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The moonlight leaked through Eddie’s room, illuminating the man’s face with the palest dim light. He looked beautiful, his softened brown hair fluffed out on one of the off-white pillows strewn across the bed. Plush, pink lips sucking tiny breaths in and out, drying at the corners with each breath. Eddie wanted to lick the corners of that mouth, bring the moisture back. He felt ridiculous. He debated over a cigarette, the pack on the desk across the room calling to him. He didn’t want to wake him up, though. He didn’t want this to be over.
It was Saturday night. Another fucking Saturday where Steve Harrington had shown up at his door at eleven at night with a six-pack of beer in one hand and a smile that veered on a grimace. And Eddie had somehow decided all those weeks ago that it was his job to turn that smile into a real one. He yearned to see how those brown eyes crinkled when he made just the right joke, or when he kissed just the right spot on his neck. He would do anything for that smile. He would do anything for him.
And so what if the only way to get Steve the way he wanted was to have him stumble into his bed, back bouncing against the springy mattress, arms reaching for him? Anywhere Steve went, like this, Eddie would follow.
And he did. So here he was, in his best, with Steve curled up into him, wearing his plaid boxers, air puffing against his bare arm, making the hairs there stand on their ends. He stared at the cigarettes again, willing them to come closer to him on their own accord. He didn’t want to ruin this, not by moving, not by his stupid nicotine addiction. Especially since he didn’t know if this would be the last time. Maybe next weekend, Steve would realize he was sick of Eddie. Maybe he would realize that this was the biggest fucking joke of his life, that being with Eddie like this was a mistake. Even if it was just sex. It wasn’t just sex to Eddie. It never would be.
He knew on Monday, when they passed each other in the halls of Hawkins High, Steve would look the other way. He would pretend that he didn’t leave Eddie’s trailer the day before, with fading marks and a fading smile. He would pretend Eddie didn’t exist at all. Eddie didn’t know what hurt more— the fact that Steve only cared about his existence when it mattered to him, or the fact that he loved him.
Somewhere between the loose weekends and smiles pressed into his neck, he fell in love. He fell in love with freckled, tan skin and brown eyes that held more pain than he let on. He fell in love with soft smiles and gentle touches. He fell in love with someone who held bigger secrets than this. This was nothing to Steve. And Eddie thought he was okay with that. He really did.
But now he was here, he was in a now where he thought that if he stayed still in the moment, he wouldn’t scare Steve off. The man would wake up, still wearing his boxers, and realize he wanted to stay the day, that he wanted to be with Eddie. He would wake up and realize that he loved Eddie too. He was here, and he was in the now, and he knew this wasn’t a plausible truth. It never would be.
So he got up. He watched as a grabby hand reached out into the empty space, grumbled sleepily to himself, then smushed his face into the pillow. Eddie pretended his heart didn’t twist at the sight. He grabbed the pack of cigarettes and sat at the edge of the bed. So what if he sat down next to Steve’s curled, covered feet? He would allow himself the little win of a simple touch. He lit up a cigarette in the silence of the dim room and asked himself if given a little more time, if given a greater chance, if someone could love him too. Only the smoke billowing around his face knew that that someone was Steve. The answer, the gentle no , faded with it.