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Steve had learned, in school, that there were essentials to life. Food, air, shelter, and water. So why couldn’t he breathe now, and why did his parents not seem to care?
Steve gasped for breath as he leaned over his plate of food, closing his eyes as he fought for air. He didn’t understand why it was so hard. Why was it so hard?
“Steven.” His father said, casting him a weary glance. “Stop being dramatic and eat your supper. You’re seven years old, you can eat your plate without any trouble, can’t you?”
Steve tried to nod, but he couldn’t, only focused on the fear that coursed through his veins. He could see his mother through his tear filled eyes, and she didn’t even look at him.
“Just eat your fish, Steven. You’re not leaving the table until you do.” His father said sternly, and Steve forced himself to take another bite. His nose began running, he couldn’t breath, and his stomach became uneasy, nausea building in his gut. Something was wrong. He couldn’t do this. He felt like he was dying.
“Mother? I...I…” He stuttered out, and she looked at him, her eyes widening.
“Richard? I think he might be allergic. Look at him.”
Allergic? Steve didn’t know what it meant, but he hated it. He hated this feeling. He never wanted to feel it again.
“No, he’s not. It’s just fish. He’s just being dramatic.”
His mother then went silent, and looked back down to her plate, ignoring the way Steve struggled. He took another bite, knowing that he had to finish his plate and then he could go to the bathroom and puke it all up again. He needed to get rid of this feeling now. He wanted to breathe. He needed air to survive, right?
He couldn’t wait any longer. Ignoring his father’s harsh words, Steve ran from his seat and bolted to the bathroom, hugging the toilet as he puked up everything in his stomach. He began crying, his throat burning yet feeling closed at the same time. His stomach heaved as he sobbed, and he could hear his father screaming from across the hall. He couldn't make out the words. He knew that they were directed at him, though.
Yet, instead of his father’s heavy footsteps, he could hear the dainty clicks of his mother’s heels go into the washroom. He didn’t move as she knelt down, rubbing his back comfortingly.
“Take you time, Steve.” She said, running her hands through his hair. “It’s okay.”
He listened to his mother’s comforting words, gasping for breath between heaves, still struggling, but feeling so much better that his mother was there. She would help him. She would fix everything.
As he sat in front of the toilet, trying to breathe, she reached into the upper cabinet and took out a couple of pills.
“You need to swallow these. Do you need some water?”
Steve nodded hesitantly. His father didn’t like him taking medication, he never really needed it, did he? But, this time, his mother was offering to him, so it was okay, right?
“What...what is it?” He tried to ask, but his throat felt closed up again, and he fought for another breath.
“It’ll help you.”
He took the glass of water that was offered to him, taking the pills, though it was hard, harder than usual. It was like his throat didn’t want him to have it.
He began scratching at his arm, a sudden itchiness bursting forth on his skin, but his mother took his hand gently, stopping his movements.
“Don't scratch that. It’ll make things worse.”
“Make what worse? What’s...what’s going on? Why can’t I breathe?”
Her mother stalled, as if forming an answer in her mind before she spoke.
“Your father is right, you’re just being sensitive.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She smiled, helping him off of the perfectly clean floor and leading him to his room. But, as he climbed into bed, he realized that he had begun to look red.
“Mother? Why do I look like that?”
She hummed. “It’ll go away soon. Just get some rest.”
He listened to her, letting her kiss his forehead and tuck him in. She put his trash bin by his bed, for a “just in case” situation, though Steve didn’t really know what she meant. He could breathe a bit better, though, he wasn’t sweating as much as he was before, so maybe she was thinking it would get worse? Maybe he would puke again?
He could hear voices outside of his door, his father and mother talking very loudly, as if they were arguing.
“He’s clearly allergic to it! We have to get him tested!”
“Do you really want to find out that he’s more flawed than he already is? I already have enough of that stupid boy’s needs. He needs to grow up and be a man!”
“Becoming a man and having a possible life-threatening condition are two completely different things!”
“Is it, though? Either way he’s a disappointment, he’s imperfect in mind and now he’s imperfect in body. What else is new?”
“Richard, he’s your son!”
“My son who can’t even stomach a meager piece of fish. He’s just sensitive, Mary, and he doesn’t need to know any more. No one else does.”
“But-“
“Say one more word about this and you won’t be coming on any more of my business trips.”
Then they both went silent, and he could hear two pairs of harsh footsteps walking away from his door.
Steve then fell into a fitful sleep, disturbed and confused by his parents' words. He told himself that he would ask them tomorrow about it.
But, when tomorrow came, he completely forgot about the conversation outside of his bedroom door, and never thought to ask about what the word “allergy” meant. He was just sensitive to fish, he didn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t a big deal.
---------------------------------------------------
When Wayne and Eddie Munson had invited Steve over for supper, Steve didn’t really know what to expect. Eddie had said, when he brought it up, that Wayne wanted to meet Steve as “the man who saved his nephew’s life” instead of the jock that had been a jerk, and Steve couldn’t say no. He wanted to have a good relationship with everyone included in their group, including their parents and those who are like parents. Wayne seemed like a cool guy, too, so Steve wanted to meet him especially. Eddie couldn’t stop singing the man’s praises.
But, so far, it has been good. The Munson’s new house was small, but it was homey, more homey than Steve’s place, and Wayne was busy in the kitchen. Eddie and Steve hung out in the living room, absently watching the television as they laughed about the kids and the crazy stories that they shared. They never talked about the Upside Down, or how they both had matching scars, and it felt as normal as normal can get. At one point Eddie had pulled out a deck of cards and had begun a game of War.
Steve was having more fun than he expected. The last time he had hung out with another guy his age, or, close to it, was with Tommy, but now all of those memories were tainted with sadness and regret. It’s not like he missed Tommy, but he regretted even being associated with that jerk. Everything they did was mean, especially to people like Eddie, and Steve wished that it had been different.
They hadn’t talked about how Steve treated him in high school, but Eddie seemed to have forgiven him already. It was nice.
Steve hoped that nothing would ruin the night, but, like everything good, something always had to go wrong.
As the smells from whatever Wayne was cooking entered the living room, Steve smelt fish. His eyes widened as the smell became more prominent, and he felt like gagging, his stomach doing more flips than he would like. He remembered the last time he had fish, how bad it went, but he was just being sensitive then, wasn’t he. As much as he hated the thought of possibly going through that again, he had no choice, he had to eat it. It would be rude to not eat what Wayne had prepared...Steve’s parents would hate him if they ever found out, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.
He hoped that this sensitivity thing was in the past along with his childhood. He really, really hoped so. He wanted to be able to breathe. He didn’t want to go through that feeling again.
Steve looked back to the cards, mentally preparing himself for the worst. Luckily Eddie didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong. He had been through enough already, Steve didn’t want the metalhead to worry about him.
“Alright, boys.” Wayne said, walking into the living room with a small smile. “Dinner’s ready.”
“It smells amazing.” Eddie jumped to his feet dramatically, and Steve managed to nod, though it was forced. He followed the Munson’s into the dinning room, sitting down and taking a sip of water, hoping to settle the nerves in his stomach. It didn’t really help.
He was just sensitive, and that was long ago. It would be better now. His mother and father didn’t seem to be worried, so he shouldn’t be, right?
Deep down he knew that they were never worried about him, but he still had to do this. He didn’t want to appear to be disrespectful, especially after getting rid of his “King Steve” title. He didn’t want to be hated by everyone again.
So he began eating, starting with the vegetables and potatoes as Wayne and Eddie spoke around him, Steve speaking up only when he saw fit. The two of them were eating the fish, whatever kind it was, easily, so couldn't he? Why was he so scared?
Finally, he knew that he couldn’t avoid it. He needed to eat it.
Taking a deep but silent breath, he cut open the piece of the fish and put it in his mouth, his hand trembling as he did so.
He was just sensitive. Only sensitive. He could do this. He could do this.
It tasted gross in his mouth, but he seemed fine. He smiled. It was okay. He took another bite, and let his worries vanish into the conversations around him.
Minutes passed, and he was nearly done his plate, all of his worries basically gone, when his heartbeat sped up, and breathing became more and more difficult.
No. No, please, not now! He thought, and he tried to calm down, but he couldn’t.
“Steve? Are you good, dude?”
He felt like he was going to faint, his world spun around him in nauseating circles, and he wheezed, clutching his chest as he closed his eyes.
He didn’t even realize that he fell out of his chair until it was too late.
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“Steve!” Eddie exclaimed, rushing to Steve’s side as the teen fell to the floor, eyes closed and breathing rapidly. He picked Steve up, feeling his clammy skin, and shook him, hoping to break him out of whatever was going on.
“Steve? Steve? Wake up, man!”
Wayne was soon on the ground beside him, resting his fingers on Steve’s neck, as if searching for a pulse.
“Anaphylaxis shock. It has to be.” Wayne muttered, and Eddie looked at him, eyes wide with fear.
“What? But what did he eat that would…?”
“It doesn’t matter, go grab your adrenaline shot. Now!”
Eddie rushed to obey, for once in his life thankful for his strawberry allergy, and quickly went to his room, emptying out his school bag and picking it up from where it fell. He ran back as quickly as he could, giving it to Wayne, who proceeded to get it ready and then stab it into Steve’s thigh.
“Now get some pillows, we need to elevate his legs.” Wayne said, and Eddie was quick to do so, letting Wayne help position Steve on the floor for recovery. He knew that Wayne had had to do this for Eddie a couple of times, but actually seeing it happen was scary. Eddie now had no wonder in his mind why he was told to carry around his epi-pen everywhere.
But, what didn’t make sense to him was why Steve was going into shock now. Wouldn’t he know if he was allergic to something on the table? Why would he still eat it, then? Shouldn’t he have said something? Eddie knew that Steve wouldn’t have wanted to hurt anyone’s feelings, but in a life or death situation surely he would have brought it up, right?
“Eddie? Could you call the ambulance?” Wayne asked, and Eddie shook himself from his thoughts.
“He needs an ambulance?”
Wayne nodded, keeping an eye on Steve the whole time. “He’s not out of the woods yet, kid. He needs a professional to look at him.”
Steve shifted as Wayne spoke, groaning as he returned to consciousness slowly. He opened his eyes weakly, and Eddie watched him worriedly.
“Eddie? Wha…”
Eddie held Steve’s shoulder gently, and Wayne got up to call for help.
“Hey, Steve. You just had an allergic reaction, But you'll be okay.”
“A...a what? I don’t...I don’t know what...” Steve frowned, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and that’s when Eddie realized that he was confused. He didn’t even know what just happened, did he? Was he just confused because of the anaphylaxis shock he experienced, or did he really not know that he ate something he was allergic to?
Wayne returned soon later, sitting down beside Steve and pressing a wet cloth to Steve’s head, rubbing away the sweat that beaded there.
“Mr. Munson?” Steve asked, and Wayne gave a small smile.
“Yes, Steve?”
“I…” Steve’s voice tampered off, as if he had lost his thought. Wynn didn’t seem surprised.
“The ambulance is on their way, we just have to keep an eye on him.” Wayne said, and Eddie nodded.
“Okay. We can do that, right?”
“We can. I know it’s scary, but he’ll be okay.”
Eddie huffed. “Yeah, I guess now I know why you hate me even being close to strawberries.”
“Allergies are something to be careful of, that’s for sure.”
Eddie looked back down to Steve, who watched them with a bit more clarity in his eyes, though he didn’t say a word. He seemed to be thinking, but wouldn’t voice what he was thinking of.
Eddie didn’t really care, though, as long as he was still there.
It didn’t take long for the Munson’s to hear the telltale sounds of an ambulance outside of the house, and Wayne got up to meet them, leaving Eddie to prope Steve up. The medics soon took Steve back to the hospital, and Wayne followed in the truck, Eddie a bundle of nerves the entire drive.
They had to wait in the emergency room for some time, but not very long, compared to what Wayne had to wait to see Eddie not that long ago. Yet, it still felt like a while. Without a word as to what was going on...time seemed to slow down.
Finally, a doctor came out to see them, a calm look on his face.
“Wayne Munson and Eddie Munson?”
Eddie got to his feet, finishing with his rings as he waited for news.
“Yes? Is Steve okay?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes. He did fall into anaphylactic shock, but he’s going to be fine. We have to monitor him for a bit, but he’ll most likely be able to go home later tonight.”
“What was it?” Wayne asked. “He didn’t tell us he had any allergies.”
That’s when the doctor seemed to get a little bit worried. “Steve wasn’t aware he had any. We assume, based on what Steve told us about similar symptoms he’s experienced before, that he’s allergic to fish, but we can’t confirm anything until he’s fully recovered.”
Fish. It was probably the fish. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about it, he had noticed that Steve was hesitant to eat it, but never thought that it was what would hurt him.
He felt Wayne put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.
“He’s experienced it before?” Wayne asked, and the doctor nodded.
“Apparently when he was seven years old. His parents noticed, but didn’t bother explaining what an allergy was. He didn’t even know. He just assumed that he was, and I quote ‘sensitive’ to it.”
Sensitive. Eddie now officially hated that word.
“Can we see him?” He asked shakily, and the doctor nodded.
“Room 152.”
Eddie didn’t waste a second getting there, Wayne following him quickly, and Eddie barged in to Steve laying in a hospital bed and awake. He didn’t even seem shocked when Eddie burst into the room, it was as if he was expecting it.
“Dude! Fish? Really?”
Steve shrugged. “I didn’t know that it was bad.”
“Bad? Bad? It wasn’t just bad, you could’ve died!”
“I didn’t know that! I thought I was just sensitive to it! I didn’t even know what an allergy was until ten minutes ago!”
“Where have you been, living under a rock?”
“Eddie! Give the poor boy some breathing room!” Wayne said, and Eddie frowned, crossing his arms as he faced Steve, who looked embarrassed.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Steve said, tears brimming in his eyes, though Eddie didn’t know if it was tears of frustration or guilt. “I thought that I could take it, that it wouldn’t be bad, but I was clearly wrong. And, my parents, they…”
“They didn’t tell you.” Wayne finished, and Steve nodded.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal. I thought that I was being stupid, and I didn’t want to complain about the food. I didn’t want to make you, either of you, upset.”
“Well,” Wayne said, “Even if you’re not allergic to it, if you ever don’t want to eat something, just let me know, okay? I wouldn’t get upset. You saved Eddie’s life, you could never unintentionally hurt my feelings.”
“And, Steve…you don’t have to hide from us.” Eddie continued, hugging himself worriedly. All of his anger was gone, and was replaced with sheer terror. He could’ve lost Steve. He could’ve lost him because of a stupid meal. “If you would’ve been open with us...we wouldn’t be here. And, the last time someone wasn’t being honest with me...she died. Chrissy died and I don’t want to lose another friend because they didn’t want to share what was bothering them, or what was wrong with them. Please, Steve, tell us these things.”
Steve nodded solemnly. “I promise. I’ll be careful.”
“Eddie can show you all the tips and tricks.” Wayne added, clearly trying to lighten the mood, sitting down into the chair by the bed, “He’s allergic to strawberries. This isn’t his first rodeo.”
Eddie managed to smile sheepishly as Steve watched him confusedly. “Yeah...it’s not fun. But I’ll totally help you, man.”
“Strawberries?”
“Yup. I’ve eaten a couple and ended up exactly like you. It gets easier, though, you just have to be careful.”
“Thanks for the tips, and the help, Munson. Er, Munsons.”
Wayne barked a laugh. “Call me Wayne, kid. And you’re welcome.”
Steve smiled, and Eddie mirrored him. He never thought that this night would’ve ended like this, but he felt like it made them a bit closer. He may even call Steve a friend now, or maybe even a brother.
But only time would tell.