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Steve doesn't talk about his parents often. Scratch that, he doesn't talk about them at all, but that doesn't mean their presence doesn't loom over him, casting prolonged shadows over everything he does, everything he is. He knows they are disappointed in his failures, his choices, only suffering his presence in their home because they know they would be judged. Public opinion matters to them more than their only son.
And Steve seems to believe everything they say about him, just takes it when they call once every few months and berate him for not utilizing his talents, not securing a sports scholarship ("we paid for your hobbies, Steven, all the equipment, and there is zero return. We really hoped you'd amount to something"), not doing what he's supposed to be good at. If someone calls him a failure, a washed-out ex-jock who peaked in high school, he just shrugs and never tries to refute it. Eddie sometimes wants to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, yell at him to believe in himself more. And if that isn't ridiculous, the master of self-deprecation lecturing the former king on self-esteem. But that's what friends do and Eddie wants to be a good friend to Steve. Maybe more, but that's not on the menu and Eddie will gladly accept any Steve-shaped dish he's offered.
So when the letter comes one week before his twentieth birthday, Steve isn't surprised. He skims over the precise, thin lines, his lips moving as he reads that he's on his own. His parents are starting over somewhere else and graciously left him the house (or what's left of it after the earthquake, even though Steve and all his friends did their best to fix it up). They say they'll gladly hear from him if he gets his life back on track, but until then he should think hard and long about what he wants and what he sacrifices by the company he keeps, the dead end jobs, his unsatisfactory choices. Eddie doesn't read the letter directly but sees Steve's expression, reads his lips, and even when Steve offers a small smile, saying that it had been long time coming, Eddie can't help but notice his trembling fingers and glassiness of his eyes. He wishes he could say something to make Steve feel better, but there is nothing, no hollow reassurances to make the hurt go away. He just offers to share a joint and lets Steve sag against him, lost in thoughts.
Eddie suspects that Steve must have fallen asleep, but then he hears that sentence and his heart skips a beat.
"Do you think they could have loved me?" Steve whispers against Eddie's shoulder.
He swallows, breath catching in his throat. "What...what do you mean, Steve?"
Maybe it's just his imagination, but doesn't his t-shirt feel a bit wet? "It's just...I wonder if I could have done something differently. I'm not smart, but I could have tried more. Maybe start in dad's company, prove him wrong. I've always thought they don't want to be around because I failed them, but...I wonder. I wonder if I tried more, if they'd still be around. If they could have loved me if I was who they wanted as a son."
Steve's voice is weak, defeated, and Eddie burns with rage, tightening his fingers into a fist. There were so many things he wants to do to those assholes and he marvels at the image of his rings tearing Harrington senior's stern face into shreds. He reaches behind Steve and squeezes his shoulders, pulls him into a clumsy hug. "I don't think they could have loved anyone, Steve," he mutters against Steve's hair. "No one but themselves."
And Steve seems to accept that, his breathing becomes more even and when they eventually say good night, he's smiling again. As Eddie climbs into his van and drives back to the tiny house government kindly provided for him and Wayne, he starts thinking. The next morning, he makes several calls.
Twenty years from the day Steve was born, Robin throws Steve a huge birthday party - in his own Frankenhouse, she had Dustin drag Steve away for the whole day and the excuses the young man comes up with are absurd, but Steve follows him, not questioning anything. He just enjoys Dustin's company. Dustin rambles about finding a perfect gift for Suzie for their anniversary (and when Steve points out that their anniversary was three months ago, Dustin scrambles up an excuse that it's actually for their half anniversary and he wants to customize the gift a bit, plus Steve is the only one he trusts with dating advice, so really he can't ditch him before they find the perfect thing, maybe they can stop for a lunch in the meantime, and does Steve want to be invited for a coffee or something for his birthday? Steve's eyes tear up a little at that because Dustin remembered what day it was and if that didn't make the younger man swear to all gods that the party had to be the best thing Steve ever experienced.
In the meantime, Robin, Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle and the whole party minus the distraction do their best to make that prayer come true. They decorate the house, build an improvised pyramid of presents and bake a cake - there might have been a small fight over how to decorate and El wins by suggesting they should shape seven small figures representing them and a spiked bat from marzipan. The results are...questionable, but recognizable.
Eddie might have pushed them to go a bit overboard, gathered a crew of teenage boys to paint Steve's living room since its owner always complained about the peeling paint and impersonal taste of his parents. They create a surprisingly seamless gradient of yellow and orange, brightening the room and splashing the ugly couch in the process. When Mike sees the drops, he remembers that Steve really disliked this piece of furniture ("it's like sitting in a hospital", he used to say) and promptly writes FUCK THIS COUCH, YOU DESERVE A BETTER ONE, STEVE on the uncomfortable surface.
When they radio Dustin that it's safe to come back, Dustin basically shoves Steve inside and there is shared concern when Steve freezes as he takes in the new wall, the presents, the cake and a handmade banner saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR FAVORITE BABYSITTER/DINGUS. Then, to the surprise of everyone, he lets out a huge sob and collapses against the door. Eddie and Robin rush to him, removing his hands from his face, but he's beaming at them through the tears, pulling them into a clumsy hug. In the end, Argyle yells for a hug pile and Steve is suddenly squished by seven kids and five adults. He can't even bring himself to scold them for disregarding their safety.
As they pull him up and slowly disperse to bring over plates and drinks, Eddie adjusts Steve's hair to its usual perfection. "Now, you asked me something a few days back, Steve," he says quietly so only Steve can hear. "And I didn't have a good answer. But I have one now. Because those jerks not loving you has nothing to do with you, they're just damaged sorry excuses for human beings. So no, they couldn't have loved you no matter how hard you tried and for that they suck, so fucking much. But all of us," he gestures towards the people who gathered in his house for him, for Steve Harrington, "happen to agree they have a single redeeming quality. They gave us the most selfless and metal guy we've ever had the pleasure to know."
"Eddie-!" Steve gasps and he looks as if he's about to cry again, and well, screw respectful distance. Eddie touches his face and wipes the residual tears away, taking care of the new ones too in the process.
"Shh, big boy," he soothes him and grabs his hand, leading him into the kitchen, the living room still smelling too much like paint to spend the whole evening there.
Steve looks around and watches his friends, his loved ones. He sees Erica bringing disconcertingly large knives to cut up the cake, El floating confetti with her powers and Mike and Will quickly scribbling an additional gift for Steve - a promise from Will to paint Steve a mural of his choice on the new wall, Mike joining in to mix paint and provide snacks. He sees Argyle and Jonathan blowing up party baloons and playing with static electricity, making their hair stick up in the weirdest ways possible, Robin and Nancy giggling at them and betting who can get the wildest hairstyle. He sees Max and Lucas arguing in hushed voices about which present Steve's going to like the best. And of course he sees Dustin who sneaks past Eddie, steals his lighter and starts lighting the candles on his cake.
They all gather around him, smiling, even Max has a grin on her usually stoic face. The metalhead beams at Steve and theatrically grabs a glass and a spoon, ringing them for attention. When everyone goes quiet, he climbs on top of a chair and clears his throat. "I will keep this short, we're all tired and your cake looks delicious, sue me. Ahem. From all of us who happen to love you, Steve Harrington, with all your pretty much non-existent flaws except for outshining all of our hair and not caring enough about the best tabletop game in the world - happy birthday. We're all fucking glad you were born."
As everyone claps and cheers, Eddie jumps down and pushes Steve into the circle of his friends, towards the cake.
Robin hugs him and tells him to blow the candles. "Wish for something, dingus."
Steve snorts, leans over the cake and thinks hard, as his parents told him, thinks about what he wants. His eyes still linger on his friends. "I can't think of a single thing," he admits with a huff.
"Aww, isn't he cute," teases Eddie, nudging Dustin's side.
Steve's eyes stay on Eddie for long, stretching seconds. "Well, maybe one thing." As he blows out the candles, he maintains eye contact with Eddie and well, doesn't the dungeon master have the prettiest blush he's ever seen.
And maybe it's birthday magic, maybe it's the universe trying to restore some balance into Steve's shitty life, but in this particular case wishes do come true. They come true on the same evening when Steve sneaks out with Eddie to share a cigarette, it involves a rogue drop of cake cream on Eddie's lips and who are they to waste such a great dessert?
Steve's parents could have never loved him, it's a simple fact. But for the first time in his life, he doesn't care a single bit.
(also, Steve does keep the couch, refusing to get it cleaned no matter what. He considers it a staple piece in his living room and Mike feels ridiculously proud whenever he sees it)