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Eddie is certain he’ll never stop crying at this rate. Two hours have passed and the hot tears simply won’t cease. His eyes are ringed with red circles, bags hanging dark and prominent from sleepless nights. The insomnia always gets worse on his particularly bad dysphoria days.
For lack of better words, it’s hell. Lying awake for hours on end, thinking thinking thinking , until he inevitably passes out for upwards of three hours. Awoken by a nightmare of that horrid place. Rinse and repeat the next night. The same thoughts cycle through his head every night, it’s nothing new. Except for tonight… Tonight is different. His mind plays images of Steve Harrington behind closed eyelids. Ever since they’d come back from the Upside Down, Eddie has come to terms with his feelings for Steve. He really likes him, he really really does. But, dammit, he doesn’t stand a chance. Not against Nancy, that is. Something in the back of his head tells him to dress up real pretty for Steve. Maybe then he would look his way.
That’s when good friend Dysphoria comes into play. Reminders of how he’ll never be a real boy. He’ll never really be seen as one, accepted as one, loved as one. Even if straight, golden boy Steve Harrington liked men, he’d never like Eddie. Never. Not in his matted, curly hair and dark circles. In his weed and beer breath, metal music cassette tapes, and tattered hand-me-downs. Never, God, in his abhorrent transsexuality. Eddie Munson isn’t made for lovin’, he’d decided many years ago.
Noon rolls around and he wakes up with two hours too little of sleep. The sun is already high in the sky, Eddie squinting up at the clouds as he sits on the porch. He holds a beer in one hand, cigarette in the other, because it’s simply hard to be sober these days. The birds chirp beautiful songs, clueless to his depression, and it’s almost comforting.
He decides, after finishing his beer, to call Steve. It’s an impulsive decision, his head swimming with thoughts of confession. It’s a ridiculous idea, really. He’s come to be so deeply fond of Steve, all with his syrupy eyes and crooked grins, he really doesn’t want to ruin that. Eddie’s stomach all but ties into a knot as he taps in the numbers.
The line rings, once, twice, thrice before Steve picks up. “Hello?” He says, voice thick with sleep. It’s a Sunday, sleeping in is justified really.
As Eddie holds the phone in his hand, tapping along its length, he suddenly can’t formulate words. His throat dries and his palms begin to sweat. Steve calls a “Hello?” into the phone again, knocking Eddie out of his daze.
“It’s Eddie,” His voice comes out meek, unsure, as he continues, “C-Can we talk?” He feels utterly drunk with how his head swims, eyes squeezing shut. The other end goes silent for what feels like an eternity.
The phone picks up Steve’s sharp inhale, “Uh… Sure?”
“Can we… Can we talk in person? Preferably somewhere private,” Eddie softly taps his forehead with a closed fist, heart beating impossibly loud in his ears, “It’s cool if not, man, you have your own life and shit.”
Steve shifts on the other end, “No, no, that’s cool. It sounds urgent…,” He trails off, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” But It’s just a big lie, really.
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
The line goes dead and Eddie is shaking so furiously the phone drops from his hands, dangling.
In the fifteen minutes Steve takes to arrive, Eddie pours three more beers down into his liver. This leaves him a little more than tipsy, eyes glassy and brows furrowed with worry. He isn’t sure why Eddie As Of Fifteen Minutes Ago decided to get him into this mess, but there is no backing out now. Well, he supposes there is, but that’d make him a major douche.
Steve’s car pulls up and Eddie jumps to his feet, quietly closing the front door behind him to not wake Wayne. He immediately takes note of how Steve’s fingers drum worriedly along the wheel. The passenger side door is already unlocked as he lets himself in, breathing sharp, shallow breathes.
“Do you have a place in mind?” Steve asks, eyes riddled with something he can’t quite place.
“Is the field okay? It’s kind of far out, so I can try and come up with a different place.” He rambles, fidgeting with his rings.
The field is the first place they had ever hung out alone. They talked for what felt like hours, staring up at the stars above. It holds a special place in his heart. It was the first time his feelings really clicked into place. Where it all made sense.
The ride there is almost entirely silent, save for Head Over Heels by Tears For Fears playing softly
from Steve’s mixtape. The song choice almost convinces Eddie that Steve is trying to send him some sort of message. But that idea is stupid and entirely hopeless to believe. No point in getting his hopes up before inevitably everything crumbles.
Steve gets out first, Eddie having to compose himself before he can even move. After a minute or two, he inhales sharply and gets out as well. Steve is already sitting on the hood of his car, lighting a cigarette.
“What is it you wanted to talk about?” He says after a long drag, eyes meeting Eddie’s.
He takes his place next Steve on the hood, eyes downcast and mouth drawn in a thin line. The other looks at him with worry, but doesn’t urge him to speak.
“I…,” Eddie begins, tears pricking at his eyes and falling as he pushes himself to continue, “I need you to know that you’re a really important friend to me, Steve. I need you to know that before I say anything else.”
Steve stares at him, eyebrows furrowed, probably thinking ‘What a freak’. But he simply nods instead, firm. Which is good enough for Eddie to keep talking. To finally say everything he’s been thinking for months and months on end.
“I really, really like you. I do, I really do. I know you’ll never feel the same, I don’t expect that. I just… I can’t let it fester inside of me anymore, Steve. It kills me, eats at me. Thinking about you, every night, unable to sleep. It’s unbearable. I know I don’t hold a candle to Nance, but I need you to know how much I like you,” A sob wracks his body pitifully, “I really love you, Steve Harrington.”
The declaration of love leaves Steve stunned and silent. His eyes flicker over the other’s sobbing form, suddenly so sure of what to do next. He puts out his cigarette, gently grabbing Eddie’s face, thumbing away his tears. His sobs slowly devolve into small hiccups and whimpers, making Steve’s heart twist horribly. He leans in then, lips catching Eddie’s quivering ones. It’s soft, gentle, but knocks the air of both of their lungs.
Softly, Steve threads his hands in Eddie’s curls, pulling their bodies flush together. They stay like that for several minutes, lips moving against each other in a slow rhythm. Eddie pulls back first, jaw tight and eyes so uncertain.
“Steve, wait,” It’s frantic as he pushes his hands to Steve’s chest, “You don’t… You don’t want to do this. I’m a freak, Steve.” Steve shakes his head, interlacing their hands.
“I’m so sure about this, Eds. I want this. I want you. I lo-,” Eddie presses his palm to Steve’s mouth, tears returning and Steve really doesn’t understand. He really, really doesn’t understand what’s so horrible, so urgent.
Eddie’s frame shakes relentlessly as his hand drops into his lap, and Steve wants to hug him so bad, “I’m a transsexual, Steve.” He whispers, so small, “You don’t want this.”
Steve does hug him then, pulling him in gently like he might just break. He presses a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head, raking a hand through his curls, and the boy just about melts . “I do want this. I don’t care about that, you’re still you. You’re Eddie Munson, the boy I,” He tightens his grip, shivering, “The boy I love. That doesn’t change a damn thing.”
Pulling back, Eddie cracks a small smile and sniffles, “Promise?”
“Promise,” Steve whispers, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, “You’re perfectly made for loving, Eddie Munson.”