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There are silver stars hanging in the trees. Eddie is sure he’s the last to arrive, pulling off the road towards Hopper’s cabin well past the party’s start time of eight. The clock on the dashboard of the van is chronically wrong, always an hour or so ahead so he has a hope of showing up places on time, so when he glances down at the little clock embedded in the dash, the red hour hand is already into the new year. He knows he’s not that late, but he’s close. Even still, when he crests the hill, engine groaning at the effort, he has to stop and look up. All around the cabin, the low hanging branches are stringed with metallic stars, glinting off the warm yellow light from the Cabin’s window. He’s sure their paper things, strung on cords and hung up like Christmas lights, but here in the dark, where there is only the dark of the woods and the shimmer of their pointed edges twisting in the soft breeze, it looks magical. It’s Joyce’s doing, he’s sure. He can’t ever imagine Hopper sitting at that kitchen table gluing tin foil and glitter glue to paper stars. Even the thought has him cackling as he sidles the van up next to the darkened BMW, craning his neck to catch another glimpse of the decorations. He would have stayed longer, watching the paper stars, putting off the inevitable, but his heat has been busted for the past few weeks, the estimate from the mechanic seemed to be burning a hole in his glove compartment, a three digit number that is about two digits more than he currently has, so he as he hides in the darkened van, he can see each of his breaths puff out into air in front of him.
That’s what eventually forces him inside, the cold. Even still, he pauses at the top of the steps, the wood creaking loudly beneath his feet. His hands are cold from the drive over, even with the gloves Wayne had given him last week for Christmas. He flexes his fingers a few times, shakes them out, rolls his shoulders. It’s not like he’s preparing for battle, he chides himself. It’s just the kids. Just Joyce and Hopper and maybe Robin. Just Steve. The name sticks in his brain like it’s coated in honey, sweet and dripping down his spine. Steve. Eddie had, for his entire high school career, prided himself on not being swayed by the Harrington charm that so easily made even some of the teachers go all starry eyed. Eddie hadn’t been. For all four of Steve’s years at Hawkins High, Eddie had never once allowed himself to be taken in by the hair, or the eyes, or the smirk, or that smattering of moles along his shoulder blades that looked like a half finished constellation…none of it. He always made sure that Steve Harrington’s condescension and cruelty outweighed anything in his favor. But these days, the guy that will be on the other side of the door seems a lot less like Steve Harrington and instead just feels like Steve. A whisper of a name, small and beautiful and absolutely impossible for Eddie to get over. Because Steve has all the same charms as Steve Harrington, but instead of the bullying and the pride and all the rotted bits that Eddie had hung his sanity upon, there is now just a sort of exasperated fondness and a quiet goodness that puts everyone (even Eddie) in front of himself. What was a guy supposed to do with that? How was he supposed to be normal around that?
Eddie might have stayed out on that porch all night, letting the cold air freeze the layer of sweat collecting on his hands and around his neck, waiting for the courage to go in there and try and be anything less than entirely in love with Steve. He’d have let the year take its final, gasping breaths with him still standing just outside the door, hand half extended for the handle, but of course he couldn’t. Someone was bound to look out the window eventually, maybe step outside for a smoke. Eddie might be a coward at his core, but he tired his best not to let the kids see that. He knocked on the door once, hard, before realizing that maybe this was more of a a
“Just show yourself in” kind of party. But before he can stir himself into a proper spiral, the door is tugged open and yellow light spills out, making Eddie blink rapidly.
“Oh, I hope you weren’t standing there long! Most of us are out back by the fire. In! In!” Joyce is waving him in, taking both of his icy cheeks in her surprisingly warm hands for a moment before releasing him so he can answer.
“Not long at all, Mrs. Byers.” He says. She shoots him a look, and he knows what she’s going to say before she does. I keep telling you to just call me Joyce. So he cuts her off before she can even open her mouth. “Those stars are really nice. Did you and the kids make them?”
“That was all Will and El. Really, I think mostly Will.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You should make sure you tell him that you like them, I’m sure it’d mean a lot coming from you.” It’s only then that Eddie notices the crowd of kids all tucked in front of the TV. Max and El are up on the loveseat, but all the boys are sitting on the floor, watching whoever’s turn it is on the Atari. It’d been Dustin’s Christmas gift, Eddie is sure, but it has pretty much taken up permanent residence plugged into Hopper’s TV over the past week. Eddie’s been over to the cabin three times since Christmas morning, it’d become the group meeting place ever since the Byers’ moved in with Hopper and El back over the summer, and every single time there’d been at least one of those little rugrats parked inches from the screen. They hadn’t even noticed Eddie’s arrival, and Dustin had all but begged him to show up tonight. Eddie might have snuck up behind them, scared them shitless while they all had their eyes glued to the TV, but before he could, Joyce was giving his shoulder a little push, urging him through the house and out the backdoor.
“C’mon, sweetie. The grown-ups are outside.” Eddie feels a little thrill at being lumped in with grown ups, even though he knows that most of the people Joyce is including in that list are actually younger than him. The prospect of outside though, feels less than inviting. He’s just been outside, and it’s about twenty degrees too cold for a comfortable standing around in the open kind of party. It’d been cold enough all week that Eddie had even forgotten the leather jacket, instead pulling one of Wayne’s heavy canvas and sherpa coats from the back of the door. Even with the heavier coat, he’s sure he’ll last about ten minutes in the backyard before caving and rejoining the children in the warmth of the living room.
The “backyard” is a new addition to the Hopper/Byers cabin. It’s not much more than a patch of dirt behind the cabin where Jonathan and Hopper cleared away the leaves and leveled out the earth. There’s been talk of it eventually being the place where they expand to add another bedroom, since Will and El are currently sharing and Jonathan is sleeping on the couch, but until spring, when the ground softens up, it’s become a sort of hang out spot. There’s an extension cord running from the bedroom window to plug a string of white Christmas lights that Hopper has suspended between the corner of the roof and a rather dead looking pine tree. And, in early fall, Jonathan and Eddie had spent an afternoon traipsing through these woods looking for fallen trees to saw enough logs off of to make a circle of, mostly, function benches. The sawing had been the easy part, dragging those suckers through the underbrush had left Eddie’s shoulders and back aching for weeks. The newest addition to the space, which Eddie notices as he trails Joyce down the creaking steps and onto the packed earth, is a metal fire pit. Thank god. The flames are high, licking up past the metal lip of the pit, and the breeze is kicking the smoke directly towards Eddie, making his eyes sting. But it seems to be worth it because Eddie can feel the heat of it, even by his spot at the bottom step. It’s cozy, he decides, and a small part of him hopes they won’t build the addition here, that they’ll add a second story instead maybe, so that they can keep the “backyard” just like this.
Most of the logs are full, Eddie really was the last to arrive. Joyce is already back in her spot beside Hopper, handing him a beer can that she must have gone inside to fetch, and settling her head onto his shoulder. On the side opposite, with their backs to Eddie, are Jonathan and Nancy and beside Nancy Robin is squeezed half on the log and half kneeling in the dirt. She seems to be braiding (or possibly unbraiding) Nancy’s hair, either way it doesn’t seem to be going great. On the bench next to them, stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam is Argyle. He’d been in town since his Thanksgiving visit, and hadn’t made any mention of trekking back to California, not that anyone asked. Eddie wasn’t entirely sure where he’d been sleeping for the past month either, since there definitely wasn’t space in the Cabin and he hadn’t brought that pizza van this time. For the moment, he is mostly asleep, although one hand is slowly (very slowly) tracing circles in the dirt, almost like it’s a subconscious thing. Maybe he’s high. Probably. It didn’t look like he’d be sitting up anytime soon. Which leaves the only empty spot right beside the man himself. Eddie had been good. He had managed to force his eyes to skate over the rest of the group slowly before settling on Steve, but now that he’s looking at him, it seems a shame to have wasted so much time looking anywhere else.
Steve hasn’t noticed him yet (no one around besides Joyce has for that matter) so he’s still facing the fire pit instead of Eddie. From where Eddie’s standing, one foot still on the step as if he might dash back inside and out the front door at any moment, he can see just the side profile of him. But that’s plenty. The light from the fire is catching in his har and along his cheek bones, flicking as the fire moves. He looks like a painting, elbows on his knees and chin balancing on his fist. His lips are pulled up, a near smile, and Eddie is sure if he was a few steps closer he could see the way the golden light ran over the crows feet that crinkled at Steve’s eyes when he smiled. Steve Harrington by Firelight should be in a museum of some kind, but instead he’s here, and Eddie can’t stop staring at him. And maybe Steve feels it, the weight of Eddie’s gaze or his adoration, because he’s turning his head then, smile spreading into a full grin, teeth and all, as he spots Eddie.
Eddie’s ready for him to call out. To break this soft moment and drag all eyes to him. But he doesn’t, instead, he just tilts his chin in a come here kind of motion. So of course Eddie goes, because how could he not? When the painting comes to life and asks you to have a closer look, you go. Jonathan and Nancy are telling some story, now that Eddie’s close enough to hear their soft voices. It’s something about Jonathan's visit to Emerson, and Nancy’s roommate. It must be funny, since even Hopper seems to be paying attention with a sort of amused half smirk. But as Eddie lowers himself onto the log, as far from Steve as possible without it being obvious, not daring himself to be any closer than strictly necessary, Steve turns all his attention towards Eddie.
“And here I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.” He whispers, and Eddie doesn’t even really register the words because he’s too caught up in how dark his eyes look here in the half light, and the way he smells like wood smoke, and cigarettes, and that slightly floral scent from whatever keeps his hair defying gravity. But when the words finally do sink in through the layers of his brain that are currently just stuck on an endless loop of Steve, Steve, Steve he sputters out a response he hopes it’s too noticeably late.
“I was pretty sure Dustin would make the first act of his new year to walk to my house and kill me if I didn’t at least make an appearance. And I feel like I’ve got to at least survive a full twenty-four hours into the year.” Steve shakes his head in a sort of long suffering, tired mom expression, and Eddie isn’t sure if it’s directed at him or Dustin. Maybe both.
“Well you missed dinner.” He eventually says, still a whisper but he’s turned his head so he’s looking out towards the fire again. “But last I checked there was still some pizza on the counter if you’re hungry. I can grab you a slice next time I’m in there?” That familiar warmth bubbles in Eddie’s chest as Steve offers. The easy, almost effortless way Steve cares for him (well for all of them really), always feels heavy, in the best kind of way. It happens all the time, Steve seeing exactly what someone needs and offering it in a way that doesn’t feel like a burden. It took Eddie a little while to notice, maybe until the summer, but once he did, he couldn’t unsee it. Steve casually suggesting he could drop Max off at her physical therapy appointments since the office was near the Family Video. Steve offhandedly mentioned how empty his parents house was when Dustin was complaining about needing somewhere to play D&D until the school reopened. Steve asking some extremely dumb questions (that he definitely knew the answers to so that Eddie can pick up the context for old jokes or stories that happened before he joined the party. Steve who is always willing to take the fall, or the punch, or the short straw. Steve who is looking at him, eyebrows raised waiting for him to answer if he wants a slice of pizza.
“Oh. Uh, I ate before I got here, but thanks.” Eddie says, feeling the blush creep up his neck. He needs to change the subject, to get them onto steady ground where he can hold a regular conversation. Steve is still looking at him, half turned towards the fire, cheeks pink from the heat of the flame. “Did the job interview go well?” Eddie asks, voice a little choked. Steve had mentioned a job interview the week before Christmas. Something full time, in an office. The thought of Steve having to wear a tie everyday feels ridiculous to Eddie, but he has a suspicion it’s more because Robin left Family Video for college and less about Steve actually wanting a new job. Steve shakes his head, and Eddie doesn’t know if he means it went poorly or that it hasn’t happened yet. He waits.
That’s another thing he’s realized about Steve in the months he’s gotten to know him since the world nearly ended. For years he’d heard the talk about how Steve Harrington was gorgeous but dumb as rocks. Even Dustin and Nancy tease him about how easily he misses a point. But Steve isn’t stupid, and that isn’t just Eddie’s hopeless crush talking. Really. Where the kids all seem to be quick witted and always ready with an answer or snark like it was already sitting on their tongues (especially Erica) and Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin all had that book smart thing going for them, Steve just took a little longer. It was like he needed to roll around whatever thought or question he had, feeling all sides of it before letting it out. When he couldn’t do that, when the pressure was too high or the conversation too quick, that’s when he’d sort of let the half formed idea fall out and end up the butt of a joke. But when you let him have his moment, let him gather the thought, Eddie had found that Steve was maybe even more insightful than the rest of them. He just needed space, and Eddie is happy to give it to him. After a beat of two, Steve shakes his head again and then speaks.
“It went fine, they offered me the job, but I turned it down.” He shrugs, and pushes a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly. “I think I didn’t really want it, you know? THe schedule would have made it so I couldn’t pick the kids up from school. And yeah, the pay was better and all that, but when I spent all last week trying to think about what things actually make me the happiest, and none of them had to do with work or money.” He turns away from Eddie as he says this, like maybe he’s embarrassed. Eddie turns with him so they’re both watching the sparks spit out into the sky from the fire pit instead of looking at each other as Steve finishes. “And I guess once I realized that, it didn’t make any sense for me to give up the stuff that makes me happiest, just to get more of the thing that doesn’t.” Eddie waits for a breath, to make sure Steve is actually done, before nodding.
“I think that makes a lot of sense.” He says.
“Yeah?” Steve asks, though he really isn’t asking. “I guess I just finally figured out I should spend more time trying to make myself happy and less time trying to do what I think I’m supposed to.” The moment feels heavy between them, like maybe Steve wants to say more, or maybe Eddie should. But the problem with this crush of his, with his complete adoration with Steve Harrington, is that he no longer trusts his brain to tell him when he should and shouldn’t say things. And maybe he’s just reading into it, because Eddie always wants more with Steve. He wants every silly little conversation to be secret flirting, he wants the goodbye hug to linger longer than anyone else’s, he wants Steve to want. But Eddie Munson so rarely gets what he wants, it seems. Before he can do something monumentally stupid, like reach out and touch the glowing skin along the bridge of Steve’s nose for example, Joyce rescues him.
“Alright. We’ve got half an hour about, so I think we should all go around and say the thing you loved most about this year, and the thing you’re looking forward to the most for ‘87.” It’s such a mom thing to say, like passing the black-eyed peas at Thanksgiving and making everyone at the table say the thing they were thankful for. Normally, it’s the kind of thing Eddie loves Joyce for, the way he gets to have a mom for the first time in a decade. But this is a question he was dreading, the main reason he hadn’t wanted to come at all. Because he doesn’t know how to think of this year as anything more than a horror movie he had to unwillingly play a part in. And he doesn’t know how to think about next year as anything but 365 days where the world might end again. A few people (Steve, Hopper, and Jonathan) give half hearted groans, but everyone is always willing to humor Joyce in the end. Everyone but Eddie. Before they can really get going, before his exit will feel pointed and rude, he pushes himself off the low stump, back groaning in protest at the shift.
“I’m just gonna grab a drink and see if there’s pizza left before the kids eat it.” He mumbles, not really sure who he’s directing it towards. Robin gives him a small salute, maybe in greeting if she just noticed him or maybe in permission to leave the circle. Either way, he takes it, and is up the stairs and back in the house before anyone can say anything further. He wonders if Steve watched him go.
The kids are, of course, still gathered around the TV, but now there’s some kind of argument between Max and Dustin. He hides in the kitchen for a few minutes, eating a slice of very room temperature pizza, even though he really isn’t hungry. There’s a plate of sugar cookies too, homemade from the look, and he makes a note to take some before he leaves. He isn’t really paying attention to the kids’ argument, but it seems like Max wins since when he sneaks by them towards the front door, she’s the one holding a controller.
The front porch is cold, just as cold as he remembers, but his jacket is warm from the fire, and he’s dying for a cigarette, so he tries not to think too much about it. He probably could have smoked it in the house, he’s seen Hopper do it often enough, but a small part of him was worried someone (Steve, or maybe Robin) would come looking for him if he didn’t return to the backyard, so the porch feels safest. He smokes a cigarette, and then a second, and has just about decided he’s ready to go inside and sit with the kids for the remainder of the evening, when the door behind him pushes open.
“Hey.” Steve’s voice sounds relieved, like maybe he thought Eddie had left. The sound sends a little ripple of guilt through Eddie’s system. He hadn’t been a very good guest tonight. He’d shown up late and had only lasted maybe fifteen minutes before he was looking for a hiding spot.
“Hey.” He says back, instead of I’m Sorry because he isn’t entirely sure how to say that. Steve is holding something out to him as he steps closer. Eddie squints at it in the gloom, a can.
“I wasn’t sure if you knew the beer was in the cooler and not the fridge.” Steve says, like an explanation. There’s something in his face, something Eddie can’t quite read, but he thinks it might be Steve calling his bluff, saying he knew Eddie hadn’t left the circle because he had suddenly gotten hungry. He takes the offered can instead of responding.
The beer is wet and cold against his fingers, like pressing it into a snowdrift, almost burning with the chill of it. But Steve is looking at him, eyes searching as the skate over his face, so he doesn’t dare move, not even to step the can down.
“You better come in soon, or you’ll miss the countdown.” Steve says, tone light but his brows are still pinched like Eddie is some kind of math equation he’s trying to work out in his head.
“I’ve still got…” Eddie pauses and flicks his eyes down to the watch on Steve’s wrist. “Ten whole minutes.”
“You don’t want to celebrate now?” Steve asks, and Eddie pumps his shoulders in a half-hearted kind of shrug. How can he explain it in a way that doesn’t feel pathetic?
“I think I want to see this year end and make sure she’s good and dead before I celebrate.” Steve chuckles, low and quiet, like it’s just for Eddie. Not that head thrown back cackle from earlier, or the shocked burst of laughter Robin often pulls from him. Both are good, but this one is better. Eddie finally relents against the numbing of his fingers, balancing the unopened can on the railing and shoving his hand into his coat to try and revive it. Steve tracks the movement, before leaning against the railing, accidentally bringing them a step closer together. Close enough now that if Eddie reached out his arm, his hand would be flat against Steve’s chest, could feel the steady rise and fall of it beneath his coat. He doesn’t, obviously. Steve turns his head slightly, so he’s looking out past Eddie, towards the dark stretch of woods.
“I’m surprised, Munson.” He says, “I thought ‘86 was your year. You graduated after all. I thought you’d be sad to see it go.” The question that isn’t quite a question sits in the space between them for several long breaths. Eddie not quite sure how to formulate a response that doesn’t sound really fucking pathetic. But then Steve’s eyes flick back to him and stay there, waiting. He tilts his head slightly, like he really wants to know. And how is Eddie supposed to do anything other than give Steve anything he wants?
“Graduating is about the only good thing to come out of ‘86.” Eddie says, “the other 364 days have been pretty shit if you ask me.” Some emotion flickers across Steve’s face, gone before Eddie can pin it down. That happens a lot with Steve. His micro expression so quick that Eddie has no hope of catching them before he’s schooled his face back into the perfect half joking sort of smirk he usually has. A scrunch of the eyebrows, a tightening of the jaw and then it’s over.
“Harsh words, Munson.” Steve says, voice a shade closer to the Steve Harrington drawl.. “Don’t let the kids here you say that or you might hurt their feelings. After all, you joined the party this year.” Eddie wants to argue, wants to say that kids had joined Hellfire back in the fall, so really the only thing he’d gained since then was enough trauma to last a lifetime and a stomach full of scar tissue. But he doesn’t. Because just as he opens his mouth, snark heavy on his tongue, he realizes that while he did know the kids in the fall, he definitely didn’t know Steve, or Robin, or Nancy.
“There have definitely been more bad tally marks than good. I guess there were a few okay moments.” Eddie concedes, and in a moment of absolute recklessness, he leans to bump his shoulder into Steve’s. “I mean, 1985 Eddie wouldn’t have ever gotten to have an audience with King Steve.” Another flash of an expression on Steve’s face, eyes dropping and lip curling before he was back to neutral.
“I think it’s more like you wouldn’t have wanted to.” Steve says, tone bitter. But he knocks Eddie’s shoulder back so he doesn’t think the feeling is directed at him. Tucking both hands into his pockets. Steve rocks back on his heels, letting out a loud sigh, breath curling up into the air. When he lands back on the balls of his feet he’s once again shuffled a half step closer to Eddie, so that his elbow is brushing his. The lack of distance is maddening. He’s sure that it’s entirely accidental on Steve’s part, but the contact feels like he’s got that elbow dipped in boiling water, or maybe pressed into an electric fence. He’s never been so entirely aware of an elbow before, but here he is.
Inside, there’s a burst of shouting that sounds like complaints, and if Eddie had to guess he’d bet it was Hopper unplugging the Atari so they could watch the ball drop. Steve must hear it too, because he gives Eddie a sort of what can you do shrug. He’s glad for the distraction, because he has no clue how to respond to Steve’s comment. The reality of it was that sure, 1985 Eddie wouldn’t have wanted to spend an evening on the porch beside Steve Harrington. But that feels so far off and unimportant now, because this moment, this one tiny second of small talk and a freezing porch that Steve will probably forget by next week, is more than 1986 Eddie ever hoped for. How does he put that into words without it making it totally obvious how head over heels he is? Thankfully, Steve takes the awkward silence in stride and continues on like Eddie wasn’t even supposed to respond. He tugs his hand free of his jacket to glance at his watch.
“Eight minutes more.” He looks over his shoulder, through the yellowed window and then back to Eddie. “I know the kids are happy you came tonight, but I’m sure they’d be even happier if you were in there with them.” He doesn’t say it like a nag, or a joke, it feels genuine. But Eddie wasn’t lying earlier, he really does want to wait out here in the dark, listening to the final death rattles of the year that tried to kill him.
“Soon.” Eddie says, because he doesn’t know how to explain it to Steve. “I just…not yet.” And maybe Steve gets it, or maybe he doesn’t. But either way, he pushes off the railing and steps away from Eddie, breaking the point of elbow contact.
“Whatever you say, Munson.” Eddie won’t watch him leave, he’s strong enough for that. He keeps his eyes steadily out onto the dark tree line, looking for distant dots of headlights from the road. He waits for the retreating footsteps, the creak of the storm door. It doesn’t come. He feels a warmth lean close behind him, and then Steve is speaking, so quiet it’s almost a whisper.
“You’ve got eight whole minutes, Eddie. Maybe you can squeeze in one or two good moments for the tally if you hurry.” It’s teasing, playful and it sends an actual, real life shiver down Eddie’s body. He’s sure he’s blushing, because that line between teasing and flirting feels so thin sometimes that Eddie wants to scream. He swallows it down, doesn’t turn to look at Steve because he knows he’s close and he knows he’ll see the pink on his cheeks, but he forces his tone to be casual as he responds.
“With my luck, if I take a step towards the door before midnight, the whole porch will cave in and I’ll snap my neck.” Steve huffs out a laugh, and he’s so close behind him that it tickles against Eddie’s ear.
“Whatever you say, man.” Steve says, and the floor creaks under him as he walks back inside. Eddie waits until he hears the click of the door before letting out the shaky sigh. Steve had no clue how flustered he made him. It didn’t matter, of course, but still. The beer sat unopened beside him, still cold since the outside was basically the same temperature as the inside of Hopper’s fridge.
Eddie waits on the porch. Waits as the year ends. Waits for something he doesn’t even know how to name, some feeling he’s chasing. He wonders if he’ll notice when the clock ticks over. It should feel monumental, but it probably won’t. One minute will slide into the next, it will be tomorrow, and Eddie will still be alone on the porch. He’s throwing a bit of a pity party, he knows that. But he also doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t know how to put this thing back into the box in his chest now that he's broken the latch. So he just waits. He wishes, more than anything, that he’d asked Steve to stay with him. He would have, he knows that. And maybe if Steve was here, even if they were just standing in an awkward sort of silence, it would feel better than it does. When he hears the door open again, some incalculable amount of time later, he doesn’t jump. Whoever it is doesn’t speak, just stands with the door open for a few moments before the footsteps sound across the porch. Steve. Isn’t it sad that he knows him by step alone? The weight of his shoes against the floor feels so distinct to Eddie that he could pick it out. If he wasn’t already aware just how head over heels he is, that would be the deciding factor.
“Is it 1987?” Eddie asks, although he knows the answer. He would have heard the countdown from inside, he was sure of it.
“Not yet.” Steve says. When he settles beside Eddie this time, he doesn’t lean on the railing, instead he has his hip against it, whole body turned to face Eddie. “We’ve got about a minute and a half.”
“Have you come to drag me inside?” Eddie asks, only half joking. He wouldn’t put it past him. Steve rolls his eyes.
“Nope.” He says, and his eyes fall from Eddie’s face, landing closer to his left shoulder. “I was thinking about it in there, and I think you're right.” There’s a nervous sort of energy trapped in his voice, and it has Eddie’s heart picking up speed, though he isn’t sure why. Maybe because Steve so rarely seems nervous.
“I’m right about most stuff.” Eddie says, trying to diffuse whatever tension Steve has brought back out with him. “But what in particular?” The night is quiet, the wind finally dying down, so that as Steve scuffs his shoe over the decking, the scrape sounds so much louder.
“About 1985 being a lost cause. Sure some good stuff happened, but especially for you there was mostly bad. And I said you should get some good tallies in before the new year to try and balance it, but I think that’s wrong.” Inside, Dustin and Lucas have started counting down at sixty seconds. No one else has joined in yet, but Eddie can just make out their shouts. 60, 59, 58 . He wonders if Steve will turn and rush back in. He glances back at him, but he isn’t moving. He’s looking at Eddie in the eyes again, jaw set. “I have a different idea now.” A thrum of something spikes in Eddie, but it’s nameless and he doesn’t want to spare the energy to try and identify it. 47, 46, 45 .
“And what would that be?” Eddie asks. It’s quieter than he was before, not quite the whisper that Steve had used earlier but definitely quieter than it needs to be. He’s fully facing Steve now, posture mimicking his so his left hip is pressed into the cold wood of the porch railing. 30, 29, 28. Will, Max, and El seemed to have joined in now. Steve is still scuffing his foot over the deck in the space between them. Eddie glances down, watches his sneaker move. They’re so close together that each kick of his foot could easily knock against Eddie’s if he wanted. Since he’s staring at his feet, Eddie sees the moment Steve steps towards him, closing the distance even more. He looks up, startled, and meets Steve’s eyes. He’s got that searching expression again, but this time, his lip is tugged up into a half smile. 23, 22, 21.
“I think instead of trying to salvage this year in the final moments, you should just focus on starting out 1987 with as many good tallies as possible. A strong start, you know?” There seems to be another question, one underneath the one he was asking, but Eddie’s brain is struggling to keep up. Steve’s so close to him now that Eddie can smell that fruity, botanical shampoo of his and the way it mixes with whatever heavenly cologne he’s got on. It’s like a drug, making him feel foggy and stupid. 15, 14, 13.
“I guess? Yeah?” Is all he manages to get out, and even that is half stuttered. Steve’s half smile becomes a full grin. Not the Steve Harrington grin, all teeth and bite. It was the soft, genuine Steve grin that had Eddie’s stomach doing somersaults. And maybe Eddie would have said more, would have tried to turn it into a joke, but Steve was moving again, and words died in his throat. And if the grin has him in somersaults, then Steve reaching out to brush one of the loose hairs off Eddie’s face with his surprisingly warm hand has Eddie’s stomach doing triple flips off a high dive.
Eddie’s dreamed of this. Dreamed of being close enough to Steve to see the soft freckles and moles that trail down his neck. But in this moment, all the dreams feel empty and tasteless compared to the real thing. Steve is right here, his hand resting on his cheek, eyes on his face like he’s staring straight into Eddie’s soul. It’s too much. 10, 9, 8. Everyone is counting now, and Eddie can’t breathe. His heart feels like it’s going to crack straight through his chest and get stuck on the zipper of his coat. Steve is so close he can feel each of his exhales.
“What’s happening right now?” Eddie says, voice a barely audible whisper. He doesn’t even know if he’s really asking Steve or if it’s more a general question for the universe. Steve’s still smiling, eyes crinkling at the edges. 7, 6, 5.
“I’m waiting.” Steve says, like it should be obvious.
“For?” Eddie breathes, Steve rolls his eyes like Eddie is missing some terribly obvious thing. And maybe he is, because Eddie isn’t sure if he’s actually still alive, because Steve is looking at him like he’s never looked at him before and he’s so close that Eddie can see the slight sparkle of an errant sprinkle from a sugar cookie caught on his bottom lip.
“For the new year, Ed.” Steve says. “I think we both deserve to start off on a good note.” And the way he says Ed , the way his voice wraps around the two letters like a caress, it’s enough to break through whatever thick layer of ice or disbelief that was stuck in Eddie’s brain, and he suddenly realizes exactly what is going to happen. 4, 3, 2.
“Oh.” The word hangs between them as understanding blooms. 1. There’s cheering from inside the house, the rattling of the metal noise makers and the screeching of a bunch of over-sugared high schoolers, but Eddie doesn’t hear a sound. Because Steve is crowding into his space, twisting them so that Eddie’s back is pressed into the railing, and before the flock of birds that have taken residence in his chest have time to take flight, Steve is kissing him. His lips are perfect and he tastes like beer and sugar, and he smells even better up close. He was shocked at first, brain still trying to wrap around it, but after a beat he gets with the program and is reaching up to get his fingers into Steve’s hair. It’s as soft as he’s imagined (and boy has he imagined) and as he grips it Steve lets out a soft moan that Eddie feels against his mouth. He could die like this. If the floor really did cave in and Eddie only got a single minute to live in 1987 that wouldn’t even matter, because this minute was the best minute of his entire life.
Too soon, because anything less than forever would be too soon, Steve is pulling back to look at him. His breathing is a bit ragged, and his cheeks are stained an absolutely gorgeous shade of pink that Eddie can just make out in the low light.
“Happy New Year.” Steve whispers, and his hand is still on his cheek, each pad of Steve’s finger like a tiny fire against his skin. Eddie has questions. So. Many. Questions. But Steve is looking at him like he’s the answer, and maybe that’s all that matters for now. Him and Steve, on the porch in the dark, starting this new beginning off with a good thing.