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Steve snapped awake beside Eddie and grimaced, swallowing thickly. He could still hear the snap of Dustin's, then Lucas’s bones as Vecna killed them. His ears echoed with the sound of his own screams as he was lifted into the air, and then his body tightened as if it was frozen solid before his legs and arms snapped in half…
Retching, he had mere seconds to scramble up and sprint to the bathroom, barely making it over the bowl before bringing up last night’s dinner. He knelt as he vomited, the acrid smell of it reminded him of the dank Upside Down. He heaved again, his nightmare still clinging into him like a second skin.
He hadn’t eaten much and his meager portion was ejected in a few heaves and he’d barely got a breath in before dry heaves wracked him. Steve’s body spasmed violently as if to vomit up his own nightmare and the residual images it left behind, and he could do nothing against the retches as he drooled into the bowl, fresh tears dripping from his eyes.
Third time this week , Steve thought. Must be some kind of record.
He spat again. He’d stopped getting along with sleep after his first encounter with the Upside Down, and since then had more than his fair share of nightmares and night terrors. Usually, he’d wake up mid-scream or panting, shaking (or in a few cases, whimpering). But this nightly sprint to the bathroom was new.
His ears roared and Steve propped his head on his forearm, resting on the rim of the toilet. He barely caught his breath when he heard the slow pad of feet coming towards the door.
Then, a careful knock.
“Stevie? You okay in there?” Eddie’s voice sounded softer and lower than usual, sleepiness woven in between his words.
Steve felt the tips of his ears get warm; he’d done everything to avoid waking Eddie. He should’ve been quieter, or better yet, should have avoided sleep altogether. He thought back to the evening they’d shared; maybe if he’d offered to stay downstairs or stay up late, this could have been avoided. The last thing he wanted to do was to rob Eddie of the few hours of sleep he managed.
For the third night in a row, he reminded himself. He wrapped his arms around his abdomen as a curl of shame threatened to make him sick again.
“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Steve managed to say and reached up to flush away his sick. He ignored the way he trembled, unsure if it was from being sick or from the nightmare that still seemed to hang on him. Even still, he pushed himself to slump against the side of the bathtub, refusing to be an invalid losing his dinner over the toilet any longer.
“I’ve got water,” Eddie said, his voice carrying that same soft sleepiness. “You want me to come in?”
Steve felt something in him shift and soften. He’d never had a choice before, and grimaced at the amount of times this scenario had happened over the years. He remembered with Nancy, as much as she meant well, she’d simply open the door to him mid-heave, making him feel more exposed than ever. With Robin, she always politely waited for him to finish, letting him approach her afterwards.
Eddie was different. With Eddie, Steve had a choice.
“Y-yeah,” Steve managed, and was about to try to push himself up to open the door for him when Eddie pushed it open instead.
Eddie stepped in slowly, and Steve took in the man’s worn black shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. His hair was a wild, curly whirlwind around his head, and his usual bright brown eyes were sleepily squinting in the brighter light. Even so, his eyes were trained on Steve and filled with worry.
Steve felt himself blush as Eddie took in the sight of him slumped against the side of the bathtub. “S’nothing,” he explained. “Just, something with dinner…”
Eddie cocked his head to the side and slowly knelt to sit beside Steve. “For the third night in a row?” he asked carefully. He helped Steve sip from the glass and then scooted closer to allow Steve to lean against him.
Steve found himself resisting at first, but once Eddie’s hand carded through his hair slowly, Steve melted into him. “S’nothing,” he said again. He couldn’t tell him. How could he? How could he explain that he wasn’t good enough to protect them all? That once they figured out how weak he was, that they’d not just leave, but be killed? And how could he find the words to describe the pain of it all?
“Must be pretty bad if it’s happening almost daily,” Eddie replied.
Steve was silent but trembled slightly. “It’s worse at night,” he managed slowly. He waited, almost as if starting to say anything would result in him back over the toilet.
“I’m-I’m the last one to die,” Steve went on slowly. “Vecna g-gets everyone else f-first, and th-then comes for me.” He shuddered against the memory of his body tightening without his control.
He felt the same now, his chest squeezing and his breath feeling short and panicked. Dimly, he was aware he was shaking, trembling in Eddie’s arms.
“Shh, shh,” Eddie hushed. He rocked Steve slowly, weaving his fingers through Steve’s clammy hand, as if to ground him. "You're here with me now. Right here." He met Steve's eyes. “And we killed Vecna; he can't get to us anymore.”
Steve fought for breath and squeezed Eddie’s hand, forcing himself to focus on the way Eddie’s fingers felt in his, and the way Eddie’s hands were warm and somehow soft, despite his calluses. He focused on Eddie’s thumb as it stroked his knee. The motion was steady and almost rhythmic, and Steve found his chest loosening slightly, making it easier to breathe.
Slowly, slowly, Steve sucked in deeper and deeper breaths. His body that had just felt tense a minute ago now felt impossibly heavy and sluggish. It was as if his very bones had given up on him.
“He can't get to us anymore,” Eddie hummed quietly as Steve trembled in his arms, and he rubbed slow circles onto Steve’s knee.
It was always Eddie that could bring him back when his thoughts crash-landed and spiraled out of control, and when the nightmares felt inescapable. Steve leaned into Eddie’s touch and was, as always, surprised at how easily he fit into the man’s arms. He cuddled against Eddie, finding the steady beat of the man’s heart and settling his cheek into Eddie’s warmth.
And there, limp in Eddie’s arms, Steve let himself be held.
They lay like that for a long while, with Steve slumped in Eddie’s arms. It wasn’t until Eddie shifted that Steve realized he’d nearly been asleep.
“You think you can make it back to bed?” Eddie asked, rubbing Steve’s cheek. Steve was half-awake in his arms, already fighting the fuzzy pull of sleep.
Steve nodded slowly and Eddie helped him stand, glad that the nausea had passed. Sleepily, he followed Eddie back to the bedroom, smiling as the man continued to hold his hand.
“After you,” Eddie said with half-amusement.
Steve climbed into bed and felt Eddie climb in after him and pulled him in so Steve’s head rested against his chest. Eddie’s thumb was back, stroking Steve’s shoulder. “You know you can wake me if you need,” Eddie said easily. “I don’t mind.”
Steve nodded sleepily. “You too, Munson.”
Steve drifted off to Eddie’s steady breathing, feeling a sense of safety in the man’s arms. Hours later, when he turned over, he felt Eddie follow and wrap his arms around torso as if to say This one’s mine .
And with Eddie there to ground him, Steve allowed himself to be pulled into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.