Archive of Our Own

Steve’s keys scatter loudly as he throws them on his kitchen counter aggressively, hanging his jacket up on one of the kitchen chairs before he runs upstairs to his room. In hectic steps he runs up the stairs of the always empty house, his heart beating out of his chest and breathing shallow. He throws the door to his bedroom door open, can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, throws himself into the ensuite bathroom and locks eyes with himself in the big mirror above the sink and Steve takes a shaky breath in. Watches his reflection do the same, feeling like he is looking at a different person. 

He stares and analyzes his face, looks over the moles that dot his cheek, the curve of his eyebrows that tilts in a wrong angle, stares and wants to erase his face, wants to grab at every pore of his face and rip it open to see if he could find himself hiding under the mask of his face and he can’t breathe. 

He tries to take a shaky inhale, another and another before tugging at the hem of his shirt and slipping it over his messy head of hair, looks in the mirror again to see the wrongness increase. He crosses his arms over his chest, clutching at his biceps and digging his stubby, too short finger nails into the flesh there, wishes they were long and sharp enough to claw their way into his skin, wishes he could watch the blood trickle down his arm to make sure that this body is real and this body is his. He looks at the way his arms curl around himself, looks at the flesh of himself in the mirror, watches the way his reflection morphs and warps, until all he can see are the things wrong with it, can only see the mistakes he’s been living in shame with for his whole life, sees the expectations of him reflected in his limbs and his face, in the way he carries himself and makes him bigger. It’s what’s expected of him, how he’s expected to act and how he’s been taught. 

He goes over the mental list of problems, of things he wishes he could cut out of who he is and feed it to the next Upside-Down monster coming their way; his arms are too muscular, his torso is too thick and his shoulders are too broad. The slight stubble on his face burns on his skin and his hair falls all wrong and it’s too short and not right and it feels like all of the thoughts and wishes he’s been dragging so far down his stomach have finally decided to reappear, to bubble up into a pile of bleeding vomit that he can’t swallow down anymore. Can only stand there as his eyes start shedding tears, everything becoming blurry and unfocused, the only thing he can see the red marked mistakes on his body that glow neon in the industrial bathroom lighting. 

In quick movement he pushes himself out of the rest of his clothes and stumbles into the open shower door, closing it behind him and turning on the water scorching hot, hopes the water washes away his thoughts. He feels the way the water soaks into the open cracks in his body, can feel the way the water tries to cleanse him, but he just feels dirty, just feels the pain of the hot water running along his arms and soaking his hair. He wants to scratch at the cracks forming and spreading throughout his body, wants to dig his fingers into the ridges and peel off the mask that’s been sitting heavily over his real self all these years. Wants his dirtied soul to crawl away from the person he knows he’s only pretending to be and settle himself into someone else’s body, knows that Robin would let his soul settle right next to her heart and keep it safe there forever. Knows that Robin is all that Steve has ever wanted to be like. Round-faced, kind but so earnest and true to her word, eyes adorned with eyeliner and lips curled in an easy yet honest smile, a thing he isn’t sure he’s ever been able to do without wanting to claw at himself. 

As the burn of the water slowly starts to fade away into merely a sensation amidst the frenzy in his mind, Steve turns off the water and sinks down onto the tiled shower floor, curling into himself and clutching his knees, continuing to dig his nails into the skin of his arms, hopes the cracks will start to crumble to the floor if he just digs in hard enough, closing his eyes and trying to forget the image of who stood in front of the mirror mere minutes ago, thinks he might vomit if he thinks about it one more time, feels the way his cheeks start to burn from the tears falling free. 

He can faintly hear the front door opening and closing and someone calling out to Steve, can hear booted footsteps make their way up the stairs and hesitantly knock on his bedroom door. 

“Stevie?” he hears a voice unmistakably Eddie call out and it makes him choke on a sob because he called him Stevie, not Steve. He’s ever been the one person who understood Steve beyond what he shows to the public, the only one to understand that this is not who he is.

Eddie seems to pick up on the noises Steve’s making and opens the bedroom door, shuffling around to the door of the bathroom. “Stevie, you in there, baby?” he questions, voice just as soft as it always is when he talks to Steve. Steve can only respond with the ugly sob that’s been making its way up his throat, thinks he might’ve dug his nails hard enough by the shooting pain that erupts.

He can hear a close shuffle again, a rustling and when Steve realizes that Eddie is looking for the spare bathroom key he’s already found it and exclaimed a soft “I’m coming in now,” unlocking the door from the outside. The door creaks as Eddie peaks in, but Steve can’t bring himself to look up from the ball of misery he’s curled himself into and stays where he is, starts scratching as if that could make his skin reform itself. 

The shower door slides open and Steve’s bare skin is exposed to the cold air, making him shiver slightly and hitch in his sobs. He can hear Eddie’s belt chain rattle as he kneels down next to Steve. 

“Stevie,” he breathes out, “is it okay if I touch you?” 

Steve lets out another sob and tries to nod his head yes, which seems to have worked because Eddie places a warm hand on his damp shoulder, a grounding touch that makes Steve stop to take a shuddering breath, hands slowly losing grip around his arms that burn in the aftermath. 

“D’you think you can look at me, sweetheart, can you do that for me?” Eddie asks in his gentle voice, the one Steve’s only ever heard directed at the kids and himself, the soft tone he reserves for emergency situations and taking care of his loved ones. Steve can only let out another, this time quieter, sob, not sure if he could face the look Eddie is giving him right now. 

Eddie shuffles around until he is crouching down directly in front of Steve, now resting both of his hands on Steve’s shoulders gently. Steve slowly looks up to see Eddie giving him the most gentle smile he has ever seen on his face, gentle hands moving up to cup Steve’s damp cheeks, calloused thumbs already working on wiping a few stray tears from Steve’s face and he can’t stop himself now from crumbling right in front of Eddie. Eddie, the only one who’s ever really known him, his Eddie, who’s only ever supported and loved him through everything. He throws himself forward into his boyfriend’s warm embrace, letting out gut-wrenching cries, lets himself let go in the safe environment of Eddie’s arms. Eddie just tucks Steve into his chest, combing gentle fingers through the wet strands of hair on the boy’s head, whispering soft reassurances in Steve’s ears, letting him hold on and cling. 

Steve doesn’t know how long he stays wrapped in the safety of Eddie’s embrace, but after an unknown amount of time his sobs have started to settle down into quiet hiccups, shakes and quiet ‘sorry’s that are met with more loving words. 

“Think we can get you up and dressed, love? Can’t imagine how sore your body must be after all the shower tiles, a bed would be much nicer, dont’cha think?” Eddie asks, gentle as ever, one hand still stroking strands of Steve’s now almost dry hair. Steve gives a nod and whispers a small ‘yeah’, shifting along with Eddie when he tries to get the both of them up and standing.

After a bit of work and shimmying they’re both standing on the cold hardwood floor of the bathroom, a big and fluffy towel draped over Steve’s whole body while Eddie gently tries to dry the rest of Steve’s hair with a small, but just as fluffy, towel. Steve distinctly feels like a little child again, standing in the middle of the bathroom while his mom dries him up, just closes his eyes and lets himself focus on the comforting sensations, doesn’t let himself think about the way his parents used to love him, once upon a time. He leans onto Eddie and the way he keeps a steady and comfortable stream of easy words to follow and rely on, allows himself to be taken care of when he’s usually the strong one. 

“‘Kay, think that should be fine. Nothing salon worthy, sorry sweetheart, I’ll have to disappoint you on that one, but I’m sure we can figure out how to make your hair look up to your standards tomorrow.” Eddie explains, gentle fingers stopping their movement, throwing the towel onto the sink counter. “Now it’s your choice what you wanna do,” He continues, wrapping a lock of Steve’s hair around his finger and twirling it around, before letting it bounce back into its original place. “I could bring you pyjamas and you can change in here while I wait for you, I can help you with whatever you need and want. I can order some food as well, if that’s something you’d like, I want you to feel better, okay? It’s you time now, baby.” 

Steve gives a little nod, pausing and swallowing down his now scratchy throat from crying and wills himself to reply, “Think I want to change, alone. If that’s okay.” 

“It’s okay, Stevie, of course that’s okay. What about food?” 

“Don’t know if I can eat something right now.”

Eddie gives Steve a gentle smile, tucking a few strands of Steve’s hair behind his ear. “That’s okay, we’ll just see how you’re feeling after you’re changed. Now, I’ll go get your PJ’s and you just sit here and look pretty, alright? I’ll be right back, Stevie.” He says, giving Steve a small head scratch and pressing his lips to his cheek before leaving the bathroom, letting the door hang slightly ajar so Steve can hear the way he’s rummaging through the wardrobe. Steve plops himself down onto the closed toilet seat, trying to hide himself more in the towel wrapped around him. 

Eddie comes back a few moments later, holding, unsurprisingly, Steve’s favorite pyjamas and setting them down onto Steve’s lap before leaving the bathroom again with a smile and a squeeze on his bicep. 

Steve sits there and breathes for a few seconds too long, staring down at the pyjamas resting on his lap. Eddie remembered. Of course Eddie remembered. He loves him so much he might burst with it. A simple black t-shirt sits on his lap, one that he can basically drown in by the size of it, his favorite type of t-shirt because he can hide himself in it, can pretend, just for a while, that his body isn’t so horrible at all. His pair of light pink silk pants peak out from underneath the shirt, his favorite ones that Robin had bought him two years ago as a christmas gift because he kept stealing the almost identical pair that Robin had in her closet, gave him a toothy smile when his whole face just about lit up like fireworks after unpacking the gift. 

Steve almost cries again right then and there because of the way Eddie notices things like this, how he knew exactly what to do to comfort him and knew exactly what he needed without having to ask first.

How Eddie remembers things insignificant like these, notices that these are the only clothes he’s ever been comfortable with, apart from the oversized bandshirts and hoodies he steals from Eddie whenever he has the chance.

No one has ever remembered things like these for Steve. 

He hastily wipes at his sensitive eyes as tears try to come out again. 

——————————————————————————

Once he’s changed he steps into his bedroom, throwing his towel in his laundry basket in exhausted movements, looking over tiredly to see Eddie already looking at him and flashing one of his gentle smiles yet again, lounging on Steve’s bed and reading the copy of The Hobbit that Steve has started reading a few weeks ago, wearing an old shirt of Steve’s and one of his own hoodies that had probably been left here sometime. Steve just goes over to the bed and curls himself into Eddie again at the other man’s open arms, feeling the warmth of his body and breathing in the undeniable scent of Eddie. 

He still feels disgusting, can’t fathom how Eddie thinks that this is correct, how Eddie isn’t repelled at the way Steve’s body clings onto him in desperate measures, hanging on like the little kid that never got to when he was younger. 

And Steve thinks about it now, which is all that it takes to get him to spiral again. Thinks of his parents when he was younger, thinks of the way they started pulling back and going on more and more business trips as time went on, leaving him to fend for himself for weeks at a time at the ripe age of eleven, having to learn how to cook and take care of himself just to survive. 

Steve feels the rush of breaking rules running through him as he sneaks into his parents’ bedroom, stumbling through the big space filled with an enormous bed that Steve’s little body could fit into probably six times–not that he’d know, he’s never tried it before, he feels guilty enough being in here at all. 

But he’s on a mission, a very important one at that, one that he’s perfected over the last few weeks that his parents have started to leave more often.

He pushes through the door to the walk-in closet connected to his parents’ bedroom, sharply making his way inside and rushing towards the thing he was looking for. Standing in the corner, beautiful and absolutely perfect, his mom’s makeup vanity. Her pride and joy, she calls it. Steve definitely sees why. 

He grins as he shuffles to the little desk, pushing open his favorite drawer, the one with all the palettes of makeup, eyeshadow he had heard his mom call it on the phone with her friend. Steve loves eyeshadow, so he immediately digs into one of the small eyeshadow palettes, not having seen this one the last time he went in here about two days ago. He opens the small container with a click, revealing four shades of green. A very light and subtle minty green with little specks of glitter scattered around in the little tin, a dark, almost sage green that reminds Steve of the forest just near his house, a yellowy green that, in Steve’s opinion, kind of looks like a booger, and the color that catches his eye the most–a bright blue-ish green, teal color, that he loves. 

Steve has watched his mom apply her makeup many times, took mental notes when she dotted her cheeks with a very soft looking brush, ones he doesn’t have for painting in art class, his own are much scratchier, and how she grazed over her eyelids with her finger dipped in whatever eyeshadow color she was going for on that day. 

So, Steve does what he can do best. Watch and copy. 

He dips his clean finger into the eyeshadow, he had made sure to wash his hands extra well before trying to complete his mission, thinks that things like these must be handled with care and sacredness, and drags it across one eyelid, keeping the other open to watch the way his finger tints the skin there, highlighting his brown eyes and making them shine more than usual. Steve lights up at the way he feels with the makeup on his face, hastily copying the movement on the other eye to make it even, toothy grin of happiness on display in the mirror and feeling like the prettiest boy on earth, until–

“Steven?” A light voice calls out, footsteps nearing the closet calls, until he sees his mother enter his peripheral. His grin is replaced with a guilty and feared expression as his mother furrows her eyebrows in anger and fixes him a disappointed glare.

“Steven,” she says, a no-nonsense tone to her voice, serious and low, “take that off right now, won’t you? We wouldn’t want people to start thinking you’re a fairy.” 

Steve doesn’t know why being a fairy would be a bad thing, can’t understand why his mother said the word with so much disgust, tries to search for an excuse for keeping it on, even just a minute longer, before his mouth completely dries at the sight of his father, jaw clenched and fists curled up into tight balls beside him. His father doesn’t have to say a word for Steve to know that he’s in deep trouble, no time to process before his father drags him angrily out of the room, stopping just in the bathroom and forcing Steve to look right at him as he can feel guilty tears crawling their way up his eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, wearing makeup like some… some fucking faggot? I did not raise you like this, Steven Danny Harrington, now did I?” He demands, voice low and unforgiving as Steve swallows down the lump that had been forming in his throat. 

“N-no, sir. I’m sorry.”

“That’s what I thought, now go wash that off before I show you a reason to wear makeup.” Is the last thing his father says before he storms out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving a silently sobbing Steve behind in the room. 

That was the last time he snuck into his parents’ bedroom, the last time he saw the pride and joy he was secretly sharing with his mother. 

Steve only realizes he’s silently crying again by the way he’s shifted and curled against Eddie’s side, the other having put the book down now softly shushing him,hands in Steve’s hair, stroking lightly. Steve buries his face deeper into Eddie’s neck, considering if he should just slide into Eddie’s ribcage and settle there instead, warm and safe, knows Eddie would be okay with that, just like Robin would be. 

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Talk to me, Stevie, please.” Eddie murmurs in Steve’s ear, voice as deep and gentle as it’s always been. He feels like he owes Eddie an explanation. But how is he meant to explain all that is going on in his head? How is he going to explain the way he can’t look in a mirror without his soul shattering into a million pieces? He trembles, his shaking making it hard to cling onto Eddie, afraid he might leave after getting to hear what Steve’s fucked up mind has come up with to cope with his problems now. 

“Shh, it’s okay, Stevie. I just want to help you,” Eddie says, shifting a little and taking Steve’s tear-stricken face in between his caroused palms and gently pressing them on his cheeks, forcing Steve to look at him with blurry vision. “You’re safe with me, baby. I promise you, whatever it is, you can tell me, if you want to. I won’t judge you for anything you tell me. I care about you, sweetheart, so much. I promise.”

Steve can almost hear the last cracks in his already broken heart start forming, tears rolling down his face in quick movements, spreading down his cheeks all the way to his neck and settling into the comfortable fabric of his t-shirt. He lets out a quiet sob and takes a shaky breath in, looking at what he can make out of Eddie’s cheek to avoid direct eye contact. Doesn’t know how long it’ll take for Eddie to bolt to the nearest exit once he explains, takes a shaky breath and prepares himself for the stinging rejection looming over him. 

“Think–think there’s something wrong with me, Eddie.” He manages to let out through sobs. “Hate myself. Can’t… can’t look in a mirror. I–I had a breakdown earlier, because I looked in the… in the mirror too long, Eddie. ‘S not normal. ‘M not normal, Eddie. I think I’m sick.” 

Eddie moves his hands from Steve’s face to Steve’s waist, curling him up in his arms again, letting Steve sob against his chest again for a few minutes, repeating his earlier movements of playing with Steve’s washed hair.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Stevie. I’m sorry you think of your body that way, I wish I could make you see what I do.” Eddie says, letting out a small exhale of air. “And who says being abnormal is a bad thing? Look at me, I’m probably the most abnormal guy you’ll meet in this town of Indiana, makes two of us.”

Steve sniffles a little, tears starting to dry out again. “I know, ‘m sorry. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…? I don’t really feel like myself. Every time that I… that I try to look into the mirror, I just… I see this guy in the mirror.”

“Stevie, there isn’t anything to be sorry for, okay? You’re doing so well telling me all of this, I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I’m going to ask you something, alright? You can answer or you can ignore it, I just want to open your options, is that okay for you?”

Steve nods, forgetting that his head is basically buried in Eddie's chest, replying with a soft “yes,” instead. 

“Have you… have you ever considered that you might be transsexual?” Eddie asks tentatively, the strokes of his fingers in Steve’s hair slowing just a tad bit.

Steve gives a small sniffle. “I… don’t know what that means?” 

“It’s uhm… how do I explain it? It’s kind of like when the gender that your body looks like doesn’t match what you feel on the inside. I don’t know that much about it, to be honest, but there’s people who are born as women and then they make themselves look more masculine and like a man to match who they are on the inside and the same thing exists for men, too. I’ve heard of people who are other genders as well, so there’s options. But, uh, yeah. Like I said, I don’t really know much.”

Steve freezes, thinking about the way Eddie had explained it. He thinks about it, the way he always used to steal glances at girls in the hallway when they wore dresses or skirts with pretty makeup, the way he had the gnawing thoughts in the back of his mind of god, I wish I could look a bit more like her and how he envied his mother when she grew out her brown hair into longer locks when he was younger and she was still around. Thinks of the lipstick and makeup he used to steal from her to look pretty. Look more like himself, his mind supplies. 

Steve lets out a shaky exhale, turning his head so he can look at his freshly painted wall. A pale yellow, almost white, that he had picked out with Will and Dustin the other day when they dragged him along for a supposed room makeover that was ‘much needed’, according to Dustin. 

“Is that–Is that okay? Would it be okay if I was… that?” He croaks out, fists curling into the fabric of Eddie’s, actually Steve’s, shirt.

Eddie scratches his scalp lightly with the tips of his fingers. “Transsexual? Of course, Stevie, of course that would be okay.” 

Steve releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relaxing more into Eddie’s hold and sinking deeper into the other’s arms. The weight of rejection gets lighter, fades into a background feeling and retreats back into what’s left of his open soul. 

“I don’t know what I really wanna be, necessarily? I kind of don’t feel like anything other than empty. I just don’t… I hate being a guy. I always have. I think the assholery I pulled in high school was to cover up my own insecurities. I didn’t know any better.” Steve explains, releasing another shaky breath. 

“I know, Stevie. King Steve isn’t who you are anymore, wasn’t ever who you really are, that’s what counts. You changed and you’re working on yourself, that’s all one can ask of you. And it’s okay if you don’t want to be a woman, but it’s also okay if you do want to be. To me you can be anyone you want. You can be Steve, you can be someone else, you can try yourself out on me. I’ll love you no matter what.” Eddie responds, pressing a light kiss into Steve’s hair and tucking a few strands behind his ear. 

“I like it more when you call me Stevie,” the other admits. “It um… makes me feel prettier?” 

Eddie shifts again so that he can hold Steve’s face while talking. 

“You are pretty. The prettiest.” He presses a feather-light kiss at the corner of Steve’s eye, then a chased peck to his lips, before returning his soft gaze to Steve’s eyes. “My pretty Stevie.” 

Steve giggles and smiles at Eddie. They hold eye contact for a few seconds and Steve can’t help himself so he leans in and presses his lips against Eddie’s chapped ones, tasting cheap cigarettes and the grotty mints he always buys from the grocery store, smiling into the kiss when the other boy returns it and moves against Steve’s lips in a gentle rhythm. 

When they pull apart, smiling and gasping for breath, Eddie taps his shoulder gently two times, “Let’s go to bed now, okay, Stevie? I’ll stay here with you, we’ll do something nice tomorrow, if you have the energy to.” 

Steve just nods and lets Eddie peck his cheek before settling them down under Steve’s new bedsheets, curling up against the warmth of the other’s body and letting the exhaustion and safety drag him under. 

——————————————————————————

He wakes with sunrays shining on his face, yawning and settling more into Eddie’s arms where they’re slung around his waist. The other boy seems to still be sleeping, so Steve takes a deep breath and dozes for a little bit, letting himself get held for just a while. 

After what Steve thinks might have been twenty minutes he can feel Eddie stir from his sleep and disentangling them from one another. Steve takes a second to admire Eddie, watching as he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes until they land on Steve, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “Morning, Stevie. You sleep okay?” He asks, reaching out to Steve’s hand, intertwining their fingers with one another. 

“Think so. My head hurts a little.” Steve mumbles, also sitting up and wrapping himself around Eddie again immediately, who mirrors him and lets his hands run circles on Stevie’s back. 

“That’s probably because of the crying yesterday. We can head downstairs and get you some aspirin, yeah? I’ll fry some eggs too, so we can eat breakfast, if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

Eddie pats his back two times and carefully settles him down onto the bed, taking his hand and pulling him up and down the stairs. 

Steve takes his aspirin with a glass of water when they’re downstairs and sits on the kitchen counter, watching as Eddie grabs a pan out of the cupboard and starts frying eggs for them, the scent of food filling the kitchen. 

They sit in silence as Eddie stirs the eggs and dumps about a pound of salt on them, but Steve doesn’t really have it in him to bicker about it like he usually would, residing himself to watch as he fiddles with the glass of water in his hands, twirling it around between his palms and taking sips every few moments. 

His mind starts to wander back to the conversation that they had yesterday, thinking about the word Eddie had used that’s made its way through his skull and nested itself deep into his brain. Transsexual. Complicated, but so right sounding. When he heard it first it felt like a lever getting pulled into its correct position, a switch in his body turning from wrong, wrong, wrong, to a feeling of safety knowing that his feelings are real enough to warrant a word. He thinks of the way the kids have been calling him mom jokingly at first, having seemed to just pick it up along the way after a while, now using it more than they do Steve. Thinks of the way he had stared at his nails for hours when Max and El had painted them in glittery pastels during a hellfire night that they had sat through. Thinks about all the times he’s stared at the makeup of his former girlfriends, of Nancy and now of Robin, thinks about the way he’s letting his hair grow out more, the way he styles it differently now. 

Thinks about the slip up at the job that made Steve break down in the first place. She. Robin referred to Steve as she. And he liked it, wished she’d do it again. 

He only realizes that Eddie’s divided the eggs onto two plates along with toast when he presses one of the plates into Steve’s lap, taking the glass from his hands and setting it onto the counter next to him, shoving a fork at him in return. Steve starts eating almost right away, the uneaten dinner of yesterday making itself known through his appetite. 

Eddie settles himself down onto the counter in front of Steve’s, leaning against it and starting to eat as well, letting the silence linger for just a few moments longer. 

“You think you ready to talk about it yet? I won’t force you to anything if you don’t want to, but I just want to help you, Stevie. Talking about it will make it better, promise.” Eddie then says around a forkful of eggs, which Steve can’t feel anything but intrigued by, even as his stomach churns in anxiety instead of the hunger that had settled there before. He sets his empty plate next to him with a quiet clank and looks down at his hands, fiddling with a strip of loose skin hanging off one of his nails. He swallows the lump that had formed in his throat, reminding himself that Eddie hadn’t laughed yesterday when he was crying all over him and baring his ugly and broken soul for the other to take. 

“Well, um. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, to be honest. I usually don’t cry as much when I have these, uh… breakdowns?” He says tentatively, not knowing how to label it any other way. “But, it’s kind of a… a monthly thing, even if they’re usually silent. I’ve had phases that I couldn’t look in the mirror for months at a time without…” He trails off, unsure on whether he could find the right words to describe what he feels in those times, can’t think of any words he could use that come even close to what he feels. 

He doesn’t have to continue thinking, though, when Eddie sets his own plate down on top of the counter where he is sitting. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone, Stevie. You don’t deserve that. I hope you know that I’m here for you, if that happens again, okay?”

Steve gives a helpless little nod, his eyes starting to sting again ever so slightly. He hears the clatter of the plate and shuffling, then he feels Eddie’s strong and willful arms wrapping around him like they have so many times before, bodies slipping together like puzzle pieces. A few silent tears start dripping as curls himself into Eddie’s hold, sniffling every once in a while and breathing in the scent of cheap cologne and tobacco that Steve might just be addicted to. 

“It was because of Robin.” Steve says eventually, his grip letting loose as he watches Eddie loosen himself as well and pull back to look him in the eye. “Yesterday. The- the breakdown. Robin caused it.” 

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion, his arms on either side of the counter where Steve is sitting. “Do I need to talk to her?” 

“No! No, no. Nothing like that, no, she would, no, she would never.” He immediately shoots down, shifting his gaze to where he’s pulling at a loose string of his pyjama bottoms and avoiding eye contact. “She… well.” 

Steve is so, so tired, he can barely keep his eyes open. His limbs feel all heavy and he can feel the start of a migraine pulling at his brain. The shift has been so long, from the morning he had to open on his own, Robin was at the dentist, to the customer talking in front of him at seven miles per minute mere minutes before his shift would be over. He had lost track about five seconds into the client’s rant on Mad Max 2 and he really doesn’t know how long he’s stood behind the counter nodding and smiling along to whatever the elderly woman is talking about. 

And as his one and only saving grace, Robin swoops in to save the day and taps the lady on the shoulder gently to stop her from talking. 

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I think you might want to just pick another movie. I can help you find a similar one if you hate this one so much and we can leave my friend here to pack for the end of her shift.” She rambles, removing her hand and giving the lady a smile.

The lady in return huffs and storms off to the Sci-Fi section of the video store with Robin in tow.

And Steve, well Steve just freezes. Stops in his tracks and stares at the spot where Robin stood just mere seconds ago. The end of her shift. Robin referred to Steve as she and the lady didn’t even bat an eye. Steve doesn’t even think Robin noticed, judging by how she’s tiredly trying to pick out another movie with the lady, who is still furious. 

He feels panic well up in his throat, his eyes stinging and oh fuck, oh no, please don’t let this happen, not here, starts robotically making his way to the staff room, taking his bag and practically sprinting out of the door. 

He frantically searches around in his duffel bag for the keys to his beamer, dropping them twice when he manages to actually pull them out of the bag. He climbs into the driver’s seat, throwing his bag half-hazardly onto the passenger side and breathes the first deep breath since he left family video. Not here, he thinks and speeds off to his big and empty house. 

“And… um, yeah, you know the rest.” Stevie swallows the lump that has been forming in his throat and nervously looks up to Eddie, who is already looking back at him with the gentlest eyes and a soft expression.

“Oh, Stevie.” He coos, cupping the other’s face between his palms and pressing a light peck onto the corner of his left eye where a tear had been forming, tasting the slight saltiness of it on his own lips. “Thank you for telling me, I’m proud of you, baby. It’s okay to try out pronouns, you know. You are allowed to try them out. If you want to be a she then you can be, Stevie. I’m sure Robin would agree.” 

“It felt so right when she said it, but when I look in the mirror it’s all wrong and it doesn’t match and- and I don’t know how to tell anyone, especially not Robin, I-I mean, what if she-” Stevie’s face crumples, the sob that’s been clawing at his insides finally making its way out of his throat. He reaches his arms out towards Eddie who envelops her in a warm hug, sobs racking through his whole body. Stevie deliberately doesn’t think about how uncomfortable Eddie must feel from all the crying. 

“Then we’ll make it right, sweetheart. It’ll be okay, baby. And Robin is just worried about you, yeah? She’s the reason I came here yesterday in the first place.” Eddie whispers, soft lips pressing into Stevie’s hair, hands running comforting circles in the small of her back. “She called me in her panic and asked me to check up on you, she was really frantic, I’m guessing because of your sudden storming out.”

Stevie begins to sob harder, clinging onto Eddie like his only lifeline. “Oh my god, I didn’t- I didn’t even think of Robin when I left, oh no, oh my god she’s gonna be so mad-” 

“Shh, calm down Stevie. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay. She’s not mad, she’s just worried. She wants to make sure you’re okay. Don’t worry. You’re okay, it’s okay.” Eddie reassures, hand moving up to Stevie’s hair, lightly stroking her head and twisting some of her strands between his fingers. 

Stevie buries his face deeper into Eddie’s chest, sobs starting to calm down knowing that Robin isn’t mad, body shivering in guilt knowing that he had caused Robin to worry about him. He’ll have to talk to her soon.

Eddie continues stroking Stevie’s head gently, letting a silence drag on as Stevie’s crying evens out and her breathing becomes normal again, grip loosening around Eddie’s waist. 

“Okay, Stevie?” Eddie murmurs carefully, twirling a strand of her hair around his thumb and forefinger. 

Stevie hiccups in return, burying his face into Eddie’s chest just a little more, before giving a small and almost inaudible nod to the question, a small yeah following. 

“Good. Now, you can go up and change into an outfit and I’ll just clean up, okay? I have an idea on what we could do, yeah?” Eddie declares, pulling back and letting his hands rest on either side of Stevie’s face gently, thumb running along her cheek and wiping away the last bit of wetness there. 

“Okay.” He responds quietly, looking up at the other who nods a little and gives a small smile before pressing a soft kiss onto Stevie’s lips. He melts into the kiss, warmth and tingles thrumming through his body like the blood in his veins, filling a space in his heart he didn’t know was left unattended. Before it can go any further, Eddie gently pulls away and presses a peck to the corner of Stevie’s eye and patting her arms twice. She reluctantly pulls her arms back to her body, curling them around her torso instead and hops off the counter, making her way upstairs to her room. 

He closes the door to his bedroom door with a soft click and slides down onto the floor, leaning his back against the wood, taking a second to breathe in and process everything. He can feel a headache pressing through the aspirin he took earlier, which isn’t a good sign, but not surprising considering his history with migraines combined with all the crying he’s been doing. God, Eddie must think he’s frail. 

He looks around his new room, the butter colored walls and the bedsheets that he and Eddie slept in last night. The new wardrobe that Ms. Henderson had given her as a gift, little flowers dotted all around the left door of the light brown wood from the kids. A bouquet of pink and white tulips from Max in the left corner, a few cornflowers on a spiky meadow from El right next to Max’s flowers, a big and wonky sunflower, his favorite flower, right in the middle drawn by Dustin, Lucas’ red poppies right next to it a stark contrast. Two roses, blue and yellow, tied together by white string in the top right corner by Mike and a big leap of vines scattered around the flowers with little buds in various colors dotting the light green in great detail by Will. 

Of course, the teens of the group had also drawn, taking the right door for themselves, though they had drawn away from the theme of flowers, choosing something each of their own instead. A wonky drawing of him and Robin in their Scoops uniforms right at the bottom by none other than Robin herself, a doodle of a cat half-hazardly drawn into the right-middle by Nancy, who just shrugged when asked about it, a weed plant with a smiley face from Argyle, who kind of just stuck around, the nail bat he had stolen from Nancy and Jonathan the first time he got involved in all of the Upside Down madness next to the cat drawn by Jonathan and finally a few of Stevie’s favorite albums scattered around the empty spaces by Eddie. 

Stevie smiled, let herself look at the clear evidence of caring that she had from these people whom she had survived multiple wars with and thinks they would accept me, they would try to understand, a feeling he never had with his old friends or his parents. 

——————————————————————————

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Eds?” Stevie nervously mumbles, fingers fiddling with a string of loose skin on his thumbnail, looking out from Eddie’s van to the cosmetic store they had driven to.

Eddie turns the engine of the van off, looking over at Stevie and giving her a reassuring smile. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to, but I thought it would be a start to you figuring yourself out and feeling more comfortable in yourself. And if someone asks, we’re just shopping for a friend, okay? No need to worry. Also I genuinely need some new eyeliner anyways, so even if you don’t find anything we won’t have gone here for no reason.”

Stevie looks away from Eddie and down at his hands, takes a deep breath before unclicking his seatbelt and getting out of the van, waiting for Eddie to follow in front of the vehicle. He comes stumbling out a few seconds later, running towards Stevie who’s already making his way into the store.

When they come in, Stevie is immediately hit with the smell of at least five different fragrances and a soft pop ballad that he vaguely recognizes playing from the speakers in the store. The walls are painted a muted pink, rows and rows of shelves in various colors and styles lined up in the store. There’s a cash register in the far left corner, a lady who looks to be around Stevie and Eddie’s age standing behind the counter and talking to an elderly lady. 

“Do you really come here for your black and very not girly makeup every time? Out of free will?” Stevie asks, looking over at Eddie who is giving her a smirk in return.

“Well, Stevie, I don’t know where you want me to get it otherwise. Not like there’s really a store for black and not girly makeup.” Eddie holds up a finger, ”Also, stop acting like I’m allergic to any color that isn’t black or white.”

Stevie snorts, looking away from Eddie and back at the pastel colors of the store. He thinks it’s cute, happy that he decided to wear his favorite light-yellow sweater, stupidly feeling like he fits right in. 

“Now c’mon Stevie, let’s go upstairs, we’re blocking the doorway.” Eddie says as warning before grabbing Stevie’s wrist and dragging her along to the stairs that she hadn’t even noticed at first glance. The stairs are the same plasticy white as the floor of the cosmetic shop, leading up to a smaller area with fewer shelves and blue walls. The store had been generally empty downstairs, but Stevie thinks he and Eddie might be the only ones upstairs right now from what he can see. Eddie, to Stevie’s demise, lets go of her wrist and starts walking in a direction where Stevie can see less colorful makeup options. He himself takes a second to look around the few shelves that are there, spying a white shelf near the windows that catches his eye, directly walking up to it.

There are numerous products lined on the shelf, perfume and stuff that Stevie can’t name, not yet, at least, but what catches his eye is the nail polish stacked carefully next to each other. He picks up a bottle of sky blue polish, inspecting it closer. 

He can hear some shuffling on his right side and then the warmth of a palm is on his shoulder, Eddie looking down at the bottle of nail polish in Stevie’s hands. “You find something you like, baby?” 

Stevie swallows, having a debate on whether he should get the nail polish or not. “Um… I think so? I don’t know.” 

“Well, if you’re asking me, you’d look gorgeous in blue nail polish, I think you should get it. You could even pair it with that light teal there,” Eddie picks up another bottle of polish, holding it beside Stevie’s blue one. “What’dya think?” 

Stevie nods, “Yeah, okay.” 

After a bit of turmoil and walking around they end up at the cash register with Eddie’s eyeliner, Stevie’s nail polish, an eyeshadow palette with light colors that Eddie had suggested for a start, a bright pink bottle of nail polish for Erica (lord knows she doesn’t need it, but who is Stevie other than a useless fool at the foot of his kids), a purple mascara and the vanilla perfume Robin always uses that Stevie just couldn’t resist buying. 

The girl at the cash register just gives them a smile and rings them up before they’re out of the store. 

——————————————————————————

Back in the van, Stevie feels surprisingly calm about the purchase they had just made and finds the only thing he can think of from the items is I hope the pink is bright enough for Erica and he is actually pretty okay with that, even if a little shocked. Judging from the careful expression on Eddie’s face, who is sitting in the driver's seat with one hand still clutching the door handle, the surprise is mutual.

Stevie just looks at Eddie and gives a small nod, making Eddie slowly let go of the door handle and start driving towards the trailer park in the usual recklessness he carries when driving, some metal mixtape playing on a lower volume than usual, so Stevie can just barely make out a voice screeching lyrics he’s definitely heard before.  

In front of the shiny new trailer the government had bought Eddie and Mr. Munson, Wayne, as he had corrected multiple times the last time Stevie had talked to him, as a sorry for the murder accusations and literal hell that they had to go through, Eddie parks his van and climbs out of the vehicle in quick steps, opening the door of the car before Stevie can. He chuckles, okay he giggles, at Eddie’s antics and climbs out of the seat, letting a “Wow, what a gentleman.” slip from his lips before he can think better of it. 

“Only the best for my lady.” Smirks Eddie, giving Stevie a wink before closing and locking the passenger door of the car. Stevie’s heart just about does a backflip in her chest as an involuntary smile takes place on her face, following Eddie into the trailer. They both leave their shoes at the door, Eddie’s black boots with chains next to Stevie’s blue sneakers and make their way to Eddie’s room in quiet steps, careful to not wake up Wayne, who is sleeping in his room down the hall. 

Stevie closes the bedroom door behind them and sits down onto Eddie’s bed, pressing her back against the wall and examining the new bought items that now sit in her lap as Eddie rummages through what Stevie assumes are drawers. She looks up to see him shutting a drawer closed, making his way to the shelf he keeps all his cassettes and vinyls, selecting the one Queen album they could musically agree on and playing it, breaking the silence in the room with quiet music. 

Eddie plops himself down onto the bed, facing Stevie’s side and patting her thigh once. She shifts, mirroring Eddie’s sitting position, knees touching.

“So, what’s your grand plan, Mister Anything for his lady?” She asks tentatively, looking down at the products still in her lap and back up to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Thought we could make a sleepover out of it, you know, paint each other’s nails, I’ll even do your make-up, contrary to popular belief I actually know how to treat a girl.” Eddie explains, giving Stevie a little wink. 

She raises an eyebrow, mustering Eddie for a few seconds. “You? In nail polish?” She questions, suspicion lacing her tone. 

Eddie raises his hand to rattle around a bottle of black nail polish that Stevie hadn’t even noticed before and a light turns on in her head, gears turning. She really should’ve thought of that. Her face must give away her recognition because Eddie wiggles his brows, “And? What do you think?” 

Stevie just sighs and gives a small nod, agreeing, “Yeah, okay, sure, what the hell. Do you really think that’s a good thing to be doing on your bed? What if the nail polish tips over and dyes your poor bedsheets?”

“I thought I told you to stop acting like I’m allergic to colors,” Eddie frowns. “But if you must insist, your highness may take place on the ground.” 

They settle down onto the ground, “You definitely act like you are.” slipping from Stevie’s lips.

Eddie looks personally offended and dramatically presses his hand onto his heart, miming being shot and slamming himself down onto the ground before dramatically coming up again. “You wound me, Harrington.” 

Stevie snorts. “Harrington? That’s who I am to you now? Way to make a girl feel special, Munson.” 

“Just come here and let me paint your nails before I change my mind, Stevie. I know it’s hard to believe but I can actually tolerate colors without vomiting, I’ll have you know.” 

Stevie rolls her eyes but gives in, handing Eddie the bottle of nail polish and reaching out her left hand for Eddie to take. Eddie shakes the bottle before starting to carefully running the brush along Stevie’s fingernails. “Sure you can.”

Eddie tucks strands of hair behind his ear with his free hand before continuing his work on Stevie’s hand. “My favorite color is teal, actually.” He then admits. 

Stevie freezes for a second, narrowing her eyes even though Eddie can’t even see, considering that for a second and rolling it around her brain before coming to a conclusion. “You know what, that makes sense.” 

Eddie pauses mid brush-stroke, lifting his head up to meet Stevie’s gaze. “It… does?”

“Yes, Eddie, it does. You are a very teal type of guy.” She says earnestly. 

Eddie eyes her for a second, looking her up and down theatrically, “Huh.” he huffs, before continuing his work. “If you tell anyone you’re dead meat, Stevie, I mean it.”

“Sure, can’t have anyone knowing that metalhead, wanted murderer, Satan worshipper and cult leader Eddie Munson enjoys a color other than black.” She scoffs, sarcasm dripping in her tone “Would truly be a shame if that came out.” 

Eddie eyes her with a short look, switching to her other hand and starting with the thumb nail. “Not wanted anymore!” He weakly defends.

“Imagine the headlines. Eddie Munson, exposed for liking colors. What a shame it would be, sitting next to murder charges. Hate crime.” Stevie says dramatically, trying to rile Eddie up, even if just a little. She lets out an offended squawk when Eddie dips the brush in the polish and runs it over the back of her hand, staining the skin in the light blue. Eddie just smirks and cackles at Stevie’s protests, “It’s what you deserve for being such a brat, really.” 

After some more shimmying and teasing, a new record, metal this time because, as Eddie put it, it’s what Stevie deserves for testing him, Stevie’s nails are painted half and half, left hand sky blue and the other teal. She stares down at her hands, admiring Eddie’s careful work and the smudges and edges he overfilled, the edges he missed and sees Eddie’s care painted on her nails in temporary glory. She almost cries, but pulls herself together, she really doesn’t know where all these tears had been stored for her to be crying so much.

“Stop staring at my perfect handiwork, it’s my turn.” Eddie exclaims excitedly, pulling Stevie’s fingers out of the curled position they had been in and placing a bottle of black nail polish in her palms instead.

She rolls her eyes at Eddie’s antics but ultimately shifts closer to him to paint his nails, taking his calloused hands in her soft ones, careful strokes staining Eddie’s nails. She focuses on the task, careful not to smudge the nail polish, imagining the mess it would be to clean up the dark stain from Eddie’s nailbeds. After a moment, she registers something happening to her hair, then it’s clipped back and out of her face. She looks up to see Eddie, a hairclip in his unoccupied hand, halfway on the way to the other side of Stevie’s head. Eddie doesn’t still in his movements and places the hair clip on the other side. Stevie kind of feels like a school girl.

She gives him a sceptical look. “Where the hell did you just get those from?”

Eddie just shrugs, pointing an unpainted finger to their conjoined hands, signaling for her to continue. “I think Nancy might’ve left them here. Or El and Max, I don’t know.”

“Nancy? Really? Am I the other woman, Eddie? Is that who I am to you?” She deadpans. 

“I would never, baby. Nancy is too… Nancy for me. And I’m pretty sure she’s got her eyes on Robin anyway, judging from the looks they’ve been giving each other lately. Guess it really was a good decision for her and Jonny-boy to break up.” 

Stevie snorts. “It’s horrible, Eddie, I have to listen to Robin wax poetics about my ex all day long. Pure torture, I’m telling you. And yeah, Jonathan seems happier with himself now, that’s true. Pretty sure he’s dating Argyle now, but I haven’t gotten explicit confirmation.”

Eddie seems to consider this for a second, looking up at the ceiling and squinting his eyes a little. “They do seem pretty close lately, Jon and Argyle, we might have to check up on that.” He comments idly, returning his gaze back down. “How did you even manage to adopt so many queers into our weird monster-hunting gang?” 

Stevie shrugs, closing the bottle of nail polish and blowing on Eddie’s painted nails a little before leaning back to look at him. “Guess we have a knack of finding each other.” She levels him with a suspicious look. “Why was Nancy here in the first place, though?” 

Eddie scrambles, hands flailing out in his usual dramatics. “Okay, for one,” He lifts up his pointer finger, “I don’t even know if it’s Nancy’s for sure, like I already said, it’s very rational that they might just be El’s.” 

“Oh so you’re not denying that Nancy was in here?” Stevie chirps, a smirk on her face from watching Eddie squirm a little under her questioning.

“You’re acting like I’m having some affair with your ex-girlfriend!” He flaps. 

“Well you’re making it seem like you are!” Stevie exclaims, just to tease him a little further.

Eddie takes a breath in, seemingly wanting to quip something back, but they’re interrupted by a loud banging on the front door. He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Do people not know that my poor uncle has to sleep?” He mumbles, getting up from the floor and quietly making his way to the front door, Stevie getting up and standing in the doorway of Eddie’s bedroom, watching him as he slowly opens the creaky front door to a nervous looking Robin. 

Before she can even utter a single word, Eddie immediately shushes her by pressing his pointer finger to her lips and waving her in, the two of them returning back into Eddie’s room. Robin looks relieved when she sees Stevie standing in the doorway giving her a small smile. 

Stevie closes the door behind the two of them and Robin immediately envelops her in a hug, murmuring a “I’m so glad you’re okay, you scared me.” into Stevie’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay Rob, thank you for calling Eddie.” She replies, squeezing Robin tight before letting her go again, settling them both down onto the floor facing Eddie, the three of them sitting in a kind of triangle-y circle. 

“Of course, Stevie.” She replies, looking around and down at the floor where all the items they bought lay sprawled out in a messy order. “I’m, um… assuming that you two figured something out?” She asks, looking up and at Stevie and Eddie’s faces, giving a reassuring smile. 

Eddie tries (and fails) to subtly scoot over to Stevie, pressing his side against her and taking her hand in his own. She takes a deep breath in, squeezing Eddie’s hand in light pressure before speaking.

“So, um, I think you probably already guessed, because you’re you and I think you know me better than I do, but I’m… transsexual. I am not sure what I am, but uh… not Steve.” She manages to get out, nervously looking up to meet Robin’s eyes, who in return, gives her the gentlest of smiles and crawls over to Stevie, shooing Eddie away as she throws herself at the other, once again enveloping her in a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Stevie. Thank you for telling me.” Robin whispers against Stevie’s neck, squeezing her even tighter when she can hear sniffling from the other. 

“Thank you, Robin” Stevie murmurs as she pulls away, wiping at her face with the back of her hand, giving Robin a tentative smile, which she returns right back.

“Of course, Stevie, always. Now, since I’ve already crashed your date, involve me in your grand plan.”

Eddie springs into action immediately, retelling their trip to the cosmetic store, what they bought, and what he thinks Stevie might like. 

——————————————————————————

“Are you guys sure this will look okay?” Stevie asks suspiciously, staring at Eddie, who is sitting with his legs crossed next to her, hands clasped together at the side, and Robin, who has the new makeup palette they bought earlier sitting in her lap. 

“Even if you don’t like it, at least you’ll have tried it out. You never know until you try!” Robin declares, lifting the makeup palette in a short motion.

Stevie levels her a look before drifting her gaze to Eddie again. 

“She’s right,” He quips. “I’m sure it’ll look great, sweetheart.” He adds, pressing a quick peck to the corner of Stevie’s eye, who in return just frowns and stares at the makeup palette for a few seconds, contemplates bolting from the room at least twice, before looking up again with a sigh.

“Okay. Okay! But only a light color, no purple.” She then agrees. 

Robin yelps in celebration, immediately shifting closer so she’s sitting directly in front of Stevie, rubbing her finger in a light, shimmery blue that almost matches Stevie’s nail polish and holding the finger up for the other to see. 

“Okay?” She asks. Stevie nods and closes her eyes, feeling the way Robin quickly runs her finger over her eyelid, tapping at it after a few seconds, then repeating the motions on the other eye.

Stevie carefully opens her eyes, staring into Robin’s for a few seconds, only finding earnest support, then to Eddie, a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes that she’s only ever seen directed at herself.

“Is it… Is it okay?” She asks, looking from Eddie to Robin, to Eddie and back to Robin.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.” Eddie swoons, pure honesty in his tone that Stevie can’t deny while Robin nods heavily in agreement, “Do you wanna see? I think I have a mirror somewhere in my purse.” She speaks, already starting to rummage through her bag before anyone can answer her, pulling out a foldable mirror littered with stickers out of said bag after a few seconds. 

Stevie takes it from Robin’s hands, only hesitating a fraction before opening the mirror with a click and looking at the reflection in the small mirror. It feels so right. 

She lowers the mirror, grasping at the purple mascara lying in front of her and opening the tube, mirror resting on one of her knees. She stares at the color for just a second, before picking up the mirror again and starting to apply the mascara to her lashes.

She has done it before, plenty of times, actually, so she manages to stain her eyelashes in the deep purple in practiced and clean movements, if she does say so herself, stares at the reflection staring back at her once she’s finished. 

She kind of feels like crying until the purple is all gone and the blue is merely a distant memory, kind of wants to throw up and also kind of wants to jump in joy, because she feels like she can see the resemblance of someone she knows looking back at her. She feels like she’s taking the real breath of air after drowning for so long, looks at herself and actually sees the start of who she’s supposed to see looking back at her and for once it’s not in shame or guilt. 

For the first time since the day her mother caught her in her parent’s bedroom as a kid, she’s happy at what she sees in the reflection, only this time she’s surrounded by the people that she loves the most, the people she’s been through hell with and back, the people who support and love her unconditionally For the first time, the easy smile on her lips doesn’t feel fake, it feels real, feels like the happiness bubbling up in her chest is a genuine thing.