Archive of Our Own

Halloween Night, 1984 – Hawkins, Indiana

Tina's house reeked of weed, sweat, and cheap beer. Bodies moved like a sweaty, pulsing mass in the living room, and Steve could barely hear the music over the sound of his own disappointment. He wasn’t even sure why he was there anymore — maybe to keep up appearances. Maybe to keep tabs on Nancy. Maybe just because he didn’t know where else to go.

He found her in the kitchen, leaning over to scoop another drink from the punch bowl. He grabbed her arm and tried to stop her, but spilled her drink instead. They made their way to the bathroom where Nancy tried to clean her shirt, but her efforts were unsuccessful...

“You don’t care, Steve. You never cared. All of this?” She laughed, almost cruel. “It’s bullshit.”

Something inside him cracked.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. Just left — pushing past drunk teens and smirking jocks and the thump-thump-thump of music that suddenly made his skin crawl. Outside, the air was freezing, but it felt better than the heat inside. Cleaner.

He didn’t want to go home.

So he walked.

○○○

Through the dark side streets of Hawkins, past kids in cheap Dracula costumes, porch lights turning off one by one. His breath fogged up in the cold, and he shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket.

He was about halfway down Garret Street when he saw it: a van parked crooked near the edge of the woods, half lit by a busted streetlamp. The side was painted with crude white letters that said "Corroded Coffin" and a skull doodle. Sitting on the roof, legs crossed, was him.

Eddie Munson.

The Freak. Capital F. Long, messy hair falling into his face, black chipped nail polish, a Motörhead tee under a flannel and denim vest covered in patches. He looked like the exact kind of guy Steve had been warned to stay away from back in sophomore year — the kind teachers gave side-eyes to, the one who allegedly sacrificed goats in the woods or played satanic games in his basement. All rumors, probably. Still weird.

Steve slowed but didn’t stop staring.

Eddie, for his part, clocked him immediately. “Well, shit,” he called out. “The ghost of prom kings past.”

Steve scowled. “You always hang out in the woods like a cryptid, or is this a Halloween thing?”

Eddie grinned, wolfish. “Halloween’s the only night I can haunt openly.” He leaned back on his palms, letting his hair fall even more dramatically around his face. “What’s got you out here, Harrington? Party throw you out for not being drunk enough?”

“Didn’t feel like staying.”

Eddie tilted his head. “What, the rich kids’ bacchanal not your scene anymore?”

Steve stepped a little closer, arms folded tight over his chest. “Do we know each other?”

“Nope,” Eddie said brightly. “But you’re kind of hard to miss. Captain of everything, hair that defies gravity, girlfriend straight out of a John Hughes movie.”

“Ex,” Steve muttered.

“Ah,” Eddie nodded knowingly. “That explains the haunted expression.”

Steve rolled his eyes and turned to walk away, but Eddie’s voice stopped him.

“Hey. I got beer. And music. And less judgment than most people in that house you left.”

Steve hesitated.

He really should walk away. He didn’t know this guy. But something about the way Eddie sat — like he didn’t give a damn if Steve stayed or went — felt weirdly comforting. Like he didn’t have anything to prove here. No one to impress.

“…You got anything that’s not beer?”

Eddie’s grin widened. “There’s a Coke in the cooler. Not even laced.”

Steve sighed. “Screw it.”

He walked over and climbed up awkwardly onto the van’s hood. It was cold under him, and the metal creaked a little, but Eddie didn’t seem to care. He just handed Steve the Coke can without a word and turned the music up a notch — Sabbath now, something slow and heavy.

They sat in silence for a minute. Steve cracked open the soda, and Eddie lit a cigarette, cupping the flame with inked fingers and chipped rings.

Finally, Eddie spoke again. “You ever feel like you were miscast in the movie of your life?”

Steve blinked. “What?” what was this guy on about...

Eddie shrugged. “Like, someone looked at you and said, yeah, he’s the leading man, but then you get halfway through the script and realize you were supposed to be the background guy. Or the villain. Or just… someone else entirely.”

Steve stared out at the trees realizing that the freak might actually understand. “Yeah. Lately, yeah.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Eddie took a long drag. “But hey, at least now you’re free to rewrite the damn thing.”

“You always talk like this?”

“Only when I’m feeling poetic Harrington" Eddje smirked. "And only when someone looks like they just got their heart chewed up and spit out.”

Steve raised and eyebrow and huffed a laugh. “You’re weird.”

Eddie flashed a grin. “Takes one to know one, Harrington.”

They didn’t talk much after that. Just shared the silence and the cold, the occasional burst of Sabbath or Megadeth from the boombox, the stars stretching out above like they might actually mean something.

And for the first time in a long while, Steve didn’t feel like he had to be anyone. 

○○○

The wind picked up, rattling the trees behind them, dry leaves scraping across pavement. Steve leaned back on his hands, feeling the cold of the van hood seep through his jacket. He took another sip of the Coke and let the silence stretch.

Eddie flicked his cigarette into the grass, watching the ember dim.

“You know,” he said, tone suddenly more thoughtful, “you’re not what I expected.”

Steve looked over. “What did you expect?”

“More… smug.” Eddie made a vague gesture toward him. “Like, Ferris Bueller turned up to eleven. Or a walking cologne ad. But you just look… tired.”

Steve barked a dry laugh. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Eddie didn’t press. Didn’t ask what happened, or why Steve had stormed out of the party like his world was collapsing. He just nodded like he got it.

“Wanna drive somewhere?” Eddie asked suddenly.

Steve glanced at him. “Where?”

Eddie shrugged. “Don’t care. Anywhere but here. Hawkins feels like it’s made of wet cardboard lately.”

Steve looked down at the Coke can, then up at the stars. “I know a place.”

○○○

*Twenty Minutes Later*

*Abandoned Tennis Courts, Hawkins Rec Center*

Eddie flicked on the headlights and parked crooked across two empty spots. The rec center was closed, the courts dark and cracked with weeds poking through. No one came out here anymore.

They climbed the chain-link fence — Eddie far more agile than Steve expected, even in those heavy boots — and dropped down on the other side. There was a busted bench near the net, half-rotted. They sat on it anyway.

Eddie pulled a flask from inside his vest and held it out.

“Whiskey?”

Steve took it without a word, drank, winced. “Jesus.”

Eddie chuckled. “Smooth, right?”

They passed the flask back and forth, shivering under the October air, shoulders brushing just slightly when they leaned back. The moon was high and pale above them, and the night felt like it existed outside of time. No school. No parties. No expectations.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve said finally, voice low.

Eddie looked over. “Sure.”

“Do people ever leave you alone? Like… just let you be?”

Eddie tilted his head, thinking. “Sometimes. Mostly when I scare them off. Or confuse them enough they give up trying to figure me out.”

Steve nodded slowly, eyes on the empty court in front of them.

“I used to like being looked at,” he admitted. “Used to feel like… I don’t know. Power, I guess. Now it just feels like pressure.”

Eddie was quiet for a second. Then: “They look at you and see who they want you to be. Not who you are.”

Steve turned to him. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Eddie’s face was shadowed, soft. He looked at Steve like he wasn’t sure what to make of him yet — like Steve wasn’t some jock stereotype or prom king gone soft, but something else entirely. Something unfolding.

“You know,” Eddie said, “it’s kinda funny. I always thought you’d hate guys like me.”

Steve raised a brow. “I probably would’ve. A year ago.”

“What changed?”

Steve thought about it. He thought about government agents and missing kids, the upside-down filled with monsters with too many faces. About watching people break under pressure and realizing how close he was to it himself.

“…Everything,” he said simply.

Eddie nodded, like he understood more than he should.

They sat like that for a while longer, letting the cold settle in their bones and the quiet do the talking. The flask emptied. The wind picked up again.

Eventually, Steve stood. “I should probably get home.”

Eddie followed. “Yeah. Same.”

They walked back to the car in silence. But not uncomfortable silence — something almost companionable.

Eddie opened the driver’s side door, then paused.

Steve was still standing on the sidewalk, hands stuffed into his pockets, hair blown wild by the wind. He looked strange and untouchable in the yellow wash of the streetlamp.

“I’ll see you around?” Steve asked, almost unsure.

Eddie’s smile was lazy and lopsided. “You know where to find me, Harrington. Lurking in the shadows. Summoning demons. Wearing too much eyeliner.”

Steve cracked a real smile — the first in days. “Right. I’ll keep an eye out.”

And then he drove off into the dark, Metallica still ringing faintly in his ears.

○○○

Monday morning at Hawkins High was a different kind of nightmare.

The halls buzzed with the usual chatter, lockers slamming, and the unmistakable sound of sneakers squeaking on linoleum. But Steve Harrington felt like a ghost drifting through it all — the crown of “King Steve” felt less like armor, more like a chain.

He passed the usual groups: the jocks laughing loudly, the cheerleaders flipping their hair, and the popular kids orbiting Billy like planets around a sun. But Steve barely noticed. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t trying to be their king. Not today.

At the far end of the room, near a cluster of lockers painted with chipped graffiti, Eddie Munson sat alone at a battered lunch table. His long hair fell over his eyes, black nails tapping on the spine of a worn Stephen King novel. Steve’s chest tightened as he watched him — a living rumor, the town’s so-called “freak,” who somehow seemed more real than anyone else in the room.

Taking a deep breath, Steve slipped into the seat across from Eddie, lowering his voice but loud enough to be heard.

“You reading Pet Sematary?”

Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes glittering with surprise. “Yeah. You know your horror, Harrington?”

Steve shrugged, managing a small smile. “Maybe I’m starting to.”

For a few moments, the noisy cafeteria felt like a distant storm, nothing but the two of them and a shared, unexpected connection.

Then, a voice sharp and dripping with mockery sliced through the moment.

“Well, well,” sneered Tommy, Steve’s old friend and longtime ally in the kingdom of high school popularity. “King Steve sitting with Eddie Munson? What happened? Did you lose a bet?”

The table behind Steve erupted with laughter, voices buzzing like angry bees. Tommy leaned forward, a cruel grin twisting his lips.

“Or maybe you finally got tired of pretending. Can’t keep up the act forever, Harrington.”

Steve felt eyes boring into him from every corner — the jocks, the cheerleaders, even the teachers nearby. The pressure was suffocating.

Tommy’s smile darkened, voice dropping low but sharp enough to cut.

“Face it, Steve. You’re pathetic. Sitting here with this loser who probably spends his nights talking to demons and painting pentagrams on his ceiling. You’re supposed to be the king. But all I see is a scared kid who’s lost his throne.”

A hush fell over the cafeteria, the laughter dying down as everyone leaned in, waiting for Steve’s reaction.

Steve’s jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists on the table.

“No,” he said, voice low but steady. “You don’t get to decide what I am. I’m not perfect. I’m not some flawless king on a throne. I’m a guy who’s been scared, who’s messed up, who’s made a lot of mistakes — okay?”

He stood up slowly, every eye locked on him, every breath held.

“I’m tired of pretending that being popular means being the best version of myself. Because maybe the best version of me isn’t the guy you all think I am. Maybe it’s the guy sitting right here with Eddie, who’s not afraid to be real. Who doesn’t give a damn what you think.”

Steve’s voice grew stronger, fueled by a sudden surge of honesty and anger.

“So yeah, I’m done playing king. And if you don’t like it, Tommy, and if none of you do, then you can all just piss off.”

The cafeteria was silent. The tension was thick, electric.

Steve didn’t wait for a response. He turned sharply and pushed through the crowd, the eyes of the entire school burning into his back as he marched toward the exit.

Outside, the sun was high and merciless, flooding the parking lot with glaring daylight. The cold air hit Steve like a shock, clearing his head.

He pulled his jacket tighter around himself and started down the sidewalk, trying to ignore the lingering sting of all those eyes.

A few steps behind, Eddie fell into stride beside him.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly, voice careful.

Steve didn’t turn.

“I’m with you,” Eddie said after a beat.

Steve’s shoulders dropped just a little. “Thanks.”

The street was noisy with kids rushing between classes, the distant bark of a dog, and the rustling wind.

For the first time in weeks, Steve felt like maybe he could breathe.

○○○

The sidewalk outside Hawkins High was a world apart from the stifling cafeteria. The air was cool but fresh, filled with distant laughter and the faint hum of late morning traffic. Steve’s footsteps echoed hollow as he kept walking, not looking back.

Eddie kept pace, neither rushing nor falling behind. He said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch, letting Steve carry the weight of his own thoughts.

Finally, Eddie broke the quiet.

“You handled that pretty damn well.”

Steve snorted, a little bitter. “I wasn’t sure if I’d lose it or blow up worse.”

Eddie grinned. “You almost had me worried for a second.”

Steve shook his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. “I’m used to people thinking I’m some perfect version of myself. But honestly? It’s exhausting. And fake.”

Eddie’s gaze softened. “Yeah. People don’t like the real stuff. They want the act.”

Steve looked over at him. “Why don’t you care?”

Eddie shrugged, pushing his curls back. “Maybe I’m already the guy they’re scared of. Or maybe I just stopped giving a damn a long time ago.”

They walked toward the edge of town where the streets thinned out, the noise fading into the hum of the trees. Steve’s breath came easier here, away from the crowds and expectations.

“Do you want to grab a soda and head back to my place? I dont really feel like going back to school” Steve asked suddenly, surprising even himself.

Eddie’s eyes sparkled with a challenge. “Only if you’re buying.”

Steve laughed, the sound light and unburdened.

They headed toward the small corner store, two unlikely allies carving out a space where the world didn’t matter so much.

For the first time that day, Steve felt like he might just be okay.

○○○

Steve’s room was stripped down to the essentials. The walls were bare, painted a pale blue that caught the soft glow of the afternoon sun slipping through the window. The only furniture was the bed pushed against the far wall, its threadbare blanket rumpled from the day’s use.

Steve and Eddie sat side by side on the edge of the mattress, their shoulders almost touching, legs dangling over the side.

Steve had kicked off his shoes and was leaning back on his hands, eyes half-lidded but alert. Eddie rested his arms on his knees, head tilted, black nails tapping a quiet rhythm against his jeans.

For a while, neither said a word. The silence wasn’t empty — it was filled with the unspoken, the ease of two people who didn’t yet know each other well but weren’t strangers either.

“Never thought I’d be cool with just hanging out like this,” Steve said finally, voice low and casual.

Eddie glanced over, smirking. “Yeah? What did you think you’d be doing instead?”

“Showing off,” Steve admitted, a self-deprecating smile curling his lips. “Always running the scene, keeping up appearances.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “Sounds exhausting.”

Steve shrugged. “It is. Feels like you’re always wearing armor you didn’t ask for.”

“Maybe that’s why I don’t bother,” Eddie said softly. “I’m not trying to be anyone but me. Even if that means I’m the guy everyone whispers about.”

Steve looked over, curious. “Don’t you ever want to shake that? To just fit in?”

Eddie’s eyes flashed. “Nah. Fitting in sounds like giving up. I’d rather be remembered.”

Steve laughed, the sound a little surprised, but genuine.

“I get that,” he said after a moment. “I’m trying to figure out what me even means anymore.”

Eddie’s gaze softened. “You’ll get there.”

They sat a while longer, the afternoon light shifting, casting long shadows across the room’s empty walls.

Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of gum, offering it without a word.

Eddie took one, popping it into his mouth with a satisfied snap.

“It’s nice,” Steve said quietly. “Not having to put on a show.”

Eddie shrugged. “Maybe this is the start of something different.”

Steve smiled, the kind that reaches the eyes. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”

○○○

Over the next few weeks Steve and Eddie hung out even more.

The last bell of the day rang through Hawkins High, and the hallways flooded with students eager to escape into freedom. Steve and Eddie walked side by side, a quiet ease between them that had started to settle like a comfortable rhythm.

“Hey,” Steve said, nudging Eddie gently. “You coming over after school? I’ve got some beers and maybe some music.”

Eddie smirked, sliding his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. “Sure. Beats sitting in that trailer all day.”

They parted ways with a few nods, promising to meet at Steve’s place in half an hour.

○○○

~Steve’s house was still bare, but the afternoon sun made it feel warmer now, less empty. They sprawled on the bed, trading mixtapes and stories — Eddie talking about the bands he loved, Steve sharing goofy tales from school.

“Ever been to a real concert?” Steve asked, grinning.

Eddie shook his head. “Only in my dreams.”

“Well, maybe I can fix that someday.”

~ The next day, Steve found himself standing outside a dusty trailer on the edge of town, the sun setting behind the thick pines. Eddie’s place. Eddie had insisted Steve come over, promising “it’s not as bad as you think.”

The door creaked open before Steve could knock.

“Well, well,” a gruff voice said.

Steve blinked up into the face of a burly man with a weathered beard and arms like tree trunks.

“Wayne,” Eddie said, a hint of respect in his voice. “My uncle.”

Wayne gave Steve a once-over, then grunted. “So you’re the kid hanging around Eddie. Better not slow him down.”

Steve laughed nervously. “No worries. I’m not that guy.”

Wayne’s stern gaze softened just a bit. “Good. Keep him out of trouble, yeah?”

“Trying to,” Steve said.

Wayne nodded and disappeared inside.

Eddie grinned. “Don’t mind him. He’s rough but alright.”

Steve smiled, feeling like he’d just stepped into a new kind of family.

Wayne grunted a goodbye, grabbing his coat and keys off the hook. “Night shift’s calling. Don’t stay up too late, you two.” His voice was gruff, but there was something protective in it.

Eddie smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, Wayne.”

As the door clicked shut behind Wayne, Eddie turned to Steve with a crooked grin. “Alright, let’s check out my kingdom.”

Steve followed Eddie down the narrow trailer hallway to a door plastered with band posters—Motörhead, Iron Maiden, and a few obscure metal bands Eddie proudly claimed Steve wouldn’t know.

Eddie pushed the door open, and Steve blinked into the dimly lit room. A single lava lamp on the desk cast a soft amber glow, bouncing off scattered vinyl records, tangled guitar cables, and a precarious stack of comic books.

The bed was unmade, a mess of clothes and notebooks spread out like a carefully controlled chaos.

Steve plopped down on the edge, running a hand through his hair. “This is… not what I expected.”

Eddie leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, black nail polish gleaming under the lamp. “What’d you expect? Some prim and proper little shrine?”

Steve chuckled. “Honestly? Maybe something a little less badass.”

Eddie’s eyes flicked up, lips quirking into a half-smile. “Badass, huh? You’re just starting to see the real me.”

Steve’s grin deepened. “I like what I’m seeing.”

Eddie sauntered over, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Careful, Harrington. You might get caught staring.”

Steve looked away, voice low but playful. “If I’m staring, it’s because you’ve got my full attention.”

There was a beat where the air shifted, charged but unspoken.

Eddie nudged Steve’s knee with his own. “So, what now? You sticking around, or just visiting the freak side of town for fun?”

Steve caught the challenge in Eddie’s eyes and grinned. “I’m thinking maybe I’m ready to get a little freaky.”

Eddie laughed softly, then leaned back on his elbows. “That’s what I like to hear.”

The room felt warmer, smaller, like the outside world could wait.

Steve glanced at Eddie, heart speeding just a little. “Guess we’re both figuring things out.”

Eddie shrugged, a flicker of something tender in his gaze. “Yeah. And maybe, just maybe, we’re better together.”

Steve’s smile softened. “I’m willing to find out.”

○○○

The warm amber glow from the lava lamp flickered softly as Eddie stretched out on the messy bed, propping himself up on one elbow. His eyes lit up with a rare spark, the kind Steve hadn’t seen before.

“You ever heard of Black Sabbath?” Eddie asked suddenly, voice low but intense.

Steve shook his head, smiling. “Only the legends.”

Eddie’s grin widened, and he sat up a little straighter, fingers animated as he spoke.

“They changed everything. I mean, the riffs? The vibe? It’s like—chaos and beauty smashed together. They don’t just play music. They command it. Like they’re summoning something dark but powerful.”

Steve couldn’t stop himself from watching Eddie, the way his fingers moved, the passion that poured out of him like fire.

“And it’s not just the music. The stories they tell—wolves, witches, curses. It’s like Dungeons & Dragons but turned up to eleven.”

Steve’s eyebrows lifted. “You into D&D, huh?”

Eddie laughed, a sound that was part mischief, part devotion. “Yeah, man. It’s not just some game. It’s a whole world. You get to be anything, do anything. You and your friends—your party—facing monsters and making crazy choices. It’s the ultimate escape.”

Steve’s eyes softened, and he shifted closer, the bed creaking under their combined weight.

“I never knew you had this side,” Steve said quietly.

Eddie shrugged, cheeks tinged pink under the dim light. “Most people don’t get it. They just see the black nails and the long hair and think I’m trouble. But this? This is me.”

Steve smiled, heart hammering.

“You’re amazing, Eddie,” he said simply, voice thick.

Eddie blinked, surprised, then smirked and covered his face with his hair. “Careful, Harrington. You’re making me blush.”

Steve leaned in just a little, the space between them shrinking.

“Well, I’m kind of a sucker for the amazing.”

Eddie’s grin faltered into something softer, more genuine. “Maybe we’re both luckier than we think.”

Steve’s smile was all the answer Eddie needed.

○○○

The night air was crisp when Steve stepped outside, the soft glow of the porch light barely pushing back the shadows. Eddie fell into step beside him, their shoulders brushing just enough to send a spark down Steve’s spine.

They walked in silence toward Steve’s car, the only sounds the crunch of gravel under their shoes and the distant hum of night insects.

Steve’s heart was pounding—not from the cold—but from the weight of the moment, the electric tension humming between them.

Eddie stole a glance at him, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim light.

“So…” Eddie finally said, voice low and a little rough, “you gonna make it home okay?”

Steve gave a short laugh, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

They reached the car. Steve reached for the door handle but paused, his hand hovering.

Eddie’s gaze caught his, sharp and steady.

For a long second, it felt like time itself slowed down. The space between them charged, thick with everything unsaid.

Then Eddie took a step back, breaking the spell.

“Get home safe, Stevie.”

Steve nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Steve slid into the driver’s seat, watching Eddie for a moment before closing the door.

As the engine started and the headlights cut through the darkness, Steve glanced back one last time.

Eddie was still there, standing quiet and solid in the night, a flicker of something tender shining in his eyes.

Just the promise of something waiting.

○○○

The quiet of Steve's house was suffocating. He stood in the kitchen, one hand braced against the counter, eyes unfocused. His brain wouldn’t stop spinning — Eddie’s laugh echoing in his ears, the warmth of his room now feeling too still. He felt like he was standing at the edge of something huge, but he couldn’t name it.

A knock rattled the front door. Sharp. Frantic.

He flinched, then frowned. It was past ten.

Another knock. Faster this time.

Steve yanked the door open.

Dustin Henderson stood there, breathing heavily like he’d sprinted the whole way over, hair frizzed from his bike helmet, backpack bouncing on one shoulder.

“Steve,” he gasped. “You have to come. Right now. It’s—okay, I know this sounds crazy, but I found this thing. I thought it was a lizard but then its face opened up like a flower and it ate my cat.”

Steve blinked. “You—what?”

“I locked it in the cellar, but I don’t think it’s staying locked. It’s like... part Demogorgon.”

At the mention of that word, Steve’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Okay. Get in.”

○○○

They crept down the cellar stairs, flashlights cutting through the musty dark. The air was damp. Too quiet.

Steve stepped first. Dustin right behind him, holding a bat like it was Excalibur.

The light caught what looked like broken wooden slats and deep gouges in the floor. Then—

“Jesus Christ,” Steve whispered, kneeling. “There’s a hole.”

A wide one, jagged around the edges, burrowed straight through the foundation.

Dustin’s heart sank. “He got out.”

Steve stood slowly, bat held tighter now.

“Okay. Now I believe you.”

○○○

They walked single-file along the abandoned tracks, backpacks stuffed with raw meat from Steve’s freezer, leaving it behind like breadcrumbs.

“Dart’s growing,” Dustin muttered, squinting at the prints in the dirt. “He’s molting. Demogorgon-style.”

Steve didn’t argue. He just kept looking around, tense, eyes always scanning the trees.

By late morning, they ran into Lucas and Max at the junkyard.

Lucas explained fast—about Dart being part of the same thing from last year, about Will, the tunnels, the gate. Max just stared, absorbing all of it, not yet sure she wanted to believe.

Steve didn’t get much time to think—because that was when Dart showed up.

○○○

Rusting car skeletons formed makeshift barricades as the group positioned themselves inside the only junkyard in town. They set meat in a shallow pit, barricaded exits, climbed onto a school bus that was in the middle of the yard

Steve gave instructions with surprising clarity. “We hit it fast. Aim for the head. Don't split up.”

Max watched him — not like the guy she’d heard of through word of mouth, but someone… real.

When Dart arrived, screeching and horrible, its limbs too long for its body, Steve met it head-on. The bat came down hard.

It took all of them. Together. Screaming. Swinging. Fending off the snarls until Dart was finally dead.

The silence afterward was heavy.

Steve dropped the bat, chest heaving, blood on his cheek.

○○○

The room buzzed with quiet urgency. Everyone was there: Mike, Joyce, Jonathan, Lucas, Max, Will curled on the couch — his eyes distant, sweating. Hopper stood near the door, arms crossed.

Then it happened.

The door flew open.

And there she was.

Eleven.

Dressed all in black. Slicked-back hair. Smudged eyeliner. A shadow of the girl she once was. Her eyes locked on Mike's and the entire room seemed to still.

He ran to her. Threw his arms around her.

Steve stared. “Jesus…”

Hopper stepped forward. “We’re going to the gate. Joyce, me, and El. You all stay here. Stay safe.”

Before anyone could argue, they were gone.

The plan: close the gate. Burn the tunnels. End it.

Then Billy showed up.

It happened fast.

A knock.

Steve opened the door—expecting maybe Hopper.

Instead, it was Billy Hargrove, wild-eyed, teeth clenched, fists ready.

“Where’s Max?” he barked.

“Not your business,” Steve shot back, stepping into the doorway.

Then the punch came.

Steve stumbled back, blood splattering. Billy followed. Slammed him into the wall. Kicked. Hit again.

The kids screamed.

Max moved.

With all the strength she had, she grabbed the bat—Steve’s bat—and cracked Billy across the back of the head.

He dropped, groaning.

Steve lay in the corner, dazed and bleeding. The kids helped him up and put him into his car and everything becomes a blurr until he's waking up, seeing max getting out of the driver's seat, and being surrounded by rotten pumpkins.

The kids insisted on going into the tunnels and who was Steve and his last remaining effort to stay awake to tell them "no" so they followed the map through the tunnels: Steve, the kids, flashlights flickering, the walls oozing. Steam hissed. The whole place was alive.

They moved fast. Demodogs howled through the black. Steve fought them off, bleeding, limping.

Far above them, Eleven stood at the gate. Screaming. Power ripping through her. The gate tore and folded in on itself, the pulsing red veins withering.

And then it was over.

The world exhaled.

○○○

Eddie wasn’t expecting anyone. He was half-asleep, guitar across his chest, when the knock came.

He opened the door groggily — and nearly collapsed at the sight.

Steve Harrington stood there. Covered in mud. His face bruised and swollen, split lip caked in dried blood. His jeans were torn at the knees, jacket barely hanging on.

His eyes were glassy. Tired. Raw.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed, reaching for him.

“Steve?”

Steve wavered on his feet, then collapsed forward — not from injury, but from sheer exhaustion.

Eddie caught him in his arms, pulling him tight against his chest.

“I got you,” he whispered.

They sank to the couch together. Steve’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder, his body trembling.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Eddie cradled him, one hand gently stroking through his filthy hair. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

They stayed like that for a long time, the storm outside finally quiet.

And for the first time in days, Steve let himself feel safe.

The heat had finally kicked on in the trailer, humming softly through the vents. Everything else was still. The kind of silence that only comes when the whole world is asleep — or trying to forget it ever existed.

Steve hadn’t moved in ten minutes. He was still slumped against Eddie’s shoulder on the couch, heavy with exhaustion. His breathing had evened out but he wasn’t quite asleep. Just… floating.

Eddie sat there, curled around him, one arm wrapped across Steve’s chest and the other gently stroking his arm. Every now and then he’d glance down, trying to get a read on the damage. His shirt was torn. His jaw was swelling. There was dried blood near his temple and a bruise flowering over one cheekbone like spilled ink.

Eddie cleared his throat softly. “Hey. You with me?” Steve let out a faint grunt of acknowledgment.

“Okay,” Eddie said, rubbing his shoulder with his thumb. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Steve groaned softly but sat up with effort, blinking like he was trying to remember how his body worked. “Don’t bother,” he muttered.

“Too late,” Eddie said gently, already helping him up. “Come on, Harrington. I’ve got a bathroom, a clean towel, and a shitty but functional first aid kit. It’s time.”

Steve didn’t argue.

It was small, a little cluttered, with an old mirror and chipped tile that Eddie had tried to cover up with a bath mat from a yard sale. But it was warm. And safe.

Steve sat on the closed toilet lid while Eddie filled the sink with warm water. He dug around in the cupboard until he found a clean towel, a bar of soap, peroxide, and a half-used roll of gauze.

He knelt down in front of Steve and dipped the towel into the water, wringing it out until it was damp and warm. Then, gently, he pressed it to Steve’s forehead.

Steve flinched — not from pain, but from the softness of it. His eyes flicked to Eddie, searching his face. 

Eddie didn’t say anything. Just kept working.

He cleaned each cut with slow, deliberate care — wiping the dried blood from Steve’s brow, the dirt from his cheek, the grime off his neck. He worked quietly, the way someone does when they’ve had to do this before. When care is more instinct than performance.

“You do this a lot?” Steve asked quietly.

Eddie gave a half-smile. “Wayne works nights. Sometimes I come home from school with a black eye and he’s not here to see it. You learn to self-maintain.”

Steve nodded slowly. 

Eddie reached for the peroxide next, pouring a little onto a cotton pad. “This might sting.”

“I’ve had worse,” Steve mumbled.

Still, he hissed when it touched the cut above his eyebrow.

Eddie smirked faintly. “Told you.”

Steve watched him as he worked. His fingers. The little furrow between his brows as he focused. The silver ring glinting on his pinky as he adjusted the gauze.

“You’re good at this,” he said.

Eddie shrugged one shoulder. “I’m good at keeping shit from falling apart. Doesn’t mean it’s fixed.” 

He finished cleaning the last of the bruises, then gently bandaged the cut over Steve’s cheekbone. When he leaned back on his heels, he finally met Steve’s eyes.

“What happened tonight?” he asked softly. “Really.”

Steve’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked away.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, voice raw. “There was this thing — Dart — Dustin called it a demodog. It killed his cat. Then we went to the junkyard. We killed it. Then Eleven showed up, shes this girl with like mind powere by the way. And then Billy. Billy showed up and just… lost it. Max knocked him out with the bat.”

Eddie blinked. “Jesus.” 

Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I fought him. Tried, anyway. He’s stronger than he looks. I also probably shouldn't have told you all that...you know..but right now i could care less about what the government or werid nerd lab people will do to me."

Eddie smiled dryly. “Right...well talk more about that later when you're not concussed, also, you look like a wreck.”

“I feel worse.”

Eddie pushed to his feet and reached for a clean shirt from the hallway — one of his oversized black band tees — then tossed it into Steve’s lap. “Here. Yours is toast.”

Steve looked at it, then back at Eddie.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie said with a crooked grin, “you bleed on it, it’s yours.”

Steve shuffled back to the couch in the borrowed shirt, hair damp from washing, skin stinging from the peroxide but cleaner than before.

Eddie followed, flopping down beside him, this time much closer. Their legs touched.

Steve sank into the cushions, shoulders sagging. “Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie didn’t reply at first. He just looked at him. Really looked.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said finally, voice low. “When I opened that door and saw you standing there like something chewed you up and spit you out—”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Steve said, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Eddie nodded slowly, like he’d expected that.

Then, carefully, Steve leaned sideways — resting his head against Eddie’s shoulder. The weight of it was solid. Warm. Real.

Eddie’s breath caught. His arms didn’t move at first. Then he slowly wrapped one around Steve’s back, pulling him in.

And that’s when Steve collapsed.

Not physically — but emotionally. The kind of collapse that happens when everything finally stops moving and you realize just how tired you are. His breathing hitched. His fingers curled into the hem of Eddie’s shirt. He didn’t cry — not exactly. But the silence around him felt heavier.

“I didn’t want to feel anything,” he murmured. “But then you started talking about your dumb band and D&D and I just… I couldn’t stop listening.”

Eddie exhaled, burying his nose into Steve’s hair.

“You don’t have to be anything right now, okay? Not ‘King Steve.’ Not the tough guy. Just… let me take care of you for once.”

Steve didn’t answer. Just let himself be held.

And for the first time in days — maybe longer — he finally let go.

○○○

The pale gray light of morning crept through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the walls. The trailer was still. The heater had clicked off sometime during the night, leaving a chill in the air that settled in the corners of the room.

Steve stirred first.

He blinked blearily, disoriented for a moment. The couch beneath him was firm and creaky, and the scratchy throw blanket had slipped halfway off during the night. His limbs felt heavy, like they’d been filled with lead. But he was warm — and not just from the blanket.

Eddie was curled into him.

Steve’s head was pillowed against Eddie’s shoulder, and somewhere during the night, one of Eddie’s arms had wrapped fully around him. His fingers were curled lightly against Steve’s ribs, rings glinting in the light. Their legs were tangled loosely together under the blanket, and Eddie’s wild curls tickled Steve’s cheek with every soft exhale.

Steve didn’t move. He just lay there and stared, trying to absorb the peace of it. The way Eddie’s chest rose and fell, slow and even. The faint scent of soap and wood smoke and something sweet — maybe Eddie’s shampoo or a candle burned down to its wick.

For the first time in a long while, Steve didn’t feel like he was holding his breath.

Eventually, Eddie shifted, nose scrunching in a sleepy twitch. His eyes blinked open, glassy and unfocused at first, before settling on Steve.

“Mornin’,” he rasped, voice hoarse with sleep.

Steve smiled, slow and soft. “Hey.”

Eddie looked at him for a beat, then dropped his gaze, his hand still resting against Steve’s side.

“You stayed.”

“Didn’t feel like leaving,” Steve said.

Eddie grinned faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You were out cold. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

There was a pause, heavy but not uncomfortable.

Steve sat up slowly, stretching with a wince. His body still ached, and the bruises on his face had deepened into ugly shades of purple-blue. Eddie followed him up, rubbing at his eyes and yawning behind the back of his hand.

“Bathroom’s yours,” he offered. “Got mouthwash and all the other luxury amenities of the working-class trailer lifestyle.”

Steve huffed a laugh and got to his feet. “Appreciate it.”

Eddie watched him go, and when the bathroom door clicked shut, he let himself flop backward onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

The smell of coffee started to fill the trailer — weak and a little burnt, but it was hot and caffeinated. Eddie stood barefoot in the kitchen, in an old t-shirt and boxers, spooning sugar into two mismatched mugs.

Steve emerged a few minutes later, freshly washed, hair damp, wearing the same black band tee from the night before, now slightly rumpled.

“Made you coffee,” Eddie said, offering him a mug. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s from a can and tastes like regret.”

Steve took it gratefully. “Still better than what I’ve got at home.”

They leaned on opposite sides of the tiny counter in silence, sipping slowly. Every now and then their eyes would meet, and then quickly flick away again.

It was different in the light of day. Everything was.

“So,” Eddie said finally, his voice a little unsure. “You, uh… okay?”

Steve glanced down into his coffee. “Define okay.”

Eddie gave a soft snort, then rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re still standing. That’s something.”

“I guess.” Steve looked up at him again, really looked. “Thanks. For… everything.”

Eddie gave a little shrug, like it was nothing. But his cheeks flushed. “Any time, Harrington.”

Steve hesitated, fingers tightening around the mug.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he said again, softer this time.

“You don’t need anywhere else,” Eddie replied immediately. “You’ve got me.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Fragile. Charged.

Steve swallowed thickly, something shifting behind his eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

They stood there for a long time, saying nothing more. Just drinking their coffee as the morning light slowly filled the room, and the world outside spun a little slower for once.

a little while later the coffee mugs sat forgotten on the counter.

They’d drifted back to Eddie’s room without really saying anything, the quiet between them stretching warm and familiar. Sunlight filtered through the half-closed blinds in strips, cutting across posters of Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath. There were stacks of old notebooks and cassettes on every surface, and D\&D miniatures lined a shelf above the bed like tiny sentries.

Steve sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, one hand braced behind him, the other absentmindedly tracing the seam of Eddie’s comforter. Eddie was sprawled out lengthwise, lying on his stomach with his cheek resting against a balled-up hoodie, looking at Steve like he was something on the edge of a dream — not quite real.

Neither of them spoke at first.

The adrenaline of the last few days had long since burned off, and in its place was a gentle, restless stillness. Like they’d survived something they weren’t quite ready to talk about, and now didn’t know what to do with the silence.

Eddie broke it first.

“You sleep with your mouth open,” he said, voice still scratchy with sleep.

Steve looked up, startled. “What?”

Eddie smirked. “When you passed out on the couch. Little snore, too. Very dignified.”

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto his face. “Well, next time I get jumped by a psycho and survive demodogs in a junkyard, I’ll try to be more graceful about it.”

Eddie’s grin softened. “That was pretty badass, actually. Brave too"

Steve shrugged, suddenly shy under the praise. “I don’t know. It didn’t feel brave. It just… felt like the only thing I could do.”

“That’s the same thing,” Eddie said quietly. “Doing it anyway. Even if it scares the shit out of you.”

Steve looked at him, really looked — the shadows on his face, the way his hair spilled in a halo on the bedspread, the bite of his rings against pale knuckles as he idly twisted a loose thread from a pillow.

“I didn’t think anyone saw me that way,” he said after a beat.

“I do,” Eddie replied, steady.

The air changed. Stilled. Steve’s fingers froze on the comforter.

Eddie sat up a little, propped on his elbow now, eyes darker in the low light. “I see you,” he said again, softer this time. “Not just the guy from the halls or the king of the basketball court. You’re… a lot more than I ever thought.”

Steve’s breath hitched. “Yeah?"

Eddie nodded.

There was something growing between them now, like static just before a storm. The kind of tension that wasn’t loud, but deep— magnetic, pulling, inevitable.

Steve shifted closer, knee brushing Eddie’s.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell’s happening to me,” he admitted, his voice raw around the edges. “Since that night at the party. Since you. And I think I’m just…” He shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t know. I’m not used to wanting something and not knowing what it means.”

Eddie reached for him. Not dramatically. Just a slow, sure movement — his hand gently resting over Steve’s where it still fidgeted on the bedspread.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said quietly. “Not yet. Doesn’t have to be scary either.”

Steve looked down at their hands. Eddie’s was warm, solid. The rings cool against his skin.

“I like being around you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “It’s easy. And I don’t… I don’t feel like I have to pretend with you.”

Eddie’s thumb moved slowly, tracing across the back of Steve’s hand.

“That’s good,” he said. “Because I don’t think I’d believe your bullshit anyway.”

That made Steve laugh, the tension breaking just enough to let a smile spread across his face. He ducked his head, a flush creeping up his neck.

Eddie scooted closer until their knees touched fully. His hand still hadn’t moved.

Steve looked up, and their eyes met — and this time, neither of them looked away.

It would’ve been so easy to lean in.

To let their foreheads touch. Or more.

But instead, they just sat there, inches apart, sharing a breath.

And neither of them was running.

They hadn’t moved much.

Steve’s fingers still rested under Eddie’s, their knees still touching. The hush in the room hadn’t faded — it had deepened. Not an awkward silence, not even hesitant. Just the kind of quiet that filled up every corner when words weren’t needed, only presence.

Eddie was watching him.

Really watching, in that way he did — like Steve was a mystery and the answer at the same time. His head tilted slightly, curls falling over one eye. His thumb traced absent circles across Steve’s skin.

“You always like this?” Eddie asked, voice low and almost teasing. “All charming and tragic at the same time?”

Steve snorted, startled. “Tragic?”

“You’ve got that haunted thing going on,” Eddie said with a crooked smile. “Brooding, mysterious. Heartthrob with a tortured past.”

Steve rolled his eyes but looked away like maybe it hit a little close to something.

“I’m just tired,” he admitted. “Of pretending I have everything figured out. Of being the guy everyone expects me to be.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

A pause. Then, a little softer:

“You don’t have to be anything when you’re with me, you know. No show. No act.”

Steve turned back to him, eyes warm and unguarded in a way that made Eddie’s chest ache.

“I know.”

Eddie shifted, just a little — enough to face Steve fully now, his legs folding beneath him. He still hadn’t let go of Steve’s hand.

Steve reached out with his free one, tentative, brushing a thumb against the sharp edge of one of Eddie’s rings. He turned it slowly, just fidgeting.

“You always wear these?” he asked, more to fill the quiet than anything else.

Eddie nodded. “Pretty much since freshman year. Part fashion, part armor.”

Steve’s brows rose.

“Armor?”

Eddie shrugged, eyes flicking down. “People don’t mess with you as much when you look like you might bite.”

Steve was quiet again. Then:

“I wish I knew how to do that. How to let it bounce off.”

“You will.” Eddie’s voice softened. “You’re already halfway there. I mean, you’re here, aren’t you? With me.”

Something shifted then. Unspoken, but undeniable.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

His fingers moved from Eddie’s rings to his wrist, trailing lightly along the line of veins and ink. He could feel the pulse there — fast. Just like his own.

Eddie’s smile faltered, replaced by something gentler. Something cautious and wide open.

“Steve…”

Steve’s gaze flicked to his.

“I’m not gonna pretend I know what this is yet,” he said, low and careful. “But I know I don’t want it to stop.”

Eddie swallowed, throat working. “Me either.”

The distance between them wasn’t much. A foot, maybe less. Close enough that Steve could smell the faded scent of Eddie’s cologne and shampoo and the faint ghost of cigarette smoke on his t-shirt.

He moved forward slowly, giving space to pull away.

Eddie didn’t.

Their foreheads met first — just a light press, gentle. Their eyes closed.

It wasn’t a kiss.

Not yet.

Just shared breath, shared quiet. A silent promise of something blooming between them, slow and certain.

After a moment, Steve drew back just enough to see him again.

Eddie was flushed, eyes wide but shining, the corners of his mouth tugged up in a tiny, crooked smile.

And then — finally — Steve leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t perfect. A little off-center, a little trembling.

But it was real.

And when Eddie kissed him back, it was with a kind of certainty that made Steve’s fingers tighten in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, like he wasn’t ready to let go.

When they pulled apart, foreheads still resting together, Eddie let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

“Shit,” he whispered. “That was…”

Steve nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”

Another beat of silence, and then:

“I really like you, Harrington.”

Steve’s smile was a little shaky, a little stunned, but absolutely real.

“I really like you too Munson."

The kiss lingered like a spark caught on skin.

He surged forward and kissed Eddie harder this time — more sure, more there, like the hesitation had cracked and spilled into something real and hungry beneath the surface. Eddie caught him with a soft, startled laugh that got swallowed between them as their mouths pressed together again, warm and wanting.

Steve’s hands slid up into Eddie’s hair, threading through the soft curls at the back of his neck, tugging gently. Eddie made a sound at that — a low, quiet noise that vibrated right through Steve’s chest.

It was messy in that perfect way — all heat and breath and uncertain rhythm. They shifted clumsily on the bed, Steve leaning in, Eddie’s back hitting the mattress as Steve followed straddling him, one hand bracing beside Eddie’s head, the other still tangled in his hair.

Eddie’s hands gripped at Steve’s sides — not desperate, not possessive, just anchored, like if he let go, this might not be real anymore.

When they broke apart for air, Eddie was staring up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Well, shit,” he said, voice rough. “You’re really good at that.”

Steve laughed, short and breathless, nose brushing Eddie’s. “I was King Steve, remember?”

Eddie snorted. “You still suck at humility.”

“Working on it,” Steve whispered, and kissed him again.

This time slower. Sweeter. Like he wasn’t in any rush to let go.

They stayed like that for a long while — kissing in soft, lazy waves, interrupted by quiet laughter and whispered things that didn’t matter much except for how they felt in the moment.

Steve eventually rolled onto his side, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder, fingers lazily tracing a pattern across the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. Their legs tangled. Eddie’s hand found Steve’s hair, stroking slow and gentle at the nape of his neck.

For the first time in days — maybe longer — Steve felt calm.

Not just safe.

Held.

Eddie’s chest rose and fell under him, steady like a heartbeat. There was no rush, no panic, no end of the world looming in this room, in this moment.

Just them.

Two boys, tangled together on a worn bedspread in a messy room full of dragons and guitars and quiet possibility.

Eddie broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after this.”

Steve hummed in agreement.

“Me neither.”

“But I want to keep finding out,” Eddie said. “If that’s something you want too.”

Steve looked up at him and pressed a chaste but longing kiss to his lips— and nodded, just once, his voice soft but sure.

“I do.”