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Steve doesn’t know the last time he cried.
He didn’t cry when he figured out his parents never loved him in the middle of a particularly harsh beating. He didn’t cry when Jonathan Byers knocked sense into him. He didn’t cry when his girlfriend told him their relationship was bullshit . He didn’t cry when Nancy left. He didn’t cry when Billy beat him within an inch of his life. He didn’t cry when the Russians whacked him over the head so hard he lost some of his hearing. He didn’t cry when Eddie Munson threw him against a wall, or when he kissed him before running off to distract the demobats, or when he found him in Dustin’s arms, bleeding out. He didn’t cry when he and Eddie had sex for the first time. He didn’t cry when Eddie held him in his arms and told him he loved him.
For years, years , he’s kept it all in, every big emotion and thought, every breakdown and outburst. He’s a ticking time bomb, waiting for something, anything, the smallest little thing to break him.
He feels stupid that this is what shattered him.
—
Steve’s bathroom light buzzes, and his light flickers almost unnoticeably, he tries to ignore it. He instead focuses his eyes on his red tear-streaked face, one he doesn’t recognize staring back at him in the mirror. His under eyes are dark, he hasn’t slept in a week, his cheekbones jut out from his skin and his hair is oily and slick. His friends haven’t seen him in days.
He doesn’t care.
He’s tired, drained, numb. He’s fallen into a deep dark pit of despair and self-loathing. It’s not like the kids meant it or anything. They were joking. They had to be joking.
“You know Steve doesn’t do anything!” Mike adds to an already degrading discussion, looking up from his comic book.
“Hey-” Steve tries to cut in, only to get drowned out by the rest of the boy's laughter.
Steve shrinks into the couch.
“Wait,” Dustin hums, “you’re right.”
“Guys-” Eddie tries to calm them down, to move this away from Steve.
“I mean he never really does anything, not since high school even then, he just had his hair, shot a few balls, and bullied people. He's kinda you know, stupid. ” Mike points out.
“Woah hey!” Eddie stands up, putting an end to this, “Wheeler Jr, shut the fuck up, you guys are being fucking assholes. Find your own ways home, me and Steve are leaving.”
Steve's wet eyes are glued to his hands and Eddie kneels in front of him. “Let’s go home princess.” He whispers, offering his hand.
That was last week. Steve has shut himself in his house since. Eddie’s come by, he’s heard him, he’s heard him beg for him to open the door, same with Robin. He just lays on the couch, repeating every single thing someone made fun of him for, every insecurity that’s been building in him since he understood what being Steve meant.
Stupid, useless, idiot, failure, dumbass, disappointment, just a pretty face, pathetic, fag.
While staring at his ghostly reflection, Steve wonders why Eddie loves him. He’s stupid, he’s a bully, he’s a piece of shit, he’s terrible, all he’s got is his hair and his face, and his face’s pretty fucked up from the beatings he’s fallen victim to.
Despite all his change, his hair mocks him, and reminds him of who he was, he was just a cocky, stupid bully. Now he’s nothing.
His eyes finally water as thinks about it. Why is Eddie dating him? He’s just a stupid deadbeat with stupid hair, and Eddie, well, he’s Eddie . Steve shatters, finally letting his body rip with sobs, harsh and gut-wrenching, his shoulders shake as he bawls. His hands weave into his greasy hair and he pulls, like he’s trying to get it away, the one last connection to the person he was, the person he can’t kill, the person who hurt his beloved, the person who deserves death.
Stupid.
He reaches for the scissors on the sink’s counter.
Idiot.
Without thinking-
as usual.
he pulls at a chunk of his hair and cuts.
Useless.
His hair falls to the floor.
Faggot.
He looks at it through tears.
Fucking coward.
He cuts again, closer to his scalp.
Dumbass.
He cuts again, hair falling on his shoulders.
King Steve.
He shudders, shaking all the hair from his body, looking back up at his reflection, he shudders, what has he done? It’s choppy and terrible. In his effort to separate himself from his ghosts, he’s torn away something he loves, something he’s put time and care into. He’s so fucking stupid. So goddamned stupid. He drops the scissors and the tool clinks against the floor. Steve tries to grasp at his hair to ground himself, but it’s too short, ragged, and fucked up.
He stumbles out of the bathroom and down his stairs, trying to find anything to numb the ever-growing pain inside. He stops by his father's liquor cabinet and sniffles, throwing open the door and grabbing whatever he saw first. He pops open the bottle and sips at it, slowly at first, but quickly progressing to chugging the liquid, it burns, it burns and it tingles. He just wants the voices in his head, the ones of his friends, his parents, he wants them to stop. He stands there, gulping it down for who knows how long. And it almost helps him ignore the soft knock at his front door.
“Stevie? Princess?”
Eds.
“Please let me in, please,” he can hear his words shake, “those fucking stupid kids shouldn’t have said anything, they’re wrong okay?”
“Ed?” He slurs, this shit must be strong, he sets it on the cabinet, and it clacks against the surface loudly.
“Stevie? Baby?” He asks, trying the locked door again.
“Comin,’” he stumbles to the door, too buzzed to remember what he's done to his hair.
The door creaks open and Eddie, tired looking and sad, gapes at the sight before him.
"What happened sweets?" Eddie asks gently, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.
"Cut my hair off because I'm just a piece of shit. Maybe if I cut it off, I'd know what you liked bout me or somethin'" he stumbles over the words, "Dunno, 'm nothin' now, 'm nothin', you should probably jus' break up with me. Boring, stupid." His brain fuzzes more under the influence of the liquor and he leans against the door.
" What ?"
"You heard 'em, don't do nothin', stupid, I bullied you Ed, jus' a bully."
"You didn't, you aren't and I've long forgiven you for anything you could have done."
"I stood by and watched while stupid Tommy H. hurt you and I 'pect you to love me? Don't deserve that. Or you. Stupid."
"I'm not going to repeat myself, Steve. Why are you thinking these things? I love you, despite whatever it is you think you've done. You're not stupid. You are not boring."
"I am."
"So what if they think all that shit, man?"
"Not just the kids. Everyone. 'm not a good person, don't do nothin'" he sighs, breath shuddering as tears fill his eyes, "jus' a failure. Stupid, let down. Don't deserve you Eddie. You should date someone better."
"I don't want anyone else, Stevie. I want you," Eddie huffs, pushing past him and into the house. "Let's sit down, love."
"Don't wanna be in here," he mumbles, wiping his tears away.
"Okay, let's go." Eddie asks, taking Steve's shaking hand.
After a nod, Eddie leads him up the stairs slowly, Steve lets himself be placed on his toilet as he looks down at his hands, sight blurred by his tears.
"Do we wanna do something about this hair now?"
"Don't care. I don't care," he mumbles through thick breaths.
Eddie sighs and runs his fingers through Steve's mop "Baby, we're gonna have to shave it off."
"Okay," his voice shatters, he folds forward and sobs wreck his already shaking body.
“I’m sorry, I wish I could do something.” Eddie brings Steve's arms around him and lets him bawl in his torso.
Steve doesn’t respond, instead, he buries his face deeper into Eddie’s stomach, a gut-wrenching sob rips from his throat. Steve sobs, he wails, and shoves his face deeper and deeper, trying to drown out his cries in Eddie’s body.
He wants to hide, to die, to vanish, and never explain why he looks like this. Because in the end, he doesn't even understand fully why he did this. He’s just so confused and tired. He wants to understand why he hates himself, why everyone hates him, why he’s so stupid and mean. He wants to understand why Eddie is here, why he’s hugging him so close, why he’s in love with him. Steve loves him so severely, he’s utterly and truly in love, but he can’t wrap his head around why in the world Eddie wants him around.
When his cries plateau, he lifts his head and takes a shaky breath, “'M sorry.”
"What in the world could you be sorry for Steve?" Eddie asks, caressing his cheek and brushing away a stray tear.
"You havta deal with me," he slurs, voice thin and worn, "hard work."
"Nah," Eddie smiles, "it isn't."
"Wha," Steve mumbles, staring up at Eddie, beautiful Eddie.
"It's cause it's you, my love," He kneels, Steve's teary eyes following him, "nothing ever feels hard with you."
"Liar." He leans forward, almost challenging Eddie.
"I'm not a liar Steve." He nearly laughs.
"'M stupid and I do nothin' and 'M annoyin' and I hurt people, hurt you, make you come to 'm house 'cause I had a bad dream. I suck."
"You're wrong," Eddie stops him "I do those things because I love you, you could call in at 4 am just because you wanted to watch a movie, and I'd come running, princess. I came over every day because I needed to know if you were okay, because you are the love of my life."
"I am?"
"God of course you are Steve!" Eddie shouts, taking him by the shoulders.
Steve flinches and Eddie lets go apologetically.
"Sorry," He takes Steve's hands, "you are so wonderful, you're protective, you're so smart, you always have a plan, no matter what, you make one up like that, " he snaps his fingers, "I do not care what those stupid kids said, Mike thought it was normal to want to make out with your best friend, what in the fuck does he know?" He chuckles softly,
"You're real smart." He nuzzles into Eddie's chest and blinks away more tears.
"So are you." He says, reaching for the trimmer.
"We gotta do that now?" He asks, staring at the razor, which Eddie is placing a decently sized guard on.
"I know you don't wanna, but then we can shower and we can cuddle, don't you wanna cuddle?"
"Wanna cuddle." He nods, closing his eyes as Eddie turns on the razor.
"We can do that right after all this." Eddie thumbs his cheekbone.
"This will be over so quick, so so quick," he kisses his head, "I'm gonna keep it as long as possible." He takes the trimmer to Steve's head and makes quick work of the ragged hair.
He pretends he doesn't want to die every time Steve lets out a drunken whimper. He pretends this isn't tearing him up. He pretends he doesn’t see Steve’s eyes screw shut tighter with each row of hair buzzed. He sweeps the hair into a pile with his foot, turns off the trimmer, and brushes the hair off Steve.
“All done sweets,” he smiles, brushing through Steve’s newly buzzed hair.
"Now let's shower," he helps him up, aiding him in stripping.
Steve sways as Eddie strips, piling the clothes in a corner. He lets himself be tugged and pulled into the shower, and lays against Eddie as he washes away everything. He feels tiredness claw at him as Eddie scrubs at his skin. His fingers trace over every scar and healed wound, he lets Steve melt against him, the booze and breakdown wearing at him.
“You did very good my love,” He kisses Steve’s temple, stroking his pale face.
“Thank,” he mumbles, eyes drooping.
Eddie smiles softly, getting the two out of the shower, drying them off and carrying a limp Steve back to his bedroom, they’d worry about getting dressed and cleaning up in the morning.
Eddie maneuvers them into the bed, covering up their nude bodies with Steve’s favorite blanket, and kissing his nose.
“Sleep, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“‘Kay,” he yawns, “love you.”
“I love you too Stevie,” He pulls Steve closer, “even if you don’t understand why, even if you don’t understand why I stick around, I’m never going to let you forget that I love you so much.” he whispers.
Eddie meets Steve’s eyes and chuckles when he notices Steve is sleeping soundly.