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Eddie jolted awake to the worst noise he’d ever heard. It was an awful, anguished wail, so loud he felt it in his chest. He gasped for air-- only to realize that the sound was coming from himself.
Slowly, he forced himself to sit, easing his body along the dirty ground, one hand fluttering around his wounds. Searing pain coursed through him, and it took everything he had not to pass out again. He didn’t bother to stifle his sobs. There was no one here to be strong for.
Except— wait. He hadn’t just passed out. He’d said goodbye. He made Dustin promise to take care of the others. He’d—he’d died.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his teeth clenched.
Alright, step one: find a way out of this fucking nightmare dimension. He was a sitting duck here, and he needed to move. He gingerly pulled his legs up, stopping periodically to breathe through the pain. He managed to stand, although he felt unsteady on his feet, and almost fell immediately. He looked around, and in the distance could see the bike he’d left. It was a far walk to the trailer, especially in his condition. He didn’t know if he could ride a bike, but it was the best option, so he shambled in that direction.
It became a mantra in his head: left foot, right foot, one after the other. Keep breathing. Ignore the acrid taste of the air, the toxicity of it that stung in his throat, his lungs. Left foot, right foot. Left, right.
The bike was a few yards away, and Eddie felt a rush of hope. It gave him a burst of energy, and soon enough he reached the bike. He hissed as he stooped down to pick it up, the motion compressing his open wounds, and he almost dropped it as pain again shot through his body. Fortune was finally on his side, though, and neither he nor the bike fell.
“Okay, Eddie,” he said. “Come on, you can do it. Just a bike, you been riding since you were five. Let’s go, come on, three, two, one--” he hoisted his leg over and gasped instinctively: he’d pulled on his torn-up abdominal muscles.
He stood, his knuckles white as he gripped the handlebars. After taking another few moments, he tried to pedal. Again, he almost fell. “Come ON!” he cried, and tried again. Success at last. He wasn’t fast, and every movement felt like his insides were being yanked to his outsides, but it was something.
For the first time since waking, he actually looked around. They must’ve won, because there weren’t any signs of-- well, anything. The bats had all fallen like stones around him, he remembered that, but he didn’t know if whatever got to the bats had gotten to anything else here.
He continued pedaling at his slow pace, his mind nearly empty except for the few repetitive phrases he could fixate on. Something to keep him going. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Just those.
The wheels kept turning, his legs kept pedaling, half-momentum, half-muscle. Finally--finally!-- the trailer. Eddie ditched the bike, stumbling as he dropped it and climbed the steps to his uncle’s trailer. He flung open the door, and his stomach dropped.
What was once a hole in the ceiling of the trailer had become a hot, rotten tear. It stretched outwards, glowing red and giving the impression that it throbbed and pulsed. It had torn the trailer in half-- he had no idea how he didn’t notice.
Eddie leaned against the wall, fighting despair.
He couldn’t stay here. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe, and even if there was nothing left here that would try to kill him, he would bleed out eventually, anyways.
His only option was to go through.
He pushed off the wall, and dragged a chair underneath the portal. He clambered onto it inelegantly, wobbling for a moment. Once he’d settled, he tentatively reached a hand up to the portal. His hand was lit up red from whatever weird energy was within the gate. Taking a breath, Eddie pushed his hand into the tear.
He’d expected---something. Some sensation-- pain, or heat, or anything. But instead it felt-- empty. There was no sensation at all. No temperature, or pressure, or electricity. A complete lack of stimulus. His arm may as well have been cut off at the wrist.
He jerked his hand back and stared at it. All five fingers, no cuts or bleeding, not even a raised hair or goosebump.
He turned his attention back to the tear. “Alright, Eddie. One last push,” he said. He bent his knees and got ready to jump.
Eddie exhaled. He jumped.
He stretched and reached and barely managed a hold on one edge, then used it to leverage himself further inwards.
And then he was falling. Endlessly. Or perhaps no time at all. His perception of it wavered and jittered, unsteady in his mind.
He inhaled, and he was back. He didn’t have any time to register it before he was falling into the chair Dustin had left, breaking the wood on his back. It knocked the wind out of him, and he scrambled in a pained panic to get air in his lungs.
Finally, he did. His breathing returned to normal, and he started shaking, unsure if he was crying or laughing. Both, probably. He was cold, too. Sweating, yet bitterly cold. Not a good sign.
Step Two: For God’s sake, get to a fucking hospital.
He didn’t worry about the warrant for his arrest as he hoisted himself up to the phone and dialed 911.
Nobody answered. Of course. Obviously, no one answered, a giant rip had appeared in their town. All the first responders were out there, in it. He limped over to the window, and watched as smoke plumed into the night, as hell broke loose. Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Fuck!” Eddie brought the heel of his palm to his forehead. He had to call someone-- maybe he could find the Wheeler’s number, he’d called it before. Then maybe Nancy could help, she could drive him to a hospital, or-- or--
He froze. What if one of the others was hurt, too? What if it was one of the younger ones?
Eddie shook his head forcefully. He couldn’t catastrophize. Focus on what he has control over.
He grabbed the phone book with his blood stained hands, kneeling on the floor. He flipped to W. The words kept swimming, and he shook his head again, trying to get his body to cooperate. There! Wheeler.
He painstakingly dialed the number, his hands shaking. He put the phone to his ear. It dialed, and an eternity passed.
It clicked. “Hello?” Nancy, blessed, badass Nancy, had answered.
“Nancy! It’s me, s’ Eddie,” he slurred, the exhaustion catching up with him. “Not dead. T-trailer. Need hospital. Q-quickly,” he forced out, before dropping the phone, and finally slumping over on the floor.
Eddie came to consciousness slowly. He was dimly aware of a rumbling all around him-- and voices, too. He was tired, so tired, but something wet touched his forehead, and his eyes blinked open. Dustin was sitting with him, crying, holding his head in the kid’s lap. Almost like they had sat a few hours ago.
“Eddie! Eddie, oh my god, he’s awake!” Dustin shouted, and Eddie flinched away at his volume.
“Hang in there, Munson,” said Steve from the passenger seat. Eddie stared at him, uncomprehendingly, his brain foggy and slow. “Hurry, Nancy,” Steve said to the driver, his savior, Miss Wheeler herself.
Gratitude flooded him, but he was incapable of expressing it. Instead, he let his head fall back, and sleep took him again. He had just enough wherewithal to squeeze Dustin’s hand, one time, before going under.
He dreamed of voices saying confusing things, telling someone that they didn’t know who Eddie was, that he didn’t have ID and they found him in the woods. Some kind of animal attack.
“Bats,” Eddie may have muttered, but he couldn’t recall.
Next he awoke-- fully this time-- to bright lights. He opened one eyelid at a time, squinting through the brightness. Someone sat, slumped and asleep, at his bedside-- a hospital, then. But the person wasn’t his uncle, whom he would have expected.
He swallowed, his throat dry. “St’ve?” he mumbled, still groggy.
The figure in the chair straightened. “Hey, Eddie,” he said, voice crackly and rough.
“Y’look like shit.”
Steve chuckled. “Thanks man. You know, you’re no beauty queen, either.”
Eddie huffed a laugh. “What’s-- what happened?”
Steve sighed. He leaned back in the chair, let his head fall against the wall. “It wasn’t pretty, man. We thought--” he broke off. “It wasn’t enough.” He was silent for a moment, staring off into the distance with the same absent, haunted look Eddie sometimes saw in his uncle’s eyes. Then it was like he snapped back, all of a sudden, and opened his mouth. “I’ll… I’ll tell you, but first tell me how you’re feeling.”
Eddie looked down at himself. He was all hooked up with an IV and monitors and all sorts of scary, beeping machines designed to keep him alive, or shout until somebody else came and kept him alive. It was kinda nice, all that effort, just for him. Shit, that was fucked up, wasn’t it?
“I guess they’ve got me on the good stuff,” he said instead. “Nothing hurts. Feels disgusting though. And I’m thirsty.”
Steve stood with a few crackles and pops, and wordlessly poured him a plastic cup of water from the pitcher by the bed. Eddie drank it greedily.
When Steve had sat back down and Eddie’s thirst was sated, he began to fill him in.
“We attacked Vecna. He was in the middle of killing Max. She… she almost didn’t make it.”
“But she’s alive?”
Steve nodded. “In a coma in the Hawkins hospital.”
“Are we not in Hawkins?”
“I’ll explain all that.” Steve continued. “Nancy shot him, Robin hurled Molotov cocktails-- it was fucking badass, honestly,” he chuckled.
“Remind me to tell you about the time I played Metallica to attract those hell-bat things,” Eddie said, and Steve grinned.
“Vecna fell through the window. It should've killed him. All this would have killed anything else,” Steve said, like he was trying to convince himself that maybe Vecna was dead somewhere, somewhere hidden away and insignificant. “But when we got down there, there was no body. Nothing but a few flames to show he’d ever been there.”
“If it helps, that probably would’ve killed me,” Eddie said, attempting brevity.
But it caused a furrow to form in Steve’s brow. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “We later found out that Max…died. He killed her. We don’t know how she came back. But the chimes sounded, the gates opened. We were still in the house-- it was like the earth split open, and hell came out. It was…”
“Horrifying,” Eddie finished, his voice almost a whisper.
Steve nodded. “Right. Gashes, growing outwards from each gate towards the center of town. We-- we couldn’t go through the attic gate, the whole house was ripped apart. But we went back to the trailer park. We saw Dustin… with your body.”
Eddie looked down. “Pretty, uh, pretty bad, eh?”
“Eddie, I have no idea how you’re even here. I guess whatever brought you back brought back Max, too, but even so, Eddie-- the damage… Even being brought back, how you managed to walk from where you were to the trailer…” He trailed off, staring into space again.
“I biked.”
Steve frowned. “You-- what?”
“I didn’t walk the whole way, I biked.”
Steve stared blankly. “You came back from the dead and then you rode a bike to an interdimensional gateway?”
Eddie nodded.
“Ffffucking-- incredible. Wow. Goddamn, Munson, that’s some shit.”
“Not what you expected, huh?”
Steve chuckled. “You’re a constant surprise, Eddie, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Come on, finish your story. Then I’ll tell you the rest of mine.”
“The four of us went through the gate-- gash,” he corrected, “--which was terrifying. We tried to get to Lucas and Erica and Max, at the house, but… Well, we got there just in time to see the ambulance take Lucas and Max away. Erica stayed behind to wait for us. From there, we went to the Wheelers’ house.
“Erica called the Sinclairs, Dustin called his mom. We rode out the aftershocks and cleaned up. Then you called Nancy. The three of us-- me, Nancy, Dustin-- came to get you. Robin stayed behind with Erica, until her parents could come for her.
“Then we found you, and we took you to the hospital. The one in Hawkins was too full,” he explained. “Official explanation is a freak earthquake. Many injured, many missing, many dead. Eddie Munson among them.”
Eddie exhaled, processing this. “What did they do to me? Here, I mean.”
“Surgery. Not sure what kind but I remember the name made me want to hurl, so. They also gave you some antibiotics and I think right now you’re on a bit of morphine.”
Eddie grimaced. “Yikes. Except for the morphine part, I guess. The morphine is... Definitely helping.”
“I bet. Alright, Munson, your turn. Tell the grisly tale.”
He shrugged slightly. “Well, I can tell you you haven’t lived until you’ve been woken from death to the sound of your own agonzied screaming.”
“Holy shit.”
“Metal, I know. So I heroically dragged my sorry ass to that bike and threw my leg over. I pedaled out of there and enjoyed a nice, pleasant ride through Hell until I found the trailer. Then I skipped up the steps, grateful that I had the image of your beautiful face in my head, telling me to press onward.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re high.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Harrington!” Eddie laughed. “But I digress. I fell gracefully through the portal, and danced to the phone, where I invited Nancy to come save my life. And here we are.”
“Not revisionist at all,” Steve remarked.
“Not a bit, and I resent your implication.”
Then Steve laughed, and maybe it was the morphine, or maybe it was that Eddies was just so glad to see him, so glad to not wake up in the hospital alone. Or maybe he was just glad to be alive. But the sound of it, full, if quiet or reserved, made Eddie’s heart start anew.
“Hey,” he said.
Steve looked at him.
“When can I get out of here? I’d prefer for the cops to not find me. And I feel like that… could happen.”
“Docs say tomorrow, if things go really well. But more likely it’ll be the day after.”
Eddie smirked. “Let’s have things go really well, then.”
“I can do it if you can, Munson.”
“Hey, I came back from the dead. Pretty sure I can do anything now.”
“I hope that means you can take a nap, too, ‘cause you’re gonna need to be fresh when I break you out.”
“Aww, Ma, you’re no fun,” Eddie mocked.
“Shut up, punk,” Steve said, and kicked the bed.
“Didn’t even hurt, because I’m on painkillers.”
“Oh my god, go to sleep.”
Loath as Eddie was to admit it, Steve had a point. He settled in, and the two sat in an easy silence until the drugs put Eddie back to sleep.
Eddie, at this time, and more than most, experienced his life on the basis of the wake-sleep cycle. Due, mostly, to his continuous waking and sleeping and waking and sleeping. He was awake for such a short amount of time, it felt more like time travel than rest.
Steve wasn’t there when he woke up again. He hadn’t seen much of the nurses, either, though that was probably due to the high concentration of patients they were getting in from Hawkins. At least it bode well for their escape plan. He opened a cup of jello pudding that had been left for him, a smiley face drawn in sharpie on the tin foil lid. Dustin, probably, since he doubted the doctor was leaving considerate gifts for a John Doe.
He was trying to calculate the right angle to throw the pudding cup at the door for it to bounce off and still land in the trash can when Steve entered, pushing a wheelchair. Robin entered after him, wearing scrubs.
“Good, you’re up. Alright, Robin’s gonna find the discharge instructions and meet us in the parking lot.”
Robin waved hello and grabbed the clipboard at the end of his bed, then left the room.
“We’re leaving now?”
“That’s right, buddy boy, it’s go time. Or, to use a phrase you may be more familiar with, we’re blowing this joint.”
Eddie gave a delighted laugh as Steve wrapped an arm around his back and helped him up. He gingerly took out the IV, then he eased Eddie into the wheelchair, grabbed the bag of Eddie’s clothes and belongings and deposited it on Eddie’s lap. They were out of the room and into the elevator before Eddie could even process what had happened.
They were silent except for the tapping of Steve’s foot. He’d faced eldritch horrors but apparently lying to receptionists was what was making his blood turn cold. Steve Harrington was an enigma.
They exited the elevator a moment later, and proceeded at a brisk pace to the parking lot. Somehow, surprisingly, Robin had beat them to it, and was waiting in Steve’s car.
Steve helped him into the backseat, and Robin handed him the papers to look over.
“How are you doing, Eddie?” Robin asked, turning around in her seat.
“Oh, peachy,” Eddie quipped, his brow furrowed as he read over the directions. “Shit, this is a lot of work. Wait, where are you taking me?”
“Oh, I figured you could stay at my place? I rent a guest house from my grandpa, it’s pretty private so I don’t think anyone’s gonna figure out you’re alive and, like, come after you.”
Eddie blinked. “Oh. Yeah, okay,” he agreed, surprising himself. “Thanks.”
“Sure.”
“What about my uncle, though?”
Steve and Robin shared a look, and Eddie’s stomach dropped. “He wasn’t hurt, was he? You didn’t tell me he was hurt.”
“He’s-- he’s not. He was displaced, obviously, because of-- well, you know. Look, let’s get you settled and then we can bring your uncle to see you.”
Eddie exhaled, tension releasing in his muscles, which were starting to ache. He frowned, then flipped through his discharge papers.“Uh, guys? I don’t have any painkiller prescriptions in this stack of papers.”
Robin looked at him with wide eyes. “Were you…supposed to?”
“Something tells me smoking pot won’t help me recover from abdominal surgery, Robin,” he said, over-pronouncing her name.
“Okay, geez, we can-- uh, shit. Well, maybe Nancy will know someone.”
Steve nodded, his focus still on the road before him. “Yeah, that’s-- she’ll probably know what to do.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’d criticize you for your enduring faith in Nancy, but she did, like, just save my life.”
Steve chuckled, and Eddie zeroed in on the sound of it, the timbre, the way it filled the space and then dissipated. Must be lingering effects of the morphine, he thought.
The rumble of tires against asphalt lulled Eddie as they drove, and he almost fell asleep. Robin interrupted before he was able to, however. “We’re almost in Hawkins,” she said, her voice soft. “Brace yourself. It’s… different. Very different.”
Eddie swallowed down his dread. His gaze went to the windows, where trees obscured his view of the town. They passed a clearing, and Eddie saw plumes of smoke swirling into the sky, choking out the blue expanse. He gasped, and then winced in pain.
“Doin’ alright?”
No, he thought. None of this was alright.
“Home sweet home,” Steve said, flicking the lights on.
Eddie limped in with Robin offering a supporting shoulder at his side. Steve had wandered over to the phone, dialing a number then standing with the receiver to his ear, one hand on the waistband of his jeans.
“-llo?” said the voice on the other end.
“We’re back, Dustin. Ten fingers, ten toes.”
“Between the three of you?”
“What? Obviously not— look if you’re gonna come over, do it now. I don’t want to risk having you at dinner time and next thing I know your mom calls, asking me to feed you. Fuckin’ nightmare.”
“Okay!”
Eddie looked at Robin. “You can hear his grin through the phone,” he said, and she giggled.
“Love that little dude.”
“He’s good,” Eddie agreed.
Steve had hung up and was walking towards them. He held a hand out to Robin, who was holding Eddie’s papers. She passed them over wordlessly, and Steve glanced at Eddie before he turned his attention to the care instructions.
“Well? Any hot tips?” he questioned, somehow unable to keep from opening his mouth.
Steve shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far, but it’ll do. It’s enough, I know mostly where to go from here.”
“Where to go?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah, for, y’know. Your recovery, taking care of you and stuff.”
“Oh,” Eddie said, too softly. “Right. Yeah, of course.” Because Steve was going to-- to take care of him. Totally normal.
Robin shot him a look, and he swallowed and fiddled with the edge of his bandage underneath the stupid fucking hospital gown he was still wearing.
Mercifully, she said nothing, and instead began raiding Steve’s kitchen, looking for lunch. “What do you have in the way of food, Steve?”
“Sandwich stuff, mostly. Chips in the pantry. Want a sandwich, Eddie?”
Eddie blinked. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made food for him, even something as low effort as a sandwich. “Sure,” he said.
“Turkey or ham?”
“Ham.”
Steve got to preparing, and Robin grabbed the chips and poured some into a bowl, which she presented to Eddie.
He gave her a weak smile, but she seemed to accept it easily. He’d hardly started on the chips when Steve presented him with his sandwich. Steve then sat beside him on the couch with his own plate full of chips and sandwich, digging in.
Robin spoke. “Nancy told me the Byers and Mike are on their way. They should get to Hawkins tomorrow.”
“It’ll be good to see Mike again. It feels like it’s been forever,” Eddie replied.
Steve nodded wearily. “It’s been a long week.”
They continued eating, mostly in silence. Steve was collecting their dishes when his front door was thrown open, revealing Dustin Henderson, breathing heavily.
“Eddie!” He cried, and ran to the couch, only to fall to his knees and gently hug Eddie’s arm. Eddie wrapped his free arm around Dustin, ruffling his hair for good measure.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he admitted, and Eddie smiled.
“Yeah, Dustin, me too.”
Steve pulled Dustin to his feet and presented him with a sandwich.
“Aw, you’re feeding me!”
“Yeah, it’s fucking lunch time, and I’m not a monster, geez.” Steve said, rolling his eyes, and Eddie felt a rush of fondness so strong he had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.
“Hey Steve? Can I borrow your car?”
Steve turned to Robin, his brow furrowed. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“I gotta go see a woman about a prescription.”
“What woman?” Dustin asked.
“Nancy,” Eddie, Steve, and Robin answered in unison.
“Oh, that makes sense.”
Steve nodded, tossing his keys at her. She said a quick goodbye, and shut Steve’s door behind her.
“I am really, really glad you’re not dead,” Dustin said again, around a mouthful of chips. Eddie just laughed.
“Me too, even though you’re fucking disgusting. You got chips falling out all over the place, come on, get it together.”
Dustin grinned wide, letting more crumbs fall. Eddie rolled his eyes and pretended to gag.
He caught Steve’s eye. He was smiling, though he looked away before Dustin could turn and see.
“How do you feel?” he asked Eddie.
“Some pain, but not too bad. Tired, mostly.”
“That’s good.”
“How’s Lucas? And Max?”
“Lucas is…” Dustin sighed. “I think he only leaves Max’s room when the nurses tell him he has to. Erica told me he comes home to sleep and shower, but then he’s right back at the hospital the next day.”
Eddie frowned. “Max hasn’t improved?”
Dustin shook his head.
“Shit.”
“Yeah…”
“Did-- uh, did you hear the Byers are arriving tomorrow? And Mike, too,” Steve said, clearing his throat and taking his and Eddie’s plate to the kitchen.
Dustin gasped. “Really?”
Eddie nodded. “It’ll be cool to finally meet this Will you guys always talk about.”
“Will is gonna LOVE you, dude!”
“Then I guess tomorrow can’t come soon enough,” Eddie remarked, and Dustin gave another blinding grin.
Eddie and Dustin continued chatting as Steve did the dishes. He joined them afterwards, and in spite of everything-- Vecna, and Hawkins, and his injuries, and the warrant for his arrest-- he felt kinda peaceful. Just existing in the moment, not worried about anyone finding him.
Except-- well. There was one person he wanted to be able to find him.
“Dustin,” Eddie said, interrupting him mid-sentence.
“Yeah?”
“Can you get a message to my uncle?”
“Eddie, wait,” Steve cautioned. “Are we sure this is the best move? Authorities are distracted right now, yeah, but they still think you killed multiple people.”
“He’s all I got, Steve. He needs to know I’m not dead.”
“Yes,” Dustin interjected. “I can get a message to him. He’ll probably be at the school tomorrow, they’re doing this big thing for people who have been displaced. Donations, and volunteers, its huge. I’ll look for him there.”
Eddie clapped Dustin on the shoulder. “Thank you, man, really.”
The kid just nodded, like it was a given. Before Eddie could say anything further, Steve’s phone rang. He got up to answer it, his brow furrowed.
“Hello? Oh, hey,” he said. Then, “It’s Robin, she’s at Nancy’s.”
“Hi Nancy!” said Dustin.
“Dustin says hi. Dustin, Nancy said hi back,” Steve relayed with a long-suffering sigh.
“Nice,” Dustin said, genuinely pleased.
Steve listened for a moment, and then looked at Eddie. “Robin said Nancy called in a favor and got a prescription, but they can’t fill it until tomorrow.”
“That’s already better than I was expecting, tell her thank you.”
“Eddie says thanks,” Steve said into the phone, then listened for a moment. “Oh, hey Na-- uh, sure, Nance, I’ll tell him. Yeah, you too. Bye guys.” He hung up, and walked back to the living room.
“Nancy said thanks, and she told me to tell you that, quote, ‘you’re one of us now.’”
Dustin smiled and grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, shaking it excitedly.
“Alright, alright, quit shaking me. I’m gonna pop a stitch, Henderson, goddamn.”
Dustin grimaced and apologized, but Eddie just grabbed him again, putting his arm around Dustin’s neck and giving him a noogie. They continued to sit around, the three of them, chatting about anything and everything except Vecna, and Max, and the Upside Down. Eddie was glad to pretend, for a minute, that his troubles were far away from this dinky little forest cabin Steve had inherited.
The hour grew later, and Dustin had to leave. His mom had given him a curfew, and if he broke it she wouldn’t let him go to the school tomorrow. So Eddie hugged him goodbye, and he and Steve watched him ride away.
Steve shut the front door and all but collapsed onto the couch beside Eddie.
“Tired?”
Steve nodded, his head thrown back against the cushions. His eyes slipped shut. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I don’t know, I think I’m believing a lot more these days than I used to.”
Steve snorted. “Fair.”
They were silent for a few moments, Eddie staring off into the distance, Steve breathing evenly beside him. “You know--sometimes I feel like I dreamed it all up. Like it never happened at all. It’s just been some horribly bad trip, and I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal,” Eddie admitted.
Steve opened his eyes, turning his head to look at Eddie. “Come on, Eddie. Things haven’t been normal in Hawkins for a long time. Even before Will went missing.”
Eddie looked down. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Don’t worry,” Steve said suddenly, with an urgency. Eddie’s attention snapped to Steve. “We’ll be fine. We’ll take care of each other, all of us. We’ll make it out, together. Max will wake up. Mike and the Byers will come back. It’s all going to be fine.”
Steve’s gaze was intense. He needed to believe it, Eddie realized. He was telling Eddie in the vague hope that Eddie would agree, that it would somehow make it real. Like a wish coming true.
“You know what, Steve?” he started. “I think you’re right. Can’t keep a good man down, Harrington, that’s you.”
Steve smiled, and something relaxed in Eddie. “And you,” he replied. “You’re a good man, too.”
Eddie grinned, wide as Dustin, and patted Steve on the shoulder. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.