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Summary
“What the fuck are we doing, Harrington?”
“I don’t know, man,” Steve laughs too. It is freeing, in a way, to laugh with someone you care about so deeply when you know they’re gone and it is all nothing but a dream. “You reached out to me, right? You should be the one to know stuff.”
“What do you mean I reached out to you? You got it all wrong, big boy, I was chilling and your house suddenly appeared. I’m not the one calling the shots here.”
“Well, obviously, it’s my dream.” Steve shrugs.
Eddie closes his eyes. “Your dream? Why do you think it’s a dream?”
“Because you aren’t real?” Steve tries. Eddie opens one eye and raises his eyebrow. “You’re not real. Eddie, you’re fucking dead.”Or-
Eddie is dead. Steve can’t stop dreaming about him.
