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Steve and Eddie have been having sex for a while now. Outside of the bedroom however, they were not demonstrative lovers. Neither of them were particularly good with words and with all that happened, an unsuspecting hand on their waists would make them jump out of their skins. Despites all this, Eddie was ever the overbearing friend – except when the sky grew darker and when the city lights were off. Then, he was more.
By day, Steve showed his affection by being of service. Need a ride? You got it. Want me to carry that? No problem. He’d lend skills, time, and muscles. Once, when Corroded Coffin was set to play at The Hideout, Eddie realized he got the wrong cable. So he asked the bar if they had a phone and called Steve and asked him if he could possibly go get him his 6.3mm mono connector. And instead of telling him to get fucked, Steve agreed without hesitation, grunting a bit just for show. Twenty minutes later, as the set was about to start, a sweaty Steve ran to the stage with the cable and Eddie said “You’re a saint” and plugged it in. And the band members didn’t ask why, of all people to help with last minute show problems, Steve Harrington was the one Eddie asked, and he was the one who agreed. Eddie knew that if he hadn’t called Steve and had sorted the issue another way, Steve would have asked: “Why didn’t you call me?”
Eddie, on the other hand, was a present person. Which was weird because he grew up with nothing while Steve grew up with everything. Only Eddie was crafty. He wasn’t ceremonial about it either, mostly just throwing things his way and mumbling “Here, for you.” Mixtapes. An ugly bat made in paracord knots for his rearview mirror. A doorstop he carved with a pocketknife “when he was bored.” Once Steve needed a bookmark quickly and Eddie tossed him a movie stub. Which was the first movie they’ve seen together, a couple months ago. He was like a raven, bringing back shiny things.
That’s how they said it.
*
Sometimes Steve and Eddie met in situations where they couldn’t really interact. Like right now, at the Milkshake Parlor. The place to be. It was a round building, low and funky, with neon signs indicating to red-eyed hungover teens that sweet, creamy heaven was available all day all night. Cars were parked all around, creating a strange flower pattern. Inside, checkered floors and comfy booths surrounded by framed autographs of stars who’ve never been here. The air smelled electric and sweet. There was nothing like the sound of whipped cream being compressed and released in a low "pshhhh." It helped that the movie theater wasn't far off.
Now, milkshakes might seem like a kid business. But not at the Parlor. You could pay extra, give a wink and have a shot of booze in there for you. Their burgers were phenomenal. It was about the only place everyone agreed on. So, of course, that meant Eddie hated it. But the Parlor’s owner also owned the Hideout, so that he had eyes on future venue opportunities. Quickly, it was where Corroded Coffin went for milkshakes after rehearsals. Surrounded by his friends, the metalhead was in the middle of a funny impression, imitating the local drunks who usually came to their concerts. Walking around with an invisible cane, he raised a finger around and said, in a grumpy old voice: “Young men! Don’t you have better things to do than to play your crap weeks after weeks? You ought to be ashamed. At your ages, I was already a boring old fuck with an erectile dysfunction.” Gareth and Jeff roared with laughter.
Meanwhile Steve was drinking his milkshake across the room, facing Robin.
“Here’s Eddie,” she said, slurping her vanilla cookie crunch. Acting as if she just noticed him.
“Yeah, he’s with his band.” Eddie was untouchable when he was with his friends, much like King Steve had been when surrounded by his peers in high-school. There was something about leading a group of people that put you on a pedestal. Right now, Eddie was wearing the crown and Steve was in the wings, peeking through the curtains.
“The guy has so many social circles, I’m impressed. Fingers in many pies.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be his main friends?” Steve complained. “We faced death together, it should be worth something.”
“Aw, Stevie. He’s allowed to have other friends. It’s healthy to have other friends. What we have is very toxic.” She slurped the last of her smoothie, making too much noise.
“Tell me about it.”
Eddie didn’t even acknowledge him and he knew why, and still. It hurt. Soon, Gareth was pressing Eddie for another impression. And he had just noticed Steve.
“Eddie, do Harrington. Do Steve Harrington.”
Eddie smiled against his straw, his eyes going to Steve and back to his friends. “Yeah I’d do him.”
More laughs. Steve felt his ears go red. Robin chuckled in anticipation: “Oh he’s gonna do an impression of you, that’s gonna be good.” Which was not helping.
Eddie’s back straightened and just like that, one could imagine prep clothes on him. Hands on his hips, like a football mom. “Hey man, I’ve come to collect my children from your ridiculous fantasy game. Why do you guys have so many dice? Urgh, makes no sense.” The voice was spot-on. Gareth and Jeff laughed. Robin too. Delighted by his success, Eddie made another impression back to back. “Welcome to Family Video, how can I help you? Movies, yes. No, I don’t know that one. And that one. Yeah, don’t know that one either.” Jeff laughed so hard he was slapping his thighs with both hands.
“That’s pretty good,” Robin said, “He really got the tired exasperation that’s in your voice at the end of the day.”
Steve turned to Eddie, acknowledging his presence for the first time.
“I’m not like that,” he called out across the place.
The band-mates went “Oooh” at the unacknowledged challenge.
“Aw, c’mon Harrington. Don’t take the piss,” Eddie replied, dismissively.
“I know about the dice stuff. And I watch movies.”
But that just made Gareth and Jeff laugh louder. Tables were reversed. Gareth started to do an impression of Steve too, taking his voice. “Oh Eddie, you’re missing a cable? Let me drive across town to get you one. Do you need a ride? You’ve got it.” Jeff laughed while Eddie raised a hand, shutting him off.
“Gareth, come on. Cut it out.”
Steve was fully red now. Because he knew what that meant, the cable and the rides. It was him being vulnerable and there they were, making fun of him for it. He didn’t feel like finishing his milkshake and instead put a bill on his table. “Let’s go Robin. We’ll miss the movie.”
As he walked past, Eddie’s eyes followed him.
*
Steve spent the next day at Family Video, the bags under his eyes accentuated by the tone-deaf colors and the garish lighting. Crooked wooden aisles. Objects on shelves. Objects, objects, objects. The dust they collected sometimes, when no-one picked them. Steve felt like gathering dust, too. What was he doing here? But he was good at looking things up and finding them quickly. He was good at helping out. So that was that.
Late that evening, when people were watching the movies they rented instead of renting them, Eddie came in. Steve stiffened, his impression of his “Family Video” voice still fresh on his mind.
“Hey,” he said, “What can I help you with?”
Eddie slouched against the counter. “I’m looking for a movie.”
So, not even here for him.
“Okay. What’s it called?”
“It’s called: I’m Sorry.”
Steve pretended to search on the database. “Hmm, I don’t know this one.”
“It’s about a grade A dumbass who can be a bit of an asshole sometimes.”
“How does that end?”
Eddie turned sheepish all at once, looking in the distance with a rueful smile. “Not sure, but hopefully it’s rated R.” Steve said “Violence?” at the same time as Eddie said “Frontal nudity.”
“Yup. Probably for violence,” Eddie agreed quickly. Steve stared at him, left hand on hip. Then he glanced at his hand and put it back on the counter, self-conscious. Eddie cleared his throat: “Listen, I don’t care if you don’t know D&D or… most movies. But… I do find it hilarious and entertaining, I hate to say.”
A beat. “I noticed.”
“I shouldn’t have,” he scrubbed a hand across his face, “I shouldn’t have made fun of you like that.”
“Is that this obvious?” Steve asked.
“No, I know–”
“--That I do your bidding?”
“Hm?”
“Like Gareth said.” That you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger and you can get me to do anything. Eddie thought for a minute, and stepped away from the counter.
“Let me do an impression.”
“No more impression.”
“Of Dustin.” Eddie squeezed invisible backpack straps into his hands and talked with his tongue against his teeth. “Eddie, why did I find five different mixtapes in Steve’s car? With your handwriting on it. And there’s that stuff hanging on his rearview mirror, it’s the same kind of paracord keychain you usually make with your shoelaces.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah, oh shit.”
The first thing that came through Steve’s head was: We need to tone it down. They had to find other ways to link what happened at night with what happened during the day. Other ways to say what they wanted to say. Keith came back from his break then. Steve quickly whispered: “I finish in ten. Want a ride?”
“Sure.”
And just like that, Eddie left to wait by the car.
*
Fifteen minutes later, Steve found Eddie sitting on the hood of his car, hands in his pockets. That view kicked him up in the belly a bit and he fumbled with his keys as Eddie slipped off the hood. Smooth and all. Steve opened the passenger door and made a show of inviting Eddie in. He could be playful, too. With the right company, he could even relax. Eddie taught him not to take himself so seriously.
The boy advanced, pretending to be fumbling with a feather foa and a cigarette holder. They liked to play pretend when they were together. What they felt was too real.
“Thank you, kind sir,” Eddie said.
“M’pleasure.”
And just like that Steve wasn’t even mad anymore. Back at the Parlor, Eddie made such good impressions of him because he knew him that much. Because he watched him that long.
And just like that Steve didn’t really care to be at his beck and call, because as he sat in the driver seat, he noticed the little bat dangling from the rearview mirror, and the mixtapes. And the time it must have taken. When you saw something the first time, you never imagined the time it took to make it. It was just a new object. It was not time. But as Steve put his belt on, he watched it all. All that time. All that time, devoted just for him. All these thoughts aimed only at him. Which songs to put. What to make. He felt it all at once like an air intake.
The car started. Steve drove them away and Eddie decided to press play on the cassette player. His latest mixtape started to play.
“You listen to them?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“You made them for me dude, of course I listen to them. I… I keep everything you give me.”
That felt awkward to say it, to admit it. It felt worse to realize he had never really told him he appreciated his gifts. It was brave as all hell, to give something out of the blue, something that came from you. Would it be welcome or thrown in the trash? Who knows! And now Eddie knew.
They arrived at the trailer park main gate. The moment the brakes creaked, Steve had the sensation of a thousand déjà-vue hammering in his head. They were not used to parting, they were used to going into each other’s bedroom and closing the door behind them. But Wayne was in today and so were Steve’s parents. Because it was Thursday and Steve hated that he knew Eddie’s uncle's working pattern. But he loved it, too. So. It was the moment you kissed good night and left it at that. If you were dating, and not just hooking up, that was the moment you’d do just that.
“Say, Jeff’s mom doesn’t want us rehearsing in her garage anymore, so we’re moving everything to Gareth’s garage–”
“You need a hand?”
“I might.”
“Count me in.”
“Sweet.”
Eddie put a mixtape on the counter. It was called: ‘I Don’t Mind If They Know.’
“There, for you.” A pause. “Don’t look at me like that, it was in my jeans pocket… Don’t know why. That shit weighs a ton.”
The energy in the car was pulsing, something needed to break. Something needed to happen. Eddie took his car belt off and these slow movements weren’t like him at all. He was stretching the moment until it became too obvious and he started fidgeting to prove he wasn’t being deliberately slow, that he wasn’t expecting anything. Steve’s head rested against the headset, looking at him, biting his lips. They never kissed outside of it being a prelude for more. And if they did now, well, it would be for the kiss itself, not for what it’d lead them to do. If they kissed now, it would be a whole new language in their relationship.
“So,” Steve began.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that shit,” Eddie said, fishing his keys inside his pocket even though he wouldn’t need them.
“It’s not shit.” Steve said it quickly, softly, a knee jerk reaction. He didn’t know to what.
“I know.” A silence again. Eddie was waiting for something, searching Steve’s gaze for it. He put the keys back inside his pocket, pretending he was just glad to know where they were, and placed a hand on the door handle. The agonizing moment of almost. Of "we could.” It felt softer and easier than “we did.” If it happened, one way or another, everything would change. Just. Right. There. It would propel them somewhere else, somewhere new, and the back door would close. The great unknown. Shit if that wasn't absolutely terrifying. Only, if they truly had to navigate a world they knew little about, it would be with each other, surely. Steve moved his head but Eddie was fumbling with the car door, because the safety was on, and then it was off, and then when he turned to Steve it was with something a bit wild and so Steve retracted only a little, and Eddie didn't dare move. It would be so easy to just do nothing, Steve figured, and to say "Another time." Another time I'll kiss him unprompted.
“Have a good night,” Steve blurted.
Eddie breathed out, and it came out like a chuckle. “Sure. Good night.”
Eddie closed the car door, did a silly salute and walked away. Steve waited in the car. His fingers tingled and his legs grew heavy. Breathing in. Breathing out. His car's headlight created two great circles of light on the grass in front of it. The circles met in the middle, creating a bean-like shape. Each blade of grass visible. Outside of that bright bean, nothing but darkness – pitch black – because this patch was so damn bright. A minute. Two. Then, something entered it. Something from the darkness stepped in. A foot, sneaker shoes, an ankle. A leg. Jeans. The tips of hands. Eddie seemed to just... appear out of thin air. He created himself in contact with the headlights. And here were his collarbone, his lips. His eyes. The light in these eyes. Blinded by the car and yet staring something fierce, knowing exactly what they were looking for. Steve's hands were shaking on the wheel, his heart beating furiously in his chest. He felt in danger. Not physically. Yet every cell in Steve's body thought they'd die.
A knock on his window. Steve rolled it down.
“Did you forget–” he began to ask, before Eddie’s hands grabbed his face and kissed him. A goodnight kiss. It said: I can’t wait to see you again. It said: I’ll dream of you tonight. Steve got hold of his neck and kissed back.
Tomorrow I’ll tell him: he didn’t mind if they knew, too.
-
The End.