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In the days leading up to the Fourth, Steve’s nightmares had come roaring back into his life with a vengeance. Maybe it was because the dust had finally settled after Vecna, maybe it was because the universe hadn’t decided he was done repenting for being a stupid as a kid. Robin wasn’t available, having finally gotten her shit together to shoot her shot with Vickie. Nancy and Jonathan were attempting to reconcile now that he was back in Hawkins. There was no way he was telling the kids about this; they were finally allowed to have childhoods after all.
After the fifth night of little sleep, he’d finally decided to reach out to the newest of their group. Eddie and Steve hadn’t really hung out one on one since the fiasco of Spring Break (no matter how much he’d wanted to recently), but maybe some of his good weed would help settle the storm swirling inside of Steve’s head. Sliding out of his currently useless bed, he staggered down the stairs and to the phone. After dialing the recently changed number, he caught sight of the time staring at him from the stove and winced.
Shit. Good thing Wayne worked nights. Hopefully Eddie would actually pick up. The ringing stopped, expecting the answering machine, Steve let out a sharp exhale.
“Hello?” Came the groggy answer instead.
“Eddie! It’s Steve. What do you think of coming over and bringing some of that supply?”
About 45 minutes later, and increasingly closer to the coming dawn, found the two of them stretched out on the floor of his room passing a joint back and forth in comfortable silence. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten high- Robin wasn’t a big fan after the previous year, and there wasn’t any fun in getting high by yourself.
“Do you wanna talk about why you’re sad?” Steve startled at the sound of Eddie’s voice. Slowly dragging a hand through his disheveled hair, he angled incrementally closer to the older boy.
“Not really. Just nightmares. They’re always bad around the anniversaries.”
“Something else to look forward to, I guess.” Steve responded with a noncommittal grunt, thoughts coming slowly and his eyelids getting heavy. “Am I loosing you over there, big boy?”
Glancing up, Steve finally made eye contact for the first time since puddling on the floor. He wasn’t sure what caused that fluttering feeling in his chest, it could have been the dimples, his doe eyes reflecting the low lamp light, or the wild curls that normally framed his face instead pooling on the floor. Once he slept off the high, this was definitely a bathroom conversation.