve to the front door.
Steve turns the knob, holding it open to reveal the cool Hawkins night air. It’s cool enough that Steve covers himself with one arm while he extends the other to Eddie. His sketchbook hangs between them, remaining to be the only excuse Eddie ever had to come and talk to Steve. Now there’s nothing tying them together.
Eddie takes the sketchbook carefully, eyes on Steve’s face. He looks down between them, looking disappointed. Or maybe that’s just Eddie’s hopeful thinking.
Eddie takes a step out into the night, then another one down the few stairs leading to Steve’s front door.
“Hey, Eddie?”
Eddie’s standing on the paved driveway when he turns around to look at Steve. There’s an odd twist of amusement when Eddie feels like Romeo standing under Juliet’s window. Steve’s illuminated by the light inside his home while Eddie’s cast in moonlight. He stops and waits to hear what Steve’s going to say.
“I always thought you were so cool,” Steve admits, leaning against the door frame while he holds his front door behind him. His head falls to the wood, smiling to himself as he stares up at the moon. He looks as if he’s embarrassed to be saying this out loud. “You never seemed like you were afraid of anything or anyone. You were just you… and I wanted to ask you how to be like that because I was afraid of everything. ” Steve sighs, shaking his head to himself.
“Look,” Steve starts again, glowing under the yellow light coming from inside. “All I’m saying is that I’m glad Dustin will have you next year. Hell, I could have used someone like you when I was going into high school.”
Eddie can’t help but stare. Having Steve confess such intimate things about himself has really shook him to his core. Eddie had felt vulnerable before, but their positions have flipped so easily. Eddie’s still not convinced this isn’t a dream.
“Uh,” Eddie starts, but has to clear his throat. He turns to his sketchbook, an idea coming to mind. He flips to the last page, eying the drawing he and Steve were looking at mere minutes before. He grabs the page by the top, tearing it down the spine until the page is separated from its source.
Steve watches, wide-eyed and wondering what the hell Eddie is doing when Eddie comes back to the stairs.
“Have this,” Eddie says, thrusting the sheet of paper in Harrington’s direction. He plants one foot on the last step while he holds the drawing out - worried that Steve might reject it.
But Steve takes the paper with little hesitation, rolling his lips between his teeth as he fights off a smile.
“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Eddie promises, his voice low and his eyes glued to the other’s face.
Steve nods, eyes on the drawing Eddie gifted him. He looks happy, Eddie notes. A look he never saw in high school. A raw, unfiltered happiness. He meets Eddie’s eyes as he returns his words, “See you around, Eddie.”
Eddie heads home that night, making it home before his uncle. He lies in bed, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling of his small bedroom as thoughts of Steve Harrington’s pretty smile flash before his eyes.
Eddie doesn’t see Steve again until the end of Summer. Eddie was too chicken shit to go back to the mall - even though it’d be so easy to walk into Scoops Ahoy and say hi. And Steve wasn’t someone Eddie would find at his usual hang out spots - like his job at the auto shop, or the bar he’d play shows at, or the VFW he and his uncle would frequent to hang out with his uncle’s old buddies. Like Eddie said; there was a hierarchy. Their people didn’t interact.
It wasn’t until a week before school started that Eddie had seen him. Steve was leaning up against his BMW outside of the local grocery store, arms crossed around his middle with his keys clutched in one hand. He was trying to hide under a hat, but Eddie could see a face full of bruises, mostly yellow and fading, but his lip was still split and there was a cut under his eye that still had stitches.
Eddie wanted to ask - and he almost did too. He almost crossed the street from the music store over to Steve, but those kids he’d seen Steve with at the beginning of summer came out of the store with numerous plastic bags. Steve was already shouting orders at them to not spill anything or eat anything in his car as they piled in.
Eddie stayed where he was, watching as Steve backed out of his parking space and drove down the street, towards the falling sun.
Eddie had thought all those months ago that he had nothing left tying him to Steve Harrington. No reason to speak to him, no bullshit excuse he could come up with just to see him, but then he remembers the promise he’d made. Dustin Henderson, the kid Eddie promised he’d welcome on his first day of high school, is going to be Eddie’s endless excuse to bother Steve.
Turns out that selfless promise won’t be that selfless after all.
Eddie walks away with a smile, and finds himself surprisingly looking forward to school.