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“And how long since it all started?”, Eddie asked the impeccably-dressed duo in front of him, trying to keep his eyes on their faces and not on the overabundance of possessions and wealth that drenched the foyer around them. He wouldn't be able to resist making a face.
“It started in the spring, so a few months”, answered Mrs. Harrington. She twisted her hands together incessantly; it paired nicely with the concerned frown on her face that had been there since Eddie arrived on the front step of the large manor. Mr. Harrington, who had a stiff arm of comfort around his wife, looked on seriously and confirmed her words with a terse nod. They looked every bit the innocent, scared, harmless couple, even though the designer clothes and expensive jewelry diminished the image somewhat.
“You said there's noises at night, slamming doors, items moved around and …threats? right?”, Eddie said the last word with an inquiring tone and a raised eyebrow.
“That's right Mr. Munson, w-” started Mr. Harrington with a slight tremble to his voice.
“Please”, interrupted Eddie, “call me Eddie”. Eddie smiled politely as Mr. Harrington's eyes creased with annoyance for a split second before they smooth back out into perfected worry.
“Mr. Eddie”, Eddie mentally rolled his eyes, “We fear for our lives, we can't sleep, we barely eat!”.
“Cant have that”, Eddie muttered to himself, then louder he asked “What are the nature of these threats? Can you be more specific?”. Meanwhile, his eyes roved over the, clearly curated, mass of decor and material things. Searching–but failing– to discern any glimpse of personality or character of their owners.
The couple shared a look, then Mrs. Harrington lowered her eyes, letting her husband speak.
“There was an incident the other night… I woke up with injuries”. At this, Eddie turned to give him his full attention.
Mr. Harrington hesitated but after an impatient wave from Eddie, the other man reluctantly unbuttoned the cufflinks on his right wrist and rolled up the sleeve to reveal half his forearm. Carved into his skin with surface level scratches was the word “KILL”.
Eddie let out a low whistle, eyes intent on the scarred word. “If that's the work of a ghost then you have a very powerful spirit here". His tone went soft and serious. Eddie studied the multitude of hallways that lead deeper into the manor with a more critical eye.
Mr. Harrington pulled down his sleeve quickly, “Can you get rid of it? By tonight?”.
Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise, “by tonight? Why the rush?”
“We’re hosting the annual Hawkins gala this evening”, Mrs. Harrington cut in, adjusting her blouse, “there's going to be over a hundred guests… business partners, board members, local politicians”. There was a hint of pride in her tone, followed by a more melodramatic “we don't want anything to happen! We want everyone to be safe, it's an important event!”, she finished with her hands clasped together at her chest.
Eddie shrugged, “I'll do my best, but ghosts tend to linger for a reason”, he glanced down at Mr. Harrington's covered forearm, “and I have a feeling this one isn't the meek kind”.
Mr. Harrington hurried to add, “you will be compensated generously of course, for your service and discretion”. The emphasis on the last word was unnecessary. Eddie could take the hint.
“Clearly” Eddie said dryly. There were five porcelain vases in this room alone. “Do I have free reign of the property?”
Again, a shared look, “If that's what you require then yes, of course, let the staff know if you need anything, I'm afraid we’ll be busy preparing for tonight”, answered Mr. Harrington.
Eddie nodded and they bid their farewells.
Eddie got started immediately, It was currently mid morning and the manor was a big place. He went first to the kitchen. The staff always know the ins and outs of a place and Harrington manor was no different.
Eddie learns there are two billiards rooms, the Harrington's employ with an iron fist, and Mrs. Henderson, the chef, bakes a mean apple pie. More importantly, he learns that besides objects disappearing and showing up in odd places, none of the staff have experienced any direct paranormal activity.
The ghost, if there is a ghost, seemed to be targeting just Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. Eddie wasn't surprised someone had grievances with them, enough to extend even beyond the grave. Within moments of meeting them Eddie had sensed their insincerity. He just wasn't sure what they were hiding.
Eddie made his way through seemingly never ending hallways, opening up random doors along the way. He found a number of finely furnished bedrooms, stacked linen closets, one of the billiards rooms and a small library. Just before he was able to open the next ornate door, a voice from behind interrupted him.
“You're early for the party”.
Eddie turned to find a young man leaning against the wall a few feet away.
The other boy surveyed Eddie from head to toe. “It's a black tie event, I don't think jeans and chains make the cut”.
While the newcomer was inspecting Eddie, Eddie couldn't help but do the same in return. He was dressed in a deceivingly simple, white button down shirt and navy slacks. The casual posture and loosely crossed arms couldn't, however, disguise the tailored cut and quality of his clothes. He had silky waves of brown hair carefully arranged around his handsome face. He Looked about Eddie's age maybe a year or two younger.
Eddie smiled wide and jaunty, spreading his arms, “you don't think I'd fit in with the pearls and diamonds?”
The other boy tilted his head as his eyes dropped down to the necklaces around Eddie’s throat.
“You might have a chance with the church board members but they'll be sure to point out that your cross is upside down”
Eddie looked down at the jewelry resting on his front, “that's a shame, I like the aesthetic”.
“Judging by your aesthetics,” the boy nodded to Eddie’s entire person, “you're neither guest nor staff, what are you doing here?” he asked bluntly.
“Weeell technically I'm staff for the day,” Eddie answered with a tone of voice he knows gets on people’s nerves. “I am here for a service”, he winked, “of a paranormal sort”, and tapped his necklace.
The other man looked confused for a moment, then his eyes narrowed, “my father hired you to deal with his ghost problem” he said like an accusation.
Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, “They didn't tell me they had a son”.
“I didn't realize they were getting so desperate”, the boy said almost to himself, then he shrugged and addressed Eddie, “they don't tell a lot of people they have a son, I'm a disappointment”. He explained. Casual. As if, he was discussing the weather.
“Well, same recognize same”, Eddie declared as he gestures to himself, “this disappointment’s name is Eddie Munson”, he waves a hand to the other, “you?”
The other man's mouth lifted slightly up on the left side, “Steve” he provided, uttered around his not-quite smile.
Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, then in an overly cordial tone he rushed through a “Nice to meet you Steve Harrington, lovely home, never seen two billiards rooms in the same house before…” all the while twirling his hand as if he can manually get through pleasantries faster.
In a more serious voice he asked, “are you also being haunted? Your parents are pretty adamant it's life threatening, they can't sleep or eat, ya know”.
Steve snorted, “you're kind of a lot, huh?”, without waiting for an answer he continued, “No, I'm not being haunted”.
Eddie pressed, “do you believe them? Do you think there's actually a ghost”
“Oh yeah, I believe them”, Steve's face turned dead serious, “I've never seen them so scared before” he said, notably with very little concern. “I mean, they're freaked out enough to hire some college guy with an affinity for the color black, an-”,
“Excuse you! never accuse me of higher education!” Eddie interjected with false indignation,
“-AND”, Steve continued, speaking over Eddie but unable to hide his amused smile, “aren't you the one that should know if there's really a ghost or not?
“Sure, but it doesn't hurt getting some different perspectives on the situation”, Eddie turned an assessing eye to Steve, “if I'm going to confirm the presence of a spirit, I need a place daddy dearest spends a lot of time in, I'm assuming he has an office or something?”
Steve softly scoffed, “of course”.
Eddie hummed, “great and does there also happen to be a second office that's for entertaining more, ah, privileged guests?”
Steve's eyebrows ticked up in surprise, “yeah, how did you know?”
Eddie shook his head in mocking awe, “I'm noticing a pattern here, rich people need double the normal amount of rooms, like, why does anyone need two billiards rooms!?”
“You're really caught up on that, huh?
“The closest I've been to one is playing CLUE, cut me some slack, pretty boy”
Steve seemed taken back for a moment before he cleared his throat and controlled his face into a more neutral one. “It's kinda tucked away, his, uh, private office, I can show you where it is though”.
Eddie clapped his hands together, “Great! Le-”
“On the condition that I get to stay”
Eddie chuckled and gave Steve a knowing look, “you want to snoop on your old man too?”. His mirth faded off when he met Steve’s intense gaze.
Steve shook his head, his eyes not leaving Eddie's, “I want to see how your going to deal with the ghost”
–---
Steve led them across the manor. And after Eddie whined about not getting a proper tour, Steve begrudgingly started giving some historical facts about the paintings they passed or mentioned the architectural style of a column or doorway. At least he tried, Eddie would interject constantly with a running commentary. The frame costs how much? You can't just throw the word Neo onto anything, oh look! the other billiards room! Who on earth imports door hinges for christ’s sake.
Normally Eddie would rein in the more outspoken part of his personality but he just couldn't stop when it was obvious how amusing Steve found it. The other man increasingly pointed out the most ridiculous, lavish things for Eddie to ridicule. All the while fighting a reluctant grin and small chuckles. At one point he accidentally let slip a surprised laugh, loud enough that it echoed around the high ceilings, when Eddie pointed out that the “handcrafted European style” balusters on the grand staircase looked awfully phallic. He looked cutely flustered and stifled the rest of his laughter behind a fake cough.
They briefly stuck their heads into a respectfully outfitted office that was absolutely personality barren. Empty pads of paper, barely used pens, and framed boring portraits. This is where his father conducted the more banal meet-and-greets Steve informed eddie.
They continue down the hallway and into a small sitting room with stiff arm chairs and pristine bookshelves. Nary a speck of dust or a cracked book spine in sight. Steve crossed the plush carpet and brushed his hand against an inconspicuous wall panel. With a push of a button the wall swings out revealing a room on the other side.
It was clearly an office, this one though had much more character than the other. There was a glass cabinet lining an entire wall filled with expensive liquor, cigars, and antiques. Tucked away in the corner was a file cabinet that Eddie immediately noticed was padlocked. In the center of the room was a huge polished desk made out of some expensive wood Eddie was sure.
Eddie slid his hand across the pristine desk, he picked up a golden nameplate with “Mr. Howard Harrington'' engraved on it. Eddie picked it up and held it high so Steve could see, “your Dads kinda conceited isn't he?”
“You've met him right?” Steve said sarcastically, he glanced over to see what Eddie was holding. Steve let out an amused huff, “ya know, he had that font custom made? wanted something with “influence”, Steve made air quotes.
“Speaking of “influence”, Eddie also made air quotes. He set down the nameplate and walked to the glass cabinet to closely inspect the items inside.
“What's the esteemed Harringtons’ claim to fame?”. Eddie does a double take at an iron wrought key on display. “Why does your Dad have a ceremonial key to the town? I didn't think they gave those to stock traders”.
“They don't, they do give them to founding families though”.
Eddie gave him a stumped look.
Steve leaned back on the opposite wall amongst gold framed photographs and articles, "I take it you're new to hawkins?”
Eddie nodded, “I was just passing through on my way to the west coast, stopped for some food and ended up talking to a lady in the grocery store about her deceased daughter.” When Steve opened his mouth, Eddie waved a hand “don't ask, happens to me a lot, anyways, turns out she was your dad's secretary.” Eddie walked over to stand next to Steve near the wall filled with frames. “Should have known there'd be plenty of business here”, Eddie muttered, “it's always the small towns”.
Steve pointed to one of the frames that hold a printed news article featuring a full page picture, “Apparently back in the day our ancestors established a Mine here when there was basically nothing, they struck gold and the Harringtons have never let Hawkins forget it”.
In the article photo Mr. and Mrs. Harrington stand on a stage dressed in some sort of distasteful, indigenous inspired garb shaking hands with other inappropriately dressed people.
“This was taken at the Hawkins festival a couple years ago, my parents never miss an opportunity for a photo shoot”
“Ah generational clout and wealth, I take it your family has screwed over a lot of people?”
“The problematic headdress didn't give it away?”, Steve waved at the photograph. “Why? You think the ghost is someone my Dad screwed over?”
Instead of answering Eddie moved towards the desk and started emptying his pockets onto its shining surface. Some crumpled receipts, half melted candles, a lighter, a vial filled with something dark and viscous, the small trinkets and trash just kept coming in messy piles.
“Hey, “ Steve said, his voice dubious, “what are you doing? That looks like aesthetics, you're not doing the exorcism now right? right? Eddie?”
Eddie looked up, amazed to see panic creep into Steve's eyes. “Woah, Stevie, take a breath man, we're checking to see if there's a ghost remember? There's no head spinning or floating to the ceiling just yet”. He looked down at his array of objects and sniffed, “and, despite what the profession implies, I don't actually do that many exorcisms”, he finally found what he was looking for: a small purple drawstring bag. “As in, I've never done an exorcism”.
Steve's mouth dropped open, “you're a sham?” he said, shocked.
Eddie laughed, “no! it's just usually not needed”, He walked around the other side of the desk. “Exorcisms are a last resort, I don't really like forcing ghosts out, just like I don't go around kicking people out of their homes, that job is for founding families” he winks at Steve.
Eddie opened the top drawer of the desk, looked down at the contents for a long moment then pulled out some paper and a pen. He closed the drawer and looked back up at Steve, skeptically. “Are you aware your father keeps a gun in his desk?”.
Steve flapped his hand impatiently, “yes! yes, I’m aware”, he said quickly. “So how do you get rid of spirits then if you don't do exorcisms?, he asked with fervent interest.
Eddie pursed his lips in thought, “ghosts are people”, he started slowly, “they have motives like people. Sometimes they are here because they are confused and need help coming to terms with their death”, as he talked he took the pen and wrote Howard Harrington in all caps on the piece of paper.
“Sometimes they're not even malicious, they just want to stick around and watch, like, their sister get married or their grandkid graduate or something”. He rolled up the paper and pinched it in between his fingers, like a cigarette. “In cases where the haunting is more, uh, aggressive, there’s usually unfinished business. Revenge, murder, betrayal, the works”, He listed casually.
He met eyes with Steve, “in my experience, in those cases, they almost always deserve it”. He opened the purple bag and removed a lock of auburn hair.
“I don't do exorcisms on principle, because there is always a way to help someone move on”, He sent a knowing look at the article picture of Harrington senior, “even at the expense of the client”.
With nimble fingers he wrapped the lock of hair around the rolled up paper and tied it off.
Steve huffed in disbelief, “you're a ghost sympathizer”, watching Eddie work with open fascination.
Eddie smiled, “I just seem to connect with the lost and lonely, same recognizes same remember?”. Then Eddie grabbed the lighter.
“What are you doing?”, Steve asked, “Is that- Whose hair is that?”
Eddie waved the hair-tied paper, “it's from my friend, Robin, she's a medium, this little trick is going to tell me the emotion that fuels our spirit, if there's one to begin with”.
Before Steve can ask anymore questions, Eddie lit the scroll and it immediately bursts into a deep red flame and the name Harrington burns up in a quick flash and sizzle.
Eddie yelped and waved around his singed finger. “Holy shit” he breathed out.
“What?”, Steve asked, “what does that mean!?”.
“There's definitely a spirit here and it's pissed as hell”, Eddie leaned down to look at the lingering traces of ashes on the desk. “arentcha big boy?”
Steve made a choking sound but before Eddie could comment, voices reached them from outside the ajar door.
Voices that were accompanied by footsteps. Growing louder.
Steve cursed, “you do not want to be caught in here, trust me”, he hurried to the door beckoning Eddie, “come on!”.
Eddie hurriedly put back the pen and paper and the two boys quietly but quickly left the room.
Eddie followed Steve swiftly, blindly trusting him to lead them to safety.
They ended up walking down an adjoining hallway. They passed a few doors until Steve opened one and waved Eddie in. The room was significantly different from the rest of what Eddie had seen of the manor so far.
The furnishings were still exquisite and clearly of high quality but there was an intention of comfiness that was missing in the rest of the house. There were soft looking arm chairs with deep seats, warm glowing lamps, and blankets stacked in a corner. The book shelf was loaded with music, miscellaneous drawings, papers, nick nacks and very few actual books. Unlike other parts of the house there was actually evidence of a human living here.
Eddie looked around with interest, “Where are we now?, this is a bit different then the rest of castle Harrington”.
“Uhh…”, Steve looked bashful, it was the first time Eddie had seen the other unsure. “I, uh, kinda came here by muscle memory, my parents don't use this room”. He turned slowly to survey the room with a fond look that was also, bizarrely, deeply sad. “I used to spend a lot of time here”.
“It's nice”, Eddie said simply. He walked closer to the bookshelf admiring what looked to be drawings from children that heavily featured dragons, magical spells and a recurring character that had to be Steve. Even in crayons and markers that hair was signature.
“Sooo,” Eddie said, “what’s Steve Harrington's claim to fame?”.
Steve looked confused, “I already told you my family's history”.
“Yeah, but you're a lot different from your parents, like a preppy black sheep”
“Preppy?” Steve doubtfully muttered, then, “I don't know what to tell you man, I'm as privileged as they come, ask anyone who went to Hawkins high, I'm a Harrington through and through”, Steve gestured to Eddie, “nowhere near as interesting as a goth saint, traveling around the country helping ghosts”.
“Ah, ah, ah” Eddie waved a finger, “It's metal, not goth and don't change the subject! besides it seems like you got a fan club that thinks you're pretty badass, look! you're even wielding a sword” Eddie pointed at one of the drawings. “Whose the artist?”
Steve looked over at the mentioned drawing, he smiled softly, “Will and Dustin, Dustin's mom is our chef, they used to hang around a lot growing up”, Steve sighed, “Will’s family moved to california a year ago and Dustin is staying with them, just to get out of hawkins for a bit, ya know?”, Steve looked lost in thought, “he’s turning 15 next month”.
Eddie studied Steve for a moment, “you've got some hidden depths, huh pretty boy?”.
Steve looked embarrassed, “Shut up man”.
“No really, the preppy rich boy with a heart of gold is really working, very charming”
Steve groaned and dropped his face into his hand, Eddie could just make out the tops of his ears turning pink.
Eddie let Steve simmer and turned back to the bookshelf, he reached up and pulled down a drawing for a closer look.
Right behind it was a thick manilla folder propped up against the back of the shelf. It read “To: Steve From Sharp Shooter”.
Curious Eddie picked it up, it was heavy, “Whose sharp shooter?”, he asked innocently.
There was a moment of silence.
“What?” Steve sounded stricken.
Eddie turned and met Steve’s wide eyes, he showed Steve the folder, “it's addressed to you from Sharp Shooter”.
Steve stood frozen, his eyes not leaving the folder in Eddie's hands. He looked distressed, like he was the one being haunted. He seemed to gather himself and shot into motion, he moved to the small desk near the window, and thrust a hand towards its surface, “Open it” he demanded.
Eddie chewed his lip nervously but walked to stand next to Steve, “Steve…are you okay?”
Steve shakes his head desperately, “Please just open it, hurry”
With a growing pit of dread in his stomach, Eddie does what he's told. He proceeds to open the envelope and spread the stack of papers within out onto the desk.
The papers were scanned documents and pictures. Bank statements, historical records, 1st hand accounts from witnesses… all centered around the name Harrington.
“Holy shit, What is all this?”, Eddie said, eyes swinging left and right, taking in the frankly staggering amount of underhanded, exploitative and illegal wrongdoings of Howard and Lisa Harrington.
“Evidence” Steve whispered with bated breath, “all the things that could incriminate my parents”. Steve's eyes flickered back and forth, not landing on anything for more than a second, “oh Nance” he sighed.
Spotting another name on a piece of paper, Eddie asked, “Nancy Wheeler?”
Steve gives Eddie a suspicious look, “Yeah?.. ”
“Look”, Eddie dragged a paper closer so Steve could see. It looked like a draft of a news article. The title read “Hawkins Finest Frauds: An expose of Harrington crimes” and right under it in bold, “written by Nancy Wheeler”.
“She did it”, Steve whispered fervently, his eyes wet and wide, “she was able to finish it”.
Eddie chewed on his thumbnail, “what's happening here, Steve?”
Steve dragged his arm across his eyes and explained with a thick voice, “N-nancy was my girlfriend, we broke up after a year but, uh, we were still friends, small town, ya know”. Steve paused to clear his throat.
“She wanted to be a journalist. She was working on some sort of project with the library’s historical archives and she found out that the Mine, the Mine that the Harrin- my family supposedly discovered was already founded and well established by a different owner”. Steve shook his head, “Our ancestors sabotaged the business and ran them out of town”.
Steve waved a hand at the paper covered desk, “After that, she went down a rabbit hole, I helped get dirt on my parents but she connected everything, it was all her”.
Eddie shifted, impressed but also uneasy as he processed what Steve said. “She sounds metal”, He looked sadly at Steve. “You've been talking about her in the past tense” he observed.
Steve nodded, eyes lost and heartbroken, “she died a year ago”, his voice turned angry. “the papers said it was a car crash, it happened conveniently before she could publish anything”, he waved a hand at the desk.
“I'm so sorry Steve,” Eddie said gently. Steve just nodded with his mouth twisted up. Eddie looked back down at the desk to give the other boy a moment to compose himself. He spotted a small rectangle piece of paper with purple ink scrawled on the back.
He turned it until it was legible. Steve looked over at Eddie's movement.
In small loopy handwriting It read, “Steve, I'm giving you a copy of everything, just in case, let's get these bastards! – Nancy”. Steve chuckled brokenly after he finished reading the note.
“What a woman,” Eddie muttered, and flipped the paper over.
It was a polaroid. Smiling up at them was a picture of a younger Steve and a young woman sitting beside him on a couch. She had curly dark hair and a sharp jawline, Nancy, Eddie deduced. They were surrounded by a group of kids, all with beaming smiles.
Eddie smiled ruefully at the picture. They looked happy, like family. Then his face hardened as he mentally parsed through all the information that was revealed. He turned to Steve, “the ghost must be Nancy, sh-”
Eddie was struck mute by the tears running down Steve's face as he stared at the photograph. Steve shook his head slowly.
“She’s not the ghost”
“Steve…”, Eddie started gently. He reached out to wipe away a tear from the other boys face, “I know it's ha-”
Eddie’s hand goes right through Steve's glistening cheek. His fingers met nothing but icy coldness.
Steve was still shaking his head, wet eyes drilling into Eddie’s wide ones.
“She's not the ghost, she's not here”, Steve said desperately, “I thought I'd finally get to apologize for all this, for what they did, but she's not here!," he repeated in frustration.
Eddie pulled back his hand, his fingers trembling at his side.
“You're the ghost of Harrington of manor”
Steve smiled sarcastically through his tears, “yeah, and you were right I'm pissed as hell”.
“Your father…”
“Was not happy I wanted him arrested for murder”, Steve brought up a hand to swipe his cheeks, “I got caught in his office, looking for anything that would've connected him to Nancy… it turned into a confrontation”. Steve placed a hand on a spot in the middle of his chest, “that's when I found out he keeps a gun in his desk”.
“Fucking vile”, Eddie seethed, “his own son”.
“Disappointment, remember?” Steve smiled sadly. ”I woke up here”, he gestured around the room. “I've been terrorizing my parents ever since, I wanted to get them back, for Nancy, but I didn't know how besides poltergeist shit”.
Eddie stepped forward and attempted to squeeze Steve into a hug, which turned into him just standing with his arms in a circle while his arms passed through the other’s torso.
Steve let out a hysterical wet laugh, “you can't hug a ghost”, but he wrapped his arms around Eddie in return. Eddie felt icy bands of cold air linked across his back.
Eddie huffs, “watch me”.
After a long moment, he stepped back and looked Steve in the eyes.
“How can I help?” Eddie demanded, “you want revenge? We can publish Nancy's piece, oh! if you want to keep haunting your parents, I can fake an exorcism, I'll do whatever you want Stevie”.
Steve grinned at Eddie in wonder, “I could use your help, Nancy’s article needs to be published and the police need this evidence”, he looked back down at the desk. “I want the whole town to hate the name Harrington, I don't want it to be just swept under the rug quietly”.
Eddie smiled broadly, “I think I have a plan”.
Steve looked at Eddie curiously.
“You wanna crash the gala tonight?”
–----
Eddie leaned against his van and watched as Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were shoved into the back of a police car. They looked defeated and ran down, Mr. Harrington's suit jacket was ripped at the arm. Baring a word that Eddie realized he had only seen part of. “KILLER”
The party guests were spilling out of the manor into the front lawn, dressed in gowns and tuxedos. They watched, whispering and pointing, as their hosts were detained. Copies of Nancy's article were clasped in hands, folded into pockets and scattered along the ground.
Eddie was sure the events of the evening would be published along with the official release of Nancy's expose tomorrow in the paper. He had seen the newspaper editor in the crowd after all. It's not often one gets to witness a demonic possession in person. Even if it was a fake one.
He waved cheerfully at Chief Hopper as he climbed into the police car, he received a grimace in return. He had the -non- pleasure of meeting the mountain of a man just a few hours prior at the station. He was kind of a grouch, and clearly skeptical of Eddie’s “very serious accusations”, but damn did the man take charge and make some calls when Eddie slapped the manilla folder of evidence onto his desk.
Eddie lit a cigarette and had just taken a long drag when a voice in his left ear startled him.
“The fainting was a bit much, don't you think”
Eddie turned to see Steve wearing an absolute shit eating grin leaning on the van beside him. It looked good on him.
Eddie shrugged, “I had to sell it! And how many opportunities do I get to pretend to be possessed by a vengeful spirit, back from the grave to bring his cruel murdering parents to justice?, it was the performance of a lifetime!”
“The fake bullet wound was a nice touch”
Eddie looked down at his stained shirt, “I’m lucky the fake blood comes out”.
Steve smiled at Eddie and straightened up to step closer. His warm brown eyes gazed into Eddie's. “Thank you Eddie, seriously, for everything”.
Then Steve leaned forward and kissed Eddie's cheek.
Eddie held his breath as he felt the soft wisp of icy air against his face. Eddie’s heart picked up in tempo and the warmth blooming under his cheeks felt at odds with the brush of cold, ethereal pretty boy, ghost lips.
Eddie bit his own lip, fighting to not cover his reddening face, “anytime, Stevie”.
Steve leaned back and tilted his head to the side, watching Eddie with a coy little grin, “What are you going to do now?” he asked.
“I'm going to get some sleep then I'm leaving Hawkins in the morning, what about you?”. Eddie watched Steve blink up at his family’s home then looked back at Eddie.
“Me too”.
Eddie clenched his jaw but nodded. He wasn't surprised, and was expecting it even. He had seen plenty of spirits move on to the next part of life. He just hadn't expected it to hurt so much to hear Steve confirm it.
“This is goodbye then”, Eddie cleared his throat and forced the most authentic smile he could, “Good luck Stevie”.
Steve smiled like the sun.
“Bye Eddie”.
–----
The early morning found Eddie on the road heading out of Hawkins. The homes, the mom-and-pop stores and the cow speckled farm land disappeared behind him.
Eddie let out a deep sigh, his mood dark enough that even tuning into the only station that plays metal couldn't lighten it.
The radio blaring Iron Maiden burst out a peal of static and switched abruptly to some poppy atrocity.
Eddie looked at the radio confused then almost ran his van off the road when he noticed a figure in his passenger seat.
“JESUS Steve! Killing the guy that helped you out is not cool man!”, Eddie shouted as he swerved the van back into the proper lane. He couldn't help but release a crazed giggle as he tried getting his heart to settle back down. Going from melancholy to frightened then ridiculously happy in under a minute could not be good for the ol ticker.
Steve grinned from his passenger seat, “I waited til the roads were clear, you were fine”.
Eddie blew a piece of hair out of his face, his hands clenched on the steering wheel. “I thought you said you were leaving Hawkins”.
“I am!” Steve said brightly, “we passed the sign 15 minutes ago”. He pointed a thumb behind them. He then kicked up his feet on the dash and put his arms behind his head.
“You could have said you meant with me!”
Steve laughed. Instead of answering he asked instead, “Where are we headed?”
“LA, there's some rumors about a ghost ship off the coast”
Steve smiled, “perfect, I have friends in California I'd love to see”.