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“I’m in a what?”
“A temporal phenomenon, better known as a time loop, duh. Didn’t you read The Worm Ouroboros by E.R Eddison? It was assigned to us in eighth grade, Steven, if you even went to classes and did your assignments–”
“Yeah, yeah, shut up. Stop being such a smartass. How do I…stop it? Get out of it, or whatever.”
“Thought you wanted me to shut up?”
Why had Steve thought Dustin would ever give him a straight answer? Steve had been stuck reliving the same day over for about a week. Honestly, Steve had let it go on that long because he thought maybe he was experiencing some trauma from the Upside Down that made everyday monotonous and identical if he wasn’t running for his life. But then Steve had finally noticed they were going over the same exact math problems for way longer than normal, and no one on the basketball team had dressed up for gameday. He had decided he needed a little outside guidance.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve let out a frustrated sigh. “Just answer me dude. I am sick of hearing some stupid ear splitting song that keeps coming on the radio when I wake up. Metal licks or something?”
Dustin rolled his eyes, amazed at how out of touch Steve seemed to be, when an idea struck him. “Oh! Eddie. That might be your key.”
Steve raised an eyebrow in question.
“The song. Metallica. Eddie. Eddie is totally into some random history and science fiction. I bet he could help you out.”
“Okay…When can I talk to Eddie? And what does he know that you couldn’t help me with?” Steve was skeptical how much some other freshman dork could help Steve, considering how much Dustin had experienced and gone through. If he knew how to beat Russian spies, what couldn’t Dustin do?
“Just trust me, man. Eddie is like, legit, knows way more about comics and books. I’m sure he’ll know how to fix it. Just meet me tomorrow after school–we have club then–and you can talk to him and—”
“Hey, Earth to Dustybun, I can’t meet you tomorrow, remember? I don’t do that. Where is he today?”
Dustin paused in his rambling to take that in, and paused longer to think about where Eddie would be. “Well…It’s a Tuesday. So he should be getting some stuff set up in the clubroom. But wait! He really doesn’t like to be interrupted. He says it messes with his flow or whatever. Dude’s kinda odd. And he’s not so great with new people, and he definitely doesn’t like jocks so…maybe don’t mention sports.”
“Well, if he hates my guts today, guess I’ll just try again,” Steve muttered to himself. With a small shake of his head to dispel any hesitations, he gave Dustin’s shoulder a squeeze and thanked him for his help. With that, Steve walked down the hallways he had once ruled into the underfunded portion of the school where the art kids and drama geeks usually hung out. Among them was a door that had some movie references Steve didn’t understand and a sign that said “do not enter: genius at work”. How humble.
Doubting that the kid inside would answer if Steve tried to knock, he tested the knob to see if it would open. Old and sticky, it took a small shove before Steve could finally get the door to open wide enough for him to step in. He was surprised to catch himself staring at someone who definitely didn’t look like a freshman dork. This guy was much taller than Dutsin, with a mature face framed by long, dark curls. He had a sense of style that seemed much more complete than a kid who was trying too hard to look like an outcast. And he had long lashes that drew attention to deep brown eyes–brown eyes that looked just as surprised and confused to see Steve staring in the doorway.
—----
Eddie Munson had been living the same day over and over for eight days. He had realized it on day two when he saw that the mug he had dropped the day before was once again hanging above the kitchen sink–and then he had dropped it in the entirely same way. Not one to sit idly, and fearing he wouldn’t ever get to move forward in his campaign planning, Eddie had taken it upon himself to do research into time and space phenomena. It was amazing how much knowledge he could absorb when the material was actually relevant to his current life.
Over the course of eight days, Eddie had either read or watched every available piece of media that had some sort of affliction involving repetition of time. He had hunted down a copy of The Girl Who Leapt Through Time and Turn Back the Clock. He reread E.R Eddison and actually paid attention to the themes and morals. After piecing together all of this, Eddie had firmly gotten an idea of…nothing. Eddie wasn’t even sure where to begin. He wasn’t some soldier amidst a war–unless you counted the deranged social hierarchies of high school–and he certainly wasn't trying to solve a murder. What great quest of emotion and purpose was Eddie “The Freak” Munson supposed to embark upon?
Loving his uncle, breaking Jason Carver’s nose, destroying the principal’s office, none of it had worked to end the unceasing repetition. After seven days of useless but amusing experiments, Eddie had yet to figure it out. And then the ex-King of Hawkins High had walked through the doors to his club room. Never in his right mind would Eddie have imagined that Steve Harrington would be waltzing into the place of Eddie’s solitude and creation, let alone that the jock would be asking for help. Even further still, the idea that Steve was asking for help regarding a goddamn time loop . So Eddie wasn’t alone in this. But out of all the people Eddie had to share this with, why would it be Harrington? No, it had to be some mistake. Fate had to be wrong. But on all the days Eddie had lived through this week, Steve had never even entered his peripheral, but now here he was in the middle of his day. Eddie had only that day decided to try and do something normal. Lucky him it brought a visitor.
No, Eddie wasn’t going to live with this. He couldn’t accept that his fate was maybe tied to that of Steve Harrington. So, maybe instead of pooling together the intelligence of both young adults, Eddie did something he wasn’t too proud of. He outright lied to Steve’s face.
“A time loop?” Eddie replied incredulously, laughing directly in Harrington’s face. “Is this some stupid alumni jock tactic? Get an oldie to come in here and try to fuck with the Freak? Listen man, you’ll have to do better.”
Steve had crossed his arms over his chest and was frowning across the table at Eddie. “Dude, Dustin told me you could help me. I wouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t important.”
“Ooh~involving freshmen in your pranks now? What do they get out of it? Wedgie free weeks? Toilet free Tuesdays?”
“I’m serious, Eddie. It’s been like a week. I didn’t even notice until yesterday and I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“Well, sorry man. Maybe it’s just all those concussions from your dumb sports causing a break in your psyche. You’ll have to talk to someone else–”
“Oh, I get it.” Steve’s frown had disappeared into a smirk, and he had walked around the table to get closer to where Eddie was lounging on his throne as he interrupted him. Eddie immediately tensed, but he didn’t move. He hadn’t been beat up by the jocks in any of these loops, but today had been unusual thus far. It didn’t hurt to be cautious.
Steve had leaned down over the other, his hands placed flat on the table as he leaned in. “You aren’t the genius, are you?” The smirk continued to play on his lips. “You’re not smart enough to actually solve a time loop, so you’re just brushing it off. Don’t wanna disappoint little Dustin and all your other friends?”
Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone, Harrington. Who says I even want to help you? Who says you even deserve it?”
Steve let out a short laugh. “Alright man, whatever. I’ll just be back tomorrow to ask again. Maybe that version will be more willing. See ya.” With a small salute, Steve walked himself out the door.
Once he was out of sight, Eddie immediately put his head in his hands and hunched over himself. God, he was so screwed.
—----
Like every other Tuesday this week, Steve ended up at home right as dinner started with his parents. They ate the same mushy peas and talked about the same dry business logistics and he heard the same snark from his father about how Steve couldn’t even serve ice cream properly. Steve wondered how he had gotten so lucky as to infinitely get a day with his parents. Yay.
And sure, Steve knew there were probably a million kids out there who would give anything for just one more day with their parents. Hell, when facing down a horde of demodogs, Steve had wished he could tell his mom just one more time that he loved her, that he forgave her. But, rather than getting the mushy kind of love one should be receiving in their last minutes, Steve was getting scoldings and berating from his father and disappointed sighs from his mother.
After dinner, he resigned himself once more to his room, already stuffing towels under the doors so he wouldn’t have to hear the argument that he knew was coming. You’re too hard on him, you’re too soft, he’ll never make it in this world or this company, let him make mistakes he’s only a kid …on and on they went, back and forth, never bothering to ask Steve how he felt about any of it. Tonight in particular, he didn’t mind. He needed the time alone, the time to plan. To make a better second impression with Eddie. To get his help. He needed Dustin. So, Steve let himself fall asleep. Disappearing into the blackness, weightless, adrift, but his usual silence was replaced with a single phrase, a soft whisper, a familiar voice, “ Please, not him.”
Then he was awake. A blaring song–Metallica, Dustin’s voice reminded him–playing on his radio as an alarm. His father slamming the door to the house on his way out. The smell of burnt toast and eggs wafting into the room.
By day nine, Steve still hadn’t remembered the glass of water on his nightstand and once more knocked it over onto his house slippers. Steve would argue it was really only his second day living consciously of his problem, so he couldn’t be blamed. He found the car keys under the couch for his mother, and he hid the lace handkerchief with initials that didn’t match hers that had been tucked between the cushions. Really, that was the most exciting part of the morning. Otherwise, he ate breakfast, like he did in any non-looped day–alone and quietly–and would have followed a routine of the same drive to work. But today, like the day–the loop, Steve postured–before, he instead drove over to Dustin’s school to meet him at lunch. Steve had only met up with Dustin once in his loops, and so he had forgotten to get there early enough to stop the poor kid from spilling milk down the shirt of some girl. He would be fine, Dustin always was. Steve, like the day–the loop– before, spent ten minutes explaining to Dustin his situation, only this time Steve had the word for it. “Yes, man. I just told you. Okay, one more time. All the facts. Yes, I am stuck in a time loop. No, it is not a concussion from taking too many hits to the face–rude, by the way–and yes, I have come to you already once before for help. This time, I need your help with information about a person.”
Dustin looked skeptical, opening his mouth to continue his interrogation but the mom-hands settled on Steve’s hips and the glare he sent the younger boy's way made him close his mouth. He opted for rolling his eyes, but couldn’t help to snark at Steve. “Didn’t you read The Worm Ouroboros by E.R Eddison? It was assigned to us in eighth grade, Steven, if you even went to classes and did your assignments–”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve let out a frustrated sigh. “Just answer me dude. I am sick of hearing some stupid ear splitting song that keeps coming on the radio when I wake up. Metal licks or…some…thing…Metallica.” Steve blinked. Once. Twice. Confused that he had a sense of deja vu. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one controlling this? Everyone had to do the same thing over and over but Steve could vary? Maybe Steve was just as much stuck in a rut as those around him.
“Oh! Eddie. That might be your key. The song. Metallica. Eddie. Eddie is totally into some random history and science fiction. I bet he could help–”
“I already met Eddie. You already told me that. He’s the person I need information on.”
Dustin pursed his lips, nodding slowly at that reveal of information. “Well, duh, cause he’s a genius. I would totally recommend him. Okay, but wait, did you not go talk to him? Dude, you’re out of high school. You can’t care about your reputation that badly. He’s a decent guy. But if you did talk to him, what happened? Did a plan not work? Were you a dick and he decided not to help you? Cause, he’s like, a king for outcasts, and you're like the king of jocks so really it’s– mmmklerg blmn!”
Steve had opted to end the ranting and theorizing by clamping a hand over Dustin’s mouth. “Yes, sorta…Well. I went to see him. He was a dick about it, okay? Not me. I just asked for help. But, if you insist he’s my key, I need to like, woo him? Get on his good side, his trust, make him talk. And since you’re so obsessed with him, I need your help. We’ve got like, fifteen minutes, so start spilling.” Once he was finished, he finally removed his hand from Dustin’s mouth.
“Dude, first off, gross; I have no clue where your hands have been. Second, fine, I’ll help you, but only cause if this isn’t true, I think it’ll be hilarious watching you try. Okay so first…”
They spent the rest of lunch huddled together, Steve taking notes on a spare piece of paper he borrowed from Dustin (“Dude, you didn’t even bring a pencil to take notes on? For Shame.”) . At the end of it, Steve had a fair sized list on the likes and dislikes of one Eddie Munson, from foods to bands to mannerisms. Now all Steve had to do was memorize it, study it, pray he could remember it all in the hopes that somehow this other gangly young adult could help him out of a physics nightmare. After leaving Dustin at school, Steve spent the rest of the evening trying to memorize every fact Dustin had provided. Steve wrote it on his body, hoping maybe it would stay, and he clutched the piece of paper to his chest when he went to sleep, willing it to transfer over into the next day with him. As the clock approached midnight, Steve’s vision going hazy from exhaustion, the swirling mass of blackness that began to overtake him had started to form into the ringlets he had seen in Edde’s hair, framing his face, the eyes so close Steve could reach out and touch them. But as his alarm started to blare once more, Steve’s hands were again empty, clutching at nothing, no lifeline. Just his own wits to get him out of this.
—---------
On the ninth day of his temporal anomaly, Eddie Munson did something odd–he did the exact same thing he did on the eighth day. Now, any other time in his life, if you had asked Eddie if this is what he would have chosen to do, his answer would be nowhere close. Why would Eddie waste such a precious opportunity to do all the batshit things he wanted to do in life with virtually no consequences? Eddie could have robbed a bank and been on a plane to Prague, or dyed his hair bright red and burned some derogatory images into the football field. But no, today, Eddie was following a routine. He had to, otherwise, what if Steve had come looking for him again? Steve would have caught on that something was up with Eddie. Eddie didn’t think Steve was the brightest kid on the block, but he would surely notice if Eddie wasn’t in the same location.
As Eddie had laid in bed the night before, he had decided that if fate wanted the two to be stuck together, Eddie was going to make it hell for the Harrington boy. This surely had to be karmic effects in motion, all favoring Eddie, right? Maybe they were tied together. Fate was giving Eddie a chance to turn the tides, be the stronger, craftier one who made the bullies and jocks run in fear. It had to be. Eddie needed it to be. He couldn’t stand the idea they were held together by more than just this anger and heartache and suffering Eddie had endured. Maybe the loop would end when Steve Harrington was a broken shell of who he used to be, physically fine but emotionally drained down to the husk of who he was, and that would be the Steve that had to live a future. A Steve Harrington who had to take all the lessons of pain and suffering with him, unable to drop them in the morning.
Plus, it allowed Eddie to work on his campaigns and ideas. Eddie was sure Steve hadn’t gotten a close look into Eddie’s journal or the specifics of what he was doing, so Eddie altered things a bit, wrote down new ideas for the future, and he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And the time for Steve to arrive came and went.
And even though he said he would see him tomorrow, there was no sign of Steve Harrington.
What an asshole.
Steve Harrington didn’t even have the decency to stick to his schedule or take Dustin’s advice again. The high class king was probably on his way to Prague! Anyone who saw Eddie that day would say his mood could create thunderstorms with how charged and dark it was. So Eddie had wasted his day, and he had returned home. But, as it always did, the darkness came and enveloped him, a soft heartbeat in the abyss lulling him to sleep until the sound of his uncle’s voice woke him again.
Rinse and repeat.
Eddie pulled himself out of bed as requested. He poured himself a bowl of cereal, wondering if he would ever tire of the flavor of frosted corn flakes. He made sure not to shatter the mug above the sink. He grabbed his schoolbag and all of his campaign notes. After giving his uncle a hug goodbye he was out the door, avoiding the potholes in the road before pulling into the school lot.
He went to his classes, he stayed silent even though he knew all the answers now, and he was in the club room right on time when Steve Harrington walked in. Eddie bit back his Aha! comment, and instead looked up calmly, as he did two days before, and waited for the question.
However, the Steve Harrington who has walked in looking for help has something off about him, different than the first time around. It unnerved Eddie slightly. Was this a trick in the loop? Steve was looking much more demure. His chest was no longer broadened and the grin that had Eddie’s knees going weak in fear and desire wasn’t playing on his lips. No, Steve Harrington looked like he was trying to make himself appear smaller–maybe for Eddie’s sake–but Eddie wasn’t going to let this game end so quickly.
So, when Steve asked, sincere and pleading and kindly, Eddie replied exactly the same.
“A time loop?” Eddie made sure to laugh directly in Harrington’s face. “Is this some stupid alumni jock tactic? Get an oldie to come in here and try to fuck with the Freak? Listen man, you’ll have to do better.”
Of their own accord, Steve’s arms crossed over his chest and a frown directed his lips. “Dustin said you would help.”
“Ooh~involving freshmen in your pranks now? What do they get out of it? Wedgie free weeks? Toilet free Tuesdays?”
“No man, that’s not–That’s a dumb idea anyways. Dustin just said you could help people, like, outcasts, like me, or whatever.” Steve glanced away, a hand on the back of his neck. “I thought I would try.”
Eddie barked out a sharp, short laugh. “Well, sorry man. Maybe it’s just all those concussions from your dumb sports causing a break in your psyche. You’ll have to talk to someone else–”
“It’s not from a concussion!” Steve shouted to cut him off this time, annoyance breaking through his demure facade. “God, no wonder Dustin likes hanging out with you. Okay, whatever, Munson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before Eddie could reply, Steve had already walked out the door and left Eddie standing there with his breath caught in his throat. Once the door had firmly shut, Eddie sagged into his chair and put his face in his hands once more.
Eddie replayed the conversation over in his head, the words he had used. Eddie was a man for details, for the foreshadowing in a campaign, every object, every path, every comment serving a purpose. So, it made since that in this, he wanted to make sure he got it all right. Eddie hoped at least that maybe in Steve’s emotional duress, if Eddie ever did mess up, Harrington would hardly notice and Eddie could redo it the next day. After regaining his composure, and ensuring an empty hallway, Eddie left the school to enjoy his day as he pleased–practicing guitar, writing new songs he hoped he would remember when the loop ended, and reveling in the feeling of success.
Eddie figured that he could keep this up for awhile–really, he only needed to be at the school around the specific time Steve would go looking for him–and he hoped that this emotional torment would be enough to satisfy fate.
Much to the amusement of his uncle, Eddie went to bed grinning and humming a jovial tune to himself, for once this week eager to slip into the darkness that overcame him.
And so, for the next week, Eddie Munson had a specific routine. Wake up. Enjoy breakfast with his uncle–you never knew when it would be the last. Spend the morning playing guitar. Go to the clubroom to meet with Steve Harrington. Gaslight Steve Harrington into thinking he was delusional with precise word choice. Bask in his revenge plot. Go home to write more campaigns and celebrate with a smoke.
An easy, simple day.
Sometimes he would change things up. Go to the diner, the arcade, the movies. But he always made sure to spend time with his uncle, and to meet Steve as expected. After about a week, Eddie thought he had this whole thing down.
To his credit, Harrington had done a thorough job of trying to convince Eddie to help. He had tried to bribe him with both money and food, on two separate days. He had tried to play the shy guy and had what to Eddie sounded like a practiced stutter. He had tried the tough guy thing again–half-heartedly so this go around. He bought cassettes and concert tickets and promises to protect Eddie’s “flock” from the jocks.
To Eddie’s credit, he hadn’t slipped up once. It was easy, he figured, given that even if he accepted all these things from Steve, there was no guarantee they would be available when Wednesday rolled around. What if Steve forgot to buy those tickets, or talk to the jocks. Eddie would be losing that side of the trade. So it was plenty easy to deny, deny, deny.
Eddie was feeling quite proud of himself when he walked into his club room that Tuesday.
But, the high in his head immediately dissipated when Eddie realized he was not alone.
Steve Harrington was already waiting in the room. Steve Harrington was waiting in his club room, sitting on his throne, with his own hands zip tied together in front of him on the table.
It was just a moment later, after noticing the zip ties, that Eddie’s eyes had traveled up the unusually bare arms Steve was boasting and found themselves staring at a broad, bare chest. Eddie’s eyes lingered on the chest hair spiraling about–he wondered what it would be like to press his face against those pecs.
Steve hadn’t moved a muscle. Hadn’t even flinched when Eddie came in the door. The only apparent difference Eddie gathered while sitting under that firm stare, had been Steve smirking slightly when Eddie had subconsciously licked his own lips.
There was a burning in Eddie’s chest. It felt like someone had set fire to his shirt and all he could do was let it burn, through his skin, into his lungs, choking him on the smoke and sealing the soft tissue together. Eddie realized he’d been holding his breath. He finally took in a gulpful of air, and the burning pressure quickly dissipated. Still, he could feel a warmth on his cheeks, and he already knew he was turning a ruddy color.
Why was Steve Harrington here already? Eddie flicked his eyes towards the clock in the room, confirming he was in fact not late. Nothing should have been different. Except, well. If they always met at the same time, surely Steve could have known that too. And perhaps, Steve could have gotten there early, and perhaps planned this confusingly cruel and tempting interaction.
By that point, Eddie had also already noted that Steve appeared to be only in boxers, as Eddie was able to glimpse the soft skin of a thigh before the rest was hidden by the table. As well, he realized Steve hadn’t asked for help yet.
So maybe, it was up to Eddie to start the conversation. He swallowed thickly, forcing his own gaze to meet the stare from the other. It took more focus than Eddie would have cared to admit to not get lost in those eyes. Eddie doubted he had ever been looked at in such a way before. This wasn’t the firm stare of intimidation that Eddie had experienced before. It was off putting, not in a way that made his skin crawl like when Carver was about to have his cleat meet Eddie’s side, but it made Eddie feel vulnerable all the same. Like prey. Harrington was peeling away the layers Eddie had built up piece by piece, patient, slow, purposeful. Wanting, desiring something Eddie would have to give. So yes, it took quite the focus for Eddie to form words.
“Pleasure to have your visit, Mr. Harrington,” He started, wincing at the crack in his voice as he said Steve’s name. “How may I assist you?”
Just as he had been since Eddie entered the room, Steve remained mostly unmoving. The only constant motion was the slow rise and fall of his chest, confident and calm. Eddie thought if he focused hard enough he could even hear Steve’s heartbeat in the silence while he waited on an answer– the answer, the question– that Eddie knew had to be coming. But the beat was too loud, too quick, and Eddie realized it was his own organ playing in his ears.
Then softly, Steve asked his question. “I’m stuck in a time-loop. Can you help me?”
Steve had tried the soft persona before, the shy guy, the pathetic one who just needed guidance, but all of those voices had reeked of disingenuity. The too-tight smile,the pinched mouth, wrinkles at the eyes, had all made it so easy for Eddie to turn him away.
Now, however, Steve seemed to have none of those. Vulnerability rolled slowly off of Harrington, aided by his restraints and the position he had put himself in. The skin of his face soft and open, his eyes now looking through his lashes towards Eddie. His lips had been left slightly parted after his question, and Eddie could see the quick swipe of his tongue behind them.
Eddie Munson was a weak man. He could feel his knees weakening, aching to give out just as he wanted to give in to the desperate plea for help Steve was giving him. But Eddie knew he probably wouldn’t get this chance again–Steve had never done quite the same thing twice–and he could only imagine how thoroughly this might destroy Steve “The King” Harrington’s confidence if he was shot down by someone so low on the social hierarchy as Eddie “The Freak” Munson.
With that in mind, Eddie was able to curl his lips into his best version of a mocking grin, and relay his rehearsed line, “A time loop? Is this some stupid alumni jock tactic? Get an oldie to come in here and try to fuck with the Freak? Listen man, you’ll have to do better.” After many minutes of rising panic, letting the familiar refrain fall from his lips seemed to open a damn that let those anxieties rush away. Eddie was in control, Eddie was a step ahead, Eddie was going to win this. So assuredly, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the table, staring Harrington down and even remembering to breathe this time when his eyes lingered over the curving muscle along Steve’s shoulders. He simply waited for the next line of this perverted chorus they did together, Steve always mentioned Dustin sending him to Eddie despite whatever ridiculous ruse he had developed for the day, and Eddie always knew how to respond.
Except for today.
Oh, how easy was a victory lost.
Steve actually had the audacity to smile at Eddie. It didn’t cross his whole face like he had just won a championship, it wasn’t the grin of someone about to introduce Eddie’s teeth to the toe of a steel boot, and it wasn’t the leer of having a girl in your backseat. No. This, as Eddie felt his stomach begin to fall, was the smile of someone who had just ever so subtly won something. The knowing look a chessmaster might get when their opponent makes a critical mistake that unbeknownst to them has placed victory in the master’s lap. Like a parent who had just asked their child a question they knew the answer to and received a lie in place of the truth. It was simply knowing, soft, victory, and it made Eddie grip the sleeves of his shirt harder to try and ground himself.
“I knew you’d come around.”
“What do you mean? I told you no, didn’t I?” Eddie began to wrack his brain, bring the conversation back to the expected flow. Sure, Steve may have varied their conversations before, but Eddie always knew how to improv just mildly enough to keep anything out of suspicion, and bring the right words back into conversation that would annoy Harrington to no end with the repetition. But in this moment, Steve almost looked pleased by the dedicated, repeated words coming out of Eddie’s mouth. “Maybe it’s just all those concussions from your dumb sports causing a break in your psyche. You’ll have to talk to someone else…to help you out.”
Eddie realized he had never gotten to finish that sentence, always cut off from Steve just leaving the room shouting in response. The last four words felt foreign in his mouth, more improv than anything else he’d had to do.
Steve slowly shook his head in response, and without a word he stood and started walking towards Eddie. Eddie took a small step back, completely unsure of what was going to happen next, predictability in his day gone. To his surprise, Steve stopped just before Eddie and with a delicateness Eddie hadn’t realized could be possessed by such firm and scarred–when had Steve gotten those scars?--arms, Steve looped his bound arms around Eddie’s neck.
“Okay,” Steve said softly, letting his eyes glance down to meet Eddie’s. “Okay, you won’t help me. This is my time loop, then. Nothing I do today is going to matter tomorrow. Then this is what I’m going to do.”
Eddie felt Steve shift his stance, subtly coercing Eddie with the brush and push of his bare legs until Eddie’s back was against the table. He could feel the coarse rub of Steve’s arm hair tickling along Eddie’s neck. The burning pressure in his chest had returned. “What are you going to do?” Eddie asked softly. How far was Steve willing to go? Why was he doing it in the first place? Maybe all those rejections really had broken Steve’s psyche.
Steve smiled faintly, sadly, and leaned in so his lips would brush Eddie’s ear as he spoke, causing a shiver down the older male’s neck. “I guess you’ll have to see.” Then, with no other warning, warm lips were being pressed to the skin behind Eddie’s ear before they began moving down, traveling along Eddie’s neck and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Eddie was sure his heart was going to stop. When had he last taken a breath? He tried to let his mind catch up to the moment, but every kiss sent a new shockwave through his system. Steve goddamn Harrington was pressing some of the softest and most lascivious kisses to Eddie’s neck and collarbones. This was wrong on so many levels, how had Eddie ended up here. Eddie wasn’t not enjoying it persay, especially if the sudden discomfort in his jeans meant anything, but it felt like he had to have been taking advantage of Steve somehow. Letting Steve believe that none of this would matter when they both fell asleep, that the day would start anew and Steve next time could even go further and– oh. Oh no. This was going to matter.
Eddie Munson was a weak man. Weak in the knees, desperate to find friction, desperate to get the chance to touch, but he knew he couldn’t. With a shuddering breath, he grabbed onto Steve’s arms and removed them from around his neck, and simply said, “Stop.”
Steve did. His mouth had honestly left Eddie’s neck exposed to the cool air conditioning as soon as he had felt the hands grasp his arms, but he had the decency to step away as well. Eddie appreciated the space to breathe. When Eddie finally regained himself enough to look at Steve, he had expected pain or hurt from the rejection. Instead, he was looking at the shit-eating grin of the King of the Jocks. Fuck. Eddie had been played.
—----
“Damn, you lasted longer than I had expected, Munson. That’s pretty cool. Still, a dick move though on your part.”
Steve was grinning at Eddie now, unashamed in his minimal clothing and warmed by this new victory. Eddie was looking confused–or trying to feign it. Eddie had been doing some great acting for awhile.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Harrington? You’re the one who pushed me and got in my space and started–”
“Started giving it to you, I know. Fun, hm? I really hadn’t even expected I’d have to do that, but, ya know, when duty calls.” Steve shrugged, like the moment had been as normal as doing laundry. And, as an added dick move, he winked when he suggested, “We can always continue later if you want.” Steve sneered in amusement when he saw the flush on Eddie’s cheeks and the way he started to stammer out a response. Honestly, given that Eddie had probably been messing with Steve for much longer, less than an hour of flustering seemed like minimal payback. As well, it was one of the few things keeping Steve from chewing out Eddie and actually getting angry with him.
Finally, Eddie managed to get his words out and ask again, “What the fuck is going on?”
Steve took a second to snap the zip ties off his wrist, doing so by forcefully bringing his elbows back by his sides to snap the thin band. “Well, Munson, I could ask you the same question. Why the fuck have you been ignoring me for the past two weeks?”
Eddie had the audacity to scoff, rolling his eyes and walking to the far end of the table where his throne was. “Ignoring you? As if, I’ve seen you every single day, haven’t I?”
“Refusing to help me then. Lying about what is happening. Acting like none of it mattered to you.”
“Is that why you did this today? You thought this would matter?”
“I knew it pushed what I had been trying, and man, I’ve been desperate. Don’t you want this to end? We’re like, the only two people aware of what’s going on and you haven’t even been close to breaking.”
Eddie was quiet for a moment as he thought it over. “How did you know it would work? What if I had said the same things, rejected you, or hell, what if I had even gone along with it and acted like your timeloop thing was still fake? Actually—You knew, didn’t you? How did you realize it?”
Steve gave him a tired grin as he moved to start collecting his belongings and redressing at the far end of the table. “I tested it. I knew you and everyone else said the same things over and over. I wondered if it would change, ever, and so I tested it with other people. And, based on what I did, I could actually get them to not say the one or two lines they always said—but you didn’t, today. You said the exact same thing, even though I was like, practically naked and bound up in front of you, something way far off from normal. That’s how I knew you were stuck, too. You tried too hard.”
That was a sentence Myunson had never thought he would hear, that he had tried too hard, put in too much effort, but Steve Harringtonwas saying it because it was true. Eddie had replicated everything near perfectly, but even Steve had started to notice some of the slight gives in Eddie’s demeanor, the proud smiles he gave himself when he thought Steve was no longer looking. It had been slowly creeping towards this until the truth finally washable to wash over them like a tidal wave. Steve hoped this wave had been forceful enough to knock some sense into Eddie–or at least a little compassion to Steve’s situation.
Steve wondered if maybe Eddie enjoyed being stuck like this, never having to worry about graduation or getting bullied. His music career withheld and with it any fears Eddie may have had of never actually getting his break into the field. If he couldn’t move forward, he didn’t have to be scared of the future. Steve could sympathize with that. But Steve always looked forward, expected that the next day could be better. He wanted to hang out with his kids, be annoyed by their obnoxious demands to be driven places, to try and change his relationship with his parents. Being stuck in a loop stopped him from all of that. And so, he had to try.
Eddie had taken up scowling while Steve dressed and pondered, then Eddie started to pace, and to mutter to himself. Steve sat in one of the empty chairs and waited for him to finish. Hopefully they would be getting somewhere that day.
“Okay, fine, you’re not that dumb then, huh? But, you don’t know how to get out of this on your own…You kept saying Dustin sent you to me. Why would he do that?”
Steve shrugged in response, then paused, remembering the first few loops. “Metallica.” At Eddie’s quizzical stare, he continued. “I told Dustin I kept waking up hearing this annoying song, and he said the band Metallica played it. And so it reminded him of you, and he, like, praised your intelligence, so he sent me to you. Multiple times, actually, very annoyingly.”
“It’s the tone, right?” Eddie chimed in, his scowl softening to an amused expression, which turned into a short laugh when Steve pointed at him in agreement.
“Yes! His tone…But…I hope he was right. Will you finally help me now? I tried reading the book that he told me about, with the soldiers and stuff, but it didn’t seem relevant.”
“I mean, true,we’re not soldiers in a war–not until someone tries to nuke someone else though or the next draft comes through–but, Steve, it’s more about the mores. The themes, morals, lesson we should be getting. I probably dug a little more than you….I have had more free time I bet, sorry, but, uh, all the things like this have that one thing in common. Learning a lesson to move on. I just hope I don’t learn the lesson on the same day I burn a dick into Carver’s lawn or steal a grand from the bank.”
Steve was nodding slowly along, trying to keep up with everything Eddie was saying, but his pieces hadn’t quite connected yet. “So…a lesson. We have to learn something before we can move to the next day…but we don’t know what it is, and we may fuck up ourlives without even knowing it?”
Eddie hummed, his hands held together in front of his lips as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah…Pretty much. I think that’s the best way to go about it. I tried looking into like, the scientific bullshit about it, but physics is too much for me man, and we don’t even know what the point of contact was for the loop to start,so we can’t go there to try and reverse it with another high energy event–”
Steve held up his hand for Eddieto stop talking, his other hand pinching the bridge of his nose between two closed eyes. “Thank you for the lecture, Professor Munson, but that’s going over my head. Let’s go back to simple. Morals. If you knew about that, you must’ve been trying something right? Not just being a dick to me?” Steve was looking at Eddie expectantly, but Eddie had bit his lip and looked away, the tips of his ears turning a shade of red the more Steve watched.
“Well, funny thing is…I thought I was doing my moral duty. Like, maybe, I thought that we were stuck together because I was getting this opportunity to, ahem, teach you a lesson on not being a bully? I may have considered the words ‘turn him into an emotional husk of his formal self’, heh….Sorry. Um…Steve?”
Steve was sitting with his hands on his knees, staring unblinking at Eddie, unnerving the other male no doubt, but Steve was trying to reconcile this. Eddie hadn’t just been a dick for fun,he’d had a purpose, which he thought would get them out of the loop. Unfortunately, the idea made Steve’s stomach begin to turn as he realized the impression he must have left on Eddie. Steve, popular in high school and looking down on others, using people for his own advantage, staying silent when Tommy and Carol would actually harass the other students. But Steve knew that that was the past, that he had changed thanks to the kids he had met, because of Dustin, because of Nancy, but Eddie didn’t know any of this. Steve had simply left an acrid taste in the older boy’s mouth.
“Hey, earth to Steve, I didn’t lose you, did I?” Eddie had started snapping in front of Steve’s face, causing him to shake slightly and snap out of his state.
“Um, I’m here, I–...Eddie, I’m so sorry. I know it might not mean much to you, but I swear I’m not that person anymore.I’ve had a lot of new people in my life kinda shake that all out of me–Hell, I got my face busted by Hargrove last year—so I wouldn’t say I was on top of the world all that much…Whatever you think about the me then, I don’t think like, emotionally destroying me is gonna get us out of this..”
And if Steve hadn’t looked so genuinely hurt, slumped and looking up at the man before him like he would take any harm Eddie could throw but not retaliate because he thought he deserved it, Eddie may have never forgiven him. This wasn’t some master manipulation to get out of the pain, but a plea from someone aching to get on with their life. So, with a soft sigh, Eddie kneeled down in front of Steve, placing one hand on his knee to steady himself and the other to push the fallen hairs from Steve’s face. He could feel the gentle pressure of Steve leaning in as Eddie spoke. “Hey, man, I’m on your side, okay? I believe you. We’ll figure this out.”