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Eddie comes to with absolutely no clue where the fuck he is.
Until he does.
Until absolutely he does.
Holy fucking shit.
It’d been a celebration. They were flying out to record a demo tomorrow, a real fuckin’ shot. They’d wanted their friends to send them off and of course they’d delivered: fellow musicians in the city; one Robin Buckley, all the way from Northwestern; and then—
The man next to him in the bed.
In that man’s room. Inside that man’s Indianapolis apartment where Eddie half-lived even though every time said man had floated the idea of cohabitation, the deathless longing in Eddie’s chest reminded him fierce as fuck that he couldn’t live with Steve Harrington like it was just a…point of convenience.
Like Steve Harrington could ever be someone his heart would ever get over, or give up, despite never having had him to lose in the first place.
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Eddie wakes up naked in Steve’s bed, terrified at the consequences of how he’s (apparently) finally spilled the beans on how he’s been in love with his best friend for…forever.
But what if he doesn't have to be terrified? -
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□()the immortal thing that wouldn’t die no matter how hard Eddie tried to suffocate it for his own sanity; that deathless fucking thing()
□()Robin had long been closest with him of the boys, since Gareth actually played in the school band()
□()“no more Eddie the Banished from everyone’s goddamn bed!”
□"()your white whale()"
□()a test Eddie knew already that he’d fail spectacularly.
□()pulse has leaped up 0-to-100()
□“I guess it helps that I hurt ‘em early, or made sure they wouldn’t want more but. I was the asshole,”()
□“I’m in love with you. You’re the definition, you’re what the word ‘love’ fucking means,“()
□"()important to be on the same page,” then he runs his nose over the mostly faded but still traceable line of scar tissue there()“Reading form the same book, I mean,”()
“Even if it just a dictionary. If we’re talking definitions.”
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