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The glow from the television filled the trailer with a pool of flickering light, washing over the two boys lounging on the couch before it. It was late, Steve had come over to watch a movie with Eddie, but now lay asleep, his head resting against the armrest and his legs stretched out under a blanket. Eddie sat at the other end of the couch next to Steve’s feet, vacantly staring at whatever cable had to offer now that the movie was over.
Another week had gone by, and while it certainly hadn’t been easy, he had managed to tamp down on the strongest of his intrusive buzzing thoughts about Steve. He had started imaging them as characters in a slapstick cartoon, having pianos and boulders dropped on them every time they tried to open their stupid little mouths, tying them to the railroad tracks and squashing them with a train every time they began to flutter with desire when Steve drew near. It was far from a healthy way of coping, but it was at least amusing. Eddie had almost convinced himself that he had a future in cartooning.
Currently, he was surrounding one particular stupid thought with dynamite, imagining the great explosion that would reduce it to a pair of dumb blinking eyeballs and a pile of ash: Steve’s dream crush was someone that he liked in real life. Someone that Eddie knew from high school, but not a girl from the video store. Steve might tell that someone how he feels. That someone might be a guy. Which meant that there was the slightest sliver of a chance that that guy could be…
Me.
Eddie pounded his fist against his forehead as he detonated the thought again and again, but it just wouldn’t die. Instead, his traitor of a heart thundered against his ribs, flooding him with intoxicating warmth that he couldn’t ignore. He hated to admit it, didn’t want to admit it, but it was undeniable. He liked Steve. He had a crush on Steve. He never would have allowed himself to before, but now?
Eddie continued to thump his fist against his forehead as he stared ahead at the tv, refusing to indulge in the sight of the sleeping boy beside to him, to lean in and whisper to him once more, to find out once and for all who the mystery dream crush was and end his torment. Because it couldn’t be him, Steve would never waste his time dreaming about him, it had to be somebody else.
But the little stupid thought in his head raised a shaking finger of interjection from the pile of ash it had been reduced to, its tiny voice squeaking, ”but what if he is dreaming about you?"
Steve suddenly shifted in his sleep, muttering something that Eddie was too distracted to make sense of. It was better that way though, he couldn’t do this anymore, he didn’t need to know what Steve was mumbling about, the investigation was over. Eddie had decided that he would wait until Steve was ready to tell him who the mystery dream crush was, he wouldn’t try to pull more information out of him, even if the opportunity was lying right next to him on a fucking silver platter. Because that was the right thing to do, the only thing to do.
“But,” the stupid thought squeaked again… “maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you just-”
Steve twitched, sharply jabbing his heel into Eddie’s thigh.
“Son of a bitch,” Eddie hissed, grabbing Steve’s ankle and holding it down. “What am I going to do with you, man?” He chuckled to himself, returning his attention to the TV. But he had deserved that one, needed it even. God, he was being pathetic.
He should just wake Steve up and send him home, removing any further temptation to interrogate the jock while he slept, and also saving Eddie from a head injury as he continued to hit himself on the forehead. But Eddie sat quietly with Steve, just existing side by side in the company of a good friend. Eddie loved when Robin was with them too, but it was nice when it was just him and Steve. God, it would be so nice if could just be him and Steve…
Steve’s foot jerked towards him again, but Eddie was prepared, holding his ankle in place. “Nice try,” he snickered, proud that he had avoided being kicked.
Steve’s body relaxed for a moment, but then he groaned out a whisper into the dark, “stay with me.”
The words were like a dagger through Eddie’s heart. “Always,” he whispered back without hesitation. That was all he ever wanted, everything he wanted.
He finally let himself look at Steve, his heart pounding as he watched the flickering colors and shapes from the TV dance across the sleeping boy’s face.
But something wasn’t right. Steve had started to contract and grow stiff.
“Steve?”
Steve’s jaw clenched tight, his fingers gripping the cushion under his head as his eyelids fluttered wildly.
“Stev- Steve!”
In a panic, Eddie lunged for him, gripping his shoulders and shaking him fiercely.
“Steve! Wake up!”
Steve sat up with a start, almost headbutting Eddie in the process, his eyes flying open as he gasped for air. He was as pale as a ghost, his body drenched in a cold sweat. “Hey! Hey, you good?” Eddie called out to him, grasping his cheek and trying to catch his attention. Steve saw him then, gripping Eddie’s arms as he frantically looked him over, unsure if he was real. Without warning, he lifted the hem of Eddie’s shirt, running a hand over the scars on his stomach, searching for open wounds. Eddie flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull away. He hated people seeing his scars, grew nauseous at the thought of anyone touching them, but if Steve needed this, he would do his best to bear it.
“It’s okay. I’m okay, man,” Eddie assured him while Steve continued to examine him. “Steve, please stop. I’m okay.”
Steve finished his search and let out a long sigh, his head falling onto Eddie’s shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.
“Crab nightmare?” Eddie chuckled half-heartedly, trying to lighten the mood as he rubbed soothing circles into Steve’s back.
“Yeah, let’s call it that,” Steve huffed, still hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder. “Sorry, that was… uncharacteristically uncool for me.”
“Yeah. No shit, dude,” Eddie scoffed jokingly. But his own anxiety was off the charts, memories of Chrissy’s mangled body invading his mind. He desperately tried to push the images away and focus on the present. Everything was okay. Steve just had a nightmare. That’s all. And he was fine now. He was safe. They were safe. “Don’t fucking do that to me, man,” Eddie said in a strained whisper.
“I’m sorry,” Steve exhaled, wrapping an arm around Eddie, knowing how badly he had scared him.
Eddie leaned into the embrace, balling up the back of Steve’s shirt in his fist and squeezing so tight that his nails dug painfully into his palm through the fabric. But the pain helped, grounding him to the moment as he screwed his eyes shut and resisted the urge to scream, to cry until he had nothing left, was nothing but a puddle of fury and agony on the floor. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
But then Steve’s hand drifted up Eddie’s back, gently cradling his head as he held Eddie close. Eddie let out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, his body steadily remembering how to breathe under the comforting touch. The familiar scent of musky cologne and hair product filled Eddie’s senses with every inhale, Steve’s smells, because Steve was alive and he was with him, warm against his skin. Steve was okay. Everything was okay.
He wanted to stay in that embrace forever, but it wasn’t fair to Steve. “I’ll uh- I’ll get you some water, yeah?” Eddie sniffed, letting go of Steve once he had calmed down enough to regain his composure.
Steve nodded in response, sinking back into the couch and dragging his hands across his face, not yet ready to look Eddie in the eye.
Eddie gave him an extra moment to collect himself, taking his time grabbing a glass from the kitchen and filling it with water from the tap. When he made it back to the living room, most of the color had returned to Steve’s face.
“Can I, uh- do you have a walkie talkie that can reach Henderson?” Steve asked awkwardly after downing the water that Eddie had handed him.
“Yeah, in my room,” Eddie replied, nodding towards his door.
Without a word, Steve marched to Eddie’s room, finding the walkie talkie on the bureau and switching it on. He sat on the edge of Eddie’s bed, tuning the dial to the right channel with shaking fingers. “Henderson, come in,” Steve said into the device, chewing his lip as he waited for an answer. “Henderson, come in.”
Eddie wandered over, casually leaning against the door frame and monitoring Steve out of the corner of his eye. Steve was getting more agitated as the walkie talkie remained silent, “Dustin-”
“Steve? Is that you? Over.” The walkie talkie crackled, Dustin’s voice sounding like he had just woken up.
Steve slumped forward in relief. “Hey buddy, yeah, it’s me. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay? Over,” Dustin replied.
“I’m good, just- just checking in… over.”
“All good here. Over and out,” Dustin said, clearly trying to go back to bed.
“Over and out,” Steve echoed, collapsing the antenna on the walkie talkie and hanging his head with a sigh.
The pieces clicked in Eddie’s mind. He knew what Steve’s nightmare had been about.
Steve had left Eddie and Dustin to be decoys in the Upside Down, urging them to abort if anything went wrong, to not be heroes. But, despite the odds, they had managed to complete the mission and make it out alive, Steve carrying Eddie as the metalhead held his own guts in place.
Not in Steve’s nightmare, though. There, Eddie and Dustin had been torn apart by Demobats, dead and cold by the time that Steve made it back to the trailer, too late to save them.
Eddie closed his eyes against his own memory of the real event, of the pain and fear as the Demobats tore into him. They had taken a good chunk out of him, but he had survived despite it. He hadn’t run away.
“Sorry again for… all this,” Steve said self-consciously, standing up and putting the walkie talkie back where he found it, “I should probably go.”
But as Steve tried to slip past him, Eddie held out his arm to catch him, pressing his palm to Steve’s chest and stopping him in his tracks. “Stay,” Eddie said softly, his voice sounding more desperate than he meant to. He could feel Steve’s heart racing under his hand, and drew away shyly, clearing his throat, “just for a bit. You’re waaay too riled up to drive right now.”
“I’ll be fine,” Steve insisted.
But Eddie could see it in his eyes- he was lying. He could always tell when Steve was lying.
“Look man, just have some Jello and sit down for a minute, yeah?” Eddie suggested.
Steve sighed, reaching for any reason not to, but coming up empty handed. “Fine. Do you have Jello?”
“When do I not have Jello?” Eddie scoffed.
A moment later the two boys stood together in the kitchen, staring at the empty Jello bowl in the refrigerator. “I don’t have Jello,” Eddie observed flatly, suddenly remembering that he had drunk the last of it through a straw that morning, putting the empty bowl back in the fridge so he didn’t have to wash it. “But that’s okay, we can make more.”
Not giving Steve any time to object, Eddie started digging through cabinets, finding a pot, a whisk, and two packets of Jello. He tossed the packets at Steve without warning, the jock juggling them awkwardly before he managed to catch them. He looked at the labels, noticing that one was cherry flavored and the other lemon. “Are we making two batches?” He asked for clarification.
“Nope, we’re mixing them,” Eddie explained, filling the pot with water and setting it on the stove to boil.
“Can you do that?” Steve furrowed his brow. He had never considered it before.
“We’re about to find out,” Eddie smiled.
It took no time at all to prepare, considering that Jello was the easiest thing that Eddie knew how to cook. The only thing that he knew how to cook, really.
“You know this is going to take at least four hours to set, right?” Steve asked, reading the instructions on the back of the box as Eddie placed the fresh bowl of Jello into the fridge.
“Nah, we can do it in two,” Eddie said with confidence, winding the kitchen timer and setting it on the counter.
Steve gave Eddie a skeptical look, but found that he didn’t have the energy to argue. “Well, if I’m staying that long, can I at least take a shower or something? I reek,” he said, pulling at his sweat drenched shirt.
Eddie didn’t like the idea of letting Steve out of his sight, but he reluctantly agreed. “Just don’t take too long, you’ll run out of hot water after eight minutes, understand?” Eddie lectured as he grabbed Steve a towel, a clean shirt and some sweatpants.
“Eight minutes of hot water, how do you live?” Steve scoffed.
Eddie smiled, heartened by Steve’s usual playful tone. “Quickly,” he replied, tossing the pile that he had gathered at Steve.
Steve caught most of the pile, the t-shirt falling to the ground. He picked it up and looked the black garment over, turning it around to show Eddie the Metallica graphic of a skull with giant eyeballs surrounding it. “Cute,” he teased.
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Eight minutes,” he shot back, giving Steve a shove towards the bathroom.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve chuckled to himself as he retreated and closed the door.
Taking that as a further sign that he was feeling better, Eddie grabbed his guitar and went back to the living room to wait. He busied himself practicing the fastest metal riffs that he knew, the concentration needed distracting his mind from the fact that Steve was naked in his bathroom. Apparently, Eddie was feeling better too if the stupid thought had time to treacherously fantasize about that.
What the fuck is wrong with you, man?
He needed to get over himself, to put this whole stupid crush behind him, because he wasn’t the boy of Steve’s dreams. No, apparently, he was the boy of Steve’s horrible, shell-shocked, trauma nightmares. Eddie felt stupid for even considering that the mystery dream crush could be him. Who was he kidding?
You dumb idiot asshole.
But it was better this way, better that Steve was having bi-curious dreams about some other guy, if he was even dreaming about a guy at all.
Eddie had been the subject of straight boy’s fantasies before, had indulged their curiosities behind the gym, in bathroom stalls, or in the locker room showers after school. But that’s all they ever were, curiosities, and they never lasted, each boy leaving him with loving farewells of “don’t ever talk to me again,” or “tell anyone and you’re dead.” How many of those boys had he fooled himself into loving? Convinced that this time, this one would be different, that this one would stay. But they never did, and after being burned time and time again, Eddie’s blistering husk finally added that most important clause to his Munson Doctrine, to never fall for a straight boy again.
Steve wasn’t like those other jocks and dick heads, sure, and Eddie could sit around and tell himself that Steve would never use him like that all day. But he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t lose Steve.
So, Eddie would wait until Steve was ready to tell him who the mystery dream crush was, and whoever it was, boy or girl, Eddie would wish them the best and be happy for his friend. He would be okay. As long as Steve was in his life, Eddie would be okay. With that decided, the stupid thought in his head finally fell silent, crossing its arms over its chest like a vampire as Eddie buried it for good. It was over, and that was fine, good even. The mystery dream crush investigation was over.
Steve was in the shower for a long time, definitely more than eight minutes. Eddie waited, focusing on a guitar solo that had always given him trouble as the moments ticked by. Finally, the shower turned off, and after another 15 minutes, Steve emerged.
Eddie looked up as the jock stepped into the living room, his damp hair as quaffed and styled as if could be without the help of any hair product. Eddie smirked to himself, even after an ego shattering nightmare, Steve’s vanity was still intact.
But Eddie’s smirk didn’t last for long, his throat going dry as his gaze traveled down and landed on the sight of Steve wearing his Metallica t-shirt. That was definitely doing something to him, the stupid thought in his mind quaking in its grave and trying to claw its way back to the surface.
He swallowed hard, focusing back on his guitar so that he wouldn’t stare as Steve crossed the room and sat down next to him on the couch.
“You definitely weren’t lying about the water,” Steve said after a sigh.
“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re not a jock-sicle,” Eddie replied with a goofy grin.
Steve furrowed his brow. “What the fuck is a jock-sicle?”
“You know, its like a popsicle, but since you’re… you know…” Eddie trailed off, losing confidence in the bit under Steve’s baffled stare, “look, it makes sense, okay? Shut up. And fuck off while you’re at it.”
“Okay, okay,” Steve conceded with a laugh. “What’re you playing?”
“Guitar,” Eddie snarked.
“Oh wow, really? I thought it was a piccolo,” Steve replied sarcastically.
Eddie furrowed his brow, “how the fuck do you know what a piccolo is?”
“Because I know things,” Steve scoffed, “I’m not a complete idiot.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes at Steve’s confident posture, not believing it for a second. “Robin told you, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, Robin told me,” Steve deflated, sinking back into the couch and averting his gaze.
Eddie couldn’t help but smile, then an idea struck him. “Do you want to try?”
“Try what?”
“The piccolo,” Eddie teased, removing the strap from around his shoulder and holding his guitar out to Steve. "Come on, you taught me how to fish, now I get to teach you guitar."
"Speaking of, when are we going fishing again?" Steve asked sweetly.
"Ha! Never," Eddie snapped back coldy.
Steve chuckled to himself, taking the guitar with both hands and carefully arranging it it his lap. But as Steve looped the strap around himself and then moved to touch the strings, alarm bells went off in Eddie’s head.
“Wait!” He snapped, practically hip checking Steve as he slid into his side and snatched the jock’s left hand off of the instrument.
“Hey, careful man! I got precious cargo here.” Steve exclaimed as he steadied the guitar with his free hand.
“Yeah, no shit. That's why I'm checking your nails,” Eddie explained impatiently as he turned Steve’s hand over in his own, brushing his thumb across the jock’s fingertips. “No fucking way I’m letting you scratch my fret board- don’t ask me what that is.” Eddie said, adding the last part when Steve gave him a confused look.
Satisfied that Steve’s nails were short enough to not damage the instrument, Eddie placed Steve’s hand back on the guitar. “Okay, fingers here, here, and here,” Eddie launched into his lesson, moving Steve’s fingers one by one until they formed a G chord. “Now go for it.”
“Go for what?”
“Strum! Oh wait, hang on-” Eddie cut himself off, leaning slightly into Steve so he could straighten his leg and fit his hand in the front pocket of his jeans. He withdrew a yellow pick and handed it over. “Use this, hold it like this, now strum.”
Steve awkwardly followed his instructions, strumming a warbling G chord.
“Nicely done,” Eddie smiled at Steve, who gave a satisfied shrug like it was no big deal. “Now, what’s an easy song that I could teach you…”
Steve watched Eddie closely as the metalhead tapped his chin in thought, the jock’s eyes flickering to Eddie’s finger before he quickly looked back down at the guitar, strumming it softly as he waited.
Eddie was too deep in thought to notice, trying to solve the riddle that he had walked himself into. He didn’t know any popular songs from the radio that Steve would know, and Steve didn’t know any songs that Eddie listened to, no matter how much Eddie had tried to sway Steve into liking metal. Eddie mentally traveled back to his time standing outside of school dances selling drugs, trying to remember the muffled music that he could hear inside. “Oh, what’s that insufferable song? The ‘I’ve been waiting’ one?” Eddie asked.
Steve raised an eyebrow. “Waiting for a Girl Like You by Foreigner?”
“That’s the one! Gimme,” Eddie snapped, taking the guitar back from Steve.
Eddie closed his eyes, letting the earworm of a song latch itself onto his brain once more. How many times had he caught himself mockingly humming it for weeks after prom? The fucking worst.
In no time at all, Eddie had figured out how to play the lead piano part from the intro, then converted the verses and chorus into simple guitar chord progressions and strum patterns. It felt like a crime letting those sappy notes come out of his own guitar, he would have to purify it by playing the entirety of Ride the Lightning later.
“Got it, your turn,” Eddie said casually, handing the guitar back to Steve.
Steve looked at him in shock, “dude, did you just teach yourself how to play that?”
“Yeah, why?” Eddie frowned. The band teacher at school had once told Eddie that he had perfect pitch, but he didn’t get what the big deal was, or why everyone else didn’t have it.
“It’s just impressive, that’s all,” Steve shrugged.
“Yeah yeah yeah-” Eddie brushed him off impatiently, too zeroed in on the music lesson to hold a normal conversation. “Focus up, Harrington! We’re learning power chords.”
He led Steve through the chords, moving his fingers up and down the fret board with his left hand and reaching around Steve with his right hand to help him get the rhythm of the strum patterns right.
“You gotta press the string down harder,” Eddie corrected when Steve let out a dull twang of a note.
“I know I know, it’s just painful,” Steve complained.
Eddie knew that it was true. It took time to build up the calluses needed to play guitar comfortably, but he couldn’t help but give Steve a hard time for it, it was just too fun. “Baby,” Eddie said with a sneer.
Steve shivered at the word, which made Eddie pause. But that couldn’t be right. No way Steve would react like that to Eddie calling him baby. No, he was just shivering because of the ice-cold shower that he had subjected himself too, his hair was still wet after all. That had to be it, the timing was just a coincidence. A delusion of Eddie’s wishful thinking. Wishful stupid thinking that he was already bolting a steel plate over in his mind.
The lesson continued, Steve gaining more confidence as he started to memorize the chords, needing less guidance from Eddie. Eddie couldn’t help but smile at Steve’s concentration, seeing him quietly counting the frets with a subtle bob of his head before placing down his hand with each chord change. Eventually, the jock started quietly singing along.
“So long
I've been looking too hard, I've waiting too long
Sometimes I don't know what I will find
I only know it's a matter of time
When you love someone
When you love someone
It feels so right, so warm and true
I need to know if you feel it too.”
Eddie kept his left hand rested on top of Steve’s, guiding him to the next chord when he faltered so that he could keep singing in time.
“Maybe I'm wrong
Won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong
This heart of mine has been hurt before
This time I want to be sure.”
Steve started to sing louder, really going for it as he barely hit the high notes during the chorus, making Eddie howl with laughter.
“I've been waiting for a girl like you
To come into my life
I've been waiting for a girl like you
A love that will survive
I've been waiting for someone new
To make me feel alive
Yeah, waiting for a girl like you
To come into my life.”
Eddie was in pieces by the end of the chorus, laughing so hard that Steve started laughing as well and had to stop playing.
“Holy shit dude, that was… something,” Eddie exclaimed once he could breathe again.
“Fuck you, I sounded good,” Steve said defensively.
“You would have if the song didn’t suck so bad,” Eddie replied dramatically.
“You still hate it?” Steve scoffed.
“I mean, I might hate it a little less now... At least it’s funny when you sing it.”
Steve smiled at Eddie, who returned the grin without hesitation, glad to see that Steve was finally back to his old self, carefree and happy, as if his nightmare had never happened.
But then Eddie noticed how close they were sitting, their legs pressed together, Eddie’s arm around Steve. Their noses were almost touching and their hands were entwined where they rested on the fret board. All at once, the stupid thought in Eddie’s head punched through the steel plating and started to sing along with the earworm that was still lodged in his skull.
I’ve been waiting for a girl like you, to come into my life.
Steve was looking at him so intently.
A girl like you.
His eyes flickered to Eddie’s lips.
A girl.
Then Steve leaned in.
This wasn’t right. Steve was straight. Like the song said, he was waiting for a girl to come into his life. One bi-curious dream didn’t change that. It never would. It never did. Eddie had learned that lesson too many times. So, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t do this again, not now, not with Steve. After all, Eddie was just the boy of Steve’s nightmares, a premonition of what they would become if they ever fooled themselves into believing that they could cross that line from friendship into something more. Sure, it would be nice for a little while, Eddie could kiss Steve- God, he wanted to kiss Steve! But then it would end in flames and misery. Steve would leave him behind, alone and forgotten, and he just couldn’t bear that. At least as friends they could stay like they were now, stay happy, stay together. It was the only way. So…
Eddie flinched away, “Steve-”
Steve jumped back as if Eddie had slapped him in the face. “Shit, I uh… fuck-” He stood up in a panic, dropping the guitar on the couch and retreating towards the door.
“Steve,” Eddie called after him calmly.
But Steve wasn’t listening, already putting on his shoes. “I’m gonna go.”
“Steve, wait.”
“No, it’s fine, just forget it-”
“Let me explain-”
“No, I got it.”
“No, you don’t. I-”
“Hey man, don’t worry about it, its fine. I’m just tired and still… fucked up from earlier- wasn’t thinking- didn’t mean anything- my bad. Let’s just… forget this ever happened, yeah?”
“Steve-”
“Its fine, really, its fine-”
“Steve-”
“-just forget it, okay?”
“Steve, would you shut the fuck up and listen to me for a god damn second?!”
Eddie grabbed Steve's arm before the jock could leave, refusing to let him go until he listened, until he understood. But then the kitchen timer went off with a harsh ring, causing Eddie to jump and loosen his grip just enough for Steve to pull free and escape out the door.
“Fuck!”