Archive of Our Own

It’s only after the dust settles that Steve gets to see Dustin.

There’s a few days of chaos beforehand, after they all make it out. Nancy takes him to a hospital, for the bites. Robin tags along, naturally. When the nurse treating him asks what kind of animal caused his injuries, Steve grits his teeth and says ‘squirrels’ and hopes to high heaven the demobats don’t have demo-saliva or something gross like that.

He doesn’t have rabies, though, and Robin nearly weeps with relief.

It’s in his hospital bed that he hears about Max too. He doesn’t cry. They won’t let him walk, as much as Steve protests. He wheels himself next to her bed. He doesn’t cry, but he feels something in him break, just a little.

So it’s not until a few days later that Steve sees Dustin, let alone speaks to him. The kid looks lost. He’s in the middle of the cafeteria, among the missing posters and the piles and piles of donated shit, and he’s looking at his hands. Steve doesn’t run towards him, that would be embarrassing, but he does a little half jog that’s probably even worse, in hindsight.

Before he reaches Dustin, he curses himself for not talking to his friend sooner. But Dustin’s a good kid, and he would have been with Eddie, reminiscing on their non-heroics and rolling dice and doing whatever the fuck else nerds like Munson do.

But Dustin looks up at him, and he looks like he’s been crying, and Steve suddenly feels like a very, very bad friend.

“Henderson?” Steve says, squatting slightly to look Dustin in the eye. “You okay? I know I haven’t seen you in days, but I’m here now, and we can rent a video or some shit and hang out? Unless Munson’s too attached and he won’t let you go?

He adds that last part as a joke, and grins. But something akin to horror dawns on Dustin’s face, and his stomach drops.

“You haven’t heard.”

Steve feels sick, but he forces himself to look calm, to simply furrow his brows. It’s surely nothing, because Steve always worries. He hadn’t until he’d met the kids, but with all the danger he felt justified. At the time, that was, because there’s no reason to worry here. Munson’s guitar probably got shredded, and he’s been isolating himself, or maybe he cancelled Dustin’s club, or maybe he left town. There’s no reason to worry.

(Vaguely, he realises how quickly his thoughts jump to Eddie, when Dustin could have been talking about anything. He pushes that thought down very, very far.)

“Steve,” Dustin says, voice teary but slow, like a parent comforting a frightened child, “Steve, Eddie’s dead.”

Steve’s legs give way, right there in the cafeteria.

He registers Dustin grabbing at him, hears Robin swear and run over. His knees are throbbing from where they hit the ground, and he’s talking, he realises numbly. He thinks he might be saying ‘what’ over and over, or maybe Eddie’s name, but he’s too out of it to tell, because Eddie fucking Munson is dead.

His friends must drag him into a backroom, because the next thing Steve knows he’s being pushed against a wall, with Robin sitting in front of him, snapping her fingers and saying his name. Her eyes are teary. Dustin must have told her the news.

Steve turns to him, ignoring Robin’s questioning, and asks flatly: “How.”

“Uh, we’d just moved the bats away, with the guitar. And- and we were about to go through, I went through, but Eddie didn’t follow. I told him to come back, but he said something about buying you more time, and by the time I got to him the bats—he died about a minute later.”

Dustin’s shuddering slightly, and part of Steve wants to comfort him, but he needs to know—

“Why the fuck did he have to go play the hero? I told him not to do it! He said he wouldn’t, for Christ’s sake, Henderson, why did you let him go, he—”

Robin makes a noise of warning, and Steve realises he’s on his feet, and Dustin’s before him, in tears, and Steve feels even worse.

He sits back down heavily and rubs a hand over his face. “Shit, man, I’m sorry, it wasn’t your fault.”

“He was ahead of me by at least two minutes,” Dustin begins anyway, “he cut the sheets. And he’s fast, he was on a bike, and I just couldn’t get to him.”

“I know, man, you did so well. I’m proud of you.”

Steve smiles shakily at him, and Dustin lights up, just a bit, before clearing his throat. “Um, before he died, Eddie said that he didn’t run away this time.”

Fucking hell, Steve shouldn’t feel this sick, but he nearly has to double over at the pain in his stomach. “Christ, Munson,” he says, and he’s scrubbing a hand across his face again, he really needs to stop doing that. “I told him not to be a hero. He should have just gone back. He did his part, he wouldn’t have been running away, shit, Eddie.”

“I think he was sick of being blamed for everything. Wanted to do something good for once,” Dustin says softly, and, oh god, doesn’t that just make Steve feel like absolute shit.

He’s saved from voicing that by the school landline ringing on the other side of the door. Robin’s by it in a second, walking back around the door and into the room.

“Nance! No, of course I didn’t know it was you, I was just close to the phone and answered pretty much on reflex.” Robin eyes Dustin and Steve, gesturing towards them before pointing at the phone. Dustin, of course, picks up what she’s trying to say before Steve does, and shakes his head fiercely.

“Don’t tell her about Eddie,” he says, and Steve gets it.

“Uh, yeah,” says Robin, “no, we’re not looking out the window, why? Okay, okay, I’m going, give me two seconds, I’ll be right back.”

She puts the phone down on a nearby table and bolts towards the huge cafeteria windows, with Steve following on her heels. People are already there, crowding around, gasping and screaming and when Steve finally pushes towards the front, he can see why.

Hawkins is shadowing, and not like it usually does when storms roll in. The buildings and trees are shifting into greyscale before his eyes as flakes of white fall from the sky like snow. Steve was never good at weather or shit like that, but he’s pretty sure it shouldn’t snow in Hawkins in late March.

Steve isn’t even shocked at this point. Hawkins could spit out Ronald Reagan himself and Steve would simply pull out his bat and get swinging.

He feels Robin leave his side and turns to follow her. She’s running back, seizing the phone and saying frantically: ‘Yeah, Nance, I see what you mean, shit, okay, what did you want to tell me?”

Robin goes silent as Nancy clearly starts rambling on the other side of the line. Steve tries to catch her attention, mouthing frantically: “What’s she saying?”

Shaking her head, Robin speaks again, “Hey, Nance, can you pause for a second, Steve wants to know what’s going on,” she pulls the phone away from her face and covers the receiver.

“Okay,” she says, and Steve perches on a nearby cafeteria table. He still feels shaky, like he might fall over at a small gust of wind, but he knows how to force his emotions away. He’s done it for years. It’s necessary to save the kids, necessary to deal with shit like the Upside Down. Pushing down fear and sadness and disgust is easy. Doing the same to grief is harder, but he’ll do it. He needs to.

(He tries very hard not to think about what Eddie would say. Probably screw up his face and make some self-deprecating joke, while simultaneously scolding him for his questionable emotional regulation.)

(“Come on, Harrington. You don’t want to end up like me, do you?”)

“Nancy says that El says the problem in Hawkins is because of the Upside Down. Something’s wrong down there. It’s tearing itself apart.”

“Isn’t that good?” asks Steve. He’d love to watch that Hell on earth (under earth?) destroy itself, without him having to do anything.

“Apparently not. Because the Upside Down is connected to our world, any destruction that happens there will come through to here and do the same to our world.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so it’s pretty shit.”

“Can El, I dunno, see what’s happening or something?”

“Her powers are still a little muddled, but from what she can figure, there’s something new down there. Foreign. She told Nancy this new thing is helping further what Vecna and the other nasties have on their agenda. It’s pretty powerful. But—there’s a certain amount of resistance, apparently. It’s like something’s being controlled against its will.”

Steve makes a desperate attempt to stomp down the stupid hope flaring in his chest. He knows it’s ridiculous. Dustin saw Eddie die. He checked for a pulse. But Eddie’s body is still down there, and shit, if there’s any chance—

Fuck it, he thinks fiercely.

He grabs the phone out of Robin’s hands, ignoring the noise of indignation she makes, and yells, not unkindly, into the receiver: “Nancy, it’s me. Write down everything El will tell you, and meet us at the trailer park in twenty minutes.”

She makes a noise of confusion, but he’s already hung up.

*

Nancy arrives with a minute to spare.

Not that Steve’s counting, or anything.

But she’s here now, stumbling out of the car, grabbing at her ridiculously curled hair and her spiral notebook she stuffed in the passenger seat.

Steve, Dustin and Robin are sitting at a picnic table. The second he put down the phone, not even bothering to put it on its hook, he’d grabbed Robin and together they’d dashed for the doors.

Dustin had followed them, of course. He’d been caught up in the crowds of people staring out the windows, but he doesn’t miss anything for too long. Steve was sticking the key into the ignition and lifting the handbrake when Dustin dived into the backseat, berating Steve for leaving him. Steve had barely noticed, too caught up with the noise in his head.

So now they were here, and Steve was bouncing his leg and scratching at the table with his thumbnail. Nancy sits down, expression not exactly irritated, but definitely frustrated at Steve for forcing her out here without explanation. Steve doesn’t exactly feel up to providing one, but Nancy purses her lips and raises her eyebrows.

“Okay, shit, fine,” he says, “listen, Nancy. I was thinking about the Upside Down’s newest resident, and, I… this sounds crazy, but we might have to go down again.”

“Why on earth would we go down again?” asks Nancy at the same time Robin says, voice flooding with realisation:

“Steve. Come with me.”

She grabs his arm and pulls him half off the chair, dragging him through the grass until he finally yells at her, “Christ Robin, I can walk.”

“Prove it,” she demands, dropping his arm and storming off behind a trailer. He scrambles to his feet, cursing, and follows her.

“Steve,” Robin is pacing, which is unusual, “You’re sad about Eddie, I understand. But he’s dead. Going into the Upside Down isn’t going to bring him back.”

“Nancy said—”

“I know what Nancy said. I also know that you had the grossest crush on Munson, so I’m going to take any of your analysis with a grain of salt.”

“I’m sorry, I what?”

Robin sighs, “Steve. You very clearly liked Eddie. It got pretty obvious when you would not shut up about him.”

“Robin, I’m not gay. I dated Nancy. I can’t be gay.”

“I know that, dumbass. You can be into both. And you very, very clearly have a type. Nerdy? Eccentric? Brown curly hair? Ringing a bell?”

Steve ignores the comment about his type, because he refuses to analyse himself when he’s going through this much emotional turmoil. The part about liking both, though—

(Against his will, the thought of Eddie’s laugh comes to his mind. He thinks about Billy, last year, in the moments when he’d been less of a dick. Even the football player, when Steve was a freshman, who’d had the nicest eyes…)

“It’s called bisexuality,” says Robin, “and I don’t mean to push something on you that you don’t align with. But if Eddie is the reason you’re so fixated on diving into the Upside Down, I’m going to have to ask you to pump the brakes and think this through.”

“But… what if it is him, though?”

“Steve, Dustin saw him die. The Upside Down doesn’t have any super-resurrection powers, and even if it did, he would be already under Vecna’s control, like Max was. And we don’t know Eddie’s favourite song.”

“Something metal probably,” Steve begins, but cuts himself off when he runs Robin’s words through his head again. They’re missing something. Something important, something to do with Max.

“Hey, when we were freshmen he was really into Madonna, remember?” Robin says, and, yeah, that’s right, Eddie and Steve had four whole years of school together, before Steve left and Eddie repeated. God, they were freshmen.

“I can’t believe how young we were. So young that Eddie liked Madonna,” Steve says. Too young for Max to die, definitely. Thank god El—

It hits Steve suddenly. “Max was dead,” he whispers, more to himself, before continuing louder, “She was dead, right? For a minute at least.”

“Yes, she was, but Steve,” Robin grabs his wrist, “what’s up?”

“She’s alive now. El brought her back.”

“Yes,” says Robin slowly, “I still don’t follow.”

“Just… hear me out. What if Vecna brought Eddie back? Think about it! He has the power. He’s 001, for Christ’s sake, he’s gotta be stronger than El. He could have revived Eddie.”

“But why would he do that? What benefit does it do him to resurrect a foe, and a pretty weak one at that? He’d be better to resurrect something else.”

Steve’s pacing now, brain working faster than it ever has before. “What if he didn’t know he could do it until El did? He would have felt her. What if he felt that and reached out to do the same and the first thing he picked up on was…”

“Eddie,” Robin finishes, “still, that doesn’t explain the calamity in the Upside Down. Eddie wouldn’t be causing all that, right? Unless he has some unseen power we don’t know about?”

“I wouldn’t put it past Munson. But I don’t think so…”

Robin sighs, fiddling with her collar, “I see where you’re going, Steve. So we just need to figure out how our Eddie theory links to the current Upside Down situation. If Eddie’s alive down there—a big if—he wouldn’t be fighting Vecna and the whole place. Unless…”

She trails off, and Steve prompts her. “Unless…”

“Hold on,” Robin begins, and Steve waits dutifully, “What did Dustin say, about Eddie’s death? He was fighting the bats, and then he died in Dustin’s arms. So imagine, you’re Eddie, you wake up after dying in pain due to demon bats, and the kid you were protecting is gone. He probably thought we were all still in danger.”

“But would Vecna not have killed him by now? How is he still fighting?”

“Vecna was probably exhausted and near death. He couldn’t mobilise to kill Eddie like he did with Chrissy and the others. So he would have been forced into some other route–mind control, probably. But that doesn’t explain why, if what’s down there is Eddie, why he’s not dead yet from Vecna’s curse.”

“Vecna is still near death,” Steve realises, grabbing for Robin’s wrist in his excitement, “he needs someone to carry out his bidding. And he’s already got Eddie, and Eddie would be easy to control, he’d be weak and injured and confused. He just settles for him. And Munson’s not a pushover, so he’s fighting the control, and that’s where all this shit is coming from.”

“Fuck,” cries Robin, and she breaks towards Dustin and Nancy, “guys, I hate to say this, but Harrington may be onto something here—”

“Hey!”

“—Vecna might have reached out after he felt El bring Max back after she died, and maybe he brought Eddie back instead of anything else more powerful like he’d been intending.”

“Eddie’s dead?” Nancy gasps, and shit, Steve forgot he hadn’t told her, but there’s no time to fill her in.

“Maybe not,” he says, and holds up a hand at Dustin’s protests, “Henderson, man, I believe you, but think about it. He reaches out, feels something, and does what El did. He’s more powerful, he’d be able to. And Eddie would have been confused and would fight against the Upside Down, and Vecna’s weak, so—”

Dustin doesn’t wait for any more explanation, standing up and sprinting towards Eddie’s trailer. Steve calls after him, but he’s ignored.

“Fuck,” says Robin, and turns to Nancy, “come on, Nance. I assume you brought your guns?”

“Steve sounded as if he was a second away from going insane. Of course I brought my guns,” Nancy walks toward her car, “hey, Steve, tell Dustin to wait. Robin, I might need your help handling these.”

*

“Is it just me, or has this hole gotten bigger?” Dustin asks.

Steve looks up at the gate to the Upside Down that was only about half the size of the ceiling a few days ago. Now it filled the whole thing.

“No shit, man,” says Steve.

Nancy, the least convinced of the four of them, shot a glance at Steve out of the corner of her eye. “Steve. Are you confident in your theory? I’m not meaning to doubt you—I just don’t want to go back there if I can avoid it. How sure are you that Eddie’s alive down there?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. But if there’s any chance… I’m not leaving him down there. Even… even if we come back with just a body, that’s better than we went in with.”

“You don’t have to come, though, Nance,” Robin whispers, squeezing her friend’s hand.

Nancy sets her jaw and shakes her head, before leaping forward and grabbing the side of the hole with two hands. She grimaces slightly at the effort, before swinging herself up and over.

A few seconds later, her mass of curls appears over the rim of the gate. “It looks pretty normal up here. Well, as normal as anything can be in the Upside Down. Meaning that whatever’s causing the decay in our world and the conflict in here, it’s not the Upside Down itself.”

“Great,” sighs Steve, “Probably something worse. C’mere Henderson, I’ll give you a leg up.”

As Dustin walks over, Steve gives him a grin and thanks everything out there that it’s far less shaky than he feels. Dustin brightens, carrying himself with more confidence already. He’s got Eddie’s shield and spear, Steve realises with a jolt, as well as his own. He must have brought them back through with him.

Dustin holds them out. Steve has a brief moment of confusion before he realises: “No, I can’t—”

“Eddie would have wanted you to keep safe,” says Dustin, “especially if you’re going on a rescue mission for him.”

(Eddie would have resisted the mission, if he was here, insistent that no one should risk their lives for him. Then Steve remembers how he sacrificed himself to buy them more time, and feels shit again.)

“Up and at ‘em, Henderson,” Steve grunts, boosting Dustin until he can grab onto both the rim of the gate with one hand and Nancy with the other.

Steve turns to Robin, who shrugs, “I’ll be okay. I can climb through a hole without you watching out for me down here. Go get your man.”

“He’s not my man,” Steve grumbles, “Besides, he probably hates me. I was a dick.”

Robin’s eyebrows shoot impossibly high. “Dustin, Nance, can you wait up there for two seconds? I just need to knock some sense into Harrington’s one brain cell.”

“Robin, I’m serious. Even if he wanted to be my friend, it’s not gonna go beyond that! He’s probably not even gay!”

Dustin lets out a cough from above him that sounds very suspiciously like ‘bullshit’.

“Steve,” says Robin, very slowly, “Eddie Munson is the gayest man I have ever met. Bi or gay or whatever, I don’t care, but he is definitely into men, and you’re just being dim if you don’t think so.

“Y’know that bandana he carries around in his back pocket? It means he’s gay. Rented out Rocky Horror Picture Show five times in a week? Gay. And,” Robin is punctuating each word with a clap to emphasise her point, “no straight man calls another man big boy.”

“How does any of that prove that he’s into me, though?”

“Big boy?” repeats Robin incredulously, and, okay, she’s got a point. She grins at him, “Go get your man, Steve.”

*

Eddie doesn’t remember much.

There’s a haze of pain, mainly. He remembers bats, swarming and screaming (or was he the one screaming? It’s too hard to tell). He doesn’t know why he was there. Was it really only a few days ago? That isn’t right, surely—he can’t remember anything. Why he was with the bats. Why they wanted to hurt him. If they weren’t bats, he could ask them.

Are the bats still alive?

He remembers something. Stabbing a bat. Biting a bat’s head off. That one wasn’t him, though. A friend, maybe? There’s someone with him, in the memory, through the fog. He reaches for it.

(The pain of reaching makes him scream. Like the bats. He pulls back).

There was more pain, even after the bats. He is dying, he thinks. Maybe he is still dying. He read somewhere once that the last few seconds of your life are so distorted that it goes on forever and ever. He wishes he could just die and finish it.

But no. He is not still dying. Because someone was there, with him, when he was dying (he knows better than to reach out now). His mother, maybe, stroking his sweaty forehead and singing to him.

No. His mother is dead. Eddie is dead, too.

But he is alive. It hurts, to be alive. He thinks he would much prefer to be dead.

(He tried to die again, once. Stepped on a vine and let it cut his airflow. It didn’t work. He kept breathing).

He remembers one thing clearly, and that is a girl. She is pretty and she wears green and she laughs like a bell.

At first he thinks he must love her, but that makes something tug in his stomach uncomfortably. Next, he thinks he could have loved her, maybe, which feels better. But maybe is not now, so he tests the word ‘friend’ instead, and it wraps around his mouth and his brain and settles somewhere deep in his chest.

He remembers flashes, with her. Gold paper. Loopy handwriting. The scent of roses, almost overpowering, as if she was covering up something else.

She has a little necklace with 86 on it. It makes him want to reach for something, but he doesn’t. It will hurt, to reach, and if it hurts the pretty girl might disappear.

He wants to stay in the golden woods with her forever. He spends years there, curled up, replaying the memory over and over and over. He has favourite parts, but he makes sure to remember it all equally, because he doesn’t want to lose any of it.

The pretty girl gasps at being called scary, and it makes him smile because she isn’t scary. She is bright and golden and she laughs at his jokes and she remembers his band.

(Does he have a band? He must. He wonders what type of music he plays).

Sometimes, in the darker times, he doubts that the memory is real. This girl feels too perfect to be his friend. He is not the type you meet in the woods and tell him that you don’t want him to go.

It is in one of these darker moments that he remembers the pretty girl’s name. It is Chrissy, and it comes to him with a new memory. He is yelling at her to wake up. The girl—Chrissy—has her eyes rolled back and she is shaking.

And Eddie knew that the golden memory was too good to be true, but he cries anyway. He tries to go back to it, once or twice, but it is always wrong, now. Chrissy’s eyes roll back, or she yells at him saying that it’s all his fault.

Chrissy yells at him a lot, now.

At first, she reminds him how it is his fault she is dead. These words are the best, because he knows this already, and so the burden is easier to bear.

Next, she yells that he is exactly like his father. She is right, of course, but it still stings, especially because Chrissy doesn’t know his father. She just knows him.

She tells him that he is a coward. He abandoned her. He ran. She says no one will ever love him, not in the way that he wants. She tells him this is what he deserves. This pain.

Sometimes there is another voice in his head, one that slithers around his brain and squeezes parts that are too loud. The only times Chrissy’s voice is soft anymore is when she reminds him that the slimy voice is safe, and kind. A part of him knows that he shouldn’t trust the new voice. A much larger part of him screams that he would do anything, trust anyone, just for Chrissy to smile at him again.

(There is another smile that comes to mind too. It is rougher than Chrissy’s, more crooked. He wants it, desperately, but he knows he doesn’t deserve it, and so he doesn’t try to reach for it again).

Eddie doesn’t know exactly what the slimy voice is saying. It is hard to concentrate on words, always, but if he squeezes his eyes tight and blocks his ears he can hear whispers about Chrissy. That she might have lived if he’d tried a little bit harder.

Chrissy’s voice isn’t here anymore, and the slithering words remind him that he has killed her again.

*

Steve is very glad Dustin has a good memory.

He leads them out of Eddie’s Upside Down trailer and down to the left, picking past beer bottles and used cigarettes. Lightning crackles ominously every few seconds, and everyone jumps when they first hear it.

“Hey, Henderson,” Steve says, jogging a little so he can catch up with the kid, “I just, uh… I wanted to let you know that none of this is your fault. I know you would have done everything you could to get to Eddie. You’re a good kid. Eddie knew that too.”

Dustin sniffs, “It’s just so stupid. I told him not to go. I don’t know why he couldn’t just listen to me. Or to you, even. And it’s just- I told Mr Munson he was a hero, and he was, but really I don’t even know if his death did anything. Yeah, he distracted the bats for longer, but did that even help?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whispers, because he doesn’t. He wants to believe Eddie’s sacrifice was necessary, and that he saved the life of everyone in Hawkins. But maybe he didn’t. That thought isn’t something that makes him feel comfortable, so he tries to change the subject.

Steve exhaled and rubbed his face. “Ok, sad shit over. When we get there, you’ve gotta listen to me and Robin, okay? And especially Nance. Eddie could be really dangerous. Or… um,” he struggles to finish this sentence, “Or… dead. So we’ll take care of everything at the start, got it?”

Dustin doesn’t answer right away. He’s still heading left, into the centre of the trailer park, where they just were in the real world. They’re approaching a small hill when Dustin finally turns to him.

“I just feel like—and I know this is awful—but even if Eddie’s death did save Hawkins, I feel like Hawkins didn’t deserve it. Like, yeah, of course, you and Nancy and Robin did, but so many people were awful to him. Like, his uncle put up a missing poster at school, and it kept getting vandalised, because people hated Eddie so much. Mr Munson had something like fifty spare copies with him.”

“I know,” says Steve, and he doesn’t really, but goddamn is he going to try to empathise, “But I think Eddie was just kinda like that. For him, it wasn’t totally about himself. It was about, like, the ‘greater good’ or whatever. He’s a brave guy. I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him, but it’s true…”

Dustin nods, and they reach the crest of the hill and spot Eddie in the valley. He’s curled up and screaming. The emotion hits Steve all at once, and he’s never been a fainter, but he nearly collapses for the second time in a day.

He grabs Robin’s arm to steady himself, still stunned that they were right, that Eddie isn’t dead, that he’s been down here, waiting for them.

It is this moment that will leave him praying at the feet of Nancy Wheeler for the rest of his life. He’s still turned to Robin, still unbelieving, when Dustin makes a strangled sound from behind him and bolts.

Steve doesn’t realise until it’s too late and Dustin is ten metres ahead. He’s sprinting down the mountain, stumbling, yelling Eddie’s name. Steve shouts and lunges for him but he knows already he’s not going to get there fast enough.

Nancy, though, walking ahead, sprints forward. She’s always been stronger and faster than she looks, but regardless, Steve’s shocked when she throws herself at Dustin. They’re of a height, but Nancy has momentum and a protective instinct on her side, and they both go down hard, before Nancy raises herself above Dustin and begins a tirade.

“What the hell was that, Dustin Henderson? I said multiple times to stick together and don’t go ahead, and I said that for a reason. You could have died, you could have put us all in danger, you could have put Eddie in danger—” she pauses for a second, clambering to her feet and offering a hand to Dustin, “—and he wouldn’t want you to do that for him, you know that. He died—or I guess he didn’t, but it doesn’t matter—to make sure you were safe. I know you’re relieved, but I need you to be careful until we get out of here.”

Dustin drags his feet, slightly, but squeezes Nancy’s hand before heading to Steve, “Be careful, man,” Steve says, “we’ll try to get Eddie back, but we can’t lose you too, alright?” He was mad, but there was some kind of “good cop, bad cop” situation forming in the group and, despite his usual demeanour, he had to be some kind of support. After all, he’s probably the only one who really gets Dustin’s actions.

“Alright,” Dustin drifts over to Robin, who grabs him with a vice-like grip, shaking her head.

“Okay,” Nancy calls, “we remember the plan, right? The three of us stay back, and Steve, you go ahead. Please, please remember to keep your distance. We don’t know the state Eddie is in right now. Wait until you are absolutely positive before you do anything, And, Steve,” he looks up as she walks past him, lowering her voice as she does so, “he’d be an idiot not to love you.”

*

Eddie is having a bad day.

Most of his days are bad, now. His body hurts, but it’s not the bats, or even lingering bites. It is something deep within his bones, and he curls up, trembling in pain, as if making himself smaller will somehow make it harder for the pain to find him.

Someone is screaming, too, and it hurts his ears. He isn’t sure when he became like this—he’s sure his life was different, once, because Chrissy wouldn’t have spoken to him if he was like this, a fucking useless coward. He did kill her, though. Maybe he was always a coward.

He hasn’t heard a voice outside of his own head in years, or what feels like years, so when the man speaks he curls up smaller, knees pressing against his stomach painfully. He’s shaking his head, he thinks, like people do when they’re trying to clear water from their ears.

But the man keeps talking, and it is only when Eddie feels a tap on his shoulder that he realises this is real. He scrambles, frantic.

The man is tall, and he has a kind face, and he’s got a stick in his hand. That was probably what he used to do the tapping, because who in their right mind would touch Eddie Munson with their own bare hands.

“Eddie,” says the man, frowning, and a strange part of Eddie wants to smooth that frown out with his thumb until the tall man is happy again, “Eddie, can you stop screaming?”

And Eddie didn’t even realise he was screaming, but that explains many things, like where the noise is coming from and why his throat is so raw. He clamps his hands over his mouth for a second, feeling the pressure in his throat lessen gradually.

The world is very, very quiet without the noise. Maybe that is why he started screaming in the first place. Maybe he should start again.

“Okay,” the man sounds relieved, and that is enough to banish all thoughts of further screaming from his mind, “do you know who I am?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m Steve. We were—we are friends.”

That name triggers something in Eddie’s mind, and some very, very fractured memory drifts to the surface. “Big boy?” he asks, voice hoarse, and Steve stumbles before giving him a small smile.

“Yeah,” says Steve, quietly, and Eddie can’t help himself reaching for him. Steve rushes forward, and someone shouts from somewhere to their right. Eddie doesn’t want to listen.

The second Steve’s fingers graze his, something snaps.

*

When Steve saw Eddie curled up on the dirt, screaming, he nearly ran to him right then and there. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but he knew that Eddie was hurt and Vecna had something to do with it.

The urge to find Vecna and kill him in the most painful way Steve could think of had only grown since that first moment, but he had pushed it aside. Eddie was more important.

And when he reached out a dirty, trembling hand for Steve what else was he meant to do?

Steve is just preparing to gather Eddie in his arms and call it a fucking day, when it all goes wrong.

The moment Eddie’s fingertips brush his, they’re gone, snatched away so rapidly Steve barely feels it. Eddie’s crouching, his head cocked slightly, as if he’s listening to something only he can hear.

There is a very, very distant look in his eyes.

Steve is just debating whether or not to lean forward, grab his friends and make a break for it when Eddie lunges. He’s scarily fast. Faster than any human should be, Steve thinks faintly, before he’s smashed into the rocky dirt.

Eddie’s above him, hands still squarely placed on Steve’s chest. His face is slack and his eyes are still vague. They’re focusing on the ground just to the left of Steve’s ear, and Eddie’s moving again, one hand still braced just above Steve’s heart.

Eddie’s right hand, balled into a fist, smashes into Steve’s cheek. There’s a burst of pain, but barely enough time to register it before the fist is coming again, and again, and again, hitting against his cheekbone. Steve looks up, something akin to fear stirring in his chest. Clearly, this is not Eddie. This is something else, and Steve doesn’t know how to bring his friend back.

He hears Dustin yell from somewhere above him. He thinks it’s his name, maybe—that would make the most sense, and shit, Nancy and Robin are shouting too.

Nancy is impossibly loud, and somehow, over the ringing in his ears Steve hears her bellow, “Get the fuck away from there, Steve, I don’t care how much you love him I will not let you die on me.”

Steve makes a vague sound, slightly muffled by Eddie’s fist hitting his jaw again. He was trying to comfort, remind everyone that he’s fine, he’s strong, he’s got this. He doesn’t have the energy to try again.

Nancy continues. “Steve Harrington, for the love of God, get out of there. We’ll regroup, we’ll come back for him, but you’re no use to Eddie dead.”

She’s right, Steve knows, but he’s never been smart enough to follow those who are right. It’s been a long fucking day, he’s exhausted, he just wants to go home but he will not leave Eddie.

And so he starts talking, choking on blood as he does so.

“I’m an only child, so it was pretty lonely at my place. I… I don’t know what I’m doing right now. Uh… my dad’s this financial advisor or something, brings in the money. Mom stays at home except not really because she spends most of her time jetting around the world with my dad. They got sick of paying for babysitters when I was, like, six. So I’ve been alone since then.” He probably looked insane right about now, but this was the only thing he could think to do.

“Having a house to yourself with lots of money to spend makes you pretty popular among high school kids. I’m kind of an idiot, so I didn’t do much work. I sort of figured I could just ride off my dad’s riches for a career. And I hate that that’s not really wrong. I was a total dick back then, it was so stupid. Shit, why am I talking about this, oh my god. Um…

“Let’s, uh, talk about you, Eddie. When we first met, outside of school, you nearly stabbed me. Which was hot. Oh god, why did I say that. Um… I think you’re really cool, and funny, and you’re hair is, like, soft and pretty and I wanted to run my hands through it but then I thought that would be kind of weird so I didn’t. Which I think is still true, because just talking about it now is sort of weird. But I’ve said this much, I can’t really stop.

“I was so worried about you. I didn’t know why, I just always wanted to be the first person to do everything. Test it out. Or the last one, in case something happened. I thought it was just about taking care of others, being ‘selfless’ or some other bullshit. But then… then you died. And, fuck, that hit me like a train. Munson.

“Fuck, all I could think about was what I had missed out on with you. What I was going to miss out on. No more campervan stealing, no more Ozzy Osbourne. And I’d never be able to see you play guitar. I could hear it, faintly, when we were Creel’s house. And it was badass. I mean, you made me consider getting into heavy metal!”

Eddie goes very still.

“Eddie?” Steve whispers. He knows better than to reach for him now, but God does Steve want to. He settles for wiping some blood off his own face, for now.

Uncurling his fist, Eddie buries his hand in his hair and shifts backwards, just slightly, but enough so that Steve feels a sudden loss of pressure on his stomach.

Eddie makes a keening noise. He’s shaking his left hand, as if he’s trying to dislodge something, but he still keeps his right hand buried in his hair. Tears are welling in his eyes.

Steve takes a shuddering breath, because Eddie is clawing at his hair with one hand. With the other, he’s hitting his leg, over and over. The sharp noise whenever he makes contact makes Steve feel sick, and he just wants Eddie to stop hurting himself, just wants to gather him up and stop all this pain.

Somehow that translates to him reaching over and grabbing Eddie’s wrists. Steve freezes, remembering all too well how touching Eddie ended last time, but Eddie doesn’t snatch his hand away like before.

Instead, he flails, moving to continue hitting at his legs. Steve has never been more grateful for his strength when he can hold Eddie’s arms about a metre off the ground, despite a struggle.

“Eddie? Eddie, breathe, please, just… I’m here, it’s ok,” Steve says, because Eddie is crying now, chest heaving, quite obviously not getting nearly enough air.

Eddie furrows his brow and shakes his head, arms still moving against Steve’s hands. He’s near frantic. He jerks with particular force and manages to make contact with his own leg, before Steve hisses and holds him harder.

“I don’t get it, Eddie, what are you doing?” Steve asks, shifting to bring Eddie’s hands closer.

“I’m trying to get the voice out,” Eddie whispers, “it’s in my head and it’s telling me that I should kill you, because you’re bad. But I don’t think you’re bad.”

Steve ignores how his stomach twists at the last sentence, and instead moves to talk about the voice: “Vecna?”

Eddie flinches, and Steve lets go of one hand so Eddie can rub at his forehead with dirty fingers, “It—the voice—got very loud at that, so yes?”

“It’s loud?”

Eddie nods.

“Does it… hurt?” Steve asks, and shit, that’s a stupid question, of course it would.

“Yeah,” says Eddie, picking at the skin around his nails with his thumb and giving Steve a weak smile, “it’s pretty bad, actually. Like a migraine that never leaves. And it—he, I guess—has my memories.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but he must tighten his hand on Eddie’s wrist, because Eddie winces and tries to move away.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. Go on. What do you mean, he has your memories?”

“I can’t remember anything on my own,” Eddie’s still crying, and Steve wants to be sick, “I only remember what he gives me. Like- like at the moment he’s making me remember when we went to school together—”

When Steve was a dick, isolating anyone who wasn’t up to his standards of a perfect, popular high school student.

“—but I know you can’t be like that, because you came down here for me.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not like that, we’re gonna get out of here together. Then we’ll hang out. And, uh, we’ll… we’ll make new memories. Just you and me.”

Eddie frowns, silent for a few seconds, “He’s getting quieter now. I think talking to you- I think it helps.”

And how else was Steve supposed to respond to that? He lurches forward and hugs Eddie.

He only gets a few seconds of realising how right this feels before something jagged and sharp makes its way between his ribs.

Steve looks down. He remembers vaguely something about not taking objects out of you, but he still moves to run a finger along the edges of the glass in his upper abdomen.

It’s green, part of an alcohol bottle, probably. Not one he recognises, probably just some litter transferred over from the real world. It’s a large piece, sharp around the edges. Steve’s still puzzling it out when he feels himself fall back into the dirt.

Robin shouts from somewhere, and he knows he won’t be able to stop his friends from running toward him now. He tries to think. He can’t have them hurt Eddie. He needs—

He looks up, and Eddie’s staring at him. He looks horrified, but there’s that distant expression in his eyes again. Eddie’s still in there. Steve knows he’s still there.

He feels blood in his throat, but he tries to smile and says, looking Eddie dead in the eyes: “When I said the bottle thing was hot I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously…”

Eddie’s face goes white, just as Nancy arrives at his side. She’s screaming, and Steve thanks everything up there that she’s more focused on getting him out of there than going after Eddie, but he still needs—

“Don’t hurt him,” Steve manages to force out, frantic, “don’t hurt him, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, please—”

Dustin’s at his head, Robin’s at his feet. Nancy’s putting pressure on the stab wound, and as he feels himself jolt and move into the air, Steve’s world whites out.

*

Eddie’s brain is so fucking loud.

The slithering voice—Vecna?—is still there, and Eddie knows it’s trying to praise him. It doesn’t help anything. It’s eerie and it’s ridiculously loud and he just wants it to stop.

Vecna made him hurt Steve. He can see him, being carried off by his friends. Eddie did that to him. He wants to curl up and die.

There’s another voice. Deep within the recesses of his brain, screaming. What it’s saying sounds important, and Eddie strains to hear. As if indulging him, the voice grows louder.

It worsens his headache as Vecna and the new voice reach the same pitch, yelling over and at each other. He can’t hear either of their words, and it feels like someone’s rigged explosives in his brain. He can’t think. He can’t hear. He hurt Steve he’s killed him fucking hell he can’t think—

“Eddie, for fuck’s sake, wake up!” Chrissy screams, and so he does.

He’s in the golden woods again. At first, he thinks it’s a memory—that he’s back to the endless loop of stopping and starting again, and curls in on himself.

Then he sees Chrissy, and she’s beaming in a way he never saw her do when she was alive. She sprints forward and wraps her arms around his neck, and it is that that convinces him that this is something else.

There are other things different, too. Despite Eddie calling these woods ‘golden’ in his memory, they were pretty grey and boring, as nearly everything in Hawkins is. Here, they really do shine, and the sun comes into the clearing. Eddie doesn’t know science, but given the position of the trees, he’s pretty sure it’s impossible.

For another thing, he doesn’t have his lunchbox. The only time he ever came out here was to do drug deals, so the lack of drugs is striking. It makes him feel… lighter, somehow. Like he doesn’t need to have a purpose to be out here.

Chrissy’s still in her cheerleading uniform, he can feel it, and he in his old clothes, but they too are slightly different, here. The leather jacket was always slightly too short for him in the arms, and his jeans a size too big, but they fit here. It gives him a slight sense of vertigo.

“I’m so glad you came,” Chrissy whispers into his shoulder, “I was yelling and yelling and you weren’t hearing me.”

“I’m here now,” Eddie says. He almost doesn’t dare to hope, “is Vecna… gone?”

She pulls away, eyes sparkling. “No, unfortunately. I’m just visiting. I’m not even really here.”

“So I’m hallucinating you,” and yeah, that makes sense. Maybe this whole thing is just one really bad drug trip.

Chrissy frowns. “Of course not. My consciousness is stuck in the Upside Down, remember? I was under Vecna’s control, forced to say these awful things to you—God, I’m so sorry—and then you stabbed Steve and Vecna must have thought he’d won, so he lessened his control on me and I knew I really only had one chance so I screamed. And now I’m here. In your head.”

“You were right, though.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Those awful things. You were right. I am a coward for leaving you, and I am just like my father. I stabbed Steve, for Christ’s sake.”

Chrissy pushes up on her tiptoes and grabs his face in her hands. She looks angry, and shit, when has Chrissy Cunningham ever been angry? Eddie stabbing Steve is clearly enough to do it.

“Eddie Munson. Listen to me. None of that is your fault. I started floating and my eyes popped. You are totally justified for running, and regardless, what would staying have done? Given you more trauma? Put you in prison straight away? You stayed with me until you physically couldn’t, and I think that’s very brave.

“And don’t you dare blame yourself for something you did possessed. Vecna was literally controlling your brain, and you did all you could to fight him off. I was literally there. In your brain. I don’t know what your father was like, but unless he was the bravest and kindest person I know, he’s nothing like you.”

And if those are tears Eddie can feel in his eyes, and if his voice cracks when he says “So what are we going to do now?” Chrissy is kind enough not to mention it.

“Well, first, you’re going to go upstairs and live your life. You may notice some lingering side effects of the bats, but they shouldn’t be too bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“From what I understand, and this is all from secretly listening to Vecna’s thoughts, the bats don’t really kill you. Even bites like that. They just—how do I say this—make you slightly vampiric.” Chrissy holds up her hands to placate him before he can start panicking because vampires and continues: “You are not going to go bloodthirsty, don’t worry. It’s not dramatic, Hollywood vampire. You just might like your meat a bit rawer. And a bit more of it.”

Eddie processes that for a while, and Chrissy lets him. She nods encouragingly when he starts speaking, “In D&D lore, there’s a guy who gets bitten by bats and turns into a vampire. He defeats Vecna. His name is Kas.”

“Well, Kas,” Chrissy says, “You go up and regroup. Until you can fulfil your destiny, I’m going to get Vecna out of your head. Or, more accurately, out of everyone’s head.”

“How?”

“Being a puppet of Vecna has allowed me to gain more power when he does. He’s weakened at the moment, but I’m pretty much at full strength, so…”

Eddie suddenly feels very sick. “Chrissy. You’re not going to try to fight him, are you?”

“Not all-out combat.”

“Chrissy.”

“What’s Vecna going to do, kill me? Once I pull him out of your—and everyone else’s—head, I’ll be able to trap him in his own mind. I’ve been testing it out already, and whilst I’m not going to win, I should be able to keep him occupied for a year or two, enough for you guys to regroup, and get out of Hawkins. I have no corporeal form. He’s got nothing on me. You can’t stop me, Eddie.”

Chrissy has a determined set to her jaw. “Vecna killed me and destroyed everything I loved. I’m going to make him pay.”

Eddie remembers saying something awfully similar to Steve, and he goes silent. Evidently knowing what he’s thinking, Chrissy smiles.

“I liked it, you know. When you played the guitar for me.”

“You saw that?”

“I saw quite a bit.”

“Maybe I’ll play the song again for you when we get you out of Vecna’s mind. Because we will get you out. It’s my destiny, remember?”

Chrissy smiles, “I know you will. You’re incredible, Eddie. You know that? And Steve knows it too.”

“Don’t give me false hope, Chrissy.”

“It’s not false,” she says, and pushes him back into his body.

*

Nancy is about three seconds from a heart attack.

Steve’s still beneath her, terrifyingly still and very much still stabbed, and she’s panicking. They’re at the door of Eddie’s trailer, and Dustin and Robin have set Steve down so that Nancy can retie his wound with her cardigan. She forces her hands still and her eyes to look at only the wound and gets to work.

She’s lucky both that she’s had plenty of experience and that Steve isn’t awake, because it allows her to put as much pressure on as she needs to. She’s just shifting him for the final time and tying her makeshift bandage off when Eddie appears.

Robin jolts, grabbing Dustin’s spear and brandishing it in Eddie’s direction. He’s running, but he slows to a rapid stop when he sees the four of them, and he holds his hands up in a peaceful gesture.

Robin doesn’t believe any of it.

“Get out of here, Vecna,” she yells, pointing the spear at Eddie, “You’ve already got the body of one of our friends, and we’re not going to give you another. I can and will stab you if it means protecting Steve.”

Eddie (Vecna?) blinks a few times when Robin calls him a friend but otherwise stays very calm, “Uh. Ok, look. This is all worse than my most terrible drug trip, and that’s saying something. But Vecna is gone. How I have absolutely no idea, but I’m me again. Still Eddie the Freak.”

“No fucking way. I really don’t want to stab Eddie, but I will do it. Vecna’s not dead—”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not dead. Just gone. For now.”

“Sounds like Vecna spewing shit to me,” Robin is approaching Eddie, who is slowly backing away, “did you really think we were all dumb enough to believe that? You’re losing your mind.”

“Wait,” says Nancy, because the pressure on her head is gone. Because ten minutes ago her brain had been fighting against a slithering voice and now it’s just her in there. Because she knows that Vecna won’t get out of her head of his own accord, even to kill them all. She knows this is something else, that someone has freed her, and that means—

“Robin, he’s telling the truth,” Nancy stands as she speaks, and Eddie looks at her with such palpable relief that she knows she made the right decision, “Vecna’s out of my head, too.”

Robin falters but doesn’t move, and so Nancy walks forward and grabs Eddie’s hand. She squeezes it, and he smiles.

“So that’s the real Eddie?” Dustin asks, voice shaking slightly, “He’s alive?”

Eddie is frozen, clearly having just noticed Dustin behind Steve. Nancy nods for him.

“Oh thank fuck,” Dustin mumbles, as he dashes forward and wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, “I love you too, Eddie, I love you so much, don’t you dare do that to me again. You told me that there’s no shame in running away sometimes. Take your own stupid advice.”

“Maybe I need to,” Eddie smiles, dropping one arm around Dustin’s back. He still holds Nancy’s with his other. “I really love you.”

Robin sighs. “Okay, that’s very sweet and I’m glad you guys are having your reunion, but Steve really really needs to get to the hospital so if we can focus that would be incredible.”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, yeah,” Eddie dashes and grabs Steve under his arms, “okay. Nancy, grab his feet. Dustin, Robin, get through the portal, quickly.”

Nancy obliges, grabbing Steve’s feet. Eddie’s strong, and he takes most of the weight which she’s grateful for, especially when she has to shuffle back up the stairs into Eddie’s trailer, lugging a full-grown man.

She turns over her shoulder as they enter the house, just in time to see Robin’s feet disappear into the portal. She’s endlessly grateful they were that quick, because her arms are already killing her and it’s only been a few metres.

“Can we put him down now?” she pants, and Eddie nods. Nancy lowers Steve’s feet to the ground, and Eddie rests his head against the couch.

Eddie seizes a stool from his kitchen, dragging it until it’s just under the gate. He clambers up on it, until his head is poking into the real world. “Nancy,” he says, “pass him up to me.”

Nancy takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around Steve’s chest, careful not to brush his wound. She straightens, pulling him with her. He’s an absolute dead weight, and she hates it, but moves one hand under his thighs and uses it and her knee to boost him so that Eddie can grab him.

Eddie stumbles slightly when he takes Steve’s weight, and Nancy panics, but Eddie straightens up and boosts Steve through the hole.

She hears Robin swear, but Eddie’s watching, and although he winces he doesn’t seem overly concerned.

There are a few seconds of silence where Nancy has time to run all the negative scenarios through her head. What if Dustin and Robin didn’t catch Steve, and he’s dropped, headfirst, into the ground? Or maybe Nancy’s makeshift bandage broke during the descent, and Steve’s bleeding out into the mattress?

But Eddie sighs with relief, and squats slightly on the stool to grab Nancy’s attention. She looks up at him, adrenaline fading. His hands are covered in blood.

“Dustin’s calling 911. I’m about to go through and help Robin get Steve out of the murderer’s trailer. Stay in my trailer, if that’s okay. We’ll regroup once Steve’s in hospital.”

Nancy nods, and climbs onto the stool when she feels Eddie’s presence leave her. She drops onto Eddie’s mattress—it smells very faintly of weed—and lets herself breathe.

*

Steve wakes up, which is surprising.

He’s in the hospital for two weeks, which isn’t.

The shard of glass somehow missed all his major organs (Steve likes to think that Eddie was conscious enough for that to be intentional). It also somehow didn’t give him an infection, for which Steve knows he is very very lucky, considering Upside Down germs weren’t something he ideally wanted in his body.

He bullshits something about tripping when he is asked what happened, and the nurse looks sceptical, but doesn't push it.

Robin, Nancy and Dustin alternate staying with him. Nancy reminds him, on her first visit, that Eddie is still a wanted man. Steve’s parents are away and will be for another three months, so he offers his house as a staying place. It’s probably better than wherever Eddie’s hiding out.

Robin stresses that they’re trying their best to clear Eddie’s name, but until they do he won’t be able to visit. Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little upset.

Dustin catches him up on everything that happened while Steve was unconscious. Max is improving too, because naturally, Vecna being forced out of her head is pretty effective treatment.

He still doesn’t believe Eddie’s alive until he leaves the hospital. He forces Robin to drive him home, because the doctors still say he can’t drive for another three weeks. He taps on the dashboard as she drives, full of pent-up energy, until she finally pulls into the driveway and turns to him.

“Go in, tell him you love him, then have celebratory sex. Simple as that.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not? You love him and he loves you. You’re not mad at him for the Upside Down. So why not?”

Steve doesn’t have an answer for that, so he gets out of the car, flipping Robin off as he does so. She laughs and begins to back out. Steve rings the doorbell.

Eddie answers, naturally, and he grins, eyes sparkling, when he sees Steve. “You’re back! Are you feeling better? I’ve been doing drugs in the master bedroom and playing guitar with the windows open.”

“Of course you have,” Steve says, and then he decides to take Robin’s advice and bite the bullet, “I love you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up until they’re hidden under his hair. “I’m sorry?”

“I love you.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, grabbing Steve’s wrist and pulling him inside, “Steve, I didn’t think I’d have to explain this to you, but you’re straight.”

“I- What? What if I’m not?”

“Steve. You are the straightest man I know. Don’t convince yourself into a sexuality crisis because of my stupid crush.”

Even though Robin had told him Eddie was in love with him, Steve’s brain still short circuits slightly upon hearing an outright confession. “You have a crush on me?”

Eddie massages the bridge of his nose, “Yes, asshole. I have for years, and it’s really embarrassingly obvious, and I’m thankful that you clearly support me. But please stop.”

“Okay. Um… I don’t know how to convince you of this. I’m not straight, Eddie, I’ve had long enough in hospital to contemplate this.”

“Even if you were gay, Steve, I stabbed you. You braved the Upside Down to save me and I literally stabbed you. You were in the hospital for days. That is a red flag if I have ever seen one.”

“You were possessed when you stabbed me. So, actually, Vecna stabbed me. And I’m not into Vecna, I’m into you.”

Eddie rocks on his toes, fiddling with his fingers again. He’s clearly anxious.

Steve was tired. “Eddie, this isn’t some asshole joke. I’m serious. And not insane, they ran tests for that while I was in the hospital.”

Eddie still wasn’t buying it, clearly. He was averting his gaze, looking at the floor. Steve rolled his eyes and laughed. It had been a wild few months, this can’t have been the most shocking revelation to come of them.

“Oh my god, Munson, look at me. Everything I said when we were in the Upside Down was true, ok? And if I’m being totally honest, which I kind of hate being in these situations, I have been counting down the days until I could see you again,” Steve takes Eddie’s hands, because it feels right, “And, personally, I think I deserve to kiss you if you get to stab me.”

“Too soon for that one,” says Eddie, but he’s smiling, “kiss me, then.”

And so Steve does.

*

It’s a hot day when Eddie graduates.

Steve claps on from the audience as Eddie walks across the stage, grinning from ear to ear. He still doesn’t technically have the credit to graduate, but being falsely accused of murder is apparently enough to warrant a D in Ms O’Donnell’s class.

Eddie manages to shake Principal Higgins’ hand and take his diploma civilly. Judging by his gritted teeth, a lot of willpower was required. He tucks his diploma under his arm and flips Principal Higgins off as he runs down the stage stairs.

They’re in the car, after. Eddie is putting his cassette tape in the car, and Steve is dealing with it, because he’s learned to love Metallica and Iron Maiden and that other shit, even if he’d never admit it to his boyfriend.

“Are you going to drive me off into the sunset?” asks Eddie, grinning wildly.

“Would you like me to?”

“Last month I was dead. Now I’m in my boyfriend’s car, with my diploma, and the horizon in our sights. Let’s fucking go.”