Work Text:
"And I'm so damn scared,
Of dying without you,
But I've come prepared
Resolved for my life to wear a funeral suit.
And don't tell me how,
I'll smile and pretend and won't show to the crowd
And I'll go without
Punish myself for not knowing about
This lie, this lie
And I'll be like this 'til the wounds leave the cries
And I won't give in, we'll be dead in the eyes
And I'll see the dark things that you all try to hide
And I won't be the damnedest bit fucking surprised
No I won't be the damnedest bit fucking surprised
So let's not, lie let's not lie,
Let's not lie, I know we're fixing to die
So don't lie, let's not lie
So don't lie, I know we're fixing to die"
- Corpse Roads by Keaton Henson
(Spotify link to song here. Youtube link to song here)
1986
It’s eight AM sharp when Steve’s eyes open and he is left to stare at his bedroom ceiling above. For a few seconds he doesn’t recall why his alarm’s been set at this hour. And then he does. He closes his eyes, exhales slow and pained.
And then goes on with his morning. Showers, spends too long on his hair, gets dressed. His movements are sluggish and his mind oddly empty. Not clear, exactly. More so hollow.
It leaves him wondering when it’ll kick itself back into action; torture him with a whirlwind of what-ifs.
Taking advantage of the numbness, however, Steve has breakfast (finds it tasteless), and after checking his reflection in the hallway mirror one last time, he heads out.
It’s chilly out, though cloudless. The sun still low in the sky, laps at the asphalt of his driveway, the trunk of his car. It’s quiet, but for the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves from trees flanking the street.
The world seems stuck in a slumber on this Sunday. Steve finds it relatable to an uncomfortable degree.
He sits in his car for another five minutes, hands on the wheel, staring out in front of him, not really watching anything. Just… Just feeling a tiredness seeping into his bones at the prospect of today. Of driving thirty minutes and attending a gathering his parents out of all people will be participating at.
Facing them sounds almost worse than the rest of the day will undoubtedly be.
Steve exhales, turns the key in the ignition and-
“Hey.” A voice says behind him and Steve nearly jumps out of his skin, jolts high enough to bump his head against the roof of his car and accidentally have his hand slam down on the steering wheel. The honk only has him startle a second time before he finally settles down, peering over his shoulder at the backseat.
The passenger looks sheepish, apologetic. But amused nonetheless.
“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” Steve exhales, places a hand on his own chest as if this will calm down his pounding heart beat.
“You need to stop sneaking up on me like that.” Because, goddamn, has Eddie been making that a habit lately. Or perhaps Steve’s so zoned out that he fails to catch a glimpse of his friend before he’s far too nearby.
“Sorry.” Eddie says, sounds genuine, before he crawls into the front passenger seat, sitting down with a huff and throwing his legs on the dashboard.
“You’re gonna be late if you don’t leave now.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t wanna miss it.” Steve replies with a grimace. One that Eddie mimics.
“Don’t worry, Big Boy. I’ll keep you company on the drive there. Emotional support, and what-not.”
The irony isn’t lost on Steve, but he doesn’t mention it. Pulls out of the driveway instead and starts driving.
“Excited to see my parents?” Steve asks once they’ve cleared a few smaller winding streets and get to a larger road.
“Probably more than you are.” Eddie jokes, fumbles with his rings as he looks outside. And then adds; “Have you ever told them? About us?”
Steve clenches his jaw at the question, feels that hollow emptiness in his mind fill up with something old and familiar. Regret.
“No. Seems too late now.”
Eddie isn’t insulted by the reply, nods a little while looking back over at Steve.
“I guess so.” He agrees.
1983
Eddie’s always been invisible to Steve. He’s known about him, seen him the hallways of high school. Seen him hanging out with some other guys before with similar tastes in how oddly they dressed and how unruly they wore their hair or added jewellery to decorate themselves.
Their worlds never quite collided. Steve being a preppy, popular kid listening to radio edit versions of synth pop classics while Eddie seemingly listened to something that -to Steve- sounded way too intense, too aggressive and too unhinged.
Steve’s always been a touch judgemental.
But, cruel is not something he’s ever been.
So, when they spend detention together (because Steve had gotten in a brawl with Tommy), and he finds Eddie with a bruise around his eye matching the one on Steve’s face; rather than joke about it, he finds common ground.
They throw each other a few glances throughout detention, until Steve finally smiles a little and in turn Eddie returns it as carefully as he had.
And wordlessly, this had been them meeting for the first time. A soundless little ‘hey’.
So, post-detention, they match their pace through the empty hallway, walking shoulder to shoulder until once more something curious and greedy tugs words from Steve’s mouth.
“Wanna smoke under the bleachers?”
“Smoke what, exactly, Steve?”
The use of his first name sends a spark through his body.
“Pot.”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
So, they do. They share a joint under the bleachers well past six PM on a Tuesday and while Eddie talks about everything and nothing, Steve finds himself entranced by him.
How he talks with his hands, how expressive his face is, how big his eyes are and how -when smiling wide- perfect his teeth are. How he can’t stand still, pacing around, kicking dirt, squatting and getting back up, how he fumbles with rings and bracelets, necklaces, how the chain on his belt clinks with every turn he takes. How his hair bounces, catching the pink sunset sunlight peeking through a gap in the bleachers overhead.
And his voice.
And well, Steve finds himself comparing Eddie to Nancy a total of six times throughout the half hour they spend together that first time.
As if any resemblance to her would make it any less dreadful to want to kiss him.
1986
“Do you think Vecna’s ever going to be defeated?” Eddie asks him once they’ve been driving for ten minutes.
Steve stirs at the name, swallows, ignores the urge to recall the nightmares he’s been having.
And he can’t reply because he’s been losing hope lately. Thinks that the next fight will draw even more casualties. Fears that someone will be taken from him. Dustin, Robin, anyone else.
It’s frightening, seems inevitable. Steve’s lost his hope for a happy ending.
“Oh, we had milkshakes over there.” Eddie points out, voice bright as he places his finger against the passenger window.
Steve follows his gaze, sees the diner, smiles stiffly. Is grateful for the topic change but isn’t certain if this is a better topic to discuss.
“Yeah, we did.”
“That seems so long ago. Was it ninety-five?”
“Ninety-four.” Steve says, easily. Avoids Eddie’s glance and looks back in front of him at the road.
Because how could he forget even a single interaction he’s ever had with Eddie?
No matter how insignificant. They seem so meaningful now. And he pines to relive them.
1984
Eddie and Steve hang out.
It’s always just the two of them. Under the bleachers. In Eddie’s bedroom. In Steve’s bedroom. In Steve’s pool. In nearby woods at a picnic table. Sometimes in Steve’s car in a desolate parking lot.
But always alone.
They smoke and talk. Sometimes drink. Their conversations, over the past nine months, have gone from safe topics like movies, music, sociology and politics, to more intimate territories.
Steve finds out Eddie’s gay. Is fascinated by it and Eddie avoids him for two weeks when he says so; had found it offensive to be perceived as some circus freak, no matter Steve had meant well.
And Steve revisits his own perception, gains a bit of insight and apologises.
And they pick back up their friendship right where it’d left off. Nothing changed. Nothing awkward. And it’s Eddie’s turn to confess his fascination towards Harrington.
He tells him he finds it peculiar that Steve isn’t freaked out about how they sometimes share beds, sometimes go as far as spoon, resting heads on shoulders while slumped in couches, holding each other lazily while floating in Steve’s pool, now that he knows about his sexuality.
“Why would I be?”
“I could be coming on to you.” Eddie says.
“So what?” Steve scoffed. “Well, I mean… I’d at least expect you to take me out on a date first.”
It had been a joke, Eddie had laughed, Steve had laughed.
But then the following weekend Eddie had still asked him to go for milkshakes in some diner just outside of town.
It’d been as clear of a date as two men could go to in public. A shitty diner, at six in the afternoon, sipping strawberry milkshakes across one another while discussing Ghostbusters. Legs interlocked underneath the table.
Eddie lingered when Steve dropped him off at his place. He stayed in the car, stared down at his lap and seemed to think hard about something.
The darkness surrounding them, the silence surrounding them, created an intimate atmosphere that had Steve somehow predict the outcome of that night.
“What exactly defines a date? Like, what differentiates a date from what happened today?” Eddie asks.
“A kiss.” Steve says.
And when Eddie leans in to him, placing lips against Steve’s, he doesn’t stop him.
He kisses back. Until their tongues touch and the sensation is so hot and so sudden it’s jolts the both of them. Has them both shoot back into their seats, gaping at one another.
“Sorry.” Eddie whispers, opening the passenger door.
“It’s okay.”
“Sorry.” Eddie repeats, getting out and Steve isn’t sure Eddie had heard him the first time. Says it again, quietly to himself, while watching Eddie head inside his home.
“It’s okay.”
1986
“Halfway there, huh?” Eddie breaks the silence once more. He’s never been good with silences, especially not around Steve.
Eddie can read Steve like an open book. Knows when he’s upset, knows when he’s hurt. Knows when he needs to push and when to back off.
And though Eddie’s turned in his seat to better face Steve, they both know they can’t do what they want to do. They can’t touch, can’t kiss, can’t hug.
All there is left between them are these conversations, these melancholic riddles of their past. These nostalgic secrets whispered between the two of them.
They’d always been a secret.
Which makes them now being separated, even worse.
Steve wants a redo.
“Yeah.” Steve says, voice cracking a little, sees Eddie shift a little in his peripheral vision. Sees his hands fold into fists on his lap, as if to hold back from reaching out.
“I’m sorry I can’t be here for you.” Eddie apologises and Steve just scoffs, shakes his head.
“You’ve done enough for me already.” Steve assures.
And it’s true.
1985
They quite literally kiss and make up.
And then keep kissing.
First in their rooms and Steve’s car. Then under the bleachers. In forests, in his pool, in the lake. In pumpkin fields. Behind trees and on roofs. Drunk in the middle of streets during the security and privacy that comes with midnight hours.
And Steve falls in love.
Likes to believe Eddie does too.
Whereas years prior, Eddie had been invisible to Steve, had so easily slipped from his sight, had lived walking in shadows, shouldering walls, avoiding perception… He’s now in Steve’s line of sight always.
Physically or not. Eddie’s always with Steve. If not in his sight, then in his ears, and if not whispering into his ears while spooning in bed, then he sits heavy in Steve’s heart.
There’s times when Steve dives into old habits. Alcohol abuse and womanising his way into the night, just to forget about the horrors he’s been facing with his friends. He tries to hide these literal monsters from Eddie for as long as he can, knows eventually he will face them.
Thinks that maybe Eddie would be able to process it as well as Nancy can. As Robin can. Hopes that it won’t drag him to mental hellscapes like it has Steve.
He fears that Eddie’s too soft for everything. With how he keeps receiving Steve with open arms when he shows up drunk, shows up injured, shows up after they both are aware the perfume on Steve’s skin isn’t one that belongs to either of them.
And Steve drowns in him.
Kisses him as a plea for forgiveness over and over again. Is kissed -forgiven- time and time again.
And when they start touching each other, with hushed breaths and shaking fingers, it just escalates from there.
They grow fonder, closer, warmer. Softer.
And though neither of them ever labelled it… Well…
1986
“Do you think we were boyfriends?” Steve asks him, taking an exit and feeling his heart skip beats, feeling his mind grow louder at last.
Eddie doesn’t seem taken aback by the question and his reply comes swiftly.
“Yes. Of course.”
And then adds.
“We loved each other, Steve. No matter the falling out. No matter it being a secret between us. No matter how we were separated.”
Steve agrees, he does.
But it’s gut wrenching to realise this now when it’s too late to go back.
The closer he gets to the gathering, the heavier the pit in his stomach sits and the thicker the lump in his throat becomes.
“Maybe I should.” Steve says as he drives up to the parking lot, stares at his parent’s car amongst the others.
Eddie waits for him to clarify, eyes locked on to him so solidly Steve could almost believe that if he reached out, if he’d touch him, it’d all fall back into place.
“Tell my parents about you.”
Eddie shifts a little, sighs kindly.
“Well, if it’d set you free, I think you should. Time’s valuable, after all. You never know when… Well…” He chuckles, waves at himself as an example of what can happen when time runs out before you’ve done and said all that you wanted to. Needed to.
Because Eddie is the prime example of just that.
Steve kills the engine, stares into the distance where people are huddling together. Hands patting shoulders, arms embracing, faces buried in shoulders. All dressed in black, head to toe.
“Are you going to be here when I get back?” Steve asks, heart skipping a beat as he finally looks over at Eddie, sees him on the verge of tears, smile wobbling.
“I think you need to set yourself free, in this regard.” Eddie says, smile widening into something gentle. Something nostalgically familiar to the smiles Steve had seen on him whenever Eddie had been comforting him in the past.
He’s too kind… Far too kind to have to have witnessed the horrors of the Upside Down.
“Sorry.” Eddie apologises.
“It’s okay.” Steve says, voice small, wet. Adjusts his black tie, brushes hands over the lapels of his black suit jacket.
“It’s okay.” He repeats another time before ripping his eyes away from Eddie and getting out of the car.
The sun is warm on his skin, the breeze against the back of his neck cold. Leaves rustle once more, the wind journeying itself up and away into the void sky above.
When he glances back, Eddie’s gone.
“It’s okay.”