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Steve wakes an hour later to the strangled cry of the boy across the hall. He rushes into the guest room to see Eddie with his head resting between his bent knees, hands over his face. “Eddie?” Steve prompts gently. “Eddie? You okay, man?” He kneels by the side of the bed, trying to glimpse the other boy’s face.
Eddie doesn’t move, his messy hair cascading down his shoulders and back, blocking Steve’s view. “Hey, Eds, everything’s fine, okay? Nothing that happened in your dream was real.”
Eddie finally lifts his head, only reacting to the unexpected nickname. He breathes deeply, trying to slow it down. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” However, one look at his pain-filled expression told Steve a different story.
“What was it about? Your nightmare? Talking about it might help.” Steve moves from his spot on the floor up to the bed and waits patiently for his friend to answer.
After some time, Eddie replies in a low whisper, “I kept seeing Chrissy. Over and over. Being torn and twisted apart again and again and again-” Another choked cry escapes his throat. “I thought I’d never wake up.”
The two sit in silence until Steve lights up with an idea. “Would it help to visit her memorial? Her family had her, um… cremated… so there isn’t a grave site but the town set up this really nice “Remember Chrissy” thing.”
Eddie sniffs and tries to gain back at least some of his dignity. Breaking down in front of Steve Harrington is not something he’d thought he’d ever be doing. “That… actually might help. It’s worth a try, at least. I haven’t- I haven’t been there yet. I didn’t feel like I-”
A hand placed on his shoulder stops him. “It’s alright, man. I get it.” Steve smiles gently and stands, Eddie following close behind.
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Later, in a grove of trees near the park, the two boys stand in front of Chrissy Cunningham’s memorial. “Do you want to be alone?” Harrington asks, not daring to speak above a whisper.
“No, I’d like you to stay. I just… I have some things to say that she never had the chance to hear.” With one last deep breath, Eddie begins, “I don’t know if you’re able to hear this or if I’m just talking to the air, but I wanted to say that I’m sorry. For everything. And not just because I got blamed for your murder.” Both boys grin sadly at one another. “You never saw me as a freak. You never ran from me. And I appreciate that more than you know. You treated me as, as a person, even if we only talked for an hour. It’s more than most people gave me.”
The dark-haired boy stubbornly wipes a tear off his cheek with his arm. “I played a sick solo in your honor. Most metal concert ever. Wish you could’ve heard it.” He swipes at another tear. “You were always sweet and kind to everyone, even when life kept dealing you shitty hands. For what it’s worth, Jason didn’t deserve you. No one did.” Eddie crouches down to the level of a cross someone had placed and delicately runs a finger over it. “Rock on, Chris.”
It’s not until he’s finished speaking that Eddie realizes Steve is standing behind him, a hand on his shoulder. A silent anchor. Eddie stands, and Steve doesn’t let go until they reach the car. A heavy silence fills the space between them once more, only broken by the occasional sniffle.
“Ya know,” Steve starts, “If you have any more problems sleeping, you don’t have to call. Just come by; the key is under the fake plant on the porch. Let yourself in and do whatever you need to do.”
Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Steve was giving him a key to his house. Well, not giving it to him, but this was almost the same thing. “Oh, wow. Thanks, dude. And thanks for bringing me here. It helped.” Steve doesn’t reply, only smiles and nods.
Once back at the Harrington residence, Steve asks if Eddie wants to watch a movie. “The sun will be up in an hour or two, anyway. Might as well kill some time.” He squats below his tv and digs in a cabinet. “Alright, we’ve got Top Gun, Karate Kid, and Temple of Doom. Those are my favorites, anyway.”
“Top Gun. Wayne loves that movie.”
“Guy’s got great taste.” Steve remarks as he puts the movie on. Walking over to yet another cabinet, he pulls out two blankets and throws one at Eddie. “More comfortable,” He shrugs.
The pair sit on opposite ends of the couch, enjoying the film. Thirty minutes before the credits roll, Steve notices Eddie dozing and smiles to himself. He turns it off and moves over to Eddie’s end of the couch. He does nothing but watch for a while, even though he feels like a creep. What kind of person watches other people sleep? But he loves the peaceful expression covering his friend’s face; it’s a welcome change from the almost constant distress of the past few hours.
A lock of long, curly hair falls in front of the boy’s eye, and Steve instinctively reaches to brush it away before stopping himself in a moment of clarity. What am I doing? What am I doing? This isn’t right- I’m not thinking straight. I need to get some sleep.
He begrudgingly leaves Eddie’s hair where it is and drags himself back to his room. And despite the sun peaking through his blinds and birds singing their morning song, Steve falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.