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“Harrington residence,” answers Steve automatically before he realizes what time it is.
Nothing good can be coming of a phone call at two in the morning. Hackles raised, he pauses for a response, but no one speaks. Groaning in annoyance, Steve rolls over onto his back, the phone cord coiling over him as he does.
He hears shuddering breathing on the other end and asks anxiously, “Hello?”
Small and almost entirely unrecognizable, the voice on the other end asks, “Steve?”
“Eddie? What — what’s up, man? It’s like 2AM.”
“Can… can you come pick me up?”
Eddie sounds weird. Off. Subdued. Like he’s on something. Steve’s panic lurches into an abrupt spike of annoyance. “Sure, man, where — where are you?”
“Um,” A long pause. “I don’t know.”
Rolling his eyes, Steve looks at his watch. “Okay, well, I can’t come get you if I don’t know where you —”
“‘M at a party. It’s um…”
The silence stretches, and Steve can hear Eddie moving around. He rolls his eyes again. Probably on several somethings. He waits for Eddie to realize where he is, either by looking out the window or asking someone else there, he’s not sure and he doesn’t care. Steve’s jaw is starting to clench in frustration by the time Eddie is back with an answer.
“Okay, I’m like fifteen minutes away.” Steve scribbles the address onto the back of an envelope with the phone jammed between his ear and shoulder. “Just wait outside for me or something. You owe me, Munson.”
The address turns out to be a house just outside town, and the roads are so vacant Steve doesn’t even have to speed to get there fast. The house is absolutely lit up even from the road. Silhouettes of large crowds can be spotted through the lit windows on both floors. A peppy baseline of some pop song thuds through the walls. Steve’s nose wrinkles at the smell of stale beer and sweat. Parties like this stopped being fun when he was sixteen. Looking back, he’s not sure he even found them all that fun, then.
Then again, Eddie probably wasn’t here for fun, either. He didn’t say, but judging by the choke of weed smoke and the sheer number of rich-looking teenagers in this house, Eddie was probably here selling.
It’s hard to find anyone in this throng, and so Steve grabs the shoulder of a guy with short blond hair and a joint in his mouth.
“Hey, you get that here?” Steve asks, gesturing. When the guy nods, Steve asks, “The guy still here?”
“Backyard,” the smoker grumbles around the joint, “last I saw, anyway.”
“Thanks,” Steve answers as he starts toward the back door. He’s relieved to get out of the close quarters, but as he swings the door to the back patio open, only a small group of people are sitting around smoking on the steps, none of which are Eddie.
“Jesus,” Steve huffs to himself before clearing his throat and asking the group, “hey, uh, any of you see a guy with long dark hair out here? Probably selling?”
A girl with short hair permed like Nancy’s scoffs. “Yeah, he went in with Richard ‘bout an hour ago.”
Steve tisks as the girl takes a drag of her cigarette.
“Check upstairs,” she suggests. “I’d knock, though.”
Steve is halfway up the stairs before he realizes there must be only bedrooms up here. It makes him hesitate. Eddie sounded pretty messed up on the phone. Maybe he wasn’t just high. Did someone slip him something? Did a guy slip him something?
Bristling, Steve takes the remaining stairs two at a time and knocks on the first door he reaches. “Eddie?”
No answer. Steve swings it open. Empty.
He knocks on the next one. “Eddie?”
Still no response, but when he opens this door, Eddie is there, seated crosslegged on the floor against the far wall next to a dresser. Alone. The room is dark and Steve almost misses him. He doesn’t seem particularly distraught, which is a relief, except he also doesn’t seem to hear Steve come in, either. Just picking silently on the ragged cuff of his jeans and staring straight ahead at the wall.
“Jesus, Eddie, hey, what’s going on?”
Blinking, Eddie looks over. “H’rrington?”
“Yeah, man, it’s me.” He gestures to the phone off the hook on the nearby bedside table. The pea soup colour of it matches the wallpaper. “You called me to come get you, remember?”
Eddie furrows his brow. “I called… you?”
He should definitely remember that. It wasn’t that long ago. Back to panicking, Steve crosses the room and kneels down in front of Eddie on the floor. “Yeah, Munson, do you not remember? It was like fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Steve glances over at the little black lunchbox set down on the floor by Eddie’s knee. He wonders if whatever it is Eddie took is his own shit, or something someone else gave him. Maybe Steve’s naive to assume Eddie doesn’t sell roofies, but it really doesn’t seem like something he’d be willing to give out.
Sucking his teeth, Steve gives Eddie’s shoulders a little shake. “Dude, are you alright? What’d you take?”
“No, ‘m not high,” answers Eddie.
Steve’s not sure he believes that. “Well, you called me to come get you, man. So here I am. You drove here, right? I saw your van out front. If you’re not high or drunk, why’d you need to be picked up?”
At that, Eddie looks abruptly upset.
“Sorry,” he says without reason. “I — I don’t know why…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence either. Steve is really starting to miss when Eddie never shut up. He feels like an ass for being annoyed on the phone. Something is definitely wrong with him. He regrets even trying to be flippant with the look on Eddie’s face.
“It’s okay, man, just… What happened? Are you okay?”
“‘M okay. I am. I just…” Eddie looks down at his shoes. “I dunno what happened.”
“Okay,” Steve says, getting to his feet. He holds out his hand for Eddie, but Eddie doesn’t take it quickly enough. Just stares at it until Steve grabs him by the arm and hoists him up. Panic is starting to turn into rage, and Steve isn’t sure who to point it to. Who left Eddie like this? What the hell did they do to him? “Was — was anyone in here with you, man? Do you remember?”
Going tense, Eddie’s eyes widen. “Wh… what?”
“Some girl downstairs said…” Steve hesitates, feeling Eddie trembling under his hands. Shit. Maybe he didn’t want Steve to know any details, there. “Said you came up here with someone. Do you remember that?”
“What’d she say?” Eddie asks, voice shivering. “What’d she tell you?”
“Hey, look, don't worry about it. I’m just trying to —”
“No, I remember — it’s not like —” He looks like he’s about to cry. “What’d she say?”
“You remember coming up here, but you don’t remember calling me?”
“‘S not like that,” Eddie repeats weakly. “It’s not. Please, Steve, what did she — tell you?”
“Nothing, Munson, I’m just… Trying to find out what happened. You seem kinda fucked up.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. The minute it’s out of Steve’s mouth, tears spill down Eddie’s face, shrinking into himself enough that he pulls out of Steve’s hold.
“I am,” manages Eddie through sobs, “I am fucked up.”
“Ed, hey, c’mon, that’s not what I meant,” Steve tries, taking hold of Eddie’s arms again. “Get it together. It’s okay, man. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. Okay? Can you tell me?”
“It’s me,” Eddie whimpers, “I’m wrong. Shit. Please don’t hate me.”
“Okay,” Steve relents. He hopes his voice sounds more stable than it feels. He reaches down to pick up Eddie’s lunch box off the floor, uncomfortable with looking Eddie in the eye when he’s crying like this. “I don’t hate you, okay? You didn’t — you didn’t do anything.”
Steve’s not sure if he’s doing the right thing by dropping it. Whoever was in here with Eddie had to have done something, but Eddie clearly won’t talk about it like this. Steve doesn’t like that. He lets out a breath and holds tight onto Eddie’s arm.
“C’mon. I’m taking you home. We’re gonna take my car. I’ll drop you off at home and your uncle and I can come back and pick up your van after. Okay?”
Watching his feet as he walks, Eddie mumbles distantly, “Okay.”
Steve really doesn’t want him stumbling through this crowded house. Chewing on his lip, he considers something.
“What’re you, like one-twenty-five?”
“I’m…” Eddie looks up from his feet. “What?”
Asking questions is kind of useless. Steve shakes his head. “Forget it. Just… it’s really crowded and loud out there, so once we make it down the stairs, I’m just gonna hoist you on my back. Piggyback-style. Okay?”
Blinking, Eddie nods. “Okay.”
Steve hopes he doesn’t have to explain this again at the base of the stairs. He takes Eddie’s wrist and walks slowly, carefully, leading Eddie out of the room, through the hallway and down the stairs. He walks as if he’s drunk. Steve finds himself hoping he is. He’s really starting to worry.
“Okay, remember what I said? Just — I’m gonna kneel down and you can get on my back, okay?”
Eddie stares at him a moment. “On your back?”
Nodding, Steve arranges them awkwardly, kneeling in front of Eddie while leading him forward by his arm.
As Eddie drapes himself over Steve’s back, Steve hears a choked sort of gasp in his ear.
“You okay, man?”
“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs as he crosses his arms around the base of Steve’s neck. Maybe it’s just because he’s speaking right against Steve’s ear, but he sounds a little more present than he had back in the bedroom. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Okay, hang on.”
Eddie’s skin is unnervingly cold against Steve’s. It’s as if Steve dragged him out of a pool. Instinctively, he reaches up to rub warmth into Eddie’s forearm at his neck, smoothing down the goosebumps there.
“You’re freezing, man. Was a window open in there?”
Eddie shakes his head. “You’re warm.”
Clucking his tongue, Steve lets it go with a nod. Girls have told him before that he runs hot, but he didn’t think it was that big of a difference. He gives Eddie’s arm another careful stroke before he starts to walk.
Eddie jostles at his back with a soft whimper. He’s shivering and quiet, his body wriggling against Steve’s back. It feels oddly distracting. It’s a little too similar to when girls will mess around in bed and climb all over his back. Similar enough that the back of Steve’s neck flushes. He hopes Eddie doesn’t notice.
As they make it outside, the air feels noticeably cooler against Steve’s skin. Icy. It hadn’t been that cold when he looked for Eddie outside. Remembering how cold Eddie’s skin felt, Steve reaches up to press warmth into Eddie’s arm again.
“You okay?” he asks again.
“You’re warm,” responds Eddie softly.
Chewing his lip, Steve nods as he makes it to his car. If he weren’t okay, he’d probably say something else.
“Okay, bud,” Steve huffs, swinging his passenger side door open. “Let’s get you home.”
He drops Eddie into the passenger seat, and Eddie lets out a quiet little whine. Steve turns around to see Eddie reaching for him and swallows, stepping back. Eddie doesn’t seem to realize his hand is outstretched, and so Steve casually takes it as he maneuvers Eddie into the seat.
“You still doin’ okay?”
“Um,” Eddie blinks. “Yeah.”
Steve’s not sure if he realizes what he was doing a moment ago, but either way, mentioning it would just embarrass the both of them. He gives Eddie a pat on the shoulder before closing the door after him. The back of Steve’s neck burns as he crosses to the other side of the car and climbs into the driver’s side. He does his best to ignore it.
Starting the car, the radio blares to life, some poppy number that sets Steve’s teeth on edge, so he turns the radio off. He glances over to see Eddie still sitting unmoved. Frowning, Steve reaches across Eddie’s chest to buckle his seatbelt for him. Silently, Eddie watches. The click of the seatbelt feels too loud, and Steve lets out a heavy breath as he sits back.
It’s been a while since Steve has bothered going on a date, and he’s not really a touchy guy outside of girlfriends and hookups. He hadn’t thought it had been that long of a dry spell, but if carrying Eddie on his back has made him this flustered, maybe he should bite the bullet and call back Heather Grady or Brenda Teller or someone else who’s still in town.
“Hey, man,” Steve starts carefully, relieved when Eddie turns to look at him. “What happened back there?”
There’s a long pause before Eddie answers, “I dunno.”
“Seriously, Munson, c’mon, do you — do you remember who you were up there with?”
What had the girl said his name was? Rick? Robert? Steve is trying to think if he knows anyone in Hawkins who might’ve gone upstairs with Eddie without setting off any of Eddie’s alarm bells.
“S’not… like that,” mumbles Eddie, his voice fuzzy with tears. “He liked me.”
“Okay,” Steve relents, a rock hard tension between his shoulder blades as he drives through the dark. “It’s okay, I just want to make sure —”
“St — stop,” Eddie insists, his eyes welling with tears, “just stop, man. S’not like that.”
“Okay.” Steve drums his fingers on the steering wheel, anxious. He hates the way Eddie sounds. Like all the personality’s been sucked out. “Okay, I’ll drop it. I’m sorry.”
For most of the drive, the only sound is Eddie’s sniffling. Steve wonders if he should turn the radio back on, or if that would feel too obvious. Maybe Eddie wouldn’t even notice. Steve doesn’t look over at him. He tries to think of something else, but all that goes through his mind is a list of names that the girl might’ve told him. Richard. It was Richard. Does Steve know a Richard?
As Steve drives down Kerley Street Eddie’s poorly-lit trailer park flickers by the side of the road. Along with most of the other FEMA trailers that dot the park, there’s no cars in front of the Munsons’, and the windows are all dark. After meeting in the hospital, Steve has learned that no matter how tired Mr. Munson is, he wouldn’t go to bed without knowing Eddie is safe.
“Hey,” Steve prods at Eddie, who is just staring straight ahead out the windshield. “Hey, man, your uncle’s not here.”
Blinking slowly, Eddie turns to look at him. He frowns. “Okay.”
Steve would offer to wait around until his uncle got home, but he has no idea when that will be, and in all honesty he’s really starting to feel pretty exhausted himself. Steve can’t leave Eddie unattended and he really doesn’t want to crash on their lumpy sofa bed.
“Okay, man, change of plans. I’m just gonna take you to my place. I got a guest room. I’d just rather you sleep this off with someone around, and I don’t know when your uncle is coming home. Sound good?”
Eddie’s expression is unchanged, but he answers, “Okay.”
Steve really wishes he’d say other things. “We’ll get your van in the morning, alright?”
“Okay,” repeats Eddie.
He’s so quiet and still that Steve feels as if it’s not even really Eddie sitting beside him. Should he take Eddie to a hospital instead? What can he even tell them? He promises he’s not high but I don’t know what else could possibly be wrong with him. As you know he has access to a ton of drugs. None of you still think he killed Chrissy Cunningham, right?
“Still with me, Munson?” No answer. Afraid to take his eyes off the road, Steve reaches out and places a sturdy hand on Eddie’s knee. “Hey, Munson?”
He still doesn’t hear Eddie respond, but feels Eddie’s hand creep over and nudge his own. He feels a little warmer than he had earlier. That’s a good sign. It has to be.
“We’re almost to my place, and then you can get some sleep, okay?”
Quietly, Eddie’s voice croaks, “Sure.”
No one is home when Steve pulls into his driveway. Not that he was expecting anyone. He’s pretty sure his parents are in Chicago. They told him when they left earlier this week, but Steve can’t bring himself to remember.
He really doesn’t need to carry Eddie on his back this time, but he wants to. Opens Eddie’s door for him and crouches down so that Eddie can drop against his back. He’s warmer than he was back at the party, which is a relief. His breath is soft against Steve’s pulse as he situates himself.
Steve should really try going on more dates.
Chewing on his lip, he shuffles Eddie into his house, heart jumping into his throat when Eddie tucks his face into Steve’s neck.
“You okay, man?”
“S’good,” mumbles Eddie against his skin. Steve tries not to shiver. “You’re warm.”
Forcing a laugh, Steve bites the inside of his cheek. “Sure, thanks.”
As Steve starts toward the guest room at the end of the hall, Eddie uncrosses his arms to press his palm flat against Steve’s heart. Underneath his chilly fingers, Steve can feel his heart start to race. He’s not sure what compels him to stop walking, but he slows, allowing Eddie to press tighter against him. When Eddie’s legs squeeze Steve’s hips, Steve feels it spark all the way up his spine.
“Eddie?”
“Like it,” whispers Eddie, his face still tucked against Steve’s throat. “Heartbeat.”
“Yeah?” Steve feels something light under his ribs with the honesty of it. He smiles. “I like yours too, man. Glad you’re still with us.”
It makes Eddie giggle, a dazed, lightheaded sound. Laughing has to be a good sign. Steve starts down the hallway again as he feels the soft inhale-exhale of Eddie’s breath on his skin.
“Thanks for comin’ to get me. S’rry if I… scared you,” Eddie murmurs as Steve nudges the guest room door open. “Dunno what happened.”
“S’alright, man, I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Eddie falls quiet at that. Steve feels his breath shudder against the hair at his nape. It’s so gentle, the sensation leaves Steve breathless as he sits Eddie down on the bed.
“Need to borrow some PJs?” Steve forces out as casually as he can manage.
He puts some distance between them as he speaks. It’s a little unnerving that he’s considering jacking off before going to bed himself. But he’s been so fucking lonely, and now his body feels like a livewire. He watches Eddie stare back at him; watches his tongue poke out to wet his lips.
“Will you — stay with me?”
Steve’s chest seizes, searing heat racing up the back of his neck. “Huh?”
“Please don’t — don’t leave,” Eddie whimpers. “Feel better when… when you’re here.”
“Like… you want me to sleep in the bed with you?”
“Yeah.”
Steve can’t tell if he’s glad he didn’t try and crash on Eddie’s couch back at his trailer or not. Sure he wouldn’t have had to drive all the way back to Loch Nora, but he’s not sure Mr. Munson would love peeking his head into Eddie’s room and seeing Steve Harrington in there with him.
The moment the thought is in his mind, he shakes it away. Mr. Munson isn’t like Steve’s dad.
Oh, shit. Mr. Munson.
“I — I should call your place. Leave a message for your uncle real quick. So he knows where you are when he gets home. Okay? I’ll be right back.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll be right back,” Steve assures nervously, backing out of the room.
Relief mixes oddly with nervousness the instant Eddie is out of sight. Steve grabs the phone off the wall in the living room and dials Eddie’s number. It rings three times before the answering machine picks up.
“Munson. Leave a message.” That used to be all the machine said, Steve recalls dully. “And if I catch you fillin’ my machine with nonsense about my nephew, I’ll do you worse. Believe you me.”
Beep!
“Hey, Mr. Munson! It’s Steve Harrington. Just — uh, letting you know Eddie needed a ride after a party so he’s staying over at my place for the night.” As worried as Steve is, he keeps his voice light. There’s no sense in worrying Mr. Munson before he has to. “He’s fine, just didn’t want to drive tired!”
There’s no way Mr. Munson will believe that, but it at least just sounds like Eddie is drunk.
“Anyway, he’s sleeping it off but I didn’t want you to worry about him. We’ll pick up his van in the morning, so don’t wait up.”
Steve lets out a heavy breath while hanging up the phone. Okay. He should probably go back to check on Eddie. Maybe Steve will have lucked out and been right. Then he can just go upstairs, jack off in the shower, go to bed and stop thinking about it.
But when Steve makes it about halfway back down the hallway, he realizes he can hear Eddie crying.
“Oh, shit.”
Steve bolts the rest of the way, guilt heavy on his shoulders when he sees Eddie’s face buried in his knees, curled in a ball in the middle of the ugly brown duvet.
“Eddie, Eddie hey,” Steve kneels down beside the bed. “What’s the matter, man, you okay?”
“I’m sorry,” sobs Eddie, tightening his arms around his legs. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me, I’m — I don’t want you to hate me.”
“I don’t —”
“I’m being — fucking weird. I don’t know what… what happened…”
“Eddie, hey, c’mon…” Steve kneels in front of him, trying to be as delicate as he can when breaching this subject a third time. He places a firm hand on Eddie’s knee. Touching him seems to steady him. “Hey, listen to me. Can you focus? I need you to tell me something. You — did you… whatever happened upstairs at the party. You remember it all, right? Whatever it was, just tell me it wasn’t… he didn’t hurt you, right?”
“Don’t — hate me,” begs Eddie weakly. “Please don’t — don’t hate me, I —”
“I don’t hate you,” Steve insists firmly. Eddie’s pleas feeling like needles in his chest. “I don’t — if it was a guy, that’s fine. That’s not what… just, tell me it’s okay. Tell me you’re okay. Okay?”
Sniffling, Eddie nods. “Yeah — it was…” Taking a deep breath, Eddie stops and nods again. “I’m okay. I wanted to. Asked to.”
That painful tension finally unspools in Steve’s shoulders. Aloud, he sighs, “Okay.”
“Wasn’t until after,” Eddie whispers, his voice hoarse around his tears. He’s curling over himself as if he’s about to be sick, weeping openly. Steve doesn’t know what to do, and just stays still, petting Eddie’s hair back.
“He left — left me,” sobs Eddie. “Please don’t leave me.”
Guilt crushes against Steve’s lungs. He looks back at the open guest room door and frowns.
“Hey, okay. I’m sorry, I know I left, too. But it was just to call your uncle, okay? I won’t — I won’t go anywhere else.” He moves the hand on Eddie’s knee carefully, rubbing comfortingly as Eddie drops his forehead onto Steve’s shoulder. “C’mon, it’s okay. Do you — do you need help getting your jeans off? Just — to sleep comfortably, right? You can leave them on if you want.”
“I’m sorry,” Eddie begs again, reaching up to grab a handful of Steve’s hair. “I’m — I’m sorry.”
Guilt drops in Steve’s gut as he shivers from the touch, swallowing a yelp when Eddie tugs down hard. Eddie doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. He just doesn’t want to be alone. Not only is Steve a total skeeze for thinking about getting laid while Eddie needs him, he’s disgusting enough to let himself hope that maybe Eddie could want him. It feels like exploiting him, when he rubs gently at Eddie’s back.
“Don’t be sorry, Eddie,” Steve manages, trying to hide how breathless he feels as Eddie pulls at his scalp. “It’s over. It’s okay. You’re okay. And I’m not going anywhere, dude. I’m staying right here with you.”
“I don’t — know what happened,” Eddie weeps, sliding from the bed to all but crawl into Steve’s lap. “I was fine — I felt so good, but then it… it stopped…”
Steve can feel his pulse pounding in his throat, hard enough to hurt. He cups the back of Eddie’s skull, trying to be careful. Trying to not cross a line. But Eddie’s weight is solid against Steve, making his head spin a little. Eddie’s breathing is shallow and shaky, like he can feel it, too.
“‘M sorry,” Eddie moans against Steve’s neck, “I felt so — so good…”
It’s too much. Steve grinds his teeth as a starved shiver rimples over his spine. He wants that. To be the one that makes Eddie feel good. He’d never leave him after. This would never happen to him again if Steve could help it. He’d never let anything happen to Eddie again.
“It’s okay,” Steve tries weakly, petting Eddie’s hair. “Let’s just go to bed, okay? You’ll sleep it off. You’ll — you’ll feel better in the morning.”
It’s so satisfying to hold him this way, warm and heavy. Somehow, holding Eddie this way leaves Steve feeling safe. Everything will be okay, if he just holds Eddie like this. If he can keep Eddie safe, then Steve will feel safe, too. Eddie’s hand finds Steve’s chest again, pressing solid against his heart as he catches his breath around his tears.
Steve’s not sure how long they sit there. His eyes are dry with exhaustion by the time Eddie’s tears have quieted down. And still Steve is afraid to disturb him. Afraid to disrupt this fragile moment of peace between them.
“Steve…” Eddie sounds half asleep, and Steve pets a hand through Eddie’s hair, trying to keep him calm in case he bursts into tears again. “I like… your heartbeat.”
“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, hefting back onto his knees to pour Eddie onto the bed. “Yeah, don’t worry, it’s not going anywhere, either.”
“Don’t leave,” Eddie mumbles, even as Steve crawls onto the still-made bed beside him. “‘M sorry, just don’t… don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” assures Steve as he feels Eddie falling asleep in his arms. “I’m right here.”
As Steve tries to get comfortable lying flat on his back, Eddie shuffles onto Steve’s chest, his hand finding Steve’s heart again. The pressure on Steve’s chest is deceptively relaxing. Just a warm weight he hasn’t felt beside him in so long that he’s dozing before he even realizes.
“Steve,” Eddie murmurs into his ear, snapping him back awake. “Can you — can you keep petting my hair?”
“Yeah,” answers Steve. Too tired to hesitate. Too tired to deny himself, to deny Eddie. “Yeah, ‘course.”
Running his nails through Eddie’s curls, he feels Eddie settling against him. It feels like too far, like he shouldn’t be doing this. Taking advantage.
But then Eddie purrs against his neck, “Feels good.”
Steve cringes, realizing he’s hard. He prays Eddie doesn’t notice. Pets Eddie’s hair steadily, until he hears his breathing fall deep and even with sleep. Even after, he finds it soothing to keep dragging his fingers through Eddie’s hair, his other hand creeping down the front of his own pants to stroke his dick.
It feels sick and wrong, guilt turning his dick soft as he wraps a hand around it. Abruptly cold all over, Steve rips his hand away. He’s despicable.
Daylight is peeking out the window by the time Steve’s guilt lets him sleep. Dreamless and fitful.
“Fuck.”
It’s not loud, but Steve snaps awake at the sound of Eddie’s voice. The sun is flooding the bedroom at angles that indicate well past noon, and Eddie is on his elbows, hair wild and face blanched and pale as he peers down at Steve as if he’s an alien. But his eyes look clearer than they did last night. Clear enough that Steve feels relief loosen the tension on his heart.
“Eddie —”
“Oh, fuck. Fuck.” Eddie scrambles off the bed, tripping in his haste, and Steve rushes to follow him. “I’m — I’m so sorry. Oh my God. Shit. I have — I have to go.”
“Hey, no way, are you kidding me?” Steve grabs for Eddie’s arm, but he rips away instantly.
“I can’t believe that I — I did that,” Eddie mutters then.
He’s facing away from Steve, but he sounds breathless and panicked, and Steve grabs him again and yanks his arm hard enough that he crashes back down on the bed. Eddie refuses to look at Steve, his eyes wide as he clutches his chest with his free hand. Steve responds automatically, getting up and quickly crossing the room to get between Eddie and the bedroom door before Eddie can get back to his feet.
“Oh shit, what did I do? What — what the hell did I do? What’s wrong with me?”
“Eddie, hey,” Steve murmurs, kneeling in front of him as he had the night before, wrapping a hand tight around Eddie’s trembling wrist. “It’s okay, just calm down —”
“I have to go,” Eddie says again, shaking his arm futilely. “Let me go.”
Steve doesn’t. “I’m not letting you go anywhere until you calm down.”
“I am calm!” Eddie all but shouts, kicking his feet weakly.
“Breathe,” Steve tries gently, sitting up on his knees to try and meet Eddie’s eyes. “Just take a breath, okay? Your van’s not even here, remember? Do — do you even remember last night?”
Eddie flinches, but doesn’t answer. That’s not comforting.
“Eddie, I’m serious. You called me in the middle of the night sounding like a zombie. What happened? I drove around at two in the friggin’ morning to come get you. You scared the shit out of me, okay? I thought — I thought someone… hurt you.”
Flinching again, Eddie blinks tears from his eyes. “No one hurt me, Harrington.”
“You called me,” Steve reminds him. “You wanted my help.”
Eddie shakes his head, scrubbing a stray tear from the corner of his eye. Steve doesn’t want to upset him again. Doesn’t want this to happen again. He lets go of Eddie’s wrist. He doesn’t want him to feel trapped, but the idea of him leaving this upset makes Steve feel weirdly cold. He stays crouched in front of Eddie on the floor, stalling.
“I wanted to help, Eddie. I still want to. Look at me.”
“No,” grumbles Eddie petulantly, his eyes downcast, glaring at his lap.
“Just tell me what happened,” Steve tries. “Please?”
No response, but Eddie’s starting to tremble from his tears.
“Don’t be scared of me, man,” Steve says then. “C’mon, it’s not a big deal. Here: you like guys, right? That’s it? That’s what you’re so scared to tell me? That’s fine. Seriously, I don’t care.”
A wet scoff, but Eddie still won’t look at him.
“What happened? I thought you’d been drugged, man.”
Shaking his head, Eddie mumbles, “I didn’t even… have anything to drink.”
“Okay,” Steve prods carefully. “Then what happened? Tell me.”
“You’ll — you’ll think it’s sick.” Eddie swallows. “I think it's sick. I was…”
“I don’t think you’re sick, Eddie. I… I don’t.” It’s maybe not the time to admit it, but maybe it’s the only way to get Eddie to engage with him, so rallying his courage, Steve continues, “Can I tell you something? I’ve, uh, I’ve never told this to anyone other than Robin. But I’ve — I’ve uh, thought about… guys before. I don’t think it’s sick.”
At that, Eddie finally lifts his head. “What?”
“Yeah. True story.”
“Bullshit.”
“Not bullshit.”
“Is this funny to you, Harrington?” Eddie sounds betrayed. “Mocking me?”
“Hey, c’mon, I wouldn’t do that. Eddie, you know me. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never, uh, like, done anything. With, uh, with a guy. Kinda only came to terms with it all recently. But I’m dead serious, okay? And I’m being serious when I say that I don’t care if you’re into guys.” Jitters flood Steve’s limbs at having told Eddie that. He doesn’t want to make this about him. Eddie still seems so volatile and heartbroken. Steve just wants to help him. Make sure whatever happened to him last night won’t ever happen again. “I won’t tell anyone. Hand to God. I swear. Just tell me what happened with this guy. Okay?”
Clenching his eyes shut, Eddie shakes his head again. “I — I was… it’s…”
“Just tell me, man, I’m not gonna…” Steve frowns. He’s not sure what he should promise. That he won’t freak out? He still might. He has no idea what happened, and even with Eddie’s insistence, Steve can’t shake the feeling that he was hurt, somehow. “You were — you were okay?”
“I was fine,” growls Eddie. “Stop with that shit. It wasn’t — bad like that. He didn’t force me to do anything. I was fine.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
“Because I was sucking his cock,” Eddie snaps at last, burning red and curling into himself. “That’s it. Do you want to make me say it? He was holding me by the hair fucking my face and it was so fucking good I felt like I’d gone down a k-hole.”
Steve’s mouth is abruptly dry. He gapes. Eddie seems to be pleased to have disturbed him.
“I would have rather suffocated than he stopped,” he says then, “It felt like I was born to suck his dick upstairs from that party. On the shitty carpet and tacky upholstery. I didn’t even care if he touched me. It didn’t matter. What I felt was better than coming, anyway. Nothing’s ever felt that good. It was better than ketamine.”
“Eddie —”
“But then he came, and he pulled me off him, said he’d see me around and left,” Eddie finishes softly, the cruel amusement gone from his voice. “He left, and I thought I was going to die.”
“Eddie, hey —”
“I wanted to die,” Eddie corrects sharply. “I — he… he left me alone because I’m — because I’m sick. Because I’m not — worth… I’m not worth sticking around for.”
“That’s not true,” insists Steve. “You’re not sick. Nothing you told me is sick.”
“Yes it is. It’s sick. It’s messed up. They’re all right about me. A sick faggot devil worshipper and everyone in this town will always think I killed —”
“Hey, stop,” Steve cuts in firmly.
Eddie does. Bites his lip. Nods.
It’s no secret what the public still thinks of Eddie. Steve hates it. Hates everyone who so much as looks at him funny. Hates that there are still people who are convinced, even after the cops and feds vindicated him, that Eddie would do anything to hurt anyone.
“It was all I could think about after he left,” mutters Eddie. “That I’m always gonna be alone. I’ll never… find someone like other people do. Everything got cold. Like that faint feeling right before you’re sick? I couldn’t — couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You called me,” Steve reminds him gently. He tamps down the urge to touch Eddie’s face. Pet his hair again. It had helped him, last night. “Do you — not remember calling me?”
Covering his face with his hands, Eddie shakes his head. “No.”
“What do you remember?”
Eddie shakes his head again, but moves his hands away so that Steve can see him squinting in concentration, trying to think.
“You were warm,” Eddie finally lands on. “At the foot of the stairs. I remember that. It was loud and I was cold but then… yeah, you were warm.”
“Okay,” Steve says, a twinge of heat at the base of his skull. It makes him feel shy, but he presses forward. “Is that — is that the first thing you remember after, uh… after the guy left?”
Nodding, Eddie gnaws on his bottom lip. “Yeah. Why? How long had you been there?”
“Not long. Five or ten minutes,” Steve assures. “You just seemed really out of it. You weren’t really… talking or anything.”
Staring at his knees, Eddie nods again. “Yeah.”
For a moment, it’s quiet. Sucking his teeth, Steve tries, “Do you… remember anything else?”
“Yeah, a little. We drove. You carried me inside. Did I — did I fall or something?”
“No,” admits Steve. “You — you just seemed kinda wobbly. Didn’t want you to get hurt. Anything after that?”
“I — I made you stay here. In the bed with me.”
Said like that, Steve feels as if his whole body is burning red. “You didn’t make me.”
“I did. You — you didn’t want… You ran off.”
“No, man, I just — I just went to call your uncle. I didn’t want him to think something had happened to you.”
Nothing will happen to you. Steve flinches at the thought. He still feels a simmering rage under his skin. Someone left him like that. Left him alone. Why would anyone do that to him?
Eddie is staring at him skeptically, so Steve tries to refocus.
“Hey, c’mon, it’s not a big deal, Ed. I don’t — I didn’t mind sleeping in here with you.”
I wanted it, something in him admits. I wanted to be with you when you were desperate like that. What’s wrong with me?
Steve’s no better than the asshole who left Eddie all alone. Not really.
He wants to apologize himself, but Steve is afraid. Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to lie, might just admit to taking advantage of Eddie’s neediness; to touching himself while Eddie was asleep. What kind of fucked up person does that?
Instead, Steve asks, “Do you — do you feel better, at least?”
“Um, yeah,” Eddie answers, still not looking up from his knees. “Still a little dizzy but — kinda feels like a hangover.”
“Okay, well…” Steve gives him a hesitant smile, “a cigarette and cold strawberry PopTarts has always helped my hangovers, if you’re interested.”
Eddie’s face is pink as he stares back at Steve. “That… that sounds good.”
Relieved, Steve finally stands, instinctively holding out a hand to help Eddie to his feet. Eddie doesn’t take it right away. He doesn’t want to touch Steve right now. He’s too embarrassed or freaked out. Probably both. Steve drops his hand to his side.
“Sorry, habit.”
Eddie doesn’t acknowledge it. “You smoke?”
“Uh, well, I quit. Mostly. Robin hates it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie snorts, “that I remember. Ripped one right out of my mouth that one time.”
Steve doesn’t remember that, but it makes him laugh anyway. Sounds like something Robin would do.
“My dad still smokes,” Steve mentions. “I’ll grab a pack from one of his stashes. Wait here.”
He doesn’t. Eddie gets up and follows Steve into his parents’ room and looms in the doorway as Steve finds a pack of Camels in the drawer of his father’s bedside table. When Steve hands them over, Eddie’s eyes go wide.
“Did I leave my gear at the party?”
“Huh?” It takes Steve a moment to remember Eddie’s lunchbox. “Oh, no. I’ve got it. It’s in my car. Don’t worry about it. Smokes are on me, alright?”
That makes Eddie smile. He takes the pack and pulls out a cigarette with his teeth. Steve tries not to make it obvious as he watches before leading the way out to the patio.
An abandoned lighter and empty ashtray sit on the ugly bubbleglass table facing the pool just outside. When Eddie offers the pack to Steve, he decides to give in and take one.
Robin would be upset if she found out, but after Eddie had panicked about last night, Steve doesn’t want to make him feel like he’s forcing Steve to be out here with him or anything. Robin would probably forgive him, anyway.
If Steve’s honest, the earthy burn of nicotine down his throat feels pretty damn good.
On his first inhale, Eddie asks flippantly, “So were you telling the truth?”
“Yeah,” Steve answers instantly, because nothing has been a lie. “Which part?”
Eddie eyes him warily. Exhales smoke in a soft billow. “Thinking about guys? I mean, I get it if you were just trying to get me to calm down. It’s one thing to know you’re cool to my little sheep, kinda different to know you’re cool with sharing a bed with fags, too. But — you’re not really queer. RIght?”
Frowning, Steve shrugs. “I don’t know.” He takes a drag. “Never tried anything.”
Eddie takes another long pull of his cigarette. Ruminates. Nods as he lets smoke flow out of his mouth. “Shit.”
A spike of defensiveness straightens Steve’s back. “What?”
“I just didn’t expect to be this wrong about you,” Eddie smirks.
The tension in his shoulders has loosened. Steve can read it in Eddie’s posture. He’s still uncomfortable, still shy. But the fear and shame aren’t strangling him anymore. Steve smiles back at him. Brings his cigarette to his lips.
“I’m full of secrets,” he retorts sarcastically.
Eddie scoffs.
It’s quiet for a little while after that. Eddie eventually sits next to Steve at the patio table. Stares out at the pool. He sighs.
“I guess I’ve never tested the waters in Hawkins, if I’m honest,” Eddie tells him. “Too scared. People already hate me in this town, you know? I try and kiss the wrong guy, I’m as good as dead. And that was before everyone thought I murdered a cheerleader.”
Steve listens silently. Remembers the way Robin put it. I ask out the wrong girl, bam, I’m the town pariah. It can only be worse, if you already are the town pariah. Steve looks down at his cigarette. It’s burning down quicker than he really cares to smoke it, but he takes another drag.
“Never?” he asks as casually as he can around a cloud of smoke. “No practice kissing at a sleepover?”
“I’m gay, not a ten-year-old girl,” Eddie huffs. “Anyway nobody invited me to sleepovers, even when I was a kid. Why, did you and Tommy Hagan swap spit or something?”
A somewhat hysterical laugh bubbles out of Steve. He feels a little caught. He’d always wanted to, with Tommy, but was never brave enough to try.
“No, I’m serious, I’ve never done anything with a guy,” he admits when Eddie scrutinizes him. “I mean it. Just — you seem like you…”
He can’t quite manage to land on what he means to say. Eddie raises his eyebrows, waiting expectantly for a finished sentence.
Finally, Steve decides, “You seem like you know. That you’re gay. Right?”
“Yeah, Harrington.” He turns away from him to take another drag of his cigarette. “Since I was nine.”
Steve was barely thinking about girls at that age. He can’t imagine being sure of anything about himself at nine years old. He’s twenty and still doesn’t have a clue.
“My first kiss was at summer camp,” Eddie tells him, ashing his cigarette, still not facing him. “So, still a little cliche, I guess, but not practice kissing at a sleepover bad.”
Steve chuckles, but doesn’t interrupt. Eddie shared this without encouragement. Saying something might spook him.
“He pushed me in the lake right after. Said I was gross. I don’t think he told anyone, but… he didn’t speak to me again all summer.” Eddie puts the cigarette in his mouth, sighs smoke out around the butt of it. “It confused the hell out of me. It had been his idea. I thought — I dunno. Thought maybe he liked me.”
Steve flinches. Thinks about the empty feeling Eddie had described from last night. Of never finding someone. It must have been something he’s struggled with since he was little.
“Set me up for success, that kid,” Eddie huffs with a bitter laugh. “At least now I’m prepared for them to fuck off after they get what they want. Or well, I am most of the time. Last night excluded, apparently.”
Steve wants to touch him. Just as comfort. Reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. Would it be weird if he did? Would it feel like condescension? Would it feel opportunistic?
Instead, Steve just crushes the butt of his half-done cigarette into the ashtray. Watching, Eddie follows suit. Maybe Steve should have waited until he was sure Eddie was finished.
“You promised me PopTarts?” Eddie asks lightly.
“Yeah.”
Steve decides to give into temptation and take Eddie’s wrist as he leads him back inside into the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t pull away.
Nibbling his PopTart, Eddie seems a little less maudlin. He smiles at Steve while leaning against the kitchen counter.
“You were right, this helped.”
Steve beams. “Good.”
Eddie’s face turns pink. He looks down at his feet before taking another bite of his PopTart.
“So I told you my terrible first kiss story,” Eddie says abruptly. “I guess you can’t reciprocate, if you’ve never — what kinda guys do you think about?”
You, Steve wants to admit. He won’t. Not now. Not like this. With Eddie just desperate to not be alone, not feel like he had last night. He would do whatever Steve asked him to do. He doesn’t want it to be like that.
“Uh, just… a few people in school. Guys from the basketball team. You know.”
Eddie’s face clouds over for a moment. Steve wonders if he’d expected a celebrity. Or maybe just someone specific. But Steve’s afraid to name names. Mentioning Billy Hargrove would just make things more awkward than they already are, and Steve doubts Eddie has fond memories of any of the jocks from school who are still alive.
The atmosphere relaxes a little after Eddie’s second PopTart. Steve doesn’t want Eddie to feel rushed, so he doesn’t bring up Eddie’s van again. He turns on the television and channel surfs. He’s not really paying attention to what’s on screen until he hears Eddie chirp excitedly as he settles on Family Ties.
“Didn’t call you for a Family Ties fan,” Steve teases.
Eddie chews impishly on the edge of his lip. “I’m an Alex P. Keaton fan.”
That makes Steve laugh, and Eddie grins at him as he sits down beside Steve on the couch, toying with his hair. The nervous energy is bleeding out of him, little by little. Steve drapes his arm over the back of the couch, putting an inordinate amount of effort in looking as relaxed as possible. He wants Eddie to trust him. He’d trusted him so fully last night. Steve just doesn’t want him to regret that.
By the first ad break, Eddie has slumped slightly into Steve’s side, and Steve’s skin feels alight with a comforting sort of buzz. He wants to reach up and pet Eddie’s hair again. He’d liked it before. It had helped him sleep. But he doesn’t want to push his luck, and just silently enjoys the warmth of Eddie’s weight in his side.
“I should probably get home before Wayne leaves for his shift tonight,” Eddie mumbles as the credits roll. “Will you drive me down to get my van?”
Steve swallows back the twinge of disappointment. “Sure thing, man.”
On the drive out to where the party had been, Eddie messes with his radio and chatters. It’s comforting, seeing him so much like himself. Knowing that it’s over. That he’s safe now. The thought still echoes in Steve’s mind, that he’d do anything to keep Eddie from ever feeling like that again. That he would never leave Eddie all alone like that.
The station lands on Guns N’ Roses’s Sweet Child O’ Mine, and Eddie sits back. Steve shoots him a fondly exasperated look, but he doesn’t mind this song, and Eddie ignores him anyway, singing along.
The route to the house feels different in the daylight. More cars are on the road. For a moment, Steve worries he may have to talk to the owners of the house when they arrive. He’s not sure who the house belongs to, or how old they are. If they live with their parents, who maybe weren’t supposed to know about the party last night, except for the beaten up dealer van left parked outside.
But when they pull up to the familiar address, Eddie’s van is the only car to be seen. Steve checks his watch. 2:30pm. It’s a Thursday, it must be that everyone else is at work.
“Alright,” Steve says as he puts his car in park. “This is your stop.”
Eddie stares out the passenger window for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, and Steve bites back the instinct to offer to drive him back to his place. They can hang out more. Come get the van later.
Finally, Eddie turns to him. “Thanks, Harrington.”
“It’s no big deal, seriously,” Steve assures.
“Yeah, it is.” Eddie tucks his hair behind his ear. Looks away briefly, embarrassed. “It was a really big deal. You’re quite the fuckin’ hero, you know that?”
The back of Steve’s neck feels hot. “I just —”
“Wanted to help,” Eddie interrupts. “I know. You did.”
Steve doesn’t respond.
Eddie takes a breath. “You helped a lot. I just… I hadn’t said thank you. But I… thanks. Really.”
“Sure, man. Any time.”
Snorting, Eddie shakes his head. “God, I hope not.”
At that, Steve feels defensive. “Hey, don’t do that. I mean it.”
“Thanks.” Eddie toys with his hair.
He hesitates a moment before getting out of the car. Shuts the door a little rougher than he needs to. Steve watches him climb into his van before he realizes his black metal lunchbox is still on the floor of the passenger side.
Snatching it off the floormat, he stumbles out of the car and bolts toward Eddie’s van before he can drive away. Noticing him coming, Eddie throws open the driver’s side door.
“What — oh, shit, thanks, man.”
As he leans down to take it, Steve feels a surge of bravery course through him and hops up on the balls of his feet, tugging Eddie down by his arm to reach his mouth in a kiss.
For an instant, Steve regrets it. Eddie doesn’t respond, and guilt washes over him. But then Eddie leans into him, kissing back despite the awkward angle as he takes his lunchbox out of Steve’s hand.
As Steve pulls back, he takes a deep breath, watches Eddie process what just happened.
“I — I have Tuesday off,” rambles Steve. He’s a little breathless. Eddie blinks at him, not understanding. “Do you wanna come over? We can… I dunno. We can watch a movie or something.”
A smirk twitches on Eddie’s lips. “Or something?”
Steve shrugs, but doesn’t back down. Eddie’s smile widens.
“Sure, Harrington,” he says, and Steve can see a faint blush across his nose. “You still owe me the story of your first kiss, after all.”
Steve chokes on a laugh, and Eddie slams his door shut. Steve notices his window is mostly rolled down, and gives the door another knock, catching Eddie’s attention.
“I’d like to tell you about the first few,” Steve teases, grinning, “If — if you’re interested.”
Eddie’s face is bright pink when he nods.
“I’m…” Eddie glances around a moment, making sure they’re still alone. “I’m pretty interested in all your firsts, Harrington.”
Steve beams at him.