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There’s a light that leaves your eyes around this time of year. A small part of you that dies with the frost covered foliage of Hawkins Indiana. It’s not from lack of trying to remain the person your friends and family have come to expect you to be, but no amount of overzealous gifting, party planning, baking, or illuminated pine trees could ever truly keep you from the downfall.
The mask you so carefully construct year after year always cracks. Remnants of forced joy and painted smiles slipping down your now reddened cheeks as you cling onto and wrinkle the fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt. He’s been cradling your shaking form for what seems like hours, gently swaying your bodies against the plush cushions of your well loved couch. His warmth and careful caress serve as the only tethers you have left to this broken reality.
The guilt of not being able to pretend for him, of needing him to provide a sense of stability in what should be an intoxicatingly exuberant time of year is all consuming. You want nothing more than to give him snowball fights and hot chocolate by the simulated fireplace. Icing flavored kisses and gingerbread scented homecomings. Hand in hand light display walkthroughs and laughter filled sing-a-longs to Christmas Carol parodies. You want to provide Eddie with the same Hallmark Holiday movie character you perform for everyone else.
It's not like his past holiday experiences have always been merry and bright either. Wayne had always done his best, of course. Scraping together the meager tidings of what the two of them had to indulge his nephew in candy cane colored wrapping paper memories, but you can only imagine the drug addled and lackluster foster care Christmases he’d endured before. If anyone deserved the best of your fabricated holiday spirit, it was him.
“You still with me, Sweetheart?” He mumbles, gently prying your white knuckled grasp from the front of his shirt to kiss at your fingertips.
You nod in response, unable to even manage the quiet squeak of a ‘yes’ to let him know of your ability to hone in on him despite the way you're teetering on the precipice of complete dissociation.
Eddie hums in acknowledgement and shifts ever so slightly to bring his lips to the crown of your head, lacing his fingers through yours before resting the conjoined limbs in your lap.
“S’almost over.” He reassures, speech slurred against your skin and warm breath tickling against your scalp with each whispered syllable. “You’ve done so good, and it’s almost over…”
He means well with his praise, you know he does because he only ever offers you the space to feel safe, but you can’t help the fresh wave of tears as another sob rocks through you, pulling you away from the nothingness and into complete despair.
It’s almost over, the rainbow colored lights blur with the renewed wetness in your eyes.
It’s almost over and you’ve broken every promise to yourself that it’d be different this time around.
It’s almost over and you’ve not been able to give him even an ounce of the holiday experience he deserves, of the version of you, he deserves.
“I’m sorry, Eddie!” You gasp, fingers tightening in his with the reestablished tension in your chest. “I’m just so fucking sorry!”
“Hey, hey…” Eddie soothes, leaning back into the softness of the couch to look into your eyes. That of molten amber gazing into the glossy exhaustion of your own muddled vision. “What’s there to be sorry about, huh?”
There is nothing but tenderness in his voice, a sad smile ghosting over the corners of his plump lips as the calloused pad of his thumb wipes the tears from your cheek. “I’ve got you baby. I’ve got you and there’s nothing to apolo-“
“I wanted to be better for you…” you interrupt, whimpering against his touch and squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking back into his gaze.
Into understanding and acceptance.
Into kindness and concern.
Into the deepest depths of the most unconditional love you had ever known.
“Better for me?”
“I… I wanted to bake cookies!” You sniffle, an exasperated sigh falling from your lips, “I wanted to gift wrap with duct tape as a joke a-and kiss you under every sprig of mistletoe we could find, make snow angels and snow people on our porch that would scare the neighborhood kids!”
You ramble on pathetically, shifting away from his undeserved hold and onto your feet, finally opening your eyes to peer at the heavily decorated pine tree in the corner of your living room as it twinkles back at you mockingly.
“ I wanted… I wanted to be happy for you. Happy like I can be for Steve and Robin at company parties. Happy like I am for Jeff and Dustin, and Gareth when we sing shitty Christmas songs in even shittier accents to annoy Freak.” You press the palms of your hands into your eyes, both in frustration and an attempt to wipe away the evidence of your own sadness. “H-happy like I am to be an elf for Hopper when he plays Santa down at the local shelter a-and…”
You gasp for air, forgetting to pause and breathe between sentences as your disjointed speech sends you further into a spiral. “Happy… happy like I am in family photos, and the itchy clothes I wear to make my mother smile.”
Your last sentence comes out slow and quiet, words barely above a whisper to accompany the groan from the couch springs signaling Eddie’s shift to stand behind you.
His careful touch maneuvers the hair away from the back of your neck, replaced by the soft pressure of his lips against your skin and as if on autopilot your back sinks into the comforting embrace of his chest. He’s calculated in the way his arms wrap around your waist, the way he breathes in deep and even measures to guide you into following him back from the edge of your anxiety, and the way he nuzzles the tip of his nose against your pulse point.
“You have been the absolute best for me.” He can see you roll your eyes in his peripheral, the back of your head coming into contact with his shoulder as you finally chance a look at him.
“How could you possibly mean that?” You sound so small, so broken and once again in need of him to glue your pieces back together. “I’ve done nothing but… but block you out or cr-“
“You’ve done nothing but be completely, and utterly authentic with me.” He interrupts with a soft smile gracing his beautiful face. In all your despair you hadn’t taken the time to appreciate how breathtaking your boyfriend looks in the low illumination of the string lights. “The ‘happy’ you’ve given everyone else is a cheap imitation of what I know your real happiness to be, sweetheart. Like having to eat turkey bacon when you’ve had the privilege of the real thing for your entire life.”
You give a weak laugh and slap at his shoulder as you turn in his arms, letting him extend to his full height before burrowing your face into his chest.
“Bacon wasn’t that bad…” you mumble as you reach out to trace a fingertip along the now stretched and ruined neckline of his shirt.
“It is when you go in expecting one thing, only to be handed something else.” His hands run up and down the length of your spine as he peers down at your face, wanting to be sure you recognize what his analogy is truly about before he continues. “I’d rather have the classic stuff burnt, frozen, expired, or straight out of the garbage than have to stomach turkey bacon ever again.”
There’s a small twitch of a smile at the corner of your lips, the tiny exhale of a laugh through your nose, and a nod in response to his voice. Eddie can almost feel a fraction of the tension leave your shoulders, and his heart skips a beat at the prospect of bringing you such peace.
“Would you… should I throw the rest of it out?” You question, gliding your hands along the panes of his chest to loop around his neck as you lean back to look up at him, your reflection shining back at you in the deep and loving pools of his brown eyes. “The turkey bacon, I mean. Would it be better if I throw out the rest of the bacon?”
Eddie ponders this for a moment, slowly swaying your body in his hold before reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “ I… wouldn’t mind seeing it go.” His annunciation is careful, well thought out and incredibly supportive, “but if you feel like you need to cook the bacon, not let it go to waste or whatever, then give it to our friends and next year we’ll try to cook with the good stuff.”
You hum in agreement, a genuine smile finally stretching its way across your makeup streaked and stained face. You can feel your lungs finally fill with fresh air as you stand on the tips of your toes to land a soft peck on his lips. “For tomorrow’s Christmas breakfast?”
“Mmm, we’ve already made it.” He teases, laughing as a spark of your usual energy slips into your voice.
“We’ve made one, yes. What about second breakfast?” A full fledged laugh escapes Eddie at your modified quote, lips never leaving yours as his hands find their way to your cheeks and he quips back.
“For Elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner and Supper too?!” You nod excitedly against his hold, giggling softly at the kisses pressed against your lips with every word.
It’s still bitter and cold. Frost covered and dry with the death and decay of the forestry beneath Winter’s ice, but with Eddie by your side, you know the snow will melt, and Spring will breathe life back into you again.