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December 9th, 1989
For three reasons, Steve Harrington would like to be forgiven if it took him a minute to recognize who was at the door. The first being that he was only back in Hawkins for a few days to pack up the last of his things left at his parents' place before they made one last, desperate attempt to sell their house in the half-abandoned town. He was focused on his task of sorting through old t-shirts and records—he wasn’t exactly expecting visitors.
The second being that he’d just handed in his final English paper two days before. His brain was still fried and in recovery from English 302: The Gothic Novel. Nancy really needed to apologize for convincing him it would be a ‘fun’ course, though Steve also figured he could’ve seen that coming.
The third, and perhaps most important, being that a haircut and change of clothes can really, really change how a person looks.
Well, and if Steve wanted to add a fourth reason to that list, it would be fairly simple—he didn’t realize it was Eddie Munson at the door because Eddie Munson died nearly four years ago.
“Steve?” he said again, less certain this time. Eddie—and it had to be Eddie, despite his curls only reaching his ears and the fact he wore a lime-green ski jacket—stood on the front step and, around him, snow swirled. “Can I come in?”
Steve took a step back and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah—yeah,” he said and gestured to Eddie to come inside.
“Thanks,” he muttered and stepped inside. Heavy, wet snow sloughed off his boots and onto the floor. “Sorry.” Eddie looked down. “I can clean that up.”
Steve shook his head. “A cleaner is coming Monday. My parents are trying to sell it.”
“Good luck with that.”
“They’ve got a new place outside of Cincinnati.”
“It’s nice?”
“It’s good.” Steve bit down on his lip. Of all things, how could he be talking about his parents’ new house in the suburbs? But what else was he supposed to say? Welcome back to life?
Steve stared on as Eddie unzipped the lime-green monstrosity to reveal an equally un-Eddie polo shirt underneath. It was too big on him—the shirt swallowed up his frame, which was far thinner than Steve remembered. Under Eddie’s eyes, dark circles hung. Did he always look like that? Really, Steve had hardly known him.
Most of what came to Steve’s mind whenever he heard the name Eddie was a memory of finding Dustin in the chaos after the world split open—how Dustin’s face was swollen, and his eyes were burning red, and how he held the necklace in his palm and clutched Steve like a lifeline.
“So,” Steve said.
“So.” Eddie looked at him, searching him up and down with his warm brown eyes.
“Have I finally lost it? Did I snap?”
Eddie chuckled. “Because everything was so normal before?”
“Hawkins never fails to surprise me,” Steve conceded. “But, come on. You’re… alive?”
Eddie’s face fell from the half-smirk.
“Eddie?”
“I’m here. I think. It’s kind of a long story.”
Steve nodded. What wasn’t a long story when it came to anything to do with Hawkins? “You want coffee?”
“You don’t have to,” Eddie replied.
“It’s not a problem.”
“Really, I’m fine—”
“I insist.”
Eddie blinked and half-smiled. “All right then.”
Steve told Eddie to make himself comfortable and went off the kitchen to put on a pot. After all, what else was there to do?
Fifteen minutes later, with two mugs of steaming coffee and everything Steve could find from the nearly empty pantry on the coffee table—which boiled down to a half-eaten box of crackers, three apples that were slightly bruised, and a half-eaten container of Chinese takeout nuked back to high heaven—Eddie told Steve how it all happened.
It wasn’t as long of a story as Steve expected it to be. Mostly, it boiled down to this: a month ago, Eddie woke up.
That was it.
Just came to one day in the exact spot where he’d died but in the normal world, not the upside down.
For the last month, he’d been squatting in the abandoned trailer park. Scrounged for food, cut his hair, wore what he could find and slept with five layers of ‘borrowed’ clothes.
“Why didn’t you reach out?” Steve finally asked.
“I saw the newspapers,” Eddie said, “Hawkins might have a quarter of the people it used to, but I’m sure the ones who stayed have good memories.”
Steve hummed in sympathy. The Wheelers were still in their place, save for Nancy, who was off at NYU. Robin was in New York too, living with Nancy. Aside from that, who could Eddie have gone to? Henderson moved to Columbus, the Sinclairs were now in Indianapolis. The Byer-Hoppers went back to California.
“I saw you drive in yesterday,” Eddie said.
“Yeah?”
“Would you believe it took me a whole day to knock on your door?”
“You could’ve come. I would’ve let you in.”
Eddie shrugged and didn’t meet his eyes. It was a strange sight, still—Eddie Munson, dressed like a middle-aged office worker, sittingon his parent’s couch in the living room.
“I had to make sure your parents weren’t with you,” Eddie said and his throat bobbed. “Something about me really sets off adults.”
Steve wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him or if Eddie really did wink. Either way, he rubbed the corners of his eyes. “Just me. I got the place to myself all weekend.”
Eddie smirked. “Yeah?”
Steve’s face warmed under the attention. Without thinking, he ducked down and lifted his own mug of coffee. “Listen. It’s getting late. I’ll call Nancy in the morning and maybe we can figure this whole…thing out.”
“Nancy, huh?” Eddie looked down at his hands.
“She’s the smartest person I know.”
Eddied nodded. “I mean, even I could always tell you two were good together, and I ain’t exactly a rocket scientist.” It was meant as a joke, Steve could tell, but the end of his sentence fell flat.
For the second time, Steve felt his face warm. “No—it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”
It wasn’t like the pain of rejection was still fresh—if he could even call it rejection with how tame their decision to not get back together—but there was still an ache inside him. It wasn’t Nancy’s fault. It had hardly ever been, but especially now he could see that the loneliness at his core was entirely on himself.
"She's with Robin now."
"Oh," Eddie said and his eyebrows rose. "That tracks, actually."
"It does," Steve agreed. It did track. they fit together, so well. Nancy grounded Robin and Robin helped Nancy let go. Most importantly, they were happy. What more could Steve ask for for his friends?
Their happiness didn't change the fact, though, that he was alone. Still.
After everything, no one seemed to fit. How could they? How could any girl that wasn’t Nancy understand why he had to postpone their study date because Dustin called? Or when he ran out of a horror movie to throw up in the theatre bathroom because a scene hit a little too close to home? At the end of the day, no one who hadn’t been through what he had would ever understand. That didn’t make Nancy the solution, either.
Either way, though, Steve was left detached from everyone his age.
“You must be tired,” Steve said and stood suddenly, rather than let his mind wander further down that hole. “Most of the stuff here is packed away, but there’s still a bed in the guest room if you’d like.”
Eddie nodded. “I’m exhausted.”
Steve led him up the stairs and Eddie followed behind. The guest room was simple, mostly sparse, but the bed was comfortable and the sheets were clean.
“Do you, uh, have anything I could borrow?” Eddie gestured down at his clothes. “My uncle’s trailer sort of fell into the hell hole and since the mall burned shopping is a little hard.” Again, the joke fell flat. He might’ve been saying the same types of things that he used to, but his heart wasn’t in it; his words were empty.
“Shit, Eddie, your uncle.” Steve bit his lip—how could he have been so stupid? “He’s fine. He’s safe. I don’t know where he’s living now, but he got out. That should’ve been the first thing I told.”
Eddie waved him off. “No need to whip yourself over it, Harrington. I know he made it out and, if I didn’t, I could’ve asked.”
“You knew he made it out?”
“There are newspapers. And someone had to be putting up my missing posters.” Eddie smiled wryly.
Steve lingered at the door. He wanted to ask why Eddie didn’t go to his uncle. Why he didn’t call him up, at the very least.
He didn’t. Instead, he nodded. “I’ve got some old sweats somewhere.”
Five minutes later, he handed Eddie Munson an old shirt of his and a pair of sweat pants and left before the blush could spread all over his face.
Before he went to his own room, though, Steve headed back down the stairs. The snow was heavy now; he’d have to shovel the walk in the morning. He went to put away the food from the table and turn off the lights, but before he could, Steve stopped. Eddie’s mug was full. The coffee was cold, now, but he couldn’t have had more than a sip. The food was similarly untouched.
Eddie. Steve scratched his neck and sighed.
Eddie would still be there in the morning, he told himself. Steve couldn’t let himself shut down completely. There were things to clean and pack, so Steve cleaned off the coffee table, poured the cold coffee down the sink, and turned off the lights.
Upstairs, before he went to bed himself, he paused outside the door of the bedroom. In the dark hallway, he could hear the wind howling and echoing. Part of him wanted to open the door, to make sure Eddie was still there, to check his mind and make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Steve drew in a sharp breath and walked down to his bedroom, shaking his head.
Sometime, somewhere in the middle of the night, a knock sounded on Steve’s door. His eyelids fluttered, he rolled to his side, he clutched his pillow and let sleep pull him under again.
The creek of the hinges dragged him awake.
“Steve?”
Like a bolt, he roused. “Eddie?” It took him a moment to place what happened back together. How often did he dream something like this? How often did he imagine a forgotten voice would call to him in the night?
Eddie stood at the door. His short hair still looked odd, but with a well-worn athletic shirt and pants, he looked softer, even if he didn’t quite look like himself. “You know, never mind,” he mumbled and started to turn. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“Eddie wait,” Steve said and pushed his bedsheets away from his body. His mind was still shrouded in the veil of warm sleep—exhaustion from school had worn him out so thoroughly that for the first time in months (or years, if he was being honest) he’d been sleeping properly. If passing out whenever his head hit the pillow from exhaustion counted as sleeping properly. “It’s fine, I was awake anyway.”
Eddie stopped and turned. He was barefoot and bed-headed and it took everything in Steve not to reach up and run his hand through his already tousled curls.
“I’m fine, Harrington. Who would’ve thought that things that go bump in the night would get too little old me?” He smiled and it didn’t even begin to reach his eyes.
“Eddie.” Steve reached out and grabbed his wrist. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”
Steve expected Eddie to pull away. He expected him to wave him off, or too laugh, or, at worst, jump back like he’d been burned.
Instead, Eddie crashed into him. His arms wrapped tight around Steve’s body. His head fell to Steve’s shoulder and a strained cry slipped out of his throat. Steve ran his hand in a circle against Eddie’s back, which was bonier than he expected, and told him hey, hey he would be okay. Steve didn’t know if he believed that. How could any of them ever be okay? But he told that to Eddie anyway because sometimes a soft lie was what a person needed to get through the night.
Eddie sniffled and pulled back. He wiped at his eyes. “Sorry, that’s fucking embarrassing. Didn’t think that would all bubble up at once.”
“Now who’s apologizing when they don’t have to?”
Eddie chuckled and, this time, it actually sounded like there was a bit of life in his chest. “Got me there, Harrington.” He let out a sigh and shook his head. Outside the hall window, the world was dark, but the snow was falling and the flakes held the glow of the street lights. “Anyway, I should head back to bed—”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I always am, Harrington—”
“Stop fucking calling me Harrington! Okay? It’s Steve! Jesus Christ,” Steve pushed his hand through his hair. “After everything, you can call me by my first name. And if you really want, you can go back to the guest room and be in there, in the darkness, all alone. But you’ve been alone for a long fucking time Eddie, I don’t know how you can stand it.”
Steve looked at him and Eddie stared back. He bit his lip and shook his head softly. “I can’t stand it. Not at all. Why do you think I always surrounded myself with a group? It was the loners and outcasts and I loved every goddamn minute of being surrounded by people. I hate being on my own.”
“So let me—let us, all of us, help you fix it then. You could’ve just called. We’d be here in an instant.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It can be.”
“ No. It’s not. You don’t—you don’t get it, Steve. Okay? Just let it go.” Eddie started to walk away again and part of Steve was tempted to let him. Sometimes, after everything, Steve just wanted to lie down in darkness too.
Sometimes he also wanted someone to drag him back into the light. “You’re right, you know. I don’t get it.”
“Told ya.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t explain it to me.” Steve stepped forward, his heart racing wildly under his sweatshirt. “Come on, Eddie. I can be a little slow on the uptake but I’m here to listen.”
Eddie looked at him and Steve’s heart broke right there. It’s the eyes, Steve thought. Eddie’s eyes were wide and terrified, like an animal.
“I came back wrong. ”
Steve swallowed. “Wrong how?”
Instead of answering, Eddie reached forward, picked up Steve’s hand, and guided it toward his chest. “What do you feel?” he asked.
Nothing. Steve couldn’t say it. There was no steady beat. Eddie’s skin wasn’t even warm; it was cool to the touch.
“I came back as some kind of fucking monster, Harrington. I have no pulse. I can barely eat. Being outside in the sunlight hurts. That’s why I stayed away, alright? I don’t even know if I’m Eddie or just some kind of demon who thinks he is.”
“You’re not a monster.” Though Eddie had long since made his point, Steve didn’t pull his hand away.
“I shouldn’t have come tonight. I really shouldn’t have.” Eddie looked down. “But I saw your car and the next thing I knew, well, here I was.”
“We’ll figure this out,” Steve promised.
Eddie shook his head. “I should go.”
“Stay.”
“I’m not a dog, Steve.”
Steve stood straighter. “I’m not asking for you.” The weight of it all sat on Steve’s chest. “I’m asking for me. Stay. This house—it’s so empty. And Hawkins is haunted, too. I hate being here, let alone being alone here, and somehow I hate leaving it all the same because this is maybe the only place that I feel like I actuall have a place I belong. That I fit. And I don’t know how any of this is supposed to work but don’t you dare leave me here alone.” His voice cracked and his hand shook but Steve kept himself steady. “Don’t leave me. Not again.”
Steve didn’t know what happened after that. The seconds in between everything spilling out and Eddie finding his lips were hazy. He said something warm, Steve thought. He wiped away a tear with his cool hand.
And he kissed him. Eddie’s lips were soft and cool; his whole body felt like he’d just come in from the storm outside.
Perhaps he had.
His lips dragged over Steve’s. His strong hands gripped Steve’s waist and his fingers were rough, calloused from guitar.
Steve melted forward into Eddie’s chest and for a while they held each other, not moving, not speaking, just simply sitting together and weathering the storm. In spite of everything, things felt right for the first time in a long time.
“I should go to bed.”
“Don’t let me be alone,” Steve said.
Eddie nodded. His eyes were watering; he wiped them on his shirt sleeve. When Steve took his hand, he followed him to the bedroom without protest.
A gust of wind rattled the window and a cool draft swept in from underneath. Steve pulled Eddie with him into his bed and yanked the blanket up over top of them. Eddie wasn’t exactly a furnace, but he wasn’t cold enough to pull the heat in from Steve either.
“You’re so warm,” he mumbled as Steve leaned his head into his chest. Eddie played with the strand of hair that fell in front of his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve felt warm since I—since I woke back up. It’s like I jumped in a lake or went out in a November rain storm.”
Steve moved even closer. Their skin was flush against each other. With his head on Eddie’s chest, Steve couldn’t help but press his ear against his skin too.
Still, nothing was there. No beat. No stead thump.
No, Steve thought. That wasn’t right.
Eddie was here. He was back. His hair might’ve been short. He might be bone thin. Deep bags hung under his eyes.
But Eddie was back. And wasn’t that something?
“We’ll figure it out,” Steve promised. “We always have, somehow.”
Eddie nodded.
Steve tried to freeze the moment, to remember forever how Eddie smelled like someone else’s laundry detergent, but his grip on his arm was strong, and when he spoke the words vibrated in Steve’s chest.
It felt right. Natural. Like this was the piece that he’d been missing—this was what he’d been longing for these last few years while he searched for something else altogether.
“Don’t leave,” Steve whispered.
“I’ll be here in the morning.”
The warmth of sleep wrapped around Steve. He looked up and kissed Eddie on the side of his face, where his jaw met his neck. “We’ll work it out from there.”
After all, when hadn’t he worked it out?
“You said Nancy and Robin are in New York?”
“Mhmm.”
“I’ve never been,” Eddie said. “I didn’t think I ever would go.”
“We can go.”
Eddie chuckled. “The drive is what? 12 hours?
“Something like that.”
Eddie shook his head.
“Tomorrow, we’ll go. We can go anywhere you want.”
“You don’t have to—”
“We have this second chance. Okay? Let’s not waste it,” Steve said.
“Alright then. New York.”
Steve laughed and hummed and settled into his place against Eddie. They could do anything they wanted. What was there to hold them back anymore? Hawkins was small but the world was so big and strange and confusing and wild.
But it brought Eddie back. Even if he wasn’t the same anymore, he was back. He was there, in bed, with his arms wrapped around Steve.
So everything couldn’t be all bad then, could it?