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Steve froze as the radio fizzled out, its steady thrum of music dying with a buzz as the lights shut off. He could feel his breath in his throat stop, fear clouding his senses and causing panic to build exponentially. He waited for a second.
A second more.
Ten more.
Nothing. The lights didn't flicker back on, the radio didn't crackle to life, and Steve was left alone in the silence.
Shit. Steve could hear the static thrum of fear building behind his ears, making the sound of his own breathing echo in the silence. It was harsh, jagged, and far to fast to be considered okay. Steve shakily reached out a hand and touched his radio, fiddling with the dials and trying to get it to tune back in, and when nothing happened he officially began to freak out. He knew he should've gone out and bought a Walkman, but the store only had so many and the kids needed them more than he did.
He slowly stood up from his desk, fingers gripping the edge of the wood painfully, and Steve barely felt the sting of splinters entering his fingertips. The light, he just had to find some light and it would be okay. Creeping out of his room and using the wall as a guide, Steve stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen, cursing when he realised it was also plunged into darkness. No light streaming from the side of the road. There must be a blackout in Hawkins.
Steve's throat closed up as tendrils of blind panic began to choke him, and he heard himself gasping in the tiny kitchen, the noise sounding tinny and far away. Too far away. He was going to die here, living alone, in the dark, in the cold silence. Vecna had to be back, and Steve was his victim this time.
The vision of Max with her eyes white and bloody as she floated above him, the way she sobbed into Lucas's arms, hands pressing the headphones deeper into her ears. In a trance like state, Steve felt himself press his hands into his ears, trying to block out the sound of his ragged breathing, but it only increased. It was roaring and loud and somehow the world was too quiet still. Snap out of it, Steve, you need to snap out of it.
Like a rubber band being pulled too far and released, Steve felt his awareness break back into his body, and instantly felt bile rise in his throat. He was shaking, badly, and there were tears on his face, dripping and catching on his lips that were wide open and panting in fear. C'mon, man, get it together. He wound his fingers into his hair and tugged, the sharp pain offering a brief sense of relief that charged through his body. With another sharp tug to his hairline, Steve felt a plan settle into place.
He just had to find someone to talk to, someone to fill the silence with, and then he'd be okay. But as he was trying to plan, the fog of fear crept back and Steve's vision swam, morphing and warping the darkness into a swirling mass, and he gagged. Steve cursed himself for never telling anyone that he couldn't stand the silence after Vecna, but deep down he knew that he still wouldn't tell any of the kids. They had enough problems to deal with outside of Steve being a little afraid of the dark.
His fathers words clanged through him. You're being weak, Steven. Man up, don't cry over something like this. Grow up. He felt a whine slip through his lips and Steve pressed his fingernails into his forearms, digging and digging until his brain cleared itself, and then digging some more, almost crying in relief when the fog cleared again momentarily. Steve fumbled along the kitchen, blindly reaching for the front door when he felt the world tilt from under him as a dull pain radiated across his forehead and he felt darkness consume him.
* * * * *
Steve woke up with a jolt, breath caught in his throat and limbs scrambling backwards towards the door, Vecna's cold, phantom eyes burning into his skull, and at the sensation of burning hot pain dripping down his face, Steve bolted. Not caring if he left his front door open, Steve slid into his car and pulled out of the driveway into the dark town of Hawkins, not even thinking about where he was going, only that he had to get to sound, needed to ground himself.
He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other digging crescent shaped gouges into his arm as he tried to ground himself, barely paying attention to the road. Just a little further, then you can breathe. It was this unfocused expression that got him skidding to a stop outside the house of Eddie Munson, and some small, tiny part of him unclenched when he realised why he was here. Eddie was safe. Eddie knew what had happened, and not once had he judged Steve when he freaked out.
A few weeks ago, someone had tossed something at their group and Steve had caught the empty cup before it hit Dustin in the face. And then he'd promptly thrown up in some bushes when he realised it was regular teens being assholes. Eddie had been there, holding his hair back and soothing him quietly, eyes wide and darting, looking for danger that he thought Steve had seen. He'd been the first one to tell Steve it was okay to have reactions like that after all the shit he'd been through, and Steve had relished in those genuine words and the look of careful affection on Eddie's face when he'd said it.
And then Eddie had simply smiled at him, helped him up, and got back to joking with the group, easily including Steve. He didn't look at him any different. It had made Steve feel safe, in a way that even Robin couldn't accomplish. Robins worry tended to linger long after the event had ended, staring at Steve like he'd grown a second head, and Steve got it, he really did. He was the one that always okay after this bullshit, so when he panicked in front of any of the group they worried too much about him. Not Eddie though, Eddie just treated him the same he always had.
Steve didn't know how long he sat in his car, forearms aching from the pressure his fingers were using and throat tight and sore from taking too shallow breaths, but suddenly there was a gentle knock on his window. Steve threw himself backwards, brain blanking out and screaming at him to protect, save, shelter, and he reached for his nail bat in the backseat, ignoring the heavy thud the back of his head made with the passenger seat window. It was so dark outside, and there was something at the window.
"Steve? Dude, are you okay? Why the fuck are you outside my house? Holy shit, is this a Vecna thing? C'mon, man, this isn't funny, open the fucking door." Eddie. Steve felt the tension drain out of him as he clumsily unlocked the passenger door, forcing himself into the darkness as a dizzy spell hit him, and he could vaguely hear Eddie cursing as Steve stumbled to the floor, feeling cold mud soak through the knees of his jeans.
He could see a faint orange glow from windows nearby, and it backlit Eddie as he dropped to his knees beside Steve, hands grabbing his shoulders and yanking him upright and into the orange glow. The static fuzz settled over Steve once more, and he could only just make out Eddie swearing and asking him if he was okay, and the sound of someone whining quietly. Before he could gather his senses, Steve was inside Eddie's trailer, and the pressure on his throat eased at the warm glow of a dozen candles lighting up the room. He could see. He could see.
His knees gave out once more and he was back on the floor, but this time Eddie went down with him, hands coming to cradle his face as Steve tried to breathe. Steve had to talk, he had to wipe the worried look off Eddie's face as Eddie looked at him and paled, fingers gently brushing above his brow bone. Eddie went to stand up, and panic reared its head again, and Steve could see his own shaking hand leave his arm and grab Eddie's jacket sleeve. God he was pathetic, wasn't he?. Another whine filled the air and Eddie was back, hands on his face.
Steve was led to the couch as Eddie placed one of Steve's hands into his chest, making an exaggeration of his breathing. Oh. Eddie needed him to breathe. Well shit, if Eddie needed it then Steve would have to find a way to do it. So with a roar still in his ears and the image of a bloody Max behind his eyes, Steve took a deep breath. Then another. Then another.
Slowly but surely the world trickled back in and Steve focussed on Eddie's breathing as he calmed down. He could feel himself shaking so badly the water on the coffee table moved, and Steve knew he had to tell Eddie now, before he freaked out again.
"I can't-I'm. Shit." He was still struggling to breathe, but Eddie was kneeling in front on him on the floor, hands out and hovering, too scared to touch Steve. "The power went out and so did the lights and so did the radio. Eds, the radio went out and I couldn't see. I couldn't see and there wasn't any music left." He knew he probably wasn't making sense, the words hoarse and slurred as he tried to calm down.
"Holy shit, Steve, why didn't you tell anyone? I would've driven to your house when the power went out if I knew." Steve just stared at him, breathing slowing at the sound of Eddie's voice. Eddie understood? Steve looked around the room and saw Eddie's guitar lying on the ground next to an open notebook, his pick having been thrown nearby. Eddie was talking again, and Steve forced himself to look at him, embarrassed about his freak out now that he was calming down.
Eddie gently reached out and Steve jumped on the opportunity, hands coming to grasp the older boys, but he stopped when he could see his fingertips. With a jolt, Steve realised they were bloody, it was caked underneath his fingernails. He could hear Eddie take a sharp breath in when he noticed, and for a horrifying second he thought Eddie was going to leave him here. Instead, he gently took Steve's hands in one of his own and tugged his arms out, baring his skin to Eddie.
Ah. That's where the blood had come from. His forearms were bloody, droplets beading from the tiny crescent shaped holes his fingernails had left, small trails of it trickling down to his wrists and drying there. Steve chanced a look at Eddie and started apologising instantly. The older boy was pale, mouth open slightly as he stared at Steve's arms, a look of horror and sadness splashed across his features. Apologising still, Steve tried to pull his arms away and hide them, but Eddie's grip held firm, his spare hand coming up to grip his chin and force Steve to look at him.
"Alright, sweetheart. I'm going to get the first aid kit and some water, and you are going to stay here. Right on this couch, and you are not going to move, okay?" Steve nodded as confusion flooded him. In the space of a heartbeat, Eddie was back between his legs as he knelt in front of Steve on the floor, and Steve felt bad for being on the couch. He apologised again, noting how pathetic his voice sounded.
"I swear to God, Steve, stop apologising. It's okay. We're friends now, dude, this is what friends do. Shut up and let me clean these and I'll play some music until the lights come back on, then we can talk properly, okay?" Once again Steve felt himself nodding, letting out a small apology that Eddie returned with a glare that made Steve blush. Eddie was gentle as he applied antiseptic to the small wounds, humming along to some unknown song, and Steve felt himself relax at the sound, finally feeling grounded in reality. Vecna was gone, and there was music.
Eddie didn't acknowledge the way Steve slumped, but made sure to hum a little louder, and Steve half-heartedly thought he wanted to kiss him in thanks. Steve blinked his sluggish eyes and felt his eyelid sticking to something. He only got a moment of confusion before Eddie was starting to wipe at his face, and Steve saw bloody gauze as Eddie continued to wipe, humming another song, one that Steve could faintly recognise. It was something Eddie had played in his car on the way to the movies a few days ago. Steve wanted to talk, to fill the silence and take the pressure off Eddie, but the growing lump in his throat made it impossible.
Eddie must have seen the despair growing on his face, because he was smiling gently and telling Steve it was okay. Steve believed him.
With another Band-Aid and a flourish, Eddie was done, and he hopped up to grab his guitar, sinking into the couch next to Steve. It took a minute of adjusting, resulting in Eddie sitting on the arm of the chair, and Steve leant against the other side, his head resting on the spare arm as he looked over at Eddie, who was beginning to play a song. It was quiet without any amps attached, but since there was no other sounds around, it did the trick.
Eddie was looking at his guitar, fingers effortlessly flying across the strings as he played a medley of songs. Some of them Steve recognised from Eddie's tape collection, but when he slowed and strummed chords rather than picking riffs, Steve lost the songs, too busy settling into the comforting sound of music. He was safe here, and nothing could get him while Eds was playing guitar.
They sat like that for over an hour, Steve just watching peacefully as Eddie played, occasionally laughing when he messed up a note or changed the key halfway through, and warm settled on Steve's chest. Staring up at Eddie, Steve could see himself doing this again. Not specifically the panic and then forcing Eddie to play music for him, but the peaceful hanging out, just being around Eddie in this way. It was nice. It was warm. It was safe.
With a dull flicker and a quick beep from the neighbourhoods appliances, the lights flickered back on, and Steve watched as Eddie's face split into a grin as he stared at the now glowing bulbs. The final tenses piece of Steve melted away and he bought his shaky hands to his eyes, pressing in to try and ground himself further. He felt the couch shift and suddenly Eddie was sitting near his feet, legs crossed as he looked at him. Steve internally groaned, but he knew he owed the other man an explanation for tonight, so he pushed himself upright and found himself face to face with Eddie, who was staring at him with an open and non-judgemental expression.
He knew he was procrastinating, but it was so hard to put it into words. He felt Eddie's hands in his, and quickly wound his fingers around the other boys, relishing in the comfort they provided. Eddie's voice was low, but not patronising when he asked.
"How often does this happen, sweetheart?" It felt like a dam opened in his chest, his ribs cracking and baring his heart to Eddie. It also felt right to finally tell someone.
"A couple of times a week, any time it's quiet, or it's dark. It doesn't normally get this bad, the kids are usually around, or Robin, or there's a light switch nearby." He laughed softly, the sound trailing off when Eddie only squeezed his hands. "I don't-I don't make a habit of hurting myself like that though. I promise. That's actually never happened before." He could hear the surprise in his own voice as he looked at the bandages on his arms, still uncertain about why it had worked.
"Good." Eddie had said, a hard edge to his voice that Steve hadn't heard before. "Don't make it a habit, just fucking call me instead, dipshit. You don't have to do this alone, y'know?" Steve nodded again, breathing a sigh of relief when Eddie reiterated that they were friends, and it wasn't a heat of the moment, I-need-to-calm-Steve-down sentence.
"Thanks, Eds. Seriously. I'm sorry about freaking you out, I just kinda ended up here." Eddie let out a sigh and Steve watched as he removed one of his hands from Steve's to pinch the bridge of his nose. Steve shot him a sheepish smile.
"That's another thing, can you make a habit of telling me you need help with this shit, beforehand? I don't like the idea of you driving with a head injury in the middle of a panic attack, sweetheart." That made sense, shit, Steve hadn't thought about it like that. "Alright, enough giving you shit for the awful way you take care of yourself, you got work?" Steve shook his head, it was actually his day off today. Eddie grinned and Steve's heart raced.
"Fuck yeah. What do you say we go buy you a battery operated Walkman, and we can make a mixtape together for if this happens again?" Warmth bubbled in his chest as he smiled at Eddie. That was a brilliant idea, and Steve thanked his subconscious for brining him here last night.
Somehow he'd known. Somehow he'd known that Eddie was safe, and Eddie wouldn't make it weird, or awkward. Somehow, Steve had gotten lucky with ending up as friends with Eddie Munson, and he took the opportunity with both hands and ran. And if he labelled the mixtape they made as 'Eddie' and put one final song on there that Eddie didn't know, well, he'd just deny that it was anything more than friendship. And if it took years to finally show Eddie the song, it would have been worth it for the way his face broke into a blushing grin at Steve.
Eddie, my love.
How I've waited for you, you'll never know.
Please, Eddie, don't make me wait too long.
And if the way Eddie kissed him afterwards made him giggle like a middle schooler, who could blame him?
Yeah, it was a good choice to drive to Eddie's that night.